#Sprout did start a war

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[entishramblings]

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

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Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @abandoncloud9 @aphroditesmoon @carojasmin2204 @high-sea-husbands @aheadfullofsteverogers

add yourself to my taglist

[koolades-world]

Hello! When you have time can you please do headcanons on the brothers (and side characters) reacting to MC pranking them by getting a brussel sprout, dipping it in chocolate and nuts, then wrapping it into a ferrero rocher covering and then going so far as to reseal the box? I think this would be really funny lol

hiii!! yes omg of course

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE (i think i timed this right? if not, i'm close bc it's still your birthday week lol) y'all go wish atom happy bday! literally so many of my bangers are a request she made. hope you had a wonderful birthday <3333

enjoy <3

Mc pranks everyone with fake Ferrero Rochers

Lucifer

he actually automatically assumes the anti-lucifer league put you up to this

you manage to dodge all liability for something you were totally responsible for

take this secret to the grave lest you suffer the wrath of lucifer haha

Mammon

he loves you so much, so he pretends to enjoy it since he assumes it's just an odd human thing

however afterwards, he immediately throws it away

you might casually mention it again in the future and then he realizes it was a prank all along

Levi

may or may not burst into tears because he thinks you hate him and that's why you gave it to him

please buy him a regular tray and show him it was just a prank

if you really love him, eat one yourself to show how sorry you are

Satan

if you were anyone else, there's no way you'd still be alive

seems the most likely to spit it out, but laughs it off with you

he might play a harmless prank on you back and hopes it's not the start of some mini war

Asmo

will outright ask you if you were being serious or not

that intense look in his eyes gets you to confess

as payback, he has you act as his mannequin for the evening to test out fun outfits and makeup looks on

Beel

he's the wrong one to prank lmao

he will deadpan eat them, tell you how oddly delicious and different they tasted

will ask for more. prank: failed

Belphie

he sees right through your shit

he will eat one, but will immediately realize what you did

won't retaliate but will give you the meanest stink eye ever

Diavolo

will happily eat it

he thinks it's just a human thing and will make sure to let you know he enjoyed it

it seems as if he actually liked it! is this success or not?

Barbatos

that 'candy' will not enter his mouth once

it's barbatos, he saw this coming and won't fall for it

in fact, you somehow end up eating it. well played barb, well played

Simeon

would for sure pretend to enjoy it

he doesn't want to hurt your feelings after all, since it was a gift

unless you ever admit to what you did, he will never say anything about it

Luke

like father like son

he assumes it was a well intentioned gift and will take the fact that he hated it to the grave

honestly maybe just don't do this to him it feels cruel haha

Solomon

he seems like he'd actually enjoy it

just convince him that it's just how they are now and he's been away from the human world for too long

however, this will all go out the window as soon as he buys himself a tray haha

Mephisto

he feels so betrayed haha

here he was, thinking you'd gone out of your way to give him a gift

contemplates retaliation, but decides not to because he deems himself a gentleman

Thirteen

she doesn't contemplate retaliation

her plan had already begun to moment she took a bite of your monstrosity haha

you may want to watch your back from now on, but she'll probably get you anyways

Raphael 

i feel like he would at first be confused

but then, he's going to threaten you with his spear(s)

run for you life mc!

[hihhasotherfixations]

Tattoo Blossom - Price x Reader | Part 1

AU where your soulmate’s injuries appear on your skin like a blooming flower tattoo.

Part 1 | Part 2

Thank you @flop101 for helping me come up with the idea for this soulmate au!

CW: None. Reader has no gender specified. Slight talk of injury.

Word Count: 6087

It always started with a sudden pressure.

Sitting at work, you groaned softly as you lifted your hand, pressing it on your left sternum to alleviate the pain.

“Y/N, you alright?” Your coworker asked as they leaned over and you sent them a smile you didn’t really mean.

“Just fine, don’t worry. I’m… just gonna head to the restroom.” With that, you stood up from your chair and hurriedly walked across the office, towards the toilets.

Once inside, you made a beeline for the mirrors, unbuttoning your shirt slightly before pulling the fabric away from your sternum.

Right there, perfectly above the bone, sat a small black and white bud. It was small and tear drop-shaped, just like every flower started out as. It made it impossible to tell what type of flower it was yet.

Sighing softly, you thumbed over the imprint on your skin, a worry line present in the creasing of your brow.

“What did you do this time…” Muttering it softly, your eyes glazed over as you looked at the small tattoo.

Somewhere in the world, your soulmate had gotten hurt again. And while you had a beautiful, black outlined flower bud, he most likely had a gaping wound.

Closing your eyes, you let your shirt fall back into place. You just hoped the flower would bloom soon. After all, the bud becoming a flower signified his healing - his wound becoming a scar. And you’d be glad once it was in full bloom, meaning he was fully healed. And you’d also be able to see what you’d add to the collection.

After all, not every flower was the same kind.

From the myriad of them that littered your body, each one seemed to correspond to a specific sort of injury.

You’d read somewhere once that that’s where flowers got their meanings from. The reason for an injury.

You’d figured out some. How could you not?The petals covered you from chest to toe - thankfully avoiding your face for now - so of course you’d get curious.

They sprouted all over your body, some small, some larger. There was even a row of them on your forearm.

While most flowers were different however, there were those that repeated. And the most frequent were the Tansy’s.

You’d looked it up once. Tansy’s were flowers that signified hostile thoughts and the declaring of war.

Whatever else you held on your body, at least these flowers gave an answer. Whoever your soulmate was, wherever he was, he was at war.

And he’d been so for the past 19 years.

- - - - -

John Price often forgot he had a soulmate.

Only about 20% of the population did and with his busy life, thinking about that little flower on the back of his right ankle was far from the forefront of his mind.

It was easier to forget. Not only to hide his heartache but also to hide his guilt.

After all, what use was a soulmate if all they did was paint your skin against your will. Filling in your body with marks and filling up your mind with worry over what your soulmate did to get wounded so much.

So instead, John chose to forget. To leave the guilt and want out and instead focus on the missions in front of him. None of the boys in the task force knew, not even Nikolai knew. Laswell had only found out several years ago when he’d joined her and her wife for a camping trip.

Purely by accident too.

The three of them had been hiking when John’s boot slipped in a mud puddle, causing his ankle to make a very dangerous move to the side. Cursing and hissing, he’d limped over to a dry patch and taken off his boot, yanking his sock down to inspect his ankle, only to be stared in the face with the flower he’d done so well to forget until then. Right in Laswell’s sight.

The rest of that trip had soured explicitly for the SAS captain, constantly hounded with questions by Laswell’s wife - who seemed rather enthused - while the woman herself berated him every step of the way.

Now however, he was back in England, having just returned from killing Hassan and stopping a missile.

Sitting on a chair, he was struggling with putting on his boot, hissing with every move of his left arm that caused the gunshot by his sternum to scream in pain.

“Y’alright, cap?” Soap’s voice piped up as he leaned back on the couch, looking at the man while Ghost pushed the Scot’s legs off of himself in irritation (it was a dangerous game Johnny was playing.)

“Need some help?” Gaz now asked, standing in the doorway and Price looked up, glaring at the two men. Though he knew it came from a place of concern, it highly wounded his pride.

“And have either of you blokes tie my shoe like I’m some kid?” He scoffed, not gracing them with another look as he focused on the blasted boot again.

“There’s many more reasons to tie someone’s shoe.” Gaz protested, displeased by his captain’s stubbornness.

“Like what?”

“Like when your missus does it for you!” Soap piped up with a wide grin, getting a glare from Gaz for having his point interrupted, though Price just deadpanned.

“So a mother and a missus can tie a shoe and I have neither, how nice.” He rumbled back, slamming his foot down now to try and get his heel down into it, properly annoyed.

“Ah, that’s-“ Before Soap could continue to horribly try and rectify what he brought into the world, Ghost smacked him on the back of his head.

“Shut up, Johnny.”

“What I was trying to say.” Gaz stepped in before it could turn into a fight. “None of us will think any different of you if you ask for help every once in a while. Especially when you’re injured.” The sergeant tried but right then, Price managed to get the boot on, quickly tying it as best as he could with his limited movement.

“Well, I got it. So thanks a lot, lads, but no need.” The man hummed as he got up, grunting a bit as he accidentally strained the muscles of his shoulder. “Let’s get going, I need that drink.”

- - - -

“I’m really not feeling up for this.” You sighed softly, holding your shirt up to your chest.

For the past ten or so minutes, you’d been staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes grazing over every flower that littered your body.

The large snapdragon in your side, the holly’s in your right thigh and abdomen, the hyssops marking three places on your torso, the anemone in the middle of your chest, the chain of several lily’s below your elbow. Not even to mention the tansy’s that sprouted everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your shoulders, your arms.

And now the beginning bloom of a new flower above your sternum. All you could think about was how your soulmate had been injured again.

And how you feared the day that the flowers would wilt.

To you, the tattoos on your skin were a blessing and a curse. You didn’t mind them. It showed you had someone out there who was perfect for you - a missing puzzle piece you could slot together with. Not everyone got that privilege.

But who was to say you’d ever meet them? And while every flower that showed up was beautiful, it signalled your soulmate being hurt. And given you were almost entirely sure he was in the army, it meant those injuries were usually bad. You almost didn’t dare to count the amount of gunshot wounds, signified on your body as a singular small flower - so long as it didn’t have an exit point.

“Y/N, come on!” It was your friend pounding her fist on your bedroom door that made you snap out of your reverie. “You’ve been stuck at work for too long. You need a night out.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled the red shirt you’d been holding over your head. It had sleeves reaching until halfway down your forearm, hiding almost all the flowers on your torso save for a single lily on your left arm. About two third’s of it showed while the rest of the chain was hidden. That was one of the largest patches of flowers and you’d long since given up trying to hide it.

Throwing on some jeans to match, you then swung the door open before Sarah could bash her fist into it again - which was an accurate thought as she stood there with her arm raised, ready to raise hell.

“Oh!” She startled before looking you over and groaning. “Again?” She whined, picking at your sleeve and letting it snap back against your arm.

“Ow, hey.” You chuckled, slapping her hand away before crossing your arms. “I’m not gonna flaunt myself in front of an entire bar. Leave me alone.” Shaking your head in amusement, you walked past her, making her fall into step behind you.

“You’re in your thirties and yet still you’re saving yourself like a nun. For a soldier? Didn’t he just give you a new one yesterday?” She whined and you sent an unimpressed look back over your shoulder, raising a brow.

“Ah yes, because he was given a gunshot wound as well.”

“There!” Sarah pointed at you as if to say ‘aha’. “You immediately know it’s a gunshot wound. Like how bad is that?”

“Just as bad as this miniskirt.” You grinned, poking her hip.

Gasping a little, she jumped away. “My skirt is not bad! I can wear what I want!” She protested and you gave her a smug look.

“Exactly.” After that however, you calmed a bit and grabbed her hand, running your thumb over it. “I don’t think it right to display someone else’s injuries. It’s a private thing, something he probably doesn’t want to talk about.”

“You’re too good for whoever this guy is.”

Laughing at Sarah’s pout, you swung your arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go get that drink then, hm? Get your mind off of me and my depressing ‘love’ life.”

Crossing her arms, she let you drag her away to the door, never letting up on her pout. “Fine.”

With that, the two of you headed out and towards the nearest pub, laughing and joking as you walked - after all, driving was out of the option for what you were planning for the evening.

- - - -

It was a lot busier in the bar than you’d expected.

Some type of football game was on and people had come out en masse to celebrate together, which left the large room stuffed relatively full with people.

Stumbling over to the bar with your best friend, you by some miracle managed to snatch two spots.

Sitting up on the high chairs, you both ordered a drink before settling into comfortable conversation.

“See anyone you fancy?”

Sarah’s sudden question had you spluttering into your glass before you glared at her. “Really?”

Blinking innocently, she just smiled at you and you playfully rolled your eyes. “I see someone you might fancy.” At that, she frowned and you nodded your head to something behind her.

Getting the hint, she turned around to see a man looking at her. Right as she crossed eyes though, he quickly looked away and she turned back to face you with a slight blush. “Alright so maybe you know my type.”

“Heads up.” You smirked as you watched him get up, goaded on by his friends and Sarah widened her eyes before quickly fixing her hair.

“I look okay?”

“You look great.” You chuckled, bumping your knee into her before turning to face the wood of the bar top right as Sarah turned around to greet the man.

Though you came here to have some fun together, you knew Sarah was a huge flirt. You also didn’t mind, perfectly content to enjoy a drink with your thoughts and people watching.

So, leaving her to her devices, you just politely tuned out the conversation on your right while smiling to yourself. Maybe this time, the man was a keeper.

-

“Excuse me?”

A good twenty minutes passed before the sudden words made you blink out of your thoughts, looking left to see a man about your age looking at you, a polite look on his face.

“Mind if I scoot in?” He asked kindly and you looked around, realising the entire bartop was filled with people.

“No, of course.” Smiling back at him, you scooted your chair right to make some room for him, which he quickly took as he stepped up and flagged down a bartender.

He had a pleasant look to him; head hidden under a black beanie, a weathered but kind face and muttonchops that fit him strangely well.

Thinking not much of it, you rolled your glass between your hands a bit, turning your brain off as you watched the bartender make… what was it- four drinks for the man?

Your gaze drifted a bit back and forth after that, until suddenly, a crash sounded to your left and a cold sensation splashed onto your arm.

“Oh-!” Yipping that out in surprise, you looked wide eyed to see the man frown down at the small tray he was trying to balance with one hand, one of the drinks fallen over and the contents dripping onto your arm.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” The man sent you an apologetic look as he quickly set the tray back on the bartop, to which you quickly waved him away.

