#Griffin holding his hand tightly

[nympippi]

Necromancer Finney AU: Before they grew into their personalities, would the recently revived Ghost Boys be in any forms of comatose? Like, would they just sit there quietly staring at nothing with a blank expression on their faces, not reacting to anything due to being revived from the dead

Mmm not necessarily, when the boys were first revived they were very freaked out and lashed out a lot, and cried too. Griffin was sobbing and clutching onto whoever or whatever he could get his hands on, Vance was yelling, and screaming at everyone thinking that this was some kind of trick, PB was confused and refused to let anyone touch him, Robin was also a little disoriented and refused to let anyone touch him and also thought it was a trick, and lastly Bruce was the only one silent, he thought he was still dead and was so confused by all the noise but tried to not acknowledge it.

All of them thought it was a cruel trick and when they saw Finn in their basement beside his own grave they burst out crying because they really thought he was killed and they refused to believe they were alive and had been brought back.

But they do stare at walls kinda spacing out and just get stuck in their own heads, reliving what happened to them in the basement.

[pxtched]

NERD!MIGUEL X QUEENBEE!READER. NSFW DRABBLE - ‘Study night’

Miguel should’ve known it wouldn’t be a regular study night with you. He should’ve known it would’ve been something more than a study night like you said it was.

Books, pencils, clothing on the floor. You’re in your pink lingerie set in between his thighs. He’s naked on your bed, legs are spread wide open as you give him a handjob, edging him for what seems like forever.

He’s a whiny, sobbing mess. His glasses nearly falling off on his face as his face is flushed. You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip to muffle his whimpers and moans as tears fell down his face from his beautiful eyes.

You quicken your pace suddenly and he chokes up a loud moan, he throws his head back and closes his eyes as he moans out “I’m-I’m coming! ¡Oh-oh Dios! ¡joder! ¡Ya voy!” his hips thrusts up. Smirking at this sight and deciding he can hold on for a little bit more.

You stop your pace immediately, removing your hand from his overly sensitive dick and chuckle seeing his dick twitch. After a couple seconds after another ruined orgasm he looks back at you and whines more “why…” with a little pout you can’t help but feel bad for him.

You chuckle at him, “be patient, just wait until I tell you to come. you can do that right migs?” You coo at him with a small grin on your face. He pouts but nods. “Goood boy” you praised him and he let out a whimper, his dick twitched at it too.

You want back with your relentless pace but on his sensitive tip instead. His eyes shot open as his head immediately threw back, He was holding back whimpers and tried to hold on but the more you went. the more he couldn’t do it. He moaned out loudly, his hands grabbing the bedsheets tightly, his thighs tensing up, mouth open and his eyes rolling back as his hips starts thrusting up into your fist as he moaned out breathlessly “¡Joder-joder-joder!”

Before you can stop he came all over your hand and his lower abdomen, he groaned after his release and let out a whimper when you slap his dick for not coming when you said he could.

“You couldn’t even wait.” You scolded him as you get up from your bed he watches you with a pout on his face “lo siento…”

Tags! @ultravioletrayz , @safixiovi , @syler-griffin , @jadeloverxd , @rxckstarss (i figured you’ll like this!)

(nerd!miguel credit @nymphomatique )

Reblogs help a lot! Thank you and goodbye!

master-list _ guidelines/rules _ abt me !

[obsessedwithceleste]

Reflections

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Interlocked pt 1

Based on this request.

Summary: reflection (n) a serious thought or consideration.

word count: 2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You feel your hands beginning to tremble as you stare up at the large statue of a golden griffin that supposedly lead to the headmaster's office. An owl had dropped a letter on your bed just hours ago summoning you to him, and since then, you had been racking your brain trying to think of a reason for his request.

It was the last day of term before you were to return home for the summer. Most of your friends were in the dorms packing at that very moment, but not you. No, you were standing here, wondering why on Earth you were being called to the headmaster's office.

Your grades were fine, you hadn't gotten into any spats with a professor, or another student for that matter, you hadn't lost your house any points. You couldn't think of a single reason Dumbledore would want to see you. No. That wasn't true you realize. You were one of the names on the list of Dumbledore's Army.

But then why were none of your other classmates being summoned?

Before you could worry yourself any further, you look up at the statue in front of you.

“Lemon drop” you say timidly, not entirely sure that the password would work.

To your surprise however, the griffin lets out a loud grinding sound as it turns slowly, revealing a hidden staircase behind. Taking a deep breath and stealing yourself, you forge ahead, carefully making your way up the winding staircase.

You find yourself standing in a large study, bookshelves lining the walls, and previous headmasters roaming about the grande picture frames hanging above. Peering about, the room appears to be empty as you make your way up to the large desk that is centered in the room.

You didn’t mean to snoop. Well, maybe a little. A handful of seemingly random objects lay strewn atop the dark mahogany, a glimmer of silver catching your eye. Picking up the small object carefully, you find it to be a thick, silver ring embedded with dark emeralds. An ornate letter S carved into the heavy metal.

“I see you’ve taken a fancy to the Slytherin ring,” the raspy voice of Professor Dumbledore states as the man seems to materialize next to you.

Startled, you jolt back from the desk, the ring clattering against the wood as it falls from your hand.

“Professor! I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant to snoop,” you rush, holding your hands tightly behind your back.

With a light chuckle, Dumbledore picks up the silver ring, a contemplative look on his face.

“Strange things heirlooms. This particular ring belonged to a Salazar Slytherin, you may have heard of him,” he says, a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

Your jaw drops open in shock. The Salazar Slytherin?

“In fact, all of these heirlooms once belonged to the houses of one of the founders.” He continues, picking up a heavy looking silver necklace dripping with sapphires and diamonds to inspect. “Curious that you choose that ring.”

“It just caught my eye,” you mumble. “What are you doing with all these anyway, Professor?”

The old man pauses, considering the jewels clasped tightly in his hand.

“I’ve been searching for something. Or somethings, rather. Which leads me to the reason you were brought here today. It is my understanding that you were one of the students involved with Harry Potter’s, tutoring sessions, shall we say?”

You hold your breath. Here it comes. You must be in some sort of trouble you think as you give a slight nod.

“You must know then, that Voldemort has returned.” Dumbledore states, a seriousness taking over his face.

Again, you nod your head slightly. You had heard what had happened at the department of mysteries obviously.

“And I assume you also know he has a son at this very school?”

Of course. Mattheo Riddle. A Slytherin, obviously, in your class. Mischievous and rowdy, with a reputation for breaking the hearts of girls throughout the school. How could you not know of him?

“Yes professor.”

Dumbledore once again takes a moment to observe you and you shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

“You must know, y/n that what I am about to ask next is not to be taken lightly.”

You blink back at the old man, not at all sure where this was going.

“During times like these, it is essential that we gather as much information as possible in order to overcome our enemies,” he explains, eyes never once leaving yours.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re asking sir. You want me to become a spy?”

Dumbledore pauses, head tilting as if trying to put his next words together as carefully as possible.

“It would be, quite beneficial, to have someone form a sort of- attachment to the young Mr. Riddle. Someone for example, who isn’t as connected to Mr. Potter, but still dedicated to his cause.”

“Someone like me.” You finish, taking in his words. “You want me to date Mattheo Riddle to gain information for you.”

You can see the glimmer in Dumbledore’s eyes once more as he ever so slightly gives a nod of his head.

“Of course a decision doesn’t need to be made immediately. You’ll have the summer to think things over, though y/n I must ask that this conversation remains private.”

His words churn in your head as you take a moment to truly understand what was being asked of you. If Voldemort had truly returned, this would send you right into the heart of the snake pit. A dangerous position indeed.

“Of course professor,” you mumble, as the old man leads you back in the direction of the staircase.

As you make your way back to your dormitory, you can’t shake the proposal from your mind. It was a monstrous ask for a teenager to become a spy so early in what you were sure was inevitably going to be war. But you were also sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t request this of you unless he was certain that it would be relatively safe. Especially considering you’d be within the confines of the school.

You let out an anxious sigh. You certainly had a lot to think about in the coming months.

Mattheo shivered feeling the cold draft that seemed to be a permanent resident of Malfoy Manor.

After his father’s self-proclaimed abominable travesty at the department of mystery, he had been moved into the manor with the rest of his father’s mindless followers. The only solace he had was the fact that both Draco Malfoy and Lorenzo Berkshire had been brought to reside in the manor as well, the three banding together to make it through the summer.

He sat with Enzo now in the library, the fireplace giving off just enough light for them to make out the small black print on the pages. This is really all life had been recently. Sitting in the library waiting for one of the adults to come calling for one of them before coming back to disassociate.

“He’s calling for you. Father told me to fetch you,” Draco says, from the library doorway, as if vocalizing Matthew’s thoughts. His pale face looked especially hollow, as if he’d seen a ghost- or more likely the Cruciatus curse.

Mattheo let’s put a deep sigh, dropping his book onto the table beside him as Enzo looks at the two with pity.

He despised the fact that his father had returned. Utterly loathed it in fact. Slytherin students at Hogwarts were already pariahs in the halls. But add on the last name Riddle? He was set up for failure, he thought bitterly to himself. And now with the whole Dark Lord nonsense. Mattheo sighed in annoyance.

He knew he should fear that thing that was his father, but honestly, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d spent his entire life ostracized, assumed the worst of, beaten down, what more could the Dark Lord really take from him? He’d already made his life a living hell by simply giving him a name. He just didn’t care.

Mattheo lazily made his way to the Master’s wing of the mansion which his father had quickly taken over, displacing the Malfoys to a small guest room on the opposite side of the house. After placing the blame for his most recent failure on Lucious Malfoy, his father was reveling in humiliating the man in any way possible. He knew it was hitting Draco hard too, but they were too proud to say anything.

Finally reaching the large, perhaps intimidating double doors of the study his father was currently presiding in, Mattheo didn’t even need to knock as the doors flew open, eyes turning towards him.

The usual goons were there. Bellatrix of course, Lucius and Narcissa, Pettigrew, Severus. Even Theodore's father Nott Sr. They all watched in silence as he stepped a few feet into the room.

“Mattheo,” the eerie voice of his father hisses with glee as the boy enters.

“Father.” He replies dryly.

“Just the one I was looking for.”

“Well you did summon me.”

The Dark Lord glared at the petulant boy in front of him.

“Mattheo, dear boy, come closer.”

Mattheo frowns at his father’s request, grimacing at the thought of being anywhere near the ghastly creature. Nevertheless, he walks confidently further into the room, coming to stop directly in front of his father.

It didn’t take long for Mattheo to feel his father begin to try and pry into his mind, scavenging for something, though Mattheo wasn’t sure what. He steeled himself, having become rather familiar with occlumency since his father’s return. It really wasn’t difficult to off-track the Dark Lord, he had tended to see what he wanted to see, but not many of his followers had seemed to pick up on that particular trait.

After a few minutes of this, the Dark Lord seemed to grow frustrated.

“Mattheo, I have a special task for you,” he announces finally, a large grin overtaking his face. “You should feel honored that such a role is being entrusted with you. Do you feel honored boy?”

“Of course.” Mattheo grits out.

In actuality however, he was growing nervous. He knew that Lorenzo had already been tasked with fixing a broken vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts. And Draco- well. Draco had been assigned a task as well. Both seemed impossible. It was only a matter of time before he was assigned a task himself.

The Dark Lord smiled menacingly at his son.

“We want a spy. Someone in Dumbledore’s little army to feed us information about his sacred chosen one.” He announces. Bellatrix lets out a cackle from beside him.

“Father, I’m not quite sure you’ve thought this through. I’m not exactly in the good graces of most of Hogwart’s population,” Mattheo responds, slightly annoyed.

His father’s face immediately turns to one of rage.

“Silence you impertinent child!” He bellows.

“You dare question your master?” Bellatrix screeches. “Let me punish him master. Let me practice on him like I did little Draco,” she begs.

Mattheo frowns at the woman in disgust.

“Silence Bellatrix. All in good time. But Mattheo you will not be the spy, no. I am no mere amateur to the games that Dumbledore will play. No, dear boy, your task is to lure in someone from Dumbledore’s order. Form an- attachment. Seduce them, do what you must and they will spill their secrets. Affection makes one weak Mattheo. Love might have prevented me from getting rid of their savior once. But it will not again. Love makes you weak, and they will learn.”

Mattheo looks at his father with disdain. A ridiculous task, he thought. And definitely something far better suited for Lorenzo who would have absolutely no trouble chatting up some witch. But that’s just the thing wasn’t it. The Dark Lord wanted to see them squirm. Struggle.

“Is that all father?” He asks, growing bored.

The Dark Lord considers the boy in front of him before waving his hand.

“Bring me the Berkshire boy. Bellatrix needs a new play thing.”

God I'm slow😫 idk why this was so hard to write but here we are🫠

tag list: @elsafromcabinsix

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐭.𝟏 ◇

【Synopsis】 : One day, when a far away kingdom gets attacked, a lone brave knight fights to save his homeland. But what happens when death comes knocking and only a small fae could save him.

『Word count』 : 3.5k

-> Genre: Fantasy Au. Fluff. Gore. Suggestive.

Paring: GumpyKnight!Bucky x Fae!Reader

[Warnings] : Violence, heavy gore, blood, weapons, animals dying, near character death, making out

Masterlist | Navigation

The enchanted forest just on the outskirts of the kingdom was one of the most ancient and most powerful places you could ever visit. The thick forestry was home to many magical beings, ranging from fairies, fae, nymphs, druids, and more. If you walk fifteen minutes into the giant trees, you can spot a crystal clear waterfall that is said if you swim in it, a water nymph will appear and grant you wishes.

If you cast yourself deeper inside, as the forest becomes denser, you can find a cave that houses a griffin. It has spoken that he is sound asleep waiting for his master to awaken him from his enchanted slumber. The forest is beautiful inside and out but never tread too far, It may be magical and gorgeous, but it’s a dangerous land. The creatures that hide inside can be seductive and lure you into an early gra—

“Samuel! Clinton! Stop scaring the kids.” King Steve called from across the classroom. The young prince and princess stared in shock hearing the horrors of the forest just beyond their bedroom.

“Uncle Steve, can you tell us about the forest? Haven’t you been in there yourself!” The young princess smiled at him, intrigued by the stories that were whispered in the castle. Steve just chuckled, leaning against the large door frame. The two knights who were telling the stories also anticipated what their leader might say.

“Well, there was this time when—My lord three or more large wolves have entered the outskirts of the kingdom,” Nat calls out with three other knights following her close behind, Wanda and Vision, while Peter looked out of breath having to try and keep up with olders, and their long legs.

Sam and Clint told the kids to go find their father, Steve's brother from another kingdom, and wait until the threat was gone. Steve rounded them all up, heading straight for the large entrance gates.

“Wait where is Sargent Barnes?!!” Steve called, looking among the knights present.

—

Treading through the thick grass, Bucky wipes his brow with a bloody hand in hopes of removing the blood off his face. But it just ends up smearing it more. His armour is scratched, and some of it has been torn off. His chest was exposed, but he kept his shield close to make sure he didn’t get a jump on himself.

“Where are you…” He gritted his teeth, holding his sword tightly in his grasp. He already managed to slaughter two of the rage-filled beats, but he became unsure how many exactly were left. A stick snapped behind his back, making him turn at all the speed he could conjure. But it wasn’t as fast as he would have liked, being tackled down by a large black wolf. Its teeth were a mix of black, red, and yellow, its breath stunk of death, and eyes were pitch as the night sky. It was hungry, and Bucky was its prey.

—

The meadows were extra lively this fine day. The flowers were all in full bloom, making pollen dance in the cool breeze. Your cottage was warm, and the smell of leftover burnt wood from last night’s fire was still prominent as you snipped at some herbs in your greenhouse that was connected to your humble abode.

Placing the herbs and sorts carefully into the little grass basket you carry around, you head inside to sort them out for storage. Some things you sell in neighbouring kingdoms, and others you keep just for yourself. Placing everything on the counter, you notice you’re missing a few items for the meal you planned for tonight. Sighing, you head upstairs to get dressed. You couldn’t do without the ingredients, and it was only a short walk to where you needed to go.

