#. surely. surely the mountains will cure me. please

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

WAIT TOMORROW IS SUNDAY WHAT THE FUCK

that means i will be gone for a few days btw :] clear my head. hopefully. nothing better for that than being completely off the grid woohoo

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

[optimisticmosquito]

Guys hear me out on this svsss au idea.

Sower Shen yuan. SY transmigrating into a young sower child and having to learn sower and demon culture. One large difference to his old life is that his diet now consists of rotten flesh. He has a lot of feelings about that. It's raw flesh! It's rotting! It's the worst every world has to offer!

Curse you system for placing him here! He must be the unluckiest transmigrator to ever exist! Or maybe not the unluckiest, he could have been transmigrating into some low iq villain and destined to be killed off by the protagonist. His new life is definitely preferable to that! Barely.

He might grumble but he's learning a lot of new things that were never mentioned in PIDW! After all cultivators don't know much about sowers, and higher demons don't care about what's going on in sower society as long as they follow orders.

They are natural scavengers, their food needing to be at least somewhat deteriorated for them to digest it properly. Every sower is born with the ability to rot flesh, it's kinda needed after all if you want to survive. But as they age sowers can cultivate their ability, creating faster ways to rot flesh, or methods that are more effective on different types of flesh. The most talented ones are even able to create diseases that can affect and rot still living flesh.

Of course the better one's technique is, the easier it is to get food. So most sowers would be hesitant to share their techniques outside direct family. This would create sower lineages with uniquely cultivated diseases.

It's all very interesting! SY would be vibrating with excitement if he didn't have to experience it firsthand.

This all without mentioning human meat as a delicacy among demons. SY refuses to participate, but even he can't decline when his caring grandma was able to procure some just for her beloved grandkids, as a rare treat.

The worst part is his body actually likes the taste, despite how revolting it looks. He has a lot if internal crises about it.

You could of course spin this into a bingyuan. Luo Binghe just out of the endless abyss meeting this nice sower and falling head over heels. Making a lowly sower his empress after he takes over the demon realm.

But I'm thinking of going another direction, either jiuyuan or liushen.

SY's forced to go into the human side of the borderlands because of food scarcity on the demon side. He's not stupid about it! He knows some cultivators patrol the area so he's gotten himself a bracelet of disguise to hide his demonic traits.

While there he comes across a head disciple from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and ends up entangled in their mission. They help eachother out, shares laughs and near death moments, creating a bond that should surely last even after the mission ends.

If not for the fact SY is a demon. He desperately hides his identity, making sure his new friend doesn't touch his skin by accident as he has cultivated enough for his touch to be dangerous to normal humans. He isn't sure it would be dangerous to cultivator disciples, but he doesn't want to take any chances.

And then the worst happens, he is revealed as a sower and his new friend mistakenly assumes he was tricking them so he could kill and eat them later. Angry with themselves over being tricked, disgusted by any good feelings still harbored towards a man-eating demon. Only a moment of quick thinking on SYs part saves them from having to kill SY. SY returns home heartbroken and without any food for his family, abd stays listless and sad for a long time.

Years later he'll come across a peak lord, looking for a cure to a deadly sower disease spread on behalf of the old demon emperor.

If anyone feels inspired please write it! I'd really want to read a sower!SY au as well!

[quitealotofsodapop]

AU idea: Wukong goes into labor with the stone egg WHILE he's fighting Macaque

Not sure which fight you mean honestly, but I assume you meant the "OG" fight back during the Journey days.

I imagine this all occurs likely in a version of the Jttw Stone Egged au where Macaque joins the gang after he found out.

Wukong and Macaque are fighting neck and neck when Macaque finally stops to listen to Wukong's shouts;

Wukong, in tears: "Macaque please! Don't make me do this! I'm with-" Macaque: "What's that weird noise??" Wukong: "Huh?" Macaque: "It sorta sounds like a... bag of water? With a heartbeat inside of- OHHHH!" Macaque: (*points at Wukong's pants*) Wukong: (*looks down and sees that his water has broken*) Both monkeys: (*start screaming!*)

Macaque drops his glamour immediately to tend to his mate.

Macaque: "I have so many questions! Who, why, and how long?!" Wukong, has Macaque's hand in a death-grip: "You, Mountain, 500 years." Macaque, mental gears turning: "Huh!?! How did- ohhh wait... self-spawning. If I had kept coming and fed you peaches you wouldn't have-" Wukong: "Yeah!" Macaque: "And since I wa- Am your mate the kid would be-" Wukong: "YEAH." Macaque, trying to lighten the mood: "Do I get visitation rights?" Wukong, voice deepening: "DON'T PUSH IT, BUD!"

Eventually the Pilgrims and Guanyin catch up (the Bodhisattva heard that water break from across the sea), and see the Six Eared Macaque has completely dropped his Monkey King glamour and is trying his best to keep the real Sun Wukong's breathing steady.

Guanyin quickly gets to work; bringing Wukong to somewhere nice and warm and dry to have the baby. They suggest that the reappearance of the other parent (i.e Macaque) caused the Egg to prematurely decide to make itself known.

Bonus if this is the first time certain Pilgrims (besides a wise dragon-dragon) heard of such a thing XD

Ao Lie, excited: "It's already happening!? Congratulations!!" Wukong: "Thanks Lie, but I'd prefer to get the kid out before you all start thanking me." Zhu Bajie, oblivious: "Wait what kid!? They heck is everyone talking about?!" Tripitaka: (*hyperventilating into his hat like it's a paper bag*) Sha Wujing: "I suppose well wishes are in order! Did Brother Wukong drink from the same river and choose to decline the cure?" Wukong: "No, it's HIS fault." (*jabs thumb at Macaque*) Macaque: (*blushing, waves nervously at his mate's Pilgrim brothers*) Ao Lie, breaking the tension: "So this is your Equal in Strength you've been telling us about!" Macaque, slight smugness: "That's what you've been calling me?" Wukong, gritting teeth from pain: "Not now Mihou..."

Macaque stays at Wukong's side the whole time, even as his instincts are going nuts, snarling at the Pilgrims if they dare approach. And even when his hand was definitely broken by Wukong's grip during a really bad contraction.

The rest of the Pilgrims meditate and pray for Wukong and the baby's health. Ao Lie makes a point of chilling in his dragon form to scare off any passing creatures or people - dragons don't like being disturbed when they're laying an egg, and he imagines its the same for Stone Monkeys.

After a lot of pushing and encouragement, a tiny egg makes itself known, cracking open shortly thereafter.

What lies within?

A chirpy, chubby-faced baby monkey with glowing (Macaque starts crying then) ears and dark fur - the little thing's cries sounding indignant as if they'd been awakened from a long sleep. Guanyin makes a point to gather the citrine and amethyst-imbedded shell of the newborn for the parents to keep.

Wukong and Macaque can't even remember what they were fighting about earlier - all that matters is the clinging baby on Wukong's chest. Little thing is a bit smaller than expected due to their premature birth, but they're healthy and hungry.

The rest of the Pilgrims are allowed in after everything is cleaned up and Macaque's hand has been bandaged.

First thing out of anyone's mouth is;

Zhu Bajie: "I thought monkeys had litters?" Wukong, growling: "Don't jinx me."

So yeah, now the Journey has a newborn baby and it's dad along for the ride.

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal. 

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?” 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?” 

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and— 

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you. 

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—” 

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone. 

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady. 

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.” 

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.” 

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?” 

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—” 

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?” 

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.” 

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said. 

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number. 

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.” 

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them. 

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you. 

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?” 

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.” 

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.” 

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.” 

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.” 

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.” 

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction. 

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.” 

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.” 

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.” 

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.” 

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?” 

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips. 

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?” 

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all. 

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.” 

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.” 

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle. 

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings. 

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning. 

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?” 

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath. 

“Neither am I.” 

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.” 

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—” 

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.” 

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.” 

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back. 

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair. 

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?” 

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?” 

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?” 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“Weren’t you lonely?” 

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said. 

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.” 

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.” 

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?” 

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.” 

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.” 

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural. 

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?” 

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?” 

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it. 

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours. 

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.” 

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.” 

“Care to be a little less vague?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.” 

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.” 

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.” 

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said. 

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.” 

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.” 

“Enough to let me kiss you?” 

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.” 

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips. 

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well. 

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said. 

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.” 

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?” 

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.” 

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?” 

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore. 

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth. 

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?” 

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively. 

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?” 

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight. 

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!” 

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.” 

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked. 

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.” 

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?” 

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?” 

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.” 

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner. 

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.” 

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.” 

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room. 

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled. 

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?” 

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back. 

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.” 

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.” 

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?” 

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.” 

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.” 

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.” 

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?” 

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.” 

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose. 

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” 

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.” 

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew. 

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency. 

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.” 

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh. 

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face. 

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him. 

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.” 

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.” 

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak. 

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”  

“Shut it—” Zoro started. 

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.” 

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look. 

“Please. You were obvious.” 

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.” 

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.” 

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?” 

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt. 

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured. 

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash. 

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. 

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—” 

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.” 

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room. 

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness. 

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you. 

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up. 

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.” 

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.” 

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.” 

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?” 

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.” 

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured. 

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat. 

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes. 

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?” 

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul. 

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.” 

Zoro just grinned.  

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life. 

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it. 

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island. 

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway. 

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

© halfvalid 2023

[spacebarbarianweird]

Please do

"Look that pretty exoression. I always knew you could make one." + "Let me stay lije this in you for a little bit." 😜

I completely forgot about those smut prompts! Well, a chance to write fics about Tiriel and Astarion!

Our Firsts

Synopsis: Astarion learns some details about Tiriel's past

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, PIV, NSFW

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Freedom.

Astarion tastes the word on his tongue.

Freedom.

No parasite in his brain. No voice in his head.

Freedom.

He says this to himself daily, getting used to being able to do whatever he wants. Well, as long as it's dark but there is always a price to pay. Besides, he hasn't lost hope of finding a cure.

"Hm? Are you awake?"

Tiriel's voice sounds muffled as she lies her face pressed in the pillow. She sleeps naked, half of her body covered with a blanket. He can see her freckled back and the way her half-elven ears protrude a bit.

Tiriel falls back to sleep again, but Astarion puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses the nape of her neck.

"Wake up, I miss you"

"You are worse than a cat, love," she mutters. "Let me sleep!"

Astarion does mental math and decides Tiriel has slept enough—besides, too much sleep is unhealthy for non-elves.

He hugs her right below her perky tits and turns her around on her back. Her nipples immediately harden, sensing the cold air.

Astarion pauses at her chest for a few moments. He hasn't made love to Tiriel for a few months, since that night in the graveyard. He just couldn't make himself—and Tiriel didn't insist. They literally had sex only twice—back then, when he thought he seduced her and then in the graveyard.

Ever since—all these months—Tiriel has been showing him all forms of intimacy that  don’t involve sex.

He especially enjoys cuddling during sleep, even though he just lays motionless with Tiriel in his arms for all these insanely long silent hours she needs to rest.

"Date a vampire, they say," she covers her face with her palms. "You will be able to sleep the whole day, they say".

Astarion leans toward her and kisses her hands. She looks adorable—puffy eyes, dark circles because of the excess ale she drank the day before, a string of drool on her chin.

"Is it night?"

"Not yet."

They sit like that in silence. Astarion looks at Tiriel—there are so many questions he wants to ask her. There is nothing about his life she doesn't know—but he realizes he doesn't know much about her.

Except for her miserable childhood and twenty years of traveling, when a runaway girl from the Sunset Mountains slowly became a furious warrior capable of challenging gods, monsters, and fate.

"Tiriel."

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," She caresses his back scars and kisses the center of the disgusting symbol carved into his skin.

"Did you have many..." he tries to find an appropriate word. Lovers? Sexual partners? Significant others? He called his victims conquests and lovers but, gods, he wishes he never had to sleep with them. It was all dirty and tainted, and he often wanted to flay his skin himself. 

