#We are surrounded by fire in the mountains

[chimkin-samich]

First month on the job and Sun seems already smitten.

They're lonely and touchstarved your honour.

Tari is also practically vibing, which is a nice change for them.

Part 1/2

This was originally just something silly to explain their drastic design divergence from anything even remotely canon in this au, but I went and I turned it into angst cuz that's what I do best 🙃

Part 2/2

[postmoe]

Moe im absolutely DROOLING at capitano 😵 May I request yandere! capitano preeety plees with a cherry on too 😫😫 U CANT TELL ME HES NOT JUST AHHXJSNSNSN HES SO FINEEEE

im sorry it's been so long life is just UGH i think we all need a bit of capitano rn-

i think i made the yandere a little too subtle but I hope it's still okay-

When you first fell to this world, no one believed you to be an outsider. You were just crazy, a patient who escaped the asylum.

It happened when you were out on a job, your last year of med school and you were doing your practical part, following along in ambulances and assisting paramedics. There had been a building collapse, chaos everywhere, dust surrounding the scene. You weren't supposed to stray too far, it's only when you heard a young voice calling from help did you separate, calling out your intentions to your colleague before rushing through the door with your bag of equipment held tightly to your chest. As you began through the doorway, it was as if an earthquake struck, everything trembling and crumbling. You couldn't believe your eyes, the way the ground turned blocky, a red and black colour eating the sides of your world like an 8-bit transition. Gravity hit hard as you fell through, the broken, wooden floors turning into a faraway city, canopies of trees, rivers, mountains - before you fainted.

When you awoke you couldn't find any injuries that would result from a free fall from the atmosphere, namely death. If anything, you were a little tender in the muscles. You found your med bag not far from you before awkwardly making your way, searching for help.

One lonely night you had approached a group of soldier-like people. They were part of the 'Fatui', which people seemed to fear but what other option did you have? You told them your story, begged for food, and out of pity some had helped you. A lot of laughs came your way, but even so, you sat at a table with drunken fatui and got a nice bowl of stew and bread.

Just as everyone was leaving, you felt a large hand on your shoulder. It was their Captain, who the party under his command conveniently referred to him as 'Capitano'. He holds out a small, woven bag once he gets your attention, dropping it in her hands when you hold them out. It feels like coins - Mora, if you remember correctly, the currency of this world - and regards you with only a few words, "I believe you. However, I cannot help you."

It was the little glimmer of hope you needed. You stored some leftover bread in your paramedic jacket, running after him and calling him to wait, to have a conversation but, he was a busy man. He retreated into a nice looking motel on the outskirts of the city, leaving you to sit outside.

So you did. You waited all night on the side of the road, resting until he eventually came back out.

.

Granted, following an 'evil' organisation wasn't the smartest thing, that's only if the words of the people you've met are to be believed. As of now, they're the only people who have reached out a helping hand, and Capitano, the only one to make you finally breathe and remember that you aren't insane; that this is real.

Still, you keep your distance, following diligently like a lost puppy. "Leave her be," Capitano had said when one of his men asked about you, "She is no threat." Later he would say he was hoping you would get the message to journey on your own, to find your own way.

On a cold night he had saved you, though to anyone it appeared as nothing more than an easy kill. Two hilichurls, you were half asleep, focused more on keeping warm than any dangers. It wasn't until you heard the slash of his blade did you even notice he was there, the monsters leaving behind blood and dust in their wake.

Capitano drapes a blanket over you, "Come." You follow him into the camp, beyond the guards and closer to a fire. He points to a sleeping mat, "If you're going to follow me then stay within the group." With that, he retreats to his tent. You can't help the tears of gratitude as you bathe in the warmth, your sleep the best it's been in weeks.

You make friends with the fatui, it's unanimously agreed that everyone in Capitano's ranks are morally... adequate, compared to other Harbingers. "Don't even get me started on Il Dottore's..." one mentions, and you think as a 'doctor' yourself, you couldn't handle hearing his horror stories.

Eventually, you become part of their medic team, showing them all the fun tools and medications from your world. Even if they don't believe you, they pretend to, and they show interest. You've only cried twice when reminiscing.

A few times you've seen Capitano enter the medic tent, he grabs some bandages and some ointment before retreating to his tent. "Would you like some help?" You ask, not for the first time, and it won't be the last.

His usual response is what comes, "No, thank you."

It's a routine, you like to think he appreciates it.

.

You're not a stranger to violence. During your schooling you saw a lot of gore, it never phased you in the ways it would others. Of course, it was sad, seeing children who needed to have a leg amputated, people being victimised by a violent stranger, you could only do your best to give them the rest of their lives.

War, however, was another thing. Footage does nothing compared to witnessing it, the people you eat dinner with being ripped apart by monsters, other factions of the land getting burnt to death by the power of their gods, or frostbitten and forced to watch their comrades suffer until they themselves succumb.

Capitano scared you, in a way. He was always so strong, so willing to give his all to anyone who had the courage to fight back. It was his way in honour. You're lucky he had a sense of justice, apparently anyone else could have killed you and be done with it. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like if he drew his sword against you, or used his large hands and wrap them around your neck, suffocating you until he saw the whites of your eyes...

He was a monster, but maybe compared to the other, real monsters out there, he was the better option.

Tonight he got hurt, enough to show the blood spreading through his clothes. Wounds and scars were normal but this made your stomach churn. You see a glimpse of a monster claw that he's tried to hide with his cloak. There's a tear in his sleeve as well, showing his long glove underneath.

Nope. You can't just sit by as he struggles, you signed a contract saying that you would help anyone, no matter the circumstance. As he walks back to his tent, you follow him closely behind, your bag in hand. He stops, the flap partially open as he turns to you and says in a strained voice, "I'm fine. Go tend to the others."

You shake your head defiantly, staring into the dark abyss of his helmet with conviction.

He huffs, entering the tent and murmuring, "Do as you please."

His tent is much larger than any of the others, perhaps the medical one only being marginally bigger. There's a fireplace, a desk with a multitude of papers, scattered, used bandages and a large pile of bed wrapping and furs. He takes a seat on the chair near the desk, removing his coat and grabbing the claw, about to yank it out when you slap his hand away.

You waggle your finger at him, crouching to get a better look at the wound, "You're only going to make it worse. Honestly, if that's how you treat yourself it's a wonder you're still alive. Help me get your shirt off."

There's a hint of hesitation in him, though you're only a little sure you see it. Your focus is on pulling it over the claw without moving it too much, it had gone through bandages around his stomach as well, wrapping over his chest, the rest of his body... Look over him, taken aback. His flesh isn't normal, what you thought were gloves was actually the decay of his arms. No, decay doesn't seem right either but even so, there's no life. He lets you take it in, waiting until your eyes look to his mask. "My body is rotten, rotting, still," he clarifies, and you realise that perhaps decay is the right word, it's just a different meaning in this world. "I'm fine," he says again, as though expecting this to be too much for you, "You can leave."

You wonder why the smell isn't so bad, the sweet tinge mixing with a sour after scent. It wasn't the most pleasant but if you're being honest, it wasn't horrible. You put this aside and give him a dead stare, "You're so aggravating. Are you just allergic to help? Shut up and let tend to you."

He sits still after that, leaning back in the chair as you get to work. You tell him when it might hurt, he doesn't even flinch when you're prepared to extract the claw. Even the inside of his body isn't normal, his blood seeming to pulse out than continuously flow, the colour off in a blackish way. You had removed the bandages before, so the feeling of his leathery skin was odd, there was an odd sense to it that you couldn't describe. Darkness? How could you feel darkness?

You're priority is the claw wound, which you diligently tend to, cleaning and stitching it until you were satisfied with the result. You have a gauze left that you wrap onto him, sitting back on your heels to admire your work. "I'll have to check on it twice a day. If you need help bathing let me know, or I can instruct one of your men how to assist you without infecting the wound," you tell him, expecting him to blatantly deny any outside help.

Instead, he changes the topic entirely, speaking lowly, "I still can't help you."

"What?" You ask, mind still on the topic of his wellbeing.

He rolls his shoulders and looks to his tattered shirt, reaching to put it back on, though leaving it open, "To get back home, I still can't help you. You're wasting your time here."

Oh, so that's what he meant. You haven't spoken about it with him at all, and you did have questions you wanted to ask but you're not even sure if you have the mindset to discuss your fate immediately after learning the man you've been following is rotting before your eyes. It feels kinda shitty to bring up your trauma over his. You reach forward, fingertips grazing against the damaged skin above his stomach, wishing you could do something more than than bandage a wound, "Does it hurt?"

"I've had worse, at least it didn't come out the other side," he tilts his head to the claw, and you can imagine he might have a disinterested look by the sounds of his monotone voice.

You laugh, and you're not sure if he's saying that so you don't bring up his skin but you honestly can't believe what you're seeing, "No no, your body. Your flesh. Does it hurt?" You distantly wonder if that little vial of morphine you saved would alleviate it. Would it be a blessing of reprieve or a torture since it won't last?

Capitano sighs, probably the first sign of true emotion you've heard from him, "Yes, it's very painful. I'm used to it, however."

"Does the ointment help, the one you get from the medic tent? God I wish I could just," you frustratingly clench your fist before opening your palm to him, exhaling in sombre, "Take your pain away. I'm a medic in my world, but here I feel really useless sometimes."

You sit in comfortable silence, still crouched down before him. He hasn't removed your hand, you're not sure why but perhaps the cool touch it soothing to him? His muscles tense underneath you, and you only open your eyes when you feel him relax again. You're face-to-face with a strange light from your palm, a swirling breeze like a vortex coming inwards. You freaked out, retracting your hand fast but only getting a fraction of a distance before Capitano grasped your wrist, forcing you to press back against him. It's too late, whatever concentration you had fades, as does the light.

The way his shoulders sag gives a sense of disappointment. "What was that?" You practically whisper, a little scared of whatever just came from you.

He finally relents your hand, leaning back in his chair, "I believe... It's an ancient power. I shall do some research."

Capitano is curt, his head turned to the side and away from you. You get the hint, knees cracking loudly as you stand, causing you to laugh anxiously while you dust off the imaginary dirt from your thighs, "Y-Yeah, okay. Thank you. I'll check in on you in the morning."

Your goodnights are brief, the flap of the tent closing gently behind you.

There's a pyroslinger skirmisher standing guard at his tent, you give him a pointed finger and declare, "If you see him take off his bandages without me, you let me know! I won't tolerate my patients disrespecting my orders."

He gives you a salute, playing along, "Yes ma'am!"

.

Capitano's body is corrupted by the abyss, he's been stuck in a torturous torment of decay for over 500 years. Your heart aches at this, a condition your mind struggles to comprehend but there is one saving grace you both had realised:

You have the power to ease his pain.

It's a form of light that counters his darkness, and whilst you can never truly cure him, you can certainly take the edge off and allow him to rest. Physical touch works the best, a few times now as you're focusing on his ailments has he fallen asleep. Now you provide mandatory rest, it had taken a lot of complaining and arguing but you finally managed to get him to take off his helmet.

"I've seen the aftermath of a person's skull from a violent car crash, I don't think it could be worse," you had told him.

To which he responded, "What is a car?"

Seamless to say, you were correct. If you were honest, you were expecting some sort of Freddy Krueger look, though he certainly didn't meet those expectations. What caught you off guard were the piercing blue of his eye. Sometimes, you had thought you'd caught a glimpse of them through the mask, whenever raw emotion truly shined from the Captain. Now, you know you weren't imagining things. One eyes was scarred shut, though he could open the lid, the eye itself was pale and sat naturally closed. The scar across it took up almost half of his face, his skin partially remained its true colour, though he says its faded over time. The blight that covers most of his body travels up his neck, like twisted vines growing along his cheeks and forehead. His long, black hair remained neat, only a few strands falling forward once the mask is removed.

The tent remains securely closed at the time, your back facing it as you both rest in the furs of his bed for extra security. You hum a song that doesn't exist here as you caress your fingers through his hair and down his neck, circling around his shoulders and along his spine. He rests comfortably in your lap while the light from you absorbs his pain. One of his hands reaches out, grasping your left hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, his own hand enveloping yours like a delicate treasure, "I'm not sure I could ever let you leave now. You should have turned around when you still had the chance."

You laugh, because you know Capitano and you know his values. Even as the alarm bells ring from the way he squeezes your hand, like he'll never let you go, you ignore them in favour of your naivety, "If I left then I would have been torn apart by monsters."

He grunts and rolls so he's on his back. Your smile is awkward from the position he's put himself in, your chin tilting up to lessen the double chin from looking down. His hand now reaches up to your face gently stroking your cheek as he thinks aloud, "So as long as I stay in dangerous areas, you won't run away."

His words are making you feel too uncomfortable, so you flick his forehead and scold him, "Stop being so weird. You've kept me safe this far along, right? As long as I'm here, I'm going to help you." You hold his hand against your cheek, hoping to comfort him with a smile, "Besides, who would I follow if not my Captain? Anyone else would just be a downgrade."

Capitano's stare is as piercing as ever. He takes his time sitting up, shirtless and uncaring of the cold temperature. You much prefer this angle, looking slightly up so you can still meet his gaze. True to Capitano fashion, he hits you with a curveball and says something that catches you off guard, "I want you to sleep with me tonight."

Your face goes red, eyes avoidant as you stammer, "F-For the comfort, right? To keep your pain at bay?"

You think this is the first time you've seen him smile and, if this is his joking tone then... What was everything else? "Of course, for the pain. Why, was there something else you had in mind?"

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

[borninwinter81]

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore. 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍

[mellowsaturns]

starry nights

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: late at night in the middle of nowhere, you and joel talk about the past… and the future

warnings: soft!joel my beloved, fluff, tiny bit of angst, heart to heart talk, idiots in love, mutual pining, friends to lovers, slight mentions of violence and loss 

wc: 1.3k

— — —

It’s Joel’s turn to keep watch when a low gentle voice brings him out of his concentration.

“Joel,” it whispers ever so softly. “Joel. Joooel.”

Turning his head, he meets your eyes from below.

“Why are you still up?” he gruffs.

You shrug your shoulders. “Can’t sleep.”

He pokes at the dwindling fire. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“I know,” you sigh. Snuggling out of your sleeping bag, you pivot your way over and sit next to him. “I think I’m just excited that we’re almost at our destination,” you say as you lean your back against the rockbed. The past three months have been rough—so much loss that you didn’t know how much more you could take.

Closing your eyes and tilting your head back, you take a deep breath in to savour the moment of peace and quiet before opening it back up again. “Hey,” you whisper while nudging Joel's arm. “Look at that.”

He follows your trail of sight and when his eyes adjust to the light, he couldn’t help but exhale in incredulity.

Because deep in the mountains, miles away from the nearest human civilization, a cluster of stars are shimmering above the two of you against the night sky.

The both of you admire it for a moment before you speak. “When was the last time you ever saw something so beautiful?” you ask breathlessly, turning your head over to him.

Joel doesn’t answer, just simply looks at you and you see that glint in his eyes again—a look you can’t decipher but never ask him about.

Ignoring it, you continue, “You know, this is actually kind of romantic.”

Joel’s forever thankful you don’t have some kind of super sonic hearing. Because the rate at which his heart’s beating was truly embarrassing.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You ever been stargazing before? Like… on a date?”

You laugh, “God, no. No one ever did anything that romantic for me. How about you? I bet you were a real ladies man.”

He lets out a low chuckle thinking about the old days. “I was not.”

You snort. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Well, that’s the honest truth. Never really paid attention to them.”

“Oh, so you were the hard-to-get type, huh?” you tease.

From the small ember of light, you see a flush of pink creeping over his cheeks and you smile in triumph. It’s hard to get Joel flustered and you take in the moment to revel in that small victory.

Maybe it was the serene surroundings and the rare moment of safety but there’s a calm and comfortableness between the two of you—almost like the world wasn’t in ruins and you were on some camping trip pre-outbreak having a chat hours before dawn.

“I’m just teasing,” you say. “But do you think I would’ve had a chance?”

He perks up at your comment. “What?”

You can’t deny the fact that you had a crush on him. Have carried this feeling ever since Tommy first introduced you to the group. And that feeling has only gotten stronger ever since you embarked on this journey with him.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “I mean…” you gulp, “If we met before the outbreak… Do you think you would have looked my way?”

Joel freezes. Completely freezes in his spot.

Reading his expression your heart races in panic. “I—I don’t know why I asked you that,” you stammer. “Jesus—I must be out of my goddamn mind,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. “It’s probably the lack of oxygen up here. My brain isn’t working. I’m sorr—”

“Yes,” he blurts out.

You snap your head up. “What?”

Swallowing a nervous breath, he admits, “I… We… Of course I would’ve.” A pause. Then, “I already do.”

“Really?” you whisper with that same glint in your eyes.

After spending years working together, he’s surprised you haven’t caught on yet. He’s not the best at expressing his feelings and tries to lock it up, but it slips sometimes—more times than he liked, because in spite of everything, his heart’s defenceless with you.

He had so many things he wanted to say. Like if he had met you then, he would’ve been the happiest guy on fucking earth. That he’d bring you your favourite flowers and take you out on unprompted dates—like seeing the stars in the back of his pickup truck. Afterwards, he’d take you home and shower you with his love—if you’d let him.

And Sarah would have loved you too.

