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kckt88 · 1 year ago

Text

Don't Leave Me.

Summary:

Vaera discovers that she is with child again, but soon after the birth she suffers life threatening complications and Aemond faces the possibility of losing the love of his life.

Warning(s): Language, Childbirth, Complications, Suffering.

Word Count: 2330.

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings & Ravenous.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“How could this happen?” exclaimed Vaera.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence Princess, but you’ve already birthed a number of babes, I’m fairly certain you know how it happens” replied Maester Munkun.

“B-But I took the tea” shrieked Vaera wringing her hands together.

“Are you sure you took the tea after each…Coupling?” asked Maester Munkun.

“Y-Yes I’m certain-“ stuttered Vaera.

She thought about all the times that she’d bedded Aemond over the last few weeks and she was sure that she’d taken the tea every time.

But it was quite hard to actually remember every single encounter that she’d had with her insatiable husband.

Even after birthing seven babes, Aemond’s blood still ran hot for his wife.

He fucked Vaera every night, sometimes more than once, in various positions, all over the Red Keep. Their love making was definitely not confined to their chambers.

Oh, wait. That night we went flying with Cannibal and Vhagar.

I took the tea.

Didn’t I?

Oh no.

I didn’t take the tea.

“Princess?” questioned Maester Munkun.

“I-I forgot to take the tea” muttered Vaera, her cheeks-tinged pink.

“Were there multiple couplings when you forgot to take the tea?”

Multiple couplings? Of course, there was. Aemond had a ravenous appetite that night. He had stuck his cock in her cunny so many times that she’d lost count. She couldn’t even walk straight the next day.

“Y-Yes. There was a few” mumbled Vaera.

“As we’ve previously discussed Princess. You and your husband are very compatible when it comes to his seed taking root” muttered Maester Munkun.

“Indeed” retorted Vaera.

Damn my husband, with his big cock and fertile seed.

“I don’t understand why your not talking to me” said Aemond as he watched Vaera pacing around their chambers.

“It’s all your fault” replied Vaera.

“What is?” asked Aemond, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“You and that big cock of yours”.

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Damn fertile seed that likes to take root” muttered Vaera.

“L-Likes to what? A-Are you with child again?”

“YES!” shouted Vaera throwing her arms up in the air.

“You take the tea though” said Aemond cocking his head to the side.

“Well, husband, because we have so much sex, I forgot to take the tea after one of our many encounters and now I’m with child again and-why are you laughing?” snapped Vaera.

“Didn’t you say just the other day that you wanted me to give you another babe?”

“I-I was in the throes of my peak I wasn’t truly aware-“ stuttered Vaera blushing.

“-So, you didn’t mean it when you said that I was the best lover you’ve ever had, and you wished that I could keep my cock stuffed inside you at all times?” said Aemond smirking.

“Oh, you-just shut up. Besides you’re the only lover I’ve had” snarked Vaera blushing.

“Even after all these years of marriage, I still love it when you blush like a maiden” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

“Is that all you love about me?” mused Vaera.

Aemond smiled and shook his head, clearly her husband was in the mood to tease her. Well two could play at that game.

“OH GODS. THIS IS DEFINITELY THE LAST ONE” screamed Vaera.

“You can do it my love” said Aemond as he held Vaera’s hand tight.

“I CURSE YOU AND YOUR BIG COCK,” shouted Vaera.

“Here was me thinking that it was a blessing” joked Aemond.

“NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR-OH SHIT” yelled Vaera.

“Come on my love. PUSH” urged Aemond.

“I AM PUSHING” snarled Vaera.

“Well done, Princess. I can see the head” said Maester Munkun.

“Oh my god, the babe has a lot of silver hair” exclaimed Aemond as he looked between his wife’s legs.

“HEY, DON’T LOOK” balled Vaera grimacing as another contraction ripped across her stomach.

“I put the babe in there” retorted Aemond.

“OH, SHUT UP YOU-“ screamed Vaera as she gave one last push and the babe slid from her with a wet squelch.

“A girl” said Maester Munkun happily as he placed the crying babe in her mother’s arms.

“She’s perfect” gasped Vaera, the tears streaming down her face.

“I-Is everything ok with-“

“If I’m not mistaken-” muttered Maester Munkun as Vaera began whimpering in pain.

“-W-What’s wrong?” asked Aemond as he again looked between his wife’s legs.

“Well-“

“-Is that what I think it is?” gasped Aemond.

“Yes, my Prince, there is another babe on the way” replied Maester Munkun.

Aemond paced up and down the corridor hoping and praying to any gods that were listening that his wife was going to be ok.

Vaera had begun her labours a few hours earlier and everything seemed to be progressing as normal.

It was going to be their last babe and as always Aemond was right by his wife’s side holding her hand.

But his sweet wife had surprised him when she once again delivered twins.

Both babes were girls, and they were absolutely beautiful.

Once the shock had worn off.

Vaera had held her arms out as she always did ready to receive their squalling babes.

Her smile as he held them close so to her chest, was as it always was, happy and proud.

But then the blood. There was so much blood.

It was normal to bleed after giving birth, but there was too much. More than Aemond had ever seen.

The babes were quickly taken from Vaera and pressed into the waiting arms of Myla and a midwife.

Suddenly Vaera had gone very pale.

The Maester's attending to Vaera worked frantically to try and stop the bleeding, but it flooded the bedsheets.

Vaera had now gone very limp, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“N-No Vaera. Don’t close your eyes” gasped Aemond as he shook his wife.

But it was no good. Vaera was now unresponsive.

Aemond was quickly ejected from the room and made to wait as the Maesters, and midwives battled to save the life of his wife.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

I can’t lose her.

Don’t take her from me.

I beg you.

Not my sweet wife. My Vaera. My love.

I can’t live without her.

Not after everything we’ve been through.

As the minutes passed, Aemond felt himself growing more and more agitated.

Nobody was telling him anything.

He needed to know what was happening.

Just then the door to their shared chambers opened and the Maester appeared, looking frazzled and covered in blood.

“My Prince”.

“Is-Is Vaera ok?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I managed to stop the bleeding-“

“-But” gasped Aemond his heart racing.

“Unfortunately, the blood loss has caused the Princess to slip into a coma” replied Master Munkun.

“W-What does that mean?” asked Aemond.

“Sometimes for reasons we have yet to understand, the body after certain types of traumas, can sometimes slip into a state of deep unconsciousness known as a coma”.

“How long will it last?” questioned Aemond.

“I don’t know my Prince. It could be a few days, a week, perhaps even longer. It all depends on the Princess and how her body is able to heal” replied Maester Munkun.

“So, it’s like she’s asleep?”

“In a way yes. But please be aware my Prince that the longer she remains unresponsive the more likely it is that she will never wake up” said Maester Munkun solemnly.

“N-Never wake up. She’s just birthed our twin babes, we have other children. How am I supposed to cope without her?” sobbed Aemond.

“I’m very sorry my Prince”.

“C-Can I see her?” asked Aemond.

Maester Munkun nodded and then stepped aside to allow Aemond entry into his chambers.

The bedding had been changed and Vaera had been cleaned and dressed in a thin shift.

She was propped up slightly on the bed, her eyes closed. It truly looked like she was sleeping, but her skin was pale and her breathing slow yet steady.

Aemond collapsed by the bedside and took Vaera’s hand.

“P-Please don’t leave me my sweet” sobbed Aemond.

She looks so peaceful.

“I-If you need to rest, then I understand, you just sleep as much as you need. I’ll be here waiting for you. Issa Jorrāelagon” cried Aemond (My love).

“My Prince” muttered Myla.

“W-What is it?” replied Aemond quietly.

“The babes” whispered Myla.

Aemond looked over at the snivelling babes in Myla’s arms and for a brief fleeting moment he considered telling her to take them away, that he didn’t want the babes anywhere near him, but he couldn’t.

It’s not their fault. I can’t blame them. Their mother can’t hold them right now. But I’m here.

“Give him them here” whispered Aemond.

Myla placed the tiny babes in his arms and then gracefully retreated.

A small sob escaped Aemond as he looked down at his daughters and noticed how much they resembled Vaera. Full heads of silver hair that was already starting to curl, and their eyes were the lightest shade of violet that he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry little ones. Daddy is here” muttered Aemond as he placed a kiss on each of his daughter’s heads in turn.

Aemond stared wordlessly out of the window, it had been over a week and Vaera had still not woken up.

The Maesters were attending to her regularly, making sure she was well taken care of and receiving adequate sustenance.

The maids would keep the rooms clean as best they could, and Myla was helping to care for the other children and the still unnamed babes.

Aemond denied all visitors and shut himself off from everything. All that mattered was Vaera.

He’d not slept properly in days; he wasn’t eating properly.

His normally immaculate hair was unkempt, and his appearance dishevelled.

My darling. I beg you. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I’m nothing without you.

Suddenly a soft knock at the door broke Aemond out of his reverie.

“I distinctly requested no visitors” snarled Aemond as the door slowly opened.

“Brother” whispered Aegon as he peered round the door.

“Your Grace. A-Aegon” exclaimed Aemond bowing his head slightly.

“I know you didn’t want visitors, but I had to come” whispered Aegon.

“I-Is anyone else with you?”

“No, it’s just me. How is she?” replied Aegon.

“Sh-She still won’t wake. What if she never does. I-I c-can’t lose hers Aegon. I just can’t”

“Hey, it’s ok” exclaimed Aegon as he put an arm around his brother.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he fell into his older brothers arms and completely broke down.

“It’s ok brother. Just let it out” whispered Aegon.

“W-What if she doesn’t wake up. I-I c-can’t lose her” cried Aemond.

“You won’t lose her” replied Aegon quietly.

“Our children can’t lose their mother” muttered Aemond.

“Vaera just needs time to rest” said Aegon.

Aemond had got himself into such a state that he was finding it hard to breathe, so Aegon did the only thing that made sense and began to slowly stroke his brother’s tangled silver hair.

“T-The maester said the longer she remains unresponsive the less likely it is that she’ll wake up”.

“Is she not responding at all?” asked Aegon.

“N-No. I even brought the babes in and laid them on Vaera’s chest, but she didn’t react at all” muttered Aemond sadly.

“Vaera will be ok” said Aegon quietly.

“W-What if she isn’t. She’s my soul mate Aegon. I-I won’t be able to live without her”.

“You won’t have to live without her because Vaera is going to be ok. There’s no way that stubborn woman would ever leave you” exclaimed Aegon.

“I-I just-“

“-No. You listen to me. Vaera loves you and she will come back to you” said Aegon firmly.

“A-Aegon” sniffed Aemond.

“You two are my hope” muttered Aegon sadly.

“What?” asked Aemond.

“I wasn’t a good husband to Helaena; she deserved better than me. I loved her as a sister, but I couldn’t love her as a wife. I used to be so envious of you. Very few people in this world are lucky enough to marry for love. Yet you my twat of a little brother found his soul mate. You and Vaera have the love that I’ve always dreamt of. Your my hope because I know if something as pure as the love you two have for one another exists, then maybe the world isn’t so shit after all” said Aegon.

Aemond nodded his head slowly and furiously wiped away his tears.

“I spoke to mother and she’s going to help take care of the children and the realm for a few days so I can be here with you”.

“You are the King; you can’t do that” sniffed Aemond.

“Yes, I can. Whilst you might be a massive twat that has a punchable face, your still my brother and I love you and you might not admit it, but you need me right now”.

Aemond took a deep shuddering breath and for the first time in days he smiled.

True to his word. Aegon remained by Aemond’s side.

Their mother helped with the children and kept the council in check, should they get ideas above their station.

Aegon and made sure that Aemond ate properly, he also sat with Vaera and chatted to her for hours about the most ridiculous of things.

Vaera had now been in his coma for almost three weeks, and whilst Aegon and Alicent entertained the children, Aemond found himself laying next to his wife.

“Vaera, Jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson, Issa prūmia, Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” whispered Aemond (Love of my life, my heart, my sweet wife).

Nothing in this world compares to my Vaera.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but please my love come back to me” begged Aemond.

I need her, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.

“I’m not sure how to cope without you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss your smile; I even miss your snoring” sobbed Aemond.

My precious pearl. My sweet wife. I love you.

"Please don't leave me"

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aegon ii targaryen

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wildercrow · 3 years ago

Note

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.” for Isabela/Fenris, or if you're feelin it, a concept: Isabela/Fenris/Zevran

🎶 This is the smut that never eeends, yes it goes on and on my frieeends~ 🎶

This took two weeks and grew an entire plot, but it's DONE!! This is uh... there's a lot going on here, but I swear the prompt is in there somewhere, haha.

For @dadrunkwriting

~*~*~

Fandom: Dragon Age Rating: Explicit Characters: Fenris, Isabela, Zevran Main Relationship(s): FWB Isabela/Fenris/Zevran (with pre-romantic Fenris/Zevran) Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut Word Count: 6555 Content Warnings: Explicit sex and kink (notably pee play, light D/s, and consensual voyeurism/exhibitionism), Gagging (in the context of deepthroating), Passing references to past slavery and torture, Brief mention of nausea, Strong language, DA2 spoilers, Passing mentions of minor character death (canon death of a villain) AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36584092

~*~*~

“Buttons?”

Fenris feels the weight of a hand rest on his armored shoulder. It’s comforting. Grounding. He knows it’s Isabela – she’s the only one who calls him that – but he can’t turn to look because he’s frozen in place, staring at the sight in front of him: what remains of Meredith. What remains of Kirkwall.

Where did Anders run off to? Anders and his spirit. Justice. He saw them leave. Something tells him they won’t be back. The memory of his failed attempt at kissing them – at kissing Justice, really – replays over and over in his mind. It feels strangely distant, like it was years ago even though it happened just the night before.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He should have known better. His cheeks burn with some kind emotion, though he’s not entirely sure what emotion he’s experiencing.

Everything is so much.

His head spins and his vision blurs. There’s so much to think about that he doesn’t even know where to start. Doesn’t know how to stop. Doesn’t know how to peel his eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of him. Nausea threatens to overwhelm him, not for the first time that day.

“Hey,” Isabela coos, voice shaking as she moves her hand to the middle of Fenris’ back, “let’s get out of here, okay? No use in standing here staring at everything that went wrong after it’s all said and done.”

“Go where?” Fenris asks, his voice raw and raspy.

Zevran steps up to his other side and offers him a waterskin, which he gladly takes and drinks a few gulps of water.

“Your mansion didn’t get hit directly by all… this, I don’t think,” Isabela muses. “Are you up for a couple guests?”

“Assuming the guests are you and Zevran, I think I can arrange for that,” Fenris forces a weak smile. In truth, he’s relieved at the prospect of Isabela and Zevran following him home. He doesn’t want to be alone right now.

“Alright, just let me let the others know where I’m going so they don’t worry.” Isabela waves over to where Hawke, Merrill, and Varric are gathered, not far from where Aveline is helping patch Carver up. “Mo! Merrill! You good?”

Hawke gives a shrug and a shaky thumbs up.

“I’m going to Fenris’ place to decompress with him and Zevran,” Isabela calls to her friends. “If you need me, check there first.”

Hawke and Varric both nod while Merrill waves, so Isabela returns her hand to Fenris’ back and gently guides him away from the horrific scene and towards his house with Zevran in tow. None of them talk much, which is unusual for Isabela and Zevran.

“Would anyone like a bath?” Fenris blurts out as soon as they enter the mansion. He’s not sure if he’s offering to bathe together or separately. All he knows is he wants to wash the grime from his body so he can stop thinking about where it came from. He’ll figure the rest out later.

“Yes please,” Isabela responds.

“Desperately,” Zevran echoes. “To be clear, are you inviting us to bathe with you, or…? I’m alright either way, just making sure.”

Fenris takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. His thoughts have stopped spinning wildly and are now encased in a thick layer of nearly-impenetrable fog. He’s bathed with Isabela many times before, but never Zevran. While the assassin isn’t a complete stranger, he’s still… new. Nevertheless, right now his company sounds welcome. Fenris feels safe around him, and right now loneliness feels more painful than the awkwardness of bathing with someone who’s never seen him naked before. So, cautiously, he replies, “Bathing together sounds like a welcome distraction from…” he waves his hand in the air, “everything.”

“Agreed,” Isabela says, already walking in the direction of the baths. Fenris and Zevran follow.

Once they get there, Fenris wastes no time filling up the largest tub with water. As it heats up, they all strip out of their armor and clothes. Or rather, Isabela and Zevran undress while Fenris strips down to his smallclothes and hovers awkwardly nearby. He politely averts his eyes from Zevran, trying not to inadvertently stare.

Which the other elf apparently picks up on, because he says, “I don’t mind you looking at me, you know. If I didn’t want you to see me naked, I wouldn’t have undressed right beside you.”

Fenris forces himself to look up and is struck – not for the first time – by how handsome Zevran is. He’s small, hardly taller than Merrill, and built of wiry muscle and scar-crisscrossed skin. The faintest hint of arousal tugs at Fenris’ gut and it might be the only good feeling he’s had all day.

“I suspect the water is warm enough, now, if you boys are done gazing longingly at each other,” Isabela interrupts.

Zevran coughs and averts his eyes, “I was merely appreciating a handsome friend.”

“Right, of course,” Isabela chuckles, then turns to Fenris. “You’re sure you want to do this, buttons?”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly before slipping out of his smallclothes, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go,” she says impatiently. “The sooner I can wash this day off my skin, the better.”

So without further ado, the all slip into the warm water, sitting in a circle around the large, round tub.

The warm water washes over Fenris’ over-sensitive skin, filling him with much-needed relief from the excruciating pain that has been plaguing him all day. He’s so used to the pain that he can almost forget it’s there in the heat of the moment, but it all comes rushing back in the quiet moments. Sometimes he doesn’t know how much pain he’s truly in until something, like this warm bath water, alleviates it. He sinks into the water up to his chin, closes his eyes, and lets out a pleased sigh.

Isabela hums softly beside him, “You must be really hurting, huh buttons?”

“This is helping,” he responds.

“Do you have any Epsom salts around here?” Zevran asks. “Those help when my joints are acting up.”

“Perhaps,” Fenris says. “If I do, I would guess they’re in the cabinet over there,” he opens his eyes and points, “but I’m too comfortable right now to get out and check.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Zevran declares with a grin, clamoring out of the tub and padding wetly over to the cabinet, opening it and rummaging through its contents. “Aha!” He victoriously holds up a box of Epsom salts and returns to the tub. “Want me to add some?”

“Please do,” Fenris replies, so Zevran tosses several handfuls of Epsom salts into the bath before setting the box aside and climbing back into the water.

“How are your joints feeling, by the way?” Isabela asks. “I saw you get thrown across the battlefield at least once out there.”

“I’ve been better,” Zevran laughs, reaching up to massage an aching shoulder. It’s very clearly an understatement.

Fenris eyes the other elf’s heavily scarred skin and wonders where each scar came from. Some are clearly run-of-the-mill battle scars, but others look familiar in a different way. They almost look like…

Torture.

Shit.

The realization hits him with a pang of sympathy, but it also fills his belly with that pleasant warmth that comes with knowing someone has been through something similar to him. Knowing that they get it.

Suddenly, all he wants is to curl up with Zevran and hold him and be held by him.

Which… he realizes is probably a very real option. But taking the steps to initiate it is so intimidating that it feels impossible.

“Out of curiosity, what are we planning to do once we get out of this bath?” Isabela asks, snapping Fenris out of his reverie. “I’d rather not sit quietly with my thoughts tonight, if that’s all the same to you.”

“I don’t think any of us want that,” Fenris says with a bitter laugh.

“I may have an idea, but only if it sounds nice to Fenris,” Zevran gives him a look that is so agonizingly gentle that he nearly melts.

“I’m listening,” Fenris says.

“When we first met, you said you were not interested in sex because we don’t know each other well enough, but that you may be later on,” Zevran says. “Now that we are on, ah… bathing together terms, I was wondering if your stance on that has changed at all.”

Oh. Apparently Zevran is more than happy to do the initiating. That tracks.

Sex is a bit more than just holding each other, but also… it sounds nice. Sex with Isabela has been his way of letting off steam for at least a year, now, and thinking about Zevran joining them no longer fills him with a prickle of terrified apprehension. Instead, it fills him with almost giddy anticipation, threaded with just a hint of anxiety about the newness of it all.

“I think I’d like that,” Fenris manages a lopsided smile.

Zevran outright beams, “We’ll make it good for you, don’t you worry!”

“I have no doubts about that,” Fenris chuckles. “Isabela always does, and she speaks quite highly of you.”

“She speaks rather highly of you, as well,” Zevran says with a mischievous smile.

Isabela giggles, “You two are cute, you know that? How about we plan while we soak in the bath, because it’s cozy in here.”

“Well, I suppose the first question is what do you like?” Zevran asks.

Fenris likes many things, but the second he’s asked to list them, every last one of them falls out of is head. He scrunches he face up as he thinks, but nothing comes to mind. Eventually, he lets out a frustrated sigh and says, “Perhaps you should tell me what you like, first.”

“Oh, we’ll be here all night if you two start listing off every single thing you’re into,” Isabela chuckles. “Want me to propose an idea and you two can go from there?”

“Please,” Fenris replies.

“An excellent idea,” Zevran agrees.

“Well,” Isabela starts, “you’re both switchy boys, though Zev would really rather be a sub most days—”

“Correct,” Zevan confirms.

“Fenris doesn’t have a lot of experience as a Dom, but the instincts are there. If you two want, we could use this as a learning experience where I watch and help as needed as Fenris tops Zevran.”

That sends a spark of arousal down Fenris’ spine and directly into his groin. “I… like that idea, I think.”

“Oh yes, sign me up for that!” Zevran grins.

“As long as you’re aware that I have no idea what I’m doing,” Fenris adds.

“That’s why I’m here, buttons,” Isabela assures him, reaching out to stroke her hand over his half-wet hair.

“I really don’t mind,” Zevran assures him. “Bela was a beginner once, too. I had a lot of fun teaching her.”

Right. Almost everything Isabela knows about sex and kink came from Zevran once upon a time. Fenris relaxes. “Alright, then, what can I do for you Zevran?”

“Ah, well… ordinarily bondage is a big favorite of mine, but my back and shoulder aren’t feeling well, and I’m not sure we even have the right supplies here…”

“I don’t think we do,” Isabela interjects. “I have some back at the Hanged Man, but I don’t use them much with Fenris, so none of them made their way over here.”

“Right,” says Zevran, “so that is out. I’m also rather a fan of wax play, but that is… not a great beginner activity, especially if we don’t have proper wax play candles around. Let’s see…”

“You, uh…” Fenris grabs at the words and pushes them out of his mouth before he has the chance to second-guess them, “you mentioned something about pee. In passing, the last time we met.”

Zevran dissolves into nervous giggles, “Ah, you remember that, do you?”

“I… wouldn’t be opposed to learning more,” Fenris offers.

“Is that so?” Zevran quirks an eyebrow, a cautious smile on his face. “Alright than, ah… my whole thing is me desperately needing to pee and then being held or touched when I finally let it go. Sometimes sitting in a someone’s lap, sometimes letting them touch me intimately… there are a bunch of variations, but… you get the idea.”

“Ah,” it’s hard for Fenris to ignore the tell-tale tingling in his groin, “consider me interested.”

Zevran lights up, “Really?”

“Buttons, did we just discover a new kink for you?” Isabela chuckles fondly.

“Perhaps,” Fenris lets out a bark of laughter.

“That works out nicely, because that one’s easy to work around you two being in pain tonight,” she points out. “We just cover a spare bed in several layers of spare towels and then throw everything in the laundry and deal with it all tomorrow when we hopefully feel less like absolute shit.”

“It does mean we need to bathe twice in one night, though,” Zevran points out.

“We could just call this an Epsom salt soak and then take a proper bath after we’re done,” Fenris points out.

“I like how you think!” Isabela grins.

“If we’re going to do this, perhaps we should get out soon?” Zevran requests, “Because to be honest, I already kind of need to pee.”

“Okay, everybody out,” Isabela shoos them out of the tub. They all take a moment to make sure the worst of the day’s grime is rinsed off, then climb out of the tub and start drying off.