Just to forget.

"I mean. Was there anyone before me? I am just curious."

Tiriel looks at him. Her eyes have different colors—the right one is closer to blue, and the left—is more green.

"No one."

"Tiriel, I am not jealous or anything. I just ... want to know"

"And I am letting you know you were my first. In terms of relationship and in terms of sex. You were the first person in this whole world after my bitch of a mother who saw me naked. And you are the first person who I am in love with."

Astarion pulls away. Memories of their first night together flash before his eyes. He remembers being prepared for a long evening of seduction and sweet words before Tiriel the Barbarian was at his side, but when he turned his head to her, she was already naked and looking at him with such defiance that he got right to the point.

"Tiriel, I am sort of a professional in these matters. You were not a virgin."

"I was. Astarion, there are plenty of ways a girl can explore her body without involving other people, especially the ones with cocks between their legs. If the matter of my virgin blood bothers you, it was spilled somewhere in Elturel. I don't remember the name of the Inn. And the stone thing of the "proper" form was left in the room I'd rented."

Tiriel touches his left ear and it sends an electrical impulse through his body. "As for my behavior, I was so afraid I would be turned into a monster, my self-control and fears had offed themselves. You had been courting me for days, saying words no man ever told me. And I decided it was my chance to finally get this...experience. And I wasn't disappointed— that night was everything. I was a bit sad you weren’t offering to repeat the experience,as if you didn't like me enough. But whatever—you are my first love, my first kiss, my first sex, my first relationship. And gods, I hope you are also the last"

Astarion intertwines Tiriel's fingers with his. Then he kisses her knuckles and she giggles at the sensation.

"My love," he manages to say.

In a way, she is also his first. Not only the first sentient creature he'd dined on—and her blood always tasted different to him—she was the first he kissed voluntarily, the first person he slept with for his own sake, the first he fell in love with and the first... he wanted to be with.

Of course, she is mortal and even though half-elves live much longer than humans they don't have much time in comparison with his immortality, or the longevity of elven years.

But he prefers not to think about it.

Tiriel kisses the tip of his nose. Her facial expression becomes playful.

"You are the only one who saw me naked," another kiss. "You are the only one who touched me. The only one who was inside me and the only one who filled me. All these years..." she kisses his lips. "I was saving myself for you".

She stops, waiting for his response. They agreed that since he has no idea when he’ll want to have sex again (but he will want to someday), she is free to initiate—and he is free to stop her.

Before now, she'd done it three times—and he never found the moral strength to let her continue.

Tiriel waits. Astarion feels her arousal. If he says "no", she will just use her fingers to pleasure herself somewhere behind a tree. She won't be angry or annoyed. She never is. For Tiriel, the relationship is so much more than sex, her focus is on other things.

He caresses her cheek, trying to decide what to do.

But his own body has already made a decision and he feels tension in his pants.

He wants her.

He wants to fuck her.

He wants her to scream his name, to scratch his back, to come because of his touches. He wants to see the red sparkles in her eyes when she rides her orgasm, a distant shade of what’s happening to her when she is in a rage.

He wants her to clench around him, to tug him so close he won’t be able to pull away by himself.

He grabs her shoulders and pushes Tiriel on the bedroll. She is already naked and he doesn’t need to waste time on dealing with her clothes.

Astarion kisses Tiriel and slips his hand between her legs. 

“So wet for me,” he murmurs.

He gets rid of his shirt and leans to kiss Tiriel again. She reaches out for the laces of his trousers and sets his manhood free.

“So hard for me,” she answers and strokes him.

It doesn’t take him a lot of effort to get rid of the rest of his clothes.

He aligns himself with her swollen entrance and slips inside, causing Tiriel to gasp.

“I forgot how thick it is,” she whimpers in pleasurable pain. “Damn, let me adjust”

Her walls clench around him and Astarion thinks he is going to cum right away.

“How did you even survive the first time?” he coos, wrapping himself around her. Now his teeth are right in front of her neck and her heart is so close he can mistake its beat for his own.

“I was drunk and had a parasite in my head. Besides, you had bitten me,” she pants. “And … oh gods… I couldn't shut my legs the next morning…”

He rolls his hips, forcing Tiriel to moan, and thrusts with all the passion he’s saved in those months.

She grabs a fistful of his hair and now it’s his time to groan with pleasure. 

“Tiriel,” he gasps looking into her eyes.

“Don’t … hold…yourself,” she begs.

Astarion pins her down to the bedroll.

“Don’t ask for what you can’t endure.”

“Try me, my love.”

He moves down and pierces her neck. Blood gushes down his throat. He pulls away after a few gulps and licks the skin.

Then, he goes down covering her body in bites and kisses, her blood mixing up with his saliva.

He elbows up so he can see her face and thrusts harder and harder. Her moans become cries, her fingers pierce his skin and her legs wrap around his waist tugging him close.

His mind gets blurry—his whole world is shrunk to their small tent, Tiriel’s heartbeat, and the wet warmth between them.

Astarion feels his release getting close and he presses his forehead to hers.

He finishes inside Tiriel and collapses on her like a weighted blanket.

Tiriel pants. Her face is red and her eyes are completely empty. Her mouth is half open and her whole facial expression is so stupid he grins.

“Look at that pretty expression. I always knew you could make one.”

Tirel finally makes eye contact with him and pats his hip.

“What is it darling?”

“Don’t you want to pull away?”

“Let me stay inside you for a little bit,” he places his head on her breasts. Tiriel’s body is warm and safe and he doesn’t want to move.

She kisses the crown of his head. “Then, stay.”

Time passes slowly. Tiriel draws invisible lines on his back and shoulder.

He finally releases her hips and adores her body. She is covered in bite marks, and there are bruises on her wrists. Legs are still wide open and his spend leaks on the bedroll.

Tiriel sits up and presses her knees against her chest. She doesn’t make an effort to clean the sticky mess.

“Are you all right?” She finally asks.

He nods. Gods, he wants to do that over and over again. 

“It’s dark already. No matter how much I love being covered in blood and sweat, I desperately need to wash. And, I think, so do you.”

“Careful, darling, I might want to have another round.”

“Who said I wouldn’t want to?”

--

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[venny-the-mha-writer]

May you do yandere giyu with fiancee turning demon and yandere platonic Gyomei with child reader who is a dem?

Here you go🤗

———

Sure! Here are the two fanfics, written separately for **Yandere Giyuu x Fiancée (Demon) Reader** and **Yandere Platonic Gyomei x Child (Demon) Reader**:

---

Yandere Giyuu x Fiancée (Demon) Reader

Title: A Love Unbroken

Summary:

After a tragic battle with a demon, Giyuu’s beloved fiancée (the reader) is turned into a demon. Consumed by his love and unwilling to let go, Giyuu descends into a dark obsession, determined to keep her safe no matter the cost—even if it means going against his duties as a Hashira.

---

The night you turned was the night Giyuu’s world shattered.

He had always been calm, composed—his emotions carefully guarded behind a stoic exterior. But the moment he saw you transform, your once gentle eyes turning red with hunger, something inside him broke.

Giyuu knew what he had to do. He was a Hashira, a Demon Slayer, and his duty was clear. But when he raised his sword to strike, you looked at him with such a familiar gaze—a gaze that pleaded for mercy, that held a glimmer of the love you once shared. His resolve crumbled.

Instead of killing you, he took you far away, deep into the mountains where no one could find you. There, in a small cabin hidden in the dense forest, Giyuu became your jailer—and your protector. He locked you away from the world, refusing to let anyone know what had happened. The world could not take you from him. Not now. Not ever.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered as he watched you sleep, chained to the bed to prevent you from escaping and hurting anyone. “I’ll find a way to cure you. I promise.”

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Giyuu rarely left your side, his obsession growing with each passing day. He fed you himself, carefully bringing you small animals, their blood barely enough to sustain your demonic hunger. He spoke to you as if nothing had changed, as if you were still the woman he had planned to marry, as if you weren’t craving the very thing he was sworn to destroy.

But you weren’t the same. The demon inside you grew stronger, more desperate, each time you saw him. You wanted to resist, to fight the urge to devour him, but it was becoming harder with each passing day. The chains that bound you were the only thing keeping you from attacking him in your moments of weakness.

“Giyuu… please…” you whispered one night, your voice trembling as you struggled against your restraints. “Let me go… I don’t want to hurt you.”

But Giyuu only smiled, his hand gently stroking your hair. “You could never hurt me. I won’t let you. We’ll find a way, together.”

His words were both a comfort and a curse. You knew there was no going back, that the man you loved was now a shadow of himself, consumed by the need to protect you at any cost. And as his obsession deepened, so did the darkness in his heart.

The final breaking point came when the Demon Slayer Corps discovered your whereabouts.

A team was sent to investigate, and Giyuu knew they were coming. He had no choice but to act swiftly, eliminating the threat before they could report back. The blood of his comrades stained his hands, and for the first time, he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He had done it for you. All of it—for you.

When he returned to the cabin, he was drenched in blood, his eyes wild with a mix of guilt and determination. He looked at you, bound and helpless, and in that moment, he knew he would do anything to keep you by his side.

“No one will take you from me,” he vowed, his voice trembling with emotion. “No one.”

And so, the two of you remained, locked in a twisted dance of love and madness. Giyuu’s obsession grew, and with it, his willingness to destroy anything and anyone that threatened your existence. His love, once pure and gentle, had become a consuming fire—one that would burn the world down if it meant keeping you safe.

And you, trapped by your own nature and the chains that bound you, could do nothing but watch as the man you loved spiraled deeper into darkness, all for the sake of a love that had long since been lost.

---

Yandere Platonic Gyomei x Child (Demon) Reader

Title: The Guardian’s Embrace

Summary:

Gyomei, known for his gentle nature and unwavering sense of justice, finds himself in a moral dilemma when he discovers a young child (the reader) who has turned into a demon. Driven by a deep sense of protectiveness, Gyomei takes the child under his wing, determined to shield them from the dangers of the world—even if it means becoming a danger himself.

---

Gyomei was a man of peace, of strength, and of compassion. His towering figure and immense power struck fear into the hearts of demons, but within him was a heart that beat with kindness and love for all living things.

So, when he found you—a small, fragile child, trembling in the darkness with red eyes filled with fear—his heart broke. You were no older than five, perhaps six, with dirt-streaked cheeks and tear-filled eyes that told a story of pain and confusion. But those eyes also held something else: the unmistakable mark of a demon.

Gyomei knew what he should do. He should end your suffering before you could hurt anyone. But as you reached out to him, your tiny hand trembling, his resolve wavered.

“Please… don’t hurt me…” your voice was small, barely a whisper.

He knelt before you, tears welling in his own eyes as he gently took your hand. “I won’t hurt you, little one. I will protect you.”

From that day on, Gyomei became your guardian. He took you to a secluded temple, hidden away from the prying eyes of the Demon Slayer Corps. The temple was his sanctuary, a place of peace and prayer, where the world’s cruelty could not reach you.

He told no one of your existence, not even the other Hashira. He feared what they might do, feared they would see you as nothing more than a threat. But to Gyomei, you were a child—a lost, innocent soul in need of love and protection.

“You are safe here,” he would say as he held you close, his large hands dwarfing your small frame. “I will not let anyone harm you.”

Gyomei’s love for you was pure, but as time passed, it began to change. The more he cared for you, the more possessive he became. He refused to let you out of his sight, afraid that you might be discovered or that the demon within you might take over.

He kept you in the temple, hidden away from the world, your only company being the sound of his prayers and the gentle hum of the wind through the trees. You were lonely, but you didn’t mind—not when Gyomei was with you. He was kind, gentle, always there to comfort you when the hunger became too much or when nightmares plagued your sleep.

But there was a darkness growing within Gyomei, a darkness born from his fear of losing you. He became more controlling, more desperate to keep you safe. He began to restrict your movements, locking you in your room when he was away, making sure you couldn’t leave even if you wanted to.