It sort of pains his heart to think about the Joel from another lifetime ago. But if the conditions were a little better and the two of you weren’t trekking in the wilderness day and night, he’d still want to do the same, if you’d give him the chance too.

But he’s unable to get the right words out. After years of rough survival, he isn’t exactly the best at this romance thing anymore.

So he just nods slowly, hoping you’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

Your attempt at stifling your grin fails. Even though Joel never elaborates on his comment—borderline confession—you wrap it around your heart because nothing more needs to be said.

Something shifts in the cold mountain air and your heart beats with joy.

But at the same time, your heart aches at the memories of the past.

“Do you think the world could ever go back to how it was before?” you wonder.

The question falls silent between the two of you.

In truth, Joel doesn’t know if the world was ever going to get better.

But in that moment, for the first time in many years, it’s different from all the other times you asked. Because for a split second, there’s a lingering feeling of hope between the two of you—at Ellie who’s sleeping a few feet away, whom the both of you care for greatly, more than the two of you would like to admit.

Once everything goes according to plan, maybe he’d actually be able to do all the things he wanted to do with you. He’d have to make up for all the years missed, but it would be easy, Joel thinks, because there wouldn’t be a need to constantly look over his shoulders anymore.

“It could,” he says curtly.

You smile at him. At his optimism. So different from the Joel you met years ago. He was always hard-headed. Always a pragmatist. But ever since the three of you left Boston, his heart’s gotten softer and you see flashes of the version of Joel that Tommy always talks about. It doesn't help your heart at all.

“The first thing I’d do is retire,” you announce, stretching your legs dramatically. You were sick of being a smuggler.

Joel lets out a tired laugh, no doubt thinking the same thing. “... I’d want an old farmhouse, some land… a ranch. I would raise sheep.”

You chuckle at his words. “Ah. Like a true Texan.”

Maybe there was something waiting for you in Wyoming. Maybe the two, perhaps three, of you could live that sought after idyllic life together.

That dream was still days away but you don’t deny the good feeling brewing in your chest. All that loss and violence must have been for something, right?

“You should get some sleep,” Joel says, pulling you out of your little reverie.

“Already told you, I’m not tired,” you reply, but minutes later, you’re fast asleep on Joel’s shoulder.

He looks at you fondly, then back up at the flickering sky and wonders if a shooting star had passed by earlier unbeknownst to him and heard all his desires.

Pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head, he goes back to guard duty, a little more Joel Miller than before.

[whywontyoucomeout]

A warrior’s pride

———————

In the remote hills of the Jiangnan region, where mist rolled over jagged cliffs and rivers carved their way through ancient forests, there was a name spoken with equal parts reverence and fear: Mei Lian, the Crimson Tiger. She was a legend, a master of the martial arts known for her unmatched skills in combat and her unyielding resolve. Bandits, warlords, and even the imperial soldiers trembled at her name. For nearly a decade, she had roamed the land, a solitary force who upheld justice where the law could not reach, dealing swift retribution to those who preyed on the weak.

But now, Mei Lian was no longer roaming.

Atop a high, secluded mountain, she had made her home in a modest wooden house. The air here was crisp, free from the stench of cities and the blood-soaked battlefields where she had earned her fearsome reputation. Her house was surrounded by tall pines, with a garden where she grew herbs and vegetables. From this vantage point, she could see the wide expanse of the world below—rolling hills, deep valleys, and distant towns where life continued, oblivious to the storms of violence she had once raged through.

Mei Lian was alone, save for the life growing inside her.

Her hand rested on her swollen belly, feeling the steady, rhythmic movements of the child within. She was near the end of her pregnancy now, her body heavy and slow. It was a strange sensation for someone who had lived her life in the perfection of physical discipline, whose every movement had once been like flowing water—graceful, quick, and deadly. Now, she found herself in a different kind of battle: the quiet, internal struggle of awaiting motherhood.

The child’s father, Liu Zhang, had been a warrior like her, an honorable man who fought beside her during the rebellion against the corrupt local magistrates. They had shared brief moments of peace between battles, moments where the world outside ceased to matter. But he was gone now, killed in the final skirmish that had broken the magistrate’s hold over the region. Mei Lian had taken vengeance swiftly, but after the blood had cooled, she found herself not only alone but pregnant with the last remnant of their love.

In the quiet isolation of her mountain home, she prepared for the child’s arrival as best she could, gathering herbs for medicine, building a fire pit to keep them warm through the cold nights. Yet even here, far from the noise of the world, the legend of the Crimson Tiger had not been forgotten.

One afternoon, as Mei Lian rested in her garden, her senses—sharpened by years of combat—picked up the faintest sound of rustling in the trees. She narrowed her eyes, her hand instinctively reaching for the sword that leaned against the porch. Her movements were slower now, and her belly made certain stances awkward, but Mei Lian was still dangerous. She still remembered the rhythm of every strike, the dance of every blade.

A group of figures emerged from the forest shadows, six in total. They were dressed in ragged black robes, their faces partially hidden by scarves, but Mei Lian recognized the emblem sewn onto their sleeves—the symbol of the Black Talon gang. She had crossed paths with them many years ago, scattering their forces and killing their leader when they had terrorized the countryside. Clearly, they hadn’t forgotten.

The one in front, a tall man with a scar running across his face, stepped forward. His eyes flicked down to Mei Lian’s pregnant belly and then back up to meet her gaze.

"The great Crimson Tiger," he sneered. "We’ve heard the stories. And yet, here you are, living like a hermit, heavy with child. Looks like you’ve softened."

Mei Lian’s eyes remained cold, her hand steady on the hilt of her sword. She said nothing.

"You see, we’re not here to kill you," the man continued, pacing slowly. "At least, not yet. The Black Talon has risen again, and we owe you for what you did to us. But seeing you like this… helpless, vulnerable… we thought it’d be better to wait. To see you suffer first. Maybe we’ll take everything from you again, just like you did to us."

The others chuckled darkly, their hands resting on the hilts of their own weapons, eager to strike.

Mei Lian finally spoke, her voice calm and steady, but laced with quiet fury. "If you wish to die, then take a step closer. But if you value your lives, I suggest you turn around and leave."

The leader’s grin widened. "Oh, I see. Still the fierce Crimson Tiger, even in your condition. But you can’t possibly fight in your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Mei Lian moved.

With a flick of her wrist, she drew her sword, the gleaming steel cutting through the air with deadly grace. "Come then," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let’s see how brave you are."

The first man lunged at her, overconfident. Mei Lian moved like water, swift and fluid, sidestepping his attack with ease. She struck once, her sword slicing through his defenses and disarming him. He fell to the ground, clutching his wounded arm, groaning in pain. But she had no time to celebrate the victory—another man was already upon her.

This one was faster, but she was faster still. She parried his blow, her movements sharp and precise, though the weight of her belly made her balance more difficult than usual. Her muscles strained with the effort, and each motion required more energy, more focus. But her skill was undeniable. With a swift upward strike, she disarmed the second attacker, sending him crashing to the ground.

The others hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. They had expected an easy victory, but now they were faced with the reality of fighting a legend, pregnant or not. Mei Lian’s chest rose and fell more quickly now, the weight of her pregnancy beginning to take its toll, but her stance remained solid.

Two more came at her together, trying to overwhelm her with numbers. Mei Lian ducked under a swinging sword, her belly brushing against the fabric of her robe as she spun and deflected a second strike. Her movements, though still precise, were slower than she wanted. Her body protested with each step, each twist, the burden of the child inside her pulling her down.

Still, she fought on. She delivered a crushing elbow to one attacker’s chest, sending him sprawling, while her sword slashed across the other’s arm, dropping him to his knees. She was breathless now, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. The fight was taking more out of her than usual, but she was still standing.

Only two remained.

The leader of the group, watching from the back, finally stepped forward. His eyes were sharp, calculating. He had let his men soften her up, and now, with her breathing ragged and her legs trembling under the weight of her own body, he saw his chance.

"You’ve fought well," he said, his voice cold, "but you’re tiring, Crimson Tiger. You can’t keep this up forever. Let’s end this."

Mei Lian didn’t respond. Her eyes locked on him, her grip tightening on her sword. The leader raised his weapon and moved toward her with measured steps, his movements more controlled than the others. He was skilled, she could tell, and unlike the rest, he wouldn’t underestimate her now.

Their swords clashed in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel on steel ringing out into the night. The leader was relentless, pressing her harder than his men had, forcing her to block and parry with more effort. Mei Lian’s arms ached, her back strained, and her legs felt like they would give out at any moment. Her belly, heavy and cumbersome, made each movement harder, but she refused to yield.

The fight dragged on, each of them trading blows, but slowly, Mei Lian gained the upper hand. She anticipated his attacks, countering with precision. Her strikes found their mark, cutting into his defenses, and with one final, powerful slash, she knocked the sword from his hand.

The leader stumbled back, falling to his knees, his eyes wide with shock. Blood trickled from a wound on his shoulder, but it was his pride that had suffered the most. He had been utterly defeated.

Mei Lian stood over him, her chest heaving, her sword pointed at his throat. "It’s over," she said, her voice cold and hard. "You’ve lost. I told you before—leave me alone. If you ever come after me again, I will not be so merciful."

The leader’s face twisted in shame and fear. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with desperation. "Please... don’t kill me. I... I was wrong. I beg you, spare me."

Mei Lian’s lip curled in disgust. "You beg for your life now, after sending your men to die for you? You are a coward. You didn’t have the honor to face me yourself until you thought I was weak."

The man lowered his head, his voice trembling. "Please. I won’t come after you again. I swear it."

"Swear all you want," she said, her voice like ice. "But your words mean nothing. You are nothing." She stared down at him, her eyes cold and unrelenting. "You’ll live, but you’ll never forget this day. Your cowardice will follow you for the rest of your life."

As she spoke, a sudden pain ripped through her abdomen, sharp and unexpected. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, her vision blurred. The contraction was sudden and powerful, far more intense than any kind of pain she had felt before. Her hand instinctively flew to her belly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her robe as she tried to steady herself.

The leader saw her falter and, sensing an opportunity, lunged for a hidden dagger at his waist. He moved quickly, hoping to strike her down while she was vulnerable.

But Mei Lian’s instincts were faster than his desperation. In a blur of motion, she raised her sword and, with a single stroke, severed his arm at the elbow. The man’s scream echoed through the forest as he fell to the ground, clutching the bleeding stump where his arm had been.

"You should have listened," she said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Now, that missing arm will remind you of today. Of your failure."

The leader, sobbing in pain and fear, scrambled away, his remaining hand pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding. He stumbled into the trees, disappearing into the night, his cries growing fainter as he fled.

Mei Lian stood alone once more, the forest quiet around her. She watched him go, her body trembling with exhaustion. The pain in her belly was still sharp, her muscles tensing with each passing moment. She dropped her sword, her knees giving way as she sank to the ground, her hands clutching her abdomen. The pain was intense, but she breathed through it, trying to steady her mind.

Minutes passed, and eventually, the pain began to subside. False labor. Her body, exhausted from the fight, had played tricks on her.

She leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes as she caught her breath. The fight was over, but the real battle was still to come.

For now, she needed rest.

Weeks passed since the intense battle that nearly pushed her body to its limits. Mei Lian had taken the time to rest, allowing her body and mind to recover from the strain. Though she had defeated the men, her body had been tested in ways she had never imagined. Her swollen belly had become a constant reminder of the challenges still to come.

But now, she resumed her daily activities, moving with the same grace and strength as always, though slower, more deliberate. Her belly had grown even more, something she hadn’t thought possible. Already large before the fight, it now seemed as if it was on the verge of bursting. The tightness of her skin behind her clothes was ever-present, and even her largest robe could barely contain the sheer roundness of her abdomen. At night, when the weight of the day’s tasks made her feet ache and her back stiffen, she would loosen the robe’s bindings, allowing her belly to be free. As the rope fell away, her belly would spill forward, its vastness unrestrained by the fabric.

It was a sight she had become used to over the months, but even now, she found herself staring at it in awe. Her belly had taken on a life of its own, heavy, round, and impossibly tight. The skin stretched to the very limit, yet not a single mark marred its smooth surface. It was as if her body had been preparing for this moment all along, and now it bore the full weight of the child she carried. The moonlight filtered through the small window of her home, casting a soft glow over the taut surface of her belly. She could see every detail—the way it rose high, nearly blocking her view of her legs, the way it curved outwards in a perfect, enormous dome, stretching her skin to its very limit.

Mei Lian lay back on her bed, her robes loosened, her enormous belly fully exposed in the dim light of her home. She rested her hand on its round, taut surface, feeling the baby shift slightly inside. "How am I supposed to push this out?" she muttered with a wry smile, lightly tracing the tight skin with her fingertips.

As the days grew shorter and the weight of her belly heavier, Mei Lian began her preparations for the birth. She gathered clean cloths, set water to boil, and placed a sturdy blade within arm’s reach—just in case. Every few moments, her sharp eyes scanned the surrounding forest from the window, her senses honed from years of battle. Everything appeared normal: the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant calls of animals, the quiet hum of the night. Yet, an uneasy feeling gnawed at her. Something wasn’t right, though she couldn’t quite place what it was.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Mei Lian felt the first stirrings of labor—a tightness in her abdomen that quickly spread into a deep, aching pressure. She inhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall of her home, her mind slipping into the calm focus she had cultivated over years of martial discipline. This was another battle, a different kind, but one that required the same endurance and strength.

The pain intensified, coming in waves now, pulling her deeper into the physical struggle. She knew her time was near. She had prepared for this, just as she had prepared for every battle, every challenge. Everything was in place—the herbs she had gathered, the water she had boiled, the linens she had carefully set aside for the newborn.

But as she moved toward her bed, her body heavy with the strain of the contractions, something caught her attention—a sound. It was faint at first, barely more than the wind slipping through the trees, but it grew louder, unmistakable. The door creaked open, and her heart skipped a beat as the familiar figure stepped into the room.

The Black Talon leader.

Mei Lian’s hand instinctively reached for her sword beside the bed, but the sharp contraction that followed was too much, her body doubling over in pain as she gasped. The blade slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor, and her breath came in ragged bursts as the labor took full control of her.

The leader’s grin widened as he stepped forward, staying just out of reach of her fallen sword. His gaze flicked down to her belly, then back to her face, and he chuckled darkly.

“Ah, the mighty Crimson Tiger,” he said softly, his voice thick with mockery. “Look at you now. Reduced to this. I told you I’d find a way to make you suffer. Watching you in your weakest moment… it’s almost better than killing you.”

You think you’ve hidden yourself well," he began, his voice dripping with mockery. "But I’ve been watching you, waiting for the right time. And now… now you’ve given me the perfect opportunity." His gaze dropped to her belly, round and taut, heavy with the child she was struggling to bring into the world. A twisted grin spread across his face. "Look at you. So… enormous."

Mei Lian’s breath hitched, the pain already mounting inside her, but she refused to show weakness. Not to him. Not to the man who had burned entire villages just to hunt her down. She clung to her dignity, even as her body betrayed her.

"You’re as big as a mountain," he continued, stepping closer to her, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "I’ve seen women give birth before—my wife has borne me five children—but not a single one of her pregnancies came close to… this." He waved a hand toward her belly, as if gesturing at a grotesque display. "How in the world will you handle it? With a belly that size, you’re going to suffer for hours… maybe even days."

His words cut like a knife, but Mei Lian kept her gaze locked on him, refusing to let his taunts burrow deeper than they already had. She gritted her teeth against the growing pain, but he seemed to feed off her tension.

"Imagine," he sneered, circling her bed slowly. "You—the Crimson Tiger—known for your strength, your speed, now reduced to this." His eyes gleamed as he took in the sight of her swollen form. "You can’t fight me like this. Not with that enormous belly weighing you down. You’ll be too busy screaming, too busy pushing that monster of a child out to do anything."

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, as if he was savoring every moment of her struggle. "I can already see how hard it is for you, how uncomfortable you must be with all that weight. How can you possibly manage to bring a child like that into the world, hmm? A child so big… maybe even too big for you."

Mei Lian clenched her fists at her sides, her body already slick with sweat, her mind a whirl of pain and fury.

As Mei Lian lay on the bed, her body wracked with pain as labor began, the leader of the Black Talon stood nearby, a smug, twisted grin playing across his lips. His shadow loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching with sadistic pleasure as she struggled to manage the mounting contractions.

Mei Lian gritted her teeth, fighting back a scream as another contraction hit, her body tensing against the wave of pain. Her breath came in short, labored gasps, her mind trying to focus through the agony. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response, but she couldn’t remain silent. Her honor, her pride as a martial artist, demanded it.

"You’re... disgusting," she managed to spit out between clenched teeth, her voice strained but defiant. "You… can’t even face me in battle… head to head... You have to wait until… I’m at my most vulnerable to strike. This… this is not a warrior’s way. It’s cowardice."

The leader’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he listened to her labored words. "Oh, come now, don’t pretend this is about honor. I’m not here to fight fair, Crimson Tiger. I’ve watched you defeat countless men, and I know that head-to-head, I would fall like the rest. But here… here you are, reduced to a woman in labor, helpless, vulnerable." He chuckled again, stepping closer, watching her closely as her body convulsed with another contraction. "And it’s only just begun, hasn’t it? Look at you… barely able to speak through the pain."

