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thewulf · 4 months

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Until the Morning Light || Aragorn

Summary: Request - I wanted to see if I could request an Aragorn x reader. You don’t have to write anything! No pressure <3 It is a bit cheesy, so…Maybe something where they started having strong feelings for each other during their travels to destroy the ring and are so desperately longing after the other, just that they never confess and even the encouragement of the fellowship doesn’t help... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just adore this man! Thank you for the request always!!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: Violence, orc violence, death, blood, crying, angst, Battle of Helm's Deep, lotr warnings

Born under the vast skies of Rohan you grew up amidst the rolling plains and the echoing calls of horses. From a young age you were not just a child of the land but its protector, honing your skills with a blade as well as you could listen to the whispers of the earth. Your heart was fiercely loyal and brave and tempered by the tender tales of your mother. She bestowed upon you a rare gift, a deep connection with nature that allowed you to sense and communicate with the world around you in ways few others could.

This unique ability was distinct from the innate affinity that elves hold with the forests and rivers. Unlike the elves whose communion often involves a harmonious coexistence and a capability to influence nature’s growth and health your gift did not extend to bending the will of the woods or the waters. Instead, it manifested as an intimate understanding. An almost magical perception that let you hear the secrets of leaves rustling in the wind and feel the subtle shifts of the earth beneath your feet. It was a communion, but of a different kind. A silent dialogue that did not seek to alter but to understand and empathize, providing guidance and comfort where it was most needed.

Such a profound connection to nature brought with it a heightened awareness of the creeping darkness that threatened to engulf Middle earth. The very land you communicated with now echoed with the distress of encroaching evil. A warning you felt deep in your bones. It was during this time of growing shadows that tragedy struck your life profoundly. You lost a beloved family member to the dark forces spreading across the land. An event that shattered the peace of your world but also forged a new resolve within you. Carrying the weight of this loss, you vowed with a heart heavy yet unyielding to protect your homeland and its people. This vow was sacred and resolute. It sharpened your resolve as much as your blade and became the echo of your every step on the path of the Fellowship.

It was during these turbulent times that Gandalf the Grey came to your village. The wise wizard saw in you not just a skilled warrior but a unique spirit whose abilities were as rare as they were needed. With words as compelling as the winds of your homeland he requested your presence in the Fellowship. "Middle-earth needs hearts like yours," he said. His eyes twinkling with a mixture of seriousness and kindness.

Thus, with a heart full of resolve and a spirit called to a greater cause, you joined the Fellowship. Not just to honor your vow but to fulfill a destiny that seemed written in the very leaves of the trees you so loved. As you set out from Rohan the wind seemed to carry whispers of encouragement and the land itself seemed to nod in approval. Its daughter now a guardian in its most desperate hour.

Upon your arrival at the rendezvous point where the Fellowship was gathering you were immediately aware of the intense gazes of many. Their eyes scrutinizing every new face—evaluating, assessing. Yet, when you first met Aragorn his gaze was different. It was calm, welcoming, devoid of any judgment that demanded you prove your worth. He seemed to see right through the facade that others often expected you to wear. The mask of a warrior constantly proving herself. Instead, Aragorn acknowledged your capabilities as if they were as clear to him as the daylight.

As you both shared the duties of setting up camp that first evening Aragorn asked you about your journey from Rohan. His genuine interest was refreshing, and soon you found yourself teaching him about the unique properties of the athelas plant found in your homeland. Its healing powers far greater when used with the right incantations. A secret you had kept closely guarded. To your surprise he not only listened intently but also shared his own knowledge creating a beautiful exchange of wisdom.

As the journey progressed Aragorn often sought your company for the watch shifts. During these quiet hours under the vast, starlit sky, you both would sit by the fire. The crackling flames casting flickering shadows on your faces. It was here in the solitude of the night that you shared stories of your pasts. You spoke of your family in Rohan. Of the laughter and tears of your childhood and the deep connection you felt with the land.

Aragorn, in turn, shared tales of his travels. The burdens he carried and the hopes he harbored for peace in middle earth. These exchanges that were filled with laughter and sometimes a comfortable silence laid a strong foundation for your growing affection. There was an ease between you. A mutual respect that flourished without the need for words making each shared moment a treasure.

One evening deep into the journey after a particularly taxing day when tensions within the Fellowship seemed to strain the very air around you Aragorn noticed your weariness. Without a word he took up your watch insisting you rest. "We all have our strengths," he said softly with a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Tonight, let me watch over you." It was a simple act. But in that moment his kindness felt soothing to your soul. It solidified a bond that was quickly becoming as vital as the quest itself.

These moments under the stars with Aragorn where you didn't have to prove yourself but were simply accepted were what you cherished most. They were reminders that in the looming shadow of war there existed moments of peace and deep, unspoken understanding.

Aragorn's presence became a constant in your days and you found yourself increasingly seeking his company. Whether strategizing for the next leg of the journey or sharing a quiet moment away from the rest of the group his steady demeanor brought a comforting consistency to the unpredictable days. After a particularly fierce skirmish against a roving band of orcs you sustained a slight wound. Aragorn was quick to your side. His fingers skilled and gentle as he tended to the injury. His touch was always gentle and careful. It sparked an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. His concerned eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip.

As Aragorn wrapped your wound Legolas strolled over with an amused twinkle in his eye. "I see our esteemed leader has found yet another calling… nursing the wounded with such tender care," he commented lightly. His gaze flickering between you and Aragorn with a knowing smile. Aragorn responded with a dismissive grunt. His cheeks tinged with a faint blush, but his eyes remained warm and soft as they met yours again.

Gimli has overheard the exchange and joined in with a hearty laugh. "Ah, but it's a good thing we have Aragorn for both fighting and mending. Saves us calling for Elrond every time someone gets a scratch!" he boomed before clapping Aragorn on the back with such force that it drew a surprised smile from the usually reserved ranger.

This playful banter brought a light-hearted moment to the group easing the tension of the long journey. Later that evening as you sat by the campfire the teasing continued. Gimli’s loud snoring eventually became the subject of jest, and you all shared a hearty laugh. Emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere you nearly confessed your growing feelings to Aragorn. But just as you gathered your courage he turned contemplative, his gaze lost to the horizon.

"I sometimes wonder what lies ahead for all of us," he said softly. A distant look in his eyes. "The weight of this quest, it's much to bear—for all of us." His words were heavy with the burden of leadership and the uncertainty of the future, and they momentarily stalled your confession.

Despite this the bond between you only deepened, strengthened by each shared challenge and quiet moment of understanding. Legolas and Gimli’s lighthearted teasing served as a gentle reminder of the friendship and affection that blossomed even in the darkest of times, adding a touch of warmth to the journey's cold nights.

As you and the Fellowship arrive at Helm's Deep the air is thick with the weight of impending conflict. The massive stone walls of the fortress loom over you, their stark, gray surfaces a harsh reminder of the battle that awaits. Shadows stretch long across the ground as the sun dips below the horizon casting an ominous glow that barely penetrates the gathering dusk.

Around you, soldiers move with a sense of urgency. Their faces set in grim determination. The clanging of armor and the sharp ring of sword against stone fill your ears. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Despite the hustle and bustle a heavy silence hangs over the assembled troops, each person lost in their own thoughts of the coming night. The air is cool and carries a hint of moisture. The breeze whispering through the battlements as if in mourning for lives yet to be lost.

In all of this your gaze finds Aragorn. His expression is one of resolve marked by the burdens of leadership and the knowledge of what everyone is fighting for. His presence is a steady force amid the chaos, and you feel a strange mixture of comfort and unease as you stand beside him knowing the challenge that lies ahead.

In the midst of this anxious bustle your childhood friend, a charismatic warrior named Ealdred from your village, unexpectedly arrives to aid in the battle. His arrival brings a sudden surge of warmth to the cold stone surroundings of Helm's Deep. As soon as Ealdred sees you his face lights up with a wide, infectious smile and he strides over with open arms.

His greeting is loud and joyous in the subdued murmurs of the assembling warriors. "Ah, if it isn’t the bravest shield-maiden of Rohan!" he exclaims while enveloping you in a hearty hug that lifts you slightly off your feet. The familiarity and comfort of his embrace, reminiscent of your shared past filled with training and childhood adventures, momentarily lift your spirits.

Laughter rolls easily from Ealdred as he sets you down. His presence a stark contrast to the tense air around. "I told myself I wouldn't miss a chance to fight alongside you again," he chuckles before clapping you on the shoulder with a warrior's camaraderie. The sincerity in his voice and the joy in his eyes are a balm to the unease that has been gnawing at you since your arrival at the fortress.

From a short distance away, Aragorn watches this reunion unfold with a complex whirl of emotions. He notices the brightness in your smile. A glow he has seldom seen during the long and perilous journey. Your eyes sparkle with laughter, reflecting a happiness that stirs a pang in his heart. The ease of your interaction with Ealdred, the way your body leans slightly towards him in familiarity and comfort, does not escape Aragorn’s keen observation.

Each laugh shared between you and Ealdred, each nostalgic look exchanged, seems to draw a line of subtle tension through Aragorn. He tries to focus on the preparations at hand, but his gaze involuntarily drifts back to you. The way Ealdred's hand lingers on your back, the warm, open smiles, the apparent joy of your reunion… it all fans a flame of jealousy that Aragorn struggles to suppress.

Though he attempts to dismiss these feelings as trivial they gnaw at him with an intensity that surprises him. The sight of your unabashed happiness with someone else plants seeds of doubt and worry that even the din of the oncoming storm cannot drown. The moment crystallizes something crucial within him. The realization of how deep his feelings for you have grown and how much he fears the possibility of not being the one who brings such joy to your eyes.

As you and Ealdred laugh over shared memories such as recalling the escapades of your youth in Rohan, his arm casually drapes around your shoulders in a brotherly gesture. The familiarity and ease between you two are evident. But to an observer like Aragorn each laugh, and touch seem to whisper of something more.

From his vantage point Aragorn watches the interaction his chest tightening inexplicably with each passing moment. The way Ealdred looks at you with such open admiration and joy, ignites a flame of jealousy in Aragorn’s heart that he can neither quench nor fully understand. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. A subconscious echo of the turmoil brewing within him.

Ealdred, ever observant, catches the intensity of Aragorn's gaze from across the way. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans closer to you, lowering his voice so only you can hear. "I believe the great ranger isn't just watching out for danger, you know," he teases nodding subtly towards Aragorn. "The way he looks at you... it’s as if he’s trying to will you to notice him. Quite the admirer, our King-to-be, wouldn’t you say?"

Your eyes widen slightly. The comment catching you off-guard. For a moment you're lost in thought considering Ealdred's words. You glance over at Aragorn observing his now averted gaze, the stoic mask momentarily fallen, revealing a hint of vulnerability. The idea of Aragorn, a king, having such feelings for you seems almost unfathomable. Yet the possibility stirs a flutter of excitement deep within.

Laughing softly, you shake your head trying to mask your sudden nervousness with humor. "Oh, Ealdred, don't be silly. Aragorn and I—we're just friends," you reply though your voice lacks conviction. "Besides, how could a king ever see anything in someone like me? I’m just a warrior from Rohan. Certainly not a lady of court."

Ealdred gives you a knowing look, his smile suggesting he sees right through your casual dismissal. "Well, even the mightiest kings need true friends and perhaps something more," he murmurs while giving you a playful wink before turning his attention back to the bustling activity around Helm's Deep. “Go to him, I will see you around.” He gives you a push.

As Ealdred walks away you're left with a curious mix of doubt and wonder, pondering his words. The thought lingers in your mind mingling with the echoes of what might be unspoken truths between you and Aragorn. The idea feels both impossible and thrilling, setting your heart racing as you watch Aragorn commanding his men with natural authority. Could there really be more to your friendship? The question hangs in the air, unanswered but increasingly impossible to ignore. Of course, you wanted more but when you learned of his destiny not so long ago you let those thoughts fall away.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Gimli, having observed Aragorn’s unusual demeanor, seize the opportunity for a bit of light-hearted ribbing. "Come now, Aragorn," Legolas chides with a graceful arch of his eyebrow, "your warrior's stare is more intense than any orc's glare we've encountered. And far more directed at our friend than any foe."

Gimli chortles, adding his own gruff commentary. "Lad, you're as subtle as a dwarf in an elf’s dance," he laughs before slapping Aragorn on the back. "Even the blind could see the way you look at her!"

Aragorn was caught between his role as a leader and his personal turmoil and offers only a rare, tight-lipped scowl in response. Though the corners of his mouth twitch, betraying a reluctant amusement at his friends' observations.

