#it’s so floral i feel like i wouldn’t be recognizable by scent

[pearlywritings]

The delicate scent of the morning

synopsis: you wouldn’t take Albedo for a romantic type, but he is learning. For you.

pairing: Albedo x reader

tw: established relationship, pure fluff

word count: 1.8k+ words

author’s note: please, go and check this amazing artwork! It is what gave me a sudden burst of inspiration for this piece of writing.

The faint smell of something vivid but yet not recognizable invades your senses, bringing you a familiar sense of comfort. However, your hazy mind develops an understanding that something is off. You find it strange that there is a flowery fragrance, since the night before you fell asleep enveloped in a mix of artificial scents of alchemical substances and the lingering smell of a campfire. But maybe you are just asleep? The fresh aroma of meadow weeds is but a dream where you are leisuring under the sun with your lover just inches away from you. Your eyes are closed and you are basking in the sunlight as the wind is playing with your hair, tangling loose strands and creating a gentle mess you could care less about. Fingers are plucking at the grass beneath you, making a small show of your hand traveling closer and closer to his and then-

And then nothing. Furrowing your eyebrows you pat around the area where the young man should supposedly be, only to find no one. You can swear he was there seconds ago, there is no way you didn't hear him stand up and leave. If that was the case, the floral breath wouldn’t be lingering still. You have to check.

Opening your eyes is a bit of a challenge. It's like a thick veil was draped over your heavy eyelids and now you are trying to tug it off. Your free hand helps, rubbing at your face, ripping the imaginary piece of cloth completely off and letting the stray ray of morning light hit your vision.

"Argh," with a groan you roll onto your back and cover your eyes with an arm. You are not dealing with that big stupid sky lamp this early in the morning. You haven't even had a cup of the Coffea plant blood yet, as you grumpily call coffee in the mornings that feel rough to handle.

The annoying factors are soon forgotten though once the main issue returns and settles in your mind - where has your boyfriend gone and where is the scent coming from? Patting the bed again and feeling a crumpled blanket with no body underneath make you realize the meadow and all were just a dream and now you have to search for the man and the source of your sense of smell confusion in reality.

You move your arm away from the face and force your eyes to focus - luckily, this time they cooperate and start their travel across the bedroom slash the alchemist's study (but is there even a room in your shared apartment where you wouldn't trip over work-related stuff of his? I don't think so). Not really hoping to spot him in the room, you are pleasantly surprised to see the figure standing near the window with partly drawn curtains.

Albedo looks heavenly. For once he doesn't appear to be neat or composed, with his pretty hair being unbraided in a total mess and his shirt all wrinkly from sleeping in it tonight. Yet the messiness stunningly suits the Chief Alchemist. You absolutely enjoy yourself imagining how upon waking up he readjusted the shirt on his shoulders, maybe popped that button open, if it wasn't the accident of you two cuddling, then reached behind his head, tugged the band off and let his ruined braids fall. How his slim artistic fingers slowly unwrapped one strand from around the other two and then repeated with the second. How he pushed all five through the light blonde nest, trying to brush it away from his face but quickly abandoning fruitless attempts.

Even now you witness some locks hanging in his eye sight but he completely ignores them. His blue eyes are focused on some notes in his hand, and you can't help but admire the way his pretty fingers are holding the paper. Ones of the other hand are wrapped around the cup of what you can only assume is coffee. Oh, you saw it, now you crave it.

"I hope you made me one too?" The crystaline pureness of his gemlike orbs is now directed to you. The paper and the cup are lowered and placed on top of the table, and Albedo slowly makes his way back to bed.

"Morning to you too, my muse," his thin chapped lips are graced with a small, but soft and sincere smile as he sits down on the edge of your side of the bed. "Not yet. I wanted to wait for you to wake up, but you seemed to be too deep in your sleep. Observing you is fascinating and I couldn’t help myself but to start a small sketch of you while I had an opportunity.

“Oh, is it the paper you were holding just now?” Asking, you throw off the blanket and do a long nice stretch. Albedo moves it further aside, baring your legs and immediately putting a hand on your knee in a habitual gesture.

“Ah yes, that was it. Or rather, that was one of the few I’d made - at that moment I was simply trying to choose the best one to finish eventually,” upon twisting your neck a little to glance past him at the table you indeed spot quite a number of papers scattered all over its surface. “Also, I noticed you were pinching the blanket, what were you dreaming about? Did someone become the victim of your harassment?"

You hum, lifting your arm and lightly pressing the very pads of your fingers to his throat, where his star-like mark is placed. The man doesn't move away or to stop your actions, only bobbing his Adam's apple when your fingers slowly slide down his throat, between his well-defined collarbones until they finally rest right above his steadily beating heart. It is so alive and full of unspoken emotion Albedo has learnt to understand and experience, that had he not told you he wasn't a normal human, you would've never guessed it.

"Now he did," you tease, softly pinching the skin on his chest and making your lover breathily chuckle at your antics. The fingers you can't draw your gaze away from every time he doesn't wear gloves, the ones that are not holding your knee, catch your playful digits and securely wrap around them, putting the improvised lock of hands on the bed between your lying and his sitting bodies.

"You wanted to do this in your dream, right? To hold my hand."

"Aw, you know me too well, Albedo. It was actually a nice dream! I was dreaming of us being outside, lying on the grass and-" accidentally glancing at the watch on the wall and noticing the time you cut your narration suddenly. "Wait, is it alright that you are still here? I am not holding you away from work, am I?"

The man follows the direction of your gaze, takes note of the time and then turns to you with no care or worry in the world.

"Truth to be told, I've taken a day off, as you've recommended me to do so many times. I've actually said this before we went to bed yesterday, but you looked so tired I am not surprised you didn't hear it. In short, yes, no work for me today, only you and resting."

You cannot believe your own ears. Albedo hardly takes days off even if he somehow manages to fall sick and here he willingly has taken it? Who is this man and what has he done to your alchemist?

It seems your astonishment and disbelief are written all over your face, because the alchemist in question chuckles again, swiping a thumb over your knuckles in a gesture of reassurance.

"I am not kidding, I swear. I have all the time of this morning and rest of the day to spend with you, to get us both coffee and breakfast, to finish one or all of the sketches of you I started - you look like a creature from above, so pure and elegant-"

"Not true!" You interject, shaking your locked hands. "I probably look like a knocked out Whopper flower."

"Oh, believe me, you are much more beautiful than jumping plants. I'd say, if a celestial being isn't what you see yourself as, we can use something more earthly… Hm…" he pretends to think, and in his eyes you read a glint of mischief - something, you would’ve not seen there years ago. "It's like watching a hilichurl sleep in the wild."

"Oh, wow, going from a divine creature to a hilichurl, thank you!" You sarcastically roll your eyes, failing to notice the moment he bent down to kiss you. It's a short press of his lips to yours and it leaves a lingering taste of coffee, but it's enough to indicate he is just messing with you, which gives you the desire to kick his ass once you are out of bed. But you love this man, so you opt to stay in bed and trap him in another kiss instead.

Albedo doesn't mind at all, kissing you slowly and quite chastely, pausing occasionally for air only. He'll hear about your dream later, maybe you can even make it happen with a nice picnic for lunch. Now he wants to solely focus on sensations and things you cause in him with your love and affection and pay you back equally.

No need to tell you he was originally forced to take a day off by half of his superiors at the Knights of Favonius. After all, when he stopped and thought about all the options he could get having an opportunity to spend time on unrelated to work things, your image was the first thought that came to his mind. He could swear Jean, Lisa and Kaeya all three were stunned when he didn't put up any argumentative fight, accepting their "offer" and agreeing that Sucrose and Timaeus could handle a day without him. The Librarian and the Cavalry Captain even teased him, asking whether the reason for his change of mind is waiting for him at home with a loving smile and a welcoming embrace. 

Of course you were. Even tired and sleepy you walked to him to peck his cheek and squeeze him in a hug, welcoming the man home. He ushered you to bed right after, deciding against fully undressing and just going to sleep half dressed but together with you. You do change him by merely existing in his life and being one constant to the chaotic row of events the existence is. With you he learns and improves, wishing to be a lover you deserve and you deserve more than a bare minimum of a relationship.

He just needs to wait when you finally notice the bunch of cecilias resting on his pillow, filling the morning with a promise of a glorious day.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader #albedo kreideprinz x reader #genshin impact fluff

[meatcrimes]

i generally prefer more unisex perfumes but i cannot get enough of lys 41 by le labo

#it’s so floral i feel like i wouldn’t be recognizable by scent #like my own pets wouldn’t know it was me by smell alone #t #a badly broken code #perfume

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Just The Way You Are

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: horns and fangs

Jaskier has never understood why people call witchers monsters. It's true, they're different, but so are cats and dogs and horses and people like them just fine. Jaskier just sees Geralt as Geralt and always has. He's no different than any other person he's met - a little more coordinated and he dies a little less easy - but otherwise the same. People are so cruel and dismissive of Witchers, but Jaskier is a firm believer that they deserve nice things as much as the next person, maybe even more, and so, he decides to take it upon himself to do nice things for Geralt. Like surprise him in Kaedwen when he comes down from the keep.

Only it turns out Jaskier is the one to get a surprise. He's never understood why people call Witchers monsters. Not until now.

He spots the hooded figure passing between shops and he's sure it's Geralt, but he doesn't want to approach until he's absolutely certain. So he sneaks between the buildings, trying to get ahead of him and catch a glimpse of his face. Maybe-Geralt pauses in front of a stall and for a moment Jaskier thinks he's stopping to buy something, so he sneaks away, but when he comes around the other side of the house, he stops dead.

His breath catches and for a second, he's certain that even his heart stops beating.

The man in the market is certainly Geralt, he knows that now, but sprouting from the top of his head are two thick, curled horns. He tries to call out, but his mouth is dry and maybe it's for the best because Geralt’s expression darkens suddenly and he sniffs at the air.

For the first time, Jaskier considers that maybe Geralt meets him further south for a reason. Maybe he doesn't want Jaskier to see him like this, he obviously takes measures to ensure that he doesn't. Fuck. He's gone and fucked this up, too.

Ducking back behind the building, Jaskier holds his breath, hoping that Geralt hasn't caught his scent. He knows if he has there's nothing for it, he's caught, but maybe-

"Jaskier."

Geralt's voice is low, right on the edge of a growl, and Jaskier winces. When he looks over, the hood is back in place, but Geralt's teeth are bared and they're barely teeth at all - at least the canines - more like fangs. He swallows hard and risks a glance up at his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt demands, moving at once to pin Jaskier's shoulders against the wall. Jaskier doesn't know what to say. He shifts uncomfortably, unwilling to look Geralt in the face.

It's not the first time Geralt's been upset with him, but this time Jaskier’s intentions were genuine, he just didn't think it through all the way. Or rather, he hadn't considered that after fifteen years together, there are still things Geralt keeps from him. Deflated, Jaskier wrenches out of his grasp and picks up the bag he dropped when Geralt shoved him. He's embarrassed, feels like an idiot for thinking Geralt might be happy to see him and now on top of it, he's intruded on something he was never supposed to see.

Geralt doesn't stop him from walking away and Jaskier tries not to think too much about that.

He books a room at the inn and doesn't bother to go down for dinner. He doesn't know what to do with himself, because if he can't travel with Geralt - and he certainly didn't seem like he was happy to see him - what can he do? Certainly not go back to Oxenfurt and admit to all his peers that yet again, he was a fool and thought someone cared when they didn't.

It's just that fifteen years is a long time. Nearly half his life. And for Geralt who rarely lets himself form attachments well, Jaskier had thought maybe it meant something to Geralt. It did to him.

Jaskier doesn't even bother to put his things away before flopping onto the bed and staring up at the beams. Geralt had been so angry. He had just wanted to do something nice, he should have known showing up himself would not be welcome. But maybe this is for the best, maybe everyone was right when they told him he couldn't follow Geralt around forever.

But he had wanted to. For the last fifteen years of his life, Jaskier has wanted nothing more than to have Geralt in his life, even if nothing ever comes of it. He's never been greedy, never wanted more than he thought Geralt would be willing to give. And look where it's gotten him? Geralt doesn't even trust him enough to show him what he really looks like.