Mei Lian’s body shook with the effort of holding herself together. The pain was growing, the contractions more frequent, her muscles tightening with each wave that passed through her. She could barely catch her breath between the spasms, and the urge to scream was becoming harder to suppress. But she fought it, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"You… are nothing but a coward," she growled, though her voice cracked as another contraction surged through her. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as her legs trembled beneath her. "No courage… no honor…"

Her words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain, her body rebelling against her will as the contraction reached its peak. Her back arched involuntarily, her breath coming in ragged bursts. The baby was coming, and she could feel the pressure mounting, the unbearable stretch inside her. But the leader, standing calmly nearby, merely tilted his head, enjoying the spectacle.

"You really think you’re in any position to lecture me about courage?" he mocked, stepping closer again. "Look at you, trying to hold on to your pride, trying to keep your composure… and failing. Your body betrays you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I think… I’ll wait a little longer. Watch as that enormous belly of yours gives you more pain. How long until you break?"

Mei Lian’s fists clenched, her knuckles white as she tried to push back against the waves of agony crashing through her. Each word he spoke dug into her like a blade, and the humiliation of being at his mercy in this moment was almost too much to bear. But she wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t.

"Keep talking," she gasped, her voice ragged as she forced herself to look up at him, her eyes blazing with fury despite the tears welling in them. "It’ll… only make your defeat that much sweeter."

The leader smirked, his eyes scanning over her struggling form, his gaze settling on the enormous curve of her belly. "Defeat? You think you’ll come out of this victorious? Not like this. Not with that belly, that… burden. No warrior’s training can help you now." He gave her a mocking look, his voice dripping with scorn. "Just wait… you’ll scream soon enough. And I’ll be right here, enjoying every moment."

Mei Lian’s breath hitched as another contraction hit, this one more brutal than the last. Her body contorted with the pain, and she could feel her legs trembling uncontrollably beneath her. Her thighs, once strong and firm from years of training, now shook with weakness, unable to stand up to the sheer intensity of the labor. The urge to scream welled up inside her, almost impossible to contain. She bit her lip hard, trying to focus, but it was getting harder to maintain her composure.

The leader, noticing her silence, stepped even closer. "Go on… scream. Let it out. I want to hear you scream for me, Crimson Tiger."

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay quiet, but the pain was too much. A guttural cry tore from her throat, despite her efforts to keep it in, and she collapsed forward onto the bed, her body shaking from the effort.

The leader laughed, clearly enjoying every moment of her struggle. "There it is. That’s more like it."

Mei Lian’s eyes burned with fury, but she could do nothing. Another contraction hit, stronger this time, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Her body screamed at her to push, but she resisted, her muscles trembling with the effort.

She had never allowed herself to show weakness in front of an enemy. She had never let anyone see her vulnerable. And now, the thought of this man—this vile, spiteful creature—seeing her in the throes of labor, seeing her exposed in the most intimate way, filled her with shame and anger. She clamped her legs shut, her body rigid with tension, as if by sheer will she could stop the birth, stop him from seeing her like this.

The Black Talon leader raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Ah, so you’re trying to keep some dignity, are you? You think you can fight it? How long do you think you’ll last, Crimson Tiger, before the pain forces you to open up? Before you have to let go of that pride?”

Mei Lian glared at him, refusing to answer. The pain was unbearable now, rolling through her like a storm, each contraction more powerful than the last. Her body was betraying her, forcing her toward a place where no battle-hardened warrior could maintain control. She gripped the edge of the bed, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow and rapid as she struggled to contain the pressure building within her.

But the pain—oh, the pain—it was relentless. It demanded that she push, that she surrender to it. Sweat poured down her face, her muscles trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. But the child was coming, whether she willed it or not. The contractions intensified, each one longer and more agonizing than the last.

Finally, a low, guttural groan escaped her lips, and despite her resistance, her legs began to part. The pain was too great, the pressure too overwhelming. She could no longer fight the natural process her body was undergoing. With a gasp, she spread her legs wide, exposing herself completely in front of her enemy, her hands gripping the sheets as another wave of pain coursed through her. A guttural cry tore from her throat, as she throw her head backward, face up the sky: “Nghhh ahhhhhhh”.

The Black Talon leader’s grin widened as he leaned back against the wall. “There you go. That’s it. You can’t fight it forever, can you? No matter how strong you are, in the end, you’re just like every other woman. Weak. Vulnerable.”

Mei Lian’s body shook with exertion, every muscle in her powerful frame straining as she pushed with all her might. Her legs were spread wide, trembling under the immense pressure, her fingers gripping the sheets so hard the fabric was on the verge of tearing. The baby’s head had emerged, just barely, stretching her to her limits, only to retreat again, slipping back inside with agonizing slowness. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her face drenched in sweat, but no matter how hard she tried, it felt like her efforts were in vain.

The leader, standing over her, let out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound echoing cruelly in the small room. “Look at you,” he sneered. “All that strength, all that skill, and you can’t even manage to bring a baby into the world.” He circled her slowly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched her struggle. “It comes out… then goes right back in,” he said, mimicking the motions with his hand. “What’s wrong, Crimson Tiger? You’re frustrated, aren’t you? All that effort, and yet the baby doesn’t want to stay out.”

Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of frustration. She wanted to scream, to strike him down, but her body betrayed her, consumed entirely by the pain and pressure of labor. She could feel the baby slipping back again, and her heart sank with the familiar sensation. It was so close, yet impossibly far, and the leader’s taunts only made the ordeal worse.

“Look at you,” he continued, his laughter growing louder with each failed attempt. “You’re trying so hard, pushing and screaming, but the baby just keeps slipping back. It’s almost funny. All your enemies have fallen before you, yet this little one seems to be defeating you.” He shook his head, smirking. “How pathetic.”

Mei Lian’s mind screamed in fury, but her body was no longer her own. The child inside her was demanding to be born, and the pain was forcing her to push with all her might. She bore down, her face contorting in agony as the baby began to crown. She could feel it—so close, so near the surface—but then, just as she thought it would finally emerge, the child retreated again, slipping back inside.

A strangled cry of frustration escaped her lips, and she gripped the bed harder, her body shaking with the effort. She pushed again, her entire being focused on bringing this child into the world, but once more, the baby began to emerge, only to retreat again. It was maddening, the way her body refused to cooperate. The baby teased the world, appearing for a brief moment before sliding back, as if it were mocking her.

The Black Talon leader watched her struggle with dark amusement, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “What’s the matter, Crimson Tiger? Can’t even manage a simple birth? You’ve killed men with your bare hands, and yet you can’t even push out a child? Maybe all that fighting has made you too stiff.”

Mei Lian’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried again and again to push. Each contraction felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside, and the baby’s refusal to fully emerge only deepened her despair. She had fought in the fiercest of battles, endured wounds that would have killed others, but this—this was a battle she had never trained for.

Her vision blurred with tears of frustration, but she refused to give in. She would not be beaten by this. Not by him, and not by her own body. She would bring this child into the world, no matter how much it cost her. The labor dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as the baby danced on the edge of life, just out of reach.

“Come on, Mei Lian,” the leader taunted, leaning forward now, his face full of mocking delight. “You can do it. Just one more push, and maybe this time it’ll stay out. Or maybe not. Maybe you’ll just keep struggling, over and over, until you have nothing left. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Her body shook, her muscles screamed in protest, but Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with determination. She gathered every ounce of strength she had left, every bit of willpower that had seen her through countless battles, and pushed again.

Mei Lian's body trembled as she bore down with all her strength, the intensity of the birth overwhelming her senses. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her heart pounding in her ears as the baby’s head finally began to emerge fully. The pressure was immense, like nothing she had ever experienced in battle. The pain coursed through her body in waves, but for the first time, the baby’s head no longer retreated. Progress had been made, and though the pain was excruciating, she felt the smallest glimmer of hope.

But her victory was far from assured.

The Black Talon leader had been watching her closely, his cruel amusement never wavering as she struggled to bring her child into the world. His twisted smile darkened as he realized what was happening—the baby was coming, inch by inch, despite his taunts. His victory over her, the moment he had so patiently waited for, was slipping away.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He rose slowly from where he had been leaning, his eyes narrowed with intent. Mei Lian, between contractions, noticed his movement. She could see the calculating look in his eyes, the way his body tensed, preparing to act. His expression had shifted from amusement to something more dangerous—he wasn’t just here to mock her anymore. He was going to intervene.

“I can’t let this happen, Crimson Tiger,” he said in a low voice, stepping closer. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it. Instead, his gaze shifted downward, focusing on the baby’s head, which had only just begun to crown. “It would be a shame to let this child live when I could so easily take it all away from you.”

Mei Lian’s heart raced as she realized his intent. Her body tensed with a mixture of pain and fury as she understood that he wasn’t going to kill her—not yet. He wanted to rob her of her child first, to make her suffer by denying the life she was fighting so hard to bring into the world.

“I’ve watched you fight tooth and nail through this,” he sneered, taking another step closer, his eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. “But it seems your baby is just as stubborn as you are. It keeps coming back, but I can fix that.”

He waited, watching her closely as her body tensed with another contraction. It was clear he was waiting for her moment of greatest pain, the moment she would be most vulnerable. Mei Lian gritted her teeth, forcing herself to breathe through the pain, to stay calm even as every nerve in her body screamed for her to push, to keep fighting for the life of her child.

But instead of pushing, she did the opposite. She slumped back against the bed, allowing herself to groan loudly, letting her eyes flutter shut in an exaggerated show of exhaustion. Her breathing became shallow, her hand falling limply to the side. Though the pain was very real and intense, Mei Lian forced herself to act as though it was too much, as though she had no strength left to resist.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the Black Talon leader said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Finally showing your true weakness.”

He stepped closer, crouching down beside her, his face a mask of cruel delight. He reached out toward the baby’s head, his fingers stretching forward as if he could simply push the child back inside her, as if he could undo all her progress with a single motion.

Mei Lian’s heart pounded with a mixture of terror and fury, but she kept her breathing shallow, her body limp. She had learned long ago that the best way to defeat an enemy wasn’t always through brute force but through patience and strategy. She had let him believe she was defeated, let him believe he had the upper hand.

And as his fingers brushed the baby’s head, Mei Lian’s eyes snapped open.

With a sudden surge of strength, she raised her leg and delivered a powerful kick to his face, her foot connecting with his nose in a sickening crunch. The Black Talon leader’s eyes widened in shock for a split second, realizing it when its already too late. The kick feels like every kicks she has ever delivered combined into one. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Mei Lian had done it. The danger was gone, at least for the moment, and now she could focus entirely on the task at hand.

But as the adrenaline faded, the pain of the labor returned tenfold. The strike had made the baby slipped in again. Mei Lian gripped the edges of the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her body was once again seized by the brutal force of the contractions. She no longer had the luxury of distraction—this was the battle that demanded everything she had left.

Her muscles strained, every inch of her body on fire as she bore down, trying to push the baby further out. The head was there, emerging little by little, but each time she thought she was making progress, the child seemed to slip back just a little, as if refusing to fully enter the world.

Sweat poured down her face, dripping onto the sheets, and her breath came in desperate, shallow gasps. Her legs shook with the effort, and her body screamed for relief, but the baby refused to come easily. Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her mind filled with frustration as the head inched forward, only to retreat again. It was maddening. She had never felt so powerless, so out of control.

She tried pushing again, harder this time, her body trembling with the effort. The pain was unbearable, searing through her like fire, but she bore down, focusing every ounce of her strength on bringing the baby into the world. Her muscles tensed, her breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, and for a moment, she thought she had made progress.

The head slipped a little further out, and for the briefest second, hope surged through her. But then the baby retreated once more, and Mei Lian let out a cry of frustration, her body collapsing back against the bed.

The firelight flickered in the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, but inside, all Mei Lian could hear was the sound of her own labored breathing.

Her body was tired. So tired. But there was no choice but to keep fighting.

Mei Lian inhaled deeply, gathering her strength once more. She couldn’t afford to give up now. She had fought through too much, endured too much pain to let this final challenge defeat her. The baby was close, so close, but it would take everything she had left to bring it fully into the world.

She closed her eyes, centering herself as she had so many times before in battle. She slowed her breathing, calming her mind despite the chaos of her body. The next contraction hit, and this time, she pushed with all her might, focusing on the baby’s head, on moving it just a little further out.

The baby responded, inching forward, the pressure building as its head stretched the limits of her body. Mei Lian’s muscles burned, her legs trembling uncontrollably, but she kept pushing, refusing to let the pain stop her.

The baby’s head emerged a little further, and this time, it stayed.

But she knew the hardest part was still ahead. The shoulders had yet to come, and the baby’s body still needed to follow. The contractions slowed for a brief moment, giving her a merciful pause, but Mei Lian knew that this was far from over.

She took the brief respite to steady her breathing, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she prepared for the next wave of pain. The baby was nearly there, but the birth was far from done.

The next chapter of her battle was about to begin.

The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing in as Mei Lian lay on the bed, legs spread as wide as they could go, her body straining, stretched to its absolute limit. She could feel the baby’s head pushing against her, a searing pressure that made her want to scream, and she did, the sound tearing from her throat in a way that she hadn’t allowed herself to do before. Her powerful legs, the same ones that had delivered so many decisive kicks in battle, now trembled uncontrollably, utterly useless in this moment of life and death.

Her legs couldn’t help her now.

Her arms, once strong enough to defeat entire groups of thugs, lay beside her, limp and shaking, unable to provide any aid. It was an overwhelming realization, one that hit her harder than any punch or sword strike ever had. For years, she had trained her body—her arms, her legs, her mind—sharpening them into weapons that could take down any opponent. She had relied on them, on her strength, her control. But now, here in the throes of labor, they were nothing but quivering limbs, trembling and shaking with the effort of trying to bring her child into the world.

Mei Lian’s breath came in gasps, her chest heaving as another contraction gripped her, pulling her deeper into the relentless pain. Her legs, once so solid and sure, now buckled beneath the weight of her labor. They couldn’t support her. They couldn’t carry her through this battle.

Her mind reeled at the absurdity of it, at how all her years of training, all her discipline, were worthless here. She could take a life with a single blow, but now, bringing one into the world, she was helpless.

The baby’s head was there, pushing against her, stretching her body beyond what she thought was possible. Her legs spread even wider, as if they couldn’t get any further apart, yet still, it wasn’t enough. The baby was stuck, just barely crowning, and no amount of strength seemed to make it move forward. Mei Lian felt her will beginning to crumble, the frustration building inside her like a storm.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her breath hitched as she stared down at her enormous belly, which had become her greatest challenge. It rose like a mountain, stubborn and unyielding, mocking her with its stillness. Despite her best efforts, despite the sweat pouring from her body and the pain tearing through her, the belly remained, unmoved, unshaken.

It was as if her own body were conspiring against her, refusing to let go, to release the child she so desperately wanted to meet. Her hands moved almost unconsciously, trembling as they pressed against her belly, fingers splayed wide. She could feel the hardness beneath her skin, the baby waiting just beneath the surface, but no matter how much she pushed, the mountain remained.

She broke, tears spilling from her eyes, her voice raw as she whispered through her sobs. “Please… please, baby, come out,” she begged, her voice cracked and hoarse. “I can’t do this alone. Please… please…”

Her hands dug into her belly, massaging the taut skin, her breath ragged as she sobbed through the pain. Her body screamed for release, her heart cried out for her child, but the baby remained stubbornly lodged in place. Mei Lian’s frustration boiled over, a mixture of helplessness and anger that she had never felt before. How could she, the Crimson Tiger, who had faced down death so many times, be defeated like this?

But the labor was relentless. Another contraction hit, even stronger than before, and Mei Lian felt the burning sensation grow more intense as the baby’s head began to shift. The pressure was unimaginable, her body straining as she bore down, pushing with everything she had left. This time, there was progress—slow, agonizing progress, but it was there.

The baby was moving forward.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt it, inch by inch, the head creeping forward. Her entire body trembled with the effort, every muscle taut as she fought to bring the child into the world. Mei Lian gripped the edges of the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white, her legs trembling violently as she bore down, her body shaking with exertion.

The baby’s head moved again, just a little further, and a sharp cry escaped her lips, her voice a mixture of pain and hope. The pressure was immense, the burning stretching sensation unbearable, but she was making progress. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the baby inched forward, each push bringing it closer to the world.

Mei Lian’s tears mixed with the sweat pouring down her face, but she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about the pain, or the exhaustion, or the fact that her powerful legs were now trembling like those of a newborn fawn. All that mattered was the child, and the need to bring it into the world. The contractions hit again, and she pushed once more, her body quivering as the baby’s head came further, inch by inch.

Her sobs turned to groans of effort as she gave another push, her hands pressing down on her belly, trying to help the baby along. The head was nearly there now, so close, but still, it felt like an eternity before it would be free. Each push felt like a battle won, but each victory was short-lived as the baby resisted, stubbornly inching forward in its own time.

Mei Lian screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as she gave one final, desperate push. The baby’s head moved further, finally passing the point of no return. The sensation was a mix of pain and relief, her body straining, stretched to the limit, but she could feel the shift.

Several more pushes later, the baby’s head emerged fully, its slick, round form finally free from the grip of her body. Mei Lian collapsed back against the bed, her chest heaving, her heart pounding in her ears as she gasped for breath.

The hardest part wasn’t over yet, but the baby’s head was out. The rest of the body would follow soon.