“It’s for your own good,”he would say, his voice soft but firm. **“The world is too dangerous for you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”**

The isolation began to weigh on you, the walls of the temple feeling more like a prison with each passing day. You missed the outside world, the sunlight on your face, the feeling of grass beneath your feet. But Gyomei wouldn’t let you go, his love for you turning into an obsession.

One day, you asked him why you couldn’t leave, why you couldn’t see the world beyond the temple’s walls.

“Because I love you,” he replied, tears in his eyes as he knelt before you, his massive hands cupping your face. “I can’t lose you. You are my child, my precious little one. I will do anything to keep you safe, even if it means keeping you here with me forever.”

His words, meant to comfort, only filled you with a growing sense of dread. You realized that Gyomei’s love, as kind and gentle as it was, had become something darker. He wasn’t just protecting you—he was keeping you for himself, his fear of losing you turning into a suffocating possessiveness.

And so, you remained in the temple, your days filled with prayer and the quiet company of the man who had become both your savior and your captor. Gyomei’s love for you was unwavering, but it was a love that had twisted into something far more dangerous—a love that would not let you go, no matter how much you longed to be free.

---

Hope u like it🤗😌

[martiandmichelle]

Memories. . . Those that you have and those to be made!

I'll start with the former, but I hope you'll read all of this for a teaser of those to be made, a story others will tell.

As for the photo, I'll (Marti) take you back some 9 years ago. My husband at the time, Daniel, and I were part of a supper club, one of those things where you rotate dinner at friends' houses. We were a part of one with five other couples, so 12 of us in total. This picture was taken before one of those dinners at our house. Yeah, I was showing off, at Daniel's request. Seems the dinner before this one at someone else's house my boobs became a subject of conversation. Daniel loved hearing others talk about my tits so he was going to make sure the subject came up again.

And so it did, even before we had the appetizers. This time it didn't take long for one of the wives to say something like "C'mon Marti, show them to us!" Never one to be shy about my body - and with Daniel's smiling consent and the help of one of our male visitors to unzip me from the back - my dress, very slowly at least until my breasts were fully exposed then much quicker the rest of the way! - the little black dress came off leaving me wearing only my black thong and black heels my J-cup tits bared to them all, my nipples growing and hardening as they stared at my breasts.

I was two of the ladies who asked first to feel them. I replied "Absolutely!" As they felt me up they commented on the tits' size and weight and length of the nipples (which were still growing) until one asked with a lot of hope in her eyes if she could suck the one she held. "Please!" was my response this time. I know I moaned with pleasure when the nipple first entered her mouth which encouraged the other lady to as if she could suck the one she held, too.

As I've said so many times in my 15 years of sex blogging, nothing sets me on fire like have my nipples sucked simultaneously by two people so I began to lose myself to my sexual needs, place and time becoming foggy to me as all that mattered was what was happening to my tits. I remember Daniel saying I should feed them and them exclaiming "You can lactate!?" And so I did - a lot! Everyone else soon got their turn drinking from my milk fountains and I felt hands slip under my panties with comments about how fucking wet I was. Someone pulled my panties down and I guess my body was waiting for that because I had a fabulous orgasm and let loose a squirt that surprised everybody, much to their delight.

I knew what was happening to me but I had reached such a sexual nirvana that everything became almost dreamlike. I know they guys fucked me and I know my pussy was eaten - a lot! - and I know I squirted and squirted and the milk spewed, but it seemed almost like I was watching it on a porn movie.

It wasn't until the next morning after everybody left and our dinner was never cooked that I was back to my full senses. Daniel told me how proud he was of me and that it had been decided that our "dinner club" was going to start meeting every other WEEK instead of the usual every other month. I was delighted!

The next day I got a call from one of the couples to come to "dinner" at their house which I did. After the two of them spent the entire night until the morning using my body (and sometimes letting Daniel watch and listen via cell phone) they told me of their marital problems and that I was curing them when they shared me together.

It's true, sex can get one into a lot of trouble but it can also heal a lot of wounds!

--------------

I mentioned something about a teaser of memories to be made. I'm not going to say much because it doesn't involve me but someone else you've met here. She's been mostly in the background but is on the verge of becoming a huge star for Mountain Media (our sex studio). For now I'll let you guess who it is, and she'd better tell her story soon for soon she'll be so busy as to not have the time!

Stay tuned. . .

Marti

[rynneer]

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after an accident in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

<< Beginning | < Previous | Next >

Chapter Five

“I’m not sure I like this idea,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest against the hallway’s chill. The light from mid-morning sunbeams slowly fades to the flickering orange light of torches as you get closer to the core of the mountain.

“The worst he can do is say no,” Tauriel replies coolly. For someone so out of place in the realm of dwarves, she walks with extraordinary confidence, towering over everyone—especially you.

Fíli and Kíli exchange skeptical looks, but remain silent.

You, however, do not. “You don’t know Thorin.”

“That is true,” she hums, “but I know kings.” Tauriel hardly pauses as you approach the large, double doors leading to the war room.

Kíli shoots out an arm to block her from entering. “Us first,” he insists. “He won’t exactly be thrilled to see you.”

The hinges creak in protest as he swings open the heavy door, interrupting Thorin mid-sentence. The king sits at the head of a long table, flanked by two empty seats, normally occupied by his heirs. The rest of the chairs are filled by Balin, Dwalin, and a handful of elves. The guests’ eyes narrow curiously, but when you step into the room, they duck their heads to whisper amongst themselves. Fíli puts an arm around your waist, standing as tall as he can and glowering at them.

“Kíli, you are late,” Thorin scolds. “Fíli, Y/N, I believe I made it clear that you have… other duties today.” He pointedly ignores Tauriel.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Highness,” Tauriel says smoothly, her voice all business. “May we speak in private? It is an urgent matter.”

Thorin continues to pretend she’s not there, clearing his throat and gesturing for Kíli to sit. “As I was saying–”

But she will not be ignored. “It is of particular importance to your princess,” she presses.

All heads in the room turn to you. Fíli winces and tightens his arm around you. Even Thorin appears momentarily stunned by her interruption, but he quickly regains his composure and fixes the elf with a glare.

“You are excused,” he hisses. “We–”

“Your Highness–” she tries to interject again.

“Do not interrupt me!” the king snaps. He rises from his seat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You are an escort, nothing more. You are not welcome at the negotiating table.”

“Thorin, please,” you say softly. You press against Fíli, making yourself as small and vulnerable-looking as possible. The act works—Thorin softens just the tiniest bit.

His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, glancing back at the elvish delegates. They eye the king with suspicion. “Everyone out,” he says at last. His teeth are clenched so hard you’re surprised they don’t crumble.

“There is tea waiting in the great hall,” Balin offers, a bit more diplomatically. He ushers the delegation from the room and gives you a tiny nod as he passes.

“Sit,” Thorin growls.

You drop into a chair instantly at his command, already wary of his anger. Fíli takes his seat and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. But you grip it tightly, not letting him pull away. He resists for a second, then lets his hand relax in yours and brushes his thumb over the back of it.

“What do you want?”

You jump slightly when Thorin addresses you.

“We have a proposal–”

“I did not ask you,” Thorin cuts Tauriel off brusquely, still looking at you.

It’s quiet for a moment as you open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. “Tauriel has a plan,” you finally offer.

“Hear her out, please,” Kíli jumps in. His leg bounces beneath the table, making ripples on the surfaces of abandoned glasses of wine. “She thinks she knows how to cure Y/N.”

His phrasing makes you wince, and Fíli squeezes your hand again.

“Nonsense,” Thorin scoffs. “There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing that you should know about,” he adds when Tauriel arches an eyebrow. “Unless someone has been speaking of things they should not.”

Everyone turns to Kíli, who suddenly looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. He gives you a helpless shrug, hands raised in surrender.

“Thorin, please,” Fíli urges quietly. “This is Y/N that we are talking about. Our Y/N.”

A vein throbs in Thorin’s temple, but he looks at Tauriel for the first time since she entered. “Get on with it, then.”

She dips her head. “Whatever ails her is not a physical problem, it’s magic borne of Mirkwood. That’s something dwarves simply cannot address.” Thorin bristles, but she raises a hand before he can speak. “I’ve no doubt that you have skilled healers, but she needs more than herbs and rest. Let her return to Mirkwood with me, and we will do everything we can to restore her memory.”

Hope rises in your chest as Thorin studies the elf maiden. “Why are you offering this? What do you stand to gain from helping?” His tone is laced with suspicion, but less anger than before.

“I’ve a certain… admiration for the for kingdom of Erebor after all it has endured.” Her eyes flicker briefly to Kíli, who absentmindedly fiddles with his belt. “I would be glad to see its princess well once again.”

“Can you swear that your efforts will be successful? That she will return whole and unharmed with her memories intact?”

But that hope dies as Tauriel hesitates. “I cannot,” she admits at last.

“No.” Thorin rises from the table, taking his mantle from the back of his chair and heading for the door.

“No?!” you repeat incredulously. You’re on your feet before you even know it, hands curled into fists at your side. Fíli moves to grab your wrist, but you dodge his hand. “This is our best chance to–”

“No!” He turns on his heel to face you again. There’s a shadow across his face, brows knitted in a furious glare. “It is too much to risk without a guarantee of success. That is final.”

“Fine!” you snap, crossing your arms. Your headache pulses even harder behind your eyes. “I’ll go anyway!”

“Careful, Y/N…” Kíli whispers. He’s risen as well, knuckles white as they grip the back of his chair.

“Then you can stay there,” Thorin thunders. His stormy eyes move to his nephews. “And if either of you set foot outside our lands, you can keep going all the way back to Ered Luin. Now, get out.”

“Uncle–”

“Out, Fíli! All of you!”

You snort, glaring at Thorin and pulling Fíli up from the table by his wrist. “Come on,” you grumble. “I’m not going to keep arguing with a stone wall.” You storm from the room, dragging Fíli with you and doing your best to slam the oversized door—right in poor Kíli’s face. He pushes it open behind you, nearly stumbling as Tauriel breezes past him.

“Pack your things for a journey,” she says briskly, her long strides quickly putting distance between you and the angry king. “All of you. We leave at midnight.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Fíli hisses. “You heard Thorin—he’ll have our heads!”

“If he even lets us back in,” Kíli mutters.

“Thorin can… what is that phrase you use, Y/N?”

“‘Get fucked?’” you offer.

“Yes, that.”

“This is a bad idea,” Fíli reminds the group for the hundredth time. But even as he voices his concerns, he still busies himself with tacking up the ponies and arranging the bags. “If Thorin or Amad catch us, we’re as good as dead.”

“With how loud you’re talking, they can probably hear you from their chambers.” You shift from one foot to the other, shivering. August in the mountains means pleasantly warm days, but the northern cold refuses to be forgotten, bringing frigid nights. Without missing a beat, Fíli sheds his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. You give him a quick smile.

A warm, fuzzy snout nudges your shoulder. You turn to find a black and white pony stretching its neck over the door of its stall, sniffing your pack hopefully. It nickers softly when you lift your hand to stroke its nose.

“That one’s yours,” Kíli says, leaning against the stable’s door. Tauriel and his pony already wait outside, the animal pawing impatiently at the ground. “You named him Domino, and refused to tell us what that means.”

“Domino?” You smile as you fit the bridle on him. “Perfect.” He follows you outside obediently, still nudging your bag in hopes of finding treats. Fíli comes to your rescue once again with a handful of sugar cubes swiped from the kitchen. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Trying to steal my pony’s heart?”

“Aye.” Fíli winks and swings himself up onto his mount. “And I’m coming for yours next.” But his face turns serious as he glances up at the moon, full over your heads. Wisps of clouds tickle its edges, threatening to block out its light. “We should go. If we make good pace, it shouldn’t be more than a few weeks’ travel.”

You sigh and climb up on your own pony. Next to Tauriel’s horse, you’re reminded once again how small you are. Inside the mountain, it’s easier to ignore. Everything is dwarf-sized. You-sized. But outside, the world does not cater to your diminished stature.

“A few weeks’ travel to where?” A voice from behind startles you from your thoughts. Fíli freezes next to you.