Geralt lingers as Jaskier hurries off away from him, and he can hardly blame him. He wouldn't stay either if he’d found out the person he'd been travelling with was a monster. Jaskier tries to convince him he's not, but the thought has always been there, nagging at him. He just hasn't seen you, it says and Geralt knows it's true. He is a monster. Whatever happened to him during that second round of trials took away the remaining sliver of humanity. He'd tried so hard to hide it, to try and keep Jaskier for just a little longer, but Jaskier shows up here and how is he supposed to plan for that?

And what is Jaskier doing here in the first place? Geralt needs this time to himself. Needs a chance to hole up and file down the horns and the fangs, to make himself presentable. To visit the brothel before returning to the torture that is travelling with Jaskier.

Jaskier showing up here had thrown him off. He'd been overcome with shock and confusion and fear. Fear that Jaskier would see him like this and hate him. Fear that this one minor incident would ruin everything he's worked so hard for.

Fear had taken over and he had reacted... badly. It's no wonder Jaskier had left him there, no wonder he didn't want to be seen with him when the first time Jaskier sees what he really looks like, he practically attacks him. Fuck, he really is the monster everyone always says he is.

After everything Jaskier has done to try and prove to the world that Witchers have been given a bad name, that they're not mindless, emotionless killing machines, this is how he repays him. He has to fix this, if not for him then for his brothers' reputation and for Jaskier's peace of mind. The last thing he wants is for Jaskier to think he's in any danger with him. With a sigh, he pulls his pack higher on his shoulder and heads toward the inn.

He catches the scent of Jaskier's perfume as soon as he walks through the door and it tugs at something in his chest. It's bright and floral, but there's a tinge of despair, of sadness intertwined with it. It's not fear though, and while Geralt struggles to comprehend that, the innkeeper passes over a key. Geralt follows the directions to his own room, ridding himself of his pack and swords. He strips his armour, leaving him in only a thin black shirt and his trousers. Before he leaves the room, he pulls his travelling cloak back over his head and shoulders.

He finds Jaskier's room in a matter of minutes and stands outside the door. He's faced griffins and fiends and hired assassins and none have come close to the fear that surges through him now. Because if he failed there, he just died, plain and simple; a fitting end for a Witcher. If he fails now, he loses the person most important to him. He's glad Jaskier isn't the one with heightened senses, glad that he doesn't know how long Geralt stands outside the door before lifting to hand to knock.

But he does. And as soon as he does, Geralt’s chest tightens and he wants to leave. There's a shuffling from within and then the door pulls in and Jaskier is right there. It catches him off guard and before he can consider what Jaskier might be thinking, he blurts out,

"Let me explain," and then doesn't know what to say. What do you say? What are you supposed to say to a man who's known you half his life and only now learns you have horns. Geralt shifts, looking at him. Jaskier says nothing, but he moves aside, letting Geralt come into the room. The door shuts behind him and a wave of fear crashes down over him.

Jaskier looks sad, confused, hurt. He doesn't know where to start.

"I know you're mad and I understand-"

"You're the one who slammed me into a building," Jaskier chokes. The anger is there, Geralt expected it, but it's being smothered by something else, something stronger, like ivy around a sapling.

"I'm sorry," he winces. He is. He never meant to hurt Jaskier, not emotionally and certainly not physically. "I was... scared. I saw you and I didn't know what to do." His shoulders slump and he turns to look out the window, jaw clenched. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

"And why not?" Jaskier asks. The anger is toned down slightly, the other feeling still there but not so harsh. Geralt doesn't like it, doesn't like the feeling of it or the way it makes Jaskier's voice breaks and he wishes it would go away all together, but he doesn't know how to do that.

"I'm- Look at me, Jaskier. I'm a monster. I'm exactly what they say I am. A mutant, a freak." The anger scent remains, but it takes a sharp turn, twisting into something much more recognizable. Something he knows from tavern brawls and holding Jaskier back when they’re on the road when someone makes a snide comment.

"You absolutely are not. You're a liar and a terrible friend, but you're not a monster."

"What-"

"Why did you keep this from me?" Jaskier asks, that other feeling creeping up to regain dominance.

"I thought you'd-" Geralt drops his chin, staring at the floorboards between them. There's a crack down the center of one of them and he focuses on that instead of the sound of Jaskier's voice. "You were the only one who stuck around. You met me during the spring when they're shaved down and I- I was selfish."

"How?" Jaskier prompts. He sounds impatient, but excited, like he's anticipated what Geralt is going to say. But if he had, he wouldn't be happy about it.

"I didn't want you to hate me. I didn't want you to leave me. So I hid it from you. I became good at keeping them filed low during the warmer months and let them grow out during the winter. I didn't- it's why I never asked you to join me in Kaer Morhen."

Jaskier squints at him, disbelieving or confused, he's not sure, but the look is piercing and Geralt feels transparent under it, like Jaskier can tell every thought in his head. But he knows how that feels and this is not it. Jaskier is making assumptions if anything. Not that that thought is any less horrifying under the circumstances.

"So let me get this straight," Jaskier says, calmly, cooly. Too calm. "You once rescued me from the den of an incubus you thought would kill me if he tried to fuck me. Again, I might add. If you recall you walked in in the middle of it. You stopped me from leaving the bar with a vampiress one time because, and I quote, you don't need any help losing blood, and one time you intentionally gave me space to continue a quite lovely conversation with a, particularly amenable centaur. But you thought horns were a bit too much for me? Is that what I'm to understand Geralt?"

He doesn't know what to say to that. It's not just the horns, he supposes. But he doesn't need to give Jaskier another reason not to travel with him. Melitele knows there are enough of those already.

"Am I to believe that you're daft enough to believe that after fifteen years of traipsing over the continent with you, of writing you songs and cooking you supper and tending to your wounds- that horns would be the final straw? Geralt if you haven't noticed I've fucked dozens of people who are, to put it indelicately, much less human than you."

Geralt isn't sure how Jaskier's sex life is relevant, but he says nothing.

"I actually like them," Jaskier says, eyeing the hood. "Could I... look at them?"

Reluctantly, Geralt reaches up and pushes the hood back. The air feels cool on his head and he feels incredibly exposed letting Jaskier see him like this, but he shuts his eyes and ducks his head as Jaskier takes a step toward him.

"Can I touch?"

The air is punched from Geralt's lungs with that one simple question and he nods slowly, tucking his chin a little closer into his chest. Jaskier brushes his fingers along the curve of the left horn and the only way Geralt knows he's touching him is the way he hums with intrigue, similar to the way he hums at his lute when it's newly strung. He takes his time, reaching right down to the base and touching the more sensitive skin there. It doesn't hurt, but it ignites Geralt's instinct to protect himself, makes him feel like he should pull away, hide this from Jaskier again.

When Jaskier touches his head, he does. He's not sure what it is about the touch, maybe that he can fully feel it, but it snaps his restraint and he pulls back, breathless.

"Sorry," Jaskier whispers, "did it hurt?"

"No," Geralt admits, "just... unusual. No one's ever touched them before. Maybe Eskel when he helped me file them down the first few times."

"Why don't we," Jakier suggests, "come sit on the bed, take your cloak and your boots off. I'd like to get a better look at them. if that's okay?"

Geralt nods and Jaskier's hands are on him before he removes his cloak himself. He undoes the clasp with no effort, draping the cloak over his arm before directing Geralt to the bed. This is... not at all how he expected this to go down, but at least Jaskier hasn't turned him away yet. He toes off his boots and sits back on the mattress, leaning against the wall with his feet at the edge.

In a moment, Jaskier climbs up over him, making himself perfectly at home in Geralt's lap.

"There," he says proudly, "it's much easier to see like this and you won't' end up with a crick in your neck." Geralt remains silent, worried that he doesn't know the situation well enough to comment.

Jaskier's hands slip into his hair again, fingers looping around the base of both horns and he feels the faint tug and Jaskier slips up, following the curve of them with his hands.

"Do you brothers have them?" he asks. Geralt shakes his head.

"Second trials" he explains. "Lost the pigment in my hair and grew fucking horns."

"I like them."

Jaskier continues his ministrations, apparently happy to just sit and touch and nothing else. And Geralt relaxes under the touch, even if he can barely feel it. Jaskier isn't angry with him, doesn't hate him, and for now, that can be enough, But the air between them grows thick. He doesn't notice it right away, too preoccupied with Jaskier touching his horns, but the scent is what alerts him. Spicy, earthy, floral.

It's nice, he thinks absently, familiar and enticing. But he doesn't think too much about it. Not until Jaskier's little hums become softer, sweeter. The realization hits him so abruptly he nearly snaps his head back up, but he doesn't want to give Jaskier any more reason to leave him, although, maybe that's not as much of a problem as he thought.

"Are you... aroused by this?"

Jaskier huffs a little laugh, awkward, but not uncomfortable. "I just think they're sexy."

"Oh."

"Why, does it turn you on?"

"No," Geralt snorts, "I can barely feel it. If I could filing them down would be excruciating."

"Right," Jaskier realizes and Geralt can sense the thinly veiled horror in his voice."Anything else I should know about?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Geralt opens his mouth and pulls his lip back. He'd be horrified at the way Jaskier gasps if he couldn't smell the arousal wafting off of him.

"Fuck, Geralt, that's-" he reaches out, pressing the pad of his thumb to the point of Geralt's fang and smiles. It's a faint sort of thing, more amusing than outright joy, but he's fascinated and right now that's good enough.

Jaskier's finger slips along his bottom teeth, but Geralt shifts under him, dislodging him, and Jaskier's fingers brush his bottom lip before slipping forward, sliding between his lips and pressing against his tongue. Geralt's skin prickles just at the thought of it and when he looks up at Jaskier, he finds him wide-eyed and intrigued.

Their eyes meet and Jaskier holds his gaze. Then, cautiously, withdraws his fingers and runs them along the swell of Geralt's bottom lip, eyes dropping to watch the way they press against it.

"Geralt?" he whispers and Geralt realizes he's been so focused on Jaskier's fingers that he hasn't been paying attention to anything else. He's surprised to find he's got his hands settled on Jaskier's hips. His eyes flick down to his hands, then quickly back up to Jaskier's. The moment they meet again, his willpower snaps and he hauls Jaskier forward, one hand slipping to the back of his head to guide him.

The moment their lips collide, Geralt realizes this was inevitable. That one day Jaskier was bound to find out and want to know about them. His reaction though, Geralt never could have anticipated.

Geralt is... kissing him. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what his body has already realized and he breaks the kiss with a jolt.

"You're not mad at me," he pants and Geralt just stares at him for a moment.

"No, I told you, I was afraid-"

"That I'd leave you." Jaskier finishes. Geralt nods. "I'd never leave you." He leans in again, trying for a softer, gentler kiss, but the way Geralt's hands press against him sends sparks across his skin.

Jaskier leans into it, parting his lips to deepen the kiss and Geralt's hand slips to his waist, one big, warm hand curling around his side. He pushes into the touch. It's not often he feels small or delicate with a lover, but Geralt does that for him and it's hotter than it has any right to be.

He parts his lips, deepening the kiss and Geralt moans softly against him. It's the most beautiful sound Jaskier has ever heard and he responds in kind, desperate to hear that sound again.

When they part again, Jaskier's breathing heavily and, much to his delight, so is Geralt. He leans back a little, far enough to look at Geralt's face, but not far enough to keep from touching him. He takes in the golden eyes staring back at him, the point of his teeth where Geralt's lips are parted, and the horns. Fuck, Geralt must be an idiot to think he wouldn't want him like this.

"Can I touch you- the rest of you?" he asks and Geralt grunts a yes, surging forward to hold him again.

Geralt gets both arms around him this time, lifting him off the mattress and rising to his knees. He shifts them so he's facing the head of the bed and as he settles, gently lays Jaskier back against the mattress. His head hits the pillow and Geralt settles between his thighs, slipping his hands over Jaskier's hips.

Jaskier reaches up to him, running his hands over Geralt's shoulders, down his arms. He follows the lines of his chest through his shirt, straight down to his trousers where he tugs the fabric free. His fingers slip beneath it and he sighs at the warmth of Geralt's skin on his fingertips. Geralt shudders against him and it gives Jaskier the encouragement he needs. Carefully, he curls his hands around the hem of Geralt's shirt, lifting it up and tugging it over his head.