“It just caught my sleeve, it’s okay!” You smiled, looking down at your arm to see the wet stain in the fabric. “I’ll just-“

“Here, let me.” He reached over the bar to his left - strangely enough using his right hand for it - and pressed some tissues to your soaked forearm.

“Ah, thank you.” You hummed, seeing him give you a tiny smile before his attention was taken by the bartender who placed a new glass in front of him which he paid for.

Quickly thanking the bartender, the man then briefly put his hand on your arm. “So sorry again. Have a good evening.” With a polite nod, he pulled away and slid the tray from the bar top into his hand - more careful this time - before he balanced it and made his way deeper into the pub.

Not thinking anything of it, you reached forward to nurse your own glass once more when a heat suddenly spread across your arm.

Frowning, you looked down. Was that drink he spilled hot? No, you distinctly felt it being cold just now.

Reaching down, you pinched your sleeve between your fingers, feeling how damp it was, yet all of a sudden, your heart seemed to stop as your eyes focused on what was going on on your skin behind your fingers.

There, on your arm, blossoming with heat, sat your lily. Your orange lily.

Breathing shallowly, you mindlessly reached back, slapping in the general direction of your best friend, managing to whack her on the back as she was still chatting up the man.

“Y/N, what-“ Her annoyed hiss was cut off when she saw you staring, wide eyed and almost panicked at your arm, where your flower was now nearly a bright orange - the colour almost completely faded in. “I- Oh my god!”

Loudly crying that out, the bar seemed to stop for a second as those around turned in concern, only for your friend to jump up from her stool and drag you down with it to hug you, jumping and laughing excitedly, putting the people back at ease as they continued their conversations.

“Please, keep your voice down!” You panicked but she seemed nonplussed as she pulled back and kept you at an arms length.

“Who is it! Who touched you? Y/N, your soulmate is here!” Her babbling didn’t stop as she pulled you closer and shook you by your shoulders before frantically looking around. “You do know who touched you, right?”

At that, you stopped briefly, your heart hammering as you turned around to look behind yourself, searching the crowd for the strange man with the black beanie and muttonchops.

It took a bit, but you eventually found him, tucked away nearly completely in the corner of the pub where he sat with his comrades, his back turned to where you were seated.

“Which one?” Your friend asked, trying to follow your line of sight and you bit your lip.

“Table of four. With the- with the hat.” You mumbled and she squinted, trying to find who you meant.

“I see no hat.”

“Black beanie.” You clarified and she squinted again, only to start slapping your arm.

“I see him, I see him!” She giggled before taking a closer look, humming in what seemed like approval. “He seems buff. Which makes sense if he’s in the military I guess, but look at those shoulders.”

Turning around, almost incredulous, you slapped her on the arm. “Would you stop ogling him!”

“You’re too much of a prude to do that, so I’m doing it for you.” She shrugged with a mischievous grin and you poked her side.

“Stop it.”

Giggling, she then slowly calmed down, her smile turning warm. Carefully, she moved to stand behind you, beginning to push you forward. “Go talk to him.” Her voice was soft in your ear and you felt your heart speed up.

“B-But-“

“If you don’t do it now, he might be gone.”

Just those words were enough to stop your struggling.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Sarah smiled as she softly whispered that and you breathed out a shaky breath.

“I just…”

“I know.” She hummed comfortingly, turning you around to face her before cupping your face. “He’s your soulmate. That means he is the one for you, Y/N. No matter what, he’ll listen. I’m sure he will.”

“You are?” You asked, your eyes going a little foggy and Sarah smiled fondly, rubbing her thumb over the corner of your eye.

“He’s yours. I know what you’re like and the universe picked him out for you. He’ll listen.”

Nodding softly, you leaned forward and hugged your best friend, composing yourself before pulling back and huffing out a breath, feigning more confidence than you had.

“I can finally say: go get ‘em, tiger.” Sarah spoke from behind with a squeeze to your arm.

At that, a soft and pleasant laugh left you and you playfully punched her shoulder. “All this time and that is the best you can come up with?”

Rolling her eyes with a grin, she then twirled you around and pushed you forward, making you send a playful glare back at her to which she stuck out her tongue.

After that though, you looked forward, seeing him at the far back of the pub and your heart slowly started speeding up, realising that this was finally gonna be the moment.

Slowly, you began walking, weaving through the tables and other patrons of the pub until it was a straight shot to his table.

Walking up to him from behind, you could feel your heartbeat rushing in your ears, your nerves alight and almost painful as they battered in your chest and stomach.

Swallowing softly, you were hugging yourself, unconsciously covering up the now coloured flower as with each step closer, it almost felt like you were getting tunnel vision - purely focused on the back of his beanie-covered head.

It was said that the universe found a way to bring two soulmates into contact, but was this really it? Was this it or were you imagining things. Were you mistaken?

Though he might not have noticed your approach, the men he was sitting at the table with sure did.

One of them - a hulking figure wearing a balaclava - glanced up, locking eyes with you which snapped you out of your tunnel vision. He quickly glanced at your soulmate and back at you, some sort of unspoken signal as, before you knew it, the man with the beanie turned around, facing you.

It looked a little stiff as he did and you caught a glimpse of bandaging under his loose hanging shirt. On the left side, where your flower bud sat too.

His eyes locked with yours and with horror, you realised you had to speak. In his eyes, you’d just stalked up behind him and were now just standing there like a limp chair.

“Uhm, excuse me…” You started softly, feeling your heart thud at the lame start though you could see him smile politely. One that you would give to strangers when humouring them, which is exactly what you were.

“How can I help you, love? Is it the drink?” He spoke and you clenched your hands as you hugged yourself tighter, hearing his voice gravelly and deep yet sounding so soft at the same time.

“Uh, no… it-“ You started as you shook your head. Just then, you were bumped into from behind.

Stumbling a bit, you caught yourself and looked back, realising how full the pub was, how his friends all had their eyes on you, and you suddenly knew this was no place to drop the bomb of being soulmates.

“Could I… talk to you for a moment? Outside?” You asked, uncrossing your left arm and pointing behind yourself at the door, nervousness apparent in every fiber of your being.

It must have been evident to him too, seeing how skittish you were, yet you could still see an awkward frown briefly paint his face, seeming not very thrilled with that idea as you could already see the rejection on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry but I came here with these boys and I can’t really-“

“Please, it’s important.” You begged, sinking a bit through your knees in your desperation.

Narrowing his eyes, your soulmate looked back at the men who sat with him at the table, who all seemed either confused or distrusting of you. He then looked back at you and you could see an intelligence shining in him as he took you and the past two minutes in. “And it has to be me?” He asked, pointing at himself to which you fervently nodded.

“I just- I need to say a thing. But it has to be in private- but you can go back here as soon as you want to!” You blabbered and his features softened a bit.

“You’re not selling me on this very well.” He chuckled before scratching the side of his beard. “Look, I’m not looking for any… Y’know.” He awkwardly got out and you felt the blood drain from your face.

“No, no! It’s not like that, I promise!”

Sitting back a bit, he seemed to take you and your frantic response in for a second before sighing and nodding. “Alright.” With that, he pushed himself up from his chair, turning back to his table.

“Don’t take too long, cap. This drink ain’t gonna last much further and I’d like another.” A man with a Scottish accent to his left spoke with a grin.

‘Cap’ as you got from the Scot, rolled his eyes and pointedly shoved his own glass towards the man with the balaclava. “Touch my scotch and I’ll have your head, MacTavish. And buy your own drink for once.” With that, he pointedly turned around and faced you, motioning for you to lead the way. “Go on.”

Licking your teeth nervously, you nodded and turned around, weaving between the plethora of people and walking over towards the exit of the bar, stepping out into the night sky.

Goosebumps raised on your skin as you heard him step out beside you.

“Mind if I smoke?” He asked and you turned back, only managing to shake your head, to which he hummed as he pulled up a cigar and planted it between his lips, proceeding to grab a lighter from his pocket and lighting it. Yet you took note of how he pointedly only used his right arm. “What was it you needed?”

Turning to him, you stared into his eyes while he looked back, curiosity and wariness both evident while his face lit up with the soft glow from his cigar.

“Uhm… you touched me.”

At that, he coughed slightly, taking the smoke out of his mouth as he looked at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I-“ Too scared to say anything else, you just lifted your hand away from your arm, ceasing your self-hug for the first time since he noticed you. Carefully, you held it out to him, using the street light across the way to show the newfound colours.

Looking from your arm up at him, you saw he was looking down at the flowers. The orange lily blooming halfway up your forearm, still partially hidden by your sleeve.

His face was void of any expression, staying blank as he moved his cigar to his left hand before he slowly reached out with his right, grabbing hold of your forearm to inspect it, his thumb ever so lightly brushing over the tattoo before he glanced up at you.

His expression was still unreadable and you panicked despite Sarah’s reassurances. You didn’t want to be one of the sob stories where you found your soulmate but got rejected or not believed. “Y-You’re injured. Here, right?” You mumbled quickly, pulling down the neckline of your shirt a bit to show the slightly blooming bud above your sternum.

At that, the man seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in as realisation seemed to dawn on him.

His eyes widened as he let go of you, to which you panicked even more, raising your shirt over your stomach to reveal the snapdragon in your side - the other biggest patch of flowers you had. “Here, I have more, see?”

“Hey.” Speaking up, he quickly reached forward and pulled your hands away, tugging your shirt back down. “Hey, it’s okay. Just slow down for me, yeah?” He reassured, a calm and firm tone that had you taking the first proper breath of air in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry-“ You huffed out and his eyes crinkled softly as he briefly rubbed the side of your arm before stepping back.

“This is…” Cutting himself off, he seemed to shake any shock away, instead focusing back on your eyes. “Bloody hell.”

He just stared at you for a moment, taking a deep breath before he cleared his throat.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” He mused, sticking out his right hand. “My name’s John Price.”

Smiling a smile of relief, you put your hand in his. “Y/N L/N.” You introduced back and his smile grew a bit under his beard.

“Sorry for spilling my drink on you. And for the cold opening earlier.” He apologised as he let go but you quickly waved his statement away.

“Don’t worry about it! A stranger walks up to you and practically forces you outside with them? I’d freak.” You chuckled, rubbing your arm a bit awkwardly.

“You didn’t force me, don’t worry.” John reassured, only now seeming to remember he had a cigar as he took it from his incapacitated hand.

The movement caught your eye however and you frowned. “Does it hurt?” Your voice was soft as you asked him but he still heard.

Looking from where you were watching, down to his sternum, he hummed a bit. “Like a bitch, but nothing I haven’t been through before. Don’t worry.”

At that, you smiled a little sorrowful smile, whispering softly. “I know.”

Your words - just those two dreadful words - made John’s eyes widen as he glanced down at your arm again, a remorseful and almost pained look overtaking him.

Putting out his cigar, he gingerly moved his hand to your left arm before glancing up at you. “May I?”

You nodded and he took hold of your forearm, his left hand moving for the first time as he ever so carefully slid your sleeve up and past your elbow, revealing the entire string of lilies that stretched from the middle of your forearm, around and to below your elbow.

One lily now partially coloured orange.

“I’m so sorry for this.”

His apology took you by surprise and you looked up at his face, seeing his eyes purely focused on your arm. Slowly, you felt the slightest brush of a touch, followed immediately by a warmth crawling under your skin.

Glancing down, you saw his thumb gently moving back and forth over the partially coloured lily, specifically the part that was still just an outline.

It took a minute for it to react, the heat only growing under your skin the longer he held his thumb there and together, you watched in awe as slowly, the rest of the lily filled with colour, fading into existence on your skin.

Just then, his apology from before filled your mind and you spoke up, still keeping your eyes on where he was holding your arm. Seemingly too reserved to continue to fill the other lilies with colour.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked and he answered almost instantly - too fast.

“I fucked your body up for you.” He spoke, letting go of your arm as he cleared his throat. The harsh reality of his own conviction breaking the trance the coloured flower had put him in. “Because of me, you’re walking around with this.” He spoke, turning your arm a bit to show you yet you countered quick.

“So are you.” You spoke but he let out a wry chuckle at that, shaking his head.

“I chose to do what I do. My scars should be my burden to bear, not yours.” He sighed, an emotion swirling in his eyes that you couldn’t discern. He looked into yours like that for a second longer, almost as if to find something within you before he gave up and cast his eyes down. “I pay the price for my mistakes and I’ve accepted it. But I really wish I didn’t get a soulmate because of it. You don’t deserve this, love.”

“You don’t want a soulmate?” You asked softly, your eyebrows scrunching in worry and John quickly straightened himself.

“That’s not what I said.” He hushed you, holding up his hand. “Hell, I never thought love was in the cards for me until I saw that I was one of the few to get flowers.” Confessing that, he rubbed the back of his head, accidentally displacing his beanie a bit - which he took a second to fix.

“You have a flower?” You whispered softly, a strangely hopeful look in your eyes that made John’s heart beat just a bit faster.

“On my ankle.” He hummed, bringing his right foot just a little bit forward. Entranced, you brought your own forward as well, turning it around to show your bare ankle visible above your loafers. There, right above the heel sat the scar that ran from one end of your ankle to the other.

“I forgot I had that.” You whispered while John looked at the scar, smiling softly as he finally saw what he had mirrored on his body.

“I would show you the flower but I’m wearing quite the stubborn boot.” He chuckled as he turned it back and forth a bit for emphasis and you smiled, glancing up at his eyes again. “How’d you get it?”

At his question, a little blush bloomed on your cheeks that had John begging to see it more, now intrigued. “Ah, well funny thing.” You hummed, scratching at your neck awkwardly. “My friend let me try out his skateboard after I made a joke it didn’t seem so hard. I somehow tripped, broke it and sliced my ankle open on the pieces.”