You put on your petty coat before layering on your fabrics. You put on a baby pink and blue with a contract of a white theme. You tie on your bodice top to make sure you avoid your sheer wings. Lastly, you threw over a slitted half cloak to just cover your shoulders, gifting you a little hoodie.

Grabbing your basket and bow from downstairs, you slip on your shoes before heading out into the forestry you call home.

—

The small space clearing from the giant thick trees was covered in hot red blood. Two wolves were lifeless and cold, while one of their brothers still stood. It was wounded but held its ground. Bucky stood across from it, covered in blood. Losing count of what was his and what was the beasts. He held his stomach as the large gash that the big black wolf gave him continued to pour out streams of the crimson liquid.

He was dying.

He spat, holding his sword with both hands. If he was going down, he was going to go down fighting. The wolf growled, getting ready to pounce, looking Bucky dead in the eyes. He ran, jumping onto him, pinning him down to the damp ground. He screamed as the wolf bit into his shoulder, ripping a bit of his flesh away. It was the last piece of strength, Bucky drove his sword into the beast’s chest, his knuckles white as his grip clutched tight. The beast let out one last growl before falling onto the knight, lifeless.

Buck kicked the large wolf off him before leaning against a tree that sat behind him. His eyes grew heavy, feeling his breath becoming shallow. Lifting his left arm from his stomach to look at the damage. His lower half was completely covered in red, his hands painted cardinal.

“Fuck..” He choked, his eyes fuzzy unable to see his surroundings. Maybe going out on your own was a stupid idea. He thought before shutting his eyes for the final time.

—

You were minding your own business. Picking some morels up from the base of an Elms tree that had recently died. The soil was wet, getting stuck to your palms as you removed each mushroom carefully. A low whimper caught your attention. Making you stand up quickly. Your hand clutched your belt that carried your positions, getting ready just in case. You slowly walked towards the noise, preparing for the worst. But no one could prepare you for what you saw.

A literal blood bath.

Three dead wolves and a man. Blood is painted everywhere. The whimper you heard was from a smaller wolf that had stumbled upon the massacre. Its eyes are rage-full, stalking its way towards the man who lies unconscious. Without a second thought, you drew your bow, pulling out an arrow from the quiver. You dragged the arrow, aiming for the wolf. You slowed your breathing before letting go of the stem, letting it fly straight into the jugular of the wolf, stopping it in his tracks.

It was quick and painless.

You picked your feet up, letting them hover just above the forest floor, so your shoes don’t get blood on them. Flapping your wings, you fluttered over to the man, leaning down and becoming horizontal. You notice the gash in his chest, hissing at that state. You pop the button on your pouch, grabbing out our jar of golden dust. You pinch a small amount before sprinkling some of the unconscious male.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…” You sighed…

—

The smell of soy sauce, perilla oil, chicken broth, and other spices made Bucky's nose twitch. He shifts slightly, gifting him a sharp pain in his abdomen. His hands flew to his stomach, letting out a hard groan. He shifted more, blinking slowly. His fuzzy vision makes it hard to completely see his surroundings. He notices he is inside a lounging area, a blanket covering him and a fluffy pillow holding his neck up comfortably.

He pulled the blanket away, seeing all his wounds were dressed, and he was in only his undergarments that hid under his pants. A rush of red painted his face, feeling indecent. He moves to get up, but another sharp pain hits him, making him cough. He went to put his feet on the floor when a gasp caught his attention.

“HEY! STOP YOU’RE GOING TO POP YOUR STITCHES!!” A concerned voice made him freeze. You ran around to the front of the couch, placing both hands on his upper chest, fingers resting on his shoulders before pushing him back down onto the comforter…

His eyes grew wide watching your face contort as you spoke to him. But he doesn’t hear anything. All he is paying attention to is your beauty. The way your hair shines with sprinkles of what looks like glitter. Your skin contrasts with your outfit, making you look eternal. And your wings, resting flat on your back. The shimmer of blue on your forewings while the baby peach blends into your hindwing.

Your head tilted as you examined his wounds, he notices how cute your pointed ears look, having been decorated with jewellery. You were beautiful, a goddess. He had never felt something like this before. He was the bad guy. The quiet mysterious knight that most town folks didn’t dare to tread near. But you didn’t look at him like that. You didn’t look at him as if he were a monster. You just saw a hurt man.

“You understand!” You say sternly, making him fall out of his thoughts. He blinked a couple of times, trying to find a word that might have stuck from you, but he didn’t hear anything. You laugh watching his brain tick and find nothing, making him blush even more.

“You heard none of what I said, did you?” You giggle, crossing your arms over your chest. He just shook his head with a simple sorry.

“Stay. Don’t move, I’ll bring the food.” You got up quickly, existing towards where you came from. He sat there for a moment, confusion and wonder, mixing in his mind. All he could remember was the colour red from the blood and darkness. But now he was here, fixed up and safe…Strange.

You returned with two bowls of warm stew. Placing both on the coffee table, you move towards the largr knight, making him stiffen. You put more pillows up against the couch’s arm. Making him lean back but still sit up enough so he could eat. You place a little tray on top of his legs before putting the bowl on top and handing him a spoon.

“Eat, you’ll feel better.” You sounded like a mother caring for her sick young. You were trying to be stern, but in the tone, he knew all you were feeling was concern. Worry for a stranger you have never met, wanting nothing but to help heal him no matter his background. The silence was comforting, taking down the delicious meal. Time passed soon, finishing the meal, You got up to grab the empty dishes, heading swiftly to the kitchen. Bucky wanted to speak, but you were too quick, so he got up. Slowly, and mildly painfully, well scratched that very painfully. He leant against the kitchen door frame coughing out, making you jump.

“Oh my god, what are you doing!” You yelp, dropping the dishes back into the soapy water, immediately moving to wrap your arm, even though it doesn’t completely wrap around, his waist, helping him to sit on the chair. He wheezed out slightly, holding his lower stomach before slouching into the soft seat with emerald green cushioning and deep spruce wooden framing.

“I told you. You move, your stitches can pop, do you have a death wish or something!” You sounded angrier than you wanted, your fingers grazing over the wrapping around him, checking to if anything may have moved.

“Ha maybe.” Was the only thing he replied with. You looked him dead in the eyes with frustration. You watch the blue in his eyes shift, his pupils blow slightly. You felt a connection as if you had known him for years. The distance was suddenly hyper-aware in your mind, shifting back away from him, moving straight back to the sink.

“So…What’s your name anyway?” He asks, tilting his head slightly, trying to get your attention. You told him your name while your voice was small, watching the bubbles slowly pop away. Bucky cracked a smile, watching you intensely.

“I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky. And I owe you a thank you.” You turned around to meet his gaze once more. Blush forms on your cheeks. You nod, smiling at him before turning your back to him, placing a bowl into the drying rack.

“I don’t need thanks. You are the one who kills those beasts. The beasts that infect my home. This forest.” You choke out, placing the last dish on the rack, and pulling the plug. Bucky clicks his tongue knowing first-hand what those feral wolves can do. Destroy crops, kill just about anything and anyone that gets in their way and leave a path of misery in their wake. You place a cup of coffee down in front of him and sit down across the table from him.

“Well James, you need to rest. You are not going anywhere until you can at least walk without anything…” You wave your hand, gesturing to his stomach, “…You know, hurting.” He laughs at your actions, taking a sip of his coffee while you do the same. Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. A small smile was placed on both of your faces. You stared out your window, watching a small drop-lit of rainfall onto the glass, sighing in contentment. But Bucky watched you. He might not know it, and nor did you, but you had him around your finger. He was falling fast, and for once, he wasn’t scared.

—

“HEY, IT"S BUCKY!!!” Sam screamed from the edge of the billiard room, making Nat miss her shot with the pool cue. Before Nat could protest and whine, the knights started running towards the gate. Steve was there first, wrapping Bucky's arm around his shoulders to hold him up. All of his fellow knights surrounded him, spitting out questions over questions, overlapping one another.

“Okay give the man some breathing room.” Wanda pulled the two youngest away—Yelena, and Peter—letting the others move so Bucky and Stve could walk towards the castle. Once inside take, he took him straight to the infirmary to check up on his wounds. Steve was the first to break the silence.

“Where have you been? It’s been four days?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. The nurse helps Bucky remove his blouse so that she can undress his wounds. The others watch as the dressing falls off his chest, revealing a scarred semi-healed gash from just under his left nipple cross until it ends just above his pelvis. Audible gasps echoed in the infirmary, Sam leaned forward for a better look while an uproar of questions sprung again.

“Okay okay!” Steve calmed the crowd. “Answers now. We thought you were dead! For the love of god, we were contemplating whether we start planning a funeral or not!” The king sounded hurt, but who could blame him? He and the other had trouble sleeping without knowing what exactly happened.

“We found the massacre on the outside side of the woods. The five wolves are dead along with the two you left at the entrance of the forest.” Vision spoke quick, curious how he took on that many wolves.

“Five? You mean four? I only killed the four in that break of trees…” Buck said, holding the end of the bandage as the nurse dressed the wrapping around him. Then it recalled to him that when you found him, a wolf might have been there. Did you kill a wolf to save him?

“Oh, Doll…” he sighed in a whisper, making the others tilt their heads at the grumble of words.

“Who Doll?” Peter asked, only just being able to hear the older male’s voice. Bucky was frozen he didn’t want to tell his friends who you were, not cause he didn’t trust them, but if the word got out that he was saved by a creature of the forest, questions would arise and that could lead to negative theories on Steve's leadership. There was too much to risk at the moment, and only just being returned sparked all these questions. He was scared.

“I’m not dead, right, that’s the main thing. I’m fine. But I….” The nurse backs away to the desk on the side, pulling out some other dressings, but Bucky stood up, backing away from the bed. “I’m tired, but I assure you I’m not in danger anymore….”

And with that, he left in a hurry, leaving his brother confused and even more so worried.

—

Two weeks had passed since the accident, and everyone seemed to have died out of questions. None of the townsfolk speculated anything and only blessed Bucky, one of the bravest knights, was safe.

Bucky watches through the bay window in the main meeting room. An important spokesman came around to King Steve for some event that was happening. Bucky wasn’t paying attention. All that was thinking about was you.

Tonight was your meeting night. He would sneak away in the evening while everyone went off to their separate duties. The sun was low on the horizon, and most had already settled in for the night. But Buck was quick and quiet, weaving through the halls to avoid all the guards and his friends. He managed to get to the outer gate undetected, but little did he know, Nat was hot on his tail, watching his every move.

Bucky entered the dim forest, making Nat curious to remember back to the conversation she had with the others not too long ago.

“I’ve seen him. He has been sneaking out into the forest at night.” Sam states having been on guard watch the other night. The others were beginning to question where their friend was disappearing to. Bucky avoided every question and every query that was thrown his way. Everyone was becoming impatient with the mystery. So Sam and Clint devised a plan to catch Bucky out and find out exactly where he was going.

“My bet, a siren or worse, a succubus has enchanted him,” Peter says with worry, fear slipping off his tongue.

“Succubus?! You are certainly mad. I think a witch has given him a love potion.” Nat laughed.

“Maybe it’s love,” Wanda whispered making everyone turn from the table.

“Love? Pff, you’re funny.” Sam laughed but Wanda was serious, Maybe the cold-hearted and closed-off knight finally met someone who could melt his exterior. But in the end, the others were still determined to find out how. So as the sun sets and they all got set into place. Bucky doesn’t suspect a thing, entering the forest like he does every other time.

But only this time Nat and the others were close behind.

The front garden was full of lanterns lighting up the evening’s surroundings. You sat on your swinging bench while Bucky stood in front of you, telling yet another story of his adventures. He swings his sword as he focuses on this crucial part of the story, and all you can do is smile at him being so goofy. He was so perfect in your mind and you were falling every moment you spent with him. He tripped lightly, making you laugh, standing quickly to help him up, but he pulled you down, making you fall slowly as your wings stopped you from gravity. His arms snake around your waist as you both laugh. Your hands rest on his chest as you look him in his beautiful eyes. He smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I think I’ve fallen for you…” He confesses, making you blush, leaning close to him. Your lips ghost of him as your smile grows with his.

“As am I…” you reply, leaning into a kiss. His lips are soft and warm. Butterflies dance in your stomach, and your wings flutter slightly. His hand cups your face, deepening the kiss. You were so in love, and so was he. And as he sits up, he brings you with him. His hands grip your thighs, bringing you onto his lap before turning you. You fall onto the soft grass on your back with Bucky above you. Your wings lay flat, letting Buck see every detail. His fingers graze over the sheer appendage, making you let out a small sigh. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a broken fuse box. Everything was so sensitive. You couldn’t get enough. You needed more.

“James…” you whisper through his lips, mixing your breath with his before he coulc answer you, prying eyes that were watching your displays of affection caught his attention.

“What did I tell you,” Wanda states with a smile, watching his friend finally happy.

“NO WAIT, I WANTED TO WIN THE BET!!” Sam said a little too loudly, making you and Bucky hear. You sat up straight off him, hiding behind his back once he was facing where the noise was.

“Sam?” Bucky called out suddenly, seeing a small head pop out from behind the trees before yelling;

“Pretend We're not here!!!!”

Everyone laughed.

[hedawanheda]

secret recipe- prologue

Clarke has been given six months to find a serious and genuine relationship or else her father will hand over the company to Cage Wallace. Lexa just wants to cook.

or

Lexa is the Griffin’s personal chef.

Clarke Griffin is a leader. She’s a girl who knows what she wants and she doesn’t care how she gets it. When she talks, people listen. When she walks by, people stare. She exudes a confidence and energy that makes everyone who knows her respect her, while also fearing her a little. Her life is dedicated to her work, the Fortune 500 company her family had built from the ground up.

So when her father announces at his retirement party (that she flew all the way from California to attend and moved back home for this promotion) that his temporary successor would be Cage Wallace, she is understandably pissed.

“Don’t cause a scene,” her mother whispered harshly to her as she watched Cage walk up and shake her father’s hand. Clarke was in utter disbelief, waiting for her to wake up from her nightmare or for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say she was punk’d.

Cage caught her eye, sending her a gloating smile as he posed for the papers. Clarke felt the heat rise to her cheeks as her anger began to take over, clenching her glass so tightly that she was surprised it didn’t break. That should be her up there.

As the applause for Cage continued, Clarke downed the rest of her drink. Then the rest of her mom’s. Then she flagged down a waiter who was passing out shots to celebrate Cage’s promotion and Jake’s retirement.

And then she doesn’t remember the rest of her night.

She wakes up in her childhood bedroom which she miraculously got to somehow in her drunken state. The sun shines into her eyes way too early, rousing her from her deep slumber. Her rumbling stomach, pounding head, and dry mouth are too much to ignore, so she dragged herself out of her bed and trudged her way down to the kitchen in search of a greasy breakfast and some aspirin.

She opened the refrigerator and let the cold air hit her, taking a deep sigh and rubbing her forehead before searching for the orange juice. When she found it, she took a swig from the bottle, letting the citrusy flavor cost her parched tongue.

“Good morning, Miss Clarke,”

Clarke dropped the bottle of juice, startled by the other presence in the room. She was so hungover that she didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone.

“Holy shit- Lexa?!” she gaped. Clarke hadn’t seen Lexa since the girl went off to culinary school in Paris a decade ago.

“Welcome home,” Lexa smiled, ignoring the blonde’s disheveled appearance. Clarke was grateful for that, considering she was in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old oversized college sweatshirt. Her hair was piled into a messy bun, and she undoubtedly had bags under her eyes from her late night. “Can I get something started for you?” Lexa asked politely.

“Huh?” Clarke was so shocked from seeing her old friend that she didn’t take in her appearance. Lexa was wearing a white chef’s coat and black pants, her hair tied back in braids. She was standing behind the kitchen counter, hands folded behind her back with an array of skillets and knives laid out in front of her.