He inhales sharply and Geralt pulls back just slightly. Jaskier is quick to explain his misunderstanding, slipping his hands around the back of Geralt's neck and sliding them down his shoulders.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

"You've seen me naked a dozen times this week, Jaskier."

"Not like this."

And it's true. He's seen Geralt naked more times than he can count and he knows Geralt is sexy, knows the lines of his chest better than he should for never having seen them up close, but he's never seen him like this. Geralt is soft like this, so close, and Jaskier is allowed to touch him, Jaskier is allowed to look.

He brushes his fingertips over his nipples. Geralt gives a little gasp and his eyelids flutter.

"Wouldn't think it makes a difference," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier realizes he thinks he's talking about the horns.

"Oh it does, my darling, but I mean like this," he says, pulling Geralt lower over him. "Where I'm allowed to touch you."

"You're always allowed," Geralt mumbles, chin dripping to inadvertently give Jsskier a better look at his horns. He reaches out, slipping his fingers down to the point again. "I just... can't help the way I react when I'm too close to you."

"What do you mean?"

"You make me want things I shouldn't, make me think about things I can't have-"

"Bullshit. What shouldn't you have? What can't you have?"

Geralt lifts his head to look at him, meeting his eyes for a moment and then, "you," he says sadly. Jaskier doesn't give a chance to respond before Geralt continues, evidently relieved to get this off his chest. "You spread your affection so wide, in every town and village and I- it's different with me. You're soft and kind, but how could you want... you have your choice of any person on the continent, how could I-'' he cuts himself off with a sound that Jaskier would call a sob from anyone else.

"What are you saying, Geralt? You don't think I could want you? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

Geralt just snorts at him and moves to pull away, but Jaskier rolls him onto his back and straddles his hips.

"Do you know how wonderful you are?" He pushes his hands through Geralt's chest hair, pressing his fingertips into his skin. "How could I not want you? Do you see me following anyone else around?"

"You're always with someone, always inviting someone else into your bed-"

"Because you wouldn't have me. Or, I thought-" He shifts a little, and suddenly Geralt's hands are sliding up his back, pressing him down against him.

"You thought wrong," he breathes, and then he's kissing him again, soft and slow. One hand slips up into his hair and Jaskier sighs against his lips, letting his eyes fall shut.

He slumps against Geralt's chest, pressing his hands to either side of Geralt's face and he kisses him softly. He pours all of his affection into ever, every feeling he's never been able to share with Geralt, every little thought that he's thought would be too much for him. He rocks against him, pressing their bodies together. He wants to feel Geralt, to be as close as he can for whatever time he has with him.

But then Geralt is pressing back, arching off the bed and wrapping one arm tightly around Jsskier's back until they're so close Jaskier can barely move. He nips at Geralt's lips, pushing back the words that bubble to the surface, the words he wants so desperately to say. He's been holding back for years and maybe now he's allowed? Maybe now Geralt would be amenable - her certainly seems to be so far.

And Jaskier is so caught up in the thought, in the idea of being able to tell Geralt how he feels, that he doesn't realize he's being rolled over until he's on his back and Geralt isn't touching him anymore. He rises to his knees, breaking the kiss only to mouth at Jsskier's jaw and down the side of his neck.

Geralt nips at his collarbone, runs his tongue along the ridge of it and sucks at the skin just below. There will be marks in the morning, Jaskier is sure of it, and he's already itching to look at them. But Geralt doesn't give him much of a chance to think about it before he's nuzzling at Jaskier's neck again, the tips of his fangs just barely brushing against his skin. And Jaskier shudders. The motion goes through his whole body and a soft whine escapes his lips. How the fuck Geralt ever thought seeing him like this would be a bad thing is beyond him.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "I want you. Can I?"

"Anything," Jaskier gasps, "please Geralt, anything."

Geralt hums against him and meets his eyes for just a second before lowering them again to Jaskier's chest. He presses soft kisses into the skin, slipping down to nuzzle into his chest hair and Jsskier is preoccupied with the warmth of his breath and then Geralt's fingers brush over a nipple and he cries out, arching off the bed as Geralt pinches it between his fingertips. It's still gentle, still softer than he's used to, but it's Geralt.

It's Geralt touching his chest and kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. It's Geralt kneeling over him and Geralt breathing against his skin and it's... a lot. Automatically, Jaskier reaches out to him, pulling Geralt close so he can bury his face in his neck.

Geralt works a hand between them, slipping down to fumble with the clasps on Jaskier's trousers and then he's pulling away just enough to be able to undo the clasps. Jaskier groans as his trousers are shoved away, discarded off the side of the bed, but then Geralt is fumbling with the buttons on his own and a wave of heat engulfs him.

This is really happening.

In his 33 years, Jaskier has slept with kings and queens, counts and countesses, and he's never wanted someone so badly as he wants Geralt. It makes him a little anxious and he has to swallow back his self-doubt as Geralt shifts out of his clothes and settles on his knees between Jaskier's thighs.

Without breaking the kiss, he slips his arms under Jaskier's knees, pressing them back against him until he's leaning over him again. Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing down on him and Jaskier groans despite himself. Geralt's cock brushes against his hip and he's hard. It tugs at something deep inside him and Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt's neck, fingers pushing into his hair.

He shifts against the mattress and Geralt pulls his arms back. His mouth doesn't leave Jaskier's, even as he reaches for something off the side of the bed. When he settles again, he's got a bottle in his hand and Jaskier whimpers at the thought of it.

Geralt draws away, breaking the kiss with a hum and kissing down Jaskier's chest. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his mouth around the head of his cock and then he's bobbing gently, sliding halfway down his cock and slipping back to the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he focuses on the feel of him, the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his hair in his hands.

When one of Geralt's hands presses against him, he hums encouragingly but doesn't move otherwise, afraid of breaking whatever spell he's under. He doesn't want to risk ending this, doesn't want to risk almost losing Geralt again.

Geralt slips a finger into him and Jaskier reaches up, smoothing his hands up the curve of Geralt's horns. He tries to keep steady, to keep from getting too worked up, but it's hard. Because this is Geralt, this is something he's wanted for years - what if it goes badly? What if it's terrible and Geralt no longer wants him?

A second finger presses into him and Jaskier gasps, startled from his thoughts. Geralt's eyes meet his and he looks worried, questioning.

"Is this too much?" he asks, "we don't have to-"

"No. No, I want you, I want this. Please." Jaskier's fingers slip to the base of his horns, brushing almost nervously where the flesh meets horn. "I just want to be good enough for you."

"You are," Geralt says immediately, "more than enough."

Their lips met again and Geralt's fingers press in a little more firmly. Heat rolls up Jaskier's spine, but he's not aching for it, he's not desperate to come. His cock is hard against his hip, but he wants to be close to Geralt. He wants his arms around him, wants to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist and just press himself against him. He wants the press of skin on skin, unhindered by clothes or blankets of any number of things that have kept them apart in the past.

He just wants Geralt and it doesn't matter how.

When Geralt finally pushes into him, Jaskier groans at the stretch. It's good, so good, and Geralt presses down against him again. Jaskier takes the opportunity to wrap around him and they move together easily, as though they were built for each other. Geralt kisses and nips and Jaskier loves so deeply he can't cope.

He hates the tears that bead in the corners of his eyes, hates the emotion that threatens to tear him apart and he buried his head in Geralt's neck to distract himself. Before he can get his arms around him properly, Geralt pulls back. As soon as he sees his face, Geralt's features pinch together.

"Jaskier-"

"Fuck," Jaskier whines weakly, "Geralt."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jaskier whimpers. He reaches up to Geralt, wanting to pull him close again. He doesn't want Geralt to see him, doesn't want him thinking he's too much, too emotional.

Geralt guides him back against the mattress and detangles their arms, leaning up on one elbow. Jaskier is embarrassed. He's a renowned lover, known for giving his partners the greatest pleasure and in the face of Geralt and one tiny bit of genuine affection, he breaks down.

He crosses his arms over his face but Geralt just wraps gentle fingers around his wrists and pulls them back.

"Hey," he whispers and there's worry in his voice that only makes Jaskier shudder. He chokes on a sob and turns his face, pressing his forehead against Geralrt's wrist.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, but Geralt just brushes his thumb over his forehead.

"For what?"

"I'm... " he doesn't know what to say. A mess? too much? not good enough for you? "okay."

"Jask, you're crying. Is it me?"

"No," he blurts, "no, Geralt, I-" a gentle thumb presses beneath his eye, wiping a tear away and that only makes it worse. "I love you," he whispers, so quiet he's sure no one will hear it. But Geralt, aside from his horns and his fangs, has sensitive hearing.

"And that's... bad." He says. It's not a question.

"No. No, but I- I fucked up. I almost lost you-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "you didn't. I was afraid you'd hate me like this, that you'd see me as the monster everyone else does. I was angry because I thought I was going to lose you."

"I know I'm a lot to put up with-"

"You're not."

Jaskier huffs a wet laugh. "I talk too much and I get in trouble you have to get me out of and I'm too slow and too annoying and too-" Geralt quiets him with a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Once," he says, "at a tavern in Posada, I would have believed those things. I don't anymore." He brushes his fingers down Jaskier's side, settling his palm against his hip. "If I really thought you were too much, I wouldn't be here now." He dips down, kissing him on the mouth again.

Jaskier can't help but sink into it and when Geralt shifts back on top of him, Jaskier winds around his neck again. Geralt breaks the kiss, kissing Jaskier's jaw and down his neck.

"We can stop if you want?"

"No," Jaskier mumbles.

"What do you need?"

"Just... you."

"Yeah," Geralt breathes, "yeah, okay."

He shifts his hips, resuming his slow but steady rhythm and Jaskier clings to him. He can't believe he came so close to losing Geralt tonight, to losing him and losing this forever. A swell of emotion threatens to rise up again and overwhelm him, but he kisses Geralt, holds him tight and focuses on the weight of his body against his own.

His fingers trail absently around the base of a horn, bumping over the uneven skin there. The horns themselves are smoother than expected, probably because they're so fresh, but he likes the sensation of them under his fingers and Geralt seems pleased about it.

Sparks skitter across Jaskier's skin as Geralt's pace quickens and he gaps against his mouth as Geralt rocks into his prostate. Even when Geralt's lips aren't on him, they hover above his skin, hot breath creating goosebumps in its wake. And when he kisses him, it seems a tremor audit through Jaskier's body, making his heart beat quicker and his toes curl in the sheets. He's never felt this way with anyone, never found himself chasing closeness before an orgasm, but he likes it.

He likes the sleekness of Geralt's horn under his palm, the tickle of his hair as it brushes his bare skin, the tackiness is dying away on Geralt's skin. All of it. He draws him close again, just as Geralt's hips give a little snap and it knocks the breath out of him.

"Can I touch you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier knows he won't last long with Geralt's hand on him, but for once that doesn't seem important.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt's palm slips up the underside of his cock, making him shudder.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier just nods, a small sound escaping his lips as he rocks his hips into the touch.

Geralt's fingers wrap around him and it's like a wave of heat washing over him. Jaskier's entire body burns for him, arches off the bed to get closer to him. Geralt takes him apart so easily and it's only a matter of minutes before he's gasping for it, groaning his need into Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt rocks into him, stroking him in time with his thrusts and when he kisses him again, Jaskier shatters. He groans against Geralt's lips, rocking back onto him as he spills between them. His thighs shake and his arms feel like noodles around Geralt's neck, but he holds him closer anyway.

He's still breathless when Geralt's hips snap forward again and Jaskier can tell he's close in the way he shudders as he rocks into him. He tangles his fingers in Geralt's hair, kisses him hard. He wants this to be good, wants Geralt to know that he's safe here, he can be happy here.

When Geralt comes, it's with a quiet moan against Jaskier's chest and he stays there for a moment, breathing against his skin. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulder, pulling him onto his side so they're still facing each other. Neither speaks and Geralt kisses him again, slow and gentle. His hand comes up to cup the back of his head, and Jaskier hums softly against his lips.

They part again on a shaky breath and Jaskier bumps his forehead against Geralt's. He doesn't want to ask him to stay, he's still too afraid to hear him say no. But he doesn't want Geralt to go. It's already hard enough losing him over the winter, he can't bear the thought of being parted any longer than that. He shuts his eyes and presses close, pacified by the way Geralt's arm tightens around him.

