#foam at her mouth when she sees it lick itself

[saddest-girl-in-the-whole-world]

need a fic where Gideon adopts a cat and leaves Harrow alone with it for a few hours

NO way Harrow would be normal about it, she sees something cute for the first time in her life and doesn't recognize the feeling so she'll just assume it's murderous intent and stalk that little kitty from a distance, treating it like Gideon (Vintage Edition) on the Mithraeum, ABSOLUTELY it'll be one sided psychological horror

[jiracheer]

Hi! Could I request dating headcanons for Larry with gn s/o please?

authors note ; i am so not normal over larry it pains me pls i wont him so fuckin bad

tags ; neutral reader / established relationship / mention of wanting a baby

wc ; 834

🪶 you and larry started going out the second the two of you graduated from school.

🪶 dating while attending the academy was honestly something he wasn't wanting, which you respected, and it explains why the two of you got together once you finished your academics.

🪶 your relationship with him is, well, plain and simple. but that doesn't mean it's boring.

🪶 although larry finds himself to be simple and "normal", he's far from it. he has habits that make you realize just how different he is from other people.

🪶 for example; when the two of you brush your teeth? his elbow always knocks into yours, and it makes you choke on your toothbrush. what does he do to fix the problem? he just adjusts your elbow, apologizes quietly, and keeps doing what he's doing.

🪶 sometimes when he brushes his teeth, he stands there staring at himself with toothpaste foam all over his mouth and chin, and it takes everything in you not to laugh at him.

🪶 another example? one time while the two of you were babysitting poppy, he kept applying hand sanitizer every time he touched her. and when she sat on his shoulders? he'd ask you for a wipe or something to disinfect himself. doesn't help that he's always adjusting something she "ruins". he says it's so his staraptor isn't bugging him at the end of the day with grooming, but you know it's because he can't stand feeling messy.

🪶 poppy likes when you help larry babysit. she feels like she sees the best of him come out, and it also helps her scheme of giving you baby fever so she can have a baby sibling figure.

🪶 you two do your best to go on dates and spend time with one another, but with him being a gym leader and elite four member, and you having your own things to do, it's often hard.

🪶 but that doesn't mean you two don't try to find a way to be with each other.

🪶 nights are quietly spent in each other's arms, speaking silently so that the world outside can't hear. sometimes you can't hear one another, so oftentimes lips brush when the other speaks- and kisses are stolen.

🪶 mornings before work are heavenly. your nails always gently scratch the back of his head, or between his shoulder blades, and larry kisses your collarbones as he wishes you a groggy "good morning".

🪶 these moments are always cherished. especially when larry comes out of his shell a bit.

🪶 which honestly, you have made such an influence on him.

🪶 he's still the same old larry to his peers, but when he comes home? you can tell he's picked up on your own habits

🪶 there are times when you catch him staring at you from across the room, or he's simply just watching you. when you ask him what's up, he always says the same thing- "I'm capturing the moment."

🪶 it makes you melt when he says that, so you always tell him to take a picture instead. he shoots down the idea, constantly, as he confesses that a memory is 10x better than some digital photograph. because with that memory... he can remember what the room smelled like, what it felt to be in that moment.

🪶 he thinks you look so beautiful doing whatever it is your doing.

🪶 he has a hard time telling you time from time that he loves you, but you know he does when you see a delivery boy taking you lunch that he's ordered for you.

🪶 or when he cooks you your favorite meals and makes sure your pokemon are well fed.

🪶 speaking of pokemon, his pokemon adore you.

🪶 his komala likes to hang off your shoulders when you're doing housework, and is like a weighted blanket on your chest when you take an afternoon snooze.

🪶 dudunsparce used to be afraid of you, but now? it likes to wiggle between your ankles and try to make itself useful by licking the floor to get rid of crumbs. your own personal roomba!

🪶 his staraptor was whom he was more afraid of, as it had quite a personality, but after treating the raptor pokemon to some treats and making sure it knew you were no threat, the two of you are as close as you can be, as are your pokemon with him and his team.

🪶 it always warms his heart to come home to see you, his pokemon, and yours all fast asleep somewhere in the house.

🪶 larry thinks about having children with you time from time, but thinks komala is enough, so he doesn't bother bringing it up.

🪶 but if you bring it up, he'll go with it. a life spent with you is a life he wants to have.

🪶 especially if it means the two of you wed at the end of the day <3

[evaemiel]

The Hungry Heart - Week 8 of #alphabetsuperset

The plate is tiny — no more than a saucer for a cup, really. It’s red, of course, just like everything else in this room and this house. On the plate lies a delicate sliver of a veiny substance, impossibly thin and almost translucent. It’s draped on top of a dollop of white foam that sparkles even in the dim light of the dining hall. I can’t imagine the skill it took to present it in such an artistic way without it all falling apart at the mere suggestion of a touch.

The Widow is seated across from me, a vision in pale, pale silk, her eyes covered by a veil. I know she’s looking. Waiting for the first and only bite.

There’s no one else left. The table stretches for what feels like an eternity in both directions from this singular point, where only the two of us sit. Everyone else is at the dance now. A few gave up before we even got started; the hors d’oeuvres always claim victims: eggs of minor shoulder devils, Bruschetta brushed with a generous amount of indulgent oil, Canape’s with creamy Schadenfreude. I suspect the flirtatious shrimp cocktail did the most damage, though. And that was before we got seated. The gazpacho of an imagined summer’s past had some people sighing, longing for, and eventually chasing that sunset out of the dining room. Just a little nibble of the delusional salmon with a mousseline of grandeur floored at least three quarters the remaining crowd, so only a few even tried the subtle sorbet of soft selfishness. Two were left by the time a roast of sordid rapaciousness with a side of minty limerence was served; one was me, as you know, and the other: The Beast. But no matter their labored breathing and their mane shimmering with aggravation, they had to bow out after a small taste. I caught their broiling glance in my direction as they left, but paid it no mind; I was still starving. I finished the meal by licking the juice off my fingers. I then ate a handful of grapes of innocence to cleanse my palate, to prepare.

Because — the dessert is everything.

I can’t take my eyes off this perfect little piece of art. It’s no more than one mouthful; I can easily scoop it up all at once with a spoon. It feels heavy when I balance it in front of my mouth.

The Widow smiles in anticipation. Our most gracious host, Our Lady of Debauchery. As much as I’m wary of her intentions, I can’t deny her any more than I can keep myself from devouring her meals.

So I eat.

A sliver of hungry heart, on a bed of early morning dreams, hits my tongue like lightening hits the single oak tree out in the field. It tastes like the promise of happiness, sweet but balanced with the salty undertone of experience. The surprisingly crunchy edges mix oh so well with the foamy, fizzy lightness. I close my eyes and feel my mind’s eye tilt; down I go into the darkness, finally.

The fall itself is never scary. Once you know how to unclench your stomach, it feels like ultimate freedom, and an ecstatic joy takes over. It’s a match between exhilaration and terror, always teetering on the brink of profound destruction and total transcendence. I can imagine it, that life; more even, I see it happening in front of me. It hurts, but it hurts in its perfection, and I love it in equal measure to that hurt. The people here, they understand for they are fully molded to my wishes. So is the view of the ocean, the music that we sing, the breeze rustling our hair. I could live here, I think to myself, I could stay.

Then I hit the ground in full force. The roof of my mouth gives off the dulled, acidic aftertaste of something that will never digest.

I regain consciousness much, much later. The Widow holds me close as we dance to the last song of the evening. It’s not a graceful dance; it’s the lazy stagger of two people holding onto a moment that passed two hours ago. I can see Artist beckoning me near the door; they look worrisome. Worrisome and sleepy. I hesitate but take a step back from my dancing partner. I take her hand and kiss it; her skin feels like it was never exposed to the elements. As I look up and catch a sparkle in her clouded eyes peeking from underneath her veil, I can’t help but search for some reassurance.

She smiles knowingly. “Let me get you some leftovers before you leave,” she says.

Credit Image – Human heart clipart illustration. Free public domain CC0 image. Font – Bungee font family. Used under SIL Open Font License

[beanlot]

How does Sevika realistically react in an argument? What is she like when she falls out with you? I love ur fics, babe 😫 please don’t disappear on us.

at first, hostile.

considering the most grievous argument, one that’s been nosediving its very unfortunate way down a rabbit hole for some time with shit finally hitting the fan - sevika is one hell of an antagonist on the last straw. she knows her physicality is her paramount and uses it to trivialise you, whether this be through pillaring over you and getting you used to looking up at her, make sport of you through her words. and if we’re talking a fatal level of pissed off.

listen to me, i’m gonna lose it if you keep running your fucking mouth.

but sevika isn’t someone who yells, even at her final stroke, she’ll say things slow and serene.

she knows she won’t lay a hand on you. you’ll see the narrow irises bleach with fury; the flare in her scars and the way the vials in her arm slowly elevate to revitalise itself with shimmer - but sevika is emotionally disciplined enough with you.

in terms of loyalty, sevika’s proven time and time again that loyalty is everything that she is; even when you’ve got her foaming at the mouth and things aren’t looking so lovey-dovey between you right now, she isn’t one to use the brothel or other women as her outlet. sevika’s mentally mature enough for you to understand that if you’ve got her, you’ve got her; i really doubt the first thing on her mind after arguing with you is sex, not only due to the lack of sexual frustration she gets after conflict, but she’ll take her devotion for you to the fucking grave.

i don’t think sevika even has an outlet - we don’t see her display much emotion other than ‘do my job’ in her scenes, but rather repress them to preserve this shatterproof image of hers for zaun’s cause. this might fuel her potential to be bitter towards people, perhaps an increase in gambling/alcohol use, which often results in drunken fights.

but she’ll come to you, when she’s ready.

sevika needs time with disagreements, and since you were the fucking world in her eyes, she’ll need a lot of it.

she’ll leave the house for a few days, maybe more; test the waters with how well her spine adapts to the seating in silco’s office. start missing the delirium of having you planted beside her, fingers outlining how artistically sculpted her copper ones were when they’d rest amongst your hip - what was one thing that she missed became two things, then three, then four.

she’d blueprint her master plan.

sevika’s a romantic when apologising, because at the end of the day, she’s your sweetheart. at your door with a bouquet of white roses, but she won’t say she stole them, especially since flowers were such a fucking delicacy in zaun. instead, she’ll say she’s sorry.. no, no.. she’s so, so fucking sorry. she doesn’t want you to be scared of her, that in short - she’d do fucking anything, giving herself up through acts of service, just to get a lick of what coming home to you felt like again.

if you’ll take her back is your choice.

[buckys-broody-muffin]

Your Protector

Summary: You're a shy person but the best at your job on Stark's tech team. A certain soldier joins the team and you stick close to him.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x Shy!reader

Warnings: None, fluff :)

Words: 1,392

A/N: written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club ♥️ hope you all enjoy it :) I really didn’t intend on writing so much but this really got away from me. 

You don't really know why you were so smitten with the newest member of the team. There was just something about the quiet man that lured you in. His beefy figure making you feel nothing but safe in his presence. If he wasn't in the room, you would find yourself searching for him and feeling calmer.

You would often watch him sitting on the couch reading a book. His hair would be tied back in a low bun and you were pretty sure he slept, showered and lived in that red Henley of his.

It was so unlike you since you're the shyest member of the tech team. But you're also very anxious and it doesn't take much to scare you. Even a simple thing can make you tremble for hours. You do your job very well and the team of superheroes absolutely adore you. You were more comfortable being open and talkative with Natasha more than the boys. And if Bucky was near, your throat would close up.

Your anxiety and shyness meant you are yet to say a word to Bucky. The things you've learnt about him, such as how he likes his coffee, or what food he likes to eat, you've learnt from conversations from other members.

You've also learnt what movies he enjoys watching. What flavor popcorn he likes the best. The team has also noticed you like to be near Bucky at all times. So it didn't come as a surprise when you asked Natasha if she could talk to Tony about moving rooms so you were closer to Bucky. Which he of course did.

And none of this escaped Bucky's attention. He's also become aware of your quiet presence around him. Sitting next to him during movie nights, at the dinner table, everywhere he was, you would be too. And Steve couldn't keep the shit eating grin off his face when he told him that you had asked to move rooms.

It didn't annoy Bucky at all. He was actually flattered but he failed to understand why. Why did you want to be around him so much? He knew from his observations you were very shy and timid. Was it because he was also quiet? He didn't know.

"Pal, I'm telling you. Watch Y/N sit next to you tonight during movie night." Steve said with a chuckle and a pat on his back. Bucky shook his head, he must be thinking too much into this.

So the members decided to test something, to prove their theory.

Natasha sat next to Bucky on the smaller couch. Tony, Pepper and Sam sat on the larger one opposite. Steve, Clint, Wanda and Vision took the reclining chairs. Which meant there was just the soft large memory foam bean bag to sit on, a seat Sam usually occupied.

Everyone was in their comfy position with their popcorn and snacks. A few minutes later you arrived with your bag of chips to share.

You looked around the room and noticed all the seats were occupied. Especially your favorite seat next to Bucky. Your face dropped and tried not to think too much into it. But thanks to your anxiety, you were wondering if Bucky had specifically asked Natasha to sit there so you couldn't.

Your anxiety was building up and you started to bite on your nail. You stood there, not knowing what to do. Steve's eyes landed on your uncomfortable form and he was worried this was a bad idea. You were trembling and your eyes were glossy.

"Hey Y/N. Come and sit down." Steve motioned to the bean bag. You didn't like the attention, you felt everyone burning holes in your face. But nevertheless, your feet moved on their own accord. You were still biting your nail and you looked down at Natasha and she smiled up at you.

"Hey sweetie." She mouthed and you relaxed slightly. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky and noticed he was staring at the TV, you assumed he wasn't paying any attention but he was. He was waiting to see what you were going to do.

"Can I... Can I sit here please?" You whispered. Your face turning a new shade of red as you felt incredibly uncomfortable in the spotlight all of a sudden.

Natasha gave a knowing smirk and nodded her head. She sat down on the bean bag and sighed, sharing a look with Steve as you took a seat quite close to Bucky.

"Guys! I totally forgot. Should we go and get some pizza to bring back?" Tony suggested as he pointed to the others except you and Bucky.

He needed 8 Avengers to go and get some pizza?

"Great idea. We'll be back in 20!" Sam spoke up.

"Oh and kids. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. It's a new couch." Tony warned and your face heated up at the suggestion. You could barely talk to the man next to you, let alone anything sexy.

When the others left. You and Bucky were sitting in silence. It felt awkward and you didn't know what to do.

You were about to get up and leave when he finally spoke.

"Why are you always near me?"

You blushed and stumbled over your own words. You bit on your nail again and your eyes darted around the room.

"I mean... Why ME exactly?" He pressed. Turning his body so he could face you directly. He noticed your anxiety was going crazy and he felt bad for not wording it lighter.

"I uh... I...uhh..." You were close to crying. You weren't good at forming words and your heart beating itself out of your chest wasn't helping the situation.

"Hey. Calm down, it's alright. I'm not mad okay? It's just me. I'm just curious s'all." His flesh fingers pulled your finger away from your mouth and he noticed the bit of blood pooling on the corner of your nail where you had bitten it so badly. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and offered a soft smile. It unfortunately did nothing to calm your nerves though.

“I just feel...safe...with...you.” You blushed and kept your gaze in your lap. Your voice was so quiet that you weren’t sure he heard you. 

But he heard you perfectly. Bucky was taken aback by your confession. You felt safe with him? How was that even possible? Had you not heard about the carnage he was responsible for during his Winter Soldier days? The pain he caused hundreds of families when he was sent to assassinate a target? How could you feel safe next to someone like that?

“I.. know it’s weird... I’m weird... I’m sorry.” You whispered and went to stand up. His large hand wrapped around your smaller wrist to keep you next to him. His brows were furrowed as he tried to make sense from all of this. 

“You feel safe with me?” He asked. He needed to be sure you didn’t use the wrong words. But by his furrowed eyebrows and straight lips. You were worried you went too far. 

“I do.” 

“But why?” He asked almost immediately. You licked your lips and gathered your thoughts. 

“You’re a big strong man. Quiet, don’t... let harm...come to others.” You were having a hard time finding your quiet voice. “I just feel safe near you.” You offered him a sweet smile, which eventually he returned. 

Bucky pulled you into a tight hug and your nose brushed against the stubble that was growing on his throat area. His cologne was strong, but gorgeous. Your hands fisted his henley as he held you. Bucky would never know what made him transition. He had so many questions, but there was just something about you that made him want to protect you at all times. For now, those questions didn’t matter. You were innocent, timid and shy and if you felt safe with him, then he was going to make sure he wrapped you up in bubble wrap to protect you from the evilness of the world. 

“I’ll always protect you, doll.” You grinned into his chest at the pet name and you were thankful he couldn’t see the new blush on your cheeks. 

He would be your protector. And there was absolutely nothing you could do in the world now, to make him stop protecting you. 

My teensy-weensy taglist: @jobean12-blog​ @nano--raptor​ @finleyjayne​ @marvelgirl7​

[wildingrose]

the introduction

dark alley help part 4

part 3: his doll | part 5: diamond in the rough

word count: 1.8k

》 shower, overstimulation

- ✿ -

Your phone? Dead. And you couldn't care less to charge it. But you still did with Taeyong's charger laying around. Once rebooted, the screen lit up and were attacked by missed calls and screaming texts, all by your mother.

You huffed, knowing exactly what the reason would be. It was the first time that you were out all night without informing your family beforehand. It wasn't like you knew that was going to happen anyway. But more than you just being out all night, there was something else your mother was worried about.

Taeyong had went to take a shower first after placing a breakfast order for delivery while you waited on the bed. You chewed on your lip, thinking if it was better to just leave your mother hanging until you would show your face to her after leaving Taeyong's place.

Chucking your phone on the nightstand, you plopped down on the bed, arms sprawled and eyes closed. Your core was aching, not in need for more but from Taeyong's brutal attack just minutes prior. If you had to guess what he'd like to do all day, it would be him having to nonstop go in you and wouldn't stop until... no. He wouldn't even stop for anything.

Your ears focused on the distant sound of the shower running. After it turned off, you heard him shuffling into the room. The bed dipped as he crawled over you, and your eyes opened to see his eyes staring into you, dark wet strands falling over his head as he hovered over you, his body bare of anything except for a towel snugly wrapped around his hips. You cupped his face in your hands, caressing his smooth cheeks with your thumbs. "You're so much fun," you whispered.

Taeyong's eyes widened by a fraction, not expecting to hear that come out of anyone's mouth. "I am?"

You nodded and added, "On a whole nother level... unlike him."

Him? Taeyong thought but it didn't matter. You had already given your word to be his doll.

His hand reached for yours and to his satisfaction, there was no band on your ring finger. He brought your hand to his lips and placed a haste kiss on the back of it. "Go ahead. Take a shower before the food arrives."

In the bathroom, you observed the small surrounding, the shower was an old type that you had never used before. Taeyong walked in after with a spare towel and hung it on the rack. "Do you need anything else?" he asked.

Humming, you asked pointing to the shower, "How do I use this?"

"Mm, like this." He turned the knob around for temperature and then lifted a lever up to start the shower.

You played with your fingers anxiously, nervous about using the shower on your own. What if I messed up?

Taeyong noticed your fidgety form and hugged you from behind. His nose buried into your cheek when suggesting, "Do you want me to stay here, doll?" His hot breath dug into your skin and made you shiver.

"Yes please."

He watched you from the outside while you stepped into the tub. Your dress had to come off but you were feeling a little shy. It was easier to be naked in bed, occupied with sexual pleasures than having to stand bare with your mind on micro thoughts of insecurity. Taeyong merely stood, staring at your actions in silence and you slowly lifted your dress over your head, hearing a faint growl vibrate in the back of his throat as his eyes traveled up and down your beautiful form.

