#still would dangle him off a cliff

[anesharem]

guys I gotta go PISS so BAD. GOOD MORJING

[saintgoths]

ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ

ARTHUR MORGAN

you and arthur sneak away from the camp to fuck.

P!LINKS

You both knew it was best to not do it at the camp, and the both of you couldn’t wait to go to Valentine’s hotel, impatience was something the two of you had fought when you went hand in hand and walked away from where everyone else had been, asleep, unaware of the lewd and obscene thoughts the two of you had shared and had wanted to do to each other that, ideas that would have Hosea’s doctrinal trait tremble and worry about the heavenly fate for the two of you.

The two of you had been at the land that you’d see if you had looked over the cliff at the camp, pressing hot kisses on each other’s mouths, each lips had softly burned against one another as you had impatiently peeled each other’s clothes, shakingly, you had breathed into Arthur’s mouth, heedless that his eyes had been wide open, not in a moment of disdain, but he had wanted to see you, had wanted to see how beautiful you had looked while kissing him, his heavy hands had pulled down your trousers and had made way between the dampness of your hearth.

You had struggled to hold back a moan as you could feel the pad of his rough fingers gentle move in a circular motion, he had slowly picked up his pace every two-circular gesture, and once you had pulled your lips away from him, he had attacked your neck with kisses as your restricted moans easily pressed into whiny cries. You had rested your chin against the wing of his right shoulder, had ghostly felt the solidness of his cock press against your enlarged clit, your eyes blurred with blissful tears as he had helped your jump to have your legs fold around his waist.

Your arms wrapped around his muscled shoulders as the swollen tip of his cock gently slipped inside of you, once you had felt the width of his shaft open you, you had pressed out a moan, echoes of lewd cries had spammed from the back of your throat and your orbs rolled to the back of your head, his heavy hands had gripped against the skin of your buttocks as a heavy grunt had flowed from the part of his lips. “Oh, you feel so good,” he muttered as he had stood still, taking in the warmth of your pussy fore he started to rock himself.

Chests pressed against each other, the friction of your bodies moving in sync had moved Arthur into a fiery episode, the beginning of the duration being agnate to the beginning of scalding water, his face angled to look at you as your moans had slipped a shriek and a wail every time you had felt the curve of his cock slip and embrace the soft ranges of your cunt, your sex tight and moist had captured him into an erotic prison of affection, Arthur had moved his hips upwards as your curved feet dangled off the ground, he was slow at first, but as the seconds progressed you had felt him become more animalistic.

He had been so substantial with how he had used you, how stout the skin slapping had been whenever he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, the short strands of his beard had tickled against your skin and the brisky and heavy breathing that had slipped out of his mouth had gently moved passed your ear, your eyes had addled, your hands balled up as your lips shuddered as you struggled to release a moan, he had felt so good and had pounded you into an obscene silence.

You had arched your back, your head tilted in reverse as you finally gathered the strength to speak. “More, more!” You had intensely requested, the fizzy climax building up in your body as your natural fluids continue to coat his length, you had felt yourself twitch, your eyes flicker while your nails dug into his skin, he had moved one hand to support your back just as he resumed drill himself inside of you, the arch of his size had harshly massaged your walls, you could feel him blink and jerk inside of you, you could feel the way he had trembled, how he had wanted to come inside of you, and whenever Arthur wanted to cum, he became more vocal.

“So deep inside of you,” he had commented as his cock continue to slop inside of you, gaped loud wet and lewd sounds from the damp and slippery friction. “Let me fill you up, let me,” he began to repeat, his eyes fanned as you looked at you through his eyelashes. His legs tense as his cum began to milk inside of you, spilling into distances that had brimmed and teemed inside of your cunt, you had choked out a gasp, stared up at the night sky as you could see your vision blur and re-adjust every second as your orgasm followed after.

“There you go,” he had muttered as he slowly rested you against the grass, and while you had resumed to sob and wail into the sky, your figure had fluttered as you could feel him thrust a couple more times before thawed a kiss against the sharpness of your jaw. He then moved his lips to your cheekbone, eyes still open as he examined the prettiness of your features, he had admired you, cherished and esteemed you in ways he hadn’t loved a woman before.

With a short smile, you had looked into his eyes, your fingers had been like the wind as the pads of your digits traced over his face. “Round two?” You suggested and with an agreeable smile, Arthur kissed you once more.

REFERENCE ONE

REFERENCE TWO

REFERENCE THREE

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel

[the-badger-mole]

Walk Around In Circles

Katara couldn't explain it. the sense of deja vu she got around Zuko. The moment he stepped off the boat and his eyes clashed with her furious glare, it felt familiar. Like she'd been waiting her entire life for this confrontation. But if Zuko felt it, he didn't let on. His focus arrow sharp on Aang.

The next time she felt it, she'd been tied to a tree. That part was new. What felt familiar was his pleas for understanding, and her ire at his audacity. The nerve of him! Still putting his pride and his country's valor over what was right.

Still?

Katara's anger was forgotten in that instant. What did still mean? The question was promptly chased away from her mind when he dangled her dearest treasure, her mother's necklace before her face. She had never been here before. She didn't recognize the uncertainty behind Zuko's bravado. She did not want to take his hand and lead him away from his foolish pursuit. She just wanted her mother's necklace back, and if she had to pry it from his cold dead fingers, she would.

Two times, a cave sent her reeling. The first time, was when she heard about them. Oma and Shu. Two lovers divided by the animosity of their people. What had they been fighting about, Katara had wondered. What was so important that Shu had to die before it could be resolved? Was was so unimportant that Oma and Shu thought their love could thrive in spite of it. The second time, Zuko had landed at her feet. Had anyone asked her about it later, she wouldn't have been able to explain her sense of betrayal. She'd let Zuko in. She had actually thought the part of her that recognized something in him had been telling her that she was seeing the good in him. But he'd made her look and feel more foolish than she'd ever felt in her life. From then on she was determined to squelch any sense of familiarity she felt towards him.

When he arrived, begging to even be their prisoner, Katara felt a type of rage she didn't have a name for. That was new. There were so many things in her life that enraged her, and she knew the feeling well, but this particular flavor of rage was new. It made her want to throw Zuko off of the cliff. It made her want to pummel his chest until it caved under her bare fists. It made her want to claw at him demanding to know why he betrayed her. How he could do it after everything.

After everything.

That gave Katara pause again. There was no everything. There was only a stupid girl who thought she saw something in a dark cave that wasn't really there. So when she went to Zuko that night, when she threatened his life, she was shutting a door. Building a stone wall. He would never get that close to her again.

He held her. They had left her mother's murderer alive, and she felt too many things to call it any one emotion, but it came out in tears, and Zuko didn't complain once as she sobbed into his shoulder. He held her and murmured soothing words that only made her cry harder. Promises that she did what was right for her. That her mother would be proud. That he was proud. That there was nothing wrong with what she chose. That Yon Rah was the most pathetic creature on the planet, and if she changed her mind, he would gladly take her back to put him out of everyone's misery. That made Katara laugh, even through the tears. It was just the sort of half joke he would make.

She didn't know that. She didn't know him well enough to know that. But...she did know that. As certainly as she knew the desert was hot and water was wet.

After that. She knew more. She knew his sense of humor (which no one else but Toph understood), and how to read when the tension in his shoulders was just annoyance and when it was actually something he needed to talk about. She knew when he needed space from everyone (though he never seemed to mind her presence). She knew his crooked smile (he only ever seemed to let her see it). She knew his scent (because she did his laundry with everyone else's, of course...). She knew that he liked having his scalp scratched, even though she had never actually done it himself.

She knew that he would die for her.

The despair she felt seeing him fall to Azula's lightning hurt the more for the familiarity. She would not let him die. Not this time.

There was no time for her to question that. This time. This was the first time he'd risked his life for her. They hadn't been friends that long. Still, when she beat Azula, there was nothing on Katara's mind except getting to Zuko's side. She could help him (this time she could help him). And when his flesh came together under her hands, and he took a deep breath, and Katara felt like she could breath again, too, it felt like she had been able to right a deep wrong.

It had been a long time since she'd stopped being bothered by the sense of deja vu. She didn't know how to explain it, but she felt as if she'd known Zuko forever. When they kissed for the first time, though...oh, it felt like coming home. Katara sank into his embrace and she fit in his arms so well. When she leaned in to kiss him again, and she didn't question the rightness of it. There was no thought in her mind at all except one.

Oh! How I've missed you, my love.

[flowercrowngods]

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

[thepixelelf]

warnings: almost drowning, attempted human sacrifice, mentions of death. wc: 660

[meet me beneath the waves] The rocks just below the foaming froth of the sea — hidden to anyone above and yet so close to the surface one could stand atop and still reach the air with their fingertips — are cruel and unforgiving. To any stranger, they slant and protrude in unfamiliar ways. All townsfolk know to stay clear of the cliff's edge, where tales of hardship and misery against these rocks have been warned for years.

Jeonghan lies on a small bed of sand among the familiar chaos of the sea floor, not at all unwelcome to the jagged rocks surrounding him. His hands rest casually behind his head as he stares up through the froth of the surface. Glimpses of the sky festival greet him in moments through the white waves; colourful balloons and kites with long, extravagant streamers dangling from the seams fill the blue sky.

For the humans, another year has come and gone. They launch meaningless items and intricacies into the air from the nearby beach instead of the cliffs, all of them still too afraid of the sea and yet fascinated by the sky.

He calls the traditions meaningless, but each year, he finds himself returned to the sand bed near the cliffs, eyes focused on the sky's colourful interruptions.

It is peaceful until you fall.

Your back breaches the water directly above him, and his eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. One of your hands is outstretched, uselessly reaching for the surface while you remain motionless. Two red, floating ribbons adorn your wrists.

You sink and sink and sink, unmoving if not for the way you come closer and closer.

Entranced, he reaches up towards you, his fingertips brushing your flowy white garb.

You jolt.

As if life rushes through you with a second chance, you twist in the water to see Jeonghan. Shock paints your face, and he watches the realization set in.

He is a water walker, he sees in your eyes. You are going to die. He is going to kill you.

Perhaps if he hadn't come today for the festival, you would have fallen off the cliffs and found the end of your life in the rocks and the waves. Perhaps if he watched from somewhere safer you would have let yourself sink and sink and sink some more.

Perhaps if the human who had undoubtedly thrown you from the cliff's edge — the red ribbons a symbol of sacrifice from generations passed — had chosen to do so only so many feet to the left or right, you would have died.

But fate landed you above this sand bed, above him.