“Other than, uh… pee, what would you like?” Fenris asks as he rubs his hair dry with a towel.

“Ah, well, I do love some good old fashioned praise,” Zevran reveals, much to Fenris’ delight. “Power play is nice, but I prefer a bit of a soft touch. No punishment or humiliation or anything like that. You’ve played with Isabela, so I suspect you have an idea of what I like already.”

Fenris nods.

“Also, ah… this relates back to pee a bit, but I rather like the idea of having someone or something inside me while my bladder is full, whether it’s your fingers or your… hmm, we haven’t told each other what words we use for our bodies, have we?”

“Just… cock, for me,” Fenris says.

“I use clit and ah… just ‘inside me’ mostly,” Zevran says, “and then breasts. Which you are allowed to touch, by the way! I know some men like me don’t like that, but I find it rather nice. Anyways, I doubt either of us has the energy for you to properly fuck me tonight, but… has Bela introduced you to cockwarming?”

Fenris chuckles, “She most certainly has. And yes, I can do that with you.”

“I’m going to go get a room set up while you two keep talking,” Isabela interjects, making her way over to the closet and pulling out a whole stack of towels before heading for the door.

“Thank you, Bela!” Zevran replies.

“See you soon,” Fenris adds, then turns back to Zevran, who is now dry and simply wearing his towel around his shoulders. “Do we need safewords?”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I have the mental energy to come up with words tonight. Does Bela use nonverbal signals with you ever?” Zevran asks. “I’m sure she does, right?”

“We can just use two taps for pause and three for stop, if you’d like,” Fenris offers, wrapping his own towel around his waist now that he’s dry.

“Perfect!” Zevran grins. “Perhaps if we do this again later, we can come up with a more robust system. But this should be fine for what we’re doing tonight.”

“In a similar vein, do you want to… call each other anything in particular?” Fenris asks.

Zevran ponders for a moment, then quietly speaks up, “I rather like the idea of you calling me something sweet. Like… dear. Is that a strange thing to request when we are not in a relationship?”

Something flutters in Fenris’ gut. Part of him knows they’re playing with fire. There’s a reason they’re not in a relationship, and that reason is that they live nowhere near each other and probably won’t see each other for months if not years after this. But now that Zevran has mentioned it, he can’t get it out of his head. He wants this, even if he knows it’s going to hurt afterwards. And so, against his better judgment, he responds, “I like that, actually.”

“What should I call you?”

“I… am not sure. Is my name alright?”

“Of course!” Zevran grins. “A name can be a very intimate thing, after all.”

“Alright then, dear,” Fenris feels a shiver run down his spine as the word leaves his mouth, “how are we planning on getting each other off?”

“Want me to suck you off?” Zevran asks before placing his thumb in his mouth and giving Fenris a coy look.

“Fuck,” Fenris reaches up to wipe a hand down his face, then squeaks out, “Yes, especially after that demonstration.”

The other elf pulls his thumb out of his mouth and flashes a shit-eating grin.

“What about you?” Fenris asks.

“Mmm… is it strange if I kind of just want to cuddle while I touch myself?”

“Not at all,” Fenris replies. The thought of it makes warmth pool in his belly.

“I’d quite like that, then,” Zevran says.

“How’s the planning going, boys?” Isabela’ voice startles Fenris. He looks up to see her poking her head back into the room.

“I believe we’re ready to head upstairs,” Fenris declares, so the three of them proceed to the spare room Isabela has tidied up for their scene.

“Alright you two, I’m here if you need me,” Isabela says, taking a seat on the half of the bed with minimal towels, “and if you don’t need me, then I’m here for the show. Either way, I’ll be over here watching.”

Fenris sits down on the more heavily towel-padded side of the bed, followed soon after by Zevran, who kneels in front of him and looks at him expectantly.

Fuck.

He’s beautiful.

“Alright, my dear,” Fenris says, trying to keep his tone gentle but commanding, “I could use some help…” he misses a beat, tripping over his words, then finishes in an awkward whisper, “getting myself hard.”

“Of course, Fenris,” Zevran says with a sweet smile that melts his heart. The sound of his name makes him shiver. “Would you like me to use my mouth?”

“Yes. That would be perfect,” Fenris confirms, so Zevran gets down on his belly and immediately picks up his half-hard cock and lazily pumps it in his hand a few times before pressing a soft kiss to the tip, swirling his tongue around the head, and taking it into his mouth. Fenris thanks him with a pleased hum and a series of muttered praise.

His body is feeling uncharacteristically cooperative tonight, apparently, because it only takes a few minutes to get him fully hard. At least something is going well today, he thinks sourly. But he pushes the bitterness from his thoughts and focuses on Zevran. “Such a good boy. I think I’m ready for you to come sit in my lap, dear.”

Zevran gives one last swirl of his tongue before pulling away and resituating himself over Fenris’ lap.

“Check your bladder, Zev,” Isabela reminds sweetly from across the bed.

“I will, don’t worry,” he responds, then gently takes Fenris hand in his and guides it over his bladder. He tilts his head, “This alright?”

Fenris nods.

Zevran smiles and lightly presses down on Fenris’ fingers. The face he makes as he does so – mouth slightly open and eyelids drooping – is enough to tell Fenris that it feels very good.

“No pain?” Isabela asks.

“No pain,” Zevran confirms.

“Alright then, you boys do your thing,” she smiles and returns to watching, her cheek resting in her hand and a look of fond interest on her face.

Fenris takes his cock in his spare hand and gives Zevran a lopsided smile, “Get yourself ready for me, dear.”

“Yes, Fenris,” he reaches his own spare hand between his legs and spreads some slick around before holding himself open and giving Fenris a coy smile.

“Alright, come here,” Fenris says, taking his hand away from Zevran’s bladder and placing it on his hip to help guide him down onto his cock, slowly and gently. “There you go. Does that feel good?”

Zevran responds with a shuddering moan and buries his face in Fenris’ shoulder, wrapping his arms around him.

Fenris returns the gesture, holding Zevran close and tracing his fingers over the scars that cover nearly every inch of his back – some raised and knotted, others just a bit smoother or rougher than one would expect skin to be. He wants to tell him he’s beautiful, but that seems like too much. Instead, he opts for, “You feel so good around me.”

“You feel so good inside me,” Zevran responds, his voice quivering like he’s trying to hold back tears.

Fenris tightens his hug, burying one hand in Zevran’s hair as the other massages circles over his lower back. This earns him a soft moan as the other elf clenches around him. They stay holding each other like that for long enough that Fenris loses track of time. Isabela is either antsy or turned on – Fenris suspects both – because several minutes in she begins idly touching herself. She chuckles and gives a little wave every time Fenris glances over. Her presence is comforting. Grounding.

“Fenris?” Zevran asks, finally breaking the silence. Fenris silently thanks whatever part of his brain asked to be called by his name, because every time Zevran says it, sparks crackle through his groin.

“What is it, dear?”

“I’m almost ready, but can I touch myself for a bit first?”

“Go ahead.”

Zevran reaches a hand between their bodies and presses down lightly on his bladder with a blissful sigh, then dips down to pick up some slick and massage circles over his clit. Before long, he’s slowly and gently fucking himself on Fenris’ cock, punctuating each movement with quiet grunts. It’s not exactly what they’d planned, but Fenris decides not to intervene. He trusts Zevran to stop when he’s ready.

And sure enough, a few minutes later he slows to a stop and sits up straight, his cheeks flushed and his hair ruffled, and announces, “Alright, my bladder is too full to keep doing that. Where would you like me for the next part?”

“Mm… perhaps I could lay down and you could straddle my waist?” Fenris suggests.

“Might want a pillow under your head for that, Buttons,” Isabela points out, using the hand that isn’t coated in slick to move a pillow closer to Fenris and haphazardly tuck it under the edge of the stacked towels, “or I guarantee you’ll get piss in your hair.”

“Isabela is correct,” Zevran confirms, “speaking from… mutual experience. But yes, that position sounds lovely!”

“Duly noted,” Fenris chuckles, then leans back until he’s laying on his back with his head on the pillow. Zevran lets out a quiet moan as Fenris shifts inside of him, likely pressing against his bladder from the inside. “Okay, off my cock. Come kneel over my belly.” He can feel his face grow hot as the words leave his mouth.

Zevran does as he’s told, whining slightly as he slides off of Fenris’ cock. Once he’s in position he tilts his head and waits for directions.

“Where do you want my hands, dear?”

Zevran lets out a little puff of nervous laughter and wordlessly picks up one of Fenris’ hands. He places it between his legs, pressing one of Fenris’ fingers just barely into himself, enveloping just the tip in slick warmth. “Want to know a secret? Not a very well-kept secret, but still… I only tell people I actually like.”

“Tell me.”

“You can make me feel incredible if you lightly brush over my urethra and the spot right in front of it,” Zevran explains, gently guiding Fenris’ finger a little further between his folds until he feels his urethra.

“Like this?” Fenris rubs his finger in a gentle circle.

Zevran winces and chuckles, “Just a little bit lighter.”

Fenris gives a feather-light flick of his finger through Zevran’s slick, doing his best to hit both his urethra and the tender spot in front of it. That apparently does the trick, because Zevran responds by relaxing every muscle in his body, bliss written across his face. Fenris smiles and repeats the motion, “Ready to pee for me, my dear?”

Zevran nods eagerly.

Isabela moans from across the bed and Fenris glances over to see her biting her lip as she touches herself, far less lazily than before. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, buttons. Fuck, that’s hot.”

He flashes her a slightly feral grin before turning his attention back to Zevran, flicking his finger again, “Alright, go ahead. Pee for me.”

He can see the effort on Zevran’s face. Feel the way his muscles tense and relax.

“That’s it. Come on. Let it out,” he coaxes, flicking his finger over Zevran’s urethra again.

This time he’s rewarded with a tiny spurt of pee before Zevran tenses up, shrinking into himself and tucking his face into his own shoulder.

Fenris looks to Isabela for… he’s not sure what. Advice? Reassurance?

“You’re okay, buttons,” she says, a little breathless. “He’s not hurt, just a little shy. Keep going, he’ll get there.”

Reassured – and amused at the thought of the assassin being shy about anything – Fenris turns back to Zevran and gently flicks his finger through his slick again, “Keep going. You’re doing so good, my dear.”

Zevran lets out a small whimper, then takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“You alright?” Fenris asks.

Zevran nods, his eyes squeezed shut and his face still tucked into his own shoulder.

“Okay,” he trusts Zevran’s judgment and continues what he’s doing with his finger. “Just let me know if anything needs to change.”

Zevran nods again and takes a few more deep breaths until his body relaxes and his back straightens. He keeps his eyes closed, but only loosely.

“Perfect,” Fenris praises, “I want to feel your pee on me, can you do that for me dear?”

Zevran answers with a small trickle, cut off by nervous giggles bubbling to the surface. Isabela’s increasingly heavy breathing off to the side tells him she’s still watching.

Fenris did not expect to be quite as aroused by this as he is. “That’s it. Just relax and keep going,” he coaxes, his voice a bit shaky now.

Zevran stifles his giggles and once again tries to relax. Another spurt of pee escapes, but it’s once again cut off abruptly as he dissolves into uncontrollable giggles. This time he doubles over, drool dripping onto Fenris’ chest as he laughs.

“Feeling a little nervous tonight, Zev?” Isabela asks. “You only get giggly like this when you’re nervous.”

“We’re all a bit on edge tonight, to be fair,” Fenris defends on Zevran’s behalf.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Zevran pants, a few more giggles slipping through the cracks before he sits back up and clears his throat. “I’m good to continue.”

Fenris smiles up at him and resumes the gentle flicking of his finger, earning a pleased hum from Zevran. “There you go. Just relax and let go, my dear.”

It takes a moment, but eventually Zevran succeeds in his task. At first it comes in short spurts and thin trickles, but soon enough his stream evens out and pee begins to pool on Fenris’ belly, cascading down his sides and onto the towels below as smaller rivulets travel down his forearm and drip onto his chest. And before they know it, it’s over, leaving all three of them panting with arousal.

“Ohhh, fuck, that’s as hot to watch as it is to be under,” Isabela murmurs in awe. The sound of her touching herself is loud and wet and doing things to Fenris. Between that and the overwhelming intimacy of letting Zevran empty his bladder over him, he feels almost like he’s drowning but in the best way possible.

“Fenris?” Zevran asks, his whole body is shaking slightly and Fenris can feel how hard his clit is as he retrieves his dripping hand from between his legs.

“What is it, dear?”

“I would quite like to go down on you now, if you’re still interested,” a few more nervous giggles bubble to the surface as Zevran grins down at him.

“Go ahead,” Fenris says, so Zevran climbs down from his belly and resituates himself between his legs, nuzzling at his cock and looking up at him with the sweetest smile. When Fenris nods his permission, Zevran takes the base of his cock in his hand and licks a stripe up the underside before engulfing it in the wet heat of his mouth.

Fenris closes his eyes and lets himself melt into the sensations of Zevran’s mouth on him – bobbing and sucking and swirling his tongue – until several minutes in the assassin’s posture shifts and breathing becomes increasingly labored. Fenris cracks open his eyes.

“Zev,” Isabela interrupts softly, “is your shoulder okay?”

He reluctantly pulls away from Fenris’ cock to reply in an obviously-strained voice, “I’m alright, don’t worry about me. I’m having a lovely time!”

“I’m sure you are,” Isabela responds, “but you could not more clearly be lying about your shoulder. Up up, let’s find you a new position.”

“I will be perfectly fine like this for a few more minutes,” he insists, returning his mouth to Fenris’ cock.

Isabela shoots Fenris a concerned look, “If you safeword, he’ll stop.”

“Stop,” Fenris grunts, tapping twice on Zevran’s forearm. “Sit up.”

Zevran immediately does as he’s told, shooting a pouty look in Isabela’s direction.

“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself just to make me feel good,” Fenris insists.

For a moment, he thinks he sees fear flash though Zevran’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with a sulky expression, “I do want to make you feel good, though.”

“Has it occurred to you that you can do that without fucking up your shoulder?” Fenris retorts.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Zevran responds with a slightly forced laugh. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

Isabela clears her throat, “I might have a suggestion, if you two are interested?”

“Please do,” Fenris says.

“Well,” she says with a smirk, “I could always join in. Zev, how were you planning to get off?”

“I was thinking of touching myself while being held,” he replies.

“Aww,” her face melts into a fond smile, “well, that should still be doable. What if you two do that while I go down on Fenris? And then you, Zevran, can eat me out while I sit on your face. Everyone gets off. Everyone gets to make someone feel good. Any objections?”

“I can work with that,” Fenris agrees.

“As can I,” Zevran grins.

“Before we start: how’s everybody feeling about the pee situation over there?” Isabela asks. “Keep the mess or clean up before we continue?”

Fenris isn’t really sure what the right answer is, or if there even is a right answer. He doesn’t want to offend by picking the wrong option. He’s never done anything like this before.

Thankfully, Zevran steps in and answers, “Perhaps we should at least remove the soggy towels and pat Fenris’ belly dry?”

Fenris nods, “I… wouldn’t object to that.”

Isabela grabs some spare towels from the foot of the bed and the three of them work together to swap out the towels under Fenris and give him a quick pat dry. He still smells very much like Zevran, which makes heat pool in his groin when he thinks about it. But he’s relieved not to be laying on soggy fabric anymore.

Once everyone is situated – Isabela sitting between Fenris’ legs and Zevran tucked against his side – Isabela tilts her head and asks, “Everyone ready?”

“I believe so, yes,” Fenris replies, hugging Zevran’s head towards him.

“I am if you are!” Zevran confirms, burying his head in Fenris’ shoulder and reaching a hand between his own legs.

“Alright then, here I go,” Isabela says, oozing down and turning her attention to Fenris’ cock. His erection has dwindled amid all the fuss, but she seems unfazed. She patiently coaxes him back to full hardness, then takes the full length of him into her mouth and throat, gagging around him slightly. She then pulls off, sniffles her now runny nose, and flashes him an I meant to do that grin before she resumes fucking her throat on him, getting snot and spit and tears everywhere and very clearly having the time of her life.

Zevran, meanwhile, has found a good rhythm while touching himself and is now gasping and whimpering against Fenris’ shoulder as he works at his clit with a slick-drenched finger.

There are so many sensations and emotions coursing through him at once that Fenris has no room left in his head to think about any of it. His mind is both pleasantly and terrifyingly empty. He can hardly feel the bed under him because his senses are too tied up in the wet slide of Isabela’s tongue and throat, the sound of her intermittent gags and sniffles and gasps of breath, the rhythmic sounds of Zevran’s finger moving through his slick, his desperate whimpering inches from Fenris’ ear, the residual scent of his pee. Nothing else exists at that moment in time. Fenris is floating.

He’s only faintly aware that he’s making his own cacophony of sounds. He has to struggle to make his voice cooperate enough to gasp out “I’m close!” when he senses an orgasm on the horizon – Isabela has no qualms about him finishing in her mouth, but he doesn’t want to catch her off guard. When he does come, he feels a split second of bliss, followed by the lightning-like sear of his lyrium brands lighting up, and then… nothing.

His senses come back incrementally. First, he feels a faint buzzing in his head and muscles, like he needs to shiver but can’t. His skin feels raw, and his throat is dry and scratchy. Then the world begins to fade back into focus. Where there had been frenzied activity before, there is now stillness. Isabela is sitting up, wiping drool from her chin and smiling, and Zevran has melted into a motionless puddle against Fenris’ side.

“You okay, buttons?” Isabela asks, barely above a whisper.

He takes a moment to assess himself, then nods. “I’m good,” he rasps. “Water?”

Isabela smiles, “Yeah, I’ll get you some water.”

She gets up and grabs him a glass of water from the bedside table, which he immediately grabs for and tries to drink, lifting his head as much as he can without disturbing Zevran… and promptly pouring water all over his chest and Zevran’s head in the process, causing both of them to sit bolt upright, sputtering and laughing.

“Sorry,” Fenris says after his laughter subsides.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zevran chuckles. “That was just what I needed.”

“Did you finish, by the way?” Fenris asks before taking a long drink of his remaining water.

“I did!” Zevran confirms. “I had quite a lovely time watching you two.”

“I’m glad,” Fenris gives him an exhausted smile before taking another gulp of his water. He still feels shaky and raw and not-quite-real, but… good.

“By the way, Bela, I’m ready whenever you are!” Zevran announces. “That water to the face woke me up rather efficiently.”

“We should probably rehydrate a bit, too, first,” Isabela laughs, handing Zevran a glass of water and sipping at one of her own, “but after that I will be quite ready.”

Fenris glances over and notes that her inner thighs are visibly drenched in slick. He smiles to himself and continues sipping at his water.

“What’re you smiling at, buttons?” Isabela asks playfully between sips of her own water.

“I see you’ve been enjoying yourself,” he responds with a smirk.

She laughs, “That goes without saying.”

“Well, I’ve finished my water,” Zevran reaches to put his empty glass back on the bedside table, “so I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Thirsty, are we?” Isabela observes with a snort.

Zevran just laughs.

“Alright, scoot this way before you lay back down,” Isabela sets aside her mostly empty glass and motions Zevran away from Fenris. “I suspect Fenris is a little overstimulated right now, so let’s give him some space.”

Zevran scoots to the other side of the bed and lays down as instructed, and Isabela wastes no time hefting herself onto the bed and straddling his jaw, looking down at him with a fond smile and stroking her fingers through his hair. Zevran caresses his palms over her thighs and ass and lower back before letting them rest on her hips and tugging down, letting her know he's ready. She lets out a chime of laughter and drops down so he can eagerly lap into her.

Fenris watches as he continues to sip his water, first with cautious intrigue and then with open delight. The one time he tried this with Isabela, he felt like he was suffocating and instantly panicked. They haven’t tried it again since. But watching Isabela and Zevran do it is different, in part because Zevran is so clearly having as good a time as Isabela is. Fenris can’t help but smile as their breathless laughter and muffled moans. He could tell just from looking at them that this must be something they’d done dozens of times before and would likely never tire of, which fills his belly and chest with a sleepy sort of warmth.

Isabela doesn’t last long. Which, all things considered, isn’t much of a surprise. In very short order, she’s clutching at Zevran’s hair, gasping and twitching with drool trickling from her mouth as Zevran continues to flick his tongue over her clit with mischief in his eyes. She taps his head three times and he stops immediately and lets go of her hips, allowing her to climb off of him and flop down on the bed between him and Fenris.

Zevran sits up, licking his lips and breathing heavily, “Ah, it’s been a while since I got to do that for you! I’ve missed it.”

“So have I,” Isabela laughs breathlessly.

“Now,” Zevran turns to Fenris, “how about that second bath? These messes are a good bit more fun than the ones we accrued earlier in the day, but I think they’ll lose their appeal rather quickly if we try to sleep without cleaning up first.”

“I thought we decided what happened earlier was an Epsom salt soak?” Fenris says with a tired but mischievous grin. “So that would make this our first bath, would it not?”

“I stand corrected!” Zevran laughs. “How about that first bath, then?”

“Ah, this was nice!” Isabela sighs contentedly between them. “Today was… a lot. But this helped. Thank you both.”

“You can thank us by coming downstairs to take a bath with us,” Fenris chuckles, then softens his voice, “but… thank you, too. I needed this, I think.”

#fenris #isabela #zevran #zevris #fenbela #zevran x isabela #isabela x zevran x fenris #lemon #da drunk writing circle #nuri writes

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

A Treasured Memory

Synopsis: You reminisce on the past with Charlie. Prompt: "you're quite cute when you're tired"

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 2.1k+

A/N - This was written for @blisfvll‘s 1.5k writing challenge. This is my first time writing for Charlie Weasley but I am utterly in love with him as a character. This whole thing is just pure fluff so I hope you all enjoy it.

Shrouded in the dim light of flickering candles, you're sat up in bed examining a photo album that arrived by owl. It had been addressed to the both of you so you took it upon yourself to open it. Your fingertips dance over the silky smooth film almost like you could feel the energy of that day from many moons ago. It showed Charlie dead centre surrounded by white snow and bare trees, just in the distance you could see the Shrieking Shack. He wore a thick green coat that reached to his knees, darkish blue jeans and a maroon jumper adorned with a deep yellow 'C' right in the middle. A red and yellow scarf rested tightly around his neck and flecks of pure white sat upon his flaming red hair. The smile on his face indicated a desire to be anywhere but in front of the camera and he was utterly oblivious to you creeping up behind him. As your hands slap against his shoulders, he jumps out of his skin. You can't help but smile as you watch the simple memory play out within the confines of the photograph. Bill had been the one to take it and you were rather grateful that he had. It was a special day forever engraved in your mind.

"What are you looking at?" Pulled from your thoughts by the man himself, Charlie enters the bedroom in nothing more than a pair of red and white checkered PJ bottoms. The bed dips beside you as he climbs in and you place the photo album carefully in his lap.

"Do you remember this?" A day so special to you could be long forgotten by him.

"Where did you get this?"

Your gaze falls to the photograph once more. "Your parents. It's mostly photos of you and your family," Flipping over the page, there was a picture of a very smiley Charlie with a tiny Ginny Weasley. It was an adorable shot but you quickly turn back. "Except for this one- do you remember?"

"Kind of... We went to Hogsmeade with Bill right?"

You nod a little before proclaiming ever so proudly. "I remember this day perfectly."

"And why is that?" Charlie passes the album back so you can continue your walk down memory lane.

"Because it was the day I realised I was actually in love with you..."

Grey clouds filled the afternoon sky, covering the ground in a thick blanket of snow. There was a brisk chill laced with the breeze that threatened to invade your winter clothes, but for now, they kept you reasonably warm. Snow flew into the air with every kick of your shoe and just a few paces behind you the crunch of Charlie followed. The day had been spent accompanying the two eldest Weasley siblings, Bill and Charlie around the small village of Hogsmeade. Nothing had struck your fancy except a Pumpkin Fizz purchased at The Three Broomsticks; the boys had both ordered Butterbeers. Bill was the first to leave so when the time came to return to Hogwarts, it was just you and Charlie. Not that you minded, he was your best friend after all. It had been that way ever since your second year when you showed a mild interest in dragons only to discover your fellow Gryffindor was rather... passionate about the subject. It was one of many things you came to admire about Charlie; he was so passionate about everything he engaged with. It was very sweet to witness just how excited he came at the mention of the ferocious magical creatures.