"Next winter," Geralt mumbles, abrupt, "come with me. There's nothing left for me to hide and I... miss you over the winter. I worry about you." Jaskier's heart soars, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions restrained.

"You'd want me there?" he asks, "with your brothers?"

"Yeah. And they've been bugging me about it since I first mentioned you."

"You talk about me?" Jaskier asks, pulling back to look at him. Geralt tips his head up, golden eyes shining even in the dim light.

"Of course. You're-" he pauses as though unsure of what exactly Jaskier is. "I love you, too," he whispers at last, eyes lowered.

It feels like a dream, like any moment Jaskier will wake up and be back hiding behind that building or worse - alone in his room. But when he kisses him, Geralt is warm and solid against him and Jaskier buries himself in that warmth.

He will never, could never, understand how anyone can see this man as a monster.

#geraskier #fangs #horns #monster march #this got... sadder than expected oop #rex writes #the witcher

[once-upon-a-scenario]

The Pillars: Scent HCs

Idk, I felt like this was an interesting idea but it turned into what felt like a gratuitous string of anime-inspired perfume ads written by someone with a repressed scent kink lmao. ‘twas fun to write, though! :D Edit: Upper Moons version ___ Kyojuro: I know this is technically illogical because he doesn’t actually *produce* fire, but for some reason I’ve always stuck with the hc that he smells like the aftermath of it. Kind of ashy, like something slightly burnt, but it’s a weirdly earthy scent as well- a warm, smoke-tinged sort of aroma that reminds you of cedar and oak, sturdy and reliable, or of blazing log fires in cold weather.  It’s strong, mildly bitter, and might throw you off at first, but it’s also comforting, the more you get used to it and the more you can make out the woodsy scent underneath. His clothes all smell like that and being hugged by him always brings the same familiar scent that makes you feel safe, like a forest surrounding you and guarding you from the world. Shinobu: She has a faint, bright scent of flowers, probably closest to lavender and roses, mixed with what’s probably good soap. It’s a dreamy sort of perfume, all light and sugary and enchanting, and smells like being in close proximity with a living scented candle. Shinobu’s scent is actually a result of conscious effort, in a sense- or at least, the soapy part of it is- because she is a *doctor* and she has to stay clean. The butterflies at the estate like to alight on her when she’s outside, and demons are stopped in their tracks by this tiny, lovely swordswoman who smells like a flower garden. You might find that being around her and her scent makes you feel a bit too relaxed and therefore sleepy, which amuses her. Muichiro: Has a ‘’clean’’ scent, but that’s pretty much all there is on the surface. You’ll actually smell very little from him unless you actively hug him or he leans right up close to your face. That’s when you’ll get what might be a very faint tinge of petrichor- the scent of earth after rain, mild but clear. It’s still very weak, though, and the usual conclusion is that he doesn’t smell like anything except sterile and soapy (not Good Soap like Shinobu’s, either, just…soapy soap). He himself doesn’t particularly notice that he smells like anything, and is the type of somewhat chaotic child to possibly sniff his own hair or clothes once somebody comments on the petrichor scent (and then conclude that he can’t smell anything except soap). Iguro: There’s a lot of green in his scent. Cut grass, leaves, the sharpness of green apples, mint. It’s light and a bit lemony, for lack of a better word. There’s something to be said for the theory that he smells so much like plant life because he’s always hanging out and about in the trees. You won’t catch much of it- it’s not a very strong fragrance and he usually wouldn’t let you close enough to sense it- but once you do, it’s distinctly recognizable. It’s not quite a comforting scent nor a good, sweet one, but it reminds you of the outdoors and of lonely mountains and high treetops where Iguro’s often perched with his Kaburamaru, and it’s honestly gentler than what you might expect from the snake pillar. Mitsuri: The closest way to describe it is that she smells like a home, like warm food cooking, blankets and candles burning. Faintly spicy, a little sweet, completely wholesome. Bread and miso soup, cooked rice and freshly laundered clothes. Maybe there’s a bit of vanilla in the mix, making it all the sweeter, and maybe you’ll find a hint of what might be milk tea. It’s the scent of her home full of laughing, loving siblings that she still carries with her, even after leaving for the corps. It seems to be a part of her that never fades no matter what she does or wears, and makes being hugged by her feel like an experience- you’re enveloped in a kind, comforting scent, the type that always make you feel loved and no longer alone. Sanemi: A solid majority of the time, he just smells like blood and carnage- he’s a marechi, and he tends to get injured often, and he tends to injure other people, too. In the small margin of time when he’s not on the go and working, though, he smells...weirdly citrusy, almost like oranges. It’s not immediately noticeable but it’s definitely there and it’s not at all unpleasant. And of course, as Tanjiro noted, he also carries a very faint touch of ohagi about him, a hint of sweetness that you’ll only ever catch if he lets you get close enough (or if you have a nose like Tanjiro’s). Kind of like Sanemi himself, actually. If you’ve gotten close enough to him to catch either the citrus or the ohagi, chances are you’ve already gotten through to his heart, too. Tengen: Tengen’s scent is strong to the point of overwhelming. It’s a bit like lilies and jasmine, almost, the heaviest floral fragrances that have then been concentrated way past what’s probably the recommended amount. Then there’s a strong musky scent combined with it, a rich, very spicy note that only intensifies the sweetness from the florals. Overall, it’s the most bombastic type of perfume you’ll ever encounter on anyone, so cloying that it’ll hit you like a freight train every time you get close to him. The scent is also ‘’catching,’’ so you can’t interact with him without everybody knowing that you’ve been in close proximity. This is incredibly annoying and a little embarrassing. (However, in private, Tengen tends to tone it down a little, and then he can actually smell pretty nice.) Himejima: Woodsy. Incense. None of it is very strong, but the incense in particular is a very specific, noticeable smell that hangs about his entire gigantic stature- the residue from his prayers, probably, and both his clothes and the wood of his prayer beads seems to retain it very well. It’s a strange sort of smell to people who aren’t used to it, but it’s comforting to those who are, and either way, it kind of immediately transports you to Himejima’s state of calm, collected self-control. It’s as if he’s stepped straight out of a tranquil, secret place in the woods at all times, and though you’d have to bury your face in his haori to really catch the scent, it has that automatically soothing effect whenever he lets you draw close to him. Giyuu: An illogical cliché in the same line as Rengoku’s, but…he does smell like the ocean. It’s a weak scent, just barely there in the hems of his sleeves and the air in his personal quarters, and not immediately noticeable or definable. You may or may not be able to make out the light sting of salt and the fresh, cool fragrance of the beach, of the tide coming in. It’s either that or newly laundered sheets, but well, the seashore comparison is more poetic, isn’t it? Again, it’s not a strong fragrance, and usually serves as a blank canvas for other quirks from his environment (ex: he carries the scent of citrus and ohagi after sparring with Sanemi)- he’ll probably absorb a bit of yours once you spend enough time together, and finds it mildly comforting, though he’d never admit that to your face. *this is, of course, just how everybody smells in their down time. When they’re working they all smell just as gross as Sanemi usually does lmao

#kimetsu no yaiba #Tomioka Giyuu #Giyuu x reader #Rengoku Kyojuro #Rengoku x reader #Shinazugawa Sanemi #Sanemi x reader #Kocho Shinobu #shinobu x reader #Kanroji Mitsuri #Mitsuri x reader #Himejima Gyoumei #Himejima x reader #Iguro Obanai #Obanai x reader #Uzui Tengen #Tengen x reader #Tokitou Muichirou #Tokito Muichiro #kny pillars #pillars x reader #headcanons #Mod Eve #tagging this was an Experience #Muichiro was purposefully not tagged as ship

[petri808]

Something in Common

Based on an idea I got from this post that I just felt like writing after chatting with @bmarvels about it lol. It was written directly on Tumblr so please ignore any grammar mistakes 😅

Nalu/Shicca one shot crossover

🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹

“You’re not gonna leave, huh?” The annoyed blonde sighs. “Try not to make a mess while I take a bath please.”

Natsu rolls his eyes, of course, he wasn’t planning to. “I’m just gonna watch some lacrimavision. How much trouble can I get in doing that?”

“Shall I remind you what happened with my last lacrimavision set?”

“No,” he slumps his shoulders. It was an accident, but she still held it against him. “I’ll behave.”

“Good.” Lucy walks away having won that round.

She’d been dying to try out a bath bomb set Cana had given her at the Holiday party. It would have been more relaxing if she was home alone, but those times were few and far between with a certain slayer practically living with her.

Once safely behind her locked bathroom door, Lucy opens up the packaging that held four colorful balls. She grabs a pinkish colored one and places the rest on the counter, then holds it close to her nose to take a whiff.

It smelled divine! Rose, Sakura, and Vanilla all mixed together in a perfect floral blend. Not overpowering like some parfums can be. It was natural, herbal in a way, and reminded her of the natural hot springs they found on True Island. Relaxing with all the girls had been so much fun. ‘I hope we’ll all see each other again...’

Lucy turns on the faucet and waits for the tub to fill with water. While she waits, she strips off her clothes and winds her hair up into a messy bun. She tests the waters periodically to make sure it’s not too hot.

As soon as the tub is half full she drops the bomb in and immediately it begins to foam. It was so pretty! And cool to watch, for the bubbling action was full of churning shades of reds, then purples, and yellows. ‘How curious,’ she wonders. The outside was only reds and white but perhaps inside were other colors.

No matter, as the scent remains the same. It’s beautiful notes filling the room, clinging to the vapors and sticking to her hair. Such a neat little bath bomb, she’ll have to ask Cana where she got them from. Lucy shuts off the water as it nears the 3/4 mark on the tub. It was time to soak and send her aches and pains to another realm.

She places one foot into the steaming waters. How interesting, it tingles, like the tickling feeling you get on your nose when you’re drinking a carbonated drink. She steps all the way inside ready to submerge herself into the aromatic cocktail.

When in a flash, the waters begin to churn on their own! Swirling into a small whirlpool. Lucy tries to get out but it’s sucking her in. “Natsu!!” She cries out once before darkness swallows her whole.

The slayer looks up from the couch towards the bedroom. “Lucy?” He’d heard the scream loud and clear, but only the one. Had she seen a bug again? He walks into the room and knocks on the bathroom door, checking the knob but finding it locked.

“Lucy are you okay in there?” Seconds tick by and with each passing his level of concern heightens. “Lucy?!” He bangs louder on the door. “Answer me!!”

But there was nothing except a deadly silence coming from within. Screw it, if she got mad about the door, he’ll fix it later. Natsu smashes it off it’s hinges and rushes inside. “Lucy?” The room was empty! Just a haze of steam to greet him and a tub full of purplish pink water as still as a grave. Even the small window in the room was closed. How did the woman disappear?! Had she drowned?!

Without thinking, he jumps into the tub ready to scan the murky water. As soon as both legs make contact, it begins to churn. Natsu leaps up to get out, but the water grabs hold of his legs and pulls him back down. “What the fu...”

Darkness envelops him so suddenly, he has no idea what just happened. He tries to light up his hands to give him some light, but nothing happens. All he can feel is a sense of weightless falling. Did a wizard just cast a spell on them?!

When Lucy tries to open her eyes, the light surrounding her seemed so bright compared to the pitch black ink she’d been falling through a moment ago. She blinks a few times to clear the gaze and allow her vision to correct itself. Wherever she was, she could feel water surrounding her lower body again. Was it a dream and she just woke up back in her tub? Her eyes find purchase once more, but what she saw stunned her.

And just as she was about to open her mouth to address the situation, Natsu appears out of thin air sitting beside her. He was flailing or fighting against an unseen foe. She grabs his arms. “Natsu, calm down!”

The man stops immediately. “Lucy?!” He couldn’t fully see her because his vision was still messed up, but her scent was recognizable. “Lucy!” He throws his arms around her. “I was so worried!”

“M-Me too,” she squeaks out from his tight hold.

“Ahem.”

A throat clearing gets their attention. Lucy pushes Natsu off of her. By now his eye sight was fully back to normal and his face turns crimson. That’s when she remembers... she was naked. Lucy covers her chest. “Look away you pervert!”

“Excuse me?” The voice starts up again. “Where did you come from?!”

Now that he knew Lucy was safe and sound, Natsu turns to the voice. He recognizes the person immediately. “Rebecca?!” He looks excitedly to Lucy, “hey it’s our space friend!”