You turn around slowly, feeling like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. Dís folds her arms and taps her foot as she waits for an answer. There’s something tucked under her arm, but you can’t quite make it out.

“Nowhere,” Kíli responds quickly. “Nowhere at all.” He gives his mother the most innocent look he can muster, but it’s pointless. Every pony is laden with at least one travel pack.

Fíli purses his lips tightly. “We’re going to get help for Y/N,” he admits through gritted teeth. He raises his chin defiantly, as if expecting resistance. “Thorin won’t listen. We’re taking matters into our own hands.”

Dís shakes her head in disappointment. Your heart sinks as she steps forward and tugs Fíli’s coat down from your shoulders. The journey, over before it even began.

“Not dressed like that, you’re not.” She returns the coat to Fíli and unfolds the bundle under her arm. It unfurls into a thick, forest green cloak. “I was saving this for an anniversary gift, but you’ll be needing it if you don’t want to freeze at night,” she explains as she hands it to you. She squeezes your hand. “Come back safe. I’ll stall Thorin as best I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, wrapping the cloak around you.

“Fíli is right, we must be off,” Tauriel snaps her reins and sets off down the packed earth road. The boys fall in behind her.

“And Kíli?” Dís calls after them.

He halts his pony with a tug of the reins and turns in his saddle with a sigh. “Yes, Amad?”

“Hurry up and propose to the elf.” She slaps the haunches of your pony, sending you lurching forward into the night.

Fíli did not like it.

He couldn’t tell if it was day or night. He couldn’t see the path ahead—if there even was one. He couldn’t hear whatever Thorin was saying.

But mostly, he didn’t like how you hung limply in his arms, head lolling with each step he took. He hefted you closer to his chest, shifting you to better support your head in the crook of his arm. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” There was no response from the woman in his arms. It was almost upsetting, how light you felt. How small you were. You were dwarf-sized, yes, but the proportions were all wrong.

Fíli glanced up to make sure he was still with the Company. Since they’d left the main path, it was becoming harder to keep up. He’d nearly lost them a few… minutes ago? Hours? Days?

After Fíli had caught up—or let them catch up to him, he couldn’t tell—Kíli started to hold onto Fíli’s coat to stay together, like he’d once done as a child. Slowly, they fell to the back of the group.

“Let me carry her for a bit.” Kíli slipped an arm underneath you.

As the younger prince made to take you from Fíli, his blood ran hot. He only held you tighter, pulling away from Kíli. “No,” he growled. “I’m carrying her.”

“Fee, you’ll tire.”

“I won’t!” he snapped. “I have to be there when she wakes up. It has to be me! I…” His sudden burst of ferocity faded away as he looked down at you, leaving behind a hollow feeling in his chest.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think you were dead. Only the slow rise and fall of your chest proved you still lived. In rare moments, your face would twitch, ever so slightly. Holding you like this, your body as limp as a ragdoll, made his stomach feel as if it was filled with stones.

Cold talons of dread gripped his heart. “She will wake up,” Fíli whispered, his soft voice trembling. He looked back up at Kíli for reassurance. “She will. She has to. And I need to be there, it has to be me. I have to tell her… She needs to know…” A lump in his throat kept Fíli from continuing.

Kíli furrowed his brow. He’d never seen his brother look this distressed. As his eyes went back and forth from your face to Fíli’s, it dawned on him. His eyes grew wide. “You’re… Fíli… You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you?”

Fíli’s mouth moved silently, as if the words were stuck in his throat. But he didn’t need to answer. His face told Kíli everything he needed to know. The desperation. How his expression softened when he gazed at you. The way he gently cradled you.

“Is she your…?” Kíli didn’t need to finish; the word hung heavily in the air between the brothers. His One.

Amad had explained once how it felt to find her One in their father. She had courted a few other dwarrows, but something always gnawed at the back of her mind. But meeting him, she spoke of a warmth that filled her, how everything just felt right. Fíli had never given it much thought. None of the dams in Ered Luin particularly caught his eye. And besides, Thorin never took a wife. Sometimes a dwarf just doesn’t find their One, or care much about finding them.

But you… Fíli hadn’t felt the instant warmth and security his mother had described when he met you. It crept in slowly as you ate together, rode together, fought together. When you sent him little smiles from across the fire at dinner. When you listened intently as he showed you his blades. When you gripped his arm tightly at the first sign of danger. There was no going back for Fíli, and even though your new size worried him, the way you fit in his arms felt right. It shouldn’t feel right, he knew that. He had never heard of a dwarf finding their One in someone of an entirely different race. And of course, you were even stranger, coming from another world.

“Fee?” Kíli’s voice, unusually gentle, pulled Fíli from his thoughts.

With great effort, Fíli tore his gaze from you and looked his brother in the eye. “I don’t know what else this feeling could be,” he answered simply.

Both princes fell silent as they watched your sleeping face. “This will not be easy,” Kíli said at last.

“I know.”

[peach-princess-snz]

Baizhu Snzfic (Part 2)

Pairing: Baizhu x OC

Includes: allergies, stifles, let out, false alarm... and more

Art by SayuuHiro

The long way up the stairs to Bubu Pharmacy had never felt longer on this hot summer day. Why would they build a pharmacy so high up in the first place? Who in Teyvat thought, "Ah yes, let's make people do an entire cardio routine if they wanna get their meds - that'll surely cure them!" I wonder what Dr Baizhu thinks of it. Ehsan chuckled at the thought of Baizhu throwing his hands in the air dramatically and rolling his eyes at the incompetency of people around him. Step. Step. One more step, and he was at the top. The wide, rounded entrance of Bubu Pharmacy tempted him with its dimly lit interior, and he could almost feel the cool breeze coming from the inside. Gui, the pharmacist at the front, noticed him first and waved.

"Good afternoon, welcome back! Eyy-saan, was it?" Gui looked at the guest, seeking confirmation.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good with that."

Gui noted something in a big book and moved it over to the side of the counter in one swift gesture. "How may I help you? Aah, you must be looking for Dr Baizhu. He is in the back, getting the medicine ready for his 3 o'clock appointment. I will let him know you stopped by."

The pharmacist barely finished his sentence as the door on his left swung open, and a familiar tall figure with long green hair, a flowy blue coat loosely draped over his shoulders, and a white snake coiled around his neck entered the room. The man seemed fixated on a couple of brown pouches in his hands.

"Gui, I will need more sweet flowers and slime condensate, and for Rex Lapis' sake, where is Qiqi?" Dr Baizhu looked up, shifting his weight to one side impatiently.

Gui glanced at the doctor, then at Ehsan who was still standing at the entrance.

"Oh, my!" Baizhu's voice switched to the drawn-out purr he assumed with his patients. "Ehsan, please accept my sincere apologies. If I knew you were visiting, I'd brew some of that tea you enjoyed last time you were here," he said, setting the pouches down on the counter.

Gui sighed with the sigh of an underpaid employee too tired to question his supervisor and began scribbling a note. "Qiqi is still in the mountains," he replied. "I pray to the archons that she didn't get stuck between the rocks... again. I will make sure she gets your message when she returns."

"Thank you! Now that you say that, I am considering taking a stroll into the mountains to ascertain her well-being firsthand. The thought of any harm befalling my little Qiqi troubles me deeply, particularly as our herbal supplies dwindle. Now, where were we? Ehsan! How are you feeling today?"

"Thank you, Dr Baizhu, I'm doing quite well. I haven't made another trip to the Chasm yet, but definitely considering it for my vacation destination next week," Ehsan chuckled, exposing his perfect white teeth. "I was wondering if you were feeling any better?"

It's been two days since the accident, and, judging by his elevated mood and glowing skin, the doctor seemed to be in perfect health. Ehsan wondered for a second how one could recover from an illness so quickly when he saw Baizhu sniffle and quickly dab his nose on the back of his hand. Looks like even the most talented doctor is not immune to the fragility of human nature.

"Truly, I am flattered by your concern about my well-being, but I assure you there is no need to worry. My chronic condition tends to flare up from time to time, but I am feeling perfectly fine today." Baizhu smiled and gave a little pet to Changsheng, comfortably resting on his shoulders. "Did you by chance come back for more herbs to help expedite your recovery?”

"I actually stopped by just to see you," Ehsan almost let the words slip out of his mouth. "I actually stopped by just for a moment. I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time as I see that you already have a lot on your plate." Nailed it.

Baizhu sniffled again and tilted his head quizzically. "Well, if that's the case, allow me to at least walk you out."

As Baizhu was passing Ehsan, Changsheng gave the Sumeru scholar a long look as if she knew something about him that even he did not.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"So, ahem..." Baizhu cleared his throat. "Where are you headed next?"

Ehsan couldn't help but notice that the tip of the doctor's nose had turned pink as they began descending the stairs. Was it just his imagination? Ehsan felt a wave of tingles rush down his back and hurriedly turned away from the doctor's face.

"Ah, my schedule is pretty flexible. In fact, I've decided to take a day off from writing my thesis. Um… I was wondering if I could help with the search for your assistant? I've been meaning to explore Liyue beyond the Chasm, and this looks like a perfect opportunity."

Baizhu's face took on a concerned expression as he squinted his eyes and looked in the distance. Changsheng slithered down his body onto the ground and continued moving beside them. "Was I being disrespectful? Should I not have offered? Does he... not want my company?" Ehsan's usually collected thoughts were scattered all over the place.

"That would be most generous of you," Baizhu finally replied with a soft smile. As he said that, his nostrils suddenly twitched, forcing the doctor to bring a hand to his nose and give it a little rub. Ehsan's cheeks turned red, and he prayed that Baizhu would not notice the difference on his bronze skin. The doctor, however, seemed preoccupied with something else as his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. He sniffled again, wetly.

"Ehsan, I have to admit, I was delighted by your offer to accompany me. If I may be so bold, would you be willing to share your knowledge of herbal remedies in Sumeru? I find myself enraptured by the intricacies of medicinal practices in other nations, and your insights would be most enlightening."

"Of course! It is my pleasure as a scholar of Amurta..." Ehsan began as he heard the doctor's breath hitch, "...to share what little I know of..." Baizhu's breath hitched again, and it took all of Ehsan's willpower not to look over at the doctor, "...the biological, uh, structure of the, umm, world." He could not help but glance at his companion, now frozen in a perfect pre-sneeze expression, his eyebrows folded, eyes shut, lips slightly parted, and his face lifted towards the sun. The next moment Baizhu ducked into his elbow with a strong "Hiih... He-kxXnt!"

Distracted, Ehsan tripped on a perfectly smooth road but caught himself just in time. Baizhu did not seem to notice. He lifted his face away from his elbow and took one brief look at the sun, which seemed to be just enough to make his breath hitch again until he forcefully jerked forward with another stifled "Hiih’NKxshh!!"

Baizhu blinked and shook his head. "Please excuse me! Huh, look at that, as soon as I proclaim my well-being, I promptly make a fool of myself," he chuckled.

"I-uh... I assure you that is not the case... Ahem, as I was saying, I'd be happy to talk about Sumeru. Do you have any particular questions?" Ehsan struggled to compose himself. Normally, he could always push his emotions aside to make way for more important things. Yet today this task seemed almost impossible for a reason Ehsan did not want to admit to himself.

"Alright," Baizhu agreed, smiling. "My first question is, what is that exquisite scent you are wearing? I can discern some familiar notes, yet I cannot place them." Baizhu inhaled deeply, evaluating the fragrance. "Hmm, similar to glaze lilies, but much stronger, and with a hii-... hint of sweet fl…hih-flowers." Baizhu's eyelids fluttered and he brought his elbow up to cover another sneeze, but it seemed to escape him as the doctor lowered his arm with a sigh.

Ehsan felt the ground fall out from underneath his feet. He was indeed wearing a perfume he bought in Port Ormos before his trip to Liyue to remind him of home, and he did indeed hope that it would impress Dr Baizhu... just not like this.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ehsan uttered softly. "I hope you are not allergic to my perfume? I would never have worn it if I had any idea..."

