#cliffside a new beginning

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny's request for shelter Part 2

Title: "The Gift of Pandora"

Themyscira was a place of strength, of honor, of serenity.

It had become a haven for Jazz and Dani, a sanctuary where the scars of fear could begin to fade. But Danny Fenton was not a boy who believed in debts—especially not to people who had taken in his family like their own.

And so, he decided to repay the Amazons not with gold or favors, but with something far rarer.

He asked for a meeting—with Pandora.

The request wasn’t simple. Even with his ties to the Justice League, Danny had to call in every favor he’d earned—and lean on the parts of himself most people didn’t want to acknowledge.

The Phantom Lord of the Ghost Zone. Warden of the Veil. There were entities in the Realms who owed him. And after weeks of negotiating with spirits, ancient keepers, and one seriously grumpy Oracle, he got what he needed:

A message delivered through ethereal fire.

“She will come.”

Themyscira’s skies were painted with dusk when the veil between realms thinned. A ripple passed through the air like a breath held too long—and then released.

Pandora stepped through.

Not the mythical “box” bearer of mortal fear and temptation—though she had once been. This Pandora was regal, composed, and laced with the quiet sorrow of millennia. Her presence was like standing near the edge of something vast and unknowable.

She wore silver robes that shimmered with ancient script, her hair braided with starlight, and in her eyes glowed the light of a woman who had seen the rise and fall of empires, of gods and monsters, and still chose to walk forward.

The Amazons, wary but respectful, watched from the cliffside temple where the meeting was held.

Wonder Woman stood beside Danny, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“You brought her here?” she said quietly.

Danny nodded. “She’s not a threat. Not anymore. She’s knowledge. Pain. Healing. She’s exactly what your people deserve access to.”

Diana glanced at him, then at Pandora, who was gazing out at the sea like she remembered when it was first poured into the world.

Then, Pandora spoke. Her voice was low and deep, resonant like chimes in a storm.

“I am Pandora. Once cursed to carry the suffering of mankind. Now, a witness to its resilience.”

She turned to the Amazon assembly.

“I was made to hold what was feared, what was unknown, what could corrupt. But from the bottom of the jar, one thing remained.”

She looked to Dani, then Jazz. Then Diana.

“Hope.”

The Amazons opened their gates to Pandora—not as a goddess or myth, but as a teacher.

For weeks, she stayed on the island. She told stories no scroll had ever held. She walked with the wounded and sat in silence with the angry. She helped Jazz construct a new theory of trauma and identity that blended Themysciran teachings with the lessons of ancient, forgotten civilizations.

She shared with Dani the knowledge of spiritual containment and how to channel destructive energy into rebirth. Dani took to it like wildfire to dry grass.

Diana herself had long felt the burden of myth—the expectations, the legacy, the symbols. But with Pandora, she found a peer. Someone who had also borne the weight of the world.

One night, they stood at the edge of a cliff, side by side.

“We were both created by the will of gods,” Diana murmured.

“And we both learned to choose for ourselves,” Pandora replied.

When Pandora finally left, it was not with farewells, but with promises.

The Amazons would always have access to her wisdom. She would return when called—not as a savior, but as a sister of spirit.

As she stepped through the veil, she turned to Danny one last time.

“You carry great weight, young one. But you’ve learned the truth of all burdens: they become lighter when shared.”

Danny nodded.

“They shared mine,” he said simply.

And when Diana approached Danny again, her eyes softer now, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You honored us with trust. And now, with truth. For this, Themyscira owes you a debt.”

Danny smiled.

“No debts between family.”

And so it was written in the scrolls of Themyscira: that a boy with ghostfire eyes brought them not a weapon, not an ally—but the one thing even the strongest warriors need.

Hope.

[arkaiveofurown]

Almost Enough (Part I)

Pairing: Sabo x Strawhat Reader

Click here for the Part II

In the two years you spent with the Revolutionary Army, you found unexpected companionship and love—with Sabo. Now months into a secret relationship, cracks begin to form when you realize there’s a part of him you can’t seem to reach. Koala, his childhood friend, has known him far longer and deeper than you have. You can’t hate her—she’s kind, loyal, everything you wish you were for him. But when your insecurity turns into distance and Sabo turns a blind eye, the question becomes: how much of yourself can you give before you start to disappear?

Word Count: ~4,000 words

tags: angst, breakup, jealousy, during 2 year timeskip after sabaody arc

my masterlist here ♡

The sun beat down on Baltigo’s training grounds, and sweat rolled down your temple as you lunged forward, blade meeting a staff. You were stronger now—smarter, sharper—but today wasn’t about technique. Today, your sparring partner was Sabo.

“You’re overthinking your footwork again,” he said with a crooked smile, twisting out of your strike with maddening ease.

“And you’re underestimating me again,” you snapped back, trying not to stare too long at the glint in his eyes.

He laughed, the sound warm and disarming. “Fair enough. But I like watching you think.”

You faltered, and in that pause, he caught your wrist and spun you into a harmless lock. His voice dropped a little as he leaned close. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Your breath caught, heart thudding faster than your body could justify. “You promise?”

“I swear on my hat,” he murmured, tugging the brim of it playfully over your eyes.

It was stupid how fast you fell. But it was Sabo—loyal, brave, brilliant Sabo. How could you not?

⸻

Months later, you were still with the Revolutionary Army, your days filled with covert missions and letters sent back to the Sunny. But your nights… your nights were his.

You sat on the roof of HQ, legs tangled with his, head resting against his shoulder. Sabo’s gloved hand traced idle circles on your knee while the stars blinked overhead.

“Do you ever miss anything from your past?” you asked quietly, half-afraid of the answer.

He paused. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to miss something when what I want is right here.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Sabo…”

“I mean it,” he said, looking at you. “I never thought I’d feel… safe with someone again. But I do—with you.”

You smiled, but a soft ache pulsed in your chest. There were still things he wouldn’t say. Parts of himself he tucked away like classified files. But you told yourself it was enough.

It had to be.

⸻

Koala entered the training room with her usual energy, towel slung over her shoulder. “Sabo! You promised you’d go over the new intel drops with me.”

Sabo looked up from where he was seated beside you. “Right. I forgot.”

You gave him a smile, already pulling back. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

Koala glanced at you with a small smile. “You’re getting really good. Your form’s almost as clean as mine now.”

You forced a chuckle. “Almost?”

She grinned, oblivious. “I’ve been at this longer. It’s nothing personal.”

But that was just it—everything about her wasn’t personal. It was natural. Easy. Koala knew his favorite meals, the way he fidgeted when nervous, how to calm him after nightmares. She’d been there through it all—before you.

And lately… you couldn’t shake the feeling you were trying too hard to catch up.

⸻

The skies over Baltigo had turned a dull gray, the wind restless with oncoming rain. You sat on the rooftop ledge outside your dorm quarters, overlooking the cliffside where ocean waves churned in quiet rage. Below, the base pulsed with activity—soldiers training, officers reporting in, laughter echoing from the mess hall. It was the same as always.

But not for you.

You hugged your knees, the usual warmth you felt in this place now replaced with something colder. Lonelier.

Sabo hadn’t noticed that you’d been skipping meals. You doubted he noticed the way your conversations had shortened, the way your laugh didn’t reach your eyes anymore.

He hadn’t said anything about how you trained alone now, or how you stopped waiting for him after meetings. And if he had noticed… maybe he’d just assumed it was nothing. Maybe, to him, it really was.

You rested your chin on your knee, blinking hard as the wind tousled your hair.

The thing was—you liked Koala.

She wasn’t mean or smug or spiteful. She was kind. She smiled at you during meetings, gave you water during long missions, even complimented your form after training. She was smart, sharp, a born leader. Everything the Revolution stood for.

She just also happened to know Sabo’s soul like the back of her hand.

You’d caught moments—little ones. The way she’d nudge him when he was brooding too long, and he’d instantly soften. The way he touched her shoulder gently when she looked exhausted, with a familiarity that required no words.

They’d been through so much together. You knew that. You’d heard the stories. You’d even seen the scars.

But that didn’t make the ache in your chest any less real.

⸻

Two days later, you were walking past the war room when you heard them.

Sabo and Koala.

“I still remember that night at Minerva,” she was saying, laughing softly. “You were so high on painkillers, you thought I was a marine.”

“And you hit me with a clipboard,” Sabo said with mock offense.

“Because you groped me, you idiot!”

“That was an accident!”

You stood there for a second too long, frozen in the hallway. The kind of laugh Sabo let out… it was deep. Free. Like something from a time before he ever knew you.

You turned away before they noticed, footsteps retreating down the corridor.

That night, you didn’t go to your shared room. You slept in the empty archive library, curled up between dusty ledgers, where your name wasn’t next to his on a clipboard or etched into a memory of war.

⸻

You told yourself you weren’t pulling away—you were just giving him space. You were just keeping busy.

That’s why you trained past sundown, sparring dummies until your knuckles bled. That’s why you volunteered for every boring logistics run, every solo recon mission. That’s why you smiled when you passed him in the hallway, even if it felt like a knife each time he said, “You okay?” without really looking.

You were afraid to ask for more—afraid he’d say no.

Afraid he’d look at you like you were just being needy.

Pathetic, a voice in your head whispered. He chose you, didn’t he? Isn’t that enough?

But late at night, when the base was quiet, and you were alone under the stars again… it didn’t feel like enough.

It felt like you were slowly being erased from your own relationship.

⸻

It was nearly midnight when he finally found you.

You were sitting alone at the edge of the cliff near HQ, the same one where you and Sabo used to sneak away to talk, to kiss, to just be. Now it felt too big, too quiet—like the wind itself could swallow you whole.

You didn’t turn when you heard his footsteps behind you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sabo said, voice carefully neutral.

“I’ve been here,” you replied softly, your gaze fixed on the crashing waves below. “I always am.”

He paused behind you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You gave a bitter little laugh. “You noticed.”

That made him frown. “Of course I did. I’m not—what’s going on with you?”

You finally looked at him. He looked tired. Concerned. But distant—like he didn’t quite get it. Like you were speaking in a language he never learned.

You swallowed. “This… this isn’t working.”

Sabo blinked. “What?”

“I feel like I’m drowning, Sabo,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you. “And you don’t even see it.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

“From everything!” you snapped, standing up suddenly. “From the way you never talk to me unless I ask first. From the way you light up when Koala enters a room, and I—”

You caught yourself, but it was too late. The word had left your lips.

Sabo’s expression changed instantly. “This is about Koala?”

Your fists clenched. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s not about her—it’s about what she means to you.”

“She’s my friend.”

“I know,” you said, stepping back. “And I like her, Sabo. That’s the worst part. She’s everything I want to be for you. She’s strong. Loyal. She’s seen every version of you—your past, your pain, your scars. She knows you in a way I never will.”

Sabo looked stricken, as if you’d struck him. “Y/N… that’s not fair.”

You shook your head. “Isn’t it?”

“She’s like a sister to me—”

“And I’m not asking you to stop loving her like family!” you cried. “But you treat her like she’s part of your core. And me? I feel like a shadow sometimes. I’m just… something soft you hold when the world’s too loud. But never someone you really let in.”

He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”

You flinched.

“I’m not making up how I feel, Sabo.”

He sighed harshly. “Then what do you want from me? To erase Koala from my life? To give you every memory I’ve ever had?”

“No,” you whispered, throat tightening. “I just wanted to feel chosen.”

Silence fell. Sabo stared at you, eyes unreadable.

“I gave you everything I had,” you went on, voice cracking. “I gave you my loyalty, my heart, my time. And I get scraps. Half-answers. Smiles meant for someone else. I waited for you to meet me halfway. You never did.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re being unfair.”

You looked at him, really looked at him—and that was the moment you knew.

He didn’t understand.

He loved you, yes. But not in the way you needed to be loved. He loved you like a flame loves air—quietly, conditionally, consuming you only when it wanted to.

And you were done setting yourself on fire to keep the illusion of warmth alive.

You stepped back. “You don’t get it. And maybe you never will.”

Sabo opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You turned away before he could see your tears fall.

Behind you, the cliff wind howled.

⸻

The world was burning.

Smoke coiled through the air as the Revolutionary Army clashed with marines at a remote outpost. You moved through the chaos with practiced precision, dodging bullets, parrying blades, your haki flickering with every movement.

Sabo was beside you, his pipe smashing down on an opponent with crushing force. You locked eyes, wordless but perfectly in sync—until a sudden tremor split the ground.

“Split up!” Sabo shouted.

You nodded and dashed toward the northern flank, fighting through the smoke. But the explosion came too fast.

A wall of debris erupted behind you, sending you crashing into the wreckage. Dust filled your lungs. You tried to stand—tried to call out—but your vision was swimming, blood trickling from your scalp.

“Sabo…” you croaked, searching the smoke.

You saw him, just ahead.

He was scanning the battlefield—then his gaze locked onto something.

Koala.

She was crumpled near the east wall, unconscious and bleeding.

He ran.

You raised a hand weakly, voice barely above a whisper. “Sabo—”

He didn’t look back.

You watched, chest tightening, as he knelt beside her, cupping her face, panic clear in his voice as he called for medics.

Your hand dropped to your side.

He didn’t even see you.

⸻

The med bay was quiet, save for the beeping machines and the soft shuffle of nurses. You stood by the doorway, arms crossed tightly, your body still aching from the battle.

Sabo was at Koala’s bedside, his hand resting on hers. She was stable, her breathing even, the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

You didn’t speak.