You repeated the same action of turning the shower on and felt the water too cold to your liking. Though Taeyong was enjoying your nipples hardening real quick. "Um can I get it a little hotter?" you asked timidly.

He licked his lips and leaned over, turning the knob. When the temperature was ideal, you took hold of the bar soap and lathered it along your arms. Taeyong was glad for once that he chose bar soaps over shower gels. Not only was it cheaper but also because from then on, he was going to enjoy running the bar over his skin that had explored over your body, especially when you lifted your breast to rub it under the skin there. He nearly creamed in his towel just from simply observing you clean yourself.

You grew nervous, debating whether you should use the bar to clean yourself down there. But one look over at Taeyong who had discarded his towel onto the floor and was stroking and rubbing his erect cock and pleasuring himself... you went for it.

Taeyong shuddered when he saw your pretty hand take the bar soap to your core and rubbed it there, making him groan hungrily as he eyed you with a predatory look. He could have picked up the pace along his length. He knew he was going to cum easily on his hand as long as his eyes were glued to your beauty. But he stopped as he didn't want to cum like that.

You dropped the soap when Taeyong barged in. His hand collected the falling water and roughly rubbed you clean of the foam. You whimpered from the quick movements, still aching from the overstimulation that Taeyong had given you recently. "P-please Tae... don't. It hurts," you whispered.

Dejected, he complied and had another idea. Once you were done with the shower, he wrapped you in the fresh towel and with his still laying on the tiles, he carried you bridal style to bed, placing you down carefully beside a neatly folded oversized shirt prepared for you.

Not so gently, Taeyong ripped the towel covering you, leaving you naked and pretty for him to pleasure himself on instead. Putting his weight on his forearms, he placed his crotch on your thigh and slowly dragged his cock along your skin, making you feel every inch of his hard erection. Your thigh burned with pleasure and a moan slipped itself out of your mouth. The sound fired him to roll his hips faster, all the hot rubbing exciting you greatly despite what your body was trying to tell you.

"Doll, I'm close. Let me cum inside you. Please," he pleaded. Taeyong needed to bury himself in you as he wasn't going to waste his seed when he had plans to knock you up.

You granted permission with your weak nod, thrilling him to shift in between your legs and rutted into you in one forceful move. You screamed from the pain, tears slipping from your shut eyes. He came inside you, not moving one bit so that he wouldn't have to hurt you more. To ease the discomfort, he distracted you by sucking on your nipple, his hot tongue circling around as you whimpered, your hand fisting in his wet hair.

Once he finished loading into you, he pulled out carefully. Taeyong stared with adoration in his sparkling eyes as they traveled down your entire body, your breast rising and falling when catching your breath. He picked up the folded shirt beside you and helped you sit up, putting the shirt over your head.

-

The two of you sat down at the table for the morning meal. It was quiet with the occasional sounds of spoon clinking against the plate. You placed a spoonful in your mouth and watched the man across. His eyes fixed to the dish, seeming lost in his thoughts. "Y/N?"

Your heart fluttered hearing your name fall from his lips for the first time. "Yeah?"

"Do you go to the library every night?"

Nodding, you explained why. "To getting away from reality. You know by reading books and diving into the fictional worlds. I just crave to feel something better than what my life gives me. Or more like my mom," you spoke the last part quietly.

Taeyong's brows creased. "Why your mom?"

Letting out a long sigh, you told him about your mother's constant nagging to look gorgeously feminine so that you could win the heart of the rich jerk to marry you off to. She refused you have a job as you would be living off your future-to-be's income and told you to simply worry about looking your best. Because of this, you never dared to dream of anything for an earning. "Good thing she at least let me finish high school," you deadpanned. "So that's why I go to the library at night."

Taeyong was silent for a moment, thinking through a particular set of words you spoke before diverting his mind. "Why night though? Don't you get scared all alone?"

You hummed. "Yeah I do. That's why I avoid taking shady routes."

His eyes narrowed on you with a playful glint. "But you took the alley."

You pursed your lips. "That's because I was hoping to find someone for... help...you know?"

Taeyong's lips curled up in amusement. "And how did you get yourself in that situation?"

You gulped. "I-I read some books. Erotic ones. I don't usually read them but I was feeling it and... well you know what happened," you chuckled sheepishly, embarrassed that you had gotten so turned on that you were desperate for help from a stranger.

He smirked, seeming proud of himself. "Good thing I was there to take care of you."

You smiled shyly and wondered about his life. "Taeyong?" you called for him softly.

"Hm?"

"What do you do?"

His spoon stilled by his lips and suddenly it was dead silent. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing or not. He slowly lowered his utensil and laid it down. "I..."

You waited patiently.

A sigh left his mouth before continuing, "...work as a construction worker."

You blinked. "Did you say construction worker? As in those people that build buildings?"

A hesitant nod. With the way you described your mother, he knew he was going to fall in the not acceptable category. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, worried that you would see him like that and never wish to see him again.

Your heartbeat sped up at the thought of Taeyong wearing his safety gear, sweaty and dirt covering his skin and clothes, his arms flexing muscles when carrying heavy items over his shoulder. And those very arms wrapped around you, or even better, those hardworking fingers plunging deep into you...

You nearly fell off your chair from swooning. "That sounds sexy."

He gaped at you incredulously. That was a response he had never heard in his life. "You think that's sexy?"

"Of course! You must be strong. Imagine having to brag to someone that they're standing inside a building that you built. That's so hot!" you gushed with bright eyes.

Taeyong chuckled and a warm smile formed on his face when seeing your animated self. He was pleased that you didn't see him like the way other people would when he'd mention his occupation.

What you thought about him was all that mattered.

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh​ @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem

let me know if want to be added/removed for this series

[arthurtristankingsmen]

Heal

His hands were shaking.

He understood why, but it was inconvenient right now. He just wanted something to keep his mind on. He’d intended it to be putting their gear away, but his only remaining hand was frigid and numb and wouldn’t listen to him. He stood outside the van, carrying cases stacked with the top ones open and foam pulled out, but he couldn’t get the pieces to fit in the impressions. It was hard with one arm, and he could barely see, vision twisting and blurring while his shoulders shook. Every now and then, he had to stop to cough into his hand and that only slowed his progress further.

He’d managed half their equipment. It was slow going while his prosthetic was useless, but once all the ghost-hunting paraphernalia was away, he could break out his tools and get to work on that. It’d take a bit, but he could fix it. He might have to replace a lot of the inner-workings, especially the circuitry, but it wasn’t a big deal when it was far better than the alternative outcome.

Arthur heaved a sigh, and jammed the next piece into its slot. It wasn’t nestled in the foam like it was supposed to be, but it’d just be another thing he couldn’t get right. He knew something was wrong. He’d felt it about the place. He knew it he knew and he’d not acted faster and Vivi almost--

Hair raised on the back of his neck and he caught a scent like cinnamon and vanilla. He didn’t turn from the box, eyes glued to the piece inside, not quite right. It didn’t fit in it shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t wanted. Maybe it was useful sometimes, but maybe it should stop kidding itself it was its fault anyways because if it hadn’t hurt its friend he could’ve done the same and better.

“Arthur?” The voice he expected to hear sounded behind him, and his shoulders hunched a few degrees, He jammed the foam back into place on the sensor he’d been boring holes into, and closed the lid. The voice was so-- gentle. Not like he sounded usually. Usually Lewis was so cold now. Distant. The question was so soft but somehow that hurt more. It almost sounded like he was worried.

“Is Vivi okay?” He still didn’t turn around. He sunk lower between his raising shoulders. Fingers flexing and then balling so hard his knuckles turned white and his palm burned. 

“She’ll be okay...She’s warm. She’s sleeping now. Mystery is helping, too.” He nearly sagged when some of the weight slid off him, but his spine stayed ramrod. He didn’t have to turn around and there weren’t any footsteps, but he knew Lewis was getting closer. His head was buzzing at the sensation and he shivered because of the steady heat behind him, like his back was to a hearth or a wood-burning stove. It was so different from the ice his skin had been sheeted with and that froze his veins and numbed his hand.

“Oh. Good.”

He wished he had more to say, but the words dangled between them in the air, a waving banner dedicated to his awkwardness. He focused on latching the case he’d closed, and moved it aside to open the next one. 

“Arthur.”

“Mm?”

There was a sound behind him. “Arthur. Please look at me.”

The request was so small. It was soft, not a command, and the way the request squeezed out almost sounded like a plea. Arthur licked his lips and screwed his eyes shut for a moment, before he wheeled around, dragging himself like a rusted valve until he’d turned enough to see him. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw Lewis’s face. it was his face face. He never wore that when it was just them. He’d tried to explain why, once. But all he’d gleaned from the attempt was that he felt safer around him not being vulnerable. It was a far cry from where they used to be. It twisted his chest. He brushed back his hair and made eye contact with the ground.

“--Arthur?” Lewis’s voice came back into focus, but before he opened his mouth, a hand touched his arm. It struck him like lightning and he couldn’t move, and his voice locked. His hand was warm, but in a pleasant way. “You zoned out there. Are you okay? And Arthur-- why are you cold, still?”

That unglued his mouth. His voice wavered and he offered a shaky shrug. “I-- I figured. Better to get Vivi warmed. And-- faster we leave we can get somewhere warmer. I changed clothes.” He coughed again into his hand.

That made Lewis’s brow crease. “Arthur... you went into the water too.”

“Y-yeah, but Vivi was under longer.”

“And you swallowed more water than she did.” Lewis flickered, voice harsh in its firmness. Arthur hunched, and it hit the switch, his best friend Lewis receding back to his eggshell-stepping. It made him want to yank his hair out this was so wrong it shouldn’t be this way it wasn’t fair but who’s fault was it--

Lewis’s snagged his hand, and the thoughts jarred to a halt. “I’m sorry. For snapping. I-- shouldn’t.” He looked away, and every instinct wanted to reach out and comfort him. Tell him it was alright, it wasn’t his fault. But Lewis’s mouth opened again. “But...Arthur. You need to take care of yourself. This... I know I’ve been hard to... talk to. Deal with. I’m so angry. All the time. And it bubbles up so easily with you.” 

Arthur hunched in silence and he nodded. Lewis continued. “But. But that isn’t your fault. It’s.... I don’t want to be angry at you, Arthur. I still.... I care about you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Not like this.” Arthur looked up at him. There were tears, mostly clear with a pink glow, instead of the sludgy black they had been what felt like a lifetime ago. When so much of the anger had left him. 

“I know you’re still a good person. I know you always were.” Lewis shuddered. “I don’t want to keep hurting you because I can’t-- control my temper. It’s not fair to you.” Lewis wiped at his nose and sniffled, and that spurred Arthur to move.

He took his hand from Lewis’s, and it made Lewis pause. But instead of retreating or pulling away, his hand just came up to wipe at the tears and their glistening streaks. 

There was a silence. A long respite, where Arthur wordlessly wiped at his cheeks, and Lewis stared at his hand and then him. He could see his gaze in his periphery, but he couldn’t meet it.

“I just... want you happy.” Arthur muttered. “I can’t undo... anything. But if I could fix this, I would. But.... I’m just glad you’re here. I know you can’t help it. I don’t blame you.”

“I blame me.” Lewis’s hand overlaid his own. “I know it hurts you. I know it does when I get angry. Or when I try to not say anything so I don’t hurt you. I don’t want you to feel like I want nothing to do with you. I just-- I don’t want to be the monster I almost was. I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Arthur swallowed something thick in his throat. “You’re not. You’re not a monster. You didn’t have a choice.”

“And you did?”

He froze solid, hearing Lewis say that. “I-- what--”

“You know what I mean. And I know you.” Lewis took his chin and tilted it so they’d meet each other’s gaze. “I don’t always... notice things. Or connect the dots. But I know you. And you didn’t have a choice either.”

Arthur looked at him a long moment, before he shrugged. It was the best answer he could give. Arguments filled his mouth, but he swallowed them for now. Disagreeing would just make Lewis try to convince him more. 

Lewis seemed satisfied enough with that. “I know what kind of person you are,” He continued. “You want to know who that is...?”

“Who...?” 

Lewis smiled. “The kind of person who jumps into an icy lake, to save our best friend from a spirit who pulled her under. The kind of person who doesn’t think twice about how dangerous it is. The only person who could go under that surface because of the magic seals, and who didn’t even need to be asked. Who didn’t know that, but didn’t care. The person who held her above water and risked himself. The person who did that even when your arm stopped working and weighed you down. Who still held her up when it did, so she’d stay above even when that meant you kept going under. The person determined enough to save her despite everything. And the person who did.”  

The tears were there again as he put his hands on each side of Arthur’s face. “Vivi is the love of my life. And my afterlife. She’s one of my best friends. And you saved her when no one else could. That’s who you are, Arthur. A friend who does what it takes for everyone he cares about. I wish I had remembered that. Because when it comes down to it...? That’s who you are. I didn’t lose her, because you saved her.”

Arthur made a choked noise, but it was nothing next to the sound that escaped when large arms wrapped around him, and Lewis held him close in a tight embrace. 

It was the first one Lewis had given him, since he’d come back to the team in full.

“I thought I was going to. To lose her. I couldn’t reach her. And then I thought I might lose you both. And that was terrifying.” Lewis’s voice wavered. He shook and clutched him tighter. He could feel his hands balling against his shirt with handfuls of fabric, just underneath his vest. “You matter too. You have to know you matter.” Lewis whispered it against his hair, clutching him tight. “I can’t lose either of you. Any of you. You have to know that, Arthur. I want all of us to be okay. You’re a part of that.”

“L-Lewis-- I--.” He warbled, hardly able to string words together. Lewis’s embrace was so familiar and nostalgic. It was so warm and he smelled like snickerdoodles and he held him so close he almost forgot how how far apart they were. He stayed frozen in his hold until Lewis’s warmth thawed him enough to hold back, making the numbness recede. There were butterflies in his lungs and the ice was melting where it’d seized him inside.

 He shook now, but he said nothing. He couldn’t. His voice was choked out and he couldn’t speak. He knew if he tried he’d just cry. He didn’t want to. 

Lewis did let go after a time, but he only pulled back, his arms going to Arthur’s shoulders. “Thank you. For saving her. I-- I know I’m still angry. But I want to try. I know who you are, Arthur. So we can try... to heal. Right? I want to. I want to get through this. And I still want you with us.”

Arthur could feel his eyes stinging and he nodded. 

Lewis hugged him again, though this one was shorter. But it still meant everything, and held all the weight he’d been shouldering, so he could breathe without gasping. “Good. Now this all can wait.” He gestured to the equipment, but Lewis’s gaze never left him. “Let’s just... it’s warm in the van, Arthur. Come inside. Vivi will kick my shins if she wakes up and you’re still freezing. You wouldn’t want to risk those, would you?”

Arthur made a sound. It might’ve been a chuckle at one point.  “N-no-- a-and V-viv-- she’d-- be-- be sad she couldn’t-- stick her cold toes on-- me.” He stuttered and halted as he spoke, slow and choppy. It was lighthearted, but his voice still threatened to break the dam with every word. It was the best he could do to keep himself steady and still say them. 

But Lewis’s soft laugh said it was enough. 

The divide felt smaller, with Lewis’s hand on his shoulder, as he ushered him in through the van’s back doors.

[malfoymanortings]

lavender and velvet //part nine

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: George Weasley X OC!SiriusDaughter

taglist: @person1839 @big-galaxy-chaos @spooderham @iamashlynmarie @acciosiriusblack @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ivettt @msmarklee1213 @briargardens @adoregin @emptyporsche @id-rather-be-an-outsider

as always, let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. 

thank you to everyone who has given feedback on this story so far! I’m so happy many of you are liking it so far. also, wanted to give a shout-out to @id-rather-be-an-outsider because their comment on the last update gave me an additional plot point. 💕

part one contains links to the previous chapters.

It was half past one in the morning on Christmas Eve when Juliet woke up to someone prodding her face. She blinked her eyes clearly, finally registering that Ginny was the one who had woken her.

“Ginny,” she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Time to wake up,” Ginny grinned, her lips quirked up in a devious grin. “Or have you forgotten our tradition?”

Juliet blanched for a moment, before realization hit her. “Damn. I had forgotten. Is everyone else already there?”

Ginny nodded, motioning for her to get up. “Yes, now come on!”

Juliet lugged herself off the bed, bringing her favorite blanket with. 

Every Christmas Eve, early in the morning after everyone else had already gone to bed, the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Juliet held a sesh. The one time the Weasleys had been at Hogwarts over Christmas, Neville and Lee Jordan had joined them. It was always a tradition. 

“Well well, we almost thought the ladies weren’t going to show,” Fred greeted as they walked in. “Would have had more for us.”

Fred was sitting against his bed, a bong between his legs, George next to him, while Ron sat on the other side with his back against the wall. Ginny sat next to Ron, and Juliet sat next to George. Her bare leg brushed against his, and she couldn’t stop the chill that went through her as she did so.

“Almost thought the two of you weren’t going to show,” George grinned happily at the girls, his eyes slightly glazed. They must have already started smoking. “We had to start without you.”

“Please, you probably started sometime after Molly had gone to bed,” Juliet shook her head, spreading her blanket over her bare legs. “As usual.”

Fred blew her a kiss, winking in reply. He passed the bong to Ron, who took a rather deep hit, before coughing it out nearly immediately. 

“So far Ronnie’s the little bitch tonight!” crowed Fred, clapping his hands together as he laughed. 

“Have you cast a silencing spell yet?” Juliet nudged George, nodding towards Fred who may as well have been a warning siren at the level of his noise.

George shook his head no. “That probably would be a good idea, though.” He waved his wand, and the room glowed a bright blue for a moment. 

Half an hour later, Fred had taken to laying on the floor, furiously scribbling on a parchment a list of ideas for the joke shop. Ron was lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, which the twins had bewitched to display a twinkling night sky. Ginny lay next to him, pointing out different ones she saw. Juliet had rested against George’s bed frame, his hand in her lap as she played with his fingers.

George turned to Juliet, that same look on his face from Kings Cross. He blinked slowly, licking his lips. “Jules, can I shotgun you?”

Juliet felt her heart skip a beat, and promptly lodge itself in her throat. The logical part of her brain was screaming at her to say no, that it wouldn’t be good for her to do so with her newfound feelings for her closest friend, but that part of her brain was muddled and hazed from smoking. So she nodded.

“It’ll be easier if you sit on my lap.” George stumbled a bit over the last part, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“Okay.” Juliet breathed, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Inside, she was screaming.

Juliet hesitated before kneeling in front of George, hesitantly sitting on his thighs. She wore nothing but her oversized tee shirt that hung to her mid thighs, leaving her bare skin to sit on his flannel pajama pants.

No one seemed to notice what they were doing, but she was hyper aware of George’s body under hers. She would never have done this sober.

George inhaled deeply as he took a hit from the bong before setting it back down, and then turned his face towards hers. He reached out his hands to cup her cheeks, his fingers tangling into her long hair. Leaning forwards, he pressed his lips to hers, their mouths parted, and he exhaled the smoke into her mouth. 

Their lips lingered together for a moment longer than necessary, before Juliet pulled away to exhale herself. She coughed slightly, pressing a hand to her chest. George’s arms suddenly found their way to her waist, bringing her closer to him. She was now flush against his chest, pressed against where she could feel something hard against herself. Her eyes widened as she realized this, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Partly from her hazy mind, and partly because she wondered what George was doing.

