#and every battle he fought was to meet his son and- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shegatsby · 5 months ago

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Summary; Feyd has dreams and finally meets you, he is so overhwelmed by emotions that he paints a picture of you with his blood.

Words: 5. 143K

Warnings: War, fighting, weapons, kidnapping.

A/N: Hi guys! I had this one shot fic idea for a while, here you go. Let me know what you think. xxx It resembls your request to I hope you'll like it babe @ilikefeydrautha

‘’We’re under attack!’’ Your fellow Fremen yelled and with his voice everyone around you geared up in a second. Ever since the fall of House Atreides you have been in numerous battles with the House Harkonnen. At first Duke Leto’s son Paul and his mother Jessice were refugees under your roof, thankfully they grew accustom to your way of life and since then they have been a great help. With their help and strategy you and your people won every battle against Glossu Rabban, however, with the change in command you met someone new. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Baron’s youngest nephew. He was much more unpredictable than his older brother Rabban and much more vicious. One night, Jessica, now Fremens’ Reverend Mother, had gathered you and other important soldiers to give information about Feyd-Rautha and you felt your blood run cold even in the hottest planet in the entire galaxy.. he was psychotic. Since you were the daughter of a skilled warrior you were trained as such, and you had responsibilities; leading your people in these dark times. Unfortunately these dark times have been unstoppable.

The first time you had encountered him was at the desert.

You and your group had been trying to steal spice, well, it couldn’t be considered as stealing if it was your own planet.. the Harkonnen soldiers attacked. The open field had turned into a grave, crimson color spread on the sun dust sand which turned it into mud. After slaying a soldier you were pushed to the ground by a kick but you managed to get back up quickly, you were like a garden snake, swift and like liquid, but your opponent was a viper. He was covered in black head to toe but you could tell he was from a higher rank since he got some medals on his broad chest, a worthy opponent to kill and leave his body to Shai-Hulud.

You attacked but he pushed back, under the fire sun you fought, with his elbow he managed to punch back your helmet and it fell to the sand, your face exposed to him…

He didn’t attack but circled you like a predator who is contemplating what to do to his prey. He did something which surprised you.. he removed his helmet and tossed it aside. You took a step back in revelation, thanks to Reverend Mother’s description you knew who your opponent was… Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen himself. The monster who put you and your people in this situation.

Why wasn’t he attacking? His blue eyes under the sun gave the impression of two shiny diamonds, piercing through your skin like the heat. As he circled you and came to a stop he leaned closer, you didn’t know what to do or to say, he made sure to leave a safe distance between the two of you but he was much more closer than before. ‘’Pleasure to meet you, desert flower.’’

The ships to help Harkonnens were approaching and your commander ordered for you and other Fremen to fall back. As you ran you could feel his diamonds on your back, mapping you, his presence made you uneasy and questioning his behavior.. why didn’t he attack?

After meeting him flesh and blood you went to Reverend Mother Jessica, you were hesitant at first, she was on the ground, you could smell the spice coffee she had, the walls of her room held handmade carpets, Jessica’s baby bump getting more and more visible each day, ‘’Come forth young girl.’’ Her voice wasn’t the same as the first week she had been with them, more in charge and demanding. ‘’I am disturbing your meditation, I shall take my leave.’’ You said, regretting that you even went to her in the first place, you were covered in sand and blood, your face burning with embarrassment and the exposure you had from the sun, Jessica’s blue eyes were magnetizing, ‘’Sit.’’ She used the voice on you and you found yourself sitting in front of her, ‘’I’ve heard you had to fall back. What happened?’’ Jessica asked, her question had under tones of deep curiosity for something else. ‘’We were ambushed.’’ You shortly replied. ‘’You have met him, haven’t you?’’ with the mention of him Jessica noticed the change in your posture, you were alert. ‘’Be not afraid child, he cannot reach you here. Now, pray ell. What happened?’’

You found yourself giving each detail to her.

‘’So chose not to attack you… how strange..’’ Jessica was more talking to herself than you, ‘’You are dismissed.’’ And you left without getting any explanation of answers.

Ever since that incident you kept battling him or his soldiers, you were so fed up with the situation that you prayed to Shai-Hulud to end this war one way or another… you would come to realize in near future that when one prays for something one should be specific.

The second time you have seen him was at the skirts of the palace which Harkonnens had built 80 plus years ago when they first sent to your planet by the emperor. How you loathed the man.

You and your team’s plan was to provoke the Harkonnens by bombing their walls, creating damage and most importantly pissing them off. You couldn’t finish planting all of the bombs because alarms started to go off but that was enough anyway, it was close to dawn. Your fellow Fremen were brave and fighting the enemy like drinking fresh water… insanely devoted.

A bulky man was your opponent, he had a war, carrying it both of his hands, it was so heavy that whenever he missed hitting you hit the ground you felt its earthquake. You didn’t want to imagine the damage it would inflict on you.. imminent death.

‘’She is mine!’’ you heard a man scream with a raspy voice and in a second the bulk man with the hammer lost his head with a swift blade motion, you jumped back and fell on your arse, the bulky man’s head rolling towards you, you pushed your body back to get away and you saw him. Feyd-Rautha just killed one of his solider and stepped on his dead body to come to you…

You kept slithering back on the sand, the sky was getting brighter with each minute, the heat getting higher. He used his heavy boot to press on your ankle and make you stop getting away from him and you screamed in pain and cursed. With his heavy boot still pressing on your ankle he knelt down to be on the eye level with you, ‘’Hello again.’’ His pale face made him look like he was sculptured by most talented artist of ancient times, his shiny eyes never leaving yours, he then looked at his hand which was holding the blade and then looked back at you. His hand came to your face, you didn’t have your helmet, only a dirty scarf covering your face, except eyes. How did he even knew it was you?

With the tip of the blade he cut open yours scarf and revealed your face to him, ‘’There she is.’’ His voice raw and dominant, it made you shiver in fear and curiosity.

Your ankle was hurting you but you held your face blank as much as you can, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. How could he look so calm and collective while there is a chaos surrounding him, Fremens and Harkonnens fighting to death. You tried to pull your leg but he didn’t budge and it hurt even more, ‘’Why so hasty desert flower?’’ he mocked, you noticed the smirk shaping on his plump lips. You refused to give in so you kept your mouth shut, didn’t want him to get a reaction from you. The tip of his blade traced the strand of your hair, his eyes observing your hair like it was the most important thing in the world. Why was he interested in your hair anyway? With his other hand he grabbed your hair and pulled your scalp, you yelped. He cut few strands of your hair, you froze in your state, he lifted his hand to show you, ‘’Till next time.’’ He got to his feet and left you there.

This time you didn’t go to her, the Reverend Mother came to you, you were in your room applying a soothing gel to your ankle. As soon as you saw her you tried to get up in respect, ‘’Relax child, sit down.’’ You did what you were told. She came to sit next to you on your bed, ‘’I’ve heard some rumors and I wanted to hear the truth from you.’’ And you told her what happened, Reverend Mother Jessica looked deep in thought, calculating. ‘’Maybe there is hope for us yet.’’ She said turning to caress your cheek, like a mother caring for her child, you didn’t understand the ‘’hope’’ in question but these were dark times and your people relied on hope to survive for centuries.

And you were under attack few weeks later of that incident. Guess the Harkonnes needed time to build back the walls you had bombed. But how could they find the secret siech you wondered. Was there a rat among you? There was no time to think, you geared up and left your room to fight, ‘’Get women and children out of here.’’ You told one of your men and moved to the battle, in the common area of the siech your men and warrior women were fighting the monsters, Harkonnen war drums were beating so loud and deep, you felt he vibration in your body. You could see the monsters with torches, burning the messenger birds, birds that you had been taking care of… you found yourself screaming in primal hate and you marched to the closest Harkonnen soldier to kill, you were so quick the man didn’t even see it coming. You sliced his throat like it was nothing and kept moving, slaughtering men after men with your lust for blood your fellow Fremen warriors got the courage that needed, your home was invaded and you had nothing to lose at this point. Or so you thought.

You climbed on top of a rock to see the battle field, you could see Harkonnens popping up from every whole like a bug infestation.

You could also see how your folk falling to the ground, monsters were too many and you had to do something about it and you heard the drums change rhythm. He was coming.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen marched in with soldiers on his left and right, slaughtering men who stepped on his path. He walked like a man who owned the entire galaxy.

You jumped from the rock to keep fighting, you either won or die among your people.

Soon you have come to realize that Feyd was after you, his soldiers were opening the way for him to reach you and you kept changing your location, ‘’Get her!’’ the battle scene was hectic, screams filled your ears, you were covered in blood, you weren’t sure if it belonged to you or someone else.

A hand grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back, a kick came to your knee to make you kneel, you screamed in pain and looked up it was a Harkonnen soldier, smiling down at you like an animal.

Feyd-Rautha came, focused on the man who was still holding you by the hair, ‘’How dare you touch her hair!?’’ his scream made you look at him, with a quick move he cut the man’s hand and the hand dropped, the solider screamed in pain and fell on his knees next to you and Feyd beheaded him.

The man’s blood splashed on your face, you closed your eyes to pray, he was going to kill you, you were sure of it. You have heard that he loved to play with his victims and then kill them, he had play with you long enough, it was your time and you welcomed death.

A woman’s voice was heard and you opened your eyes.

‘’ENOUGH!’’ Reverend Mother Jessica yelled using the voice, her hands up she was standing on the highest rock, ‘’Tonight we shall end this bloodshed once and for all!’’ her voice was so demanding and dominant, everyone stopped and looked at her, including Feyd.

‘’Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, leave our lands, let us harvest spice and end this warfare, and we shall give you what you want.’’

You didn’t believe that this animal could agree on something and leave you all alone.

‘’My terms are this,’’ he began, looking directly at Jessica, everything seemed off putting to you. Like there was something behind this scene.

‘’I will have 90% of the spice. I don’t want any Fremen at the city and outskirts of it. ’’ He said his terms, Jessica nodded, ’’Then you shall have it. Tonight marks the day-‘’ Feyd caught her speech, holding the room’s full attention,

‘’And I want her, as war prize.’’ He pointed to your direction, you were still on your knees. Your breath caught up in your throat, your fellow Fremen looked at each other in shock, an outsider having a Fremen as a war prize? No way.

‘’Then it is settled.’’ Jessica’s words cut you like a hot blade, you were in hypnotic state, not understanding what was going on. Feyd held your arm to make you stand up and you started to scream like a mad woman.

‘’No, let go of me, no, no!’’ you screams could be heard outside of the siech. Over minutes you were placed on a ship and taken away from your home, your desert.

The doctor inside the ship gave you a glass of water and within seconds you passed out.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen boarded the other ship after he gathered his troops, he had to go back to Giedi Prime, his servants had already sent his belongings back to his home planet, and after tonight he had to go back, report to his uncle and take care of his business there, he had been in Arrakis long enough and since he had established a good spice deal there was no point for him to stay there. He laid on his bed and as he drifted to sleep his mind was on her and how he got her.

Feyd-Rautha was having his breakfast when he received a message, the language was foreign to him so he had to get it translated. In the message it said that Lady Jessica was willing to make truce in exchange of something they both need. Feyd had sent his spies first, he tracked Lady Jessica and they met in secret. At first he thought this was a scam but Lady Jessica had promised to him that they would benefit from this truce.

‘’A little bird told me you have taken an interest in someone… Is it true? If it is then we can come to an agreement.’’ Reverend Mother spoke, there was a safe distance between them, ‘’What if I have? What are you willing to give me?’’ he questioned, his neck moving like a snake, ‘’Leave us alone, have some of the spice so that your uncle wouldn’t get suspicious and you can keep her to yourself. How does that sound?’’

After their secret agreement she gave the directions to the secret siech and they staged the entire battle. If the battle wasn’t realistic no one would believe them.

Feyd didn’t know why but ever since he saw her he kept having these dreams, she haunted him day and night so much so that he found himself drawing her on a gigantic canvas, every time he got a pen and paper he found himself drawing her eyes, her mouth, her hands.. he didn’t believe in coincidences, the universe put her in his path for something…

You opened your eyes in a comfortable bed, the comfort made you question your surroundings since you weren’t used to it, your head was pounding like a hammer to a rock, you slowly sit and look around. You were in a big room, the walls were black, also the furniture, the bed you were in was bigger than your own bed and the fabric made it feel like liquid running through your skin, your hand went to your head and noticed the dampness on your hair, you smelled your hair and it smelled like roses.. when you noticed your lace night gown you jumped to your feet, it was long and had laces, you ran to the nearest tall mirror and looked at your reflection, you had bruises due to the fight.. yes the battle. You tried to remember what had happened..

The fight

Reverend Mother and Feyd-Rautha’s agreement…

Everything came back to you like a running stream…

So that wasn’t a nightmare, you were actually kidnapped and brought somewhere you do not know. You walked through the open doors of your room’s balcony, the sun was out but something was different. Everything looked black and white and you were surely not in Arrakis anymore, how long have you slept? Most importantly who bathe you and made you were this gown, as you stood there watching troops walk into the fortress you were trapped in you noticed how black the walls of the fortress, this wasn’t a friendly planet.

The metal doors of the room you were trapped in opened wide by two guards who were covered in black, a bald female servant walked in, her head was low, and in front of her there was an another woman who was older than the servant, she wore doctor’s uniform but it was also black like other people’s clothing. ‘’I am here to examine you, my lady.’’ You were standing on the threshold of the balcony watching them ‘’Lady?’’ you thought, ‘’Please sit.’’ The old woman said with an authoritative tone, she was also bald, you immediately moved away from them, you looked around to find a weapon but the room was so basic you started to panic, ‘’My lady, please calm down.’’ The old woman warned, you started to scream like a savage and threw the lamp on the nightstand by the bed you woke up in, the old woman covered her face with both of her hands, she was carrying a leather bag, ‘’My Lady please, I have to run some tests and give you hormonal vitamins to make you more fertile-‘’

You froze, ‘’fertile’’ for what? Your panic grew more in your stomach and chest, the room was suffocating you.

You wished you were on the desert, the scent of spice in your nostrils, riding a sandworm. You threw whatever you could find, you didn’t even utter a word you simply screamed at them.

Soon the doctor and servant left you alone, you could hear the heavy lock on the doors.

You were marching up and down when your doors opened again, and you saw him. Followed by the doctor and the servant girl again, ‘’My Lord,’’ the doctor began, they were watching you rather examining you like an exotic animal. ‘’She has been difficult.’’ The doctor said looking him but Feyd-Rautha’s blue eyes were fixated on you. He was in more casual clothing, his hand behind his back, he seemed more in his element here, ‘’Leave us.’’ His raspy voice made you shiver, with his order they left the room and when the doors locked you were alone with him.. in a room where you are trapped.

You didn’t say anything but watched him, he looked around, ‘’Don’t worry you’ll be moved to a better place once I get things done.’’ He was talking as if you were his friend or.. someone close to him…

You refused to speak. He was walking around the room, ‘’We’re in Giedi Prime, my home planet.’’ He began coming closer to you, you found yourself walking back slowly. Being in his presence was something you experienced before but it was always in a battle, he looked so calm and collective when there was no chaos.

He came to a stop when he noticed your trembling form, even though you looked sacred you had this fighter aura, he knew no matter what you would be ready. ‘’Let the doctor help you, I chose her specifically because I don’t want any man to touch you.’’ His confession startled you, his pinky finger coming up to your face to removed a strand of hair away from your face, ‘’More beautiful close up.’’ He was more talking to himself as if he was in trance of a witch, ‘’Let them serve you.’’ His eyes moved away from your hair to your face. And with that he turned and left, his march echoing in the room and halls of the fortress.

You let the doctor and maids help you, your maids explained that this will be your room for a while, they emphasized on the word ‘’for a while’’ you watched the doctor injecting liquid in you so many times, you felt your body like a puppet, being shoved around by people around you.. well.. if you could call them people. What made you curios is that man and women were all bald, skinny and the fear in their eyes were showed you the menace of House Harkonnen. For centuries they brought nothing but suffering to the people they own. And you were one of them now, someone they own.. not even a someone anymore, just a relic to add Feyd-Rautha’s collection.

‘’My Lady,’’ one of the girl approached, she had a black dress that showed her rank, she was a maid, you turned to her, her head was down, ‘’You can look at me’’ this was the first time in hours you have spoken which startled the poor little girl, she slowly raised her gaze, she had jet black eyes, ‘’If you would like to see the fortress I can escort you.’’ Her offer med you smile in pain, even the servants pitied you it seemed. ‘’I would love that.’’

Together you left the room you occupied, you have heard so many storied about House Harkonnen’s fortress but nothing compared to what your eyes witnessed. A magnificent jet black fortress, standing proud and tall in the center of the city, walls, floors were mostly made from obsidian, Harkonnens didn’t understand much of furniture and decorating but they knew how to be intimidating.

Guards were at every door, the servant girl showed you the throne room, it was a grand hall with a black throne and steps to reach to it, you felt the thin carpets under your feet, ‘’They are human skin my lady.’’ The girl explained and you could feel your body freeze in disgust, ‘’Animals!’’ you muttered under your breath, ‘’Can we please go somewhere else?’’

The girl took you to the courtyard, you were expecting to find trees or flowers, even in Arrakis some regions had desert plants but here… you found none. Just an open space with pearl white floors and statues, sitting places and guards.