Not until he finally turned—and froze when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, standing quickly. “You’re here. I was going to come find you—I didn’t know you were hurt—”

“No,” you said flatly. “You didn’t.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “I… Koala was down. I thought she might be—”

“And I wasn’t?”

He flinched.

“I called for you,” you said, voice cracking. “I was bleeding, buried under debris. I called your name. And you ran right past me.”

Sabo’s expression contorted with guilt. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know. If I had—”

“But you did see her,” you cut in. “That’s the difference.”

He reached for you, desperate now. “She’s like my sister, Y/N—”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I don’t blame you for caring. But it wasn’t just about the battle, Sabo. It’s everything. Every time I try to reach you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you to choose me, you looked somewhere else.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping forward. “Y/N, please—you’re the one I come back to at night. You’re the one I think about when I’m out there risking my life. Don’t do this.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you said, tears blurring your vision. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with being second to someone you’ll always love more deeply.”

His voice cracked. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” You took a step back. “When I’m hurting, you don’t see it. When I’m afraid, you tell me I’m being dramatic. I can’t be the only one fighting to hold us together.”

Sabo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you.”

You let out a trembling breath. “Then why didn’t you choose me?”

Silence.

He looked at you, devastated.

“I would’ve,” he said finally. “If I’d known—if I could take it back—”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered. “And I can’t keep bleeding for someone who only notices after I’m already broken.”

Sabo closed the distance, his voice cracking. “Please. Don’t go. We can fix this. I’ll do better—I promise—”

You touched his hand gently, then pulled away. “I believe you mean that. But it’s too late.”

He stared at you, eyes wide, breath shaky. “Please… don’t leave like this.”

You looked into his eyes—those eyes you’d once trusted with your whole heart—and felt it splinter.

“I love you,” you said. “But I need to love myself more.”

You turned, walking out the door as the sound of his breath hitched behind you. He didn’t chase you.

This time, he knew better.

And this time… you weren’t coming back.

[shiny-jr]

VERY IMPORTANT!

THE INTERACTION.

This announcement pertains to the recent plagiarism incident that I've been dealing with behind the scenes. This announcement will contain the explanation in the form of a timeline, along with evidence (as much as I can provide given that Tumblr has an image limit) of the plagiarism and interactions, as well as what you can do to help. This post will be the interaction post, and you can find the other post of the evidence here:

Evidence post.

If you choose to help, thank you, and please make sure you read the entirety of the two posts for all the information and as I'd like to set some boundaries.

Before I explain the timeline, I would like to make it clear that it was my full intention to solve this privately and quickly. It was what I wanted since the beginning, but that has been made harder and harder, and now it is practically impossible. I did not want to go public, but I was compelled to do so.

Here is the rough timeline to understand the situation.

DECEMBER EIGHTH. I receive a message in my inbox notifying me that my work has been plagiarized. I check it out promptly, despite being busy. Sure enough, I find a story on Quotev that has multiple scenes that are far too similar to mine, with some words even being the same, but of course slightly adjusted probably to go under the radar. What I found even more preposterous, is the user followed me and still had this story posted.

I took some time to skim through the story, comparing scenes with mine. I have different tabs open, looking at each line and recognizing some lines and scenarios. After a bit of comparison, I came to the conclusion that it was indeed plagiarism. This was entirely new territory for me, as I don't remember if I had ever dealt with something like this before. Which is why I took this issue to a small server of writer mutuals where I received advice and feedback.

My main objective was to end the situation as quickly as possible, without any major drama or harsh words. There were no direct messages available on Quotev, so I had to resort to the comment section. I leave a comment on the copied story, detailing an explanation with dates provided and one of many examples being used to further my point. At the end of the comment, I ask them to delete the story.

Unfortunately, I did not think to take a screenshot of the comment I made, but I do have a copy of it from when I was typing it out in my notes. My comment on the copied story went something like this:

"Hello. I really did want did to be a private conversation, but due to the fact that Quotev has disabled private messages, this is the only way my message could get across. My username, as you can see right above this comment, is ShinyJr. My story is Damnation, a Twisted Wonderland yandere series that bears a striking resemblance to yours. I would say it's a coincidence, but I really don't think it is based of the fact alone that you published this series in June of 2023 while I first published scenes of my story in December of 2022 from Tumblr then officially posted it on Quotev in January of 2023. It's an ongoing series of mine, which makes it more disheartening when I find a story such as this one that have blatantly copied both the premise and a vast majority of the scenes. Not only this, but I also noticed several instances of potentially copied scenes from a mutual of mine and their own story, who I won't name as I don't speak for them. This just further proves that you deliberately copied others. If you need more proof of this, I will gladly provide it, as I gathered plenty of side by side comparisons. Just in case though, here are some comparisons I found: 1. MC is trying to think of how to manipulate the story. Up to this point, there are a lot of uncanny similarities, such as the MC waking up as the chieftain of the hyenas, Ruggie being the first one to greet them, climbing a cliffside and being surprising by Leona, the prince of the kingdom. But there's one line in the thought process which particularly caught my eye. My version: The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? . . . Your version: The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? This is just one example of the many I found. I ask that you please take down the story. Next time, if and when you decide to continue writing, do not copy. It's not a big request, it's just basic decency."

A few hours pass when I get word from a mutual that my comment was gone, and eventually, the user had disabled the entire comment section, leaving no evidence of my message and no way to speak to them. Meaning my comment was never responded to, and the user was trying to avoid responsibility.

With no other choice left, I report the story for plagiarism.

A few hours later, the story is gone completely but the account remained. I do not know if this happened by choice of the user as in they deleted it willingly or the report worked, but the story was gone. This was completely fine with me. I was content, as I thought that it was the end of things. Oh, I was so wrong.

DECEMBER NINTH. A mutual informs me that they found the same exact story under a new profile. Same cover, same notes, same everything. Looking into things, I discover that the user created an entirely new account just to avoid being caught, and put the story back up. Not only that, but they added notes on their account and the story that were clearly meant to be jabs at me. So you can probably understand the stress this was creating.

Here is the note that was found on the second version of the copied story. The username of the other writer is blacked out because I have not spoken to them and I do not want to involve them in drama they may want no part of.

Additionally, here is the second profile the user made just to post the story again. Take note of the words on their profile and how long the account was active, as well as how long ago the story had been posted.

This time, again, I had little choice but to report both the story and the new account. I did not want to comment on anything again in case I would be reported for harassment, so this was the safest option.

At this point, I considering going public with the information, but I really want to avoid this as it just makes the issue that much bigger and problematic. So, ultimately I push the idea aside.

A few hours later, the original account, the secondary account, and the copied story are again, gone. Gone entirely. Again, whether the reports worked or the user decided to call it quits, I have not a single clue. But surely, that must be the end of it, right? You would think so.

That same day, I was informed that this same copied story was on another site. Wattpad. I investigate, and sure enough, there it is. The same user, same story. This version had been up for a while and seemed relatively low activity.

This version is still up. Now, before anyone does anything, I ask you to please finish reading for all the details.

After discovering the profile, I decide to comment directly on the user's profile. This is one I do have screenshots to. My comment was very similar to the one I left on Quotev, but with some changes.

My comment:

Their reply:

My response:

Their answer:

Notice how there is no reply after that? That is because they blocked me before I could say anything else. They also chose to go to my profile on Wattpad and comment on a post I made two years ago. This comment was likely made sometime around the time they blocked me.

This is currently where things stand. Despite the report I have attempted to make, I am unable to do anything more because of the rules of Wattpad.

This is the part where I would ask you, my followers and readers, for help. If you have fully read both this evidence post and interaction post, and you are wondering if there is a way to help, yes, there is.

However, I want to remind everyone that I do not want anyone to spam or send outright hate. That is not what I want nor will it be useful.

If you would like to help, then please report the story and comment discouragement. Especially comment on the story, as I feel that this would be the most efficient method. If you wish to reblog, you may. Again, I stress this, DO NOT send any hate or spam! I am entirely serious on this point. I will block any users I find that are clearly hating or spamming the user on my behalf.

All I want is this to end as quickly as possible, so I can just get back to writing in peace. Please, and thank you for your time.

Where can you find the story and user: Wattpad

The user: kristynaka1

The story: In The Right Time

[myloveobbsessed]

Hi again ✌🏻, could I make an order for Hiccup Haddock x male reader? In which at the beginning they are at the end of the first movie and, like what happened to Hiccup's mother, a dragon kidnaps the male reader because he liked it (this dragon can be a woolly howl? 🥺 Almost no one knows this dragon). And at the beginning of the third movie, when they are rescuing the dragons from the ship, the reader He appears with a somewhat unkempt appearance, and it turns out that all these years he was trying to locate Berk so he could return but on his journey he came across the hunters' ship. I would like a meeting full of action and romance with tears of happiness for finally meeting each other, please.

If you have any doubts because it was not understood well, let me know.

Ｌｏｓｔ

•••

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Characters: Hiccup Haddock x Male reader

Notes: sry if it doesn't have as much action scenes as you would like. I'm not very good at writing those.

•••

You stood among the rest of the Vikings, watching anxiously as your boyfriend and friends battled the Red Death. Your eyes scanned the sky, landing on Hiccup riding with Astrid and that’s when you realized he still hadn’t reunited with Toothless.

Wanting to help, you remembered seeing the Night Fury chained down on one of the boats. Wasting no time, you sprinted toward the shoreline, quickly finding the burning boat where Toothless was restrained.

You skid to a sudden halt as another dragon drops down in front of you, blocking your path. Its unexpected presence makes you momentarily forget your task.

This dragon is unfamiliar its sharp, slit-like eyes fixed on you as it slowly approaches. Instinctively, you take a step back, but the Woolly Howl continues forward, sniffing in your direction. For a tense moment, its gaze remains narrow and intense until its pupils suddenly widen, softening its expression and making it appear much friendlier.

Noticing the change, you cautiously extend your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen Hiccup do. The dragon steps closer, sniffs you again, then gently nudges its head into your palm. A smile tugs at your lips at the unexpected trust.

But before you can react, the dragon suddenly grabs you, powerful wings beating against the air as it swiftly takes off. Your cries for help are drowned out by the chaos of battle below, leaving you helpless as you’re carried away.

After the battle, Hiccup slowly regained consciousness, to everyone’s immense relief. One by one, his friends and fellow Vikings approached, offering small congratulations and words of reassurance.

As he took in his surroundings, a sense of unease crept in. He scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face only to realize you were nowhere to be found.

“Wheres is (y/n)?”

The others take a small look around as well as if trying to spot you. Astrid shrugs speaking up “last time I seen him was when we were fighting the Red Death”

Hiccup wasted no time, immediately hopping onto Toothless and scouring New Berk for any sign of you. When that turned up nothing, he even returned to the battlefield, searching desperately but no matter where he looked, you were nowhere to be found.

He refused to believe you were gone, but at the same time, it wasn’t like you to simply vanish without a trace.

Weeks passed, and despite searching high and low, there was still no sign of you. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving a weight in his chest that refused to fade.

•••

It had been a few years since your disappearance.

Hiccup sat on a cliffside, map in hand, his eyes scanning over it but his mind was elsewhere. No matter how much time passed, he refused to give up searching for you. He couldn’t accept that you were gone, whether by fate or by choice.

Had he done something to upset you? Something he hadn’t realized?

He shook his head. No, that wasn’t like you. You were always the type to talk things out with him.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips, dejection settling deep in his chest until the sound of flapping wings and Astrid’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.

Looking up, he saw Stormfly land nearby, Astrid hopping off with practiced ease. Toothless nudged his metal leg toward her. She scrunched her face in mild disgust before tossing it aside, both dragons immediately bounding after it.

Astrid settled beside him at the edge of the cliff, silence stretching between them.

Then, finally, Hiccup spoke. “Hey do you think….he’s..you know. Alive.”

Astrid looks at him before back out at the vast scenery not answering for a moment. “I mean..he could be but…” she stops holding back hesistanting to say her next words. “.. I wouldn't keep my hope’s too high”

Hiccup exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the edges of his map. He hated hearing that hated the idea of accepting a world where you weren’t in it. He understood she was trying to be realistic but the thought of giving up, of accepting that you might be gone, made his stomach twist.

“I have to keep my hopes high,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. “Because if I don’t, then who will?”

Astrid sighed, crossing her arms. “I get it, Hiccup, I do. But it’s been a year’s. If he was alive, don’t you think he’d have found his way back by now?”

Hiccup flinched, but his expression remained firm. “Not if something’s stopping him.”

Astrid didn’t respond right away, but her silence was answer enough. No one wanted to argue with him about this anymore. They all thought the same thing they all thought you were gone.

But Hiccup knew you. You were smart, you were determined, and you never gave up easily. If you weren’t back, there had to be a reason.

•••

Chaos consumed the ship flames crackled, dragon hunters clashed with dragon riders, and captive dragons were being set free. The commotion echoed through the lower deck as you struggled to break out of your cell, frustration mounting.

Then, through the din, you caught sight of a familiar figure (d/n) (dragon’s name).

A bright smile spread across your face at the sight of him after so long apart. He let out a joyous gruff before charging forward, practically tearing the cell door off its hinges to free you. Without hesitation, you reached up to pet him, wrapping your arms around his scaled neck in a brief but heartfelt embrace.

The two of you hurried to the ship’s deck, where the full scale of the battle came into view. Fires raged, blades clashed, and dragons soared overhead. As your eyes darted through the chaos, they suddenly locked onto a familiar face.

Without hesitation, you strode up behind her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Astrid?”