His lips crashed onto hers once more, moving with an urgency she hadn’t felt before. His hands ghosted from her hips to her hair, tangling his long fingers in the strands as he pressed her firmly against him.

She found herself wrapping her arms around his back, everything slightly tilted and out of sorts as she did. She didn’t fully register what was going on, all she could focus on was that she was finally kissing George, the boy she wildly fancied. 

As their lips moved against each other, his hands moved down her bare thighs, groping at her soft skin. His tongue felt foreign on her own, fuzzy and out of place through the hazy fog of her mind. She hadn’t ever kissed someone like this before. 

Once again, George’s hands found their way to her hips, holding her tightly against himself. Without thinking, she ground her hips against his, a soft moan releasing from her lips involuntarily. He groaned into her mouth, bucking his hips harshly up into hers.

That seemed to sober the two of them up, as they realized what they were doing.

They quickly pulled away from each other, Juliet hastily sitting back on the floor next to him, staring at the carpet as her cheeks flamed. Fred was laughing, loudly, and she didn’t dare look to see what Ron or Ginny’s reaction might be. She felt utterly foolish, and dirty. Had she really just made out with her best friend in front of his family for Merlin’s sake?

“I was wondering when that would happen,” Fred chortled, looking back down at his parchment. “Absolutely splendid.”

“What happened?” asked Ginny, looking over at the two of them from where she lay on the floor.

“Nothing,” Juliet quickly cut Fred off, standing up on shaky legs. “I just, erm, feel rather tired. I’m going to head to bed.”

With that, she quickly (or as fast as her muddled mind would allow her to) left the room, shutting the door tightly behind her, and headed to her room. What she hadn't expected was to run into Sirius, who was just leaving Buckbeak's room.

“Jules?” Sirius cocked his head, walking towards her. “What are you..” he trailed off, suddenly sniffing the air around her. “No shit? You’re high?”

“Uh, no,” Juliet wracked her brain for an excuse, feeling as though she were sorting through foam. “I am perfectly level.”

Sirius gave her a doubtful look, crossing his arms. “Perfectly level?”

“As a side bar.” she nodded, keeping her eyes wide and honest. 

Sirius blinked once, then twice. “Good Godrick, is that the best you can come up with? You’re my daughter for Merlin's sake. We’re going to have to come up with something better than that for next time.”

Juliet tilted her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. His words spun round and round her mind, but she couldn’t quite understand what he meant. He seemed to notice this, and an exasperated grin appeared on his face, shaking his head.

“I suppose I’m reaping what I sow,” he muttered quietly, almost to himself. “All those years Rems and I did this to James, of course my daughter does the same.”

“I am completely following you.” Juliet nodded solemnly, attempting to at least appear as though she were coherent and understood. 

“Right, right, of course.” 

He motioned for her to follow him, and she followed him downstairs, pausing at a door that seemed oddly illuminated by a candle burning resolutely in the hall. It had a faint and peeling silver R on the front of the worn wood. She didn’t think she had ever seen the inside of the room before.

“What’s in there?” she questioned, sticking her thumb out towards the door. “Is the R for room of requirement? Have you got one of those here? I think that’s really swell and helpful for the order, dad.”

Sirius looked taken aback, not only by her question and her mumbling, but at the fact that she had openly called him dad for the first time.

“Well, no, good guess though,” he paused, his hand limply lying on the railing of the stairs. “That’s my younger brother’s room. Regulus.”

Her eyes widened once more. “Oh wow, he’s been in there this whole time? He’s wicked quiet!”

Sirius took a deep breath, as though to ground himself. “Actually, he’s dead. He was killed by Voldemort.”

Juliet faltered. “Oh wow. Sorry.”

Sirius shrugged, continuing down the stairs. Juliet followed, taking great care to hold the railing tightly. She followed him into the kitchen, where he motioned for her to sit down. 

She sat, watching as he went into the pantry. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, remerging with two bottles of butterbeer and an assortment of snacks. He dropped the bounty on the table, and Juliet snatched a chocolate frog, suddenly ravenous. 

“My brother decided to follow the family views and joined Voldemort and his supporters,” Sirius explained as Juliet munched on the snacks. He took a sip of butterbeer. “Suppose he got in too deep, and ended up trying to leave when he realized what was asked of him. Problem is, you don’t just get to leave. You get the mark for life.”

Juliet nodded, swallowing a sip of Butterbeer and taking a package of crisps from the pile on the table. 

“That’s why I worry about you being friends with the Malfoys,” he said rather honestly, spinning the bottle cap from his drink on the table. “They’re Death Eaters, Jules. You’re a Black. A pureblood. Voldemort would love to have you on his side, especially because you’re close to Harry and the Order.”

“Don’t think he knows I like Harry,” Juliet disagreed, swallowing hard on a crisp. “Draco still thinks I’m upset that you like him more than me. He thinks I hate scarhead -Harry-, I mean.”

“I don’t like him more than you, Jules,” Sirius shook his head, looking sharply at her. “I love the both of you equally.”

Juliet was quiet for a moment, the only sound heard was the crunching of her snack. “Did you love James?”

“Yeah, of course I did-”

“No, like, did you love him as a boyfriend?”

Sirius sputtered at the question, looking as though she had beat him over the head with a bat. “For Melins sake- no, I did not love him like that! He was my brother!”

“Oh.”

It was quiet after that. The two of them ate a few more of the snacks, sipping their Butterbeer. By the time the clock struck one thirty, Sirius was herding her upstairs to her room. He made sure she was safely tucked into bed before he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Ginny was already in bed, her mouth agape as she snored loudly. The girl was normally a quiet sleeper, but each time after their Christmas Eve sesh she would take on the sound of a chainsaw. They always got well baked on these nights.

Juliet fell asleep nearly the moment her head hit the pillow, into a dreamless slumber. 

It felt like she had just shut her eyes when she was being woken up by a loud crack near her head, causing her to jerk awake and fall onto the floor. 

“Mphfm,” she groaned, slowly lifting herself off the ground. 

“Sorry!” Ginny was apologizing, her cheeks red. “I knocked over my exploding snap from the twins and it went off.”

“S’okay,” Juliet sat on the bed, her head feeling a bit swollen. “Oh, our presents!”

“Thank you for mine, by the way,” Ginny beamed, motioning towards the beauty products that were lined up on the dresser. “You knew exactly what I wanted.”

Juliet waved off her thanks, gingerly sorting through her own pile. A handmade knit sweater, a dark emerald green with a silver J stitched on the front, from Molly. Remus had given her an assortment of books, ranging from different healing remedies, and jinxes/hexes with their counter curses. Sirius had given her a handheld mirror, with a note detailing that he had the other and they could use it to communicate when she was at Hogwarts. Ginny had given her a book with different beauty spells, and she flicked through it to see pictures detailing different makeup looks and hairstyles that could happen with the swish of your wand. Fred had given her a jar of peruvian darkness powder, something she knew he and George had been working on perfecting for some time now. George had given her a necklace, a dainty silver chain with a gleaming crescent moon charm dangling from it. On the back of the necklace, were the words ‘my moon and my stars’, written in a glittering lettering. 

She held it in her palm for a moment, feeling it grow warm for a moment before cooling down once more. Odd, but she supposed George might have charmed it to do something special. That would be like him. She clasped the necklace around her neck, hanging below the hollow of her throat. 

“We’ll be visiting dad today,” Ginny informed her, running a brush through her hair. “Expect we’ll be leaving soon. Mums had a rough morning, Percy sent back his sweater with no note, good for nothing knobhead..” she muttered a few other insults under her breath.

Juliet stood, digging through her trunk for something to wear. She decided on a dark grey turtleneck tucked into a dark green pleated skirt that fell to the top of her thighs, and grey thigh highs with a ruffled lace trim. Her hair was left down, in neat waves framing her face, courtesy of a spell from the beauty book Ginny had gifted her. The necklace from George glittered in the light. 

Oh, Merlin. George.

The memories of last night came flooding back to her, and she nearly poked her eye with her mascara wand. She and George had absolutely made out and then she left the room. 

Her heart began racing, and as she slid on her black boots, she prayed George didn’t remember. The sound of everyone conversing downstairs floated up the steps, and she made her way down fairly quickly. She at least wanted a cup of tea and a bite of toast before they headed to the hospital.

To her delight, Remus was there and accompanied them to the hospital to visit Arthur. She didn’t run into the twins until they gathered to leave, and as George averted her eyes, her heart sank. He definitely remembered the kiss if the way he refused to look at her was any indication.

When they arrived in the room and had greeted Arthur, Remus drifted off towards the werewolf, who had been looking rather wistfully at the crowd gathered around him. Juliet followed, taking the chance to escape the stifling presence of George who was still pointedly not looking at her.

“Happy Christmas,” Remus greeted, smiling kindly at the man. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“I’ve heard of you,” the man grunted, eyeing him warily. “You were a Professor at Hogwarts, weren’t you? Until they found out you were a werewolf.”

Remus nodded, keeping a smile on his face. “That would be me. But between you and I, I think it was rather good luck I had been outed. The kids were a bit more wild than I had thought they would be, and my daughter seemed to take a liking to keeping me on my toes.” 

Juliet smirked in agreement, he wasn’t wrong. The man turned his attention to her now, his eyes narrowing. 

“Daughter?” the man questioned. Remus nodded. “Your wife stayed with you even though you’re a werewolf?”

Remus blanched for a moment. “Well, I don’t have a wife. Juliet is my adopted daughter.”

“They let you adopt a kid?”

“I was her godfather, and when her parents were no longer around, Albus Dumbledore vouched for me.” Remus explained, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh,” the man grunted, shifting in his bed. “S’pose you’ve had rotten luck with getting a job since the Daily Prophet article, huh?”

Remus shrugged. “It’s certainly been more difficult to find.”

The man nodded, looking deep in thought. “I got fired once they learned of my condition,” the word twisted from his mouth. “And I’m sure my wife is going to leave me next. She keeps wanting to visit but I don’t want her to end it while I’m laying in a hospital bed.”

“Has she given you any indication that she wants to end it?” Juliet spoke up, tilting her head to the side. 

The man looked at her as though she had grown another head. “I’m a bloody werewolf, who in their right mind wants to stay with that?”

“There isn’t anything wrong with being a werewolf,” Juliet disagreed. “I mean yes, things will be harder, but if she really loves you it doesn’t matter. It’s a manageable condition, and it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” the man scoffed, looking towards the window. 

Juliet opened her mouth to retort, but Remus placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“I understand,” Remus said quietly. “I was changed when I was five years old by Fenrir Greyback. I’ve had a lot of years to come to terms with my condition, and the one thing that you must remember is that it doesn’t define you. You cannot let it consume you and dictate every aspect of your life; you must learn to work with it instead of attempting to cut corners or ignore it entirely. Your life will never be as it was, but you can make your new normal.”

The man was silent for a moment, and Remus’s words seemed to sink it, as he then asked how he would go about trying to find another job. Remus conjured up a chair, settling in before telling him the different things that worked best for him. 

“Can we talk?”

Juliet turned to see George looking down at her, his face unreadable for the first time to her. She nodded mutely, following him out to the hall. He checked rooms, finding one that was empty and pulling her in with him.

It was a regular hospital room, with an empty bed and various potions lined up on the wall. It was one of the private ones, meaning there was just one bed and an accompanying bathroom. 

“I wanted to say that I was sorry about last night,” George said slowly, his words clear. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

“Oh,” Juliet responded, feeling as though she had been winded. Her chest stabbed painfully. He said he wasn’t thinking clearly. “Right. ‘Course.”

“So yeah,” George rubbed his neck, teetering on his feet. “So we can forget that it happened, yeah? Go back to being normal?”

“Yeah, of course,” Juliet responded, but her voice was too high and didn’t sound at all like herself. “No problem. I think I’m just going to go back to the room, now, before anyone starts to wonder where we went.”

“Right, of course,” he responded awkwardly, moving towards the door. “So, no one has to know, Fred already promised he wouldn’t say anything.”

Her chest burned with shame. He didn’t want anyone to know that they had kissed. She felt mortified at the thought, he probably wouldn’t want anyone to know he had kissed a slytherin who was two years below him. How embarrassing! And she supposed he was worried about Alicia Spinnet, surely she wouldn’t be too happy to hear about that. And George certainly wouldn’t want to mess that up, she was perfect for him. Pretty and a Gryffindor, sans daddy issues.

“Right, wouldn’t want Alicia to get upset,” the words came from her mouth before she could stop them. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your dream girl over a stupid mistake.”

“What do you-” 

Before George could finish his sentence, she darted from the room, blinking back tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. His rejection had hurt, and she hated that anything had ever happened. No matter how much she had kept thinking of his lips on hers, she would forget it all happily if it meant she hadn’t gotten a taste just for it to be ripped away. How could she just be friends with her best friend who had broken her heart without even knowing it?

By the time she had gotten back to the room, everyone was getting ready to leave. She quickly made her way to Remus’ side, keeping her head down. George had reappeared a few minutes after her, and no matter how many times he tried to get her attention, she pointedly ignored him as he had done to her that morning. It would do her no good to fill her mind with empty fantasies of what would never be.

They went back to Grimmauld Place, where Molly blasted Christmas carols in the living room, and everyone gathered to celebrate the last hours of the holiday. Juliet, Ginny, and Hermione danced along with Remus and Sirius, who kept giving each other the most peculiar of gazes. It was funny for Juliet to see how surprised everyone else was at Remus’ carefree attitude, as they had known him as their teacher. They didn’t know of the days he would dance with her to muggle music in the kitchen.

By the end of the night, everyone was rightly tired out from the excitement of the day. Juliet had made a quick race to her room, having successfully avoided George the entire night. No one aside from Fred had seemed to notice something was off between the two. 

As she clambered up the stairs to her room, she very nearly ran into Kreacher, who was skulking around the portrait of Walaburga Black. He was muttering to himself, and gave her a dirty look as she apologized for running him over.

��Masters daughter apologizes to Kreacher after not watching where she was going, reckless like her father, not like Master Regulus...”

“Regulus?” Juliet questioned, recalling the name from the previous night Sirius had found her high. It was his younger brother, her uncle.

Kreacher nodded eagerly, his large eyes widening. “Master Regulus was so kind to Kreacher, he was the best son of Mistress, most loyal, and Master Sirius acts like he was a dirty no good swine...”

When Kreacher spoke of Regulus, his face took on an unexpectedly soft look of yearning and admiration. When he spoke of the way Sirius viewed his brother, hatred seeped back in and twisted his features.

Juliet paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts carefully before she spoke. She knew that Kreacher seemed to idiolize Regulus, which could explain some of the dislike he harbored towards Sirius. If she were to jump into claiming the things Sirius told her about his brother, that would make Kreacher upset and she would likely never hear more from him on the subject. A large part of her suddenly wanted so desperately to know of her Slytherin uncle. Maybe he had been the same as her, thought of as a typical Slytherin with no one if any bothering to look beyond his house.

“Regulus was my uncle, right, Kreacher?” she questioned, watching his head bob as he nodded. “Can you tell me about him?”

Kreacher eyed her cautiously, his mouth forming a tight line. “Why does Mistress Juliet want to know about Master Regulus?”

“Well,” she paused. “He was a Slytherin like me. He probably would have understood things a lot better than my dad.”

Kreacher nodded vigorously, eager to talk badly about Sirius. “Master Regulus was much better than Master, yes, he would have understood more, so smart he was, not a nasty Gryffindor like Master, proud of his bloodline and good to the very end, especially to Kreacher.”

Juliet bit her lip, waiting a beat before she asked. “I would have loved to know him. Can you tell me... how did he die?”

Kreacher opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Hermione came up the steps, bumping into Juliet.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, placing a hand on Juliets arm. “Oh, happy Christmas Kreacher!”

Kreacher scowled immediately, muttering under his breath, “mudblood addresses Kreacher like he cares about her, speaking to the house elf of the most noble ancient House of Black, dirty girl...”

Hermione gave a pained smile, brushing past the two to her bedroom. Juliet cursed her timing, now Kreacher was wandering off down the hall.

“Kreacher,” she called, making the house elf pause in his steps. “Can you tell me about him tomorrow?”

Kreacher gave a jerky nod, and continued off down the hallway. Juliet sighed, and headed off to her room. At least tomorrow, she would find out more on her uncle.

As she got ready for bed, she slid the moon charm along the length of the silver chain, pondering her feelings for George. What she had hoped would be a passing crush had turned into a full blown issue for her. What was she going to do?

The charm once again heated up in her grasp, before cooling back down. She narrowed her eyes, and set the charm on her bedside table. She hadn’t asked George about it. She didn’t get the chance.

Tossing her blanket over her body and burrowing into the bed, she shut her eyes. Ginny’s soft breathing lulled her to sleep, her conflicting feelings of George tightening in her chest.

[sola-whumping]

Umbran: The New Master

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, treating a whumpee as a nonperson, nonhuman whumpee, fae whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, nonsexual nudity (taking care of wounds)

Word count: 3,306

Nox woke slowly, his senses returning one by one. The first thing he was aware of was the soft surrounding him and the gentle hand running through his hair. The second thing he was aware of was the soft feminine humming, it was gentle and soothing like a summer breeze. He listened to the melody for a while, getting lost in the sound. He didn’t want to wake quite yet and fought the awareness that threatened to come for him. There would be pain waiting for him when he woke, he was sure of it. The last thing he was aware of was the tightness of the bandages around his chest and throat and the pain they caused him. He gave a small whine of discomfort. His bandages were not so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but not so loose that they were useless. Eventually, he was dragged to consciousness. 

“Good morning, Umbran, are you awake?” The humming had stopped in favor of speaking. Nox opened his eyes, remembering what had happened the day before. He had been sold again. 

“’M ‘wake.” He felt heavy, as if he’d been drugged. He vaguely remembered being bitten and recalled that this was the vampire, Evangeline. Gabrial had warned him about her. He tried to sit up, only to be eased back onto the bed. 

“You are hurt. You will answer my questions and rest. Once I am satisfied, you may have a bath and a meal.” The way she said it sounded a lot like mercy, though he knew there would be a catch. For the bath he expected ice water and to be held under. That’s what a bath had meant to Gabrial. The meal would surely be laced, if not outright poisoned. He was never fed that easily. Immediately suspicious but unable to do anything about it, he agreed. 

“What are your name and pronouns? I want to make sure I received the right creature.” Nox figured it was likely that she knew umbrans didn’t have any gender binary. Instead, they were physically non-binary, and while some leaned towards male or female (he leaned male), it was much more common that they were androgynous or didn’t fit the human stereotype at all. It was generally polite to ask an Umbrans pronouns or call them ‘they’ or ‘it’ instead of guessing. He also figured that Gabrial had promised her something better than him. 

“N-ox,” he croaked. His throat was dry and burned when he spoke. As soon as he made noise, the vampire lifted him and placed him in a sitting-up position. She put a cup of sweetened water to his lips, gently urging him to drink. 

He was grateful for the water. He hadn’t had any since before he was shipped. She turned cruel as soon as he tried to drink, only giving him a small bit of water at a time and then keeping the rest out of reach. Eventually, slowly, he drank the whole cup. He wanted more water. He was so dehydrated that he felt like he couldn’t get enough. He tried to ask for more, to plead if he had to, but his throat felt like fire, and when he made noise, he coughed weakly. 

His struggles were soon rewarded with another cup, filled with the same sugar water as the last. The only difference was that this one was a bit cooler and he was a bit less desperate. He still swallowed it down as quickly as he was allowed. 

The vampire gently reminded him of the question after the glass was stolen away once more. “Nox, m-ale pronouns,” he rasped. His throat felt a little better. He felt a little better. 