“I can see that,” she mumbles back. “Though I don’t understand how we got here.”

“Do you?” Natsu asks the stunned B-cuber who shakes her head no.

“You tell me,” Rebecca quips. “You’re the one who dropped in on my bath.”

“Wait, does that mean we’re on that ship you told us about?” Lucy questions the other woman.

“Yeah.”

Lucy looks at Natsu, “I-I think that bath bomb created a magical portal.”

“But why would it bring us here?”

The only answer Lucy could think of was her wish shortly before getting into the bath. “I was reminiscing about True Island and relaxing with just the girls... I guess I missed it.”

“Awww,” Rebecca squeals, “I think about that too!”

“Really?! With you and Elie, it was just nice cause we have a lot in common,” Lucy thumbs at the man sitting beside her, “the guys.”

Rebecca giggles, “so true.”

Natsu just narrows his eyes at the two giggling women. Tch figures they talk about them. “I hate to break up this reunion, but how are we supposed to get home?”

At that moment, a loud bang startles the three. They all turn to the door that’s been flung open, staring at the newcomer.

“Rebecca are you okay? I heard you scream!” Shiki pans over the room. “Wait a minute, how did...” a smile taking over his expression, “it’s the Fairy friends!” The excited man jumps into the bath, gaining another shriek from everyone when a wave of water hits them.

“Shiki?! Your clothes!”

“Huh?” He looks down, “should I take them off?” He asks already tugging at his shirt.

“N-No!” A blushing Rebecca grabs his arm and just pulls him into a sitting position. “Just sit!”

Lucy giggles, “see! Things in common. But Natsu’s right, we need to figure out a way home.”

“Awww! But you guys just got here!” Shiki whines.

“Hush, you,” Rebecca scolds him. “I’m sure they have things to do back home.” She smiles at their friends. “We can drop you off on your planet.”

“Well...” Lucy looks to Natsu. “I guess a short vacation wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Shiki leans forward excitedly, “you guys can hang with us till we finish this mission! It’ll be fun!”

“A mission?!” Natsu grins. “Do I get to kick some ass?!”

“Hell yeah!” Shiki grins too.

Rebecca chuckles. “Meanwhile, Lucy and I can hang out. Starting now.” She looks at Shiki and Natsu. “Get out of our bath!”

“Eep!” The two men stiffen at the sound of her shrill tone. No one needed to tell them twice. Both Shiki and Natsu jump up and rush out of the room leaving the two women alone again.

Rebecca winks at Lucy, “let the relaxation commence!”

#fairy tail #edens zero #nalu #shicca #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #shiki granbell #rebecca bluegarden #crossover drabble #nalu fan fic #shicca fan fic

[boundinshallows]

40. Scent (for the OT3 plz

Oooh so I know I talk a lot of about May’s perfume in the fic, especially in her hair. I decided to go with Chanel No. 5 as it’s the very definition of classic perfume and just felt like something May might naturally wear. Here’s the summary of the scent from Chanel: 

This floral bouquet composed around May Rose and Jasmine features bright citrus top notes. Aldehydes create a unique presence while the smooth touch of Bourbon Vanilla leaves an incredibly sensual trail.

It was also developed in the 1920s, so there’s a bit of a nod to canon there. This next bit was totally unintentional when I wrote it, but apparently (according to Wikipedia): 

Traditionally, fragrances worn by women fell into two basic categories. "Respectable women" favored the essence of a single garden flower while sexually provocative perfumes heavy with animal musk or jasmine were associated with women of the demi-monde, prostitutes, or courtesans.[1]:20 Chanel sought a new scent that would appeal to the flapper and celebrate the liberated feminine spirit of the 1920s.

So, you know, it’s a little bit lady and a little bit hoe, and I think that really speaks to how I’m characterizing May in permutations. 

But if we’re talking about scent more generally, I have a headcanon that both scent and taste are big memory triggers for the three of them. It’s not just one scent in particular though; it’s really a combination of two scents together. 

So for Tommy, for example, the scent of Chanel would remind him of May of course, but it’d also remind him of Alfie because he’s used to smelling the two of them together (especially on bedding and what not). If he meets a woman wearing the perfume, it’s both May and not-May because there’s no Alfie component to it. 

In that sense, I think if either one of them (Tommy or Alfie) sought out an easily recognizable scent like May’s perfume (because they were feeling sad or whatever), it’d never actually work because it’s never the two people combined into the scent. So they have the thing, but it’s not enough and it’s not right, and I think that mostly just makes them ache all the more for it.

(I also think that both Tommy and Alfie kept a lot of personal effects from the time. Alfie’s is spread out all around the house and on display. Tommy’s is in his little box. I can imagine Alfie taking out a letter to give it a sniff, but it’s a subtle thing and he wouldn’t linger. Tommy, though, he’s buried that shit down deep, so when that box does get opened, I think the mingling scents hit him like a ton of bricks. Half the time, he probably just closes the box back up and hides it away again without even touching any of the stuff inside). 

#tommyplum #Tommy x alfie x may #verse: permutations

[glaivenoct]

Spring Traditions

Pairing: Nyxnoct Rating: Gen Summary: The start of spring brings about certain traditions in Altissia. Nyx is more than happy to enjoy them with his prince. (Some floral fluff done with Aith, Jazz and Kai ^.^)

(ao3) if you’d like to drop some love over there~

“You smell that?”

Nyx smelled it before they even sailed through the narrow canal leading to the port of Altissia; a floral fragrance permeating itself into the crisp, temperate air of the city’s clear skies. It smells like spring, an ambrosial farewell to the remnants of winter’s chill. Though, the last time Nyx visited in the winter, a similar pleasant aroma still carried throughout the city. A little more subtle, but still recognizable.

Flowers are a staple here, after all. Rightfully so for one of the most romantic cities in Eos, but Nyx noticed more than usual when he first stepped through immigration with Noctis. Terracotta pots and drooping foliage decorating the balconies of homes and stores, weaved baskets sitting in window sills and along the arch of stairs. Stone pots fixed to iron railings, overflowing with sharp whites and fuchsia pinks.

The most notable addition, however, are the water lilies. They gather along the edges of the city, scatter beneath the bridges of stairs and trail leisurely alongside the passing gondolas. They even wander their way down to Maagho, no doubt rivaling the scent of the freshest seafood the Celluna Cascades have to offer. They’re not as colorful as the water lilies Nyx recalls from the ponds and streams back home, but just as beautiful. A sight he wouldn’t have expected to come across here – the city’s love for flowers aside.

“Pretty sure you could smell this halfway across the Cygillian,” Nyx says, a cup of gelato in one hand. He reaches behind Noctis with the other to pluck a red blossom from a plant at the top of the stairs. The stem of it is tucked safely into his pocket. “Must be all the lilies.”

“Too much?” Noctis asks, heading for the statue of the Tidemother where more water lilies cluster together.

“No, it’s nice.” Nyx smiles and sits with him at the edge of the fountain. “Reminds me a little of home.”

Noctis sets down his own cup of gelato and dips one hand into the water, reaching to stroke at the smooth curve of ivory petals, fingers lingering at their pink tinged edges with a thoughtful hum. “Galahd’s the only place you can find the yellow ones. The white ones have the strongest smell, though. They absorb the water’s nutrients to help make it clean and clear.”

Nyx chuckles fondly. “And where’d you pick up those flower facts, little prince?”

Noctis glances at him, only to immediately duck his back down to the flowers with a faint blush. “There’s a pond in the citadel gardens. My mom showed me how to plant them when I was little. Told me all kinds of facts about them.”

“Should’ve known. Your mom has all the fun flower facts. Is she the one that stuck the idea of a spring Altissia trip in your head?”

Noct flashes him a knowing grin. “It’s one of her favorite times to visit. Water lilies are a spring tradition here. She said we should see them for ourselves.”

“We should bring her back something nice then. Maybe start making spring trips to Altissia a tradition of our own.”

“Really?” his eyes light up at that.

“Really.” Nyx pulls the blossom he picked earlier and presents it to him. He twirls it between his fingers and tickles the tip of Noct’s nose with the petals, making him flinch and laugh.

“Quit it,” he says, backing away and shielding himself with an arm. “Nyx!”

Nyx persists and trails the flower along Noct’s cheek instead, starting to laugh himself. He gives up shortly, only to tuck it carefully into his hair, right above his ear. “There. Perfect.”

Noctis blooms before him with a smile, elegant and beautiful as a water lily at sunrise, and Nyx can’t help but take a moment to stare. The longer he does, the more Noct shifts in place, chewing his lower lip to contain his smile, staring into his lap. It amazes Nyx how his boyfriend has yet to comprehend how captivating he truly is. He doesn’t need to say that out loud to know Noct would claim it’s just the flowers are getting to him and making him dopey. As if he hasn’t been utterly enthralled with him since the beginning.

“I think you need one too, hero” Noct says, suddenly looking around for a flower pot or basket within reach, but the closest is the one Nyx took from earlier at the top of the stairs. He huffs out a breath, eyes wandering back to the lilies floating around the statue. Nyx’s trance breaks the second Noctis’ brows rise in contemplation.

“Noct, no.”

“It’ll look good.” He reaches into the water, cupping one of the lilies into his hands. Nyx already starts backing away.

“It’ll get my hair and my shirt wet.”

“It’s fine.”

“Noct!”

“I’m kidding.” Noct laughs again and brings the flower closer to his chest. “These look like the ones my mom has in the garden. I just wanted a closer look. Got a better idea for you anyway.”

No matter the season, Altissia always has its flower stands spread generously through the city. Though Nyx notices that the welcoming of spring makes their selection more expansive than usual. There’s a stand just down the grand steps of Listro Park, right across from the gelato cart they stopped by earlier. Once Noct has the perfect picture of the water lilies to send to his mother, he happily takes Nyx’s hand to lead him there.

They’re met by an array of colored blossoms and carnations, stocks of lilacs, potted orchids and tulips, bundles of lilies and, of course, bouquets of roses. Nyx admires Noct’s blatant fascination with the selection, using the opportunity to snap a couple pictures of him. Some to send to Aulea, some for himself. There’s a neighboring stand Noct moves to when he’s done admiring. A smaller cart where a woman expertly crafts and displays vibrant flower crowns.

“Another spring tradition,” Noctis explains and beckons him closer. “Mom brought me back one when I was a kid.”

Suddenly, Nyx knows just the souvenir he intends to bring back for the queen.

After careful deliberation and some friendly suggestions from the vendor, they have their choices. A crown of blue and white lilacs for Nyx, syllelblossoms for Noctis, and pink and peach roses for Aulea.

“Happy now?” Nyx asks, leaning against the railing. He stares out at the vast waters of the city, the water lilies floating above, the cliffsides and waterfalls in the distance where the sun prepares to set.

“Very,” Noctis is already wearing his syllelblossom crown with pride, and the red blossom Nyx tucked into his hair earlier peeks from under it. “We should make this part of our spring traditions too.”

“Who am I to argue with a sweet flower prince?” Nyx bows his head enough for Noctis to crown him with all the grace and delicacy one might see at an actual coronation.

“There,” Noctis lowers his hands, pulls back to get a better view of Nyx in his crown. That smile captivates him yet again, and Nyx feels as high as the king himself under the sapphire of his little prince’s adoring gaze. “Perfect.”

What’s left of the sun glitters across the ripples of the water, littered lilies settling atop their leafy pads, gradually closing the further the light retreats from them. Nyx takes a deep inhale of their fragrance as Noctis settles by his shoulder and takes his hand. If only because most are preoccupied at the flower and gelato stands, Noct places a dainty kiss to his cheek.

It must be something in the air, something more than the surplus of the lilies and such, because Nyx is bold enough to tug Noct right against his chest and capture his lips in the softest kiss.

“Mm,” Noct hums when they part. “That’s a spring tradition I could get used to.”

#nyxnoct #noctis lucis caelum #nyx ulric #author entries: fics #i didn't mean for this to hit 1k but here we are

[mjallanwrites]

Love Me

LOVE ME ( IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANNA DO ) — in which ( Y/N ) and peter have been best friends since middle school despite the fact that she’s constantly been pegged as shy and withdrawn. ever since they entered high school ( Y/N ) has had a small crush on peter, but remains convinced that he’s never seemed to notice because she’s always been lost behind her giant frames

WARNINGS — none !!