"It's so cold today." You muse out loud; a shiver spilling through your veins as the cold air blew against your face. It was beginning to feel numb with how cold it was. Charlie hummed in agreement. "Maybe next time you drag me out in the snow we should invest in some hot coco." Spinning on your heel, you begin to walk backwards so you can face him.

"You actually invited yourself," Charlie countered, his brow creasing. It really brought focus to the scar across his eyebrow. "It was only supposed to be Bill and me."

"Oh I see how it is" Arms folded, your bottom lip comes out in your best pout. "You could have just said you didn't want to hang out,"

"You know I didn't mean it that way," His expression softens, he really was too gentle for his own good. Of course, you knew he didn't mean to make it sound like your company was unwanted, you just liked making him sweat. "Sorry,"

"For what?" Bending at the knee, you brush the snow around you into a messy pile. Grabbing a handful off the very top. "I'm the one who intruder on your brotherly bonding." Standing back up, you roll the snow between your hands into a responsibly neat ball. The melting flakes quickly seeping through your Gryffindor mittens.

"We were happy to have you."

His words bring along a smile. "Thanks," Without hesitation, you throw your completed snowball directly at him. It smashes against the large yellow C of his jumper, covering him in white powder. "Now, come on."

Turning back around, you march forward with sincere child-like glee. There was something so magical about the way snow could make a person feel. You come to an abrupt stop as snow crashes into the back of your head; luckily none of it got into your coat. Glancing towards Charlie, he's brushing his hands together with an undeniable smirk. "Oh, it's on Weasley,"

Open fields, bare trees and stone walls guide the way back to the main castle meaning there was a lack of places to find cover. However, there certainly wasn't a lack of ammunition. Running ahead, you duck behind some cobblestone as best you can. Snowballs fly in your direction and you manage to dodge each one as you prepare your own stockpile. With one snowball in hand and five or so in reserve, you very carefully peer over the edge of the wall. Nothing but stone and snow; Charlie had completely vanished. Nicely played. With a deep breath, you listen for the sound of shoes against snow but the whistle of the wind is a heavy distraction. By the time the crunch hits your frozen ears, it's too late; Snow descends from up high like your own personal avalanche, covering you entirely in the frozen flakes. "Gotcha."

"Weasley," You whine, springing to your feet. Shaking your entire body to rid yourself of snow but it already managed to find it's way down your collar while freezing cold water begins to seep through your coat. Hearty laughter fills the air from an utterly amused Weasley; you try to look angry but it's a losing battle as you giggle alongside him. Feeling a lot colder than before, your eyes narrow in on him like a hawk and with the reflexes of a hare, the boy flees for his life. Grabbing the spare snowballs, you launch them one after the other as you chase after him. "You'll pay for that," A few land on their target but he's an agile little bugger. As he sprints past the wall collecting snow, he tosses it back before dropping to the ground. Both concerned and amused, you jog up to him.

"Charlie?" You find him face down in the white snow creating an almost perfect outline of his body. With a deep groan, Charlie flips onto his back; face flushed in a shade of bright red bringing his freckles into the spotlight. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine- don't worry." A sigh of relief, you offer him a gentle smile and a helping hand which he gladly accepts; pulling him to his feet. "Thanks,"

A tender smile graces his lips and for a split second you find yourself lost in his eyes; you've never noticed quite how unique they are. The light brown that surrounds the pupil fades so elegantly into the sea of blue. They're... mystical. Your heart beats a little bit faster as you both stand there in comfortable silence. Reaching up slowly, you brush some snow from his hair. "You should be more careful. We don't want you getting hurt." So many hours spent together and yet something felt different. Pulling your hand away quickly, heat rushed to your cheeks and you push him away. It was only then, while alone playing in the snow, did you realise that somewhere along the way your feelings towards him had changed; or perhaps you had just been scared to admit it to yourself before. "The last one to the castle is a rotten egg- and If I win I expect a chocolate frog."

As fast as you believed yourself to be, the snow made it increasingly difficult especially with it being rather deep. You also didn't count on Charlie Weasley being as fast as he was.

"Cheater," Is all he has to say as he so easily surpasses you; reaching the castle before you have a chance to think of a witty comeback. The boy leans so smugly against the castle wall as you approach, brows furrowed. "That's one chocolate frog for me,"

"How - are you - so fast?" You question between each breath. The race took more out of you than expected; at least you felt a little warmer now. Charlie shrugs at the question and so it's soon forgotten. What used to be such a normal act for the two of you now set your stomach a flutter as you take hold of his hand. "One chocolate frog coming right up."

"You don't have to," He replies, shaking his head a little.

"It was my idea and now I have to pay the price for losing."

Could he sense your nerves as you drifted through the castle corridors towards the common room? Did he feel the beat of your heart or the fluttering in your stomach with your hands together? Did he recognise the moment too? Heat washed over you as you entered the common room; a tickle contained in the bridge of your nose and your head begins to throb.

"I'm gonna go get changed." Dropping his hand, you disappear up to your dorm opting for something more comfortable and warm. It was awfully cold in here now. Heading back down to the coom room, you find Charlie lounging on the couch in front of the fire; just what you needed right now. There were a few students littered around the room but it was relatively quiet. Sitting on the edge next to him, you hold out your hands in front of the fire in search of its warm embrace. "Are you sneaking off into the forbidden forest tonight?"

"Not so loud," He hushes you. "Not tonight, it's way too cold. Not even mum's jumpers will help."

"I think your mum's jumpers are plenty warm," You fall back against the couch; head feeling cloudy. Why did you suddenly feel so hot?

"I can ask her to make you one if you like?" Charlie offers brightly meanwhile your head falls to rest against your best friend's shoulder. "She's always looking for an excuse to knit more." Chuckling to yourself, your eyes drift closed to deal with the sudden onset dizziness. "You alright?" You nod a little against him. Distant voices and the crackling of the fire filling the silence between you. "you're quite cute when you're tired"

Your heart skips a beat but you try not to think anything of it. It’d hurt your head too much to think anything of it. "I'm always cute,"

"Sure you are," a playful chuckle that's quick to fade leaves his lips "Maybe we should get you to bed?"

A gentle groan in response. "I'm fine here. Just... talk to me."

"About what?"

You knew Charlie better than anyone other than maybe his family so there was only one obvious answer. He just needed a little encouragement to ensure you didn't find him annoying; which unknown to him you never do when he talks about them. "I don't know... dragons?"

You don't hear much after that as you feel yourself begin to drift off but you just know his eyes are glittering with every ounce of passion he has for the beasts...

"If I remember correctly, didn't you get sick that day?" Charlie's voice breaks you from the memory. He was right; it turned out that you felt so exhausted because you'd actually caught a cold.

"Yeah," Closing over the album, you place it off on the bedside table for another day. Attention turned to Charlie, he's laying back with his head rested against his hands. Leaning down you place the gentlest of kisses against his lips. "Then you asked Bill to help brew a pepperup potion. Worked a treat although I didn't appreciate the steam shooting out of my ears."

#Charlie Weasley #Charlie Weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #blisfvllswritingchallenge

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years ago

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 5, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: anal square

With apologies to all medical professionals in the audience. I am absolutely sure this violates hospital policy :)

Warnings: NSFW. Hospital sex. Threesome. Anal sex. Blowjob with bedridden burn patient. Improper sterility procedures for removal of a foley catheter. Basically sounding. Not exactly piss kink (despite the debauched suggestions on Discord, no one drinks from Chilton’s catheter like a sippy-straw) but there is a bit of pee I mean not much but look it just kind of happens, OK?

5,500 words

Bryan Kneef shifted uncomfortably.

In another room, a heart monitor beeped quietly but incessantly, and if it continued much longer, he might go insane. The dry air filling the sterile white walls was slightly too cold for someone dressed in cool linen, prepared for a southern summer. Outside, bees and flowers filled the hazy orange world, but it was always winter inside the Chesapeake Hospital burn ward. His eyes darted around for the offending AC vent. Searching for anything to fixate on besides the man in front of him.

Frederick Chilton was laid out on a hospital bed like a corpse. Inflamed skin wrinkled with scars wrapped too tightly around his bones, as if there were no muscle in between, and white teeth grinned from his skull like a mummy. He hadn’t moved from that bed in months.

Bryan wasn’t one to cower from difficult situations, but this? He didn’t know how to behave around the sick.

“Well, you look like shit,” he at last blurted.

Frederick Chilton rolled his eyes, scowling as much as his face was able without the assistance of lips.

In the bedroom, Frederick reveled in being humiliated, the ego of his outside persona stripped away and torn down. He deserved it, and fuck, he loved getting what he deserved. And the praise for being a good little slut made him melt.

Outside was an entirely different matter. That carefully constructed persona—the esteemed psychiatrist who demanded respect—could not be threatened. Not by a vulgar, unpredictable man like Bryan who knew his filthy secrets.

So why did he call?

“I assure you, it looks better than it feels,” Chilton grunted. His speech was slow and deliberate. Daily sessions with a speech therapist were helping his cheeks and tongue learn to produce shapes and sounds his lips once handled, but it would never be quite the same.

Bryan took a step toward the bed. He puffed his chest out and pretended not to be bothered by the skeletal figure that seemed barely clinging to life.

“I’m not your dick-for-rent you can use whenever you want,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Chilton coughed—a weak, wheezing sound, accompanied by involuntary spittle. “Yet here you are, running when I call.”

Why did he come?

“Any chance to fuck our boy,” Bryan smirked. In other words: I’m not here foryou.

The flash of pain in Frederick’s eyes made him instantly regret saying it. It wasn’t the cute sort of jealousy when he had Fred on his knees, desperate to come—it was the kind that made his eyes drop to the floor.

A few hard lines on Bryan’s face softened. His lips went slack in their bearded nest. He would never admit that he had been worried sick, or the tears he’d shed when he heard the news. Baltimore Psychiatrist Mutilated by Red Dragon. He was pissed that he had to read it in a newspaper first, but your voice was so trembling and weak when you finally called—when you told him the doctors all said Frederick wasn’t going to make it. You were too distraught to think. He had to remind you to eat something. You asked if he wanted to come to the hospital to say goodbye, and he pretended he was too busy with a case.

But Frederick didn’t die.

A stillness came over the room, both men so lost in their thoughts they hardly noticed the other had also fallen silent.

“As you can see, I am in no condition to provide… sexual release.”

“Shame. You used to give great head.”

Affronted by Bryan’s piercing gaze, Frederick turned his head away as far as he could. It wasn’t far enough to hide his tattered mouth.

“I suppose I could return the favor,” Bryan mused, daring to lean closer over the bed, dropping his voice.

Blood rushed to Frederick’s cheeks and between his thighs. He had sucked Bryan off many times, but never had Bryan in a submissive position. The image of him between his legs, piercing eyes gazing up at him with a mouth stuffed full of his cock sent a shiver up his spine.

“No,” he stammered. “I asked you here for one reason.”

He was too skittish for such a thing now—too accustomed to Bryan’s roughness to trust him with his fragile body. Besides, he had not missed the shock on Bryan’s face when he entered the room, or how he almost turned around at the door. What would he say if he saw his grafted cock? Mere weeks ago, the poor organ had been flayed—flaps of skin peeled around the bloody shaft, stretched, split, pinned back down in place, and stitched together again under the head.

It was better now. The surgeries corrected uneven scarring that would have made erections painful, and it had time to heal. But it still felt… tender. Sore in a way that was not physical. It looked like a medical experiment.

No. He was not ready yet. But he wanted to see you happy. Bryan could give you pleasure his bedridden, broken shell could not.

***

You were surprised to find Bryan Kneef sitting in the visitor’s chair in the corner of the hospital room. He was flipping through an issue of The Wall Street Journal with a bored expression, one leg crossed over the other, but smiled and stood when you walked in.

“Bryan? What are you doing here?”

He paused long enough before answering to suggest the question stung—as if you were implying he shouldn’t have been there, which was not what you intended at all. In fact, it explained a few things.

“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

A glance at the bed showed that Frederick was dozing peacefully—a rarity these days. You nodded your understanding. It would be a shame to wake him.

With a quiet sigh, you rushed into Bryan’s arms, burying your face against his solid form. Thick arms closed around your waist, warm and comforting, and his beard rubbed the back of your neck as he rested his chin over your shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” you sniffed, and just like that, hot tears were rolling over the brim of your eyelids, soaking into the collar of Bryan’s white linen jacket.

“You too.”

He held you tighter, surprised at the lurch in his heart. His eyes hung on the broken figure sleeping on the bed and imagined what it had been like for you all these months. This gaunt thing was Frederick recovering. You were all alone when he was unconscious, his body an open wound, machines keeping him alive. Alone because Bryan was too selfish and cowardly to be near that kind of sickness. But he was here now, and the way your body clung to him, he knew it had been a long time since you had someone to comfort you.

***

“Right here in the hospital?” You quirked an eyebrow. Frederick had a private room in the burn ward, since his care was so intensive, but there was a constant stream of nurses in and out.

“Yes, here,” Frederick replied. “I want to see you.” A hungry spark entered his eye, and he sucked a quick breath to prevent his salivation from escaping.

Now that his plan was so close to fruition, excitement roiled in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. At first, calling Bryan was only meant as a gift for you. But suddenly, a familiar heat flared up in his belly, and he wanted to see—wanted to watch your eyes roll back as Bryan split you open.

“Don’t worry, we bribed the nurse supervisor not to disturb us,” Bryan added, hand on your lower back.

“Did you do as I instructed?”

The pressure in your ass seemed to increase as your mind was drawn back to it. “Yes,” you swallowed heavily. “I was wondering about that.” A plug kept your tight hole stretched and prepared, worn under your clothes, just as he had asked.

“Good.”

“So… you want to watch Bryan fuck me?” you purred, starting to get into the mood. You put your hands on the side of the bed and smirked down at Frederick, sticking your ass out for Bryan.

Before Frederick could answer, Bryan interrupted: “No.”

Frederick opened his mouth. You gave an equally confused look.

“I’m his dick-for-rent today,” Bryan chuckled, low and sultry. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Chilton? I’m going to fuck you for the doctor, since he can’t do it himself. Whatever way he wants.” He ran his palms over your shoulders and down your arms as if he were presenting you to Frederick as a gift.

Frederick nodded, not missing a beat as he pretended that was his plan all along, and not an unexpected act of charity from a man who seemed anything but charitable. When he woke to find the two of you conversing in hushed voices like a couple of dear old friends, he felt a sting of fear that Bryan was stealing you away.

So Bryan was going to let him be in charge? He liked the sound of that. After three months of bondage within his own skin, he liked the sound of that a lot.

***

“Pull it out slowly,” Chilton instructed.

Your ass spasmed around the flare of the plug as Bryan gradually removed it, and, under Chilton’s guidance, drizzled more lubricant over it.

“Push it in again. Fuck him with it a little.”

“Yes, doctor,” obeyed Bryan.

A guttural moan escaped your chest as he plunged it back inside, twisting it, fucking the lube back into your tight entrance. Your fingers clenched on the metal guardrail at the edge of the mattress.

“That’s right,” Chilton mumbled. “Good.” He raptly watched you bent above him, arousal building by the second.

He had never been more pleased with Bryan, following his instructions perfectly as he worked you open, first with the plug, then with his thick fingers.

“He’s dripping for you already,” Bryan said, drawing a finger through a bead of precum

He held the slick digit out to Chilton, and he extended his tongue to lick your essence off Bryan’s calloused pad. A familiar taste flooded his mouth.

“I missed the way you taste,” he moaned.

It had been too long since he sampled your arousal, and it pooled like heat in his stomach. Bryan’s breath shuddered at the sensation, or perhaps the monstrous sight of a tongue probing forth from bared teeth.

Finally, the thick, round head of Bryan’s cock was notched against your prepared opening. Fisting the base of his cock, he circled it lightly over your puckered ring, listening to the breathy whimpers it elicited.

“Take a deep breath, my love,” Chilton said. He held your eyes, steadying you with his gaze. “And let it out slowly.”

He nodded to Bryan, who rocked his pelvis forward little by little, stretching you open around his impossible girth. You gritted your teeth and tried to relax under the invasion, but it was no longer Chilton using Bryan to fuck you—Bryan was so much bigger than Frederick ever was, the illusion was shattered in that moment. No plug could prepare you for this. You wanted to squeeze Frederick’s fragile hand, but with the intense burn you were feeling, it might have shattered like glass.

“Shh. There you are. Good boy,” Frederick whispered, and even though you weren’t touching, it was like he was helping you. That soothing, soft, carefully-spoken voice caressed your ears. You felt your lower body relax, the muscles opening up for Bryan, allowing him to penetrate deeper, deeper. “You are doing so well for me.”

Your body surrendered with a heave of breath, allowing Bryan to slide in all the way until his balls were pressed against your ass. You were so full, it frightened you to move. Frederick saw how wide and wild your eyes were, the tremble in your limbs as you gripped the rail, and told Bryan not to move.

“Let him get used to you.” He added regretfully, “It has been a long time for both of us.”

“I’m never in a rush,” Bryan said. A powerful hand gently stroked the side of your face as he waited, stock-still with his cock buried inside you.

Slowly, you experimented with moving your hips. Grinding against him just slightly, you felt the way he filled your walls, stretched your entrance as he slid in the lubricant. It was so hot, so impossibly hard, but it made blood rush between your legs, your cock throbbing to be touched.

“F-Frederick… please, make him touch me,” you whimpered.

There was a flash of jealousy in his good eye for a fraction of a second. He wondered why you didn’t beg him to touch you, even though he knew he couldn’t. You might be able to ride his hand and let his fingers haphazardly twitch over your flesh, but he could never reach your cock from here.

At Chilton’s command, Bryan began stroking your heat, and soon your moans filled the sterile hospital room, drowning out the background hum of medical equipment. He guided Bryan in exactly how you liked to be touched, sharing the secrets of your body. Your lower half was on fire, screaming out for more until you were impaling yourself on Bryan’s length, hips bucking, indifferent to the pain.

Then Bryan began thrusting.

Chilton’s breath was heavy as he watched your chest heaving above him—bent over the edge of the bed so you were hovering above his face, giving him the perfect view as you were fucked brainless. Each swing of Bryan’s hips rocked you forward, your jaw slack, skin misted with a sheen of sweat.

His arms were too weak to reach up and touch you or to stroke his own cock, but he whispered words of encouragement that made your skin flush. “Good boy. You take his cock so well. That’s it… A touch faster,” he ordered, and the slap of Bryan’s skin against your ass quickened. You gurgled out a strangled moan as his cock hit a deeper spot.

“Good. Give him more. He can take it. Do you want more, dear?”

You closed your eyes as you nodded, throat too tight to form more than a strangled growl. It was almost too much—almost. But you wanted to take more for him. You wanted him to see you at your limit with Bryan rutting into you like a beast. Bryan stopped stroking your cock and fixed both hands to your hips like a vice, fingers bruising your flesh as he fucked you harder, drawing a cry with each brutal thrust.

Chilton’s cock stirred between his narrow thighs, envious of the pleasure just out of his reach.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

You leaned over the railing and kissed his neck first, sloppy and unfocused, lavishing affection all over his skin. Down the side of his neck, over part of his shoulder exposed by the loose-fitting hospital gown, then up his jaw, your panting lips and tongue left a trail of saliva wherever they traveled.

Finally, he gasped softly as you found his toothy, exposed mouth. Your lips became its protection, replacing what was lost. He thought he would be scared—that insecurity and disturbing memories would surge to the surface—but for a beautiful moment in time, he was whole again. He had lips, and they were warm, and soft, and everything he missed. Then your tongue was exploring the smooth surface of his teeth, and his hungry tongue licked up to consume your muffled cries, inviting your sweetness deeper inside.

“Harder,” he groaned.

Your hand snaked around the back of his scorched-bald head and pulled him deeper against your mouth. Bryan obeyed the command, too, pounding you against the side of the bed until its locked wheels dragged scuff marks into the floor, and you were so breathless you almost collapsed on top of his fragile body.

Frederick’s mouth captured your wailing moans as Bryan’s massive cock nudged against a place impossibly far inside you. And suddenly, you were breaking—ropes of cum ruining the sheets, your ass spasming around Bryan’s cock. It hit you so fast, you were practically drooling into Frederick’s mouth, melting as he kissed you through your release. When you parted, a string of saliva connected your tongues. Bryan’s cock was still buried deep in your ass, but he paused to let the two of you catch your breath.

“Keep going,” Frederick nodded to him, and he thrust again.

An inhuman noise choked out of your lungs, your body exploding with overstimulation. Stuffed to its limit, and you wanted more. Frederick wanted more, too. He wanted to be more than a spectator, trapped inside a broken body.

Your searching hand groped low on the blanket until it found a satisfyingly hard bulge buried between Frederick’s legs. You lightly squeezed around it, and he gasped out.

“I want to suck your cock,” you moaned, voice thick with need.

He froze, both eyes wide, the green seemingly as blind as the pale blue one in its scarred socket. You were already throwing back the thin blanket. A tent strained in the center of his hospital gown.

“Please let me suck it?”

“I… There is a…” he hesitated. He wanted it so badly, but fear held him back. Mortification merged with lust in his face, the inflamed pink scar tissue nearly beet red.

You shifted to the foot of the bed and gently grasped his ankles, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl onto your belly between them. Bryan followed with you, slipping his cock back inside you, his legs pressed up against the edge of the bed, nested between yours. He smirked down at Frederick, giving a few lazy thrusts.

Frederick glanced between you and Bryan, then back to you, your lips so close to his touch-starved erection. Watching you get fucked turned him on, and he was desperate to feel your mouth, but he did not want Bryan to see it… what was beneath the gown.

You had been by his side since he was admitted, witnessing every embarassing medical treatment he endured. But how would Bryan react?

The nervous stammering Frederick gave as you lay between his thighs wasn’t a no, and you had a safeword if he needed to stop, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes, either. Considering the circumstances, you didn’t proceed any further, just rested there, searching his eyes with a gentle expression as Bryan smoothly rolled his hips in a holding pattern.

Somehow your willingness to wait made him feel safer. He was in control, Frederick reminded himself. Bryan was just his puppet today. What did it matter if he was disgusted?

“Suck it, then.” His voice was sure. Aloof, even. But it trembled with emotion churning just below the surface.

You pulled the medical gown up over his hips.

And there was his cock, standing partly erect, with all its rosy mesh texture. In a few months or years, the graft texture was supposed to fade into smooth skin, indistinguishable from the original, but right now, it looked like a fishing net of flesh had been pulled over it and sewn with a zig-zagging seam down the underside.

From the center of its tip snaked a long yellow catheter, the other end feeding into a urine collection bag strapped to his thigh like a gun holster.

You circled the meeting of the tube and his cock with your finger. He hissed, and it twitched. You pulled away and glanced up to his face. His jaw was hanging open, but with no lips or eyebrows, it was difficult to assess whether it was slack with lust or open in a silent scream.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-no. Oh god,” he groaned. His fingers dug into the sheets. They could not grip tightly, but his body shuddered with the attempt.

Frederick instructed you on how to take the catheter out. You had seen it inserted and vaguely understood the process, but fortunately, he had a medical degree and academic knowledge of the procedure (if not as much practice as a nurse).

“That syringe there will do,” he gestured with his chin and signaled when you found the right one.

Bryan pulled out and patiently assisted the scavenger hunt, though he was averting his eyes from the reconstructed thing between Frederick’s legs. It did not make Frederick feel appealing, but at least it was better than a sarcastic remark. Even a half-joking “you look like shit” comment would have made him crumble, and perhaps Bryan was skilled enough at exploiting vulnerabilities to recognize that.

“And bring the kidney dish. Yes, that one.”

After disposing of the half-full plastic bladder of warm yellow liquid, you brought the supplies over to the bed and sprawled back out between his legs. Bryan stood nervously behind you, kneading your ass cheeks in his large palms.

“There is a small inflated balloon holding the catheter inside my bladder, so it cannot slip out. You will need to deflate it first.”

“A balloon?” You tilted your head curiously. “How does it feel?”