“Are you hungry, Nox?” He faintly realized he was desperate enough to not care if any food given to him was laced. Gabrial, his seller, had only ever fed him after he passed out and woke up again or in the days before shipping. He was more than hungry: he was starved. He gave a weak whine. He knew if she was asking that then she either intended to taunt and starve him or feed him, and he preferred the latter. 

She seemed to take the whine as his response, and in the next moment, there was a spoonful of something that smelled heavenly in his face. It was potato soup. He used to love potato soup. He was grateful to be allowed to eat something warm when he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet.. Something that wasn’t moldy bread was a treat in itself. 

He tried to rush and comply before she had a chance to change her mind about feeding him, trying to make it easier and maybe even feed himself. He failed. He was still heavy and weak and exhausted. All he managed to do was lean forward and open his mouth. His attempt was pathetic. 

“Good boy, that’s it. Easy, darling.”  She praised and cooed at him while he struggled for each bite. When the bowl was almost empty, she helped him drink bit more water before letting him finish the bowl. “Very good!” She ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He was too weak to lean into the touch, but he felt a happy warmth in his chest. 

He hadn’t been called “good” or praised often, if at all, with Gabrial. It was no secret that the umbran hated him. He was often used as a plaything to beat around and hurt, rather than treated like the pets that were trained and sold. They got to find a forever home while he was rented for a party or a beating for a night or to someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted a Pet or not. He shivered at the memories and tried to focus on what was happening in the present. 

“Alright, sweetheart, it’s bath time. We need to clean those wounds and get you washed up.” Evangeline spoke to him as if he was a child. “Liam, darling, if you could.”

Suddenly, someone big and tall left the wall where they had been leaning and approached the bed Nox had been laying on. He hadn’t noticed them until they had moved and that worried him, he must be more out of it than he thought. He panicked slightly and keened in distress when he felt an arm slip under his knees and another tighten across his shoulders. He was lifted effortlessly- like he was weightless. Once he was picked up and stabilized, he could identify the figure as a tall human male- at least... he thought it was a male. Humans were supposed to have physical features that showed their preferred gender, but he could never tell. Gender was a human construct anyway. It was much better to learn the person rather than assuming. 

They spoke softly to him and he could feel their deep voice rumbling in their chest. “Hello, little birdy. My name is Liam.” Their arms felt strong around him and Nox almost felt… safe, being carried like this.

Nox gave a shy “Hello.” He liked Liam’s voice. They sounded calming and friendly even though their strength scared him. 

Nox was carried to another room. This one was painted a light blue. There was a big bathtub and shower. It was large enough that his wings wouldn’t be squished- if he still had them. He didn’t get to see the other half of the room until he was undressed and lowered into the already filled tub. There was a white foam on the top of the water that he considered beautiful. The water felt lovely. It was so warm that the heat immediately seeped into his bones. 

When he glanced up, something squeaked in his face, startling him badly and making him chirp in surprise. “Awww, Noxie, it’s just a rubber duck,” his master cooed at him, handing him a bright yellow toy. It was plastic and didn’t look at all like a duck. He squeezed it and startled himself again when it made a squeak sound.. He looked up to see her amused. 

He noticed some of the bubbles had clung to his arm when he moved. Curious, he licked it. It did not taste good at all despite how appealing it looked. His tongue stayed poked out as he recoiled. He heard his master laugh, and suddenly there was a dry towel wiping away the bubbles. 

“There, there, little darling, nothing to be distressed over.” She soothed. “Now we know that we can’t eat bubbles.” She sounded amused so Nox chirped at her, happy to have attention. 

He surveyed the water. If he was held under and waterboarded, it would be better than the cold water, right? Or would the bubbles compensate and make it worse. He couldn’t decide, so he figured he would have to wait and see. 

His master must have seen his expression because she spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “That’s Birdy bubble bath, made specifically not to hurt your feathers.” That hadn’t been what he had been worrying over- in fact, he hadn’t considered that the soap could hurt him at all-- but it was good to know. In response, he carefully lowered himself into the warm water, assuming that’s what she wanted him to do.  

Evangeline shielded his eyes and filled a cup with water before pouring it over him carefully to wet his hair. Then he felt something cold in the center of his hair. When he chirped a question, his master was kind enough to answer. 

“Just some shampoo, darling. I know I’m not supposed to use things like this on your hair, but I have to get the blood out somehow.” Her hands were gentle, not pulling or yanking even a little. He was fully expecting to be forced under, but- it hadn’t happened yet. The anticipation of waiting was almost as bad as the drowning itself. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He stayed still and quiet as the thing in his hair turned into more bubbles. They started white like the ones around him but soon turned a light pink. He was ordered to tip his head back, and upon complying, another cup of water was poured in his hair. 

This is it, this is where I get pushed under. He was in the perfect position; she could hold him under almost effortlessly like this. Not that he would fight at all. He was a good pet, and if she wanted to drown him, he’d stay under just like she wanted. 

“Sit up for me, treasure. I have to use conditioner, and then we will use the scrub brush and dry you up.” She led him up as he followed her guidance. As she had said, she put conditioner in his hair, carding her fingers through it as she went. 

Nox had to fight to stay still and not lean into the slight scratch of his scalp. He did adore being pet- not that he got the chance often. After she carded through his hair a bit, it became silky and smooth, though he knew it would be soft and fluffy once dried. 

She had him lean back again, shushing his little whimper as water got in his ears. He didn’t want to be drowned and this would be her best chance to do it. After this, she wouldn’t have to convince him back down into the water. He held his breath, but she only washed the conditioner gently from his hair. 

When he was let up again, he almost gasped out of shock. “Good job, little Birdy, you did very well for me. Now, I need you to stay still so I can clean your wounds. We don’t want them getting infected, now do we?” She hummed. 

Nox flinched. Cleaning wounds usually meant alcohol and painful healing and bandages wrapped so tight he couldn’t breathe. Getting an infection was usually kinder than the prevention methods. 

He flinched again when something gentle touched his back. His master placed a hand on his chest to stop him from moving away as she gently washed away the blood, cooing and soothing his whimpers when he started to get nervous. 

He was waiting for it to hurt, waiting for the salt and vinegar and alcohol to be poured. He wasn’t used to the gentle cloth wiping away his blood- not when he was still scared that the gentle touch would turn rough and rub his back raw. 

Nox took a breath to steady himself. Fear wouldn’t change the outcome. Whatever his master wanted to happen would happen and nothing he can do would change that. He took comfort in the helplessness. Nothing he could do would change anything, He repeated the words to himself, taking another deep breath and letting himself relax. Whatever will happen will happen. He focused on the hand on his chest and the cloth on his back, slowly cleaning the blood away. He took comfort in the helplessness. 

The water was a light pink now and some of his wounds had started bleeding again. His master pressed a cloth against the freshly reopened wounds to stem the bleeding and held it there until it had mostly stopped. 

When all the blood was gone, he was washed with something that smelled sweet and then taken out of the tub, only to be swiftly wrapped up in a warm towel. It was a dark color so the blood didn’t stain and could be washed out later. The towel was also strangely warm. His master had placed it on an odd sideways stand that radiated heat while he had been in the bath, presumably for that purpose. Regardless, he was grateful..

Nox was dried up and his hair was brushed before he even knew what was happening. He was a bit shocked going from the warm water to the cold air so quickly. He started to tremble from the cold. “Shh, we’ll get you warmed up, just hold on,” his master cooed, connecting an odd-looking piece of plastic to the wall. 

She turned it on, causing warm air to blow from it as if it was magic, creating wind effortlessly. He flinched when the warm air was suddenly on his face, then in his hair, then on the feathers trailing down the back of his neck. The magic wind felt lovely. It was nice and warm, chasing away the cold. After a few minutes he stopped trembling, his hair no longer wet. 

His master brushed it out and ran a hand through the now fluffy black mixed with brown. Now that he was clean, they could see the colors in his hair blended and mixed, like a molted feather pattern rather than anything human. His master hummed at him, thinking he looked adorable with his head tilted curiously at the blow dryer. 

“Can you walk, or should Liam carry you again?” She asked as she gently coaxed him into putting on a fluffy hoodie and some sweatpants. She would worry about decorum later, right now, her pet was in need of comfort. She had some rather strong words for his seller. She had ordered a pet, not a slave, and had expected him to have been treated with kindness rather than shoved in a box and strangled. She shook her head. It was practically animal cruelty, and the creature was so sweet that she didn’t think he could have done anything to deserve it. 

Nox had gone from gazing at the magic wind creator to backing in the warm blanket and the feeling of being clean, only to be snapped out of it with the question. “I-I can try, master.” He sounded terrified, but he did his best to suppress it. He hadn’t been hurt yet, and he didn’t think he’d be cleaned and dressed only to get all bloody again. Surely they wanted him for something else first- at least, he hoped. He tried not to be scared; vampires could smell fear, and being scared always made hurt time worse. They liked when he was afraid. Sometimes Gabrial said that the only good things about him were his pretty tears and his pleading. 

She almost cooed at him, the poor dear was so skittish. He sounded terrified of picking wrong. “That’s alright, darling, you just focus on resting. I’ll give you your rules tomorrow and I’ll write an email to that trainer of yours. They’ve been far too cruel to you.” 

Nox immediately tensed up when he heard email. That meant he was getting sent back. He didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence, too caught up in what he did wrong to warrant being sent back. Why would they clean him if they didn’t want him? Unless- unless he had answered wrong. Maybe they wanted him to be cute and helpless and need help with walking. Surely he was hurt before arriving for a reason. “I- I meant only if I was allowed, master- I didn’t want to assume- I’ve been so arrogant-“ he kept cutting himself off, too anxious to finish his sentence. “I’m s-sorry, plea-please don’t send me back” he pleaded. If nothing else, he begged well and cried beautifully for his masters. He hoped desperately that somehow he would be allowed to stay. He felt hot tears slip down his cheeks, sparkling with pastel colors. He truly was a pretty crier. 

The shine of light caught Evangeline’s eye. “Oh, sweetheart, what happened? What’s wrong, darling?” She tipped his head up by his chin and wiped away his tears, hushing the distressed umbran. “What’s got you so upset?” 

“You- you’re going to send me back,” he cried, distressed. He had been told if he was sent back before the first week, he’d be whipped again- it hadn’t even been a day. He couldn’t take it again so soon. He wouldn’t be able to stand it and the pain was unbearable. He was terrified of what would happen, less scared of Gabrial but rather the consequences that came with it. 

Evangeline was startled by his terror. “Oh darling, sweet treasure, you’re not being sent back, love.” She took his face in her hands and wiped away his tears. “Now that you’re mine, I wouldn’t let you go so easily.” It sounded like a comfort, but it wasn’t worded like one. Nox didn’t know how to feel until he felt a hand making its way  through his soft hair. Slowly, he let himself calm down. 

“Maybe a choice this soon is too much for you. Would you like me to pick for you?” She sounded like she was talking to an upset three year old- and Nox responded like one, nodding slightly and giving a small “mhm” as he was pet. 

“That’s alright, darling.” She cooed, turning to Liam. “Could you carry him? The poor thing is distressed.” Liam obeyed, moving to pick Nox up effortlessly. 

He carried Nox to his room. Liam set Nox down on his side in a little nest made of blankets rather than on his back. Then he stepped back so Evangeline could see Nox. she sat in a chair by his bed and spoke softly to calm him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe. No one will hurt you here. I’m sure you’re very tired, so I’ll make this quick, alright, darling?” She grabbed a great big blanket and draped it over him. 

Nox had started to relax with the soft voice. He felt safer under the blanket. It was cozy and warm and made him feel secure. When he looked up at his new master, he was greeted with a kind smile and a kiss on the forehead. She trailed a hand gently down his face so he would close his eyes. 

“Night night, Noxie.” And just like that, he was out.

✨Masterlist✨

Taglist: @haro-whumps @poisoned-by-royalty @sunset-avenuer @wide-awake-but-comatose @whumpsy-daisies @misspelledwitch @string-of-broken-hearts @captainseconds @lave-whump @whumping-out-of-time

[amenomiko]

Aaaaaa Thank You so much for the looooooooooooong wait! I was too occupied and writer's block makes me tired more than ever 😭. Thank you so much for the request @ashavazesa ❤❤❤❤❤

A/N: I don't really take ALL Southeast Asia countries in this as I'm not really familiar with it. If you have questions regarding the culture, you may PM me or comment here ❤. Or you may google it, especially Butod 😏.

Lords x Southeast Asia Culture

Nobunaga - Hungry Ghost Festival (Malaysia / Singapore)

-It is a festival to honor the dead and so the gate from hell is opened.

-Mitsuhide: Most probably when the gate from hell is open, there will be Hideyoshi, practically running here and there upon his arrival ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^).

-Masamune: Exactly. With the red carpet and rose petals. Heh.

-Hideyoshi: ಠ_ಠ.... Still- Nobunaga-sama's presence itself is majestic, so I have to agree with both of you *cough*

-Mitsunari: But I don't understand.. Hideyoshi-sama is kind, why would he be in hell (´；д；`)?

-Hideyoshi: Now, now, Mitsunari. Not everyone will go to heaven easily.

-Mitsuhide: Indeed. One of the main reasons why he goes to hell is because he sister-zoned every maiden in the world.

-Hideyoshi: H E Y (　☉д⊙)!

-Back to Nobunaga: I demand my offering to be a pack of armies, thousands of konpeitos, and MC's candid pictures 😏😏😏😏.

-Shingen: How indecent. To hell with you 😒.

-Kennyo: Go somewhere else, don't take my place 😒.

-Nobunaga: Excuse me? Hell would not be yours as I am the Demon King

-Kennyo: Excuse you 😒. My sin is bigger than yours.

-MC: Is it me or is this a White Girls Sengoku Version ಠ_ಠ?

-Ieyasu: ...Why would anyone want to fight over hell in the first place =_=?

Hideyoshi - Everyone is Addressed as Boss / Uncle / Aunty (Malaysia)

-So he went to a restaurant..

-"Boss. What do you want to order?"

-He look left. And right.

-"Eh Boss. You want to order or not?"

-"Huh? M-me??"

-Then he went to a public place, and his wallet fell from his pocket,

-"Uncle. Excuse me."

-Uncle-- WHAT- He is not THAT OLD-- "Wh- Wha??"

-"Aiya Uncle. Your wallet. Later people take your money how?"

-"Uh--" What kind of language is that anyway??

-Sasuke: If you are wondering what kind of language they speak, it is called as 'Manglish', Hideyoshi-san.

-Hideyoshi: Ma- Ma what?

-Sasuke: Manglish. Malaysian + English casual ways of talking to someone.

-Random person: Eh Boss, excuse me. Do you want to enter or not? If not please move lah! You are blocking the door!

-Hideyoshi: ........*Stressed 101*

Masamune - Butod (Sago Grub) (Malaysia - Sabah)

-Le butod: *Wiggle wiggle wiggle* OwO

-And MC: *FAINTS*

-"So this is a.. Grub from sago tree, you say? And it is recommended to be eaten raw."

-"It looks like MC when she was struggling to get away from my grip when I try to kiss her."

-MC, who has fainted, woke up "Excuse me?? Are you saying that I am-"

-Butod: *Wiggle Wiggle on Masamune's Palm* OwO

-MC: *gasssppp* 😱😱😱😱 YOU..! DON'T TOUCH ME WITH THAT HAND TONIGHT ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥A˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚!

-Masamune: Eeeeh but why? *Pulls its head and eat it raw* Hmm.. Taste like chicken.

-MC: .....*Takes a bottle of sake and shove it into his mouth* Wash it down with this! WASH IT WITH T H I S!

-Masamune: MMMMF 😵😵😵😵!!

Mitsuhide - Chinese New Year Celebrations (Malaysia / Singapore)

-He was offered with lots of CNY treats and of course, he ate it without refusing it.

-Only to get the bewildered reactions from the people around him when he mixed the rice + fish + dumplings + sweet rice balls + spring rolls + glutinous rice cake in one bowl and eat it like nobody's business.

-Hideyoshi: Even if you can't taste it, don't eat it in that way (　☉д⊙)!!

-"Why Hideyoshi? This foods represents luck, you see. I need this luck so I can always escape from your endless 'love' ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

-Learned about Ang Pow.

-"So you will give away money if you are married, and will receive it if you are not married. I see..."

-MC: What's wrong, Mitsuhide?

-"Hmm? Oh, I was just concerned about Hideyoshi. Because he will give away Ang Pows throughout his life." *Shakes his head* "That's what he gets when he sister-zoned everyone."

-Hideyoshi: ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ.....

Ieyasu - Sambal (Hot Relish made with veggies / fruits and spices) (Indonesia)

-At first he was skeptical.

-Until he put some in his dish.

-Cues Ieyasu hugging the Sambal Jar.

-Growls when Masamune said "Can I have a look what they put inside-- Hey, hey, I said I want to have a look, not that I will eat it, lad. Calm down."

-Nobunaga, the usual demon on your shoulder: It's that precious, hmm? So you'd rather choose that than MC?

-MC: Please don't make me an option between food, Nobunaga ಠ_ಠ.

-Mitsuhide: Or maybe.. You can eat her by pouring all over her ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)?

-MC: I will become a living swollen red bell pepper, no thanks (눈‸눈).

Mitsunari - Vietnam and the amount of motorcyclists on the road (Vietnam)

-The gangs be all flustered with their surroundings, especially Hideyoshi.

-"Stay close, all of you! It's dangerous!"

-Masamune & Mitsuhide: Yes mom ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)~

-Hideyoshi: Who is your MOM (　☉д⊙)??

-Sasuke: It's alright, they say you can cross it casually as they will automatically avoid you.

-Hideyoshi: Impossible, isn't it dangerous? Besides, it's too close one after another!

-Sasuke: Here, let me give you an example. *Gives Mitsunari a book and whispered "You may cross now."*

-Our pure angel be like "O3O ooooh~~" And there he goes, walking straight ahead, with head buried in a book.

-Meanwhile, Hideyoshi: *Were pulled by both Masa and Mitsuhide* GAHH LET GO OF ME! MITSUNARIIIII \(Q A Q)/!!!! *GASP* NOOO NOBUNAGA-SAMA DON'T CROSS THE ROAD WHILE EATING YOUR KONPEITOOO!!!

-And Ieyasu, who has been watching Mitsunari who crossed the road safely to the other side: TCH. There's no one that hit him (•ˋ _ ˊ•).

Kenshin: 5 People on one Motorcycle (Indonesia)

-The first thing that he ask Sasuke was...

-"What is that?"

-Sasuke: Oh, as you can see, Kenshin-sama. Some people from a poor family will ride their motorcycle altogether as one. And so,.. Kenshin-sama?

-"Bringing the motorcycle back to the past would cause unnecessary scene, but an idea of 5 people in one ride is not bad. Hm."

-"Imagine, when you go to the battlefield, with 5 people in one horse, you can kill 5 people at one time."

-"Also, if they bring sake supplies, and 1 person hold one sake each, and there's 10 horses, I would've get 500 bottles in an hour."

-Them: ........

-Sasuke: Can't do, Kenshin-sama. Please pity our horse and if you work here, in this era, please don't be a math teacher. You will give a bad example in your class.

-Kenshin: Don't stop what I want to do, Sasuke (눈‸눈). Fine. Let's change that 5 person into me, and the killed people to Shingen instead. So it will be 5 of me, killing Shingen in one strike.

-Shingen: Psssh. If I were you, there will be 5 of me on one horse, so all of us can kiss MC in one go 😏✨✨✨.

-Yukimura: PLEASE STOP GAH MY BRAIN @A@

Shingen - Thailands... and their Kathoey (Thailand)

-Welp. His eyebrows wouldn't stop wiggling here and there to every pretty woman that he spotted.