Mei Lian’s chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lay back, feeling the baby’s head fully emerge. She had done it—or so she thought. But as she tried to push again, hoping the rest of the baby would follow, her body met resistance. The shoulders—broad and unyielding—were stuck.

A new wave of frustration surged through her. The baby was so close, yet still, it would not come. Mei Lian pushed with all her might, every fiber of her being straining, but the shoulders refused to budge. The sensation was maddening. She could feel the child so close, practically at the edge of entering the world, but her body wouldn’t release it. The pressure was unbearable, the pain relentless, and her will—so strong throughout the labor—began to crumble.

She groaned in agony, her voice raw with frustration. Her powerful legs, which had carried her through battles and knocked out countless foes, were trembling beneath her, completely useless in this moment of pure, primal struggle. She shifted her position, trying to adjust, but nothing worked. The baby’s shoulders remained stuck.

Mei Lian’s eyes blurred with tears, her mind racing. **There had to be a way. There had to be a way.**

Her gaze fell to her enormous belly, still rising high and swollen, mocking her efforts once more. It hung heavy and round, her skin pulled tight, yet it felt as though no matter how hard she pushed, her body was holding on, refusing to let the child out. She let out a guttural cry, pressing her hands to the firm mound of her stomach as if willing it to release the baby.

The weight of her belly, the heaviness of it, seemed almost unbearable now, like a burden she had been carrying for far too long. It hung low, unmoving, despite all the strength she had poured into pushing. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched her swollen belly, her voice breaking into desperate sobs. "Please… please, baby… please just come out," she whispered, her strong, battle-hardened hands trembling as they pressed against her taut skin. "I can't… I can't take this anymore. Please come out of me…" Her composure shattered, she wept openly, feeling utterly vulnerable, overwhelmed by the unbearable pain and the helplessness of it all.

But the baby remained lodged, the shoulders stuck in place, refusing to slide free.

Desperation clawed at her, but in the back of her mind, her training kicked in. She needed to change her position. The battle wasn’t lost yet. She had always been adaptable in a fight, always able to shift her stance and find the advantage. Maybe, just maybe, if she could find the right position, she could free the baby.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Mei Lian shifted her weight, rolling onto her hands and knees. The movement was agonizing, her body screaming in protest, but she had no choice. She buried her face into the mattress, gripping it with trembling fingers. Her knees spread wide, and her belly hung low, almost touching the bed beneath her. Her buttocks rose high in the air, her body bent forward, exposing herself completely to the empty room.

She had never felt so vulnerable, so raw and exposed.

Her mind briefly flashed to the battles she had fought, the men she had faced down without hesitation or fear. Yet here she was, in the most private, the most intimate of battles, her body betraying her in its moment of greatest need. It wasn’t the fists of an enemy or the edge of a blade that she fought against now—it was her own body, and the child she so desperately wanted to bring into the world.

The position was humiliating, her body completely open and bared, but Mei Lian no longer cared. Pride meant nothing now. All that mattered was freeing the baby.

Another contraction hit, stronger than ever, and Mei Lian let out a fierce scream, her fingers digging into the mattress as she pushed with everything she had. Her back arched, her belly hanging low and swaying as she strained. She bore down hard, pushing her buttocks backward, trying to make as much room as possible for the baby to descend.

The pressure was overwhelming, the feeling of the baby’s broad shoulders stretching her beyond anything she had experienced before. Her legs trembled with the effort, her fingers clutching the mattress desperately as if it could anchor her through the storm of pain.

Her scream grew louder, raw and guttural, as she felt the baby shift inside her. The new position was helping, but it was still slow, agonizing progress. She pushed harder, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her entire body shaking with the effort. Her mind teetered on the edge of exhaustion, the relentless pain making her feel as though she couldn’t continue, but she had no choice. The baby was coming, and she had to bring it into the world.

The shoulders, once so firmly lodged, began to move.

Mei Lian could feel it—the slow, gradual release as the baby’s shoulders began to slide free. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced before—painful and yet filled with the faintest hint of relief. Her legs shook, her arms trembling as she gripped the mattress, her face pressed into the bedding.

She pushed again, harder this time, her voice a hoarse cry as she bore down, her hips swaying slightly as she pushed her buttocks back even further. The pressure was immense, the baby’s shoulders moving ever so slowly, but it was happening. The baby was coming.

Another push, and this time she felt it—the shoulders finally sliding free, the baby’s body following in one smooth, agonizing motion. The relief was immediate, though the exhaustion hit her like a wave, her entire body trembling with the effort she had expended.

Mei Lian let out a final, breathless scream as the child was born, its small, slick body slipping from her and into the world. She collapsed forward onto the bed, her face pressed into the mattress, her chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. The pain began to ebb, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache, but the overwhelming sensation that filled her now was one of pure, unfiltered relief.

The battle was over. The baby was here.

She remained there for a moment, her body still trembling from the effort, her breath shaky as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. The room felt eerily quiet after the storm of her labor, the only sound the faint whimper of the newborn child behind her.

Slowly, painfully, Mei Lian shifted, turning to look at the baby she had fought so hard to bring into the world. The child lay there, slick with birth, tiny and perfect, its small cries filling the room.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy, of relief, of triumph.

The Crimson Tiger had fought her hardest battle—and won.

[novaursa]

female targaryen (who is heir to the iron throne) and older twin sister to rhaenyra marrying cregan stark, having children and dance of dragons taking place but she gets to sit on the iron throne as the northern army fights fiercely for her

The Frozen Throne

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You and Cregan win the Dance.

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The day of your marriage to Cregan Stark is marked by a cold wind blowing through the Red Keep, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and snow. Despite the southern heat of King's Landing, the North makes itself known in more ways than one. His presence beside you feels solid and unyielding, like the frozen mountains he rules over. You stand in front of the godswood in Winterfell, where your father, King Viserys, sent you to form this alliance. Yet, here you are, older twin to Rhaenyra, now bound not only by duty but by something deeper with Cregan Stark.

The words are spoken. "I, Cregan Stark, take thee Y/N Targaryen, to be my wedded wife," his deep voice echoes in the ancient grove, every word a vow to protect you, to stand by your side.

Your heart pounds as you mirror him. "I, Y/N Targaryen, take thee, Cregan Stark, to be my wedded husband." Each word lingers in the cold air, joining with the weirwood’s ancient gaze, binding the North and House Targaryen.

His hand is warm in yours, grounding you, as he leans in to whisper, "Now, we are one."

Years pass, and Winterfell becomes your home. The North, harsh and beautiful, mirrors the man you’ve come to love. Your children, with their dark hair and dragon eyes, run through the halls. You raise them in the traditions of both your houses—dragon and direwolf, fire and ice. Cregan teaches them the ways of the North, while you share the lore of the dragons, telling them stories of Old Valyria by the hearth. They carry both legacies within them, as fierce as the winds of the North and as fiery as the blood of the dragon.

The peace that surrounds your life is fragile, like ice cracking beneath the weight of the world. Whispers of war reach even the farthest corners of the North. The Dance of the Dragons begins, the kingdom torn between your sister Rhaenyra’s claim and that of your half-brother, Aegon. When the ravens come, it is Rhaenyra’s name written on the parchment, asking for your aid, your dragons, and your Northern armies.

Cregan stands by the hearth, his grey eyes locked on you as you read the letter aloud. “She needs us, Cregan. She is our blood.”

“She is your blood,” he replies, voice measured. "And you, Y/N, are mine. Do not mistake my silence for hesitation. The North will march."

Your heart swells with a mix of love and fear. "Then we fight together?"

He steps closer, his hands settling on your shoulders, the warmth of his touch steadying the storm in your chest. "Always, Y/N. For our family. For the North. And if the South seeks to tear itself apart, it will know the might of Winterfell."

The armies are gathered. Your children watch as dragons are saddled, and the men of the North begin their march southward. Seasmoke roars beneath you, his wings beating the cold air as you lead the Northern host toward King’s Landing. Rhaenyra stands alone now—Daemon gone, your enemies closing in. But you will not allow your twin to fall.

The battle that erupts in the Crownlands is unlike anything you've ever witnessed. The ground shakes beneath the stomping of hooves and the clash of steel, while the skies above burn with dragonfire. Your Northern banners, emblazoned with the direwolf, strike fear into your enemies, and the dragons rain destruction from above.

In the Red Keep, the Iron Throne looms before you—a twisted, cruel seat of power. Rhaenyra stands at its foot, her eyes weary, the weight of the crown on her head evident in her every movement. But as the battle rages on outside, it is your armies, your dragons, that ensure victory.

"We’ve done it," Rhaenyra says, but there is a hollowness in her voice. "The throne is ours."

You walk toward her, shaking your head. "No, Rhaenyra. The throne is mine."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, the room seems to freeze. "Y/N, you…?"

"I am older. I am stronger. And it is the North that brought us this victory," you reply, your voice firm but calm. "It is I who should sit on that throne."

For a moment, it feels as though she will refuse, that this will tear the last shred of your bond apart. But Rhaenyra, weary from the war, bows her head. “Very well.”

When you ascend the Iron Throne, it feels as if the fire of your ancestors courses through your veins. The sharp metal digs into your skin, a reminder of the price of power, but you do not falter. The North has fought fiercely, and now it is time to rule, with the strength of your blood and the might of Winterfell behind you.

The doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Cregan strides in, his armor bloodied, his face a mixture of exhaustion and pride. “Your Grace,” he says, his lips curling into a small smile as he sees you upon the throne. “The North fights for you. We always will.”

You look at him, the man who stood by your side through war and peace, who gave you children and a new life in the harsh North. “Come here, my Lord,” you say softly.

He approaches, and when his hand touches yours, you feel it—the unbreakable bond that has carried you through the worst of this war. Together, you will forge a kingdom of ice and fire, with your children as its future.

You lean toward him, your voice quiet but filled with resolve. “This is our reign now, Cregan. And the realm will tremble before it.”

[g3llyfish]

Hey I wanted to request something funny.

Like redson and macaque ( separately ) kidnaps one of mk’s friends, fem s/o and they start laughing ( not like mocking them ) but more like ( I can’t believe this happened ) while saying “ no no I’m sorry..it’s just..this is the most effort a man has ever put into me 😂 “

Idk i thought it was funny in my head 🤔 hope this was okay

"DELUSIONAL"

Redson x FEM! reader x Macaque (Seperate)

Either platonic or romantic

Redson and Macaque judging the reader, Reader being delulu, MK just wants his best friend back TT

NOTE:

MY FIRST ASJ AAA Tbh, it can also be considered as GN!reader cause I mostly do second pov but I still hope you enjoy!!

🔥 || REDSON !!

It has been a few week of him trying to defeat the noodle boy to get his staff

As expected, he fails again and again, machines after machines being crushed by that stupid staff and that stupid monkey boy

Knowingly that there's no use for his machines since they only go to his scrap corner

Until an idea pops up in his big demon smart boy brain

What if he kidnaps someone who is dear to MK and bargain them for the staff!

I mean, if that stupid noodle boy loves his friends so much he would do everything to get his best friend back!

Brilliant! Amazing plan even!

Meanwhile, you were hanging out with Mei and MK in the anti-gravity arcade, having the greatest time if your life

Until the ceiling broke down...

You were immediately grabbed by the demon bull clones and tied up so you wouldn't escape.

     "Redson?! Get back here with our best friend!" MK shouted at the bull prince who has you in his arms as you struggle.

     "Never! Catch me if you can, noodle boy and dragon horse girl!" Redson yells back as he laughs dramatically and surrounds him, you, and the bull clones with his fire to teleport away.

     Now you are hung from the ceiling in his lair, if that's what you like to call it considering the lava pool, tools, materials, engines, and many more are laying around the gigantic room.

     "Let me go!" You demanded "What are you planning now, Redson? Y'know MK is gonna MK.O!!™ you again right?"

     Redson scoffs a laugh, lifting up his welding mask to look up at your hanging state as he puts down his blowtorch.

     "After I finish my invention, we will go up to the mountain where my father was imprisoned..." He started to monologue "and then... I will exchange your life for the staff! ...that noodle boy cares for you so much that he will give it to me willingly! And once I have the staff is mine... MY FATHER WILL GAIN HIS POWER AND BE THE GREATEST RULER OF THE WORLD!"

     Redson's dark and overdramatic laughs echoes through the room as the lava's light reflected behind him, creating a giant menacing shadow of himself on the walls.

     Meanwhile you only blink twice at him, not being effected by the intimidating aura that the prince made.

     "You think I'm worth more than the staff?" "What"

     "Well, you basically said that I'm the same price as the staff... Do you think I'm that special?" You grin at him while he was only flabbergasted by your words.

     "W-what?! NO YOU IDIO--" "I don't know, like, you kidnapping me, thinking that I'm enough to be exchanged with the staff, you could've picked Mei but you chose me!"

     Redson gave you a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as you explain your conclusion.

     "Like, you took effort to kidnap me, you think I'm that worth of effort? No one has ever done that for me" You continue as you sniffle a bit.

     "Did-did you forget about the part where I said about my world domination?" Redson simply ask as he gives you a deadpanned stare.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just so happy right now, you think I'm worth more than the staff? You think I'm that unique?" "Shut up, you're delusional."

While he made his invention to secure his plan, you were in the background trying to make him admit that he thinks you're special

You're not what he thinks you are that's for sure, with you being a giggling mess while you're LITERALLY CAPTURED BY TYE DEMON BULL PRINCE

He expected you to be like MK and Mei, someone who wrecklessly fighting anything that move...

Not someone who is off to delulu land with quips at the back of your hand

He definitely regrets the kidnapping plan

🍌 || MACAQUE !!

After the 'stealing-wukong's-powers-from-MK' plan didn't work, he couldn't find anymore information or updates in MK's life

Macaque has to keep a close eye on him afterall, considering he is Wukong's apprentice

So why not get one of MK's best friends? He can't just lurk in the shadows

Sure, that'll work but he needs more dept and personal stuff about MK, to find something to hold him back

So while you were on your way back home, not paying attention to your surroundings that was when Macaque took the opportunity.

You took a step and before you knew it, you were falling down to the ground into a theater place for shadow puppet shows.

You landed on your back on the wooden ground, making you raise your brow in confusion cause you remember that you were walking on a pedestrian.

As you look around the place, you hear a dark echoey chuckle from behind you making the hair on your skin rise.

You stood up immediately to see none other than the shadow of the six-eared Macaque.

"Hey, doll..." He chuckles again, his grin getting wider as his shadow shrinks and he turns into his monkey form.

"Macaque?! What am I doing here?! Are you here to hurt me?! Well bad luck, monkey!" You glared at him making him smirk.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just here to borrow you for a while" Macaque says shrugging, getting closer towards the stage that you stood on.

"Me?" You ask in full confusion, your body relaxing as you put down your defenses.

"Mhm... You see, hiding in the shadow is not enough for getting information and I need you get me some," Macaque answers.

You pause as each side of your lips starts to slowly rise, "Me?"

"Yup, if you don't comply... then I might take back the 'I won't hurt you' part, simple, hm?" Macaque threatens with a hum.

You pause again, longer this time "me?"

"Yes, you..." Macaque sighs as he gives you a 'are you deaf?' look.

You held your laugh for a while before laughing aloud, Macaque, ofcourse felt as if you're underestimating him as he gets a little grumpy at your reaction.

"Wh- why are you laughing huh?!" "Pfft-- sorry! Sorry, sorry, it's just... I don't know it's funny"

"Funny how?" Macaque ask as he raises his eyebrow in frustration and crosses his arms.

"I don't know, you could've chosen anyone that could stalk MK for you but you chose me! Hah! I just didn't expect that someone would actually put effort on me" you laugh out.

"Effort?" Macaque questions, he wouldn't disagree with himself but he's definitely worried for your well-being.

"Yeah, I mean, you could've just sended me a text saying 'give me information or you're dead' text like my other exes, but here we are!" You continue to blabber making Macaque give you a concerned look.

"I-what..." "Yeah! I'm kinda flattered that you put so much effort on me, kidnapping me, tracking me down, watching which street I go to-- okay that's kinda creepy--" "okay, stop"

Macaque has to make you stop so he can continue his plan

He's mostly concerned about you cause who tf reacts like that?

He had to make a deal with you to proceed with his 'information gathering' plan but you always gawk at the fact that he chose you out of all people

Plan unsuccessful (?)

I'm sorry if it isn't to your expectations TT tell me criticisms if you'd like but I still hope you had fun with the fix as much as I did, love you pooksters :P

[nekomacheercaptain]

Day 5: Forced proximity

This is my first time writing for Zoro…

Zoro thought it would be fun to go on a hike in the snowy mountains, saying something about "needing firewood". You, for some reason, didn't question him when he took the lead?? Oh no... what are two people supposed to do to keep warm when they are lost in the cold?

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem! reader

Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW

Word count: 2,1K

Content: female reader, forced proximity, oral sex (fem! receiving), very tiny bit of nipple play, slight body worship

"Remind me why I let you lead?"

Zoro shrugged his shoulders, "'Cause I know where we're going."

You looked down at the snow only to see another set of identical footprints, "...Really?"

"Yeah," the swordsman kept walking, not detecting the question in your voice.

This had been an entirely avoidable situation, and to make it worse, it was getting dark and there didn’t appear to be a shelter anywhere, only the two of you surrounded by snow and a mountain, “…and where are we going?”

Zoro grumbled in response, “To the ship.”