Taking the end of the yellow rubber tube in your fingers, you gently pulled until you felt resistance, the tiny inflated ball pressed against the wall of his bladder at the entrance of the urethra. You twisted it slowly, rubbing the ball against the internal opening.

Frederick’s back wanted to arch, but he was helplessly immobile in his body, completely at the mercy of whatever you chose to do. He realized in that moment how vulnerable he truly was—that you could do anything, and he couldn’t escape or resist. He gasped out, but not in pain.

“You like that?”

His breath stuttered, but he couldn’t quite form a response. He didn’t know if he liked it. It felt strange. Not unpleasant. He felt full. On the threshold of torture, but something was thrilling about it—electricity sparked and built deep inside as you kept moving it.

You were barely touching the catheter anymore, only holding the end as you searched for the balloon port, but each tiny vibration made him whine softly.

“The orange cap. Use the… s-syringe… to… drain the…”

By the time you drained a few milliliters of water into the syringe, he was moaning loudly, incoherent.

Now when you pulled, there was no resistance to the tube sliding out. As you started to remove it, the deflated balloon passed over his prostate. You recognized it by the familiar whimper—the same stuttery, breathy cry he gave when you fingered him and found just the right spot. You stopped pulling and let it slide back in a little.

He choked, panting and begging, “P-please… please!” but wouldn’t tell you please what? Stop? Faster? More? Don’t?

In truth, he did not know. It burned, but it felt like stroking the shaft of his cock from the inside. It was humiliating—urine dripped from the end of the tube. He had no control over it. He felt so alive. So wanted for the first time in months of lying in that bed. The way your eyes lit up, your lips quirking at his every trembling breath. The way you whispered, “Easy. You’ve got this. Almost there.”

He was on the verge of coming when you pulled it the rest of the way out and set it aside in the tray. You gripped his cock firmly but gently, tilting it up to show Frederick the tip.

“Look at that. Your cock is gaping open like your asshole when Bryan fucks you,” you smirked. A bit of that rough, teasing quality entered your voice—an echo of the way you and Bryan used to use Frederick like your personal sex toy.

But you were going to be gentle today.

Extending your tongue, you laved over the head of his cock, soothing the stretched hole. Then all at once, your warm, wet mouth sank over his entire length, and he let out a shattered wail that was heard through the hospital wing.

Frederick went absolutely brain dead at that moment. His entire existence floated in a shimmering void with no up or down, no gravity. There was nothing but dizzying pleasure consuming his senses. Going without sex—and until recently, without touch—for so long made every sensation more intense than seemed possible. Your head bobbed up and down in his lap, lips wrapped around his cock, and waves of volcanic heat exploded up his vertebrae with each stroke. He still could not arch his back, jerk his hips into your mouth, or writhe beneath you. All of that frustrated kinetic energy came out in uncontrolled vocalizations. The nurses must have been bribed well to not come running at the hoarse, fevered cries.

His cock felt like a cock again, not some pathetic thing discarded after surgery. He couldn’t wait to come down your throat.

He almost didn’t notice Bryan was still standing there watching, obediently waiting.

“Fuck him,” Frederick managed to hiss.

A small pink smile flashed across Bryan’s lips as he nodded and leaned over you.

Your throaty groan vibrated around Frederick’s cock as Bryan pushed forward, gripping your ass to hold you still as he split you open again. He didn’t wait for you to adjust this time, doing just what Frederick had asked—he fucked you. Skin slapping skin echoed through the small room as you choked on Frederick’s cock, powerful thrusts pushing you forward and down.

Bryan sharpened your focus. You had started with your tongue languidly exploring the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive area beneath the crest of its head. Warm wetness traced along scars where stitches had been removed and the flesh was still raised, making his skin erupt in tingles. Now, you hollowed your cheeks and held on for the ride.

Continuous moans tore from Frederick’s throat, louder as you drove him toward his climax. He wanted to really fuck your mouth, control your pace, but he couldn’t even lift his arms.

As if reading his mind, Bryan’s large, veined hand ran down the length of your spine and settled possessively on the back of your neck. His eyes met Frederick’s, bushy grey brows raised in question.

The corner of Chilton’s mouth quirked—a tug of his cheek—and he nodded. “Yes… faster. Make him go faster.”

Bryan’s fingers snarled into your hair and pushed you down onto Frederick’s cock, then dragged you back up and shoved you down again. Frederick sighed in relief as you gagged on the head striking the back of your throat. He pretended it was his hand controlling you—savored the tears streaming from your eyes, the drool smearing your lips and pooling around the base of his cock. Most of all, he relished how willingly you took him—let him abuse your mouth for his pleasure. You were so eager.

Sensing that Frederick’s mind was gone on that last, desperate stretch toward release, Bryan took charge, setting a punishing pace as he fucked you harder and faster in time with the rhythm he was pumping your head. Bryan was a bit skeptical at first, but listening to you gag, he wished he could have a turn sucking Frederick off. But it was almost as good using your mouth like a masturbation sleeve to jerk him off.

“Take his cock like a good boy. Nice and sloppy,” Bryan growled. “Make him come, and don’t spill a drop. You swallow it all.”

Frederick moaned again. He was so close. Heat coiled in his lower body; his balls felt so heavy and tight, ready to burst.

Each time Bryan pulled you back, your tongue did this perfect little swirl, sometimes over the tip or under the crown of his cock. A sinful flourish before his heavy hand impaled your throat on Frederick’s throbbing length. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. Looking down at the both of you—Bryan’s face drawn in effort, sweating, and you beneath him, cheeks hollowed as your nose met Frederick’s scarred-bare pubic mound—he couldn’t help think he didn’t deserve you. Either of you. So devoted to him in his time of need. A maddening heat rose under his abdomen. He was going to… going to—

“C-come inside him. Come in his ass,” Frederick choked out. Saliva ran down his chin wantonly without lips to collect it. His eyes were barely open and rolling back in his head.

Bryan’s breathing grew erratic and turned to audible grunts as he chased his pleasure in your tight little hole. There was no restraint now—he mercilessly abused your ass and your mouth, creating a symphony of Chilton’s cries and your choked gagging. He wasn’t sure if you could take it—usually, it was Chilton he treated this way—but your walls were gripping around him, eagerly pleasuring his cock while your hips pushed back into his thrusts. You were just as needy a cockslut as your boyfriend.

The antiseptic air seemed to still for a moment, like the perfect silence that precedes a thunderclap. Bryan’s rutting hips hitched, then came crashing back down, sheathed to the hilt inside you as he sheathed your throat around Frederick, and in an instant, you were filled with hot cum from both ends. Frederick gave the small whimpering cries of a dying animal as his bitter release coated your tongue, salty, coppery, and thick. Bryan’s roar was that of an apex predator, your inner walls flooding with his seed.

A euphoric feeling settled over you. The feeling of being claimed, totally and completely, surrounded by two men you loved and trusted, knowing you brought them satisfaction.

You sucked Frederick through each twitching aftershock until there was nothing left to be milked from him, and his cries turned to uncomfortable sobs. Only then did your lips release him, shiny and red, and already softening.

Bryan, on the other hand, was hard as steel when he pulled out of you, and knowing his quick recovery time, ready to go again if need be. But that wouldn’t be advisable, considering the hospital staff would only look the other way for so long.

You quickly pulled your underwear back on, cringing at the squishy feeling of Bryan’s dripping cum being pressed into your skin. After returning Frederick’s legs to their usual closed position, you carefully crawled onto the edge of the mattress, avoiding the paths of tubes and wires attached to him, and gently cradled his prone body.

His breath was steadying, and his eyes were watery with emotion, coming down hard from his high. You surreptitiously brushed a tear away with your thumb. He wouldn’t want you to notice he was crying, but it would be worse if Bryan saw. So you held him, whispering soothing praises, and helped him calm down while Bryan cleaned himself up and made sure there were no stray fluids on the floor.

Then Bryan stood, once again unsure.

Where did he fit, with the bed too narrow for two people to cuddle on, much less three? Did he even want to join? Hospitals reminded him of death, and Frederick’s cadaverous figure made it worse. Fucking you with him was fun, but it felt like a last request—a favor for a dying man. Though as he understood it, Frederick had already beaten the odds and was going to survive, barring complications. But it still made him shudder.

He watched you smiling at him, gently whispering comfort with your arm so carefully draped around him, and watched his mutilated mouth try to smile back. Your eyes were transfixed on each other. Another pang throbbed through Bryan’s heart. He wanted to be part of that.

He took a step forward.

What if Frederick didn’t want him to be part of his lovey-dovey snuggle? It was stupid. Bryan was only here to fuck, anyway. It was what he was good at. Bryan Kneef didn’t do clingy emotional bullshit, and this was way too fucking Hallmark right now.

He took a step toward the door. It was roughly in the same direction. The last thing Bryan Kneef wanted was to appear indecisive.

But before he could pass the foot of the bed and lock his trajectory toward leaving, Frederick’s eyes shot open and froze him. He repressed another shudder, still freaked out by his ghostly blue eye.

“Thank you,” he said. His face was unreadable (there were not enough features left to read), but his voice had a hopeful edge.

“My pleasure.” A surprisingly uncomplicated reply. It didn’t seem the time for tacky vulgarity.

You looked up at him, too, and the combined forces of your puppy-dog gazes broke his resolve. He pivoted away from the door and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could lean close, resting his head against your warm shoulder and gently stroking Frederick’s withered arm.

Frederick hummed contentedly at the contact, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Frederick Chilton x reader #bryan kneef x reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #male reader #thatesqcrushsummerbingo #my writing

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dhwty-writes · 4 years ago

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Of Witchers, Bards and Broken Hearts

So, uhh, I saw @spielzeugkaiser‘s art. Wanted to write a one-shot. It got out of hand. Decided to split it into separate parts. It got even more out of hand. I am now, apparently, writing a full-length fic. Anyways. Have the prologue?

Summary: Six months have passed since Geralt and Ciri found each other. Since then, they have been on the run from... well, everyone, basically. Geralt is tired, Ciri is hungry, Roach is dead. And then they stumble across a very particular viscounty named Lettenhove. The problem? Geralt broke the Viscount’s heart on a mountain and Julian ‘Jaskier’ Alfred Pankratz, a bard, a friend, a lover, is slow to forgive.

part 2

Read on AO3

The Viscount de Lettenhove had a... a reputation to say the least. He had left his home when he had been fourteen, off to Oxenfurt to study the Seven Liberal Arts, vowing never to return. That alone had been seen as less than ideal by a great many of people – though their choice of words hadn’t been nearly as nice. He had redeemed himself, in a way, by graduating summa cum laude four years later. He had gambled it away again by disappearing not a month later without so much as a word. And by leaving his family and subjects to figure out that the famous Jaskier was, in fact, their Julek by themselves

It still surprised him a great deal that he had gotten away with it for seven years until he had played at a Cintran banquet that had become very famous – though regrettably not by his doing. The only reason he hadn’t been declared dead in the meantime was that he had occasionally used his real name when times were especially hard, he supposed. Once he had been discovered, however, his family had managed to bully him into writing a few letters a year, at least. His vows of staying away, on the other hand? He had been even more adamant on keeping them.

No, there was only one person in this world who he would ever break them for. And that was also, coincidentally, the only person who would never ask it of him to do so.

Or so he’d thought.

Julian ‘Jaskier’ Alfred Pankratz had returned to Lettenhove not quite one and a half years ago on a beautiful spring's eve, the cherry trees in full bloom and the crops swaying in the breeze. For his family, it had been a jubilance. For Jaskier, it had felt like bitter defeat.

For the people of Lettenhove, it had been a shock. The loving, loud and ludicrous boy they had known had never returned from the Path. Instead he was a suddenly a man grown, sullen and sombre and silent who sought solace in his siters' embraces.

There had been many rumours in those first few months after he had ridden up to the gates demanding entrance about what had happened out there. They spoke of friendship and fervour, of affection and agony, of hundreds of heartbreaks and lifetimes of loyalty. Of course, none of them were true, strictly speaking. But many of the whispered guesses came so close to veracity it hurt all the same.

It had gotten better, though. There had been no other choice. He was the Honourable Master of Lettenhove and member of the Oxenfurt Academy's Faculty of Most Contemporary History whether he liked it or not and there was a war threatening them all.

This time there was no university to escape to, no witcher to follow, no destiny calling. For the first time in his life, Jaskier had run into a dead end. For the first time in his life, he could no longer run from his duty.

And now he was standing in his father's study, wearing his father's sword and looking across his father's lands as the sunset tinted them in the embers of a dying day, the most beautiful mixture of blood red light and bruise purple clouds above golden fields and emerald forests. ‘There’s a story in this,' the thought startled him. ‘Has the queen put on her ruby glasses to see the world as it had been before her lover scorned her? Has the dragon come to bathe the world in fire? Has-‘ He quickly pushed those thoughts away before they could make a home in his mind. ‘I must not.’

Before it might have been enough to inspire him for a new ballad. ‘It would have been enough for a thousand.’ Before returning. Before the war. Before... everything.

Now he could control the itch in his fingers fairly well. It was not just that his life in Lettenhove did not compare to a muse as magnificent as his travels. As magnificent as- 'No, don't think about it, it just hurts.'

It was also that for the first time in his life, Jaskier considered if his father had the right of it. What use had the arts for him now that he was- well, not old, most certainly not old, he had barely seen thirty-four years go by - 'Gods above, already?' What use had the arts for him now that he was settled? He had responsibility now. A responsibility to the land, the name, the people. To his legacy.

'I viscount's legacy shan't be telling a witcher's tales,' he could still hear his father's voice.

'Fuck you, father,' he thought. 'And stay in your grave where you belong.' He would love to continue telling a witcher's tales. The thing was, however, he couldn't anymore. Geralt had made that very clear.

'If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.' The words still stung as much as they had on the day the witcher had first spoken them into existence.

The other thing was, Jaskier couldn't really leave Lettenhove anymore. The disappearance of an heir apparent was one thing. The disappearance of a Viscount quite another. His father, the bastard, had died, and bound him to these lands.

'My lands,' he had to remind himself again. It was still weird to think that, his lands. For so long Lettenhove hadn't been anything his. Not his residence, that had been whatever dry spot they could find. Not his own, that had been his father's. And certainly not his home, for that had been at Geralt's side. But Geralt had sent him away and he had returned so now everything was different. Oh, what would he give for the ability to reverse time.

‘That’s useless,’ he had to tell himself. ‘He’d send you away again. And again, and again, and again. Quit thinking about that which you cannot change.’

There was a timid knock on the door to his study that forced him to abandon his melancholy thoughts. He did that a lot, these days. Brood, that was. It wasn't something he had ever liked to do before, but now there was scarcely anything else to occupy his mind with and- he was doing it again. "Come in," he called without turning around. He had long learned to tell the members of his household apart by the sound of their steps.

"Milord," said shy Marta with the shuffling feet, "I am sorry to disturb you..."

The viscount spared the idyllic landscape one last glance before he sighed and turned around. "You did not. What is it?"

"There, uh-" Marta looked away. "There's a witcher at the gates. He's asking to see you."

Jaskier frowned. 'A witcher?' He forced the feeling of euphoria from his mind before it could make itself comfortable. "Tell him to go away." For a moment he paused, allowing himself to wonder which one it might be. 'Do I know him?' Then again, he was not really in the mood for visits and a visit it had to be for there were no monsters in Lettenhove. "And that we are in no need of witchering."

The young servant shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "He's very persistent, milord."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Of course, he is.' "Then be persistent, too."

"I mean, I wasn't there, I wouldn't know how persistent he is but that is what Marin told me when he came to fetch me, so-" He ground his teeth. The darting of her eyes and her incessant babbling set his nerves on edge and made him lose his own train of thought. 'Is that what I'm like?' he wondered for a moment. He was half of a mind to yell at her when she finally spoke again: "Marin also told me to tell you that, uh, the witcher claims to know your, um- your son."

Jaskier froze as an icy hand wrapped around his heart, gripping tightly. "My son?" he asked a bit confused. "What did you say was his name again?"

"He didn't give us one."

'Smart man,' he thought appreciatively. "Well, then, what does he look like?"

"Like a witcher?" she tried.

He groaned: "Marta-"

"I wasn't there, milord!" she said defensively again. "I only got a glimpse at him, I swear it. But a witcher he was, large and scary, with two swords and his hood all up in his face. He wasn't alone, though."

"A horse?" he concluded but she shook her head.

"A boy, I think. Maybe he stole the child."

Jaskier sighed loudly and massaged his temples. "Witchers do not steal children," he said slowly. No matter how often he told them, there was nothing he could do about superstitions that had been in place for generations. "If you didn't see him, was there at least anything else you heard?"

"Sure!" she answered. 'Melitele's tits, finally!' "It doesn't make a lot of sense, though. He told us to thank you for the invitation."

He waved his hand expectantly. Marta didn't answer. "Was that all?" he asked impatiently.

"And that he's run out of apple juice."

He frowned. "Apple juice?" he repeated incredulously. Why on earth would a witcher come to his gates to tell him he was lacking apple juice of all things- 'Oh.' Of course. Jaskier ground his teeth forcefully.

"He hasn't heard then," he gritted out. Well, that was just his luck, wasn't it? Of course, it had to be the only witcher in the whole wide world he definitely did not want to see to come knocking on his door. And the child? It couldn't be, could it? There had been rumours but he hadn't given them any credit until now. But if they were true- "Fine," he said after a long while and straightened his back, steeling himself as if for battle. "Send him in."

Oh, and what a battle it would be.

#My writing #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #it's angsty #angst with a happy ending #though that will take a while #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH

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kessielrg · 4 years ago

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[DA+KH] I Never Would Have Shared (Assuming I Ever Let You Go)

Summary: Based on @chibi-mushroom‘s Dragon Age AU for the Kingdom Hearts series, set during Inquisition and after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. In which Ephemer and Anora meet up in an abandoned part of Skyhold to share a slow dance without the prying eyes of court... and the Inner Circle.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1,576 words

If you like this story, please reblog!

---

She felt ridiculous holding the neatly folded fabric in her arms. A part of her just hoped that no one was noticing that she was almost rushing to one of the empty spires Skyhold had. If anyone had noticed her, they certainly did not try to stop her. A sigh of relief escaped her when she reached the room and closed the heavy door behind her. Anora subconsciously held the fabric tighter, as if they were sheets of gold instead, and she was the thief that stole them.

“We've met up in darker closets before, haven't we?”

Anora nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around. She visibly relaxed again when she noticed that it was just Ephemer. A faint smile crossed her lips as he moved closer to her.

“I missed you at the Winter Palace.” he then softly told her, brushing his hand against the side of her face. “Dozens of women asked me to dance at every opportunity, but all I could think about was you.”

Anora let out a soft hum as she leaned into his hand. She wished she could say the same- Skyhold was always much quieter when the Inquisitor and his Inner Circle were elsewhere. It meant Anora had more time to focus on her alchemy studies. The quiet was where Anora found peace, admittedly, but the silence without Ephemer almost felt empty if she thought on it too long. She still had other people to eat meals with and relax along to after a long day when Ephemer was gone, it was just his presence that seemed to make things a bit more calmer.

But then Anora remembered why they agreed to meet at this abandoned part of Skyhold. She stepped a little ways from him to look him in the eye.

“Before you went to the Winter Palace,” she carefully explained, her voice soft, “Namine assumed I would be going with the rest of you...”

“But she accidentally forgot about your fear of crowds.” Ephemer finished for her. “So you remained at Skyhold.”

Anora nodded her head- her hair bobbing along with her for a moment.

“It's really pretty, and she went through all that effort to get it. It would be rude not to wear it at least once. But I can't… I didn't want to...”

“Wait,” Ephemer realized, “What's pretty? What did Namine get for you?”

Anora's face almost went scarlet before stepping back a bit. It was then that Ephemer realized she was holding that bundle of fabric- he felt rather dumb for not noticing it before. Carefully, Anora started to unfold the fabric in her arms, revealing a long, light blue ball gown with a straight neckline and sheer sleeves. Ephemer moved forward just to feel the elaborate stitching along the bodice in admiration.

“Why didn't you put it on beforehand?” he then asked, looking up at her with a teasing grin.

“And walk around Skyhold in a fancy dress? I hope you're joking.”

“I would like that.”

Anora looked away for a moment as her face lit up in a light pink. “Yeah… well...” she bashfully stammered, “You know I don't like any more attention than I need.”

Ephemer gave a soft chuckle before placing a finger under her chin. He carefully made her look him in the eye as he mused, “Really? I never would have guessed. You seem to be the most distracting person in this fortress.”

The bashful young woman almost buried her face in the dress to hide how bright red her face had gotten. She tried to shake some of it off, but found it rather hard to look Ephemer in the eye after a comment like that.

“I want...” she started to, but it came out in a squeak instead. She quickly shook her head (Ephemer quietly chuckling at her) before trying her sentence again. “I want to… I want to wear this dress for you, just right here and right now, and maybe… maybe we could… pretend we were at the Winter Palace? Just us? It… it sounds really dumb saying it out loud, but...”

Ephemer quietly silenced her by gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “I love it.” he said to her with a kind smile.

Anora's eyes widened, and her heart started to accelerate, as she let out a sharp gasp of surprise. With one hand, she then quickly spun Ephemer around so he was facing the door.

“Watch the door.” she told him, almost a bit to quickly. “I'm going to change in the corner.”

“Right.” Ephemer agreed with a nod. He could hear her scuttle over to the corner and gently place the dress down in a spot that wasn't as dirty.

“Don't look!” she nervously squeaked out as it sounded like she was taking off her coat now.

“I won't, I won't.” Ephemer promised. A small smile crossed his face before he had the nerve to say, “It's not like I haven't seen you undressed before.”

Not even a second later, a small stone hit Ephemer against the head.

“Ow!” the commander immediately reacted, turning slightly to Anora. “What was that-”

“I said no looking!”

“I wasn't! You threw a rock at me.”

“I did not throw a rock at you.”

It took Ephemer a moment, but when he realized what she was saying, he let out a light chuckle.

“Touche.” he bemused.

As the room was filled with the sounds of Anora wiggling out of her usual clothes and into the dress, Ephemer's mind filled in what he couldn't see with his eyes. He shook his head to get them out before he made it obvious he was thinking that way. He didn't have to fantasize about her anymore- she was right there. Any dreams he could have had could also be fulfilled that very night if they so chose. There was no rush, even if there was some deranged magister running around threatening the fabric of reality as they knew it...

“Okay, you can look now.”

The commander did not need to be told twice at the simple instruction. What he saw nearly made his heart leap into his throat. At that exact moment, he knew that it didn't matter how beautiful a dress looked, Anora would make it even more gorgeous just by wearing it. She didn't have to be so shy, though- or maybe she was just dusting off some of the dirt that got on it while she was changing. Either way, he wished she would stop messing with the skirt and just look up at him.

“Maker's breath.” Ephemer marveled, regardless. Anora froze. She looked up at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“It's… not that bad… Is it?”

“Not at all.” he disagreed. He moved a bit closer to place his hands on her hips. Anora gave a small squeak at the touch, but certainly didn't stop him. “Just remind me to thank Namine later. You think she'd like flowers? A kiss would be too embarrassing, wouldn't it?”

Anora looked at him with her eyes wide. Her breathing hitched slightly when she took a step closer to him. How could she had forgotten every time they've done this? Off in some forgotten room somewhere, so close they could hear the other breathe, the tension rising between them when they found they couldn't stop staring into each other's eyes.

“You know, I'd actually like to help you take it off.” he admitted. His hand ran down to the small of her back, assuring that the dress suited her well. “But first, there is something else we must do.”

At Anora's small noise of question, Ephemer took a few steps back to humbly bow to her.

“Lady Anora of the Ferelden Circle, apothecary to the Inquisition, would you honor me with a light dance this evening?”

For a moment, Anora just stood there in frozen surprise. Ephemer started to stand straight again, offering his hand out to her as if nothing were amiss. He waited, patiently, for her response. Anora's eyes carefully looked from him, to his hand, then back up again. Even knowing that Ephemer would be gentle with her, Anora's hand slightly shook as she placed it into his. It was involuntary that Ephemer's hand tightly wrapped around hers, but it was a purposeful motion when he drew her a bit closer. A nervous laughter bubbled from the both of them before Ephemer gently started to lead them into a small waltz.

