#And just doing every side quest under the sun

[takamoris]

FFXIV my beloved :)

[puppyeared]

i think the reason why im so drawn to spirit tracks and pkmn scarvi is that having the legendary/princess as a companion rather than a goal that marks the games completion makes me feel satisfied the way i would after helping a friend

my brother always teases me about how I still havent finished botw after almost 7 years bc "id rather be out picking flowers" which i wont say is untrue. and yes i know Zeldas been holding off ganon for 100 years, yes i can get some sort of idea what her relationship with link was like by recalling memories and going through her diary. ive always loved botw for its unique storytelling and setting which makes it stand out, because it lets you get to know who you're saving.

but because theyre memories, it only works if theres something for the player to investigate that already happened. its retroactive (but effective nonetheless)

on the other hand, spirit tracks does something similar but instead of having the player try to piece together memories and interpret them as a spectator, you actually have an opportunity to get to know zelda yourself by talking to her and working together. besides making it a gameplay mechanic, giving the player control over how they interact with zelda makes it so much more personable.

and I find that making the goal feel personal instead of an obligation gives me more of a reason to work towards it. I know what kind of person botw zelda was but as the player, shes still very much a stranger to me. but spirit tracks zelda? thats my friend!!!! she invited me to go to the beach after we get her body back!!! i dont want to whip her to make her move faster thats mean :(

you know how hostage negotiators are trained to introduce themselves and get to know the person theyre negotiating with because its harder to hurt someone when you know what their favorite food is? its kinda like that, because it feels like im helping a friend than being told or led to do smth

and although i havent played scarvi myself, i feel an attachment to koraidon and miraidon even just watching playthrough clips because its like!! thats my weird scaly dog!! it loves sandwiches and we're friends!!! you know!!!!!!

[planet4546b]

i reaaaaally love how much this game loves the slums. i love how much they’re bathed in sunlight. i love that they’re seen as beautiful. i love that the sun lamps were a plot element for a moment but they’re tiny from underneath, they were only ever to make shinra feel better. i love that you help round up cats. i love the kids dancing on the roof. i love the food trucks. i love that this game is about cloud being pulled in by the people around him but by the community too. you have to be a part of the world!! you have to be a part of the community!! and that community is beautiful and will care about you given the chance!! wagh

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Could you write for a female concubine that both Geta and Caracalla are in a relationship with?

The concubine of two gods

Geta/Caracalla x concubine!reader

warning : comfort, kissing, touching, mention of smut (rather smutish) nothing explicit, no use of y/n, nicknames : sun, heart, goddess

Summary : Her past uninteresting, her future uncertain, but in the present she had her place, she belonged to the emperors of Rome. A single concubine for the care of two gods, two men who desired and possessed her. She was theirs and had no choice but to obey...

info : Thank you so much anon for the request, I am so pleased to get one for Gladiator II. I love the idea, I wanted to do something similar myself someday, so this fits all the better. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

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

A scandal in the eyes of the senate, two emperors who had only passed their twentieth birthday a few moons ago without an heir were having fun with a concubine rather than looking for a wife.

But the Senate's secret was kept under wraps and the people hardly noticed, so Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla were all the more furious when the golden hands were placed around their handsome possessions.

The blue eyes of the imperial siblings had settled on them, both had been on a quest for something more fun, someone who was not tainted by lowly origins.

A woman who was a nobody and lived only for the bedie, ,,Give us our desire and we'll give you the world” Geta had promised her when he had put the tight gold bracelet on her, engravings of Apollo carved into it. It belonged to Geta and the chain that could be attached to the gold bracelet had a leather handle made by Caracalla.

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

Emperor Geta

°For Geta it was Olympus, the sky he could turn to at any time when he disappeared from the light of attention. After a Senate meeting or a visit to the Colosseum, she was waiting for him, would always find him and he didn't have to search to catch sight of her. ,,My heart” he greeted her, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, kissing the golden rings he had made for her, she was his property.

°Above all, he could do anything he wanted with his property, satisfy his lust for her in every conceivable way. At night in his chambers, he went to her under the furs and pillows, saw the emperor without make-up and golden clothes, while he ran his hands over her golden body. Lips that tasted hers, that kissed and tasted her body, grips that would leave colorful stains like a mosaic and two bodies that demanded lust, ,,My...you are bound to the emperor” he reminded her and fingers closed tightly around her jaw.

°As lustful as nights and days could be, she was just as magnificent when she was at his side. He appeared with her in the safety of the palace, two gods whose hearts seemed to wander through the corridors, ,,More divine than they will ever be” she flattered him and adjusted the golden laurel wreath before they entered the senate together. With her at his side, he had the missing piece in his government, what he had in ideas and plans, she had in eloquence and influence behind him to make it happen.

°His past known to her but hers all the more mysterious, something that harmonized when they joined forces in the Senate against the "false" friends and he held her hand as they witnessed the stabbing of some senators, ,,Thanks to your grace" he whispered to her, a hot breath and a kiss on her neck a sign for more, for the night. But especially when the sun went down and the moon came out, the light of the goddess gradually lost its meaning and only the young man Geta remained, without make-up, without gold, only with a name that she spoke with her lips.

°When he lay there on the bed in pillows and furs, the goblet of wine in his hand and looking vulnerable, she was there to keep him from being alone with his thoughts. She would run her hand through his hair, kiss him and run her hand over his hands where the gold lay, ,,You will never lose your power...my Emperor” she would murmur to him, looking over the rim of the goblet at him and resting her hand on his chest.

°Two hearts that beat the same in dark hours when the burden of a ruler becomes too much. For when her olive ring felt too tight, he was there to loosen it, a reminder of his power, but in the same breath it was he who wrapped his arms around her, not letting go because he needed her not only physically, but also to have his human side protected by her.

°Above the gold, he and she were two gods when they wanted to be, but underneath they were two humans caught up in a larger thing. Love and devotion was the only thing holding them together before they became Emperor Geta and his nameless concubine again with the rising of the sun...but with the sun, a second desire settled over them, one with a lust for blood.

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

Emperor Carcalla

°Caracalla did not see the divine when he saw her, he saw an amusement that never ended. Like a personal spectacle, a coliseum, a fight, a never-ending blood...more like a pet he dragged behind him on a leash...but in the figure of a woman in whose arms he wanted to lie when his existence became too heavy.

°His interest in politics was hardly an open secret, he could hardly make decisions himself without Geta being there. But now that he had the need, the desire for something for the first time, he didn't let himself be dissuaded. ,,If brother gets you at night, I'll take you during the sun,” he made his intentions clear, his smile revealing the gold tooth, the same sound of the leash rattling as he started to move and she had no choice but to follow.

°A follow she did day in and day out from the colloseum where she sat next to him, his hand wrapped around hers, sharing his excitement with her when one of his gladiators killed the opponent and blood spurted through the counter, ,,You bring us luck sun!” he proclaimed and a kiss as a reward. An intimacy he lived out with her in a different way what Geta wanted to have control over, Caracalla wanted to see everything free from her.

°When lights from the sun were reflected in mirrors, the emperor's chamber was illuminated and a trail of blood ran around the room, a throaty moan could be heard every now and then between the laughter. ,,Wonderful! My goddess is as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside!” he shouted as if he were entertaining an audience as he applied the knife once more, her naked body ran across the room, the chain slept across the floor and one of Caracalla's hands lay on the knife while his other lay under his toga.

°Despite his fits, he knew better than to take her than to pursue his lust physically with her, but both benefited from such a game. With each thrust as he pulled her to him, her skin warm and bleeding, her gasps and moans as he kissed her just to taste and lick her blood, his amusement grew, ,,Such a good king,” she replied, the pleasure in his eyes turning to a smile and another moan leaving his lips.

°Despite all the blood and lust, he was eager for her anchoring, for the woman in whose arms he loved to lie like a child who could do no wrong. A child who listened to stories of war, he giggled when another one died and stretched out to her touch when she gently stroked his cheek and gave him a kiss on the head, ,,My handsome emperor” her praise turned him on, soothed him and made him clasp the chain tighter.

°For Caracalla she was everything, a wife, an entertainment, his desire, the mother he ever wanted to have and he was almost like a child born with a golden tooth in his mouth. A king who was addicted to her and her feelings for him went deeper than that of a concubine and her emperor, it was recognition and love that united them both when the sun was in the sky before she went back to his brother at night because she was sworn to both of them for all time.