It took only a second for John to suddenly burst out into laughter, your blush growing exponentially in both embarrassment as well as the realisation of how pleasant the sound was.

“D-Don’t laugh.” You weakly tried, though your own smile was tugging on your lips as he practically doubled over, looking down. “It’s not that funny.” You huffed in amusement though John stood up straight, shaking his head.

“That is the reason they’re bluebells?” He giggled out the last of his laughter and you rubbed your arms.

“What do bluebells mean?” You awkwardly asked and John looked into your eyes, his own still filled with mirth.

“Darling, they symbolise humiliation.”

At that, your face absolutely flamed up with heat and you quickly slapped your hands over it to hide away. “No they do not! Tell me they don’t.” You cried out into your palms, mortified, and John burst out laughing again, much to your chagrin. “It’s not funny, that’s so embarrassing!” You whined, only to stop when you felt a soft touch on your wrist.

Gently, Price grabbed hold of it before he pried your hand away from your face, a smile still on his features. “That reasoning is a lot better than the ones I came up with. Besides, I like bluebells.” He hummed and you breathed out softly, licking your lips.

“Promise you’re not lying?”

“Scouts honour.” He hummed with a soft smile.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped your arm and smiled a careful smile back at him. “At least you knew you had a soulmate because of it, so it’s not all bad.”

“Not all bad.” He hummed, letting go of your wrist while his eyes flitted up and down, properly taking you in.

“Guess we both marked each other up then.” You spoke but at that, John’s warm smile turned wry.

“That’s quite different, Y/N.” He shook his head and you frowned, making him let out a rueful chuckle. “I’m not the one with a body full of flowers.” His knuckles gently stroked down your forearm before he dropped his hand and let out a sigh. “See, I feared ruining someone’s life because of how I live mine.”

Hearing his words, you don’t know what compelled you to do so, but you shot forward and grabbed his right hand tight with both of yours, holding it up between yourselves. “You ruined nothing for me.”

Blinking a few times, John turned his hand to grip yours back, surprised by how shockingly addicting the warmth your hands gave off was. He almost had to tear his focus back into the conversation as he ran your words through his head again and clicked his tongue. “Nothing? You sure? I doubt you got many relationships with all the flowers I must have given you.”

Smirking a bit, you tilted your head. “And why would I want relationships when I knew I had a soulmate out there?”

Your words were quick and paired with your sudden mischievous expression, the tension between John’s brows vanished as he looked at you.

It almost felt like a veil had been lifted, one that had been holding him down for god knows how long as he realised. Even through everything he did to you, you never doubted him. You’d held out for him and trusted him to come to you. And all that while you didn’t even know him.

Taking in your expression, he allowed himself to loosen up too, his lips quirking up slightly.

“Experience?”

Gasping playfully at that, you took note as well of how he seemed to relax, making you cross your arms in a pretend display and chuckle. “How rude.”

Smiling at you, John held out his hand. “You’re right. Allow me to buy you a drink to make up for it?”

Smiling back, you placed your hand in his. “I’d love that. Plus, I don’t mean to eavesdrop but I’m pretty sure your own drink is still being guarded.”

Huffing out a laugh, John shook his head and nodded. “Guess I’ll swipe that back as well. Allow me?”

Nodding, you let him lead you back into the pub, opening the door for you before he led you to a quieter corner at the bar top.

For the rest of the night, the two of you talked, getting to know each other before exchanging numbers to keep in contact and meet up later.

Later turned into two days later, which turned into another day later as well. And safe to say, by the end of the week, a lot more of your flowers were filled in and coloured.

- - - -

Did I think of every way Price got his scars aka you got the flowers? Yes. Did it come up in the fic? No. Sad boi hours xD

Part 1 | Part 2

[katyspersonal]

The MAIN cast of Elden CRING, a HIT game by FromSLOP ✨

Mommyrika - The sweetest, the nicest, the kindest, the loveliest and the most beautiful person in the entire Lands Between, no, in the entire universe that The Greater Whim created! :3 All she wants is for everyone to be happy and have a nice tea party! Everyone is so mean to her for no reason smh when she is just trying to be a good mother! >_< You can't even TELL that she is a mother because she is so petite and innocent and child-like! Despite her horrible trauma she didn't let it break her from being such a perfect ray of sunshine for everyone!

Chadagohn - Some absolute jerk that Greater Whim personally shoved into Marika's being out of pure spite, who doesn't know how to do anything but being oppressive and ruining everything! He lives just to randomly decide to start wars lmao no matter how much Mommyrika tried to fix him. He did literally every bad thing during the time Golden Order existed and Mommyrika was not able to do anything against him because of his super powerful gigachad aura clashing with her kind and soft one, however, she heroically tried to take the blame for his actions upon herself! Shame that some misogynists won't see through the charade, some of ya'll are weirdly obsessed with "giving female character agency" as long as it is about something bad 😭

Miq Griffin - I don't actually know if I got his last name right I just remember it started with 'griff-' lmao but he is just some evil manipulator that also likes to randomly reverse-groom already vulnerable people because he is eeeevil :3 Miq Griffin even has been pretending to care about his family and those who Chadagohn oppressed all to create a cult of crazy simps that will praise his name! He is ABSOLUTELY a child of his father Chadagohn but how the FUCK someone as pure as Mommyrika produced this manipulative monster? Well, it is because Chadagohn was not letting Mommyrika raise Miq Griffin at all by keeping her away with his gigachad aura.

Hellbent (race) - A race so evil and unhinged that as soon as even their infants are born their first words are "DEATH FOR INNOCENT", and only then "mom" or "dad". They are named this because they're so hellbent on spreading EVIL just because they can for no apparent reason like trap of corrupt religious cult or lagging behind culturally that nothing could cure them but Total Hellbent Death. They are literally SO evil that Fail God himself had enough of them and tried to obliterate them but got distracted to curse Mommyrika instead because her good vibes piss people off. But then Hellbent didn't think she had enough and cursed people that lived under her reign with OWEN Curse that makes your body sprout CROISSANTS and also spew some FIRE like if you were an owen. Just because they could do it and because they're EVIL and everything KIND and bright (like Mommyrika) makes them angry.

Mommy Boyssmer - The Mommyrika's most special mommy's boy that she loved more than her other children because he was the most disabled! He heroically took it upon himself to rid the world of Hellbent's evil just so nobody would dare to think Mommyrika is capable of negative emotions but somehow weird Hellbent's sympathisers still assigned the holy mission of Croissant-sade to her name because they're misogynists 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ He is such a softie you can tell Mommyrika's kindness rubbed off on him, but people want him dead not because of his actions but because he is a snek! Well Weirdtree does have a bias against sneks but it was Chadagohn's fault it exists. What a shame. Hopefully someday Hellbent will be dead so he can reunite with the only person that ever cared for him :3 Well he is also engaged with Irrel-levana, but Irrel-levana is actually just a brainless puppy-eyed Mommyrika's simp with no agency or ideology that only wants to marry him for Mommyrika's peace and happiness!

Mor-Goat and Momg - Two Owens and just other victims of the curse of Hellbent, as well as Chadagohn and Miq Griffin respectively. Well yeah you think they did something bad, like hunting Vargramnished for sport or kidnapping them (and some others) to indoctrinate them into evil blood cult? Wake up, all of this is just because Chadagohn demanded oppressing Owens and Mommyrika could do nothing to protect her own children from his gigachad wishes, and then Miq Griffin brainwashed Momg too into doing all this for a good measure! They're otherwise very sweet and chill and soft people who really just want a hug! Actually this whole time they wanted to hug Vargramnished they've met but Chadagohn's orders + Miq Griffin's charms respectively didn't let them and twisted their love into something eeeeeevil!

Libe-ranni or Ranni the Bitch - An enigmatic figure whose motivations remain unclear because of FromSLOP's shitty writing where they can't even explain their own characters normally :/ Because of this, some believe she is a hero who eliminated some nasty people to overthrow Chadagohn's and Greater Whim's awful plans to make everyone suffer for some reason, when others are just seething at the girlboss winning and believe she is an evil manipulator and schemer who just hated everything good. Some say she killed Forgotwyn because he was actually cringe and eeeeevil under guise of radiant kind boy, as evidenced by someone as evil as Miq Griffin admiring him, other say that Forgotwyn offered himself as willing sacrifice but FORGOT that a bunch of other Demigods would be killed too lmao rofl. Well Elden Cring is not a place for morally grey, complicated or machiavellian characters anyway smh so pick your camp (but also if you pick wrong you are a media illiterate looser :3).

Forgotwyn - A character that FromSLOP fucking abandoned after having built up soooooOOOOO much shit for him to be important!!!! We got literally NOTHING about Forgotwyn in the base game, are you fucking kidding me?! All they did with him was to just add a questline and whole ending focused on him, elaborated him in the story of Miq Griffin and Melanea with a plan to revive him and conclusion of Miq Griffin giving up and just wishing him true death and made him the reason for a whole political allyship and school of magic in the setting! Why do they hate this character so much and refuse to elaborate on him?! Fromslop has tremendous disrespect for its fans smh

Godfreak - Really the most pathetic character who only exists as the laughing stock despite what some weirdos that can't read subtexts will cope with LMAOOOO 😭😭😭 He even hunts Vargramnished just like Mor-Goat but at least Mor-Goat had an excuse upon being oppressed by Chadagohn's Order, what is Godfreak's excuse huh? He can't accomplish anything and isn't worth anything and he is ugly and also stinks and also the worst lover ever flowers wilt when he enters the room milk goes bad when he enters the room people on the portraits become animated just to turn away from him when he enters the room mirrors shatter just to not reflect his ugly ass face all while he is also so pathetic that he literally can ONLY steal shit! He stole his Great Rune shard, he stole the castle he is in, he even stole his family name and he is not ACTUALLY a part of the Golden Lineage because how can someone so UGLY and PATHETIC descend from Mommyrika? Clearly he is not a Demigod but just lying to everyone to be worth anything at all because he is worth nothing HAHAHA LOOK GUYS HE IS SO SHIT HAHAHA POINT AND LAUGH AT HIM GUYS HE IS SOOOO DISGUSTING HE IS NOT WORTH THE TIME OF THE DAY HE WILL NEVER HAVE BITCHES GRAFTED SCIONS WERE ALSO SOME HE STOLE JUST TO LIE THAT SOMEONE SLEPT WITH HIM BUT WHO WILL BELIEVE THIS LIE LMAOOOOOO HE IS SO PATHETIC AND INCAPABLE THAT HE HAD TO RIP A DRAGON'S HEAD OFF JUST TO PUT UP ANY FIGHT AND IT WAS STILL PATHETIC AND NOT BECAUSE HE IS THE FIRST 'TRUE' BOSS IT IS BECAUSE HE SUCKS DELETE HIM FROM FAMILY PORTRAITS OF DEMIGODS RESTORE THE TRUTH IN THE NAME OF OUR FRIEND CANNOT HAIGHT

Vargramnished - It is actually a whole type of people and not just one person, but they get their title because for some weird reason their most prominent member is Vargram. Nobody knows how he managed to escape his imprisonment at the Roundtable, lose his iconic sword and outfit, go live overseas, then be brought back in the Lands Between, be picked by Current and then upon his adventures even fight himself at some point but just roll with it I guess lol.

F and Dia - A few of characters who are just another example of overpresent misogyny tropes in Fromslop's works because God forbid woman does anything 🙄 Those Who Chill in Death are just some nice people who enjoy chill existence without soul, they aren't miserable they just act like I do when I have classes early in the morning lmao tf are you talking about?! But F can't stand them existing because he is just a raging bigot and kills people who just try to be happy. Honestly he should have been born amongst Hellbent with how much he craves blood of innocent 🤦‍♂️ At least Dia like a good wholesome mother that she is will protect everyone, huge shame that F (the other F) could not see the reasoning in her hunting his equally bigoted brother and got butthurt lol! The other F should have been called L instead because this is what he needs to hold xD

Cringeon Oof-nir - Just some pathetic dude that doesn't actually know shit lmao, he clearly didn't read all these books but was just browsing through them for pictures because he is a dumbass and can't read lol XD All the stuff he's telling us should not be taken as legit trait of his character come on, Fromslop simply needed a way to dump exposition on us, why they'd write a smart well informed character? As for the insane variety of the spells he's using, again, Fromslop just needed a way to still showcase the spells they've programmed in case if players correctly miss out on them because there is only one valid build to play (source: an argument I had on Reddit)! If they wanted to write a smart character then why he didn't know that one thing he didn't until we helped??? Clearly it is because he is actually a moron, also lazy fence sitter who is just using us! Gideon the All-Coping! Hahaha!

The Greater Whim - Somehow despite being a literal force that created existence itself and life and universe it is petulant enough to descend to very specific pocket of existence only to screw over Mommyrika as it ALSO can't stand her just vibing and being happy, or screw over other people. Everything bad assigned to Mommyrika that can't be blamed on Chadagohn is blamed on the Greater Whim. This is so sad how Mommyrika literally never has a choice and is always forced to do bad stuff because everyone except for her just wants to do evil smh >_<

Melanea - Ok I've mentioned that Mommyrika will love the afflicted child more than a healthy one by proxy uhhh. I've had a piece of paper where absent lore on Melanea in this regard was written but I gave it to the person who thinks everything above is super interesting and compelling writing so they can roll another bong :/ But from all evidence we were given Chadagohn probably used his chad power to keep Mommyrika away from Melanea and not let her care for her smh. And as if that was not enough, Miq Griffin always had her brainwashed. Melanea only was so loyal to him and had faith in him because she was under his spell. It was obvious, wasn't it? Who could ever genuinely love someone as evil and scheming as Miq Griffin anyway? The bastard even created a statue of him and Melanea hugging just so people would not see through his evil manipulative master plan! Eh female characters in Fromslop's works can't have agency anyways, really wish Melanea and others were kept far away from cringe evil men (not Mommy Boyssmer tho, he is good because Mommyrika's love saved him before Chadagohn sabotaged it :3)

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is the last of the list, at least at present. I'm not quite sure when I started saving these, but it's been somewhere around 6 years!