"Nonsense! I'm just... hih... enjoying the delicate scent, and this sudden outburst is likely completely unrelated," Baizhu declared cheerfully. "So, what are the exotic ingredients in your fragrance?"

"I-uhh..." Ehsan attempted to recall the label on the bottle containing the source of Baizhu’s misery. When that failed, he began listing random plants in hopes that at least one of them was correct. "Yes, the scent comes from traditional Sumeru flowers like nilotpala lotus, padisarah, sumeru rose..." Ehsan stopped as he heard Baizhu draw a sharp breath. He watched as the doctor tilted his head back, shut his eyes, and erupted in another semi-stifled fit, barely caught by his elbow.

"Hiih... Hheh... eKschh! Hih-hih... nGKkt-chew! Heh-kshuu!"

Baizhu paused with his face still buried into the crook of his arm. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and lurched forward, struggling to contain his sneezes that seemed to be getting stronger the more he tried to stifle them.

"Huh... Hh-eKSCHew!! Haa-aKXTShhew! Ugh... snff.. Excuse me."

Baizhu finally put his arm down, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Bless you! Once again, please forgive me if your, err... current condition is due to my carelessness,” Ehsan began. "I should not have assumed that Sumeru plants were harmless to..."

"Ehsan, you of all people should not be apologizing for an oversight on my part," Baizhu interrupted. "If I didn't forget to bring my handkerchief, you would not have been subjected to my utter lack of manners."

"But I do want to be subjected," Ehsan thought and immediately bit his tongue so as not to say anything stupid.

Changsheng made a noise in between a hiss and a scoff. "I too enjoy taking a short break once in a while, but if we don't get a move on, we might just lose our favorite herb collector, and you will have to run errands all by yourssself, Baizhu."

"Heh-AhTSHoo!" This time Baizhu didn't have time to cover and instead turned to the side with his hand hovering over his face helplessly. "Ah... snff... Yes, we should probably keep... hiih... g..." The doctor's eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows darted upwards. His voice trailed off as his breath wavered.

"Huh!.. Hh!.. Ahhhh," Baizhu opened his eyes and sighed wearily. "I am truly sorry for this display," he said quietly. "I do wish my adverse react... hiih.. was not a hh-hindrance to this otherwise pleasant conversation." Baizhu looked up searching for the sun through half-closed eyelids. His nostrils quivered impatiently and his nose wrinkled, and the doctor stood motionless, taking in air in short, rapid bursts. After a moment he sighed again and rubbed his nose vigorously. He turned to Ehsan.

"Oh, please, don't look at me with this concern in your eyes," Baizhu tried to give his companion a reassuring smile, but deep embarrassment and discomfort were written all over his face. "Truly, I am alright, my body is simply not cooperating with me today, but it's nothing to worry about. I promise you."

Baizhu's voice sounded more leveled and his sentences dropped their embellishments. He sounded almost... somber, for reasons unknown to Ehsan who took the doctor's change of tone as proof of his own guilt.

"I'm... So sorry," he mumbled. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Now, now, we should really get going," Baizhu smiled. "After all, we're here to save Qiqi, not me."

--------------------------------------------------------------

They left Liyue Harbor's gates and continued their way up the road. Ehsan kept hearing Baizhu's sniffling and an occasional soft gasp for air, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the doctor. The most he could do now was help Dr Baizhu as much as possible and not make the situation any more awkward. Ehsan kept walking and almost didn't notice when Baizhu stopped following him. Ehsan turned around to witness the tall figure of his companion standing on the side of the road, his head tilted up and his eyes shut. His shoulders tensed up as his lips parted and he took a shaky breath.

"Hiih... Ah... Huuh..."

Nothing. Baizhu wiped his nose with the side of his hand, exhausted by the persistent tickle that didn’t seem to be getting better any time soon.

He noticed Ehsan staring at him and laughed it off, reassuring the scholar that "it was nothing to worry about" and "seriously, Ehsan will make him blush if he keeps giving him so much sympathy." They continued walking with Baizhu slowing down every couple of minutes to try and relieve the itch buried deep inside his nose to no avail. After some time, Baizhu requested to sit down on a broken bench under an old oak tree on the side of the road. Ehsan joined him. The doctor looked weary and kept pressing the back of his gloved hand to his reddened nostrils glistening with moisture.

"When on the road, one should take ample time to pause and appreciate the wondrous scenery along the way," Baizhu finally said, looking at the blue sky dreamily.

"You're about to collapse, aren't you?" Changsheng responded without hesitation.

Baizhu was about to say something when his gaze went blank and he drew a sharp breath.

"Oh, come on!" Changsheng exclaimed impatiently. "If you weren't so dead set on trying to be polite, you'd feel much better without needing to sit down and catch your breath." She then turned to Ehsan, silently demanding his participation in the discussion.

Baizhu sighed and slumped on the bench. "I'll be alright. I just hh-... need a moh... hhh-... ment."

Ehsan felt bad for the doctor, but this feeling was mixed with a sort of excitement that gave the scholar goosebumps. He didn't realize as his intrusive thoughts got the best of him:

"Dr Baizhu, if I may, sometimes your body just needs a slight push to help it get rid of the allergen and make you feel better."

Ehsan froze with his mouth still slightly agape, unable to believe in the reality of what he had just proposed.

Changsheng gave him a curious look but didn't say anything. Baizhu lifted his head and looked at Ehsan. His soft green hair spilled out from his bun and unruly strands were now framing his elegant face, making him look ethereal in the dappled golden light filtering through the canopy above. "Did you have an idea?"

Ehsan almost jumped at the question. Baizhu did not seem like somebody who easily accepted the help of others. But if what Ehsan heard two days ago, albeit muffled by the walls of the pharmacy, was really what he thought it was... Ehsan's cheeks flushed crimson.

"I um... could help you... sneeze," the last word was so quiet it almost got lost in the breeze. Baizhu's piercing golden eyes seemed to widen, and his vertical pupils turned into thin lines.

"Alright, I have to admit, I'm intrigued. Mostly because I'd never expected to see such an offer coming from you." Baizhu's lips stretched into a smirk, and he sniffled wetly. "Suffice to say, it feels different to be on the receiving side of a treatment, but I... hiih-..." Baizhu's breath hitched, and he lost track of his thoughts. "Ahem, what I'm trying to say is, I guess, as a doctor, I myself should be an example of a perfect patient readily accepting hii-... the…"

Ehsan saw the desperation in Baizhu's eyes, barely masked by his pretend nonchalant attitude.

As the doctor sighed and rubbed his nose again, Ehsan bent down and pulled out a thin blade of grass, soft with a pointed tip. He looked at Dr Baizhu, hesitating. The doctor seemed calm, if a little tense, whether from the persistent itch in his nose or the peculiar situation they found themselves in. Ehsan reached out toward Baizhu's face but stopped himself, afraid that the doctor would burst out laughing at how silly Ehsan must look, exposing the affair as a joke he never took seriously. However, Baizhu's facial expression remained neutral, and he didn't pull away from Ehsan's hand. Ehsan carefully cupped Baizhu's cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft skin under his fingertips. He looked into Baizhu’s eyes, as if asking for permission. The doctor sniffled again and reached out for his nose instinctively, but Ehsan stopped his hand and put it back on the bench. Baizhu's bright eyes lit up with curiosity. Ehsan brought the thin blade of grass to the doctor's right nostril and brushed it gently. Baizhu's nostrils twitched, and the bridge of his nose wrinkled. Fascinated, Ehsan brushed the outside of the left nostril to witness the same reaction. Baizhu blinked a couple of times and exhaled shakily. Ehsan inserted the grass blade inside the doctor's nose and gave it a slight twirl. Baizhu's breath wavered as his eyes rolled back and his eyelids dropped. Ehsan kept rotating the grass blade, slowly climbing deeper into the doctor's quivering nose. Baizhu's breath was now hitching uncontrollably and his eyebrows darted up, forming a triangle. He tilted his head up, leaning away from the grass blade that was now tickling deep inside his irritated nose. Ehsan responded by pushing the grass blade further in as Baizhu audibly gasped for air. "Aaah!.." The swift movements of Ehsan's fingers sped up as Baizhu's nose kept scrunching up and twitching, buzzing with an unbearable itch. "Ah!.. Hh... Hh... HaaH!.." Baizhu lifted a hand motioning for Ehsan to stop, but the scholar was too entranced by the show to pay attention to anything but the doctor's red, twitchy nostrils and his shaky breath. "Aaah!!.." Baizhu froze for a split second before jerking forward towards Ehsan violently. The scholar quickly snatched the grass blade away as Baizhu erupted in an uncovered sneezing fit, misting Ehsan's lap with tiny droplets of spray.

"Huh'dSCHh'sshuh!! Huh'dSCHh'ssh! Hiih... Hiih... Hiih'IISSSHiuu! Haah.. Ah-kTSHHew!..  Hh... Heh-Eh'sSCHew! Eh'sSCH'ew!............................ Huh... Hh..." Baizhu paused with his eyes still shut and took another slow deep breath. Without thinking, Ehsan reached out and slid the wet grass blade back into the doctor's irritated nostril, making the latter gasp and lurch forward with a loud "Hhah!!... Ah'eeKSCHHew! Ah!.. Ae'SCHoo!...................Huh-AaahSCHHew! Ugh..."

The doctor blinked rapidly, collecting himself. He sniffled, trying to stop his dripping nose from making a mess, then grabbed a sleeve of his coat and buried his face into it.

Ehsan flicked the grass blade away, not taking his eyes off the absolutely breathtaking god-like figure sitting next to him dabbing the thick fabric to his sensitive nose and misty eyes.

"Phew... Ahem," Baizhu coughed into the sleeve a little longer than needed to clear his throat. "I have never experienced anything quite like it, that's for sure," he finally said, still wiping his nose in an upward motion. He then turned his attention to Ehsan and his face dropped.

"Oh, archons!! I am so, so sorry! Please do accept my sincerest apologies, I did not mean to... erm... make such a mess, let alone sneeze all over my patient!"

Baizhu lowered his head, bowing to Ehsan, who, in all honesty, did not mind a little mist on his clothes that seemed to make the doctor feel so flustered.

"He liked it," Changsheng stated with zero emotion in her voice. Baizhu lifted his head and looked at the white snake, his face still reflecting deep remorse. "What I’m saying is, our ssscholar friend seems to enjoy," Changsheng began, making Ehsan wish he’d met his fate at the Chasm and avoided going to the pharmacy altogether, "...helping others, and it bringsss him great joy to see people feeling better." Ehsan could have sworn that if snakes could smile, she would be giving him her sassiest grin.

"Oh, is that so?" Baizhu sniffled again, but his nose no longer looked red and irritated.

"Y-yes, I am indeed glad to have been able to repay your kindness as you saved me the other day," Ehsan hurriedly replied. "Besides, I couldn't bear watching you suffer any longer."

"Well, in that case..." Baizhu's face took on a contemplating expression before he turned towards Ehsan and looked straight into his eyes. "It looks like we have a lot in common."

[abiiors]

ross cuddles would cure my period cramps. thats it. thats the thought

yeahhh ☹️☹️🤍

ross is actually the perfect person to be around on your period! every single month (when he's home ofc) you just pout at him with big teary eyes (because pain, and nausea and bloating and a million other things that are suddenly wrong with the world) and every single month he knows exactly what's wrong by just one look at your face.

just like always, he opens his arms wide, enveloping you in a tight hug the moment you cling to him like a koala. you don't even have to move after that, you know he'd let you jump on him and wrap your legs around his middle so he can carry you to bed.

"are you in pain?" he asks, little crease prominent between his brows and frowns when you nod.

"oh that's not good, love. did you take any painkillers?"

you did take two about ten minutes ago and they are yet to act. and he tuts when you nod once again.

"then tell me what you need. ice cream? chocolates? we have those in the fridge."