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

@potatoesenpaii , @sigiismunda , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @somepallings , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @trampstampbrbie

@orphdices , @k-yurieee

[aryxchse]

who did this to you? | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : didn't wrote about my husband in a long time now

warnings : blood mentioning, passing out, dark-ish percy, cursing, enemies to lovers, book percy is my babe fr

percy was never the guy who judged the book by it's cover.

he had every type of friends. clarisse, who was the daughter of ares, the second god he despised the most. annabeth, which was his father's arch nemesis athena's daughter. thalia, the girl he couldn't get along at the first but realised they were same in different fonts, which was the daughter of zeus. also the arch nemesis of his father.

he loved his friends deeply. he was loyal to them to death and he always believed that they weren't their parents. until he met you.

you were the daughter of.. well.. hera. ranking the first in his 'i-would've-killed-if-i-had-the-power.' list. and ares with a red marker under her.

the moment you felt his judgy and awkward aura around you, you decided that you should hate him. you tried to love him, which was easy, believe me. but you always thought he hated you too, so you get along with it.

percy jackson never hated you. he was just scared from you. scared from the way you sometimes did acted like your mother. and if you would've turned out like her some day.

but you never did. you were always the same gentle, sweet, caring and motherly girl. at least to others. percy jackson was just keeping up with your attitude, the attitude he created unknowingly.

until one day, you came back to argo ii from your quest with jason and annabeth, all bruised up. jason was carrying you on his back while annabeth held your hand tightly, tears perking in her eyes.

"percy, hazel, everyone! come here please!" annabeth shouted as jason put you down gently. you rested your back to some wood wall that you didn't recognised at the moment. annabeth still held your hand, and you smiled. blood running down from your lip. "annie, m' okay." you mumbled, squezzing the girls hand.

"don't talk love," annabeth caressed your hair as the others rushed up to the main deck. hazel rushed to your side, giving you some ambrosia.

"what happened?" you heard percy ask, voice weirdly shaking. you closed your eyes and the sun suddenly was gone with someone's shadow. "hey, y/n, look at me," someone cupped your face. you slowly opened your eyes and saw percy staring at you. he had that worried face you loved so much, but never saw directed to you until now.

"who did this to you?" he asked, also looking at annabeth and jason. "who did this to her, jason? annabeth?" he asked them. you heard jason sigh.

you heard some mumbles coming from jason before you fell asleep, too tired to keep staying up.

when you woke up, someone was holding your hand. it was annabeth, who smiled the moment she saw you woken up. you smiled back, warming up with her caring behavior. "hey annie."

"hey sweetie," she said, getting up from the chair and sitting next to you on the bed. "how are you feeling?"

"great," you answered. and you did feel great. you were all bandaged and the ambrosia you ate earlier gave you energy. "what happened after i passed out? what happened to the monster?"

annabeth had a grin on her face that you saw only in special occasions. shipping kinda occasions. "well, after jason told everything that happened to percy- you remember he's asking you who did it right?" she asked.

"yeah, yeah i do. the last thing i heard was jason mumbling," you explained and she nodded. "after percy finding out who did it, and you passing out at the moment, he uh.. destroyed the monster. yeah, i think that's the perfect word for it."

she giggle at the shocked expression on your face. "i don't think the monster will reborn even, that's how crazy he went."

annabeth caressed your hair, the gentle expression she usually had coming back. "aside from the jokes, he's really worried about you. you passing out did not helped him. i could send him here, if you want."

"that would be wonderful annie," you finally managed to whisper, smiling at the girl. she returned the smile and gave your hand one last squeeze before getting out from your quarter.

not so after, percy ran into your room and closed the door behind him. "thank gods," he whispered, rushing to you. he embaced you in a hug that could easly broke someone's ribs. but you only chuckled, hugging his neck. "hello shark boy, missed me?"

you meant this question to be a joke to wipe away the awkward sitiuation between you two, but he seemed to get this seriously. "so much." he whispered into your neck, caressing your hair gently. "thought i lost you for a sec, pretty."

the pretty was new. he called you many things, not mean ones of course, but many things. the pretty was new, and it wasn't meant to annoy you. this was new too.

"nah, you're not getting away from me that easy jackson." you chuckled, inhaling his scent. the first time you actually hugged him, and finally find out what was the fuss about his hugs. they were the best. the ones that made you feel safe from everything, even from your thoughts.

"i know, it was stupid of me. i should've guessed the y/n i know wouldn't leave that easly." he finally pulled away, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. was he crying?

"hey perce," you finally looked at his eyes. he never saw this soft expression on you, at least not looking at his way. at that moment, he was scared of what he could do to see you looking at him like that all the time.

"yeah?" he asked gently, holding your hands in his. you thought you should return the care, so you caressed his hands with your thumbs.

"thank you." you said. "for, in annabeth's words, destroying that monster. and for getting worried about me."

he smiled. a geniune smile you only saw giving to his friends. "anytime angel, would fight the gods for you." he said, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"i'm sorry for acting like the way i did," you said, ignoring the butterlies dancing in your stomach. "thought you hated me."

"hate you?" he shouted a bit, squeezing your hands. "i never hated you. i thought you hated me."

"i did!" you bluntly said, and that earned a chuckle from him. "because you judged me because of my mother!"

"no! i swear i didn't mean that to happen," he said quickly, sitting close to you. "i was just scared you'd be all.. mean like your mother. but i realised you weren't and i was so late to fix everything. you were already hating me."

you only sighed, and looked at your intertwined hands. it made you touch your foreheads, and he leaned to you gladly. "i was so scared i lost you before i even made it up." he whispered.

"don't worry, i'd haunt you." you laughed, and he laughed along with you.

you pulled away your one hand to caress his cheek, which he accepted the touch happily. his gaze suddenly flickered to your lips, and the next second he was leaning in.

"would you like to know another fact?" he said, grinning like a devil. you nervously smiled, thumb caressing his jawline. "what?"

"i wanted to kiss you for a sickingly long time now," he said quietly, leaning in until your nose touched. you prayed to every olympian that he wouldnt hear your heartbeat, beating crazy inside your ribs.

"yeah? i knew you had a thing for me," you teased, holding his chin in your fingers. he only continued grinning, his breath hitting your lips. "you were stupidly obvious about it."

"i don't give a single fuck," he breathed out before smashing his lips onto yours, eagerly kissing you. his hands cupped your face and you gripped his shirt.

the kiss felt like it was bound to happen. like it was a prophecy becoming true. you secretly knew this would happen eventually, because he indeed was stupidly obvious about his feelings. you always thought percy jackson hated you, but everytime you turned your head, he would be there. standing by your side.

you pulled away only to breath, lips still few inches away. "i had a thing for you too, if you couldn't tell." you chuckled. he let out a breathless laugh, annoyingly hot.

"yeah i figured it out," he said. then he finally looked away from your lips to stare deep in your eyes, grinning. "you're stuck with me now angel. prepare yourself to see me everytime, attached to you by the hip."

"when did i never?"

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

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

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

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

You?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

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

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

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

“He’s not breathing!”

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

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

“No…no no, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thirty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

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

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

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

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

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

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

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

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

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

Twenty two.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

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

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

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

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

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That you had no place amongst us?”

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

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

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

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just might.”

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

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

[daddys-silly-little-gem]

Passionate Morning

Husband! Sesshomaru x Wife! Reader

Rated: M

The sun has just begun to rise over the mountains on the horizon. The clouds were a beautiful painting of orange, pink, and purple. You were in a delightful daze, just staring at the beautiful sight that you were greeted with every morning. You shifted slightly and you sighed in contentment. You never would've imagined having a demon lover as beautiful as he was, let alone a crowned prince turned king.

Just as you thought about him, he moved just barely behind you, making you look over your shoulder at him. Honestly, you were shocked that he was even in the bed, he'd usually be moving around the castle, or he'd be wandering across the lands on the quest for power. You stared at him for a moment over your shoulder. He was laying on his back, his Mokomoko laying under his head. Not a hair was out of place, he looked like a true sleeping prince. He wore a simple, yet elegant resting kimono.

You could've stared at him all day, but you were basking in the aftermath of waking up from a good night's sleep, so you laid back down, and you got comfortable, shifting yourself until you were laying on your side, and you sighed once more as you closed your eyes, the edges of sleep creeping in to take you back under. But the feeling of a large, powerful hand could be felt gently ghosting over your curves. It started at your hip, and it trailed up your waist, ever so slowly. You gently chuckled at the feeling. You felt him shift closer to you, the bed dipping in under you as he sat up on his elbow and leaned over you.

He trailed his nose up the side over your neck, and you raised your head up, allowing him to do as he pleased. "Good morning, my love. I assume you sleep well?" He asked, his deep voice made your insides tingle and you slightly shivered. You hummed at his words before you answered. "Yes, I did. I'm surprised you're here this morning." You said as you continued to lay on your side. He hummed in acknowledgment at your words. "This Sesshomaru, decided to stay the night with you. For I fear that I haven't been doing that enough with you." He admitted as he placed a gentle kiss on your neck.

You smiled sweetly at his words. "Thank you." You said sincerely. The fact that he decided to stay with you because he felt that way, made your heart flutter. He lightly growled in response as he began laying gentle kisses along your neck, his hand running up and down your waist. The tips of his nails brushed the underside of your breast gently, but the slight prickly feeling of them made you moan. His gentle kisses on your neck trailed up to your jaw and you turned your head towards him in response. You both stared at each other. Yours clashing with his honey golden ones. They were always so pretty in the glow of the sunrise.

"You're ever so beautiful, for This Sesshomaru is a lucky demon." He said, his eyes tracing your face. You smiled softly at his words, he always made you fall back in love with him all over again. You shifted onto your back, and you gently caressed his face. Not a blemish in sight on his ageless face. It almost made you sad to know that you only had about 70-80 years with this man. But if you could come back, then you'd always love him in every lifetime. The hand that was on your waist grabbed your hand that was on his cheek, and he closed his eyes and he turned his head to gently kiss your hand.