"I think we should thank this book for finding us a new source of renewable energy: Jane Austen's corpse spinning in its grave."

"DNF @ 30% and I'm embarrassed to have made it that far."

"was written solely because the author received a thesaurus for her birthday."

"This book was so horrible that my friends and I started a Terrible Book Club where we passed around a copy in which we wrote snarky comments in the margins."

"If I wanted to hear endlessly repetitive justifications of bad decisions, I would go reread my journals from 2003"

"I can’t believe I’m expected to care about these two people who have the collective personality of a chair"

'This is one of those books that makes me feel that, even though I had heterosexual parents and a heterosexual family and grew up in a heterosexual world, I will never understand heterosexuals.'

"isn't so much a cliche storm as it is a cliche monsoon, a tsunami of platitudes, a tornado of concepts that have been Done Before."

"someone PLEASE give [author] a bag of commas (or at least give them to his editor)"

"I am reading this For Science."

"This book could be the perfect door stop, but the cat sprayed it."

"This book is fine for people who enjoy chewing sawdust."

"[Title] was my first husband's favorite book, and he used to quote from it all the time. When we got divorced (it wasn't amicable), my lawyer asked how I'd feel about using that fact in court."

"If the main character were an instrument, she'd be a cowbell."

"There's a metaphor that has been beaten to death and will never bother anyone again."

"The characters [...] were flatter than frogs hit by all eighteen wheels of a semi. Even the dogs were underdeveloped."

"It's the OJ Simpson trial! But with an extraterrestrial! This will never get dated!"

"about as exciting as an uncooked Brussel sprout"

[Author is] "Someone you'd sit behind in a 100 level philosophy class and maybe secretly want to choke a little."

"I read this book while locked in a psych ward against my will. I would have rather stared at the wall for five days instead of reading this."

"[...] a metaphor so blunt I am surprised it did not injure me"

"It takes a certain and rare kind of writer to make a story about civil war, genocide, and a refugee crisis boring and unreadable."

"Use this book to stuff an old mattress."

"I cannot honestly say that [book] is the worst novel ever written, but I grant [author] the benefit of this doubt solely because I have not read every novel ever written. (In private, however, I maintain my suspicions.)"

"disintegrated in my hands, which felt like a blessing."

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 0: back in town. six years have passed since he left for med school; finally, Uryu is back... as well as that never ending pain.

❄ a/n: not me starting a new -pretty out of the blue - fic. I needed to rest my head from all of the studying and while I was listening to "Yoü and I" by Lady Gaga, I thought of Uryu and a pretty tragic love story that had no closure after TYBW. I must ask for feedback with this one, if you wish for me to continue with this story, please, let me know 💖 ❄ tw: not much, very angsty for now. I want this to be a sweet love story that will -of course- contain smut as we go further into it.

“Stop, stop please… stop ignoring me! This is hurting me!” you plead, knees hitting the ground, drawing blood out of them, allowing the cold cement underneath to soak into that crimson fluid of life. 

His glasses have fogged; it is not the cold, nor the snow as white as his clothes… it’s just the tears sprouting nonstop from the bottom of his heart. 

“I beg you please, leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you… it's been years, forget about me” Ishida whisper, knowing too damn well those words are pure lies. 

How much time has passed? It’s been years since the war, since the “treason”. The scar on your body still remains like a bittersweet memory of those arrows. A single one, just one, it was enough to cross your heart. 

“You didn’t mean it, I know that… please, I have forgiven you! In fact, I’ve never once blamed you!” you scream, a night so cold it could freeze your bones but not as much as Uryu’s heart. 

He keeps walking away from you. Uryu has promised himself not to ever falter, not ever succumb… how could he hurt you? from all the people? That single arrow, a single ray of blue light and reiishii… so deadly, so painful… you, the sacred woman he wished to protect, even in silence, had fallen upon one of his own attacks. Was the fight worthy after all? Saving the world? Avenging his mother? Was it all worthy if in exchange, from all the people, you, the one he swore not to hurt, paid the price of his betray? 

“Please…” you murmur, the pain of that last word unheard by him, hurts harder than any scar imbued into your flesh. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Please, please, please… please… Uryuu, please”

You remain there, with snow pooling on your shoulders, with your thighs getting coated with bloody knees, with tears freezing, and a heart broken… through blurry eyes, he disappears among the foggy night, after all this time, Uryu has left. Again. 

A pair of headlights blink behind you; however, you don’t notice them until the car stops right by your side. 

“My son is an idiot, isn’t he? Come on” Ryuuken helps you stand up. 

You sniffle, looking into the deep blue eyes of that man who you’ve always considered a father. 

“Indeed…” you murmur, sitting on the passanger’s seat. 

Dr. Ishida hands you a handkerchief and starts driving in silence. You know he is probably driving you home, though you don’t care. 

“Ryuuken-sama, I’ve never blamed him. I swear I- I knew the moment he left what he meant to do! I… missed him so much, six whole years away, and now that he is back in Karakura… why?! Why he ignores me? Is he married? Did he find love in med school?”  you ask, in between sobbing, and blowing your nose. That poor piece of fabric might never come back to Dr. Ishida’s hands. 

The snow haired man sighs; he knows exactly why his own son is ignoring you. And he is also aware his son is as stupid as he could be, but he is also noble to no extent… 

“My son, as I always say, is an idiot. But he also has the biggest heart you could possibly imagine, (Name)…” 

Three days before.

“You are back” Ryuuken words, as always dry. However, his dull eyes immediately regain a shine he thought he had lost the day his son left. 

His tiny little black-haired version of him has now bloomed into a young adult. His glasses, still the same. His hair, perhaps a little longer. And now, carrying a document where it says he has become a paediatrician. 

Uryu, in anxious response, clenches his fist on the handle of his carry-on bag. As if time have stopped, the people walking by the arrivals hall of Karakura’s tiny aerodrome seem to disappear. 

His glasses reflect the image of a father that acts tough but is dying to hug his son… and same goes for Ryuuken, with glasses showing a man that turns into a kid and begs for his father’s love. 

“Seems like it…” Uryu’s blue eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Come on, Dr. Ishida” Ryuuken mumbles, with a pride his voice couldn’t conceal, saying nothing but everything at the same time. 

A soft smile garnishes Uryu’s lips, Ryuuken hasn’t change a single bit.

“Six years have passed, and this town still looks the same” Uryu grunts; the big city has probably changed the way he sees the world. 

Ryuuken remains silent, looking at the passenger’s seat from the corner of his eye. It is true, the city has barely changed, though the people living on it did. All of them; some have even married and now have kids… except for one person; you. 

“The city and a person in particular” the Dr. says, with his eyes fixed into the traffic light ahead. The bomb had been dropped… 

“She- she hasn’t left?” Uryu asks, looking at his father with eyes opened big and pale skin turning even paler. 

“Hm… how could she? You idiot”

[next chapter]

[ginevrapng]

𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄?

pairing: george weasley x slytherin!reader

word count: 5.2k words

content: no war au, non canon quidditch match, fluff, some angst, insecurities

a/n: this was super fun to write and my first long harry potter fic, hopefully you all enjoy it! hopefully george isn't too ooc in this. i might make a part two of this with smut but i'm not sure yet.

"did i ever tell you how beautiful you are?" spitting out your drink in shock you turn to look at your best friend and see him looking at you, swaying drunkenly. george has definitely had too much to drink tonight. before he can say anything else that you know he'll regret in the morning you cover his mouth with your hand. "honestly george, i leave you alone for an hour to talk to adrian and you get wasted and start sprouting nonsense. normally you're the one stopping me from doing stupid stuff, georgie," you giggle, vowing to make sure you don't get any drunker so you can get you both home safe.

you first met fred and george in potions in your 4th year and it was a rocky start, they didn't like slytherins and you didn't have the time and energy to waste on trying to get people to like you. however that all changed when in one class fred nearly messed up his wit-sharpening potion by putting gurdyroot in instead of ginger root, immediately you grabbed his wrist before he could put it in, straight away scolding yourself for doing such an idiot thing and dropping his hand. normally you wouldn't've minded if someone messed up their work, plus potions was your best class so it'd be less competition but sitting in front of george weasley and then right next to fred it was inevitable you took a liking to their antics, even if you never told them so or even spoke to them.

at the time fred was extremely suspicious, some girl who he'd never spoke to before stopping him from putting in an ingredient. before he could even question it you stated, "it's meant to be ginger root, you've got it wrong." you turned away from him and carried on with what you were previously doing, not wanting to see his reaction, you warned him and he'd do with that what he will. you expected him to not respond but you didn't expect utter silence from his workside. "you can believe me or not, i don't care. don't just do nothing though, snape's going to think you're up to something and it'll distract me when he comes over."

you started to get pissed off at weasley's lack of movement before you heard him not so quietly whisper to george, "oi, what's meant to be in this thing? gurdyroot?" you didn't hear what george said, you're not sure if it was because he was actually quieter or if you were slightly stunned and pleased with the fact he took some notice on what you said and didn't throw away what you said you said completely. in the corner of your eye you saw fred turn back around and almost sounded reluctant as he replied, "shit. urrr thanks.. i guess."

after that day you both took more interest in each other, only talking when having something that needed to be said but that was definitely an upgrade in your relationship. george took notice of this change but others didn't. by the end of your fourth year you talked in potions together all the time, with george joining in by leaning over to talk to you both, cheekily winking at you whenever he caught you looking at him, promptly leading to an eye roll from you and occasionally walking over to you under the guise of needing to get something where you were, leading to many detentions and you vowing to never speak to him again if he distracted you in crucial parts in class. everybody just thought george wanted to talk to fred but they were wrong.

you also listened to their prank ideas, giving impute when you can but mostly just fascinated by everything they were saying. you'd stealthily give them presents for christmas and their birthday and they'd always tease you about it but you'd always be able to tell they liked what you gave them. they also decided to bother you while you studied in the library. to this day you think about shock people must have had when fred and george said they were going to the library for the first time, madam pince probably thought she was going mad when she saw them.

it just turned into a secret, your friendship, you're not really sure how, you just knew that fred and george didn't want people to know about you. you wish you could have said the same but you had no interest in what others thought of you. you were very prideful of your house but you didn't care about your reputation, at those times you wish the twins felt the same. you would like to say it didn't bother you to keep quiet about how you're friends with them but it did, not all the time but sometimes it did get to you. you'd finally found amazing friends and they actually liked you for you and have interest in what you had to say, they were probably the closest friends you had and had ever had. you knew that you kept to yourself and you liked that fred and george somehow managed to get you to open up so being made to never speak to them in front of other people hurt sometimes. you sometimes wondered if you mattered that much in their lives.

that was answered to you after a quidditch match, slytherin against gryffindor. slytherin won by a landslide and for some reason the other team were off their game this time, whatever the reason it was a win to slytherin. you wished you could have cheered on fred and george, they are great beaters but you knew you couldn't have cheered for them, that's okay though because adrian was on the slytherin team and you two have always been close since first year. you were decked out in all green, cheering him on and the rest of the team, house spirit and all, scarf and socks matching, watching them play.

on your way back into the castle you see a small commotion and notice the green robes so you went over there to see an argument between some of the two teams. malfoy spewing rubbish like all ways. more and more people were starting to come over and you knew soon one of the professors would get there, you were not going to lose house points today, especially when you've just won the game and gained house points in return. "the only reason you're still on the slytherin team malfoy is because your father's paying flint's parents to keep you on the team." you heard potter say as you walked up towards them.

you reached your hand out to touch malfoy's shoulder pulling him back. "let's go malfoy, it's not worth it, we just won."

you froze as you heard potter talk to you, he'd never even looked at you before, now he's got it in for you. "who are you, anyway? just some other blood-purist? bet you're so proud of your house cheating." if you were more confident in that moment you would of spoken up, would've told him to shut it, that he knows nothing about you. but you realised everyone is looking at you, slytherins, gryffindors even hufflepuffs and ravenclaws and the twins are behind harry and oh god you felt sick. you tried your hardest to not look the twins in the eye or even in their direction at all. you thought that they're probably disgusted that they ever talked to you. you're nothing like what potter thought you were and everyone who knew you knew that but fred and george never did ask you questions about your beliefs, maybe afterwards they had doubts when potter said that.

you kept your head down and walked away, pushing against people, clearly trying not to cry. you just wanted to get out of there. you found out how much you mean to the twins when george see's your figure leaving, going back to the castle. without much thought about the situation he goes to correct harry, because there was no way in merlin he was going to let someone think that about you. fred beat him to it though, "she really is nothing like that harry." george pushes against everyone as he followed you, catching up with you quickly.

"don't worry about it, harry just doesn't know you."

you couldn't help it, it just came. you were overwhelmed with emotions and frustration you stop momentarily, spun to face him and shout, "that's the whole problem. he doesn't know me! leave me alone weasley, i never want to speak to you again." you walked off quickly, deciding you're done. it's over and you just want to sleep for the rest of the day.

george wasn't too fond of this idea and he catches up with you again. honestly he was slightly taken aback by your outburst, one second he saw you desperately try to stop malfoy from saying anything else due to not wanting to get into trouble and the next second harry made you run off while trying not to cry. he wished that you never saw the fight between them all, he hoped you didn't think ill of him. "please don't go, let's just go wait for fred somewhere, he's probably still fighting with malfoy."