‘’Follow me my lady.’’ The girl said and you followed suit, you walked back into the fortress, this was a prison and you were sure of it now, more than ever. Your heart yearned for your home, the smell of spice in the sand, riding your sand worm, your community…

What you noticed was that as you walked servants bowed to you, and they kept calling you

‘’My Lady’’

You weren’t a lady, you were just a member of a Fremen family who were powerful and influential. Your ancestors were fighters and so are you.

‘’My lady, please wait here, I will fetch you in a minute.’’ The girl bowed and left her in a small library, this must be a personal library. You walked around and read the titles of the books, some were in different languages that you don’t know, some Chakobsa, your native tongue.

You loved the smell of books and tranquility this room held, you felt at ease, as you were walking around you saw a door, it was slightly opened, something in you warned but your curiosity got the best of you and with caution you approached to the wooden door, you were surprised that this fortress had wooden doors because they were mostly metal or stone.

With your left hand you opened the room and thankfully no one was there. It was a small room, as soon as you entered you could smell the carpet’s scent.. it was spice, most likely came from your home planet. The walls were also wooden and dark red, by the wall you saw a huge canvas, it was covered with a dirty white sheet, near the canvas a set of brushes and painting materials were on display, you wondered who was the owner of this painting room.

Your Fremen senses were begging you to leave but your feet approached to the canvas and your hand grabbed the dirty sheet to reveal the painting behind it and what you saw made you take a step back and inhale in shock.

The painting was mostly finished, on the surface you saw Arrakis’s desert, sun was setting and you were standing in the middle, in your warrior suit and yet your hair was loose, as you observed the painting you noticed the crimson color on your hair, you got close and you could smell it.. it was blood. Someone was painting you and used blood to paint your hair… but why?

Even though the entire situation made your heart beat in fear you were also in awe of the painting. Whoever did it must be a great artist, the details of you and Arrakis were uncanny.

You and the painting version of you were staring at each other, you were captivated by the entire painting when you heard the sound of the door closing behind you and you jumped in fear. When you turned you saw him, locking the door and leaning his back against it, his hands behind his back, a strange calmness on his pale face.

‘’You shouldn’t be here desert flower.’’ His raspy voice was low and serene.

His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed the knife scars on his hands and wrists, ‘’I should thank your maids for they know how to make dresses fit you so well.’’

And you lowered your head to look at the dress they had made you wear, a dark blue dress with open chest and back, the cut on the chest would made any men lower their eyes on your firm bosom. The fabric was satin and to Feyd it made every male being on this planet to crave to feel it on you and he loathed that idea.

You noticed that he put the key into his pocket and his posture got tall, now his hands were in his pockets, ‘’Do you like it?’’ he mentioned the painting but you kept your silence, you never uttered a word to him directly and you could see it was driving him mad. He exhaled in annoyance, ‘’Until I met you I have never believed in fate, dreams or any prophecies really,’’ he began approaching to the tall window, his back was turned to you know, ‘’What I knew was that the world was black and white, strong and weak, dominant and submissive…’’

You walked away from the painting and put a safe space between you and him, even if it meant you would be at the corner of the room, ‘’Before I left Giedi Prime to govern Arrakis I had a dream,’’ you could sense how thrilling he was to tell you the story, ‘’In the dream I saw you, all I thought was that I had a dream of some random girl, and that was it… but when I saw you first time on the battle field… when your helmet fell off I didn’t know what to do desert flower, there you were.. the girl from my dream.’’

‘’That’s why you didn’t attack me.’’ You gasped in shock, your folk believed in dreams and prophecies but you had never expected to find yourself in one. As soon as you spoke he turned to you with a smile, a brutal smile on his plump lips, ‘’Yes!’’ he exclaimed with such happiness it confused you, ‘’I have spoken to every Bene Gesserit that I could find and finally Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam came to my rescue…’’

He was starting to take steps towards you, your feet moved to the back and you felt your back make contact with the cold wooden wall, you felt the shiver but you didn’t know if it was because of the wall or his dark aura approaching. He came to a stop, just few inches between you and him, you had to look up to meet his blue eyes, his eyes were naturally blue not because of spice and it was the first example you have seen in your life. You remembered the oceans Paul told you one night, if those oceans were true than they have a competition because his eyes were more alluring than any ocean can offer. Up this close you could smell his body, gun powder and mint, it was strong.

‘’I had to have you desert flower,’’ back of his fingers traced your cheek and you could feel your face heat up with the tender action. ‘’We are meant to be together. Can’t you see?’’ he started to sound irritated when you didn’t reply to him, you could only stare at his ocean eyes, he pulled you to face the painting, he was standing behind you, one of his hand wrapped around your waist and pulling you to his front body, ‘’Look at her, such a strong and wild creature,’’ he mentioned the painting, ‘’you and I, we are meant to rule Arrakis, two bodies one soul.’’ He had a point, you looked very courageous in the painting. His other hand went to caress your hair, you could feel his nose, smelling.

‘’Say something.’’ He said with a sharp tone, he turned you to face him, holding you by your upper arms, shaking you, ‘’Say something!’’ he raised his voice and when he saw how sacred you were you witnessed the sorrow in his eyes, ‘’I apologies you must be-‘’

‘’Yes.’’ You replied and his orbits grew large with satisfaction, ‘’I will be on your side.’’

''Prove it.'' he said desperately, you lookd around and found a tiny knife, you cut your palm looking into his eyes, and held his hand to cut his palm as well, blood was dripping but you didn't care. You entwined your hands together. With a pleaseing smile he leaned in for a kiss.

Thank you so much for reading. :)

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mvltisstuff · 1 year ago

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meet me at our spot - c.f

summary: after a text from conrad asking y/n to come over, she could never say no.

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: soooo i’m like a year late to the tsitp game… but i just finished it and i cried like a baby omfg and conrad’s #1 protector!!

conrad (10:45 PM)

come over, i’m on the dock

the second the notification popped up on her screen, she was out of bed. she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, laying in bed but not being able to sleep. she’d been the one to paint a smile on conrad’s face this summer, and susannah knew that. she was happy to have y/n over whenever she could, noticing oldest son’s face light up when she walked in.

y/n was conrad’s soldier. she fought battles for him when he felt like he was too weak to do it himself. he cried on her and his best days were spent with her. the second they kissed last summer, he knew they were in it for the long run. no one could point out a cause for conrad’s recent misery. all they wanted to do was find a light for him in this tunnel. y/n was well aware that he had been struggling. he wasn’t opening up, but she knew that just being there next to him in bed was enough for him. no one has ever gone through the trouble of loving him so much, instead of just reaching over for a condom. he felt trapped everywhere he went, and the dock is where he decompressed. y/n always found him there, the only person he really wanted there. belly and jeremiah had come out there, but something about y/n’s hand in his made his heart balance.

as much as he wishes to forget all his thoughts, he was so happy with her all the time. she was like an eraser to the spelling mistakes and a bandaid on the cuts. she was more than just a girlfriend to him, she was a lifesaver.

y/n decided to just walk over to the fisher’s beach house. she hadn’t driven, knowing he’d probably want her to stay the night as well. despite the sun being out of the sky, the air was still warm and wrapped you in like a hug. you could smell the salt of the ocean and the damp grass in their yard. the sky was clear, just the high crescent of the moon reflecting on the water. something about it was therapeutic, reminder her of the boy waiting for her in the backyard.

she shuffled through a few patches a grass before carefully making her way down the dock to meet conrad. she greeted him as he had a joint in between his lips, lighting it up before releasing the smoke. “hey,” y/n says, sitting down next to him.

“you came,” he replies, almost sounding surprised.

“of course i did,” she grins. she takes the joint and places it between her own lips, inhaling and then blowing out a puff. the dock smelt like weed, but it was no secret that they’d been smoking. besides, susannah did it with laurel all the time. “you ok?”

“yeah, just wanted to see you,” he looks into her eyes and smiles. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“explains the pot we’re smoking. i couldn’t sleep either.” she hands it back to conrad. “even if i was sleeping, you know i’d come to you whenever.”

“i know. i’m always just eager to see you in person.”

“why?” she questions, teasingly. she knows the answer, but wants him to do it for himself. he leans in, pulling the joint back and landing a passionate kiss on her lips.

“because i can’t kiss you like that over the phone.”

she blushes like a middle schooler when her crush just looks at her once. like they haven’t been seeing each other since last summer and like she isn’t the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. she looks deep into his red eyes, admiring every thought and feeling inside his beautiful head. “i’m always here for you, conrad. winter, spring, summer, and fall, i’ll be there.”

his lips curl into another thrilling smile, wrapping his arm around her as they pass the joint around a few times. they sit there for a while, glaring at the calm ripples in the water. it was just before midnight when they checked his phone again, seeing the bright numbers illuminate their faces. he gives y/n a mischievous look. “are you hungry?”

she directs another look of confusion to him, “what are you saying, fisher?”

the two stumble inside, stoned as they walk into the kitchen to take out a box of mac & cheese from the cabinet. they look over to jeremiah and steven, both slumped on the couch with their controllers on their stomach and the TV on a screensaver. “don’t wake them up, they’re gonna want some!” conrad attempts a whisper, but his small giggles pass through instead.

“shut the fuck up, we’re trying to be quiet,” y/n replies. as soon as she opens the drawer to get out a pot, a few of them clatter around and steven shuffles in his sleep. they both crouch down on the floor in hysterics until they hear the light snores from steven again.

“don’t worry about jeremiah, he’s slept on the bench at six flags once,” conrad says, peeking over to the two sleeping teens on the couch. they slowly fill the pot up with water and wait for it to boil. they don’t turn the timer on, just calculate the times on their phone as the water almost boils over to edge.

“shit, i told you to watch the water,” conrad says, turning the burner down.

“no, we both agreed i was gonna look at the phone.”

“it’s whatever, baby, just pour that cheese in here,” conrad requests after straining the flavorless pasta out of the water. they both pour each others bowls before running upstairs to conrad’s room. “we fucking did it!”

“finally, oh my god,” y/n speaks, sitting down on his bed as she places her bowl on his nightstand. “wanna watch shitty reality tv?”

“what type of question is that? of course, i want to,” he says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air before laying down on his bed and pulling y/n into him. her head was on his chest as his arm wrapped around her. they watched some old reruns of the kardashians before they were both eventually knocked out on his bed.

the sun had finally risen, and everyone else was up and ready for the day. they’d been eating their breakfast, and the kids were asking where conrad was.

“i’ll go check on connie, i’ll be right back,” susannah says, sweetly as she walks up the stairs she walks in to conrad and y/n on the bed, their bowls abandoned on the floor as her head is on chest, and his arms were around her. susannah laughs and debates whether or not to shake them awake, but she just nudges conrad a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes. “hey, we’re making breakfast if you want to join us?”

“oh, yeah. i’ll be down in a minute. she was tired, i might let her sleep for a little longer,” he says, looking at y/n.

“of course, she’s always welcome, connie,” susannah leaves the door open a crack and goes back downstairs. if y/n made conrad happy, then y/n made susannah happy.

#the summer i turned pretty #belly x conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher oneshot #jeremiah x reader #belly x jeremiah #steven conklin #belly conklin #susannah fisher #laurel conklin #jeremiah fisher #cam cameron

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riordanness · 1 year ago

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wildest dreams - [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.3K

warnings: none

requested: yes!! (anonymous)

“In your wildest dreams, Jackson,” I scoff, staring down the boy fiercely. My sword in hand, my battle armour on, I was easy to beat this stupid son of Poseidon once and for all.

He grins at me, his smile slightly lopsided. “Okay, Red,” he teases. “Bring it on.”

I roll my eyes at the nickname. He’s been calling me it ever since he came to camp, two years ago. Ever since he found out I was the daughter of Ares, and I lived in a big ugly red cabin with a terrible paint job. I mean, I hate the cabin’s decor as much as the Aphrodite kids, but that doesn’t mean Percy Jackson gets to insult me.

I yell, and charge at him, our swords meeting in midair with a clang. I whirl, aiming for his unprotected side, but he blocks me, sidesteps, jabs at my stomach.

I stumble back, slashing at him, as anger flashes through me. I want to beat him. I have to beat him. This has been going on long enough, and I need to get my revenge.

Two years ago, Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-Blood. On his first proper day here, he tried to drown Clarisse, my older sister, and two of our other siblings. He made a fool out of Ares cabin. Then, later that summer on his stupid lightning bolt quest, he fought our father, the god of war himself, and somehow, he won. He ruined Ares’ reputation completely.

Ever since, I’ve wanted to turn Percy into a Poseidon pancake.

“Come on, y/n!” Adam, my favourite brother, cheers from the side of the arena. “Beat Jackon’s ass!”

“I’m trying!” I shout back, as Percy manages to catch the hilt of my sword in his. He’s stronger than me, and taller. He pushes down, fighting against my strength. Then, as he’s pushing his sword down, he suddenly twists, and I’m forced to let go. My weapon clatters to the ground.

There’s silence from the bleachers. Every camper there, who came to watch us duel, has no idea what to say.

I have a lump in my throat, and I don’t know how it got there. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of defeat grips me, and I send a tearful glare in Percy’s direction.

“I hate you.”

I shove past him, hoping my final words sting him as much as my loss to him stings me.

“You should let this go, you know?”

I glance up in surprise. Leah and I are on stable cleaning duty today, which is an absolutely awful job, in case you were wondering.

“Let what go?” I ask.

She waves her hand aimlessly in the air. “This whole… Percy Jackson thing.”

I raise my eyebrows, disbelieving. “You want me too, what? Forgive him?” I make a sound in my throat that’s almost a gag, almost a growl. “Hell no.”

“Come on!” Leah pleads. She’s the daughter of Athena, with pretty dark skin, dark braids, and warm dark brown eyes. She’s shorter than me, but way smarter and prettier. We arrived at camp almost the same time, three years ago. I’m still not sure why she likes being my friend, but I love Leah.

“Look,” she sighs, leaning against her broom. “I hate Poseidon as much as the next girl, and Jackson isn’t exactly my favourite person.” She grimaces, probably remembering the time Percy messed up and made her team lose at Capture the Flag. I’d won that day, so maybe I should thank Percy for his service.

“But,” Leah continues, “he’s not really a bad person. Like, yeah he’s a total dumbass and annoying and way too cute for his own good–”

“What?” I half groan, half laugh. “No he’s not.” I try to believe it myself.

Leah ignores me. “He’s not worth making your enemy.”

I sigh. “I guess you have a point…” Even saying that feels wrong. I want to hate Percy; I want to get my revenge and prove for once and for all that Ares isn’t lame, that we can be great.

But, Leah is right. There are bigger things to worry about now. There are rumours; Kronos is rising. Luke Castellan is making an army. Camp Half-Blood will be going into war.

I realise my grip on my pitchfork is so tight that my knuckles have turned white. I let go of the pitchfork, watching it fall into the straw on the stable floor and almost disappear.

“Go.” Leah gives me a little shove. “I saw him doing paperwork sorting for Chiron on the porch a little while ago.”

I give her a quick nod, brace myself, break into a sprint, running towards the Big House.

I spot Percy long before I reach the Big House porch. As I near, my footsteps slow to a walk, and I have to force myself to take a deep breath, striving for calm. My temper isn’t easy to control.

“Hey,” I call, taking the front steps two at a time.

Percy half-glances up, looks back down at his pile of letters and documents, then double takes at me. “Y/n?”

I try for a smile, waving at him with my fingers. “What’s kicking?”

“Uh–paperwork,” he replies, looking at me in slight confusion, probably wondering what I’m doing here. “For Chiron?” he adds quickly, then scrunches his nose in a way that almost makes me want to agree with Leah about Percy being cute. Almost.

I nod. “Sounds like torture to me.”

Percy grins wide. “Tell me about it.” He waves the stack of papers in the air as he gets to his feet. He’s only standing half a metre away from me now, closer than we’ve ever been without trying to beat each other up. “I never remember how much I hate being dyslexic until I try doing this.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly having no idea what to say. Percy seems to notice the awkward pause, and frowns uncertainly at me. “Why are you here, y/n? I doubt it was for just a chat.”

I let out my breath slowly. “Uh—yeah. I came to make out—I mean up! Make up.”

Percy tries to hide his smirk, and fails. I feel my jaw ache from clenching it. All my old hatred for this boy bubbles almost out of control, but I fight it, like I fight everything, and this time I win.

“Okay…” Percy muses. “Y/n, the daughter of Ares, god of war, wants peace.” He stresses the last word. “Not to mention I humiliated both her older sister and her father, when I was twelve.”

I grit my teeth and glare at him. “Do you want me to pulverise you, Jackson? Because I will.”

“Oh really?” Percy has an eyebrow raised. “But I thought you came to make up? Or was it out?”

“Why did I let her convince me to do this,” I mutter, already ready to just make a run for it. But no. Leah was right, albeit pretty frustrating and exasperating and extremely embarrassing. I did need to end this somewhat ridiculous rivalry with Percy. And I guess it was now or never, right?

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out before I can change my mind. “I’ve been stupid and selfish and I’m sorry.” I hold my hand out to him. “Friends?”

Percy stares at me, then my outstretched hand for a count of three. At first, I was almost certain he was going to leave me hanging. That would be so like him! But then, he grins, that adorable, dumbass smile I’ve known for so long now.

“I don’t want to be friends, Red,” he says, his words solemn and his tone teasing. “I’m in love with you.”

#percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson x reader

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prime-adeptus · 10 months ago

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ONE LOVE, ONE LIFETIME – YONE X READER

“Well, if you decide to come back here one day,” you said, reaching for his hand. Your skin felt warm against his own. “Just know that I’ll be here waiting for you.” Or, the one where Yone fell first.

CONTENT.⠀female reader; romance, light angst and hurt/comfort, family issues, elitism in the family (yeah), Asshole Father bc I have problems, family member death, very heavily implied that MC was an accident baby, talks about death and the afterlife on yone's end, brief talks of arranged marriage, allusions to misogyny. + Spirit Blossom AU with some changes to fit the narrative. ~11k words

NOTES.⠀I wanted to finish this before I start properly using the break so woe ~20 pages be upon ye. I've had this in my drafts for ages and it took longer than I would've liked but! we made it! this is a gift for my beloved @kakujis, a dear friend and my Shimada Liker in Arms. <3 I hope you enjoy!!

divider by cafekitsune | cross-posted on ao3

Pride and honour stood above all else.

Such a lesson was established in your clan from the moment of its founding, forging ahead generations of noble swordsmen who have never strayed from their paths. Every child born into the family is bound to duty, raised and trained by the elite until they are seen as ready for the battles ahead of them. Pride flowed in your veins and you were taught to believe that what you bleed is your negligence. Honour is engraved in your bones, down to the marrow—strong as the seas, and immovable as the mountains.

Every child of your family knows this by heart, including you, the broken one. The odd one out. The blemish on what would otherwise be a pristine reputation.

Born without the same mana or prowess that all of your brothers possessed, you were deemed a flawed child undeserving of the honour of your family name. Fate restricted you from following the path you wished to take as soon as they decided on where your life began. How was it fair at all to put such a heavy burden on a child’s shoulders? On someone who hadn’t opened their eyes for the first time yet?

You craved to learn the ways of a warrior, to be someone the younger generation could trust and look up to. Instead, you were scorned in your own home by a family that was hellbent on upholding tradition and their position among the elite. All because you were born differently. Anything said about you was always done in contempt, especially from your own flesh and blood—your father, your brothers, and your sisters.

‘You are not my child.’ It was your father’s way of saying he didn’t want himself or his beloved sons associated with you, his flesh and blood. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. So long as he and the oh-so-esteemed council were alive, you would never be seen as a part of the family. So long as he continued to breathe, he would look down on you as much as he could. And yet, even though he so explicitly despised you, you still did everything you could so you could be worth his time.

A fruitless endeavour. He held your weakness over your head, his glare a constant reminder of how he’d always see you as a failure. You would never be enough. You wanted to leave, but where would you go? Without your family name, you had nothing. With your name, all you were was a bastard. You were bound to a home that didn’t welcome you.

‘You are not my child.’ You didn’t want to be.

You wished you had the chance to meet your mother. She abandoned you on the doorstep, they would say whenever you asked about her, your father saved you. It wasn’t until years later that you learned the truth. She never abandoned you—she was threatened, forbidden from stepping foot inside the mansion again. You used to wish she had fought more and taken you with her, but the more you grew, the more you understood. Whatever fury you harboured towards her dwindled like a flame dying on its own.

She didn’t have a choice. You knew firsthand what that felt like. Everything the elders said was law; within these walls, there was no going against them. They saw her as disposable, a lowly commoner who just happened to earn the affection of a nobleman for a night. And dispose of her they did. As the midwife took you away, your mother was sent off to another city in a carriage that never returned. No one spoke of her again. Whether it was by command or a collective agreement, you weren’t sure.

There were times when her name would come up in hushed whispers. Some of them were from your father. You remember being six years old and listening to your father’s drunk mumbling. With a hand on your head, he told you that you looked just like your mother. It was the gentlest he’d ever been with you. But when the inebriation left his system the next morning, your loving father was gone, and the patriarch was back.

His soft tone became harsh once again. His eyes burned with hatred. It was as if everything was just a dream. It might as well have been. You chalked it up to him having a bad day, just like yesterday and the day before that. Surely he’d be kind to you again if he drank.

He wasn’t.

And as if taking your mother away wasn’t already enough of a mockery, you were constantly reminded that this was not your home. That you were here because you belonged to the clan. You’ve always been. You were already their property from the moment you inhaled your first breath.

Your life was theirs, but even that wasn’t enough.

(You don’t think you’ll ever be.)

A child in a loveless family. Your father thought it wasn’t worth trying to train you, having decided that you were beyond help. Your brothers didn’t see you as someone they had to protect. Your sisters didn’t want to be seen with you. All you had were your grandparents.

With them, you were treated as family. It didn’t matter to them that you didn’t have what your siblings did. They loved you.

You spent mornings in the apothecary room with your grandmother, learning all about herbs and medicine from all around the world. In the afternoon, you’d spend time training with your grandfather in the dojo and listening to his stories of ages past. Then, every evening, you’d spend time with both of them at the temple that they cared for. All of your best memories were made there. When your grandparents inevitably passed, you didn’t hesitate to pick up from where they left off.

Your volunteering to maintain its upkeep seemed to satisfy the elders enough. At least you’ll be useful in something, your father said without batting an eye. You liked to think you’d become numb to all the jabs thrown your way, but you were wrong.

The temple was your getaway, somewhere you could hide from the world and feel more at home than you did in the estate. The smell of flowers and herbs inside the temple, alongside the sight of the sunrise or sunset, never failed to lull you into a state of tranquillity. The voices you’d hear from around you weren’t those of disappointment, but those of birds chirping in a joyous tune. It was the only place you’ll ever feel at peace in. Seeing the names of your grandparents engraved on the stone slabs broke your heart whenever you walked by. You might not grieve any more, but you were still alone.

Ionian faith and tradition flowed in your veins. You were taught about grace by your grandmother and what it meant to be dignified, worthy of respect even without noteworthy achievements. Your grandfather taught you strength and combat so you could protect yourself and others from monsters, both human and unknown. You wouldn’t have gotten the chance to learn the blade elsewhere. He was more than enthusiastic to pass on his knowledge to you. He’d grown weak with age, he said, but you’ve always thought he was the greatest swordsman you know. Aside from the temple, the dojo was where you felt the happiest, but as always, good things never lasted long for you.

In your world, secrets were nearly impossible to have. Spies and traitors lurked in the walls, engraving every decision you made and every word you spoke into their memory. It didn’t take long for your father to find out about the lessons his father had been giving you. In fury, he forbade you from entering the dojo or holding a weapon again and told you that you didn’t deserve to carry on his father’s legacy. Forced to leave behind your passion and descend into monotony, the art of the blade eventually left your mind. Had you just fought back—

No. Not everything was under your control. As long as you were in your father’s home, he would continue to treat you however he liked. The cruel words will keep being said, behind your back and to your face, but you won’t give them the satisfaction. You swore not to let anyone see you at your weakest again. You hated the name that you bear, but you would honour it the way you were taught to. The world might be against you, but there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Staying hopeful in a place like Ionia was all you could do.

Dawn always comes after dusk. The sun always rises for a new day. You didn’t see why it should be any different for you.

—

Your days got busier as the Spirit Blossom festival approached.

More and more people came to honour their loved ones every day, praying and making offerings to their ancestors for protection. You weren’t sure if you ever attended the festival yourself. You knew of the legends and stories behind it, of its reasons and purposes, but you had only been a bystander. You couldn’t see spirits even if you wanted to anyway, you thought bitterly, so there wasn’t a way for you to see your grandparents again.

‘In the Spirit Blossom festival, the dead reunite with their loved ones until the afterlife calls for them again.’

Whether or not it was possible to see said spirits, it was still hard to ignore the longing in your heart. The cycle of life and death was not unknown (you were more familiar with it than you’d like) but you didn’t think anyone could ever get used to it. You loved deeply, and when the ones you love are taken away from you, you’re left alone with yourself. You weren’t a stranger to partaking in as many tasks as possible to stop needlessly thinking, either. You spent your entire morning doing chores and running errands for this reason. You needed to keep yourself busy so you could drift away just for a little while.

With all of your tasks completed, you had nothing left to do. Leaves were swept into neat piles that the farmers always came to pick up later per routine. It took longer than you would’ve liked, though you supposed it was bound to happen when the workload wasn’t meant for one person, but two. The other shrine maiden had an ‘urgent matter to attend to,’ as her messenger informed you and left. You knew right away she paid him to cover for her. You’d like to think you mellowed out with age, having lived for almost three decades, but you were wrong. You were just as easy to irk as you were as a child.

‘It’s not a good thing to harbour negativity in a sacred place,’ your grandmother’s voice rang in your head, ‘it brings bad luck.’ But there you stood, the most irate you’ve ever been as you wished a terrible week upon the both of them.

Thanks to the tedious work done in all your lonesome, the tile flooring within the temple was spotless. The altar was dusted and reorganised, ready to accept the next batch of offerings. The place smelled more like soap than the usual floral incense you were used to. On any other day, you’d return to your quarters after such a productive time, maybe read a book before you go to sleep, but nature had other plans in store.

The wind howled and rain started to pitter-patter against the rooftop while the sun began its descent. Silhouettes of nature and man-made structures were the only company you had as you made your way back into the prayer room. Away from the rain, you idly watched the world go by from inside. You remembered your grandfather telling you about his battles in a storm and how tumultuous it had been. The retellings of his past exploits were your favourite stories to listen to in your childhood. He travelled through the lands and protected those he held dear with honour. He lived a life of pride and accomplishments that you wanted to have in yours. You still did.

A singular incense stick burnt in the centre of the bowl of ash and sand, its smoke disappearing into the air as it did so. The air grew colder as the sun set, painting the sky in warm hues and your skin in gooseflesh. The storm outside threatened to extinguish the flames within the lantern posts outside. Your uniform robe and long skirt, despite its many layers and the fabric, didn’t aid much in shielding you from the cold. A shiver ran down your spine from the sudden drop in temperature.

If you were asked what you disliked about this time of the year, you would say the weather’s unpredictability as the veil was lifted. The day started pleasantly; the sun was bright and the spring breeze was refreshing. There was no way you could’ve known that there would be a storm approaching.

The doors slammed shut with a loud bang, making you jump in fright and instinctively reach for a sword you no longer owned. You frowned. Years had passed since you last held a weapon, and you weren’t sure if your body had any memory of it at all. If danger were to actually happen, your only means of defence would be the old wooden broom in the corner, which you doubted made for a good weapon. Still, you found yourself keeping it close, your fingers curling tightly around the handle. It was better to be safe than sorry. You were fortunate enough to live in a densely populated area that was well protected, but as typical of an Ionian village, worse things awaited after sunset.

You were a cautious person for as long as you could remember. As optimistic as you tried to be, you weren’t exactly so convinced that there was such a thing as a safe haven. So long as peace exists, so will chaos, and with chaos comes things that are out of your control. You were taught to let things progress the way fate and nature intended them to, to let go of your anxieties because you always worried over ‘nothing.’

But that was easier said than done. You worried for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. Fate weaves the threads of life the way it wants to. The strong are led to lives of fame and power, and the blessed are led to lives of love and fortune. But you weren’t strong or blessed, you were cursed. If the Creator put you on earth for a reason, what is it? What path does fate want you to take, and what did you do in your past life to be put in such a suffocating position?

The anxiety at the pit of your stomach grew stronger the longer you observed the forest and the shadows in between. In the daylight, the temple was comforting and tranquil, picturesque, but it hadn’t occurred to you until then how daunting it was in the dark. It was a quiet night, eerily so, and the floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you padded into the prayer area. Tentatively, you placed the broom down and knelt before the statues of the gods you worshipped. The incense burnt itself down to the base, gradually putting out the flame on its own.

‘If you are afraid, pray. The gods will protect you.’

You weren’t a child anymore. Monsters only existed in stories—there was nothing to be afraid of. But the feeling persisted and it became worse as the door swung open and slammed against the wall. You heard something breathing.

It wasn’t the wind.

A low growl rumbled from the chest of whatever was stalking towards you. An animal of some sort. A predator. Your mind screamed at you to just run, but you were terrified, you couldn’t move and your body just wouldn't listen—

It drew closer.

You were going to die, ripped apart by a monster, and it was going to hurt more than anything ever had. Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered a prayer under your breath in hopes that it would help. Maybe it was a spirit that couldn’t pass on. If you prayed for it, you could alleviate its pain and then be left alone. You were frantic, the words coming out incoherent as you got tongue-tied and struggled to remember the rest of them. When you felt it breathing down the back of your neck, your voice died in a choked whine. It watched you with hunger and it raised its claws with murderous intent, ready to slash.

It never did.

Instead, you heard the gargling of blood, followed by a clatter on the floor. Your body finally listened and you turned around to see what you could only describe as a demon. The glow in its mask’s eyes dimmed as it died with a sword speared through its chest, inches away from your face. In terror, you watched it bleed as the crimson splattered on your skin. It crumbled into dust as if it was never there. Just like that, it was dead and gone.

The mask dropped where your saviour stood. Wordlessly, he picked it up and attached it to a grotesque belt adorned with similar faces. All you could do was watch as everything slowly sank in. The downpour became louder, heavier. Your ears rang and your body felt numb. The only sound you heard was your ragged breathing as you tried to calm down and think. This must be a nightmare. It had to be. It had to be a hallucination from your paranoia and lack of sleep.

You closed your eyes and opened them again. The man was still standing in front of you.

You weren’t dreaming.

It was all real, from the blood splattered on the ground to the man in front of you. Half of his face was covered by a red mask, more menacing than what the monster had worn. Bandages were loosely wrapped around his torso and his arms, revealing some of his pale skin and scars from what could only be combat.

You weren’t dreaming.

A monster you had never seen tried to kill you and you were lucky enough that this man came to save your life. It felt as though your mind stopped entirely. You didn’t know where to start. Were you supposed to ask about the monster or ask about him?

You decided on the latter. “How did you know it was here?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he spoke.

“It is my curse to bear.”

That didn’t really answer your question. You attempted to ask again, but one glance at his face made you realise that he didn’t care about answering them. It was essentially impossible to tell what he was thinking and you’d rather not agitate someone as intimidating as him.

“Thank you,” you opted to say instead.

Your gaze landed on the swords in his hands. Blood was still dripping off of the red blade that seemed to be glowing. If his mask was menacing, his blades were worse—you had never seen anything quite like them.

He didn’t respond. All he gave you was a nearly imperceptible nod, a sign of acknowledgement. Seemingly satisfied with his kill, he made the move to leave, and your thoughts ran rampant. You wanted answers, an explanation, anything to make sense out of what happened.

You should let him go. You should run home before you encounter another one of those things again when you’re not as lucky, but you didn’t.

“Wait!” you called out, louder than you intended. “Teach me how to fight.”

He stopped in his tracks, then slightly looked back at you. The action had you fidgeting nervously. There was a gut feeling that he was going to say—

“No.”

You needed him to teach you. He was strong. He knew what those things were and how to kill them. He could help you. If that thing could come in here so easily, undeterred by the protective runes and wards placed around the temple, another could do it again. You couldn’t afford to let this place get destroyed because of your inability to defend it. You needed to protect your grandparents’ memory, a small sliver of their legacy that you were allowed to touch. You had to.

The chance was falling out of your hands right in front of you. Your confidence wavered, but you tried again. “I… I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”

“Money has no value to me.”

“Please?” Your voice was quieter, more hesitant. “This place, it’s… It’s all I have left. I need to protect it.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I have a duty I must fulfil.”

“Please—wait!”

This time, he didn’t spare you another glance as he walked off into the night, leaving you afraid and alone with the monster’s blood still on your skin.

—

No matter how many years passed, Yone’s hands would always be stained in blood.

The village was different from what he remembered. He knew of it when it was in flames and scattered with bodies of the brave. With what little time it had after the war, the village has been rebuilt from the disaster that the Noxians left behind. It was stronger, safer, liberated from their clutches. More swordsmen and warriors were patrolling the area, all bearing the crest of the clan that owned the village itself.

That didn’t. The clan of where men were raised to be elite warriors and women were raised to be the most adept of mages, known for their noble blood and valiance. Their estate was fortified and bigger than it used to be, looming over the smaller houses that unsurprisingly didn’t get as much protection. What seemed to be the most protected, though, was the temple. It was known to be a sanctuary to the villagers and the most important value to them was faith. Seeing said sanctuary well-protected wasn’t a shock. It was always that way.

As a child, he used to visit the temple on particularly rough days. Sometimes, his brother would come along, and they’d go find the master swordsman who took care of it with his wife, the shrine maiden. His brother in particular enjoyed hearing all about the swordsman’s stories, inspired by his strength and bravery that remained well into his older years. His wife was stern but motherly to all, more doting towards children than adults.

They weren’t like the rest of the clan who looked down on the weak; they loved. They loved their home, they loved their fellow men, and they loved the world. The people loved them, too. He loved them, just like they loved this sanctuary they built.

Yone stepped into the courtyard. Though it was past sunset, he could see that the place was much greener. More flowers had grown since then and the spring was well-maintained. He thought that the temple remained the most welcoming place he ever found himself in. It was clear that whoever was taking care of this place did it with the same love that the elderly couple had. He spotted their names on the stone slabs written in gold. There wasn’t just one bouquet on their grave, but several. Well-loved even after death as they deserved.

As he approached the main building, he sensed it—danger lurking within, undoubtedly the work of a monster he was all too familiar with. The wooden doors were broken and splintered. Cautiously, he stepped inside. True to his suspicion, at the end of the hall was an azakana hunched over someone, its grotesque mass a stark contrast to the pristine state of the walls as it growled and breathed heavily. His swords glinted in the light of the moon as he drew them.