Your heart never ceased to never not flutter by his small yet meaningful actions. He held your hand a little longer, before he let it go and he adjusted himself to lean over you. His hair gently slid off his shoulders, making a curtain of beautiful silky white locks. He stared down at you for a moment before he leaned down and he claimed your lips. You moaned gently into the kiss, it nearly took your breath away every time he kissed you. Your hands slowly wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to you.

Your lips molded together perfectly, your tongues twirled and curled around each other's, the tips of his fangs presses slightly into your lips, it always seemed to remind you that you were waltzing at death's door, but his tender stares and touches always made you crave for that danger. One of his hands moved down without your knowledge, but the large palming of his hand on your breast made you moan slightly louder and you pressed up into his palm. His mouth detached from yours, and a string of saliva connected you together for a moment before it broke.

He gazed down at you, watching as you slightly huffed from the lack of oxygen, your lips plush and full from the kiss, your eyes hazy with lust and want as you stared up at him. His inner beast growled in success at the sight of you. He looked down at where your resting kimono crossed over your chest. Through your sleep, the fabric separated itself, and he could see the valley between your breasts. His hand moved from your breast and up to the fold. He gently parted it with his claws, before he slipped his hand into your clothes.

With a firm pull, he revealed your soft body to his piercing gaze. You looked away from him in embarrassment, and you took your arms from around his neck, but you didn't cover yourself from him, as he didn't like it when you did that. Instead, you lay your arms down next to your head. He looked up at you, his eyes reading your very being down to your soul. "Don't shy away from me. For This Sesshomaru, wishes to see you in your glory." He said. Your cheeks warmed at his words before you timidly looked over at him. You've both laid in bed together for a few years now, but you always wanted to hide from him, your silent insecurities always making you second-guess your beauty. But he always reassured you, that you were just simply too beautiful for even him to put into words.

His gaze softened when you looked up at him. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he leaned down to your breast. "Keep your eyes on me, for This Sesshomaru is possessive of your beautiful gaze." He said, before he latched onto one of your nipples. You jumped at the stimulating feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your nipple. The tips of his fangs scrapped over your nipple and his tongue lapped at it, the attention made you whine and moan as your breathing picked up. Your gaze was squinted but you kept your eyes on him as your head turned to the side. One of your hands slipped up his shoulder while the other slipped into his hair. He stayed on that breast for a moment longer before he dragged his lips to your other breast.

The attention he gave you every time you both had sex, was always so intoxicating. He'd treat you like the finest piece of China, making you lose all your modesty, turning you into a crude woman. Your moans bounced off the white walls of your bedroom, his low growls making your chest tremble with excitement. When he finally pulled back, you were a painting mess, your kimono practically open, the only thing keeping it together was the thin tie around your waist, hiding your most precious part from him. He stared down at your moist chest, his saliva coated you, mixing his scent with yours, as it should be.

He looked down at the tie around your waist, and he nearly growled in irritation as he realize that your precious body was hidden from him. "Lord Sesshomaru.." Came your voice. He looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. "Please, My Lord. Please take me, pull me under your spell and never let me go." You pleaded. He stared at you for a moment before he traced your cheek gently. "You never need to beg me, for I shall always come to your becking call." He said. Your dazed eyes softened at him and you held his hand to your cheek as you nuzzled into his palm. His stare softened and he lightly growled. You smiled, it was so light, till it almost sounded like he was purring. He pulled his hand from your face, as he sat up straight. Your arms pulled from him as you rested them on either side of your head.

He looked down at the tie and he moved to loosen it. With a few tugs, the tie loosened and he pulled it from your body, dropping it on the ground. His hands laid on your waist and he rubbed his hands up and down gently. You hummed at the light massage. His firm yet gentle hold was comforting. He picked at the fabric and he pulled your clothes open, revealing you completely to him. Your legs pressed together, as you hid from him and he frowned. "What have I told you." He said, his voice slightly crossed as he grabbed each thigh in his hand.

You tensed up and you presses your thighs closer together. "Don't hide from me. Your everything belongs to This Sesshomaru." He said in a possessive tone as he pulled your legs apart effortlessly. You yelped in slight surprise as he pulled your legs wide apart, revealing your moistness to him. You whined in embarrassment but the heat pulsed through you as you watched his hungry gaze linger on you. You watched as he licked his lips like a beast who was about to feast.

Your core clenched and his eyes sharpened at the sight of it. His hands moved down your thighs and under your hips. You yelped when he pulled you down towards him, your back practically laying on his lap, as your hips were angled up to his mouth. He leaned down close to your core, and took in a deep breath and he exhaled with a deep shaking sigh. You whined from the embarrassment as you covered your face.

"Don't smell me there, I haven't bathed yet." You whined out. "This Sesshomaru prefers this scent, it's your most natural state." He growled out. You whined in response, but you moaned out loud when his tongue flattened out over your core and he licked up to your clit. Your core clenched and unclenched as he continued his long strokes. Your hands gripped the fabric of his pants and the sheets as your hips jutted up in humps against his mouth. He kept a firm grip on your hips as his tongue dug deep into your core and his nose brushed over your clit.

You felt the pressure building, and you knew what was coming. Your moaning grew in pitch and your hips began to roll more frantically. The clenching of your core around his tongue made his cock twitch as he gave a low hum. He pulled his tongue out and he latched onto your clit, he sucked and flicked his tongue over it. Your body tensed up and your eyes widen as your vision faded to white and your moan poured out uncontrollably as you thrust in time with your climax. His eyes rolled some before he closed his eyes. Your orgasm lasted a little longer before you slacked against him.

Your breathing was heavy as you rested on his lap. You whined in sensitivity as he continued to lap at your clit, drunk off the overwhelming scent of your release. He pulled off with a pleased sigh as he sniffed the air. "This scent is intoxicating. I can't ever seem to get enough of it. " he said as he pulled back, he laid your hips back down. You were once more on the bed, your legs wide as they lay around his hips. He stared down at you for a moment before he pulled open his kimono. His strength could be seen in his lean and toned muscles that lay upon his perfect body. The magenta markings on his cheeks lay upon his waist and his forearms.

You could never get tired of seeing his beautiful body. No scarring, no marks, just a plain field of unmarked skin. He leaned back over you, his hands on either side of your head, his hair all fell to one side of his body, forming another thick curtain of silky white locks. He dropped down onto his elbows and he leaned down to press a kiss against your neck. You lifted your head up, giving him access and he growled in appreciation. He kissed your pulse before he licked heavily up the collum of your neck.

It was a ritual at this point, he always had to remark you after a few months once the scarring healed from his bite. It always hurts, but the aftermath was always forgiving. You felt his fangs rub against your skin and you relaxed, you learned that tensing up made the pain worsen. But you were pleasantly surprised when you felt the head of his cock rubbing against the opening of your core. You looked down in question, but he suddenly bit down while also trusting into you and your back arched and you painfully yet also pleasuringly gasped out. Your hands tangled into his hair as he thrust into you at an even yet rough pace, your hands tangled tighter into his hair and his fangs gently pulled out from your wound.

He licked the wound, pouring some of his salivae into it to heal it faster, while his thrusts slightly picked up speed. You moaned and gasped as you held onto him tightly. Your legs locked around his waist and he groaned at the position change. He slipped in deeper and he was able to hold you closer. Tears pricked in your eyes as you threw your head back into the mattress, the slapping of your hips connecting echoed out through the room. One of his hands slipped under your body, while the other stayed on its elbow, he presses your chest up into his chest. The thumping of your heart could be felt and he groaned at the feeling of it.

The thumbing of your heart, matched the clenching of your core around his cock. He always felt more connected to you when he had you like this. Writhing under his mercy, lost in your own world of pleasure, the pleasure that he was causing. He felt empowered, yet he also felt vulnerable, he felt like you knew what he was feeling. The way his breathing was slowly becoming erratic, the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his cock would twitch in time with your clenching. He felt open, yet it felt good. To be vulnerable around someone without having to worry about you using it against him.

He loved that, and he craved it. More than he could've ever thought that he would. 'Perhaps, this is why father loved Izayoi more than mother.' He thought as he angled his hips up more and you nearly yelled from the strong stroke of his cock against your g-spot. The small patch of meat deep inside of your core was grazed and your breathing picked up, your hips met his halfway as your end was coming closer. His grip on you tighten as his lips latched onto your neck, kissing everywhere he could reach. He gave a shakily groan at the feeling of your core tightening. His thrusts became faster and stronger. Your body bounced from the strength of his thrusts, your head bobbing as you loudly moaned.

"It's... It's coming." You warned him in a shaky voice. He groaned in acknowledgment at your words. "I... I can't hold it... Anymore." You whined as your core began to pulse. "Then let go, I won't let you get far." He responded. Your brows tightened and your mouth went slack as your orgasm hit you hard. Your moans sounded out with each pulse and he slightly slowed his thrusts, he didn't want to hurt you as you tightened up around him. He growled out lowly, as he helped you ride out your orgasm. Your body went slack as your grip on him loosens. Your breathing came out in heavy pants as you huffed. He looked down at you, his stare was wild with lust but the love was mixed in it.