"didn't you hear me weasley, i'm done. i'm not going to be your stupid secret. i don't want to be your bloody friend only when it suits you."

george never meant for you to think that you're a secret and he knew fred felt the same. "i'll fix this." you didn't answer but all you could think was 'no, not this time.'

you did however successfully help deescalate the argument. gryffindor's confusement with how the twins stood up for you left malfoy to throw a couple of snide comments without any reply from them, leading enough time for pansy to notice mcgonagall on her way over and warn all her house that they should leave, including a very worked up malfoy.

"what the bloody hell was that all about?" ron questions fred, everyone else turning to face him thinking exactly the same thing.

"well obviously malfoy was being a git like always."

"you know bloody well that's not what i mean."

"is she who you go see when you 'go to the library'?" ginny asks. "i mean seriously, it's not like i believe you both have suddenly started studying multiple times a week."

fred knew ginny's caught him out but he doesn't know what to say. how would they all react to finding out about you and what if you don't even want anyone in slytherin to figure out your friends with two gryffindors.

"we're friends." fred hears as he turns round to see george had come back. he didn't want for you to feel like a secret anymore. he wonders where you are and questions him. "she said she's going... actually i don't know where."

"is she okay?"

george pauses for a second, "we'll figure something out."

ginny was the only one who didn't have something to say about what they'd all just found out. she had a suspicion something was up, she just didn't know what, she really did not think that it would be something to do with a slytherin though. but everyone else definitely was not taking the news too well. not just a slytherin but someone opening being friendly with malfoy, at least in their eyes that's what it looked like.

every time you saw the twins after that you walked away, doing everything in your power to stay away from them. that did not work for long, as two days after the incident you had charms first period with george. mentally preparing yourself to see him and ignore him no matter what he said or how funny he is, you get out of bed, get ready and leave the common room.

as you left you get the fright of your life. "oh merlin, george! what are you doing lurking about?" your heart racing out due to the jump and still trying to be angry and scold him even though you missed him and fred incredibly so. you see him smirk as he tries not to laugh and you want so bad to wipe that smirk of his stupid face.

"i've come to carry your bag, you always complain that you have to carry to many books on tuesday so i've come to save you, i'm your knight in shining armour! we've got charms." before you can even retort and tell him to go away he's taken your bag and is walking off.

"hey give me my bag back!" he doesn't try to keep in his laugh this time as he then assures you that you'll have it in charms. "i need that bag now weasley, if you remember before class there's normally a little thing called breakfast."

"i did actually forget about that. let's go have some breakfast then." he carried on walking and didn't give you your bag back. you're walking in the halls together and you don't know how to react. not only are you angry at him but now you're confused because what the hell does he think he's doing and why did he suddenly care about you enough to be seen with you.

"stop thinking so much. you know me and fred really care about you and we'll make it up to you. we never wanted you to feel the way you have been feeling. godric i'll even drop a bag of dungbombs in mcgonagall's classroom because i know how much you secretly don't like her. even if you pretend you do, i see your face scrunch up in annoyance all the time when she talks."

you unsuccessfully tried to hide your smile, as you mumble about how you want your bag back and how you wasn't even thinking about that. george relaxes more as he see's you smile, there was always that insecurity that you'd never talk to him again after the quidditch match although fred was so sure you would and told him so and he's so fred was right glad.

right now though at this party fred's on his own this time with getting home. you're pretty sure he was talking to seamus finnigan and neville longbottom last time you saw him anyway so it's unlikely you'll see him again tonight if he's with all gryffindor alumni.

you've found it best to stay away from that lot anyway, as you've only properly met the twins family and harry, and you know they're probably very welcoming people now that they know who you are and the twins want you to properly meet them but you had a hard enough time meeting hermione granger for the first time, you don't want the hassle of going through that all again and even after all these years you know that she still doesn't like you, no matter how close you both are to the weasley family. you remember bursting out crying the first time they invited you to spend the holidays with them at the burrow when they found out you'd be staying at hogwarts that year for christmas.

now george has come to find you he hasn't left your side, not even by an inch, so close together you can feel each others body heat, squished on a small sofa together with your thighs touching. he tries to hold out to you and you're unsure about what he wants to do but lean into his touch anyway. "don't get your drink on my dress or i'll kill you weasley."

he grins and pulls you closer, you're now tucked under his chin, being able to feel his heartbeat. you're already hot from the summer heat and the dancing, but you welcome being so close to him, quickly getting used to the position.

'fred's normally the one who's touchier.' you didn't realise you said that out loud until george pulls you tighter to him, humming back to you.

you both sit together for a minute or two, listening to the party-goers and the music in the background. you could sit there all day with george, doing nothing in particular, just being next to him. just like at hogwarts when it was only you and him, fred's off somewhere else and you'd both sit under one of the oak trees in the shade away from everyone else and play with his hair absentmindedly, reading to him as he closes his eyes and listens. but as you go to sip your drink you hear george say, "i don't like how you and fred always touch each other." you stop moving and draw your hand back down without drinking. he really must have no filter when he's had too much to drink.

"what on earth are you talking about george? you make it sound like we're bloody all over each other. you know we don't have any kind of feelings for each other. plus does it really matter to you?"

you look to him and see his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. "you are all over each other though." he looks you in the eye while whispering. "and pucey, what's his deal, you know he was a shit quidditch player right?"

you get up to leave, george may be pissed drunk but right now he's pissing you off. you decide you'll cool off and come find him later on to take you both home. that is unless you see him making out in the corner with alicia spinnet. last time he got in a mood like this with you it was at a party in your last year at hogwarts. for some reason george just had so much to drink and started questioning why you spent the night dancing with fred and even started talking about how you went to the yule ball with flint. aware that you were both drunk you didn't want to argue you left to find fred. later when you came to find george after missing him and wanting to forget about the outburst, you saw him snogging alicia spinnet, his hands on her waist and her hands in his hair. just seeing it made you feel sick and overcome with feelings you don't want to confront as you left the party without saying bye to anyone, nearly forgetting the password for the common room as you stumble inside, wanting to forget about the entire night.

this won't be like last time though as before you can successfully make your escape george holds onto your wrist and drags you back down onto the sofa, nearly landing on his lap. with his other hand he tilts your head towards him, so you're face to face and eye level. too flustered and surprised, you don't move. you're so close to each other that you can can smell the firewhisky he's been drinking and the sandalwood shampoo he uses and his cinnamon scented body wash and cologne. you're so close you can count his freckles and you're trying desperately not too think about this. george is your best friend, george weasley is not someone who should distract you from your surroundings because all you can focus on is him.

"the only person who you should be all over is me. not pucey, not fred, not that twat flint that took you to the yule ball, not that bloody ravenclaw who kept eyeing you up in our 5th year, it's me, not them." your eyes widen as george talks softly to you. you're gazing into each others eyes and you don't think you've ever seen george look so nervous in his life. you think his eyes are beautiful, you've always thought that. like he told you he thinks yours are tonight, like how he told you how beautiful in general you are tonight. but right now it's different, he's being vulnerable and trusting you by letting you look, by letting you softly study his features in more detail than you've ever been able to in the past, it's an open invitation into his heart and soul, trying to convey to you how much you mean to him. his chocolate brown eyes are glazed over and you're unsure if it's due to him drinking or if it's because he's telling you how he feels and he's getting emotional. you see crinkles under his eyes from his countless hours of laughing and smiling and pulling pranks. how he's slowing blinking as if his eyelids feel heavy. you wonder what he can see in your eyes and during this moment you can't even begin to recall what your own eye colour is. the warmth of his eyes making you forget your own, you believe they're probably glassy due to what george confessed.

you licked your lips, suddenly finding them incredibly dry, "why?"

george slightly moves his head back further away from you, "why, what?" george didn't know what you would say but he didn't expect it to be a one word question that he's too drunk to wrap his head around to understand. he genuinely did not know where this night was going to go at the beginning but one thing lead to another and in george's eyes you started getting to touchy with someone and then all these words kept tumbling out that he thought he'd never say out loud.

"why you?" you turn your head away slightly, twidling with your fingers.

"thought it was pretty obvious after all i said love." your stomach flips at the name, "i'm mad about you." he looks at you with bated breath, waiting for your response.

"tell me you mean it." george hears your voice shake and as he leans closer to you to try and get you to look at him again he see's tears running down your face, uncontrollably. he's taken aback by seeing you cry and hates that he's the one who caused it, he's unsure of what he should do after but right now he can't help but to draw you into his arms, holding you against his side, placing a kiss on your head and stroking your back. he hears you sniffle and strokes your cheek, wiping away all the tears. "please.. please georgie. tell me you mean it."

"i-i mean it. i've never meant anything more in my life-," george starts to say but you cut him off.

"are you sure? your friends don't like me and what if alicia spinnet comes up to you and kisses you again or asks you out on a date." you whisper, still holding on tight to him. you're insecurities flowing through you.

"well firstly, i have no idea what my mates have to do with how i feel about or why it matters. and secondly..." he trails off as he then realises exactly what you said. george lifts a hand to your face and gently places under your chin tenderly, lifting your face up and facing him. "wait, are you jealous of alicia spinnet?" he studies your face, red eyes still watery and seeing you heat up and pout. he knew he got his answer and became more confident and self-assured. grinning from ear to ear, he says, "i didn't even know you saw that love. we only kissed once." you furrow your eyebrow causing george to chuckle and gently smooth out the wrinkles with his fingertips before kissing your forehead. "you seem bitter, love?" he teases.

you knows he's riling you up for a reaction but that doesn't stop the reaction. now he knows you might share feelings for him nothing will stop him from pressing your buttons in hopes that you'll get fired up and shout at him because he finds that you're so cute whenever that happens and you might even shout out your feelings and tell him how you feel. he might be able to get you to tell him how you feel about him or if it's only you being possessive of your friend after you've had a few drinks but he really hopes that isn't the case.

"weasley if you keep teasing i'm going to be mad at you," you huff. george hasn't stopped grinning though and you want so desperately to wipe that grin off his face, to have the upperhand but you've lost all capability of telling him you feel the same, you have since your fourth year and even now you worry that you aren't good enough, but you remember to before how he was looking at you and what he said about you and how pleased he looks right now and all of that worry goes away for awhile.

you lunge closer to him and close the already small gap between you two and kiss him, momentarily stunning george by your bold attention before he's smirking and kisses you harder, moving his hands so one is tracing patterns on your waist and the other delicately holding your jaw and cheek.

after kissing for so long it feels like your lips might just fall off, you reluctantly break apart, not realises how much you currently needed air until you could get some. "so you like me too, ay?"

you refuse to answer out of being shy and kiss him again, mainly to get him to stop speaking but there is one thing about george and that's after all these years he knows you like the back of his hand, so he doesn't kiss you back to watch you get frustrated, and boy did it frustrate you. you scowl as you look at him, "why'd you do that?"

george tucks some of your hair behind your ear, causing you to shiver at the action and george to smirk at your reaction. he whispers in your ear, "tell me you like me too, love." you want so desperately to hold onto him but he's moving away from you before you even get the chance to. he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to crack.

you soon crack, just as george knew you would. "bloody hell, george i am in love with you, alright! so kiss me now!"

"you..you what?" if you were more sober you would have instantly regretted saying that, however as soon as the words came out of your mouth you forgot what you confessed to entirely.

you grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer towards you again. "please, georgie, 'need you." that snaps him out of his thinking as he starts kissing you again, this time less soft as before. he's almost hungry now as he's holding onto you tight, and has started moving down your neck, placing kisses in his wake. you softly moan at the sensation before you're rudely interrupted by whistling.

"oi, get a room you two. it's bad enough to have seen you make heart eyes at each other for the last six years." you've never wanted a strangle fred more and it looks like george is sharing a similar sentiment, as he glares at him across the room.

"lets get out of here sweetheart before i punch him in the face." you giggle and stand up.

"that's awfully violent of you george, i'm meant to be the one that gives threats." you've started to sober up a bit now but lean against him anyway, wanting an excuse to be close.

" 'fraid i've always seen through that. you're not very scary love, i mean you scream every time you see a spider. if i trapped you and dear little ronnikins in a room with a spider, just imagine the chaos." he chuckles as he looks at you fondly and holds your hand while pulling you tighter to him, he sees through your guise of needing help to stand and keep steady but that doesn't stop him from holding on to you, any reason or excuse to hold you and touch you he's going to take it, especially now you're both sobering up.

george steers you through all of the people as you're making your way to the door. "wait georgie, do you need to say bye to everyone?" you stop in your tracks and pull in your hand back a bit.

"nah, doesn't matter." you softly smile and hold tighter onto his hand. you hum and follow him out the door.

as soon as you're out the door you're hit with the winter cold. " 'm cold," you grumbled as george was already taking his jacket off.

"here, love," he replied as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, giving you extra warmth. "if i knew it was going to be this cold i'd have brought a scarf." he wraps you up in his arms, slinging his arm around you and sharing body heat, making in difficult to move quickly but appreciating the warmth.

"don't know why we couldn't apparate out of there, bloody annoying if you ask me." you complain.

he laughs as you make a fuss. "there were muggles there."

"what the bloody hell were muggles doing there?"

"careful, love, you're starting to sound like malfoy," he responds playfully, causing you to lightly hit his shoulder and pout.

"you know what i mean. how does he know muggles?"

"dunno honestly, but on the brightside i get to walk home with a pretty girl." you pinch his arm softly to silently tell him to quit it, getting a laugh out of him.

"there's no 'brightside', it's night. plus i'm just pretty?" you feel the need to tease him like he's been teasing you as george always wins in this kind of thing, never failing to make you shy and flustered.

"oh no, not just pretty. the most beautiful person in the world." he tells you without missing a beat. in response you kiss george's cheek, pleased and feeling fuzzy at what he said and you both walk together in comfortable silence.