•••

The air buzzed with celebration as everyone cheered for Hiccup’s victory over Grimmel. Laughter and joy filled the space, the weight of battle finally lifting.

Your dragon landed nearby, eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto one person—your boyfriend.

Hiccup leaned against Astrid for support, exhaustion evident in his posture. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Astrid glanced toward you. “Oh, look who I found,” she said, pointing in your direction.

Hiccup’s gaze followed her gesture, and his eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight of you.

“He was held prisoner by Grimmel,” Astrid explained, stepping aside just as you reached them.

Without hesitation, you pulled Hiccup into a tight, desperate embrace tears pricking your eyes. He stood frozen for a moment, processing the reality of your presence then, as if breaking free from a trance, he wrapped his arms around you just as tightly.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply holding onto each other.

When you finally pulled away, Hiccup got his first real look at you. Your hair had grown longer, a light stubble framed your jaw, and you stood a little taller. Subtle changes, but enough to make you look older, more mature.

Different from the way he last saw you.

Hiccup’s breath hitched as he took in every detail, as if afraid you might disappear again if he so much as blinked. His hand reached up, hesitating for a second before gently brushing against your cheek.

“You’re really here…” His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief and raw emotion. “I— I thought I lost you.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, blinking back tears. “I thought I lost you too.”

His grip on you tightened for a moment, like he was grounding himself in your presence. Then, finally, he pulled back, his eyes flickering with something between relief and lingering worry.

“What happened to you?” he asked, voice softer now, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“Well during the fight with Red Death until (d/n) here decided he wanted me for himself” (d/n) come’s over nuzzling into you, your boyfriend looks at the Wooly Howl. “I tried finding berk again but it was difficult…then I was captured by Grimmel”

You look back at Hiccup a frown forming on your face out of guilt. “I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to just leave you like that.”

Hiccup’s eyes softened as he took in your words, his gaze flickering between you and (d/n), who was now nuzzling into you like an overgrown cat. He let out a slow, steady breath, his fingers tightening for a brief moment on your hand before he finally spoke.

“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with the emotion he’d been holding back for so long. “You didn’t choose to disappear. I know that. But I…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I was just… lost without you. I didn’t know if you were alive, or if I was ever going to see you again.”

His eyes held yours, sincere and vulnerable, like he was laying bare the weight of everything he’d been carrying while you were gone. “But now that you’re back… I’m just relieved. So relieved.”

(d/n) let out a soft snort as if agreeing, and Hiccup couldn’t help but chuckle at the dragon’s antics, his mood lightening just a bit.

You met his gaze, the years of silence and distance between you finally starting to fade as you spoke from your heart. “I’m here now, Hiccup. I’ll make it right. I’ll make sure I’m never gone like that again.”

Hiccup gave a small smile, his fingers lightly brushing against your cheek. “I believe you. And I’m glad you’re back.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, his grip tight as though he never wanted to let go again.

•••

[megtrns]

seasonal anthologies ft. the mtmte bots, sfw !

summer is for celebrations and driving down to the beach with drift, where the air hot and thick despite the setting sun in the distance. you stick your head out the passenger window to feel the wind rushing past your ears, the excited roar of his engines bouncing off the cliffside. it's sitting on rodimus's shoulders as he runs past the shore, the spray of cold water making you squeal into the side of his helm. june, july, august — salt dissolves in your mouth while thunder rumbles in the distance. you sit by the steps of your porch with swerve, the air heavy with heat. as if the earth was holding its breath in anticipation, waiting to break and give way to rain. his big, blocky fingers awkwardly tearing through an orange for you to eat. saccharine and sticky, the fruit drips down your forearms with every bite. green is the grass between your toes, grey is the sky as it melts to nightfall. summer is when the mattress dips unequally to one side, where you and tailgate sleep back to back, skin to metal. the warmth sinks into your bone, blanket on the floor as the faint whirring of his systems lulls you to sleep. fall is for new beginnings, shorter days, and knitted scarves. where the sunlight is lighter and softer, casting long, golden shadows across ratchet's face. he displaces his mass to help you tie your coat by its belt, pulling you closer to soak in the heat radiating off his chassis—soft wool between his shiny servos. september bleeds into october, and somewhere between, where the air is so clean it shivers, cyclonus walks next to you in muted contemplation. optics quietly taking in the ocean of leaves crunching underneath his pedes. cinnamon between your teeth as you swallow your longing, fingers tracing over the holo-picture of skids. nautica says the muted colors remind her of him, but she blames it on the morning chill creeping past her cables. you tell her that fall is the season of reminiscing, of missing what is gone and what is yet to come — the ending and beginning of things, the place where all things come to die. the soil is soft and the world is asleep. this is the part where you turn off the lights and leave.

winter is for joy and relaxation, november a mosaic of warm orange windows and deep blue nights, where the moonshine falls thin and silver. minimus is determined to keep you from straying off the path, guiding you through the thick heap of snow — arms intermingled, hand and servo intertwined. your laughter rings into the night like bells, airy and light; a quiet wish, a happy prayer. for some, december is asleep. it's reclusive and shy, just like rung when he gives in to your request to stay inside, submitting to the weight of the duvet as it swallows you both. for others, the darkness only makes them vigilant. optics wide awake, prowl slinks back into the shadows, pale like the blizzard, soundless like a secret. early mornings and frozen lakes, megatron tells you the winter is cruel — barren and empty, silencing the earth. you disagree, telling him that winter is full of hope, where the snow is white with the promise of forgiveness. the promise to begin again.

spring is for waking up under the sun, where the light kisses your cheeks and shoulders; brainstorm suddenly envious of the star. you chew berries against the bark of an old, dying tree. skin buzzing with a new kind of energy, heart bursting at the sight of perceptor studying the small animals in the distance. in february, you stretch your arms to welcome a night of storms. in march, you patiently listen to whirl complain about the pollen in his cogs. finally, in april, the air is alive, sweet and rosy, laughing and singing. first aid lifts you with his open palm, across a running stream, down a winding, rocky path. somewhere behind you, misfire raises his helm to the clear, cloudless sky. drowning himself in the sound of strange birds and even stranger insects. there is a tenderness to all of this, capricious and fickle, flowers buried in the wash of green grass. a dream you don't want to wake up from, an embrace you're not ready to part with. nightbeat says he hates when beautiful things are fleeting, and you think he's no longer referring to the spring, optics sad and distant as they land on you.

[ldrfanatic]

one last souvenir from my trip to your shores

thank you so much for 800 followers!!!

here’s a little summer in Italy with theo (from theo’s perspective)

06.04.2024

song title is from the manuscript but I promise this is a happy fic

works slytherin boys

wc - 1.1k

theo nott was decidedly the happiest 16-year old boy in all of europe right now. hell, maybe in all of the world. here he was, on a pebbly italian beach, sun warming his skin, and his beautiful girlfriend curled up on the beach chair next to him.

he felt his heart begin to swell as he watched the scene in front of him. you’d laid between his legs, your head rested against his abdomen and your soft hair tickling his skin. you were reading some muggle romance novel. he didn’t know the name of it, but he knew it was your favorite.

your new medusa charm sunglasses were perched on top of your forehead. you’d shoved them up there maybe 15 or so minutes ago with a complaint that they made it difficult to read.

the versace glasses had been a gift from theo.

in fact, despite your avid protests, he was very insistent on buying you a whole new summer wardrobe for the trip. theo smiled to himself as he thought on the weeks ahead. after many pleas from you, and heaps of charm from theo, your parents had begrudgingly allowed you to spend half the summer break with theo in italy.

the two of you were staying in the nott family’s summer home there. when he was younger, theo used to visit every summer, but he hadn’t been back since his mother passed. the cliffside home sat empty for so long that the two of you had to scourgify layers of dust off of every surface.

it was going on your second week of a blissful vacation. only one week into a six week trip, theo couldn’t help but feel giddy, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

“bellissima,”

you held one finger in his direction, an indication for him to hold his piece for a moment. theo felt amusement curl along his lips into a smile.

after a short (agonizing) eternity, you closed the book around your index finger and tilted your head backwards until your eyes met his, your head now completely resting on his stomach.

as your eyes found his, theo felt his mouth go dry. butterflies knocked around in his stomach threatening to crawl up his throat at any given moment. no matter how much time he spent with you, you still turned him into a blushing boy with only a look. it should be a punishable offense to be so beautiful and so very sweet.

theo wasn’t sure how he managed to land a literal angel from heaven itself but he knew one thing for sure: he was never letting you go.

pulling himself from his blissful thoughts, theo allowed a large hand to snake down until his palm rested against the softness of your stomach.

“affamato?”

over the course of your relationship, you’d picked up a few words and phrases from theo. when he so often spoke in his mother tongue, it was kind of unavoidable. theo rubbed his hand in smooth small circles. the content smile that graced your lips made theo’s insides feel like they were on the wrong side of gravity.

“i could eat.”

but neither of you moved. finally, you placed the small love note you’d been using as a bookmark in between the pages and closed your novel. then you turned over onto your stomach so as to look at your boyfriend properly.

theo’s arms snaked around you instinctively, pulling you impossibly closer to him. he tried not to look at your the tops of your soft breasts which were now pressed so much against him that they started to spill from the confines of your bathing suit. he may be your boyfriend, but he was also a gentleman. his mammina had taught him to always be a gentleman and always take really really good care of his women.

despite his best attempts, theo felt his eyes water involuntarily. the moment he saw you, he knew you would be his bride. he felt very strongly that you were sent to him by his mother. a parting gift.

the warmth of the sun, the sweetness of your smile. they felt like hugs and kisses from her. when he first met you, theo felt something. a feeling that had left with his mother’s last breath, and had yet to return. until you came along.

“let’s get you food, bambina.”

you didn’t question his teary appearance. you always understood him without a single syllable from his lips and this time was no different.

you packed all of your belongings back into your marc jacobs tote bag (another gift from theo) and picked up your sandal. when you turned to him, hair blowing in the beach breeze, and free hand outstretched to him, theo felt his heart tightening once again.

“i’ll be along soon. there’s something i have to do first.”

with a soft nod of your head, you took off on the path back to the chateau. theo watched you leave, waiting until you were safely inside the house before turning back to the waves. he didn’t smile, or move much at all. he just watched the waves crash and allowed his senses to be overwhelmed with the sweetness of the tyrrhenian sea. his mother’s favorite place on earth. the last place he saw her smile.

theo took a deep breath and allowed the words to flow naturally from his lips. he didn’t fight them or his emotions. he just spoke.

“mamma, i can feel your presence surrounding me. your spirit lives on in every beat of my heart and every breath i take. i want to thank you, mamma, for everything you've given me – for your love, your guidance, and your unwavering support. she's a gift, mammina, a true blessing, and i can't help but believe that you had a hand in bringing her into my life. her laughter echoes yours, and her kindness reflects the warmth of your embrace. thank you for sending her to me. i promise to cherish her, mamma. i miss you so much and one day, we'll be reunited. until then, i carry your love in my heart, knowing that you're always watching over me.”

theo took in another deep breath, the air suddenly feeling tight in his throat. “grazie, mamma, for everything. ti amo, e ci vediamo tra un paio di decenni.”

-

(i love you, and i’ll see you in a couple of decades)

theo taglist

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover

[trancylovecraft]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS!: PROLOGUE!

(YANDERE GENSHIN VARIOUS x READER)

[F/N] [L/N], A twenty-two year old college student goes about her mundane life. Most people would describe her as content, And maybe [F/N] would've described it as such too- Her life. Over and over again, Day after day, The cycle never stops. That is, However, Until she suddenly drops into Genshin Impact out of nowhere. In any other case, [F/N] might have been glad to be there. In a fantasy land where she had only ever visited in her dreams, With a feeling she couldn't describe flooding her entire being. However, [F/N] couldn't be further from excited.. She had never played Genshin in her life. [F/N] threw her head into her hands, Holding back the urge to scream. “I’m absolutely screwed, Aren’t I?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚AO3 LINK *ೃ༄

GENDER: Femme LIST OF YANDERE'S: https://pastebin.com/ErsuA2cz SONG: Larger Than Life - Pinkzebra NOTE: SO UHM HI. THIS IS THE PROLOGUE TO UHM MY NEW FIC UHHHH- so ive been getting into genshin big time and uhm ive kinda got a new hyperfixation now so hERE IT IS IN WRITTEN FORM.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ NEXT PART

What the actual hell?

[F/N]'s breath hitched in the morning dawn.

Her body was heavy like a weight was pushing down on her chest, Her eyes hazy, Yet they sparkled like stars under the dawnlight. Beginning to trickle down her face at the chill that batted in her eyelashes.

What was this?

This feeling.

Dew trickled down her face, Fresh from last night's rain and glimmering in the breaking dawn.

She tried not to itch at the frigid trails, No matter how much they unsettled her skin. Tried not to move around in the mush of the mud, Because the way it was settled cushioned her back just right.

The wind blew throughout every blade of grass, Every sweet flower and dandelion around. Leaves rustled on their branches, Little robins hopping around and tweeting their tune. The smell of dew and saccharine was rife in the air.

She breathed it in, Her lungs flooding with life.

It was so blinding, The sun, Burning at her eyes yet she couldn't find it in herself to close them. Not when the sky was so beautiful, So wonderful. Shades of aurora pink and sunset yellow splotching across the great canvas above, Birds sailing across it, Their wings struck wide and free as they only grew to be dots in the distance.

How could [F/N] ever look away?

She breathed in, A fresh wave of air entering her body. That feeling no one could describe, That chill that coated her skin, Her body completely at peace. Eyes forever staring up at the open sky that welcomed her with open arms. 