He pulled out from your sensitive core and you whined from the feeling. His cock was still hard, as it glistened in your liquids. He grabbed your arms and firmly pulled you up before he flipped you by your waist onto your front. You immediately got into position. Up on your knees, hips angled up, legs spread. You were used to him needing to go longer, his stamina far surpassed your own, but you never complained. You loved serving him, it was one of the many ways you showed your love to him.

He gently held your waist with one of his hands while his other guided him into your moist caverns. He grunted as he pushed back in while you whined. He bottomed out and he sighed before he grip your hips in his hands and he began his thrusting once more. Your body rocked as you moaned weakly, your hips slightly trusted back, the feeling of another climax already building once more. He grunted at the tightening of your core. "Already so close to another one are we?" He light-heartedly taunted you. You whined in response. "Your body's sensitivity is always so fun to explore." He said as he traced his hand up and down your back, your sweat from your first orgasm made your skin dewy yet beautiful.

"The paleness of my skin against yours is simply divine." He breathed out as he admired your skin tones clashing against one another. You listened to his words, but you couldn't respond as the feeling of his cock seeming to swell within you made your eyes roll back. He grunted and his gaze narrowed. His knot was inflating and he was catching onto your core, he was getting close to his own end. The fuzzy feeling of his orgasm climbing up his cock and through his body made him shiver in anticipation. He usually lasted longer than this, but it's been a while, so he's a little pent-up. He grabbed your hips, and he picked up his speed, chasing his orgasm with hard yet quick thrusts. Your ass jiggled from his powerful thrusts, the softness always reminding him how fragile you were.

Your hand came up next to your head and you gripped the sheets in your fist as you felt another, stronger orgasm coming. You tried to warn him, but you couldn't form words. But the shaking of your hips and the clenching of your core was enough of a warning. He gave a rather loud groan as he released your hip, he leaned over your body, his hands pressing into the mattress as he slammed his hips into you from behind. He clenched his eyes tight as he felt his end coming, but he refused to finish before you did.

But he didn't have to wait long before your shaky moans grew loud and your vision faded out as a powerful orgasm tore through you. You clenched tightly around his cock and his hips studdered as his thrust became sloppy. His knot swelled up and he pressed himself against your back. He grunted with each squirt of cum that went into your waiting body. The clenching of your core was enough stimulation. Once your orgasm ended, your body began to slope down, but he quickly gripped your hips once more, the knot locking you both together. You both painted, yours heavier than his as you both basked in your afterglow.

He fell to his side, taking you with him, holding you close. His knot is going to stay that way for a while, so he might as well get comfortable. You laid upon his Mokomoko, the fluffy fur was always so soft and warm. You felt it wrap around both of your bodies, its fluffiness acting as a blanket as it covered your nakedness. You slowly opened your eyes and you stared out the window. The once orange, pink, and purple sunrise was now a yellow, white, and blue sky. You stared at it a little longer, before you closed your eyes again, and you fell back to sleep. Finally getting that extra morning nap.

[wlntrsldler]

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

[tw1l1te]

In your opinion who do you think in the chain in most flusterable to the guide showing skin and being flirty?

OOhhhhh This is gonna be funnn~

Based on my personal headcanons and others' fanfics I've read, I think that Sky, Hyrule, and Wild would be the most flustered at our guide being flirtatious and showing more skin than they're used to.

However, that's not to say they're the only ones, the others are just better at hiding it.

Let's take it from the top!

Warnings: VERY SUGGESTIVE, NSFW

Minors do NOT interact

Sky

Our cute sleepyhead is beet-red. Absolutely in flames.

It was supposed to be a quiet, typical morning in Skyloft. He would get up and make some tea and look at the Sky before meeting up with the rest of the Chain.

But of course you decided to go on a jog that morning, wearing nothing besides a sports bra and shorts, as you tended to overheat during exercise.

Being so exposed in any of their eras was unheard of, so of course it was a sight to see, particularly for Sky.

The way your chest bounced with every movement, pearls of sweat dribbling down into the crevice between your breasts. He wondered what it would taste like on the tip of his tongue, licking each bead of salty sweat.

The way your hips moved in tandem with your jogging, expertly keeping up with the movement of your legs. Hips that he would grip while he rammed his cock into you, hitting the spongy spot every. Single. Time.

The way your face was pink and rosy from the slight chill in the air, but also running for so long, nearing exhaustion. Your tear-brimmed eyes looking up at him as you took him entirely in your mouth, whimpering at how full you felt.

You suddently waved at him, smiling and yelling something you taking a shower.

You threw a wink over your shoulder at him as you left him behind

Was that an invitation?

Hyrule

He wasn't sure if he loved or hated Wind's era for this.

Going on Tetra's ship for a side quest was the last place he expected for something like this to happen but... he wasn't complaining. Hell, none of them were.

You saunter out from under the deck, wearing nothing but a "string bikini" (as you call it)

Hyrule.exe has stopped working

Wars had to snap him out of his staring, as he was starting to drool

You walk up to him and sit down, looking out onto the ocean

"Eyes up here, Fairy boy."

He fumbles around trying to come up with an excuse while you double over in laughter, he was too in shock to process anything

Once he calms down, you both continue looking out onto the expanse of the horizon, sun begininng to set

He tried to ignore the way the sun illuminated your body, all the small scars and curves in your body highlighting your features

"You know.... I wore this lil' number particularly for you, Rulie. Seems like you like it." you whisper, nipping lightly at his ear.

Before he can respond or formulate a thought, you get up and hold out your hand

"Care to go for a swim, Fairy boy?"

You were gonna be the death of him.

Wild

Wild liked to think he was pretty good at keeping his composure, after all, he was a stoic knight in his past life.

That's not to say he doesn't show emotion, he's so much more open know and genuinely laughs and smiles ever since he woke up from his century long slumber.

So when all of you returned back to his era, he was ecstatic to show you around more, as last time you dind't get much of a chance to.

What he didn't take into account is that you would be sharing a bed with him.

Sweet goddesses, he wasn't gonna be able to sleep for days.

He was right

The first night cam around and the Chain setup their sleeping mats on the lower level of his home, shifting some of the funiture to make sure they all fit, while you went under the stairs to change

Wild was anxiously pacing upstairs, biting his finger nails.

This is fine, its fine! There's nothing weird about two friends sleeping next to each other, if that's what you can call your situationship with him and the seven older boys. It's fine! It's only a night- oh sweet Hylia you were wearing the shortest nightdress he's ever seen-

You yawn as you stretch, one of the straps falling off of your shoulder.

Mother of- he's done for. He's so done for.

You make your way to his bed, crawling up to the side closest to the wall. Peeking over your shoulder, you look at him, his face illuminated by the candle on the nightstand.

"You getting in bed with me or what?"

[bagerfluff]

Claustrophobic

Percy Jackson x Non-Binary Half-Blood Reader

Prompt - "Is this a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?"

TW - Claustrophobia

You cursed the Gods as you looked at the ceiling of a cave. Though you could see the sun setting from the opening from the cave you still felt uneasy. So you fiddled with your hands. You and Percy were sent on what was supposed to be a simple quest.

Leave camp, get something, and bring it back.

That was it.

But no, the Fates had to be cruel. So they sent almost every monster they could and that led to you hurting your foot. So you and Percy had to rest in a cave. So Percy leaned you against the cave wall and started to set up camp.

You felt useless.

Percy had healed you, carried you in a cave and was setting up camp. While you leaned against the wall, your foot felt like someone had hit it with a hammer, doing nothing. Percy was your savior, in more ways than one.

When you first came to Camp Half-Blood you never really felt like you fit in. You weren’t good at anything. Healing, archery, fighting, everything. So you normally just stayed in the back. Till Percy came to camp.

You were only a year older than him so you two clicked. Percy also felt like he didn’t really belong, being the only kid of The Big Three at camp. So you two became quick friends, and that friendship helped you both. You more, but still.

Then that friendship quickly became a relationship. You were confused when he confessed to you at first. You thought he liked Annabeth, but nope, he liked you. It had been two months since that and Percy was still your savior.

If it wasn’t for him you would be dead.

The smell of food cooking and fumes from the fire calmed you. You moved your gaze from the roof of the cave to Percy but something caught your eye.

It was a crack.

A crack in the roof of the cave. It was really big and looked deep.

You moved your gaze down and noticed that Percy was right under it. You had a feeling that the cave roof was going to collapse. You didn’t know why, you weren’t a child of Poseidon, who was called Earthshaker.

Nor was your Godly parent wasn’t connected to earth in any way. But you knew you had to do something. Percy had saved you, you had to save him. Though you were scared that you would get trapped. You didn’t like small spaces.

So you ran, your foot blared, it felt like it was on fire. But you pushed off your good foot and pushed Percy as hard as you could. Percy was shocked, he wasn’t ready. So it was quite easy to shove him. “Y/n wha-”.