Once the teasing subsides Aragorn's gaze drifts back to you, now mingling with a quiet reflection. The light-hearted jests of his companions echo in his mind, stirring a resolve. Perhaps it was time to confront these feelings. To explore the truth behind the glances, the smiles, and the unspoken yearning that had begun to shape his heart. As night falls over Helm's Deep, the looming battle stirs a newfound courage within him. A courage not just to fight enemies, but perhaps to also voice the truth of his heart.

As the day before the battle approaches the air at Helm's Deep grows tense, filled with the weight of impending conflict. Soldiers go about their final preparations. Their movements sharp and focused, while commanders issue last-minute orders with stern expressions. In this bustle, Aragorn finds himself repeatedly glancing your way. His usual calm demeanor overshadowed by a restless concern that has little to do with the battle strategies at hand.

Finally, unable to contain the turmoil stirring within him, Aragorn approaches you. His stride is purposeful yet there's a hesitation in his eyes that you've seldom seen. "I need to speak with you," he says, his voice low, drawing you away from the others under the pretext of discussing the morrow's tactics.

You follow him to a quieter part of the fortress where the sounds of preparation are but distant echoes. As you stand there facing him in the dim light of the torches, Aragorn seems to struggle with his words. His gaze intense and searching.

"A moment ago, I was thinking about our positions for the battle," Aragorn begins, his tone tentative. "But truthfully, that's not why I asked you here." He takes a deep breath. His hands clenching and then relaxing at his sides. "I... I've noticed a distance growing between us while we’ve been here, one that wasn't there before. And I fear," he pauses, his voice tightening, "I fear it might be due to misunderstandings... emotions left unspoken." His admission hangs between you, stark and revealing. The air feels heavier as if charged with the gravity of his words. His eyes never leave yours, seeking, perhaps, a sign of your feelings.

You feel a knot form in your throat. Your own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and revelation. The thought that Aragorn might share even a fraction of the feelings you've struggled to hide sends a shiver through you. But there's also fear—fear of what such an admission means in the face of the darkness that might claim tomorrow.

"Aragorn," you start, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I've also felt something change. But I believed you saw me only as a… friend in battle, nothing more. With the shadow of war over us I thought it best to keep my feelings to myself." Your confession feels like shedding armor you didn't realize you were wearing, leaving you exposed but strangely free.

Aragorn steps closer. His presence enveloping you in a sense of warmth and safety that contradicts the coldness of Helm's Deep. "I have long admired you, more than as a friend," he confesses, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "But I too feared to speak, to disrupt the bond we have with uncertainties of heart. Yet on the eve of such uncertainty… I find that silence is a greater burden than the risk of sorrow."

The distance between you diminishes with his words bridging gaps formed by unspoken doubts. As you look up into Aragorn's eyes, reflecting both the torchlight and his earnestness, you realize that regardless of what the morrow holds, this moment—honest and raw—has changed something fundamental between you. No longer just allies but something deeper. A connection forged not just in the heat of battle but in the vulnerability of shared hearts.

The emotional confrontation beneath the shadowed walls of Helm’s Deep leaves the air between you and Aragorn charged with newfound understanding and fragile hope. As the initial shock of your mutual confessions fades, the reality of the coming dawn—laden with the uncertainty of battle—sets in, lending a poignant urgency to your words and thoughts.

Aragorn’s eyes that reflected a mix of resolve and tenderness, lock with yours. “We stand on the brink of war, a war that may consume us all,” he says, his voice steady despite the turmoil you know roils beneath. “But this moment… this truth between us, cannot be overshadowed by what tonight may bring.”

You nod feeling the weight of every word. His hand was still holding yours. He squeezes gently trying to ground you. “I have carried this in my heart, thinking it unwise to speak, fearing the complications it might bring,” you admit. Your own voice stronger than you feel. “But now, facing the unknown, I see only the folly in silence. My heart, just like yours, cannot bear the burden of what-ifs.”

Aragorn’s face softens. The warrior’s mask yielding to the man beneath. “Then let us make a promise,” he proposes. His gaze searching yours for hesitation. Finding none, he continues, “If we survive this war, if fate grants us passage through this darkness, I promise to explore this path with you. To see where our hearts might lead us, unburdened by duty.”

Moved by his words you feel a resolve awaken within you. “I promise, too,” you respond, the night air around you bearing witness. “To find you again. In a world at peace and discover the depth of what we might become together.”

The pact, sealed with the sincerity of shared heartbeats, seems to carve out a small sanctuary against the chaos of the impending battle. As you both stand together the day turns to night and the distant sounds of the encroaching army grow louder, yet, in this secluded moment, there’s a sense of peace. An oasis of calm before the storm.

Aragorn gently lifts your hand to his lips. His kiss a feather-light promise against your skin. “No matter what comes,” he whispers, his breath warm against your fingers, “know that tonight has changed everything.”

As you part ways to prepare for the night ahead, each step back to your respective duties is reluctant but necessary. The promise of a future, however uncertain, fuels a quiet courage in your heart. A courage not just to fight, but to survive, to return, to begin anew.

The stars overhead that were witnesses to your solemn exchange, twinkle with a hopeful light. They cast a soft glow over Helm’s Deep. In the quiet before the battle, you hold onto the memory of Aragorn’s words, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of tomorrow. A tomorrow where you might explore the uncharted paths of both peace and passion.

And in the quiet before the storm with the world held at bay, it is enough.

As night envelops Helm's Deep, the distant roar of the approaching enemy fills the air. A grim reminder of the battle that lies ahead. The walls were thick with the tension of awaiting warriors and bristle with weapons as the moonlight casts long shadows across the battlements. You take your place among the defenders. The weight of your armor familiar and reassuring against the chill of the morning.

Across the way, Aragorn readies himself for combat. His eyes briefly meeting yours across the crowded space. In that fleeting glance you find a silent exchange of resolve and reassurance. A mutual understanding that whatever the day brings, you are not alone.

The battle erupts with the thunderous sound of orc drums and the clamor of arms. Waves of enemies crash against the fortress's defenses. Each assault more ferocious than the last. Amidst the chaos you find yourself fighting back-to-back with Aragorn. Each move synchronized with an instinctual precision that speaks of your deep connection. His presence by your side is both a comfort and a spur pushing you to fight with a fierceness you hadn't known you possessed.

As you parry and thrust Aragorn covers your flank. His swordplay a seamless dance of deadly grace. Every time an orc breaks through the line threatening to overwhelm you, Aragorn is there, his blade swift and sure. In return you guard his back with equal vigilance, your own combat skills honed by years of training now coupled with a personal drive to protect him at all costs.

From the corner of your eye, you catch brief glimpses of Legolas and Gimli, their unique partnership effective and deadly against the enemy. Despite the severity of the battle, you see Legolas shoot a quick, satisfied glance towards you and Aragorn, a small smirk playing on his lips as he loses another arrow into the horde. Gimli, engaged in a competition of his own with the elf, nonetheless nods approvingly in your direction after cleaving another orc with his axe.

The battle rages on. Each moment a blur of sound, motion, and adrenaline. But within this turmoil your bond with Aragorn becomes your strength. When fatigue begins to claw at your limbs it is his steadfast presence that reignites your resolve. When despair whispers in the shadows of your mind it is the promise of a future together that keeps the darkness at bay.

As the tide of the battle shifts with every orc felled and every moment you and Aragorn continue to stand, the hope for victory grows. It was fueled not just by the strength of arms but by the power of the unity you have forged in the heart of conflict. The knowledge that someone fights beside you not just for the fate of middle earth but for the promise of a shared tomorrow is more potent than any weapon forged by dwarves or elves. Together, you fight not only to protect Helm's Deep but to preserve the future that you vowed to explore. In the heat of battle that promise binds you ever closer. A promise that against all odds you will survive to see what lies beyond the war.

As the echoes of battle fade and the sun begins to rise over the now-quiet walls of Helm’s Deep, the air is filled with the heavy scent of rain and renewal. The fortress, though scarred by the night’s ferocity, stands resilient. A showing of the courage of those who defended it. Among the weary soldiers there’s a palpable sense of relief mixed with sorrow for those lost. A bittersweet victory.

In the aftermath as others tend to the wounded and recount the close calls you find yourself seeking out Aragorn. You find him standing alone looking out over the battlements at the dawning day. His profile etched against the lightening sky. His stance is one of a man who has carried too much, seen too much, yet stands ready to face whatever comes next.

Approaching quietly, you stop beside him, sharing the view in silence. After a moment he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting the myriad emotions of the night. Without a word he takes your hand. His grip firm and warm, anchoring you both in the now.

“Aragorn,” you begin but he shakes his head slightly, asking you to stop.

“Let me speak before the world rushes back in,” he says softly. His gaze holds yours, intense and unwavering. “Last night in the middle of this mess I realized something beyond the fear of losing what is precious. I realized what it means to truly love.”

He pauses, searching your face for understanding. “I have loved before,” he continues, “but never like this. Never with such clarity and raw hope. Last night I fought not just for middle earth but for the chance to see what lies ahead with you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as his words wash over you. Each one landing with the weight and warmth of a cherished caress. He continues as he uses his thumbs to wipe away your shed and unshed tears. “You have given me a reason to fight. A reason to return no matter the odds. And if this battle has taught me anything it is that I want to face whatever comes next. Not as a king. Not as a ranger. But as a man hopelessly in love with you.”

Aragorn's confession was simple yet profound. It stirred something deep within you. A surge of love and commitment that mirrors his own. You step closer diminishing the space between you and rest your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “And I, too, want nothing more than to face the world with you, Aragorn. To build a life where love is our strength.”

Aragorn begins to speak, his voice low and filled with emotion, confessing his love and the revelation that had come to him amidst the chaos of battle. But as he speaks, something within you stirs. A fierce, overwhelming rush of feeling, amplified by the adrenaline that still courses through your veins.

Before he can finish you close the distance between you were driven by a surge of emotions too powerful to contain. Your hands find his face pulling him down towards you, and your lips meet his in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a kiss full of life, of survival, of shared battles and shared dreams. Your bodies press together, each curve and angle molding into the other, as if you could somehow merge into one being united against whatever may come.

Aragorn responds with equal fervor his arms wrapping around you to lift you slightly off the ground deepening the kiss with a passion that mirrors your own. His touch is both a claim and a surrender. A recognition of the bond that has been forged in the heat of battle and sealed in the quiet of dawn.

As you finally part, breathless and hearts pounding, you rest your forehead against his, eyes still closed as you savor the closeness. "I love you," you whisper. The words barely audible but heavy with meaning. "I fought for this, for us."

"And I," Aragorn replies. His breath warm against your lips, "will continue to fight for every day we have together. For a chance to love you as you deserve, fiercely and freely, without the shadow of war."

The promise hangs between you profound and sacred. As you step back still encircled by his arms the world around you seems to awaken. The sounds of the fortress stirring to life, the calls of soldiers and the distant cries of those mourning their fallen. It all fades into the background as you look up at him, seeing not just the warrior or the king but the man who holds your heart.

The sun was now fully above the horizon. It bathes you both in golden light, its rays like a benediction over your newfound commitment. You prepare to face the new day with him. Not just as survivors but as partners bound by love. Each beat of your hearts proof to the battles you’ve endured and the future you will fight for together.

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swordoffrivolousthings · 24 days

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The gods in PJO are not godly enough, in my opinion

I will start this rant by saying that this is only one of my problems with the PJO series. I understand why Riordan has humanized them, I know this is a middle school age book series. But I am older and I want to make them freaky and strange and kind of eldritch. With little to no explanation as for my choices.

ZEUS. He is the Olympian king of the gods, god of the sky, weather, law and order, destiny and fate and kingship. He is the law, as any king is. Every word he says is godly law, every little order will be followed. He is the king. So, he is stone-faced, made of marble, with no expression other than thoughtfulness and severeness (even if he sometimes isn't). His eyes are pure lightning, the hurricanes that ravage the world and the gentlest of summer rains. Most days, when he speaks of future events, they tend to happen that way, if not overruled by a higher power. His very presence is the ozone layer being brought down, heavy, tiring mortals and demigods out quickly. He treads lightly, with steps like gentle patters of rain, but his every breath is thunder.

HERA. The goddess of marriage, women, the sky and the stars of heaven, and the Olympian queen of the gods. Marriage, despite her own being something less than aspiring, is sacred. Couples that marry are under her protection, she still blesses their marriages. She sky shifts with her emotions, getting darker and night starting to fall. Her himation worn over her head, the only garment visible, reflecting the sky above. Her eyes, two bright stars, seeing something more than human perception can begin to understand.