Yone’s kills were clean and precise. He didn’t need to destroy his surroundings to prove his strength, nor did he think that he was destructive to that extent. As disciplined in life, as disciplined in death, and even more so in between. His physiology was wholly different from what it had been when he was alive. His being alone defied life itself.

He felt weightless, numb yet still in full control of his body as he moved into the prayer room, his footsteps not making a single sound. He heard what sounded like crazed muttering from where the azakana stood, something akin to pleading or perhaps a prayer. The azakana raised its hand. Its talons grew longer and sharper, prepared to strike whoever it was hiding. Before it could, Yone pierced his blade through its heart, silently watching as it disintegrated back into nothing but ashes and dust on the ground.

“How did you know it was here?” you asked, still struggling to catch your breath.

He was silent for a while as he picked up the mask it left behind and pinned it to his belt as proof of yet another successful hunt. You were staring up at him with teary eyes, still shaken from being so close to death’s grasp. He didn’t want to alarm you—he knew he looked ghastly—but you were obviously different from what he was. You were alive, vulnerable, and from the way you quivered like a leaf, you had never encountered one of those things before.

“It is my curse to bear,” he replied smoothly. A practised response, one that he hoped would be all you asked for. Yone knew it didn’t answer your question. As if you had more questions—you most likely did; he didn’t blame you for that—you parted your lips to speak, but no words came out.

Slightly defeated, you exhaled and gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Yone glanced at you. Your face felt familiar to him like you were an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. You must be related to the previous caretakers somehow. The resemblance you had with them was striking. The way you spoke was timid, unlike the boisterous master swordsman or the confident shrine maiden. It didn’t bother him. If he was like you, defenceless in your position, he would’ve acted the same way. You seemed to be calming down with each breath you took, making him relax just the slightest. You weren’t harmed.

Aside from the azakana’s blood, tonight, his hands were clean, and he wouldn’t need to repent.

He decided to leave. There was no reason why he should stay for any longer. The sooner he could find the other stray malevolent spirits, the safer his childhood home would be. Things like him didn’t have the privilege of resting. He didn’t need it. Before he made it past the door, you called out for him, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

“Teach me how to fight.”

He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“I… I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”

You looked less and less confident with each passing second. Dealing with stubborn people wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him. He grew up with Yasuo—he was more than used to it. He pursed his lips.

“Money has no value to me.”

“Please.” Yone should’ve been out for the next hunt by now, but there was something in your voice that kept him staying where he was. “This place, it’s… It’s all I have left. I need to protect it.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help you. He wanted to protect what he could too. It just… wasn’t for him. He thought you’d be better off learning from a master. Surely you could go to the dojo that your clan owned?

“I can’t,” he replied, realising that he had left you hanging. “I have a duty I must fulfil.”

He didn’t look back this time. The cold air of the night greeted him as he stepped out and put his swords back in their sheaths. The rain washed away the blood and its remnants on the stones beneath his feet. The skies seemed to be clearer than they were earlier. The moon and stars glowed brightly in the darkness, illuminating the paths before him. There was a nagging feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something was off—were there more azakana hiding in the area? He decided he’d patrol the forest one more time before moving on elsewhere.

He left without a trace, just like a ghost like him always did.

—

You started to carry a dagger with you wherever you went.

It wasn’t a naginata or ootachi like you were trained to use, but it made you feel safer to have something you can defend yourself with. Thankfully, the temple wasn’t damaged too badly, though it would still take some time to repair. One of the older mages dropped by and offered to cast a protective seal, which you gladly accepted.

“Miss?” you asked, fidgeting nervously as she finished up her work.

She hummed. “Yes, dear?”

“Is the… The veil, is it already open?”

“It should be by now.” She contemplated for a bit. “I will say, it wasn’t this disastrous last year… I assume it’s because the magical energy is stronger this time around. Don’t worry, dear—nature will have adapted to it by now.”

“I see. Thank you,” you chirped. “I’m more worried about the temple getting attacked or broken than anything… I can’t see spirits the same way you can. I won’t be able to protect myself.”

“The seal will keep out malevolent entities.” She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Then she lowered her voice as if she was worried someone would hear her. “Was this really done by the storm? I could feel something strange in the air when I came here.”

You hesitantly shook your head. “There was a monster. It broke in and some—something else killed it.”

“What did it look like?”

“I was too scared to look,” you said apologetically, “but it was wearing a mask.”

“A mask?”

“It looked like a demon. The same ones in stories I used to read as a child.”

The mage frowned. “We’ll need a stronger seal than the one I put here, then.”

“Do you know what they are?”

“They’re called azakana. They are demons,” she explained. “You’re really lucky to have made it out alive. Those creatures are ruthless. They’ll stop at nothing.”

Azakana. You didn’t think you heard of them. You weren’t allowed in the magic library. Your grandparents didn’t like going into detail about the unknown, said it was just hearsay. You never got to explore the world the same way they did. All you knew in your entire life was the estate. You contemplated sneaking into the library to learn about everything that was kept from you, but there were bigger matters at hand.

“How do I stop them?”

“You kill them before they kill you,” she answered wryly. “I’ll do all I can to help keep the temple safe, but I can’t guarantee your protection.”

You had a busy afternoon ahead of you—more errands to run, more favours to do—so you couldn’t stay for long. With a polite goodbye, you went your own way, her words echoing in your mind all the while. You’d have to retrace your steps and learn to fight by yourself. The thought of how ridiculous you’d look training alone made you grimace. But she was right; it was kill or be killed. You wouldn’t always be as fortunate as you were a few days prior.

You idly swung the empty basket in your hand as you walked through the estate. The gardens look much better now. The hedges were trimmed, wilted flowers were removed, and the pond was clear. You couldn’t believe a storm just happened. The weather seemed to have settled for good, too. It was a warm and sunny day, the perfect weather for you to collect herbs and flowers for the village apothecary. She had become more frail with age, and considering her station isn’t too far from the temple, you offered to do the job for her. In your pocket was a written list of what she needed. It was nothing too difficult to find.

You were about to leave until you heard your name coming from someone in the meeting room. The doors were closed, but the walls were thin enough for you to be able to hear through them.

“—a leftover person,” a voice said—you recognised it as your uncle’s. “Past the age of marriage, but it could still be an option.”

Your heart dropped. You hid behind a wall, your fists clenched tightly around the handle of the basket as you tried to calm down and stay quiet lest you get caught eavesdropping.

Another voice chimed in. “—offspring would be cursed as well. Are you sure you don’t want to set up an arranged marriage? It’s been years—”

“Being constantly reminded of a mistake I made nearly thirty years ago is quite irritating, councillor,” came the unmistakable haughty voice of your father. “I said no. I refuse to tarnish our family name.”

You should be used to this. The cruel words, the hatred, the anger, but you can’t, no matter how much you’ve tried. It’s not as if you’re unaware of your power or lack thereof. It’s been said to you time and time again: you were weak, you were nothing.

“—what about training? It could help with getting started,” a feminine voice added. You weren’t surprised that she was the only one who was less harsh with her words talking about you so far. She of all people would know how you felt.

“Out of the question,” your father replied snidely. “Our mages and swordsmen are all pure-blooded. The bastard doesn’t deserve the honour of being one of them.”

Their words slipped through your ears. You were no longer listening; instead, you bit down on your lip and tried to hold back tears. How could someone hate their flesh and blood so much? How could he take everything away from you so easily? Not caring that they would hear you, you stormed out the gates while harshly wiping away your tears with your hands. Knowing them, they probably wanted you to.

You ran and pushed past strangers, unbothered by the concerned and irritated looks you were given. You ran until you found yourself deep in the forest, far enough so you could be left alone. Everything you tried to hold back then burst. You wailed, nails digging into your skin and your body wracked with sobs. The sound of water flowing down the stream slowly but surely calmed you down. The sobs eventually became quiet sniffles until they stopped entirely. Your tears dried on their own and you could finally breathe again.

Looking up from your hands, your gaze drifted to a fawn across the river. It lovingly nudged its mother with its head, stumbled a bit as it tried to keep up with her pace. The sight warmed your heart. It was always nice to see beings, human or animal, be gentle to one another. You hoped to be in that position someday.

A twig snapped behind you. Alarmed, you reflexively grabbed your dagger and whipped around, but the threat you were going to say died on your tongue when you saw who it was. The masked man—the one who saved you from the azakana—stood before you, huffing at you as if he found something funny.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

You glowered at him with furrowed brows before hesitantly relaxing, putting the dagger back in its sheath. “What are you doing here?”

“The dojo.”

“What?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you not ask me to teach you how to fight?”

“I did, but…”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was kind of him to seek you out again to tell you this, but you weren’t sure how you felt. Part of you wanted to say yes, to learn to protect yourself and others. The bigger part of you already felt defeated. You could only be tough for so long before you started to break.

“Thank you for reconsidering,” you said. You meant it. “But I’m not allowed there.”

“Not allowed?”

“My father is quite a stickler for the rules.” You chuckled humorlessly. “Only his sons are allowed in that dojo. The ones with noble blood, not the bastards. Take a guess where I fall between those two.”

He mulled over your words for a bit. Then he said, “Tell me your preferred weapon.”

You blinked dumbly. “Huh?”

“Your stance. It doesn’t belong to someone who uses a dagger.”

You supposed it made sense for someone like him to know something that even you didn’t notice. Awkward as he might be, it was evident that he was passionate about what he knew. A man of honour and discipline, a dual wielder with effortless lethality. You wondered how someone like him wasn’t revered and well-known the same way that the bladesman from Wuju and the blade dancer of Navori were. You broke the silence with a noise of disbelief. How strange, indeed.

“My grandfather thought I was best suited for a naginata, so that’s what he trained me in as a child,” you told him. “I don’t think I remember anything, though. It’s been a very long time.”

“You do,” he cut in. “No one forgets the art of the blade. Your mind may not remember, but your body does.”

“That’s very kind of you to say… Thank you,” you responded, smiling softly at him, “but what made you change your mind? I thought you had your… duty.”

“I do, but helping you can also be one of them,” he replied bluntly. “You have something you want to protect. As did I.”

You tried not to think too much about why he said it like that. It was not your place to pry, but you had always been a curious one. He must have lost something or someone along the way. For someone so stoic, he didn’t hide the regret in his tone well.

You glanced at him, deciding to end your train of thought before you slipped up and said something you regretted. “Are you sure you want nothing in return?”

“I only ask for your name.”

Heat rushed to your face. It was an incredibly mundane thing to ask for, normal for people who were getting to know each other to do. His forwardness caught you off guard, made you lose your balance for a moment. You cleared your throat and gave him your name, which he repeated quietly to himself.

He nodded at you. “My name is Yone.”

Yone grabbed a bamboo stick (where did he even get that from?) and tossed it your way, visibly pleased when you managed to catch it with ease.

“Well, then, let us begin.”

—

You developed a new routine since you started training with Yone.

In the morning, you took care of the temple, which you said was ‘good as new.’ In the afternoon, you helped the apothecary with preparing medicine. In the evening, when everyone went home, you trained by the riverside with Yone. Then, at night, he walked you home per your request.

For someone who was adamant that they forgot everything, you got familiar with the blades quite easily. You were a quick learner, he noticed. He didn’t understand why you thought so lowly of yourself. He didn’t understand how your family could hate someone like you. From first glance, he knew that you were kind. Stubborn, but a great listener. Thoughtful, quick-witted, and gentle even with those who didn’t treat you the same way.

It had taken a while, but you started to be more confident in yourself as well. You hesitated less. He could see you rising up the ranks in the dojo quickly; you just needed encouragement and practice. It didn’t make sense to him why your father was dead set on restricting you from everything.

No matter, Yone thought. His heart swelled with pride every time he saw you. You didn’t even seem to realise that you were nothing like your family said you were. As much as he wanted you to know that, he wasn’t good with words. On top of his unfamiliarity with comfort or praise, he also didn’t know where his relationship with you stood. You weren’t friends, you weren’t strangers, but you weren’t distant like acquaintances would be. Regardless, he didn’t want to overstep. All he could do was hope that you’d understand him.

Steel clashed against each other as you parried his attacks. Something was different, like you weren’t completely there. He was proven right when he managed to pin you down to the floor, the edge of his sword hovering only a breath away from your neck.

“You faltered,” he said more as a statement than a question. “You can not hesitate in a fight.”

You averted your gaze from his intense stare. Were you afraid of him?

“I’m sorry.”

“We should stop for today.” He smoothly rose to his feet and offered you a hand, helping you up. “Is something wrong? You seem distracted.”

“The festival is tomorrow,” you murmured. “But I’ll be alright.”

“You don’t wish to participate in it,” he finished for you.

You gave him a strained smile. “I can’t. I just… can’t.”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his and squeaked out an apology. He hadn’t noticed they were still joined together, but there was a strange feeling pulling at his chest when you let go. Still, he didn’t say anything, choosing to let the conversation end there. He knew what it was like to lose someone. Rebirth might have changed him, melded him into stone, but some things could break through and get to him.

(He hadn’t known it then, but you were one of them.)

“I’ll… see you tomorrow, then,” you said hesitantly. “I should go back.”

He nodded. “I understand. Get home safe.”

You looked as though you wanted to say something else, lips parted and eyes curious, but you didn’t. Instead, you smiled at him—softer this time, less strained—and left without a word. As you faded into the distance, Yone sighed quietly and sat down on the grass, his swords laid next to him. He didn’t want to take you away from your other responsibilities; he knew fully well that you were quite dutiful as he was. He’d gotten so used to spending evenings with you, training and listening to you talk about whatever was on your mind that your absence felt off.

Though you were sure that you weren’t going to join in the festivities tomorrow, you most likely had to help out somehow. From what you told him about your family, he doubted that they’d leave you alone as well, taking the chance of reuniting with loved ones to look down on you. His lips tugged into a frown. Feelings weren’t exactly his strong suit since his new life began, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t understand how you would feel.

The breeze caressed his skin, taking him in its cold embrace. The drop in temperature didn’t bother him. It never had, really. He was more than used to how inconsistent the Ionian climate could get. So what was this weariness and uneasiness clouding his mind? Lingering somewhere between life and death, feelings were the least of his concerns, but he didn’t like what it was doing to him as he thought about you.

He stared at the moon’s reflection in the river. It did the same thing not long ago when you sat together and talked to him about your fondest memories. It was the first time you were so open with him. He listened to your stories, your laughter and the bittersweet tinge in your voice.

He saw a spirit walking hand-in-hand with another person somewhere not too far from where he was. A festival meant for reuniting with their loved ones, the only chance spirits and humans got to see each other again. He didn’t have anyone to visit—even if he did, he doubted he could bring himself to face someone he had failed years ago.

His thoughts wandered back to you and what you told him about your grandparents. It was a relief to find out that they never changed even after the war, having stayed the same loving people until their end. A thought popped into his head. If he could just find them—no, he could.

He knew their names. He knew them.

He wasn’t a magic user, but he was confident in his ability to search. Reinvigorated, he grabbed his swords and got up. Pondering under the stars would have to wait, he had a mission to do.

The only advantage to being something he was, Yone thought, was that fatigue was never an issue. He traversed through the plains, made his way up the hill, taking every twist and turn he could think of. Not wanting to risk being seen by civilians—he wasn’t exactly unaware of how… appalling he looked—he stayed in the shadows, hiding in the darkness. After what seemed like a few hours, he finally spotted the silhouettes of your grandparents, distant but familiar.

“Yone? Is that you?” your grandfather said in disbelief, his tone still full of the same joy it had whenever he spoke to Yone and his brother. His eyes crinkled as he beamed at the younger man. “I haven’t seen you in… in years! You’ve changed!”

Your grandmother was less boisterous, though it was clear she felt happy to see him as well. Upon taking a proper look at him, her face fell, and she approached him with a concerned expression.

“It’s far too early for you to be like this,” she sighed. Yone wanted to argue that he wasn’t exactly young anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “What happened?”

“It… is a long story,” Yone replied, his voice lacking the same strength and volume it had earlier in the day. Grief was such a fickle thing. He’d feel nothing one moment and everything in the next. He didn’t mourn himself, never had nor did he ever think it was necessary, but he did regret. Regretted being unable to protect his family, regretted being unable to protect your family. The curse laid upon him gave him the chance to atone, and even then, it never eased the chains wrapped around his soul.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

—

Yone was acting suspiciously.

To start, when you arrived at the clearing of the forest you usually trained with him, he wasn’t there. You didn’t know how long you waited until he arrived, offhandedly apologising for his tardiness. The sky had already faded into dark shades of blue, the sun nowhere to be seen and replaced with the moon peeking over the horizon. It might have been immature of you to scold him while being as huffy as a petulant child, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The day didn’t start out well for you, to say the least. The only things spoken around town were how excited people were to see their late relatives again and how much they looked forward to spending time with them for the next three days. It wasn’t like you wanted to feel bitter about it all. You were glad on their behalf, but the feeling of being the odd one wasn’t something you could control that easily. You wanted to be able to experience the same magic and happiness the others did.

As if that wasn’t enough, a councillor—likely the same one you overheard that time—left you a letter summoning you to a meeting the same night. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve kept that in mind and made sure you arrived in time. But you knew what it was going to be about. You were already in a loveless family. A loveless marriage wouldn’t make your life better and the only one benefiting from it was your father. You didn’t exactly like being spiteful (it’s a sin, a monk would say) but there was nothing wrong with it if they deserved it, was there? You ripped the paper to shreds, threw it out somewhere you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter as long as you got rid of it.