“For breakfast,” Lexa explained patiently. “What would you like?”

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked, answering Lexa’s question with one of her own. “The last time I heard you were at some Michelin star restaurant in the French Riviera.”

Lexa pretended that she didn’t hear that. “There’s pancakes or waffles, I could also do crepes if you wanted those. Omelets, eggs Benedict, frittata-“

“Wait, hold on-“

“Oatmeal, French toast, bagels-“

“Can you just stop for a minute-“

“Your dad has me hide his sugary cereal from your mom, I can dig that out-“

“Lexa! Stop listing breakfast food!” Clarke said, exasperated. “What are you doing in my house?”

Lexa paused, looked down and avoiding Clarke’s eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I work here,”

“But… why?” Clarke was genuinely confused. Why would someone give up a great and promising career to cook for her parents?

She didn’t get her answer, because her father entered the kitchen with a bright and cheery smile on his face. Clarke instantly scowled. She may not have remembered how most of her night had gone, but she remembered being burned by the person she called her father.

“Good morning, sweetie. Good morning, Lexa,” he said gleefully. He walked over and kissed the top of Clarke’s head, ignoring his daughter’s sour face. “Isn’t today a glorious day?”

“I see you’re enjoying your first day of retirement, sir,” Lexa grinned at him. “Shall I prepare your usual?”

“Please. But add extra bacon, I feel like celebrating,”

“Didn’t you and your bestie Cage do enough of that last night?” Clarke grumbled. Jake turned to her, smiling, and placed his hands on both sides of her face.

“Lighten up, sweetie. I’m sure once you have some food in you, you’ll be happier,”

“Food won’t make me happy,” Clarke said through squished cheeks. She removed her father’s hands from her face, angrily crossing her arms. Jake chuckled at his daughter’s death glare.

“You’ve haven’t had Lexa’s cooking in a long while. She’s like a food Midas, anything she makes turns to gold,”

“What happened to Alie?” Jake’s smile fell while Lexa looked down at her hands. “What?” Clarke asked again, looking between her father and Lexa. It was weird seeing Lexa at the house and not having her mom there, the chef the Griffins had since before Clarke was born.“What are you not telling me?”

“My mother passed away last year,” Lexa said quietly, not meeting Clarke’s eye. “Cancer,”

This morning has turned out to be quite the surprising event for the blonde.

“Excuse me?!” Clarke said angrily, turning to her father. “You didn’t think of mentioning this to me over the past year? That the woman I’ve known for as long as I’ve known you died?”

“In his defense, she wanted to keep her illness private,” Lexa explained calmly. When Clarke looked at her, her gaze softened. She wasn’t the one Clarke was rightfully angry towards. “The funeral was a small affair. Just family,”

Clarke frowned. Wasn’t she considered family? “That still doesn’t mean it was okay not to mention it to me,”

“You’re right,” Jake sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. Why don’t we sit down and have Lexa make us a nice breakfast. I’m sure there’s something on your mind,”

//

“Why did you pass over me for the promotion?” Clarke asked as Lexa slid plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her and Jake. “Why did you choose Cage of all people?”

“I know what you think of him, but he’s actually a brilliant man,” Jake started digging into his meal, talking with his mouth full. “Difficult, but brilliant,”

“But I don’t understand. You’ve been preparing me to take over for you since I started at the company. And I actually worked my way up from the bottom,”

“Cage is only a temporary solution,” Jake explained. “He will be interim CEO for the next six months before I decide if you’re fit enough to take over,”

“And what do you consider that to be?”

“How do I say this?” Jake rubbed his chin. “Clarke, you need a life,”

Clarke looked and felt offended. “What are you talking about? I have a life,”

“You’re a twenty eight year old workaholic who’s never had a serious partner before. Your mother and I are worried about you,”

“And where’s Mom now? Work.” Clarke snapped. “And the partner thing? A little misogynistic, don’t you think?”

Jake sighed. “Honey, don’t start. If I gave you the position right away, you would never find time to settle down,”

“So what are you saying? I can’t get the position I earned until I get hitched?”

“Not exactly,”

”Not exactly?”

“Well, not married per say, but a relationship, yes,”

Clarke stared at her father, eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re serious,”

“I am,” Jake nodded. “You need to get out there and actually live in the world, Clarke. There’s so much more to life than an office.”

“I do yoga,” Clarke pointed out. “Work’s not my entire life,”

“Honey, I don’t think you realize how sad that sounds,”

Clarke slumped down in her chair. “I could just hire someone, you know,”

“I know. But I’m using the honor code here. I just want you to be happy, to settle down,”

“I can be happy and not be in a relationship,”

“But you’re not,” Jake folded his hands on the table, pushing his empty plate away. “Just try. Put yourself out there. As long as I see you’re at least making an effort, the gig is yours.” This made Clarke sit up straighter in her chair.

“Really?” she asked. “So I have to just go on a few dates?”

“Emphasis on the effort, Clarke. And besides, six months is a long time, who knows? Maybe you’ll find your person,” Jake smiled warmly at his daughter, who rolled her eyes. “You’re a little too old for that now,”

“And I’m also a little too old for you to be telling me what to do,”

Jake sighed. “This isn’t a punishment. I really do want what’s best for you Clarke. Six months. That’s all I’m asking for,”

“Fine,” Clarke huffed, throwing down her fork on her partially eaten plate. She had lost her appetite, no matter how good it looked. “I’ll agree to this, no matter how dumb it is. It’s not like I’m actually going to fall in love just because you gave me a deadline.” Jake smiled, doing a little happy dance in his chair.

“I think this is going to be good for you, Clarke,” he said. Lexa came in and began clearing away the dishes as quietly as she could, trying to go unnoticed. Clarke watched her, not wanting to look at her father’s triumphant grin. She didn’t realize her eyes were trailing the girl until Lexa left and her father cleared his throat. When she turned back to him, his grin was faint, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he looked between Clarke and the doorway where his chef exited.

“Something amusing?” Clarke asked.

Jake chuckled. “No, nothing at all,”

read on ao3!

[squirmifyoulike]

(Credit to this post for this idea!)

During Thanksgiving week, many avian species find themselves being extra careful. Most ordinary families will just buy themselves a frozen turkey from the store to prepare themselves... But many preds like to go out and catch their own thanksgiving turkey.

Even if it's not a turkey at all, and is in fact a griffon.

Many griffons go about their business ordinarily. Who would mess with a griffon, right? They're strong, can fly, have sharp talons and a sharp beak... Nothing would mess with them.

...Except they totally would. One unfortunate griffon learned this the hard way on Thanksgiving evening as he was headed home, stomach slightly bulging out and squirming from his own meal. Out of the blue, a pair of strong, large hands grab him tightly, with one wrapping around his beak and the other wrapped around his neck. Before the griffon knows it, he's knocked unconscious and is left at the mercy of his attacker.

When he wakes up, he's confused. Groggy. He looks around slowly, and then realizes in embarrassment that he's been tied up and bound... Like a thanksgiving turkey. His stomach is on full display, and he's been placed on a platter on a table. When he lifts his head up, he can see his attacker clearly; a dragon, nearly twice his size. The dragon is holding a large bowl of stuffing, and it's eyeing the griffon with a malevolent grin.

"Finally awake, I see," The dragon rumbles. "Good. We can move things along, then."

The griffon opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get any words out, he's met with a large spoonful of stuffing. He's forced to swallow it down. As he does, he finds himself pleased with the taste; it's slightly sweet and salty, and it's been seasoned to perfection. Perhaps a little more wouldn't hurt... And then he can escape.

"There you go," The dragon coos as the griffon readily opens his mouth for the next spoonful. "Good boy. You'll make a fine thanksgiving dinner~"

Spoonful after spoonful is shoveled into the griffon's mouth, even as his stomach begins to ache and groan in protest. After a while, he finds himself panting, and as he's met with another spoonful of stuffing, he turns his head away and lets out a whimper.

"You're not done yet." The dragon growls, grabbing the griffon's beak. "You still have the rest of the bowl to get through."

The dragon forces the griffon's head forward, and again, he's met with spoonful after spoonful of stuffing. The griffin keeps swallowing, and finally, when he thinks his middle is about to pop, the dragon finally relents.

"There. You got through the whole bowl, see? That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

The griffon can barely respond. His stomach is extremely overstuffed, letting out high-pitched, strained gurgles. The dragon chuckles in amusement, and then, they go around to the griffon's head. The griffon wants to struggle, but they can barely move, thanks to the food that was forced on them unceremoniously.

"Hold still... It will all be over soon."

Seconds after hearing that, the griffon is met with the wide, gaping maw of the dragon. It closes over the griffon's head, causing the griffon to stiffen up and wince. The dragon lets out a low, satisfied rumble... And then, they begin ravenously gulping the griffon down. The griffon barely has any time to react; all she can do is stay tensed up and whine as the dragon's throat squeezes and crushes his belly. Within seconds, though, the griffon is fully sealed away. The dragon's gut is cramped and tight, and almost immediately, it's active, churning around the griffon and kneading into them. The griffon begins squirming a little, but they're still tied up and overstuffed, so they can barely move.

Outside, the dragon lets out a satisfied belch and rubs their swollen gut. They'd been waiting for this moment all day, waiting for the perfect creature to stumble by... And as soon as they saw the griffon, they knew immediately not to let this opportunity pass them by. As their gut lets out a low gurgle, the dragon can't help but to chuckle.

"Happy Thanksgiving," They utter. The griffon, of course, won't be around to see any future thanksgivings... but the dragon certainly will be. As they sit, rubbing their swollen belly, they begin wondering what they'll have tucked away in their belly next, after their current meal is done.

[femininenachos]

Vacation au? Do tell 👀

They arrive via ferry from the mainland, then by rental car.

“We would’ve got here a lot sooner if Grandma Wells ever dared to go above 20 mph.”

“Excuse me for not wanting us to plummet to our deaths on a blind turn, Octavia. Those roads are treacherous.”

“The speed limit was 40. 40! A senior citizen could go faster. In fact, an old lady on a Vespa overtook us back there.”

“That is such bullshit.”

Clarke drops her luggage and cuts across the argument. “Guys, enough! Come see the view.”

She throws open the patio doors to reveal an infinity pool with the most spectacular backdrop. Sparkling azure waters, rippling in the early evening haze, dramatic red-brown cliffs in the distance descending sharply into the sea. The picture postcard perfect village of Polis sprouts out of the rugged mountainside, whitewashed cuboid houses with painted blue doors, window frames and shutters, clustered tightly together and cascading down the steep slope.  

It takes her breath away.

“Oh, wow.” Wells peels off his shades and stands alongside Clarke in silent awe for a minute, transported by the sheer beauty of their surroundings. “Okay, I could get used to looking at that every day.”

“Right?” Clarke agrees with a wistful sigh. “The Airbnb photos didn’t do it justice.”

“Bell’s going to be so fucking jealous when he sees this on my Stories,” Octavia says, whipping out her phone.

To one side there’s a secluded courtyard, hemmed in by purple oleanders, the fragrant air thick with the scent of bougainvillea in bloom that climbs the walls.

It’s a slice of paradise; a dream come true.

Their haven for the next two weeks, and Clarke already feels the stress that followed her across the Atlantic melting away.

She fully intends to make use of that hot tub, preferably with a trashy airport novel in one hand and a fruity alcoholic concoction in the other. Just switch off, relax, and unwind. Mentally, she’s already changed into her swimsuit when Octavia pushes in between them and drapes her arms around their shoulders.

“So… what are our plans for this evening?”

“A glass of wine and some nibbles and an early night.”

That earns Clarke an appalled look from both her friends.

“I just came off a sixteen-hour shift. Who else here scrubbed in for three separate surgeries yesterday then hopped on a plane? I’m exhausted.”

“Fair,” Wells shrugs.

Octavia isn’t so sympathetic.

A frown sits on her face. “You can’t be a shut-in on our first night, Clarke.” Her eyes turn pleading. “Look, we’ll just have a nice, low-key dinner at the taverna. Maybe hit a bar or two after.”

Clarke groans.

A tug on her wrist. “Come on, we’re on vacation. Live a little. Whatever happened to party monster Clarke Griffin?”

“Uh, residency and 200k of student loan debt.”

She looks to Wells for backup, but he remains studiously blank. Some ally he is, she thinks with an inward tut. Meanwhile, Octavia just pins her with one of those formidable stares that always fills Clarke with a vague sense of inadequacy. 

She crumbles after a beat.

Heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. But no shots.”

~*~

Of course, the first thing Octavia does when they’re seated on the outside terrace is order a round of fayaflou. Distilled locally, it might as well be 100% proof pure ethanol by the way it burns down Clarke’s throat and starts an inferno in her chest. Even Wells chokes a little, but Octavia just acts like she guzzled down spring water fresh from a mountain stream.

“Another?” She asks, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Fuck, no,” Clarke croaks out through a coughing fit. She holds up a palm in surrender, the other flat against her sternum as if that could somehow mitigate the effects.

A scoff from Octavia. “Lightweight.”

“I’d just like to return home with my liver intact.”

“Same,” Wells says, his features contorted into a pained grimace. “I didn’t agree to this trip to get blackout drunk. Polis is steeped in culture and history. I mean, did you see those incredible ancient ruins on the drive here?”

Octavia rolls her eyes so hard the retinas nearly detach.

But after a moment’s reflection, she concedes. “Actually, you have a point. Gotta pace ourselves. The night is young and I’ve got my eye on that hot piece over there.”

All eyes follow her nod to the bar, where an impossibly chiselled, handsome guy is making cocktails. Tall. Tattooed. Muscles bulging out of his tight black shirt as he juggles two bottles at once with impressive showmanship. 

They all have to scrape their jaws off the floor. 

He might be the most beautiful man Clarke has ever seen, not that she would dare interfere when Octavia has her sights set on someone. But then a waitress glides up to him, passing off an order with a short, melodious laugh that reaches Clarke’s ears and when the woman turns around, Clarke’s mouth drops again.

Because she is gorgeous.

Chestnut brown hair pinned up in a twist, a few loose tendrils framing the kind of face that people wrote epic poetry about thousands of years ago. High cheekbones and pouty lips. A jawline cut from marble. Eyes drawn heavy with liner scan the terrace, landing on Clarke for a second, and those lips pull up almost imperceptibly, twitching into the subtle hint of a smile.

Caught staring, Clarke flushes and drops her gaze, feigning a sudden fascination with the laminated menu.

“How is it that everyone here looks like a model?” Wells wonders aloud.

“It’s all the genes,” Octavia says in a superior tone, proud of her own distant Polisian ancestry. She props her chin on her hand and bats her lashes. “We’re naturally beautiful people, what can I say?”

Wells snorts. “Naturally conceited, maybe.”

“Whatever. Clarke. Clarke? Clarke.”

A finger snap in front of her face jolt Clarke out of her daze. She scowls, but when she lifts her eyes, seeking out another glimpse of the waitress, Clarke is disappointed to find her gone.

“What are you having?” Octavia asks. “I’m thinking… calamari to start, and maybe we could share the seafood platter?”

“Uh…” Clarke pretends to pour over the menu options, still in a state of distraction. The words blur together. Her pulse hasn’t slowed yet and her palms are sweating. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Clarke might prefer something off-menu,” Wells says, and she looks up again just in time to see him incline his head towards the waitress approaching.

Octavia hoots delightedly and Clarke kicks her under the table.

All the same, Clarke’s throat dries out.

She can’t force her eyes away, drinking up the sight in front of her. How the crisp, white short-sleeved blouse hugs the girl’s torso and toned arms, such a striking contrast against sun-bronzed skin. One too many buttons are undone, affording a peek of sharp clavicles and a shadowy inch of cleavage. It has Clarke wetting her lips as her eyes dip down, taking in the neat black skirt and heels. Legs that go on for miles and miles.

Clarke shifts in her seat, warmth spreading through every inch of her body. She can’t even blame the residual heat of a sweltering day, the gentle sea breeze providing welcome relief as the orange disc of the sun squats low on the horizon, the last golden rays reaching out like fingers across the sky. 