"so you're in love with me," he remarked. you can hear his grin. the cogs turn in your brain as you remember what you told him.

you keep your head forward even though you want to turn away, and silently thank how you're still slightly tipsy, giving you the courage you need to not deny your deeper feelings. "shut up weasley."

george spins you to face him, your skirt flowing with the movement, the skirt that you definitely should not have worn tonight no matter how long it is. pressing your foreheads together he whispers, "i love you too. now lets get home before i freeze my bloody bullocks off."

you burst out laugh and bury your face in his neck, this time making him shiver at the touching contact. you don't think you've ever felt happier than right now, as the man you love loves you too.

you carry on your walk and swing your hands intertwined with his. "does that make me your girlfriend georgie?"

"merlin! it better be, six years is a long enough wait."

[sunrise-imagines]

Can I get some childhood friends to lovers hcs for Finn? Like the reader grew up with him and now they're dating as adults? Gender neutral or male reader also please :3

Of course!! I love this idea so much. Hope you enjoy!

TW: Light angst, lots of pining, hurt and comfort

Adult Finn x Reader Childhood Friends to Lovers

• Being the only two humans in Ooo, it was only a matter of time before you met each other at the ages of 12.

• Similarly to Finn, you had been found as a baby by a couple from the Candy Kingdom, and they raised you as their own with the help of Princess Bubblegum, her and Marceline becoming sort of older sister figures to you.

• One day, while visiting the castle, Ice King burst in from the wall in an another attempt to kidnap Princess Bubblegum, snow blowing everywhere as you looked up in fear.

• But then, out of nowhere, a boy with a bear hat and a magic dog burst in, beating the crap out of Ice King who fled back to his castle.

• When he turned to look at you, you both became shocked. Neither of you had any weird mutations or odd features, and he certainly wasn’t made of candy. He was human. You were the same.

• And from that day forward, you and Finn became inseparable friends, with you sometimes joining him and Jake on their many adventures.

• You watched as he grew up, fell in and out of love, found an entire island of other humans, met both his biological Mom and (deadbeat) Dad, lost his arm, and eventually prevented a war/world ending event. You sat with him as Fern lay dying, and went with him to plant the seed that would eventually sprout a new willow tree.

• Sometime after the end of Adventure Time, Finn and Huntress Wizard amicably broke up, deciding their relationship worked best as good friends/occasional work partners.

• Having developed a longtime crush on him, you had hoped that now was your chance, but your nervousness and not wanting to ruin your friendship got the better of you so you continued to admire him in secret.

• That was until Jake passed away, and Finn’s personality reverted back to when you were kids and the only thing that mattered was fighting monsters and adventuring.

• You grew concerned as he started to go on more and more dangerous missions, often times for no reason other than the thrill of it, and time after time he’d come back with even worse wounds. But you were always there to patch him up, no matter how bad it got.

• But today was different. After Simon had opened up to him and expressed his depression and how he felt out of place in this world now that he lost his magic, Finn had the bright idea that a life-threatening adventure was what he needed to cure his sadness.

• This of course went terrible for Simon, but Finn thought it was great, and when he came back afterwards with a giant slash on his back and told you about it, that was it.

• You went off on him, telling him that while you know he’s still grieving, almost getting himself killed all the time isn’t the answer. You were tired of seeing him get hurt, and in your righteous anger, you finally admitted that you were in love with him. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you softly admitted that you’d loved him since you were kids, and seeing him act like this after all of his past growth was hurting you.

• Finn’s eyes grew wide, he had no idea that you had felt that way about him. And even more, that you reciprocated the feelings he’d had since you were 18. But with everything going on, adventuring and eventually Jake’s death, he felt like he never had time to pursue a relationship you.

• So he pulls you into a hug, stroking your hair as you continue to cry into his shoulder. He apologizes for making you worry, saying that he didn’t know why he acted the way he did, he just needed a distraction from the pain of losing his brother. But in doing that, he had forgotten he still had you.

• He puts his hand on your chin, directing you to look at him. He smiles down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he confesses that he felt the exact same way.

• Your tears change from ones of sadness to joy, and you feel the urge to kiss him. Luckily he has the same idea, and gently pulls you towards his lips and kisses you sweetly.

• Eventually you both pull away, and in that moment, everything feels like it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

• After you officially start dating, he stops going out on adventures as much, instead opting to spend more time with you and Jake’s kids.

• Of course, adventuring is still a part of him, but he focuses more on helping people than fighting and killing things, and of course he brings you along for the ride. Finally, after so many years waiting, the two of you are together.

[aquasarsstuff]

100 Followers Event: Villainess Au ft. Riddle Rosehearts x F!reader

Masterlist Kofi Account

A/N: If you saw my Lilia post about this Au, I'll also be making the character's pov as best as I can lol. Anyway, enjoy this riddle fic.

___

You do not remember who you were before, but you were sure you've read about this world in a different place and time. You look beside you to see Riddle, your fiancé. His eyes ever so diligent skims over the text in each page. He was too distracted that you started to openly stare at him.

"Is there something wrong?" His blue eyes met yours, and at the sight of the rarest color in nature snap you out of your trance. Beside his bed, there was a mirror standing on the right. It was facing you, and only then did you realize that you were frowning. 

You wave your hands in front of your face. The action making Riddle's eyes go wide as saucers. You immediately think of an excuse to say, "The potted plant on your left... is wilting! I do not like it when plants are not cared for. A rose should be bright red not brown."

"Oh... I'm sorry. I've been following the instructions in the book, but over the days it just kept deteriorating. I'll find a way to bring back its color," he says meekly.

Looking at the kid's face, you knew you have said the wrong thing. He looks like he was just about to cry. You shifted to the side. From what you remember from your robbed memories, he was terrifying after ascending of age. Meanwhile, you were an uptight lady, someone that has the same views as his mother that will eventually die early someday. You gasp out loud. This was no good. 

"Your highness are you alright?" he moves a little bit to examine you. You turn around, and suddenly both of your faces were in a close approximate. His cheeks brighten red. When he about to speak, you place a finger on his lips. 

"I am quite well. You know what?" You slide the books on the table and reach for the potted rose to place it on the middle. "While it is important that you know how to handle a plant, sometimes you just need love to nourish it." You pointed to the soil. It was damp, indicating that he hasn't been neglecting it. "Hm... well, look at this new bud that sprout out of its stem. See that you take care of it this one with love."

"Yes... your highness. I promise."

 "Riddle," immediately he became your focal point. "You should just call me by name when were alone. Wait... how about this? What do you think of using this as a promise tool?" 

"A promise... tool?"

You place the potted rose between you, "Riddle Rosehearts, I pledge that until this stem keeps producing beautiful roses, I will stay by your side!" 

"Uhm..." 

"You grab his hands, "I won't force you to make a promise right now. You can even keep it a secret. I know that you will fulfill it, nonetheless." 

____

"Riddle, take this," you gave him a white handkerchief. Each of its sides were embroidered with two roses— one was white, and one was red. "Think of it as a blessing from me."

Years have passed, and you were glad that you were able to retain a good relationship with him. You don't know how the plot will exactly play out, but you hope that from his trust will be the key for you to avoid the trial room, with him as the judge for your fate. 

 "Isn't this a custom meant for knights? I am not going to war—" 

"But you will still be away. You're going abroad to study, and it isn't like before that you'll just be gone for a few days. You'll be away in another country for years."

He did not say anything.

"I made it myself for you. We can exchange letters, but I promise that I'll always be by your side, so accept it!" you insisted, pushing it to his hands. 

"You did not even see the state of the rose for years."

"I know that you are still taking care of it. Otherwise, you would have already push me away."

He sighs, safely hiding your gift in his pocket, "I appreciate the gesture, but did you really have to give it here?" he raises one eyebrow at your unkempt appearance and muddy dress.

"It's either this or I won't be able to give it to you. I didn't find the right time to hand it out," you retorted. 

"The schedule of when I will depart has been given to you few months prior. There were plenty of right time." ​

"I might have procrastinated a little bit, heh," you smile awkwardly, raising the sides of your dress to walk to a cemented path avoiding his gaze. 

"What about this morning when you have given me your goodbyes?"

"I was embarrassed. There were so many people. and our family members were there too."

"Did it not occur to you that it more embarrassing to see the royal heir running about, competing with a horse? Even your garments are ruined," there was a small frown on his face. He reaches out to the carriage door and opened it. You thought he was going to leave you here, but he stayed behind the door, extending his hands to the entrance and you.

"Huh?" you look at him dumbfound. 

"Get in. I am not leaving until your disheveled appearance is fix."

[bambifornia]

huuUOOoLRgGghh fiinnne I can't stay away from you all

i bring more autobot!swindle. plus my attempt at writing his backstory

disclaimer : most of the stuff below isn't canon i just wrote this for fun. if u guys wanna make ur own swindle backstories i invite yall to do so :D we will make our own swindle content

swindle came online during cybertron's early years of the age of expansion. the autobots (with their goal to expand cybertron's empire) engineered a set of bots who would serve cybertron as its intergalactic merchants, programmed to be ambitious bots who sought profit. they also came with bigger processors (for storing transactions and whatnot) and versatile frames (so they could withstand organic climates)

shortly after coming online, swindle was assigned a teacher (another merchant) who'd pass down the knowledge of the trade. swindle did his best to keep up with his lessons

as a student, swindle was determined and clever. as a bot, though...eughh...

- he had less of a filter, and didn't know how to keep a poker face

- his little new England accent used to be a lot thicker (think earthspark swindle)

- very friendly, had a lot of amicas back in the day (he was definitely the "I know a bot" guy). it was a struggle for him to keep quiet

- loved hands on activities, hated sitting still

- kept a journal detailing his intergalactic trips. tried to doodle any organics he found interesting

- LOVED shiny stuff. he was like a crow lmao

- his sharp glossa would sometimes get his aft beat

- despite being a chatterbox, he wasn't as suave back then. he'd often get himself in awkward situations, which he'd try to talk himself out of the embarrassment but he'd end up digging a deeper hole for himself

- petty king. also kinda nosy and had a thing for gossip

- loved pranking, and teased the bots he liked

once he was ready, swindle was given a ship and assigned a trading post (as a starting point). from that point, swindle was a rootin tootin merchant and nothing bad ever happened to him again :D...

...

until the quintessa skirmishes

the age of expansion ended with border disputes between cybertron and quintessa. multiple skirmishes sproutted along the border, and while swindle didn't fight in them, he was certainly caught in the crossfire. swindle ended up with a broken ship, a looted inventory, and a bungled up frame. he had to return to cybertron for repairs

back on cybertron, swindle finds a planet wildly different from the one he knows. tensions between autobots and decepticons are rising, and the banks aren't holding up that great. swindle finds himself in a tight spot (financially speaking) since he still has to deal with his losses from quintessa. unable to go back to his actual merchant job, swindle resorts to taking odd jobs to keep himself afloat (yes, even stealing)

when the war breaks out, swindle gets drafted into the front lines (a decision that still baffles him to this day). since he's not much of a fighter, the autobots have swindle work as a spy, ordering him to smuggle weapons out of decepticon servos...

in future hindsight, that was a poor decision

---

wrapping it up here because i don't want this post to get too long LMAO but I still have more ideas for him if yall are interested. just know that this is not the end of swindle lore

ALSO I finally came up with autobot!swindle designations :D I've narrowed it down to 3 and I need help deciding. it's either between

quickdime - cuz. you know. he's always looking to make a quick buck

treasury - his subspace acts like a treasury if you kinda think about it

fortune - idk it sounds cute. besides fortune tends to "favor the bold and clever"

if u made it this far then congrats. thank u for listening to me yap. have a bonus doodle

[icyblogs]

god bless u for the 141/fallout post i’ve been going feral thinking about a fallout au where simon is a pre-war ghoul who fought in the great war and still wears his power armor to hide that fact 🙏🙏 better yet even simon/reader fallout au where they were married before the bombs fell, and being a military wife she was lucky enough to get a space in a vault but ended up in cryo-freeze while he became a ghoul and they meet again 200 years later

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader WC: 1.2K words Note: Hi anon! I had to do a little research about how exactly ghouls and cryo-freeze functioned, sorry for getting back to you so late! (does it still functionally make sense no but shh its fine) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (:

Ghost who was already in the process of becoming a ghoul before the Great War! Already a renowned soldier; one of which was elected for a new experimental drug. For the sake of humanity he was told, after all, doing this will guarantee a spot in the vaults for him and his precious little wife! Doesn’t he want you to be safe? Though he might not have necessarily agreed with the means, don’t the rewards outweigh the consequences? Doesn’t he want to live out the rest of his days in peace with you? For a good vault- wanting the best for you. 

These tests, these experiments.. would end up taking a toll eventually. Too late for you to ever see of course. Well, by the time the great war actually starts, it’s far too late to see the effects of it at all. The experiments required him to stay on base- very seldom ever actually seeing you. “Just a few more weeks.” You were constantly told, and of course full heartedly you’d believe him. Why would he have any reason to lie? So when the first bomb drops.. And then the next. It was no surprise when you were forced to go into a vault without your husband, so scared. All alone without him. ):  

The experiments therefore spiraled, the results becoming null, nothing necessarily coming from them- too many variables being added. And with the radiation from all the bombs well.. He was no longer a ghost but a ghoul. 

He’d be similar to ‘The Ghoul’ in the show in my opinion! Fighting his way through the wasteland, killing, maiming- adapting. Becoming the monster that was always sort of lingering beneath the skin, going back to baser instincts. Everything he did was for his vows. For you. See, I'd imagine that he would wear a power-suit at first, especially when his skin starts to sort of stretch and shrivel, like a burn— eye sockets sinking, nose concaving. If he had found you, he didn’t want you to see what he was becoming; his humanity unraveling faster than he could keep the spool pulled taut. 

Though.. the first year passes. Then the first decade. A century. Two. 