There were a lot of things to be angry about, like how irritating it was to still be under your father’s control as an adult, or how they all never broke their habit of speaking as though you weren’t there. It didn’t mean you liked being angry. You weren’t built for such aggression.

You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

“You’re late.” You didn’t mean to say it as whiny as you did. Overly aware of how you sounded, you looked away from Yone and crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring whatever reaction he had to it. “I’ve been here for hours.”

“I’m sorry. I… had something to attend to,” he said. “I have something to show you. Follow me.”

Without realising it, you pouted. “And you have the nerve to boss me around…”

Yone’s silence made you begrudgingly glance at him again. He looked anxious, which was a surprise—you always saw him so calm and collected. It was… concerning. You sighed. He didn’t seem like he meant to leave you waiting for so long. Heaving out a quiet sigh, at last, you relented.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

The walk was quiet. You had a bunch of questions in your mind, both from curiosity and a bit of pettiness you had left. He deftly navigated through the woods, turning back once in a while to see if you were still following him. It was dark, almost as dark as it had been when you met him in that storm for the first time, but you weren’t as afraid anymore, either. You couldn’t describe it. Something about him felt safe. It could be that it was because he saved you from death and helped you become stronger. You didn’t think that was it, though.

You caught up to him, now walking beside him rather than behind. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. You huffed. Fine.

But you couldn’t stay annoyed for long. You found your gaze drifting over to him; the curves of his mask, the clenching of his jaw. How was it possible for someone who scared you so much when you first met to also be someone who you’d trust with your life? You knew nothing about him. He was a strange person, impeccable swordsmanship aside. He never spoke about his family or his home. He was familiar with the village like he lived here before, but you’d never seen him. Just who was he?

Yone led you to a cliffside. The trek—how wasn’t he tired?—felt worth it in the end when you saw the night sky. The crescent moon smiled at you from her place among the scattered stars, sparkling and glowing brightly on what would normally be pitch black. A hand was placed on the small of your back, taking you by surprise and making your breath hitch before you relaxed. It was just him.

“I brought you a gift,” he said plainly. You narrowed your eyes at him. He didn’t look like he was one for gifts, but who were you to decline? It must be a reward or something, or an apology because you were left for hours—

Someone called your name. A familiar voice, one you hadn’t heard in years. You must be imagining it. They were dead, there was no way it could be. Were you so tired that you were imagining things?

“They’ve been waiting for you.” Yone gently pushed you forward. “Go.”

Sceptical as you were, once again, you relented.

The figures were clearer the closer you approached. You recognised the clothes, the voices—was this a prank? Would someone like Yone play such a cruel joke?

“You’ve grown so much,” came the voice of your grandmother, laced with a tenderness you’d recognise from anywhere.

“How…” you trailed off. Your grandparents stood in front of you, happiness radiating off of them in waves as they walked your way. You didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Weren’t they supposed to be dead? Were you hallucinating? “I don’t understand…”

“It’s us, kiddo.” Your grandfather placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair affectionately. It was cold, but it felt real, too real. “We came to see you.”

You fell apart. Tears sprung to your eyes as you fell into their arms, broken sentences and wailing leaving you at its will. It was real. You didn’t understand it. You weren’t supposed to be able to see them, to see spirits—you didn’t have that gift, your father always made sure you knew that. So how was this possible? How could you see them, touch them, feel them?

“We tried to come find you every year,” your grandmother spoke, her voice as soft as a whisper. “But we—we couldn’t come in. The estate, it’s… locked away from us.”

“You left me,” you snivelled, “you left me here—you…”

You didn’t know what you were saying anymore. Giving up on trying to voice your thoughts, you kept crying until you grew weary, the devastated weeping gradually dissolving into shaky breaths. You felt her hand on the top of your head, lovingly smoothing down your hair as she hummed the tune she always sang to you when you were young. Your grandfather leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, chuckling under his breath—they were as overjoyed as you were.

“We can’t stay for long,” he murmured. “But we really wanted to see you. That young man helped us. Quite the man you’ve found, hm?”

“He’s just a friend,” you grumbled. As cross as you were with him earlier, you were thankful that he’d done this for you. There were many unanswered questions you had lingering in the back of your mind, but those weren’t that important anymore, you thought. Finally pulling away, you smiled for the first time that night. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too, sweetheart.” Your grandmother returned the gesture, brushing your stray tears away with her thumbs. “Why don’t you come sit with us, tell us what you’ve been up to?”

As you followed them, you turned to look back at Yone, mouthing ‘thank you’ with another smile. He nodded. You learned to pick up on his cues in the past month you spent with him, so you knew what he meant. You’re welcome. He wasn’t the best with words, preferring to let his actions speak for themselves. You wondered if he knew how important this was, how you’d always remember his kindness.

Lost in conversation with your loved ones, you missed how Yone’s stern expression melted into fondness as he watched the scene, the corners of his lips curling up just the slightest. It was the happiest he’d ever seen you.

(And it was the moment he knew—he’d do whatever it took to protect your smile.)

—

Existing somewhere in a plane between life and death, Yone spent his days on autopilot with only one goal in mind. Cursed for as long as his afterlife would last by the azakana, he’d continue to hunt them down one by one until there was nothing left. He saw his ‘life’ differently, ‘felt’ differently.

Bound to the world of the living, denied the peace of death, as he used to say. Time was no longer so important to him now that he became what he was. It passed as it willed, and he would only follow until it was over—assuming it would ever be. Yone didn’t care—or rather, he just tried not to think—about the state of life, the meaning of his existence. If he was bound to duty, at least he’d try to accomplish this one, unlike what he failed in his youth.

He should have left Ionia when he killed the last azakana in that temple. But more and more showed up every day, dangerously close to where you lived, and he knew that they would come find you again eventually. Deciding to take your request wasn’t an impulsive decision. He found your determination admirable even with the chains that held you back. It reminded him of who he had been. Who he craved to be once again. He tried to keep himself distant, staying within the boundary of just a kind stranger, but before he knew it, he found himself feeling tethered to you.

You weren’t just someone he saved. You were someone he had grown increasingly fond of. Yone knew you were kind, that you had a lot of love to give even to those who didn’t deserve it. He believed in his ability to predict what would happen, to adapt to sudden changes, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the whirlwind that was you.

For the first time in years, he felt alive, and it was all because of you. Your smile, your voice, the way you’d playfully talked back to him, the way you were always concerned for him. That much still held true as he sat beside you on a hill, his gaze focused on you over the sunrise you meant to show him.

He didn’t expect you to invite him to something that could be seen as so intimate. He didn’t expect himself to agree without a second thought either. He prided himself on being someone who always thought before he did anything, but something about you had him caving into his whims more frequently. He’d find that irritating if he was the same young man he used to be, but he didn’t. If he was bold enough, maybe he’d go as far as to admit that he liked how you made him feel.

It seemed his gift for you had changed you overnight. You weren’t mad at him anymore; if anything, you seemed to be more gentle with him. Like you saw him differently. He didn’t want to assume you did—that would be unfair to you.

This was what made it difficult for him to leave.

He couldn’t stay here for long. Fate would guide him to other places, more obscure and dangerous, and as much as he felt like he overstayed his welcome with you, he didn’t want to go. He didn’t know if he’d get the chance to see you again, to talk to you again. Getting attached to what could be temporary wasn’t a smart idea—he knew that. But for once, he wanted to let himself live again.

Seeing your face fall when he told you about his imminent departure was, perhaps, the worst he ever felt. He lived through countless battles; the scars on his hands proved that. He didn’t lose his senses even with his state of being a ‘ghost’ of sorts. He still felt the sting of a cut, the aches in his muscles after exerting himself. Emotions, on the other hand, were more complicated. Growing up with his brother, he had to be stern, calm and confident. He had to be assertive. He had to be strong.

With you, he could let all of that go. He wouldn’t lose his habits, he didn’t want to, but with you, he could let his guard down.

“Yone?” you broke the silence. He blinked, suddenly overly aware that he had been staring at you like a fool in love. Maybe he was. “Are you alright?”

“I am. I’m sorry for worrying you,” he responded. “I was only… thinking of the future.”

“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

You went silent. He frowned, wondering if he should’ve kept it a secret after all. He didn’t want to hurt you. He never did.

“Well, if you decide to come back here one day,” you said, reaching for his hand. Your skin felt warm against his own. “Just know that I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Yone felt like time and the world stopped for him.

“I know I’m a lot to handle.” He didn’t think you were. Still, he didn’t interrupt, letting you speak your mind. “And I know this is just some favour, but you know… I’ve grown pretty fond of you. I’d be sad if you left without telling me.”

Your tone was lighthearted, playing off your words as if they were only a joke in case he didn’t feel the same. He felt warm—the warmest he’d ever been—and he was never one to be timid, but you always managed to bring that out of him with ease.

Yone said your name. You hummed, urging him to continue.

“You should be proud of yourself,” he said. The words felt unfamiliar to him, foreign, but he needed you to know. “Like I am of you.”

You smiled. He wanted to engrave this sight into his memory, make it something he would never forget. You teasingly nudged him with your elbow, giggles leaving your throat as you replied without missing a beat, “So you’ve grown fond of me too, huh?”

This was the most casual you had ever been with him. It was a nice change, he thought, one that he really liked. In a matter of a few weeks, you’d gone from a meek, terrified person into someone confident and much happier than you were when he first met you.

“I have, indeed,” he replied. Perhaps more than I should.

With another chuckle, you fell back into a silence that was tranquil this time, more comfortable. He wondered if it was obvious that he was staring at you—he was trying not to be, but he was always told his gaze was intense. It didn’t seem to be an issue with you. Sighing in contentment, he let his eyes wander back to the sunrise before him. The last day of the Spirit Blossom was fast approaching, which meant that you’d once again find yourself in a busy schedule. But he didn’t have to think about that, so he stopped. Instead, he let himself indulge in this rare moment with you, thinking of nothing but how much things have changed. How much he has changed.

You never let go of his hand. Neither did he.

—

“Will you be going back too? To the spirit world?”

He did say he would be leaving, after all. You weren’t really sure what you’d do if he left. His presence had become something you were accustomed to. Since the moment he found you again in the forest, your routine seemed to have more and more of him. It would feel odd, having something you were so used to just disappear so suddenly. You knew you’d get over it, but you didn’t want to.

“I’ll be staying in the human world,” he said, “only elsewhere.”

A selfish part of you wanted him to stay. You liked having him around. With him, you could forget all about the people who shunned you. Your initial lack of strength or inability to use magic never bothered him; he saw you for who you were, treated you like any person should be treated. You weren’t lying when you told him that you’ve grown fond of him—you truly did.

No, you didn’t want him to leave. But he had to.

“I see,” you whispered. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

The longer he took to reply, the more anxious you became. The familiar stinging of your nose and the watering of your eyes had you trying to hide your face from him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. A quiet whimper was all you let slip before you held back the onslaught of tears. You didn’t want him to think you were strange. Someone who got more attached to him than they should’ve. Someone lonely, desperate for company.

“Would you like to join me?”

Even with his mask on, you could still feel Yone’s gaze on you.

“What?” you echoed dumbly. You must’ve misheard him. You could’ve sworn you just saw his lips twitch like he was amused by something. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve said before that the only thing stopping you from leaving was your fear,” he continued. “You’ve become stronger. You fight well, by yourself and by my side. We might also be able to find your mother if we travel together. And, I…”

He trailed off, seemingly to collect his thoughts before he added, quieter, “I enjoy being with you.”

Flustered, you couldn’t say a word. It took a while before you could properly process what he said.

“You mean…”

“Yes. I’d like you to come with me.” He cleared his throat, hesitating as if he was nervous. “You can decline if you’d—”

Yone was cut off by you tackling him into a hug, nearly sending him falling backwards had he been unable to keep his balance. You buried your face in his neck, smiling against his skin before you pulled away to properly look at him. Seeing how close you were made your eyes widened, and you were about to pull away before he leaned down to kiss you softly, which you melted into with ease.

Hesitantly, he pulled away. You could’ve sworn he was blushing. “I assume that’s a yes…?”

“You already know what I meant, Yone.” You grinned, unable to resist the urge to tease him. “You just want me to say it.”

“Well, it… would confirm my thoughts.”

“Of course, it’s a yes!”

“I must warn you it won’t be easy,” he hesitated, giving you another chance to say no. Like he couldn’t believe that you wanted to join him. “So if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to… Why are you laughing?”

“I mean it, you old fool,” you teased.

“Old fool—”

“I would love to come with you.” You curled into his side, laying your head on his shoulder as you watched the river flow in front of you. “I’m not scared anymore. I have you.”

Yone pulled you closer, leaving a ghost of a kiss on the crown of your head. “And I have you.”

It felt like something straight out of a fairytale. You were going to leave this wicked place with someone you fell in love with. You couldn’t believe it was happening, but it was, and your heart raced, not out of fear but out of excitement.

You couldn’t wait for the adventures you’d have together.

#I had default Yone in mind writing this bc I like that design better so I'm sorry if that broke the immersion </3 #all #yone x reader #lol yone x reader #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #edit: changed it to fem reader after some consideration

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asha-mage · 11 months ago

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One thing I can't stop thinking about ever since I finished Awakening is Robin's mother.

Because can you imagine the courage, the strength of will it must have taken to steal away her son from Plegia? To flee?

She was raised her whole life to believe in Grima, in the teachings of the Grimleal, she watched her country burn from the Crusades fought by Ylisse- watched Plegians slaughtered for their faith, watched their country impoverished and occupied. It's easy to imagine her as someone who hated Ylisse, who was a fervent believer in Grima, who leapt at the chance to help continue the Fell Dragon's bloodline with Validar.

And then imagine her laying there after the birth, holding her infant son marked with symbol of Grima and realizing that none of that mattered, not in the least bit beside this tiny life, beside her son. Her son who is their prophesied chosen one, who is the hope of generations of Plegians- who is destined to be the vessel of the Fell Dragon, the herald of the end of days, the bringer of vengeance on their enemies, the remaker of earth. Their messiah. Her messiah.

And it doesn't matter. Because it will mean his death. She dosen't want the rapture if it means he has to be sacrificed to bring it about, she don't want him to be the messiah because she knows that means one day he will be crucified.

And so she runs. She takes her infant son from the cradle and leaves behind everything she has ever known, and everything that might have been- a life as the mother of the messiah, a life of status and riches and comfort- and she goes to the one place the Grimleal will never think to look for them. She goes to Ylisse, where the armies still recall the screams of her people, where the faithful of Naga would cut her son down if they knew the least part of what he was. And she raises him there in secret, for twenty years living in hiding in the country of her enemies, because it's the only place her son will be safe. Because she loves him to much to let him be doomed by fate.

What must it have felt like one day, when he walked out the door and never came home? Did she search for him? Did she fear that the Grimleal had found them at last? Did she hear what happened at Southtown and wonder if he was among the dead: if all that, if twenty years of hiding and running and living in secret- had all ended in nothing more then a random bandit attack and bad luck? Or did she refuse to believe any such thing? Did she keep searching, keep wandering, unable to believe that the prophesied messiah would meet such a ignominious end?

What must if felt like when she heard that Plegia was going to war with Ylisse? Did she consider going back to the country she had abandoned, the people she had betrayed? Did she regret for a moment, that they would not have the vessel of Grima to lend them his strength?

And after the war what must it have been like, for every bell in Ylisstol to be ringing with victory, the new Exalt King riding back fresh from the field of battle, leading the triumphant procession of his soldiers....and beside him is her boy. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee as they ride side by side through the streets. Her boy with his silver hair and bright eyes gazing up at the Exalt King, the son of the man who crusaded against his mother country, with such love and devotion in his eyes as few people have ever witnessed. Was she happy? Disgusted? Horrified? Scared for him? Did it click then, the wild tales of the amnesiac strategist that the Shepherds had found in a field- rumors that had begun around the same time her boy had vanished?

Did she ever think about coming forward? When the wedding was announced? When Lucina's birth (her granddaughter, blood of Grima and Naga both, but her granddaughter first) was declared? When war broke out with Valm and her boy took command of the armies marching to defend Ylisse?

And why didn't she come forward? Did she fear sparking him to remember if they met again? Did she fear bringing out the truth with her mere presence? Shattering the strange fairy tale her son had stumbled into? Did she fear what the Exalt King would do if he learned his beloved groom was Plegian, let alone the blood of the Fell Dragon? What would happen to her granddaughter if the faithful of Naga learned she had both the Exalt's brand the blood of Grima? Did she stay in hiding to protect them both, even as the dead ravaged the land and the end of days drew closer, praying for her boy to find whatever happiness he could while he could?

Did she watch the Grimleal march to the Table and know the end she had struggled against had come? Did she see that massive dragon rise from across the horizon and know despair? Did she watch it die, it's skeleton fall to the earth, and grieve, even as the rest of the world cheered and sang of their salvation? Did she walk to that great corpse and weep from the need to lay hands on her son one more time- only to see others crying around the dragon's skull- the Shepherds not triumphant but mourning, calling out for Robin hoping against hope that he still lived? Did Chrom spot her, like a ghost, a phantom, on the horizon, just for a moment before she was gone again?