POSEIDON. Olympian god of the sea, earthquakes, floods, drought and horses. His body is not, just from the corner of the eye, made of muscle, bones and tendons. Water, swirling and moving in the shape of a man, the odd strand of algae. Then you turn and he is barely human, but not saltwater. The waves seek and tug at his heels whenever he walks along the beach. His eyes, oceanic tectonic plates crashing, sending tsunamis to devastate the world. The air around him is salty, sea air clinging to his skin. Algae appear in his wake, reeking of the sea.

DEMETER. Olympian goddess of agriculture, grain and bread who sustained mankind with the earth's rich bounty. In her wake, every step makes a grain sprout, growing tall and healthy, and nothing can take it down. The seasons are slowly blooming and booming in her presence, the spring more verdant, the summer hotter, autumn plentiful beyond measure and winter always frigid. From behind her ears sprout oats and barley, always young and vibrant green, crowning her in the coming bounty. Her eyes are the colour of wheat, and when the wind blows the shadows in her eyes move with it.

ARES. Olympian god of war, battlelust, courage and civil order. He is war, bloody and cruel, senseless, personified. His very presence makes fights break out, indignities and betrayals happen. He is an oppressive force that bring the bravery out of the people, along with all the hate. If he stays long enough in one place, even Olympus, war breaks out, be it civil or not. This is why he never stays in one place too long. He is luting for blood, but war had wearied him. He will not do the same mistake twice, even in war. His eyes are the open wounds of soldiers, bleeding, infected, dying skin and rotting meat.

ATHENA. Olympian goddess of wisdom and good counsel, war, the defence of towns, heroic endeavour, weaving, pottery and various other crafts. Every tapestry and pot and garment worked by hand that is not up to her godly standard shrivels and turns to ash in her presence, obliterated by her beyond-human perfectioned craft. Towns are instantly protected when she is there, good grace and godly favour. War, like Ares, follows her. It is not kinder, nor is it bearable. Calculated, cold, some would argue that her wars are crueler, sadistic. Eyes like garment fiber and shattered pots, blood covering them.

APOLLO. Olympian god of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young. The sun, a power passed on, burns under his skin. It is the worst in the summer months, when the sun is more preeminent. His music, lighting every room in shades of enticement, is otherworldly, his voice, be it in song or word, is a mastery of perfection. From his hands, a single touch can be salvation or sickness. His arrows, silver for his twin, always strike true, no matter the target. His presence brings prophecies and fates to light. The power of the sun is in his eyes.

ARTEMIS. Olympian goddess of hunting, the wilderness and wild animals. She was also a goddess of childbirth, and the protectress of the girl child up to the age of marriage. Around her sprout forests, wild and untainted, a world where humans could get lost in and never be found again. Wild animals prowl after her, protectors and friends of her hunters. When the night is darkest, a power inherited, her skin lights up, a moon to shine in the dark of the shadows. Her hunters, her girls, are protected and her wrath is painful and cruel, like her domains, and they are recognisable by their golden arrows.

HEPHAESTUS. Olympian god of fire, smiths, craftsmen, metalworking, stonemasonry and sculpture. Beneath his skin flames are visible, a moving part of him, like tattoos. Every piece of metal he works with, no matter how briefly, turns into beatiful and powerful tools, an art all of their own. His buildings are steady and everlasting, the stone protected by his touch. His eyes, the hammer hitting metal, are coloured in such a way that they resemble statue's eyes.

APHRODITE. Olympian goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Born of sea foam and godly blood, the salt clings to her. Curls her hair and makes her glow, the power of the sea just under her perfect skin. Everyone finds something beautiful in the face of beauty. It is enchanting, a spell most can hardly exist. She is everything everyone could ever want, a goddess for everyone's taste. Yet her anger is born of the sea, a cruel and unforgiving sort of death. To make love dislike you is to lose it all in the blink of an eye. To disrespect a goddess means death.

HERMES. Olympian god of herds and flocks, travellers and hospitality, roads and trade, thievery and cunning, heralds and diplomacy, language and writing, athletic contests and gymnasiums, astronomy and astrology. He speaks in languages long lost, and his travel notes are written in queer glyphs and writing systems. Sheep like him, without doubt. The souls of humans clash and itch to follow him when he enters a room, beyond willing to be taken to the underworld. The stars illuminate his path, a road he knows by heart but they don't care. They will guide him, no matter what.

DIONYSUS. Olympian god of wine, vegetation, pleasure, festivity, madness and wild frenzy. Vines grow from his footsteps, water and seawater and nectar and any other drink turn to wine in his hand. Where he is, the frenzied, happy and drunk follow, a retinue of people that enjoy and enjoy and enjoy. There is nothing not to like at first glance, and only at first glance. When one looks closer, the insanity begins. It is like sparks in his eyes, a nonsensical word past his lips. When you look closer at the people, there is no happiness in the thaws of madness.

HESTIA. The virgin goddess of the hearth and the home. It does not make her kind, because the gods rarely are. It makes her steady, the fire in the home that keeps the chill away from making itself at home. The fire that lights the way back home, sacred in temples and to extinguish it is to forsake her favour. Homes she has blessed are cozy, full of love, of safety. It does not make them fireproof.

HADES. The king of the underworld and god of the dead. He, king over bones and lost memories. His wife, unnamable, his presence like the heavy hand of time on mortal shoulders. Bones and skulls and the wispy whisper of the lost are his retinue. Half decomposed corpses his servants and valets and butlers. His name, scorned, is never said but on the eve of the winter solstice, when death is the surest companion. His eyes, dark but brittle as bone, promise something any other god can't understand.

PERSEPHONE. Goddess queen of the underworld, wife of the god Hades. She was also the goddess of spring growth. Her presence brings with it the smell of the first flowers of spring, little by little making the world greener. But her steps are always silent, always just a little far from the ground. She is a queen, death is her and her husband's domain. Of course she is ghostly, terrifying. Her perfume is of freshly dug earth and autumnal rain, the weeps of widows and widowers, the death of the young and elderly. Her name is unspoken, a curse when invoked. You will not hear her name on Olympus, in mortal mouths. Kore, Despoena, her titles are safe. Her eye is not benevolent, when it's attention is captured.

#percy jackson #cezy's insanities #hoo #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon #headcanon #alternate universe #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #greek gods #I will also add that this is pure fiction and character design on my part #I do not worship these gods and if I said anything disrespectful to you and your beliefs please tell me so I can correct the problem #and do please enjoy my little fuckery #and I know that Apollo and Artemis are not the gods of the sun and moon respectively but this is based on PJO so I've gone with what Riorda #has established in the canon and nothing more. Also so I can use the sun/moon parallel

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lunar-wandering · 8 days

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that's right folks we're doing it again!! starting on the first of October, it's: Monkie Destiny Challenge 2024: VS Edition!!

Here's how it's gonna work, for each day, there are two prompts. Which prompt gets filled the most will determine whether Chaos or Balance wins that day, and in the end it will all be added up to find out which one was the over all winner!

So it's a little bit like artfight, except there aren't really teams. You can switch back and forth depending on which prompts you like.

GUIDELINES:

Please attempt to keep this event SFW, so that everyone may join in!!!

Ships and OCs are Allowed!!! Have fun!!!

You may do Art or Writing- or simply whatever creation this inspires you to do!!!

Tag every post with #Monkie Destiny Challenge 2024, so that we may all see your creations!!

Note: this is subject to change, but I might post another invite link to the Destiny Server during the first week of October. We'll see.

Transcribed ist of prompts under the cut!

Chaos:

Snake

Darkness

Shatter

Escape

Orange

Despair

Time

Memory

Power

Mania

Dream

Constellation

Night

Sand

Lava

Spell

Snow

Loophole

Headphones

Cat

Dust

Trapped

Song

Fire

Legend

Treasure

Life

Mountain

Rainbow

Wild

Hope

Balance:

Dragon

Light

Mend

Language

Blue

Ocean

Race

Butterfly

Lost

Lucid

Nightmare

Comet

Day

Glass

Chocolate

Curse

Cycle

Sweet

Wind

Dog

Age

Saved

Forever

Moon

Sun

Gem

Hero

Prophecy

Calm

Storm

Sacrifice

#Monkie Kid #lego monkie kid #Monkie Destiny Challenge 2024

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yaksha-lover · 1 year

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Pink in the Night

i’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au :)

Malleus Draconia x Reader

wc: 5.9k

cw: reader is yuu, major character death, descriptions of violence/injury, mentions of fae heat (brief, sfw), pmmm inspired, yandere-ish

For the first few hundred years of his life, Malleus is convinced he doesn’t have a soulmate. While other children gleefully show off small scrapes and bruises that magically appear on their skin, Malleus’ own remained blemish free. He wonders if perhaps his soulmate is simply being considerate; trying to save him from harm by living a careful life.

He remembers when Silver first got a scrape on his knee, how the seven-year-old had started crying when it appeared. Lilia had consoled him and taken care of the injury, telling his son what it meant. By the end, young Silver had shed tears of excitement for the future.

A bittersweet feeling climbed Malleus’ throat at Lilia’s words to his son - fate, destiny, soulmates - it seemed the world had simply forgotten about him. Perhaps that was his destiny: to rule Briar Valley undistracted and alone, concentrating only on his kingdom. While uncommon, it wasn’t impossible - there certainly existed some unlucky enough to be born without one.

Five hundred years later and the time in which Malleus wished for a soulmate has long passed. The thought rarely crossed his mind anymore - it was no different than any other loneliness he’d felt it in his life. Unlike other children, he’d grown up without his parents. Just the same, he’d do fine without a soulmate.

The morning of NRC’s orientation on his third year, Malleus feels a sharp scratch on his arm, like that of the cat which had scratched him as a child when attempting to flee his touch. It’s faint and quick, and his fae blood means any visible mark is gone within a second. Malleus pulls down his sleeve anyway, eyes scrolling over the area of his wrist where he’d felt it. His pale flesh is as unblemished as ever; he almost feels like he’s hallucinated it.

The feeling leaves him in thought and he decides to take a walk on campus. Absorbed by the morning’s events, Malleus barely takes notice of the bustling of the students around him, all preparing for something he can’t quite remember; he makes a note to ask Lilia about it later.

Malleus walks until that the sky darkens into a deep azure. The tranquility of nature is soothing to him; he feels like just another one of the trees. The birds chirp freely in his presence, uninhibited by fear or distaste. Eventually he runs into Shroud, talking to himself in the courtyard. Malleus is almost pleased at the encounter: him and his fellow dorm leader seeking to find peace in similar ways.

The pleasantries are quickly dispelled when he realizes Idia is dressed in his black ceremonial robes. Malleus is confused, and Shroud quickly becomes defensive when he questions his choice. He does not struggle with the idea for too long. Malleus figures that perhaps there are things that fae and humans simply cannot understand about each other.

His day is quickly soured when Lilia informs him that he’s missed the school’s ceremony again. The distraction of another lost opportunity means he forgets all about the strange incident from the morning.

Time passes quickly for Malleus, it always has. He blinks and Heartslabyul’s dorm leader has overblotted. He blinks again and another Spelldrive tournament approaches.

Another late night, Malleus escapes Diasomnia dorm to take a walk by himself. He only has so long before Sebek realizes he is gone, so the prince makes haste to his usual spot.

Ramshackle reminds him of why he enjoys nature: it is another place where Malleus can simply exist amongst the gargoyles, where his presence causes no disturbance and nothing to change. It seems this kind of peace can only exist for him in places abandoned by others.

The solitude he’s enjoyed so long is shattered when this time, the dorm is not empty. A child of man walks out from the gates of the dorm, rubbing their eyes and dressed in simple clothing.

You seem as surprised to see him as he is by you. It catches Malleus even further by surprise that you do not cower at his appearance.

You offer your name, and Malleus finds it unusual. He is certainly well read, having been educated on all major parts of the world since he was a child (it wouldn’t do well for a prince to be aware of only his own kingdom), and yet, he has never heard of your name. He doesn’t dwell on the details, certainly it could be the mistake of the outdated nature of Briar Valley’s texts.

Malleus decides not to offer you his own name. He wonders if perhaps keeping it to himself would help maintain the serenity of Ramshackle; without his name, perhaps you will still treat him as just another person. He silently mourns the loss of this space, and vows to find more ruins in which he can find peace.

The next time Malleus sees you, you call him ‘Tsunotaro,’ and he laughs for the first time in a while. He’d thought maybe you were bluffing last time, pretending not to know who he really was. Your bravery to call him by this nickname is delightfully baffling.

You tell him about Azul and the contract, and Malleus almost feels sorry for how pitiful and doe-eyed you look. It’s not as though he can’t understand the sentiment. In a way, he’s grown fond of Ramshackle too. He leaves you with words of encouragement and disappears into the night.