“I know the Sunny has a tendency to stray, but I can’t really see any water nearby,” you grumbled back, the cold freezing your normally cheerier attitude.

Zoro merely looked over his shoulder, giving you a small side-eye as he walked, his hand relaxing on the handle of his sword. You decided silence was for the better until you would at least got some heat back into your body, feeling the cold starting to bite at your face.

Collecting branches as you went a while longer, you noticed a crack in the mountain wall, pushing a reluctant (only for show) Zoro towards it saying you finally found some sanctuary, the Sunny and proper sleep be damned. Zoro was glad for some respite too, but remained silent. The crack proved to be more of a cave, not too deep so you knew there weren’t any animals occupying the shadows, and just deep enough that snow didn’t reach all the way in, providing a dry ground to lie on. Zoro wasted no time in proving that, heavy body on the ground with his hands resting under his head.

“No complaints from you, then,” you chuckled before kneeling beside him, making quick work of the branches and magically getting a small fire going. Trying with all your might to ignore the smell of smoke filling the small cave, you looked to Zoro, seeing him already somehow comfortable, while the cold was still deep in your body. The tiny little campfire wasn’t enough to warm you up like you needed to, so it couldn’t be too wrong to ask your dear crewmate if he could share some of his body heat with you? Although, it was a request you had never made before.

“Zoro?”

A small hum came from him, his eye closed.

“I’m cold.”

Without even missing a beat, Zoro offered an arm and opening his coat, waiting for you to lay down at his side. He was used to being somewhat of a heater for the crew; and though he didn’t show it, he was delighted it was finally your turn. Yet, when all you did was lay flat on your back with just his arm as a pillow, the swordsman couldn’t help but look at you, his deep voice catching you off guard, “Not getting any warmer like that, are you?”

“….Not really, no,” at your response Zoro wrapped his arm around you to push you closer, your frame now glued to his side, his hand resting on your arm. And you sighed at how lovely it felt being so close to him, one of your hands laying on his abdomen - the placement making you feel almost needy. Small shivers born from excitement shot down your spine when you could feel the firm muscles hidden beneath his shirt, and your body started heating up, an ache forming in your core. And nothing had even happened.

You tried to close your eyes to force some sleep upon your exhausted body, but as you very well knew, once the ache start, it’d damn near impossible to get rid of. And having Zoro so near and so close… and so warm and damn muscular… your imagination ran wild with all the places one possibly could let your hands roam on a body, and what places the swordsman would enjoy feeling you. Better yet, what places he could touch you, and not limiting his resources to his hands - he had a more than capable mouth on him, accompanied by a tongue. Oh, he would get creative, wouldn’t he? His jaw had to be strong, if he could carry a heavy sword with it, what else could he slobber up with-

“Gonna stare all night?”

Apparently you had been too immersed in your thoughts to notice how you had been down right ogling him, and he gave you a small smirk, “Don’t stop on my account, seems like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Well, uh… there isn’t much else to do in a cave,” you laugh lowly, “have to find some form of entertainment, y’know?”

He quirked a brow at that, smirk growing, “Oh?”

And shit. The same damn smile and tone whenever you agree to spar with him; however, his eyes held an unfamiliar passion… no, hunger you hadn’t observed on him before. Before you could question him, Zoro had you trapped beneath him, his knees resting just beneath your rear, your legs slung over his hips.

“Getting restless with me, pretty girl?” Zoro teased down at your bewildered expression, “Didn’t know you found me so boring.”

His eye was half-lidded, full of desire, and having Zoro look down at you like that made the dull ache between your legs transform into a pulse, suddenly unbearable. And from the unexpected situation you found yourself in, your voice was small as you took in the sight of him, “Could never find you boring…”

Zoro hummed at that and leaned down, teasing you with how his lips were oh so close to yours, “Want something, sweetheart?”

He was relishing how easy it was to fluster you, glad you weren’t stopping his advances. And yet, he liked how fun it was to tease you. To see how your eyes flickered to his eyes for mercy, to his lips for passion, and down in impatience, your hands gripping his coat like it would vanish at your touch, “Zoro…”

“Hm?” he let out a small sound, humor clear in his gaze, “That’s not much of an answer.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek and you leaned your weight into his calloused palm, sighing loudly at his touch, excitement bubbling inside you at the otherwise wholesome contact, “I want you, Zoro… isn’t that obvious? Haven’t it been obvious for so long?”

If your confession surprised him, he didn’t let it show, instead he tilted your head, your breaths mixing and hot on your cheeks. Your eyes locked with his, his thumb softly caressing your bottom lip while he pressed his body tightly against yours, like it could never be close enough. And for someone who was wearing three layers more than he wanted, Zoro would probably want nothing more than to get rid of every- and anything separating you. And with a weak tug at his coat, Zoro chuckled before enveloping his lips with yours.

As his lips moved softly against your own, his musky scent filled your senses, making your mind foggy with desire for him. One that had been harboring and suppressed for so long finally escaped, making you unable to hold back the moans just from kissing him, your back arching off the ground to meet him better, moaning when his tongue swiped over your lips, eager to taste more of you.

“So needy, huh?” Zoro teased with a grunt into your lips, his hips grinding softly into yours, adoring the noises you were making for him. His hands fumbled with your coat and when you noticed, you joined in on it too, wanting to feel his touch on your bare skin, wanting him so impossibly near he could melt into you.

When enough skin was exposed, Zoro broke the kiss, both of you panting before he trailed kisses down your jaw, before continuing down your neck, helping you get your arms out of the coat. His warm tongue and eager lips sucked and licked on your skin while grunting, groaning as he humped softly against you, his bulge pressing deliciously against your still clothed cunt.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you gasped, hands brushing his short hair.

“Yeah, sweetheart? That feel good?” Zoro murmured into your neck, his hands pulling off your shirt, before his lips were attached to the slope of your breasts, pressing hungry kisses against your skin while taking struggling with the clasp of your bra.

You breathed out a small laugh, arching your back to help him, sighing when he finally got it off before you moaned loudly as his lips and hands worshipped your breasts, changing between suckling and palming them. You rarely saw Zoro so eager and curious, but each new reveal of skin, Zoro seemed to fall into an abyss of pleasure - gaining satisfaction just from touching you. He was also playful, his teeth lightly tugging at your nipple just to see and hear your reaction, growling lightly as your sounds met his ears.

When his hands reached your pants, Zoro leaned a little back on his heels, looking at you intently as he started unfastening them, looking at every single inch of newly revealed skin - planting a small kiss on the inside of your thigh while pulling your pants off completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your leg as he trailed his kisses, “been driving me mad…”

Zoro folded you in half, ignoring the throbbing in his knees from pressing into the ground, an almost wicked grin on his face as he eyed your underwear slick with arousal, “Such a dirty girl.”

Zoro licked at the wet spot, inhaling the smell of you, just as he had wanted to for so long. You moaned loudly, bucking your hip in instinct, hands finding his hair once more to tug at what you could. Zoro continued to work his tongue and lips against the cloth, stimulating your needy cunt enough to feel the pressure build inside you. Zoro hummed and chuckled against you, his chin glistening when he departed, “Fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart, and absolutely drenched for me.”

Zoro was drunk on lust, the taste of you better than any sake or drink in the world, any drop he could lick from you like pure nectar he was already getting addicted to. His fingers hooked themselves on the band of your panties, pulling them off while slobbering kisses on your thighs just close enough where you actually wanted him, making you whine his name and tug at his green strands. And not before your panties were thrown to the ground with an almost embarrassing slap due to being so drenched, Zoro didn’t give you a chance to breathe as he devoured you whole - his tongue flicking over your clit while his fingers played with your folds and teasing your entrance.

Writhing against your coat, you were whining and moaning at the sensations, adoring how his lips and tongue could barely decide how to worship you, switching between laying his tongue flat while licking through your folds, or using the tip of his tongue to tease, playing with patterns, before suckling and kissing on your folds, his thumb circling your sensitive nub. With Zoro experimenting with your pleasure, you wondered who was actually annoying themselves more; you or Zoro, him letting out just as many sounds of enjoyment as you were. Yet, when you felt yourself getting close to the edge, you were desperate for more, for everything that Zoro could give you.

“Please, Zoro,” you whined loudly, sweat starting to cover your body, “I-I’m getting close!”

Zoro gave no response, but plunged a finger into you without remorse, humming and grunting when you moaned as your walls contracted around him, continuing to kiss and suckle on your cunt, his tongue relentless on your clit, leaving your legs shaking as you neared your peak.

With each passing second you grew more sensitive, writhing and thrashing beneath his strong grasp as he forced the pleasure on you, adding another finger that reached and stretched so far you could only cry at the pleasure, feeling a string threaten to snap in your core at all the things Zoro was making you feel. His name was just pathetic blabbering rolling off your tongue as you were dazed in pleasure, yet his name had never sounded better.

Zoro continued the near-assault on your sensitive cunt until he felt your body shake and your walls pulse uncontrollably around him, your moans and scream silent as your orgasm washed over you, Zoro slowing down his movements to help you through the intense pleasure, groaning at the deathgrip you had on his hair. When you fell limp, Zoro’s mouth and fingers left you with a wet sound, before he dressed you well enough to lay you on his chest, his coat wrapped around you.

Getting lost wasn’t all that bad after all… getting back to the ship could wait until morning.

Note: As I said, this is my first time writing for Zoro, I'm sorry if he's very ooc.... Also I'm doing VERY shit kinktober this year and I'm so sad about it FUCK... Anyways, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it! If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here! Dividers by @/benkeibear

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Black Cloud, Red Fire (Part 1)

(part 2)

Black Wind Mountain.

Once a temple in the forest, full of prayers, life, and worshippers. Now, a lair for Yougais and their master.

Everything was silent, except for the song of nature that made that place almost harmless. Untill the sound of panting, foot on the Rocky pavement, and broken leaves emerged.

"Ugh...I should have done cardio...UFF!"

The Destined One, the monkey that had convinced you to follow him, stopped on his tracks to look at his surroundings and gave you the time to catch up. He snickered a little, looking how disappointed you were after the climb on the side of the mountain. He offered you his hand, allowing you to avoid a few more steps before reaching him.

"Not a very outdoor one, uh?"

"I'm more...sitting on the couch person."

"What's a couch?"

"Something BEAUTYFULL....wow..."

You would never get used to the view here: from where our eyes could reach, there was just forest. The mountains were covered in it, and so were the few hills that appeared, giving you almost the idea that you were walking on the backs of thousands of sleeping giants. Here and there, you were able to spot the roof and the spires of small pagodes and temples.

Some prove that once these places were abitated or at least visited by humans and mortals. 

Now, the old structures were black and decaying, a sign that a fire had started so many years ago and what couldn't be saved was left to the wilderness. You both avoided those structures, finding them quite crumbling and dangerous, but nothing stopped you from admiring them.

The air was rarefied, giving you some trouble breathing and forcing you to make more deep inhales. Your companion, used to the high place of birth, had no issues at all, but he gave you the chance to rest and get used to the altitude.

"It feels so unreal... it's like a painting."

"You don't have places like these in your world?"

"Well yeah, but... not so beautiful like this one."

It was even funny to believe that such a beautiful place like this one could hold such dangers as the Yaoguais or whatever was holding the relic of the Great Sage. After another few minutes of adjusting, the two of you continue your way inside the woods, leaving behind the security of the open space.

The light was dim despite the sun high in the sky; the thick of the branches was mostly the cause of it. Walking near your companion, you started to notice how hard it would become trying to look in front of you or even notice the presence of whatever could attack you both.

"Su-sure, this place is...dark."

"Umm.. stay close, okay?"

You pick up the peace, holding tight to your snack on your back, regretting that you didn't ask for a weapon before leaving Mount Huaguo.

"Hely, listen..." You finally spoke up after a few minutes. "Are you sure that the relic is in this...very lovely and absolutely not filled with dangers?"

"Ummm...i guess?"

"YOU GUESS?!" Your voice echoed in one second through the forest; a few birds flied away, afraid of the sudden change. The monkey instantly shushed you.

"We're in enemy territory!"

"...You guess?! You don't know if it's here?!"

You were FURIOUS. Not only they started to blabber about you being some kind of being that were supposed to help them bring back an old legend, almost forcing you to participate, and now the same one that convinced you to give a try to this damn plan that could maybe bring you back home is unsire if that damn thing is in that damn forgotten place?! After that long road?! You really wanted to take that staff of his and smash it on his head! He shushed you again, trying to calm you down to avoid calling too much attention to you two.

"Okay, I know, this sounds crazy, but I can assure you that we have ideas! Firstly, there's a dangerous amount of Yaoguais in this area, and second, did you remember that funny little game that we did back at our mountain?"

"You mean me pointing my finger to a random place on a map just because I felt a tingle in my stomach?"

"Yup." Your eyes widened so much that you could feel your eyelash touch your forehead. You wanted to scream so hard that even whatever gods lived up there could hear you, but before you could, the monkey putted his hand on your mouth.

"There, there, let it all out," he said, while you were just muffling your scream on his hand. When you finally were finished and your breath was out, he removed his hand from your face, allowing you to mumble some curses under your breath.

"So we could be somewhere and find nothing?"

"Or we could be in the right place!"

You grumbled again, now more worried than before about your return to your original world. He sighed. Of course this was absurd to you; everything was, but you needed to trust him a little.

"I know it's hard, but... I believe in you. I know we're on the right path!"

"At least one of the two does..." You mumbled, kicking a rock near you, scratching your arm a little. You really wanted to believe him and in you, but to you, it was just so difficult to do it, especially since you were a complete no one...They all tell you you were some kind of powerful thing, this Bián huá, and yet you couldn't believe a single thing like this.

Looking at you, he guessed that you were still having doubts. He opened his mouth to say something when-

"On the go, bent the toe,

Life of a human, all for gold."

A voice, not far from you both, could be heard from your position. Someone was coming! The monkey looked at you, and a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"Go and hide in the bush! I'll show you what I can do!"

You fastly follow his instructions, hiding behind some bushes on your right, while the voices get closer and closer. The monkey suddenly vanished under a cloud, only to be replaced with a ripe peach! What's he doing now? On the clearing, just when the smoke disappeared, appeared two... wolves?

They were walking on their two back legs, and like humans, they were wearing some clothes and holding their furr on their heads like some human hairstyles. The both of them were holding a sword; maybe they were scouting the area for some food? You didn't know, but you were sure worried for your monkey! 

"Nowhere better than our home,

We cheat death and ever grow."

One of the two, the one that had his sword already drawn, noticed the fake peach on the ground, emitting a sound of surprise and showing a huge grin on his maw, and immediately went to take it in his paw.

"Here, you see? What bliss my fate shows!" How the hell that big dog was talking?!

"Well well! Luck's around the corner. Seems like it just fell from a fruit tree here." Said the other wolf, looking around in the search for the tree. You really hoped he didn't see you or smell you!

"Perfect timing! This peach knew I needed a snack!" And, after having cleaned it a little from the dust and played with it in his hand, the wolf took a huge bite on the fruit without a second guessing. In that moment, a cry of pain escaped from him, and he threw away the peach, alongside a few of his own teeth and some fur that the monkey must have pulled with it. Once on the ground, after a few jumps, the same smoke from before reappeared, and the fruit turned back to his simian original form.

"You sneaky rascal!" said the wounded wolf. "Dare to fool me?! I'll make sure you'll regret it!"

Before the two wolves could launch their attacks on the monkey, he had already drawn his own weapon from his ear and charged towards the two. You had seen him fight before, and it was always a show that left you in a haze. Violence wasn't a nice view, but his moves, his precision, his strength—it was surely something!

In a few minutes, the two wolves were already defeated and turned to dust, and you reemerged from your hiding spot.

"Wow...that's what you could only say.

"See? told you I could protect you."

"Well, you surely could... but the transformation was really necessary?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by someone.

"No matter how many times you come around. You are still as mischievous as ever, eh?"

An old voice suddenly started to be heard. It was an old one, cranky, and somehow friendly. The both of you started to look around, only to find only trees, rocks, and falling leaves. The monkey immediately came closer to you, looking around and sniffing, but beside the smell of the two wolves, there was nothing—just nature.

"Did...you hear that?" 

"Yer," he said, guarding you.

"Good! I'm not crazy then!"

"And there's the Bián huá! All of you, always doubting your own security!"

You gulped loudly; he could hear you?! But that means he's near?! Then why even the monkey couldn't spot this mysterious old man?!

"Looks... looks like someone is watching us..."

"Um..." he looked at you, noticing your now frightening look, your eyes searching for the source of the voice. He held your hand in his own, gently giving you a small pull. "Came one. I'm sure that we'll find who's talking up ahead."

And so, the two of you started to take the road from where the two wolves had come from, realizing then that, if there was something, it was supposed to be there for sure. The more you started to clumb the path of the mountain, more enemies started to come. They were all wolves, and all of them were supposed to be the front guard of this mysterious place that, for some reason, started to make you feel... uneasy. 

You couldn't put your hands on it, but it reminded you of the strange feeling in your stomach, yeah, the map one. Only that, this time, became stronger and stronger the more you two explored the mountain.

After another turn, the smell of incense reached both of you, and a small smoke caught your attention. Two fires were located at the sides of a small structure, a house in miniature. The closer you get, the more it becomes clear that it was a small shrine, far more detailed and more decorated than the one that you saw on Mount Huaguo. Suddenly, just like before, the same old voice started to ring again around you two.