“Not a word,” Clarke warns, seconds before the waitress arrives at their table.

Then Clarke hears her speak. “Hello, I’m Lexa. Are you ready to order?” Lightly accented English delivered in a crisp, coolly confident voice with a girlish lilt, and Clarke is a goner. 

Fully melts into a puddle of lust while Octavia and Wells rattle off their choices. When it’s Clarke’s turn, she finds herself tongue-tied. Up close, those eyes are the lushest, loveliest shade of green, and Clarke is transfixed.

Her stomach swoops.

It’s ridiculous. She’s a grown adult, a medical professional with years of clinical training below her belt, and inside she’s a mess because a beautiful woman is looking at her with an expectant arch of one eyebrow, patiently waiting for Clarke to recover from whatever brain malfunction she’s currently experiencing. 

“Hi, hello,” trips from Clarke’s mouth and it feels like her soul leaves her body at the same time. In an instant, her face heats. She offers a small, flustered laugh. “Sorry, I’m a space cadet today. Head in the clouds. The time difference, I guess.”

Across the table, her friends hide their amusement behind their knuckles, clearly entertained by her latest episode of undignified flailing in front of an attractive stranger. 

Full lips curve into a smirk that does absolutely nothing to slow the rapid hammering of Clarke’s heart or cool her flushed cheeks.

“What can I get you?”

A date, please.

(And in five years, give or take, a springtime wedding in a converted barn with fairy lights strung everywhere and two hundred guests in attendance, if Mom has any say in the planning.)

Get it together, Griffin.

Like the flip of a switch, she turns on the charm. Eases into a smile, one that’s seldom failed her (and gotten her out of plenty of scrapes besides). Tucks her hair behind her ear and lets her fingers trail down her neck. She sees the way the woman–Lexa’s–eyes darken as they track the movement, how they make a quick but unsubtle appraisal of Clarke’s seated figure.

Her confidence soars.

The mild funk she’d found herself in from a long day of travelling evaporates.

“You know what, I’m feeling adventurous. Surprise me.” Her gaze flicks towards beestung lips then back up, locking eyes once more. “Lexa.”

They hold eye contact for a stretch of seconds, and Clarke feels a current run through her. Mutual attraction, instant and electric.

“More drinks?” The question is intended for the whole table, but Lexa’s attention doesn’t stray from Clarke until Wells clears his throat. She almost appears annoyed by the interruption, a flash of irritation in her eyes, a muscle in her lower cheek flexing before her expression smooths out and she turns her head to look at him. And, God, that jawline nearly takes out Clarke in the process. It’s lickable. 

“Could we have a pitcher of water, please? My friends here are extremely thirsty,” Wells says, glancing pointedly between Clarke and Octavia.

“Make that three margaritas,” Octavia overrules him. “And have the sexy bartender bring them over.”

“O!” Clarke snaps, mortified.

So brazen. 

She gives Lexa an apologetic look, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on her lips again, a gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s happy to play along.

When Lexa departs, Octavia bumps Clarke’s arm excitedly with her fist. “I saw that! My girl, getting her flirt on like a pro.”

“Flirt?” Wells chuckles. “She practically had a sign on her forehead that said: ‘funny how my legs are wide open all of a sudden.’ Zero points for subtlety.”

Clarke huffs out a sigh and crosses her arms. “Oh, fuck off. Let me objectify someone in peace.”

“No, no. It’s good!” Octavia insists. “You should be putting yourself out there more. Especially after the F-I-N-N debacle.”

An eye roll. “You can say his name, O. I won't relapse into a depressive episode.”

“Okay, but you deserve to have fun. Ogle girls. Guys. Nonbinary eye candy.” She pats Clarke’s wrist. “I fully support your hot girl summer.”

Octavia peers past Clarke to check out the bartender again. She bites her lip, eyes glazing over a bit. “And I, for one, plan to climb that fine man like a tree before the night is over.”

Clarke sighs again. Unfolding her arms, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her, twirling it around with her fingers. “She’s probably a player, anyway. I bet she’s slept with six sunburnt British girls already this season.”

Tearing her gaze away from the beefy hunk behind the bar, Octavia looks at Clarke dubiously, brows pulled together. “Uh, she seemed pretty laser-focused on you. I felt like I was intruding on some serious eye-fucking a minute ago.” 

A fiendish grin spreads. 

“All signs indicate that Sexy Lexy has the hots for Clarkeypoo too.”

“Stop,” Clarke groans, hiding her face in her hands while she squirms with embarrassment. She shakes it off. “Vacation flings are so cliche, and the last thing I need as a souvenir is an STI.”

“Can we just enjoy a civilised meal, is that too much to ask?” Wells says, shaking his head in dismay. “All this sex talk is spoiling my appetite. I really don’t want to think about either of you in that capacity, ever.”

“Such a killjoy,” Octavia tells him. “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone for you too. A bespectacled, buck-toothed museum guide or something, that’s more your speed.”

Clarke tunes out their ensuing good-natured bickering, eyes landing on Lexa where she stands at the bar, chatting up two stereotypically Scandinavian blonde backpacker types. A tiny, unreasonable ember of jealousy flares in her gut that she tries to ignore. It’s not like they’re anything to each other (yet). Maybe Lexa flirts with everyone to alleviate the boredom of her shift and this is all just a mildly diverting game to pass the time.

As though sensing Clarke’s attention on her from afar, Lexa glances over her shoulder, and in the brief moment when their eyes catch and hold, the slight smile that curves across Lexa’s lips feels like it might be Clarke’s downfall.

Next

[winters-mistress]

Of gentle wolves and healing princesses

It's a slow process, all things considered. It had been impressive enough that Ciri had even woken up from her injury at all, let alone begun to heal from it. Vesemir tells the twice grassed pup that even fully grown witchers have fallen from injuries like that one. But still, the girl awakens.

Because of the fall, her head had been banged up pretty tightly, Eskel and Vesemir taking turns changing the bandages and boil washing them in their best bet to ward off infection. But as the days go by, Geralt watches Cirilla remain awake for stretches longer and longer, even starting to respond to stimuli and respond to questions at the end of the first week of bed boundness.

Coën takes to slowly maneuvering her limbs as she's in bed. Bending her knees and extending her arms and rotating her torso. It's to keep her blood flowing, he tells the wolves, before admonishing them for their lack of knowledge on the clotting of human blood. Not enough movement could still the blood and kill her just as easily as the fall or infection could. Geralt is just greatful the Griffin has the instinct to take such good care of the white wolf's pup, for his instinct is to still protect the girl fiercely.

Lambert is the least helpful when it comes to Cirilla's recovery. He drank himself into a stupor the first night she had fallen, and had his face pummelled in by Geralt on the second. It had taken all four of the other witchers to separate them both, the two growling witchers thrashing as they fought with fists flying instead of the wooden swords of their youth.

By the start of week two, Ciri can swallow broth and thin soups, can move her body after vials of pure poppyseed milk to stop the pain, and Geralt is relieved when the bandages come off that reveal a clean wound, sewn up and sealing over with scabs and iodine. They keep a bandage on there just in case, but nowhere as dramatic as the others she had been wearing all that week.

After the wound is closed, Eskel and Coën and Geralt wash Cirilla's hair clean of the multitude of fluids that maar the girl's pretty blonde hair. Vesemir took the time to brew up a soup with small cooked root vegetables, while Lambert was scheduled to make more healing potions thag wouldn't melt the poor girls insides.

By week three, Cirilla can wash herself with a flannel and eat thick soups of barley and potato. She can sit up by herself now and hold a slow conversation. Her words are slow, slurred and take a while longer to understand their responses. Lambert drinks himself into a bucket again, and Vesemir tans his hide for it.

Geralt is impressed as the girl begins to get restless in her bedrest and sees the spark returning as she tries to get up and explore. He feels like Vesemir when he tells her that she needs to walk before she can run, but will stay by her side as she steadies herself and holds her hands as she climbs to her feet.

The witchers are honestly mighty impressed that it takes them only a day to start walking the length and around Ciri's room, and only another fir her yo walk from one wall to the next without Geralt's hands to support her, even if she falls into them when she's scaled this hurdle.

Day by day, they walk a little further in the keep and Geralt carries her less and lesson their way back. Her words get quicker in speed and understanding and the promises of a visit yo the horses or the hunting dogs or the livestock keep Cirilla motivated when she cannot put one foot in front if the other anymore.

But they get there, one step at a time, a harem of large, mutated witchers and a pretty princess who has just as much strength as them.

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

Familiar Faces

Summary: When Alcatrax takes a funny turn, (Y/N) finds herself being rescued by someone she hadn't seen for a while...

Warnings: Spicy (nothing too explicit), does Daemon count as a warning? 🤔

******

No One's POV

When in flight, depending on the creature, most expect a smooth ride without any bumps or major changes. So when (Y/N) felt a sudden dip, she knew something wasn't right with Alcatrax. "My friend, are you well?" she asked gently, over the noise of rushing wind. Alcatrax let out a call, looking around frantically. Something wasn't right. He could sense it. Then, something whizzed past (Y/N)'s head, making her yelp. Was that an arrow?! Another one shot passed and missed again, making Alcatrax turn quickly. She gripped the saddle tightly as they got attacked by a barrage of arrows. Someone was trying to shoot her and her griffin down.

For the most part, they were successful. (Y/N) let out a breath as they managed to escape the plethora of arrows. That was until...

Alcatrax let out a pained shriek as she became aware of an arrow suddenly lodging itself in the joint of Alcatrax's wing. Before she could say anything, Alcatrax plumaged down. (Y/N)'s grip on the saddle vanished at the sudden move, making her fall off. She screamed as she began falling. She saw water below her, but at this height, she would surely die. Just then, she heard an almighty roar and a flash of red scales. Instead of feeling the cold water and almost certain death, two strong arms caught her. It took (Y/N) a solid minute to realize she was on a dragon in someone's arms. She looked around wildly before coming face to face with... "Daemon?!" she exclaimed. His smug, smirking face was looking at her as he held her close. "Why hello, princess. Run into some trouble?" he asked with a chuckle. She was about to shoot back a snarky remark. When she realised. "Alcatrax!" she cried, seeing the wounded griffin still falling.

Daemon saw also. "Hold on," he ordered, grabbing the saddle he was on. (Y/N) didn't need telling twice before wrapping her arms around him tightly. Caraxes shot up, catching Alcatrax in his scaly paws. After a quick flight to land, Caraxes gently put Alcatrax down. Daemon helped (Y/N) get down and she limped to her griffin -who was laid down in pain-. She kneeling by his side, smoothing over his feathers.

"Shh, shh. It will be fine," she reassured, wrapping her hand around the shaft of the large arrow. She gave a grimace and yanked it out, making Alcatrax cry in pain. She took a careful look at the arrow. "Thank the gods. It's not poisoned," she said, breathing a sigh of relief. "You care much for your beast," Daemon said. She looked at him. "He is my friend much like how your dragon is yours. Now, if you would be so kind as to help me tend to my friend instead of just standing there, that would be much appreciated," she said, not realising the sass in her voice as she stood up and quickly looked for natural growing herbs. Daemon watched her with a smirk. He liked her even more. But, he complied. So, (Y/N) worked swiftly, making a herbal remedy for the pain, applying it to the wound on Alcatrax's joint before using some large leaves as a bandage. Daemon watched her careful and steady hands work.

Once she made sure that Alcatrax was going to be alright, she stood up and let out a breath. "He just needs to rest. It will be at least a few weeks before he will be able to fly again," she said. Daemon nodded. "You can stay at Dragonstone whilst your... friend recovers," Daemon said. (Y/N) looked at him cautiously, but nodded. "Thank you," she said.

******

(Y/N) brushed through her hair, getting ready to sleep for the night. It had been a week since she came to Dragonstone. And she had met Lady Rhea Royce. A nice enough lady who was with Daemon. Perhaps even betrothed. Alcatrax was getting better. But it would still take a while for him to heal fully. Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come," she said politely, putting the brush down and standing up when she heard the door open and close. When she turned around, she saw Daemon stood there, his eyes roaming her body. There it was again. That weird feeling. Like he was undressing her with his eyes. And it didn't help that she wore a white nightgown.

"Daemon, to what do I owe this late night pleasure?" she asked, trying to remain composed. He stepped up to her, his eyes lingering on her neck and face. "It must be exhausting," he muttered. She frowned a little. "What must be?" (Y/N) asked. Daemon smirked, stepping even closer to her which made her step back in return. Only to feel her back against the wall. "Ignoring your desires, of course," he said. "You know nothing of my desires and I do not ignore them. I do not have any desires," she said, thinking it will get him to step back. It didn't. In fact, it did the opposite. Daemon let out a dark chuckle, pinning her to the wall, a hand either side of her head, holding himself against the wall. He towered over her, making her eyes widen in shock.

"Really, princess? Do you expect me to believe that? Have you never yearned for a man's touch? Never once explored yourself? Never indulged?" he asked, his tone low and seducing. (Y/N) could feel heat come to her cheeks. Why was this affecting her so much?! "Do you truly feel nothing as of right now? Do you feel anything when I am this close to you? Or do I perhaps need to get closer?" he chuckled, the two nearly chest to chest. "T-This is highly inappropriate! What of Lady Royce?" (Y/N) said, whispering furiously. Daemon chuckled again, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shh, don't tell," he muttered, running a thumb across her bottom lip and grunted. "So soft. I do not know how much longer I can resist such... temptation," he growled, looking down at her body, lingering on her chest and legs. Before she could protest any louder, Daemon grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head and to the wall before swooping in and kissing her!

Full on the lips. And he didn't wait for her to register it before he kissed her even deeper. She was pinned and helpless. But, at the same time, the kiss felt... good. In a rough sort of way. She had kissed a few boys back when she was younger, but nothing like this. She could feel raw lust behind it. For a moment, she didn't fight back which was probably not the best idea as Daemon saw this as an act of submission. He pressed himself further against her, his other hand trailing down, gripping her thigh through her nightdress, making (Y/N) squeak at the sudden rough touch. That was where she drew the line. She wretched her wrists free and pushed him back. Daemon looked a little surprised.

(Y/N) wiped her mouth, her hands trembling a little. "Leave," she whispered, gripping the nearest surface. Daemon didn't say anything and instead, stormed off. All of her strength left and she collapsed to her knees. Daemon Targaryen just kissed her... he made a move on her?! How far would he have went?! The thought of that sent shivers down her spine. Good ones or bad ones? She didn't know. But one thing was for certain... she couldn't stay at Dragonstone after this. Gods know what he would try next time. So, she made up her mind, she'll go to King's Landing...

******

Okay, a lil' spicy. I don't know if I'll do a smut at some point. Tell me if you think that'll make things interesting. But now, drama is on the way! Enjoy.

[daisy-mooon]

Blindfold

Whumptober Day 18: Blindfold

This is sooo late sorry gang :)

-

The Germani regarded Apollo as if he was no more than scum, staring very obviously at his features and very clearly feeling the desire to smash his skull in. He sighed, deproved of skull smashing, and looked too his companion. "Do you have the blindfold?"

Apollo had been told that he was supposed to be paraded into Commodus' throne room as a testament to his humiliating capture so when he heard the word blindfold, he was unfortunately unable to stop the squeak of surprise that ripped out of his throat. Both of the Germani laughed at him.

-and then the one with the blindfold was hooking a particularly harsh and violent arm around his neck, pinning his head into immobility as a heavy, dark something was dragged over his face, obscuring his sight-

Oh, the cruelty. They weren't using a simple, dark piece of fabric to blindfold him. They were using one of the strapped, leather blindfolds that were for animals. Apollo snapped his head backwards and managed to score the Germani in the ribs, but his sight was already obscured and the only thing he succeeded in doing was convincing the blindfold to be strapped on about ten times more tightly than it needed too.

…oh gods. There was no way that he could be expected too walk into a room with Commodus whilst blindfolded - there was no way that was going to end well-

And as a fun bonus, he thought to himself panickedly as he heard the door open and the Germani grabbed him by the arms to shove him through, his hands were tied! Yipee!