Three days later, Malleus drops to his knees in his room, feeling like his bones are being crushed into dust. The pressure is so overwhelming he passed out.

He awakens on the bed of his room, with Sebek standing by his bedside. As soon as the half-fae sees his eyes flutter, Sebek is yelling out for Lilia and Silver to come. Malleus groans at Sebek’s loudness and lightly chastises him. He immediately apologizes in a softer tone as the two others come rushing in.

The prince moves his arms and legs, relieved to find them in tact. Although he feels sore, his bones and tissue are not fractured and split as he worried. He wonders if he’s dreamt the pain; it feels like a distant memory. The only thing that remains is a sort of empty pit in his stomach, but he supposes it’s likely because he hasn’t eaten. Lilia checks up on Malleus, pressing his small hand to his forehead.

‘Strange’, his guardian remarks. ‘A fae’s first heat is often painful, but it shouldn’t have been for someone like you. Well, at least it seems you slept through the worst of it.’

Malleus isn’t sure what it should feel like, but the crushing of bones definitely seems extreme. Still, he accepts Lilia’s explanation for his condition easy enough. He retained no actual injury, so there doesn’t seem to be any explanation other than his own body.

When Malleus feels well enough to return to his duties as housewarden, Lilia explains the situation he had been hiding from Malleus while he was in his incapacitated state.

It seems Ashengrotto was more dangerous than Malleus gave him credit for. Kingscholar and a few other students had stopped his overblot, but during the fight, destruction to the nearby dorm building caused a student to be crushed and killed.

Lilia explains the chaos that the school has been thrown into while he’s been asleep, the attempt at damage control by Crowley, and Azul’s further breakdown once he’d realized what he’d done.

Ashengrotto was hardly Malleus’ favourite fellow housewarden, but his situation was terribly sad. He knew, despite his greediness and flaws, that Azul was not a bad person.

As he walks around campus, the courtyard is empty of students. Malleus loves the quiet, but not like this. This kind of quiet is constrictive, like oxygen has left the air and Malleus can no longer breathe. He spots a single student walk down the hall, so distracted that he fails to even notice Malleus as he walks past.

The next few days pass in a similar silence. It seems even those who did not know the student who was killed are shaken by the event. Ashengrotto has left the school and gone home; Malleus isn’t sure if it was by choice or not.

Lilia encourages Malleus to attend the vigil for the student who died, stating his attendance to be important both as a housewarden and the future king of Briar Valley.

The two of them walk to the vigil, accompanied by Silver and Sebek. Malleus is so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’ve walked the path to Ramshackle dorm.

It’s then that he spots the giant picture of you, printed on a canvas, set in front of the dorm gates. You smile in the picture, but he can tell you were caught off guard by whoever took the picture. It’s not unflattering, but he’s surprised they chose that one. It seems more like a causal picture taken by a friend than one meant for a funeral. When he asks Cater later on, he’ll learn it was one of the few anyone had of you. The picture is surrounded by white candles, probably twenty or so.

Blue hair catches his eye and Malleus notices the two freshman boys he’d occasionally spot with you standing off to the side of the portrait. The redhead keeps his gaze cast down, but the blue-haired boy is unable to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. Malleus imagines if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear the soft sobs spill from his lips.

Malleus doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Lilia is ushering him quietly to stand behind the crowd. At his height, he’s still able to see over the rest of the students. A blur of grey flashes by his eyes as something runs between legs to the front of the crowd.

Grim sits frozen at the bottom of your portrait for a moment, the rest of the students going silent as they watch him. Malleus notices Leona standing off to the side of the crowd beside Ruggie, the two of them looking as glum as he’s seen; it’s strange for him to see the prince without his usual smirk or sneer.

The cry that breaks the silence a moment later replays in Malleus’ head for days. Grim’s grief at your death haunts him; the more he remembers it, the more the pit in his stomach grows.

It’s the pity that sets Malleus on his next decision. This experience, this loss the campus has faced has undeniably changed things. He feels sorry for you and your friends, of course, but mostly Malleus hates the silence he can no longer escape.

Malleus doesn’t bother telling Lilia; his guardian would likely try to stop him, but Malleus knows he’s in no danger. His grandmother had given him the magic shield only because she knew he could handle it.

The prince straps the small, metal shield to his wrist, before spinning it’s round edges until it aligns with his designated mark.

Malleus finds himself two days before Azul’s overblot. He knows he’ll have to do something before his heat becomes too much of an issue for him to intervene. The fae sneaks away from his guards in the middle of the night to place magic-resistance charms on the Octavinelle building; he hopes it’ll be enough to prevent your death and all its fallout.

The next two days play out just as before. Malleus finds this part of time-hopping quite tedious; the repetitive nature of reliving the same days over and over again. Although he supposes it isn’t much different than how he normally feels through the school year. Without extra events to attend, his routine is rather simple. Unchanging, even. That is the life of a fae as old as him; every day feels the same.

Some minor things feel a bit different than before: Malleus hadn’t remembered Kingscholar glaring at him from across the hall the last time around. The behaviour isn’t unusual for Leona, so Malleus doesn’t think too hard about it.

Malleus mentions to Lilia about his ‘bad feeling’ regarding Ashengrotto; he hopes it will be enough to entice him to keep watch of the situation while Malleus is forced to stay in his room and face his heat.

The prince waits in his room, staring at his stone ceiling. He anticipates the pain, but as the sky turns dark and his room is only lit by candlelight, nothing comes. His bones do not crush and his head does not splinter. He wonders if he’s made a mistake; could casting a simple spell and telling Lilia about the incident change enough to not have his heat come?

Malleus goes to see you once more after Ashengrotto is dealt with. He doesn’t expect to feel so…strange seeing you alive again. You thank him for the advice he’d never intended, but he can’t help but feel an unusual happiness at hearing you bring up the gargoyles.

He doesn’t see you for a while after that, but it’s difficult not to think of you. Things become busy, and so he sends you a holiday card to make up for his lack of visits. He feels oddly upset at your lack of reply. Perhaps you’ve discovered his identity and no longer wish…Malleus perishes the thought and resolves himself to return to your dorm when he can.

The next time you meet, snow covers the ground around Ramshackle. Something else has changed too; you look happy. He finds that the faint red that dusts your cheeks and nips at your nose… it becomes you.

When you pass him the tickets, Malleus starts to hear his pulse ring in his ears. Surely he’s misunderstood your intent? Your casual demeanour does nothing to quell his surprise.

Malleus composed himself before thanking you and promising to attend. He goes back to Diasomnia and makes Sebek vow to ensure he makes it there. He hates to use the half-fae’s devotion for his personal needs, but Malleus refuses to disrespect you by failing to attend the first event he’s been personally invited to since coming the NRC.

There’s still days before the event, but Malleus can’t stop thinking about the encounter. He is…ambivalent about you. In a way, you’ve given him hope and that is much worst than those like Kingscholar who outright reject his presence. You don’t know him, and so you do not fear him. Is it truly possible that his name and his position is all that keeps others away? Or perhaps you are special; Malleus allows himself to believe for a moment that you might accept him anyway, before banishing the thought to somewhere it will not harm him.

The day of the SDC, Sebek reminds him repeatedly of it’s time, and insists on guiding him to the event. Malleus declines Sebek’s request when he happens to feel a dull pain shoot against his shoulder, like he’s been hit by something heavy. He checks his body but no bruise colours his skin. Still, Malleus grows increasingly restless as he wonders, so decides to head over early.

This time, he watches your death in real time.

Schoenheit’s overblot form rages above you all. Malleus approaches the group, intending to step in, but sees the release of the poison mist a second too late. As the purple haze consumes your body, Malleus feels an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. When you fall to the ground, he feels his limbs grow weak and heavy. Suddenly, any pain is gone, and you have grown still.

The others are distracted by subduing Vil, not yet noticing your fallen form behind them. Malleus approaches you silently, and his stomach begins to turn the closer he gets. When he catches sight of the blood trailing down your left shoulder, he does not stop to help the students that now call his name.

Malleus turns his shield and he’s back in his room. He’s left himself a couple days before the SDC, just enough time to fix things.

Malleus wonders if you have any idea that he is your soulmate. He wonders how you would feel. Pleased? Ambivalent? Afraid?

He pauses on the last possibility and stays there until he is overwhelmed by a tight feeling in his stomach.

Part of him is angry as well. Malleus is one of the most powerful mages in this world, but the universe has decided his fate was to be bonded to a fragile human, and a magicless one at that.

He dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. No, it all makes sense. Malleus is strong precisely because you are weak; he was made to keep you safe, to protect you from anything that would seek to harm you. He knows that now.

If destiny has ensured you be bonded together, he will ensure it is forever.

Malleus sees you again, but now he only watches from afar. It’s strange to see you in this new light.

You are his soulmate. Someone the universe designed for him; someone who would be forced to accept him.

He casts a spell of invisibility as he approaches you, sitting outside Ramshackle with Grim. The two of you bicker gently, but Malleus is too focused on his goal to really notice. He casts charms of protection and invulnerability on you, and slips away as quickly as he can.

Malleus intends to leave, but he’s held in place by the sound of your laughter; it rings free and clear. He flees the scene before he can think too long about why the sound replays in his mind.

When the day of the SDC finally comes once again, Malleus is sure to enter the stadium early enough to sit in the shadows in case he needs to intervene.

His protection spells work as intended, and he only reveals itself when it’s time to reconstruct the stadium - he still has a show to watch, after all.

The others’ shock at your friendliness with him is quite amusing. Malleus imagines the surprise they’d feel if they knew you were his soulmate too.

Although he hadn’t really wanted to do it this way, Malleus figured that it’s necessary to reveal his real identity to you now; if you are to be his forever, there’s no reason to spare you the details.

Your continued use of the former nickname you’d given him pleases Malleus. It confirms to him what he’d believed - soulmates were obligated to love each other, no matter what. Even the fearful reactions of your friends did not serve to deter you from him. How could they? The two of you were meant to be.

In the days following the SDC, Malleus contemplates how to tell you that the two of you are soulmates. The matter is rather delicate and although the two of you are in a good place, he’d rather not reverse his progress.

He decides to consult Lilia, who is both surprised and overjoyed when Malleus shares the news. His guardian advises him not to rush into things, but rather to begin a courting process before revealing the truth, so as to not scare you away. Unfortunately, Malleus doesn’t have much experience in the area.

His first strategy is one traditional of his family; the giving of gifts over a period of seven days. Malleus sends letters back to Briar Valley to bring him the most expensive and desirable collection of jewelry and artifacts in the royal family’s care. Malleus’ grandmother writes back in congratulations and sends what he requested.

Unfortunately, he failed to account for the cultural differences between fae and humans. One night as he stops to chat with you outside Ramshackle, you pull out one of the gifts he’d left at your doorstep: an ancient necklace, said to be blessed by the original thorn fairy herself.

Malleus prepares himself to finally reveal the truth to you, excited that you’ve finally acknowledged his courting.

Then you tell him that you’re afraid you have a stalker and ask if he’s seen anyone lurking around Ramshackle, claiming that ‘cursed’ objects have been left anonymously at your doorstep.

Malleus takes a moment to compose himself (it’s a little rude of you to call his gift ‘cursed’) before promising to keep a look out.

He goes to Silver that very night to ask him about human courting rituals. Silver explains the concept of ‘dating’ to Malleus, and that night, the prince asks you to accompany him to dinner at the Mostro Lounge.

Malleus feels the excitement bloom in his chest when, after walking you home from dinner, you ask him to attend a play with you the following week.

The two of you go on many dates, until he’s begun spending the free time he has at Ramshackle.

Sitting on your couch, he makes a mental note to make renovations to some of the older furniture when he has a chance. He’d like to preserve the ruins look of the building, but not at the cost of your discomfort.

The doorbell rings, and you’re jumping off the couch to answer the door. Ace and Deuce stand outside with bags of snacks in hand. They smile at you, but just a bit of that happiness drops at the sight of him on the couch.

Your best friends haven’t exactly taken well to his newfound presence. The feeling isn’t entirely not mutual - it’s them who should apologize for taking so much of your time. You’re his soulmate after all, not theirs. You usher them inside and they take a seat on the chairs farthest from the couch.

“Sorry, Malleus, I totally forgot I made plans with them to come over earlier. Is it possible for us to watch the movie another time?”

“Of course, my love,” Malleus says, watching intently as your friends wince at the pet name. “I will see you tomorrow for tea with Lilia?”

At your nod, a small smirk rises to his face as he approaches you, dropping a small kiss on your lips as he departs. He notes the embarrassed and disgruntled look your friends faces; as much as he hates to let them see you in any intimate way, he needs them to know their place before he leaves.