Tranquillity, Serenity, Exaltation. None of them were a good fit to the way [F/N] felt in that single moment.

Her mind fluttered for a second, Flickering on like the ember on a lighter.

Her eyes widened, Memories rushing back into her mind.

"Wait.. Where am I?!"

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

Well.. This is bizarre.

"There's absolutely no way.. This can't be real.." [F/N] muttered in utter horror. Her eyes wide, Body rigid as she stared dead at the figure standin- No. Not standing, The correct term would be floating.

What looked to be a small little girl floated mid-air, Only a few feet away. Her eyes big and round, Shaded the colour of the night sky and staring happily at [F/N]. She was oddly dressed in a poofy, intricately embroidered white dress and matching elvish boots. 

[F/N] stood on the shore of who-knows-where, Having dragged her aching legs out of the field she had found herself in and had somehow got here.

A shoreline with impossibly beautiful sights, Crystallin blue waves crashing against the unlittered sand and leaving frothing seafoam in it's wake. Rocks and other formations cracked out of the water, Homing the chittering crabs and other sea-life that dared to venture there.

Not to mention the surrounding cliffs, Rocky and unbelievably high, Unlike any kind of cliffside [F/N] had ever seen. She could've been convinced she was somewhere near the swiss alps. It was beautiful, Absolutely beautiful.

And it made [F/N] all the more uneasy.

"This- This is just impossible..!" [F/N] held her face in her hands, Breathing unsteady. She would've began pacing if not for the fear she had for the crabs and their chattering pincers, Eyeing them warily from the gaps in her fingers.

"Are you alright? Paimon is worried about you!" The girl- Paimon, Gasped as she watched [F/N] hastily shuffle away from the beach crabs, Hands sliding up to grasp clumps of her hair in distress.

[F/N] took a jolting step back when Paimon floated a little too close, Startled by sudden movement. Her eyes snapped over to look at the fairy, Darting from head to toe, Affirming that it was that odd attire that she was wearing.

Sure- She was oddly dressed. But the weirdest part?

[F/N] recognised her.

And [F/N] had fished her out of a whirlpool in shallow tide.

"Paimon thinks that you need to take a deep breath in! Crabs are scary, But they can't be worse than that whirlpool you saved Paimon from! Paimon would've been a goner if it wasn't for you..!" Paimon cheers as she claps her hands, Giddy expression on her round face as she drifted nearer to [F/N].

She, In turn, Let out a rather shaken yap.

"I-I.. I didn't even know I could do that..?! I don't even know why I even tried that..!"

This.. This was Paimon? Paimon, The mascot of Genshin Impact, And she was floating right in front of her thanking her. Directly. This couldn't have been real, [F/N] must've hit her head on something or other-

Like.. There was no way this could be real, Right? There must be some rational explanation. A dream. A coma. Some really deep sleep that [F/N] just needs to pinch herself out of, Right?

Though if the twigs scraping at her ankle as she walked earlier wasn’t enough..

[F/N] sniffled.

Ugh. God. This was all so confusing.

"I can't.. Just please, Tell me I'm dreaming, Paimon. Tell me this is all just some big scenario I've dreamt up inside my head and that I'm gonna wake up any minute now.." [F/N] almost pleaded as her knees began to buckle, Lowering as she collapsed, Shins burying into the sand of the shore.

This couldn't be happening, It just couldn't.

"Paimon doesn't understand, But she knows how it feels to feel scared and confused..!" Paimon said, In attempt to console her. "Do you wanna tell Paimon what's wrong? Maybe Paimon can help you out!"

[F/N] lifted her head from within her hands, Breathing uneasy as she watched Paimon slowly float down to her level. This was real, Wasn't it? How could this be a dream, [F/N] knew what dreams were like, Both lucid and otherwise, And it was nothing like this.

[F/N] let out a shuddering breath, Trying to calm her nerves, Swallowing back her apprehension.

"Yeah.. Yeah- You're right- I should tell you what's wrong, I'm sorry- I just saved you and now you need to deal with me breaking down in front of you.." [F/N] smiled nervously, Trying to laugh off her unease and discomfort- Though not very successfully.

Where would she even begin?

How could she begin?

[F/N] groaned as she hunched over, Collapsing onto her backside instead of her knees. Damn. [F/N] felt like she was stranded on an island, But at least the sand felt nice against her skin.

"I.. I don't think I'm from this world."

"Huh..?" Paimon tilted her head to the side, Eyes lighting up at the claim.

"I.. It's hard to explain but.. I'm not from this world- I think I might have somehow been transported here by.. Well.. I don't know how. One minute I was lying in my bed and the next.." [F/N] trailed off, Shaking her head as she felt her hands grasp the hems of her shirt.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

"It happened so quick.. I.. I was just up late reading on my phone when suddenly some kind of light just swallowed the room." [F/N] continued on, Trying to make sense of what had happened to her. "It.. It felt so sickening- It made my head begin to throb but then.. But then I felt great, If for only a second.. And then I woke up in a nearby field.. My bed nowhere in sight."

Paimon listened on, Her frown getting more and more present on her round face. [F/N] continued on, Her voice beginning to shake as she looked up at Paimon, Who .

Paimon hmphed.

“So.. If Paimon understands this correctly.. You’re from another world? You’re not from Teyvat..?!” She seemed almost astonished by the thought, Almost in disbelief at the mere thought that [F/N] wasn’t from around here.

She couldn’t blame the poor fairy, [F/N] was just as confused as she was.

“Yeah.. It.. It’s kind of hard to believe- I know. But you need to understand that one minute I was lying in bed- The next- I was here!” She stressed, Her voice sounding more and more strained by the minute.

It was hard not to break down again, Not to try lose her mind.

“Hmm..” Paimon hummed in thought as her sparkly eyes roamed over [F/N] and her sweaty/dirty attire. It was strange clothing. Nothing like Paimon had known- No cloaks- No skirts- No intricate leather corset with floral designs-  

No. [F/N] was wearing a large pastel-pink hello-kitty t-shirt she used for pyjamas, A pair of oversized fleece bottoms to match, Flowing down to her heels. Paimon hmphed at the sight of the mascot, Hand on her chin in thought.

Damn, [F/N] wished she had proper shoes.

“Well.. Paimon believes you! Paimon doesn’t think that anyone wearing something as weird as that can be from around here!” Paimon concludes, A triumphant smile crossing her face as well as her arms, Poofy sleeves puffing up along with her rosy cheeks.

[F/N] let out an awkward giggle.

“Yeah.. Uhm.. Where is here anyways?” She asked as she looked around, Eyes roaming across the steep cliffs and the flowing grass rife with the wind flowing through them. Blinking as she swallowed back her trepidation.

“Mondstadt! One of the seven regions of Teyvat! Oh.. Wait, You probably don’t know what Teyvat is, Huh..” Paimon hummed in thought.

Mondstadt?

Wow. [F/N] really had been Isekai’d, Huh.

Now, Of course, In any other situation- In any other fanfiction or anime that [F/N] had read watched and watched, This would be a dream scenario for her. There was even times where she had wondered what it’d be like 

Chewing on her pen as she did her schoolwork, Conjuring up scenarios in her head as she tried to get some shut-eye, Or just walking down the street on the way to her part-time. It was all apart of her routine, Daydreaming, Sometimes she’d even consider it something she’d like to happen.

In one of her favourite animes perhaps where she could be the insert that everyone loved and rooted for. She could be the person envisioned in her head. A guilty pleasure if you will, But [F/N] wondered who didn’t have those?

That’s what her ‘x readers’ were for.

It was an escape, A get-away from her ordinary life.

But to be completely and utterly honest?

…

[F/N] had never played Genshin in her life.

She threw her head into her hands, Holding back the urge to scream.

“I’m absolutely screwed, Aren’t I?”

[classica-meretrix]

Branding

pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader genre: smut content/warnings: use of nicknames, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), burning someone during sex summary: leo loses control of his power

"Hola, amor," Leo said as he walked into my cabin, grabbing me by the hips to place a soft kiss on my lips.

"Hi," I said with a smile.

"Ready to go?"

"Lead the way."

Leo took my hand, pulling me out the door. I followed him to the woods, pushing through the brush. The walk to bunker nine felt like it took forever, climbing over rocks, being stalled by talkative dryad's. By time we reached the bunker it was roughly half an hour later.

Leo set the cliffside on fire, causing the door to slid open.

"Home sweet home," he said, motioning towards the open door.

"Woah," I mumbled, stepping inside. Leo followed, studying my reaction. There were machines everywhere, workstations littered with broze gadgets, walls covered in schematics. Festus' head lie on a large platform in the center of the space, his bronze exterior slightly dented, but otherwise in perfect condition.

"So what do you think?" Leo asked.

"It's huge."

Leo chuckled, no doubt surpressing a 'that's what she said' joke.

"Make yourself comfortable," he offered. "There's a cooler over there—it's magic, gives you whatever you want—and some couches along that wall. Or you can hang out with Festus and I. Whatever you'd like."

I smiled at him. "I'm gonna go load up on snacks."

"Alright." He laughed as I skipped off the fridge to begin my looting.

I laid on the edge of the platform, watching Leo as he hammered dents out of Festus' forehead. He had discarded his shirt, now left in a pair of low hanging blue jeans. Grease covered his arms and torso, his curls disheveled. I studied the way his muscles rippled as he worked, his skin pulling tight as he flexed.

"I think that'll do it for the day." His words made me jump, pulling me out of my trance. He stepped out from under the bronze, wiping his hands on his rag. His hands. No, I scolded myself. Snap out of it.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower. Be right out."

"Okay," I hummed in response, barely processing his words.

I needed to snap out of this before he got back. I'd only torture myself on the walk back if I had to watch him climbing over logs, his strong arms lifting me with him. I dazedly walked to the couches, sitting down.

How had I got this worked up just watching him work? Him stripping off his shirt, tossing it onto a table. His hand wrapping around the hammer, guiding it to hit the metal, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated, pressing against the machinery to stabilize it, his arms—

"Ready to go, amor?"

"What?" I asked, startled. He was walking up to me, pulling a tank top over his head. He had on a fresh pair of jeans, his curls wet.

His brows furrowed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

He sat down next to me, pulling me into his lap. "You can talk to me about anything, but I don't wanna pressure you either. Are you sure?"

The new proximity wasn't helping, his hands around my waist holding me even tighter to him. I didn't bother responding, instead hurriedly kissing.

Leo reciprocated immediately, nipping at my bottom lip. He readjusted me to straddle his lap, his grip on my thighs sure to leave marks. I rolled my hips against him, eliciting a sharp inhale from both of us. He pulled back, breathless.

"Why didn't you say something, amor?"

"I didn't want to bother you while you were working," I admitted, bashfully meeting his eyes.

"Don't ever worry about interrupting me for this."

I let out a breathy laugh, slipping my shirt over my head. Leo ducked down to place kisses across my chest, one hand sneaking around to unclasp my bra. As soon as the fabric was loose he threw it onto the floor, his hands cupping my boobs.

"Bother me anytime," he whispered, eyes fixed to my chest. "Nothing more important than you," he mumbled before latching onto my nipple, sucking harshly. I arched my back into him, gasping at the feeling.

"Leo," I breathed out. He brought a hand up to tease my other nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

"Pretty girl," he mumbled, kissing down my stomach as he moved to lay me back on the couch. He tugged at my zipper, but I pulled him back by his hair.

"Nuh uh," I protested, my voice breathy and desperate. "Not fair." His soft brown eyes studied mine, a teasing smile coming to his lips.

"Fine," he relented, pulling back to strip off his tank top. He added it to the mess of clothes, leaning over me again. "Good?"

"Hmm." I gave him a smirk. "These too," I said as I tugged on his waistband.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at me before sliding off his jeans.

"Happy?" Leo asked.

My eyes raked up and down him, shamelessly checking him out. His muscles flexed from holding himself up, his arms caging me in. His erection was straining against his boxers, a clear wet spot on them.

"Incredibly," I answered.

"You're gonna be the death of me, amor." Leo kissed his way back down to my jeans, finally removing them and my underwear.

He took a sharp breath when he saw my exposed pussy, soaked from him. His hands quickly found their way to my hips, his breathes coming fast and shallow.

"So pretty, amor. All for me."

"All for you," I repeated, making him let out a shaky breath before licking a stripe up my folds.

I let out a whine at the contact, my hands coming to his hair. He pushed my legs farther up, lapping at my cunt.

"Leo," I moaned.

He hummed against me, circling his tongue around my clit. He was burying himself in me like a starved man, hungrily devouring my pussy. His tongue trailed down, prodding at my hole as I tugged his curls, letting out needy whines. He slipped into me, licking at my walls.

"Fuck," I cried.

My legs attempted to close around his head but he forced them open, his grip tight on my thighs. His nose pushed at my clit as he sucked up my juices, his own needy moans vibrating against me.

His hips rolled against the couch, humping the fabric. I pushed him against me, crying out his name.

"Faster! Oh gods, faster, please!"

He sped up, desperately lapping at me and rutting his hips. He slid one hand down to focus on my clit, harshly rubbing it.

"Leo!" I yelled as I came, bucking my hips against his face. He buried himself in my cunt, hurriedly sucking up my juices. He helped me through my high, finally pulling back after a few more kitten licks to my sensitive pussy. I whined, pulling his hair.

"Fuck, amor," he gasped as he pulled away, crawling over me again.

"Off," I whined, already tugging at his underwear.

"Someone's needy," he teased as if his hips weren't rolling at my touch, his voice breathy and desperate.