"Aaah! Wha-what are you waiting for?! Pluck your hair and make an offer!"

You looked at the monkey, raising an eyebrow.

"...Uh...my hair?"

"There." He showed you that, after taking a few hairs from his head, their form changed into a thin and long incense stick that he lit with a few movements of his hand.

"See?"

"I can't do that. Mine is normal hair."

"Ooo, stop making silly excuses! Try it on!"

"Okay okay okay! Geez, I can't believe that I'm listening to a mysterious voice."

You imitated the same motion of the monkey, and, after a small glow, in your hand there was the same incense stick!

"But... did I do that?!"

"See? Always questioning! Now hurry up! Both of you!"

You both put the incense stick inside the small pot full of sand, and, as one surprise wasn't enough, another magic happened in front of you: the decoration of the shrine started to grow like branches, and, in a swirl of petals, pink peach flowers started to bloom under your eyes.

"It's...normal?"

"In some places, yes..."

"...So,...what now?" The monkey shrugged off at your question and made a few steps ahead. Before you could follow, the voice called upon you two once again.

"Hey! Wait!"

A smoke, just like the one that has been summoned by your monkey companion when he transformed, appeared again, but this time in front of you there was what reminded you of an old potato.

He was what you could imagine to be the personification of the concept of old. His legs and arms were so thin that it was strange that he could even move; his bald head, covered in some strange bumps similar to some roots, was covered in wrinkles and some spots here and there; and the white hairs that happened to be his eyebrows and beard covered his facial features that made it hard to see his eyes and mouth.

His robes, tinted in a deep blue, seemed quite elegant, despite their age. His weight was supported by an old wooden staff, curved to the end, and in his other hand a small stick. Does it remind you of a back scratcher?

"I, the keeper of Black Wind Mountain," he said while coughing, cleaning his clothes from the dust. "I have long been waiting for your arrival."

That old voice—he was the one that spoke to you before in the clearing! That old, small thing was the keeper of this mountain?! 

"Let's see... the new Bián huá, eh? Well, you seem in good health," he said while pointing your side with his scratchback. "It will compensate for the lack of faith."

"Hey!" you ward off the wooden object while his continuous touch started to bother you.

"And she has some character on her, a good starting point..and you..." His eyes fell on the monkey, the destiny one. For a moment you feared that he could fall on his old and be ready to crash back, but he regained his stability in a few steps.

"Oh! His spitting image...I'd say."

Of who? You looked at the monkey, and he seemed almost proud? Was the keeper talking about... Sun Wukong? Well, all monkeys looked the same to you, so maybe it was the old age that talked...

"You were waiting for...him?" You pointed at the monkey; the old man just laughed a little at your naiveté.

"Child, I was waiting for both of you! For the Destined one and the Bián huá!" He walked over you two, pointing at the passage that extended ahead of you, between the rocks and the trees.

"Up ahead is Guanyin Temple. Once, it was bustling with worshippers before it was ruined by that fire."

His tone, before proud of the past of the place, became grave when he pointed at the proof of the tragedy that had happened there: skulls, human skulls. Come to think of it, those weren't the first you saw in the area... How many people had died there?

"What...fire?"

"You said you heard of the story, right?" The monkey said, recognizing what the old man was talking about, "You remember about the Elder Jinchi and the Kasaya?"

You pondered a little. You weren't that costumed about it, but you know that, perhaps, that was the cause of the fire.

"Yes, children..." said the keeper, pointing up ahead. "Then the temple was rebuilt." He suddenly turned to you, expressing a questioned and angry tone, "But what good is it to rebuild a temple if the good will of men has been burned to ashes?"

You kneeled near one of the skulls. It was so...small...the fear of the age of the one that once was in front of you struck you.

"But...it was rebuilt...then why the Yaoguais are here?" The monkey spoke, looking at the old man, still curious about the whereabouts of the temple.

"Monks came, men too, and they tried to rebuild life here! But that bear...he led his minions here!....Who couldn't escape had faced a bitter end."

"But...you're the keeper of this place...the deity of the mountain..." you finally spoke, following the step of the monkey. "You could take care of them, right? There as to be some way to fix this place!"

"I would! But that damn bear...he had brought something so powerful that even I couldn't match!"

Something that he couldn't match?... The eyes of the monkey gleamed, looking up at the mountain.

"The relic...it must be the relic!" He turned to you, ejoyed by this news: "You were right! You foudn it!"

"I...found it?" You repeated, "I... did! I did! ...oh...."

You soon realized what that meant, and suddenly, another sound emerged from the dark. A long, strong, and eerie howl of something that scared even the keeper and manmy birds that had already flied away from their previous location.

"You forgot this place," said the keeper, retreating away from the passage, "but they haven't forgotten you!"

You stod in your position, scavared by the sudden change of atmosphere, while the monkey observed the passage with caution, expecting everything to appear from it at any given moment. The old man, like he had appeared, disappeared in the cloud of smoke.

"That's a tough one. Good luck to you!"

And these were his last words, before you and your companion were left alone again. More than before, you felt an amount of emotion that you couldn't describe, but when you looked at the road where you came from, some doubts arose in you. The monkey noticed your fear, and he waited for your reaction.

Despite the desire to run, you simply couldn't. You stayed there, eyeing the entrance and your only way out. When you finally turned to the entrance, where you sure didn't want to go, you gulped.

"There's no turning back from there...right?" The monkey sighed; he wanted to tell you that you could just turn back and that he could handle it, but he couldn't say that; he knew that it was a lie.

This was supposed to be made in two.

"If you don't trust in yourself... then trust in me... trust in my ability."

He lends his hand towards you... and, with fear, doubt, and so many regrets, you take it, slowly entering the passage alongside him.

///

From that moment on, the forest became full of wolves. It was hard to advance without encountering a new enemy, and every time your companion never showed a moment of stress or panic, he only charged, attacking those enemies without trace of fear. Your only option, by your side, was to stand back, hide, or just... watch. You couldn't do more...even if, isnide, it made you quite nervous.

"Don't you get tired?"

"No, I've been doing this since I was a cup!"

"I wish I could help more." You scratched your arm again; it must have been a sign that showed your stress he had noticed. He just packed your back, swinging his tail.

"If you like, I can teach you a few tricks! Once we're back home with the relic, we'll have plenty of time!"

"You...would?" It felt nice. He didn't show off your anxiety about your role in that mission; instead, he just wanted to help you get confidence by taking some steps ahead. It was a nice gesture, even if you were quite unsure about if it could really help you.

"Of course!" he laughed. "We're both in this!"

You nodded. It was true; you were both in that.

The sound of the water became of a falling one, a sign that the river nearby became a waterfall. You were walking by it, searching for a few herbs, when you both became interested in taking and collecting when you heard something else. Another voice; it wasn't from the keeper, of course, but it wasn't like the ones from the wolves either. To be fair, there were no wolves now that your companion had cleaned the area.

When the sound of the waterfall became stronger, that's when you noticed.

"Monkey! Look over there!" You finger pointed towards a figure. Curved on her back, her white, messy hair spiked the most on het dark attire. The clothes were old and raggy, and by the jiggle he was wearing some wooden jewels. The long and thin hair and his colorful muse give away immediately her species. Your companion suddenly came closer, looking where your finger was pointing, noticing the creature.

"A Mandrill! There near the edge of the waterfall!" You kept saying. You didn't know what she was doing; it seemed like she was searching for something or trying to collect it from a stone, quite big, that rested in the center of the stream. The low level of the water allowed the rock to be accessible to the mandrill, but she seemed like whatever she was trying to rescue was stuck or simply unavaible.

The baboon must have heard your voice, and suddenly she stopped his doing with the rock, spinning away from it. You gasped when you saw her launch herself to the cliff, moving forward. But when you reached the same edge, you saw nothing there.

"She should be at least around..."

"I don't think that was a simple Mandrill, Y/N." The monkey that had reached your side was in time to take you and pull you back from the edge, fearing a fall.

"Was she your friend? Do you know her?"

"I never saw her in my entire life. Hey, hold on!" He looked at you, his hand on his hips. "It's not like we monkey know each and every one of us!"

"Well," you keep it up, mimicking his gesture, "you called each other brother and sister! And meeting a familiar face wouldn't be so bad here!"

He chuckled, giving you a small push. Then, both of your eyes landed on the rock that the baboon was inspecting, and curiosity took over.

"What do you think she was doing?"

"Well, let's take a look!" He went closer to the rock, and there you both realized that it wasn't completely a rock. It was a head—a big rocky head—maybe one of a statue that once must have been a decoration of the long-lost temple. The expression of the man that was depicted was calm and relaxed, his earlobe long; maybe a Buddha? The monkey started to clean the area and noticed some scratching at the base of one of the closed eyes of the statue. It seemed like he was trying to make a hole in it...

"Maybe there's a switch or-" And just when your hand touched the statue, suddenly its eyes wide opened. One of the two cavities of pure stone, but the one where the Mandrill was scratching was hollow and contained something. A sphere, pure white, the only color a red must at the center, discolored by the time. It wasn't smooth at all, but at the touch it was perceptible—some spirals, decotrating the orb.

"...What is it?" You asked curious, tapping the orb with your finger.

"I don't know... but it seems important; let's keep it!" And so, the orb soon vanished inside his own sack.

"You surely are one that loves to collect staff around, eh?"

"Well, if something is useful..."

You chukled a little, leaving the stream at your back. Keep it up with your ascension on the mountain. It didn't take long that now you would face another obstacle, and oooh boy, what an obstacle!

Guarding the gate, a huge Yaoguais was holding a huge Helberd, moving back and forward, ready to strike whoever crossed his path, or it was unlucky enough to meet it. It reminded you of some kind of bull, but he was pretty messed up to be one... The thing that really concerned you was the fact that he was practically in front of the gate; it was impossible to miss without a fight. Hiding behind a tree, you looked at your companion, who, without if or but, just took his own staff, ready to get in action.

"Stay here; be careful not to be spotted and to run."

"Run?"

"Just in case, wish me luck!" and so he marched towards the bull that, as soon as he had spotted him, he followed his example.

The two started to clash their weapons immediately, and you could clearly see that the monkey had the advantage of his small stature and his agility. He avoided all of his attacks in a few steps, which made the bull upset and more aggressive. And the guai had one more thing in his arsenal: he was scarily strong. Despite his massive stricture, the guai was able to make some huge jumps, creating such waves in his impact that the monkey needed to be careful around to avoid falling down and became an easy prey.

Unfortunely, the monkey made a misstep: in the attempt of blocking the helberd, the bull struck with full force, catching the opponent like a rag doll, and, after a good spin to get velocity, slammed him on the ground. He rose his helberd, ready to stride.

"NO!"

You screamed, leaving the tree where you were hiding, but before something could happen, a golden aura wrapped around the bull and, just before his last strike over the monkey could be delivered, his entire body stopped. It wasn't just stopped because he had stopped the attack, but because his entire body was like frozen!

You immediately went to the monkey side, checking the damage from the last strike. He was incredibly untouched; the helbard must have struck him in the side where there was no blade and just acting as a hammer. His body may be fine, but he had felt that.

"Oh God, oh God, are you okay?!"

"Ugh...It...hurt!"

Maybe not lethal but a bruise really was surely ready to appear there. You grasped his gourd, helping take a sip of that strange magic juice that the old monkey entrusted you both to take in case of these kinds of damages. After a gulp, the monkey lamented the savor of the concuun, but he was fine at least!

"The bull?!" He looked at you, ready to defend you.

"Ehm ..."

You pointed at his opponent, Frozen in One Place. Then you heard some ruffles, some paint of fatigue, and...the keeper?!

Somehow, he had started to climb the bull back and, once reached its shoulder, he took a jump from it, falling on his two sticked legs. 

"It's been a while, but the Immobilize Spell still works like a charm!" He laiughed, clearly satisfied and somehow proud to show you both some of his own ability. You, on the other hand, were more interested in helping the monkey get back on his feet, preoccupied with finding more damages from the foe. Lucky for you, the juice was able to cure all of his wounds, even if the hurt of the strike still lingered.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...huff, he almost got me..." He looked at the now immobilized bull, still ready to send his last strike on him. "A trick like this could be very useful around here."

"Well, since you hail from Mount Huaguo, it won't hurt to teach you a handy trick."

The monkey looked at him, still recovering from the fall, when the old man started to move his wooden hand around. It started to emit a soft light and some sparkle.

"Now, here we go; give me your hand!" And, without wait or but, the same small wand emitted a light that struck towards the monkey. You companion, fearing for another attack, immediately covered his face with his hand, but instead of pain, he felt... nothing?

Not nothing; he felt the same sensation when you pour warm water on your arm—harmless and somehow nice. He felt the sensation rise to his arm, to his shoulder, and then disappear, leaving only a sigyl on the palm of the same hand. You both noticed that it was the same symbol above the bull head.

"There you go, "continued the old man, while the two of you were observing the sign, in a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Should you come across any miscreants, just point your finger at them and release this spell. You'll be able to hold them in place while giving yourself a breather."

The monkey studied more his hand, carefully seeing the sign slowly disappearing on his skin, while you looked at the old man with a gleam of hope.

"It's going to come in handy around here!" said the monkey, his confident smirk coming back on his face.

"It would be so helpful if I could learn something like this too." 

"My child," said the old man, chukling at your naivety. "In this world, muscles and brute force are not the only weapons that you can possess!" And, knowing who you are, a spell like this is a joke for you!"

"I...can learn it too?" You looked at the bull, and, in a rush of courage, you took some steps in front of it.

You waved your hand in front of it and, noticing that it was pretty much impossible for it to move, you laughed, running back to your companion, who instintly put you behind him, like ready to defend you if that thing was ready to move again.

"It's amazing!" you said in joy. "With this trick, we can avoid so many fights!"

"Y/n," the monkey said to you, disconsolate," we can't just avoid every fight we have in front of us."

"He's not right, child," the old man sighed. "Sadly, mine is but an humble trick. Its power will wear off within a few short moments."

"Moments?!" you gulped, jumping back. "And when were you expecting to tell us that?!"

"I told you that it's not that simple!" Monkey came back to his fighting stance, while you took a step back, taking more distance from the upcoming fight.

"Ah ah, yes, yes, I know, not a great spell; thought it's good enough against boneheads like this one!" He pointed again to the bull with a teasing tone. "Anyway, just consider it an ace up your sleeve."

As soon as he finished his speech, the blow that was stopped suddenly crashed to the ground; the golden aura had dissipated from the bull, and it was angry.

The keeper was able to retreat from the scene, clearly shaken by the sudden release of the bull that now pointed to the monkey and you furious.

"The Yaoguais these days know no manners!"

"Y/n! Stand back!" His immediate thought came to your own safety; now the bull had seen you, and every chance could be good for it to attack you!

"FEAR NOT! "screamed the keeper to you and the monkey, "Teach him a lesson with your new spell!"

As soon as the old man had disappeared, the bull went on the offensive, more aggressive than he was before. You had to retreat as best as you could to avoid the fight and to be spotted by the giant creature. He needed more minutes to adjust to this new technique, but just when the bull tried to play the same trick from before, the monkey was ready and used the spell against it. 

It stopped! It was completely immobile! You gasped for the excitement, and, after the monkey had gifted you a small wink like to tell you to watch, he suddenly launched himself to his counterattack.

The bull was free after a few moves, but it was more shaken than before and pretty much hurt. He needed another good strike, but after that the monkey was able to put down his opponent and, just like the others, disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"You did it!" YOU DID IT! YOU USED THE SPELL!"

You jumped to him in joy; he freed the passage! And now he learned a new trick! He was just amazing!

He patted your shoulder, laughing a little like you, with a soft shade of red on his cheeks. "Yes, yes, I did it! But it's not over yet!"

He pointed to the now-opened passage—the road ahead of you.

///

"If it wasn't for the wolves ready to kill us, I would love to take a picnic here."

"Pic nic?"

"When you bring lunch outside and eat in the wild. I used to do it a lot when I went on the mountain to my grandparents during the summer."

Monkey seemed always interested in knowing your past; it seemed like, despite all, you had an almost normal childhood...noyt like its own...always training, always giving his best...well, he loved to make some pranks here and there, but the others had always considered him the responsible one of the bunch.

While walking, your attention was taken by an unusual sight: it must have been a balcony in the past; now what was left was only the old decoration of the door, the structure to the outside, and the wood that composed the floor. Two small pillars, decorated with two figures of what presumebly was Guanyin, were on the sides of a cushion and, in front of it, an incense holder.

"Someone use this place..."

"It must be a meditation point, to meditate...a great spot, even..."

You looked to the monkey; why so? It was in the middle of nowhere. By his looks, lost in the horizon, you followed his example. It was quite beautiful and calming. He then decided to take a place in the cuschion and ask you to follow him.

"Came on! It helps the mind!"

"I'll just watch. I'm not good alone with my thought."

"As you wish..."

His eyes closed, his face relaxed, like every muscle of his body. He seemed like a statue in that pose, and by how quickly he was able to communicate, or he needed a lot, or he just was used to that practice. You, instead, decide to sit at the edge of the structure, sighing and admiring the view.

He was right; it wasn't just beautiful; it was calming. You closed your eyes, letting the mountain breeze caress your cheeks and air, allowing it to enter your nostrils and your lungs.