One day, Malleus walks in on Deuce holding you. Your arms are awkwardly grasping at his shoulders, and he grips underneath your arms. It’s clear you’ve fallen, and yet Malleus can’t help but let the picture freeze in his mind; it burns into his memory.

Deuce helps you stand properly before the two of you let go of each other. You apologize and thank him awkwardly; the two of you haven’t even noticed him.

Malleus greets you from the doorway and both of you flinch in surprise. You gesture him inside, telling him all about the ‘funny story’ that just happened with Deuce.

He tries to sleep that night, but every time he closes his eyes, Malleus sees you in Deuce’s arms. He knows there’s nothing between you; it was an accident, and you love him after all.

Malleus makes the decision to reveal that he’s your soulmate the next time you two are alone. That happens to be two days later, once again on the Ramshackle couch.

He told you he wanted to discuss something serious, and he feels terrible at how anxious you look from across the table. Malleus wordlessly takes a small needle he’d brought with him and gently pricks his index finger.

You just stare at him, bewildered. Malleus takes your hand, flipping it palm-side up. No red pools on your finger, and no indentation appears either.

It’s his turn to stare in confusion. Every time you’ve been injured, he’s felt it. All your deaths, he’s felt. You’re human, you should not be healing this fast. He tells you as much.

“Is-Is this about soulmates, Malleus?” Your eyes flick up to his, voice wavering a bit. You glance back down to your lap as your hand rises to scratch at your neck. “In my world, we don’t have soulmates. I’m sorry, I should’ve been honest with you before, but I was worried that if you knew I wasn’t your soulmate that you wouldn’t want to be together anymore.”

The words echo in his ears, but he can’t understand them. A world without soulmates…? But how?

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but will you prick your finger. Just a tiny amount will do.”

“Malleus, I-“

“And please, keep an eye on my hand.”

You frown but nod. You prick your hand, wincing at the sensation, eyes flicking down to his own finger, eyes taking in the slight prick that appeared before quickly closing.

Malleus holds his breath as your face blooms into a myriad of emotions: confusion, shock, uncertainty, and finally a smile.

You launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in his very first kiss, and for once, Malleus does not think. He only feels the brush of your soft lips against his own inexperienced ones, following your lead. The moment lasts forever in his mind, but you still pull away too soon.

“Malleus, I’m sorry you’re not my soulmate but I’m so happy you’re mine~”

Your words unsettle him, but before he can think of it too long, you pull him into another kiss.

Things pass normally for a few days; the two of you continue to go on dates and avoid the subject of soulmates.

Malleus fears the worst when the campus is invaded, but rushing over to Ramshackle, his anxiety is temporarily relieved at the sight of you still on campus. You cry to him about Grim and he frets over your injuries - however mild, any threat to you is worth dealing with.

He begs you to stay at Diasomnia since your dorm was destroyed but you refuse. You insist on staying at Ramshackle and even ask that he not stay alongside you, promising that you can handle yourself. Malleus almost does it anyway, but Lilia warns him to give you space in your grief and worry for Grim and your friends

He visits you one last time before he’s forced to stay with Diasomnia as their dorm leader. Malleus closes his eyes as he pulls you into his arms. Now that he’s had you close, being apart always feels like there’s something missing in his life, a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind that keeps scratching at his brain and ignoring the rational side of him.

The two of you stand in silence, wrapped around each other, until you pull away a couple minutes later. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you slip a pink, string bracelet on his arm, asking Malleus to keep it safe until you seem him again before encouraging him to return to help his dorm.

Malleus tries to leave but feels himself pause in the doorway. He looks back at you, sitting on your bed and staring at your phone, and gets a bad feeling.

It’s just paranoia, he rationalizes. You’ve been through so much, he can’t lose you again. But this time, you’re here and away from the action. Nothing will be able to harm you anymore while you’re on the same campus as him.

Malleus still silently casts a couple of protection spells on you before he takes his leave again.

He isn’t able to visit for some time after that, with his dorm leader responsibilities leaving him occupied. He knows your protection spells haven’t activated, so he tries to reassure himself while being away from you. He sends Lilia to check on you, and his guardian returns confirming your health.

Two days later, Malleus sits at a table with Lilia, Sebek, and Silver when he feels it. There is no pain, only a chill that seeps deep into his bones, stopping him mid-sentence. He feels everything at once: fear, despair, and finally, relief. The table remains silent as Malleus is struck with emotion, the others watching him in concern.

“Malleus? It is unbecoming for the future king of Briar Valley to be lost in thought mid-conversation.” Lilia speaks with a light-hearted tone, but Malleus barely hears him.

“Something is wrong with them. I know it,” Malleus whispers, mostly to himself. “No, no. They’re still on campus, that can’t be. You confirmed this yourself, right Lilia?”

Lilia’s pause kindles the fire of Malleus’ worst fear.

“I’m sorry, Malleus. They needed to help their friends, and they knew you would never allow it. But the rest of them are strong, I never thought-“

The confirmation comes three hours later when the rest of the students arrive back from the Island of Woe. Lilia and Malleus rush to the group of students gathered to greet their fellow dorm mates.

You are noticeably absent.

He barely hears their words, their explanation about your sacrifice, and your fall into the underworld.

He sees the shocked faces of the other students (even Kingscholar, lacking his usual smirk), and Lilia is ushering him away before he can even think about the wetness dripping down his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, Malleus sees Leona try to reach them, but they are too fast for him.

The tears come full force once they’ve teleported back to Diasomnia, but he does not sob. Malleus Draconia is not someone who cries. He wipes the wetness off his face, before turning to Lilia.

“We’ll need to wipe their memories as soon as possible. The future king of Briar Valley cannot be remembered to be so…emotional.”

The cold neutrality of Malleus’ tone shakes even Lilia. He continues to stand, staring at the wall in concentration.

Lilia places a hand on the prince’s shoulder: “Malleus, please sit down. You need to rest after what’s happened. The others can wait-“

“No, no, I won’t have to, I’ll go back again and fix things. It’s simple,” Malleus says, mostly to himself.

“Go back? Malleus, please, what are you saying?” Lilia grabs on to both of Malleus’ shoulders, but he does not break free of his conviction. “You don’t mean-“ Malleus’ lack of response confirms his suspicions. “That watch has never been meant to be used, Malleus! It was for world-ending emergencies, for a threat to your kingdom! You have no idea what you’ve done, the cost you’ve had to pay-“

“I’ll see you soon, Lilia, and all will be right again.”

“You don’t understand! If the prefect continues to die after you’ve already intervened, then that is fate! Nothing you do to change time will change the fact that they aren’t meant to survive.”

“…Change time? No, we’ve moved beyond that, Lilia. I’m not going to change time, I’m going to break it.”

“I will help the new prefect,” the student says. “I’ll show them to Ramshackle.”

You are sure that if Crowley’s face were not concealed by his mask it would be frozen in an expression of shock that mirrors the rest of the students.

“Uh, Draconia, that is very…kind of you, but it seems like a lot to trouble yourself with. You are very much needed here for orientation. Perhaps one of our vice housewardens might take care of it?” Crowley looks around but no one steps up to contradict this ‘Draconia.’

“I will be going now. Lilia, please handle the new students.”

Before anyone can further question his decision, Draconia puts a hand on your shoulder and guides you out of the room, leaving behind silence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Draconia? You think you can just- what, change the world to your perfect dream? Change time again and again just because of the prefect? These are people’s lives you’re playing with! We’re not here to be subjected to your stupid whims.”

Malleus turns around to face Leona.

“And what, pray tell, do you plan to do about it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, overgrown lizard. You know it isn’t right, forcing us to play these roles that you’ve designed. And the prefect? Forcing them to be with you? You think-”

“Do I need to remove those petty claws of yours, Kingscholar? In fact, I bet you barely remember why you’re here.”

Leona’s face tells all Malleus he needs to know: “I-I know you’ve done something. My head, it just won’t clear-”

“It’s best if you forget about it and play along. We wouldn’t want you to cause more problems for yourself and your friends. The prefect is easily upset - I wouldn’t want to have to do anything bad to keep the world perfect for my soulmate.”

“Hey Leona,” Ruggie says, jogging up to the group before noticing Malleus. He stays close to Leona as he whispers to him: “You got class in ten. You know Crewel will freak if you miss again.”

Leona glances back at Malleus before reluctantly following Ruggie.

You try to be subtle as you sneak glances at him, but you don’t think you’re very successful. You don’t have a clue why this- well you don’t know very much about him but considering everyone else’s reactions - probably very powerful fae has taken an interest in you. He doesn’t glance back as he walks in front of you. The two of you continue that way until you suddenly run into something hard. You squeak out an apology but Draconia does not turn around or explain why he’s stopped. His question breaks the silence.

“Are you happy, prefect?”

“…Happy? I-I mean, I don’t know. I have these memories but…something feels off. Something is missing or different and I have no idea what. The headmaster claims I was always a student here, I just had some kind of injury but - this person doesn’t feel like me. I know these halls but I was not the one to walk them. I feel- Ah, I’m so sorry! I don’t even know you, why am I going on like this! Please forgive me, uh, sorry again but I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Malleus,” he says, “Malleus Draconia.”

“Sorry Malleus. We can continue to…my dorm. Thank you for volunteering to take me.”

You wait for Malleus to continue walking down the hall, but he only turns around. You are taken aback by the piercing gaze of his eyes: he looks at you as though he is searching for something lost deep in you.

Malleus pulls a needle out of his robes, and you begin to sweat. He doesn’t look at you, only holding the needle to his hand before using it to prick his index finger.

You wince as you feel a prick on your own finger, swiping over the pooling blood with your thumb before looking back up at him in realization.

“You- You’re my soulmate? Malleus, that’s- How did you even know? Is this-”

You’re interrupted by a large form enveloping your body. Malleus’ arms squeeze you so tight it becomes harder to breathe. You struggle instinctively, wanting this stranger to stop smothering you. Regardless of being your soulmate, you barely know him.

He lets you go, pulling away before taking your wrist and slipping a string bracelet onto your arm.

“Everything is as it should be. There’s no need to worry, my soulmate, you are exactly where you should be, and with who you should be with.”

#experience may be enhanced by listening to mitski song of same name #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleyuu #soulmate au #twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader

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yuesya · 5 months

Text

Reach the optimal outcome.

An explosive detonation, an eruption of golden light. In the aftermath, the ground runs red with blood. Corpses line the path of stars, utterly silent in death.

Weigh the factors.

An explosive detonation, an eruption of golden light. Hoarse shouts. This time, there yet remains those who resist, who lift their weapons in defiance. But it’s not enough–

Find the way.

…

The future is a nebulous thing, difficult to glean and impossible to control. But not impossible to influence, and not impossible to change. Elio has glimpsed the fateful future that awaits them all. He knows what must be done, and so he will bow his head to destiny. Make the necessary preparations, nudge things along in the right direction; all so that when the time comes…

When the time finally comes…

…

Elio closes his eyes.

… The Aeon of Destruction, Nanook. A being whose goal is the cessation of all life, who views the birth and existence of the universe itself as a mistake. The Antimatter Legion serves His will, commanded by their generals: Phantylia, Zephyro, Irontomb–

–?

…

Something is… very different in this simulation. Chance, or coincidence?

There are seven Lord Ravagers. Emanators of Destruction who carry out their Aeon’s bidding, and leave nothing but deathly silence echoing in the stars along their wake. But now, there is an eighth that is present among their ranks when Elio looks into the future again.

How curious.

It comes as an unexpected surprise, certainly, that there is yet another who draws the gaze of the Ruin Author. But it’s not an impossibility. After all, the universe is vast, and there are countless factors working in tandem that all affect the future.

The eighth Lord Ravager bears a vaguely humanoid appearance, but there is no mistaking them for something human. Their entire body is white, and filled with cracks. Like marble stone, filled with veins of gold. Blades shatter uselessly upon their skin as it strides among the stars, untouchable. Some form of invulnerability? What of their abilities? If there was to be an eighth that Elio also needed to account for, then–

The Lord Ravager opens their eyes.

And the world falls silent.

…

The Lord Ravager glances dispassionately at their surroundings, and an entire world dies.

… Elio cannot allow this.

…

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars. Opens their eyes, and–

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars. They are met with burning flames in resistance, but emerge unharmed from the inferno. Then, they open their eyes–

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars.

The Lord Ravager descends–

The Lord Ravager–

Elio focuses upon the Lord Ravager and concentrates. There is little doubt that this is most dangerous of all the Lord Ravagers. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did the Aeon of Destruction find them?

It’s not easy, but looking into the past is far a simpler task to accomplish than simulating the future. The past only records what has already occurred, and there’s no changing events that have already been set in stone.