Percy was cut off by the shaking of the cave. The cave ceiling shook, then it fell. Percy’s eyes widened as he watched the cave ceiling fall on top of you. It all happened so fast. You fell on your chest and covered your head.

Dust stormed around the cave. Rocks fell and the cave rumbled. When the dust cleared you opened your eyes and tried to look around, it was hard when you couldn’t get up. Your head hurts, everything hurts.

Your foot, chest, head, everything.

You noticed that you were fine, besides the pain, but you were trapped. Rocks were all around you and you couldn’t get out. “Y/n!” You heard from the other side of the rocks. You remembered that Percy was there too, you had saved him.

You heard Percy’s voice but you didn’t know what he said. You looked around the room the cave had made. The only light being the sparks from the dying fire. The fact that there was no light made the room seem smaller.

The room seemed to be getting smaller and your breathing picked up. You had never told anyone but you hated small spaces. Your parent never had a lot of money so you always lived in a small apartment.

That wasn’t the main thing that caused you to be scared of small spaces but it was a part of it. You hated small spaces. You felt tears brim your eyes and your breath pick up. “Y/n!” You heard Percy yell again.

You heard clunking from the other side, and it didn’t really help. “Percy?” You started and you immediately heard the noise stop.

“Is this a bad time to tell you I’m claustrophobic?”

You asked, tears now slowly coming out of your eyes. Percy was shocked. You never told him, or anyone, about your fear. Thinking it was stupid. “No. Of course” Percy said and he looked around trying to find a way to get you out.

Unfortunately both of your bags were on your side of the wall and from what Percy could hear, you weren’t doing so well. And Percy was right. Your breath picked up and tears were falling down your face.

You were having a panic attack.

Percy remembered that there was something in his bag that could free you. But he didn’t have it. You were the one that needed to use it. Percy had to calm you. “Hey, Y/n” Percy didn’t hear you respond but he knew that you were listening.

“Do you think you could breathe with me?” Behind the rocks you could hear Percy and you really wanted to listen to him but it was hard. The walls were closing in on you and the room only got darker.

“Just listen to my voice” Percy said and you closed your eyes.

Percy then started talking. He was telling you a story about a school or something. You weren’t really listening. You were remembering what your parent said to do whenever you had a panic attack.

Four seconds in, seven seconds holding, eight seconds out.

It took a while but with Percy talking you were able to calm down. You were still scared, but you were no longer having a panic attack. Once Percy realized that you were no longer panicking he told you what you needed to do.

It was hard, because you couldn’t really walk. But you did it. You were able to get to Percy’s bag and got out from the rocks. The first thing you noticed was how dark it was. The sun had already set and the moon and stars were out.

Once Percy saw that you were out he ran over and hugged you. It was a bit weird since you couldn’t stand. Percy was sitting on the ground and you were in his lap. You and Percy hugged each other for a bit before Percy pulled away.

“You okay?” Percy asked and you looked at him. “Other than my foot feeling like it's on fire and being trapped in a dark, tight space, I’m fine”. Percy cracked a smile but he was still worried about you. But you weren’t really in a mood to talk.

You were tired.

So you leaned against Percy and closed your eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. Percy smiled and looked down at you. He smiled at how peaceful you looked. Percy placed a kiss on your forehead and leaned against the cave wall.

Falling asleep almost as quickly as you.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Goodbye (But not actually)

It is the first day of the rest of my life. Or perhaps it is the last. I suppose it is all a matter of perspective. In mine, the dawn hangs in the air, thick as a smoker's cough. I can taste the exhaust of the cars on the highway. It tastes of disaster, of tangled flesh and metal, of a flaming car crash.

The street I walk down is cluttered with potted plants and trees poking out from yards. At one point, a cat notices me, and stops to wind its way around my legs, narrowly avoiding leaning against my shins. I used to feed that cat, and it is with a pang of loss that I walk away. I have no food to give that cat, not anymore.

The streetlights are only just beginning to turn off, leaving the grey morning as my only source of light. I keep meandering, patiently making my way down to the highway. I have a task to get to, after all.

Part of me wonders where my emotions went. I feel… empty, for lack of a better word. Floating away like a balloon. It is an effort to overcome the lassitude that commands me to stand and watch the world go by. 

It is with the slightest tinge of relief that I come upon the great grey bridge. I stroll between cars stuck in the morning traffic jam, letting the breeze carry me down the road. Every now and then, I peer into the window of a car.

The people inside are all the same, irritated businessmen in their suits and button-up shirts, listening to the radio and grimacing at the car before them. For a split moment, I want to demand they snap out of it. I want to scream at them to get up, get out of the little compartment they are cramped in, get away from the prosaic nightmare they have worked themselves into and see the world. I want to demand they make the best of the life before them, before it is all too late.

The feeling passes soon, however, whisked away by a truck's honk. I continue moving, far faster than the vehicles trapped in their rut. I might even make it in time, I think. Not that time has any meaning anymore.

My feet do not ache, though the sun is out in full force and the asphalt sizzles with heat. It warms me to the core, stirring something within me, and at last, there is an urgency in my movement. I can see my destination, after all, my final quest before I meet my destiny.

I crawl atop the bonnet of a car, unnoticed by its occupants, and take a running leap off the side of the highway. There and then, I might well have been a bird in the sky, looking down at the cars and the buildings beneath. 

And I land, my feet bending under the impact of my fall. I want to marvel at my ability to move, but there is no time to waste. The sun is burning away dawn, and I can feel its gaze on my skin.

The airport is right before me, looming overhead with its great glass windows and lanes of taxis. I slip past them, hurrying for the arrival area.

The roof overhead does nothing to lessen the sun's impact, and I am slipping away. I wonder if I have failed; if it is too late to say one last goodbye.

Then I see her, all grown up, clutching her suitcase, passport in hand, tapping her foot at the check in counter, and all the colour in the world rushes back into me. Instinctively, I reach out to grasp her shoulder, to pat her on the back like I did so very often, but my hand goes right through her. I suppose it is a testament to the love I held for her that it stirs grief in my unbeating chest. I do not know if I arrived too late to wish her one last farewell, or if I were just in time.

Either way, I have only one thing to say. "Goodbye,” I tell her, my voice not even a whisper in the wind.

Then the dawn breaks, and a new day washes me away.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[poetryinsilence]

A Wish for Eternity

Astarion x gn!magical!tav

A/n: am I madly in love with this elf? Yes. Do I wish to bring him everything he hoped and dreamed of? Also, yes. Hence, here I am, thinking about what happens after the epilogue, did he search for a way? If you play as a sorcerer or wizard, once you are at a higher level (not in the game), there is a certain spell that could achieve your hopes and dreams. So, what if…? Anyway, happy fluffy valentine's day!

Synopsis: a long journey of travelling through every corner of Faerûn for what seems to be an eternity. Luck sure isn’t on your side in your quest to find a mythical item, a cloak. Rumoured to be special, you are determined to find it, with your nightwalking partner, Astarion. But, fate has other things on its mind.

Word: 2,344

6 months after you reunited heartfelt celebrations with inebriated companions; the night never seems to cease with boundless alcohols and dancing to lively tunes until your feet refuse to leave the ground. Through thick and thin, nonetheless, such an adventure weaved you all together at the stake of Baldur’s gate.

At the right place, at the right time.

In a blink of an eye, another 6 months had gone by. On your quest, you trek through the marsh terrain on your journey and strangle a few swamp things; scorched and burned under the dry heat of the sun and almost meet your fatal death by getting swallowed up inside a giant sandworm; and almost, almost, stepped into the fey realm by no fault of your own. Suppose it wasn’t for a certain trickster. A very lovable trickster, mind you.

The relentless quest to acquire an article of clothing—a rare magical item; enchanted with each woven of threads. A cloak, to be exact, that was once said to have been created by drows of the Underdark. To allow one that’s weak in sunlight to walk freely under the blistering sun.

You first heard about this mystic item from none other than Gale. The wizard was lost in his recent reverie of taking upon the role of teaching, to no surprise. One night, while holed up in his tower, flicking through weathered pages of tomes, when he came across the wonders of this cloak. Intrigued, as he may be, wanting to study the magic behind this unique fabric. After all, a little more knowledge wouldn’t hurt.

But, it seems others require it more than him. Lo and behold, he appears when you think your luck has run out. Seems like Tymora has finally blessed you with a pat on the back, who would say no to divine intervention?

Although this is a solution to your current situation, it all just seems too good to be true. A flimsy piece of garment is your answer? You could swipe a black cloak from the market and enchant it yourself. Though you are well-versed in magic, enchanting items aren’t really your forte. Nor are you of drow descent to know such ways of crafting.

You had your doubts about this cloak, however, you do not doubt the reliability of Gale. If he said such a thing exists, then it must be credible.

Month after month of tracking your journey—based on one rumour that gossamer across Faerûn. With every possible lead, you travelled across the continent of the cityscape to the underworld. This endless journey may be gruesome, but you didn’t do it alone. Your lover, Astarion, walks amongst your shadow. By day, you are his shield protecting him under the blazing sun. At night, he swore as your sword to cut through the lurking dangers of the dark.