You could hear so many things like that—the creaking of the wood, the howling of a few wolves in the distance, the leaves that moved in the branch—since when these sounds were so hard to listen to in your world?

In the distance, mountains could be seen, and, not far from your spot, structures that maybe once were habitated by humans and monks. Knowing that such a desolation happened in that place, yet nature decided to reclaim that portion of the world, taking back what had been taken away.

You sighed again, more air in your lungs...then a hand shaken you.

"Don't do this on the edge, at least! You can take a place near me!"

"You gave me a heart attack!"

"And how was I supposed to feel when I saw you there, ready to fall?!"

"Okay, I'm sorry! I'll do it with you next time!"

He seemed pleased; at least he wasn't obligated to catch you from a dead fall on a cliff!

"You were right. It's beautiful... Yaoguais aside."

"Yes, I don't know what's going to happen after we take the relic back from the Black Bear, but maybe things are going to get better."

"I just..." you scratched your arm. "I just hope the monks that died here can find a piece."

The image of that skull was still fresh in your mind. It scared you, yes, but it was most definitely sad. They must have been so scared alone. He looked at you with fondness; your thoughts decided to go to the ones that had suffered. You must have had quite a big heart. He took your hand, smiling.

"They'll be glad to know that we're taking care of this...now..." he pointed at two fires, both of the at the sides of a passage, an opening on the rocky walls of the mountain. "We must go. There's still a long road for us."

You nodded, and so you went back to your journey.

///

"We had to pass..."

"There are like...a LOT of wolves there, and I have a really bad feeling!"

"But we can't just stop here!"

"Well, we can't surely move forward like this?!"

Since he had made it clear that there was more enemy ahead, the two of you started to discuss what to do, but it seems like it was harder than you both thought. He sensed a lot of enemies ahead, and if he had to make a safe road, protecting you wasn't easy. You wanted to search a safe path, but there wasn't something like this right there, and he wanted to march in and take care of the problems right there.

"Listen, I'm going in."

"Monkey, please let's just-"

"Hey! Wait! You don't think you can just parade in, do you?! It's not that simple!"

As again, the old man had decided to appear and gave some help to the two of you. You gave a sigh of relief. Finally, that could actually listen to you!

"Finally! I was trying to tell him! We must take another path!"

"Dear one, there's no other path here!"

"Ah, ah!" the monkey smuggled on your face. "See? No path! ...So, any other suggestion, old keeper?"

"But of course I do! Let me transform you into a golden cicada, so you may follow the fires ahead and scout this mountain unnoticed."

He pointed to a series of fires that started to streech across the forest, a way to move across the darkness of the trees, especially during cloudy days or the night. With the same movements of his wand, the old man created the same light from the last time and, once again, struck the poor monkey.

"Wait wait! I can do it by my"

"FLY!"

"SELF!"

Like before, the poor monkey was completely helpless against the magic of the so helpful keeper, and instead of the young, bold monkey, now there was a small insect, with golden shades, flying around. The old man laughed, looking how confused the small cicada was trying to recall his surroundings. Now, there was this little inconvenience...

"But..." you pointed to your still humanoid body. "What about me?"

"Umm...a cicada is hard. You need a lot of control to move so many little arms and legs. Let's see. Let's see. Something simple, something helpless, something...ah!"

"Wait! Let me at least prepare my-"

Without a warning, you were the second victim of the Keeper magic, but you weren't what you were expecting. You looked at your now fluffy paw, a small cottontail, and very long ears.

"A rabbit?! Why can't I fly too?!"

"It's harder than it looks, child! Now, it might be humble, but my shrine is very versatile. You'll get it soon enough."

And, with these words, the Keeper disappeared in another cloud of smoke, leaving the cicada and the bunny alone.

"It's not fair. I wanted to fly too!"

"If it makes you feel better," said the cicada in a very pinch-high voice, "you look fluffiest than ever."

You two laughed a little before hearing for the last time the old Keeper.

"In the depths of Black Winf Mounain, there are secrets galore. These transformations may help you explore, but be wary; this form does not last forever."

"What do we do if we get lost?"

"Should you find yourself lost, just follow my voice. Now, off you go!"

You two looked at each other and, uncertain, started to move.

He had it easier; he could just fly around without getting spotted! You needed to act as natural as possible! Somehow, the wolves seemed more interested in cooking the ones that they already had than huunting you, so you were able to move around, alongside other bunnies and racoons, without fear of being taken.

When the two of you had the impossibilities to avoid the wolves, you were able to listen to them talk. It seemed that your presence in the mountain has been spotted, but they weren't sure of where you were or what your real intention was. As much as they knew, they only knew about a shapeshifter and a mortal alongside him. They also talked about a certain lord... maybe an affiliate of the bear?

Well, at least like that, you could avoid so many troubles... Somehow, you felt a little more safe in the shape of such a helpless animal. You both kept on going, following the fire as instructed, finding the way easier that you expected to find.

"Look! I can see the end of the trail of fire, Y/N!" The small voice of the monkey called you out from the bushes, pointing with his antennea at what was supposed to be the less populated area.

"Finally, being a bunny is... not... so."

You felt something inside you. You felt...a calling. 

You turned around; there was another of those old porches, one that the fire had only ruined but not destroyed. You looked in that direction, and you were sure it came from there.

"We just need to cross; we're so...Y/N?"

You weren't anymore near the bushes, so he got closer and started to roam the small area.

"Y/n? Y/N?!" He called, louder this time and much more worried. He couldn't see you. Where did you go?! Why did you leave all of a sudden?!

You couldn't hear his call; there was something else that held your attention. It was the same pull in your chest that called you towards the relic, but it was...different. It felt like stagnant water, a mix of smells that you couldn't quite get. 

It was a large clearing; the wall of the mountain and a cliff, secured with a parapet, gave them a natural circular shape. Besides trees and plants, fog covered the area, hiding a wooden structure in the same area. You couldn't put your hand on it, but something was there—something big and round. You jumped closer, not noticing the aura of fiery eyes looking at your every movement. Before you could get closer, a large pressure came to your delicate neck; a hand with a sharp claw had you now in his clutches. 

"Well, well... and what do we have here?

Avoiding screaming helped you to keep your bunny form, but you couldn't hold a gasp when you saw the wolverine creature that was holding you by your neck. Now you were in big trouble!

The wolf was different from the other; he seemed older and calmer. His robe reminded you of one of a monk, but it was so old and lacerated. His old mansion was so ruined, almost burnt here and there. Despite his strength, his claw gently held you and took you in his arm, holding you in place. You felt his rough fingers scratching your head, confusing you more than before.

"It's not a safe place for a small one like you. Humans and wolves love eating your flesh. I used to eat your kind when I was younger; now I can only remember the hunt."

Oh, so he didn't eat bunnies? He could have eaten humans, though.

Besides him, a long staff was stuck into the ground, a double blade to each end. You noticed now that the blade was strange in certain places; it seemed like it had burned. Now, in his arms, you could see clearly what was holding the structure: a bell, a giant bell made of iron.

It was simple, besides the decorations, like many other bells around... then why you seemed to be pulled by it.

You jumped from the wolf arms, sniffing and getting closer to the giant metal object.

"I never saw bunnies interested in bell... I suppose to guard it...but you don't look like a treat."

Well, not now at least.

You made another jump, much closer; now your small paw was able to reach the bell when, in your head, his sound started to echo so hard that it was painful.

Your body couldn't handle it, so you scream, holding your small rodent head in those paws, scaring the wolf, and, with any chance to control it, the pain forced you to release your true form.

You were still holding your head when you noticed the wolf, now holding his weapon.

"You... you tried to trick me, human?!" You gulped and tried to get back, finding yourself stuck between the wolf and the bell.

"I-i didn't-" Then, a sound or rustling and footstep caught your and the wolf's attention.

"Who goes there?! How dare you interrupt my meditation?"

And so, the face of a very worried monkey appeared from the fog and the shadow, looking at you with apprehension by your vicinity with the Yaoguai. The wolf looked at him, and a small smile came to his face, far more sinister than the one that he had shown you before.

"Hmmm...another monkey I see?" He asked, almost happy to see him. The blade in his hand started to change; it became red like it was on fire. Hold on, IT WAS ON FIRE!

"Why don't you lay down your weapon and join me in Buddha's mercy?" His weapon had made a few swifts on the ground; the dead leaves, the herbs, and whatever that thing was touching suddenly started a small fire, separing you from your companion.

"What say you?!"

He needed to connect; the wolf was already on his tail when he marched on! He needed to get you out of there before the fire could reach you; luckyly, you took cover behind the giant bell! Maybe he had time; he just needed to calm him down before it was too late!

That wolf was old, but he was a formidable foe! His swing was like he had never seen anyone do it, and every strike was precise and destructive. It was just like a fire; you couldn't control it; you could just watch and hope it doesn't destroy more.

But he needed to fight that fire!

He used the spell that the keeper had taught him and started again to attack his opponent. Sometimes, out of the blue, the wolf was able to persome formidabvòe aerial attacks, where even the monkey found trouble defending himself. Sometimes he was even able to rush like he could fly, and the fire just made him stronger.

Fighting him wasn't easy, but with the help of the spell and the fact that his own technique didn't need too much energy to be imposed, the monkey was soon the victorious one of the duels.

The wolf fell on the ground, covered in bruises and blood; his fur was now more burned than before. His eyes cast between you, now free to move while the monkey was killing the fire, and his opponent.

"You..." His voice was in pain, the last stray of strength only to talk, "Master spoke of you."

And while he started to disappear, three last words came from his mouth.

"The Destined...one..."

Peace came back in the clearing. 

You looked at where the wolf had disappeared, asking yourself how much his master knew about you two, about what happened there, and..the hand of the monkey slapped your head.

"Don't run off like that again!"

"Ouch! It wasn't my fault!"

"Yeah! Some strange magic led you here?!"

"..."

"...Seriously?"

You sighed; of course it was crazy, but it was true! Something called you here to do...something!

"I'm sorry...it just...something is strange... I don't know what's happening in me."

The monkey looked at your face. You were so concentrated, your hand caressing the carving of the metal face of the giant object. He wasn't used to bell like this; his own hand caressed the wooden trunk made to play the instrument.

"...Monkey?" He looked at you and said, "We should play it."

"No way! They'll spot us!"

"We're already on everyone's agenda! Please! I... I need it." You please.

He sighed, ready to regret every moment of this. He needed just a swing of the trunk when the sound of the bell started to resonate on the entire aura—on the mountain itself.

Then something else happened. Everything got dark; it was a forest, like the one you and your companion were planting—a child—he was alone. Many people were dying there; something had to hunt them down!

No! You must run! The bear! The bear is... giving him... jewels?

The sun rises, the monastery...

When you woke up from the trance, the monkey had to catch you before falling from the scaffold of the bell.

"Y/n! What's happening?! Are you okay?!"

You just moved your head, confused, scared...was that a vision? It was an old memory? The stagnant water now was moving; a rotting smell came to you.

"You just had to make some noise, did you?!" The voice of the Keeper came back again. He seemed stressed; the sound had scared some birds too. "Now everyone knows you're here! When a chime so grand echoes in the forest, Yaoguais will surely be alarmed!"

He was right; the monkey was able to sense the hair change now. The road was getting just more difficult...

"I'm sorry. I asked him to do it."

"Child, why asking for such a thing?!"

"....I....i'm sorry..."

The monkey couldn't stay angry with such a hurt expression in front of him...but why do you need it? And what did you see? Holding you in his arms, he started to head back to the road.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld

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[koisuko]

Hear me out, but how about a shy female reader who has been chosen as one of earthrealm's champions but Bihan doesn't see it due to her being short and shy, he makes a comment about it but is shocked when the reader gave a smartass response to his comment which peaks Bihan's curiosity about the reader?

Tw: none, shy reader, fem reader, no use of y/n

You lived a fairly reclusive life, hidden away in a densely forested area surrounded by high mountains. There were very few homes nearby with the nearest neighbor being 100 kilometers away. Just how you liked it, away from strangers in your cozy cabin. It was a paradise, a shy persons dream.

You sat on your brown sofa, the cushions so pillowy it nearly swallowed your petite frame. Beside you, your sole company in the isolation you live in, a small black cat. Soft purrs accompanied the crackle of the flames before you, your toes wiggling near the fireplace for warmth. A sigh left your lips, at the relaxation taking a hold. All the chores were done, you finished your reading, and you had gotten off your online job just an hour ago. You had nothing to do but relax. A hand stroked the silky black fur of your cat, the purrs a gentle lullaby. Your eyelids grew heavy, barely having the strength to fight the impending nap. Not that you wanted to, naps were your favorite thing after all.

One..two..three knocks on your front door jostled you from your drowsy state. A spike in anxiety hit, fear of who or what could be here. You never really had visitors, or many friends outside of your cat and family. There is no one you know to be visiting anytime soon, so who is it? Slowly, you approached the front door, a nervous expression on your face despite your best efforts to seem confident. Armed with nothing but your fists, you stood just inches from the wooden barrier. You knew how to fight, if it was necessary. A woman in the middle of no where needs her protection! You’d be damned if you unhooked the chain lock at the top of the door. You mustered up the courage to place a cautious hand on the door knob. Was it hot in here? You could feel the sweat begin to bead at the ridge of your brow. A sigh left your lips as the door slowly creaked open. On the other side we’re not one, but three large burly men. This is your end, isn’t it? “U-uh h-hello?” You squeaked out, earning a scoff from a man wearing blue. His face seemed molded into a permanent scowl, and his scrutinizing gaze locked on to what little of you peaked from behind the door. The first to speak, was a man with bright white eyes. “Greetings, I am Lord Liu Kang, God of fire, Protector of Earthrealm,” his voice was oddly calming, but not enough to block out the body guards beside him, “May we enter?” Enter? As if! His title seemed like something straight out of one of your novels. “M-may I ask what business you have here?” You cleared your throat, anything to rid the lump making it hard to speak. “N-no offense but..I think you have the wrong house.” Liu Kang’s bright orbs creased at the corners in a smile, “I assure you we are at the correct residents.”

Shit, you thought. A thick clump of saliva made its way down your throat, causing you to nearly choke on it. “We can talk outside, if you wish,” he added. Something about this man was…strange yet peaceful. What choice did you have? You puffed out your chest and unhooked the chain keeping these intruders outside. All within a split second, you swung the door open and readied yourself for a fight with a defensive position. Unfortunately, a pathetic squeak left your lips as soon as the door smacked the wall. The two men behind Liu Kang chuckled, one with a more lighthearted giggle, and the other a demeaning one. Liu Kang smiled once again, bowing his head respectfully. You straightened up with an awkward gulp so loud the birds outside could hear it, “I uh..sorry.” He shook his head, “it is understandable, your bravery is admirable.” That soothed your nerves just a bit, until, the man in blue spoke for the first time. “This is the chosen champion?” His lip curled into one of distaste as he eyed you down, “pathetic.” It was one thing to hate everything around you, but to insult you before seeing your skills was a whole new level. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, popping a hip out with a snarl, “you look like a mere boy with sticks for arms compared to the men I’ve fought!” He didn’t say a word, instead, he scoffed and averted his gaze elsewhere. Although, despite his initial burning expression, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking at you. It was barely noticeable, but a spark flickered just behind that ice cold exterior.

[humanpurposes]

So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?

Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely

A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin

Main Masterlist

“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.” 

Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.

You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.

He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.

You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all. 

You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.

They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.

The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.

But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!”

“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.

“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”

You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.

You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.

“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”

Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.

“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”

He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.

You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you. 

You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate. 

“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.

“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”

Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”

“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?” 

“Because I didn’t realise.”

He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”

The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.

The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.

When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.

You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.

“Why did they split up?”

Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”

“Oh,” is all you can think of to say. 

“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”

“But what about you?”

He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”

You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.

“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”

He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose. 

You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.

Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.

You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”

Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.

You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him. 

“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”

You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.

“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.

Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.

He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.

So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.

He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly. 

He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.

You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.

When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”

It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are. 

You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms. 

You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.

Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.

It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.

“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.

“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.

Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.

“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.

His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.

You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.

You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets. 

He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.

You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.

You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.

You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.

You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.

If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.

Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.

You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.

The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.

It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.

It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.

As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.

It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.

You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.

You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.

You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.

“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.

Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.

“I’m cold,” you say.

“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”

The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.

The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.

You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.

He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.

And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.

You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”

“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.

You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.

“Yes, fuck, please,”

A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.

You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.

You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.

You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.

The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”

You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.

You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.

“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.

You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.

“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.

He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.

He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”

Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”

“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

from the flames | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — to signify the newly recognised alliance between the sky people and the grounders, a celebration is held within polis’ market square. a bonfire, alcohol, and the bawdy pulsation of drums is a sure-fire recipe for a stimulating night. add a watchful bellamy blake and his dancing muse into the mix, and, well… i’ll show you the consequences of such a potent combination.

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: i haven’t recently been watching the 100 so the timeline and characterisation may be a little off. also, ik this took me a long ass time, but i’m gonna try and make sure the next two parts come out a little quicker <3 i love y’all!

word count: 2.5k

“People of Kongeda and Skaikru, tonight we gather as one, united by a common purpose and a shared future of alliance. Before us, this bonfire symbolises more than just a flame; it is a beacon of hope, an opportunity to cleanse old grudges and pain that has divided us for far too long.