Did she go back to their hidden home, the place they had lived in secret among their enemies....and find a boy laying on her doorstep with his silver hair and bright eyes but no cursed mark upon his hand? Did Robin find his way back in that moment, to the connection he had forgotten, the mother who saved him from being raised to be a lamb for slaughter?

Did he open his eyes, and with Grima gone, finally remember her?

#FE: Awakening #fire emblem: awakening #awakening #robin #chrom #chrobin #robin's mother #grima #fe:a #fe13 #fire emblem 13 #lucina #fe: awakening meta #I think?#this may cross the boundary into fic #listen I beat this game and I am very Not Well About It

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assortedseaglass · 11 months ago

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🌟Wintering | Yuletide🌟

Tom Bennett x fem!Reader

Summary: The war is over and Tom Bennett returns home, seeking comfort in a friend from his past.

Content Warnings: Drabble, Language, Smut (p in v, oral!f receiving).

Yuletide Masterlist

Wintering, verb. To hide, hibernate, seek comfort or rest, especially after turbulent times (in humans).

“Fuck,”

Your back was beginning to ache. You hadn’t given a moment’s thought as to where you were when you’d burst through the door. Just being at home, away from prying eyes, was enough. Now, the dado rail was bruising the base of your spine with every harsh thrust.

“Fuck,” he hissed again in your ear, immediately silencing himself by covering your mouth with his own. The warmth, the wetness, was delicious.

“Tom, please,” you whined into his mouth. Even through the dull pain in your back, your legs hooked around his waist ever tighter. At your plea he looked down at you, his hips still rolling lazily. When he saw the scrunch of your eyebrows, the sheen of sweat above them, and the way your lower lip pillowed as you bit down on it, Tom Bennett grinned.

He continued grinning as his hips began pistoning at an unholy pace into your wet heat. That wolfish smile was the last thing you saw as your eyes finally closed, too overwhelmed by pleasure to stay open, as you threw your head back against the wall. Bastard. He knew he was good.

You’d heard at the dancehall last night that the final battleship into port, the HMS Valiant, was due to arrive the following day at around 3 o’clock. You also knew, from working with Lois on the ambulances, that this was Tom’s ship. When Mrs Beatty and a few other ladies from your mother’s Women's Institute suggested meeting the last of the lads to come home at the dock, the idea spread through your Manchester suburb like wildfire.

No sooner had your mother come home with the news were you being bustled onto the number 54 bus with a hamper laden with fresh clothes, bottles of beer, spam sandwiches and the little change that each family could spare. Old men, and women of all ages, piled into the buses and made their way to the docks. A few families still had bunting from the King’s jubilee and strung it from dockyard cranes.

The furore was extraordinary. The battleship was already looming large on the horizon when you all emptied from the bus, and young and old cheered themselves hoarse until the ship made its way into port. Sailors, forgetting regulations, leant over the ships’ railings and waved to family and friends. When the battleship finally docked, it let out a long blast of its horn and the crowed roared with glee. Mothers and sweethearts were already crying when the gangway was let down, and you saw that even some fathers were wiping their eyes.

You watched with relief as faces you recognised filed off the boat. Mr Martin’s only surviving son, thirty-eight and with three children who each ran into his arms. Frank Smith, the school bully’s rat-faced sidekick. The lad that worked at the corner shop, nineteen now, having received his papers the day he turned eighteen. Each was greeted by their family members and someone with a ‘welcome home’ hamper.

All, except one. Tom Bennett, one of the tallest lads on the boat, walked down the gangway in a few elegant strides and stopped on the dock with a sigh as he hitched his kitbag over his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to the sky, the October afternoon already darkening to a mournful blue.

As with the rest of the young men, the war had not been kind to him. Shadows haunted his slim face, prematurely aged from the horrors of a war none of them should have fought. At home, he was the stuff of legend. Survived the battle of River Plate, Dunkirk and went on the run in Europe, only to be sent back to war the moment he returned. More lives than the luckiest of cats, your mother said. The worst, of course, was the loss of his father and his home. The grief hit the Bennett children hard. Tom Bennett jumped onto the first battleship in dock, and Lois left baby Vera in England to go nursing in Africa. Now, Tom Bennett stood on the dock with no-one to welcome him home after six long years.

You hurried forward.

“Tom-” As though he knew you were there before you even spoke, he looked down from the sky to your flushed face.

Though he said your name quietly, a smile flashed across his boyish face. Your stomach somersaulted. He’d always been the handsomest rogue in Longsight, and still was with his blue eyes and sandy hair. At least there was one thing the war hadn’t taken away from him.

You held out the hamper. “Welcome home, Tom,” and with a sincere smile you stood on tiptoe to kiss his sallow cheek. A faint lipstick smudge lingered there and you smiled all the more.

“I’d be flattered,” Tom teased, gesturing to the hamper. “If every other Tom, Dick and Harry didn’t have one too.” He laughed as he took the hamper from you. His large palm covered your own and you shivered.

There was history there. Only a few pages, but history nonetheless. At once, you were transported back to the parish dance of 1935. Both seventeen, you as green as the grass, he already-world weary and wandering. He danced with no-one the entire night, though many a girl looked hopeful, yet took your hand for the last dance. When you thought about those innocent years before the war, in the darkest hours of the night or after a few too many sherries, you swore you could feel Tom’s hands burning against your waist, and at your neck as he kissed you. Your first.

Tom too, was remembering the first moment you touched him. A maths lesson with Miss Greene. He’d been caught flicking pencil sharpenings into girls’ hair and was sent to sit in the corner at the back of the class. You, as much a sweetheart then as you were now, were tasked with handing out textbooks. Unfortunately for you and luckily for Tom, they were on the shelf above where he sat. A cocky grin on his face, Tom didn’t move. He loved winding the girls up, and you were something different. At sixteen, you were curvier than the rest, and watching you flush pink was his favourite hobby. And so, he didn’t move. With pride, he chortled as you blushed and reached for the textbooks above him. His smug smile faltered however when, in order to reach the books, your legs came to rest on each side of his spread ones. With one of your thighs either side of his, he swallowed. He could feel the heat coming from the apex between them, smell your perfume and feel the way the soft flesh pressed against his. When you finally retrieved the books, it was your turn to smirk at the red flush peppering his cheekbones.

“Where are you staying, Tom, now you're back?” You asked, voice low. Your mother was not far away.

“Bench in the pub, presumably. Most of the lads are heading that way for a party. Then I’ll find meself lodgings above some dodgy back-alley business.” He huffed a humourless laugh. You looked him directly in the eye.

“Stay out ours tonight.”

Tom leant close to you, wetting his lips. “What would mother say?”

“Don’t know, she’ll be down pub with the rest of them. Loves a sherry and a sailor.”

Half an hour later, you were pressed against the wall of your mother’s hallway, Tom Bennett lapping hungrily at your slick centre. Beneath your skirt and petticoat, the lewd sounds of his tongue against your wet sex filled the quiet evening.

Now, buried to the hilt within you, his swollen head bullying your core, Tom forgot the last seven months he’d spent living on the Valiant. Forgot the suffering of the last six years entirely. For between the softness of your thighs, the scent of your neck as he tucked his face against it tenderly, he’d found, if for a moment, the thing he’d been fighting for. Warmth, kindness, rest. A place to winter.

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #hilde's twelve days of christmas

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sweetshire · 5 months ago

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💛 LOTR GEN FICS REC LIST 💛:

for @genworkjune i’ve put together some of the fics i’ve loved reading (ignore that it’s the last day of the month please). as usual, don’t forget to leave a kudos or a comment if u enjoyed them! oh also, if this formatting seems familiar — that’s because i’ve shamelessly copied it off of @emyn-arnens; i just think it’s neat XD! onward, and enjoy :)

O Wandering Winds by yet_intrepid (G, Faramir & Boromir, 3.5k):

By the time Faramir is told in his sleep of Isildur's Bane, he is already accustomed to seeing with more than his eyes.

The Darkest Lord by rhymer23 (G, Sauron, ~600 words):

Sauron sings us a summary of his nefarious deeds, in an attempt to prove that he is the ultimate Dark Lord of fantasy fiction.

Home Fires Burning by starryeyedknight (G, Hobbits, 5.2k):

The War of the Ring rages on and, in the Shire, the hobbits learn to live without those they love.

Eowyn’s New Toy by @torchwood-99 (Éowyn & Gimli, 1.1k, cw gore):

Gimli, son of Gloin, pays a visit to the White Lady of Rohan, and brings with him a very welcome gift.

Something of Home by @emyn-arnens (G, Faramir & Finduilas, ~800 words):

Faramir never stops bringing his mother flowers.

with every seed you sow, let it wash away, wash away by @afaramir (G, Faramir & Legolas, Éowyn & Faramir & Legolas, 3.9k):

In which an elf and a prince of Gondor speak of grief and death and the sea, and life and song and brothers.

Looking for Dragons by Raksha_The_Demon (G, Gandalf & Belladonna Took & Bungo Baggins, 1.3k):

Gandalf makes a new friend, in an unanticipated and fruitful meeting.

Too Burdened to Fly by @hobbitwrangler (G, Finduilas, 3k):

A look at Finduilas' thoughts during her final moments.

On Gardens and Growing Things by rhymer23 (G, Sam & Aragorn, 2.5k):

En route to Weathertop, Aragorn tries to ease Sam's distrust of him. It doesn't go quite as planned.

Bitter Was Their Parting by @dreamingthroughthenoise (G, Arwen & Elrond, 2.2k):

“You knew,” Arwen said, unable to meet her father’s gaze. “You’ve always known what path I would follow.”

On These Hither Shores by @emyn-arnens (G, Frodo & Boromir, 3.2k):

As the Fellowship travels south, Frodo and Boromir speak of their homes and families and come to understand one another, for a time.

The complexity of bachelorhood by unknownlifeform (G, Gimli & Boromir & the Hobbits, 1.5k):

Gimli explains to the Hobbits and Boromir that marriage is for Dwarves only one of the paths that can be taken.

The Horn of Gondor by @saentorine (T, Boromir, 3.5k):

Five-year-old Boromir receives the horn of Gondor, which goes about exactly how you'd expect.

Greenleaf’s Tree by @sotwk (G, Legolas & Thranduil, 2.8k):

Six-year-old Legolas goes on royal progress with Thranduil for the first time and learns more about the sort of king his father truly is.

The Fathers of Fools by Carlandrea (G, Glóin & Thranduil, 1.3k):

Gloín, on the way home to the Mountain, tells the Elvenking what has happened to his son.

The Adventures of Peregrine Took by bunn (G, Pippin & Sam & Merry, ~450 words):

A Poem by Samwise Gamgee (Mayor) and Merry Brandybuck on the occasion of Peregrine Took, Knight of Gondor, becoming Thain of the Shire.

What Keeps Us Here by @sallysavestheday (G, Celeborn & Thranduil, 1k):

Celeborn and Thranduil after the War. To sail or not to sail.

Different Ways To Light A Path by baby_bat_98 (G, Gimli & Legolas, 5.1k):

Legolas has a hard time in Khazad-dûm. Gimli helps.

For Want of a Ring by @tathrin (G, Gimli & Legolas, 4k):

The aftermath of the Battle of the Hornburg is a time for the survivors to rest and heal, a brief pause in the long march to war. The same is true of the lone Dwarf and Elf who fought there—but the members of the Fellowship of the Ring faced peril long before this bitter night, and some scars sit deeper than any mere bandage might soothe.

The Ring has gone beyond their reach now, with but one casualty from their Company to its name so far; but that does not mean its dark whispers do not linger still within the hearts that heard it.

But what could tempt an Elf of Mirkwood to look upon that terrible Shadow with aught but loathing?

the innermost life of my life by pinkmoon (G, Frodo & Sam, 1.5k):

Sam meets Frodo for the first time.

A Corner of the Hall by Zdenka (G, Aragorn & Bilbo, ~550 words):

Aragorn gives Bilbo the promised help with his song.

a red book pressed into his hands by dirgewithoutmusic (G, Bilbo & Frodo, Sam & Frodo, 2.4k):

Even on the sweet walks of the Shire, things come along that sweep you off your feet—adventures, wizards, children. Bilbo came down, a month after he’d adopted this strange, quiet boy on a whim and a wonder, and found his whole (second) living room scattered with some unholy combination of paint, jam, and mud. Frodo sat in the middle of the mess, with dirty hands and innocence plastered all over his face.

Bilbo leaned on the door because something in that bright grin had taken his balance from him. He went for a mop. He had not felt so at home since thirteen dwarves had tumbled through his round green door. He felt like Frodo had stolen something from him and then given it back better than it had left.

Thievery, perhaps, ran in the family.

#lotr #genworkjune #fic recs #lotr fics #lotr my beloved #also! i haven’t been able to comment on several of these fics but i’ll get to it soon enough 🤍

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anotheroceanid · 5 months ago

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hi! okay this is insanely long but i had a lot of thoughts so bear with me pls.

i was scrolling through the jercy tag bc i'm starved and saw ur posts abt rhea/kronos & percy/jason and have to say i love them sm!! it's such an interesting concept and i've got a lot of cool thoughts abt them now thanks to you, buttt,, may i also offer metis/zeus & percy/jason parallels? it's a little stretch but hey idc it's fun

metis is the daughter of oceanus, percy is the son of poseidon (at both times, they're a child of the ruler of the seas) zeus is the son of kronos, jason is the son of zeus (at both times, they're a child of the ruler of the universe) metis & zeus met and fought a war to end kronos together...percy & jason unknowingly fought together during the titan war to end kronos and they do meet and work together during the giant war! and they make a great team, like in the twin giants fight

metis was a goddess of wisdom i'm pretty sure? and was zeus' advisor. i am a firm hater of the "percy is stupid" train because honestly it's percy who makes most of the battle strategies in pjo.

in fact here's some unwarranted examples: realizing what the lotus casino was, tricking crusty, figuring out the whole lightning thief debacle, giving clarisse the fleece, clearing chiron's name, figuring out he needs to take the sky, finding the nemean lion's weak spot, figuring out rachel is their guide for the labyrinth, all of his actions in the battle of manhattan tbh like he was crazy for doing all that at age 16!!, scaring chrysaor’s crew, making the combination of demigods to get nike, etc etc- i could go on and on!

so, i feel he can be related to metis in that he would be a pretty great advisor and obviously he'd be a fantastic leader. athena herself says the requests (read: demands) percy makes at the end of the second titan war are wise!

also think it could be interesting if poseidon delibrately chose to have percy look like metis. they'd probably look similar anyway but if poseidon wanted zeus to have some hesitation in killing percy, creating him to look like someone zeus greatly wronged in the style of kronos (aka eating someone) could do it?

anyway, moving onto jason! who, like zeus, is the youngest son and has a lunatic father that treats him like shit,, and at first zeus served kronos! just as jason did, but hey, if jason hadn't died when he did,, how long would he have continued to serve zeus?

rhea took zeus from kronos to be raised in crete by nymphs, like hera took jason from zeus to be raised in camp jupiter by wolves. and like rhea, hera is always on jason's side and honestly based on her toa reaction to his death, likely loved him like a son. and we know hera fucking hates zeus like rhea hated kronos.

jason is also strong as fuck, and ik rick knocked him out in every book because he didn't actually want his forced-percy-rival to actually showcase his powers but from what we know and seen he's like insane as well. PLUS he's been training since he was like 3 ik he's strong asf and zeus is sweating.

parallels😁!! uh let's hope jason doesn't eat percy though /j

i know zeus would've recognized these parallels and got insanely paranoid bc yk him. ik zeus was exhaling in relief when jason died, and there's a reason he was always trying to kill percy. he saw his sins in him! everytime he looks at percy he sees the woman he tricked and treated like shit and more-or-less killed. but he also knows metis was smart and very capable, n that's scary to him. everytime he looks at jason he sees his younger self, and that's a horrible thing to see if you're zeus lmao

of course jason is much better than zeus and percy is fairly different from metis, but it's the small parallels and zeus' paranoia that makes everything bigger.

the act we know metis most for is supplying the poison for kronos to regurgitate his kids,, and percy has a pretty close connection to poison now after his fight with akhlys :)

but yeah!! fun parallels :') sorry if this was a lot to read/hard to read

bonus: metis & zeus r cousins just like percy & jason /j

Now!!! Hear me out!!! I loooove the Metis X Percy parallels, I never talked about it here because some things I keep for the fics 🗣️🗣️🗣️ but I totally GET YOU!!!

The thing about Rhea is that they prob look a loooot alike, so people (mostly the big six and, maybe, Kronos) attribute her whole persona to Percy’s even tho many things make zero sense. Because they want him to impersonate their mother somehow to feel their void. Others might think of him more of a Perseis kinda of person, just for the destruction thing. But Metis? She was gone before most Olympians were alive, so it’s not like they have a truthful idea of what she was like, and those who remember might not have been as close to her as Zeus.

Metis was the Titaness of good counsel, planning, cunning and wisdom. Which makes us think that Athena would be a lot like her, but I personally think Athena is more a Zeus mini me. Metis being an ocean’s kid and a titaness made me believe she was a lot wilder and not exactly the usual embodiment of these concepts. Which would make her much more of a wild card, so Zeus got rid of her when the prophecy about their son showed up. So like, I can see Percy embodying Metis’ aspect of these domains (while Annabeth would be more Athena-like), and Zeus being like…

In terms of looks, she and Percy might’ve not looked the most similar, but hey, Metis would question Zeus’ authority in front of the whole council and would call out his shit whenever she felt like it.