The Sun and its Moon.

He is the reason why you’re on this journey in the first place. To bring him the sunlight once more, to breathe in the life of the Pelor over the vast lands that were taken from him when he was still young. But the chances of finding this cloak are getting slimmer by day—like water slipping through the cracks of your hand. 

Astarion’s hope is getting dimmer, too. You tried to reassure him that you were certain the both of you were getting close; maybe you were just not looking at the right places.

Of course, he brushes you off with a smile and jokes that he’s not that interested in it because ‘cloaks cramp his style’. He persuades you not to mind it so much. Or, hoping you’d be the mirror reverberating back to him instead. But you can see right through the facade. Pride. Shame. Disappointment. All too familiar.

The guilt is rubbing off on you. When you talked him out of ascension, you believed that it would be the best decision for him. You were no better than the others.

No. This shouldn’t be the answer. If the cloak’s got you nowhere then you just have to look at this situation from a different perspective. Take matters into your own hands, even if danger is on deck. At the very least, you have to try.

You made camp for the night; a quaint spot overlooking the horizon that joins the sky and the sea, with the moon taking stage in a cloudless canvas. The pale elf took charge of the campfire with a stick in his hand to poke the flame. Next to him, you lie down with your hands weaving through the air, connecting the stars together, making a revelation to your own understanding of your magic. It flows through you like the air that you breathe; like calm waters gliding your hands.

This might be the perfect time to ask, though wyverns gnaw at your stomach, you’ve run through this scenario millions of times in your head. You’re prepared, you think.

The lavender and turquoise hue dissipates from your fingertips, you steal a glance in Astarion’s direction and sit up amid his distraction.

“If you’re getting tired, you should sleep first. I’ll join you in a little while.” He chimes out.

His little ritual, you’ve noticed. Whenever the two of you opted to camp in the arms of nature instead of paying for a tavern’s night and listening to drunk patrons shouting till the break of dawn. He would lay with you in your bedroll until you fell asleep, then as quiet as a mouse, he’d get up an hour or two just before sunrise. You’d caught him once, just as curiosity nips at you, slipping out of the tent and finding him sitting in the open field with the blades of grass swaying to its own rhythm. Just watching, waiting. Waiting to catch a glimpse of the sun, as it slowly casts life back to the lands, before the ray decays him. The light sears his skin and cracks like dry paint, biting down the pain as much as possible until he’s bound back to the shadows. Then you’ll find him in bed again like nothing ever happened.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, darling?” He hummed.

“What if…” you hesitated, “what if we stop looking for this cloak?” Your voice wavered at the end of your sentence.

The stick in his hand stopped. You can see it, the thoughts forming in his mind like a potion. Stunned, confusion and a drop of anger concocted in muddy colour. But like a cork on top, he bottled it up when he soon turned to face you, the warm glow lit up his plastic grin.

“Oh, heavens! I forgot about that until you’ve brought it up.” His voice is in a higher octave. A string of vicious mockery disguising his lie, in all honesty, stings more than you think.

“No, that’s not—let me rephrase this. W-what I’m trying to say is, how about we look for a different method?” You asked, hands fidgeting more than usual.

His crimson gaze pierced in you, they engulfed and tangled like flames, wanting to swallow you whole till you’re nothing but a pile of ashes. “Vampirism isn’t an illness or a wound. If a person dies, they could be resurrected. But I’m too far gone beyond the point of living now, darling. There is no other way.” He snarled, snapping his gaze away before he could say something he truly regrets.

“But..there is another way.” Your voice comes out with nothing short of a whisper. Astarion’s shoulders slumped as he perceived your words, now fire in his eyes had extinguished and reflected with the solemn of moonlight.

Hope.

You spring onto your feet and take his hands into yours, thumb gently caressing his skin.

“Don’t give me any hope. 200 years of hoping for hope has tormented me endlessly that I do not want to be part of it again. Please…I do not have the heart to take this…” Astarion whimpered. You can hear the sob suppressed in his throat for the last 200 years as his hands tremble, emotions so vulnerable and unravelled right in front of you that he so desperately tried to hide. It shouldn’t be like this. It breaks your heart to see the man earning his freedom, yet the illusions of shackles are still tying him down.

It is unfair.

You grip his hands tighter to your heart, biting down the tears threatening to spill. “When there’s a will, there is a way,” You smiled. “Astarion Ancunin, what is it that you wish for?”

“What? But—I don’t understand—“ his brows furrow trying to make sense of your words but failing. Yet, he can feel a tingle at the back of his neck. A sign.

“Please, Astarion. Tell me your wish.”

The warning bells in his mind are telling him to run, to end this conversation right here, right now. But the fluttering feeling in his gut is saying ‘This is it. This is the moment you’ve been desperately trying to find’. Now the sparkle in your eyes is drawing him in, things that he had been longing for, and the love you are showing him. The sign he’d desperately prayed to the gods for all these years.

“I wish…” he trailed off, “I wish to walk in the sun again. I wish to see this world in the light that I was created in; I wish to take back the life that was ripped away from me for all these years, in darkness and torment, to have what is rightfully mine.

I wish to live again.”

The soil beneath your feet vibrates and crackles, the fabric of your clothes softly ripples in the air; a lavender beam emerges through and etches your runes, circling a gateway around both of you.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

Statics channelling in the air as you tune yourself to the weave. You can feel it. You can feel it all—the dark musk of ember, the evergreen blades rustle, the crashing of ocean waves. Magic tying deep into the burrows of the Earth willing to your command, feeding brighter into your rune as you hold on to its reins. But, the power of this spell is not without a cost, like gravity dragging you down. Your face breaks into sweat with the force burning in your gut.

“Stop that! You’re killing yourself!” Astarion struggles to break free from your grasp.

“Don’t—I’m almost there!”

A sinking pressure presses in Astarion’s chest; it’s warm, then burns aflame but it does not hurt; the pressure pushes deeper, searing through his organs and scratches at each porous of his rib cage. And then, gone.

The sound of silence.

Your legs give out as you crumble onto the floor, ready for impact. With a swift motion, Astarion catches you in his arms and carefully lays you in his lap. His mouth opens, ready to protest with his snarky remarks but closes it again, brushing away strands of stray hair from your battered face.

You chuckled breathlessly, reaching your hand, heavy as it may, and cupped his face. “Your wish has been granted.”

The sky begins to transition in lilac as dawn breaks, the ocean glimmers on the horizon and songbirds sing their tunes again. The red flaming ball peeked through the crystal water, bringing out the soft glow of orange. As the first ray of light shines, the warmth of it carries. Hungry, delicate, a sign of life.

“I’m…alive.”

A gentle breeze picks up and brushes against his cheek; hot tears spew from the corner of his eyes. So naturally warm. So, very warm. The silvery strands swayed to the rhythm of the wind, and he inhaled deeply, as much as his frail body could hold, the nostalgic scent of sunshine, like a spring afternoon.

Then, an unfamiliar familiar sense came. A thud. And another. Something rattling endlessly at his ribcage threatening to come out and yet staying in its place, a rhythmic humming coursing through his chest to the tips of his fingers. A sound so loud thumping and yet so quiet as a whisper in his ear. A sense of jamais vu. 

“You'll always be who you are. No matter what you've become—a vampire or not. I will love you as long as life continues to breathe on these vast lands. And till the end of time."

Astarion squeezes you into a tight hug. He’s trembling in your embrace, and catching you off guard, he bursts into a fit of laughter. Maybe even your first time to hear him laughing with such carefree manner but the heat of his tears travels to your shoulder. Your hand finds its way to his soft locks, petting him as you melt deeper into his touch.

He pulls back, eyes frantically searching your face. “I-I don’t—I can’t—“ he clears his throat, “thank you, my love.”

He cups your cheeks and gravitates towards your lips. Sweet and velvety, your lips curl at his kiss. He pulls away just enough to admire your features; cheeks flushed rosy and eyes bright and confident. Everything about you is love-touched, that after centuries, someone could cut through the world to bring him back into the light.

“Now, are you going to stare at me all morning, or are we going to get some breakfast?” You teased.

“Actually, I was thinking,” Astarion eyes you up and down. Whenever he has some brilliant idea, it’s never a good one. “The tent’s been empty all night, and I think we should, um, keep our bedrolls warm, at least.”

His hand slithers its way under the hem of your shirt, running a hand at your soft curves. You sigh in defeat, knowing you could never say no to his lovable face.

“Fine. I guess breakfast can wait.” You smirk.

Hands flew to the collar of his shirt as you yank him down to your lips. You parted them slightly, an invitation for him to deepen his kiss, teeth included. It might be a long morning, but there are plenty of mornings yet to come.

[mksbigg3stfan]

Ok, I haven't seen people talking much about Sun Wukong and Macaque's relationship as platonic, so I'm going to do my take on it. No hate to the shadowpeachers! But I want to talk about their platonic dynamic!! If you want to take this for proof of relationship or whatever, anything like that with shipping, it won't bother me.

A pretty good example of the past flaws in their friendship was displayed in the S4 special. When Macaque goes to see Wukong, he brings an offering for him, one of friendship. He knows Wukong likes peaches, that they're his favorite food, and he is in a way returning the favor of Wukong always feeding him peaches as a sign of companionship. To Macaque, that is what they are, at least.