“Let this fire signify a new beginning and serve as a reminder that unity is not our weakness, but our strength. Let it be known that from this day, we join not as enemies, but as allies, and anyone set upon spilling the blood of our allies is spilling the blood of us all. Let it be known: Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

As much as Lexa’s words intended to inspire harmony, the crowd massed below the second-floor balcony of the dominating tower she resided on reacted in any way but. Fierce declarations of worship were cried out; large fists were pumped in celebration; and misty clouds of brew and saliva were sprayed into the tepid night air.

All was well, for the first time since we landed on Earth.

“Happy Unity Day,” I murmured to myself, taking a sip from the metal cup in my hand. I was standing on the outer edges of the unruly crowd of dark, rugged figures, who were surrounding an unlit wooden mountain and raving as it abruptly burst into vociferous flames.

The monstrous tepee of sticks was raging at the centre of Polis’ trading square, an open area bordered with stalls and operating food vendors that infused the air with a salivating meaty aroma. Glimmers of light chipped away into the familiar starry night above and an orange ambience was cast throughout the square, seeming to blaze beneath the skin of those who orbited the fire.

It was a somewhat perplexing scene: to be together as one people, celebratingratherthan being at war with one another.

A pensive mechanic stepped in beside me, eyeing the mixed crowd of Grounders and Sky People.

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think the fact that the Ark originally had thirteen stations and the coalition now has thirteen clans is kind of…”

“Unsettling?” I finished for her. “Yeah. Probably best not tell these guys the story of how Polaris got blown out of the sky. Don’t want to give them any ideas.”

“Polaris… Polis…” she continued contemplating. “Think there’s anything equally unsettling about that?”

I looked at Raven. She looked back at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath—“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation”—and tipped the harsh contents of my cup down my throat. The liquid was molten in both its ferocity and colour and was infused with some potent earthly spice; it was a blow to the stomach upon consumption.

“Is that such a good idea?” Raven asked, judging me as my head craned back to capture the last few drops of throat-scorching goodness. “I’m all for pouring a glass when the occasion calls for it, but these people have stomachs lined with steel—what do you think yours is made of?”

I grimaced at the taste. “You tell me. You’re the genius.”

The roll of her eyes was deafening. “I’m just saying, they’ve probably spent decades perfecting their drinks to suit them, to match their tolerances. I mean, even that human fountain over there couldn’t handle it.” She nodded towards a cluster of barrels where a titan of a man wearing armoured shoulder pads and breastplates was hunched over, violently emptying his stomach onto the cobbled ground.

I swallowed my own stomach at the sight.

“I just assumed you wanted to spend the night somewhat differently,” she said, a sweet undertone of provocation twisting her words.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her lips twitched at the corners—never a good sign.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she meant. Her unspoken words had already been circling my mind for days, weeks, months even, increasingly accumulating with both heat and fervour.

As ironic as it was, I think it’s fitting to compare my situation to that of a star’s formation.

There I was, a delinquent sitting stagnant in a cold nebula of misery in the Sky Box, parted from my family and friends, sent hurtling to Earth to die, only then to have my cold, miserable cloud intruded upon by a fiery presence, a head of tousled brown waves and a pair of rich, dark chocolate eyes.

An awakener. An activator.

This intruder began filling my head with his words, his laughter, his brooding stare. The weight of his presence began to grow; thoughts of him consumed me. From the most surprisingly vulnerable conversations to even the tensest arguments, he had a heat inside me swirling and it was sweltering to unfathomable heights. It showed no signs of stopping.

Raven’s malevolent brown eyes were pointing plainly at something far behind me as if to answer my question. I knew what I would see even before turning around to look, but moronic as I was, I looked anyway.

Chin hovering over my shoulder, my eyes wandered through the scattered crowd of Grounders and Sky People alike that loitered the bonfire’s outskirts. There, sandwiched between Lincoln and an unoccupied trading stall, was a face that not only had my stomach contents lodged in my throat, but my heart as well.

Bellamy.

He was standing with his arms crossed, each one concealed beneath his distressed guard jacket. And although his stance screamed ‘Don’t talk to me,’ his face said otherwise. He and Lincoln were engaged in some high-spirited conversation, much unlike themselves (although the supply of drinks may have been to blame). Bellamy was speaking through one of his overconfident half-grins while alternating between gesturing to-and-fro with a single hand and tucking it back under his opposing bicep.

My chest was burning; the bonfire somehow must’ve seeped into my heart.

It should be stated here that when a nebula accumulates enough particles, it turns into a protostar—not a main sequence star like our sun, but something that holds the potential to be. At this point, the formation is at its most precarious. If a sufficient amount of mass is not acquired, the protostar will fail to stabilise and will cool into a brown dwarf, forever existing in the cold, lonely expansion of space as a reminder of what it could have been.

Bellamy’s head gravitated in my direction. Our eyes met through the asteroid belt of rugged figures between us. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned back around.

A reminder of what it could have been.

Sometimes I worry my insufficiency has damned me already.

“Oh, my god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my god, Raven, why would you put me through that?”

“In the hopes that you’ll finally grow a pair and do something about it,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink to conceal her smirk.

“About what?” Now I was just being evasive.

She let out a frustrated huff and folded her arms over one another. Her countenance was a reflection of impatience: the raised eyebrows, the slight downward tilt of her head, the pursed lips. I almost laughed at her theatricality; then again, I almost cried because I didn’t want the reason behind it to be true.

I wanted Bellamy Blake.

The confession was boiling inside me; it was burning the tip of my tongue, and I knew I had to let it out to cool. And if the words were never spoken to him, then they at least had to be expressed to someone else, even if I never admitted them in the exactness I felt, for the exact words would be so heinous, so—hedonistic, that if anyone were to hear them, I’d be thrown into lock-up for the rest of my days.

“Fine, I guess I’m… attracted to Bellamy,” I spoke slowly, cringing at my own words. Raven’s face immediately lit up like an overzealous Christmas tree, her smugly curved lips parting to no doubt release an incongruous stew of condemnation and encouragement, which I stopped before it could even start. “Anattraction that I am not going to act on, Raven; our friendship is rocky enough as it is. I mean,” I scoffed, “have I even told how we first met? I held a pocketknife to his neck our second night on the ground because he threatened to pry off my wristband in my sleep. And he actually tried! You know that tiny scar he has on his cheek? That was from me!”

“Yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a self-righteous dick he was for a while there,” Raven mused. Her face then screwed with confusion. “Wait, how did you two even become friends? Because when I came down, you were at each other’s throats every single day over one thing or another, and then out of nowhere, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.”

Ah.

The day the slate had been wiped clean.

A thick blurriness blanketed my vision as my mind withdrew from the present. You know when you get run down with some kind of sickness and your mind gets all scrambled and foggy? Like a fever dream? That’s what that day seemed like to me. Too many unimaginable things had happened, too many emotions and losses were felt, and I’d only shared them with one person before.

“You still there?”

My gaze flickered to Raven momentarily. She was staring at me, half with impatience, half with concern. “Just—” I raised my hand slightly in front of me “—give me a second.”

I inhaled. One, two, three. And I exhaled. Three, two, one.

A vulnerable creature of some sort nestled in my brain, softening the tone of my voice as I hesitantly began, “It was the, uh, the day the Exodus Ship crashed. My dad was on it,” I said, my last words barely audible. “Knowing that he was gone was one thing, but watching the ship crash? That messed me up for a good while.”

Raven, taken aback, muttered her apologies. I just shook my head in return. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memory into the cobwebbed corners of my mind, and then continued, “Bellamy had found me in the woods that night. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. I think that seeing me in such a vulnerable state forced him to set aside his asshole-ry for a while because he actually managed to… comfort me.”

I remembered the tone of his voice, so shockingly gentle yet hardened in his trademarked sort of way as he reassured me endlessly that I would be okay. I remembered the warmth of his body as I lay crumpled and sobbing in his lap on the forest floor, clinging onto his arm as if it kept me from plummeting into a bottomless pit. I remembered his hands, swiping away the thousands of tears that streaked my face, the hair from my eyes.

I remembered our brief conversation as we walked back to camp: “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he had said, to which I whispered, “Thank you,” and after a short pause, he spoke again, “We all need someone sometimes. I know we don’t have the best history together but… I can be that someone if you ever need,” and then, once more, with an unwelcome flutter in my stomach, I whispered, “Thank you.”

A small, bittersweet smile lifted my lips. My voice sounded distant to my ears as I continued speaking. “We still nicked at each other here and there after that—that tension between us has never really disappeared—but there was also this new mutual understanding. And somewhere from mutual understanding came a rough-around-the-edges friendship, and then friendship turned into something else.” I paused to recollect my thoughts. “Well, for me, at least.”

Between the moment I started speaking to the moment I stopped, my gaze had wandered sheepishly to the toes of my boots. I felt so exposed, like the outer layers of my being had been cracked open to reveal a part of my soul to a girl I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago. Suddenly I remembered why I didn’t drink often.

I stood awkwardly, waiting. The weight of my confession and vulnerability were looming above us.

Raven was quiet; she made no witty remark or tease. Her eyes had only softened with understanding, shifting back and forth as my words were mulled over in her brain. And it was only from her foreign silence that I realised what her next question could be: why don’t you just tell him?

I began, “I don’t want to ruin—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she finally interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss my unspoken sentiment. “The age-old ‘I don’t want to ruin what we have right now’. But what exactly is that?” Her eyes once again interrogated mine. “Because I’ll make it clear to you right now and say that what you two have is not just friendship. Come on. You and Bellamy?” She shifted her head to catch my drifting gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see something is there, but clearly, neither of you have a pair.”

Talk about tough love.

A harsh outflow of air exited my nose, and I pushed my hair back out of my face. Everything was much more complicated than I thought it was. Was I really as blind as Raven said? I would have already seen what she does if it were true, right? Did Bellamy really feel the same?

Am I drunk?

I glanced behind me once more, catching a glimpse of Bellamy tilting his head back to finish his drink, exposing the sculptured column of his neck. Heat flushed through my cheeks.

Christ. I couldn’t let this one go. There wasn’t a chance.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, still watching him.

An uproar of hoots and howls exploded throughout the square as the sound of drums and horns began to play, bringing my attention to the second-floor balcony of the Commander’s Tower where the noise floated down from. Drums pulsed with bawdy rhythm; horns bellowed with lewd backbone; a woman purred tribal vocalisations.

Bodies began swaying in disharmonious synchronisation around the bonfire, in pairs, in groups, individually. What tethered them was the raunchiness of their movements and the subtle carnality of their interactions with one another. I’d never seen anything like it; as I looked over at Raven and saw her similar intrigue, I knew she hadn’t either.

That was my mistake—to even acknowledge her in such a moment, especially after speaking about our previous topic. Her lips began stretching and stretching into a particularly wicked grin, and she turned to me. The devil was burning in her dark eyes.

Her answer to my question: “Give his eyes something to look at.”

part two

[st4rgiirll]

unfortunate

jj maybank x reader

warnings: nervous!reader, forced proximity kinda?? shitty rushed writing, swearing, it drags on a little sorry!

NOT PROOF READ!!

the pogues had decided to go on a little trip, after the horrific events of the gold and the drama inbetween, you all figured you deserved it. it was mainly you and kiara that planned it, you two were the only two who had even gone camping before. besides, you used to do girls brigade, you knew a thing or two.

a long twinkie ride, 4 gas station stops, and one instance of being pulled over was all it took to get to the campsite. it was beautiful, truly. it was surrounded by a few mountains and the woods, you'd definitely do some exploring in the later days. you could hear the faint sounds of water running, definitely a river around, maybe a waterfall if you were lucky.

you had packed with kiara, cleo, and sarah. you definitely had gotten sidetracked more than once. kiara insisted on having her own tent, she enjoyed the space. pope and cleo were obviously coupled up so they'd sleep in a tent together, the same went for john b and sarah. that left you and jj, which you decided to share.

you helped the blonde boy set the tent up, and after a lot of failure and laughs, you finally got it up. you made one last walk around the tent to make sure all the pegs were put in the ground properly. then you got your bag out of the twinkie, you didnt pack much, just clothes and swimsuits. you never knew when a swimming opportunity would show up.

john b had been preparing dinner for us, with the help of sarah so he wouldnt burn it. so you made your way outside to the others, grabbing a plate. you ate the food, complimenting the couple on their cooking skills (it was mainly sarah that cooked it). the others made jokes and laughed while they ate, you chimed in occasionally but you were mainly focused on finishing the food.

when you all finished your food, you started a fire. roasting marshmallows, making smores. anything you could think of really. you made conversation, mainly talking about the fun times in our friendships. it was nice, you really enjoyed it.

it was late at night when you realized it. your phone torch on, searching around your camp area. fuck, you thought. you forgot your goddamn sleeping bag. so much for girls brigade. jj looked at you in confusion, what the fuck were you looking for? you could practically hear his confused thoughts.

"i left my fucking sleeping bag back at the chateau." you huff, annoyed at yourself for your stupidity.

"seriously? out of everything you could've forgotten, you forget one of the most important things?! that's just unfortunate." he laughs heartily.

"yeah, get it all out of your system. so funny." you frown, he always found your misfortune funny.

he'd always try and help out though, that was what best friends were for.

"where the hell am i gonna sleep?" you groan, rubbing your face in frustration.

"we can always share mine?" he proposes.

"huh?" you ask, dumbfounded with your jaw a little slack.

he placed two fingers under your jaw and shut it. "dont wanna catch flies now, do ya cupcake?"

you could hear the smirk on his face, you wouldn't even need to look at him to know he was smirking.

"uh i-i guess we could share." you shrug, trying to act nonchalant.

it didnt work very well, your face felt a little hotter than normal and you coukd guarantee you were as red as a tomato. he unzips his sleeping bag, beckoning you over. you join him with a bright blush on your face, resting your head on the pillow he brought with.

"comfy?" he asked.

you nod in response, afraid your voice would betray your excitement. when you finally composed yourself, you spoke.

"thank you, by the way, for sharing the sleeping bag.." you smile shyly.

"'course, couldnt let ya sleep on the cold hard floor. that's no way to treat a pretty girl." he knew exactly what he was doing.

it was safe to say, when you came out of the tent the next morning you were quite literally ambushed with teasing. you and jj both seemed to forget that you could still hear through a tent. whoops?

[ataraxiaspainting]

Demon Fire.

Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.

Synopsis: Where is this train going?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.

Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.

You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”

She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.

“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.

“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”

You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.

“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”

“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.

…

The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.

Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?

Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.

…

It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.

Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.

“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”

“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”

Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”

“...”

Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.

“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.

“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”

“...[First]’s.”

In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.

Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.

“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”

“But why?”

As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.

“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”

“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”

“...Fair.”

You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.

“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”

Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Seongji Yuk x Reader: Travel

G/N. Fluffy but a lil bittersweet.

"I was reading about Paris today." You say, breaking the silence and poking the fire with a stick.

Yeonji continues to stare into the flames, you think he might not have heard or is just ignoring your small talk until a full minute later, he asks if that's in Europe.

"Yep, France. It's meant to be really romantic. I wanna see it for myself."

You feel his eyes turning to you at your comment and your face flushing when he tilts his head, trying to work you out.

.

.

"Apparently nothing prepares you for the scale of the Grand Canyon," you mention during another night. This time with the full company of the Cheonliang gang.

"It would be cool to visit." You add, as Mary gives you a questioning look before her gaze then flickers to Yeonji.

"Sounds boring as shit." Vin snorts.

You snap "Nobody asked you!" at the same time as Yeonji responds with "I don't think so."

.

.

"Do you think we would make it all the way across the Great Wall of China?"

Seongji momentarily pauses skewering the fruit, his prep for tanghulu, to consider your question.

"I don't see why not."

.

.

"What do you think about Jeju Island?" You ask as Seongji prepares kimchi, surrounded by tubs of cabbage and seasoning paste.

He looks up and gives you a small shrug, "I don't."

You roll your eyes at his answer. "Well, do you want to visit together one day?"

It's the first time you've asked him directly.

All your talk about other countries and sights is fanciful at best and delusional at worst. But somewhere like Jeju is much closer to home. Somewhere penniless students and dropouts are more likely to make a reality instead of it being wishful thinking and hypotheticals.

Yeonji doesn't answer you straight away, there's very few things he answers straight away.

You know he's considering his life in Cheonliang, the home he has made for himself on the mountain. How difficult escaping this wretched place would be and how sweet freedom would taste.

Daunting, however.

Overwhelming to think of an entire world outside of this cult.

He settles on asking you a question back, "Is that where you want to go?"

You think of lush greenery, beautiful beaches, sand between your toes and eating delicious tangerines with Seongji by your side.

It sounds like heaven.

"Well I'd go anywhere with you," you avoid looking at his face with your admission, "but Jeju would be nice."

Oh.

Oh.

Seongji feels his heart pounding, and it’s nothing like when he has to calm himself down with a cocktail of pills to prevent himself from losing control.

There’s a warmth that spreads from his chest, a fluttering in his stomach.

He wants to grab your hand but focuses on his task instead.

"Ok."

Nevertheless, you catch a small smile settling over his face as he rubs the kimchi paste into the leaves.

"Ok." You agree, beaming.

Maybe visiting this summer will be nice, or more realistically the next. There’s an escape you need to plan and money you need to save.

But you’re in no rush. As long as you're with Seongji, you don't mind waiting.