"i ju--"

"oh pads! tampons! do you have enough of those? i'd do a tesco run if you need more."

and just like every month you giggle a little at the thought of him dwarfing the hygiene aisle of the little tesco down the street. he'd be so obvious--tall and tattooed and so recognisable, holding up two packs of pads to look at them carefully and make sure it's the ones you usually use.

"what's so funny!" he narrows his eyes, sitting on the bed that he's tucked you in five minutes ago.

"nothing. i have everything i need, baby. i just want you, okay?" you tug on his wrist, as if that pathetic amount of force would move the mountain of a man but ross looks at your hold around his wrist and smiles sweetly.

"right, one last thing and then i'm all yours. what about a heating pad?"

you tsk. "your hands are good enough. now come on please, i'd die if i have to be in pain any longer."

ross shakes his head, mutter something about dramatics but you don't miss the smile on his face. seconds later, he gets settled into bed, pulling you into his chest and loosens your shorts a little so he can place his hand on your lower stomach.

the warmth of it makes you sigh. it feels just as good as it always does--being cuddled into his chest and having his warm body practically covering yours. and maybe it's that the painkillers have finally started working but you swear his hands magically just make the pain less noticeable.

you stay like that, head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while he plays with your hair and hums some song.

"sleepy?"

"mmm, could sleep i suppose."

"oh you suppose, do you?" he teases, "while you're practically drooling on me?"

"oi!" you pinch his side until he laughs and swats you away. "don't be mean, i'm on my deathbed."

"right. right..."

but his hands resume massaging your stomach and playing with your hair and the more you snuggle in to him, the heavier your eyes get.

"you'd stay if i fell asleep though, won't you?" you all but mumble into his t-shirt because you barely have any strength left to lift your head and open your eyes. he's too comfy and you're too cosy.

"i'd stay as long as you want," he hums. you feel a kiss being pressed to your hair, long and sweet and he lingers for a few moments making sure to press another kiss right before he pulls back. in spite of yourself, you smile.

the pain's okay, you suppose, if this is the treatment you get for it <3

[fryingpan1234567]

putting the 141, who is already military, into sub-military aus is so special to me

Top Gun au so I can put them in planes. dope ass painted flight helmets with their callsigns across the back. Laswell and her wife own a bar that the boys like to frequent and cause trouble in. also an excuse to stick them on the California coast

Halo au because SPARTAN ARMOR?? alien warfare?? mostly the armor HELP I just wanna give Gaz a giant energy sword please

PacRim au to put them in giant robots. and so I can fuck w drift compatibility. bomber jackets with their names and jaeger insignias stitched on the sleeves and backs. bullying recruits who just wanna punch aliens. I know this one’s already been written (AMAZING fic do check it out) but still it’s everything

Avatar au because… what’s not to love? giant blue aliens with guns and pterodactyls and floating mountains?? yeah dude I am ALL in (I’m also kinda writing this if you wanna see sooo)

SCP au simply because that would be so fucking funny. “goddamn it people are going missing at IKEA again let’s fuckin move out I guess” “IF THAT FUCKING PEANUT BREACHES CONTAINMENT ONE MORE FUCKING TIME—“ “huh this house sure is weird I hope none of us get turned into code and lag out of existence” LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE

Monsterverse because I think seeing Ghost’s reaction to Godzilla crawling out of a mountain and turning pink would just… cure me. Price has sympathy for the monsters but also just wants to protect all the humans in their path. Soap LOVES all of them (Mothra is his personal favorite) and punched a higher-up who suggested bombing a recently discovered nest one time. Gaz is mostly just in awe of them all, but they also give him anxiety because just one of them could flatten an entire house with one step. they be vibin

Jurassic World because my dinosaur fixation started when I was four and never went away. I’ll fight all of you. raptor trainer Ghost?? paleoveterinarian Soap who’s friends with all the dinos?? head of security Price and head park management Gaz?? please (I’m also writing this one)

like yes. they still do the military thing. but slightly to the left. I could do it all day

[fairycosmos]

i’m going to kill myself tonight but i wanted to say i’ve always loved your blog and your my favourite tumblr person :)

hey, not sure if anything i can say can change your mind but please please consider calling a hotline or reaching out to a friend/family member if that's an option. i won't pretend i know the type of pain you're in, or much about the situation you're in, and i hope this doesn't come across as me saying it's easy to keep going because it's absolutely not. whether you're feeling numb, whether your thoughts are totally chaotic. it's a type of hell either way. i know things are unbearably painful so much of the time. you deserve so much better and i just don't think doing this is going to give you that. i'm not trained in all the right and wrong things to say to someone who's going through this and i know that when i'm in this place myself, there's very little anyone can do or say to get me out of it. but i do come out of it. even if i'm not happy, the pressing urge to harm myself is so strong that by its own nature it's unsustainable. it's the hardest thing in the world to bear it and i'm so sorry you're going through it. it's so fucking exhausting. and at the same time it always somewhat dies down and there is always another day to try again.

please, please get yourself to a physically safe space. if you need to cry, break down, sleep for 72 hours, take a shower, eat something, put your face in cold water, rip up a million pieces of paper to get the rage out - it's okay. whatever you need is okay. you don't have to think about what you're going to do tomorrow or next week or next month or in the next 5 years. you just have to focus on getting through today, minute by minute. if that feels like too much, second by second. and you can keep breaking it down like that until it stops feeling like some insurmountable mountain. i know words are not enough to change anything about how much despair and hopelessness you're feeling in this moment. i just want you to attempt to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend going through something like this. even just for the next 30 minutes. i'm going to leave some resources linked below that have helped me when i've been in a similar spot. they're not solutions and they're not cures. they're just going to allow you to see other perspectives beyond your suicidality. you are so, so worth that. please reach out to a loved one, the authorities or a hotline if you can. it is not going to be as scary as your mind is building it up to be. i would seriously hate to think of you doing something to harm yourself. you have a right to feel how you feel, but you don’t have to give these thoughts the power to actually dictate your reality. i'm really, really glad you're alive and i genuinely hope you're able to get to the point where you are too. you're the one who can really bring yourself back from the edge. what happens next is all in your hands, not in the grip of your negative thoughts, urges, or feelings. please, please do what you know is right for your safety and wellbeing. even if it's the hardest choice in the world to make. please, please stick around for today at the very least. just focus on getting through the now, no matter how unbearable. that's more than good enough, and it's all anyone can ask of you. i'm sending you so, so much love.

international suicide hotlines / guidance for creating a safety plan / coping with suicidal thoughts pdf / download a how to cope factsheet / coping with suicidal thoughts right now / 10+ coping skills worksheets for adults / the coping skills toolbox / how do you stop suicidal thoughts?

[sister-lucifer]

Inspire Me

Edward Nygma A.K.A. The Riddler x Male Reader

(This was inspired and technically written with The Riddler from Batman: The Audio Adventures in mind, but I feel like any version of Eddie works here) 

Genre: Smut

Summary: Edward has caught an unfortunate case of writer’s block, but he can always count on you to inspire him

Content/Warnings: Riding, praise, pet names, Edward cums inside 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“Nothing, nothing, nothing!” 

Edward’s frustrated voice reverberated off the walls, the echoes of his anger ringing in your ears from the other room. You sighed to yourself at the sound.

No matter how smart Edward may be, no one is immune to writers block. It is a terrible plague that befalls evil and innocent alike, an indiscriminate ailment with no real cure, and he’d caught it bad. You could hear him quickly crumple up another few papers and toss them away, groaning loudly when they didn’t make it into the overflowing trashcan. 

For days now he had been pondering like this. He didn’t tell you exactly what had happened, but the Batman had done something or other that had gotten under his skin even more than usual. He’d been doing next to nothing but seething and brainstorming, but it seems nothing substantial had come of it. 

You always worried about Edward when he became like this. You hated seeing him upset, even if it was over something trivial, but you also knew that his greatest breakthroughs always directly followed his worst struggles. Any time soon now he would have his “eureka” moment, you could feel it. 

Of course, that’s not to say he wouldn’t need any help. 

“Oh, sweetheeeaaart!” Edward called to you in a sing-song tone. Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you immediately rushed to him. 

“Yes, Mr. Nygma?” You replied, poking your head into the doorway. The sight before you was a bit jarring, but certainly not unexpected. 

Edward was sitting on the floor accompanied by mountains of discarded papers, half-done drawings of possible inventions or plans of attack surrounding him on all sides. A few metal knickknacks and machine parts laid scarcely about as well. He quickly brushed some of the discarded items away with his arm upon seeing the face you made, but it did little to help. 

You could tell what he was going to ask you from the embarrassed, lopsided smirk on his face alone. 

You and Edward had been a team long before you became his “muse.” He had discovered your brilliant ability to inspire him through…intimate means completely by accident, but he was glad he did. He wasn’t sure how it worked—maybe it was the desperately needed stress relief, or the endorphin rush of an orgasm; it didn’t really matter—but it was more effective than anything he’d tried before. He only used it as a last resort of course (he didn’t want you to feel as though he was just using you), but you were more than happy to lend him a hand. 

Or a mouth. 

Or a hole. 

“My darling, my love, the light of my life,” He began, gesturing for you to come closer. He always did enjoy the overuse of pet names. “As I’m sure you can tell my recent attempts at criminal endeavors have not been very…” 

He flicked a paper ball away with a bored expression as he blew a lock of hair out of his face. 

“…Successful.” 

“Yes, Mr. Nygma, I’ve taken note.” You flashed him an understanding smile as you walked towards him, papers crunching loudly beneath your shoes. “Is there any way I can assist you?” 

Edward responded by simply patting his lap. 

Once you’d planted yourself on top of him he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close with a sigh. 

“Oh, my handsome muse! I’m afraid that my medium has not been kind to me,” He lamented, “Try as I might, no matter how many ideas I conjure nothing is good enough. I’ve exhausted all my resources…” 

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, one of your hands sliding down his arm to lace your fingers with his. You gave a playful squeeze, and you could hear the faintest giggle slip past Edward’s lips. 

“Eddie…” You whispered. Your warm breath against his ear nearly made him shudder. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You pulled back, looking him up and down and toying with the collar of his button up. 

“There’s no need to beat around the bush, you know. If you need me to inspire you, you only need to ask.” 

—————————————————————

“Oh, my inspiration! You beautiful thing, you!” Edward gushed, arms holding you tightly to his chest. The praise encouraged you to bounce faster, craving the feeling of his cock hitting deep inside of you. His restless hands groped and grabbed at every bit of soft flesh you had to offer, leaving no spot on the outside or inside of you untouched. 

“Oh, Eddie!” You mewled in return as you leaned in to press desperate kisses to his jawline. 

“Faster, sweetheart, please…” Edward pleaded. You could feel each heavy breath he took as his chest rose and fell against your own. Your hands held tightly to his shoulders to keep your balance, nails digging into the wrinkled fabric of his loose button up. “More, my love! I can feel it— I can feel your wonderful inspiration! You are absolute perfection, my muse!” 

The best part of his sweet praises was knowing that he meant each and every word. 

Edward adored you. You were the very spirit of his creativity, and he was reminded of it every time he turned to you for ideas. 

Edward needed you in more ways than one, and he was never ashamed to show it. 

“Oh, s-sweetheart—!” He stuttered, an unusual habit for him that only you were ever allowed to witness, “Sweet boy, I-I’m close—!” 

He didn’t have to warn you; you’ve done  this more than enough times to see all the signs. You felt every little twitch of his cock inside of you, and he felt every subtle quiver of yours in return. The feeling of your leaking member grinding against his stomach as you rode him brought him satisfaction to no end. 

“My love, please, will you give me the honor…?” Edward asked, his words soft and sincere against your shoulder. 

“Of course, Eddie,” You replied eagerly. You’d never hesitate to let Edward fill you up, just how you both liked. “Anything for you.”

It was clear you were losing your rhythm now, all your focus directed to angling your hips to hit just the right spot. Edward bucked up into you in return, throwing his head back with a drawn out moan as you squeezed around him. Soon he was thrusting into you wildly, desperately chasing his release. 