At my whines he helped me pushed down his boxers, revealing his cock. I moaned at the sight, his tip a pretty pink, leaking precum.

"Please," I begged, pulling his hips closer.

"Hold on." He grabbed his cock, dragging his tip through my folds. I whined at the feeling, bucking my hips up. He finally relented, sliding into me. We both moaned as he bottomed out, my walls squeezing him.

"So tight, amor," he choked out, his head falling to my shoulder. I wrapped my legs around him, rolling my hips against his. He slowly pulled out, slamming back into me.

"Leo!" I yelled, scratching his back. He moaned into my neck, nipping at my skin. He bucked into me, pushing me into the cushion. "Fuck, baby," I panted, pushing him further into me with my legs.

"So good," Leo practically pleaded, his hips stuttering against mine as his dick continued to rut against my g spot.

He let out a loud moan as I clenched around him with a whimper. His balls hit my ass with each thrust, the feeling making me shudder in pleasure.

I tangled a hand in his hair, moving his face so I could kiss him. He returned the action sloppily, desperately sucking my lip.

"'M close," I moaned, jutting my hips up to meet his.

"So am I, amor." He let out a groan, moving one hand to my hip, his grip on me impossiblely tight. His skin was hot, almost burning me. I arched my back against him, the heat pushing me closer to my high.

Leo moved to suck my nipple, swirling his tongue around it as he fucked me at an unrelenting pace. He gently nipped at me, earning a moan as I came, squeezing his cock.

"Amor," he whined, wildly bucking into me. His hand tightened even further on my hip, his skin becoming impossibly hot.

"Leo," gasped, his hand searing my skin. His head dropped to my shoulder, his cock overstimulating me.

He came, pouring into me with a loud moan, my skin burning at his touch. He stilled inside of me, catching his breath.

"Leo," I panted, finally getting his attention.

"Yes, amor?" He slid out me, removing his hand from my side.

"You burnt me." I motioned to the red skin on my hip, formed in the shape his hand. His eyes widen in shock.

"Fuck—I'm so sorry." He was a stuttering mess, his tone genuine, though I didn't miss the way his eyes stayed fixed on the brand. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean—"

I pulled him down for a kiss, cutting him off. He paused a moment before reciprocating, cautious to put his hands on me again.

"You're okay," I placated as I pulled back. "It was kinda hot if I'm being honest."

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to the mark.

"You think?"

I laughed, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Should've done it sooner. Everyone will know I'm yours."

He let out stifled moan, looking at me with a startled expression again.

[shiorihyugawrites]

Letting Go (Levi x Reader Oneshot)

Levi Ackerman is known for his unshakable discipline, always in control, never letting his guard down—until tonight. What begins as a stolen moment on a hidden beach in Marley turns into something far more intimate, as Levi finds himself vulnerable in ways he never thought possible. With you, he's faced with a new kind of battle—one between his iron will and his desire to finally let go. In the quiet of the night, you guide him through an experience he's never had, helping him understand that losing control doesn't mean losing himself.

18 + Only | Minors Do Not Interact

It was a quiet night in Marley, a silence that hung heavy with the tension of a looming storm. The Azumabito estate was shadowed under the dark clouds that rolled in, the ocean breeze sending a chill through the night air. You stood by the window, the dim light of the moon casting a faint glow over the hidden beach below. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was faint but rhythmic, like a lullaby carried by the wind. 

Your squad had been undercover for weeks now. The Assassination Squad—your elite squad— along with Levi’s Special Operations Squad were specifically assigned to handle delicate operations like this. And yet, for all the precision and skill you had developed over the years, nights like this made it hard to sit still. You were restless. It wasn’t the mission or the danger that kept you awake. It was him.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. The stoic, disciplined captain of the Special Operations Squad. His very presence exuded control, an iron will that seemed unbreakable. But you had seen cracks in that steely exterior. You had noticed the subtle glances, the way his eyes would linger on you just a second too long during training or briefings. There was chemistry between you—an unspoken pull neither of you would acknowledge. He was as untouchable as he was guarded, yet you couldn't resist pushing those boundaries every chance you got.

You glanced over your shoulder, your gaze settling on Levi as he stood near the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes were scanning the room, ever watchful, ever vigilant. The others were asleep, but Levi—Levi never slept during missions.

A mischievous smile tugged at your lips.

“Captain,” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The sound of your voice broke the silence, making him turn his attention toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.

“What is it?” His tone was flat, disinterested, but you could hear the subtle edge of curiosity beneath it.

You turned fully toward him, taking a few quiet steps closer. The silk of your cloak shifted with each movement, the light fabric brushing against your skin. “You’re always so serious,” you said, teasing him. “Don’t you ever just… let go? Do something spontaneous?”

Levi’s brow furrowed in response, his arms still crossed as he regarded you with that intense gaze of his. “We’re on a mission,” he replied, his voice stern. “There’s no time for foolishness.”

You shrugged, undeterred. “What if I told you there’s a hidden beach just beyond that cliffside? We’re right on the coast, and nobody would notice if we snuck out for a little while.”

His expression hardened, and you could almost hear the disapproval in his silence. “Tch. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on,” you pressed, stepping even closer now, your voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. “Just for a few minutes. What’s the harm?”

Levi’s jaw clenched, but you could see the internal struggle behind his cold exterior. You had a way of getting under his skin, and you knew it. It was a game you had played since the day you joined the Scouts. You knew how to push his buttons, how to tease him just enough to break through that impenetrable wall of discipline he kept up at all times.

Levi sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “If anyone notices—”

“No one will notice,” you interrupted, your smile widening. “It’ll just be you and me, Captain.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His eyes searched yours, as if he was weighing the risks. Finally, with another resigned sigh, he relented. “Fine. But we’re only going down to the beach, and we’re not staying long.”

You beamed at him, excitement bubbling up in your chest. “Deal.”

Within minutes, the two of you had quietly slipped out of the estate, careful not to wake the others. The hidden path down to the beach was narrow, winding between jagged rocks and overgrown brush, but the sound of the ocean grew louder as you descended. The cool night air whipped around you, carrying the scent of saltwater. 

When you finally reached the beach, the sight of the ocean stretched out before you like a dark, endless void. The waves shimmered faintly under the moonlight, casting a silvery hue across the sand. You pulled off your boots, letting the cool grains slip between your toes as you wandered closer to the shore.

Levi followed you, his steps measured and cautious, even in this moment of stolen freedom. You turned back to face him, your eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night. He was standing a few paces away, his expression as unreadable as ever, but you could see the faintest trace of curiosity in his eyes.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” you asked, stretching your arms out toward the sea, as if you could embrace the entire ocean. “The ocean breeze, the quiet… For once, we’re not surrounded by Titans or soldiers. It’s just us.”

Levi remained silent for a moment, his eyes drifting toward the horizon. “It’s quiet,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

You stepped closer to him, your bare feet making no sound in the sand. “You should enjoy it, Captain,” you whispered, your voice low and coaxing. “Let go… just for tonight.”

He turned his gaze toward you, his gray eyes locking with yours. There was a flicker of something in them—something you had never seen before. Hesitation? Longing? You couldn’t quite place it, but you knew that he was fighting an internal battle, one that had been building for a long time.

You took another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the tension between you grow stronger. Your fingers brushed against his hand, and to your surprise, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stood still, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Just for tonight,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The sound of the ocean faded into the background, and all you could hear was the quiet pounding of your heart. Slowly, you leaned in, your lips hovering just inches from his. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension that had been simmering between you for so long reaching its peak.

But just as your lips were about to meet, Levi pulled back, his breath ragged as he shook his head. “No,” he muttered, his voice strained. “We can’t.”

Your heart sank, but you could see the conflict in his eyes—the desire he was struggling to suppress. His discipline, his control, it was ironclad, but even Levi Ackerman wasn’t immune to the pull between you.

“Why not?” you asked softly, your fingers still brushing against his. “What are you afraid of?”

Levi’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Because if we start this… we won’t stop.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the weight of his admission hanging in the air between you. He was right—if you crossed this line, there would be no going back. But the desire burning between you was undeniable, and you weren’t going to let him retreat into his shell again.

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need,” you said, your voice bold, daring. “To stop holding back. To just… let go.”

Levi’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, you saw his iron will falter. He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Then burn with me.”

And with that, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was as fierce as the storm brewing in the distance.

The kiss ignited something in both of you, a release of all the tension that had built over time—every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every unspoken word. Levi’s lips were rough but desperate, moving against yours as if the restraint that had kept him on a tight leash had finally snapped. His hands slid up to your face, holding you with a gentleness that stood in stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging between you.

You pressed yourself closer to him, your heart racing as the taste of salt from the sea mingled with the heat of the kiss. His grip tightened slightly, pulling you into him as the world around you faded away. There was no mission, no looming danger, no war. It was just you and him, here in this stolen moment on the hidden beach.

Levi pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was heavy, his eyes half-lidded but burning with an intensity you had never seen before. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, his voice rough and low.

You smiled softly, still catching your own breath. "You can let go, just this once. You don't always have to be in control."

His eyes flickered with conflict, but before he could respond, you brought your hands up to the back of his neck, gently pulling him down into another kiss. This time, it was slower, deeper. His hesitation began to melt away with each passing second, his lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency.

Levi, always so composed, so controlled, was unraveling right in front of you. His iron discipline was slipping as he gave into the moment. His hands, once tentative, now explored your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you. The warmth of his touch, the feel of his body so close to yours—it sent shivers down your spine.

As you both stood there on the edge of the sea, the waves lapping at the shore behind you, Levi’s control faltered completely. His lips left yours, trailing down the line of your jaw to your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin, and a soft gasp escaped your lips as his grip on your waist tightened.

“Levi…” you breathed, your voice barely audible above the sound of the crashing waves.

He froze for a second, his name on your lips grounding him. His forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, and for a moment, he just stood there, holding you. You could feel the tension in his body, the internal battle he was fighting. He was always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, never allowing himself to truly let go. But here, in this moment, you could feel him begin to falter.

“You don’t have to hold back,” you whispered, your hands gently running through his hair. “Not with me.”

Levi lifted his head slightly, his gray eyes locking onto yours. There was a vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling against yours, and for the first time, you saw the man behind the soldier. The man who had been through so much, who had seen more death and destruction than anyone should have to bear, and who had locked himself away behind walls of steel.

“I don’t…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

You smiled gently, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Then let me show you.”

Before he could say another word, you closed the distance between you again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. Levi responded immediately, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that surprised even him. It was as if every pent-up emotion, every suppressed desire, was being unleashed all at once.

He was gentle but desperate, his touch burning through your skin, his lips demanding against yours. Your hands wandered across his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, and a shiver ran down your spine. It was easy to forget that beneath all his discipline and stoicism, Levi Ackerman was still a man, still human.

The kiss deepened, and you felt Levi’s body press against yours with a need that sent your pulse racing. Your back met the soft sand as Levi gently lowered you down, his weight hovering over you, careful not to crush you. The world felt like it was spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of the ocean, the taste of salt and skin.

Levi pulled back just enough to look down at you, his expression intense, his breathing ragged. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“I…” He struggled for words, his voice strained. “I’ve never…”

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I know,” you whispered. “It’s okay.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in Levi’s eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. But instead of pushing him, you gave him space to breathe, your touch gentle, your movements slow and deliberate.

Levi’s lips found yours again, softer this time, less frantic, but no less passionate. His hands moved with more confidence now, tracing the curve of your waist, the shape of your hips. He wasn’t holding back anymore. He was letting go, just as you had asked.

And for a brief moment, in the quiet embrace of the night, Levi Ackerman wasn’t Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He wasn’t the stoic captain or the ruthless warrior. He was simply a man, and you were the only person who had ever seen him like this.

The storm that had been building on the horizon finally broke, the distant rumble of thunder echoing across the beach. But neither of you noticed. The world could crumble around you, and it wouldn’t matter.

Because, for once, Levi was letting go.

As the storm’s distant rumble echoed across the beach, the tension between you and him completely melted away, replaced with something raw and electric. His lips, once hesitant, now pressed against yours with fervor, his body no longer holding back. It was as if every wall Levi had built around himself had crumbled in your arms. The feel of his hands, strong yet trembling, sent shivers down your spine. The kiss deepened, his fingers threading through your hair as the soft sand shifted beneath you. Levi groaned softly against your mouth, a sound that sent a surge of heat through you.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you could tell he was holding himself back, unsure, yet desperate for more. Levi, always in control, always calculating, was at the edge of losing himself. You pulled back slightly, your lips hovering over his, your breath warm against his skin.

“Levi,” you whispered, your voice laced with desire and affection, “let me take care of you tonight.”

His sharp, storm-gray eyes met yours, wide with uncertainty. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to catch his breath. “I… I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, his voice low and strained.

You smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering on his skin. “That’s okay,” you said, your voice soothing. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let go.”

Levi’s brows furrowed slightly, still caught between his iron discipline and the pull of his desire for you. He was always the one in control, always the one leading. Letting someone else take the reins was foreign to him, but the temptation of your touch, your words, was impossible to resist. 

“Trust me,” you murmured, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

With one last lingering kiss, you both stood up, still breathless. The ocean breeze cooled your flushed skin as you silently made your way back to the estate, the night air filled with the distant sound of the waves and the occasional rumble of thunder. When you reached the estate, you quietly snuck in through a side entrance, careful not to wake the others. The halls were empty, dimly lit by the faint moonlight streaming through the windows.