They danced in time to their own music. They waltzed to steps that only seemed to come closer and closer until they were only simply stepping from side to side. Anora's head rested against Ephemer's shoulder, and she took a deep breath in before letting out a long, relaxed exhale. It was enough to allow Ephemer to completely relax as well- his fingers intertwining with Anora's, and his other hand holding her closer.

“You know,” he mused with his voice no louder than a whisper, “I'm almost glad that you didn't come along with us. I would have had to share; assuming I ever let you go, of course.”

Anora's only response was to further bury her face into Ephemer's shoulder. He gave a soft laughter before continuing on with their silent dance. Even when the world could be perpetually ending, there was always time for a slow dance or two with the one that kept you sane.

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magioftheseas · 5 years ago

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Scale for a Wish

Summary: In which Nene climbs a mountain to get her desire for a chivalrous romance granted by a dragon. It turns out that she didn't think this through very well.

Rating: G

Warnings: None.

Notes: I just thought this would be a cute idea to write Nene confronting dragon!Hanako. It’s pretty short, simple, and sweet. It’s more about writing them banter than any of my usual overly complicated setups. But also this is dedicated to the several rocks that hit my character in the face as I was trying to get the blue feather in Harvest Moon: Magical Melodies. I wish I married Jamie, my precious genderfluid rival. Please get remade so that I can marry them.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

There is a legend that speaks of a powerful dragon seated upon a high, treacherous mountain. It is said that the dragon is a mischievous sort—a being that grants wishes to those with the strength and courage to confront it within its domain. But be warned—for the beast’s power is great and great power cannot always be comprehended, especially to those who do not wield it.

Yashiro Nene, a mostly normal young girl with very little to lose beyond her life after the decimation of her pride, is too bull-headed to heed such warnings. She’s also too stubborn to be deterred from her efforts in scaling the treacherous mountains even as the climb is arduous and the wind whips her face mercilessly.

Legends aside, it can truly be said that humans have no limits in their bravery.

Nor their stupidity.

The (mostly?) normal girl has arrived at the peak. She is covered in dirt and sweat, her gloved hands bruised and calloused. She is determined, even as she has to take a moment of rest. After panting and gasping like a fish out of water, she recovered, regained her poise, and marched her way towards the cavern where the dragon slept.

Keeping her hands clasped, her heart racing, Nene entered the cavern. Her gaze darted about nervously, not sure what she was to bear witness. Riches? Bones? Books? A dragon’s hoard could be unpredictable. And it seemed—this dragon was sleeping on paper. Blinking a few times, Nene stepped forward carefully, soundlessly.

Hands tightening, she took a deep breath, and called out to the mound of shadow and obsidian scales.

“Hanako-san, Hanako-san. Please grant my wish.”

The dragon stirred. Slowly but surely, eyes the color of liquid gold began to open. Its head began to raise, and it towered over Nene, so enormous that its very shadow threatened to fully encompass her being. It turned its great, terrifying head towards her, snorting a puff of smoke.

Yashiro Nene, allegedly mostly human, trembled under its glare but she kept her head high, her own gaze fierce and defiant.

“I’ve come to have my wish granted,” she exclaims, voice clearer. “Hanako-san!”

“You...”

“Eek!” She jumped, nearly cowering. “S-Sorry! Sorry! I probably shouldn’t have woken you.”

The dragon stared at this girl, curled up and shivering with fear. It let out a throaty chuckle that was—surprisingly high-pitched. Actually, it sounded less like a fearsome dragon’s snarl and more like a cheeky boy’s snicker. Almost doing a double take, Nene turned back to face the beast, still falling to her knees from shock.

“It’s been a while since a human made it this far,” the dragon admitted, surprisingly good-natured. “And you’re quite—different from the norm, aren’t you? Quite plucky, aren’t you? Miss Heroine, I presume.”

H-Heroine?! Such flattery! Nene quickly got to her feet. But! No! Not yet!

“My name is Yashiro Nene!” she cried, puffing out her chest. “I have come to Hanako-san to have my wish granted! And that wish—is for you to hold me hostage so that a super handsome knight on a while horse can come to my rescue!”

The dragon stared. It did not answer. The silence stretched on. So much so that Nene ended up faltering.

“That’s—something you can do, right?” she asks, frowning and tilting her head. She then realizes. “Oh! No, I’m not asking you to die for something like that, Hanako-san! No, no, no!” She waved her hands furiously. “I just want you to face off against the knight! Once he proves his worth and defeats you honorably, you can just—fly away! Leave us to our happy ending! That’s not too much to ask for, right?”

The dragon continued to stare.

“I-I mean,” Nene stammered, beginning to feel surprisingly awkward. “I’ve heard you grant all kinds of amazing wishes. Um. Riches. Magic. Entire kingdoms. Compared to all that, this...shouldn’t be that hard, right? A lot of fair maidens have found their knights this way, and I—I’ve yet to be abducted by a dragon naturally, so that’s why I’m here! To request the services of Hanako-san!”

And, then, finally...the beast lays its head back down. Its eyes fall shut. It resumes sleep, to Nene’s dismay and exasperation.

“I-It’s not a joke! Nor is it a dream!” she cried, flailing. “I’m serious! And I scaled the mountain! You owe me a wish! That’s how it works, right? Right?! Hanako-san? HANAKO-SAN?!”

She pushed at the dragon’s side repeatedly, wailing and whining as she did.

“H-Hanako-san! Come on! Come on, come on, come ON!!”

It only rolled away from her, onto its back. Nene chased it desperately.

“Hanako-san!”

And then, to her utter shock and dismay, the beast was trembling. Trembling with restrained bouts of laughter. Its tail flailed, clearly trying to not smack either the ground or the wall, but the mountain still shook from mirth. With a yelp, Nene fell down and curled up, covering her head.

It didn’t last for long. Everything stilled after less than ten seconds, but Nene’s heart was still hammering terribly.

“Ah, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that, Yashiro.”

The dragon had settled back into a more harmless position, head on the ground with rather doleful eyes. Even when talking, it seemed careful to not show Nene too much of those rows of razor-sharp teeth, many of them about the length of her arm. She still shuddered in spite of the dragon’s best efforts.

“I-I-I-I-It’s fiiiiine.”

“You don’t sound very fine,” Hanako said quietly. “I really am sorry. So what was that about abduction and knights? I mean...it sounds to me like you’re looking for a matchmaker.”

“That’s—about right.” Nene nodded in quick succession. “I’d like to be set up with a noble, handsome, knight in shining armor on a white horse. Please and thank you.”

Hanako turned its head to snort so that the ensuing smoke didn’t hit Nene in the face. She still coughed a little. As she rubbed her throat, those slitted golden eyes softened.

“You climbed all this way. It couldn’t have been an easy feat.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Nene exclaimed. “Actually, I’m used to scaling mountains for herbs and flowers! I’m pretty accomplished in agriculture!” Though she seemed proud of that fact, she did falter as she added, “Just not so much romance. It’s pretty difficult just talking to a guy, and when I try, a lot of them are pretty disinterested in me compared to my friend, Aoi. I think—well, a guy who’d go out of his way to save me... That’s at least someone I might be able to thank earnestly?”

“So, it’d just have to be someone who’d go through trials for your sake?”

Nene’s cheeks puffed.

“When you put it that way, you make me sound pretty selfish and demanding. I just want a good man, I’ll have you know. Someone cool, confident, and chivalrous!” She huffed. “I’ve got no interest in a shallow prick who only cares about slender legs!”

“Slender legs...” Hanako muses, gaze drifting down. The dragon is deterred, however, by Nene yanking down her jacket with quite the ferocious glare. The dragon averted its stare, pretending nothing was amiss. “Well, unfortunately, not every man who goes out to fight dragons for fair maidens is—all you’ve said. Some of them are just glory hogs. But, I could always just eat those types since I’ll be the one guarding you.”

“Oh.” Nene shook her head furiously. “N-No eating! Murder is a bit—it’s a bit much, don’t you think? Or, well, I guess you’re a dragon... S-Still, it’s extreme! Just scare those guys off!”

Hanako does show more teeth, and Nene paled even more.

“Don’t do it!” she pleaded. “Murder is bad!”

Hanako doesn’t answer. There’s just a nod before Hanako’s head drops docilely to the ground.

“Your strange wish comes with caveats, so I suppose you are smarter than I thought.”

Nene bristled even as she remained visibly anxious.

I did come this way to make requests of a dragon... Anyone could point out that’s pretty reckless. But, I—

“I wasn’t exactly sure what else to do besides wait, and I didn’t even know how long I’d have to wait be it months or years. In the time it took, I’d probably get left behind.” Fidgeting, Nene’s eyes flicker to the ground, a solemn glimmer in her stare before they fell shut. “I don’t want that. So I guess—here I am? Instead? Hanako-san, I... Please do grant my wish. There are always knights looking to save maidens from dragons. Surely, among one of them is someone that I can...!”

Hanako hummed softly.

“You’ll still have to wait. You really think that because you won’t be in easy reach that it’ll make you more desirable? Well—it’s true that humans are drawn to that which is difficult to obtain. Even then, it’s not exactly a noble attribute. But I guess what you’re really looking for is someone who’s so compassionate and true that they simply can’t ignore a maiden in trouble. That said—you’ll still just be one of many saved by them.”

Nene flinched.

When you look at it that way—it’s true, isn’t it? There are tons of other maidens to save. I’m not special just because I made a deal with the dragon.

“Of course, who knows,” Hanako went on. “You might get lucky, and I’m pretty bored so maybe we can try it. How about it, Yashiro?”

Rather than look pleased, Nene was now on the verge of tears.

“U-Uh.” Hanako’s eyes widened considerably. “Y-Yashiro?”

“This was stupid!” she yelled, covering her face. “This was so stupid! I’m so stupid! There’s not even a guarantee that this would work the way I want it to! I’m so dumb!” She began to sob. Wail, even. “I-I’m so, so dumb! What was I even thinking?! Waaaaah!”

“H-Hey,” Hanako stammers. “I-It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay!” she shrieked. “I’m so tired! I ache all over—I could have died just getting here a-and for what?! J-Just to try and get a dragon to abduct me?! In hopes I’d be saved?! What kind of desperate, s-selfish—s-stupid—?!”

“U-Um, even if that’s true, you still...”

“Even Hanako-san knows!” Nene wailed, tears running down freely. “It’s so obvious! It’s so, so obvious! Why did it take me this long to see how dumb I was being?! Urgh! I’m—I’m the worst! Just the worst!” Pressing her weeping face back into her palms, her shoulders quaked and quaked. “S-So stupid...! So humiliating...! All I ended up doing...was making an absolute fool of myself...!”

And then, suddenly, surprisingly gentle clawed fingers brushed her hair back, brushed some of the tears away. Confused, Nene uncovered her eyes to blink tearfully at the nervous figure before her.

A boy—of sorts. With messy black hair, golden eyes with slit pupils, and dressed in a black cloak. If it weren’t for the claws, those eyes, the horns protruding from his head, the tail, and the remnants of scales on his cheeks, this person could’ve been mistaken for any other human. But with an expression like that—Nene found she didn’t doubt his humanity at all.

“Please don’t cry,” he murmured, awkward but kind. “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

“...Hanako-san?” Nene blinked, and Hanako wiped away more of the tears that came down her face in rivulets. Sniffling, Nene rubbed at her nose. “I—no, I’m sorry. It’s not Hanako-san’s fault this happened. I... I should be apologizing. First for wasting your time...”

“I don’t mind visitors,” Hanako muttered, not looking at her, but seeming a little embarrassed. “Regardless of the reason—it’s nice to have company. It’s lonely up here.”

Nene does look around. Now that Hanako was roughly the same size as her, she could see just how large and empty the cavern was.

Why—does he even stay here, I wonder? Maybe he has nowhere else to go?

“Well... I can still make the climb pretty easily, all things considered,” Nene pointed out meekly. “If you want someone to visit you more often, I can do that.”

Hanako does stare at her, perplexed.

“You came up here to ask me for a favor.”

“I-I know! B-But I don’t mind being nice to you, either!” she stammered, flustered. “Being lonely is sad. I know that, even though I have Aoi. You don’t seem like a bad person, er, um. Dragon?”

“This is as much my form as the other one,” Hanako said. His tail beat a little against the floor. “You’re not scared by it.”

“I was surprised, but...” Nene shook her head. “Hanako-san comforted me. So, you must be nicer than you are scary.”

“I could still kill someone like this.”

She does recoil, gritting her teeth with fear flashing over her features before her eyes narrowed sharply.

“N-Now you’re just being difficult, Hanako-san! I-I just wanted to be nice!” Puffing her cheeks, she pouted quite fiercely at him. “If you’re uninterested, just say so!”

“I wouldn’t say I’m...uninterested.” His gaze is sweeping over her, rather intense. Nene felt herself warm, her heart skipping a beat. “Yashiro, what kind of person were you hoping would save you?”

“I-I... Um.” She can’t help but be sheepish. “L-Like I s-said, someone cool, confident, and chivalrous. S-Someone who would cherish me and protect me... But also someone kind.”

“I can be kind,” Hanako said, rather sweetly. “And I’m definitely strong enough to protect you.” He does reach out, but he hesitates for a moment, instead gently pinching a lock of her hair between his claws. “So, how about it? This is much less complicated, don’t you think?”

With her face flushed and her eyes wide and watery with emotion, Nene waited until he had let her hair slip from his grasp before she made an X with her arms.

“Sorry! You’re not my type! I like tall, princely guys! Not short, dragon boys! I’m really, really sorry.”

“Oh.” Hanako exhaled. “Okay. Well. I guess that’s to be expected.”

“That! Said!”

Before he could pull away completely, Nene had grabbed his clawed hand and squeezed, mindful of the edges but firm all the same.

“Hanako-san, let’s still be friends!” she exclaimed. “I don’t mind being friends!”

Hanako blinked at her, seemingly taken aback before he laughed.

“Even though I’m a dragon that can eat people?”

“W-Well,” Nene swallowed. “You haven’t actually eaten anyone, right?”

“Who knows?”

“I’m taking that as a no.” She didn’t have any interest in pondering it further if Hanako was going to be so vague about it. She’ll just take it as him not being used to having friends. Or something. Yeah. Yeah. “So, let’s be friends. I mean. For my wish, I guess...you can just bring me down the mountain safely?”

“That’s a small price to ask for. But, yes, I can do that easily.” Hanako showed a rather toothy grin. On a face like that, it was much less intimidating than before. “Consider it the favor of a friend, though, not a wish granted.”

Nene smiled back brightly, completely unaware of the mischievous glimmer in Hanako’s eye.

“I’d really app—aah!”

Before she even had a chance to protest, she had been swept away with ease. Carried like a princess, Nene could hardly even breathe. She only remembered to when she was met with Hanako’s grin.

“Hold on, Yashiro.”

Just what did I—

He was off at a speed she could barely comprehend.

Just what did I get myself intoooooo?!

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #HanaNene #nene yashiro #yashiro nene #hanako x nene #Magi fics #I also want to marry a dragon but that's yet to be an option in the Boku Monogatari series #COWARDS

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Dancer Chapter 31: Day of Liberty: Strategy

Summer ended. The days grew shorter. The pleasant mild air of September descended on campus. In a few weeks, the trees would be ablaze with fall colors. Club S was thriving. Its member base of two hadn’t budged, but there was now very little that Lu Mingfei hadn’t told me and I hadn’t told him. We mutually agreed that the S stood for ‘secrets’.

Masterlist

Norton Hall had become the haven we needed at Cassell. If either of us weren’t feeling well, we could say so and, more importantly, we could say why. Ielia freely roamed, her ethereal presence haunting the many palatial halls. It was our peaceful corner of freedom.

The Day of Liberty threatened all of it.

On a crisp September evening, Mingfei and I sat down to discuss what to do over a map of the Cassell College Campus. The Student Union had pulled ranks together and were actively plotting the most ‘spectacular’ battle Cassell had ever seen.

“He means to Zerg us.” Mingei said. “It means to rush us with overwhelming numbers. He can do that since he’s got a lot of people.”

“That’s from Starcraft right? How does one… defend against zerg?”

“Real life is a lot like video games, I’m finding out. Basically, defending against Zerg is about surveillance and resource management. Large numbers of participants require a lot of supplies to keep going. If we can hit their resources, it won’t matter how many they are.”

“Yeah because they won’t be able to shoot if they don’t have bullets.” I rubbed my hands together.

He smiled at me. “Right. So we have to find out where they’re stockpiling and hit that, and hit it hard. We’ll use Norton Hall as a sort of Static Defense. This place is the prize, they won’t want to wreck it.”

I listened closely to what he was saying. As a former member of the Student Union, he knew exactly where stockpiles of weapons and ammo would be held. Ielia’s ability to phase through walls would allow us to verify if we were correct in our assumptions and direct Lionheart’s forces to that area. The more he got into his plan, the more he shortened his words to StarCraft Lingo.

“Does anyone else at the SU know you’re a strategic genius?” I asked with a little smile.

“Nono does.”

I sighed, the smile leaving my face. “Great.”

“Caesar’s too conceited to listen to her. Her beef against you is personal anyway.” He pointed at me. “She’ll be knocking on your door first. Caesar leads from behind. Nono she’s… she’s a little crazy.” He cringed. “I can just imagine her crashing through one of the windows, guns blazing. She doesn’t care about Norton Hall. She’s basically an Ultralisk.”

“I don’t know what that means but it sounds ugly…”

“It’s the toughest late game Zerg unit. Only thing is: Nono doesn’t want some low-level taking you out before she gets here. So we’ll need to patrol the grounds and look for her. And look for her early.”

“I’ve requested a lot of Adams units to patrol and survey the area. They send a signal when they’re taken down.”

“Plain old cameras too?”

I nodded.

“Great… as soon as she’s here…” He took a breath, straightening. “I’ll go to meet her.”

“You?” My eyes widened in surprise.

“I know her best.” He rested his chin in his hands.

“But… Mingfei, you… you like her. Even if she held up her hands, you wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger. You’ll be a sitting duck.”

“Just trust me on this one… okay?” His eyes were distant, the same way they always were when he was remembering something he didn’t feel comfortable telling me about.

I couldn’t say no. He’d killed two dragonlords already. He knew what he was doing. “Okay.”

“So that just leaves the rest of the swarm.”

I traced a circle around Norton Hall. “My idea is to ring the entire area with time dilation runes. If I can get time to slow, I can thin the herd enough for Lionheart to come and reduce the numbers even further.”

“That will only work if you allow as many of them in the ring as possible. Anyone outside it won’t be affected by it.”

“You’re right… it’s risky…” I frowned.

“You’d need a high powered automatic weapon… Or multiple turrets positioned in windows.”

“I like the turret idea. With Nibelungen runes, I’ll be able to instantly move from one to the other.”

“What about automatic ones?”

“They could malfunction…”

“True.”

We went over the plan one more time and then we looked at each other. “Okay, think it’s okay to bring in Lionheart now?”

“Yeah.”

I put the phone in the middle of the table. It was a new one, just unwrapped and set up this afternoon. As soon as it rang, Johann picked up and put me on speaker.

“We’re all here,” he said. “It’s me, Finger, Susie, and Lancelot.”

I let Mingfei speak, since this was mostly his idea. “The first thing we’ll need Lionheart to do is hit their resources. Carli will be scouting their exact locations, but if we can disrupt their access to and from the Student Union Villa or infiltrate and blow up their stockpile completely, that will be best for early game.”

“What about defending Norton Hall?” Susie asked.

“That won’t be necessary.” Mingfei replied. “Caesar doesn’t want to harm Norton Hall and he doesn’t want to confront Carli directly. That’s not his MO.”

I blinked. He hadn’t said anything about this before now.

Johann agreed. “Caesar has a thing about hitting women. To him it's morally wrong. He wouldn’t hurt you directly. His idea would be to make you surrender. Or make you lose by default because you violate a rule.”

My brow knits with worry. “My idea was to lure as many of his forces close to Norton Hall as possible. I’ll be laying a trap to take out as many of them as possible before Lionheart moves in. Are you telling me that won’t work?”

“It might not…” Johann said.

“If you don’t mind… I have an idea.” Fingel’s smile was evident in his voice. “I managed to get a few access codes in my hacking attempt. One of them was to the Student Union communication network. If I can broadcast a forward march order, those Caesar Stans will probably happily bumrush Norton Hall for their chance of glory without a second thought!” His chuckle was diabolical.

“Nono wouldn’t fall for something like that…” Susie mused.

Mingfei interjected. “I’m taking care of Nono…”

Johann’s voice was cold. “You couldn’t win a basketball game against her.”

“What’s with this lack of faith! Just trust me okay!” Mingfei whined.

“No,” Was Johann’s flat response. “If Nono gets to Carli, it’s over. I can’t just rely on you. What’s your back up?”

I giggled. “Listen to him, he has no faith in me either.”

“I’ll be the back up.”

My eyes widened. “Susie?”

“Station me on Norton’s roof. I’ll help defend it. If Mingfei goes down, I’ll cover her.”

“Thanks!” I sighed, touched by everyone’s assistance. “Keeping Norton Hall... you don’t know how much it means to Lu and I… and of course, you’ll be free to use it once we win.”

“Uhhh….” I can imagine Lancelot raising one hand. “You guys forget about Caesar?”

As if that was even something anyone needed to ask, but Johann answered anyway. “I’ll take care of him.”