When he offers the peach to him, he is mirroring Wukong's behaviors. He's calling him bud, referring to the peach as "a lil somethin" in an attempto to cheer him up, because ironically, Wukong is the cheeriest and freest person he knows. Wukong is already extremely agitated, and as a reactive person, he lashes out at Macaque. To him, Macaque is looking down on him, demeaning him by offering him only a single peach. In his eyes, he has only come to laugh in his face.

Macaque seems to expect a reaction like this, barely phased. He just says, "Ok, you didn't have to be so you about it." Macaque can easily understand why Wukong is angry about being sealed under the mountain, but he is still tired of Wukong's self-importance and impulsive behaviors. It seems like most of the things he does are sweeped away by Wukong, deemed useless since he is clearly not as strong as The Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

S2 Episode 7 delves more into Macaque's insecurities while being companions with Wukong and how he felt simply brushed aside. Even though he felt this way, he didn't exactly hold a large resentment for Wukong, and it's clear that Wukong cared for him at that time, too. He brought Macaque along with him on journeys, ate with him, and called him bud.

Still, as Wukong drew further and further into his quest for power, he became so fixated on his goal that he pushed Macaque aside. As he grew more powerful, his achievements overcast Macaque, who was bound to him as a shadow is to the sun. Wukong, however, only became more and more frustrated. He wanted to be stronger and prove himself. And as Macaque watched silently, and Wukong dove headstrong into danger, the divide between the two grew deeper.

When Wukong says, "Oh, sure, 'cause normally you'd just rush to my rescue!" He is referring to him being the stronger of the two, Macaque only fighting alongside him and comparing the two's power. He is saying that Macaque is much too cowardly to fight for him. He feels betrayed by him, since he believes that if Macaque was in his position, he would fight to save him or try to remove the seal.

Not to mention Wukong's extreme fear of mortality. Every action he takes echoes his fear, his push to be stronger, more powerful, the most powerful. It's not enought to have seven failsafes, he needs more. He needs to know absolutely for sure that he is untouchable. Because the thought of death, of coming to terms with his own end, having all his power ripped away - it terrifies him. He's been mortal before, and his fear of death has never left.

Macaque by now is sick of this behavior, being cast aside like he's unimportant. So he attempts to leave. Until Wukong claims that he always runs away. But he's always by his side, he plays the loyal sidekick just like Wukong wants, what more does he possibly want from him? Why does he always want more? Can't he be happy with what he has?

To him, it seems like Wukong is dragging people much weaker than him around, putting them in danger because of his quest for power. People getting hurt, harsh repercussions, just because he can't quit when enough is enough.

Wukong, however, only sees this as Macaque disapproving of his goal. "You're not in this mess! You're still free!" As Wukong sees it, he's always been free to leave whenever he wants. But he hasn't. He's still here, and he can free him now! "Everything I did was for us!" He needed to be stronger to protect his friends, Macaque, most importantly, himself.

But Macaque sees through him. Protecting those he cares about may have once been his goal, but now, it's just a thirst for power out of fear and desperation. He warned Wukong he wasn't strong enough, but like always, he doesn't listen to anyone but himself. He stubbornly went in, and got himself trapped.

When Wukong says, "I really wanted that peach," it's obviously meant to insinuate his hunger, but he refused it from Macaque so as to not hurt his pride. But really, to Macaque and Wukong, the peaches remind them of the old times. Their companionship and close friendship. Dinners and conversations of days past, when they got along.

He wants to keep being friends, but like a fool, he refused Macaque's companionship. The peach.

Leaving him sealed underneath flowerfruit mountain, to sit and stay, a place where no one can hear him and nothing moves, almost like the stillness of death.

After a few hundred yearsx he begins traveling with Tripitaka and the group, forced to fo through a journey of self improvement. When Macaque meets him again, it's hard for him to admit that Wukong is changing for the better. He doesn't know what else to do with the hate and regret festering him besides hate Wukong.

However, now that Lady Bone Demon is defeated and Macaque is free, in his redmeption arc, the two are growing into closer friends again. The scars of the past are still there, but they're both improving.

I'm not saying that Macaque is perfect, absolutely not. I'm also not saying that Wukong is an evil, bad, super awful flawed guy. They've both done terrible things, they're both flawed. But they are redeeming themselves and getting over the past.

[ofdragonsdeep]

2: Horizon

Where the sky and sea meet.

(technically spoilers for the very very first quest of Dawntrail)

Preparations for the trip had taken a long time.

Ships did not often sail to Tural, even though they were tentatively more open to trade than before. On top of that, the unusual nature of their party made negotiating fare a difficult prospect.

Krile had very patiently dealt with a number of ship captains who were not, despite their assurances, ready for the bulk of Stoh Oosh. While she was quite content to fly when the sun was up, the night demanded a place to rest, and the decks of many of the little merchant vessels simply couldn't hold her. That was the line for many of the captains, but after that, Krile also had to ensure they could get Haurchefant and his wheelchair up on to the deck, despite his assurances that he would be able to manage.

Ar'telan, who knew very little about money and the price such services might demand, had steered well clear of the whole thing. All he knew was that, by the time they boarded the ship, Krile was already exhausted, and Wuk Lamat was incredibly antsy to be off.

It was a little strong to say that Ar'telan hated ships, but he was not overly fond of them. Ever since his first ill-fated trip from Meracydia, it seemed that every boat he set foot on wanted to take him into one terrible situation or another. He could count on one hand the normal boat rides he had taken - and even then, on some of them he had been subject to some very unorthodox visits.

He sat on the deck, back to one of the masts, trying to keep his distance from the footfall of the sailors working on the rigging. He looked out to sea, and fancied he could feel the air get a little warmer. He hadn't been anywhere with a climate close to Meracydia's - even the South Sea Isles only came close. The bottom of Tural, if the maps he had been shown were accurate, would be similar, but they were headed to the middle for the start of Wuk Lamat's succession bid.

He did not want to be here.

"The morose look doesn't suit you, Ar'telan."

Mitron sat beside him, not even asking if he could. That was fairly normal for him, to be fair, so Ar'telan did not protest.

"I have things on my mind, that's all."

Mitron followed his gaze out, the sea stretching on. There was nothing to see, of course - they were far past land by now, and it would be some days yet before they approached Tural. Mitron, of course, had not come to help Wuk Lamat with her problem. He had come for the fishing, and the incredibly important job of moral support.

"You don't do well when they give you breaks, do you?" he said, an amused tone in his voice. "It'll be fine." He glanced over to Wuk Lamat, who was leaning over the side of the boat and completely failing to hide the nausea. "Probably." Ar'telan grimaced.

"It's not about that. I don't really know enough to worry about that yet, to be honest," he confessed. "I'm just… homesick." Mitron made a thoughtful noise under his breath at that.

"I don't think anyone would complain if you went home, you know," he said. Ar'telan shook his head.

"It's… complicated. It feels too final."

Mitron's eyes travelled from the sky to the dragons. Stoh Oosh was rippling through the water below them, but Orn Mahr and Moh Rhei were both at the prow of the ship, enjoying the winds.

"Yeah. I can imagine."

There was a silence between them then, but it wasn't strained. The sound of the wind and the shouts of the sailors at work rang out on either side, and Ar'telan let himself think.

Meracydia would not hate him for what he had been party to. Tiamat knew. Midgardsormr knew. Vrtra knew. The layers of pain that made up what had become of Nidhogg were complex, and he could not articulate it to his fellow mortals well enough for them to forgive the crime. But the dragons did, even if he didn't think they should have.

Perhaps that was it. He didn't think they should have.

It had been so long ago now that the pain had faded, but it had been so hard. He had heard the judgement in Hraesvelgr's voice, the fact that it was the fault of mortals that Nidhogg had to be stopped at all. That even though Midgardsormr had seen it for what it was, it still hurt.

He had wrung a promise from Estinien that he would not kill Nidhogg, and in the end, it had been false. Ysayle had fallen into a despair that matched Hraesvelgr's for so long that he had worried she would never rouse from it. He had eked ilm by painful ilm across the war-scarred fields of Coerthas so desperately never harming a dragon, and then they had faced Tioman on the mount.

It is like Tempering, they had said.

But it was not.

And even if the dragons had forgiven him, he had never forgiven himself.

All of his life he had held in his heart that there was nothing more sacrosanct than the life of a dragon. It was the epitome of Allag's evil - to kill Bahamut, to drive the others to desperate summoning, to damn all but a few to the Tempering. To trap his twisted idol in perpetual agony. He had all but wept when he had found the engine of prayer in the heart of Dalamud's workings. And there he was, on what had once been Allagan soil, commiting once more the sins of Allag.

To go home with it weighing on him felt like a betrayal of his people. And even if he could make peace with it, Meracydia would not feel the same as it had when he had left. He had changed too much now. He had been a fire keeper, a potwatch, the one who wrangled unruly kits. And now he was a godslayer.

He hadn't wanted any of it. But nobody in his position had ever asked for it.