You led Levi to your room, his hand firmly grasped in yours. The moment you closed the door behind you, the tension between you both snapped like a taut string. Levi barely had time to process the situation before you were on him again, your lips crashing into his with the same intensity as before, your body pressed against his. His hands were at your waist, gripping you tightly, but he still seemed unsure, almost as if he was afraid to lose control.

You pulled back, your lips ghosting over his ear as you whispered, “You don’t have to hold back tonight, Levi. Let me take the lead.”

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky as he nodded slightly, his eyes searching yours. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile before your hands roamed over his chest through his shirt. Levi’s breath hitched as you felt the toned muscles of his chest and stomach. You took a moment to admire him the sturdiness of him, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of his shirt,  aching to feel more but knowing you needed to take things slowly with him. His skin was warm under your touch, and the tension in his muscles was palpable.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” you whispered, your voice dripping with affection and desire.

Levi’s eyes widened slightly at your words, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being complimented, especially not like this. “Tch, don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice gruff, though there was no bite to it.

You smirked, leaning in to kiss his neck, your lips trailing down to his collarbone. “It’s true,” you murmured between kisses. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

Levi let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as your lips continued their slow, deliberate assault on his skin. You could feel the way his body tensed beneath your touch, how his resolve was starting to crumble. He had spent so long being in control, always keeping his emotions in check, but tonight, you were determined to show him what it felt like to let go.

His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold on to the last vestiges of his control.

“Relax, Captain,” you whispered, your voice sultry, teasing. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly slip off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor without breaking eye contact. His sharp gaze followed the motion, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw tightening as his fingers twitched by his sides. You noticed the slight shift in his breathing, the way his chest rose and fell a little quicker as you began to undo the buttons on your shirt. 

When you let the fabric fall away, revealing the smooth curves of your skin, Levi’s breath hitched audibly. His eyes widened just slightly, betraying the stoic mask he wore so well. His gaze lingered on your breasts, then your thighs, his usually composed features cracking for a brief moment of awe. The flicker of emotion in his eyes was unmistakable, but just as quickly, Levi tore his gaze away, his ears burning red as he tried to regain his composure.

You couldn’t help but smile softly, watching him struggle. “Levi,” you called his name gently, stepping closer. His eyes snapped back to yours, and you saw the embarrassment in them, as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

“Tch…” He muttered, clearly flustered. “Stop staring at me like that.”

You chuckled softly, enjoying how vulnerable he looked. “You were the one staring,” you teased, stepping even closer until your body was just inches from his. His eyes dropped to your chest again, only for a second, but it was enough for you to notice.

Levi swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly, but when your hands reached for his shirt, he froze. His entire body tensed as you began to undo the buttons, your fingers moving carefully over his chest. His skin felt warm under your touch, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart through the thin fabric.

He avoided your gaze, his lips pressed into a tight line as you peeled the shirt off his shoulders, leaving his chest bare. You could see the tension in his muscles, the way his breath hitched slightly as your hands moved to his waistband. Levi wasn’t used to this—he wasn’t used to someone else taking the lead, and the vulnerability of the moment was palpable.

When you knelt down in front of him to finish undressing him, Levi’s breath stuttered, and his hands twitched at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure what was happening. For all of his strength and confidence on the battlefield, here, in this moment, Levi was shy.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice gentle as you looked up at him. He was completely naked now.

Levi’s eyes flicked away, his jaw tight. “I… yeah,” he muttered, though the hesitation in his voice betrayed him.

For the first time, you saw him without the armor of his uniform, without the stoic mask that he wore so often. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze swept over him, drinking in the sight of Levi Ackerman—bare, vulnerable, and entirely real.

His body was lean but sculpted, muscles honed from years of battle, each line defined and purposeful. His skin was marred with the faintest traces of scars, the silent history of the wars he had fought, and survived. His chest rose and fell with quiet, controlled breaths, though you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was not as composed as he wanted to appear.

Your eyes trailed down to his toned abdomen, the faint ripple of muscle there catching the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. His torso tapered down to narrow hips, the sharp lines of his pelvis only accentuating his lean frame. He was all strength and precision, yet somehow delicate in this vulnerable state. His hardened length was standing firm at attention–his arousal for you evident, much to Levi’s embarrassment.

His arms hung by his sides, his hands flexing slightly as though unsure what to do with them. You noticed how his knuckles were pale from gripping the fabric of his pants just moments ago, and now, as he stood bare before you, his fingers twitched with a nervous energy. His usual stoicism had cracks in it now, uncertainty flickering in his storm-gray eyes as he caught you staring.

“Stop staring,” he muttered, his voice gruff but quieter than usual, betraying a slight hint of embarrassment.

But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t look away from him. There was something breathtaking about seeing him like this—without the hard edges, without the barriers. He was always so composed, so untouchable, yet here, in this moment, he was entirely yours to behold.

“You’re perfect,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Levi’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he averted his gaze. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, creeping up to his ears, and it took you a second to realize that Levi Ackerman—the strongest soldier—was shy. He shifted uncomfortably, as if unsure of how to stand or where to look, the vulnerability of the moment not lost on him.

“Tch, don’t say stupid things,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. It was softer, almost as though he didn’t believe what you said but didn’t mind hearing it.

You stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush your fingertips against his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath his skin. He flinched slightly at the touch, not because he didn’t want it, but because he wasn’t used to it. Not like this.

“I mean it,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the planes of his chest, down to the dip of his waist. “You’re perfect, Levi.”

He let out a breath, a soft, almost inaudible exhale, as though the weight of your words finally settled over him. His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The vulnerability in his gaze, the slight hesitation in his movements—it all spoke volumes.

And in that moment, standing before you, Levi Ackerman wasn’t just Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He was a man, stripped bare in more ways than one, allowing you to see the side of him that no one else ever had.

You smiled up at him, your hands brushing lightly against his thighs as you gently guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles white, and his breathing grew uneven as you began to explore him, your touch slow and deliberate. 

You wrapped a delicate hand around his member and slowly stroked him up and down, glancing up at him through your lashes to gauge his reaction. He tensed as soon as you touched him and immediately gasped. Taking that as a good sign, you decided to speed up your ministrations until Levi was squirming. Every little sound he made, every sharp inhale or quiet groan, told you that you were driving him closer to the edge. His usually stoic expression was completely gone, replaced by the look of a man who was losing control of himself for the first time.

When you finally took him into your mouth, Levi gasped, his body jerking involuntarily as his hand instinctively found your hair. You swirled your tongue around his tip before hollowing your cheeks and sucking him tightly. You took him all the way till you felt him hit the back of his throat and you heard a soft whimper from Levi. He gripped your hair tightly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he fought to hold on. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed, and you could tell he was already struggling to maintain control.

“Shit…” Levi’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper, and his hand tightened in your hair as you continued. His body trembled, his hips moving slightly in time with you, but it wasn’t long before you felt him tense up even more, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. 

“Wait… I—” He tried to warn you, but it was too late. Levi’s entire body shuddered as involuntarily shot his seed down your throat, a deep groan escaping his lips as he came, his grip on you almost painfully tight.

For a moment, the silence between you was almost deafening. Levi’s lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn’t come. His expression shifted quickly, from pleasure to something closer to embarrassment. His brow furrowed, and you could see the frustration creeping in. He turned his head slightly, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I… I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Levi muttered, his voice low and gruff, but there was an undeniable edge of uncertainty there. He was still breathing hard, his hands now gripping the sheets beneath him as though he couldn’t quite believe what had just occurred.

You could tell that Levi, for all his skill in battle and composure in life, wasn’t used to being in situations like this. Vulnerable, open, and without control—he wasn’t prepared for how quickly everything had unraveled. The weight of his embarrassment was heavy, written all over his face.

“Hey…” you whispered, your voice soft and reassuring as you moved closer to him. You could see the tension in his body, the way his jaw clenched as he tried to avoid looking at you. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “It’s okay.”

Levi stiffened at your touch, his eyes finally meeting yours for just a second before flickering away again. His hands twitched by his sides, his knuckles white as he gripped the sheets harder. “It’s not…” he began, but his voice faltered. His brows knitted together in frustration, and his usual sharpness was replaced by something softer—something unsure. “I don’t… I didn’t expect—”

You could see him struggling to find the right words, and it only made him more flustered. Levi wasn’t used to losing control, not in battle and certainly not in moments like this. It was clear that he felt embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, but you weren’t going to let him feel that way—not with you.

“Levi,” you whispered, leaning in closer, your hand still resting gently on his chest. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He let out a low, frustrated sigh, his hand coming up to brush through his hair, clearly at a loss. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He finally looked at you again, and you could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the vulnerability he rarely showed. “I wasn’t ready.”

You smiled softly, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his chest, trying to ease the tension you could feel radiating off of him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you said, your voice soothing. “You were just… in the moment.”

Levi let out a quiet scoff, his face still flushed with embarrassment. “Tch. In the moment,” he muttered, clearly still irritated with himself. But even through his frustration, there was something softer underneath, a vulnerability that told you this was unfamiliar territory for him.

“You’ve been holding back for so long,” you said softly, your hand moving to gently cup his cheek. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and this time, he didn’t look away. “It’s not a bad thing to finally let go.”

Levi stared at you for a long moment, his breath still coming in shallow bursts. He seemed to relax slightly, though the tension in his body hadn’t completely disappeared. “I don’t know how to… do this,” he admitted quietly, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear him.

You smiled gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “That’s okay,” you said, your tone soft and full of affection. “We don’t have to rush. We have all the time in the world.”

Levi let out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find reassurance. His hand, still trembling slightly, came up to cover yours on his cheek. For the first time since the moment began, he seemed to relax a little more, his body slowly releasing some of the tension.

“Just… don’t think too much about it,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “You’ve done more than enough, Levi. You’re perfect as you are.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but the way he held onto your hand told you everything you needed to know. Despite his embarrassment, despite his frustration with himself, Levi was letting go—if only for a moment—and that was all that mattered.

He glanced at you, his sharp gray eyes softened by your gaze and for a second, his usual stoicism flickered. Levi was never one to let his emotions show, but now, with the barrier between you both shattered, he seemed different—unsure, vulnerable.

You smiled softly, your hand moving to rest over his, guiding it upward, toward your chest. His eyes widened slightly, and you could feel the hesitation in his movements as his fingers brushed against the soft curve of your breast. He paused, as if unsure if he should continue, his gaze searching yours for permission.

“You can touch me, Levi,” you whispered, your voice gentle, filled with encouragement. “It’s okay.”

Levi swallowed hard, his breath hitching as his hand gently cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your skin with a hesitant reverence that surprised you. His touch was soft, almost cautious, as though he was afraid of doing something wrong. But the moment his fingers made contact, you felt the tension in him shift, the vulnerability replaced with something more primal—something deeper.

His eyes darkened, his body reacting to the intimacy of the moment in ways that even he couldn’t control. His breath quickened again, and you could feel the subtle shift in his body as he started to respond, the growing heat between you unmistakable. Levi was clearly trying to hold back, unsure of how to navigate the intensity of his feelings, but the way his hand lingered on your skin told you that he was being pulled under by the desire he had kept buried for so long.

"You're driving me insane," he muttered, his voice rough, barely above a whisper, as he focused entirely on the sensation of your body beneath his touch. His hand trembled slightly, his control slipping once again, and the shift in him was palpable. 

The desire between you reignited, stronger than before, and you couldn’t help but notice how his body responded. Levi’s jaw clenched, his breath becoming heavier, and when you shifted slightly against him, you could feel just how much the moment was affecting him. He was hard again, the tension and need that had briefly subsided now returning with a force that seemed to surprise even him.

Levi’s hand stilled on your breast, his eyes closing for a moment as he fought to regain control, but you could see the struggle in him—the desire to let go warring with his instinct to maintain composure.

"You don’t have to hold back," you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your touch. "It’s just us. No need to be in control."

Levi opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours with a mix of need and uncertainty. He was clearly torn, still unsure of how to handle the intensity of the moment, but the look in his eyes told you everything—he didn’t want to stop. 

For a moment, he said nothing, but his body betrayed him. His grip on you tightened slightly, his breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "I’ve never felt like this before."

You smiled softly, your fingers gently trailing down his chest as you whispered back, "Then let’s explore it together." 

And in that instant, you could feel Levi’s last walls begin to crumble, his hand moving more confidently now as the tension between you both reached its peak once again. The vulnerability and connection you shared in that moment were undeniable, and Levi, for the first time, was letting himself feel it all.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and Levi’s eyes widened as you lined yourself up with him. His hands shot to your waist, gripping you tightly, his breath shaky as he tried to steady himself.

“You don’t have to—”

But you cut him off with a soft smile, your voice low and teasing as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I want to, Captain. I want to see you lose control again.”

Levi groaned softly, his fingers digging into your hips as you slowly sank down onto him, inch by inch. His entire body tensed beneath you, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he fought to keep himself together. But the moment you took him in fully, he let out a low, guttural groan, his grip on your hips tightening even more.

“Fuck…” Levi muttered under his breath, his voice strained. It took everything in him not to come right then and there, his entire body trembling as he fought to hold on.

You began to move, slowly at first, your hips rolling in a way that made Levi’s breath hitch. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep himself together, but you could feel how close he was, how desperately he was trying to hold back.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “I love watching you like this… watching you lose control.”

Levi groaned in response, his hands flexing on your waist as his breath came in ragged bursts. You picked up the pace, your movements slow but deliberate, teasing him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I want you to come for me, Levi. Don’t hold back. Let go.”

"I can’t... I can’t—" Levi's voice faltered, his body tensing beneath you as his breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillow.