You want to swim away, to escape, he can see that, but the harsh impact from when you hit the water has made your muscles stiff and weak. The air is quickly leaving your lungs.

He reaches up again and grabs both your wrists, pulling you closer through the water. You thrash against his hold, eyes scrunched shut in fear as you vehemently shake your head.

Not like this, he feels in your movement. Please, not like this.

His hands cover the red ribbons — he can't stand to look at them and the human fears they represent — and he presses his thumbs into the palms of your hands. You continue to fight back, but the energy behind it seeps out of you. If you weren't surrounded by saltwater, Jeonghan thinks you would be crying.

He knows what he will do next will not be approved, but he can't find it in himself to care.

The cruel world of humans may have rejected you, but the sea will take you in.

Before the life can drain from you completely, he removes one hand from your wrist and moves it to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. Jeonghan presses his lips to the cold skin of your forehead; a blessing no human above surface knows.

And you breathe again.

[thornnii]

Saw that you request open so: show!percy jackson x daughter of Eris!reader set just after battle of the labyrinth?

⎯ ☆ chaos in the rain

genre: brief angst to fluff wordcount: 1.1k pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader tags: daughter of eris!reader (she/her pronouns), reader hiding out to avoid doing work to rebuild/repair camp after the battle against luke/kronos' army, set after the events of botl, established relationship, probably some inaccuracies summary: what started off as hiding from chores turns into a conversation about oranges notes: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! I hope really hope you like this anon ♡♡

↳ return to masterlist

camp was alive with activity after the battle between camp half-blood and luke, or rather kronos's, army. there was a fair amount of damage done to the camp and mr d and chiron had delegated jobs to fix the camp to the different cabins. [reader] sat with her feet dangling off the edge of the cliff by the netball court. technically she was meant to be helping the rest of the hermes cabin and the other unclaimed kids that she bunked with- not that she was unclaimed, she was claimed by her mother a while ago, but there was no cabin for eris at camp half-blood.

'it was like staring out over a beehive' [reader] concluded as she watched the rest of camp from her perch. she pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged before tugging her small satchel bag, filled with snacks she'd been storing up throughout the year, into her lap. it was odd, usually the girl would revel in chaos and destruction, but this time all she could feel was this weird hollowness that seemed to weigh her down as she munched on her stolen goodies. maybe it was because it wasn’t chaos by her hand, or that it had affected the people and the things she had grown to cherish. oh well, it wasn’t going to come to her now, maybe in hindsight whatever she was experiencing would be more obvious.

as [reader] ate and watched the activity of the camp below her a soft mist began to envelop camp half-blood. [reader]’s fellow campers stopped to look up at the sky, embracing the cold patter of rain compared to the humid air that still permeated the area post the violence it had just experienced. [reader] couldn’t imagine the immeasurable pain some campers may be feeling, losing a sibling in such a brutal way. with the negative thoughts swimming around her head, she reached for the golden apple keychain on her bag. a golden apple was one of eris's symbols and it always helped to calm [reader], to make her feel connected to her mother.

[reader] stiffened slightly at the almost indiscernible sound of light footsteps against the wet grass of the volleyball courts. almost as soon as her ears caught the sound, the rain that had been splashing down on her stopped. a small smile graced [reader]’s features. “hi percy.”

“how’d you know it was me?” she could hear the pout on his lips without even needing to turn around and see it.

“percy,” she finally turned around to face him, “there are only two children of poseidon at camp, and only you have been training to try and stop the rain. ever since you saw katara do it in avatar.” [reader] mumbled the last part. percy gave a laugh and landed a playful slap to [reader]’s shoulder as he sat down beside her. she just smiled.

[reader] pulled her hoodie closer around her. even though percy had created a small rainless bubble for them, the wind was still cold as it swept through camp. percy must’ve seen the chill run through [reader] as he pulled her closer to him, resting her head on top of his shoulder. “some agent of chaos you are.”

the two sat there for a while just watching their fellow demigods flitter about. the dark sky of the early morning began to be tinted with dusty pinks and vibrant oranges as the sun made its first peak over the horizon. it was a stupidly peaceful moment considering all that had just passed, but, nevertheless, it was welcomed.

the relationship between [reader] and percy had many raising their eyebrows, wondering how anyone could possibly feel stable with a child of eris. but percy accepted [reader]’s chaotic nature with open arms. and while [reader] encouraged percy to be more impulsive and reckless (than he already was), percy helped to ground [reader]. yin and yang.

“orange slice?” [reader] offered.

“got a blue one?” percy joked as he took the slice presented to him.

“if I find a blue orange, I promise I will get it for you.” [reader] grinned, placing a chaste kiss to the blond’s cheek.

“do think it’s actually possible to turn and orange blue?” percy’s eyebrows were now scrunched in thought as he genuinely considered his question. yet it fell on deaf ears. the sun was continuing to rise as it washed camp half-blood in its soft glow, but all [reader] could focus on was the way it illuminated percy’s features, how it made his eyes sparkle. it wasn’t until percy turned to face [reader] properly that she realised he was waiting for her to reply.

“sorry, what’d you say?” she blushed.

“I was wondering if a blue orange was actually possible.” percy repeated.

“I doubt it. besides you wouldn’t really be able to call it an orange anymore if it wasn’t orange.” [reader] grinned toothily at the absurdity of the question. “also I’d be kinda concerned about the taste.”

“what d’you mean ‘the taste’?”

“well aren’t you putting, like, food colouring or whatever in it to change the colour?”

percy shook his head, “no, I’m talking about a naturally occurring blue orange.”

[reader]’s eyebrows creased in further confusion. “I think naturally occurring is impossible, perc. it’s gonna have had to been changed magically or artificially or something, y’know. and even if you did find this infamous blue orange anyway, what would you call it?”

“a blue.” it was said with such confidence that it caught [reader] off-guard for a second. not that she was really sure why she should’ve been expecting anything else.

“a blurange.” she countered.

“blurange?” percy repeated, his previous confidence replaced with confusion.

“sure. if we are setting this in a world where blue oranges aren’t the norm then it makes sense to brand it as something that people already know, so you take ‘blue’ and ‘orange’ and smash ‘em together: ‘blurange’.” as [reader] explained her side of it percy couldn’t help but nod along. what she said made sense, but…

“but ‘blue’ is funny, cause it’s, like, ironic and shit.” percy crossed his arms and pouted like a toddler that had just been told ‘no’ to a new toy. it made [reader] smile at her boyfriend’s silliness. she gave him another quick kiss to the cheek which only seemed to cause his pout to deepen and her smile to widen.

“agree to disagree?” she held the final slice of orange out towards him like a peace offering.

percy took the slice, stuffing it in his mouth in one and muttering a muffled ‘agreed’.

© thornnii.tumblr.com 2024

[ngayawneluoer]

the thrill of the chase

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sully siblings x metkayinan reader

You visit the home of your Omatikayan friends, and Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk encourage you to get into a bit of trouble and do something you’ve never done before: bond with an ikran.

word count: 2045

a/n: as always nobody fact check this bc i really should have done more research BUT ALAS enjoy

When your parents finally agreed to let you visit the Omatikayan lands, you figured your stay would include some introductions, sightseeing, and maybe some casual shenanigans. The Omatikayan village was rich with culture, and you revelled in the people's hospitality, but it wasn't long until your friends pulled you away from the adults and dragged you into trouble. Silly of you to think it would include something other than scaling mountains.

"This is… harder than it seems," You groaned, slightly trembling as you scaled the jagged rocks of the Hallelujah mountains. It was somewhat embarrassing for you, as even Tuk was racing ahead of you, but you kept telling yourself that you were just in a new environment and that it was expected of you to make mistakes.

"Not so easy when you're the fish out of water, is it?" Lo'ak teased, golden eyes peering down at you from the ledge where he, Tuk and Kiri had stopped to wait for you. Neteyam was right beside you, ready to assist if you struggled too much.

"Steady. Don't force yourself," Neteyam encouraged, an amused smile on his face.

You huffed, trying to hide how you strained with every step, "I'm not a baby, you know. I can climb a cliff without- shit!" Your right hand slipped from the jagged cliffside, and you cut your sentence off with a shriek. Thank Eywa for Neteyam, who had caught your waist to keep you stable and lifted you to hold the branch above you.

"Easy…" Neteyam reassured, hand still on your back as you regained your grip.

"What was that about climbing a cliff?" Lo'ak taunted playfully, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Kiri.

Just what you deserve for getting cocky, you supposed.

Tuk peeked down, her sweet eyes filled with concern for you, "(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your first instinct was to say no; no, you were not okay because you were dangling from a floating boulder and if you fell, there was virtually zero chance of survival. And yet somehow, you couldn't say this was the most threatening situation you've been in. You survived a war. You could climb a rock.

"I'm fine, Tuk. Almost there."

Lo'ak turned to Kiri, "Should one of us tell them that we are definitely not almost there?"

"I heard that!" You retorted, scowling at the man above you.

"Less talking, more climbing!" Kiri laughed, "Even Tuk did it."

Neteyam rolled his eyes, "Ignore those skxawngs. You're doing great for your first time climbing this high."

"You can do it, (Y/N)!" Tuk cheered, her little hands clapping to cheer you on. You groaned in effort but continued pushing on.

When you finally reached the ledge, you threw yourself onto your back between Lo'ak and Kiri, "I regret ever teasing you for being useless in Metkayina," you whined, sincerity to your words, "I feel like a child here. Except even a child is more capable than me."

"Come on, you big baby. You haven't even gotten to the good part." Neteyam beamed with burgeoning excitement, clutching your arm to pull you back to your feet.

"I swear, swimming is so much more painless than all this. We have it easy back home." You spoke.

"I wouldn't say that. It took Lo'ak forever to get used to riding an ilu." Kiri reminisced as she strolled forward down the path, disappearing into the flora.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, "Sure. Use me as the object of ridicule once again."

"Well it is true!" Tuk giggled with a mischievous grin on her face.

Lo'ak huffed, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he attempted to lecture Tuk, "Easy for you; you're a kid," he blurted, "Everyone carries you around; you never even had to learn to ride one!"

Neteyam scoffed, a look of disbelief on his face, "Lo'ak, she is seven."

Kiri stalked back with an exasperated look on her face, "Are you guys coming or not?"

"It is Lo'ak's fault, all he does is talk!" you quipped playfully with a smile, knowingly trying to get under his skin.

"I will push you off this mountain."

-

After a bit more bickering and a lot more climbing, you found yourselves close to the mountain peak, a large waterfall framing the path you assumed you were to take.