#Johann Chu #Caesar Gattuso #Nono #Luminous #Lu Minfei #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

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rueitae · 5 years ago

Text

Soulbound

Finally I can post this. For @defendersofaurita‘s pikelavar week. About 4,000 words.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902532

~~~~~

There is it; the Jewel of Jitan.

Meklavar’s heart races, each beat pounding slowly and deliberately in her ear like a giant’s footsteps. Excessive sweating has always been an issue for her, but in this moment she curses how gross the skin under her gloves is despite the coolness of the cave, while nerves flutter about in her gut. Here, in a few moments, she’ll finally have her family’s heirloom back. She can’t afford to make any mistakes.

Rising from her spot behind a crate, she counts two of Countess Covara’s guards and knows a third roams on patrol; the dark clothing and red crest is unmistakable. How idiotic for her not to make the connection between her father’s chief rival and the rapid organization of the Black Fang before following this lead to their hideout.

She tightens the grip on her axe, the cloth of her gloves blessedly still dry enough to do that. It’s enough if she needs to do battle. Though she has had years to dream of this day, Meklavar realizes she is severely underprepared for this moment.

Why hadn’t she asked for help from her companions? Surely a year was not too long a time to forget their incredible defeat of the Coranic Dragon. Block had been so eager to go home, Valyun accompanied Jiro in search of his brother Shiro, and Pike...

Pike. The insufferable fool still makes her blush like a lovesick maiden - which, Meklavar supposed she technically was - whenever she thinks of the soft kiss he bestowed upon her lips when they parted.

“I’ll see you again sooner than you think,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I just have one little job to do then I’d love to see your home.”

“To meet my family, right?” she’d pressed, thought in jest. “And not to rob us blind?”

He bristles. “I’m not a thief!”

“You’re right,” she said smugly. “A thief would know what a trap looks like.”

He struggled for words, his mouth flapping about uselessly. “You’re lucky you’re cute!” he finally said.

She hadn’t expected to be apart for this long, though it isn’t anything she can help now. Meklavar is on her own for this and she will get the Jewel back home where it belongs, no matter what.

But patience is something Meklavar has never had in spades. Already she’s been waiting for what feels like hours, made worse by her treasured family heirloom resting elegantly on a pedestal next to a large stone table - only yards away from where she hides.

Her leg is numb, fallen asleep in the long wait. It’s simply an annoyance as far as pain goes, but she’ll need her mobility because, as Pike would say, her window of opportunity could come at any time.

Meklavar shifts in her tiny hiding spot, doing what she can to stretch and relieve her limbs in this limited space and--

That isn’t stone that bumps into her back.

“Hey,” Pike whispers. “Come here to look at all the pretty rocks?”

The suddenness of the conversation after hours on edge breaks her. Her mind registers Pike’s voice - how could she ever forget the way he speaks to her with genuine interest in her skills and quest - but her body reacts on instinct. She shrieks - or tries to at least. Pike’s hand covers her mouth, the metal jewelry on his fingers leaving a gross metallic taste on her lips.

So her shriek turns into a muffled, “MMMMHMHMM!”

“Shhhh,” he hisses urgently. “I dunno what possessed you to sneak into the lair of your family’s greatest enemy in that armor. You’d make a terrible thief.”

Fresh anger warms her ears. Meklavar whips around, Pike’s hand slipping from her face - a dull clunk sounds as the horns of her helmet hit the rings on his finger, earning a hiss of pain from the actual thief between the two of them as he sucks on the offended knuckles. Any sympathy she has for him is buried under her fumes.

“What are you doing here then?” she fires back with a hushed whisper. “It’s been a year, Pike. Where have you been?”

Pike’s childish scowl turns into a more sobering, thin line. “On a job. I didn’t think a genius would be dumb enough to waltz right in here. You need to get out of here right now.”

“I’m not leaving without the Jewel of Jitan,” she insists. “You know what it means to me - what it means to my family.”

His tail twitches in agitation, ears turning, listening. “Quiznak,” he says, eyes flickering with unmistakable fear. He meets her gaze, and Meklavar’s heart breaks at the sorrow he projects before he speaks, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Meklavar says before she can really think it over. They’ve traveled together far too long, she knows his fears and secrets - and he knows hers. “What are you plan--”

Pike gathers her into his arms. For a heartbeat it's nice - the way he holds her - as if nothing in this world can rip them apart; face nuzzling into his chest. Meklavar missed his companionship so much. She wants to apologize for their rough meeting and ask where he’s been and how he fared since parting.

“Please forgive me.” He rips off her helmet and his claws dig uncomfortably - though not painfully - into her arm.

He stands, and she rises with him; axe clattering to the floor. Now exposed to the guards she spied on not moments before, her heart leaps into her throat; what is Pike doing?

A job.

Meklavar freezes in fear. Oh Ancients, Pike is employed with Covara and he’s going to use his position to weasel their way out of this.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Meklavar knows that lifeless and dreary tone anywhere. Closing her eyes, she swallows hard to reign in her shuddering breaths; better to do it while her face is flush against Pike’s chest than staring into the face of the woman who prefers her dead.

She’d been so, so close to getting her family’s priceless heirloom back. Meklavar doesn’t know what Pike thinks he’s doing - she chooses to trust that he wouldn’t do this without reason; she wants to believe he’s as good a person as she remembers, that their adventures together didn’t amount to nothing, that their relationship means something, that he meant his preemptive apology.

“Seems your gut was right, Your Countessship,” Pike says. Any other time Meklavar might tell him that wasn’t a real term, but she’s hardly in a position to correct his showmanship. “There was a threat to the Jewel after all. Shall I take her to the dungeon for you?”

Rough hands grab at her arms and she stumbles away from the false sense of security in Pike. Meklavar is barely aware of her strained biceps, when a soft, manicured hand - not Pike - cups her chin.

“No,” Covara says. “I’ll give you further instructions once I’ve dealt with her.”

Pike’s sharp intake of breath doesn’t escape her ears, and Meklavar’s stomach twists into knots. Already this has taken a turn for the worse.

“Meklavar Forestguard,” Covara says slowly, enunciating each syllable with more hate than the last. Long nails threaten to break skin and a cold thumb presses more purposefully against her throat; will she cut off her breath right here and now?

“You always were a nosy child, much like the rest of your family,” Covara muses. “I’d hoped to hunt you down after securing the Jewel’s secrets, but now it can’t be helped.”

“The Jewel of Jitan and it’s secrets are not yours,” Meklavar seethes. “They don’t belong to anyone - without it the Nightmares will return before long and--”

“Let them come.”

The admission weakens her knees, though she hardly stands on her own anymore. “You can’t - you can’t mean that,” Meklavar protests. “They’ll saturate this land and kill everyone!”

Meklavar shivers as Covara’s slender fingers brush gently across her cheeks; the touch far too intimate for her liking. The woman towers over her, looking down on her almost hungrily.

That’s when she sees the red glint in her eyes, an evil Meklavar once hoped to only know from the safe pages of a book.

Covara is too far gone to be saved; already enthralled by the very Demon King the Jewel of Jitan keeps locked away.

“I can control them,” Covara states cooly. “I need only more power, more knowledge. Knowledge that the Jewel of Jitan will grant me and power that it’s guardian will provide me.”

“No!” Meklavar shrieks, tugging on her captors for any glint of freedom. She knows enough of the ancient rituals. Covara intends to drain Meklavar’s life force to unlock the power of the Jewel of Jitan.

She happens a glimpse of Pike, standing solitary off to the side. Body rigid, his face is etched in shock; eyes wide. He keeps the rapid rise and fall of his chest barely contained, but Meklavar knows his fear - this is far worse than he’d bargained for.

He laughs nervously. “Surely she can’t cause much trouble now that you know she’s here. There’s no need for this,” he pleads.

“I did not hire you for your opinion,” Covara says curtly. She turns to other mercenaries. “Take her.”

With a jerk, Meklavar is pulled towards the very object she seeks to liberate. It brings her no joy now, only a rising panic in her heart.

“You can’t control them!” she yells, doing all she can to drag her feet - curse her short stature! “They only answer completely to the Demon King - you’re being played for a fool, just like the dark mages of the past!”

Stone slams hard against the back of her head. Meklavar’s head swims in a fuzzy cloud, vision disjointed as her back bends sharply backwards. Iron shackles clink resoundly around her wrists. With a quick gasp, she struggles aimlessly, kicking at the hands that work to grab and bind her legs to the other end of the stone table.

Covara’s footsteps ring louder as she approaches, while the first of Meklavar’s ankles is chained down. “Other mages made the mistake of giving in to their greed. I simply wish to study and enjoy the company of these beautiful creatures,” she says as she stands before the altar. The chains offer little movement to see anything other than Covara’s uncaring face.

“I wonder,” Covara airs as she brushes a strand of hair out of Meklavar’s eyes, “what kind of creature of the night you will become when I raise your body.”

“It won’t work,” Meklavar begs, because it’s all she has left at her disposal. Pike won’t be able to do a thing, not with the power that spills out from the mad woman’s fingers - only a small taste of what Meklavar knows she is capable of. “Please. Trust me, it will backfire on you.”

“Perhaps you’ll be a fiend like your father.”

The next breath is hard to take. “Wh-what?” Meklavar hasn’t seen her family in a long time, but surely Covara hasn’t-- “You’re lying,” she accuses, blood simmering to a boil with every tick. She doesn’t want to believe it. Last she was home, her mother and father and brother were working to soothe the darkening forest in the absence of the Jewel of Jitan.

If they were dead then the forest was lost.

And so was she.

The response is a low chuckle, the first real emotion Covara has shown. “He proved more useful in death than in life. I think you will be more like your mother; a gargoyle, cunning and fierce in the skies. You will be a good leader for the Demon King’s army.”

“You’re a monster,” Meklavar seethes. Never once had she stopped to consider her family succumbing to the dark creatures in the forest, Covara must be lying.

She has to be lying. Otherwise Meklavar fears heartbreak may kill her if Covara doesn’t.

Covara places a hand gently on Meklavar’s chestplate; deceptively soft and kind. “Yes,” she says softly - longingly. “I suppose that will be for the best if I am to be in their company.”

Meklavar’s breath hitches as a soft purple glow emanates from the hand on her chest.

“Now,” Covara says, the stroking of her skin feeling like slime. “Offer your quintessence to me, child. Provide me the power to call them forth.”

Meklavar screams. It’s as if a thousand nails punch into her skin from the same direction, breath taken from her lungs like a swing of a hammer. Her body arches back and her limbs wail, stretched out and strained to the point it’s nearly unbearable.

Slowly she loses the fight within as life drains from her body.

With a thud, her head hits the stone altar. Meklavar gasps, body in shock as her energy returns all at once. The dull pain is nothing compared to what Covara had been doing - but, Meklavar wonders as her vision comes into focus, why did she stop?

“Sellswords are not what they used to be,” Covara says. “You are a foolish little boy.”

Covara stands above her still, but through her stomach is the gold tip of a blade Meklavar recognizes.

Pike stands behind her, eyes narrowed dangerously as he holds the hilt of the short sword. “Not so foolish as to continue serving you when I can save my friend. Let her go,” he demands.

The anger and seriousness of his tone catches Meklavar off guard. Never has he sounded less like a thief and more like the assassin he persistently claims to be.

Meklavar believes it for the first time.

But no amount of athletic skill will save him from Covara. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes the danger that he’s put himself in for her sake - all for naught.

“Pike! Run!” she shouts, for whatever good it will do him. She can’t see him die, it would be the final twisting dagger after hearing her family’s possible fate.

A single eyebrow rises skeptically, his face back to it’s friendly and goofy self. Pike, you idiot, there’s no time.

“What are you talking about I-- AH!”

“Pike!” Meklavar screams as Covara turns in place inhumanly fast, clasping Pike by his throat and lifting him off the ground, leaving his feet to dangle in the air; his hands wrapped around Covara’s in an attempt to free himself - to no avail.

“Such ferocity will make for delicious quintessence…”

“Don’t you touch him!” Meklavar growls, pulling at the chains with all her might. Her fate may as well be sealed, but she can still do what she can to save him.

Covara looks upon her with a soulless gaze; a scientist examining her experiment. “The boy means much to you?”

The observation sends more of a chill down Meklavar’s spine than the threat of her own death, because now Pike has Covara’s interest.

And it’s all her fault.

Pike growls; teeth grit in anger as Covara continues, “It’s just your sort of plucky luck to have a dear companion nearby.” She lets go of him, and Meklavar feels a bit of relief though he falls to the floor in a heap - at least he still has breath. “It is for my benefit.”

Covara closes her eyes and breathes deep, looking altogether unconcerned with her impalement. She reaches back and grabs the hilt without looking, and in one horrifying movement, easily rips the sword from her body.

Black blood drips from the blade, proving the woman is no longer even human.

Meklavar moans as Covara’s boney hands cup her chin Her throat strains as Covara pushes as if to threaten to snap her head from her body.

“I have always wanted to observe how the soul link spell functions, but never have I found two suitable specimens,” Covara continues. Meklavar twists her head, anything to be free of the vice-like grip. “Your love for each other is equally as strong as your quintessence.”

The purple glow returns to Covara’s hand, hovering around Meklavar’s throat.

“The only thing more delicious than your death, is having you serve me willingly,” an evil grin worms its way up her face. “Which I am sure you will do with the boy’s life tied to yours.”

Meklavar braces for the pain.

It never comes.

Covara falls to the floor, writhing in pain. “Im-impossible! The blade… it was sunforged… how?”

A sunforged blade, one of only a handful of weapons capable of harming creatures of the Demon King.

“Just lucky, I guess.” Pike says, his breath louder than his words; she can’t see him but she can hear the smirk in his voice.

Meklavar wouldn’t put it past Pike to know the item’s exact value. How he came in possession of the one thing that can change their fortunes tonight, she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. For now, the corners of her mouth tug up her face in uncontrollable relief. Perhaps they’ll get out of here alive after all.

“Now you’ll know what it’s really like to be one of the Demon King’s minions,” Meklavar says smugly. “You’ll be stuck with them for the rest of time.”

Covara rises - though she stumbles backwards - a purple aura surrounding her. Meklavar can feel the dark energy slowly slip away from this reality. The mercenary guards have had their last straw of magic and take off running at the otherworldly display.

Pike does no such thing. He stays and uses the stone she lays on to lift himself up, flipping a dagger to his hands with skill that looks like magic - ready to fight if needed.

“I will return sooner than you think, child,” Covara promises; eyes wild and crazed as veins protrude from her body, threatening to explode. She holds a hand outstretched towards Meklavar and the other at Pike. “And I will have your life.”

Dark magic hits Meklavar, clogging her nose so that all she smells is the stench of tar. She chokes for air and can only watch as a thin green wisp of energy travels from her chest and mingles with a blue that she can only guess belongs to Pike.

Instantly, fear overcomes her senses - a fear for herself, sprinkled with idle worry of blood stain devaluing the sword.

Pike’s feelings.

“With your souls entwined, it will be easy to find you and use you,” Covara says, her voice now more like a hollow echo. Her lips turn up wickedly. “Become as close as you like; for it will be all the more enjoyable to tear you apart.”

She lets out an unearthly shriek, rising from the ground before dissipating; like ink smearing in water.

Silence.

Meklavar huffs, exhausted mentally and emotionally. She rests her eyes, relieved the danger is over.

“Hey, hey, tell me you’re okay.” Pike’s voice.

His concern fills her like a jar overflowing with wine, and a sense of admiration and desperation digs right to her soul.

A soul-link; Covara’s parting gift has ensured she won’t be able to stray too far away from Pike. Not if they both want to live. They’ll share pain and emotions; a ritual usually only ever used by couples in the forest who have been together for decades.

Pike isn’t from the forest. He has no idea what’s been done.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Can you get me out of this thing?”

The shackles jingle as Pike begins to fiddle with them. She feels his lightheartedness before he jokes, “What kind of thief do you take me for? I can pick a lock.”

True to his word, she is already freed from the first. It falls back to the stone with a resounding clank. She holds her hand to her chest simple because movement is once again her own. “You don’t have the best track record when it comes to thieving. You almost convinced me you were a ninja-assassin with how terrible you are,” she teases.

Regret. Shame. Fear.

Pike unlocks the last one. Meklavar sits up, glad to be free. No sooner than she does, Pike restricts her with a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he says before she can voice the question. “I thought she’d just imprison you, and I could break you out later. I should have smuggled you out right then and there.”

Meklavar sighs, resting her head on his shoulder and returning the hug. “You did what you thought was right. I’m not blaming you for anything, Pike. You still saved me.”

“You almost died right in front of me,” he chokes. “And it would have been all my fault.”

“Pike…” She wants to tell him it’s okay over and over again. He may not even listen to her words, but he can feel her emotions just as loudly as she can feel his now, so she pours comfort into him. “What were you even doing here?”

He hugs her tighter in response; a thanks.

He chuckles. “What else can a thief do? I was trying to steal the Jewel of Jitan. I’d heard it had gone missing, so I thought I’d try my hand at taking it back.”

Meklavar sinks her teeth into her lip. “You caring fool,” she says, swallowing a sob. “It’s right over there unguarded. You’d better take it.”

“Please, let me hold you for just a little bit,” he insists, nestling his face in the crook of her neck. “Then I’m coming with you wherever you need to go.”

Admiration again. Love.

Warmth fills Meklavar’s cheeks, but not out of embarrassment. She likes this feeling; she likes feeling the same for Pike. Despite Covara’s evil intentions, she doesn’t mind that it’s the goofy thief she can feel the emotions of as long as they’re like this.

At least until she can find a way to undo it. Surely there’s something in her family’s library that covers it.

She needs to confirm her family’s fate for herself anyway. For that she needs a friend to be her anchor.

“We can’t part anyway,” she confesses. “The spell she cast on us linked our souls - literally.”

There’s a long pause before Pike lets go of her, his eyes wide. His emotions cycle through confusion and disbelief. “You mean… she wasn’t just saying a bunch of magical mumbo jumbo?

Meklavar snorts, with a renewed love of how easily he amuses her. “It’s exactly because she was saying a bunch of ‘mumbo jumbo’.”

“Oh,” he says simply. A sense of panic rises, reverberating through her soul.

“I’ll see if there’s a way to reverse it,” she explains. “My family has a lot of books on magic.” And there’s one more thing that will help.

Jumping off the stone, Meklavar takes the few steps towards where the object she seeks rests. Gently, she takes the Jewel of Jitan in her hands. The green gem pulses for joy, acknowledging her guardian bloodline.

Salty liquid touches her lips - she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She holds the Jewel close to her chest. Her mission - her reason for leaving home - is complete.

“The Jewel of Jitan isn’t just another pretty gem,” she manages to say through both relief and the weight of her new mission to make sure Covara can’t return. “It’ll bolster the magic of any sorcerer, so we can borrow some power to undo the soul link.” She chuckles darkly, nervously; what if he abhors this situation they’re stuck in or grows to hate her? “I can get pretty moody, I’d hate for you to have to feel all of that.”

He smiles brightly, eyes soft. “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”

Meklavar can feel his every emotion; there is no trace of a lie in that declaration. And she isn’t sure if it’s truly her own or not, but she feels the same.

She takes his hand and meets his trepid gaze, no doubt wondering her reaction.

“Well then, let’s get going. This may have happened maliciously, but I’m looking forward to everything coming out of it.”

Rising on her tiptoes, she greets his cheek with a kiss - a bookend to their time apart. To her amusement, they glow red.

But a grin twitches on his face, and Meklavar is quite content with that response.

#plance #pikelavar #pidgance #voltron legendary defender #monsters and mana #pikelavar week #dudes i'm so happy with this #finally get some pikelavar written

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templeofulchtar · 5 years ago

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On Connecting with Starscream

So, true story:

The first time I tried to perform a ritual for Ghost Season, I had no idea what I was doing. None. Which makes sense, since I may have been the first person ever to attempt such a thing. I set up an altar on my apartment balcony using various things that felt “Starscreamian” to me, and when the night of August 22 arrived, I nervously cast my circle. I invited Starscream to enter into the circle, and… waited.

And waited.

For what, you might ask? Well, I have always had a sense of what his presence ‘feels’ like. It’s a little hard to describe, but I’ve made an attempt in the section below, titled Sensing Starscream’s Presence. I’ve included comments from a couple of other people who work with him so you can compare your experiences to ours and, perhaps, have some idea of what to expect.

In any case, I was getting nothing. Not a tingle, not a flicker, not a mental image; nothing. I began to feel ridiculous. Why was I sitting here in the dark waiting for a cartoon robot to speak to me? I’m pretty sure that’s not something normal people do. Not that I’ve ever aspired to be normal, but… well. It wasn’t working. I packed up and went to bed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. As I burrowed under the covers, though, a car roared past outside with an old AC/DC song blasting out the windows:

You told me to come, but I was already there.

For those who know that song, yes, I do realize that’s a slight misquote. But that’s how I heard the lyrics in that moment, and their message couldn’t have been clearer:

I am always with you. You don’t have to summon me.

For this message to have been delivered in a voice that’s always reminded me of Starscream’s made it seem incredibly personal and real. And yes, it’s wrapped up a double entendre. If you work with Starscream, you’ll likely discover his ribald sense of humor for yourself.

Why am I telling you this?

Because if you turned to this post wondering how to establish a connection with Starscream, this might be your answer. If you love him, he’s probably already with you. If you feel drawn to Starscream, admire him and would love a deeper connection, there's an excellent chance that he'd be open to working with you as well. If you've been having dreams about him or finding that he, or things you associate with him are ‘coincidentally’ popping up in your life, he may be reaching out to you.

If you’re still not sure, though, you can try this exercise:

Connection Excercise

Open your journal to a fresh page and give some thought to the questions below. You don’t have to answer all of them. Pick the ones that resonate, and write down whatever comes up:

★ Does Starscream provoke strong emotions in you (positive or negative)?

★ Does he show up in your dreams?

★ Do you daydream about him?

★ Are you inspired to create works that feature him, such as fanfic, fanart, cosplay, and so on?

★ Are there certain songs that remind you of Starscream?

★ Do you have favorite quotes by or about Starscream?

★ Do you, at times, catch yourself ‘talking’ to him in your inner dialogue?

★ Do you ever wish you could talk to him?

★ Do you identify with Starscream and see yourself in him? In what way(s)?

★ Have you taken on new interests because of him? (Example: jets.)

★ Do you imagine yourself as Starscream in some way, either physically (eg. Having null-rays, ability to fly), or in terms of your personality or life situation?

★ If you were part of the TF Universe, would you want to know him personally and be part of his life in some way?

★ Has he inspired your life in some way?

★ Have you changed how you dress (say, by wearing more red) because of him?

Those are just a few examples of the ways Starscream could be showing up in your life. You might think of others. If you do, note those down as well. Now, you might be thinking these are simply examples of fannish obsession. You may even have found some of the questions embarrassing. That’s very natural. These questions touch on some very intimate, sensitive aspects of being a fan, and there’s good reason for that.

These questions are embarrassing because they bring up feelings of vulnerability. When we love something, we open ourselves to being hurt. The mockery that’s so often aimed at fans is motivated by people’s desire not to feel vulnerable themselves. They try make themselves feel safe by ridiculing others, but in doing so, they cut themselves off from the source of their own magick.

Yes, you read that right. Your magick, and your spiritual connection to Starscream, flows from that intimate space within. It’s that vulnerable, awkward, geeky place where you innocently, unabashedly adore a character and are totally obsessed with them. Treasure that place. It’s your inner temple. Guard it with care, because it’s where your magick resides.

But, you might be asking, are the ‘symptoms’ on this list actually signs of a spiritual connection? I’m going to say yes. I believe they are, and if you’re open to the possibility of deepening that connection, you can begin to make it a two-way street. Starscream is many things, but ‘shy’ is not one of them. He will show up if you make space for him, and the place where he’ll meet you is within the heart of your magick; your inner temple.

Sensing Starscream’s Presence

So what can you expect? What does Starscream’s presence feel like? It’s hard to give a definite answer, since everyone is different. Your experience will be your own, and in many ways incomparable to anyone else’s. In case it helps, though, I’ve included commentaries by three different people who work with Starscream, including yours truly, to give you an idea of what you might experience...

Starshadow writes:

I think I first became aware of [Starscream] as such while I was in high school. I was initially drawn to his character on the animated show, and at first that was all he was. But I quickly became intensely invested in his story, especially when I started to follow him in other media (comics, etc) as well. He became more to me, and began to transcend the stories and art presented. He literally seemed to take on a life of his own. I started to feel (and sometimes see) him in my dreams encouraging me and telling me to be strong.

His presence is distinctly strong. It sometimes borders on aggressive, but it is not threatening to me. I think he just has a particularly powerful presence. It's very fiery and passionate, which makes it distinct from other entities I sense which are more calm and protective. I will often "see" in my mind's eye his red eyes and wings as well when I feel he is near.

Occasionally [he communicates through] dreams, but much more often I will "hear" his "voice" in my mind, often giving advice and emotional input. As I mentioned before, he has from time to time actually yelled (screamed? ;)) at me, but only at times when I really needed it. Sometimes his colors will show up in combination and songs I associate with him will be played out of nowhere when he is taking a more subtle approach.

[My sense of his presence has] waned at times. For a while it seems like he is just hovering on the fringes, but he never completely goes away. His means of communication hasn't changed much though.

He has made me braver than I probably would have been. He is still working on my self-confidence, though. He's been back again recently encouraging me with that. He has also definitely influenced my creativity and aspirations. He has helped me be driven enough to pursue my desires for so long and explore creative work beyond the "traditional female" expectations.

He [also] does sometimes seem to share aspects with other entities I've communed with, like my [wolf guides]. He will almost seem to "combine" with them, or share their energy, and sometimes they with him. I haven't quite figured out why this happens or for what purpose yet, but I am very curious!

Dark Star of Chaos writes:

It’s no exaggeration to say I spent my whole life looking for Starscream. If you want to get technical I first “met” him as a kid watching Transformers Armada, but though he became my favorite character, that was all he was to me then: A character. I loved him, but what I really wanted at that time was an imaginary friend. Not a real one; an imaginary one. The catch was, I didn’t want to invent one. That, in my mind, was not how it worked. The imaginary friends in cartoons all interacted with their humans as though they were real, and that was what I wanted. I didn’t see how a thing invented from my own head could ever take on that kind of life.

When I was older - after Starscream had slipped off my radar - I came across a book called “The Fire Within”, about an aspiring author and his clay dragon Muse. That book, and those which followed, completely redefined what I was after. I wanted to be a part of this world of dragons and shamans, where words held magic and transdimensional aliens “commingled” (merged consciousnesses) with Earth creatures. And I wanted a Muse of my own; always just a thought away, and always ready with some flash of inspiration to offer.

Looking back on it, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Starscream reappeared in my life within a few months of that series ending. Our reintroduction came via the original cartoon, and after only a few episodes - specifically, by the end of “Fire in the Sky” - I had already decided I had to write about him. I couldn’t say exactly when I began to perceive him as an entity separate from his cartoon portrayal, but when the idea was suggested to me, it didn’t sound strange or crazy. It sounded right.

Starscream’s energy has always been subtle for me. I’ve never had much luck “feeling” his presence, though I’ve come to trust that he’s there. I only have to talk to him to get proof of that, because he always replies. Sometimes there are words, but more often it’s emotions and concepts, and it can take a while for me to figure out what he means. He also appears in my dreams rather frequently, and we’ve had more than one “face-to-face” meeting that way.

His influence on my life, on the other hand, has been anything but subtle. In addition to inspiring me creatively, he helped me overcome embarrassment about sex, played a role in my moving from a small desert town to a big city, and most recently, he’s come down on me about my abysmal self-care habits. He can be pushy sometimes, but it’s never harsh, and I always end up happier for having listened to him.

In short, Starscream is the friend and Muse I’d been searching for all those years, and I’m endlessly grateful for his presence in my life. After all, how many people get to make dreams of magick a reality?

Grayseeker writes:

I first became aware of Starscream’s presence when I got a call from work asking me to come in, even though it was my night off. The idea of going in made me sick, but I felt I had to. It wasn’t just that I was afraid of getting fired; I also had a strong impulse to obey authority figures. I didn’t know how to say no. But on that particular night, a voice spoke inside my mind:

You don't have to do anything you don't want to.

It was a voice I recognized, and the words were accompanied by what I can only describe as a ‘feeling image’ of myself as a sovereign being with full authority over my own life. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, and I didn’t go in to work that night. I told my supervisor I’d had some drinks (untrue, but effective) and after that, they stopped calling me on my nights off. Maybe they sensed that something in me had changed. It had.

I believe Starscream has always been with me, but that incident, over three decades ago, is the moment I became consciously aware of his presence. My sense of him has remained pretty consistent over time. I still ‘hear’ him as a voice inside my head. Usually it’s just a few words, but they’re always imbued with a sense of meaning that goes beyond the words themselves. I also get physical sensations, such as warmth or tingling, emotional communication (which is hard to describe!), dreams and synchronicities, usually involving numbers, colors, and/or song lyrics.

To me, Starscream’s presence feels warm, welcoming, comforting, affectionate, and… amused. His communications with me are typically laced with a certain wry humor, and the observations he makes are often phrased in sardonic, even sarcastic terms, though they’re somehow never hurtful. I always feel the warmth behind them, and they make me feel loved. I always feel like he’s on my side, even when he’s pointing out ways that I could improve.