-'Woman'. Heh.

-Sasuke about to warn him but Kenshin hold him back.

-"Let's teach him a lesson." He said. "It will be interesting." He said.

-And so they go to one place for dinner, when they were surrounded by a bunch of pretty women.

-"Hey handsome~~ wanna have fun with us?"

-Yukimura: Eh- uh- eh- I- I- o//////o

-"Oh come on~~~ *grope*"

-Yukimura: *Genuine Girlish Voice* KYAAAAAAAAA!!! *Fainted with foams*

-Shingen: Now, now, you girls are pretty attempting, but we need to fill our empty stomachs first, you see?

-He was occupied in talking to the girls when Sasuke whispered something to one of them without him realizing it. Then the girl went to Shingen's side, hugging his arm, "Please~ have fun with us~~ I will give you a reward if you say 'Yes'~"

-Shingen, playing along: Oooh? What would that be?

-Le girl, changing her voice into a manly one, "A lick of my lollipop, bro."

-And he fainted next to Yukimura. With foams in his mouth too.

Yukimura - Bali and their.... 'Souvenirs' (Indonesia)

-The first thing that came out from his mouth when he arrived at Bali is "Wh- wh- wh- r-romantic island?? Wh- who would show their intimacy in public--"

-*Shriek to a statue with a peculiar s*x position*

-*Shriek to almost everything*

-*Got stuck in one place until Sasuke had to pulled him out from the shop*

-Sasuke: Forgive me, bro. It's Shingen-sama's idea to enter this shop. It's normal for you to be culture shocked as one of their famous souvenirs is wee wee keychains (´・д・｀).

-"Don't say that casually OAO!"

-MC, takes one wee wee display and called out for him, "Yukimura~ come here for a sec. Look! Your wee wee (✿❛◡❛)!"

-"MMMMMCCCCCC ୧( ಠ////Д////ಠ )୨!!!!"

-Also Yukimura: *Gasp* This shop sells your kind! *Points at the restaurant that displays Rolling Pig*

-Scene of Yukimura got slapped by MC unfolds.

Sasuke - Sarawak's Blowpipe (Malaysia - Sarawak)

-Tour guide: One of the ethnicities in Sarawak is Iban people. They are known to hunt their prey with a blowpipe, which contained with a poison-coated needle.

-Sasuke: Oooh. *looks at the blowpipe* It's like detective conan but a poisoned needle ones (´・д・｀)✨✨✨

-Tour guide:

-Others:

-Tour guide: Would you like to give a try?

-Sasuke: Yes please (´・д・｀)✨✨✨ which target should I shoot it with?

-Tour guide: The balloon, next to the pole in front of you ☺.

-Sasuke: Okay. *Takes a deep breath*

-Kenshin:.......*monotonous voice* Ah, a mosquito. *Kicks Shingen to make him land in front of Sasuke*

-Shingen: H-Hey-- OAO

-Sasuke: Mmf- *Instantly pushed the pipe to shoot something else*

-*Stab*

-Mitsunari who happens to pass by: Hmm? Oh my, I don't remember this book has a needle attached to it (ㆁᴗㆁ✿).

-Other tour members: EEEEEKKKK 😱😱😱

-Ieyasu who also happens to be not to far from the group: Tch. Books from the future must not to be underestimated ಠ_ಠ. It's too thick.

[stardustanthem]

red daisy inn | Geralt x Female reader | SMUT/ NSFW 18+

Description: Geralt is back from one of his adventures, quick to find you in the brothel you live in, just as he always does when he returns from killing monsters. This time though, it’s a bit different.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: let’s try some smut like 18+ !! oh and cuss words if you’re scared of those or what not

— • —

You pulled your clothing back over your body, fixing your hair as you adjusted on the bed. The man next to you settled into the bed beside you making no effort to move, which quite frankly pissed you off. He hadn’t even paid you, and he had forced you to keep busy for hours. He didn’t even have the damn equipment to keep you that long. He was just wasting your time, and now he was going to settle in and not pay you?

“Excuse me, sir, I’ll take what I’m owed now,” You speak confidently, rising to your feet. The man furrowed his brows with his eyes shut and draped an arm over his plump belly. You grimaced at the thought. You’d had many men, but lately you wished you could just see the one man that brought your meek and disappointing life a tinge of light. He hadn’t come to see you in months, and you almost wondered if he was even alive.

“I paid the brothel keeper. Your payment is with him,” The man grumbled. He rolled away from you onto his side and began snoring softly just as you thought to remark. You tied the hanging strings at the top of your loose fitting gown and grabbed your shawl trying to put it on you as neatly as possible for the next guest. You wanted to clear up the payment issue with Allard before pursuing more customers.

Storming down the steps in a hurry, your hair blowing behind you as you ran, you make it to the office at the front of the brothel just as Allard is locking up his office to leave for his upstairs apartment, “Allard! Allard please wait-”

“Good Gods, Y/N, what is it now? I’m headed home for the evening. Burne is outside of you’re having any altercations with your guest, now please.” You stumbled back as he pushed past you, nearly falling to the ground. You had managed to catch yourself.

The man in the room had kept you locked away to fuck, and fondle him for hours. Not to mention Allard probably didn’t even have a form of payment for you, and now Allard was leaving without listening to the issue at hand. For fucks sake, Burne wasn’t going to help, he slept out front half of the time. He wasn’t a guard, he was a sleeping giant that probably made more than you. Damn this place.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” A soft voice spoke from behind you, placing a hand on your upper back and smoothing your hair out of your face, “Were you hurt?”

You looked up into a pair of brown eyes, her face framed but wavy red hair and felt relief, “No, Freya. I’m not hurt. That fat bastard won’t pay me what I am owed, said he paid Allard. Well now Allard has left and I don’t know if I even have money waiting for me in that damn chancery.” You weren’t going to cry, but by gods you were exhausted from the whole ordeal.

As a fallen woman in the brothel community, you had practicallt no rights. You’d just been part of the room that man paid for, nothing more, and it would be setting you back at least a day to make up for the time you had wasted. Freya knew how hard it had been for you lately with Geralt not having come back yet. She was your best friend and confidant. You whispered into the early hours of the morning about the days you would no longer live here and be free to roam the lands and live amongst the continent with the finest royalty. These were fantasies, and they kept Freya going for sure, but if you had to be honest... you’d trade everything to go with Geralt on his leave.

As if your thoughts had manifested your desires, you suddenly heard the pounding of horse hooves coming toward the ‘Red Daisy Inn’, and suddenly your heart swelled. It could be anyone, it was always possible it couldn’t be him, but just as your doubts started to settle in you saw him in the doorway dimly lit by candle light.

He had new cuts on his face, one strikingly long from just above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. His hair was an absolute mess, but he was just as handsome as you remembered. His eyes scanned the faces of the other girls among the hallway of the Inn until suddenly they landed on you. His eyes weren’t warm like they typically were, his leave had been much longer than it usually was, and by the animalistic darkness to his eyes you could tell it hadn’t been intentional.

You hadn’t even taken two steps forward before he had you scooped up into his arms, one hand at the back of your neck forcing you into the most hungry kiss he had ever given you. You tried to keep up with his assault but this was new to you, from him at least. You can’t deny you enjoyed it though, you felt your insides tingling with ecstasy at his mouth and it hadn’t even explored you yet.

He pulled away from you, shielding you into his chest as he turned to Freya, “My usual room, now,” he ordered at her staring down at her as she grabbed the key to the room at the top of the Inn from the key holder next to the door of Allards locked business room. He snatched it from her and threw you over his shoulder carrying you up the steps as quickly as his legs would carry him. He was ready to fuck the absolute hell out of you. He was practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation.

The door nearly broke off the hinges as he shoved it open. You fell to the bed as he dropped you, watching as he shut and locked the door behind him. Your body was in an absolutely overdrive of emotions. Your heart racing, your heat aching, but you were so excited to see the golden eyed hero. You reached for him, terrified that if he stayed near the door too long he might actually leave through it. You weren’t ready for that so soon. He was here, and you wanted to show him how much you missed him, just as he did you.

Geralt untied the strings on his pants and removed his shirt in the four short strides it took to get to the giant king sized bed in the middle of the room. Gawking wasn’t your typical behavior, but seeing his cock for the first time in months had you in a trance. He released a semi-audible growl and snapped his fingers at you, “My eyes are up here.” This in itself caused you to take your lower lip between your rows of teeth. You weren’t used to being this shy with him, but you just couldn’t help it. You wanted him, but you also wanted to bathe in your time together. You had missed him, terribly, but it was like a breath of fresh air to know he had missed you too.

The white wolf himself climbed onto the bed, on top of you, laying between your legs as he slipped your shawl out from under you and tossed it aside. You watched as he slowed his pace, untying the strings attached to the top of your gown. He pushed the opening in your gown on your chest open and pressed a gentle kiss there earning a whimper from you. Geralt felt himself hardening just from the sound itself. He wanted louder sounds from you, he craved them. His journey had been long, and he was going to have you in a puddle at his feet when he was done with you.

He sucked on the spot, making you release a sigh of content before he once again fell into his animal-like behavior. He nipped and groped every inch of free skin he could before yanking your gown over your head. He took in your bare figure before him. Nipples taught from the heat of the moment, legs wide open ready to take him in full stride, and the sheen of sweat across your body. He wanted to lick you clean.

So he did just that, starting with the mound between your legs. He placed gentle kisses from your knee to the center of your legs on both sides before dragging his wet tongue over your heat. You instinctively grabbed a fistful of his hair, arching your body into him as much as you could. This was the difference with Geralt. He made it about you just as much as it was about him. He sucked ever so slowly on your bundle of nerves, before slowly inserting a finger into your hole. He continued sucking as he slowly moved his fingers, making you more and more aroused by each stroke. If he could make you this happy with just his fingers and his mouth, imagine the rest.

He continued like this for what felt like forever, your stomach filling up with electricity and butterflies but just before you were pushed over the edge into oblivion, he pulled away from you. You stared up at him, knowing damn well he couldn’t take it any longer. He was ready to take you.

Geralt positioned his length at your entrance, glancing at you before slowly inching his way in. Your eyes rolled back slightly as your walls adjusted to the familiarity of it all and without warning he began aggressively pumping himself into you. He leaned down, biting your neck enough to cause slight pain but not enough to draw blood, grunting as he pounding his cock into you as quickly and as hard as he could.

The build up within your lower region was quick to burst as you screamed out his name in a state of euphoria. Geralt wasn’t finished with you though, just because he had made you cum once didn’t mean you couldn’t do it again, especially since he hadn’t. So he continued. He supported himself with one arm, removing his face from your neck as his amber eyes locked on yours. His free hand snuck its way down to your heat again, massaging as generously as he could the proximity of your bodies. You felt yourself building up again, Geralt’s intense gaze on you not helping in any way.

His amber eyes burned intensely into yours, stealing away to glance at your mouth before his mouth found yours again. You cupped his face in your hands, roughly kissing him in return just as you reached your second release, another moan pouring from your lips into his mouth. You could feel his cock twitch just as he bit your lip a little too harshly, drawing blood, he grunted heavily muttering a, “Fuck, Y/N,” before his movements stopped altogether. Like a gentleman, he moved to lay next to you, taking the time to catch his breath before helping you clean up.

You were speechless. Good Gods, say something. Anything, “I missed you an incredible amount, Geralt.” And just like that, your emotions came to a head and you find yourself sobbing quietly into his chest as he pulled you closer. The last few months had quite honestly been horrible, and Geralt being here now made you realize how awful they actually were.

Geralt caressed you softly, from the base of your neck to your lower back, one hand tangled in your hair. You’d never told him you had missed him before. This was new. It all felt so new, but it felt like the right thing to say. You felt him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as his lips touched your lobe, “And I, you.” His voice was rough, but deliciously so. He pressed a few gentle kisses to your neck before pulling away from you, “I’ll draw a bath. Does that sound alright to you, Y/N?”

You wiped at your eyes and nose before sitting up and nodding, not meeting his eyes. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead preparing a bath for the two of you as you let yourself be washed away in your thoughts, only to be brought to by Geralt scooping you out of bed and gently dropping you into the bath water. It was almost too hot, but with Geralt being who he was, you knew he had made the bath with himself in mind. As if on queue he settled into the giant bath across from you, leaning back against the side of the tub, “I’m sorry I was away so long.”

You voiced your fears finally to someone other than Freya and it felt relieving, “I thought you weren’t going to ever come back. I was scared you’d left me here to die.” You let yourself soak into the water, before moving closer to Geralt. His eyes remained closed as you quietly moved through the water.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you here,” he murmured sounding almost tired. Understandable as he had just traveled such a distance and fucked the lights out of you... but, unapologetically, you didn’t want him to sleep yet. You slowly reached toward him, your hand almost hovering over his Witcher medallion before he snatched your hand in midair, his head moving so his eyes could stare into yours, “It’s safer for you here.”

You stared at him, furrowing your brows before shaking your head and pulling your hand back, “The monsters you face out there are the monsters I face in here every day. My way of life isn’t that of a Witcher but I see monsters too, Geralt. I’m tired of being here,” you pushed his hand away and moved your body over his, straddling his naked lap, “I am tired of being away from you.”

His eyes softened, the fire place across the room coloring the pair of you a mixture of orange and yellow. He placed a hand on your cheek before pulling you into him again, this time your head on his chest, his legs extending for you to sit comfortably on his lap, “I won’t leave you here ever again. I swear on Roach.”

You smile at the last part, lifting your head from his chest as he searches over your face, memorizing your smile. You bite your lip gently before touching his lips with your fingertips, “On Roach, huh? Sure she’d kick you halfway to Temeria for saying such filthy things.”

Geralt smirks softly, moving to sit up, holding you on his lap still, “I can show you a filthy thing or two.” He grins and brings your face back to his, crashing his lips on yours before tickling your sides playfully. You scream and laugh at his behavior as the two of you fall into a playful banter of splashing each other with the bath water.

[paiinton]

the moon as a thing that can be consumed

you stumble into the moon on your way to your dorm, spilling leftover pad thai all over her. you apologize profusely. she laughs, clear and bright, while you scoop up cold noodles from the ground.

///

it is spring, and flowers are pushing themselves up from the soil. sunlight is a meal that is chewed and swallowed and licked from the lips of the living.

///

on your way to class, the moon stops you. you open your mouth to apologize again, but she gets her words out first.

"hey, um, you probably don't know me super well, but we have a class together,"

she stops. her next sentence comes out faster,

"-and you're really cute and i was wondering if maybe you wanted to get some coffee together later?"

she twists a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles a bit awkwardly. you do not think she remembers your pad thai.

///

you are walking your dog. the moon reflects off the wet path. you do not stumble. your dog pulls on his leash, and you follow him.

///

the moon is making omelets in your kitchen. you walk up behind her, rest your chin on her shoulder. she asks you to pass her some shredded cheese. you hum, and know she can feel it against her back. you are not this far in the story yet, you do not even know if you like omelets. i will not take this from you though.

///

the moon asks you out for coffee, and you tell her

"oh i'm sorry. i actually have a test tomorrow that i really should study for tonight, but do you want my number? we can work something out later this week maybe?"

you write out your number on her forearm with a pen you stole from the bank. or maybe it was a career fair? it has a little cat on it. you really are sorry.

///

it is cloudy. you don't take your dog outside today, the weather calls for rain. you consider how it could be a full moon or a whole moon and you would never know. this thought is marvelous to you somehow.

///

you end up going out for coffee with the moon on a thursday, and she orders a chai latte. you get an iced coffee. when she looks up at you, she has a little foam on her lip. you think about how it is impossible to truly know what you cannot see. you can see the foam on her lip, and do not know what to make of it regardless.

///

the moon is watching a girl drink iced coffee. she is watching the girl's lips on the straw. the moon is watching a great many things. the moon is still a girl though, and knows the other girl is also watching her.

///

it's a clear night tonight, but you can't really see the stars. light pollution and all that. the moon is there though, a crescent like a slice of watermelon. the moon's head is in your lap. you can't see the stars, but you can feel the moon's hair between your fingers.

///

when you are 7, you learn that the moon does not disappear during the day, you just cannot see it. you imagine the sun like an eye, closing at night. you imagine the moon like a hole poked through the sky. you imagine that the moon is a girl in the same way that you are a girl.

///

you are in the car, watching the moon. it does not matter how old you are this time, you are somehow always in the car watching the moon. it follows you, even though you know it is not following you. it is a hole poked in the sky, stationary.

the moon, a little later on, is driving the car. you watch the road, and the moon, and the sky, and wonder whether any of it was stationary at all.

///

you are not the moon, and you are not a girl in love with the moon. the girl as the moon, not the moon as the moon. You grew up in love with the stars, but you can't really see them. light pollution and all. you do not know how you can love something you can't see. it is still love.

///

the girl in love with the moon is holding the moon's hand. it is sticky with fruit juice and summertime. the sun sits like a mango in the sky. they do not wash their hands just yet.

///

somewhere, in this great vast universe, there are many more moons. they are not your moon though, and your brain cannot really comprehend an ever-expanding universe that is folding in on itself like a rose in bloom. the universe is really very big

///

the moon is laying on your floor. you are laying in your floor. your dog is laying on your couch. he is not supposed to be there, and yet there he is.

///

you are still not the moon, or the girl in love with the moon. you are graduating soon, and could end up being either of them. this thought is not so marvelous, you like being sure of things. you think of the stars, how they are still almost invisible. you are in love with them, but it is a love like written word. you think that maybe your idea of love is different than that of the moon's. you think too much-or maybe not enough? not in the right way, you settle on. the moon and the girl are in love, and you are not.

///

the girl looks at the moon, who is frying pancakes in the commons of your building. it is 2am, and the girl is not hungry for pancakes. she will eat them anyway, because there in something in her that needs to be filled.

///

the moon holds the girl's cheeks in her palms. the girl's eyes shine. the moon is not the moon right now, but feels like she is reflecting the light of the sun still. something sits heavy in her throat, it is not a word.

///

who am i to say what love is? are the moon and the girl in love? do they need to be? they are both illuminated in this moment, two girls seeking something out and finding each other. who am i to say that i love the stars when it is more a memory of them. i am seeking something out too.

///

a dog is watching two girls sleep, all gangly limbs and boneless exhaustion. they lay tangled against each other. when one shifts, the other also shifts. they are breathing together. when they wake up, they might make pancakes. or omelets. the dog does not mind either way.

///

the moon as a girl watches the moon as the moon. it is funny, she supposes, that she can be two things at once.

///

a blind girl is in love with the stars. her stars are different than my stars. her love is not different than my love. it must be love.

[brideofcthulhu10]

Could you write about a girl getting harrassed by max or surfer nazis for a weeks by then and the boys taking notice help her out of a possible dangerous or taboo situation and let her join their lil coven? I know you could write something really awesome!

I goofed and forgot this was an answer to an ask haha! Okay so I'm gonna give fair warning, this is gonna get a bit graphic. I mean you wanted a traumatic taboo, and, well, wish granted!

Initiation's Over, Time to Join the Club

Poly!Lost Boys × Fem! S/O

+18 CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Themes, Sexual Assault, Potential Triggers, Violence, Gore, Offensive Language! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

It had only been a few days since you tried to break free of the Santa Carla gang known as the Surf Nazis. Doing so proved far more difficult than you could have imagined. You couldn’t even be on the boardwalk anymore. They were everywhere, as soon as you were spotted former friends would crowd around you. They weren’t stupid enough to do anything physical, but they’d harass you to the point of running back home. There was one reason that you kept coming back. 

The boys.