The five of you connected hands, with Tuk between Neteyam and Lo'ak, followed by you and Kiri. Cautiously, you all crept along the ledge behind the waterfall to reach a clearing with a myriad of ikrans. Finally, you all climbed onto some nearby rocks overlooking the creatures.

"They are beautiful," You whispered with a peaceful smile.

"They are," Lo'ak agreed, turning to you with a suspicious smirk, "Now you will tame one."

You spun to him in surprise, your brow furrowed in annoyance, "What?"

The four siblings tried to hold their laughs in but miserably failed.

"Do it, (Y/N)! We learned to ride ilus. Now you need to learn to ride an ikran." Kiri egged on, Tuk accompanying her with "Yes"s.

You looked to Neteyam for a semblance of help, but he merely shrugged as if to say you were on your own.

"No! What if I fall?" you sneered.

"I'll call my ikran, and we'll catch you," Neteyam quipped confidently.

"Where is your ikran exactly?" You challenged.

"Close by," Neteyam replied, "...probably."

"Neteyam!" you whined, slapping his arm.

Said boy snickered softly, a cheeky grin on his face, "I am only joking! I promise you will not die; I will catch you."

"Well what if they attack me?"

"They won't attack you," Lo'ak replied, "All at once."

You scowled at him suspiciously, "Your wording was awfully specific."

"I was just answering your question!" Lo'ak exclaimed, trying to mask a giggle as he threw his hands up defensively.

"(Y/N). You're not alone. We will help if we see you are about to die." Kiri chuckled.

You gave in with a sigh of irritation, "Okay. Fine," After a moment's reflection, you looked out at the sea of ikrans feeling somewhat determined, "So I just pick one?"

"Wellll… not really," Neteyam trailed off, a slightly guilty grimace on his face.

"Okay," you deadpanned, "How do I know which one to choose?"

"It will attack you," Lo'ak stated bluntly.

If looks could kill, Lo'ak would be dead.

"You forest people must have a death wish."

You knew you most definitely should not be doing this; your mother would probably lecture you until the end of time if she knew what you were doing. And yet there you were, making your way through the ikrans, about to tame one. You could faintly hear the four siblings cheering you on in the background, but you were primarily focused on not getting mauled to death by the enormous creatures. You were so out of your comfort zone when it came to ikrans. They were big, fast, vicious; how those morons managed to convince you to do this, you will never know.

You walked across the clearing, eyes darting cautiously at every sudden movement. To your dismay, every ikran you approached flew away, and as you counted up to 10 creatures flying away, you started to get discouraged.

Your shoulders slumped in bitter disappointment, and you turned back to the group watching you, "I don't think this is working."

"Keep going!" Kiri exclaimed amongst the acclamations of her siblings.

This was humiliating. 

"Please, they are all leaving!" You pouted slightly, pleading with Eywa that they'll let you off the hook and allow you to return.

Suddenly, Neteyam's eyes widened, his body lurching forward and his hands anxiously clasping the mossy branch in front of him, "Watch out!"

A hiss sounded behind you, and you released a shriek as you dove away from the sound and rolled to face the creature that had chosen you as its target. The admittedly gorgeous banshee stepped towards you, a menacing look in its eye as it screeched in your face, sharp teeth bared.

"Took your time, didn't you?" You taunted, standing to face the creature before hissing at it. The two of you circled each other before it dove forward, and you skillfully manoeuvred out of the way to avoid its razor-sharp fangs. Finally, you grabbed its head, wrapping both arms and legs around its neck to attempt to control it.

"Fight it!" Lo'ak screamed.

"Make the bond!" Kiri joined.

You grappled with the mighty reptile as it fought back viciously, but you somehow found the strength to overpower it and connect your queues. Immediately the ikran calmed, and you felt the bond you formed with the creature deep in your bones. A gleeful laugh escaped your throat as your ikran stood slowly with you on its back.

Neteyam breathed a sigh of relief, releasing the iron grip he had on the flora around him. Lo'ak only laughed, playfully punching his brother's shoulder, "I told you they could do it, Neteyam."

Kiri wasted no time and leapt over the rocks to meet you, her siblings in tow.

"You must fly now to seal the bond," she proclaimed.

"You've got this. It's like an ilu. Just no water," Lo'ak said cheekily.

You turned to Neteyam, who was now carrying Tuk on his back, "Trust yourself. We'll be right behind you."

You nodded, breathing deep and turning to face the cliff, staring at the sky ahead. And when you felt that both you and your banshee were ready, you commanded it to fly.

It jerked suddenly, and you released a loud shriek as it nosedived off the mountain. Your body lifted off its back until the only thing keeping you connected was your iron grip on its antennae (and your prayers). Just as you managed to pull back and get the ikran to glide straight, it flew directly into a waterfall, stunning you and making you lose focus. The poor animal tried its best to fly but panicked once again, fluttered directly into a cliffside, then up and down... and up and down again. It would have been an understatement to say you were doing terribly, and the harder you tried to gain control, the harder it was.

"(Y/N)!" You turned to the sound of your name being called to see Lo'ak to your left on his own ikran, "Steady! Stay calm, and your ikran will listen!"

Taking deep breaths, you tried your best to focus on the sound of Lo'ak speaking and calm yourself down. To your delight, eventually your ikran levelled out, soaring straight.

"Yes, (Y/N)! You're flying!" An adorable, excited voice cheered. You turned to your right to see Tuk hanging on Neteyam's back as he flew his ikran. Neteyam wore a huge, proud smile, and he whooped along with his little sister.

Behind you was Kiri on her ikran, one arm in the air as she bellowed excitedly. A proud smile took over your face, and you let out an enthusiastic trill, your friends joining you.

When it was apparent that you had your flying under control, Neteyam spoke up, "Follow me! I'll take us somewhere you will not believe."

-

"You did what?!" Neytiri hissed. The five of you stood in a row in front of her, gazes lowered and ears pointing back in shame.

"Their parents trust us to look after them for three days, and you take them to do one of the most dangerous things they could have done here?" Jake joined, primarily lecturing his two sons, who he knew were most likely the instigators.

Lo'ak huffed, "They're fine, though."

"Yes, I am fine-"

"They could have died!" Neytiri yelled, "And you took Tuk with you? What were you thinking?!"

You were silly to even try to get a word in. There would clearly not be any winning this argument, so you all hung your heads in shame and accepted the lecture.

"-and no more causing trouble. For the one day (Y/N) has left here. Can you do that?" Jake concluded.

You all answered with obedient "Yes sir"s before moping away in silence.

When you were far enough away from the two adults, you finally let out the giggle you had been holding back, and the others joined in.

"So worth it."

-

a/n: currently working on some requests :) thank you to everyone who has been giving attention to my posts and sending in requests, it makes me so happy! i’m seeing avatar 2 again tomorrow so hopefully it will strike some inspiration again <3

[stuck-in-jelly]

Details i think about constantly from the novelizations of The Dragon Prince:

King Harrow made that doggy door for Bait himself instead of letting the royal carpenter do it

Viren calls hugs ‘familial clasp’

Amaya makes Ezran and Callum a full breakfast at the Banther Lodge and is described as ‘A breakfast connoisseur’

Corvus wears a cloak in his initial appearance

When Viren first tries to sieze the crown he fully puts on coronation robes before Amaya stops the ceremony (side note i couldn’t stop laughing thinking about it in terms of having your wedding crashed)

When Gren hesitates translating Amaya saying ‘Bullshit’ she turns to him and signs ‘Say it.’

Its stated that Soren ‘adored Callum and Ezran.’ And he hoped that they were still alive (said when Viren told him to kill the princes)

When Ezran was drowning in the icy water trying to get Zym he dreamt of his mother hugging him

Soren pretended he thought Claudia’s nose tap was stupid whenever their dad was around cause Viren thought it was stupid. But when their dad wasn’t around Soren would tap his nose in response to her

Soren calls Claudia “a daddy’s girl” (way to drive in the foreshadowing)

King Harrow was going to listen to Sarai and not kill the titan but Viren told The Queens of Duren the cost Katolis would pay and they refused help if Harrow’s Kingdom was to suffer as well

Corvus waited for Claudia to leave for the bathroom cause he knew he wouldnt be able to fool her but could fool Soren. Only reason he didn’t make it was cause Claudia came back just in time to trap him again

Oh yeah Ezran not only can speak to animals and sense their emotions. He can FEEL their pain. He felt Pyrrah’s pain when she was shot.

Opeli during a council meeting with Harrow as king objected one of his ideas then became scared she would demoted or killed but Harrow assigned her head of the council that day

Ezran recognizes Corvus? (Possibly cause he was in Amaya’s Battalion)

When Soren makes his Dragon Smash Boy ‘Haiku’ and Claudia tells him he got the wrong number of syllables he yells “Well, Im rebelling against the tyranny of the Haiku!”

Claudia was in the puzzle house when Viren and Kpp’Ar got into their argument and accidentally overheard them

Amaya initially offered her hand to Janai when she was dangling off the cliff but Janai refused it.

[almostwisegalaxy]

the choice that breaks us

Cha hyun su x reader

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That afternoon, hyun su went out to get supplies and also to visit Ah-yi. As he left, he promised his beloved that he would return safely. All was well in his absence. Well, as well as could be expected in a post-apocalyptic world.

Yes, everything was fine. But one thing was bothering y/n. For some time she had suspected she was pregnant. She wasn't sure of anything. Maybe her hormones were playing tricks on her after a thousand and one monster attacks. Yes, that must be it. SHE COULDN'T BE PREGNANT. Of course she couldn't be.

How could she raise a child in this totally ravaged world. She thanked God every sunrise that she, hyun su, Ah-yi and yi-kyeong were still wanted. They were all she had left after all.

But just affirming that she couldn't be didn't reassure her.

Delulu IS not a solulu

Even though she'd made a promise to hyun su to stay inside and be safe. And took a map and her bag to the nearest pharmacy two blocks away. What could possibly happen to her? Death? Who knows.

"Just go, everything will be fine. You'll get your pregnancy test, find out you're not pregnant and hyun su won't find out".

On the way, she makes sure there's no monster. When she could barely see their little house, the muscle monster appeared in front of her. He grabbed her by the feet, dangling her in the air ready to devour her. She had the reflex to pull out her knife from....... je ne sais où and slice off his body-built hand. She landed flat on her stomach, bleeding and confused. Her vision was foggy, in her ears she could only hear white noise. There she lay, agonizing on the grass, looking around hoping to regain her sight.