"Yes, you can," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "I want you to give in. Let it happen, Levi. Let me hear you."

Your words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. With a final, deep groan, Levi’s body tensed completely, his grip on you tightening to the point where you were sure he’d leave marks. His breathing grew ragged, shallow gasps escaping his lips as he finally surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure and began to buck his hips up into you.

"That's it," you murmured, guiding him through it with your words, your voice laced with affection and desire. "You're doing so well. I want you to feel all of it."

Levi’s body jerked beneath you, his eyes squeezing shut as the intensity of the moment overtook him. He couldn’t control the way his hips were shooting up into your hot core, desperate for his release.  His breath came in short, desperate gasps, his usually sharp mind clouded with pleasure as his body gave in completely. 

The world seemed to blur around him—his breath hitched, his chest heaved, and he felt as if his body had ignited in a way he’d never experienced before. His vision went white, the pleasure almost overwhelming as you continued to talk him through it.

“Levi… you feel so good,” you whispered in his ear, your words a soft encouragement, keeping him grounded as he gasped for breath. “I want you to remember this night.”

Levi’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening as you continued to move, faster now, your hips rolling in a rhythm that had him on the brink of losing himself completely. His body trembled beneath yours, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he struggled to hold on, but it was no use.

With a sharp, ragged groan, Levi came again, his body shaking violently as he lost control. His hands gripped your hips so tightly it almost hurt, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts as his release hit him harder than before.

He was trembling beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his body tensed with overwhelming sensation. His hands gripped your hips so tightly that you could feel the indent of his fingers, their strength betraying the iron discipline he usually held. His face was flushed, and his normally sharp eyes were wide and unfocused, lost in the intensity of the moment.

His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the newness of it all. Levi had faced countless battles, stared death in the face time and time again, but this—this feeling coursing through him—was something entirely different. His senses were overloaded, the heat of your body pressed against him, the way you moved, and the sound of your voice sending him spiraling further into a state of vulnerability he wasn’t used to.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered soft, sultry words. "You feel so good, Levi." Your voice was like a lifeline, pulling him deeper into the experience, and he clung to every word.

Levi gasped, his body shuddering as waves of pleasure overtook him, white spots clouding his vision. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, then lower, gripping the soft curve of your thighs as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment. His breathing was uneven, and for once, Levi Ackerman—the ever-composed captain—was completely undone.

“I… I can’t—” Levi tried to speak, but his words faltered as the pleasure overwhelmed him. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, every muscle in his body tense as he continued to shoot his seed inside you. You could feel him filling you up, his body trembling as he lost all control.

"That's it," you murmured, your voice soft and coaxing. "Just let it happen, Levi."

You continued to guide him, your words both reassuring and teasing as you spoke pure adoration and desire into his ear. Levi groaned, his body arching against yours as another release surged through him with a force that left him breathless. His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your skin, and for a moment, all Levi could do was hold on as he was swept up in the intensity of the moment.

His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his normally composed expression was a mix of pleasure and disbelief. He had never felt anything like this before, and it was as though his body was reacting on instinct, surrendering completely to the sensations coursing through him.

As the peak of his orgasm finally washed over him, Levi’s mind struggled to process it all. The warmth of your body, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice—all of it combined to push him past any boundary he had ever known. You stayed with him through every moment, whispering encouragement as his body trembled beneath yours.

Levi finally opened his eyes, still wide with shock and disbelief, his breath shaky as he tried to catch it. His gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, there was something soft and vulnerable in his expression—something you rarely saw in him. He looked at you as if you were the only person in the world who had ever seen him like this, and in that moment, you realized how much he had been holding back.

"You're... incredible," Levi whispered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and as he tried to regain his composure, he found himself still lost in the sensation of having let go, something he had never done before.

You smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as you whispered back, "You deserve to feel like this, Levi. I’m happy I got to show you what it's like to lose control, even if it’s just for tonight."

Levi’s hands remained on your hips, his grip softening slightly as he slowly started to come down from the overwhelming high, his heart still pounding in his chest. The vulnerability, the raw emotion, was still there, but this time, Levi didn’t pull away. For once, he allowed himself to be present in the moment—something he hadn’t done in years.

He held you close, his breathing steadying, but the intensity between you was far from over. There was still a fire in Levi’s eyes, still a desire simmering just beneath the surface.

That look in his eyes told you everything—you had taken him somewhere he had never been before, somewhere he had never allowed himself to go.

"Thank you..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible as he caught his breath. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you had never seen before, a soft gratitude that he didn’t need to voice.

You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, whispering, "You deserved it, Captain."

Levi’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you both lay in the afterglow, the tension and exhaustion from the night slowly melting away. The storm outside continued its distant rumble, but inside the quiet room, the only sound was the soft breathing of two people who, for the first time, had truly let go.

And you weren’t done with him yet.

[twola]

Firewater - Chapter 16

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

“Why are you tellin’ me this now?”

Arthur finally turned his head to look at you. His expression was unreadable—sad, maybe. But also something else. Resigned. Open.

“Because I don’t wanna lie to you, and not tellin’ you feels like a lie.”

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin, @globetrotter28, @arthurmorganist, @sadieadlersnecktie

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SILENT STEAD, NEW AUSTIN, NOVEMBER 1897

Arthur woke with the sun just beginning to edge over the rocks, slanting gold across the tents and wagons. His back ached from sleeping crooked, which was becoming more and more commonplace the older he got.

He sat up slowly, stretching with a grunt, and squinted toward your tent.

Flap open. Empty.

He stood and ambled over, ducking his head inside — just to check. Nothing. The blanket was still rumpled, your shawl tossed over a crate, but you weren’t there.

He glanced around camp, but it was quiet still. Grimshaw was at the wash barrel, Javier was half-asleep beside the fire, and no one else seemed to have noticed you’d slipped out.

Something in his chest tightened.

He stepped past the outer ring of camp, following instinct more than trail. It wasn’t the first time you’d wandered off in the morning — sometimes the sickness got you, or you just needed to walk. He didn't call your name. Didn’t want to spook you if you needed quiet.

And then he saw you.

You were just beyond the ridge, standing in the soft brush beside a weathered tree, one hand on your lower back, the other resting protectively over the swell of your belly. The light caught your hair, made you look like something Arthur didn’t dare disturb.

He started to step forward — then paused.

You were speaking. Low. Gentle. Almost too soft to hear, but the wind was quiet, and he was close enough that the words found him.

“Sweet baby, you’re gonna be so loved when you get here…”

Arthur’s breath caught in his chest.

You rubbed your belly absently, your voice soft in a way he rarely heard — not that sharp, quick-edged tone you used with him when he was being a bastard, not the sarcastic banter you wielded like a blade.

This was different. Something warmer. Older. Deeper.

“I already love you so much — and Papa, your papa… I know he’ll love you. I know he has it in him.”

Arthur’s heart twisted at that.

He leaned against the rock face, arms folded, jaw tight.

Of course he’d love the child. Why would you say it like that? Like you weren’t sure. Like it was some coin toss whether he could feel that kind of love at all.

He stared down at the dirt, brow furrowing deeper.

What the hell kind of man did you think he was?

But he knew the answer. Knew it before the question finished forming.

A man with too many regrets. Too many graves behind him. One foot out the door of every life he ever touched.

Maybe you weren’t wrong to wonder. It's not like he’s given you any reassurance about your own relationship with him.

Christ, he thought to himself.

Your voice carried again, softer this time, lost in the breeze as you rubbed slow, absentminded circles over your belly.

Arthur pushed off the cliffside and turned away without a word. He didn’t want to hear the rest.

He left the way he came, quiet as a ghost, heading back into camp before the morning was fully awake — that knot in his chest growing tighter with every step.

-

The word came down just after sunrise.

Dutch wanted the camp moved. Said there was nothing left in Gaptooth Ridge but dry rock and drying leads. They’d wrung everything they could out of Rathskeller Fork. The new spot? Riley’s Charge — a scrubby stretch of desert beside a low cliff in Cholla Springs, just south of Armadillo. Still hot, still dry, but greener in places. A few more tired trees and a bit more shade, at least.

You didn’t argue. No one really did. It was time to move on.

Arthur had been up before most, saddling horses, helping Javier break down the supply tents, hauling crates and ropes and crates again. And you’d been packing slow and deliberate, folding your things into a battered trunk with sore hands and a back that ached more than you’d admit.

He showed up halfway through, standing just inside the flap of your tent, casting a long shadow over the floor.

You didn’t look up right away. The two of you hadn’t really spoken much in the last few days. You’d sensed something shift, but you hadn’t pressed. Gone was the banter between you, gone, even, was the heat.

“Need a hand?” he asked, voice low.

You paused. “Sure.”

He stepped in, crouched beside the open trunk, and began to help without comment. You handed him a stack of clothes — worn chemises, a small shawl, the baby blanket you’d started stitching at night when no one was looking.

Arthur folded it all carefully, like it mattered. Like he knew not to ask questions.

He was quiet. You were too. The air between you stretched taut, filled with unsaid things.

At one point you turned to lift a satchel and he moved at the same time — and his eyes fell right to the place where your dress now clung unmistakably around your belly.

He stopped.

You saw his gaze catch, linger. Not just a glance this time. He saw it. No denying. The soft but certain roundness. The way your posture had shifted, hand resting instinctively just beneath your ribs.

His throat bobbed. “You’re showin’.”

It wasn’t a question. More like a quiet, astonished truth he’d been pretending not to see.

You nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s been coming on fast these past few days.”

Arthur didn’t respond for a moment. Then he stood and gently lifted the trunk. “I’ll load this for you.”

You let him.

-

By the time the wagons were packed and the horses hitched, the camp was humming with the slow, hot energy of movement. Dust kicked up as Javier and Charles wrangled the herd toward the front of the line. Dutch barked orders with grand flair from horseback, and Hosea sat on the bench of one of the main wagons, ledger balanced on his knee.

You stood to the side, squinting against the morning sun. A thin sheen of sweat clung to the back of your neck.

Arthur returned a few minutes later, wiping his hands on a rag. “You good to ride?”

You hesitated. Your back was already sore, and you weren’t sure you could stay steady in a saddle all day.

He seemed to understand before you said anything. “Hosea’s got room up front. Easy seat.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

Arthur extended a hand and helped you up, careful and steady as always. His palm was rough, warm. You tried not to hold it longer than you needed to.

Once you were settled beside Hosea, he took your trunk and tied it down in the back with the rest of the supplies. Then he stepped back, looking up at you with a strange sort of pause — like he wanted to say something and wasn’t sure how.

You opened your mouth to thank him, but he gave a quick nod, tipping his hat, and turned away before you could speak.

He mounted his horse in one swift motion and fell in line near the front of the column.

You watched him for a long time as the camp began to move — watched the shape of him against the low hills, that broad-shouldered silhouette that always felt like safety and ache in equal measure.

-

The journey across the desert was slow and dry, but not miserable. The scrubland between Gaptooth Ridge and Cholla Springs had a kind of sparse beauty to it — low bushes blooming white, creosote and sage giving off their sharp scent as wagon wheels crunched through them. The cliffs rose up on the east side, casting long morning shadows, and armadillos scurried between the brush.

Hosea talked idly beside you, half to himself. Stories about the old days. Complaints about his hip. Gentle humor that made the miles go easier. But you were only half listening.

Your eyes drifted to Arthur again and again, riding just ahead, shoulders squared, hat pulled low. He didn’t look back.

You didn’t expect him to.

You rested your hand low on your belly and rubbed slow circles. The baby had been still all morning, but that was normal. You were learning its rhythms — the tiny stirrings just before dusk, the odd flutters when you lay on your side. 

Arthur had noticed you were showing, sure. But what that meant — what he thought of it — you still didn’t know.

-

It took hours, but by afternoon, the column rolled to a slow stop near the base of a cliff. A thin stream wound down the center of the clearing, flanked by scrub trees and brittle grass. It was as good a place as any.

Camp began to unpack. Wagons creaked. Canvas flaps were pitched. Pearson started barking about stew.

You stepped down slowly from the wagon bench, your back screaming in protest. Arthur appeared again — quiet, steady — just in time to offer you his hand.

You took it.

This time, you didn’t let go right away. He looked up at you for a moment, and you give him the smallest of smiles. 

He smiles in return. 

-

The fire had burned low, just embers now—glowing orange and red like the last breath of something sacred. The desert night pressed in around you, still and wide and humming with crickets and distant coyotes. A soft wind stirred the fringe of the blanket you’d laid out under the stars, cooling your sweat-dampened skin. You toss your skirts back over your legs after they were hiked to your hips.

You lay on your back, staring up at the dark, endless sky, a hand resting on your belly—already starting to feel more real, more present, you swear you can feel flutters from time to time.

Arthur lay beside you, shirtless after unloading boxes all day in the heat, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loose and open between you. You could hear his breathing. Slow. Measured.

Peaceful.

But not asleep.

Not even close.

You turned your head toward him, propping yourself up slightly on an elbow. “You’re quiet.”

Arthur blinked slowly, eyes still on the sky. “Just thinkin’.”

“Dangerous.”

He huffed a soft laugh. But it faded quick, and something heavier settled between you.

You waited.

And sure enough—after a long, stretching silence—he finally spoke.

“There’s somethin’ I should tell you.”

You didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, giving him space.

He swallowed thickly. “I had a son once.”

That stilled you.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just up at the empty sky. Like if he looked anywhere else, it might fall apart before it left his throat.