“Yes, yes—! Just a bit more! God, mmph—! Perfection!” 

His words of encouragement were sprinkled between frantic calls of your name, which soon took over any attempt at forming a cohesive sentence. He held on to you for dear life, practically screaming for you as he came. The sudden warm rush of him filling you was enough to give you the last extra push you needed. 

“Oh, Eddie!” 

Your last cry was shrill and broken, barely managed between incessant noises of pleasure. Edward hummed in delight at the feeling of your cum falling across his chest. 

Soon you slowed to a stop, both of you going silent as you caught your breath. You rested your forehead on Edward’s chest as he stroked your hair tenderly. 

“Oh, my love, that was exactly what I needed…” Edward said through heavy breaths. You couldn’t help but grin at that. 

“I can feel the ideas flowing, the perfect plan is in my sights— Oh, yes! That’s it! I’m so glad I have you.” The more he spoke the more giddy with excitement he became, muttering to himself in who knows what languages as you stared up at him dreamily. He was adorable when he was like this. You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, one you both smiled into.

“You have no idea how much of a help you’ve been, my love. I can’t thank you enough.” 

You shifted in Edward’s lap, placing your hand over his where it rested on your side. 

“You’re welcome, Eddie. I’ll always be here to inspire you.” 

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[aloneatpeace]

𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙻𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳

WICKED '11'

Yoongi swipes the card and the door opens with a hiss, hoseok had tagged along saying he can help if needed the rest of them waits in the dorm.

Entering through the door they are shaken seeing the grievers preserved in tank filled with some fluid that they are not sure of, dozens of fetus state grievers lined up behind one another. Yoongi and hoseok glance at each other entering through the next door see people hooked of wires, tubes attached to their body.

Hoseok hurriedly strutted towards a body that hooked to the vitals uttering your name thinking that it’s you.

He slowly parts the hair that covered the persons face and sees that is not you, a feeling of relief and pain wash through him at the discovery.

Aris walks towards them with somber look on his face “it’s Rachel. They took her the first night. I told her it was going to be okey”

The sound of door opening alert them and the three quickly scatter hiding behind the pillars, hoseok and yoongi huddled together while Aris hide hides himself.

Janson walks in with man carrying a tab talking among them as they walk towards, the screen in front of them light up catching their attention eyes narrowing with interest. Yoongi’s and hoseok mouth open in a silent gasp, on the screen Ava Paige who supposed to dead sitting in a chair going through papers in the desk in front of her.

“Good morning, Dr. Ava Paige, good to see you again although I wasn’t expecting to hear from you quite so soon” Janson says with tight smile

“Change of plan, Janson. I’ll be arriving a little sooner than expected, first thing tomorrow.” Ava Paige say standing up she walks towards the screen closer.

“We’ll be delighted to have you. I think you’ll be pleased with the progress we’ve made.” A slight close-lipped smile on Janson faces that yoongi so badly wanted to punch

Ava nods a thoughtful look loom on her face “Does she remember anything?”

“Aside from that she used work for us nothing else. No need to worry she does not fully remember them.” Janson said.

Hoseok and yoongi share knowing glance in their back mind they know who they are talking about though more questions arise.

“Namjoon seems to recover his suppressed memory as well, we haven’t been able to determine Jungkook’s status, subject that belong to Namjoon maze. I’m sure you are familiar with them.  though his brain activity functioning well there is chance he might as we reclaim his memories” Janson words make their heart drop, they forget to breathe for a second. Many more questions arise hoseok hold around on yoongi’s clothes tighten, their legs feel shaky.

 “Erase their memory again, we cannot take any more chances. What about the rest of them?”

Janson motion the guy beside them, the screen shows brain’s scan of them “As you can see, early results have been extremely promising. Whatever it is you’ve been doing to them in there, it’s working.”

“Not well enough. I will take the three with me. I have received board approval. I want all of the reaming subjects sedated and prepped for harvest by the time I arrive.”

“Doctor Paige, we are going fast as we can. We are still running tests”

“Try something faster. Until I can guarantee their security, this is the best plan.” She stresses

“Ma’am, security is my job. We’re on 24-hour lock down here. I am assuring you the assets are secure” Janson state with tight strained smile.

“Have you found the Right Arm?” she asks that question seems to falter Janson.

“Not yet. We tracked them as far as the mountains.”

Ava composure falls “So they’re still out there” her voice rise “and they’ve already hit two of our installations. They want these kids as badly as we do. And I cannot I cannot afford another loss. Not now, when I am so close to a cure. If you’re not up to the task, I will find someone who is.”

“That won’t be necessary. Might I suggest we start with the most recent arrivals”

“Namjoon’s maze?” Ava asks.

“Yes, they seem too suspicious of us. one in particular”

“Just get it done” she dismisses going back to her chair Janson nod and turn to leave.

Before Janson can fully leave, she calls them “I don’t want them to feel any pain”

“They won’t feel a thing.” He says but his eyes say otherwise, with heart racing out of their chest they rush out and crawl through the vent and reach their room.

The rest of the guys spacing back and forth sprung towards them when they hear them coming through the vent.

“She is alive, Ava Paige is still alive. Its WICKED “yoongi hurriedly takes blankets and ties them on the door.

“Namjoon and jungkook is alive, they have them” the boys stand shell shocked further confusion adding as they taken in yoongi’s rapid movements.

 Jin grab yoongi by his collar “What do you mean they’re alive?”

Yoongi pants sweat dropping down from his forehead “Ava Paige is coming to get them, take them along with y/n”

“To where?” taehyung asks with Theo standing beside him with a worried look on their word.

“I don’t know. “

When Janson and guards comes with sedations they’re meet with empty room. The boys successfully get out the room by crawling through the vent. Along the way Aris parted with saying that he needed to do something important Winston volunteered to go along with Aris in case they’re meet with any difficulty.

Yoongi guides the boys through unfamiliar hallway halting back when they see the doctor who they had seen around the lab

“What are you kids doing out?” she asks with a narrowed eyes at bewildered group of boys, the alarm blaring sound echoes around the hallway they are in.

Before she can run hoseok grabs her “You’re going to take us to our friends” yoongi cold voice and burning glare send the same shivers down her spin when she encountered Namjoon.

Turning a corner they narrowly miss the shots that aim at them, hoseok hands the women over to jin before.

“Hoseok, what are you doing?”  jin yells

Hoseok runs back with yell just as the guard come around the corridor slamming the man to the wall with grunt escaping him, hoseok efficiently knocks the man out of conscious.

  The rest of them gather around hoseok looking down at the unconscious man “That was sick” jimin says in amusement.

Yoongi takes the gun examining it for a quick second before pointing at doctor “okey. Come on. Let’s go.”

The doctor takes them to the restricted area where they kept the three of you, taehyung close the door behind them. “Where are they?” he barks gritting his teeth hands gripping tight on the weapon.

“They are here” jimin gasps when he sees his friends who were hidden by curtain. Jin and taehyung moves towards them.

There you, Namjoon and jungkook lay unconsciously hands and legs tied down, jungkook is hooked with wire and machines while you and Namjoon has a single ivy drip on the arms.

“Jimin, what is their condition?” Yoongi gulped without looking away from the people that he held hostage.

“they’re alright” jimin mumbled checking jungkook bandaged wound first before moving on to the rest. 

taehyung take sharp surgical knife and starts cut the restriction on Namjoon as he was closer to him.  “Jin hurry” taehyung hands jin another surgical knife to cut your binds.

Jimin carefully remove the wires and ivy trips from jungkook while jin does yours and taehyung does Namjoon. Their eyes filled with tears hands trembling as they work, they wake them up.

“Jimin” jungkook soft voice almost made yoongi falter along with the rest relief filling their lungs. Jimin hosts jungkook up throwing his arms over shoulder to support him.

“Tae, I knew you guys would come” Namjoon eyes blinked a lopped smile on his face taehyung give him a weak grin.

“she’s isn’t waking up” jin hands touch your face shaking you gently, yoongi march towards the doctors stomping his feet.

“What did you do to her?” Namjoon and yoongi asks 

“It just a heavy sedative” the lady yell out trembling at the crazy look that Namjoon and yoongi’s eyes had.

“We have to go” Frypan yells seeing sound of fast paced footsteps running toward their direction.

Jin hand taken you in his arm jimin and taehyung help jungkook and Namjoon to stand on their feet as the rest quickly barricaded the door to stall them, hoseok look around for escape “everybody, stand back” he grabs a chair smash it against the glass window repeatedly breaking the glass.

 He jumps into other side and turns to jin motion to hand over you, jin does once he does hoseok give you back to jin holding on to jin shoulder and giving a meaningful nod to take care of you until you are fully capable of standing on your won. 

The rest of the boys jumps to the other side yoongi and hoseok once again guiding them, just as yoongi opens the door of the room they meet with another man carrying stun gun few feet away from them yoongi pull the trigger without a thought his eyes popping out as the man fall back sliding across the floor electricity crackling from the weapon yoongi holding. they run past the groaning man on the floor. They come down to large door yoongi take out the key card and swipes cursing out loud when the door does not open.

“Yoongi” Janson voice calls from behind making them turn to him and his approaching men carrying stun guns.

Yoongi takes the stun gun, point towards them making Janson raise his hands in surrender and walk towards them dismissing his friends calls, he needs to do this he can’t let Janson get near his friends. “Open this door, Janson.”

“You really don’t want me too.” Janson says inching towards them, they are meet with glaring yoongi walking towards them with aggravated stance. 

“Open the damn door.!”

“Listen to me! I’m trying to save your life. The maze is one thing, but you kids won’t last one day out in the scorch. If the elements won’t kill you, the cranks will.” Janson stops walking towards them as well as yoongi “I only want the best for you.”

Yoongi eyes narrow at the man’s words a scoff escaping his lips “Yeah, let me guess. WICKED is good?”

Yoongi backhanded comment seems to make Janson true face to slip “You’re not gonna go through that door, yoongi.”

Just as the words leave his mouth the door opens starling the rest of the boys huddled on the front of the door jin grip on you tighten, on the other side Aris and Winston stands.

Jin quickly moves everyone follows hoseok turns to yoongi “Yoongi, now”. The rest of the boys’ yells at yoongi to run towards them. Yoongi starts to fire the stun gun walking backwards quickly, yoongi grunts in frustration when the gun gets empty throwing the gun at them. yoongi turns towards the door and run just as the door began to close, he slides through the floor before the door can fully close.

Aris quickly towards the door smash the key swiping device locking Janson on the other side hoseok and Winston grab the everything uses full. 

Jin glance down at you feeling hands curl around his clothes “Jin”

“Oh, thank god, you’re awake” he whispers a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “Are you alright?”.

“You need to trust me. we have to go now” jin set you down but keep his hands on you “you need to run with me, okey.” Jin slowly starts to walks with you as yoongi and rest open the big main door.

The sand wind rush in as yoongi open the door “GO. Go” he glances back panicking when he doesn’t see jin nor you “JIN?”

He felt like he could breathe again when he sees you slowly ruing with jin beside you towards yoongi “Yoongi, what’s going on?”

Yoongi hurried towards you garbing on to your arms when he gets on his arm’s length “Hope the nap given you some strength” he pulls you towards him and starts picking up pace quickly catching up with the rest pf them.

Yoongi, jin and you behind everyone sees guys on bike coming after you, adrenaline kicks making your heart beat fast. You run faster moving among the boys, the boys get flabbergasted when they see you run up head.  

You falter on step when you see Namjoon and jungkook just as Theo yells to slide down a hole, everyone carefully slides down and find themselves in what’s look like abandoned building almost berried by sands.

Yoongi beside you steady you, hoseok take out the flashlight that he taken from the knocked-out guard and shine it around the building “Where the hell are we?”

“I have questions too?” you say raising your hand slowly eyes pinned on Namjoon and jungkook “How are two alive? And the hell was going on.”   

Namjoon doesn’t say anything his eyes looked on you like he never seen you, his eyes shined with tears barely holding back from falling down from his orbs. 