She needed only a moment to formulate a plan. She revealed herself, running with all her being towards the nearby cliff with Musculor behind her. Just as she needed to jump, she veered to her left as quickly as possible. The monster, too slow on the trigger, falls off the cliff.

"Proteins. !!!!!" He continues to shout despite his fall.

She stands up in pain. No time to rest, she has to get home before hyun su. Resuming her walk towards the pharmacy, she didn't notice hyun su who had witnessed the scene. He had tried to help her with the monster, but he was too far away. He had shouted her name several times, begging her to come back home. But not a reaction from her. For her it was just a blur, but for him it was something else. He'd seen her looking at him, and she'd seen him clearly, but she'd just chosen to ignore his pleas, his tears and him. He was hurt.He was wounded. Why she rejects him. He ends up alone with his monster, who keeps telling him he's unworthy of love and that she hates him.

She returned home that evening without any further complications. She was prepared to see a possibly distraught Hyun Su when she got home, but she explained everything to him. Instead, she found her rooms in disarray, not her beloved. She panics and thinks that something has happened to him. She runs around looking for him.

She finds him after Ah-yi pushes Eun-yoo into the ditch and Hyun su saves her.

"Did you think I was going to give you a reunion hug? "He said.

"Yes, I hoped so." This time it was Eun-yoo who spoke.

She tries to approach him, but he stops her with the acid from his claws, once and then again before she stops.

He withdrew his claws. Finally he saw me, but he had a strange reaction. His eyes stared at me, he began to tremble, and his eyes filled with tears.

I tried to approach him gently, but like second nature, his claws stopped in front of my eyes.

"Don't you dare come near me," he said, shaking.

"Hyun Su-"

"Are you deaf? I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM ME."

He finds himself taking Ah-yi's hand and off they go. Ah-yi is confused as to why two of the people he cares about are suddenly fighting.

Y/n returns home upset. Why did he react so aggressively? It doesn't fit.

The next morning, Y/n goes to the hospital where she heard human voices, hoping to find Hynsu.

At the entrance I meet Ah-yi, who stops me.

"Eonni! "She says and runs into my arms.

"Hey, angel. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Nuna, have you been crying? Is it because Oppa yelled at you yesterday?"

"Don't worry about it, as soon as I sort him out we'll come and visit you and your mom, okay?" I said between two kisses.

If only she knew

"Come on, back to the boat."

I continued my search for Hyun Su but ran into Eun-yoo who blocked my way.

"Don't you understand that he doesn't want you anymore?"

"Eun-yoo, get out of my way.

"No, I won't. Leave him alone for once. Always following him around like a dog, you're getting pathetic."

"You criticize my life as if yours is a good example.

"Leave him the hell alone"

"I have found the most amazing, beautiful, kind, sweet boy who makes me smile every time I see him. He makes me feel like I'm special, beautiful, worth so much, and he makes me feel loved more than ever.

And you want me to leave him with you? "

I say my last word and leave him alone in his corner.

I finally find him sitting on a bed. Just breathe, everything will be fine.

I enter the room and walk over to him. He looks at me. His eyes are not the same. He holds out his hand, and I take it hesitantly. Somehow I end up in his lap and he begins to hug me.

"Hmmm. I've always wanted to do this, but that idiot always refused".

I stand up and elicit a disappointed sigh from him.

"I want to talk to MY hyun Hyun Su."

"Are you sure? I won't be able to do anything if he takes control again.

"Yes, bring him in."

His eyes returned to normal and he turned away from me.

"What are you doing here? Haven't you hurt me enough?"

"I assure you that was not my intention, I just wanted to..."

"Just what? Get away from me? Leave me? Do you hate me so much that you'd run away in my absence? You could have at least told me to my face," he said, tears streaming from his eyes.

"No, it's not that I-"

"YOU WHAT? A MONSTER CAN HAVE FEELINGS TOO, YOU KNOW...YOUR DECISIONS HAVE REPERCUSSIONS ON THOSE AROUND YOU. I CAN'T STAND THAT YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME OR OUR RELATIONSHIP."

"You think I don't care? I took this risk for us."

"For us? Ah, that's a good one. Don't lie to me," he got a few things in his face, looking closer he saw a positive pregnancy test.

"If you'd at least let me finish. That's why I left yesterday. I had to be sure before I told you. "She said angrily and crying.

Meanwhile, Hyun Su's eyes shifted from her to the object in his hands. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Yes, I took a risk yesterday and I'm sorry I worried you, but-"

"It's okay. I apologize for upsetting you like that. It's okay," he cradles her in his arms as she breaks down crying on top of him.

He lifts her chin with two fingers and kisses her passionately. A kiss of reconciliation, soft, slow and full of emotion. After a moment, they separated and looked at each other.

"Can you forgive me? I got carried away. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should say it, I left without telling you".

"Hey, it's okay now, let's forget about it. We don't have anything else to do now. We have to prepare for the arrival of our child."He pulled her towards the bed.

"Now come here, you must be tired after so many emotions."

They lay down, still kissing each other so lovingly

Yes eun-yoo was forgotten. AGAIN

[badsongpetey]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

The Water Guardian (aka Cryptid Keith AU) Part 10

The irony of climbing, at least for Lance, is that it makes it hard to talk, and talking is his forte. Well, maybe that’s not the actual irony, which is for once in Lance’s life, he’s glad for a reason to stay silent.

The cliff is moderately challenging, it wouldn’t be so bad with ropes or at least chalk for his hands, but as it is, it’s taking a good deal of his concentration not to misstep, and to keep up with Keith. Gone is Keith’s hesitance and fear, replaced by something intense, something urgent, and Lance is doing his best not to fall too far behind.

If he’s being honest, he’d kind of hoped getting out a bit would help Keith shake off his nerves. The Keith he’s grown to know is far from timid. He’s brave, and smart, and kind, and.. FUCK! Lance’s hand slips with his concentration just as he’d shifted his weight and now he’s dangling by the other hand over 100 feet up.

“LANCE!” Keith yells from above him. “Lance! I’m coming!”

Lance grunts and uses the momentum of his swing to grab onto another handhold and stabilize himself.

“I’m okay.” He says through clenched teeth. “I…” he grunts again, louder, as he pulls himself up to the next foothold, “… I got this.”

He hears something move over the rocks above him, and then suddenly Keith is right next to him, eyes wide with fear. “Lance! Are you hurt?”

Lance scoffs. Here he is, winded and clutching the cliff face like a long lost lover, and this asshole doesn’t even have the grace to be out of breath. “I’m okay, hot shot. Don’t get your mullet in a twist.”

Keith makes a sour face at that, but doesn’t move from Lance’s side.

“I’m okay. I just need a sec, just to catch my breath.”

Keith nods and lets out a breath, purely from relief and not exertion Lance jealously notes. “Guess that makes me King of the Cliffs.”

The guffaw that takes over Lance is completely unfiltered. “Oh my god, this isn’t a competition!”

Keith sniffs thoughtfully, “I agree, you really haven’t been much competition.”

“I think I liked you better when you hid from me.” Lance laughs.

“Ah,” Keith says softly, still close, “I think that’s not true at all.”

Lance’s breath catches. This close Keith’s eyes are swirling galaxies of violet and flame, and he can’t imagine any creature, human or dragon, could have eyes more beautiful. Then those eyes turn to look up.

“I think we’re over halfway there. I could carry you…”

“YOU CANNOT!” Lance sputters. “I do not need to be carried, by you, or anyone, anywhere. I’m fine. I’m great. I can carry myself, thank you. Not.”

Keith blinks and chuckles. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry to suggest your majesty is anything but completely self-reliant.”

“Ah-HA! See! You acknowledge my victory!” Lance shouts, triumphant.

Keith slides away, giving Lance room to move. “Yeah, yeah, King of the Falls.”

“Your Majesty.” Lance corrects.

Keith shakes his head. “Does it offend his royal ego if I hang back and climb, so very painfully slowly, next to him?”

“His highness is offended by the wording of the offer, not the offer itself.” Lance sniffs, holding back a smile.

Keith sighs theatrically, “I’ll take what I can get.”

Lance doesn’t stop the smile as he resumes climbing, grateful to have Keith by his side for more reasons than he can spare the brainpower to think about.

Continued on:

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 20

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 20: dark desires

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"What do you want Husker?" I knew he was crossing when he first stepped out of the house. I sat just beyond the tree line with my back against a large oak. I had heard the door close, the sway of grass as he walked, his steps, his breathing, and felt his red magic about half way across the field.

I had barely slept last night. I woke up before dawn and made my way to my new sitting spot. I could hear the crash of the waves at the bottom of the cliff and the whirl of the wind across the field. The peaceful serenity was nice. The calm, external environment was helping me figure out how to feel internally. Until Husker showed up at dawn.

"I wanted to check on you." He stepped out from behind the tree.

"I'm fine. Never better. Why do you ask?" I had my legs pulled up and my arms dangling over them. I kept my one hand covering the bruised one.

"I thought maybe you would be happy that the curse is finally gone. But...you obviously don't feel that way."

"I shouldn't..." I pressed my lips into my shoulder to keep myself from spilling. I wasn't sure why I didn't want to talk about it with Husker. I had told him plenty before but this time I was hesitant.

"I'm usually good at guessing what's wrong," he tried, "but this time I'm a little lost. Did something else happen? Was there a memory?"

"No, he...I didn't..." I wrapped my arms around my legs and leaned my cheek into them. I was still holding my human form but I could sense everything as if I was in my Demon form.

My hands shifted so the bruise shone a little. Husker pointed and asked, "May I?" So I let him brush his claws across my injured hand, the muscle and skin popping and fixing itself. I turned my head the other way and gritted my teeth from the pain.

When he was done, I withdrew my hand to my chest and stared off into the forest. Husker was quiet. He sat in silence with me for a long time. I could hear his breathing and his presence sat on the outside of my shields.

I let out a huge sigh, Husker's ear twitching in my direction. I turned my head so he was partially in my view. "I don't...I should've known that he wanted something more with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...I thought he just wanted to teach me how to defend myself against a Demon. That way he didn't have to ever think about keeping me safe again, but...I...he..." I struggled to find the words. I didn't want to tell Husker about the Sanctuary in case it somehow got back to Alastor. "When we touch I can feel both of our magic combining. He wants to keep me because it gives him more power. Which means...I can't do anything without him. I can't have a life anymore."

Husker was quiet. I could feel his presence fully around my shields as if to comfort me in some way. He physically sat adjacent to me against the same tree. I could hear his tail thumping and even feel it vibrating through the ground.