On very rare occasions, he will get serious. That’s when I know to pay extra attention, because it usually means there’s some danger to me, or that I’m venturing into territory that isn’t healthy. I’ve learned (the hard way!) that he’s always right. He’s immensely wise, and I’ve learned to listen when he says ‘no.’ He doesn’t say it often, and he always has a good reason.

Starscream has influenced my life in countless ways. He’s my creative Muse, and has been the impetus for my desire to write. He’s also my main guide, my teacher and spiritual awakener. I think of him as more a friend, and more than family. I love, trust and respect him, and feel that I receive the same in return. I hope these words will find their way to someone who is starting on the same path, or a similar one. If I can offer any reassurance or inspiration, perhaps it’s just to say trust you heart. I’m glad I trusted mine.

I know he’s sad because he couldn’t blow up the Earth, but kinda want to hug him anyway...

A Few Last Thoughts

You might be wondering how to make sense of all this. In particular, you may wonder how to distinguish what’s real from what’s a product of your imagination. And what am I trying to say, anyway? Am I, in fact, suggesting that Starscream is real?

Why yes, I am. Now before you decide that I'm nuts and walk away, let me explain what I mean. I am not necessarily implying that Starscream is a physical entity. I'm not saying that if you were to hop into a really fast spaceship and fly far enough and in the right direction, you would arrive at a metallic world named Cybertron, populated by living robots who are able to transform into various types of vehicles and other machines, and that among those Cybertronian entities you would find an individual named Starscream.

Of course, I'm not ruling that out, either. Our universe is too vast and strange to rule out much of anything. But what I am saying, based on several decades of personal experience, is that there is a real, non-physical entity named Starscream, with whom it's possible to communicate and have real interactions.

Can I prove this? Nope! There is no tangible, objective phenomenon I could point to as "proof" of his existence, but for me, that's beside the point. I feel Starscream as a constant presence in my life. He is my guide, teacher, healer and dearest friend, and his impact on my life has been very real indeed. I hope that the personal examples given above will provide a starting point for you to begin having your own experiences, if you desire them, and that your relationship with Starscream will be as rewarding as mine has always been.

Blessed be, Grayseeker

#starscream #starscream spirit guide #pop culture spirituality #pop culture paganism #pop culture spirit guides #spiritual connection #spirit contact #spiritualjourney #Spiritual practice

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creaturecarnival · 5 years ago

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Hee hoo. I have not consulted the other mods on whether or not I am going to do this post. I have given them no warning, no heads up, no nothing. This post will be as new to them as it will to you.

Anyways, I was cruising around the fallout wiki page, and found early concept art for Fallout 76′s famous scorchbeast! The designs here were all done by the extremely talented Katya Gudkina, i’ll link her artstation at the bottom of the post!

Without further ado, heres some sexy (not always) bat boys

apologies in advance, other mods

So here we start out with the closest thing to the vanilla scorchbeast. A huge mutated bat infected with the Scorched Plague Fungus, threatening the world, yada yada. These basically function as Skyrim’s Dragons, attacking you with sonic waves of sound. Y’know, bats. The one thing about this design that I wished transferred into the game is the hellish lava looking fluid it’s leaking. I like to think this goo is glowing and burning because of its sheer radioactivity, giving it the appearance and ouchiness of lava. This is a wonderful design and I’m glad that they chose something so fun.

This is the first image that shows a common theme with these designs, and that is the appearance of being actual demons from hell. Mutations in fallout 76 are more out there and in your face than other games, and the lava goop makes this look like an extra from DOOM II the musical. This is a demon from hell. Given the religious presence in the south, this could be something that could be worked with wonderfully into the game given time, talent, and dedication. Sadly, bethesda aint really got any of those things, so demon bob got a no go.

Now this is a sexy design. This turkey vulture devil beast screams disgusting horror. Having to face off against a huge mutant vulture soaring in the air sounds much funner than what we have now. The long, bristly feathers being negated by stretched skin, sort of like a pterodactyl? Sexy. The inclusion of teeth in the beak is a pet peeve of mine, however it does give off a Skeksis vibe, so i’ll forgive it.

not much more to say about this one, other than the inclusion of dinosaur feet and tail, and a second, gorgeous head. I don’t know if it would look very good translated into a 3D model and animated, but man this design is fun! I sure hope fallout does something with storks or vultures in the future. Also, This thing is canonically called Mr Handsome.

Words cannot describe how angry I am that this was not the final product. All it takes is a mere glance and you can see why. Earwig dragons covered in goo. Need I say more? My favorite by immeasurable amounts. I love the earwig beast. She is my friend. My muse. My lover. I lay away and dream of her. I love this.

So i am just going to lump these all together into one thing. They all give off the same kind of vibe so I’ll talk about them generally. These are labeled “vultures” and that is the most loaded thing about this art. Vultures? Could they have been smaller, weaker beasts that followed the greater scorchbeast, giving HoddToward69 even more trouble than he does now? The scorchbeast in game are usually paired with the mutated “scorched.” who look like nutsacks turned into a man and shoved ugly green crystals into their body. (They’re also hostile towards each other which is very very stupid mechanic wise) The designs here are super cool and fun, and give off heavy demon vibes. These are absolutely supposed to look like denizens of hell, and you can’t convince me otherwise. The question that I have is, if these are mutants....what did they used to be? Bats? Humans? Bugs or....?????? This is the same question I had for the second design up top. What exactly are these supposed to be?? Actual demons from hell? Who knows!

These look like a band of misfit orcs from lord of the rings got into a batch of radioactive goopies. The top left looks way too kind and wise to be the main villain, and I love the nose crest and jutting underbite. Top left looks much like a creature I’d visualize myself as a child. Cunning and weaselly looking. I love the baby bird eyes and warts, but the overbite is a bit goofy. Actually, scratch that. Nothing’s too goofy for fallout. 10/10. This is the closest to what we’ve got now, except we dont have the skull like face or glowing green pustules. Sigh, when will bethesda appreciate true character design? This last one is my least favorite, as it gives off such a different tone from the rest of these designs. It’s too bald and perfect looking to be fallout. However, if I saw this in another context, i’d appreciate it so much more. But to be fair, what’s wrong with experimenting with style? Why stick to one aesthetic? This may not feel fallout, but y’know what? Theres no shame in that. I still love it. The tusks and incisors are super fun and the cropped ears give more to it. It’s not the same as it’s brothers, but it’s still a valid and fun concept.

So I have no idea what this is supposed to be. Another vulture? Another scorchbeast design? Who knows. I don’t mean to close off this review on such a flat note, but this really just seems like the combination of a scorchbeast and a man. I love the green pustules covered by stretched, inflamed skin, and the tearing in the wing membrane is so nice to look at. This is something with care put into it. I’d say the same with the rest of Katya’s art. I’ve only seen it for like a day, and I’ve got to just express how in love I am with the creativity and funness of it all. Fallout has felt so underdeveloped and flat the last few games, especially in the creature design. Fallout has made some of the coolest beasties i’ve ever seen, and I think Katya breathes new life into the franchise.

If youre ever in a place with lots of time and wanna see great art, the link is below

https://www.artstation.com/katyagud

(mobile people just google Katya Gudkina Artstation)

(I promise no more fallout until Wastelanders comes out)

#mod brainworm #fallout #fallout 76

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

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Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 11

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Zuko growled as he fell out of the bushes with leaves sticking to his clothes. His pack was to his uncle as he picked the flora that had stuck to him.

"I didn't find anything to eat! I can't live like this! I wasn't meant to be a fugitive!" Zuko shouted as he threw royal tantrum tossing his hands in the air and yelling at the sky, "This is impossible!"

Silence was his only response as Iroh ignored him. He frowned then turned around to look at his uncle, who wasn't paying any attention to him and was instead crouching beside a small bush with large red and white orchid like flower stemming from it.

"Uncle, what are you doing?" Zuko asked in exasperation as he walked over to look at the flower his uncle was apparently so enamored with. "Where's Tsai? She said we'd meet us back here before the sunset," he put his hands on his waist and sighed his exasperation growing with each passing moment.

It had been a couple of weeks since the prince, his uncle and the banished daughter of the Vice Royal family of You Dao had officially gone into hiding. The three had barely managed to scrape from Azula's vile hands. It didn't help that Zuko complained about everything.

xxx

"Do you HAVE to complain about everything?" Tsai had said to him more than irritated with his pessimistic attitude.

"I wan't meant for this life," The prince added in a snotty tone.

Honestly he could be such a spoiled brat sometimes. "Ho! Sorry your highness," she taunted with a smirk. "I didn't know you were so sensible about a camping trip."

"You call this a camping trip?!" He snapped at her in a fiery tantrum.

"Five Stars," the girl retorted sarcastically rolling her eyes. "Of course not! But we are fugitives. And none of us have anywhere to go so there's no use in complaining."

"She's right," Iroh added wisely as they walked together.

xxx

"You're looking at the rare white dragon bush. Its leaves make a tea so delicious, it's heartbreaking." Iroh said as he doted over the flower placing both hands over his chest. His eyebrow knitted as he frowned for a moment and sat thoughtfully, "That, or it's the white jade, which is poisonous." He scratched his beard as he pondered on that thought.

"We need food, not tea." Zuko snapped as he rolled his eyes at his uncle. "Wait here for Tsai!" Zuko ordered. "I'm going fishing..." He declared.

"Hmm... delectable tea?" Iroh mused ignoring the young prince. Both of his eyes enamored by the rare orchid flower before him. He gave the plant a suspicious look, "Or deadly poison?"

Xxx

Zuko rolled up the bottom of his pants as he prepared himself to step into the cold creek before him. On one hand he held a sharpened staff he had prepared to stab his future lunch. He stepped into the water and focused his sight on the small fish that swam the current by his feet.

"Stupid fish...." He grumbled to himself as he stabbed the water in an attempt to catch something. Anything. Who would've thought that fishing was so hard. He had been fishing for a while and was about to call it quits when something caught his eye. Something glimmering in the water. It was moving against the current and in between his feet the object was catching and reflecting a flickering light. He lowered his guard and his stick bending over to pick up whatever that was. It went under his feet. It was then that he felt a pair of palms press to his back and the next thing he knew he had fallen face first into the cold creek. He sat in the water, spitting some out a deep scowl on his face. A fish even leapt from the water and mocked him by slapping his face with its fins.

Tsai stood inside the stream as well. She was bent over from laughing so hard. She had officially shed her old clothes and now wore a pair of tight dark brown pants, a dry lime green earth kingdom shirt that reached just above her elbows and had a golden trim with a matching ribbon wrapping it around her waist with two long strange to the side. She had gotten rid of her long sleeves and displayed her fighting gauntlets that covered most of her lowered arm and the back of her palms. She still wore her old above the knee boots and sunstone choker. She had repeatedly refused to cut her hair and instead wore it wrapped up in a tight bun on the nape of her neck and a conical hat which was traditional to the are and hid most of her hair without the exception of several whips of bangs that stuck out.

"Looks like you almost caught one!" She laughed loudly clenching her stomach which ached from laughing so hard.

She pulled a string that had been tied to an Earth Kingdom coin and held it between her thumb and index fingers. "I can't believe you fell for that," she teased with a cheesy grin..

Zuko glared. 'Could she be any more annoying?'

"Maybe if you spent half as much time looking for food instead of playing practical jokes on me, maybe we wouldn't be starving!" He shot back extremely irritated.

"Take it down a notch, your highness" She emphasized his title with dripping sarcasm. Zuko could be such a diva sometimes. She rolled her eyes and patted a small sack she kept slung around her shoulder. "Found plenty of berries and nuts." He glared. "Come on," She extended her hand to help him up.

He kept his head lowered focused on her feet.

"Let's get back to Uncle Iroh before he worries about us."

He took her hand and she pulled his weight up. Or at least tried to. She missed the smallest and slyest of smirks that made way to his face. As he pulled her down into the water. His foot kicked hers out of balance and she fell face first in the most karmic way. Soaked to the bone she turned to glare at him and realized he was actually laughing. She had never seen or even heard Zuko laugh, it was an odd sight. So odd for an inexplicable reason it was contagious.

"You know, you should do that more often," she said with a sincere smile. The kind of smile that touches your heart. "Have fun."

It was almost as if a switch had gone off. Just like that his laughter ceased and he rose to his feet with a stoic expression on his face.

"I don't have time for fun." He stated looking away. She raised an eyebrow. Suddenly distracted by a brushing by her knee in the water. She looked down and stabbed through a fish with her hidden blade.

"What do you know? I caught one!"

Xxx

"Mine's totally bigger than yours," Tsai continued to push his buttons. She was proud of the medium sized fish she had caught. "Is not," the other retorted. He was basically stomping back into the small clearing where he had left his uncle with the orchid flower before he had gone fishing, the long branch he had used as a fishing pole resting against his shoulder while a very tiny fish flapping about helplessly on the sharp end. "You call that a fish? Looks more like a shrimp," she laughed at his puny fish. "It's not! Since when are you the expert fisherwoman? First you're a nature fanatic now this?" He glared. "Woah," she retorted. "So touchy about size, it's almost as if you were compensating for something else..." She muttered the last part evilly. "What did you say?!" The other bickered back flustered, his face turning red.

"Zuko, remember that plant that I thought might be tea?" Iroh called out sheepishly without turning around to look at the two teenagers. They instantly snapped out of their childish banter.

Zuko's brow furrowed slightly when he saw his uncle still hunched over in front of the plant with his back to then. He was standing terribly still. Tsai raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You didn't..." Zuko groaned in exasperation.

'Oh No...'

"I did." Iroh responded then started to turn around, "And it wasn't..."

Zuko gasped and recoiled back sharply when his uncle turned around fully, revealing himself to be largely swollen and covered in a bright red rash which stretched in patches all over his body.

"White Jade poison..." Tsai groaned out annoyed.

"When the rash spreads to my throat, I will stop breathing." Iroh explained in a surprisingly calm voice as he scratched at his cheek for a moment then he stood and walked over to the teenagers and showed them a branch with white berries, "But look what I found. These are bacui berries, known to cure the poison of the white jade..."

Iroh's excited voice trailed off for a moment then he continued unenthusiastically, "That, or maka'ole berries that cause blindness..."

"These are maka'ole berries," Tsai said snatching the branch of white berries from Iroh's hand and tossing it over her shoulder and into the woods with an annoyed look on her face. "That's it! We're not taking any more chances with these plants!" Zuko snapped angrily. "We need to get help."

"Here," Tsai kneeled before Iroh. She pulled out her wet satchel ad pulled out a handful of white berries. "You're lucky I found some bacaui berries. These should take care of the the White Jade poison."

"Wait!" Zuko stopped her. "How do you know?" He asked placing a hand on her shoulder. "Easy," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The stem of bacaui berries is green, the one of maka'ole berries is red. Here's an easy way to remember. 'If you're green you're in the clear, if you're red then you're dead.'"

Zuko processed this for a moment and she thought he as looking for any petty comeback but instead stood silent, "Brilliant."

Tsai ordered Iroh to eat the berries. She was going to brew the plants leaves to make a tea which would be more effective in concentrated amounts and went back returned for more berries. Some which she was currently mashing into a pulp between two rocks.

The three currently sat under the shade of a medium sized tree which was near the stream where Zuko and Tsai had been fishing in earlier.

"How do you know so much about herbology?" Zuko suddenly asked as he ate some of the berries she had brought back with her. Iroh sat leaning against the tree shirtless. He presently sipped on some of the tea Tsai had brewed for him.

"Tea," she answered with a casual shrug. "I guess I just picked up the knowledge about herbalism when learning about different plants and herbs." "You do wrong in underestimating the value of tea Prince Zuko," Iroh said wisely.

"I accidentally poisoned my whole family once when I made some Oleander tea," she said sheepishly with a small laugh. At the time it had been scary consider they almost died, she was just glad that she could laugh at it now.

"I would like to go into town," she said after a moment. "I'm sure you're not the first or last person to become poisoned by a white jade and we could sell these berries to a local apothecary."

Iroh was impressed. Never would he have imaged that the Vice Royal Governor's daughter had such a knack for herbology. It trully was a blessing in disguise.

"But where are we going to go?" Iroh asked he began to scratch his fading rash, "We're enemies of the Earth Kingdom and fugitives of the Fire Nation."

Zuko folded his arms over his chest and cupped his chin in thought, "If the Earth Kingdom discovers us, they'll have us killed."

Right. That was a fact.

"But if the Fire Nation discovers us, we'll be turned over to Azula." Iroh added as he stood up and scratched at his arm.

The three paused and looked at each other for a moment then nodded in agreement.

"Earth Kingdom it is." Zuko muttered and walked away, Tsai followed with Iroh trailing after them, still scratching his rash vigorously.

xxx

"You must not be from around here." A young woman with dark hair said in slight amusement as she handed Tsai back some coins for the herbs she had brought to her. She was close enough that she could see some red strands sticking out from under her hat.

"Your hair, I've never seen such a pretty color," she commented while looking at Tsai's hair.

Feeling self conscious she simply smiled politely and nodded. Iroh had been right. She had to do something about her hair, the length and the color were such a striking contrast to those of the Earth Kingdom.

"So where are you traveling from?" The girl pressed curiously as she glanced over at the three strangers that stood before her.

Zuko stood nervously, "Yes, we're travelers."

"Do you have names?" The girl questioned. Tsai was ready to leave. She didn't feel like answering any more questions or even lingering around.

"Names? Of course we have names..." Zuko stuttered with apprehension, "I'm, uh...Lee ," Tsai almost face palmed. 'Idiot', of course he picked the most common name in the Fire Nation. "And this is my Uncle Mushi and-" He looked at the auburn hair girl standing next to him. "Ding-Ding," she felt the corner of her eye twitch in irritation at the ridiculous name. Both turned to shoot him an annoyed look. However, Iroh smiled pleasantly at the girl who was attending them.

"Yes, my nephew was named after his father, so we just call him Junior." Iroh said then leaned to the side and shot Zuko a pleased smile. "Yeah, excuse him. He was dropped on his head as a child," she glared. "Right Lee-ly pad?""

Zuko's eyebrow twitched slightly and he glared at both the girl and his uncle them moved his finger across his throat, signaling that Iroh both were dead meat but the scarred prince stopped instantly when the girl in the counter turned to look at him.

"Well, we best get going. It's been a pleasure," Tsai turned on her heel.

"Mushi, Ding-Ding and Junior, huh. My name is Song. You look like you could use a good meal." The girl introduced herself then she glanced at Iroh and swatted at his arm when he started scratching his rash again, "Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Sorry, but we need to be moving on." Tsai responded carefully as she looked away from the girl's gaze. "Yeah," Zuko added.

"That's too bad." Song replied as she smiled innocently at the group, "My mom always make too much roast duck."

'Oh no..'

Iroh's eye lit up excitedly and he grinned widely at the girl, "Where do you live exactly?"

Zuko sighed and closed his eyes, resisting the temptation to smack his forehead in exasperation. The corner of Tsai's eye twitched a little more intensely.

xxx

"My daughter tells me you're refugees." Song's mother commented as she placed a platter of roast duck on the table then took a seat across from Iroh at the table in the open-wall dining room, "We were once refugees ourselves."

"When I was a little girl, the Fire Nation raided our farming village." Song said , her voice sad as she looked at Zuko from under her lashes, "All the men were taken away. That was the last time I saw my father."

Tsai felt something churn inside of her. It was that guilt she now bore with her. Her sense of nationalism was fading... The Fire Nation.. She thought about what would happen if Song and her mother knew who they really were... The Fire Nation was vile... The thought hurt her. It hit close to home. To her identity to the only fatherland she had ever known.

Then she saw something that made both of her eyes narrow. Song placed a hand on Lee's shoulder and Tsai sat stiffly the edge of her lip twitching with a slightly grimace.

'Was she- was she flirting with Zuko? ' Once again she could feel the edge of her eye twitching with annoyance a tic she hoped wouldn't become a habit. She turned to glare at the prince sitting besides her. 'I mean- he looked very handsome with his new haircut, but so what?' She thought smugly.

"I haven't seen my father in many years." Zuko stated quietly as he glanced off to the side.

The air in the table felt heavy. The conversation had clearly shifted to a darker tone. A more vulnerable one. Tsai slurped her tea loudly and very rudely. All eyes turned to look at her. "What?" She snapped rudely. "I haven't seen my family either," she said in what almost sounded like a scoff.

"Oh?" Song questioned as she looked at them Zuko curiously, "Are your family's fighting the war?"

Zuko hesitated to answer. Iroh watched carefully from the corner of his eye as he slurped up a bowl of noodles. "Something like that," Tsai retorted ominously glaring at the pretty woman across the table.

The conversation shifted to tea and herbalism and eventually Zuko stood up to leave the room. Some moments later Song stood up and also exited the room following after him. Tsai panicked not wanting to leave them alone. When Song's mother suddenly reached for her hair.

"Such pretty hair, dear." She said politely as she twirled a strand of the red-auburn hair between her fingers. "I've never seen such a color."

She immediately tensed. She had removed her hat not to be rude during the dinner, but had now decided it had been a terrible idea. She really had to do something about it... The conversation shifted about hair colors for a while. Tsai just wanted it to be over.

xxx

Zuko sat cross-legged on the front porch of Song's house, looking out at the trees that surrounded the property. The sliding door suddenly opened and Song stepped out lightly sliding the door behind her.

"Can I join you?" She asked then walked over to Zuko without waiting for a reply, "I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much," she said with a polite smile. He was about to correct her but instead only shook his head in denial and went silence.

"I know what you've been through. We've all been through it."

She sat cross-legged beside him and her eyes flicked over Zuko's scar for a moment then she turned her head to face him a little more.

"The Fire Nation has hurt you." Song said quietly then she reached up to touch his scar.

Zuko caught her wrist and pushed her hand away without looking at her. Song folded her hands in her lap and looked at him for a moment then closed her eyes.

"It's okay. They've hurt me, too." She said compassionately then shifted right leg out from under her and pulled her pant leg up, revealing a large scar on her lower leg.

Zuko's good eye widenned slightly as he stared at the large burn in surprise then he looked up at her curiously.

Suddenly the door was almost ripped opened. There appeared to be an ominous air around Tsai. Something different about the way she was carrying herself tonight. Zuko thought she was acting extremely weird.

"Ah, great meal. Need to walk. Indigestion you know?" She spoke quickly as she with exaggerated movements stretched her arms around her body and rubbed her stomach dramatically before letting out a nervous laugh. "Oh? What are you two doing?" She asked in a faux saccharine tone as she forcefully squeezed in and sat between them.

'Why is.. Tsai acting so weird?' Zuko thought oddly as he looked at her with a strange expression. She immediately straightened her back and a hand through her hair nervously. "So is it true that a duck's quack can't echo?

Tsai would never admit it out loud and less to another human being, but jealousy...

Let's just say it wasn't one of her best traits.

Some painful moments later. Iroh finally stepped out.

"Thank you for the duck." He said with a smile as he Tsai and Zuko stood outside of Song and her mother's house, "It was excellent." He lightly bowed in gratitude.

"You're welcome." Song's mother stated with a warm smile as she handed Iroh a parcel of leftover roast duck and rice, "It brings me pleasure to see someone eat my cooking with such...gusto."

Iroh patted his stomach in a contented manner, "Much practice."

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned to leave but Iroh stopped him. Tsai was ready to go. She was grateful for the meal. However she did not like Song or her mother, in the very least. Her jealousy greatly influencing her emotions.

"Junior, Ding-Ding where are your manners?" The older man chided softly as he tugged on both of their sleeves, "You need to thank these nice people."

Zuko turned back around and bowed to the two women, "Thank you." Tsai simply bowed a small scowl on her face.

"I know you don't think there's any hope left in the world, but there is hope." Song told Zuko as he continued to walk away, "The Avatar has returned."

Zuko paused at the small gate that surrounded the yard and glanced over his shoulder at the young woman.

The Avatar. Iroh noticed how the girl from the colonies also tensed up at the word her posture automatically becoming more stuff at the trigger word. 'The Avatar...' Maybe... Zuko was right. Maybe the only way to get everything back was by capturing the Avatar. Maybe then would they be pardon. Maybe then would she be able to return home to her family. After all what was her dream of having an equalist nation when there was nobody to share it with?

"I know." He muttered bitterly then he opened the gate and continued walking with Iroh trailing behind him. Tsai flashed her a mean glare. Afterwards she left a little guilty and her expression softened. She didn't mean to be so rude, it's just that sometimes. Her thoughts just. Again, jealousy was not her best trait.

Zuko stopped walking when he heard the ostrich-horse tied to a post a few feet away from the gate. The banished prince hesitated a moment then quietly walked over to the animal and untied the reins from the post. He led the ostrich-horse away from post then mounted it and rode it over to where his uncle and Tsai were standing.

"What are you doing?" Iroh demanded quietly as Zuko rode up beside him, "These people just showed you great kindness." "Yeah, are you nuts?" The girl said crossing her arms over her chest.

"They're about to show us a little more kindness." Zuko retorted calmly as he waited for his uncle to climb into the saddle, "Well?"

Iroh sighed in disappointment then reluctantly climbed into the saddle behind his nephew.

"Come on Ding-Ding, get on, you're only slowing us down." "Call me that again and I'll make you regret it Junior." She growled out. "And I'm not getting on that thing-" she said turning and walking away from the ostrich-horse. "Tsai, come on. Don't be difficult," he urged the ostrich-horse forward, unbeknownst to the fact that Song was watching them leave from a small crack in the sliding door. The young woman looked down sadly then closed the screen door silently.

xxxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621293780063191040/sunburn-prince-zuko-12

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621293121020608512/sunburn-prince-zuko-10

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#zuko #prince zuko #zukoxreader #Zuko x oc #Zuko x you #atla zuko #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfic #avatar x oc #avatar fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction

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lapuswolf · 5 years ago

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Skylanders Prompts 1

Day One: Questioning (This isn’t really “struggling” about something, but I thought this would be cute anyways. Also I’m going to try and connect all the prompts, like one long continuous story)

@cyberstarfox @skylander-prompts

Warning: Small language and long post. (I’m on mobile so I can’t change it..)

Blades Finds Love?

“Could be better.” He huffed in his gruff tone. “Y’know it’s pride month right?” Blades rolled his eyes making Five frown. “This means you could totally get somebody. I’m tired of watching you be so lonely all the time. As your friend, I will be your wingman. Literally.” He fluttered two of his wings.

“Thanks mate, but I already have all the ladies!” He stood up proudly, opening his wings to show the underside. “Everyone loves me!” He looked over and winked at a passing dragon, Flashwing. Just as he thought, she giggled and waved her tail before trotting over to Bash and Terrafin. “See? I could totally get any girl I please! Even a dude! I can be gay.”

Five grimaced slightly. “Gooood to know. Just saying, Flashwing is off limits. She’s with, Bash and just about every other dragon as someone. And if your trying to be gay, don’t look at me. Not interested.” Blades frowned slightly before looking around the area again. That’s when he saw her. A beautiful finned water dragon. Echo. “Oh no, no no no. Don’t be thinking about Echo. Y’know how she is about relationships! She’s asexual! And imagine a playboy like YOU trying to flirt with her!” Five hissed.

Blades grinned over to Five. “I take that as a compliment. Besides I like a good challenge. I’ll just use my good looks and charm to get her swooned!” Five could only stare in horror. He knew how terribly this would tumble downhill. Blades made his way over to the dragon and puffed his chest, and opened his wings a bit. “Greetings, Echo. Fine day it is, isn’t it?”

“Uhm…” Echo turned her head to face Blades. Her bright yellow eyes looked into Blades’. Blades could only stare in her eyes. His wings shifted slightly. “Did you need something?” He faltered, and was no longer confident. His heart practically melted but he tried to stay strong.

“I-I-I uh.” He stammered, mentally cursing at himself. What the bloody hell is wrong with me? Just ask her out! “I was w-wondering I’d like you dinner go s-somewhere me with? Uh…” Echo stared in confusion. Blades took in a deep breath. “Wouldyouliketogoonadatwwithme?”

Echo’s eyes widened before she snorted. “Haha? That’s a joke right? Cause this is really funny. You’re just a playboy, I’m surprised your dim brain wanted to ask an asexual out.” Blades’ wings drooped, and his heart ached. More than it should. He couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “Yeah, no. You’re weird. Go find yourself a nice slut, m’Kay?” She turned on her heels before bouncing away.

Blades blinked before slumping down to the ground. His eyes sparkled and watered at the same time. He had no clue what he was feeling. While he was so caught up in his emotions, he didn’t hear High Five coming up behind him. “Yeesh, that sucks man. Better luck next time.” When he didn’t get a response, he leaned his head down to look at Blades’ face. Five blinked before frowning. “Oh, wooow I can’t believe it! You’re in love! Oh my god! Playboy, narcissistic, Blades is in love!”

“I-is that what I’m feeling?” Blades covered his face with his claws. “O-oh wow…” Five was certainly surprised, as he has never seen Blades so hopeless. “I think...I think I am in love….” He stood up and spun around happily. “Didya look at the way she smiled and laughed?! Her voice his like butter! She’s so amazing!”

Five couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Oh boy…” he said sarcastically.