 You started talking to them earlier this summer. Purely by accident. You had gone on your own to get a quick food run at the Kung Pao Lotus, and somehow got your order mixed up with the smallest of the group, Marko. You managed to catch him as he was leaving the restaurant and somehow that was all you needed. They took to you so quickly. Polyamory was such a foreign concept, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. But as your feelings developed over these past few months, you found yourself falling victim to each of their charms. There was just something so other worldly about the bikers. It was an unspoken mystery that only drew you in further. WHenever they had to leave for the night you’d ask them if you could join, but they all seemed particularly against the suggestion. There was always an air of discomfort, like they had something they didn’t want you to see. Regardless, Marko, Dwayne, Paul and David had swept you off your feet into the dark Santa Carla nightlife, and soon you found yourself making the choice between them, or your old gang.

But when you tried to back out of their so called “rivals”- honestly only the SN’s thought of themselves that way, things got nasty. A few of them started showing up around your neighborhood. You could see them in busted down trucks or rumbling motorcycles just strolling through your neighborhood. Your mom’s car was trashed, absolutely covered in spray paint, your garage was vandalized, trash bins were dumped out all over your yard- you were starting to get scared. 

Even still you avoided bringing up the subject to the boys. You didn’t need them worrying about something like this. After all, you were a big kid, you could handle yourself. Whenever your ex-friends walked by on the boardwalk David would raise his brow when you ducked behind them, quickly covered by an excuse.

“Sorry I thought I saw a quarter on the ground,” you’d throw out, nervously standing up.

Even Paul was beginning to notice your uneasiness whenever Surf Nazi’s circled your path.

“Listen, kitten,” Paul assured, sitting on the steps beside you while you picked at your cotton candy. “If those assholes are giving you shit.. We can protect you, babes. You just say the word and I’ll rip their heads off.”

“Me too babes,” Marko would chime in, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “All it takes is one word.”

The suggestion of mass slaughter just didn’t sit well with you and you shook your head. “No, guys don’t worry it’s just a bunch of petty pranks. They haven’t done anything that bad. I promise.”

You were so certain that in a few days they’d grow bored. After all, it had been a week and a half by now! Things couldn’t escalate more than they already were. While they weren’t your friends anymore, they still wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?

It was a late August afternoon, maybe an hour before sunset. Today was a record breaking heat wave, the hottest it had been today was almost one hundred and eleven degrees. It was your mom’s idea to send you to the beach instead of sulking at the house. Truthfully you were a little glad you did.

The ocean was just beautiful, cradling the slowly setting sun leaving streaks of pink and blue stained with the slowly encroaching touch of night. Stars speckled the darkest corners. Pulling out your polaroid you couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures for Marko. He loved it whenever you brought him any day time photos. They never came out before sunset, you just assumed maybe they were busy elsewhere until late afternoon. If you tried to invite them out during the day they’d each give you a disappointed response.

“Shhiiiiit, kitten,” Paul would sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, we would if we could,” Marko would try to assured you, holding your hands in his. Dwayne would nod along.

“Daytime just isn’t our time.”

David would tilt your chin up with a calm smile. Somehow you just knew whatever it was, he’d tell you when you were ready. “I’m sure you understand, doll. I hope you aren’t too disappointed?”

“Oh! N-No, of course not. It’s just a trip to the museum, I doubt you guys would like it anyway.”

Oh well… Instead of fretting, you tried to savor your peaceful moments, 

This week had already been such a pain. It was a welcome change to just walk through the rolling shores, wading past clumps of bubbly sea foam. Closer to the caves you could spot surfacing tide pools where little sand crabs shuffled just beneath the surface. Greenish anemones shuddered at your tender touch and would retreat within themselves. If you were lucky you spotted a few whole mussel shells! You kept an old bag slung over your shoulder with a towel and a change of clothes, planning to change out of your (print/color) bikini and wrap skirt once the sun had fully gone down. Maybe then you could meet up with the boys for another night out. As you began to approach the rocky coast lines skirted across the abandoned hotel you could hear muffled snickers just barely audible above the ocean’s song.

At first you assumed them to just be maybe a group of tourists, probably drunk off their butts. When you tried to continue walking towards the hotel they grew closer. Footsteps kicked up into a pursuit. When they turned over the outstretched caves you easily recognized the greased up surfers sporting frosted tips, skunk striped hair and shredded up clothing. They continued to chase after you until you had managed to duck into a cave off the edge, but even still they followed. Now you were cornered.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Ricky,” you hissed, trying to cover yourself with your arms. “Look I left alright! I don’t wanna be a part of whatever it is you guys have going on!”

“What, can’t old friends just say hi?” You could see he brought Tank and Munk with him, both sporting grins that you knew meant nothing good. Every time they took a step forward that made you take two more back.

“Yeah right,” Munk tried to agree, shrugging. “Aren’t we friends anymore, Y/N?”

“Don’t you wanna play? We came all this way so we could hang out.” Tank circled next to Ricky. Your heart raced so loud it made your ears hurt. They were cornering you! With rapid head movements you tried to find any alternate pathway that could get you out, but all of them were too high up! Any access to the further cave systems had been smashed to pieces! Your best bet was trying to wedge yourself between the three thugs.

You had to wait. Holding out just until that golden opportunity revealed itself to you. Just as Tank moved slightly further than Munk you found a thin opening. With everything you had, you bottled forward trying to push past. Success! 

Two steps in and you felt yourself torn back by your hair. The sharp sting caused you to shriek, grasping at the base of your scalp in an attempt to provide yourself any semblance of relief. Day light was grown thin. At this point you did everything to fight out of their grasp. Kick, thrash, punch! At one point you swear you caught a good chunk of Ricky’s skin under your nails. He hissed, throwing you against the drenched cave walls. The cold, damp sand beneath your feet felt solid while you tried to pry yourself up. Not this time. Munk pinned you by your arms, snickering at your terror.

“No! Stop it! Get away from me,” You cried, tyring to kick at Ricky. His fingers quickly tore your skirt off, looking down at the wet bikini still clinging to your body.

“Nooo, stop it, get away,” he mocked in a shrill tone. He forced your face up to look at him, his thumb and pointer finger squeezing your chin tightly. “You fuckin’ asked for this, walkin’ around like miss high and mighty!”

“She's just too good for the Surf Nazi’s now, eh Ricky?” Tank chuckled at the suggestion, arms crossed.

“Nah, I don’t think she’s good enough for us, that’s why little miss Y/N left,” Munk added, licking your cheek. The wet appendage dragged across your jawline to your cheek. It was enough to raise the bile in your stomach as you wrenched your face away.

“Well,” Ricky added, just as the sun went down sapping up any lingering light and leaving you in utter darkness. Your sobs echoed in the cave. There was nothing in the darkness, a pair of calloused hands grasping at your legs. When you tried to kick a swift sting crashed into your mouth. The blunt force made your ears ring, a bitter copper taste staining your mouth. Worst of all, you could feel unwelcome fingers prodding at the flesh kept beneath your bikini bottoms. “I bet you she’s good enough for one thing, don’t you think, Y/N? What’s say we give that cute little pussy of yours some play time, hm?”

There was sheer and utter panic. You continued to scream until your throat was shredded. The uncontrollable urge to vomit tempted your stomach when he tried to tease you from over the fabric. You must’ve wiggled out of someone’s grasp because you managed to lift your leg into the air sending a solid kick his way. “You fuck bitch! I’m gonna- wha-? Ahhh! What the fu- AHHHHHHH!”

There was a massive gust of air just past you that swept across. Ricky’s blood curdling screams dissolved into a hideous cacophony of squelching splatters. Munk still had a grasp on your arms, rapidly trying to search for his accomplice. “Ricky? Ricky man, what the fuck happened?! Tank where is he?”

Again another burst of air, but this time an echoing cackle followed. Low, rumbling. It delighted in their panic, or rather, he did. Whatever hidden male lurked in the shadows made quick work of another. Tank’s screams echoed through the cave. Again more sickly sounds of torn flesh followed by an eerie silence. “Tank? Tank answer me, man! What the fuck is this, what's going on?!”

Your own eyes began adjusting to the darkness. You could see a form walking your way, another higher pitched snicker eager to drag you into the same jaws of presumably horrid fates that had taken Ricky and Tank. You tightly shut your eyes, anticipating your inevitable demise.

There was no such occurrence. Finally your arms were released by Munk and his terror swept through the caves. You clung tightly to yourself in the darkness, trembling at the enclosing footsteps you could hear just over his screams.

“Looks like we made it just in time, kitten,” a voice asked clearly. You froze in place. It couldn’t be. 

You still couldn’t make out much, but that heavy scent of aftershave coupled by an ancient musk, like the aged pages of a beloved book told you all you needed to know. Tears stung your eyes. It was almost impossible to breathe through it, blubbering into the arms of a familiar comfort that were already spread to grasp you.

“David! Oh god, David,” You sobbed, crashing into his torso trying to muddle the sickening stench Ricky had left on you.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he softly coaxed, the soothing sensation of him petting your hair putting you at ease. “It’s all over.”

You could hear the other boys approaching you, even still you couldn’t see them.

“I told you we’d protect you, kitty-cat,” a laid back tone assured you, placing a hidden hand on your shoulder. Paul.

“I think it’s becoming too dangerous for you out here.” The firm, tender voice of Dwayne spoke up. The sand beneath your body sunk to accommodate his weight. His calloused fingers brushed away loose hair you didn’t even realize was in your face. Another hopped down from… above?

But.. there were no overhead platforms, just cave ceilings caked in stalactites. What had even happened? The jingles of jewelry over leather were followed by a tender face  laying atop your shoulder nestled in the crook of your neck. Curls tickled your cheek, Marko’s lips sending chills over your flesh as he spoke beside your ear.

“If you want, Y/N, you could be with us all the time. If you were one of us, we’d never let things like this happen to you.”

One… One of them? 

“What-,” you tried to ask, still tightly held in David’s arms. You tried to look up, but there was only a thick blackness barely outlined by an ever darker form. “One of- of you? What… are you guys?”

Now you knew why that rolling chuckle earlier sounded so familiar. David’s chest rumbled against you as he couldn’t help but laugh. You could feel the worn leather of his gloves caress your face. His hand traced your features and cradled them tenderly in his palm.

“Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion raised your flesh, chills tricking down the base of your spine as if you were frozen in the grasp of a predator. The darkness, the way they avoided sunlight! The way… the way they came to your rescue. When you needed them most. 

“Y-...,” you halted your answer. This time you really pondered it all. But even still there was a certainty to your thoughts. Your body and soul knew what they wanted. All it took was one little word.

“Yes”

Now you could see him. Well, not all of him. Just a pair of bright, luminescent white eyes wrapped in hellish spirals of red. Then there was another set. And another. Four sets of eyes all ready for you. A sharp pain surged through your neck, but you didn’t dare scream. For each set of eyes there was a following sting. Neck, shoulder, wrist, arm… and then you saw them all perfectly within the dark. The unyielding pain had brought a perfect clarity, and an unexpected stillness within your ribs. You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping away the puddles of blood smeared across David’s face. His grin spread wide, fangs still dripping with freshly drawn rubies that had stained your body red. Now it was your turn to grin, a fresh pair of fangs bared for your new dearest mates to admire in this dank, dark cave.  

[cronquette]

:four: 

Disclaimers:

-Dedicated to Julia

-I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, I’m just making my SasuSaku dreams come to life.

-More personal notes will be situated at the end of the chapter

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.”

― Erol Ozan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dewy grass left trails of freshness that wafted towards her nose, for it was sunrise when she had approached the village. It was massive, buildings wrung with wood and stoned grounds, stalls brimmed with fresh, rosy apples or exotic, blooming flowers flung themselves at her every second, catching her cocooned curiosity quickly. Her dress was modestly masked with a cloak, in case the spring cold would make itself known once more, and torment her small being with its ever freezing bite.

Her footfalls scraped slowly as she wandered through the streets, not paying heed to much of the crowds or clamour for she wanted to check her surroundings at the very least; it was not as if she had anything physically to hide. Her most prominent feature that would glimmer daintily in the sunlight, her glowing pink tresses, were now concealed from prying eyes. And her jewel, the captivating viridescent rhinestone, was tucked away safely in her skirt pocket, where her hand had been tucked in, lightly grasping it for fear that it would suddenly disappear. The only thing that would hold people’s gaze would be her foaming green irises, but she had held her head away in her hood that it would be impossible to observe such globes with practically no sunlight to hover over them. They practically glimmered under the sun’s speculation.

Her strides were slow, and her chest heaved slowly. She took in her sights, savouring her surroundings as she walked further, and further, through the roads. Marketing was certainly a thing she’d caught on straight away, for there were a myriad of sellers, creating clamour for people to take a peep at the things they held in possession. Many were farmers, she took a guess, as they had all sorts of crops and vegetables, fruits and whatnots sitting in their respective baskets, just anxiously waiting to be eaten. Others seemed to have sewn fine clothing, or smooth, meticulously crafted pottery, lathered in clean coats of polish to finish them nicely and make them look quite presentable.

The domesticality was all new to her, a culture she wasn’t very familiar with. Living in a coven all her life, food supplies either discreetly and swiftly delivered or fetched as soon as possible. Residing secretly was something she was used to, the exception of the ritual she had just experienced, along with attending all the others. She wasn’t suited for such open marketing, which proved her uselessness currently all the more when she realised there was not one silver coin in her pocket. Even packed with all her clothes, food to suffice for just a few days, and scrolls to help her study, she wasn’t able to purchase one single thing. It was fruitless to whine and beg, she wouldn't succumb to such vulgarity. Her mentor taught her that, and even so, there was no way she would lower her position as a witch before those humans. 

Even so, she couldn’t help but smile. Ino would enjoy this, she knew. The outdoors was just so suited for an out-going, confident girl such as the said blonde, and it was unfortunate she wouldn’t be accompanying the pinkette. The sun would be much entertained playing with golden locks, and accentuating such crystal eyes.

A new start was certainly refreshing, and she had a tingling feeling that it would be quite soon that she would be reaching new horizons and milestones

::

Wherever Sasuke traversed, a cold, sinister aura always accompanied him, But his firmness wasn’t able to intimidate everyone, so to say. There were, however, many who greatly feared him and the power he held. Those were mostly outside the palace walls, though. Within the elegant patterned pillars and marbled flooring, there was nothing short of being annoyed by the Uchiha. His servants, the dainty things they were, served him rightfully, not complaining unless amongst the company of themselves, and he paid no heed otherwise.

Hearsay was something not really familiar within the castle walls.

However, in the court, it was more than likely to be the everyday news.

Sasuke took his place at the old oak table, sitting comfortably at the head, his eyes steely piercing through the silence of the room. To his right, sat stiffly none other than Hyuuga Hiashi, in all his glory, arms crossed low around the biceps, his mouth achieving such a downturn it surfaced a memory of his own father doing such imposed actions. It made his brows knit deeper, before cooly turning to face frontwards.

“I take it you’re all well,” his words meant nothing; it was just procedure to stall a little before heading to the main topic, he had to remind himself. He’d seen many of his ancestors do so before him, and he wanted nothing more than to place his feet in their steps. A cold stand of wind shook the omnipresent tension this room always carried when such meetings took place.

Silent nods prodded him to continue, and so the raven folded his hands, leaning his elbows pointed on the table as his palms stood in front of him. He sharply inhaled: this conference would last an hour (as always), and so bringing different subjects to light at the right time was always something laying dormant at the back of his mind. He decided to start with the one that probed the nightmares that shook the living daylights out of him.

“Witches. And Warlocks. Those creatures still hang free,” He licked his lips in such a tantalisingly slow way it made one gulp.

“Why?”

His Adam's apple bobbed as the last word came out. His voice was a dagger, slicing the peace of the government before him in one single blow.

“Pardon me, your majesty,”

It was one of the further participants at the table who spoke, nevertheless, his voice wrung firmly, and his eyes, though pale like milk, shone with tenacity that they were quite nice to be held in.

“Those creatures may be vulgar, but they hold some sort of intelligence, sire. They’re hard to catch, and they certainly do not want to be found. I suspect they dwell in an abandoned part of Konoha’s vast forests, but it would be a matter of searches to see. Alas, you and I both know these follow ups have been taken before, and everytime, the result has always been futile.”

“Do you suggest that we abandon our searches entirely, Neji?” he gritted out with venom spitting from his teeth.

“I do not suggest as such, my Lord. However, there is only so much you can do; you’re not yet King of this land, you are Crowned Prince. The level of your status has merely succeeded upwards. There are still elders who have more power over you,” he fussed haughty, for his own clan leader was one of the few. The temptation to stomp over to his chair and rip his throat with the Uchiha’s bare hands was so enticing, but he had self control. He knew it was not the time to play like animals.

But Neji was truly a jackass.

“Hyuuga,” the domineering, stygian orbed male nodded to Hiashi, receiving his stern attention. The silence between them spoke louder than anything, for the elder knew exactly what the prince desired. And although it was something that was made to sleep for the moment, everyone in that room wanted nothing more than those chakra-wielding things to die. A common trait shared by all the civilians and warriors. Those of flesh and bone.

“You ask me to send out troops to find passages to where they lay, Sasuke,” he bit out gruffly. He cleared his throat, almost as if to show he had still a sort of superiority towards him.

“I can do so, but the most I can send is two troops of twenty. It’s a fleeting risk, however, all the more scarce that they will have to split halves in order to scatter north, south, east and west,” he answered. Sasuke refused to release the relieving breath he was holding, and instead flared his nose, as if to contemplate the proposition. It wasn’t much: ten of their men each searching thousands of acres, How long it would take to know of their return infuriated him beyond measure, but then again, less members meant more freedom.

They could move better in less numbers, so that was something that he could hold himself onto. Apparently, it was enough to convince him.

“I’ll take that chance,” his voice was hoarse from not trying to rush his words, an attempt to not sound desperate, for even in a room full of eyes his pride was bound to be torn like a ravaging pack of lions.

A small nod from the Hyuuga was all that he needed to know. Another search was going to be sent.

“Is that all you want to discuss with us, my Lord?” the aforementioned narrowed his eyes at the man who spoke. The lackadaisical, smart annoyance had his arms crossed behind his head, leaning comfortably on the back of his chair as if he had a care in the world. It wouldn’t surprise him if he didn’t. The audacity of the Nara didn’t disturb the Uchiha as much as before, so it only gave him so much as a twitch to his left eye.

“No, but most of the topics I am to discuss aren’t as much of importance. Feel free to sleep through the rest of this conference,” he spoke the last sentence sarcastically.

“May I but in before I snore then, your Highness?” he sighed.

The dark haired male shrugged, as if to say do as you wish.

“Some girl entered the village today,” he chided, “strange gal. Doesn’t look like she’s from here. We ought to keep an eye on her.” he proceeded to yawn, and leant back further, he looked as if to fall off his chair.

“Her appearance, Nara?” the young Hyuuga male inquired.

From his observation, she wasn’t very memorable, having been concealed through a cloak. The only thing that caught his eye was her eyes: the bright, emerald orbs they were.

Interesting.

::

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tire herself out through gallivanting aimlessly, padding her way through stones and pebbles on the ground, the sky’s heat accentuating through every hour, and the board weighted pack on her shoulders smally growing heavier by the minute. She wiped the swelling beads of perspiration that scurried down her forehead with the back of her hand, and released a breath of exasperation.

This village was immense in land expanse, and she hadn’t even gotten through to the heart of it, the place that made her mind twist with fascination-- the palace itself. In all its splendour, the building stood proudly in the heat, almost glimmering with pride: she could see it. But it seemed today was not one of which she could journey so far. She’d seen carriages steadily rocking bye, the horses trotting with such elegance she was entranced so much she stopped just to see them going by.

Oh, what a place this was.