"Well, you know," he leaned over so his shoulder touched mine, "he's gonna teach you everything he knows. And you've obviously got your own kind of power and experience. Sooo...." he tilted his head, drawing out his words. He was waiting for me to finish but I obviously wasn't getting it. "So you may one day be better than him."

I actually laughed. It was short and high pitched. I stood up and spun on my heels, planting my hands on my hips. "This is the Radio Demon we're talking about. He's been around for thousands of years. He's had all that time to practice and master who knows how much magic. I've barely lived a second in comparison to him."

"True," he agreed, "but even he has his weaknesses. He's teaching you all the tricks which means you'll know how he thinks. It's just a matter of time."

"That's what I'm upset about." I paced around in a circle. I let my Demon side show and dug my foot claws into the soft earth. "In order to be even close to his level, I would have to train with him for hundreds of years. I don't even know how long I live for."

"Demons don't really have a timeline but most of us live longer than the average Human."

"I don't want to be stuck with him!" I yelled. My tail whipped behind me as my pacing increased. I went up to a tree and raked my claws down its bark. "I deserve to pick the life I want to live. He gets to decide what life he wants because he's got the power, but I deserve to decide."

"He's not really..." Husker clicked his claws together. "He's more...you won't get through to him unless you've got some kind of power. And...you may have to suck it up and train with him until you've reached that point. You've seen how he reacts when your shadow shows up."

I glanced down as my shadow morphed into the woman. I had yet to come up with a name, though I was heavily leaning towards Alcine. It seemed like a nice, elegant name for a woman who's shadow looked like that. She nodded her head at me on the grass.

I let out a strangled sigh. "I just...I have my own plans."

"I know." He pushed himself to his feet and stood in front of me. "I know exactly how you're feeling. So I want to do what I can to help you get there."

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "One step at a time. Maybe you'll even be able to convince him to let me go. But let's take this one day at a time."

I rubbed my clawed fingers together. "Okay."

****

"Are you finally ready, darling?" Alastor stood on the scorched symbol at the cliff, his eyes and teeth glowing brightly in the dim moonlight. His hands rested on top of each other on his red cane. I hid my Demon side as I walked up. My feet felt like they had glue on the bottom of them, making each step harder than the last. 

"Where are we going?" It was the third time I had asked. 

"Out. I think you've been stuck in this dusty house for too long." He uncurled a claw from his cane and held it out, his smile widening. 

"You and I both know kindness isn't your thing." I looked up through furrowed eyebrows and an angry scowl. Anger was easier to manage than fear.

He hummed a short laugh. "You pain me. I'm not all bad." He inched his hand towards me more. 

I sighed. "Yes you are," and took his hand. Our combined power rushed through my veins and took my breath away. I had to take a moment to recover while Alastor soaked in the feeling. He pulled me closer and teleported away. I nearly grabbed his arm when the ground disappeared. I was slowly getting used to the feeling of teleporting.

When we touched solid ground, I looked around at the dark landscape. We were on a roof but there were several huge buildings surrounding us. Not all the floors were lit up and most of them didn't even have windows or walls. I inched to the edge and saw a lively scene beneath me. The major streets were covered in yellow, electrical lights and people had to push themselves through the heavy crowd. 

This was one of those Old World cities. Since the Great Collapse, many major cities had fallen to nothing but ruins, leaving mother nature to handle them how she wanted. I had been in a ring of sorts in one of these cities. When an old ring had been discovered, everyone had to go find a new one. On the way, Striker and I had spent a night in one of these big cities. He heard of a fighting league, a legal 'ring' fight with willing participants. He had participated in a fight himself then offered me up to their champion. The fight lasted under two minutes.

I knew he would probably still be in one of the legal towns, but that didn't stop me from scanning the crowd in search of Striker's sharp face. "What are we doing here?" 

"There's someone I want to see if you recognize," Alastor answered nonchalantly. He stood just a hair behind me, his presence snaking around my shields. He didn't push through, which surprised me, but the fact that he was actively surrounding me didn't make me feel any better. I tried asking who I was supposed to be looking for but he didn't respond. He fell silent and just stared at me. I hated when he did that.

For awhile I simply watched. We were hidden on a roof that towered just above where the electricity stopped running. There was no one on the floors of the buildings around us and the shadows kept us well hidden from any curious eyes. 

After awhile, I sat down with my legs crossed and continued to watch. I was actually enjoying it. I stretched out my magic sense and felt everyone who came within distance. I could sense their emotions and feel who had Full magic and who had Slight. There were a few Demons hiding themselves in a human appearance, their magic's color shaping their outline. I imagined myself walking in the crowd with them all, brushing shoulders and going about a normal life. When I 'touched' them, it felt like I was sucking some of their energy straight from their body. 

A cold shiver ran through my body. I casted a glare at Alastor as his presence finally penetrated my shields. I tried wrapping my mind in a black cloak as if to keep him from reading my thoughts. I didn't know if he could actually read thoughts but I wasn't eager to find out. I turned back to the crowd to look for someone I would recognize. If he was trying to get in my head, that must mean he saw the person and wanted to see my reaction. 

It took me a few moments before my eyes locked on a man. I didn't immediately recognize him but I couldn't look away. He had a sturdy build, an ugly frown, and scraggly hair. My heart quickened and my hands started to sweat. What was wrong with me? Why was I freaking out? What was it about this man? No memories surfaced as I tried to remember.

He walked down one of the small streets and I followed, scrambling to my feet and jumping to the neighboring rooftop. I watched him from my high perch as he strolled halfway down the less-lit street. He leaned against the old building and pulled out a smoke. He was wearing a long sleeve which seemed odd for such a warm night. He put his hands in his pockets and just looked left and right. I knelt down and continued to watch him. What was he doing? Who was he waiting for?

Eventually, a second man walked down the street and shook hands with him. I leaned lower and casted a light wind to carry their conversation up to me. 

"That's thirty credits for the boy and forty for the girl," the newcomer said. He pulled out metal squares, called credits, to count them and drop them in the man's hand. 

"What do you want next?" the big man counted the credits himself before stuffing them into his pocket. 

"They're looking for two boys, around nine years old give or take."

"No girls?" 

"No. They supposedly have too many now and not enough fighters. They need the boys for the fights."

"Nine is awfully old." The big man blew out a puff of smoke. "They can't disappear as easy as younger kids."

"Which is why you're getting fifty credits for each." 

The big man coughed and took the smoke from his mouth. He cleared his throat and straightened his shirt. "Fifty? That sounds like they want a delivery."

"They do. They want them delivered to Swansbury. You can handle that, can't you?"

"Yeah, of course."

The newcomer held out his hand and the big man rolled up one of his sleeves. I leaned further over the edge to see what was all over his arms. The newcomer took the man's smoke and pressed it the hot end into his bicep. The man let out a grunt but didn't react in any other way. The newcomer returned the smoke after the big man had rolled his sleeve back down. The marks on his skin were all burn marks. Why did they do that?

"Your next contact will wear a gray top," the newcomer informed. He swiftly left the small street and disappeared into the crowd. The big man waited in the street, still smoking his cigarette. I watched him closely, trying to put together his face. I knew him. But from where?

Something pulled me backwards and I found myself in my mindscape. I pushed myself to my elbows and found myself in a memory. Not just any memory, the memory. The man trapped my hands against the cold cage floor and everything came running back. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed the fear in my stomach. I was suddenly standing and tripped backwards into my shields. I shook my head and pulled myself back to reality. I opened my eyes to an empty alley.

I jumped to my feet and rang along the edge of the roof for him. I found him down another small street, walking into another small building. This one had electricity shining through some of the shaded windows. The man appeared on the third level and collapsed on an old rickety bed. This was the man that had assaulted me.

My Demon side slipped out and I dug my claws into the concrete of the rooftop I sat on. So many emotions came flooding through me as I stared at him. He was a ring hunter. He was the people who stole children and sold them to the ring fights. I had so much energy buzzing through my body I didn't know what to do with. I wanted to bring the building down and watch him suffocate from the crushing rubble. 

"You can do it." 

My ear twitched as Alastor's lips brushed against it. My hands were shaking the harder I pushed them into the concrete. My heart couldn't slow down.

"You have the power, now."

My vision started to blacken around the corners. I was zeroing in on his helpless, clueless body on the bed. He was going to sleep peacefully and would wake up the next day to ruin another child's life. 

"You can put a stop to him."

My breathing grew shallow. My hands were sweaty and my tail whipped back and forth on the roof. My wings pressed into the floor on either side of me to give them something to do. I wanted to jump off this roof and crash into his room. I wanted to wrap my claws around his throat.

"It would take a flick of your wrist."

Alastor's hand was gripping my shoulder as he leaned further over the other one. He was kneeling beside me? Behind me? There was so much energy bouncing between us that I couldn't tell where he was in contact with me aside from his claws in my shoulder. 

"End his life to save so many." He gently grabbed my wrist and pried it off the edge of the roof. He lifted it up so my sharp, black claws curled around the man's figure. "Restrict his airflow." His throat closed and his eyes shot open. He clutched at his neck and rolled of the bed. He banged his chest as if to dislodge an object from his throat. "Watch him writhe as you did."

The man's flailing slowed until he finally laid still on the floor. The outline of his body grew red until everything about his was glowing red. It was his soul. I quickly cut off my magic. A second later the man gasped for air and the outline disappeared.

Alastor was everywhere. I abruptly withdrew and broke away from him. "I'm better than that," I clutched my hands to my chest, "I stopped the killing when I left the ring. I'm not going back to that. I'm not a Demon."

"Oh darling," he stalked over to me, "you are a Demon." He leaned down so his face was level with mine, arms folded behind his back. "It's how you managed to survive for so long in those fights. It's in your nature."

A door slammed shut, drawing both our attention back to the street. The man had run out of the building and was making his way to the crowded street. A huge, dark figure appeared at the end of the street and snarled at the man. He casted fire at the illusion and went the other way. Alastor chuckled and looked at me sideways. He grabbed my forehead, covering my eyes, and I felt my body drop. 

A second later I was gliding over the lower buildings on the outskirts of the city. The man was still running, casting glances over his shoulder for his pursuer. Various black figures scared the man from certain streets, herding him further away from the crowded street. I jumped from building to level and back again. I could taste the fear of the man. It was sweet and electrifying. I wanted more. 

The man tripped and scrambled behind a pile of crates. I jumped down on the other end of the alley where the man wasn't looking. The streetlight behind me blinked. The man's head swiveled in my direction. The light turned on and my shadow--no, Alastor's shadow--stretched down the concrete. 