Eventually time slows to a lull; without direction nor guidance. Always sort of be bordering on turning feral, one mishap away from just totally snapping. Enough for life itself to become a constant loop of just sort of.. apathy. Life wasn’t kind enough to people like him, never allowing anything good to stay in their lives. So why would it in this hellscape as well? Going through this so-called life like it was nothing more than a hindrance. Traveling through the land, taking on dead man’s jobs; not caring for the consequences at this point. Because what really was the point without you by his side? Never forming attachments, after all, why bother? He’d outlive them anyway.

Throughout the years, settlements pop up left and right- factions forming, most dying out faster than he could blink. These days, vaults come to the surface- trying to rebuild, kind to any poor soul or raider that they come across, like sheep walking right into the maws of a wolf. Then.. a new community sprouts up. 

Groups of thousands coming up to the surface, building a town- starting a new life. It really wasn’t anything new; Ghost had seen it and experienced it before. Would be a year or two at most of having a bed, having a steady access to food and drink- the meals always tasted like ash, if he thinks hard enough he might’ve remembered how your cooking tasted. He could blink and he was back in his home, watching you sway to some music on the radio, donned in a frilly apron, and you’d turn around and he could swear he could smell what you had in your hands. His imagination always ended up the same way; his eyes would eventually lead up to where your face was; blurry and being forgotten- he’d startle back to the reality at hand, mood darkening. 

So this new community. It wasn’t really a question of whether he was to make his way there, if not to stay for a brief moment of peace then to swindle them out of some supplies. Because at the end of the day they were vaulters. Nothing in the grand scheme of things: would probably die to some raiders anyway. They were always so eager to please, to see the good in people, and they were just so welcoming and hospitable. 

And then he saw.. you. 

The dreams, his imagination- the fog seemed to clear the moment he saw you again; even from a distance.. It was just how he had remembered you- his wife. You look like you haven't aged a day, donned in a blue clad jumpsuit. Simon watches with a dry mouth as you provide a kind smile to one of the people next to you, nodding your head as the pair of you attempt to cultivate the soil. He sees the way you jolt when the man’s hand brushes over your own as if he had shocked you- and his own eyes narrow at the sight, staring unblinkingly as if he might miss something. 

A mirage, it was easy to think. A trick of the light even- the radiation boiling his brain enough to fuck with his head, to give him some twisted hope about something that should not be possible. You.. should be dead. Long gone and yet- why were you in front of him? A phantom? Another way to mock him?

The more he looked he knew it was not the case. He could hear your voice- the cadence, all sounding just as how he's remembered it for the last eon. It made him wonder however- why were you smiling? Why.. were you laughing? He wasn’t with you- so why did you seem so happy then? 

There was something about a corpse yearning for someone full of life even still; for someone who was unburdened by centuries of an unforgiving and cruel world. He felt like Icarus, wanting to get closer; to see if he would melt if he got too close to the warmth. He’d be willing to burn if it meant that you were within reach again. His left hand felt heavy as he flexed it to try and release some tension, gold band digging into his skin. And with how sweet you looked, it only made his teeth ache and fingers twitch over the handle of his gun, longing to be with only you. Would your skin be as soft as he remembered? His throat felt dry, taking a step forward, aching to herd you back to where you belonged. Would your body still sing for him, even as your husband has turned into a monster, even as the stench of death and rot seems to follow him everywhere he goes? 

Would you still remember him? ..Did that matter at this point? He’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After all, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. 

[moonlightazriel]

What's mine to take /// Feysand x F!Reader

Summary: When the past comes back to haunt you, can you really run away from it?

Warnings: War, blood, canon divergent, mentions of death, death of a character.

Word Count: 1,7K

Notes: I had this idea based on Other Friends by Steven Universe a long while ago, but I was always afraid to mess with one of the most loved couples in the fandom, but now I said fuck it and let's do it.

Main Masterlist

“There’s something wrong on the battlefield!” Azriel alerted, his shadows recoiling in fear, he felt the cold sweat running down the column of his neck, his head whipping towards the powerful source that just entered the field.

“This scent, it feels so familiar.” Morrigan said, sword in hands. “I felt the same scent in Hybern’s castle when he trapped us.”

Monsters made of pure darkness started to sprout in the middle of the bloody field, Rhysand watched it in horror, how could they defeat them now? Hybern's army kept marching forward, with renewed confidence.

“We need to find the source!” Feyre said, her whole body shivered. The temperature dropped even further as a beautiful winged female landed in front of the group.

“Well, well, well!” Her voice was soft, and she raised a hand, shielding her eyes from the sun. “ Let me take a look at the menagerie.”

“This can't be.” Morrigan was pale, like she had seen a ghost, and as recognition started to settle within the group, the males also felt their bodies shivering in fear.

“It can, and it is!” She spoke in a condescending tone. “I got a new style.” She swayed her head, her soft locks of onyx hair moving behind her back with the motion. “And a few new toys that are going to put an end to your happily ever after.” She pointed to the shadow army, each time a soldier tried to attack the things, they dissolved around the blade, assuming a new form and killing the bearer.

The whole group watched even more horrified as the shadows entered the corpse, the deceased soldier rising to their feet, sword in hands and turning against their own army.

“Y/N I…” Rhysand spoke, his voice and expression dark something about all of that didn't sit well with Feyre, who was that female that even the most powerful High Lord in history was afraid of?

“Oh hello Rhys. The star of the show.” Her expression was cold.

“Please, I can explain.” Feyre watched her mate step forward, towards her.

“Yeah yeah, I've heard.” She walked forward, grabbing Feyre’s chin and tilting her head around, inspecting her face. “Did you really think that after all this time I wouldn't find out about her?” She smiled at Feyre, a beautiful lethal smile. “She's really pretty, I see the appeal.”

“That's not what I thought, please don't hurt any of them, let's solve this between us.” Rhysand pleaded but the female rolled her eyes, letting Feyre go.

“This can't be serious.” Azriel spoke.

“It really is her!” Cassian pointed out and Feyre turned to him.

“Do you know her, Cass? Can you tell me who she is?” She begged and the female laughed, the insanity leaking through the cracks of her well contained vessel.

“Who am I? Who am I? I'm the loser of the game you didn't know you were playing. Let's play another game, this time I got to win.” She conjured a sword of shadows, assuming a fight instance. “Lives on the line, winner takes all! Ready or not, let's begin.”

And then she attacked, her body easily avoiding all the attacks the inner circle tried to make, like she could predict their moves, like she knew their fighting style.

Exhausting, fighting her was exhausting, her powers were way beyond anything Feyre had ever seen, even more powerful than Rhysand. Beneath them, Hybern slayed them, their efforts wouldn't be enough to defeat her army, nothing they could do was enough to stop her.

Feyre watched as she held Rhysand’s bloodied face in between her hands, spinning his neck until she was facing Feyre, in the corner she was trying to hide.

“Show her, show her who I am.” Rhys mumbled something, but what she said next was what made Feyre completely frozen in place. “You can fake the bond between you two all you want, but the bond that you try so hard to hide between us, will be broken today.”

His talons scrapped her mental shields and Feyre lowered them, she needed to know what this all meant. The first thing she saw was kind eyes, Y/N couldn't be older than 20 in that vision. Her giggle sounded all around Feyre's head.

“My beautiful mate.” Rhys spoke, his eyes glowing with happiness, and Feyre felt, stronger than ever, the scent of their mating bond filled her senses and she felt her head dizzy. “I can't believe the bond snapped for us. This is the best day of my life. I'm going to love you forever.” He promised.

“We met as kids.” The female voice sounded and Feyre turned around, seeing her leaning in a corner, teary eyes as she looked at that memory too. “It was his mother that prevented me from having my wings clipped, and it was for me she did all of those dresses.”

The memories changed in front of her eyes, happy moments she shared with Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian. Her braiding Rhysand's sister's hair, helping his mom in the kitchen. Feyre saw his mom taking her measurements as he watched from afar, happiness laced him, he looked so young and so in love with her.

“We were around our twenties when the bond snapped, he had promised me that no matter what happened, nothing would ever break us apart, nothing would ever change in between us.”

And in her mind, those words were echoed by a much younger Rhys, promises of a future together, being the rulers of the Night Court together. All the love they shared couldn't have disappeared like that.

“But once you get the taste of the power, you will always crave more.”

The memories changed, looking darker and more heavy than the others, Rhys paced around the House of Wind, his violet eyes like a raging storm as he looked at her.

“You made me look weak in front of them, you embarrassed me.” He sounded angry and Y/N flinched, her cheeks stained with dark makeup.

“I'm sorry, I just wanted to dance with you.” He rolled his eyes and a growl left his lips.

“I don't care about what you want, you will never embarrass me again in front of my enemies.” He left the room, leaving her crying on the couch, being approached by Cassian who held her in his arms.

“He always thought I was weak, he never knew what lay underneath my skin, my mother had forced me to keep my powers hidden, and a High King can't have someone weak on their side. When he went to Amarantha, he was seeking her for her powers, frustrated that she had her heart set on Tamlin, that's why he used you, to prove to her that Tamlin would never want her.”

Feyre felt her guts spinning inside her, she wanted to throw up. She turned away from the memory of their last day together before Rhysand went Under the Mountain. Her bloody and battered body as Rhysand had tried to get rid of her, suppressing their bond until he couldn't feel her faintly hanging by a thread to the little life she still had inside her.

“It was my power that brought me back, the thing I neglected the most was what saved me in the end, while the only thing I loved the most tried to get rid of me.” Spiteful, she was spiteful of him and rightfully so. “I worked on my powers, you see, heartbreak is a really good motivation to be better. When I heard about you and how he had claimed that after the tragic death of his mate, the cauldron had blessed him with another one I laughed, like I never did before.”

The content of her stomach was left on the floor right by her side, Feyre felt sick, like all of that was a joke with her, a big lie to make fun of her, but she felt the faint emotions on the other side of the closed bond Rhysand kept so well hidden, felt the pain and the betrayal radiating from the female. She felt all of that, the truth of what he had done.

“They believed him, they all believed him. He has always been the perfect liar, with a face like his and powers like the ones he has, it was easy to convince people of whatever he wanted them to believe.”

“I've been in his mind so many times, I never found anything.” Feyre dared to say.

“You can't compare your experience with centuries worth of being a Daemati darling, it's not even fair.” She chuckled with her innocence. “He took everything away from me and he must pay the price for his actions, he always wanted more power, to be above everyone else, he always dreamed of being High King of Prythian, and his greed and narcissism are going to be his downfall.”

Feyre watched as the plan formed in his mind, to get someone like her on his side, the girl brought back to life carrying the powers of all courts, faking a mating bond so she wouldn't have any options than wanting to be with him, bound to him forever and ruling over Prythian with him. She felt disgusted. She closed her mental shields, looking around her, Azriel and Cassian being restrained by her monsters, Mor lying unconscious. And Rhysand, the male she had given her heart to, the male who had broken Y/N beyond repair.

“You see…” She turned Rhysand around, having him looking at her in the eyes, she wanted her to be the last thing he ever saw. “I'm not a monster, I'm just doing what's right, getting justice for what was done to me.” With a shadow coated hand, she pressed her nails in his chest, Rhysand whining and tears falling to the sides of his face as she wrapped her hand around his heart.

Feyre gasped in horror as she saw Y/N pulling her hand away from the cavity in his chest, his heart pumping droplets of blood everywhere as she inspected the muscular organ.

“It's still beating.” She turned to Feyre with a cruel smile. “But who does it truly beat for, Feyre darling?”

[thetomorrowshow]

when you had nothing to say

CHAPTER 3

uhhh if this is the first one you see it's a fic in which the world where the evolutionists all started on descended into war. after fighting in the war for several years, they fled to evo together. this fic is a 5+1 about 5 times that someone found out Jimmy was Deaf and 1 time he was accommodated :)

cw: internalized ableism

~

Jimmy wakes up in bed, gasping for stolen breath.

He’s still shaking from that death, his heart beating too fast. How had that—he’d thought it would be safe to touch, he hadn’t thought—

He checks his communicator.

Ren and Skizz down, too.

How much of an idiot—?

Jimmy messages an apology into chat, tries to shake off the feeling of exploding. It’s one of his least favorite ways to die, getting blown into bits all over the place. Even on worlds like these, where they respawn. He hates tnt.

Jimmy sits on his bed for too long, probably, just trying to catch his breath after such an intense end. He didn’t like that. Holy moly, he didn’t like that at all.

Get up, he tells himself. Come on, get up, go do something.

He doesn’t.

It’s too overwhelming, is all. He’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs a minute to sort himself out before he can bear to leave this room. He needs a minute to gather his thoughts, blown apart by the explosion just like his body—

A minute grows into two, into three, into. . . .

He isn’t sure how long he sits there, but soon enough, his door opens, and Scott, Grian, and Scar file in.

Jimmy straightens, trying to look like he hadn’t just been staring into space, limbs trembling and mind flashing through with memories. They don’t seem to notice, judging by the lack of anything but gleeful pity on their faces. Good.

Grian’s mouth moves, his voice muffled and near-silent. Jimmy frowns—he hadn’t even realized his hearing aids weren’t on. He clicks on the power on the left piece, then the right—but the right one pops painfully and he hisses, turning it back off.

He takes it out, turns it this way and that. It looks okay—he turns it on in his hand and it sparks once, but otherwise seems fine.

Jimmy carefully fits the hearing aid back in his ear, then looks up. All three of his friends are watching him, and Grian raises his eyebrows.

“All good?” he asks, but Jimmy doesn’t hear it.

He clicks off the left one again, panic sprouting in his chest. They can’t be broken. They can’t, they just can’t, he can’t afford another pair—

Turning the left one back on doesn’t do anything, though. Turning off and on the right one doesn’t do anything but make it spark again.