The room was chillingly silent, and it was all Apollo could do to not shiver despite the decently warm air. Commodus had obviously hooked up with affordable heating if his guess to the size of his lair was anywhere near as large as it was. The British would do well to take notes from him. But this room in particular made him feel strange, an odd, clammy lukewarm that seemed to stab into his skin-

Ah. That wasn't the room. That was him! Silly Apollo.

"And who do we have here?" A voice said, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was llaced with pure delight.

Well, fuck me, Apollo cursed internally as he recognised Commodus. He had to be about… what? Ten feet away? Ten metres away? He wasn't good at measurements. Not too close though, he has to guess (thank the gods).

"Apollo, Princeps." The Germani sounded bored. They'd probably been expecting him to put up a better fight, but in his defence, he was tired. "He was attempting to retrieve the griffins with a sorceress."

"Did you capture the sorceress as well?"

"...no, princeps."

"Did the griffins escape?"

"...yes princeps."

"Really? That's such a shame." His voice sounded bored, but Apollo could sense the beginnings of his rage. "I suppose I'll have to make do with what I have."

What he had. Right. That referred to him. Commodus had him. That was bad, he reminded himself.

He could feel beads of sweat begin to build on his forehead, and twitched minisculely as he heard footsteps. Did Commodus have a throne, or had he been standing up? Who was he kidding, of course Commodus had a throne. He was Commodus.

The footsteps inched closer and closer. It echoed around the room - if Apollo had to guess, the floor was made of marble. He may have been bad at measurements, but over 4000 years of experience of being the god of music meant that he was very attuned to the sounds around him. He had to guess that he was about an arm length away from him - conveniently within strangling distance! Yipee!

"Now, Apollo." His voice suggested that it was closer than he thought it would be. "You've been been such a nuisance too the Triumvirate these past few weeks… did you think you could get away with it?"

The Germani tightened his hold on his arm. Apollo very stiffly and very reluctantly bit out a word. "Maybe."

Commodus laughed. The sound was loud and intoxicating, but he didn't feel like drinking. "Maybe? Oh, Apollo, you are so funny."

On any other day, he would have been very pleased with a pretty man recognising his comedic value. Alas, in his preferred day, the pretty man would not be his murderous ex boyfriend and would not be saying that too him whilst he was contemplating how to murder him.

He opted not to say anything, and instead focused on him, because he was a big believer of self care. The ropes around his wrists hurt, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before. The blindfold around his head also hurt, he couldn't claim he was very used to that, but he supposed it was intentional. Anything else? Oh yeah, he was sweating, and probably would have collapsed had the Germani not been holding him up. He was… what was the mortal phrase? Not doing too hot.

"Guards?" Apollo forced himself not to startle a the sound of his voice. Gods, he was awfully loud. "What do you propose we do with our pet god here?"

The Germani didn't respond right away - perhaps taking a moment to think the question through. The one holding his right arm spoke first. "Kill him."

Ah yes. Murder. That was very within the Germani style.

"Hmm… I want something a little more… exciting, you know?" His tone was threaded with something he decided to ignore.

"You could let me go." Apollo attempted. "It would be funny-"

A warm hand wrapped over his mouth and he startled, attempting to struggle away. He couldn't move away. The Germani had his arms in a chokehold, and the only thing that he could do was to stand there and hope that Commodus didn't fly into one of his murderous rages. Which, he had to say, had a very likely chance of happening.

"Now, Apollo," his voice thinned ever so slightly. "Why would I let you go?"

Now, there were a thousand things that he could say, but there was the rather obvious problem of his hand still covering his mouth. A singular finger entwined itself in his hair and began to stroke.

"Should we let Apollo here keep the blindfold on during our rehearsal?" No, thank you!

"I think it would make him die faster."

"Oh no, we can't have him dying." Commodus sighed. He took it to mean that he currently had no plans to kill him which… didn't really make the situation better, because, well, it was Commodus. "That would be awful."

His hand remained sealed over his mouth.

Apollo had tried to hush Meg in a similiar manner before, but whenever he tried she always licked him or bit his hand. Apollo did not feel like licking Commodus' hand, his pride hadn't fallen that far, and he was so not biting him. He had a feeling he might get stabbed just a little bit. So he instead counted to five in his head, and slowly tried to exhale in a way that wasn't weird or noticeable.

Slowly, the fingers peeled off and he gritted his teeth in the attempt to not whimper. Commodus continued to talk to the guard like he wasn't there- no, he was very aware he was there. He talked to the guard with the knowledge that Apollo couldn't fight back. "I'll be generous. Take the blindfold off him before the rehearsal begins."

"And for now?" The Germani grunted. The action shook him a little and he grimaced. Something that was no doubt very visible to Commodus.

Something touched his chin and he jerked backwards, breath hitching. Commodus let out a peal of laughter - the type that left him with reddened cheeks and glinting eyes that were oh so pretty to look at. It returned, and he realised, with less panic, that it was just his finger stroking his chin.

"You are delightful to watch in a blindfold." He cooed. Apollo decided to ignore what that meant. "Marcus-"

"Sir, my name is-"

"-keep Apollo in the blindfold until the rehearsal."

Gods, he was very, very tempted to scream. Probably the only reason he didn't was because Commodus would probably enjoy it. How had it only been, like, three hours ago when he'd been happily annoying Calypso in that stupid Indianapolis zoo?

Calypso probably wouldn't stand to be put in a blindfold… but then again had Calypso been here Commodus probably would have just stabbed her or something. Apollo cursed. Why was he the only one or his friends that Commodus didn't want to kill? That was so unfair.

Abruptly, the guards started to yank him away.

[torreshalstead]

a ring to prove it

Summary - She didn’t know if it was because of the wait since the last time they had been together or if it was the addition of the ring on her finger and the promises of a future together. Whatever it was, it had been hours and she was still tingling. She was back in Matt Casey’s arms and couldn’t be happier.

Notes - a little post 11x22 fic, happy reading! ❤️ AO3 Link

His breathing was steady, his heart rate had calmed from their exertions hours ago and he was peacefully asleep. But she was awake. Her head was resting on his chest, his arms tight around her even in his dreams, her fingers were tracing patterns in his skin remembering the expanses of muscle she had memorised those months before.

Being back in his arms was more than she had ever thought she would experience again. Somewhere along the line she had forgotten just how Matt Casey made her feel. What he made her feel by just being in his presence yes but also how he loved her. She had never fallen as hard off the proverbial cliff as she did when Matt had his hands or tongue on her, when he was inside her. She hadn’t been with anyone that way since she had ended them by a phone call. A phone call she both regretted and knew was the right thing at that moment.

Dylan was nice enough but he didn’t make her want to rip her clothes off the way Matt did. And any pleasure she had given herself even when they were together, it was Matt’s name that passed through her lips when she finished. It was his eyes she saw staring back at her when she closed her eyes.

And last night had been nothing short of mind blowing. She didn’t know if it was because of the wait since the last time they had been together or if it was the addition of the ring on her finger and the promises of a future together. Whatever it was, it had been hours and she was still tingling.

When she opened the door the day before and was greeted by the sight of Matt Casey on the other side, the last thing she had expected was for him to drop down on one knee and ask her to marry him.

‘Sylvie Brett, we were meant to be. Will you make me and three kids the luckiest family in the world and marry me?’

She had clutched at her chest, staring at the man she had wished for so long would do exactly what he was doing now and ask her to spend her life with him. She could see the ring shining in the box but her gaze was fixed directly on him, on his eyes, his smile.

She nodded, how could she do anything else but say yes. This was exactly what she had dreamed of.

‘Yes,’ she said, the tears spilling down her cheeks as Matt’s grin spread wider across his cheeks. She dropped to her knees in front of him, pulling his face to hers and melding their lips together. Her salty tears mingled in the kiss but she didn’t care, she had just said yes to marrying Matt Casey. They were going to be a family. Her, Matt, Ben, Griffin and Julia. Her family.

She let her fingers thread through his hair, it was slightly shorter than it had been at the wedding - the last time she had kissed him. His arms wound tightly around her waist, pulling her close to him from their slightly awkward position kneeling in front of each other.

‘Yes,’ she said in between kisses, ‘yes.’ She felt him grin against her lips and let herself get lost in the familiar sensation of his against hers. It was only when she felt her phone vibrating in the back pocket of her overalls she pulled away.

‘It’s Hermann,’ she said, her lips still swollen from the kiss but she hadn’t been expecting Hermann to call. ‘I better get this,’ Matt nodded, the smile not leaving his face and his arms didn’t relax his hold on her either. She didn’t make an attempt to move away from him as she swiped and answered the call.

Sylvie didn’t think either of them expected to be called to the hospital before Matt even had a chance to slide the ring onto her finger but he had pocketed the box as soon as she had ended the call having heard everything Hermann had said and said he would drive, wrapping her hand in his and leading her out to the car.

The car ride to the hospital was silent, the tears silently streaming down her face that had started as tears of joy were now ones of pain and worry. Matt kept a tight hold of her hand all the way to Med and she was grateful she had him to lean on as neither of them knew what to expect when they arrived. Hermann had sounded scared on the phone, he had tried to tell her he was sure Mouch would be okay but his voice had cracked and Sylvie’s heart had sunk. Mouch couldn’t be dying, she refused to even entertain the idea.

‘I think we shouldn’t tell them,’ she whispered into the silence of the car. ‘About us.’

Matt nodded. ‘I agree, this isn’t the moment.’ He held on a little tighter for the reminder of the journey, her own knuckles were going white at the pressure she was applying back on his.

He went to let go of her hand when they entered but Sylvie couldn’t bring herself to unlink their fingers, she needed him right now, needed the feeling of his warm skin against hers to ground her or else she might lose it. Her words to Matt had originally meant that she thought they should keep the fact they were back together underwraps but the further they walked into the hospital, she realised she just meant the engagement. She couldn’t let go of his hand right now. Wouldn’t let go of it.

No one commented on them walking in together hand in hand, no one said anything at all. The waiting room was eerily silent, their friends scattered around, heads in hands, staring at walls, silently crying. Matt and her joined them, finding two empty chairs and settling down next to Stella. Sylvie reached across and wrapped her other arm around the Lieutenant’s shoulder. No matter how many times they sat in hospital waiting rooms whilst one of their own was hurt - it never got any easier.

Sylvie didn’t know long they sat there, waiting for someone to bring them news. The waiting room was deep in the middle of the hospital with no windows, hours could have passed or it could have been mere minutes before a doctor in black scrubs came out and gave them the news they had been holding their breaths for.

‘He’s going to be okay,’ he said and Sylvie felt like the elephant that had been sitting on her chest constricting her breathing was finally removed. She leant into Matt’s side and let him wrap his arms around her pulling her safely into his chest.

Mouch was going to be okay. And she was going to marry Matt Casey.

——————————————————————————

On the way back to hers from the hospital, Mouch having kicked them all out saying he wasn’t having Chicago’s best sleeping in a waiting room if they didn’t need to, the air was lighter in the car.

‘Did you tell the boys?’ Sylvie wondered aloud.

‘Ben and Griffin?’ Matt clarified. ‘I did.’ He chuckled. ‘They were very excited at even the possibility of us getting back together. Pretty much pushed me out of the house to the airport when I said I was going to propose.’

Sylvie felt her cheeks redden. She had had no issues bonding with Griffin but it had taken time before Ben opened up to her but she had understood. His life hadn’t been easy and enough people had already let him down, he didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. The prospect of them both being back in her life, that they both wanted her back in their lives warmed her heart.

‘I told them about Julia too,’ Matt added with a small smile, glancing across at her as they pulled to a stop at a traffic light.

‘You did?’ Sylvie asked slightly shocked but pleasantly so.

‘Called them once you got the news, it felt right to let them know,’ Matt shrugged.

‘And they were happy about it?’ Sylvie was worried the addition of someone else into their family bubble could cause issues, especially for Ben.

‘Said they were going to spoil her rotten,’ Matt chuckled. ‘Ben said he would teach her how to mountain bike when she’s old enough - it’s his current favourite thing.’

They really were going to be a family, all of them together.

——————————————————————————

Matt stirred awake, groaning slightly as he was brought back into consciousness, his muscles contracting under Sylvie’s touch.

‘Morning,’ he said groggily, smiling down at where she had turned her focus to look up at him from her position on his chest.

‘Good morning,’ she whispered, reaching up to press her lips against his before relaxing back into his hold.

‘I could hear your mind working in my dreams,’ Matt said, stroking his fingers against the bare skin of her hip.

‘Mmm’ she hummed in response.

‘Want to share with the room?’ He asked and she smiled, pressing her face against his chest.

‘I was just thinking about our life,’ she admitted, with anyone else she would have blushed at her words but not with Matt. He always made her feel safe enough to speak truthfully, provided her the space to be exactly who she wanted to be without fear of judgement. She’d not always been so lucky in her past relationships.

Harrison hadn’t really wanted Sylvie Brett, he’d wanted the wife he thought he could mould Sylvie into being. He disliked everything about her that made her her. All the bright and caring aspects that made her who she was. He just wanted her to bend to his wishes and give up everything in her life that she cared about.

Antonio, goodness knows what he had wanted but it wasn’t what she had wanted. That was a relationship doomed to fail from the start, something she thought both of them had luckily realised before it got too late.

Kyle wanted a preacher's wife, he thought he was giving her what she wanted - space away from Chicago after her accident. But that wasn’t her either. She was a Chicago girl now, and that was where she belonged.

But Matt, Matt wanted her exactly how she was, all the blemishes and flaws along with the shiny and good. He supported her through everything, had been her number one cheerleader even before they had realised how they felt about each other. His heart was everything good and Sylvie loved him for it.

‘It's going to be a beautiful life,’ Matt said, bringing up the hand not wrapped around hers to run his fingers over the ring that now graced her left hand.

‘What time is your flight?’ She asked quietly. They’d spoken about him going back to Oregon in between rounds last night when their skin was still tacky with sweat, their legs refusing to untangle themselves.

‘I have to go back to Oregon tomorrow,’ he said into the quiet night air. ‘But only to wrap things up,’ he tightened his hold on her, one hand continuing to trail up and down her bare back. ‘It should only take a couple of weeks.’

‘Okay,’ Sylvie muttered. She knew he wanted to be back in Chicago as much as she wanted him back, he had shown her how much just a moment ago.

‘I agreed with CFD to start teaching at the academy in 6 weeks, they know I want back in the action but teaching will do until they can find me a house,’ he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

‘I’ll take you to the airport tomorrow,’ Sylvie said. This wouldn’t be like last time. They had a plan this time. He was coming back to her, he was going to marry her.

‘I think it’s just past midday,’ Matt said and Sylvie chuckled at his vagueness. ‘I’ll check when this beautiful woman lets me out of her bed,’ he said in mock offence at her laugh.

‘I can let you out now if you’d like,’ Sylvie sassed, making a move to untangle herself but Matt groaned and pulled her back against his chest.

‘Never,’ he murmured as he peppered her face with kisses and her soft giggles filled the room.

‘I’ll call you as soon as I land,’ he said as the pair settled back into their embrace, the covers pooling around their waists as his movements had shifted them slightly.

‘Okay,’ she said, resuming tracing patterns against his chest.

‘When will Julia arrive?’ He asked curiously.

‘I think a couple of days,’ Sylvie admitted. ‘Although Amber took back custody, there’s still papers to sign. You know how it is with the DFS.’

‘You’re going to give her the most beautiful life Sylvie,’ Matt murmured against her hair.

‘We are,’ Sylvie corrected him. Although technically she was doing this alone and it was her name on the paperwork, she wanted Matt by her side every step of the way. And she knew he was all in. ‘We are going to have the most wonderful family.’

‘We are,’ Matt said, his words reminiscent of when she had finally admitted her feelings to him in the middle of the night out on the North Apron.

‘We will have the most incredible life, all of us together.’

‘We will.’

‘And we have each other. Forever. We are it for each other.’

‘We are,’ Matt repeated.