WORD COUNT — 1.5k

REQUEST — can you do a drabble where the reader is the nervous one and has a huge crush on peter and he sees her one day without her glasses and realizes his feelings

AUTHOR’S NOTE — so i don’t wanna get ahead of myself or anything, but honestly y’all i’m super proud of myself for getting this one out in a timely manor. anyways, i hope this drabble lives up to your vision and thank you so much for requesting it ! also if anyone needs me to tag anything, let me know and i’ll be happy to add it to the warnings. !!

“PETER DID YOU hear what I just said?” The question is sullied by a sardonic kind of bitterness, and had it come from the mouth of anyone else—it would have read more like an affirmation of sorts. Of course Peter hadn't been paying attention, the capricious nature of his gaze ( which for the record, always seemed to return to the foggy window pane in five minute intervals )  had corroborated that very fact. But ( Y/N ) seems to posses an infinite amount of patience, and because she’s his best friend she’s polite enough to overlook his incessant flaw.

Sheepishness replaces the usual softness of Peter’s features, his smile wavering in the slightest fashion. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit—”

“Distracted? Yeah I can tell.” ( Y/N ) adjusts the thick frame of black spectacles until they rest atop the bridge of her nose. Peter can’t help but to notice that she’s always careful not to smudge the lenses. She’s meticulous like that—straining over the minor details which would elicit indifference from most.

Spoiler alert: she isn’t most people.

“Hey! You have my full attention now, I promise.” And for five minutes he means it, listening intently to the girl who’d always prioritized physics over physical education and read Fitzgerald for fun. Only verb conjugations and the laws of grammar don’t intrigue him nearly as much as intercepting bank robberies or engaging in battle with the Avengers themselves. It was as if becoming Spider-man had cast a dullness over the intricacies of ordinary life—kaleidoscope colours gingerly draining from blank sky and left to saturate the worn out soles of his sneakers. The only time he’d ever felt some semblance of engagement was when school clothes had been swapped for red and blue spandex.

What could he say—being a masked hero could do to that to a person.

“It’s fine Peter, we can just do this another time. I have to go home soon anyways.” Peter can sense the  tinge of disappointment in her tone, it’s tethered to the faint lilt of her words—entwined like vine to stone. And he hates that he always seems to let her down, especially in times where she needs him most.

The pair had been inseparable since middle school, venturing through central park hand in hand and padding along beneath sweltering sun until the heat seemed to consume them entirely. They would feed throngs of ducks who never failed to linger by the shallow ponds, content with both the day and each other. She’d been his rock for what felt like an entirety, a paperweight which kept him fastened to the ground when his personal trials and tribulations threatened to blow him away. But above all she was tempered despite all irrationalities and empirical injustices. Perhaps it stemmed for an inherent timidness which she seemed to carry upon her shoulders like a perennial burden, or maybe she had just been that good at reservation—he could never quite put his finger on it.

Peter’s posture is stiff, as if one wrong move and her apathetic disposition may just contort into exasperation. “I swear I’ll make it up to you! Tomorrow—at that ice cream parlour you like.” He watches as ( Y/N )’s gaze seems to falter, and being the observant person that he was—he can’t help but to notice that she never seems to meet his eyes. “I’ll meet you there after school, my treat.”

( Y/N ) fiddles with the remaining notebooks which rest idly on the table. “Yeah that’s fine I guess, I-I mean you really don’t have to. But if you really wanna go then that’s cool.” She smiles that flimsy grin of hers that she’s worn since she was twelve years old, only now it’s less toothy. ( Y/N ) stopped baring ivories when she was fourteen, despite the fact the braces her parents invested thousands on ended up doing her a world of good.

“Great I’ll see you then.” Peter slips his phone into his pocket before giving her hand a light squeeze.

“Looking forward to it.” 

And as always, she really means it.

Peter Parker considers himself to be good with faces.

He can recall the identities of mask clad vigilantes who’d only exposed that particular chink in their armour for a brief moment, and the distinct profile of every librarian who’s ever shushed both him and an overzealous Ned Leeds. Such a tendency wouldn't come as a shock to those who actually knew the boy. He exuded a natural brilliance which seemed to recede that of his peers, and should he have made his intelligence the focal point of his persona—perhaps those who hadn’t known him would have dubbed him a genius. Genius’ had a tendency to notice things; they were constantly alert as if a peculiar kind of hyperactivity replaced the vitality which coursed through overt veins.

Peter was no different than the very people who never seemed to overlook even the littlest of things.

So you can only imagine his shock when a perky—and barely recognizable— ( Y/N Y/L/N ) arrives at Eddie’s Sweet Shop, clad in a floral patterned dress comprised of thin material and long sleeves. Honey lacquered nails clutch at the baby pearls which adorn her wrists—a family heirloom that she’d always donned in memory of her grandmother. On any other day, the beat up converse she’d purposely slipped on her feet that afternoon ( her solid attempt at contrasting her dress ) would look wrong—something so obviously out of place. Today they resinate with Peter like the ballet flats she’s grown so used to wearing for the sake of appearances. And it’s not that his inherent shock stems from a sudden recognition of her beauty—because she’s always been beautiful and she always would be. No, the jarring nature of his response stems from the unfamiliarity of character. The way she seems to have blossomed before a crowd of oblivious strangers, confidence etched into the crescent shape her mouth effortlessly conforms to. Light shades of pink stain the surface of her cheeks, and he knows it’s because she’s stood in the sun for far too long. More than that, the chunky frames of her glasses are missing in action, and for the first time ever—she’s visibly unfazed.

Yeah, his best friend has always been beautiful—but he’s never really seen her like this before.

“Hey ( Y/N )! You look, uh—wow, I mean, you look good.” His stuttering seems to intrigue a smiling ( Y/N ), which turns his own cheeks a deep red.

The giggle which escapes ( Y/N )’s lips is airy and delicate, and should it have been something of physical tangibility, it would have broke underneath the burden of her weighty expectations. “Thanks Peter. You don’t think it’s too much?” There’s a sudden crook in her right eyebrow as she gestures to her lanky form.

Peter holds back a nervous gulp. “N-No, definitely not.”

“Well that’s a relief.” She slides onto the stool next to him, and for a moment his throat seems constrict upon catching the light floral scent of her perfume. Was it possible for someone to smell pretty? Peter wants to ask her, but settles for requesting a menu instead.

“So I was thinking we could share a banana split—y’know, like when we were kids.” He begins to fiddle with the menu’s laminated edge, and ( Y/N ) watches him like it’s the most endearing thing she’s ever seen.

“That sounds great, but aren’t we technically still kids?” There’s a teasing glint in her eye, a stark disparity to a cautiousness which laces her words. And to anyone looking from the outside in—she was right. Peter and ( Y/N ) were nothing more than two kids who’d always harboured feelings for one another, though neither of them had ever been brave enough to act on such a sentiment. Instead, they continued forward with one another—ceaselessly pursuing the future with no intention to ever part, even if it meant an eternity of friendship and friendship alone.

The nights in which ( Y/N ) buried her head in the crook of Peter’s neck on her fire escape, tracing constellations with yearning fingers and telling tales of both science and fiction had been enough to cement an emotional attachment she could never quite shake. She’d loved him in a childish kind of way.

A stolen kisses on the cheek by the duck pond kind of way.

And Peter had loved her too, he always had. He loved the way she’d never been seen without a novel of some sort tucked at her side—pages tattered and cover torn because she always read her books more than once. The way she never grew weary of him, even when he lost focus during their study sessions in the library. And how he could know everything there was to know about her—only to reevaluate it all by the next morning. Because she’d never just been one thing, even when she was shy and vulnerable there’d still been a confidence to her; a security which transcended all hesitation.  

Aren’t we technically still kids?

“Yeah—I guess we are.”

Two kids who were just friends—but loved each other nonetheless.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagines #peter parker imagines #spider-man: homecoming #spider man: homecoming #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spider-man imagine #spiderman: hoco #tom holland fluff #two imagines in one day y'all this is really a miracle

[bijuewled]

For You, Anything

A/N: I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head after what’s been going on lately in the manga, so this is a major spoiler warning if you’ve haven’t caught up with the manga! I hope you all enjoy! 

Pairing: Nalu

Word Count: 2,855

Summary: He was not a being meant to be saved. Just as she was not a girl meant to save him. 

                                                           o-o-o

Since when had the heat ever bothered him? 

His eyes were heavy and dry as he trudged forward on the dirt path, releasing shallow breaths past his chapped lips every time his feet took another step forward. Dust kicked upwards and caked onto his exposed ankles, dyeing his white pants a dull brown. His scarf hung loose around his bleeding neck, the fabric undoubtedly caked in the red liquid, but he paid no mind to it. 

He bit down on his lips as he felt his skin burn, as if live fire were dancing on his arms and legs and licking him with their devilish tongues of heat, pushing his limbs further into a blazed abyss of inferno. This fire was no ally or friend to him, this fire scorched and burned in the worst way possible. But why? 

His right arm hung by his side uselessly, his skin practically burned down to the bone, a sight that he’d never thought he would ever have to lay his eyes upon. His eyes glossed over the path before him, a path that had once been filled with laughing children and flowers with bright colored-petals that emitted a light floral perfume. The small river canal beside the path would be filled with koi fish and canoes of smiling families and lovers. 

Now, everything was dead. 

The path was littered with garbage and stray bricks from destroyed monuments and buildings, the streets void of any life what-so-ever. Debris and broken flower petals danced along the flowing murky water, silencing the life of the once vibrant koi fish that floated silently above the water. 

And then there was the smell. 

His nose burned as the scents of everything hit him at once; the blood drenched on his clothes, the gasoline of broken pipes, the smoke of burning wood…

It’s over he thought to himself as he rounded a corner slowly, raising his stiff neck slightly to catch a better glimpse of his broken path, a flash of red eyes and black hair drowning his vision. 

His enemy, the world’s enemy, his brother…would not be able to destroy the world that he called his home, the world that his nakama had called their home, the world that brought him to Fairy Tail was safe once more. 

He halted his shaking footsteps as another flash of pain shot through his body, causing him to grunt out loudly and grind his teeth together, his cry of pain echoing out through the deafening silence of the town. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the burn of fire scorch his entire body, the unfamiliar fire that was not welcomed with opened arms. He inhaled sharply and grabbed his scarf in his fist as he tried to drown out the pain with the three words that he’d been repeating to himself ever since he left the guild.

It’s all over.

“Hey! Wake-up!”

The voice made Natsu freeze in his efforts to drown out the pain as his shaking fist loosened its death grip. The voice was a distant echo at first, slowly growing into a crescendo of panic as he struggled to open his eyes and focus on what appeared to be three figures before him up ahead. The blurred shapes soon formed into recognizable colors and faces as his heart suddenly dropped to the deep depths of his stomach as he laid eyes upon two long blonde pigtails sprawled out on the ground, tangled in leaves.

“Please, Lucy! This isn’t funny!” 

Her name seemed to fuel the fire burning his body, sending another shock of pain that vibrated against his bones and filled his head with blistering smoke. He hissed through his teeth and struggled to stay upright as his body began to sag against the force of impending gravity. 

“Natsu?” 

At hearing his name his eyes focused on the face of the speaker, a broken and scratched up Gray who stared up at him with shocked eyes. 

Since when had he reached them so quickly? Had the pain drowned out his sense of movement and time? 

“Natsu.” Gray said again incredulously, Natsu looking at the scratches that adorned his muscled arms and chest, a deep gash stamped onto his stomach as his chest moved up and down urgently to keep him alive. “What are you…”

Natsu couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly inhaled the oxygen he needed to live, and it certainly wouldn’t come any time soon after his eyes travelled down to the unconscious figure with the striking blonde hair that had brought his vision back for just a moment.  

Gray had placed Lucy’s head atop his lap, his hands lightly poking her cheeks and shaking her shoulders as he continued to call out her name, trying to get her to open her eyes. 

Her usual peachy toned skin was pale as snow, all colors of life drained from the face that had a smile that could brighten up his day in an instant. Her exposed stomach was scratched and bruised, purple and blue spots traveling down to her thighs. Her once pink lips were cracked and dry, lips that held so many snarky comments and beautiful laughter. 

He dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain that jutted out from his knee caps as he felt a familiar set of paws lightly press against his leg. 

“Natsu…” Happy’s sad voice chimed, though his partner’s voice was lost in his hearing as he locked eyes on the part of her hair that had covered the right side of her face. He reached out to brush her hair away from her face, pausing for just a moment as he felt something sinister sink into the depths of his stomach before finally brushing the hair away. 

What little breathing his body allowed him to stopped altogether as his eyes widened in absolute horror. 

Red, angry veins were tattooed across her right cheek, dancing tauntingly around her jawline and eyebrow, where they finally plunged into her eye, a whole network of dark and sinister power. Her eyelids were shut, dried tears caked around her eyelashes as Natsu traced the veins with his shaking hand, following the foreign lines down to her neck and right shoulder, invading her bloodstream all the way down to her fingertips. 

The heat omitting from her veins almost singed his shaking fingertips, making Natsu swallow a shaking breath. 

She couldn’t handle this much heat in her body, no normal human could possibly allow their blood to become that boiled and poisoned with fire and expect to…

Just how much pain was she in? he thought angrily as his eyes began to burn with tears, his body beginning to shake with the uncontrollable pain that had been plaguing him all this time, turning to lock eyes with a stone-faced Gray. 

“What happened-“ he began to ask, until he realized that he didn’t have to ask what had happened to her. 

Back at the guild, he knew from the moment that he felt his own fire begin to spark back into his body that his friends had paid a price that he hadn’t agreed on paying. Back when darkness was all he could see and feel, he followed a small spark of light that was calling to him, calling him out of the darkness and back into the light of the living. 

He saw her face in his mind before his vision was fully restored, and he knew it was her. 

And his hunch was confirmed when his eyes caught the silhouette of an opened book with a beaten up leather spine, the pages inside scribbled with angry black and what now appeared to be shimmering gold text that stood proudly written in between the black as if to assert its dominance, Lucy asserting her dominance over the text, just like she did with every book.

And right next to the book was a simple pen, broken in half and dripping gold ink onto the green grass. 

The harsh gold of the ink blinded Natsu’s vision as the heat suddenly became too much for him to handle, and he felt himself falling, his head landing on Lucy’s still chest with a small thump. 

“Natsu!” He faintly heard Gray and Happy exclaim in shock as he turned his head to stare at Lucy’s eyelashes, his hot cheek rubbing softly against her skin. It was in that moment that he finally understood why this heat was sending him into the depths of intolerable pain. 

With a final glimpse down to Lucy’s red fingertips, he allowed himself to confirm his final thoughts as the shimmering gold overtook his vision. 

“NATSU!”

He was not a being meant to be saved. Just as she was not a girl meant to save him. 

And as the gold script in the Book of END began to eat away at the pages and leather bindings, he allowed himself to be taken along with it. 

And he fell back into blinding darkness. 

o-o-o

A soft breeze, warm and gentle, was enough to prompt Natsu to open his eyes slowly, the black that had once suffocated him was slowly fading into a fluorescent gold, the same gold that had taken him away once before. 

He was greeted with a bright blue sky with puffy clouds, clean air filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply, letting his senses adjust to his surroundings as he allowed himself to sit up slowly, blinking as he took in the soft golden grass beneath his palms. 

“What?” he asked himself as his eyes took in the shimmering gold around him, small specks of feathers and sparkling matter dancing around in the air. He stood up fully, shocked at his steadiness as one of the feathers landed on his arm, and as Natsu plucked it off of his skin and brought it closer to his face to examine it, he realized that the fire that plagued his body was gone.

Releasing the feather, his eyes swept over his right arm, now completely healed and covered with his smooth tan skin. His fingertips brushed his skin, and he began to frown. Wasn’t it just a moment ago that he could barely see the skin on his arm? Wasn’t it just a moment ago that he could barely open his eyes or stand up straight? 

He glanced up at the sky once more, as if to search for an answer. 

“You’ve finally made it.” 

Natsu’s heart picked up a strange rhythm as he felt his eyes widen at hearing the oh-so familiar voice chime so clearly, a sweet melody of calm. 

Slowly, he turned around to meet the pair of eyes that he wasn’t able to look at before, and he found himself staring immensely at her. 

She stood before him calmly and steadily, a smile playing up on her glossed pink lips as her long pigtails blew gently behind her back. She was wearing the same outfit as before, only her shirt wasn’t torn to pieces and her boots hugged her legs without exposing the skin underneath. Her skin was clear and her peachy pink blush was back on her cheeks, brightening when she closed her eyes and flashed him an even bigger smile then the one she already wore. 

Lucy…

She giggled softly. “You sure kept me waiting long enough.” 

Natsu didn’t move, or rather he couldn't move, frozen in his spot as he drank her in with wide eyes. His mouth, while parted slightly, was unable to form any words to communicate with her. 

All he could see were violent snapshots of her in his mind, lying on the ground, lifeless and pale. He remembered how his heart began to pound quick and fast when he traced those malignant red veins on her cheek, and how much he wanted to scream when he realized that it was all his fault.

He killed her. He killed them both.

Slowly, he began to move towards her, refusing to break eye contact with his partner until he was mere inches away from her. Acting as if his touch were poisonous to her, he slowly reached for her right arm and stopped, his own hand shaking in the process before his left hand joined in and he gently took Lucy’s arm into his hands. He ran his fingers over her smooth and unscathed skin, a sense of overwhelming grief and joy filling his senses simultaneously as he came to realize the red marks were gone, tears budding in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He broke out of his thoughts and focused on her face once more, shocked to find her staring down at his hands with a sad smile on her face. 

“I…wasn’t strong enough to withstand it…” she trailed off, her lips curling down into a frown after she seemed to be giving it some thought. She bit down on her lip as she looked away at the golden grass at their feet. “And even with my efforts…you still…we both-”

She immediately halted her speech when Natsu touched her cheek, fingertips lightly tracing her skin as she slowly brought her eyes back up to meet with his once more. 

He hated the tears that began to spill down her flushed cheeks, and he hated that she blamed herself for what had happened. 

He cupped her cheek more securely, brushing away her tears with his thumb.  

“I’m the one who has to apologize.” he told her firmly, tears still budding in his eyes as he refused to break eye contact with her. He gritted his teeth together as the gentle wind around them began to pick up. 

“Because of me, you’ll never go back to that cafe that you like. You’ll never wash your hair with that shampoo that smells nice…you’ll never see any of your spirits again…or any of our friends!” 

He was almost yelling at this point, and his own tears began to pour down his cheeks. He released his hold on her cheek and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, gritting his teeth once more as he struggled not to completely lose it- He felt her hands cup his cheeks, her mouth set in a frown as she waited for him to calm his shaking. The wind around them slowed into a gentle caressing breeze as she brought his face down to hers so that their foreheads touched lightly. 

Natsu stared at her, and it only brought him deeper into frustrated despair. 

“Hell…you never even finished that novel of yours.” he said softly, almost to the point of laughing at the pathetic fact he brought up, out of all of the things he could’ve said, he chose to say that. 

All he could do was stare down at her incredulously before he finally found the strength to wrap her up in his arms and bury her into his chest, exhaling as she nuzzled herself into his neck. They said nothing for quite some time, until it was broken by a violent flash of the Book of END lying dangerously close to her body. 

“If it weren’t for that damned book-”

“If I could give you just one more chance to make things right for the world, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.” Lucy cut him off suddenly. “If it means that I could save everyone, I’d burn from the inside out all over again, to help you.” she smiled softly against his neck, tears slowly streaming down her cheeks. 

“You were able to stop Zeref.” 

Natsu frowned at her words. “I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to.” she told him, backing up so that she could smile up at him. “I never stopped believing in you.” 

Her words were simple, and yet, Natsu knew that she meant every word. After all, who better to speak this truth to him other than Lucy? 

Natsu poked her cheek. “Well if it weren’t for you…” he trailed off, not wanting to think about what she had gone through up until that moment. “It wasn’t just me.”

Lucy puffed out her cheeks and lightly punched his shoulder. “Well, duh!”

The wind picked up once more, blowing her pigtails behind her back as she stared up at him with her warm eyes, eyes full of light and life, and they both had decided in that moment to leave all their grief behind them, forever looking ahead to a lifetime filled with golden laughter and memories. 

“I always knew you’d write about me one day.” he told her softly, laughing suddenly pulling her close to him, his eyes glancing down at her lips. “I just wish it wasn’t like this.”

She smiled back up at him, shifting her weight to her toes so that she could rise up and close the gap between them completely. 

And just before their lips met, her words were carried away by the golden wind, along with the two of them, taking them off into their next big adventure.

“Natsu, you’re the best novel I’ve ever written.”

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail 536 #fairy tail 537 #nalu fic #nalu fan fic

[gaynurd]

Once again, I was inspired to write something sweet and smutty for @wheres-mulder‘s Slutty MSR (which apparently is all i’m motivated by these days). Here’s a small thing i’m gonna call “Snow Day” MSR // R (let’s say circa season 4)

Scully looked at the watch on her wrist, it read 1:03am. Christ. She’d been up on this case with Mulder since 12am the previous day. Her feet ached and her head longed for a soft pillow. Mulder and her had to share a motel room once again. These old hidden motels were somehow always booked, Scully wondered how people even found these places without driving in the middle of nowhere in search for extraterrestrials. 

 Even in light of the circumstances, Scully was far too exhausted to pay too much attention to sharing a bed with Mulder. She only wanted to shower and get under the blankets and dream of a tropical vacation far away from any desert or ancient cave. Mulder carried both their suitcases inside, they found a bed in exceptionally satisfactory condition considering the place looked to have been around since the ‘20s. New and soft linens decorated the bed in neutral floral patterns and a box tv and a vcr player sat on an antique oak dresser.

 Scully had made a beeline for the shower while Mulder unpacked for the night, he waited to undress until the shower had run for a minute or two. His eyes were failing to stay open , he was as tired if not more so than Scully, but he wouldn’t let on. After all he’d dragged her out here, he was the reason, normally always the reason the both of them were sleep deprived. Mulder put on a pair of of his old basketball shorts and a tshirt for his pajamas. He’d like to sleep without all the extra layers but he valued Scully’s comfort more than anything. Before Scully had even rung out her hair Mulder was already out like a light, snoring under the blankets.

  3:54am

A soft moan echoed from far away. A deep, agitated sound that coerced Scully to seek it’s source. It was black. Now, she can’t see anything, but she feels a low and aching burn sit where her abdomen would be. Scully squirmed, stuck in a daze, hot and confused. She heard another moan that elicits her attention as she feels a firm grip over where her right hip should be. The confusion clears as Scully opens her eyes to find she was dreaming. 

 Wait, no. 

  Whoa.

Mulder’s hand was gripping Scully’s hip hard as he ground himself hard against her ass. Scully’s eyes shot wide open as she sucked in a harsh breath. Oh my god. How long had they been doing this for?

 Stuck in Mulder’s grasp and not wanting to wake him to make him aware of the situation, Scully stayed locked in his embrace, his thrusts growing rougher and faster. A familiar moan escapes Mulder’s lips as he grinds his hips long and slow up against her. Scully could feel the hardness of him sliding against the crease of her ass, an unintentional moan escapes her open mouth before she can stop herself and she bites her lip hard. That would unmistakably be the other moan she had heard in the dark.

 After a few more long and driven thrusts and a gasp against Scully’s neck, Mulder released his grip on her as his body relaxed. His arm draped over her as she lay there starring at the wall, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened, if it really had, or if she was still in a dream. 

 Scully told herself to go back to sleep, maybe then when Mulder would wake up he would move, being able to spare both of them the thought that the other didn’t know what had happened. 

  7:00am 

The scent of burnt coffee and bacon pulled Scully from a deep sleep. She opened an eye and peeked to find no arm draped over her, she waited to move gathering composure to meet Mulder face to face again. 

 Sitting up Scully saw Mulder on the other side of the bed hunched over something, his jaw was clenched in complete thought. A cup of coffee sat on the nightstand next to Scully’s side along with a bagel half and some bacon. She allowed herself to give a quick, sweet smile before she fixed her hair and made her consciousness known. 

 "So, what’re we chasing after today?“ She mocked as she took a sip from her coffee. Mulder put whatever it was he was holding down on his nightstand and turned to smile at her, his cheeks grew a faint color of pink almost instantly.