Jason, however, is a much tamed version of his father. In a good sense. He’s not cruel, and when he’s forced to make a choice that he feels bad about it haunts him. He’s not overly confident and proud. Beyond all, he was taught loyalty to Rome and the gods from a young age, contrary to Zeus who was taught rebellion and how he was supposed to be this great saviour. For a while, this probably made Zeus more comfortable about him than he probably was about Thalia, for example, or even Percy.

But romans and Greeks learn about each other and now Jason and Percy meet and turns out Jason is SMITTEN with his cousin? Yeah, that’s a problem. Zeus would seethe, and Hera would be 100% smug about it.

Suddenly, there is something that Jason cares more than Rome or the gods. That is dangerous.

Also, something about Percy being somehow paralleled with TWO titan queens is just…

#jercy

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theroyalhouseofwindenburg · 29 days ago

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The Reaving: Part 1

By the winter of 1360, Bagley's soldiers were weathered and broken, their numbers decimated by relentless combat. Fields once green now lay soaked in blood, where brave men fought tirelessly for their homeland. Yet, despite every ounce of strength, their ranks dwindled with each assault. The faces of those who remained showed the toll of countless battles, yet their spirits stood defiant, willing to face the bitter end. But as the snow fell, heavy and silent, it became grimly clear: the tide of war had shifted, and the conclusion was only a matter of time.

At Windenburg Castle, Bagley’s royal family had sought refuge for nearly two years, with King Henry traveling back and forth to rally his forces. On this night, they gathered in the warmth of their privy chamber, sharing a silent understanding of the call soon to come. Henry held Philippa close as she spoke, her voice trembling. “Henry… must you truly go? I know this is your duty, but I can hardly bear the thought of you riding off into such danger again.” Henry gently took her hand in his, clutching her arm in reassurance. “I must, my love. Our people need me. You know I would stay if I could.”

Philippa nodded, struggling to steady her heart, but a lingering dread stayed with her as she looked at the flames. Nearby, Prince Harold wrapped an arm around his young wife, Princess Anne. He tried to calm her worry, speaking with a gentle resolve, “I know you’re frightened. But everything will be fine, I promise. This is part of what it means to be in my family, and one day, a king.” She met his gaze, her sadness unmistakable. “But must it always be war? Must you always ride off, leaving me behind to wonder if you’ll return?” Harold looked toward the fire, his gaze somber. “One day, I will have to hold the crown, and I’ll need to know how to lead. These moments, these trials, they’re how I’ll learn. How we will learn.”

Just then, a guard entered with urgency. “Your Grace, the storm is closing in fast, and we must make haste if we’re to reach the camp before dawn.” Prince Harold rose quickly, then turned to his son Philip, kneeling to meet his eyes. “My son, I must depart, and it may be long before I see you again. But remember this: no matter how far I may go, my heart remains here, bound to you and your mother. While I’m gone, guard our home with a strength that belies your years, for you carry a part of me within you.” With those final words, King Henry, Harold and the men departed into the early winter morning.

Later that morning, the dim glow of candles, shadows danced along the stone walls of the Arnold family’s privy chamber. Lady Prudence, Countess of Westfield, and Princess Jane sat close, sharing wine and food as they conversed in hushed voices. Prudence leaned forward with a conspiratorial tone. “You would not believe the scandal that unfolded at court last week, Jane. The Dowager Duchess of Richmond was caught sneaking a letter to that dreadful baron, no doubt hoping to secure herself a ‘better alliance.’”

“Truly?” Jane replied, a slight smirk touching her lips. “The ambition of some never ceases to amuse me. They grasp and claw as if the throne itself were but a heartbeat away.” They exchanged a knowing glance, laughter simmering just beneath the surface before the topic shifted to matters more immediate.

"And speaking of the throne… it appears our sweet Adelaide has captured the King’s eye quite thoroughly, wouldn’t you say?” Prudence’s voice dripped with feigned innocence. Jane raised an eyebrow. “Thoroughly indeed. She hardly leaves his side. It seems just a matter of time before we’ll see her crowned queen.”

Prudence laughed softly. “Ah, imagine the gowns we shall commission then! Silks and brocades finer than any the court has seen. After all, Adelaide will be in quite the position to indulge our tastes once she’s… comfortably seated beside the King.” Jane’s face softened into an equally sly grin. “And your granddaughter is as malleable as clay in your hands, no doubt.”

Prudence’s expression shifted, a gleam of intent flashing in her eyes. “Let us say she knows where her loyalty must lie. A word here, a nudge there, and she becomes the instrument of my will without even knowing it.” Jane’s eyes sparkled with understanding. “Then let us hope our King is as blinded by love as Adelaide is by ambition. Together, I daresay, we shall shape this kingdom to our liking.”

Later that evening, King Edward held court with a display of undeniable intent, Lady Adelaide at his side—a position typically reserved for a queen, a signal that echoed through the halls of Windenburg Castle, sending ripples of speculation among the gathered nobles. As the hour grew late, Adelaide turned to Edward, her tone dripping with feigned politeness. “Your Grace, with your leave, I shall retire for the evening.”

Edward nodded, granting her permission, and she swept away, the soft rustle of her gown echoing in the grand hall.

As Adelaide ascended the staircase, she turned the corner of the dimly lit hallway, and her path collided with that of a maidservant who had been rounding the bend. The maid laughed, momentarily startled by the sudden encounter, but her laughter only served to ignite Adelaide’s ire. Offended by the girl's mistake, Adelaide’s expression hardened, and without warning, she struck the servant girl across the face with a swift, unforgiving motion.

"Watch yourself, girl," she hissed, her voice cold and cutting. "A clumsy servant with no regard for her betters has no place here. Remember your place, and remember who will soon wear the crown." The maidservant's eyes widened in shock as she touched her reddened cheek, words caught in her throat. Adelaide, a storm of disdain, continued her tirade. “Next time, show some respect, or you’ll find yourself out in the streets.” With that, she swept past, her silk skirts trailing like a shadow of malice as she stormed away, leaving the girl trembling in her wake.

Unbeknownst to Adelaide, Queen Cordelia stood at the top of the staircase on the third level, her expression a mask of concern as she had witnessed the entire encounter unfold. Every word struck like a hammer, revealing the true nature of the woman her son had chosen to elevate. In that moment, a chill of dread coursed through her, knowing that this girl could be a dangerous pawn in a game far more perilous than the politics of the court. She felt a deep worry for Edward, who was blissfully unaware of the darkness lurking behind Adelaide’s smile—a darkness that could one day threaten the very crown he sought to uphold.

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aldbooks · 7 months ago

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A bit Helion angst for you this morning…

Helion was not a fool. From the first moment he'd seen the boy across a crowded ballroom while they both played the charming courtier, he'd sensed the power hidden deep within him and the invisible chains which kept it there. It hadn't taken but a small effort in logical reasoning for him to understand what it meant, and only a small effort more to understand why it had remained a secret.

For centuries, he had kept that secret, doing his best to keep his distance lest anyone suspect while eagerly drinking down every bit of news or gossip that reached him about the boy who was rapidly growing into an almost universally loved and respected male. It killed him to be so separated from both his mate and his son, but for both of their safety, he would endure almost anything.

Then came Amarantha, and Under the Mountain.

He'd been present the day that started it all. When Lucien Vanserra, brash and confident, had almost gleefully informed the witch of his friend's refusal of her proposal. The way he'd insulted her so boldly to her face might have been amusing if not for what happened next. How he'd managed to hold himself back despite his near blinding rage, he couldn't say. Perhaps that small logical part of his brain had known that attempting to interfere with a female infinitely more powerful than him would not have ended well for anyone. He'd been nothing then really, a distant member of the royal family, always welcome to their table but of no true importance...

Of course, it wasn't long after that the accursed masquerade ball was held and they were all plunged into the witch's wretched curse. A few months later he suddenly found himself the unexpected High Lord of Day, brimming with power he was unable to use. He had wondered and worried then how Lucien was dealing with the increase in power he had surely received as the new heir. Wondered if he understood what it meant. Wondered if he could control it, or if it might yet give away the secret he and his mother had fought so long to keep hidden. Yet everytime the fox showed his face, not one hint of what he was appeared, and Helion prayed it would stay that way even as he was forced to watch his son suffer further indignities while his brothers sneered and laughed at his torment.

What came after Amarantha might have been worse.It wasn't just the battle with Hybern while his son was off on the continent Gods knew where, looking for a queen who might have been impossible to find, or the High Lord's meeting when he'd come face to face with his estranged mate, unable to speak to her. It wasn't even the knowledge that Lucien had found his mate and yet seemed doomed to the same fate of being forever separated from her.

It was knowing he now had the power to rival Beron's and still somehow being unable to do anything about it.

Another war came upon them in the form of a death god and Helion began to despair that his broken family might never be whole again as they all perished to a seemingly insurmountable threat. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Through a combination of efforts and luck on the parts of many, their world finally found themselves facing the possibility of true peace. And his son was at the center of it's heros. By another stroke of luck, Beron's own sons had solved the issue of freeing his mate from the hateful male's hold and he now found himself standing in front of the family he had been so afraid of losing, unsure how to claim them for his own.

#Helion Spellcleaver #helion acotar #lucien vanserra #helion x loa

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simp-ly-writes · 11 months ago

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Missed Memories & Otherworldly Visits

Can be read as a standalone: What is Left by the Lakeside (pt.3)

Pairing: God!Gale Dekarios x Sorcerer!Reader & Tara

Summary: You recount the memories of your relationship with Gale of Waterdeep, explaining your story to Mrs. Dekarios before you both are welcomed with the presence of a divine.

Warnings: mentions of sadness and regret, dialogue spoilers.

A/N: will this be the ending of their relationship?- who knows! but I am having a jolly good time writing this.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

Meeting Mrs. Dekarios warm brown eyes that twinkle in curiosity in your presence has you blushing while placing your teacup back on the table. Tara turns to listen, curious as to what parts of the story you are willing to share or moments she left out from earlier.

“It was a stage meeting, I had just fallen from the sky- saved by the grace of an otherworldly being before becoming strapped with the task of saving myself from a parasite infecting my mind and magic alongside riding the world of many great evils,” you start with while your hands make grand gestures- a social tick you adopted from Gale.

Mrs. Dekarios nodded along eagerly as she placed her own cup down and settled further into the couch as Tara placed herself upon the woman's lap. “From cultists to demons and goblins alike, I journed up many mountainsides and got my boots wet within various swaps. I met your son at a odd time for the both of us, I was coming back freshly bloodied from a battle against mindflayers while Gale’s hand motioned in an animated fashion from a cliffside- stuck within a portal.” You shake your head, giggles erupting from yourself on the memory that started it all as the other two ladies joined soon after.

“He spoke like a tried-and-true performer, stating his name proudly in the sunlight-” you puff out your chest while furrowing your eyebrows in a mocking manner that has Tara reeling in laughter and Mrs. Dekarios appears transfixed into your storytelling capability, “Gale of Waterdeep at your service” you say with a drop in your tone, extending your hand towards Mrs. Dekarios with a large smile before returning back to plot.

“He then listed varios facts about himself, much to the group's amusement- Astarion had a few choice words to say about Gale that I cannot quite recall but later they would become good friends surprisingly… whoever would have known Gale's blood tasted like poison…. Anyways! He joined us on our journey to help the tieflings and a great battle commenced. We fought back to back from that day forward, slinging spells till tomorrow and back,” you eyes hold brightness as excitement fills your tone, Mrs. Dekarios has leaned forward- wanting to ensure she grasps your every word as Tara nods along- awaiting.

“Skipping ahead through the various nights we shared stories, knowledge, even our hearts deepest desires and regrets while resting underneath the stars- I think then is when I began to fall deeply in love with your son. His witty jokes, the passion in which he spoke about magic, and how he always seemed to know what I needed most- or at least he did then…” you train off, your excited tone wavering as you continue.

“...Nevertheless, time continued on, he spoke to me every morning, walked beside me down every path we took towards now, and answered all of my questions, concerns and wavering thoughts throughout the nights between cooking dinner and books . Oh the books!” you cry out as Tara shakes her head in remembrance.

“His tent was always filled with so many of them, many of which I had yet to hear of, he knew boundless knowledge… he was so many things to different people, a valiant warrior to those who deserved justice, a peacekeeper to those without the ability to fight back, a cook to those who would otherwise poison the camp, and a good friend to many- so much so he was even willing to risk it all to save us at one point.” You shake your head at the possibility as Mrs. Dekarios eyes fall sullen for a moment as do yours.

“Yet there was one night… Long ago when we thought to be reaching the end, he pulled me aside and to the outer planes we went. I was battered, broken and bruised as he sat with me in a pool of my metaphorical blood yet he still took my hand in his. The one that has slaughtered all these beings in the name- for what I hoped to be the greater good. He pulled me out of that darkness I was forgetting myself in and later that night I learned I did the same for him. I was so lost in my joy- my bliss- he mentioned all this power that surrounded us…” you shutter back at the thought, “and that is when I felt cracks beginning to stir from my earth- I was stupid, ever so stupid to look past them even in my own happiness…” you feel yourself slightly drifting away as your eyes well over and your hands shake.

“I-I do not believe in many moons that will pass us that I’ll meet another man like Gale was. I do not know if I would even want to. I loved Gale Dekarios, so much so I got lost in the present with him without looking towards the future of what he was becoming. I am so sorry Mrs. Dekarios” you sob out before repeating the last phrase over and over as your head falls into her lap beside Taras body.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Do not feel sorry for what you could have done, for what it is- is done, Y/N. That is a sad reality that I have learned as of recently, I hope those words do well to calm your mind as well,” she adds softly, quitting your apologies while brushing a hand through your hair, humming lightly as your body shakes as you feel her own strength wavering at the sight of you.

Yet as all three of you are captured in this moment together, holding on just barely in your sorrows. You miss the sound of divine humming lightly, creating a light breeze that turns the pages of an opened novel atop the table as Taras nose twitches in recognition. Jumping off the couch to meet the new visitor of the space.

A clearing of a throat that echos in an otherworldly fashion has you and Mother Dekarios jumping out of your skins and knocking heads. Turning your newly aching head to match your heart that jumps as your eyes widen in recognition. There stands the God of Ambition as your eyes burn through his new appearance and confident demeanor.

His skin is painted a silver colour, the light from the late sun casts rays while coming in contact with the skin that matches his hair. Your heart aches as the metallic appearance has your fingers missing the soft locks of his mortal hair yet his eyes stab your very soul causing a shutter to turn through your body, a rush of cold blood running through your system.

His eyes glow in a similar fashion to the moon lantern, a dark memory of your journey together you did your best to forget happened. The only familiar trace you hold of this current appearance is in the colours of the new robes he wears that are more revealing than your last memory together.

Looking down at your own appearance, you feel as if the robes burn your skin as you pick at the coloured fabric. Disgust hollows itself in your stomach as does your throat- unable to come to words with the new presence.

“My, isn’t this a pleasant sight, all the people I hold dearest together in one space.” Gale says before kneeling to pat Tara gently across the top of her head- she tenses before forcing herself to relax within the gods touch. Mrs. Dekarios remains speechless, taking in her son with pity-filled eyes that hold regret in their deepest parts.

“What have you become of your ego, Gale?” Tara questions the god of ambition, her tail flicking to remove Gale's hand from her body.

“I have become my best self, Tara. It does my heart a world of pain to hear my closest friend speak of me so negatively” Gale replies with a saddened tone while straightening his posture once more- looking over the two of you still sitting on the couch- unmoving.

“My mortal loved ones, how I have missed you both in the revolution of this all” Gale states while moving towards you both and settling himself on the opposing couch where he pats a spot beside him, motioning for you to join him.

“Madness is another way of putting it,” Tara quips back before returning to her corner on the windowsill, taking in your exchange from a distance. You look towards Mrs. Dekarios, uncertainty clouding your vision as you grasp on her hand to anchor yourself in this moment as she squeezes your own in the same reaction.

Gale grapes both of your attentions once again, his voice holding an echo-like and empty quality to it that haunts your ears. “I imagine this must be quite a shock. Whatever you’re feeling, do not be afraid. It’s still me, just an… improved version,” as Gales speaks you notice the lightning-like veins that grace the left side of his face, they glow in a familiar pattern- his heartbeat.

Yet fear is the only thing that consumes you as you take in more and more of his inviting divine presence that you do your best to reel away from. His body is still open, his arm resting over a spot- hoping that you would join him yet you do not feel the courage within yourself to face the man of your current distressed state so closely.

“I thought you forgot about me- about all of us Gale! You left me at camp- worried sick over what had become of you!” you launch back with more vice than you were intending, your heart learching out- fighting back on its last stilts of strength.

“Forget you? Never.” Gale replies with utmost certainty within his tone. The glow of his eyes sharper as if trying to portray his journey towards you. You watch as his hand clenched over top of the couch cushion, stress beginning to fall upon him.

“Time moves differently within Elysium. I didn’t realise how long I had been gone before worshippers kept devoting for my presence,” the God of Ambition explains simply, crossing his ankles while speaking with his hands, “I imagine you both are wondering how all this came to be.”

Gale pauses for a moment as if checking his next words, “The finer points of divine ascension are beyond mortal comprehension, I’m afraid, but in a sparknotes so to speak- I used the crown we obtained to further myself with the help of the orb. And then I put all of that to work after a few discussions with Mystra- we or well I decided that making a realm of my own was on the cards and thus I have claimed my own dominion: ambition.” He pushes himself further, elbows resting against his thighs as he leans in to watch your brains observe this newfound information.