Elio sees–

A beautiful world, lush with life.

Smoke curls into the air. Screams. Monsters walk the lands–

Curses–

Stellaron.

Elio looks silently into the rapidly-changing scenery, and understands. The eighth Lord Ravager comes from a small, isolated world, one that hadn’t properly developed any methods of interstellar travel, nor established connections with other civilizations. And before they had any chance to do so… they were found by a Stellaron.

It’s easy enough to guess the rest of the story from there.

The eighth Lord Ravager. The sole survivor of a dead world. Sometime after the total destruction of her world, she must’ve caught the Aeon of Destruction’s attention. But for such an isolated world, how–?

Enemies from beyond the skies. Kill.

…

A girl stands upon the barren earth motionlessly, broken sword in hand. The eighth Lord Ravager, before she was cast into the Warforge by the Aeon of Destruction and remade anew.

… A lone girl, guarding the broken husk of a dead world even long after there remains nothing for her to protect.

The Antimatter Legion. That explains it, then. The Antimatter Legion somehow found this world after its end, and following that…

Long white hair streams out behind the girl like a banner as she tosses her broken weapon aside. The defeated enemies before the not-yet Lord Ravager disintegrate.

Then, she suddenly tilts her head upwards. Eldritch blue eyes lock directly onto Elio’s own.

“Who watches?”

Elio’s eyes snap open.

…

Bright lights. The aroma of coffee. It’s mostly quiet on the Stellaron Hunters’ ship right now, and the parlor area is empty –save for a young woman with red-violet hair who looks up from her coffee with a smile. Kafka.

“Something the matter?” she asks.

“… We need to change course,” Elio says.

#Writing #zenith of stars au #hsr au #elio shuffling through potential future timelines and finding shiki #basically #lots of things are vague since we don't know much about elio yet haha

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 9 months

Text

𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖊

AKA: this one quote from Book!Frollo made my mind go crazy.

Yes, I was listening to “It's A Dangerous Game” from the Jekyll and Hyde Original Concept Recording

(also, please forgive my Latin, I used google translate)

Reader/Yuu is female and has hair (which is implied to be long)

Masterlist

It was mesmerising, how perfectly your bodies melded and moved together, how easily and harmoniously you were brought to a hitherto unknown rapture. To be caught up in such a state, where you were free of the chains that bound you to the horrors of purgatory and had ascended you to heights you had never felt before, to feel him guiding you to a place where you had never even begun to dream about.

Minutes had passed since the twelfth ring of the Bell of Solace yet the two of you stayed in your tower, pressed against a shadowed alcove, away from everyone and everything, your hands wandering and blood singing as the rest of the city drifted off into their fanciful visions of the dusk.

With the Witching Hour descending upon you, veiling you in the covers of the night, you only had the stars and the spirits above as witnesses to this tryst, your secrets laid bare for their silent judgement.

But their judgement didn’t matter, nor did your schoolmates’, if the silent covenant between you and him were to be obeyed, if the unvoiced sermon in blue flickers that glowed against the scorching green of his eyes that seared into you as he took a lock of your hair and pressed it against his lips were to be acknowledged.

His cold touch, like fire, burning your figure as it trailed across your face, your neck, your shoulder before settling on your waist, pulling you closer - long, chilling fingers burned along your skin, setting ablaze every thought, every word, every semblance of rationality.

“Pulchra,” you could feel his voice against your mouth, wafting and caressing like tendrils of smoke, sonorous to your ears, “puella pulchra, so pure, so perfect. Like a goddess in mortal form.”

You could do nothing but listen, to submit to the dark velvet of his dulcet tones, to close your eyes and let this fiery passion incinerate and eradicate the demons that plagued you. Ordinarily, you’d be against this, to let your shackled hands hand the reins of your petering control to another, but his providence proved otherwise. With your destiny enshrouded in so much unknown, the danger of staying and the risk of fleeing your perennial torment in the clutches of your captors yet with Rollo before you, you felt at peace.

Fate, free-will, nothing mattered in this sanctuary he created.

His conviction begets your reprieve, his resolution ameliorates your soul from the horrors that had stained it with their inky fingerprints. The singing brushes of his fingertips cleansed you, and like a blazing phoenix, you emerged anew.

With both great reluctance and great desperation his lips left yours and made their home at the apse of your neck, whispers of orisons against your skin, your name an endless epiclesis.

Even with your sight inhibited, you could see the worship in his gaze, through the reverence in his touch, the cardinal way he regarded you in every action. His hands gentle yet formidable as they kept you against him, the golden shank of his ruby ring digging into you with the pads of his fingers.

“I wanted to see you again,” his deep timbre, dark, soft and smoky against your ears, “touch you, know who you were, see if I would find you identical with the ideal image of you which had remained with me and perhaps shatter my dream with the aid of reality.”

“And?” you hear yourself say, too lost in the fiery haze, too blinded by the flaming reds and golden ambers that danced under your eyes.

“At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, for the first had become intolerable to me. I sought you, Prefect, again to behold you. When I had seen you twice, I wished to see you a thousand more times, to always have you in my sight. You claim to be magicless, Angelum Meum, yet you have completely bewitched me. With you, I’m no longer my own master. You’ve become my salvation from perdition, shown me the true meaning of righteous. Please, I say in obsecration, grant me the blessing of speaking your benediction, of proving how far my devotion runs. Let me be your acolyte, your protector against the tainted crowd.”

His lips pressed against the apples of your cheeks, his hands on your waist, the fury of the flames within you.

It’s dangerous. But this fire won’t char you, won’t scar you, won’t leave you tearstained and broken.

It emboldens you, ignites the snuffed out hearth within you.

You nod once, a small jut of your chin through the keening of your throat and you slowly feel the ribbon of your nightdress tugged loose before it falls and pools at the ground at your feet.

#twst #twisted wonderland #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #fem reader

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naomeii · 10 months

Text

Celestial Threads.

—Pairings: Morax x Goddess! Reader

Content : Angst to comfort, platonic! Xiao x reader, mentions of death, tiny bit of spoilers? about the archon war.

Synopsis: Threads of destiny lead to a revelation. As stars align, ancient lovers stand on the cusp of rediscovery, unraveling a tale of enduring love and divine destiny.

In the age when gods walked among mortals, when the winds carried whispers of celestial tales, there existed a love that transcended the eons – a love between the Geo Archon, known as Morax, now Zhongli, and the Goddess of Stars, Y/n. Bound by fate and forged in the crucible of countless years, their connection withstood the tests of time and the turmoil of the Archon War.

In those ancient days, Y/n, with her luminous presence, stood as the Goddess of Stars, a divine being revered by both adepti and mortals alike. Morax, the stoic and wise Geo Archon, ruled over Liyue with a firm yet just hand. Guizhong, the God of Dust, completed their celestial trio, and together, they shaped the destiny of Teyvat.

The love between Morax and Y/n was no secret. Their hearts beat in unison, their souls intertwined like constellations in the night sky. As the Archon War raged on, their bond became a beacon of hope, a reminder that even amidst chaos, love could endure.

The turning point came when Guizhong, their dear companion, perished in the crucible of battle. The weight of grief hung heavy on their hearts. Yet, the war persisted, refusing to release its grip on the realm. In a desperate attempt to protect their people, Morax and Y/n, mourning the loss of Guizhong, sought to move their citizens to what would become Liyue Harbor.

However, tragedy struck again. In a heart-wrenching moment, Y/n, trying to save a human child, faced her demise right before Morax's eyes. As she was turning into dust, she spoke, "Hold my hand for the last time, my love," as her ethereal form dissipated, turning into stardust that scattered in the wind. Morax couldn't do anything as his lover vanished, and could only choke up sobs that could be heard everywhere, the ever so stoic God, on his knees, crying for the loss of his lover. Zhongli, now, could only hold her hand one last time as the battle continued, leaving him to mourn the love he thought he had lost.

Years passed, and the war eventually came to an end. Morax, still grieving and burdened by the weight of solitude, took on the mortal guise of Zhongli. By his side stood Xiao, the vigilant Yaksha, a witness to the eons of grief etched on Morax's face.

Meanwhile, Y/n experienced a different fate. Instead of succumbing to death, her celestial essence invoked a deep slumber, creating a domain where her powers could protect her. Even in her sleep, she remained connected to the events unfolding in Teyvat.

In the quiet emptiness of her celestial sleep, Y/n heard a voice that shattered the ethereal silence. The revelation that she hadn't perished but rather entered a deep slumber resonated within her being. Awakening after eons, she found herself surrounded by a peaceful landscape that hinted at the war's conclusion.

Fearful of facing Zhongli in his new guise, Y/n made her way to Wangshu Inn, knowing that Alatus, now called Xiao, often sought solace there. The Inn, perched in Dihua Marsh, became a refuge for the Yaksha adeptus. "Y/n!?" he was bewildered.

In the quietude of Wangshu Inn, Y/n found an unexpected companion in Xiao. The Yaksha adeptus, usually reserved and distant, was bewildered by the revelation that the goddess presumed dead for eons stood before him, alive and well. Although he would never admit it, Xiao had found a source of comfort and understanding in Y/n, akin to a motherly figure, though the words remained unspoken.

Y/n's sheepish smile greeted Xiao's perplexed gaze. The conversation unfolded as Xiao explained the passage of time, recounting how Rex Lapis had taken the guise of Zhongli and now worked at Wangshu Inn. He detailed Zhongli's unwavering grief over Y/n's presumed demise, a grief that had lingered for centuries. Y/n admitted she knew of Zhongli's mourning but wasn't ready to confront him.

With a hesitant agreement, Xiao swore among the stars to keep Y/n's incarnation a secret from Zhongli. The pact was sealed, and Y/n, with Xiao's discreet assistance, integrated herself into the daily workings of Wangshu Inn. She took up a job, becoming a subtle presence in the background, observing the world she had missed for eons.

Wangshu Inn became a haven of sorts, a place where Y/n could quietly navigate the realm of mortals. She didn't forge many connections, preferring the solitude of her thoughts. Occasionally, she would encounter the Traveler, Aether, with his long braided hair and striking outfit, and his companion Paimon, a petite figure resembling a fairy with white hair and a star-flecked cape.

The exchanges with the Traveler and Paimon were fleeting, yet they brought a sense of warmth to Y/n's celestial heart. Aether's unknown years of existence mirrored Y/n's timeless essence, creating an unspoken connection between them. Paimon's playful demeanor added a touch of whimsy to the encounters, and together, they shared moments of camaraderie against the backdrop of Liyue's ever-changing landscapes.

As Y/n observed the interplay of mortal lives, she couldn't deny the growing curiosity within her. The world had evolved, and she found herself entwined in its unfolding tapestry, a silent observer with a heart that had endured through the ages. Meanwhile, Zhongli, burdened with the memories of love and loss, wandered Liyue Harbor, finding solace in the memories of his beloved. His mourning was a poignant symphony, echoing through the city he had helped shape, and the stars above, a silent witness to the enduring tale of a love that surpassed the boundaries of time and existence.

"Say traveler, do you ever feel the weight of a presence that lingers, just beyond your grasp?" Zhongli pondered, his eyes reflecting the depth of ancient sorrows.

Before the traveler could reply, Paimon, oblivious to the true nature of Zhongli's musings, quipped, "Well, there's a new worker at Wangshu Inn. She's got this ethereal vibe, you know, and her knowledge rivals even yours, Zhongli! I, ummm, I think her name was Y/n!"

"Y/n?" he uttered, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice. Zhongli turned to Xiao, who bore a guilty look, a fleeting expression that didn't go unnoticed by the perceptive archon. Before Zhongli could delve into the mystery, Paimon indecisively changed the topic, diverting Zhongli's attention elsewhere.

Xiao, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of secrecy momentarily lifted. The adeptus yearned for the reunion of two souls separated by time and fate. Deep down, he wanted Zhongli and Y/n to rediscover the bond that had endured the tumultuous currents of history. Yet, bound by a promise made among the stars, Xiao found himself torn between the desire for reunion and the commitment to keep Y/n's incarnation a clandestine affair.

As fate continued its intricate dance, Xiao couldn't escape the persistent longing for a resolution that would bring solace to the hearts of the old lovers and bridge the celestial gap that had kept them apart for so long.

As days turned into nights at Wangshu Inn, Xiao found himself caught between the shadows of secrecy and the spark of longing that flickered within Zhongli's gaze. The Yaksha adeptus, ever reserved and distant, couldn't ignore the unspoken desire for the two ancient lovers to reunite. Xiao had sworn among the stars to keep Y/n's continued existence hidden from Zhongli, a promise he held with a heavy heart.