"Good day sir!" Alastor's chipper voice came from my lips. I wasn't actually here. I was seeing through Alastor's eyes. He stalked slowly and precisely towards his prey. The man tried casting fire but his veins bulged and he cried out in pain. He curled into a bawl, sobbing and begging for his life. Alastor leaned down so his face was inches from the man's and said, "You've gotten in my way."

His claws latched around the man's throat. Half a second later, the man's life faded from his eyes. He slumped into the ground and Alastor straightened up. He snapped his fingers to call the dark figures to surround the body. He effortlessly lifted himself to the rooftop and made his way back. I could see my own body laying on the ground as he knelt beside it. He covered his eyes and my own flew open, my body lurching forward. 

"What are you do--"

He caught my chin in his claws and held our faces close. "You are a Demon by nature. Your power will grow until you can no longer handle it, unless you learn how to properly exercise it. That is what I'm doing." He shoved my face away and stood. 

"What did you do to him?" I pushed myself to my feet. 

"You'll know by tomorrow when I make my broadcast." 

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

Author's Note:

Thank you all for your patience, kind words, and understanding! I hope this chapter makes up for yesterday. How power hungry do you think we'll get? Can we fight the urge? How persuasive will Alastor be?

[hxnbi]

"Stop. Let go..."

The nonchalance on ANGEL'S face said it all.

But you shook your head adamantly, refusing to release your grip. "No. I can't."

"I'm a devil," he corrected, all with his typical aloof voice. "I'll survive. You, on the other hand…" 

Angel's gaze flickered down to the hand that held onto his own. Did you not know what they meant for you? Holding him, touching him like this?

With a smile—the one Angel had grown to cherish in this bleak world you once despised—you squeezed Angel's hand gently. Your face was dirty from tumbling, but that wasn't your concern. Your priority remained clear: to do what you could, even if it cost you your life.

"You said we… we were gonna get some ice cream again together," you reminded him softly.

"...." He kept his lips pursed, refusing to say a word. 

He was a devil, accustomed to surviving even the most dire situations. After all, he could return eventually. But you, a fragile human with no such guarantees, faced a fate much more uncertain. 

Just why. After all he said to you about his powers, were you not terrified of him? 

There was him, dangling off the cliff. And you, barely holding him up with your feeble hand. You were hardly in a stable position yourself. He could already feel your life force leaving you as you maintained your grip on him; all the while, your grip began to shake, beginning to get weaker.

His face cringed, a grim realization dawning in his eyes.

He was killing you.

Two months. 10 months. Three years. It was all flashing by your eyes. 

Angel's voice wavered weakly as your life force ebbed away. "Let go. You're killing yourself." 

And yet again, you refused.

He made it clear, and yet you still weren't letting go. Your grip even tightened, knuckles white, as you continued to hold him up while his body was dangling. "This is no way to live…" you gritted through clenched teeth.

Angel remained silent, his thoughts swirling all up and around as he stared into the abyss below him. "Live, huh?" he murmured, almost to himself. "What a way to put it."

He wanted to die, so why? Why did you care so much? What point was there in clinging to life when he was just a devil meant to bring so much destruction and despair?

"You… you say you don't care about life. But your life meant something to me," you gasped, your voice strained as the rocks beneath you began to crumble. "More than you could ever think."

But before he could respond, the ground gave way.

'Just in time.' 

You felt it. Your heart, it was… 

From there, your time was finally up… You made your move with one last push to use both hands to pull Angel up. You didn't care about the consequences. All that mattered was saving him. 

Perhaps it was the shock, or maybe it was out of fear, but as you touched Angel with both hands, he flinched and pushed you away, inadvertently sending you tumbling down the cliff's edge.

His eyes said it all. No. He didn't mean to— 

Your continual touch and persistence irritated him to no end. He would live, even if he fell off that cliff, but you…

"NO!" he cried out, his voice raw with desperation as he reached out futilely, longing to pull you back from the brink. But it was too late. 

But even as you fell, you plummeted into the abyss below, just before making contact with the ground. The air rushed past your ears, whipping your hair wildly as gravity seized hold of your body. The sickening sensation of weightlessness filled your stomach. 

The chasm below you grew ever closer and closer.

Then, with a sickening thud, your body collided with the solid earth, the sound of flesh meeting rock echoed through the canyon, accompanied by the sickening crunch of bones snapping into two.

Every nerve screamed in protest as pain erupted like wildfire. But it wasn’t you who bore the agony, but Angel. A heartbreaking realization.

But you had no regrets to doing what to did. Your final thoughts, still overwhelmed with pain from all ends, did not falter.

'You mean more to me than you could ever know.'

But he would never get to hear those words. He could never again look you in the eyes and ask you why you did such a stupid thing for him.

“…..”

The last thing his eyes would lay on that day was a smile. He savoured it, even just remembering it. Your smile—a soft but sombre expression etched upon your face. A face he knew all too well from all his years on this planet. A face of acceptance. 

'You may be a devil, but you were also my angel.'

But this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want you to be the one…

'You saved my life.'

Why did you touch him? Why did you care so much? 

He was so angry, but all he could show was that of a halfhearted grimace. Regret.

In that moment, he couldn't help but cling to your last words, the weight of your sacrifice weighing heavily on his cold heart.

"Let's get ice cream again sometime," you mouthed, barely a voice there to hear your final words.

The last thing he saw was your smile. A soft but sombre one. 

He couldn't help but cherish your last words.

"You were someone worth saving for."

And then you were gone. And unlike that of the likes of devils, you were never coming back.

[thetomorrowshow]

just when i was getting to know you

TRUST AU

yeah yeah i'm posting a lot of trust au. i have a backlog ok

~

Joel wouldn’t say he was the closest person to Scott. Sure, they know each other. They’re friends. They've been in House Blossom councils together for the past ten years, and Scott's been joining in on family night, and the elf's engaged to his brother-in-law and best friend, so they have to at least be acquaintances. They happen to be friends.

Friends or no, they certainly aren’t best pals.

To suddenly be possibly the closest person to Scott at the time of his death is more than a little pressure.

Well, Katherine's there, too, but she seems even more shellshocked than Joel.

It's—well, the whole thing is . . . incredibly violent. Xornoth throws Scott around with tentacles, kicks him into the ground, breaks his wing. . . .

Katherine covers her eyes. Joel watches, flinching at every knock of Scott's head against the stony ground.

When Xornoth drags Scott up for the final time, Joel gets one last look at him—dusty, hair tangled, scraped and bleeding and eyes barely open, limbs dangling helplessly—and then he's thrown off the edge of the cliff.

Joel doesn't run with everyone else to peer over the side.

Joel flicks open his elytra and takes off into the sky, heading the opposite direction.

Xornoth watches him.

Joel doesn't know why, but Xornoth lets him go.

And that's terrifying, just a little bit.

Xornoth doesn't think the massive armies of Mezelea are enough of a threat to kill him here and now, like he did Scott.

Scott's dead.

Goodness, Scott's dead.

Rivendell has always been a force to be reckoned with. Ancient and up in those frozen mountains, Joel hadn't even considered that such a country could fall so early in a war that hadn't yet reached its borders.

The Codlands had fallen in one bloody day.

Now, in a reflection of its deceased lover, Rivendell has too.

Joel soars across the ocean, wondering just how long it will be until Rivendell is forced into servitude. Mere days, like the Codlands? Or maybe more gradually, a months-long process designed to make the elves feel in-control of their descent.

How many are left to fight the evil? Him, Lizzie. Shubble's certainly been conquered as well, seeing as Grimlands army would have marched through the Undergrowth to reach Rivendell. Katherine has thus far declared neutrality, as has Pearl. Pix hasn't been heard from since the war began. And Gem—

Gem's down, too. Possibly dead. And her students aren't really built for war, try as they might.

So it's just him and Lizzie.

Goodness. And they're supposed to win this fight, let alone survive?

It isn't exactly black and white, of course. There are likely fugitives leaving Rivendell and the Overgrown as he flies, and he has a small army of Rivendell soldiers in his forces that Scott sent over several weeks ago, and he and Lizzie have already been strengthened the slightest bit by dissenters from the enemy armies. They aren't as alone in this as he feels.

Still. The loss of Rivendell is a terrifying, war-changing blow. Rivendell gone, Scott dead—

Joel feels like nobody ought to be able to blame him for feeling a bit hopeless.

He needs to get back to Mezelea, reorganize his armies, inform his support from Rivendell that they cannot return home, contact Shubble and see what they can do to help. He needs to do all sorts of kingly matters that really shouldn’t wait.

But he stops at the palace rising out of the depths of the ocean, landing on one of the towers and hitting the ground running, elytra flapping in the wind behind him.

He sprints through the doors, down the hall, takes a left, Lizzie's probably in some sort of important meeting so he takes another left toward her war room—

There's a soldier standing guard outside of the room, and when Joel approaches, he shuffles to block his entrance.

"Her majesty is not to be disturbed," the guard says, blocking Joel from entering. "She is in a meeting with—"

"I'm her husband and I do what I want," Joel tells him, before shoving him aside and going in.

Lizzie is standing at the opposite end of a somewhat large, square table, pointing at a map, a gnome amongst three other advisors (one the Rivendell ambassador, another clearly fae) gathered with her. When Joel enters, they all look up.

Lizzie isn't wearing grey.

Her dress is purple, the sleeves billowy and light. Her hair is down, neatly brushed and falling into her face, her crown set upon it.

Her mourning period has ended.

"Joel?" she says, brow furrowed. "I asked to not be interrupted."

Joel strides across the room, stopping at the other end of the table. "Right, right, but—"

"These plans are only to be known between those of us present, it's frankly a war crime for you—"

"Scott is dead," he says loudly, and Lizzie freezes.

"I—what?"

"Scott is dead, and Rivendell surrendered," he says, and the elf in the room (Elif, if he remembers correctly) actually staggers back.

"The king?" Elif demands, his hands shaking. "King Scott? You—you jest!"

Joel shakes his head. "I saw it," he manages, the shock of it all really hitting him. "He's dead."

"What happened?" Lizzie asks, rushing around the table.

Joel shrugs helplessly. "He just—the demon killed him. Scott—he tried to do something, something with magic or whatever, but it didn't work, and the demon just. . . ."

He doesn't want to tell them everything he saw. He doesn't want to tell them of how Scott's body lay crumpled on the ground, his mourning clothes torn and bloody, while Xornoth towered over him, declaring victory.

He doesn't want to tell them that at no point in the battle did Scott have the upper hand.

That it was hopeless from the start.

That he didn't even try to help.

"He's dead," he whispers.