She’d brought with her many of the scrolls containing the recounts of some of her predecessors’ experience, those--of course-- who’d made it out alive, and she pondered whether her experience would be deemed just as exhilarating. Or, gruesome enough to know she’d be burnt alive at the stake. She really didn’t know.

She then had encountered a bakery, blooming with warmth and delicious treats stacked at the window sill, enticing all who laid eyes on them. The pinkette frowned in despair as she knew she would not be able to purchase such a delicacy. Her stomach even whined at how imbecilic she was for not even bringing any coins to spare.

As she was about to move along, a voice caught her attention.

“Excuse me Miss, I can’t help but see how you’re looking at the pastries in our shop. Would you like to buy something?”

Unlike the Haruno, this girl wasn’t wearing a dimple, and so her chestnut locks gleamed hazelnut-like as she made her way towards her. Said strands were neatly folded round the top of her head to create two buns, only a ragged fringe framing her face. She dressed simply, with very few (maybe two) rosy petticoats that rivaled Sakura’s own hair. Not that it mattered-- it wasn’t as if she could see it anyway. She wore a slightly darker shade for her bodice, the tone drifting to a crimson, and her flat stomacher was an off-white, almost cream colour. She was a civilian, no doubt, but she seemed more dressed up than what would be necessary.

“Your shop?”

“Ah, it does seem like I’m not best suited for the occasion in this,” she picked up the thick skirts as a way of gesturing to her outfit, “however my family does own the bakery. You’re not from here, are you? I’m Tenten, a pleasure to meet you!”

Her beam was so bright and fulfilling it made the rosette pop a grin as well, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“Sakura, nice to meet you too,” she smiled softly.

“And I would love to buy something from your shop, it’s just that I don’t have any money on me right now. I’m very gratified at the offer, though.”

The brunette shook her head with a laugh, before grabbing the Haruno’s wrist and practically dragging her into the store. They were instantly met with the cozy smell of bread and sweet aromas, and the warmth of ovens burning with fervour.

“Oh, har har! Since you’re new around here, I’ll let you have a pastry for free! Your choice: pick one and it’s on the house,” she gestured to the room. The room was tantalisingly dizzying her with spells of temptation, and this girl was a civilian!

The pinkette smiled weakly and bit out a childish, nervous giggle. Not eating for a while seemed to take a toll on her. 

“I couldn’t. Really, Tenten, I appreciate the offer, but I must get going-”

“But you’re new, Sakura! I bet you don’t even have a place to stay.” she wagged an accusatory finger at the aforementioned. The latter grew pale at the revelation, trying to scatter ideas through her head and pick out the most logical option. However, there was none. It really was inevitable. She didn’t know what to do or say, but opening and closing her mouth frantically in an attempt to let out words was an amusing sight to display.

“Aha!” The brunette smirked. She then proceeded to run behind a counter, and with a flimsy towel, she meticulously pulled out a small, hand-sized meat pie, with slow strings of steam wafting upwards. She pushed her hands towards the Haruno’s petite frame, and instantly caught a whiff. She swallowed, before acquiescing.

The inside of her mouth burst with flavour as she took a bite. Her tongue tingled as she chewed pensively, still captured in the eyes of a certain baker’s daughter.

“I-It’s good,” she commented.

She ended up eating another one after.

::

Shikamaru was always observant, his skills made prominent for the Uchiha’s gain, and although it was a trapping situation, he didn’t mind. His life always bore him no matter what he did, the most he spent doing was making out the shapes of clouds in his spare time. That, and help soothe the load of paperwork that had been flung on his shoulders.

As of this moment, the conference had come to a close, and he was free to roam as much as he desired. 

Instead, he sat at a small bar stall, a metal mug of beer filled to the brim with golden alcoholic liquid, topped off with frothy substances bursting atop. One pint of the drink, and above all, his tobacco pipe puffed with intoxicating reels of smoke, making the man beside him choke in disgust.

“God, Shikamaru, do you have to smoke that crap?! It stinks!”

He would have scoffed at the said Uzumaki, who vexibly stalked him to this den after claiming that he needed some sort of relief off of all his errands as ‘Teme’s Right-Hand man’, and wanted some company. He still had no clue how the blonde was able to get away with that filthy nickname. But it wasn’t his place to judge their relationship, as the topic itself was something so obscure it confused even the two men in the involved party. And the Nara really didn’t appreciate getting himself into puzzling situations that twisted his brain unless he was forced to, or it was a pastime he participated in.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave, Naruto.” he sighed, as he took a swig at the beer in front of him, gasping as the bitter drink swelled down his throat. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, but he was used to it. It burned, but he relished in the pain.

“No way! I’m staying, ‘ttebayo. Oi, bartender! I’d like a pint sized mug of whiskey if you will!” she exclaimed, slamming his fisted hand on the sticky countertop. No one made enough effort to properly clean the wooden table, but no one complained.

Shikamaru shook his head, punching the blonde’s bicep rather harshly:

“I’m not taking care of a drunk you.”

He swatted his hand in the air as if dismissing him lightly, his nose wrinkling in laughter. As his drink was carefully handed to him, he recklessly bumped it towards the beer on the counter, slightly tipping the liquids together in an attempt to make some sort of toast.

“I’ll be careful, promise.”

The Nara was tempted to mutter something along the lines of ‘tis what you said last time’, but he held his tongue and instead sucked in yet another breath of tobacco, his mind slightly clouding in a sort of dizzy utopia. He heard a breathy exhale from his left before a slightly slurred sentence arrived, leaving his brows furrowed in calculation.

“Hey, heard from Sasuke that there’s a new girl in town. Do you know where she is, now?”

“What, are you willing to scare yet another one of the female species that resides in Konoha?”

The Uzumaki sputtered, leaving a smirk to cross the brunet’s features.

“Go to hell, Shikamaru!”

“And no, I just wanna meet her.” he lipped, pouting like a child. He was obviously highly offended, and that added to the other man’s pride.

In the end the two downed their drinks forcefully, not wasting one drop and yet attempting hard to sustain themselves from succumbing to the drunkenness. However their walking patterns seemed quite unsturdy and Naruto was easily daydreaming, so it wasn’t a good sign. In the end, they tossed their cash to the bartender carelessly, and stumbled around the village in search of a certain lady.

::

They found her, and quite simply too. The Nara remembered she was last seen, and where he found her, at the bakery he most frequented, since their baked goods were better than the others, it was a good travelling pace of exercise, and it was conjoined with a neighbouring weaponry store next door which they also owned. So, easily, they found her, although that was just going to be a place of questioning her whereabouts.

The bell chimed as the wooden door opened.

“Tenten,” Shikamaru respectfully regarded, a clumsy Naruto staggering behind. The shop was warm and cozy, and instantly scents of sweet and savoury adorned his senses.

“Tenten! Nice to see ya, we were wondering if you’ve got any information about where the new girl is-”

The brunet stopped in confusion at the sudden halt of breath from the Uzumaki. Something that he didn’t do often. Something in his opinion that he should do often. But that wasn’t the point.

He found the blonde gaping ahead of him, all sense of inebriation perished as his eyes glistened with a look of familiarity at whatever was behind him. Instantly, he turned around.

A small girl sat at the furthest table, shoulders squared and eyes wide with the same look of intensity as the male beside him. Her mouth hung lowly, as she was blinking frantically, as if they were an illusion she was trying to escape from. Her rosy brows knitted as she tried to find the words to say, but the whole room rushed cold as the two apparently came to the same sort of conclusion of words.

“Sakura-chan?!”

“Naruto?!”

--------------------------

Hi! Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate around this time. Can you believe it? 2020 is finally over, my God. My friends and I are deciding to go on a zoom call and play rick astley’s never gonna give you up as the end credits of this year. Seriously, it all goes downhill from here fnhdbkjdf. One of my friends is already stomping on 2021, don’t get me started lol.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please comment/review, as I really like to know that people still read my story, especially on ffnet and ao3. To those who have done so before, thank you so much! Every comment/review makes my entire day.

since my beta reader had something come up, until you read this, Julia! XD

Yours truly,

-Avis

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 66 - The Promise of Spring

Chapter Rating: Mature Chapter Warnings: Gore, Dismemberment Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3

--

First day of Wintermarch, 9:32 Dragon, First Day

Dim, early morning light seeped through the curtains in Rosslyn’s room. Her windows faced east and north, over the sea, and for years her mornings had been spent hiding from the sun to catch a few more hours of sleep before the inevitable start to the castle’s day, but on this morning, the first peek of dawn did not bother her. She was already awake, if barely, warm under the covers and content. Alistair lay beside her, sharing her pillow, his legs tangled with hers, running gentle caresses along her arms and back with the tips of his fingers.

“I should go,” he told her, breaking into a yawn.

She nudged forwards, brushing a slow touch over his collarbone. “Just a little longer.”

“I’ll be missed,” he warned. “And then I won’t be ready in time. And neither will you.”

“You’ll be cold if you leave,” she pointed out, with a pout.

“I’ll just have to keep myself warm thinking of you.”

Still not quite awake enough to laugh properly, Rosslyn sighed, and leaned into the soft touch along the side of her face before wriggling closer to rest her forehead against his.

“You know, this wouldn’t be such a problem if you married me.”

Her smile widened. “Hush with your logic.”

The subject had become something of a joke between them, moments of levity strung out like beads on a necklace that started when she had airily asked if she could expect him to steal the last pastry at breakfast every morning of their lives. Since then, they had discussed so many things, from the inane to the serious, what colour they should use to monogram the egg-cups and whether it would be better to live in Denerim with the king, or in Highever where they could help Fergus rebuild.

She leaned into him now with a slow press of her lips against his, the gentle hitch of her leg over his waist, a quiet hum when his palm graced her thigh.

“Are you sure you’re not a little bit tempted to stay?” she asked, with her fingers carded in his hair.

“I know what this is,” he replied. His expression remained soft, but worry pulled at the corners of his eyes and she found herself wanting to hide away in the safety of his shoulder. “I won’t ask if you’re sure –”

“I am.”

“And I’ll be beside you for every step of today,” he promised. “And after that, it’ll be over.”

“But they’ll still be gone,” she mumbled. “Is it strange, that after all this time it still feels like a little part of me was hoping that… that they’d just spring back into being?”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Alistair shook his head. “When my mother died, they wouldn’t let me see her.”

She held herself closer; he talked so rarely about his childhood.

“For months I wouldn’t believe she was dead, I kept insisting that she was travelling no matter what anyone told me. I grew out of it eventually, I guess, but it’s hard, not getting closure like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he answered. Their hands found each other and laced together. “I wish I could do more to stop you hurting – but I’m not staying!” he amended quickly, as one fine eyebrow arched.

“Worth a try,” she teased.

“You’re incorrigible.” He scooted across to kiss her. “And I have to go before your maid comes in and scolds me.”

She huffed good-naturedly against his mouth. “Fine. If you must.”

“My lady is so gracious.”

He brushed one last kiss over her lips and rolled over to wriggle out from under the covers, careful to avoid opening their space to any chill inrush of air. As he winced along the cold boards retrieving his clothes so haphazardly discarded the night before, she stretched under the blankets and watched him, and when he reached the door still shrugging his jerkin onto his shoulders, he glanced over at her and his smile might have melted the winter around them.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“I love you.”

--

Three hours later, she stood on the headland outside the city on a flat spur of rock that lifted itself above the tide line, protected from the buffet of the wind by layers of leather and quilted samite, and a hood of thick fur that tickled her cheek with every gust. The sky over the sea had darkened with the burgeoning threat of a storm, an occasional flash of lightning behind the charcoal smudge of heavy rain, and it stirred a bitter tang of damp wood and rotting seaweed in the back of her throat.

The journey down from the castle had begun with the usual chaos of the season, the celebration for the turning point of the year that came with shouts and coloured streamers and a turfing out of old things, and with Alistair and Fergus at her side she had led Highever’s population to a cove rimmed with greyish sand and flat, smooth boulders poking out of the shingle in the low tide, topped with limpets and serpent-green seaweed. A single column of rock rose out of the surf among its smaller brethren, its uneven face stained with rust from the ancient iron rings riveted to it at half the height of a human, a landmark that had once been nothing more than one of many eroded sea stacks along the teyrnir’s coast, but which had been pressed into service generations ago for moments just such as these.

As a crowd gathered on the dunes around her to watch, guards in Laurel blue marched to the cage drawn behind their carriage and hauled Howe from the floor before dragging him to where she waited with the others. He was filthy. The people they had passed in the streets had thrown ash over him from the dead fires of the previous year, but the grey streaks over his skin did little to hide the way it sagged, the stains on the cloth and the lank hair, the sores at his wrists and ankles where the cuffs had cut too deep. The guards gripped him by the elbows as Rosslyn stepped forward to address the crowd, and it was only in part to make sure he didn’t try to escape.

“The year past has been hard on us all,” she called to the people, in a voice lacking the wobble it had carried that faint, faraway day on Harrowhill when she ordered the retreat. “We have lost, and we have mourned, but we have also survived to stand in defiance of those who would have trodden us into the mud.” Rapt silence met her words. “We have much to rebuild, but today is a day of celebration, a day of hope, and a day of justice for those who have done us wrong.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and drew the Rose’s Thorn form its sheath.

“Maker spit on you,” Howe snarled as she approached. “I deserved more.”

“I agree.”

One of the guards fisted his hand in Howe’s hair to keep his head still. He struggled nonetheless, but she paid him no mind as she drew the tip of her blade along the crest of each sallow cheek, deep enough for a line of blood to well and mix with the coating of ash, but not deep enough for true disfigurement.

“After today, you will be forgotten, your name never spoken, and your bones left to rot in the depths of the sea,” she told him in an undertone. “You had best hope the cold takes you before the sea drakes catch your scent.”

At that, what little defiance was left in his eyes drained away. He had been present to witness her father dispose of the Orlesian duke who had stolen the Cousland seat and treated the people like amusements, had seen first-hand the old punishment brought into new use, the ritual that was both catharsis and warning for those left standing on the shore. Perhaps Howe had thought she would lack the spleen to use it.

She let her gaze slide past him and turned back to the crowd. Her voice, raised from the stomach as Aldous had taught her, reverberated from the circling dunes so that it had an almost magical power. “Now, as for generations, we send the ashes of our past griefs into the sea, to be cleansed so that the world may be renewed.”

A small wave of her hand, and the guards shoved Howe along the causeway, beyond the stretch of the sand and the maze of boulders to the spire already being licked with the first waves of the incoming tide. One held him in place while the other passed chains through the central ring, then fastened the ends around each of his wrists. He would have enough slack to move, to pace if he wanted, but not so much that he would be able to keep his head above the water – if he kept his head at all. The people watched in silence as the guards returned to stand with the rest of the Cousland escort, and even the storm itself seemed to pause, as if waiting to see what happened next.

“What now?” Alistair asked in her ear. Officially, he had come as the king’s representative, to see justice done, but his presence at her back steadied her even if the method of execution wasn’t to his liking.

“We wait.”

The water rose slowly. It undulated in and away, creeping to cover the rocks until only little bobbing patches of seaweed marked their place and then they too disappeared, while crests of white foam lapped at first the shingle then the sand, then at Howe’s ankles where he stood chained to the spire. This was the point, the dread of the inexorable ending. Even from so far away, she could see the nervous darts of his head as his eyes scanned the water, his start as the first spines broke the surface. On his other side, a narrow draconic head smooth with grey-blue scales lifted from the waves with a plume of spray from its nostrils, its head turning this way and that to regard him with large, yellow eyes, before it slipped back under the next crest and disappeared. More shadows stirred under the water, each movement becoming another half-glimpsed fin or a lightning flash of scales, attracted by the smell of blood and Howe’s splashing as he backed against the stone.

The water reached halfway up his thigh when the first sea drake hauled itself onto the causeway. Even half-submerged, it was still huge, with a thick neck and powerful shoulders, a sloped back armoured with interlocking scales that narrowed and paled down its flanks. Webbed black spines ran in a ridge down its back to a broad, paddle-shaped tail, and up to a pair of vestigial horns that crested its head like a crown. Rosslyn had only been small when she had first seen one through her mother’s glass, sunning itself on the pebbled shore of a rocky islet, but even so many years later her awe of such a creature had not diminished. Howe kicked water at it and shouted as it stalked towards him on short, stately legs, and with the air of an affronted cat the spines flared along its back, its hiss a thing of primeval menace as it dived into the swell of an incoming wave. Before Howe could celebrate his triumph, however, another drake surfaced on his other side and made a feinting snap at his knees. He drove off that one, too, but others were already closing in.

“And we just watch?” Alistair asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “How long do we stay here?”

“Until it is finished,” Fergus answered.

“This is how things are done,” Rosslyn told him, her eyes fixed on the far, struggling point. “You were right that we can’t match the suffering he caused, but it isn’t about killing him.” Her expression softened into doubt, and she turned to him. “You don’t have to stay.”

The crash of a wave drowned out Howe’s yelled curse, but not the chorus of inhuman cries that followed it. Alistair’s jaw clenched at the sound, but he reached for her hand anyway.

“I promised I would,” he said.

She had told him what was planned, waited with held breath for him to make her choose between his righteousness and justice for her people, but he had merely nodded, and followed her lead, and now the last of her worry washed away in a sigh of relief. A scream behind her brought her gaze back to Howe. The water reached almost to his chest. For a moment she saw only a patch of darkness spreading like oil over the water, and then stillness, and streams of sinuous forms moving against the current. And then the water frothed pink. Howe shrieked. His arms jerked to try and get away, the chains sparking against the rock, until with one final shudder his body fell limp, and the only movement then came from the squabble of the sea drakes over their feast.

Through it all, Rosslyn watched stony-faced, forced herself not to look away. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, but she ignored it. For a moment, the emotion stirring beneath her ribs went unrecognised, like a call in the darkness, until her breathing eased and she realised the slow spread of peace through her limbs. The encroaching storm and the rising water swallowed up the scene before her. It would take days for the bones to be picked clean, and somehow that was enough, final enough, that a weight she had not realised she had been carrying lifted from her shoulders, and when she turned her head to face Fergus, he met her gaze with the same tired look in his eyes. When they had stood together on the steps of Castle Cousland nearly a year before, her head had been full of the stories of battle, valiant triumphs and victories over fearful opponents, but few had mentioned what came after, the emptiness when there was nobody left to fight, and nobody waiting at home to welcome the hero’s return.

She had forgotten Alistair’s hand in hers until he squeezed it lightly to get her attention. People were already starting to leave. Watching them, the slow, steady amble back to hearth and home and family to light the fires for the coming year, she sagged and let her head fall on his shoulder, accepting the quiet flow of his strength with nothing more than a sigh. Her mind drifted back over the past few weeks, to their argument and the question he had asked her. They had spent so much time together since then, sharing meals and sneaking out of each other’s beds in the mornings, small moments that would have been unthinkable to the girl who had thundered out of the barbican gates in the middle of the night at the head of an army.

“It’s getting late,” Alistair murmured as the first drops of rain pattered the rock around them.

“It’s done,” she agreed. “We should go.”

The journey back to the castle passed in silence, and more silence met them beyond the barbican. Aside from the complement of volunteers filling the duty roster, most of the guard and the servants had taken the day to visit friends or relatives after the services in the chantry. As Rosslyn descended from the carriage, her thoughts drifted to Morrence, who had found her home a wreckage of the one she knew, and who had gone with Leliana to spend time with Gideon and his brothers.

“You’re back!” Amell cried from the top of the stairs, her voice nearly blown away by the wind. “Lord Fergus needs his treatment.”

“Can it wait?” Fergus asked. “I want to walk in the gardens.”

“Your Lordship, the weather –”

“Dearest little sister, how about we take a turn together?” he interrupted.