One evening, as Xiao and Zhongli were quietly conversing in a serene ambiance, a slip of the tongue threatened to unravel the carefully woven tapestry of secrecy. Xiao, usually composed and vigilant, found himself momentarily lost in the nostalgia that lingered in the air.

"Zhongli," Xiao began, his gaze fixated on the distant horizon beyond Liyue. "Have you ever felt the echoes of a long-lost presence, as if the stars themselves whispered tales of forgotten bonds?"

Zhongli, intrigued by Xiao's cryptic words, turned his attention to the Yaksha. "What do you mean, Xiao?"

Caught in the currents of emotions, Xiao hesitated. The weight of his unspoken words hung in the air like the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. "There are threads that bind souls across time, Archon. Threads that withstand the ages, refusing to be severed."

Zhongli, his curiosity piqued, furrowed his brows. "Whose threads are you referring to, Xiao?"

In that moment, a gust of wind carried the celestial scent of osmanthus, weaving through the conversation like a delicate melody. Xiao, realizing the precarious ground he stood on, cast a brief, apologetic glance at Zhongli.

"I spoke in riddles, Archon. Pay it no mind," Xiao replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from the precipice of revelation.

However, the spark of realization flickered in Zhongli's eyes, a subtle recognition that Xiao's words were more than mere riddles. The Yaksha adeptus had unintentionally unveiled the presence of a celestial being, and the consequences of that slip lingered in the air like an unanswered question.

As fate continued its intricate dance, the celestial secret hovered between Zhongli and Y/n, an ethereal thread that waited to be acknowledged and woven into the tapestry of their shared history. Zhongli, with the wisdom accumulated over millennia, sensed the undercurrents of unspoken truths in Xiao's cryptic words. As the Yaksha adeptus faltered, Zhongli's keen intellect pieced together the fragments of information like an intricate puzzle.

He took a thoughtful sip of his osmanthus wine, the amber liquid reflecting the ages he had witnessed. Zhongli's gaze, sharp as the stone spears he once wielded, met Xiao's eyes. "Xiao, my friend, your words may be veiled, but the echoes of ancient bonds are not easily concealed. Threads that withstand time and space."

The Yaksha adeptus remained silent, acknowledging Zhongli's astuteness. The Geo Archon continued, "You may not have spoken outright, but the hints you've woven are not lost on me. Sometimes, the unspoken carries more weight than the spoken."

Zhongli, ever the perceptive strategist, understood that Xiao's oath among the stars was bound by the constraints of explicit revelation. With a thoughtful expression, he spoke again, "While you may not disclose her exact whereabouts, could you, perhaps, lead me to the threads you sensed? A subtle guide through the constellation of destinies."

Xiao, even if the name wasn't mentioned, knew whom Zhongli referred to. Torn between his promise and the desire for the two ancient lovers to reunite, he hesitated. The weight of secrecy pressed upon him, and he pondered the consequences of revealing even a fraction of the truth. Zhongli, patient as the mountains that stood tall in Liyue, awaited Xiao's response, knowing that unraveling the mysteries of the past required delicate steps.

In the inn's quietude, the celestial dance of stars continued overhead, casting a gentle glow on the Yaksha and the Archon, as the intertwined fate of Zhongli and Y/n hung in the balance. Xiao, torn between the weight of his promise and the desire to mend the long-separated lovers, wrestled with the nuances of his oath. He found a sliver of potential leeway in the wording of his vow. He hadn't explicitly sworn against guiding Zhongli to Y/n, only against directly revealing her presence.

As Xiao contemplated the moral intricacies, Zhongli observed the internal struggle in his companion. The Yaksha adeptus finally spoke, his voice carrying the burden of conflicting loyalties, "Zhongli, I vowed not to disclose Y/n's presence directly, but leading you to the threads of fate might be within the boundaries of that oath."

The Geo Archon, with a subtle nod, acknowledged Xiao's delicate distinction. "Lead me, then, Xiao."

With a somber determination, Xiao agreed, "I'll lead you to the threads, but it's up to you to follow them, Morax." The Yaksha adeptus, with a flicker of resolve in his gaze, prepared to navigate the celestial paths that intertwined the destinies of gods and stars, hoping that the reunion would bring solace to the ancient heart that mourned in silence.

The moon bathed Wangshu Inn in a gentle glow as Zhongli, with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, approached the figure sitting by the edge. Y/n's silhouette, adorned in the celestial radiance, stirred something ancient within him. As he called out her name, "Y/n..?",

the goddess turned, and for a fleeting moment, time stood still.

Her denial hung in the air, "I do not know whom you are talking about, perhaps you are mistaken." The Goddess spoke attempting to mask the truth. However, Zhongli, now fully immersed in the recognition of his beloved, wouldn't be swayed. With words wrapped in the echoes of shared memories, he questioned her absence and the long years of yearning that had persisted.

Y/n, unable to maintain the facade any longer, confessed. The tale of her deep slumber, the celestial domain, and the fear that had kept her away unfolded. Zhongli listened with a mix of emotions – relief, understanding, and a love that time hadn't dulled.

Their reconciliation unfolded beneath the luminous embrace of the moon. Zhongli, overwhelmed by the return of his cherished companion, felt the weight of millennia lifting. As their lips met in a tender kiss, the stars themselves seemed to shimmer in approval.

Curious, Y/n asked Zhongli how he had discovered her secret. His gaze shifted to Xiao, who stood at a respectful distance, an awkward expression etched across his face. Y/n, in a surprising twist, approached Xiao not with anger but gratitude. She thanked him for leading Zhongli to her, acknowledging the complexity of the promise he had upheld.

In the quiet of the night, beneath the watchful eyes of stars and moon, the reunited lovers finally embraced the beauty of their shared past.

#genshin imagines #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin impact #genshin angst #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #morax x reader #morax x you #rex lapis x reader #rex lapis x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #angst to comfort

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leeannsparksauthor · 1 year

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How Could I Hurt You?

*SPOILERS FOR DARK URGE PLAY THROUGH*

This one right here is for all the people who wanted a little more angst with their dark urge character. Personally I loved the story for the dark urge but I wish there was more of a reaction from companions at the fact that you died! So here's a little angsty treat for my fellow gamers who've put in over 300 hours into this game.

“I have a gift for you child. You will use it to lacerate this world.” No, the only word that echoed in your mind. You will not accept any gift from your so-called god. There is good in this world and your free mind knows this now. It is evident in the companions you have picked up along this journey. In the love of a pale elf, the kindness of an archdruid and the determination of tieflings. You have felt it in every gentle hug, tender kiss and smile that did not come from the release of death.

“No, no, for once I’m free! I have seen life, I’ve seen beauty! I have loved, I have been loved…and I am never giving that back!” Fuck your god, fuck destiny, fuck everything that came before. The autonomy of your body was suddenly stripped away as you were raised into the air by invisible claws. Back breaking under the force answered only by cruel laughter.

“Can we kill this little freak!” The vampire spawn was ready to rush forward and imbed his knife into the puppet pulling the strings. You knew that he would be killed if he so much as put a kink in the plans of the cruel god.

“Karlach…keep him away!”

Your father laughed at the weakness you showed so openly. “What a disappointing spawn you’ve become, my most promising, possessed by pathetic emotions. I remember when the very act of murder reflected in your gaze, oh the terror you inspired, the horror.”

The words Astarion spoke to his former master echoed within your mind, giving you courage, determination. “I am so much more than what you made me.”

“You are nothing without me, child. What I have given freely and what you have rejected most unknowingly I will take back. I will give you back to the rotting earth you hold so dearly, nothing but a dead fool, food for the worms. Even below the ground you will still feel the blood I rain upon this world, the fire that will consume the forests you called home. Your blood is mine and I will see it returned.”

You could feel the very blood he spoke of fall from your eyes like scarlett tears, your breath trapped inside your lungs begging to escape. The taste of copper fills your mouth as it dribbles down your chin. You’ve never felt so cold before, even in the harshest of winters. Bones seemed to snap and then as if clutched in a grasp of fury your heart shattered within your chest a silent scream caught in your throat. It was instant death but somehow still prolonged beyond the mortal plane.

There was no more chanting within the Bhall temple, no foreign word. Yet the scent of blood still lingered, the screams of your name like an echo being absorbed into the walls.

You watched events unfold outside of your body and wondered if this is what all of your victims experienced after their death. Or if this torture was designed just for you by the lord of murder himself.

Astarion had rushed over as soon as your body fell to the cold stone below. His hands cradling your body with a fierce protectiveness you had never seen before. His hands searched for a pulse, something, any sign of life you would give him. “Karlach give me a bloody scroll!”

“Astarion it won’t work…” she was right, it won’t. She had seen first hand instant death at the hands of devils, like a thread cut with a pair of scissors.

“You don’t fucking know that, we have to try! Halsin do something you useless druid! Darling, look at me, please, please. I promised, I promised it wouldn’t have you my love, please…” Oh what you would give to embrace him, comfort him.

Light illuminated the blood that stained your face, warmth from Halsin’s palm, the warmth of nature itself. It would do nothing for you now. “Oak Father, hear me, aid me, protect this child of Silvanus.” The light flickered, a soft breeze tussling the hair surrounding your body. You had never seen such sadness on Halsin’s face, not even when his grove was threatened or when all hope had seemed lost in the darkness of the shadow curse. His hand engulfed the one that rested limply by your body, “forgive me my heart.” He brought the hand to his lips, warmth against deadly cold skin.

“Your god is as useless as the rest of them! Potions, Karlach in my bag, hurry please…” his words were cut short as the large tiefling cradled the back of your head. Her forehead came to rest against yours, horns knocking against the ones atop your head. Soft lips brushed across the place where lines and creases would form the most.

“Rest easy Soldier…I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Get away! Fuck you, fuck all of you, we have to help them, there must be something…” as if a candle had been extinguished so did his fight. “No, no…oh darling…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry my love, my light. Forgive me, please come back, I promise I’ll keep you safe please come back, don’t leave me, please.” They would tell stories about you, the hero who sacrificed everything to save Baulders Gate. Would they tell of the love you got to experience before it all ended? Would they speak of the friends you made? The adventures you had?

Would they speak of the man who emerged from his crypt only to enter a temple and offer a choice?

The hardest choice you would ever have to make. Only it’s not a difficult one is it? After all it’s only one more battle until the rest of your life. Yours now, no one else's. You could close your eyes forever, spare yourself the view, the consequences.

When the breath was returned to your lungs and the shattered pieces of your heart put back together one by one your body lurched forward with the first sight of your new life.

Cool lips pressed against yours, fangs almost puncturing skin with the ferocity of a lover who held death in his arms. Words whispered against your mouth, “don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.”

A small, breathless laugh, “how could I leave my little star behind?” How could you leave this behind?

#astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #baldurs gate #karlach #angst

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azyexia1 · 1 year

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Hearts Unveiled. (Astarion x reader)

SUMMARY: "In the fantasy realm of Baldur's Gate, a band of adventurers battles a formidable foe. Tav's sacrificial act to save Astarion awakens his suppressed emotions. His feral transformation to protect Tav reveals his true feelings. As they both heal, their bond evolves into a passionate love, proving that even amidst danger, true emotions prevail."

Word Count: 587

Pairing: Astarion & Gender Neutral reader

Warnings: violence, injury, blood, emotional distress, dark themes.

In the tumultuous world of Baldur's Gate, where alliances could be as fragile as glass, an unlikely band of adventurers had formed. Tav, Astarion, Karlach, and Halsin found themselves united by fate, thrust into a series of events that would forever intertwine their destinies.

One fateful day, the group set out on a perilous mission. Their objective was clear: to confront a menacing force that threatened to plunge the region into chaos. They treaded carefully through the dark forest, guided only by the faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy. Tav, a steadfast leader, held the group together with unwavering determination.

As they approached their destination, tension hung thick in the air. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a guttural growl. Astarion's sharp instincts kicked in as he sensed danger. But before he could react, the enemy emerged from the shadows: a formidable opponent they had underestimated. With swift and precise movements, this adversary wielded twin daggers, their glinting edges promising a swift and deadly end.

The battle erupted in chaos. Karlach's spells crackled in the air, Halsin's fierce druidic powers contended with the enemy's dark magic, and Astarion danced like a phantom, attempting to strike back at the relentless assailant. In the midst of this chaos, Tav's stalwart courage came to the forefront.

Seeing Astarion momentarily distracted, Tav's heart surged with a mixture of panic and determination. Time seemed to slow as they made a split-second decision. With a selfless abandon, Tav threw themselves between Astarion and the incoming daggers. The blades sank deep into Tav's chest, the searing pain stealing their breath.