Lizzie's eyes are wide, horrified. She almost seems to search his face for any sign of a lie.

"No," she breathes.

Joel only nods once.

Tonight, he'll tell her what happened.

Tonight, as they get ready for bed, he'll recount in a whisper the demon appearing, the way ice had seemed to burst out of Scott in jerky and uncontrollable ways, the way Xornoth had broken free nonetheless and beaten Scott to the ground and cast him to his death.

He'll hold Lizzie close to his chest as she cries, and a year ago she wouldn't have cared if Scott lived or died but now it's almost like he was the last living piece of Jimmy other than Lizzie herself and with him gone, everything is lost.

He'll lay awake in bed, wondering what on earth will happen now that Rivendell has fallen—will the elves be hounded out of their lands, forced to find homes elsewhere? Will they be forced into servitude? Will Katherine declare loyalty to a side?

Will there be a funeral for Scott?

But right now, as Lizzie turns away, as Elif collapses into a chair, as the gnome mournfully asks Joel what has become of the Overgrown, Joel can't say anything.

He can only stare at the table (with maps and figurines and inkpots) and think of all he must do.

-

"I'm going to mourn," Joel tells Lizzie the next morning.

It's a senseless decision. He should be in gazillions of meetings, preparing his country for refugees and attacks, deciding how to divide his forces, proportioning what to give to those in need. He doesn't have time, in the wake of everything, to spend three days secluded in his quarters.

"You shouldn't do that," Lizzie advises, pinning her hair behind her ear. "You have too much to do."

Joel shrugs. "I'm gonna do it anyway."

"Why?"

"Just feel like I should."

Lizzie sighs. "Joel, you really can't. I need your help with this, your country needs you, you can't just—"

"It's only—"

"—other mourning periods, it would be fine, but Mezelean—"

"—without me for three days—"

"—total isolation, you have—"

"Who else is gonna do it, huh?"

Lizzie falls silent, arms folded. She raises an eyebrow, and Joel struggles to come up with the words.

"Who else is gonna mourn him?"

"His people," Lizzie is quick to answer.

Joel scoffs. "They've just been conquered by the archenemy of their dead ruler—you think the demon will let them?"

"Katherine."

"Katherine doesn't mourn, it isn't a part of her culture."

"Gem."

Joel remembers Gem, lying on the ground, hair entirely white, and shudders. "I don't think she can. She was . . . injured, yesterday."

"We're all mourning him," Lizzie waves him off. "We may not be wearing black, but we all miss him. We're all thinking about him. It's basically the same thing, just without any outward sign."

Yes, but that's part of mourning, isn't it? Scott, at some point last week (it's just like Jimmy, Scott was fine last week and now he's gone forever), had mentioned that his clothing is designed to be as similar as possible to his betrothal clothing, to remind him at every moment of his loss.

The outward signs aren't for others, aren't proof of how sad you are. They're a tool in grieving, in memory.

"You weren't even that close," adds Lizzie. "Would it even be proper to take the mourning period?"

Propriety doesn't matter. Not anymore.

"I know that we've got different beliefs on what happens with death and all that," Joel says awkwardly, trying to figure out how to word this. "But for us, we believe that . . . that there's this, like, waiting period to get into the afterlife. So the three days—it’s like you're waiting with them."

Lizzie nods. They've talked about this before.

Joel looks down at his boots, suddenly unwilling to meet his wife's eyes. "Nobody else will be mourning," he says quietly. "I don't want him to wait alone."

He and Scott weren't that close, it's true. But Scott had intended to marry Joel's best friend and brother-in-law, and that basically makes him family.

Lizzie doesn't argue any more. She only nods, then takes the pin out of her hair and ties it up into a tight bun.

And Joel goes back to Mezelea, and shuts himself in his quarters for three days, despite the contrary advice from his chamberlain.

When he comes out of the mourning period, he's resolved to save everyone he can.

-

And then Scott isn't even dead so it doesn't matter anyway.

But when Joel sees him—because the demon had blasted him to the side, and he'd heard a lot of shouting and chaos while blacked out and trying to regain his bearings on the floor, so it isn't until he stumbles out of the building that he sees him—, his heart actually leaps with joy.

He's alive.

Scott is alive, and he's right there, his back turned away and Joel has never seen him in homespun, brown peasant-like clothes before but it's definitely him, from the shock of blue hair on his head to the familiar satchel hanging from his shoulder.

When Scott turns around, Joel can't help the smile that breaks across his face.

He rallies the troops, claps Scott on the back (he wants to hug him, he wants to pull him in tight and never let go which is weird but whatever), and does his best to act normal.

"I don't know how you're alive," he says, breathless with—with wonder, or something. And maybe Scott isn't really alive, maybe this is some ghost version of him sent back to help them win this (but he feels awfully solid beneath Joel's hand). "But it's good to have you, for however long it'll be."

Scott only stares at him for a moment before asking (that's definitely his voice, his thick elvish accent, his funny-sounding Es and As, so inimitably Scott), "Why does everyone have weapons?"

And Joel just wants to laugh and laugh.

And later, when Scott's asleep in Rivendell's infirmary and Lizzie's some giant axolotl monster thing and Jimmy's also, somehow, alive (Jimmy’s alive Jimmy’s alive Jimmy’s alive), Joel laughs.

He sits on the front steps of the palace, exhausted and bloodstained and with aching arms from carrying bodies, and he laughs.

As his laughter dwindles into chuckles, he looks around at the reclaimed capital of Rivendell, the moon and stars illuminating torn palace grounds and those collecting the dead, and he sighs.

"I'm gonna claim this as my own country," he jokes to himself. "Who's gonna stop me? Rivendell's mine now."

"Good lord, your majesty, please do not," comes a tired voice behind him. Joel glances back to see Ilphas stepping out of the palace, easing the door shut behind themself. "I don't believe I would be able to restrain myself from attempting regicide a second time."

Joel snorts. "Right, wouldn't want to inconvenience you. A different day, maybe." Then, after Ilphas doesn't respond, he adds, "How is he?"

Ilphas offers a small, strained smile. "The king has not yet woken," they say, "though his majesty Pix believes it will not be much longer."

Joel had carried Scott to the infirmary after he had collapsed, the no-longer glowing sword under him. He'd hurried forward, while armies on both sides had remained frozen, and he'd dragged Scott out of the center of everything, laying him beside Jimmy's (Jimmy?) body, because Joel hadn't even known Jimmy was also here and now he was dead again?

None of it made any sort of sense, but as the soldiers of various armies tried to sort out whether or not they should continue fighting, Pix had pushed through the crowd and hefted Jimmy's limp body over his shoulder, before leaving without explanation.

Joel had stared after him for a long moment, wondering if maybe he had hallucinated the whole thing.

Then, gathering strength beyond his normal, he had heaved Scott up and carried him to the palace, where he had been met by several elves who quickly took over.

He'd really just hoped that Scott wasn't dead. Then he'd pushed it out of his mind and set to resolving this war.

Now, here he is. Jimmy is, somehow, alive, sleeping off a life-ending wound.

And Scott is also alive, asleep in the Rivendell infirmary.

Joel kind of feels like he missed a chapter somewhere, because nobody has explained to him how they're both here in the first place (and some part of him still believes that they are spirits, brought back by some ritual to help them defeat the demon), but they're here and they're alive and that's what matters.

And Ilphas, judging by the way they finally seem to be relaxed enough to let their shoulders drop, feels the same.

"It's good to have him back," Joel comments idly, and after a moment, Ilphas nods their agreement.

"It is," they say softly.

Joel's still exhausted. He's still confused. He's got no idea what's going to happen next.

But Scott is back, and Jimmy is back, and the war is over.

So he gets up, and claps Ilphas on the shoulder (the elf starts in surprise), then returns to the fields.

He has to help Rivendell rebuild if he's going to conquer it, after all.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Dancing Under the Star With Vash

Vash the Stampede X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive themes

Word Count: 1.2k

(A/N:) SOMEBODY GIVE THIS MAN A HUG! Man I know I have wrote a couple things for Nicholas but I can’t deny Vash is a looker to. But man I want to hug him and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him ever! Poor thing! So this is me trying to give this handsome weirdo the comfort he needs! Enjoy and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

When you had gone to bed laying under the stars and glow of worms, Vash had been right next to you. You slept easier with him by your side not only because of the protection but the warmth as well. You rolled over expecting to find his form but nothing but cooling rock met your wondering hands. Sitting up and blinking sleepily you called out quietly with no answer. You gave him a few moments to return but grew frustrated when no sign of him even appeared. You liked your sleep and you liked being warm while sleeping, so you couldn’t help but be a little grumpy by the blond’s disappearance.

He’d been ran out of another town while the people cursed his very name. Vash liked to act that he was used to this sort of treatment and it didn’t bother him but you knew, it hurt him every time, despite him trying to hide it. You stuck close by never willing to leave his side, especially after these moments of receiving animosity from others who he wanted to protect. Vash always means well even though the majority of the time it ends in disaster. 

Wrapping your thin blanket around your shoulders you set out to find him and drag him back to bed. It was cold tonight and you were exhausted. He had found a large mesa for you both to camp out on. It was fairly easy to climb up, but the trek was still exhausting for you. You knew Vash was exhausted himself, but when he was in a state like he is now he’ll keep pushing himself until he drops. It didn’t take long to find him, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling. You blew a stray strand of hair out of your face, ready to do whatever it takes to comfort him. Vash didn’t even look your way when you sat beside him. His bright blue eyes staring vacantly across the land that always seemed to be against him.

“It kinda sucks sleeping without my heater,” you teased after you had given him a few moments of silence in your presence.

“Sorry about that,” he chuckled looking towards you with a sad smile.

“I guess I can forgive you this one time,” you stated before shuffling closer. You draped half the blanket over him before nuzzling into his side. Vash stiffened at first as your body pressed against his before he melted with a sigh.

“Thanks,” he said. You nodded giving him another round of silence before you would press a little further. He needed to talk about it, but that didn’t mean he was not going to be stubborn and hide it with a fake smile. Worms danced around you both, lighting up the night with a bright green flicker. They did freak you out at first until you had grown used to the creatures and now you could say that they were even pretty as they bunched in the sky. You looked back up at Vash watching him hide the tears and forcing them back once more.

“Y’know you can talk to me,” you whispered. “I know you can’t be in a good place right now.”

“It’s fine,” he replied flatly.

You glared at him, “No it’s not fine. Vash, you don’t deserve to be treated that way. No matter what you’re just trying to help!”