Something in his tone reminded Rosslyn of their mother when she was determined to get her way, but she had inherited the Seawolf’s steel, too. “Are you warm enough?”

“What, under the four blankets you’ve already piled on top of my five layers?”

“I feared you wouldn’t be able to walk if I added any more,” she told him with a wry quirk of her brow.

“I’m fine,” he huffed. “You fuss worse than Nan ever did.”

Alistair delicately cleared his throat. “I’ll be in the library.”

She squeezed his fingers, mourning that she had to let them go. “I’ll see you soon.”

For an instant, his gaze lingered on her mouth, but with their company he let her go unkissed, and they parted, he up the keep steps into the warmth of the castle, and she after her brother, who was already halfway to the door in the curtain wall that led down to the uppermost terrace of the gardens. The stairs in the pass were free of ice, but the narrow corridor channelled the wind into a freezing knife that cut at any flesh not safely hidden under winter layers. The gravel paths beyond wandered as they always had between beds now devoid of their summer verdancy, as if no horrors had befallen the castle at all, with only the ragged line of the clipped rosemary hedges betraying the months of neglect.

Fergus’ cane tapped a steady rhythm along the path, keeping time with the pace of Rosslyn’s thoughts as she fidgeted with the silence. She let him lead her, distracting herself with the work that would need to be done, and hoping the sky would leave off opening long enough for her brother to say whatever was clearly on his mind.

“That was a good speech you gave today,” he said eventually, poking at a weed that had sprung up between the stones. “Are you going to take your own advice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Moving forward,” he answered. “Building a life.”

He turned off the formal walk to a path that clung to the base of the keep wall, and her step faltered. She knew where they were going.

“The war isn’t over yet.” She picked a stray bit of leaf from her glove. “There are still things to do.”

He stopped, turned. “You have a man who loves you – a good man, who’s worthy of you, as far as I can tell. Putting that off helps no one.”

“Putting what off, exactly?”

For the space of a breath, he held the challenge in her gaze, battling her will to be obstinate in the face of his prying, until he grumbled something unintelligible and lifted his eyes skyward. Whether he was cursing her or the weather was difficult to tell.

“You’ve become quite grouchy in your old age,” she remarked as they continued along the path.

An elegant glasshouse waited at the end of it, set against the northern wall of the keep and best placed for the sun and the views as the terraced levels of the garden gave way to sheer basalt cliffs. Many of the glass panes between the wrought-iron frames had broken, and dead leaves piled inside the door, but with nothing to burn or to break, the interior had been left mostly untouched. The servants must have kept the plants watered for there to still be so much greenery, but Rosslyn doubted many of Howe’s soldiers had ventured far enough into the gardens to even discover Oriana’s solar, the gift she had found waiting for her when she stepped off that final ship from Antiva.

Of course Fergus would want to spend time in this place, on this day. He was already wandering through the space, his hands brushing the leaves of the orange trees his wife had planted as the rain finally unleashed itself upon them. It clattered on the glass like a volley of ballista bolts, globs of gritty sleet that turned into a water race towards the gutter and spilled over the broken bits in the roof. He ignored the roar as the front passed over them and settled into a steadier drone against their shelter, busy instead with an overturned chair that he dusted off with the tail end of one of his blankets.

“He asked you, didn’t he?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not talking about this with you. I had enough of you all prying into my personal life years before I ever met Alistair, and it’s not going to change now. It’s between me and him. And I can’t believe you would be so hypocritical! You nearly ran away to Antiva when Mother mentioned –” Her mouth snapped shut, but too late to avoid the grief pinching at the corners of her brother’s eyes.

“Don’t deny yourself happiness out of pity for me,” he cautioned. “I lost everything except you, don’t – don’t add to that. You deserve the same joy I had. There’s –” He blinked and looked up at the rain. “There’s nothing like it, and we Couslands don’t do well when denied our passions. We mope, and you’re awful when you mope.”

Unsure of how to reply, she turned away from him and out to the raging sea. It was all well for her brother to sit and hand out advice like one of Canavan’s battle lectures but he had had nothing to lose in pursuit of Oriana; he would still have been himself. She wanted the future she saw with Alistair, that image of them curled up together in the library with the sunlight streaming through the window, but in the darkness when the nightmares woke her and only the sound of his breathing kept her panic at bay, the fear of losing him – of the husk she might become without him – became a visceral, living thing that threatened to engulf her whole. She couldn’t take the step, couldn’t make it real.

She deflected for something simpler. “What about you?”

“I’ll do my duty, as Father would have wanted,” he answered, stabbing his cane through a leaf. “And if that prince of yours ever forgets how good he has it, I’ll have to step in and remind him. Forcefully. With a sword.”

At that, she smiled. “You’re so annoying.”

“It makes up for all the years you tagged along after me, trying to keep up,” he shot back, and even stuck out his tongue.

“We used to drive Nan mad.”

“It’s a shame she worked out our scheme for stealing biscuits from the kitchen.” He sighed. “Go on in and see His Highness, before he comes out looking and thinking you’ve fallen down a rabbit hole or something. I – I want to stay here for a while.”

Alone, he didn’t say.

“And your healing session?” she asked.

“I’ll manage without it.”

The dutiful part of her worried, wanted to argue, but she remembered Deerswall, and the solitude she had looked for in the grove away from the eyes of all looking to her to lead. So she nodded, and drew her weather layers more tightly around her shoulders for the walk back to the keep.

“Don’t stay out too long,” she said, and stepped out into the rain.

[shushmal]

Chapter 11: these rivers never knew

The long night grows so frigid that Jon can’t get his bones to warm under his flesh. They spend their hours huddled together, trading heat and touch and sleep, Tormund curled around Jon as if he can shield him from the freezing air itself. Jon’s never been so cold. For a while, winter winds lay so hard on top of them that the Free Folk discard their pride and seek warmth in their neighbors. Jon finds himself living in their hut with nearly half the village on the ground around them, all the children piled on top of the sleeping direwolf in the corner. Ghost barely even stirs.

And yet, Jon can’t sleep.

He lays with Tormund at his back and Mirma under his arm, her tiny body small and cold as she shivers beside him. And Tormund buries his face in Jon’s hair like he does every night, despite the score of other people, many snoring heavily in their sleep, nearby.

Jon can’t help but feel as if there are eyes on him, stomach squirming, and when he sleeps, he dreams of men dragging him from the hut to gut him in the snow.

No one does.

The only time Jon catches someone looking, Hrenna smiles so wide that Jon doesn’t have it in him to be afraid, especially when she winks and tucks Whitebone close to her chest as he sleeps.

-

There are few lulls in the blizzards, and they make good on that time. The more able-bodied layer on their furs and disappear into the darkness to hunt what little food they can find. Whitebone is always among them, and Tormund more often than not.

Jon had healed slowly and painfully without the proper foods to build his strength, and still he feels weakness hiding in his body. He moves gingerly, feeling the way his skin stretches too tight or his muscles twinge angrily. But he moves anyways, itching to do anything but lie amongst a pile of shivering people, unable to sleep.

The day he’s allowed to join one of the hunts is one Jon relishes.

“I can see you going mad already,” Tormund says, teasing. “Won’t do for our little southerner to start foaming at the mouth.”

“I’m not a southerner,” Jon says for what feels like the thousandth time.

But Tormund seems glad to have him out with them, despite how close he sticks to Jon’s side, his torch raised high between them. And Jon doesn’t complain. He hasn’t been allowed in the woods since his fight with the shadow cat, and every dark shape feels like a threat. Jon lets himself walk a little closer to Tormund’s side, following in his wake. After a time, the group begins to split off, and Jon finds himself alone with Tormund picking through dead underbrush to unbury their traps and checking for any caught game. There’s nothing, there never is, but Jon’s too glad to be in the open air to feel disheartened.

The air clings to his hair and beard, freezing to his skin, but Jon lets it fill his lungs, free of the smell of too many people crowded together in one house. His eyes tire easily, trying to peer through the darkness beyond the ring of light, but they walk carefully, their feet strapped to broad snow shoes to keep them above the deep drifts of snow. It had taken an age to pull out the last man who had fallen through a too fresh layer.

Tormund stays close, their shoulders brushing as they walk. They crouch down together, his free hand on the small of Jon’s back as he digs through the snow for a lost snare. Each touch is a spark of fire along Jon’s skin, and he’s not surprised when Tormund finally pushes him roughly against a tree.

Accepting Tormund’s kisses is easier now, filling him with warmth instead of dread. He opens his mouth obligingly, and Tormund licks into him, breath hot between them.

Jon is dizzy on it, almost swept away, until the need inside him becomes too great. He pushes harshly at Tormund’s shoulders, and he goes immediately.

“Jon—” he says, rough and wary, but Jon is dropping to his knees and pulling at the openings of his trousers. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses, because Jon doesn’t waste a breath and takes him into his mouth before the cold can really touch his skin.

Tormund’s fingers immediately tangle in his hair, and Jon gasps around the cock in his mouth.

“You little devil,” Tormund breathes, hips stuttering against Jon’s face. Jon opens his mouth as wide as it will go, taking as much of Tormund as he can, tasting him greedily.

He hasn’t done this before, has only had quick fumbles with Tormund, wandering hands and heated kisses whenever there’s a chance. Tormund’s only put his mouth on him a few times, and Jon tries for the same finesse, to imitate the way Tormund will torture Jon's orgasm from him, but loses himself in his own desires, sloppily sucking Tormund down at his own pace. Tormund seems happy to let him, fingers tugging at his frosty hair, but is otherwise still.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tormund chants. “You little beast, did you want to come out here just for this?”

Groaning, Jon bobs his head a little faster, drool gathering on his tongue as he laps at Tormund’s cock, his jaw aching and his own dick between his legs swelling. He releases there in his pants, mindlessly rubbing at himself with half-frozen fingers, but he’s too focused on Tormund in his mouth to do more than open up his throat and take him deeper.

“God be damned,” Tormund moans and his seed bursts hot in Jon’s mouth.

He chokes, swallowing as much of it as he can. His legs are shaky when Tormund tugs him to his feet and presses him back against the bark, his kiss sloppy and heated and perfect.

When they finally rejoin the rest of the hunting party, the wildlings jeer at them with big grins.

-

Ghost wakes up after nearly eight months of hibernation, bright-eyed and thin, and disappears for several weeks despite the storms and snow. Sometimes Jon will close his eyes and dream on four legs and eyes that see through the dark. When Ghost returns, he’s a little fatter and dragging behind him a still-kicking boar. Tormund slaughters the beast, the whole while praising the direwolf like he would a child.

“The best hunter among us!” Tormund booms, laughing, and Ghost’s tail wags back and forth in blurring arcs. “We’d make you chief if you didn’t piss on everything.”

“I’ve seen you piss on more trees than Ghost has,” Jon says. He runs his hands along Ghost’s snout and over his vast head, thumbing along the edge of the wolf’s one ear. “If that’s what puts you out of leadership, I’m afraid you’ll have to step down.”

Tormund waves the bloody point of his knife at Jon. “He’d have to fight me for it!”

“Ghost would win.”

Flopping down across Jon’s legs, Ghost yawns wide, rows of red teeth shining in the fire light. Tormund scowls, eyeing him warily.

“Forget sometimes what a monster he is.”

Jon snorts, his hands now scratching along Ghost’s back, and Ghost wiggling in Jon’s lap for more. “Don’t worry, Tor,” he coos, grinning at him. “I’ll keep you safe from the big bad wolf.”

“Watch it, boy.”

“He’s just a big puppy,” Jon says, snickering. “No reason for the great Tormund Giantsbane to be scared.”

Ghost jumps up just as Tormund lunges, dancing around the two men as they go tumbling, Jon laughing as Tormund shoves handfuls of snow down his shirt.

-

Time carries on like that and Jon lets himself get lost in the endless night in ways that are gentler and softer than he probably deserves. Even as the world sleeps beneath a blanket of cold, Jon feels like he’s waking up. It’s a gentle kiss, soft and sweet in a way that Jon wasn’t aware was possible, that he or Tormund were capable of. Tormund is a good morning kiss upon waking, hi, hello, I’m glad you’re the first thing I see when I open my eyes, the person I search for through the day, and the body I lie next to at night.

It’s a hard life still, but it’s simple. And Jon finds himself comforted by that.

Eventually the winds die, and with them the storms and the snow. They see the stars for the first time in what feels like years. The wildlings are starved and restless, but there is cheer amongst them when the moon’s light hits their buried homes and they spend weeks digging them out again, eager to return to privacy and independence.

When the last of them roll up their bedrolls and carry away their furs, and Jon and Tormund are finally alone, they waste no time, falling onto their bedding tangled together.

Tormund’s kisses are hot on Jon’s neck, the scratch of his beard and the bite of his teeth sending heat through his veins, pooling low in his belly where Tormund’s hand massages him over his breeches. Jon bites back the breathless moans in his throat, clutching tightly to Tormund’s shoulders as he unties the belt at Jon’s waist, slowly stripping him, his hands greedy with every inch of bared skin.

He grinds down on Jon’s thigh as he goes, the thick line of his cock hard against Jon’s jumping muscles.  Nibbling along his collar, Tormund pulls Jon’s pants over the curve of his ass and past his aching dick. Jon’s barely paying attention, too caught up in Tormund’s kisses when he leans up to capture his lips, letting Tormund lick into his mouth with an adventurous tongue, tasting and being tasted in turn.

Gasping, Jon arches up into Tormund when he feels a slick finger in the crack of his ass.

“Tell me to stop,” Tormund rasps, the tip of his finger circling Jon’s hole gently. “And I’ll stop.”

Jon swallows, head spinning because everything with Tormund feels like magic, warm heat and bliss, and Jon would give him this on that alone, no matter the pain. “I trust you,” he whispers. His voice trembles.

“I’ll make it good for you, love,” Tormund says. He shifts, so he’s kneeling between Jon’s legs, bracketed in the grasp of Jon’s thighs as he kisses down Jon’s front, quick teeth and gentle tongue. Jon trembles, watching as Tormund kisses past his belly button all the way to the weeping end of his cock. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

He swallows Jon down to the root, his throat working around Jon’s length, and Jon can feel Tormund’s smirk around his cock when he buries his fingers in that wild hair. Tormund doesn’t let up even for a moment, sucking him well, and Jon nearly shakes apart.

The next touch to his hole is like lightning up his spine. Tormund’s fingers are thick and blunt, but he moves with such sweet care, oil-slicked touches as he slowly eases one digit inside. Jon groans like he’s been stabbed.

“Tor,” he near sobs, twisting his hold in Tormund’s hair. “Tormund.”

Tormund hums, pleased, his tongue flat along the underside of Jon’s cock and his finger leisurely pumping in and out of his ass, stoking the growing fire in Jon’s belly. The second finger burns, but Jon is so lost, back arched and moaning, that he barely notices.

“Don’t stop,” Jon begs when Tormund’s touch goes a little deeper. “Tor, please.”

And Tormund doesn’t, mouth hot and wet around Jon’s cock, his touch insistent on Jon’s inner walls, searching, pumping in and out of him until Jon can’t take another second of it, can’t hold back, and he comes hard down Tormund’s throat.

“You did so good,” Tormund says, his voice fucked out and destroyed when he lifts his head from between Jon’s thighs.

Jon pulls him up by his hair, still shaking, and kisses Tormund hard. He can taste himself on Tormund’s tongue, and he swallows Tormund’s moans when he takes Tormund in hand. He spills into Jon’s hand almost immediately, across Jon’s stomach and chest. They collapse to the ground, a sticky mess of loose limbs and lazy kisses.

“Will you fuck me next time?” Jon asks, half asleep as Tormund mouths at his ear.

Somehow, Tormund’s cock stirs again at Jon’s hip. “Do you want me to?”

He thinks about it for a moment, at the warm ache at the base of his spine, imagining Tormund above him and around him and in him.

“I do.”

-

The air feels less icy, kinder to his lungs when Jon steps out of the night air and into the hut. Ghost barrels past him before collapsing half on top of Tormund where he’s already sleeping by the fire. Tormund wakes with a shout, cursing and shoving Ghost off of him.

“Ghost,” Jon chides, and Ghost immediately bounces back to his feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Tormund snarls as he wipes the drool from his face, scowling when Jon practically sits himself in his lap.

“I miss when he was just a big furry cushion to sit on,” he grumbles, hugging Jon around his middle and pulling him under the blankets.

Jon laughs, letting himself be man-handled into place. “Well, I missed having someone quiet to talk to.”

“I can be quiet!”

“Can you now?”

Grinning handsomely over Jon, Tormund leans in to capture his lips, a kiss spun of warmth and light, and Jon can feel it warming him from the inside out. By the time Tormund draws away, Jon is breathless.

“See?” Tormund says, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Quiet as a mouse.”

Jon smacks his shoulder, laughing. “I suppose you were, for once.”

“I can’t say the same for you though, moaning like you were.”

Jon hits him harder and Tormund roars, the two of them wrestling over the ground and nearly into the fire. They tire quickly from it though, and tuck themselves into the blankets and furs, curled around each other like rabbits in their burrows.

“Mirma asked me to hunt again on the moon,” Jon says, lazily running his fingers through Tormund’s hair.

Tormund hums, his eyes closed, a pleased rumble filling his chest as Jon’s fingers scrape along his scalp. “Won’t be going with you this time,” he says lowly. Jon’s hand pauses, stuttering to a quick halt, and Tormund opens his eyes, weary but gentle. “I trust you.”

Jon swallows and continues combing his finger through Tormund’s hair, trying to tame the wild length of it.

His scars have long healed and grown pale, though they cut a gnarled path down Jon’s face, turning his lip down into a permanent half frown. And Tormund has since never let Jon near the woods without him.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Tormund asks, his voice quiet in the already quiet night. Outside the snow is falling a little slowly, burying them a little deeper in the cold. Jon doesn’t answer him, just huddles a little closer, burrowing himself a little more into Tormund’s warmth, his fingers still and tangled in Tormund’s hair.

Tormund sighs. And then he begins to sing. It’s a lilting, rolling song, some far northern tune that Jon’s never heard before, but he listens closely, committing each word, each breath to memory, knowing he’ll want to think of it later, when the day comes and Tormund isn’t there to sing him to sleep.

Tormund’s voice is deep and gravelly, and sometimes so gentle that Jon could close his eyes and listen until spring comes home again.

-

The forest feels different. Beside him, Ghost scents the air, his great head raised high and chest puffing. Mirma and the rest of the hunting party are standing warily at his back, gathered together with their torches raised high.

Before them, the weirwood is bone white and leafless, the old gnarled face looking down at the with unseeing, wooden eyes. There is blood long dried and browned on its trunk. Jon just barely remembers laying against it and bleeding on its trunk.

And just at eye-height is a deep, fresh cut in the bark.

“Anyone been this way?” one of the hunter growls, eyeing everyone as they shake their heads.

“No one,” Whitebone confirms. No one has left the village without him. “None of us would be foolish enough to cut the gods’ tree.”

Jon hums quietly as their voices raise together, arguing, and he reaches out to drag his fingers along the mark. It’s was heavy blow into the tree, but not made with any sort of axe, but what he guesses is a long sword made of good steel. It wouldn’t have been forged well, the blade is too thick and a little bent.

Turning, he raises his torch a little higher, picking his way carefully over the snow, eyes searching. Ghost shadows him, nose flaring.

And there it is, nearly fifty long paces away, south from the village, another heavy cut in another tree’s bark. If Jon follows it, he’s sure he’ll find another.

“Looks like the Night Watch is out for my head, after all,” he says to Ghost, his eyes lost in the southbound darkness for a long moment, before he turns back, making his way home.