While jungkook stands asking the same questions to himself all he remember is dying in your arms and the shrilling screams that escaped from you lips before he finally felt his heart stops. He doesn’t know how is he alive? Who saved him? his friends couldn’t save him If they didn’t do it that mean who ever that saved him is in the building that run away from? Who are those people? why did they run away from them?  

“Am I hallucinating” you whisper after Namjoon and jungkook stays silent yoongi roll his eyes with a smile on his face though they’re not saved at least they are saved from being send to somewhere unknown.

“No, you’re not.” Yoongi said “We were never saved from WICKED. they are WICKED Ava, she’s alive. And we thought they died but WICKED had them. it’s all a step they’re setting us up for something new.” He adds looking at Namjoon and jungkook.

“We found bodies, too many to count” everyone turns to hoseok jimin and taehyung eyes widen at his words.

“What you mean? Dead bodies?” jimin asks his heart beating out his chest where they been sleeping under the same roof next to bunch of dead people without knowing they’re gonna the next victims of this messed up experiment.

“No, but they weren’t alive either. They had them stung up with tubes coming out of them. they were being drained. There is something in our blood that WICKED wants. Something in our blood.”

Taehyung glance around everyone standing apprehensively (expect one) after hearing hoseok words “So we have to get as far away from them as possible.” He speaks with his hands on his speaks.

Everyone nods jimin turn to jungkook and Namjoon “I’m glad we didn’t lose you two” jimin throw himself around the two gripping their clothes taehyung smile at them before joining.

“Yeah! Don’t go dying okey?” Jin playfully scold opening his long hands joining the group hug hoseok grab yoongi and join the hug sound sniffling can be heard from group.

You watch as the reunite its clear as day the seven share a bonding that you or any other Glader can’t comprehend something you wanna be part of but you know you can’t heck the reason they’re in mess and the reason jungkook got shot is you and haven’t even able to say thank you or apologize you’re not sure what you should do even and them not answering made you more anxious you don’t even why Namjoon looked at the way he did, is holding anything against you are not sure. you shouldn’t be envious of their happiness or the love that share but you are.

A hand slides in yours making you glance away from them; Theo hands wrap around yours and he squeeze them gently “I am glad you’re here” he whispers his eyes peering at you with smile.

“Me too” you say returning the smile.

“Hey guys look here” frypan say as he crouches down, he points at the foot prints.  “Someone’s been down here”

“Let search around the area see if we can find anything that we can use” jin propose shining his flashlight.

Jin and hoseok along with frypan walk in the front, jimin frown when sees you and Theo holding hands walking towards them slowly though now it’s not just jin shines his flashlight through the shutter door “come on open up”

You and Theo sauntered towards inside using his flashlight behind Namjoon and yoongi linger and yoongi sees how Namjoon’s eyes seem follow you around.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” his voice was low only two of them could hear the exchange of words.

Namjoon let out a long sigh “you might I am crazy, if I tell you.”

“Well, I saw grievers contained in tanks, tons actually and there is creature called cranks that are cannibalistic roaming around the who one’s were humans just like us” yoongi and Namjoon look at each other for the latter pulls him aside, before calling and jin and hoseok.

Jimin and taehyung had gone looking for supplies away from them while rest scattered around to find anything that can help them.

jimin had given you his flashlight saying he and taehyung can use theirs you depart from Theo and look round for things that you could use; you walk into what look like makeshift room with torn curtain acting as door.

shining the flashlight your heart almost leaps out when the light falls on creepy looking mannequin that jumping back a little. You shine your flashlight on the ting conforming it is just a mannequin, now lasting thing you wanna deal with a haunted doll or some shit.

 “You alright there?”

Turning around you find jungkook standing behind you with the curtain lifted a little, but he doesn’t enter his eyes search around the room though he doesn’t look satisfied with nod he turns to leave you alone.

“Wait”

Jungkook glance back at you and come in the room slowly “I am sorry for what happened…though sorry doesn’t reverse what happened I…I never gets to say thank you for saving my life.” you fingers tighten around the flashlight.

Jungkook lips starts to curls a smile forming on his lips “it’s alright.”

You shake your head at his quick dismissal “No, you shouldn’t have done that.” You take a step forward towards him hesitating.

“Why shouldn’t I, I wasn’t gonna let you die. And you don’t need to apologize I’ll do it again to save you” jungkook doesn’t know when he walked closed towards you, closer than ever yet something in him said closer, closer.

His eyes fall on your face tears hung on your water line his body move on his own hands coming to wrap itself around your body bring you close to his chest. His hand rest on your back of your head smoothing down your hair his other curl around your back. You let your head fall on his chest hands his waist pressing your body to his he responds with squeezing you in, “don’t blame yourself for what happened, it was my decision and I will do it again if it means to save your life”

You lift your head to see he’s already looking at you “why?” His eyes fall on your lips as the question leave your lips “I don’t know why, but I would.” He concluded

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[gyuutahoe]

The Pen and Sword - Part 4

Summary: Newly recruited to the Demon Slayer Corps, you finally meet your designated swordsmith. He may be as much of a misanthrope as others had warned, but you were nothing if not determined to bring him out of his shell.

Warnings: None

a/n: female reader, eventual smut, penpals with the feral misanthrope, both reader and Haganezuka are seventeen at the start of the story, established backstory for reader.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

The Swordsmith Village was far more scenic than you ever thought it could be. Hidden high up in the mountains of an unknown location, the endless expanse of rolling hills and towering evergreens awaited your scrutiny once you could take your blindfold off. The scent of pine had been strong throughout your journey. It was a wonderful distraction from the fact that you were being carried by a man. Kakushi or no, you were certain your mother was rolling in her grave.

Nevertheless, as soon as you were allowed to rest on your own two feet and removed the blindfold, you eagerly rubbed at your bleary eyes and took in the scenery. The village was so beautiful. The towering buildings were truly a testament to the craftsmen living here.

“If this impresses you,” the kakushi said, “Then be sure to visit our hot springs later. The entrance is on the other end of the village. You’ll see the path leading up the hill.”

A smile crept onto your weary face. All too suddenly did you feel muscle aches and pain from training and fighting, from walking endlessly through the countryside, and sleeping wherever your luck led you. No breathing technique could rival the cure of warm water and idle rest.

But you needed to meet the village chief first. The kakushi warned you of this proper etiquette before any mention of living quarters were spoken of. You listened to his reverent explanation of the legendary Tecchikawahara Tecchin, a master swordsmith of unparalleled talent who forged swords for many Pillars. A man of such caliber must certainly be an intimidating and powerful individual. Perhaps even stronger and more disciplined than the Pillars themselves.

You spent the rest of the walk imagining what this fierce swordsmith might look like, eyeing the many masked faces of the villagers and wondering if their elder wore an even more extravagant mask. Certainly it must be more impressive than Haganezuka-san’s ridiculous façade.

The narrow streets opened onto a courtyard, and beyond that stood a marvelous estate shrouded by towering trees and stone. Vagabond though you may be, an aristocrat’s etiquette proved difficult to beat out of you. Shoulders squared and chin raised high, you proceeded through the gates with as much dignity as a demon slayer was permitted to express.

The kakushi ushered you into a chamber where an old man sat between two guards. A very small, frail old man, with a mask that bore long puckered lips.

You sucked in a sharp breath, held it deep in your lungs for a moment, and swiftly exhaled as you dropped to your knees and bowed.

To think that such a tiny person carried the most respected honor of forging swords for the Pillars! It was astounding and deserved nothing short of reverence.

The mask was hilarious, though.

“I humbly thank you for allowing my stay,” you told him, keeping your head lowered as you listened to the kakushi leave.

The chief uttered a sound of approval. “A respectful young woman. Please, rise and let me get a good look at you.” You did as told, smiling politely to hide your amusement over his comically long mouthpiece. “You may call me Tecchin-sama. What brings you to my village?”

“To visit Haganezuka Hotaru.” You ignored the noticeable head tilts from the assistants. “I wanted him to examine the condition of my sword.”

“Hotaru, eh … “ Tecchin nodded slowly. “Yes, I did assign him to a recruit. You have endured quite an excessive journey for this visit, young lady.”

“As do many other Pillars who come here for the hot spring,” you retort with a tight smile. “Compared to that, I would say my reason was worth the effort.”

“Not many people would say Haganezuka-san is worth much of anything,” one of the assistants remarked, earning what you would assume to be a wry look from Tecchin as his companion huffed a laugh.

The disrespectful jibe nearly rendered you speechless. Your hand settled over the handle at your side. “This sword saved my life ten times over. I owe him everything,” you evenly replied, and your steely gaze told them that your words rung true.

Tecchin hummed. He seemed to want to say something, but was shortly interrupted by a brusque entrance behind you, with quite the commotion between the kakushi and a familiar voice.

“Ah, speak of the devil.”

You turned to look behind you. Haganezuka twisted in the kakushi’s grasp with colorful language as you eyed the debacle.

“You cannot enter without permission - “

“Eat my fucking SHIT - “

“Boys, enough!” Tecchin called out, and waved the kakushi away. With a reluctant bow and a fierce glare at Haganezuka, he returned to his post. You snickered at Haganezuka’s reproachful hand gesture.

“Hello, Haganezuka-san,” you politely greeted the agitated swordsmith.

He grunted in reply. “If you’re here, then that can only mean one thing, and trust me when I say I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl - “

“There is no need for that kind of talk,” Tecchin interrupted. “Her sword is well and sheathed beside her. Come, sit.”

Haganezuka remained standing, ignoring Tecchin’s firm command. You could feel his eyes borrowing through you, and it made you shift in embarrassment. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Well,” you started, willing the heat on your face to dissipate. “I thought perhaps, since I had the opportunity, I could bring my sword to you for an assessment, as a … pre-emptive measure, in a way … to keep it in good shape.”

He brusquely held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

You quickly pulled out the sword, sheath and all, and passed it over. It felt so … intimidating, being fully seated while Haganezuka stood over you. No problem facing demons, but the ire of this man was truly something.

Haganezuka carefully looked over the sheath itself, pulled the sword out, and deftly examined it. “The sword is fine. Are you always going to show up for maintenance?”

“Well, I could if - “

“Don’t. My time is precious.”

“Hotaru.”

The voice of Tecchin demanded absolutely no argument. The air in the room shifted, and suddenly you were all too aware of how this small, frail old man was still in charge.

”Sit.”

You expected Haganezuka to throw another fit, but to your surprise, he immediately sat beside you in cowed obedience. The rapid change in his demeanor shocked you. Had he met his match?

“Pass me the sword,” Tecchin commanded.

One of the men retrieved your sheathed blade for Tecchin. There was nothing inherently intense or stressful about having your sword examined by someone. But with your weapon in the hands of a master, you somehow felt as though you forged this sword, and scrutiny was falling upon you. Did you take care of it properly? Haganezuka seemed to think so.

You peeked a glance at him. Despite his obstinate attitude, you could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

After a minute of silence, Tecchin concluded his inspection. “Not too terrible. Much to improve upon, though.” Haganezuka tensed beside you. “Especially the symmetry of the tsuka. We will discuss this later.”

Tecchin passed the blade back to his guard, and soon it was in your hands again. You returned it to its rightful place by your side, feeling a little sorry for Haganezuka, and wondered what you should say next. Thankfully, Tecchin did not let the awkward silence continue for long.

“This is your guest,” he said to Haganezuka as he nodded towards you. “You will proceed with whatever business she has with you, and then you will escort her to the guest quarters. Then you will return to me.”

“But I’m busy -”

The fearsome aura around Tecchin swelled and choked whatever complaints Haganezuka had. “You will do it.”

“...” Haganezuka rose with what petulance he could muster. “Fine.” He looked at you. “Let’s go.”

“A-ah!” You bowed low to Tecchin and stammered out as graciously as you could, “Thank you once again, Tecchin-sama. I am in your debt.”

The old man noticeably brightened, chipper demeanor restored once more. “Of course, dear! Enjoy your stay.”

You quickly followed Haganezuka before he could leave you in the dust.