"You know, I think it'll be good for everyone here," Mitron remarked. "A real adventure, you know? I'm not sure any of your little team have had the chance for one in a while." Ar'telan considered the statement.

"It would be nice to explore without the fate of the world on my head," he agreed. Mitron smiled at that, eyes on the sea once more.

"It'll do that stuffy elf- elezen, sorry, still got the First in my head - some good to see new places," he added. Ar'telan made an amused noise.

"Of all the elezen to call that, I'm not sure Haurchefant is the one you want," he replied. "But you're right. Maybe I'll call it an adventure."

"Just don't forget to call me if the fishing is good," Mitron said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"I would never forget."

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 37

Tripitaka using his scary dog privilege at every opportunity:

This chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest we get to find out what the threat of the week is going to be, so let's get into it shall we?

We begin this chapter with Tripitaka falling asleep at his reading desk while reviewing scriptures. And before to long, a spooky ghost decides to take this opportunity to visit the local ghost buster! Tripitaka however isn't to pleased to be visited by the freak of the week and threatens him that he has very valiant and powerful disciples who will reduce him to dust if they see him, so they should take Tripitaka's mercy and bail before they see him. Pity he can never compliment them like this when he's awake.

The ghost however manages to convince them that they aren't a monster here to eat him or anything, turns out the ghost is actually a king. A ghost king. Or rather just a king that's a ghost I guess. Anyways Tripitaka is horrified at his own rudeness in the face or royalty and is much more willing to hear out the king's story now. Said story goes a little something like this: Five years ago his kingdom faced a severe drought and nothing they did could fix it. However one day a Daoist came to their kingdom, and he had the ability to summon wind and rain and even transform rock into gold. When he was able to summon three feet of rain and even added an extra two inches for them, the king was so impressed he became bond brothers with him. However two years later said daoist pushed the king into a well and buried it, even planting a tree over it, which is how the king died and became a ghost.

Tripitaka asks how nobody could notice that their king was missing and the king explains that the daoist copied his form and took over his kingdom. Tripitaka then asks why he doesn't just file a wrongful death lawsuit with the ten kings, and the king explains that the Daoist isn't just powerful he is also a rather important person. A relative of the Dragon Kings and bond brothers with the kings of hell. And honestly this sort of thing is starting to sound familiar, someone so important and powerful that normal people can't do anything against them... in fact if Sun Wukong didn't have an alibi of protecting Tripitaka and being trapped under a mountain for the last five years, I'd be worried that they might be talking about him.

Luckily they aren't talking about Sun Wukong, and are actually here to ask for his help. I guess they'd rather deal with Tripitaka's diplomacy rather then taking it straight to Monkey though. And what better way to deal with a powerful, well connected usurper, then getting help from the original? Anyways, Tripitaka is more then happy to loan out Wukong's fiend seizing abilities, but worries that he might have trouble with this particular task. In a straight fight Sun Wukong would win of course, but Tripitaka is more worried about the legal battle that would follow since the Daoist is currently pretending to be the king after all.

Luckily the king has a plan for this, or at the very least an ally that will be able to help them. The prince of kingdom is still living in the palace but has been kept away from his mother to stop the two of them from talking and potentially figuring things out. Anyways the prince will be out of the city on a hunting trip tomorrow giving Tripitaka a chance to meet with him. The king also give Tripitaka proof to show the prince in the form of a jade token. When the Daoist took the kings form he didn't take the token and instead just accused the Daoist of stealing it. So Tripitaka having it could prove his words true- or you know, completely backfire and make the prince think that Tripitaka is the evil Daoist. Either one.

Anyways now that the Ghost King has fulfilled his NPC role and has given Tripitaka his side quest for the week, he takes his leave and Tripitaka awakens from his dream. So Tripitaka immediately starts yelling for his disciples which of course immediately leads to Pigsy bitching that they can't get even a moments peace on this journey! Tripitaka just ignores him and tells his disciples about the crazy dream he had. Luckily Monkey is more then happy to take commissions for his ass kicking abilities and is more then happy to beat that guy to a pulp.

Tripitaka then remembers that the King left him something and looks around for it, when they find the Jade Token from the dream outside the door that serves as proof that the dream was real. With that settled the group enters into planning mode. Monkey already has a plan in mind and asks if Tripitaka will be willing to face three unlucky things, those three things being 'Take the blame, take abuse and catch the plague. Tripitaka tries to ask for more details about those alarming three things but Monkey just tells him 'don't worry about it' and proceeds to change one of his hairs into a fancy box and putting the token into it.

Monkey then proceeds to tell him the plan. Tripitaka will wait here in his fancy cassock and recite some sutra's while Monkey scopes out the city. If he see's the fiend he'll just kill him and save them all the trouble, but if not he'll instead just lead the prince to Tripitaka. Once the prince show's up, Monkey will announce him before shrinking himself to fit inside the box. After that Tripitaka is to ignore him until the prince gets pissy and tries to arrest him, which is where the whole 'take the blame, beating and catch the plague' part of his plan comes into play.

Tripitaka is quite understandably nervous about this plan, but Monkey assure him that he will never let anything ever actually hurt him. When the prince interrogates him Tripitaka is to tell him about his journey from the east. And when the prince asks him about his treasures, Tripitaka is to say that he has the cassock which is a third class treasure but that he also has a first and second class treasure. When the prince asks for more info, Tripitaka is to tell him that he has a treasure that knows about the past 500 years, the present 500 years and the future 500 years- said treasure being Monkey who will take the opportunity to tell the prince about Tripitaka's dream. If the prince still doesn't believe them they can then show him the jade token as proof. Tripitaka thinks this is a wonderful plan and asks what he should call the third 'monkey treasure'. Monkey suggests calling him 'King-Making thing.'

With the plan set, all that's left to do is wait till morning when they can put the plan into motion. When morning comes Sun Wukong leaves to scout the city as promised and see's that it is surrounded in layers of eerie mists and battered by constant gusts of wind, and generally just has bad vibes, a sure sign of a fiendish ruler. Once Monkey takes a good look at the city, the gates open letting out the prince's hunting party. Monkey uses this opportunity to lure the prince away by transforming into a rabbit and pretending to let the prince shoot him with an arrow and scampering away. When the prince see's that the arrow hit it's mark, he chases after his pray on horse back and Monkey is able to successfully lure him all the way to the Monastery where Tripitaka is waiting.

Now that the prince is here, they enter into phase two of their plan. As promised Monkey alerts Tripitaka to the prince's presence before shrinking in size and diving into the box. Speaking of the prince he arrives and is startled to see his arrow but not the rabbit he shot. He assumes that it must have been a spirit and leaves it at that, and decides that he might as check out the monastery while he's here. Meanwhile the rest of the prince's entourage arrive and take a self guided tour of the temple, all the monks of the temple kowtow to the prince, but when they reach the room Tripitaka is in, he doesn't acknowledge the prince in anyway. Incensed by this rudeness the Prince orders for Tripitaka to be seized. As promised however, Monkey isn't going to let any harm come to Tripitaka, and he accomplishes this by threatening all the gods that are Tripitaka guard duty. Monkey is sure to inform all the guardian deities that if they allow Tripitaka to be bound, he will find them all guilty. So of course the gods step in and make it so the guards can't even touch Tripitaka.

Seeing that Tripitaka can't be touched the prince immediately starts interrogating Tripitaka, and Tripitaka follows the script he and Monkey had worked out earlier. Tripitaka also takes this opportunity to introduce Monkey as the treasure called the King-Making Thing. So Monkey exits the box in his tiny form, but grows immediately back to his normal size as soon as the prince calls him a midget. So Monkey tells the prince all about the drought and the doaist as proof of his knowledge of the past. Then Monkey has the prince dismiss his entourage before telling him that the king on the throne is not actually his father but instead the doaist.

The Prince of course isn't to keen to hear that his father is an imposter so Monkey decides it's time to use their trump card. He has Tripitaka hand him the box, and takes back his hair which leaves only the Jade Token. Of course as should be expected the Prince immediately starts accusing *them* of being the Daoist as soon as he see's that they have the Jade Token and once again tries to order them to be arrested. While Tripitaka is freaking out that their plan has gone completely sideways, Monkey simply introduces himself and tells the Prince the whole true story about what happened. After hearing Monkey's explanation about his ghost father, he believes them, but still isn't sure what he can do about the whole situation. Monkey however encourages the Prince to speak to his mother the queen, in secret.

And so we end this chapter of Journey to the West with the prince heading out to have a conversation with his mother.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years. Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction and vanishing in a flash of light. Demon Kill Count: 9+ Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1006 God's Defeated: 22 + Unknown number Defeats: 4 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods and Criminal Threat Cry Count: 6 + 2 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization and Heart Sutra. Cry Count: 18 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 27 Paralyzed by fear: 5 Bandit Problems: 2 Kidnapped by demons: 4 Falling Off Horses: 6

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 2

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring and size enhancement Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 2 Kidnapped by Demons: 1 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 3 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping and arson.

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater and Cloud soaring. Demon Kill Count: Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 2 Human Kill Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, and desecration of a human corpse.

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