Gale’s heart drums faster in his chest, the lightning in his veins glows stronger as he loves to view your eyes soaking up everything he holds to offer, this holds good odds for what is to come next, Gale thinks to himself.

“And what does the God of Ambition lay for his devoted followers?” you ask back, curiosity brimming over the better half of your judgement.

“I look to inspire my followers as you have done so to me when I followed you. To be living proof that the impossible is obtainable” Gale speaks back, tone soft as ever, his hands reach out to place them overtop of yours that connect to his mother.

“Oh course” Mrs. Dekarios speaks up for the first time as you both tilt your heads towards her. The woman's expression is far from happy as her smile has become lost, “My Gale was always the one to make the impossible possible, even when it would drive himself to ruin” she finishes with uncharacteristic spite in her tone as she drops your hand, hiking up her dress and storms out the room- leaving the door open.

With a snap of Gales fingers, the familiar door-greeter you met on the doorstep appears within an instant, bowing before the divine as they await new orders. Your eyes go wide in recognition of the purple hue that overtook their eyes moments ago as Gale silently orders them to close the door, exiting the room once more.

It appears Tara has done the same in the chaos of it all as the low sun no longer casted her shadow against the hardwood floors. You sigh, not waiting to look at the god in front of you in a childish endeavor as you feel the couch dip beside you and Gale drops one of his hands from holding yours to tilt your head back up to facing him.

“There are a plethora of temples being risen in my new wake, yet I stand alone in each one thus far. This is only the beginning of what our love could be- eternity. Please tell me you fare the same way I do?” Gale squeezes your hand while the other cups your cheek, thoughtfully rubbing circles into your skin. A small breath escapes through your tight lips as you allow yourself this brief memory of his once familiar touch.

Gale talks over his question towards you, hoping to clear more of your sprouting doubts before they leave roots in your mind. Yet little did he know your decision had already been made on the lakeside those few nights ago.

╰┈➤ A/N: so I may be a bit obsessed with writing this scenario... yet I promise to turn to something differently soon. Just had to get this all out of my system.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

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cozzzynook · 11 months ago

Note

I really liked your idea of Tarnbee. I find it funny how Bumblebee attracted not very desirable attention to himself. Therefore, I would like to see something else about them :)

-Tarn chases Bumblebee relentlessly to the point Bee decides being with the autobots would benefit his safety.

- Tarn would show up at Bee’s home with the severed servos of bots who touched Bee unlucky enough to be caught by Tarn in battle.

- Bee fears for the day Tarn discovers the many bots who have a crush on him around the autobot base.

- Bee is by no means a stranger to one lunar charges and he deeply regrets ever laying in berth with Tarn for the sake of the mission. So much so he thinks of never interfacing with another mecha or femme again.

- then Bee meets Prowl and Jazz who manage to velvet vox him into berth and now he has the constant paint peeling, door wing stiff worry and gnawing fear that Tarn will find out he’s involved with the two mechas.

- Tarn has a shrine dedicated to Bee that Nickel rolls her optics to but respects since they like how Bee uses his wits to fight.

- Tarn put spyware on Bee to watch him recharge and online each solar cycle. It lasted five cycles until Bee found it. He was hitting the showers after a long scouting mission and saw it was placed on his chassis above his breast mesh. He was NOT happy.

-Tarn saw Bee not a full twelve solar cycles later and was even more smitten when Bee fought him. Tarn of course got the upper servo and almost abducted Bee right there.

-Big mistake.

-In every life Optimus takes one look at Bee and declares, “thats mine. Thats my son.”

- optimus proceeded to beat the literal traction off Tarn. Nickel almost didn’t recognize his spark signature he was beat up so badly.

- it didn’t help that Jazz and Prowl joined because they want Bee to themselves.

-Poor Tarn still has a soft spot for Bee, a very large and spark beating soft spot for Bee even IF he’s too calculating *cough cough* afraid *cough cough* to do anything about it.

#tf tarn #mtmte tarn #tarn #transformers idw #bumblebee idw #idw tarn #bumblebee headcanons #dad optimus prime #jazzprowl #jazz prowl bee #transformers bumblebee #transformers

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roguerambles · 2 years ago

Text

Victory Round

Record of Ragnarok - Thor x Male!Reader

Warnings - 18+Only. NSFW. Adult Situations.

Victor of the first round, makes sense he’d be Reader’s first stop, yeah? :D Who shall be next, I wonder...?

“Lower.”

Thor grunted to the attendants, humming slightly as they doubled their efforts to massage his naked back. He was on his front, laid across a long table, only a towel covering his lower body. The room smelled of incense and wine, the healers Forseti had sent to tend to him following the match insisting it would quicken his recover.

Thor did not think any of the fuss was necessary, but Forseti had been quite insistent, and Thor had learned long ago that when it came to Forseti, it was best to simply let things run their course.

Besides, the wine was good, the incense was soothing, and the healers were both skilled and nice to look at. And after securing the Heavens their first victory in Ragnarok, he supposed he could stand being pampered a little.

The door to his chambers opened, and Thor heard a low voice murmuring to the attendants. Hands pulled away from him, and the God of Thunder grumbled quietly to himself, a little too relaxed to lift his head.

“What is it now, Forseti?” He asked, tilting his head to see the attendants scurrying from the room, causing him to frown. “If you are here to ask if I am enjoying the wine, I’d enjoy it a lot more if—oh….”

Hands dug into the muscle of his back, hard and precise, and Thor momentarily lost his voice as skilled fingers ran down his flesh, seeking out every knot and piece of tension they could find.

“Ohhhhhh…”

Thor couldn’t stop the deep, rumbling groan deep in his throat as he fell forwards, briefly surrendering to the masterful hands caressing his battle-worn body. He heard a soft chuckle, followed by a pair of thighs – strong, lovely ones from the feel of them - sling over the back of his waist, palms stroking surely down his lower body.

“Whatever Forseti is paying you…” Thor muttered, hissing slightly as another knot he hadn’t realised he had dissolved under skilful fingers. “…I’ll pay double if you come work for me.”

Laughter chimed above him, warm and playful, washing over him like warm, gentle rain. “I don’t work for anyone, sorry.” Lips brushed against the shell of his ear, voice warm as honey. “There are a lot of things I could be persuaded to do for free, however…”

Thor lifted his head, eyebrows quirking slightly upward as he glanced up to meet your grinning face.

“…a son of Aphrodite.” His lips curved into a small smirk. He recognised you from the arena, watching him with naked admiration. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

You scoffed playfully. “Unexpected? I doubt it. A pleasure?” Your eyes – pretty as the rest of you – flashed heatedly, your fingers reaching up to toy with a strand of his long hair. “It certainly could be.”

“I could throw you out for sneaking in here.”

“You could.” You looked pleased. “I don’t think you want to, though.”

“Hmph.”

Thor shifted and moved onto his back, unable to help the smug sense of satisfaction warming in his chest as your eyes greedily ran over his bare torso. He chuckled slightly as your fingers began to trail over his chest, a pleased hum in the back of his throat.

“A token of your victory?” You asked, fingertips softly brushing over the long, thin scar running from his shoulder to the centre of his chest. “The healers could not fix it?”

“I did not wish them to.” Thor watched the way your tongue flickered against your lower lip, your eyes drinking him in hungrily, a slow heat beginning to burn deep in his belly. “Lu Bu was a formidable opponent. I’ll wear the scar he gave me with pride.”

You smiled, your face lighting up, handsome in a way that most mortal wrote poetry about, that gods fought wars over. “For Lu Bu, then.” You leaned down to press your lips against his scar, and Thor’s mind immediately conjured images of your mouth in other places.

He reached up to grasp your waist, his hand slowly roaming downwards, feeling the smooth warmth of your muscles beneath the sheer silk you wore. You shivered and gasped softly as his hand reached around your hip to grab at your rear, your hips arching down and grinding into his own. Fire licked at his insides at your reaction, steadily building, stoking the heat in his blood since his battle in the arena. Only the thin fabric of your outfit and the towel over his waist between you both.

“For Lu Bu.” Thor echoed, pushing himself up towards you. Your hands stroked over his chest and shoulders, reaching up to tangle in his hair.

“And you, Lord Thor.” You murmured, lips grazing his jaw, chest rubbing lightly against his. “The Arena’s first Champion should be celebrated, yes?”

There was nothing sweeter than sex in the aftermath of a truly satisfying fight with a worthy foe, and the thought of you naked and writhing in his bed was appealing enough already. He squeezed your rear again, his other hand coming to run up your back.

“Take off your clothes.”

You grinned at him, bright and hungry, playfully stroking his jawline as you leaned back. Your golden bracelets caught the light, highlighting the tempting flashes of bare skin. “Do it for me.”

Thor normally preferred to be the one giving instruction, but this time he was happy to oblige. He reached for your loose tunic, yanking it roughly open, only for you to suddenly slip from his grasp, sliding gracefully to your feet beside the table. You stretched slowly, your torn tunic sliding from your shoulders, only your silky loose pants in the way.

Thor pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the table, tossing his towel aside. Your eyes immediately dropped below his waist, and Thor so no point trying to hide his arousal now. “Come here.”

You grinned coyly. “Come get me.”

He was going to enjoy you, he thought, feeling a smirk tug at his lips as he slowly followed you as you darted towards his bedroom.

Thor seemed even more big up close.

You fell backwards into the pile of furs, grinning up at him as he approached, letting your eyes roam over his deliciously naked form. His shoulders were exquisitely broad, arms and torso and thighs thick with powerful muscle, his length—sweet merciful Fates.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards in the slightest of smirks as he caught your gaze, before his large, large hand snapped downwards to grab your ankle. He yanked you roughly towards the edge of the bed, so easily you might as well have weighed nothing at all, leaning down to pin you underneath his broad chest, arms on either side of you.

“Take those off.” His eyes – dark and strange and burning hot with desire – trailed over your body, stopping at your loose pants. You laughed, breathless with lust, before reaching for the string, slowly unlacing it and pulling it away from your body. His eyes flickered back to meet your gaze, his fingers digging into the bed beneath you as you kicked your pants away, leaving you completely bare underneath him, save your ornaments around your wrists and ankles.

“Well…?” You licked your lips, reaching up to run your palm up his chest, nearly quivering with excitement at the sheer power you could feel radiating under his skin. “Do I please you, Lord Thor…?”

Thor’s gaze was intense, but there was no mistaking the hungry look in his eye. His smirk grew ever so slightly. “We shall see.”

Tease.

You shot upwards, pressing your lips to his. He was still for a moment, possibly from surprise, before a low, rumbling sound came from deep in his throat, like the sound of distant thunder. His mouth opened, his tongue lashing out to meet yours. You moaned, fingers reaching to tangle in his long hair, and Thor chuckled, low and deep, the noise vibrating in his chest.

His hand slid over your thigh, grasping firm around your waist, and in a single, smooth motion flipped you around, pushing you onto your front. You scrambled briefly, the furs tickling your bare skin, fingers digging in as Thor’s hands gripped your hips, lifting them sharply upwards.

“Hey, give me some warning—oh sweet Eros—” You cried out as Thor hard flesh pressed against your entrance, a spike of blazing lust searing through your belly as you bucked uncontrollably underneath him. Thor chuckled above you, his powerful thighs pressing against your backside, his rough, strong hands sliding over your hips to grasp at your own length.

“Fuck—!” You writhed and pushed your hips back in his grip, but the God of Thunder held you firmly in place, his lips coming to brush at your ear, his warm breath kissing your skin.

“…you came prepared.” He murmured, an undercurrent of heat in his tone. His fingers stroked and teased, and your vision swam as you struggled to form coherent words.

“Optimistic.” You choked out, wriggling under his hands. “Thor…Lord…Thor…ah…!” His lips trailed along your neck, over your shoulder, lingering kisses between your shoulder blades. “Ah…! Please…please, don’t—don’t stop—!”

Thor’s slow, agonising movements halted briefly. You felt more than heard a sharp intake of breath, his massive body pressing firmer into yours.

“You beg well.” His voice was low, filled with fire and lightning, thick with want. “Do it again.”

You could feel him pressing further against you, a hard promise that made your body quiver with anticipation, heat coiling in your belly. “Fuck me.” You panted, arching your back. “Please, please, Thor, I want it, I want you inside me so, so bad—”

Thor growled something you couldn’t quite make out, blood thundering in your ears, then his hands roughly yanked you backwards, his hips slammed forward, and the world dissolved into a sweet, red haze as heat flared deep within you.

“A-aaahhhhhhh….!”

A strangled moan spilled from your lips, fire pulsing through your veins, snapping your hips back in time with Thor’s – one, two, three, fuck, yes, yes – until his hips were slamming into you, over and over, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Thor—!” His name was all you could grasp, pleasure, burning, blinding, white hot crashing over you, blocking out everything that wasn’t his glorious body pressing down on yours, his sure, powerful thrusts driving him deeper, deeper—

The God of Thunder groaned, chest heaving, pulling you back against him as though he couldn’t get you close enough. “Again.” He growled through gritted teeth, the muscles of his abdomen flexing and contracting against your back. “Call my name again.”

“Thor.” You panted his name through gasps and moans, a deep root of fiery heat blooming low in your gut, rapidly spreading outwards. “Thor, Thor…fuck, fuck Thor, yes, Thor…!”

“Yes…!” Thor hissed, his movements becoming erratic. You clawed at the furs beneath you, you grip on reality being eroded by pleasure. “Yes…!”

“Thor…!”

“Yes….yes…!”

Your orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning, setting fire to every nerve and sending you shouting over the edge, body shaking and writhing under Thor’s hands. The God of Thunder grunted and groaned, his thrusts stuttering before whipping his head back, long hair spilling over his shoulders as he roared with pleasure, the room vibrating with the sound.

You slumped onto the bed, breathless, body slick and aching deliciously. Thor panted softly, bending down to press his lips against the back of your neck. His hands ran slowly up and down your sides, his touch soft and gentler than you would have expected from the God of Thunder.

The surprising tenderness made you purr softly, something that seemed to amuse the larger god. His lips formed that same small smirk, and you twisted slightly in his grip, leaning up to kiss him, fingers stroking lightly at his jaw. Thor made a pleased sound deep in his chest, his palm rubbing over your hip and down to your—

“Lord Thor, I do apologize! Someone sent the healers away—AHHHHHHHHH!”

You startled underneath Thor, while he groaned and pressed his head between your shoulder blades. “Forseti.” He growled lowly, voice as dark as a storm cloud. “Not. Now.”

You peeked over Thor’s massive shoulder. You vaguely recognised the bespectacled deity cheering for Thor during Round One, although his face had been less red then. His hands hovered over his face, eyes darting around wildly, clearly unsure where to look.

“I…I…I’m so sorry…! I didn’t…I mean…I had no…Lord Thor, you are bleeding!”

Forseti practically shrieked towards the end of his sentence, and you glanced at Thor in confusion. Indeed, the wound on his chest was oozing blood, and Thor followed your gaze, the faintest frown touching his mouth.

“Oh.” You blinked rapidly, turning your head back towards Forseti, suddenly feeling rather sheepish. “I’m sorry. We…didn’t notice.”

Forseti shook himself, concern for his idol seemingly overpowering his embarrassment. “Lord…Lord Thor is supposed to be recuperating!” He snatched your pants from the ground and tossed them in your direction – they flew off the side, presumably because Forseti wouldn’t look at you. “Please leave!”

Thor’s frown slightly deepened. “He stays here.”

“The healers must tend to you! You can’t…you can’t do that!”

You could feel irritation begin to radiate from Thor, and, somewhat mournfully, you began to wriggle out from under him. “It’s alright.” You leaned up to kiss the corner of his lips. “I’ll come back later.”

Thor’s hand came to rest on your hip, fingers stroking along your lower back. “Stay.” He repeated, tugging you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt him already stirring against you once more. “I am not through with you.”

Forseti squeaked, looking mortified and close to fleeing the room. You shook your head, barely resisting the desire to climb into Thor’s lap. You settled for kissing him again, murmuring softly as you stroked his jawline.

“If that was you performing with an injury…” You pulled back, flashing a coy grin. “…I can’t wait to experience you at full strength.”

“Hmph.” Thor’s lips curved slightly upwards, although he still looked dissatisfied. You slid from the bed on somewhat unsteady legs, which seemed to please him, however.

Smug bastard.

“Yes, fine!” Forseti waved his arms, gesturing near frantically at the door. “Just…go, please! And put some clothes on!”

“Do no such thing.” Thor spoke over Forseti, eyes roaming slowly over you as you picked up your scattered clothes. “I prefer you like this.”

“Lord Thor—!”

You laughed, grinning playfully as you hung your clothes over your arm, taking your time as you walked towards the door. Thor’s gaze followed you, and you waved cheerily as the healers quietly ushered back into the room, Forseti fluttering around like a trapped bird.

“Really, Lord Thor, this was most inconsiderate of him! You are injured! This…he….strenuous activities should be avoided until—”

“Once the healers deem me fully recovered…” Thor interrupted Forseti, his voice rumbling behind in a way that allowed no argument. “…he is to be given full access to my chambers.”

You grinned as the door slid shut behind you, stretching your arms over your head with a pleased groan. You glanced around, listening as the faint sounds of the crowd’s distant roar trickled into your ear.

It seemed Round Two was about to begin.

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