Sylvie wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye to him in just a few hours, but she knew this goodbye would be their last. When he returned, it would be for good. They would be together. She had a ring on her finger to prove it.

[moonylantsovs]

RULES | 1.13: WE ARE GROUNDERS (2)

summary: the daughter of marcus kane gets sent down to the ground with ninety-nine other teenage criminals and a fake guard on her eighteenth birthday, deciding to take charge of the camp along with the two people she never thought she'd get along with after her previous experience with authority and the privileged

pairings: john murphy x fem!oc, bellamy blake x fem!oc ( slowburn )

taglist: @lotr-got

warnings: best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, swearing, death, violence, cliffhanger

series masterlist

War has always been something that Gabriella Kane thought humanity would not encounter for another four hundred years. To her dislike, war has started since the second the hundred had landed on Earth.

It started with the dropship landing on grounder territory instead of Mount Weather and the only way it would end would cause more than half of them to die. Gabriella had to do everything in her power to keep her people alive and that started with keeping Raven alive by helping Clarke stop the bleeding on her and Wells' gunshot wounds.

Raven screamed in pain and gripped Gabriella's hand tighter as Clarke pressed the hot knife against her wound.

"That should stop the external bleeding." Clarke said, looking up at Finn before moving to do the same thing to Wells before his wound got infected.

As Clarke pressed the knife to Wells' shoulder, he gripped the edge of the makeshift table tightly and clenched his jaw to prevent himself from letting out anything other than pained grunts.

"I don't understand. How did Murphy get a gun?" Finn asked as he watched Clarke put a bandage around Wells' shoulder.

Gabriella shifted uncomfortably and stared at her feet, feeling a sudden rush of guilt. She was a hundred percent sure that it was her fault that Murphy got a gun to shoot Raven and Wells with and tried to kill Bellamy.

"Long story." Bellamy immediately dismissed the subject, seeing how Gabriella's expression became stoic at the bare mention of Murphy's name.

"We got lucky." Raven croaked out, sighing and shutting her eyes. "If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of us, we'd all be dead."

"Wait, there's rocket fuel down there?" Clarke asked and Gabriella instantly wondered how she did not think of it sooner. It was a dropship and it needed rocket fuel to function.

They should have thought about checking beneath the dropship for it weeks ago.

"Is there enough to build a bomb?" The engineer wondered out loud, directing her question at Raven who's eyes flickered knowingly.

"Enough to build a hundred bombs. If we had any gunpowder left."

Gabriella sighed in frustration and rested her forehead in the palm of the hand that was not holding Raven's. She let the harsh reality settle in; not only did Murphy try to kill Bellamy and shoot two of their people, but he also ruined all of their gunpowder by creating a whole in the dropship so he could escape and save his own ass.

"Let's get back to the reapers." Bellamy said, gripping Lincoln's notebook in his hand and putting it in front of Gabriella so she could get a better look at the reaper drawn.

"Maybe they'll help us. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?" He added, making Gabriella scoff.

"Does that look like someone willing to help a hundred teenagers who invaded their home?"

"She's right." Clarke agreed. "We saw them. Trust me, it's not an option."

"There's no time for this." Finn exclaimed impatiently and turned to Clarke. "Can she walk or not?"

"No." The Griffin shook her head. "We have to carry her."

"The hell you will. I'm good to go." Raven snapped, trying to get up but groaned in pain, only to have Gabriella push her to lay back down.

"Like hell you are." She glared down at her. "You have a hole in your leg, Rae. You aren't going anywhere."

Clarke leaned down, looking at the mechanic sternly. "Listen to me. That bullet is still inside you. If by some miracle, there's no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?"

Raven swallowed thickly, trying to keep the tears from forming in her arms, and nodded weakly. Finn nodded to himself. "I'll get a stretcher."

Bellamy glared at the back of Finn's head when he turned around and called after him with a taunting tone. "Can't run away fast enough, huh? Real brave."

Finn swiftly turned around to come chest-to-chest with Bellamy, his glare stone cold. "Dying in a fight you can't win isn't brave, Bellamy, it's stupid."

The male leader scoffed, "Spoken like every coward who's ever run from a fight."

There was a challenging look in Bellamy's eyes and Gabriella could see he was just waiting for another one of Finn's retorts so he could start a fight where he could get his anger out. And as much as Gabriella wanted to see Bellamy beat Finn half to death, they did not have time for that.

"Enough." She scolded, stepping between the two glaring men. "The amount of toxic masculinity in this dropship is making it really hard for me to breathe so I would really appreciate it if you boys would take your cat fight somewhere else and give Clarke and me room to help make sure Raven and Wells don't bleed out until we get somewhere safe." She set her glare on Finn "That was the plan you and your princess set your sights on since you walked back into camp. So I would suggest you shut up and help us deal with this." Bellamy looked down at his co-leader and opened his mouth to retort only to have her turn her glare back on him. "If I were you I would keep my mouth shut too. You might have almost been hanged less than an hour ago but you aren't helping anyone by trying to pick a fight."

"She's right." Wells chimed in, "If you don't stop fighting without any reason we'll never get this over with. We have to get going, now."

"But what happens if they do follow us?" Gabriella asked. "It's a hundred and twenty mile walk to the ocean and there's eighty of us which means we won't go past unnoticed for long--"

"Look, we're wasting time." Finn cut her off, "If you and Bellamy want to stay, you can stay."

With his final words, Finn walked out of the dropship to get a stretcher, ignoring Clarke who called after him, "No, they can't."

Wells was quick to notice the tension between the three leaders and looked down at Raven's half-conscious body before muttering awkwardly, "I'll uh- see if Finn needs any help..."

Once the Jaha left the dropship, Clarke looked between her two co-leaders pleadingly. "I can't do this without the two of you. None of us can."

"What do you want us to say, Clarke?" Bellamy sighed, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration.

"I want you to say that you're with us." Clarke said, looking at her best friend who still had not uttered a word and had her gaze locked on her dirty boots.

"Those kids out there, they listen to you." Clarke added, making Gabriella finally connect her gaze with her. "They listen to both of you."

Gabriella scoffed bitterly, "They're getting ready to go. They listen to you more."

"I gave them an easy choice. But five minutes ago, they were willing to fight and die for you." Clarke pointed out, keeping her gaze on both Gabriella and Bellamy before she added, "You inspire them. I'm afraid we're gonna need that again before this day is through."

And with those final words, Clarke exited the dropship and left the two remaining leaders standing in silence. After a few moments, Bellamy let out a sigh and nudged Gabriella's elbow with his own. "You doing okay, Bambi?"

"No. What happened is my fault and I can't get it out of my head." She admitted, feeling a strange feeling of relief after finally letting her actual feelings off her chest.

Bellamy's face flashed with realization and sympathy at her words and he turned around to face her "Hey, what Murphy did wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it is. If I hadn't begged you to let him stay he would not have killed all those people, Raven would be able to actually walk, we would have gunpowder so we could actually fight back and you wouldn't have almost died." Her voice slightly raised at the end of her rant and she was painfully aware of the tears that were slowly filling her eyes.

"You aren't responsible for the mistakes he makes." Bellamy told her firmly, resisting the sudden urge to comfort the girl in front of him by whipping her tears away and pulling her into his embrace. So instead of that, he opted to comfort her with his words. "If it's anyone's fault it's mine. I should have listened to you. I should have kept the camp in order better and not let them run around like rabid dogs."

Gabriella stared at him with tears in her eyes and with no warning, wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. Bellamy stumbled backwards slightly from shock but wrapped one of his arms around her waist and used the other one to caress her hair while he listened to her soft sobs. He felt her hot tears hit the bare skin of his neck which only made him hold her tighter. In the middle of a war, these two broken leaders found comfort in each other's arms, trying to forget that everything around them was imploding and only focused on the few moments of peace they had for now. And that was all they needed.

-

Gabriella and Bellamy stood by the lit campfire in the middle of the camp, watching as the delinquents made their way outside, with Clarke and Wells walking right behind them.

Leaving the delinquents' camp made Gabriella feel bittersweet. It was a place filled with terrible loss in so many different ways but also a place where she was finally able to feel like her old self again...a place where she had almost full control of everything that was happening. A safe haven.

She knew Bellamy had the same thoughts once she saw him gazing into the fire thoughtfully. Hesitantly, she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. "We did good here, Freckles."

Bellamy's shoulders slumped and his face flashed with something similar to defeat. "Eighteen dead."

"Eighty-two alive." Gabriella corrected with a ghost of a smile on her face. "We did good."

The oldest Blake connected his eyes with hers and stared at her face before nodding, speaking the words he knew both of them needed to hear right now "Yeah . . . we did."

He bent down and picked up a bucket of water, spilling it on the fire, and making it dissolve into a small cloud of smoke.

Gabriella and Bellamy made their way to the gates of the camp, where Clarke was waiting for them without Wells this time. The Griffin looked between her two co-leaders and asked, "You two ready to go?"

"It's not like we have a choice, do we?" Gabriella's words were more bitter than intended but she was being honest. A part of her knew that staying in the camp would only end in slaughter. But the other part knew that if they were going to go down, it would not be without a fight.

-

"You know the first thing I'm gonna do when we get to the beach?" Miller spoke up after a few minutes of the delinquents walking in silence.

"No. What?" Jasper deadpanned with fake curiosity, fixing the gun in his grip from behind the three leaders.

Miller smiled that boyish grin of his. "I want to go surfing."

"Quite." Jasper hissed, "Keep your eyes open."

"No more damn trees, just pale, blue water." Miller continued, ignoring Jasper's words completely.

"Shut up, Miller." Gabriella snapped, giving him a warning glare over her shoulder. She was not going to deny that he had a point but his constant talking was giving her a headache.

Out of the blue, Octavia halted in her steps and held her hand up in front of Gabriella so she'd stop too. Once everyone saw the two girls stop, they did too.

"What is it?" Gabriella asked, eying the younger Blake curiously.

Jasper shrugged, holding his gun up high. "I don't see any-"

His words were cut off by a sharp object being thrown at a kid's head, making him drop dead on the forest floor. Panicked gasps could be heard from all around the group and Gabriella did not waste a second before lifting up her gun, getting ready for whatever was coming.

"Grounders!"

Gabriella, Bellamy, and Clarke started yelling at everyone to get back to camp, to the safety of the walls they built when they landed.

All gunners were on the wall, looking through their riffles and waiting for any sight of grounders. Gabriella swapped her small gun with Philip's rifle and rushed over to stand by Bellamy's side so she could get a better look at what was outside. She liked the rifle in her hands to her eye and looked through it, but saw nothing outside of the camp.

Clarke swiftly made her way by their side, looking around the woods with a scared expression on her face.

"Where are they? Why aren't they attacking?" Bellamy asked, obviously not seeing anything either.

"Because we're doing exactly what they wanted us to do." Clarke realized.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, slight annoyance in them. "What are you talking about?"

Clarke ignored him and turned around to look at Wells, who was already looking up at her, equally confused by her words as the rest of them.

"Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive." She said.

"If it's just scouts, we can fight our way out. That's what Lincoln would do." Octavia's words made Bellamy's body stiffen and he was quick to retort.

"We're done doing what that grounder would do." He hopped down from his place on the wall. "We tried it and now Drew is dead. You want to be next?"

"That grounder saved our lives. I agree with Octavia. For all we know, there's one scout out there." Finn exclaimed, making Gabriella roll her eyes and walk over to them.

"You really want to take that risk, Spacewalker?" Gabriella glared. "You're free to walk out and get yourself killed but it's your funeral."

"That scout has insanely good aim." Jasper called over his shoulder.

"Clarke, we can still do this." Octavia pleaded, looking up at the Griffin girl.

"Looking at you, girls." Bellamy sighed, looking between his fellow leaders, his pleading look matching his sister's almost perfectly. "What's it gonna be? Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?"

Gabriella allowed a faint smirk to trace her lips as she shrugged, "Well you both know what I think. That means it's two against one either way." She looked at Clarke. "But you still get your vote, Princess."

After a moment of debating, Clarke got down from the wall only to have Finn grab her forearm. "Clarke. If we're still here when Tristan gets here--"

"Lincoln said 'scouts'. More than one." Clarke cut him off. "He said 'get home before the scouts arrive'. Finn, they're already here." She turned back around to give Gabriella and Bellamy a defeated look and sighed. "Looks like you've got your fight."

Bellamy smirked slightly and turned towards the delinquents who were awaiting their orders. "Okay, then. This is what we've been preparing for. Kill them before they kill us. Gunners, to your posts. Use the tunnels to get in and out."

"From now on, the gates stay closed!" Gabriella added, "And don't waste any unnecessary bullets!"

The delinquents scattered around to do what they needed to do and both Bellamy and Gabriella noticed Octavia was following them.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Bellamy exclaimed, blocking her path. "You're not gunner."

"No, I'm not. It's like you said...I'm a grounder." Octavia said confidently, brushing past them, barely giving Gabriella a chance to register the fact that she had a sword in her hand.

"When did you get a sword?!" The blonde called after her, but Octavia was already inside the foxhole. Gabriella's shoulders slumped down and confusion was written all over her face, while she asked, "Why is she carrying a sword?"

Bellamy let out a frustrated sigh and answered, "You don't wanna know."

-

"We got twenty-five rifles with twenty rounds each, give or take. Roughly five hundred rounds of ammo. While you two were gone we made some improvements. Thanks to Raven, the gully is mined."

Raven scoffed at Bellamy's words from her place on the dropship seat. "Partially mined. Thanks to Murphy."

"Still, it's the main route in." Bellamy said, ignoring the mechanic's pessimism. "If the grounders use it, we'll know. She and Wells also built grenades."

Clarke frowned at the sight of only two of them. "It's not many."

"Again, thank you, Murphy." Gabriella muttered bitterly, her sadness and disappointment for the boy being replaced by anger in the few hours she had to process what he did.

"We'll make them count." Bellamy reassured her. "If the grounders make it through the front gate, guns and grenades should force them back."

"And then?" Wells could not help but ask, raising his eyebrows.

His question was followed by a pregnant silence before Raven was the one to speak up, "Then we close the door and pray."

"And pray what?" Clarke asked, "That the ship keeps them out? Because it won't."

"Then let's not let them through the gate." Bellamy said with determination.

"Or we can just all go inside, close the doors, and beg for them to think we're not home. That sounds a hell of a lot easier." Gabriella spoke, a mix of sarcasm and venom dripping from her voice.

Bellamy huffed in amusement, still not understanding how the girl next to him could find the ability to joke around in the middle of war. He lifted the walkie in his hand and commanded "All foxholes, listen up. Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That's the plan."

"That's always your plan, just like the bomb at the bridge."

Gabriella turned to glare at Finn. "Do you ever stop talking? Unless you've got a better idea, keep your mouth shut and let the adults handle the situation."

"It can't be that simple." Clarke whispered, drawing attention to herself. She ignored the questioning looks and looked at Gabriella and Raven. "You said there's fuel in those rockets, right? Enough to build a hundred bombs."

"I also said we've got no gunpowder left." Raven reminded her, not understanding what she meant.

"I don't want to build a bomb." Clarke shook her head. "I want to blast off."

Gabriella and Raven grinned in understanding, the latter being the one to speak up, "Draw them in close. Fire the rockets. A ring of fire."

"Barbecued grounders." Bellamy nodded. "I like it."

"I'm in as long as it keeps us alive." Wells shrugged. "Besides, if anyone can do that it's Raven and Ella."

"Will it work?" Finn asked, looking down at his ex-girlfriend.

"The wiring is a mess down there, but yeah. You give me enough time, we'll cook them real good." Raven confirmed but Bellamy quickly chimed in.

"Yeah, Gabi isn't staying in. Clarke and Finn will help you here and Gabi and Wells will come with me. We need as many gunners as we can get."

"You think you will be fine with me leaving for a bit?" Gabriella asked, side-eying the ponytail-wearing mechanic.

"I'll be fine."

-

Gabriella stood in between Wells and Bellamy, her rifle tight in her grasp and her vision locked on the gates while Bellamy was desperately trying to catch sight of his little sister in the crowd of delinquents.