~~~

“Hey! Oh wow! Would ya look at that?” Blades exclaimed, shaking High Five by the shoulders. He tugged away and gave Blades a death glare. “She looked at me!” He smiled dreamily.

“Not anymore when you act like that.” Five mused before he was shoved down into a bush. “What the— Blades! What are you doing?!” A fake mustache was slapped onto his face. He blinked confusingly, before turning over to his friends. Blades also had a fake mustache, and a pair of black shades. “What the actual hell.”

“It’s our disguises!”

“For what?! What are we even doing?!”

“Checking out the competition! Look.” Blades pointed a claw over to Echo, who was talking with another water skylander. “Who does he think he is?! Zap shouldn’t be allowed to hang out with her! Only I can.”

Five shivered slightly as he heard what Blades said. “First off, I’m getting serious yandere vibes right now. Secondly, aren’t Zap and Echo cousins or something?” (It's a headcanon of mine)

Blades lifted off his shades and narrowed his eyes, “Mother of god…” He tosses the glasses on the ground and pulled off his mustache. He sighed to himself and watched Echo laugh with Zap. The way she wailed out in laughter really made his heart flutter. He really did like her. His thoughts were interrupted as he saw something move in the distance. He turned his head and his eyes widened. A giant ball of bright energy came swooshing forward. “Echo! Look out!” He cried before he kept out of the bush.

Echo was quite surprised to see a fellow dragon randomly jump out of the bushes. That when she realized what he was doing. He opened his wings and used them as a shield. The golden light slammed against him. His body slowly turned into gold, and he muttered something under his breath. Echo watched in horror as Blades was now a gold statue. “Holy smokes!” Zap screamed. “GOLDEN QUEEN IS HERE!”

“I’ll sound the alarm!” High five called out before he used his power to zip away. Zap growled and his mouth filled up with lightning, and Echo readied herself.

“Ahaha, oh how sweet. The pathetic dragon sacrificed himself!” Golden Queen appeared and spun her staff around. She smirked before speaking again. “What a useless bunch of skylanders!” She cackled.

Echo raised an eyebrow. “Why are you alone? Where’s the rest of the Doom Raiders?!”

“They’re all trapped in CloudCracker Prison!” Golden Queen grumbled. “I was lucky enough to not get captured…”

“For some reason I don’t believe you.” Zap hissed. Golden scowled before sending a beam of light. Zap helped as he jumped away, barely missing the blast. He growled before sending a blast of lightly back at her. She easily dodged and laughed.

“You are all pathetic!” She boomed and was preparing for another attack. Suddenly there was a large cracking noise. Everyone turned to the Blades’ golden statue. It cracked and a giant burst of light appeared. Blades appeared and his scales glistened. He had summoned his legendary armor, and his scales were a shimmery gold and blue. “You’re a legendary?!” Golden exclaimed.

“You sure bet I am!” Blades chuckled before he spun around. A giant tornado appeared, spinning a handful of tiny swords. Golden cried out in agony, before the tornado swept her up and she was sent flying off the island. Blades couldn’t help but laugh as his armor slowly faded and he turned back to his normal blue color.

He turned around and looked at Echo and Zap. Zap’s mouth hung open, while Echo was frozen in shock. She shook her head and she smiled slightly. She carefully bounced over to Blades and nudged him. “So, what about that date?”

“H-huh?” Blades flushed, his wings, becoming stone. “Y-you want to go on a date? With me? Why me? I thought you were asexual? And you hated playboys!”

“I am, I despise playboys. But I love heroes.” She smiled and looked over where Golden Queen fell. “You save my life, I have to pay you back somehow.” She chuckled before nuzzling his cheek, “meet you here tomorrow at noon.” She waved her claw before heading back over to Zap and the two walked away.

Blades eyes were wide and he stood there dumbfounded. “Hiyah!” He yelped as he was slammed down onto the ground by a very cold blade. “Die you ugly bad guy!”

“Woah! Freeze! Calm down! That’s Blades! Golden Queen is the bad guy!” High Five called out as he caught up with the super speedy skylander. Freeze Blade sulked slightly and hopped off of Blades. “Speaking of the Doom Raider, where is she?”

“I defeated her.” Blades huffed as he stood back up, flapping his wings to heat them up. “I had this awesome heroic moment where I broke free of her power with my superior legendary armor. Then Echo asked me out. Who knew that to get the girl of your dreams all you needed to do was be in a life threatening situation with a Doom Raider.”

Freeze was oddly confused at what as going on and tilted his head in confusion. Five just sighed and frowned. “He’ll never learn...will he…”

#skylander ships #skylanders pride prompts 2019 #skylanders prompts #skylanders pride prompts #skylanders #prompts #day one #blades #echo #echlades #high five #zap #freeze blade #golden queen #pride month #blacho

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grimoire-plague-blog · 6 years ago

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A Cold Night

Ulfric Stormcloak is down with a cold and Sedyn Dathandes (My Skyrim OC) has elected to keep him company.

Blasted snowstorm. Ulfric’s gloved hand tangled in the thick mane of his mount, matted with snow, as he tried to soothe the well-muscled horse beneath him. The shrieking of the winds blended with the distant roar of a dragon had the beast on edge. Despite the thick furs, he was adorned with, despite how his armor trapped his body heat, and despite the way his companion’s slight frame managed to block some of the wind from his face… he was freezing. The nord’s nose and cheeks were crimson from the bitter cold. He feared that if he failed to cease his incessant sniffling then the men would begin to notice. But if he did… well… the waterfall coming from his rather prominent nose could very well freeze to his face. At least it felt as such. A chesty cough rattled his lungs, his eyes stinging from the wind, and in that moment he would have loved nothing more than to curl up in his bed back in Windhelm to sleep by the fire.

He felt a tickle creeping into his throat, into his nose, as his watery eyes glanced to the side and settled upon the rider a few feet in front of him, just to the left. Blocking the wind, just barely, with his smaller body. His hand shot up, motioning for everyone to stop. The soft thuds of the hoofbeats on the snow-covered road, the groan of the wagons, all of the noise stopped almost instantly. The tickle in Ulfric’s nose only grew more intense, causing him to scrunch up his nose and sniffle forcefully.

“Dragonborn, what are you doing?” He called over the wind, voice rough from all of the shouting. The battle was done, for now, and their focus was to get home to Windhelm. Get the injured men treated, replenish their supplies, everything like that. “Why do you stop us?”

“Forgive me, Jarl Ulfric, but the storm is showing no signs of lightening up. The men are exhausted, hungry. There is a river near here. We should set up camp, hold out for the night. We have fresh water and the trees will provide some semblance of protection from the wind. Do you object?” His companion asked, his silvery purple eyes studying the rebellion’s leader from beneath the shadow of his hood. His mask, covering his mouth and nose, hid the slight smile that graced his lips as he saw Ulfric pause.

The jarl’s head tipped back ever so slightly, mouth open and eyelids fluttering as he tried to fight the oncoming sneeze. A losing battle, clearly, although drawn out by the fact he desperately worked to talk through it. Stammering, tripping over his words, all in an attempt to answer his counterpart.

“N-nn… no… we can… can… s-sto… stop… aahh… stop h-here,” He managed, but quickly lost himself to the sneeze. “Haaah…. Heeehhhh… AK’TSHOO!”

Wet and of explosive volume, the aftermath was quite frankly disgusting. At least in the eyes of most of the soldiers around Ulfric. Not many enjoyed the sight of their mighty jarl with thick streams of glistening mucus dripping down his face. The dragonborn, however… he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had never seen Ulfric look so vulnerable before. They had seen each other gagged and bound, soaked in blood, and burning up with rage yet never ill. Even injured, the great Bear of Markarth never seemed to waver. But now, sniffling and furiously rubbing at his nose, Ulfric seemed much more fragile. Hopping down from his horse, the dark elf Sedyn Dathandes also known as the dragonborn passed it off to one of the other men and went over to offer Ulfric a hand. He heard some grumbles among the men as Ulfric gruffly accepted the offer, letting Sedyn lead his horse over to where they were being tied for the night. Everyone got to work immediately, pitching the tents and starting the campfire. Sedyn’s hounds, two wiry-haired hunting dogs, curled up outside Ulfric’s tent the moment it was set up. Ulfric, forced to retreat inside the fur tent, was wetly blowing his nose into a rag when he saw a dark gray hand pull the flap aside. Slipping in, the warm light of the lantern casting shadows upon his face, the dark elf sat down beside Ulfric. He had his own tent, yes, but wished to check on his friend.

“Sedyn. Why have you come?” He asked, glancing down at the two bottles of mead tucked beneath his arm as well as at the bowl of steaming stew that the elf presented him.

“You seem to be unwell. The least I could do was bring you something to eat and perhaps a drink with a friend may brighten your spirits,” came the soft response, the wooden bowl soon taken from Sedyn’s hand. The dunmer tugged his long silver hair free of the low ponytail he typically wore it in and opened the bottles of mead, handing one to Ulfric before bringing his own to his lips. Taking a swig, he sighed.

“You did not need to do this. But thank you, friend.” Ulfric’s words were warm, his deep voice soft as he ate some of the stew he had been given. Interrupted rudely by a sneeze. Covered, just barely in time, by that snot-soaked rag he had been blowing his nose into.

“No, I had to. As someone who cares for you. And for myself,” He said softly, watching as Ulfric curiously raised an eyebrow in response to the latter statement. “I just mean… some of the men insist that you keep me around because I am dragonborn, because I am an asset in this civil war. That because I am a dunmer, I will never be more than a tool. I know that is not the case, Ulfric, I do… but I also knew that if I came into your tent and you, instead of shooing me off, allowed me to be with you in a time of need then I would never have reason to question it again,” Sedyn confessed, watching Ulfric’s blue eyes narrow. As he went to take another drink of the mead, he felt a strong hand grip his arm. Too tightly. “Ulfric?”

“The issue with your people is something I must address. Something I will address,” He stated gruffly, clearing his throat as his voice threatened to abandon him. “But the civil war comes first. I must end this fight before I turn my attention elsewhere.”

“No, no. I am well aware of that. That isn’t at all… what my problem was. I simply thought that, were such accusations true, I would quite miss our talks. Things like that, as selfish as it may be.”

“If I ever hear any of my men giving you trouble, if I ever hear them calling you a gray-skin, I will… aaah… Hak’tschoo!” He was interrupted by another sneeze, rubbing furiously at his nose for a moment before finishing his thought. “I will make sure they never do again.”

“That is not needed… but thank you. You should take off your armor,” Sedyn mumbled, hesitantly reaching over and placing a hand on Ulfric’s sweat-damp forehead. “I believe you have a fever.”

Grunting in response, the nord started to remove his armor piece at a time. Sedyn looked away, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. He heard the rustling of the fabrics and the quiet, chesty coughs but refused to glance over until his ears picked up on Ulfric’s chuckling. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and glanced back at his jarl, who now wore only his tunic and pants just like Sedyn himself. He took a drink of the mead, refusing to make eye contact with Ulfric as he was a bit flustered after their previous conversation.

“You look as if you have something you wish to say,” He mused, “What is it?”

“Nothing, er… no, forget it. It is embarrassing. It would be most effective for me to show you… and yet I would not be able to look you in the eyes,” the dunmer confessed, biting his lower lip. “You needn’t worry about it. I assure you, it can wait until we are done with the war. Or back in Windhelm, at least.”

“No. It is bothering you. If you cannot tell me then show me,” Ulfric commanded, watching as his companion turned away with an indignant huff. “You want me to close my eyes? Would that even things up a little?”

“I have heard you say those exact words to opponents. But yes, actually, if you could avoid looking at me until I calm myself… that would be ideal.”

He wasn’t sure what Sedyn could possibly show him if he had his eyes closed and he certainly had not been expecting the dark elf to accept the joking offer. Nonetheless, he closed his eyes with a sniffle. Waiting for Sedyn to tell him he could open his eyes, Ulfric sat with his hands in his lap and his feverish mind working hard to try and figure out what was weighing on the heart of the dragonborn. Fiddling with his hands, Sedyn glanced from the ground to Ulfric’s face several times. The tent was silent aside from their breathing and the wet sniffles of the ill nord. There was an ever so subtle shifting of the bedroll, rustling of fabric, as he moved closer. Hesitating, he let out a shaky breath and leaned over so that his face was merely an inch from Ulfric’s. He could feel the jarl’s breath, warm and heavy with the scent of mead. He did not notice the twitching of Ulfric’s nose, the hitching of his breath, or the soft groan that escaped his lips… Sedyn’s own heartbeat was pounding in his skull. It had become the only thing he could hear, keeping him unfocused and shaky. By the time the sneeze escaped Ulfric, it was too late. The elf’s soft lips made contact with Ulfric’s slightly chapped ones seconds after. The nord’s eyes flew open, staring at Sedyn in shock as he raised his arm to wipe his face with a sheepish chuckle.

“You… surprised me. I apologize, for what just happened,” Ulfric murmured, unsure what exactly it was he felt at the moment. His heart was racing and his head was… fuzzy. “Is that what you wished to show me?”

Sedyn nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly before Ulfric once again distracted him. The nord had begun to cough. A quiet, restrained cough at first that escalated into a fit of painful hacking. It sounded as if his lungs might be coughed up along with whatever had caused the disruption. Placing a hand on Ulfric’s back, Sedyn began to gently rub in an attempt to help. He could feel his tunic beginning to stick to his feverish skin. When it stopped, finally stopped, Ulfric tugged his sweat-damp tunic free and tossed it aside. He moved to curl up in his bed roll, the thick furs covering him. And yet, despite the sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the lantern’s light… he was shivering.

“Would you… like me to help you feel warm?” Sedyn inquired, embarrassed that he even asked. But Ulfric nodded. The dark elf removed his own tunic, slipping beneath the furs and pressing up against the well-muscled body of the nord. When his friend turned to face him, however, and pulled him into his arms… Sedyn thought he had died and gone to Sovngarde. Or somewhere… somewhere blissful, certainly. His small and lithe body was swallowed whole by Ulfric’s massive frame. It was no wonder he had been called the Bear of Markarth, his size alone warranted it.

Ulfric snuffed the light of the lantern, letting darkness fill the tent as he closed his eyes. “If the war goes as I intend, perhaps you will be by my side… when I have become High King of Skyrim,” He murmured. “If such is what you desire.”

“Whether you are High King or criminal… graced with riches or wearing rags… I will remain by your side so long as you will have me,” Sedyn whispered, “But first, let us nurse this illness you have caught and focus on making it out alive. The future of Skyrim… depends on us. You, with the rebellion… me, with the dragons.”

“Indeed.” A wet sniffle stopped him from speaking his mind all at once but Ulfric quickly continued with his thought, “We will do well. I am confident.”

The night passed, much like that. The two enjoying one another’s warm, talking quietly in the darkness until they fell asleep. It took three more days for them to reach Windhelm. Ulfric had nearly recovered, ailed by nothing more than a lingering cough by the time he sat upon his horse watching the heavy gates swing open. The rider beside him, the very man who had kept him company each night since their lips had met for the first time, was shivering from head to toe. While Ulfric could not see it beneath the mask Sedyn so often wore, he knew the dark elf’s nose was streaming. The scratchiness that had crept into his voice that morning worsened quickly. By the afternoon, the incessant sniffling had begun. He had caught Ulfric’s cold and the entirety of the men knew it. Sedyn simply would not acknowledge it and went on acting as if all were typical throughout the day. One of his hands gripping his horse’s reins, the other shot up to tug the mask down. A series of wet sneezes, sudden and desperate, had Sedyn doubled over.

“Ht’kssh! Ahh’chtoo! Kt’sch!”

“Sedyn, once we get to the Palace of Kings… head to my chambers and rest. I will stable your horse.”

A pathetic sniffle could barely be heard over the noise of those around them, Sedyn glancing over at Ulfric with watery eyes. “Hm…? Oh… that is- thaaa… aah… that isn’t… nec-nnn, necessar- ak’shoo! Hehh… Ki’hitsch! Aaa… AT’KTCHIEW! Ugh,” He groaned, the forcefulness of the last sneeze causing his head to throb. “I’m fine…”

“That is an order, not a request,” Ulfric commanded, leaning across the small space between their horses to kiss him. He ignored some of the audible gasps from those around them, ignored the stares from the dunmer who had been watching when the gates opened, and ignored the rising heat he felt in his cheeks. The look on Sedyn’s face, surprise mixed with pure joy, was all he chose to pay attention to. In that moment, it was all that mattered.

“Y-yes, my Jarl… Thank you.”

#snz #snzblr #sickfic #skyrim #ulfric stormcloak #my fic #my oc - Sedyn #snz kink #illness

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