 "Take a look outside, Scully.” Mulder walked to the window and pulled apart the drapes. The light was blinding and Scully had to raise her hand to block the glare, her eyes adjusted to see an enormous blanket of white. 

 "Mulder!“ She threw the blankets off of her to get up and inspect for herself. She opened the door to a brisk piercing wind. The parking lot and road were barely recognizable anymore, besides the tire marks from those with chains and four wheel drive, only the sidewalks to the motel rooms and lobby were cleared. “It’s late February!” Scully scuffed as she slammed the door. She knew the bureau’s little Toyota would never be a match for the road. She turned to face Mulder looking serious but he only marveled at her stern face and her hands on her hips whilst in her silk button up pjs. “What do we do now?" 

 Mulder laughed to himself as he reached for whatever he’d been hunched over earlier. He held up 3 chunky VCR tapes as a silly grin grew bigger and bigger across his face. "The motel manager had a small selection.” Scully took the tapes: ET, The Empire Strikes Back, and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. “A decent selection for such slim pickins,” Mulder said as he rocked on his heels giddy. Scully rolled her eyes and turned back to the bed. “You can start them whenever, Mulder,” she said as she lifted the blankets. “But I’m going to sleep in for the first time in 3 years." And with that Scully curled herself into a ball and drifted off as she heard Mulder snicker as he popped ET into the VCR. 

10:00pm

In spite of being snowed in in a tiny motel room, the day hadn’t been bad at all. Scully had slept in until eleven, Mulder hadn’t bothered to mention but she was having an argument with him in her sleep. The lobby held a small lunch buffet for the guests at noon. A small selection of sandwiches and small rolls and packaged butter was offered. Cookies, fruit, and small potato chip bags sat out as extra snacks for everyone snowed in. Mulder took an armful of chips back to the room as Scully carried the sandwiches and fruit. 

Mulder had bargained to buy her a Diet Coke from the vending machine if she promised to pay attention during Star Wars. Reluctantly, Scully sighed nodding, damn him. They finished eating and watching the movie, then talked for a good hour on how the story was based from that of Hitler’s and about how badly Mulder wanted to trade in his gun for a lightsaber. 

With nothing better to do, Mulder came up with the idea that him and Scully should take advantage of the weather. They dressed in the warmest attire they’d brought and went out into the snow. Scully had decided making a snowman was too much work so she rolled one big snowball and then an oval shaped one on top. When Mulder noticed the dramatically round carved out eyes and a pebble for an "O” mouth his heart melted, she’d made a snow alien.  

Mulder’s smile became soft and sweet and lingered for a minute too long. While off guard, Scully had rolled a powdered snowball in her hand and lunged it at him, nailing him in the chest. A look of dramatic betrayal played across Mulder’s face as he lowered his voice and glared at her. “You want a war, you’ve got one." 

They’d played in the snow like children for hours. No, it wasn’t the tropical vacation Scully willed herself to dream of the night before, but it was an unexpectedly satisfying alternative. 

They took turns in the shower when they were done. Each took a decent amount of time as they burned away the numbness, hot water struck frozen skin and finally they relaxed when they thawed. 

Mulder and Scully had made dinner just in time. The motel manager apologized again for the inconvenience of being stuck in and served frozen pizza he had stowed away for such occasions, he just hadn’t been expecting to need them so late in the season. Not being the best of social extroverts with strangers, Mulder and Scully snuck out a good amount of slices as they headed back to their room. They ate pizza and watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High like teenagers in the 80s. They choked on their food laughing several times and by the end of the movie they were both slumped in defeat against the head board in food comas. 

"What a perfectly unproductive day.” Scully said closing her eyes. Mulder glanced from the corner of his eyes at her and smiled. Her cheeks were rosy and her face soft and tired. She looked relaxed, now that they had a break from the case she looked altogether content to be where she was. Mulder shook his head and cleared the paper plates and chip bags from the bed. 

“Yet somehow we’re both still exhausted." 

"Must be an x file,” Scully smirked as she got up for her suitcase to change.

2:49am

Far off in the distance she could hear a rustling. Not that of leaves in the wind but something moving fast. Running maybe. Scully felt an embrace in the darkness, it was warm and welcoming, she accepted it gladly letting it pull her closer. Something soft and warm tickled against her jaw, repetitive splotches of warmth spread up and down her neck. 

A moan like that of an angels cry echoed behind her, she tried to turn to see it but she couldn’t move. Her body felt as though it had been riding on the ocean, with the high slow rise of the waves and the slow crashing back to shore. She could hear another moan, closer. Scully reached down behind her where she could feel hard pressure, she pulled and pushed in blindness until nothing was between her and it. 

Slowly she came down from riding the wave and a jolt of pain rushed through her. Scully’s eyes snapped open as real pain radiated through her core.

She covered her mouth as she found Mulder against her back again, only this time he and Scully’s pants had been lost in the mix. Mulder was half inside Scully as his hand was tucked in her shirt cupping her breast. He thrust inside her and without being able to hold back she called out in a combination of a scream and a moan. 

Mulder jumped and immediately looked worried. “Scully!” He said worried she was hurt or in danger. He looked down and registered the hardness in him and where he was, he froze with his hands above her. “…Scully.…" 

Scully looked over her shoulder and into his eyes. She beckoned him closer as she rolled her hips back against him pulling him deep into her. Mulder groaned as Scully’s mouth fell open in silent pleasure. "Keep going,” she whispered. Mulder looked down at where their bodies connected and took a moment to come to the conclusion this wasn’t the wild fantasy he’d always dreamt about, this was happening. 

Mulder snapped out of it and lifted Scully’s leg from the inside of her thigh as he rammed himself deep into her. Scully cried out profanities as Mulder whispered her name again and again. “Yes - Mulder - please,” he was driven by the pure lust and hunger in her small requests. “Harder." 

The sound of their sweaty bodies slapping echoed off the small rooms walls, the neighbors no doubt getting a audible preview of what was going on next door.

Mulder’s hand worked it’s way to Scully’s neck and constricted gently around it. She turned her face to his to watch him as he fucked her. He held her tight as he let anything he might’ve been holding back go, the bed shook violently. 

Scully met Mulder’s thrusts midway as they both reached their peak. With one final thrust Mulder drove himself into Scully, releasing himself as he held her closer than she’s ever been. She shook from her orgasm in his arms, he moved slowly in her as she came panting, stars dancing in front her eyes. 

"Oh… my god,” Mulder breathed as he pulled out of her. He turned to lay on his back catching his breath, Scully following as his arm lay across her shoulders. 

She laughed to herself, fitting into Mulder’s side perfectly. “Yeah, we outta have snow days more often.”

#my writing #msr #xf fic #txf #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #txf fic #xf smut #msr smut

[deviadorned]

sixteen92 Summer 2017 perfume review! (Circle pre-release)

I just received my Summer 2017 Circle perfumes, so these are first impressions. However I may be updating this post in the future! Overall, whatever bitterness my nose has found in recent sixteen92 collections has vanished for this Summer edition. Perhaps it is only because summer is about fun and relaxing and idealized sweet happiness, but that is what the perfume is bringing to the table this time around. 

Erinyes - Sweet wood, golden amber, wild tuberose, nectarine blossom, and lychee jam.

Immediately calls forth impressions of sixteen92′s prior dominantly stone fruit fragrances, Lolita and Doll Parts. It is more elegant than both but still very approachable.

Cold sniff: Thick honey pouring over wood and ripened peaches.

On skin: Oh yes, I see how that is nectarine & lychee but not peach! I get the feeling of taking a bit out of a fresh juicy fruits. Blossoms are definitely floating about, but either I don’t know what tuberose smells like or I can’t find it. There is a bit of what I like to refer to as s92′s ‘diluting’ note, a sort of mild airy presence, and it serves to tone down the strong ripeness of the fruits. The wood & amber impression is 90% gone, but the honeyed nature remains.

Dry down: sweetened stone fruits. Overall slightly cloying for my tastes. The lychee really comes out now.

Strength: For sixteen92, one of the stronger ones! A good bit of throw and the longest lasting for this group.

 Hesperides - Apple wood & blossom, sweet cherry, magnolia flower, clover honey (vegan) and hedione.

A really likable scent that will require some fixative. Much summer wow.

Cold sniff: Hello cherry!! You’re smelling lovely and realistic today. Like chewing on a fresh but soft, dark cherry when you get the skins all stuck in your teeth.

On skin: Still cherry, more sour but in a good way. I have to really push to identify the other notes as magnolias and the supposedly jasmine-like hedione, but I think they are coming out as it drys down, as well as the apple-y notes.

Dry down: Yup, more floral! Ooooh there’s that scent that wants to be jasmine. Interesting to blend it with cherry - pleasant, but not my fave.

Strength: Unfortunately this one is doing its best to to burn off quickly, but it does leave a lovely close-to-skin cherry behind which turns into a floral blend that I feel sixteen92 has presented in other scents.

Keres - Blood orange, black iris, metallic accord, vetiver, sun-warmed musk, and iso e super.

A bit spooky and not usually my thing, but miles ahead of the other ‘creepy atmospheric’ scents that sixteen92′s done for me! It does remind me of an old (VERY old, creaky) wooden cabin in the summer sunlight (thanks for the image /u/oaksandroses, lol), but a somewhat friendly one.

Cold sniff: bit of orange rind, shiny metal, iris-y powder, minty musk

On skin: I’m cool with this metallic iris, similar to Nevertheless She Persisted. Iso e super is apparently a sort of synthetic-y woodsy amber, and I think it works for this perfume with all the metallics and such - gives it a little more life. A lively, Joan of Arc robot (sorry, can’t get BPAL out of my head. If anything smells like “golden oudh, frankincense, iris, and steel” it’s this) No orange at all, not a whit. And where’s my vetiver at?

Dry down: Pleasant, non-powdery powder if that makes any sense. Plus metallic musk. I think it is the musk that is making this ‘good’ to me. And oh hey! There’s that misty translucent orange again. A bit of sweet vetiver too. I think these scents truly do need rest and they will be fuller.

Strength: Close to skin, but I wouldn’t expect this misty powdery scent to have much throw. In fact it would become a scrubber at that point. I like what the vetiver is doing though.

Moirai - Black fig, black & red tea leaves, ginger root, coconut milk and papyrus.

gorgeous gourmandy goodness.

Cold sniff: Smooth and creamy, gingery tea. A wisp of paper in the background, a slice of fresh fig. That is one impressive bottle sniff.

On skin: The ginger root is really kicking you in the teeth sometimes, I might be amping it. Still sweet and figgy and edible, more of the above! It blooms nicely on the skin.

Dry down: Mm that’s a nice way for tea to be. Quiet. But it’s disappearing :(

Strength: Could also use a fixative. It’s actually really remarkable how it’s mostly disappeared other than a vague sweetness, considering the amount of times I’ve reapplied in the last 3 hours.

Nereids - Surf & shoreline, driftwood, dried coconut shell, pistachio, sweet sea grasses, and salt.

Unusual and delightful! THIS I want to spray my entire house with.

Cold sniff: A haze of classic vanilla with a ribbon of sea water slowly reaching up to support it.

On skin: It’s chewy vanilla, but then it’s the foam of an soft ocean wave against the hull of a skipper. I’m getting some kind of spice I can’t explain. It wants to be saltwater taffy, a gourmand aquatic, but doesn’t quite unite those two sides - they flow around each other. Where are these candy notes coming from??? I do get pistachio and dry sun-bleached grass but wouldn’t have picked it up without the suggestion in the notes.

Dry down: A dusty salt starts coming out stronger. Ah, some cracked coconut shell definitely. The sweetness is still there to balance it out. Definitely reminds of some classic gentle mainstream feminine aquatics through the dry down - not really like being in the water, but recognizable as ‘an aquatic perfume.’ A bit of driftwood and sand and hint of sunscreen.

Strength: Fades more than I’d like but still stronger than Moirai and Hesperides.

Overall I will definitely be giving these guys a chance to rest up, I just took them out of the mailbox this morning. But a pleasant surprise! Normally I would complain about how little some of these matched the notes given, but it worked out in my favor, sooo I don’t know. Chalk it up to perfume mysteries. I look forward to checking them out in a week, or a month!

#sixteen92