"Where's Octavia?" He finally asked Miller after not being able to find her.

"She left five minutes ago. Didn't say where to. She thinks she's a damn samurai."

Gabriella gaped at Miller. "And you let her leave?"

"She had a sword." Miller deadpanned. "What was I supposed to do? Threaten I'd call her brother and his girlfriend and tell on her?"

"You see anything?" Bellamy asked Wells, ignoring Gabriella and Miller's silent argument.

"No." Wells huffed impatiently. "What are they even waiting for?"

"The longer they wait, the better. This is about buying time with Raven."

"I see them. They're moving! I count two, three-- no, wait, there more. I don't know man. There's too many of them."

There was a loud gunshot echoing through the forest and Gabriella felt herself panicking. "Who fired the shot?"

"Probably Sterling." Philip told her.

Miller quickly added. "South foxhole."

Gabriella snatched the walkie from Bellamy's hands. "South foxhole, report now."

There were two more gunshots before Starling spoke."Yeah, yeah. We're okay. They didn't attack, it's like shooting at ghosts."

"There." Philip exclaimed just as Starling stopped talking. "I see them!"

Both Philip and Miller started shooting at the barely visible shadows of grounders in the trees, while Gabriella, Bellamy, and Wells yelled for them to stop.

"Hold your fire!" Bellamy finally snapped loudly. Once the two gunners did what he said, he said again, "Reload. Now."

"Those were our last clips." Miller said, almost sheepishly.

"We should-- we should fall back."

Gabriella instantly shook her head. "No way. If this position falls, they'd have straight access to the gates. Use the mines if they get closer, Bellamy, Wells, and I will cover for you."

"What if they don't work?" Philip asked, looking straight at Gabriella.

"They will."

"Ella, Jasper, we need you in the dropship right now."

Bellamy rolled his eyes at the sound of Clarke's voice and took the walkie from Gabriella's hands. "Negative. We can't give up the west woods and we barely have any ammo here so Gabi has to stay."

"The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out. Jasper, get in here."

"I swear to god, if we die it's because she can't get his priorities straight I'm gonna kill her." Gabriella scoffed and Bellamy made a small noise of agreement while Wells just rolled his eyes.

"All gunners listen up. The grounders are not attacking. They're making us waste bullets. Don't shoot when they're running laterally."

"That's my boy." Gabriella muttered proudly, realizing how true Jasper's words were.

"Jasper's right." Bellamy spoke into the walkie again, "Don't fire until you're sure it's an attack. Repeat, do not fire until you are sure."

"Let me use this for a second." Gabriella said, pulling the walkie out of Bellamy's hands and putting it to her mouth. "Are the mines working?"

"Yeah." Jasper spoke through the walkie-talkie. "Why? Is everything okay?"

Gabriella's mind flashed to the east foxhole, remembering they were out of ammo and one of the weakly guarded foxholes. She took a deep breath before turning to Bellamy. "I'm going to take the walkie and head to the east foxhole with Wells. If anyone needs backup it's them."

"I'll go with you."

The youngest Kane shook her head at his words. "No, you stay here and make sure everything here is going well. We will be fine. Wells will cover for me."

"I will?" Wells' eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Seeing Gabriella's almost threatening raised eyebrow, Wells pursed his lips and nodded. "Right...it's not like I have a choice."

"Just..." Bellamy sighed, looking down at Gabriella with a glint of worry in his brown eyes "be safe."

"Safe is my middle name." Gabriella grinned confidently, giving her male co-leader a two-finger salute before grabbing Wells' forearm and dragging him away.

-

"Stand your ground, if they take the gate, we're all dead."

Gabriella and Wells share a worried look before they quicken their pace back towards the now-empty west foxhole.

"They've broken through! There are hundreds of them! They're heading for the gate! Game over, man!"

"Yeah, no kidding." Gabriella muttered when a bunch of grounders with swords came barging toward her and Wells. Both of them raised their riffles and started shooting at them, trying to kill as many as they could.

Gabriella was surprised when one of the two last grounders pushed her onto the floor and raised his sword above his head. He was barely able to slice her shoulder when two loud shots rang through the air and the grounder dropped on the floor, along with the swords in his hand.

Wells stood above him, panting and staring down at Gabriella in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Gabriella nodded, accepting his extended hand and getting to her feet before putting his chest lightly. "Thanks, Princey."

"See, I can be a badass." Wells said, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his face that made Gabriella snort and shake her head.

"You just ruined it."

Wells rolled his eyes and checked his gun. "I'm out of ammo."

Gabriella frowned. "Get to the dropship." She ordered, getting ready to head out and find Bellamy.

Wells shook his head stubbornly. "No, I'm not leaving you."

Gabriella eyed him momentarily before sighing. "You really are a pain in the ass, huh?"

"Well, you called me worse." Wells chuckled slightly, mirroring the blonde's small smile.

Gabriella was cut off by saying something when even more grounders started attacking and Miler yelled. "There are too many! Everybody to the dropship, now!"

"No!" Clarke yelled desperately from her place at the dropship door. "We need more time. Gunners, stay at your posts. The rest of you get inside. You too, Wells."

Clarke did not expect Wells to shake his head and say, "No, I'm going to help Ella look for Bellamy."

"Where is he?" Clarke asked, making Gabriella run her hand through her head in frustration. "Obviously not here. He has to be somewhere outside with Octavia, we'll go look for him."

Clarke did not even get a chance to try and keep them there because there was a loud bang heard in the sky, followed by a big blinding light, falling down.

"Is that from The Ark?" A girl named Fox asked and Clarke stared at the sky in disbelief.

"That is The Ark."

"We don't have time to talk about this now." Gabriella said, grabbing a hold of Wells' forearm. "We have to go now."

-

"Bellamy, where the hell are you?" Gabriella asked into the walkie-talkie as she and Wells got deeper and deeper into the forest and away from the dropship. The pain in her shoulder was getting worse but there was no turning back now, they needed to find Bellamy and he wasn't answering on the walkie.

"I don't know where I am." Frustration was clear in Bellamy's voice when he finally spoke up and Gabriella saw Wells pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration out of the corner of her eye.

"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Gabriella hissed. "Wells and I are looking for you outside of the gate and you need to get to camp now."

"Why did you get out to look for me? Are you out of your damn mind?" Bellamy half-yelled on the other side of the walkie.

"Can you two stop flirting and get back to the dropship?" Clarke's voice cut off their argument.

Gabriella rolled her eyes and said, "We'll be there in a minute."

When Gabriella turned around to say something to Wells, she did not expect to see him unconscious on the floor. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain similar to the one on her shoulder and Gabriella felt her vision go black.

[bluewren]

OC Kiss Week: Rain

Lex is my OC, Eilan belongs to the lovely @delicatefade. We have each other's OCs living in our heads now.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Some context: This is in an AU where Lex is a member of the Chargers. Taking place sometime after they started dating and at Skyhold together.

wc: 612

~

The desert sun has been beaming down on Lex and Eilan for several hours. It feels like they passed the same dried up birch tree several times on their way back to Griffin’s Keep. They passed the same crumbled bridge that once supported the Imperial Highway. It could have cut their travel time by half if they had lived in an earlier age. This section of the massive land bridge has since dropped into the valley, and the couple has to walk around it. At least the rotting bronto husk doesn’t look familiar, the heat hasn’t taken all of Lex’s wits away from him. It feels like they’ve been walking all afternoon. He’s delighted that the map is telling him that Griffin’s Keep is along this path. They should be catching sight of shelter by the evening and be there to partake in the driest supper imaginable. Food variety is limited in the Western Approach.

"Hm, why is it that whenever you tell me about your adventures it's always slaying demons and dragons, and yet when I come along it's delivering parcels," Eilan asks. "Oh yea?” Lex chuckles. ”You want to fight a dragon?”  “Maybe.” She smiles with a playful list towards one side.  "You're not getting anywhere near a dragon, miss never-even-thrown-a-punch."  They continue walking, unfortunately their canteens are now completely emptied, with no spring in sight, and some distance to cover.  Eilan is the first to be fatigued. "Come on. Let me carry you." Lex holds his hand, palms up for her to rest on.  “I’ll be fine,” Eilan insists, splaying out her hand. “You’re not much trouble to carry.” “Lex, you can be stranded if you wear yourself out.” Eilan slows to a stop and gasps for breath, one hand on her hip to support herself. “I just need to rest for a moment.” “Alright." Lex looks around for shade but finds none. "We'll get cooked if we rest here. Let's find a better spot." Lex feels a droplet of rain hit his shoulder. The sky suddenly turns gray. It feels like one of the few times today that whatever god causes things to happen in this world is finally being merciful. Lex laughs. He opens his arms wide to catch as many droplets falling from the sky as possible. It undoes his hair, drenches his clothes, weighs on his legs, but now he feels giddy and rejuvenated from being caught in the rain. "No time to argue." Lex swoops Eilan off her feet.  Eilan yelps when her feet leave the ground. Lex carries her in his two arms and dashes. The world turns into a blur. The only thing that he can discern clearly is the sound of Eilan’s voice. Lex can feel Eilan’s arms tightly wrapped around his neck, feeling like she’s scared of falling if she lets go. Luckily the ground is mostly flat, there’s little worry of tripping. He holds on to her tight until they finally get under the bridge. He breathes a sigh of relief when they finally make it to shelter. His lungs feel like they’ve collapsed after that sprint, though somehow he’s still able to laugh. Adrenaline is still racing through his veins as he finally slumps himself over the stone wall. Eilan’s wringing water out of her clothes, drenched from head to toe. Still she manages to dry herself enough to sit down comfortably beside Lex. “We’ll probably be stuck here for a few hours but,” Lex cups Eilan’s chin in his hands. He brings Eilan close to press a kiss to her lips. He feels the water on her skin, and droplets falling from her hair onto his arms.

[ja3hwa]

Enchanted | Seonghwa

「Synopsis」 : One day when a far away kingdom gets attack a brave knight fights to save his homeland but what if he ends up nearing death only a fae can save him...

「Word count」 :  3.5k

-> Genre: Fantasy Au, Fluffy, Gore, Suggestive,

Paring: Badboy!Knight!Seonghwa x Fae!Reader

[Warnings] : Violence, heavy gore, blood, weapons, animals dying, near character death, making out.

Note: Thank you to @wavewavesworld for this very big request. I hope this is too your liking. This was super fun to make. (I lowkey wanted to make it smutty but I held back cause you didn't ask haha) but I really hope you enjoy reading it ♡

Part Two

The enchanted forest just on the outskirts of the kingdom was one of the most ancient and powerful places you could ever visit. The thick forestry was home to many magical beings, ranging from fairies, fae, nymphs, druids and more. If you walk fifteen minutes into the giant trees, you can spot a crystal clear waterfall that is said if you swim in it, a water nymph will appear and grant you wishes.

If you cast deeper inside, as the forest becomes denser, you can find a cave that houses a griffin. It has spoken he is sound asleep waiting for his master to awaken him from his enchanted slumber. The forest is beautiful inside and out but never tread too far, it may be magical and gorgeous but it's a dangerous land. The creature that hides inside can be seductive and lure you into an early gra—

"SAN! WOOYOUNG! Stop scaring the kids." King Hongjoong called from across the classroom. The young prince and princess stared in shock hearing the horrors of the forest just beyond their bedroom.

"Uncle Joong, can you tell us about the forest. Haven't you been in there yourself!" The young princess smiled at him, intrigued by the stories that were whispered in the castle. Hongjoong just chuckled, leaning against the large door frame. The two knights that were telling the stories also anticipated what their leader might say.

"Well, there was this time when—My lord three or more large wolves have entered the outskirts of the kingdom," Yunho calls out with three other knights following him close behind, Mingi and Yeosang, Jongho look out of breath having to try and keep up with the giant and his long legs.

San and Wooyoung told the kids to go find their father, Hongjoong's brother from another kingdom and wait until the threat is going. Hongjoong rounded them all up heading straight for the large entrance gates.

"Wait where is Sargent Seonghwa?!!" Hongjoong called, looking among the knights present.

Treading through the thick grass, Seonghwa wipes his brow with a bloody hand in hopes to remove the blood off his face. But it just ends up smearing it more. His amour is scratched and some of it has been torn off. His chest was exposed, but he kept his shield close, to make sure he didn't get a jump on himself.

"Where are you…" He gritted his teeth, holding his sword tightly in his grasp. He already managed to slaughter two of the rage-filled beats, but he became unsure how many exactly were left. A stick snapped behind his back, making him turn in all the speed he could conjure. But it wasn't as fast as he would have liked, being tackled down by a large black wolf. Its teeth were a mix of black, red and yellow, breath stunk of death and eyes were pitch as the night sky. It was hungry and Seonghwa was its prey.

The meadows were extra lively this fine day. The flowers were all in full bloom, making pollen dance in the cool breeze. Your cottage was warm, and the smell of leftover burnt word from last night's fire was still prominent as you snipped at some herbs in your greenhouse that was connected to your humble abode.

Placing the herbs and sorts carefully into your little grass basket you carry around, you head inside to sort them out for storage. Some things you sell in neighbouring kingdoms, and others you keep just for yourself. Placing everything on the counter you notice you're missing a few items for the meal you planned for tonight. Sighing you head upstairs to get dressed. You couldn't do without the ingredients and it was only a short walk to where you needed to go.

You put on your petty coat before laying on your fabrics. You put on a baby pink and blue with a contract of a white theme. You tie on your bodice top to make sure you avoid your shear wings. Lastly, you threw over a slitted half cloak to just cover your shoulders gifting you a little hoodie.

Grabbing your basket and bow from downstairs you slip on your shoes before heading out into the forestry you call home.

The small space away from the giant thick trees was covered in hot red blood. Two wolves were lifeless and cold, while one of their brothers still stood. It was wounded but held its ground. Seonghwa stood across from it, covered in blood. Losing count of what was his and what was the beasts. He held his stomach as the large gash that the big black wolf gave him continued to pour out streams of the crimson liquid.

He was dying.

He spat, holding his sword with both hands. If he was going down he was going to go down fighting. The wolf growled, getting ready to pounce, looking Seonghwa dead in the eyes. He ran, jumping onto Hwa, pinning in down to the damp ground. He screamed as the wolf bit into his shoulder, ripping a bit of his flesh away. It one last piece of strength, Seonghwa drove his sword into the beast's chest, his knuckles white as his grip clutched tight. The beast let out one last growl before falling onto Seonghwa, lifeless.

Seonghwa kicked the large wolf off him before leaning against a tree that sat behind him. His eyes grew heavy, feeling his breath becoming shallow. Lifting his left arm from his stomach to look at the damage. His lower half was completely covered in red, his hands painted cardinal.

"Fuck.." He choked, his eyes fuzzy unable to see his surroundings. Maybe going out on your own was a stupid idea. He thought before shutting his eyes for the final time.

You were minding your own business. Picking some morels up from the base of an Elms tree that had recently died. The soil was wet, getting stuck to your palms as you removed each mushroom carefully. A low whimper caught your attention. Making you stand up quickly. Your hand clutched your belt that carried your positions, getting ready just in case. You slowly walked towards the noise, preparing for the worst. But now one could prepare you for what you saw.

A literal blood bath.

Three dead wolves and a man. Blood is painted everywhere. The whimper you heard was from a smaller wolf that has stumbled upon the massacre. Its eyes are rage-full, stalking its way towards the man that lies unconscious. Without a second thought, you drew your bow, pulling out an arrow from the quiver. You dragged the arrow, aiming for the wolf. You slowed your breathing before letting go of the stem, letting it fly straight into the jugular of the wolf, stopping it in his tracks.

It was quick and painless. You pick your feet up, letting them hover just above the forest floor, so your shoes don't get blood on them. You flap your wings, fluttering over to the man. You lean down, becoming horizontal. Your notice the gash in his chest, hissing at that state. You pop the button on your pouch grabbing out our jar of golden dust. You pinch a small amount before sprinkling some of the unconscious male.