Astrayion's eyes widened in shock as he witnessed the scene unfold before him. In that heart-stopping moment, clarity pierced through the haze of battle. His feelings for Tav, once buried beneath layers of cynicism and detachment, now surged to the surface with overwhelming force. The realization hit him like a tidal wave - he cared deeply for Tav, more than he dared to admit even to himself.

Driven by an unquenchable rage, Astarion's transformation was nothing short of primal. His feral instincts took over as his eyes turned crimson, his fangs elongated, and his speed increased exponentially. With a fierce growl, he lunged at the assailant, his movements a blur of lethal precision.

Karlach and Halsin, still caught in the midst of their own battles, watched in astonishment as Astarion's newfound ferocity turned the tide. The enemy, caught off guard by his sudden transformation, faltered, and Astarion's relentless assault left them reeling. It was as if he had tapped into an untamed wellspring of power fueled by his emotions.

Finally, with a final, bone-chilling howl, Astarion struck down the adversary. The battle ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving the forest once again in silence. And in the midst of the aftermath, as the group gathered around Tav's wounded form, Astarion's heartache transformed into a newfound resolve. He would protect Tav at any cost, no longer allowing fear or uncertainty to hold him back.

As the group tended to Tav's wounds, Astarion's eyes never left their face. The realization of their own mortality had cast a spotlight on the depths of their feelings. From that day forward, their bond grew stronger, shaped by sacrifice, realization, and an unwavering commitment forged in the crucible of battle.

In the aftermath of the battle, the forest seemed to exhale a sigh of relief, its rustling leaves echoing the collective breath of the adventurers. Tav's breathing was shallow, their pale face a stark contrast against the darkness of the night. A heavy silence settled over the group as they worked feverishly to stabilize Tav's condition.

Karlach's hands glowed with a soft, soothing light as they channeled healing energy into Tav's wounds. Halsin, his expression grim, utilized his druidic magic to accelerate the natural healing processes of the body. Astarion hovered nearby, his normally confident demeanor replaced by an anxious tension.

As moments stretched into what felt like an eternity, Tav's eyelids fluttered. Their eyes, clouded with pain, flickered open, and for a fleeting instant, their gaze met Astarion's. It was as if time had frozen; the world around them ceased to exist as they locked eyes.

Astarion's heart raced, his emotions a tempest within him. He had been haunted by his vampiric nature, his doubts about his own humanity. Yet, in this moment, as he stared into Tav's vulnerable gaze, he realized that it wasn't his own condition that defined him. It was his choices, his actions, and the connections he forged.

"Tav…" His voice was raw, cracking with emotion. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Tav's forehead, his touch gentle, almost reverent. "You saved me. I should have been the one to protect you."

Tav managed a weak smile, their voice a mere whisper. "We're a team, Astarion. We look out for each other."

Karlach and Halsin exchanged glances, sharing a moment of understanding. With Tav stable for the time being, they discreetly retreated a few steps, allowing Astarion and Tav a semblance of privacy amidst the chaos.

Astarion's eyes never left Tav's face, his fingers tracing the lines of their hand as if trying to reassure himself that they were real, that they were still there. The realization of his feelings had ignited a fire within him, a fierce determination to protect and cherish Tav.

"Tav," he began, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and determination, "I've spent a lifetime avoiding attachments, fearing the pain they might bring. But seeing you, risking your life for me… it's opened my eyes."

Tav managed a faint chuckle, wincing as pain flared in their chest. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Astarion's gaze hardened, his crimson eyes blazing with determination. "I won't let you down again. I won't let anything harm you."

Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining as if sealing a pact. In the midst of uncertainty and danger, amidst the scars of battle, a new connection was forged - one that transcended their differences, their fears, and their pasts.

As the night wore on, the group tended to their wounds and rested, knowing that their journey was far from over. The scars of battle would heal, but the bonds between them had been forever changed. And as the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, Astarion stood watch over Tav, his resolve unshakeable.

They were a testament to the fact that even in the darkest of times, love and friendship could bloom, fierce and unyielding, like the most resilient of wildflowers in the heart of the forest.

If you would like to request a scenario with our favorite boy Astarion please do let me know :)

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #x reader #video games #x you #confessions #astarion bg3

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ask-pokeprofvoid · 5 months

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Got a call today, Gonna take some of the more anxious mons out with me to hopefully ease their tensions :)

#rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblr #rotumblr #ask void #Shattered Destiny event

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problemsboblems · 9 months

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I will never get over the bond Kai and Lloyd share. How Kai's growth as a person is so heavily linked to Lloyd. He swore to protect him. He gave up his desire for greatness and became stronger because of it. Lloyd sought for greatness in the wrong places, but it fell upon him when he'd stopped searching. Destiny laughs at their faces and they keep going, supporting each other through it all. Even in a realm-shattering event, they were the first to find each other.

#the brothers ever #i'm so normal about them #ninjago #lego ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai ninjago #dragons rising

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itsgrimeytime · 1 year

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Home is Where the Heart is (Part One) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWS: starting over, and identity crisis.

[[A/N: Thanks to @imaginemyfavoritefics for the name idea. The vibes of this are hallmark forward, so expect something rather cheesy. Thanks for reading!! ]]

You weren't running, you rationalized deep in your head -almost as if on instinct. You were an adult, you could deal with adult problems -like relationship issues, you just wanted to... you just needed a break. A breather even. Plus, they needed a teacher -it was practically destiny.

So, why did it feel like you were running?

You hadn't had a serious job in Atlanta, just an assistant, and as much as you loved those kids, you needed to do your job. When it felt like everything was going wrong in the world (and it was-), you still had teaching. It felt like what you were supposed to do, it was a reprieve from... everything else. So, even with a fresh start, you still needed teaching.

The transitions between cities bright against the landscape into more timid more rural areas was something you found somehow conflicting. You'd spent the last few years in the city, busy nights with a constant buzz of noise -cars honking, people talking, street performers... As it got quieter, there were fewer people on the road and the tall buildings turned into trees scrapping the sky; it was all a little surreal.

And it struck you then, you weren't scared -not really. Not scared to uproot everything and start over, it made you wonder bad it had gotten without you knowing.

"Okay," you hummed, turning down a sort of suburban road -houses every little bit, but much farther apart than the tight compression of a culdesac, "-1259, little white house-"

Your Grandma had called you at least 10 times ensuring you'd remembered the address -as if it wasn't written in your GPS. But as it turns out, back on these roads, just off what you assumed to be the town center, Google had no fucking clue where you were. So, perhaps you should thank her, actually.

"1259," you muttered, again -eyes focused out your passenger side, trying to see the addresses, "-little white house-"

And then, someone tapped on your driver's window.

"'Ay, ya need somethin'?"

You spun around in your driver's seat quickly, matching a man's -tall, brunette, brown-eyed. He wore some assortment of a leather vest and seemed to have been busy prior -you could see the dirt dusted under his fingernails and staining his jeans. The second thing you noticed was his tone wasn't friendly.

Maybe he thought you were nosing around in something you shouldn't.

"I, uh, yeah-" you rolled down your window, -briefly wondering how long it had been since you met somebody new, "-I'm trying to get to 1259? It's a uh, little white-"

"No, no," he echoed -interrupting you, less confrontational, "-I kno' the place, got a friend 'at lives near ya. Just follow me."

And without another word, he waltzed off in front of you -focusing succinctly on a motorcycle. An old one, by the looks of it, well-maintained though -maybe there's an auto shop around here?

The purr of the engine was loud, even through your rolled-up windows. Something in you had expected heads to pop out of windows -words yelled, so when they didn't... you assumed he was a regular here.

Cranking your car, you slowly cruised to follow him. He seemed to be attentive to you being behind him -driving slow when you were certain it had seen far faster speeds. Maybe even earlier today actually-

You appreciated it, nonetheless.

It was a short journey, a few more turns, and a little bit more driving down roads aimlessly. All things considered though, you were very close to the center of town -where everything was sold and the only stores miles in any direction resided. So, you could work with it.

That being said, where the house was wasn't exactly suburban. There weren't pristine sidewalks and crosswalks, or only little patches of grass here and there. You had a yard -a flourishing yard with trees and flowers and just... open space.

The neighbors were close enough that you could see the house -a surprising sort of light blue paneling, but you could definitely see that their fence far surpassed your own. Their yard seemed almost to last forever, you could even see a barn far back from the back of the house -red, yes, but very worn by the weather, and if you truly listened you could actually hear the shuffle of some livestock.

Okay, so next door to a farm, you told yourself -lightly, -totally can do this.

Without another thought the man pulled off to the side in front of you -making way for you to pull into the driveway. A smooth sort of ease on the bike that made you assume he had years of practice. He certainly looked the part.

You got out of your car, roaming close to him at a comfortable distance (for him or you weren't sure). He didn't seem the type to want strangers close, but then again you weren't really, either.

"Thank you," you started, kind of awkwardly but you were meeting someone new so you let it slide -tone taking a casual sort of amusement, "-I appreciate the help. I know I would've been out there for hours if-"

"Don't sweat it," he echoed -kind of coldly but you didn't know him well enough to assume he meant it that way, "-anythin' else?"

"Uh," you started, "-the Elementary? It's back by the center, right?"

"Yep, can't miss it," he answered, shortly, "-if ya need anythin' else, I'm only a few houses down. Otherwise, people 'round 'ere are pretty friendly."

You smiled -at your very first success, "Okay, thank you, really... uh...?"

"Daryl," he puffed out -making no effort to move from his motorcycle, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Y/N," you offered back, "-Y/N Y/L/N."

And without another word -only a single swift nod of his head, he was gone. It was such a quick exchange that you almost thought for a moment you dreamed it -that you'd somehow gotten the memo of where the house was and he didn't exist at all. Which, to be fair, at the rate your brain was firing could definitely be plausible. You were a mix of something between relentlessly tired from the drive, and insanely stressed because well... You'd just up and moved your whole life for good reason, but still.

"Everythin' alright?"

You blinked and were met with yet another unknown face. Not that you expected to know anyone here -other than maybe a few faces your Grandma had stories of. But this man... you would've known him.

Tall with a head of brunette curls matted in a sort of dirt -the same dusted across his shoulders, you guessed, and encrusted into his fingernails. His eyes were a sort of blue that you considered people write poems about and along his tan jaw was a big bushy beard -something about it was untamed. Like he hadn't cared to brush through it that morning, or maybe just hadn't cared for it for a while. Still, somehow he looked good. Handsome, even.

"Oh, yeah, sorry-" you started -trying to calm the flush of him just waiting while you downright ogled him, "-I just, I got some help finding my new place. Kind of zoned out there, but I'm... I'm fine, really."

He raised an eyebrow, intently, "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," you softened slightly at the concern his tone held -something in you aching in realizing you hadn’t been concerned over in so long, "-just tired. 'Been a long drive."

"Where'd ya drive from?"

"Atlanta," you answered -far easier than you intended to (there was just something about him-).

"A very long drive," he chuckled -low timber of his voice rattling through your bones (something in you stiffened -not again), "-ya need any help with anythin'? I got some free hands."

"If you're not busy," you countered -exhaustion a distant rattle in the back of your body, ever present.

"Nah," he reassured, blue eyes flickering over you, "-I got stuff 'at can wait. If you don't mind waitin' a minute, I can get my son to help too."

"Well..." you responded, slow and awkward, "-thank you."

"No, really," he echoed, "-ain't a problem. I'm Rick, by the way, Rick Grimes."

You smiled, maybe a bit less of a polite one and more genuine then, "Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. Do you... Do you live around here?"

Rick laughed -a sort of deep chuckle that mostly felt warm in tone as he roamed towards some of the boxes, "Yeah, I'm uh... I'm actually y'er neighbor."

"Oh," you echoed out, as he seamlessly picked up three -like it was as light as a feather, "-really?"

"Yea'-" he spoke, hoisting up the boxes slightly and you suddenly realized just how snug his t-shirt was, "-blue house, big farm-"

And despite the flatline of your brain then, you still managed to remember the large plot of land right next to yours. The beautiful blue house was his, of course it was-

Handsome, strong, probably married neighbor, you tsked yourself -remembering the mention of a son, -totally can handle this. Totally cool with this.

This trip wasn't to ogle neighbors, it was to care for yourself and start fresh, and further your career-

"You okay?"

"What?" You startled in place, merely jumping actually, "-oh, yeah, just... a lot to do. And even more tomorrow."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes sweeping over you -like he couldn't read you, "Take it day by day, 'sure it'll all work out."

Correction. Handsome, strong, caring, probably married neighbor, you ran through your head -words anything but at your leisure.

God, you were so fucked.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #home is where the heart is #rick grimes x gn!reader

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