“Honestly,” he looked away knowing that you would get mad at him, “I think I hurt more than I help.”

You huffed before elbowing him in the ribs, “If I didn’t love you so much I’d push you off this cliff. You’ve helped me a lot and I’m much better off for it.”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly, “I’ve gotten you shot at, almost killed, and now you get to sleep outside under the worm lit sky.”

“I actually think that wormy sky is really pretty now thanks to you.”

He turned and smiled but you gripped his cheeks causing his lips to pucker.

“Stop it. You don’t have to fake smile for me. It never reaches your eyes,” you released him, “and it breaks my heart.”

“Sorry,” he dropped the smile.

“And stop apologizing!”

“So...,” Vash stopped at your glare. “I get it.”

“I hate it when you’re sad,” you huffed. “It’s like I can never get you to cheer up. You just bounce back like a ball, it’s a little annoying.”

Vash chuckled quietly. “Wanna dance? It’ll make me feel better.”

You were floored by the request and it seemed like you couldn’t get up fast enough. You had become so close to the man they call Stampede and you couldn’t deny feelings were growing deep inside. Your womanly wants couldn’t deny his handsome features despite the goofy attitude. You took his offered hand the warmth of his skin seeping into yours while the cool of the metal tingling against your waist. He hummed a nameless tune while pressing you closer into his chest. You reached up stroking the hair from his eyes and he pressed in further enjoying the gentle touch.

“You have such a handsome face,” you purred.

“Careful you don’t want to stroke my ego too much,” he warned teasingly.

“Please,” you blew a raspberry. “You’re the only man on this forsaken sand pit that needs to get a little bit of an ego. Cause honey you ain’t got one.”

“Hey,” he laughed holding onto you tighter. You squeezed back, just holding him while the sky came alive with the buzz of worm wings. You both didn’t need music, as just swaying to the natural rhythm of the land was enough. Vash had a hint of the smell on him mixed in with his natural musk. You didn’t know how you made it so far without him but when you looked up from his hold to see that genuine smile finally pulling at his lips you felt overjoyed.

“Finally got you to smile for real.” You brushed his cheek once again. Vash leaned down getting closer to you. You searched his face quietly seeking answers to his deepest secrets within the depths. But they were going to be hard to unbury and it would take time, and you were willing to give all the time you needed to discover what makes Vash, Vash. 

Vash leaned closer and you knew exactly what he wanted so you opened yourself to him and he took his chance. His lips started gentle before picking up pace. You moaned into his mouth pulling him closer as the green light painted you both in the night. He pulled away panting gently as you kept a hold on him. You kissed the side of his mouth before pulling away but still keeping a grip on his metal hand.

“Let’s get some sleep you handsome typhoon,” you yawned.

“Your wish is my command,” he bowed comically.

“Good! My wish is to be warm,” you started walking and he followed. “Come on heater the night is a wasting and I am not one to pass up good sleep.”

Vash chuckled again helping to ease you down onto the ground. He followed suit nestling beside you with an arm wrapped around your waist. Your scent comforted him and the feel of you against him brought good memories.

“Goodnight Vash,” you mumbled already falling asleep.

“Goodnight,” he replied waiting a little longer after you succumbed to fall asleep. He wondered what he did to deserve you until he too fell asleep. Maybe time would answer that question for him, but until then he wouldn’t question it much as he was thankful for you.

[timothee-chalamets-girlfriend]

Paul Atreides X Reader (Dune)

Part 1: Caladan

     Paul Atreides' feet dangle from his bed as he rests in slumber. The blanket was on his body's top half, but he had kicked it off his bottom half. He was a restless sleeper. This was because of strange dreams he would have. They were always changing, but most made him uncomfortable. This has been going on since he was a child, yet some of his dreams still shock him. 

    Outside of House Atreides, the sun was beginning to rise. It had been a cool night, causing drops of dew to form on the soft grass. The ocean water can be heard roaring against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, a high tide was coming in. Luckily the cliff House Atreides sat on was the highest on Caladan. Not only was it protected from water, it's protected from any kind of threat that may arise. Paul's father, Leto Atreides, had done all he could to keep his royal family safe. However, part of him knew nothing could be protected forever. Still, it was his duty to keep his family safe. And he would.

     "Paul," a small voice whispered. "Paul." He feels a warm touch on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open. Looking up, he immediately relaxes when he sees it was just his mother. Paul readjusts himself from his crooked position and sits up. "Hm?" He makes a small, sleepy sound. "You slept in again. Your father and I have been waiting at the breakfast table for you." His mother tells him, running her hand through his curls. "Oh, sorry. I was-" Paul starts but his mother interrupts. "You were up late studying Arrakis and their people again, weren't you?" She asks with a sigh. Paul simply nods, looking away. "Come now, your food is getting cold." His mother says and leads him to the dining room. 

     Father, mother, and son sat side by side at the table and enjoyed their breakfast. Paul's father and mother finished theirs fairly quickly, while he took a bit longer than usual. "Not hungry?" Leto asked. Paul shrugs. His father and mother exchange a glance before Leto turns his attention back to his son. "Look, Paul, I know you want to come to Arrakis with me, but it's just too dangerous. You've never experienced desert conditions. I'm not going to risk it, you are far too important." He talks firmly. Paul, being a teenager, rolls his eyes at his father. 

    He pushes his plate away, which had a little over half of the food left. "You just don't trust me." He says, shaking his head. "It's not that, Paul, and you know that. We simply love you too much and are trying to protect you." His mother enters the conversation. "But you get to go." Paul defies. "You know why I have to go, Paul. Don't pull that." The mom replies. Paul grunts, "mother, father. Please. You both know how much I've been studying and preparing for this. I am ready. Please believe me." Paul says, practically begging his parents. The room goes silent for a few seconds as Leto looks at his son and ponders possibilities. "There is one thing we could try in order for him to prove himself ready." He finally lets out his thought. Paul's mother was quick to share her thought. "Are you insane!? That could get him killed!" She yells. "Calm down, Jessica. I believe in him. I believe he deserves a chance." Leto replies calmly and seriously. 

     Paul's lips swiftly form a smile, and he jumps up from his chair in a sudden burst of excitement. He had no idea what this thing he would have to do was, but he was happy to get to try nonetheless. Jessica sighs, standing as well and readjusting the long fabric of her dress. She didn't want to disappoint her son, but she couldn't help but worry about the possibility of him failing the test. "Very well, then. I'll take Paul to her." She tells Leto, and both mother and son walk the halls of the great House Atreides. While they walk a sinking feeling forms in the pit of Jessica's stomach. She hated this idea. At the same time she knew it needed to be done. "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear.." she says to herself in her mind as they approach the door. 

     Lady Jessica takes a final step forward, knocking on the large metal door. "Reverend Mother?" She calls out, and the door quickly flies open. As Paul enters the room, which was mysteriously dark and empty, a shiver runs down his spine. He was starting to feel not too sure about this. "Reverend Mother, my son, Paul, is ready to be tested." His mother tells the cloaked woman with a shaky voice. "How wonderful!" The lady croaks, "you may leave, lady Jessica. Guard the door for me." Jessica nods and leaves at once, the door closing behind her with a forceful slam. 

     "Come closer, boy. Don't be afraid." The lady shows off some of her crooked teeth. Paul cautiously proceeds forward, but stops just a few feet from where he should be. "CLOSER!" She yells, her voice suddenly becoming deeper than even his. He feels as if someone was behind him, as he is abruptly pushed forward. "KNEEL!" She yells in the deep voice again; Paul's legs seem to give way as he falls to his knees in front of her. The Reverend Mother takes a few moments to study Paul. She reaches out a shaky hand and places it on his cheek, her hand traveling around his facial features. 

     Paul, thinking that this was all the test was, goes to stand. He is quickly stopped when he feels an odd sensation against his neck. The Reverend Mother smirks as she points the gom jabbar directly at the boy's neck. "By your neck I hold a poison needle, in which will cause instant death at injection. The test is simple. Put your right hand in the box and keep it in there no matter what you feel. The second you remove your hand from the box, is the second you die." She tells him, still smirking. "What's in the box?" Paul asks, lifting up his right hand and beginning to slowly direct it towards the box. "You'll find out soon enough, my boy. Go on now." The lady grows impatient and pushes the needle a few inches closer to Paul's neck, making Paul waste no more time putting his hand in the box. 

    At first, there was just tingling. Almost as if electricity was running through Paul's hand. But it didn't hurt, it was just an unusual sensation. Paul looks the Reverend Mother in the eyes with confidence of passing the test, but it doesn't take him long to regret that. There was no light, no heat, yet.. it felt as if his hand was immersed in flames. Paul takes a quick breath to try and keep himself from reacting to the burning sensation on his skin. Soon, he feels as if his skin was being ripped off and the flames were entering his open wounds, making it feel like he had stuck his hand in a river of lava. Paul bites his lip, shaking his head and groaning through his throat. He wanted to remove his hand from the box. But he couldn't. 

     Now, the sensation he had in his right hand was that of an axe chopping off each of his fingers one by one before completely severing his hand. All of this while still burning, as well. Paul couldn't hold back anymore. He lets out a pained yell, which echoes throughout the room. "Quiet." The lady says, still holding the needle just centimeters from his neck. Paul breathes rapidly and scrunches his face in agony. He felt like crying, screaming, and mostly he felt like removing his hand from the box. However, he knew that any of those were not an option. The pain seems to reach its maximum level, and as it does Paul closes his eyes and holds back another scream, instead letting out another groan from his throat. Everything seems to go blank. All he can feel is pain, all he sees is darkness, and all he hears is the sound of his panting. He decides to focus on his breathing and nothing else. A few failed attempts pass, but he finally manages to get his breathing under control. Paul slowly opens his eyes and locks them with the lady's once more. His face was as still as stone. There were no emotions in his expression. He looked as if he could be dead. 

    "Enough!" The Reverend Mother yells after exhausting herself enough. The boy had passed. Paul swipes his hand out from the box and examines it; it was perfectly fine. He sighs in relief as the pain melts away and he realizes he's still alive, meaning he had passed the test. Lady Jessica runs in and immediately checks on her son, feeling just as relived to see him alive. "You pushed it too far." She tells the Reverend Mother sternly. The lady clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Now, now. You and I both see the potential power in this young man. He needed to be tested to the limits." The Reverend Mother speaks. "What of him now?" Paul's mother asks. "He will go with you to Arrakis. You'll leave early tomorrow morning. I feel as if he will be needed there. No matter his fate, I feel he can make a difference to that rouge planet." The older lady responds before ushering her guests out from the eerie room.