“My hearing aids are broken,” he manages, his throat tightening. “I—I don’t have spares. The explosion—”

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! He’s been exploded loads of times, why did this one break his hearing aids?

Grian’s shoulders slump; Scott won’t stop staring at his ears. Grian takes his communicator out of his pocket, types out a message. A moment later, Jimmy’s own communicator vibrates on his hip.

Sorry, I don’t remember any sign. Do you need to drop out of the game?

“I can keep playing,” he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’ve been deaf for a long time, I—I know how to deal with it. I just . . . being able to hear is helpful.”

Grian fixes him with a sympathetic expression. Scar wheels himself over, squeezes Jimmy’s hand.

“You’ve got this,” he says. “All you . . . okay?”

“I missed most of that.”

Scar just squeezes his hand again.

When Grian and Scar leave, Grian with promises to help pay for a new pair, Scott comes over to Jimmy’s bed and sits beside him, typing out a message on his communicator.

I didn’t know that you’re deaf.

“I don’t really hide it,” says Jimmy. “I don’t go around shouting about it, but it isn’t a secret.”

Why didn’t you tell me?

Absentmindedly, to help gather his thoughts in a quiet world, Jimmy starts to sign as he speaks. “Never came up, I guess. I just assume people already know—but now that I think about it—”

He considers it for a moment.

“Um, now you know,” he counts off his fingers. “Grian, Scar, Martyn, BigB. I think that’s it, though.”

Had he really told so few people?

It isn’t quite the truth, really, that it never came up. There were plenty of opportunities over the past weeks to talk about his hearing loss, to explain why sometimes he asked Scott to repeat himself multiple times, or why he usually didn’t hear calls of his name.

He avoided it, though, even if he didn’t have a real reason to. Did he need a reason to not give others a weakness to exploit? Did he need a reason to let others know this truly vulnerable part of himself?

It explains your lisp.

“I have a lisp?” Jimmy exclaims. Grian had always told him he was perfectly understandable, and Martyn didn’t say anything, and nobody else has ever seemed to realize that he was deaf.

It’s not bad, you just kind of over-do the s sound.

He never even knew. That’s so—that’s so weird! He’s had a lisp, apparently, and no one told him.

“That’s so weird,” he says, fidgeting a bit with the torn hem of his shirt. “But—erm, I’ll probably be a pretty useless ally, now. Sorry, you’re on your own.”

He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to be alone in this, when he can’t hear a thing in a world full of hearing people. It’s lonely, so dreadfully lonely, and it always has been. He doesn’t want to go back to that. He never wanted to.

He refuses to drag Scott down any more than he already has, though.

“You can use my house as storage, or something,” Jimmy says, though he still can’t quite find it within himself to get up. “I’ll be out of here by the end of the day.”

Maybe Scar and Grian will take him in? To use as bait, if nothing else. Grian knows how to be a good friend, anyhow—he’s been in circles where people just have no clue how to treat a Deaf person and just end up ignoring them. Grian’s heard Jimmy rant about far too many times to let it happen. Otherwise, he’d prefer being on his own.

Scott taps him on the arm, and Jimmy pulls himself out of his thoughts of the desert and isolation to look at his communicator, held in front of his face.

What are you talking about?

Jimmy doesn’t have an answer for that. He thought it was pretty clear.

He shrugs. Scott types something else out.

You’re staying. You’re my flower husband, I’m not just going to leave you.

Oh.

Jimmy doesn’t expect help. He doesn’t expect that everyone should be forced to work to make things easier for him, when it’s already fine for everybody else. They shouldn’t have to make exceptions just for him.

But Scott . . . Scott doesn’t care?

Scott’s already sitting beside Jimmy, but now he wraps his arm around him, presses gently on his shoulder until Jimmy lets his head fall onto Scott’s chest. It’s—it’s—

It’s warm, is what it is. Warm, and a little bit gritty with dirt but soft, and Scott smells like sweat and gunpowder and flowers, and his chest is vibrating under Jimmy’s temple as he speaks, and Jimmy. . . .

It’s really nice after the shellshock of the explosion, is all. Jimmy doesn’t think he can be blamed when a tear slips from the corner of his eye.

Scott lets him sit there as long as he likes, and it’s just really nice. He finds stability, he thinks, so that his weakest parts can stitch themselves together again after the disaster of today.

Geez, he can’t believe he died twice. . . .

“Guess we’d better get to work,” Jimmy finally says, after what is definitely way too much time of hugging Scott. “Erm, I can lip read all right? But I need you right in front of me and talking loudly. Otherwise, you can just message me.”

Scott lets Jimmy sit up, then helps him to stand, taking his hands in his own. Looking Jimmy square in the face, he speaks, loud enough that Jimmy can match some of the quiet sounds to the movements of his mouth.

“We’ve got this.”

Jimmy tries (and fails) to suppress his smile. “Yeah, we do,” he agrees. “We’ve got this.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Hey did you ever end up posting that yandere plants one with the bee reader and I missied it?? Was looking forward to that one

(I have not. A drable for you, chief)

The queen has requested another harvest.

What impeccable timing.

Climbing from rubble and frayed vines, vegetation and ash falls from your hair and shoulders. Extra care is put into your wings as you brush them off for the flight ahead. Held by a loose spine, you blow the decades of dust off your new find - kicking spray particles into the air. Through water eyes you read the books cover - fuzzy tension building at the base of your nose.

It's another picture book.

They're going to love this one-

"Ahh... Achoo!... 'Cuse me."

Apologizing to the thin air around you, you unhook the fine straps of your satchel and toss the book inside. You turn your gaze to the hole in the ceiling as your wings flutter, feet kick-starting your ascent as you rise. The mellowed glow of the fog casted sun greets you first as you exit; a jungle of greenery and constructs waiting the earth below and as far as the eye could see. You climb up onto the ledge of the building and leap off into a nose dive for the ground - wings swooping into mobility before your body hits the trees. Flying lose did have its risks, but nothing beats the floral air in your hair when heading home - reminding you of those counting on your return.

Scouting the known galaxy for resources, your crew landed on this planet in a time you no longer recall accurately. Overtaken by plants of all variety, it seemed like the perfect harvest - until it wasn't. As unaccounted cargo, you were sparred the horrors they faced at the hands of the planet's few remaining natives. Asleep during the bloodbath you woke crowd by the new inhabitants of this land - sentient creatures grown from rich soil and crimes against anatomy.

Their creators feared what they had created and went to war destroying what they had birthed with their own hands - wiped out in the end by their superior strengths and numbers. Despite this carnage, they were a peaceful race and tried to rescue your crew, but failed. Finding your journals tucked into your sleeping arms they enlisted your aid as a florist in the upkeep of what remains of their home in exchange for their pollen and a roof over your head.

Base in sight, you speed through the thick fog in your descent to its open doors. A planetarium with an open ceiling has come your home in this time. You missed your comfy bed, but a hammock under the stars surrounded by those you now held dear was just as nice. You enter the building, breath fleeing as your snatched from behind. Not a step through the door and you're suspended in the air at the waist by hanging vines.

"And just where have you been, my sneaky little pest?"

Thorn-like claws grace your cheek, curving up to the crown of your head where they cautiously prod at your sensitive antennae. Amused, they chitter in delight as you struggle in your blinds - most likely held by another member of the collective. Beyond the palms of their woven hands, this one was covered near entirely in stained prickles. Violet petals spiked from the upper half of their hair and draped over their mocking grin

"You know you aren't allowed to leave without a guide. What ever would we do if our heart was taken by those savages, hm? I think a punishment is in order, don't you?"

"Seems so if they can't obey simple rules. With that lovely picture on knot tying they brought us the other day, I'm sure we can get up to lots of fun before the others figure out where we are."

Lowered closer to the floor, strong arms embrace you from behind and lead your head against their chest. Small, hanging buds sprouted up the lengths of their arms mark their class - their reddish yellow hue staking their typing. Cooing ever so cloyingly sweet in your ear, it rubs the humanoid half of its face against your cheek.

"You were scheduled to start the day with us. Don't you love us anymore? We may not be as approachable at the others, but we adore you all the same."

You swallow hard, trapped between a wall and thorns. "Thistle.... Honeysuckle.. but I can never find you two."

"But we're always watching. Can't let you get into trouble. Or pick a favorite. If you accept us as your guards for the rest of the week maybe we'll let you go. If not...."

The vines tighten around your hips - released almost instantly as they're snipped by an unseen party. You stumble forward, caught and picked up by another pair of arms.

"What have I told you two about picking on them? One more time and I'm sending you both to the greenhouse.... Are you alright, darling?"

Bright as the golden sun, their petals almost blind you as you look up. The leader, and the first floral creature you met - Marigold was your sworn protector even from those with you in their care. A strict, yet understanding calm to the storm life in the compound was. As they set you down, Thistle scoffs.

"Always the spotlight stealer. Would you keep it down before the others realized they've returned?"

It's a bit too late for that.

"Y/n? Y/n back?!"

"Oh, I was so worried I fear I may start wilting!"

"Y/n, Y/n! We have a ripe patch of peaches for you!"

From the shadows of the trees and handmade structures comes the entire horde. They push through each other getting to you and overwork your brain with their chatter. Over a dozen bodies crowded around your lone figure. Through the sea, the shortest of them swims through the crowd and manages their way up to you - head centered at your navel. Head cocked, they seem to be staring to your lips.

"Cuckoo? Is everything alright?"

They smile. Grabbing your shirt, you're bent forward into an open mouth kiss. All the commotion ceases immediately as a wave of surprises washes over them all. Patting the walls of your cheeks their segmented tongue, Cuckoo only pulls away when they're torn from you. Lifting the smaller flower by its shoulders, Thistle clenches their teeth tight.

"What on earth was that?"

The question was genuine. None of them were fully traversed in the act of kissing beyond brief tellings in the books you brought to learn more about the planet left behind for them. Agriculture and construction were common reads, but if they got lucky you'd find old story books, comics and novels. Cuckoo holds up a page from one of those very stories - the couple displayed entangled in a heat of passion with lips locked. Heads staring over their shoulder snap in your direction. You'd used the direction to scramble away and travel further into their lair.

"I wanna try..."

Even Marigold couldn't save you now. Taking advantage of your gift of flight, you dart into the air aiming for the second floor where your bedroom stood.

"I would love to help you all, but I need to get started on my letter for my queen. She has requested more pollen, and I wasn't able to get one out in the last run. As soon as it's out of the way, I can come back and we can - Ah!"

Fashioning a lasso from their vines, you're dragged down into the frenzy with no escape in the near future. As is your life with the horde.

-

A queen sits alone on her throne. Letter opener gripped in her palm, she stabs it though her throne as the words describing your escapade slash through her heart. Stomping the battered floor, her veil of submission cracks.

"This has gone on for too long. My garden is in shambles and so will this kingdom until their return."

The servant at her feet keeps their voice low. "My queen... Their service there is doing quite the opposite. Our reserves are at maximum capacity and with the treaty there's no need for war and needless casualties. I know of your bond and I am sorry for your lost."

Like an arrow, the queen's dagger rips through the air and anchors in the wall behind the servant. Golden blood beads in a line across their cheek. Unbridled rage and disgust seeps from her icy glare like poison. She refuses to look directly in their eye, staring off at the shoulders behind them.

"Get. This. Traitor- OUT. RIP THEIR WINGS AND LEAVE THEM FOR DEAD. if they aren't on my wall by dawn, I will take yours as payment."

Eyes wide, the servant lunges for her robes as the guards take their arms. "My lady, please! You cannot do this! I was trying to make things better! Y/n will never forgive you!"

She spits.

"And cut out their tongue."

Screams echoing down the halls, the queen curls up in her throne - clutching the pillow you kept every night and the flower you sent in your distress. Her sweet idiot of a bumblebee. Why did you have to run off? Sure she was stressed, but with her prized florist and sweet little bumblebee she could've conquered the universe. Someday you'll be in her arms and garden again - laughing the night and dawn away.

Someday

[katyspersonal]

Not to make Messmer even more sinister, but I started to enjoy the idea that he "tempted" Marika to decide to command the burning of the Hornsent Tower!

What if she did want to move on, especially if THE very people who killed her folks are long ago dead themselves? What if even upon knowledge that places like Bonny's Village and belief in "divinity" of having horns still existed, there was some passivity in her? Just wanting to forget and focus on building the better world?

But Messmer, knowing of her pain, helped to "nurture" it and shove her closer to the idea of revenge, and believing the world WOULD be a better place without them? He knew she had the dark wish still torturing her inside, and it grew into that evil with his efforts. Both because the 'serpent' symbolism never fails and because he saw a chance to be useful to her, and seized it.

Like, think about it! He lived an unhealthy, strange life of feeling cursed and a filth upon the perfect world she wants, devoid of her grace AND possessing the fire she feared because of the Erdtree! But he figured he had the purpose yet... if only he could nurture her pain and convince her to let him carry the "justice" of revenge. There were many ways in the past where she could have prevented his self-hatred festering the way it did, but they were not used.

...and then he was not able to stop. Something dark finally sprouted in her, but also in him. So, it was no longer about Hornsent's corrupt religious institution (that harmed even civil Hornsent themselves, mind you!)! It now was about "those spurn of Grace". Even Tarnished, who existed BY Marika's intention! That's why although Crusade started as a "honorable" act and just another one of Marika's trademark war crimes to "improve the world" *glares at what's left of Fire Giants*, later Messmer and those who stood by him became akin to traitors. She had a concrete objective; HE was the one who made it into an endless "war of cleansing"!

Her failure as a parent, favouring perfect golden child Godwyn as the "proper" start of Demigods and visions of the better world she pressed on created a monster whose venom became a moral downfall for them both!