"Let's get you cleaned up…" You sighed…

The smell of soy sauce, perilla oil, chicken broth and other spices made Seonghwa's nose twitch. He shifts slightly, gifting him a sharp pain in his abdomen. His hands flew to his stomach, letting out a hard groan. He shifted more, blinking slowly. His fuzzy vision makes it hard to completely see his surroundings. He notices he is inside a lounging area, a blanket covering him and a fluffy pillow holding his neck up comfortably.

He pulled the blanket away seeing all his wounds were dressed and he was in only his undergarments that hid under his pants. A rush of red-painted his face, feeling decant. He moves to get up but another sharp pain hits him, making him cough this think. He went to put his feet on the floor when a gasp caught his attention.

"HEY! STOP YOU'RE GOING TO POP YOUR STITCHES!!" A concerned voice made him freeze. You ran around to the front of the couch, placing both hands on his upper chest, fingers resting on his shoulders before pushing him back down onto the comforter...

His eyes grew wide watching your face contort as you speak to him. But he doesn't hear anything. All he is paying attention to is your beauty. The way your hair shines with sprinkles of what looks like glitter. Your skin contrasts with your outfit, making you look eternal. And your wings, resting flat on your back. The shimmer of blue on your forewings while the baby peach blends into your hindwing.

Your head tilted as you examine his wounds, he notices how cute your pointed ears look, having been decorated with jewellery. You were beautiful, a goddess. He has never felt something like this before, he was the bad guy. The quiet mysterious knight that most town folks didn't dare to tread near. But you didn't look at him like that. You didn't look at him as if he was a monster. You just saw a hurt man.

"You understand!" You say sternly, making him fall out of his thoughts. He blinked a couple of times trying to find a word that might have stuck from you but he didn't hear anything. You laugh watching his brain tick and find nothing making him blush even more.

"You heard none of what I said did you?" You giggle crossing your arms over your chest. He just shook his head with a simple sorry.

"Stay. Don't move, I'll bring the food." You got up quick, existing towards where you came from. He sat there for a moment, confusion and wondering mixing in his mind. All he could remember was the colour red from the blood and darkness. But now he was here, fixed up and safe…Strange.

You returned with two bowls of warm stew. Placing both on the coffee table, you move towards Seonghwa, making him stiffen. You put more pillows up against the couch's arm. Making him lean back but still sit up enough so he could eat. You place a little tray on top of his legs before putting the bowl on top, and handing him a spoon.

"Eat, you'll feel better." You sounded like a mother caring for her sick young. You were trying to be stern but in the tone, he knew all you were feeling was concern. Worry for a stranger you have never met, wanting nothing but to help heal him no matter his background. The silence was comforting, taking down the delicious meal. Time passed soon finishing the meal, you got up to grab the empty dishing heading swiftly to the kitchen. Seonghwa wanted to speak but you were too quick so he got up. Slowly, and mildly painfully, well scratched that very painfully. He leant against the kitchen door frame coughing out, making you jump.

"Oh my god, what are you doing!" You yelps, dropping the dishes back into the soapy water, immediately moving to wrap your arm, even though it doesn't completely wrap around, his waist, helping him to sit on the chair. He wheezed out slightly, holding his lower stomach before slouching into the soft seat with emerald green cushioning and deep spruce wooden framing.

"I told you. You move your stitches can pop, do you have a death wish or something!" You sounded angrier than you wanted your fingers grazing over the wrapping around him checking to if anything may have moved.

"Ha maybe." Was the only thing he replied with. You looked him dead in the eyes with frustration. You watch the brown in his eyes shift, his pupils blow slightly. You felt a connection as if you knew him for years. The distance was suddenly hyper-aware in your mind, shifting back away from him moving straight back to the sink.

"So…What's your name anyway?" He asks, tilting his head slightly, trying to get your attention.

"Y/n…" Your voice was small as you watched the bubbles slowly pop away. Seonghwa cracked a smile, watching you intensely.

"I'm Seonghwa. And I owe you a thank you." You turned around to meet his gaze once more. Blush forming on your cheeks. You nod, giving him a smile before turning your back to him, placing a bowl into the drying rack.

"I don't need thanks. You are the one that kills those beasts. The beasts that infect my home. This forest." You choke out, placing the last dish on the rack, and pulling the plug. Seonghwa clicks his tongue knowing first-hand what those feral wolves can do. Destroy crops, kill just about anything and anyone that get in their way and leave a path of misery in their wake. You place a cup of coffee down in front of him and sit down across the table from him.

"Well Seonghwa, You need to rest. You are not going anywhere until you can at least walk without anything…" You wave your hand, gesturing to his stomach, "…You know, hurting." He laughs at your actions taking a sip of his coffee while you do the same. Silence fell again but it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. A small smile was placed on both of your faces. You stared out your window watching a small drop-lit of rainfall onto the glass, sighing in contentment. But Seonghwa watched you, he might of not know it and neither did you, but you had him around your finger. He was falling fast and for once, he wasn't scared.

"HEY, IT"S SEONGHWA!!!" Mingi screamed from the edge of the billiard room making San miss his shot with the pool cue. Before San could protest and whine the members started running towards the gate. Hongjoong was there first, wrapping Seonghwa's arm on his shoulders to hold him up. All of his fellow knights surrounded him, spitting out questions over questions, overlapping one another.

"Okay give the man some breathing room." Yeosang pulled the two youngest away letting the others move so Seonghwa and Joong could walk towards the castle. Once inside take took him straight to the infirm to check up on his wounds. Joong was the first to break the silence.

"Where have you been? It's been four days?" He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. The nurse helps Seonghwa remove his blouse so that she can undress his wounds. The members watch as the dressing falls off his chest revealing a scarred semi-healed gash from just under his left nipple cross until it ended just above his pelvis. Audible gasps echoed in the infirmary, San lent forward for a better look while an uproar of questions sprung again.

"Okay okay!" Hongjoong calmed the crowd. "Answers now. We thought you were dead! For the love of god we were contemplating whether we start planning a funereal or not!" Hongjoong sounded hurt but who could blame him. He and the other had trouble sleeping without knowing what exactly happened.

"We found the massacre on the outside side of the woods. The five wolves are dead along with the two you left in the entrance of the forest." Yeosang snickered curious how he took on that many wolves.

"Five? You mean four? I only killed the four in that break of trees…" Seonghwa spoke holding the end of the bandage as the nurse dressed the wrapping around him. Then it recalled to him when you found him a wolf might have been there. Did you kill a wolf to save him?

"Oh, Y/n…" he sighed in a whisper making the others tilt there heads at the grumble of words.

"Who y/n?" Jongho asked, only just being able to hear the older male's voice. Seonghwa was frozen he didn't want to tell his brothers who you were, not cause he didn't trust them, but if the word got out that he was saved by a creature of the forest, questions will arise and that could lead to negative theories on Hongjoong leadership. There was too much to risk at the moment and only just being returned sparked all these questions. He was scared.

"I'm not dead, right, that's the main thing. I'm fine. But I…." the nurse backs away to the desk on the side pulling out some other dressings but Seonghwa stood up backing away from the bed.

"I'm tired but I assure you I'm not in danger anymore…." and with that he left in a hurry, leaving his brother confused and even more so worried.

Two weeks have passed since the accident and everyone had seem to have died out of questions. None of the townsfolk speculated anything and only blessed Seonghwa, one of the bravest knights, was safe.

Seonghwa watches through the bay window in the main meeting room. An important spokesman came around for king Hoongjoong, for some event that was happening. Seonghwa wasn't paying attention, all that was thinking about was you.

Tonight was your meeting night. He would sneak away in the evening while everyone went off to their separate duties. The sun was low on the horizon, most have already settled in for the night. But Seonghwa was quick and quiet, weaving through the halls to avoid all the guards and his brothers. He managed to get to the outer gate undetected but little did he know, Yeosang was hot on his tail, watching his every move.

Seonghwa entered the dim forest, making Yeosang curious to remember back to the conversation he had with the others not too long ago.

"I've seen him. He has been sneaking out into the forest at night." Jongho states having been on guard watch the other night. The boys were beginning to question where their brother was disappearing to. Seonghwa avoided every question and every query that was thrown his way. Everyone was becoming impatient with the mystery. So Mingi and Yunho devised a plan to catch Seonghwa out and find out exactly where Seonghwa was going.

“My bet, a siren or wore a succubus has enchanted him,” San says with worry, fear slipping off his tongue.

“Succubus?! You are certainly mad. I think a witch has given him a love potion.” Jongho laughed.

“Maybe it’s love,” Yeosang whispered making everyone turn from the table.

“Love? Pff you’re funny.” Mingi laughed but Yeosang was serious, maybe the cold-hearted and closed off knight finally met someone that can melt his exterior. But in the end, the brothers were still determined to find how. So as the sun sets and the boys all get set into place. Seonghwa doesn’t suspect a thing, entering the forest like he does every other time.

But only this time Yeosang and the others were close behind.

The front garden was full of lanterns lighting up the evening's surroundings. You sat on your swinging bench while Seonghwa stands in front of you telling yet another story of his adventures. He swings his sword as he focuses on this crucial part of the story but all you could do was smile at him being so goofy. He was so perfect in your mind and you were falling every moment you spent with him. He tripped lightly, making you laugh, standing quickly to help him up but he pulls you down, making you fall slowly as your wings stopped you from gravity. His arms snake around your waist as you both laugh. Your hands rest on his chest as you look him in his beautiful eyes. He smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I think I’ve fallen for you…” He confesses, making you blush, leaning close to him. Your lips ghost of him as your smile grows with his.

“As am I…” You reply leaning into a kiss. His lips are soft and warm. Butterflies dance in your stomach, your wings flutter slightly. His hand cups your face deepening the kiss. You were so in love and so was he. He sits up, bringing you with him. His hands grip your thighs bringing you onto his lap before turning you. You fall onto the soft grass on your back with Seonghwa above you. Your wings lay flat letting Seonghwa see every detail. His fingers graze over the sheer appendage, making you let out a small sigh. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a broken fuse box. Everything was so sensitive. You couldn’t get enough you needed more.

“Hwa…” You whisper through his lips, mixing your breath with his before he could answer you, prying eyes that were watching your displays of affection caught his attention.

“What did I tell you,” Yeosang states with a smile, watching his brother finally happy.

“NO WAIT I WANTED TO WIN THE BET!!” San said a little too loudly making you and Seonghwa hear. You sat up straight off him, hiding behind his back once he was facing where the noise was.

“San?” Seonghwa called out suddenly seeing a small head pop out from behind the trees before yelling;

“Pretend I’m not here!!!!” Everyone laughed.

-

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[rinney4ever]

!TW FOR SH,BL00D AND TRAUMA!!

"Oh my sapphire.." Robin said in a low voice as he's holding unconscious Finney's hand. "Why did you have to be taken from me?" He was whispering as if he was gonna wake someone up. It was after the doctors patched Finney up and left him to rest did they let a distressed Robin in. "Everyone's sad. We miss you dearly. I still can't believe you would want to leave us. Leave me. I thought things were going good.." Robin was crying at this point. Sobbing even. The Doors of the room opened and in came a livid Vance and a crying griffin. Vance didn't say anything and just hugged Robin. Griffin was looking at Finney, unconscious on the hospital bed, IV hooked up on his arm and His wrists and thighs in bandages. Griffin didn't want to see Finney like this. He didn't want to see his hero like this. It hurt too much but he had to see Finney. He had to. He sat on the chair next to Robin and just put his head on Finney's leg. He wanted Finney to wake up. He wanted Finney to hug him tightly. He wanted Finney to help with his hair. He wanted Finney to just be Finney. He just wanted his hero back. "The doctors said that Sapphire would wake up in a few days." Robin said as he rubbed griffins back "He's gonna be okay" He said and Griffin bursted out more crying.

Outside of the room was Bruce and Paperboy. Bruce was crying in his hands while P.B was just lost in thoughts. He looked dead. He felt dead. He just wanted to know if Finney's alright. Bruce was the same. He could stop crying. He couldn't stop shaking. His thoughts were racing. His head was hurting. But most importantly. His heart was breaking. His heart was broken not many times but this time it was different. It was suffocating. It was harsh. It was painful. He couldn't breath normally and he was taking in deep breaths. But suddenly through all those racing thoughts the one that popped in his mind was "What about Gwendolyn?"

Gwendolyn was currently in the police station. Telling all the things he remembers though tears. Her shirt stained with blood. Her brothers blood. Her saviors blood. "How and where did you find him?" a Police officer asked and she let out a shaky breath. "Finney told me he was going to shower and went into the bathroom. I thought nothing of it until I saw under the door that water was spilling out. I started banging on the door asking if he was alright and he didn't respond. I was banging and banging until I got a hammer and broke the door down. There I saw Finney in the bathtub. Full of his blood. He looked lifeless. I didn't even know if he was actually alive or not. He was bleeding hysterically from his wrists and I was frozen. I was frozen from shock. I remember screaming his name over and over again as I went to the bathtub to get him out. When I dragged him out of it I put pressure on his wrists while calling 911." She said and she didn't even realize she was shaking. He looked so much like her. He almost died the same way she did. She doesn't want to think about it but she can't. Her mind keeps switching between her and him.

[system-of-alya-story-blog]

So I finally finished Shadowbringers in ffxiv and all that and I got to a moment that really left me wanting for more so! WARNING: IF YOU ARE PLAYING FINAL FANTASY 14 AND ARE NOT YET DONE WITH SHADOWBRINGERS OR ARE PLANNING ON PLAYING IT THIS HAS FUCKING MASSIVE SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS, YOU WERE WARNED

After getting the lightning crystal in azys la, you hear a disembodied voice from what sounds like above.

"Bravo! That was quite the show, adventurer! Why, the spectacle proved so enthralling that all thoughts of the prize slipped my mind. I appear to have forfeited our little race. Congratulations--the lightning shard is your's." A familiar disembodied voice speaks out to you, you know who it is, the same michievious catboy who had done the same thing what feels like years prior back in Mor Dhona. G'raha.

"What, no dramatic enterance? C'mon, just like old times?" You jokingly say before faintly hearing a couple footsteps behind you, then suddenly arms tightly wrap around you showing no signs of letting go. If not for you having the height advantage he may have even lifted you up.

"I'll be honest, I'm surprised you remembered." G'raha shortly after releases you.

You turn around and see the glint of joy in his eyes. "Well of course I did, ever since you had locked yourself away in the crystal tower I had been replaying those memories in my head over and over... even back then I had known I loved you but had no real way to say it. Before I knew it my chance was all but gone and those doors had sealed shut for what felt like forever."

"Ah, right.. I had at the time not been able to think of an alternative and I'm sor-" he gets interrupted by a quick kiss from you.

"Don't be sorry, as much as I would have loved to spend all that time with you, not only did it keep you out of danger and possibly save your life, it was that choice that had stopped the calamity. We can make up for lost time together with our new adventures to come." You hold G'raha close to you, his purring able to melt away all your sorrows.

Smiling, eyes closed, G'raha's ears twitch before remembering that you two were supposed to be returning with the crystal. "Oh! Y/N, the crystal. We were supposed to bring that back to Alisae, remember? She'll surely be wondering how it is she was faster than you of all people." G'raha picks up the crystal before handing it to you.

You pocket it and kiss him once more. "Heh, had you not reminded me we may well have been here for hours, then who knows what she would have walked in on us doing." You say teasingly before laughing a bit at G'raha's flustered expression.

"Y-yeah... true. Do you mayhaps have any mounts that two can ride on?" G'raha asks, still looking at his own feet whilst his tail sways from side to side.

"What, you crash your manacutter?" You tease him knowing full well he didn't and just wants to spend some more time close to you. "I'm sure my griffin wouldn't mind, but you're staying infront of me and letting me hold you as to not fall, okay?"

G'raha's face turns beet red before looking back up at you with both excitement and embarassment. "Of course! Come on, let us go before Alisae opens the habisphere herself."

You wrap your arm around G'raha's shoulder on your way back to your griffin. Your dream has finally become a reality, to be able to adventure with your catboyfriend at your side.