“His name was Isaac. His mother’s name was Eliza. She was… kind. A waitress in a backwater town we tore through. I gave her money when I could. Visited when I could. But I didn’t… I wasn’t really around.”

His voice stayed quiet. Not broken. But worn.

“I told myself I was doin’ what I had to. That Dutch needed me. That I was protectin’ ‘em by stayin’ away. Truth is—I was young, and scared, and too goddamn selfish to face what I had created.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too loud. Just let him keep going.

“One day I rode out to see ‘em. Brought a little carved horse I made for the boy.” His voice cracked slightly there. “But when I got there, they were gone. Said it was robbers. Nothing left but two crosses on the side of the road.”

He exhaled through his nose, slow and heavy.

“I never saw him grow up. Don’t even remember what color his eyes were.”

You let him continue, a heaviness settling to your chest.

“I’ve carried that with me ever since,” Arthur said. 

You were quiet for a long time, just staring at the ground as he looked up at the sky.

Then you asked, softly, “Why are you tellin’ me this now?”

Arthur finally turned his head to look at you. His expression was unreadable—sad, maybe. But also something else. Resigned. Open.

“Because I don’t wanna lie to you, and not tellin’ you feels like a lie.”

Your throat tightened.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For tellin’ me.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He breathed deep, like he was letting something go.

You settled back down beside him, curled against his side. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you in to his easy embrace. 

Your mind remained unsettled.

Beneath the stars, with nothing but wind and firelight for witness, you lay together in silence.

[solarvee]

I’ve been in love with you my whole life, but now I’m the one helping you plan your wedding

charles leclerc x best friend!reader

Summary: Y/N was once quietly in love with Charles Leclerc, even helping him plan his wedding to Alex. Over the years, she found healing, acceptance, and an unexpected friendship with Alex—who became one of her closest friends. Now, as Y/N prepares for her own wedding to Theo, Charles and Alex are by her side, supporting her through every detail. What once hurt now feels like peace, and surrounded by love—both old and new—Y/N finally steps into the future she deserves. It’s not the ending she once imagined, but it’s a beautiful one.

masterlist

It’s strange, the way heartbreak doesn’t come all at once. It creeps in slowly, like dusk—first in shadows, then in silence.

Charles is sitting across from me at the café table, beaming as he scrolls through floral arrangements on his phone. He’s talking about color palettes—navy and cream, maybe with touches of gold—and how Alex likes roses but hates peonies.

I’m nodding. Smiling. Sipping my coffee to keep my hands busy. Anything to keep the tremble out of them.

“I told her you'd help,” he says, glancing up at me with that familiar warmth in his eyes. “She said you have great taste and… well, you’ve always been good at this stuff.”

Always.

It’s the word that gets me. Always. Like a reminder that this has been my role from the beginning: his best friend, his person, his safe place. Not his love.

Never his love.

I force a smile. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you guys need.”

And just like that, I’m planning the wedding of the man I’ve been in love with for most of my life.

We met when we were five. By eight, we were inseparable. By fourteen, I knew what it meant—what the tightness in my chest was when he laughed, the flutter I got when he said my name like it was something sacred.

But I never told him.

There were moments, though. Quiet ones. Late-night drives, shared hotel rooms during races, his fingers brushing mine as we walked through some unfamiliar city. Moments where I thought—maybe. Moments where he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

But he never said it.

And eventually, he met Alex.

She’s lovely. Polite. Effortlessly beautiful. And she makes him happy. That’s what I tell myself when I can’t sleep—when I replay their engagement video in my mind, over and over, like a punishment I chose.

Three weeks later, we’re in a boutique filled with satin and lace, with champagne flutes in hand and a wedding planner chattering in the corner.

Alex is trying on dress number five, and I’m seated next to Charles, clipboard in hand, pretending like this doesn’t feel like a slow unraveling.

“She likes this one,” he says, leaning toward me, close enough that I can smell the cologne he’s worn since Monaco 2019. “But I think it’s too much beading.”

“I agree,” I say, my voice even.

He glances at me, eyes soft. “I knew you would.”

It’s that look—the one that makes me think he knows, deep down. That he’s known all along. But if he does, he’s never said anything. Never crossed that line.

Maybe he never felt it in the first place.

I cry in my car that night. Not the ugly, sobbing kind. Just quiet tears that trail down my cheeks as I stare at the steering wheel and wonder when I became the ghost in my own life.

Because I’ve loved him through everything—through wins and losses, through heartache and homecomings. And now, I’m helping him walk down the aisle to someone else.

It’s almost poetic. Tragic, but poetic.

The rehearsal dinner is held on a cliffside overlooking the sea. Candlelight flickers on long tables draped in white linen, and everything looks like it was pulled from a magazine.

Charles finds me just after the toast, his tie undone and two glasses of champagne in hand.

“For you,” he says, passing me one.

I accept it with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

He leans against the railing beside me, quiet for a while. Just the waves below and the hum of music from inside.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” he says finally. “You’ve been here through everything. Always.”

There it is again. Always.

I stare at the horizon, afraid to speak. But something inside me cracks open.

“I’ve loved you, you know,” I say, softly. “Not just as your friend. Not just… support. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. I glance at him and see his face go still, like I’ve said something forbidden.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything,” I continue, voice shaking now. “But I can’t pretend anymore. Not when I’m helping you pick centerpieces and writing vows for a love that isn’t mine.”

He sets his glass down. Turns fully toward me.

“Y/N—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t say you didn’t know. Just tell me—have you ever felt the same?”

He stares at me like it physically hurts. Then, finally: “Not in a way that would be fair to either of us.”

And that’s the answer.

That’s all I need.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. Every detail is perfect. The navy and cream, the roses, the soft string quartet playing as Alex walks down the aisle.

I stand at the edge of it all, heart silent in my chest, watching the man I love vow forever to someone else.

And when he looks at me afterward—eyes searching, smile tentative—I just nod. I smile back.

Because I’m not his person. I never was.

But I loved him enough to build his forever, even if it broke mine.

I’ve been in love with Charles for most of my life. Quietly. Patiently. Fiercely, in a way I didn’t fully understand until I found myself sitting beside him, helping him pick out his wedding cake flavors.

And it used to hurt—God, it used to ache. Watching him fall for someone else. Hearing the way he spoke about Alex with that soft reverence I’d always wanted for myself.

But things change. Time has this way of softening even the sharpest edges.

And somewhere between cake tastings and vow drafts, I realized something:

I’m okay.

Alex turned out to be nothing like I feared she’d be. She was kind. Grounded. She asked me questions and genuinely listened. She thanked me too often. She touched Charles the way someone does when they know they’ve found their person—and when I saw that, really saw it, something in me finally let go.

Not in a bitter, dramatic way.

Just... release.

Charles and I never had a moment. No grand declaration. No what-ifs. And that, I think, was the closure I needed.

Because maybe the version of us I carried all these years only ever existed in my heart. And maybe that’s okay, too.

The night before the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror in my hotel room, pinning back my hair, wearing a pale blue dress that shimmered a little in the light. I looked at myself—and for the first time in a while, I didn’t look like someone grieving a love she never had. I looked like someone whole.

My phone buzzed.

Luca: You still good for coffee after the ceremony tomorrow?

I smiled.

Luca had been a surprise. A mutual friend of Alex’s from university, someone I sat next to during a cake tasting and ended up talking to for two hours straight. There was no lightning strike, no instant chemistry. Just comfort. Curiosity. A softness I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

We’d gone for drinks a few times since. Easy. Effortless. He made me laugh. Asked about my life without knowing all of it already. He didn’t look at me with a thousand shared memories behind his eyes—he looked at me like I was something unfolding.

And maybe that’s what I needed now: someone new. Someone who saw me now, not as a shadow of the girl who’d been in love with Charles Leclerc her whole life.

The wedding was beautiful.

Alex was radiant. Charles cried when he saw her. I stood beside the altar, flowers in hand, smiling with real warmth, no sting in my chest. Because the person I once loved so deeply was marrying someone who deserved him. And he, in turn, was someone who deserved the way she looked at him.

When they exchanged vows, I didn’t feel hollow. I felt proud. To have known this version of love, even if it had never been mine.

And after the kiss, after the cheers and the music and the clinking glasses, Charles found me in the garden, just after sunset.

“You okay?” he asked, his tie a little loose, his eyes full of that old familiarity.

I nodded. “I am.”

He studied me for a second, like he was trying to see beyond the smile. “You’ve been amazing. Through all of this. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

I shrugged. “You could’ve. But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

A pause.

“Do you ever wish things had been different?” he asked softly.

I smiled—not bitterly, not sadly. Just truthfully.

“I think I used to,” I said. “But now... no. Because I’m happy with who I am right now. And I don’t think I’d be her if things had gone any other way.”

He looked relieved. Maybe because he felt the same. Maybe because we finally both knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.

I stepped forward and hugged him—tight and brief and filled with years of history.

“I’m so happy for you, Charles,” I whispered.

When I pulled back, Luca was standing a few feet away, smiling at me like he had all night. I walked toward him, my heels clicking softly against the stone path.

Charles watched us go, and this time, he was the one letting go. Gently. Finally.

The world didn’t end because I didn’t get the love story I thought I wanted.

Instead, it gave me one I never saw coming. One that started not with longing, but with laughter. With late-night messages. With the absence of ache.

And that, I think, is the kind of love that lasts.

“Okay, but hear me out—no one actually likes fondant.”

Alex is waving a tiny fork in the air like it’s a weapon of truth. I’m laughing so hard I nearly choke on the bite of cake I’m trying to swallow.

Charles, seated on the other side of the table, crosses his arms with mock offense. “I like fondant.”

“You also eat plain toast and call it a meal,” she shoots back without missing a beat.

He looks at me for backup. “Y/N?”

I raise my hands. “You’re not dragging me into this. You two are unstoppable.”

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in a charming little Paris bakery. Sunlight filters through the windows, painting soft gold across the table covered in half-eaten cake samples, swatches of fabric, and my very chaotic wedding Pinterest printouts.

The thing is—I never thought this would be my life. That I’d be sitting across from Charles Leclerc, the boy I once loved so deeply it hollowed me out... planning my wedding. And next to him, laughing and arguing over cake flavors, his wife. Alex. The girl who once made my chest ache with jealousy.

Now?

She’s one of my closest friends.

Time does funny things. It smooths sharp edges. Softens memories. Transforms wounds into stories that no longer sting when told.

There was a time when I couldn’t say Charles’s name without a lump forming in my throat. When I helped him plan his wedding to Alex, smiling while my heart quietly unraveled. But that season passed—slowly, then all at once. And when it did, I found something I didn’t expect.

Peace.

And eventually—love.

His name is Theo. He’s kind in all the quiet ways that matter. A marine biologist with messy curls and a smile that’s always a little crooked. I met him at a museum fundraiser where I spilled wine on his suit and apologized by offering him a slice of lemon cake. He said, “I was going to forgive you, but now I have no choice.”

We’ve been laughing together ever since.

When he proposed, it was simple. Just us, a balcony, a storm rolling in behind the city skyline. No grand gestures. Just the words, “I want to build a life with you,” and the surest yes I’ve ever spoken.

Now here we are—months later, planning every detail. And Charles and Alex have been by my side from the start.

Because somewhere along the way, the ache turned into appreciation. The what-ifs turned into history. And Alex? She became my person in a way I never expected.

We bonded over little things at first. A shared obsession with true crime podcasts. Our mutual horror at Charles’s lack of organizational skills. She invited me to brunch. I invited her on a weekend trip. And one night, after too many glasses of wine, we both admitted it was weird at first—me being so close to him, her knowing it.

But instead of awkwardness, it bloomed into honesty. Openness. Real friendship.

“Okay,” she says now, brushing cake crumbs off her dress. “Back to business. Do we like the vineyard? Or are we leaning more garden party?”

Charles chimes in. “Vineyard, obviously. Theo’s a wine guy.”

“True,” I admit, flipping through my notes. “And you haven’t even seen the sunset there.”

“We’re coming to the tasting next weekend, right?” Alex asks. “We already blocked the date.”

“You guys don’t have to do everything,” I say, but my voice is light.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charles says. “You planned our wedding. You basically held my hand through the entire thing.”

Alex smirks. “And picked our flowers. And saved us from booking a DJ who only played 2000s techno.”

“An underrated genre,” Charles mumbles into his espresso.

I shake my head, warmth flooding through my chest. It’s surreal, this joy. This ease. A few years ago, I never would’ve believed it was possible to sit here with them, all of us settled, all of us happy in our own corners of the world.

“I’m really glad you’re both here,” I say, softer this time.

Charles gives me a look that carries everything unspoken between us. Years. Tears. Growth. Forgiveness.

“We wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he says.

The day of the wedding comes fast—faster than I thought it would. Nerves rise like a tide, steady and overwhelming, but they’re good nerves. Anticipation, not dread.

Alex helps me with my veil. Her hands are steady, her expression calm and focused.

“You okay?” she asks gently, smoothing the fabric behind my shoulders.

I meet her eyes in the mirror. “I’m okay.”

She smiles. “You’re going to wreck him when he sees you.”

I laugh. “Is that not the goal?”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” Charles.

I glance at Alex. She nods and slips out with a wink.

He steps inside, dressed in a crisp black suit. For a moment, we just stand there—two people who’ve grown in every direction but still share the same roots.

“You look...” He exhales. “Wow.”

“Thank you.”

He walks over, hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to say... I’m proud of you. Not that you need me to be. But I am.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “I’m proud of us.”

He nods. “Theo’s a lucky guy.”

“I’m a lucky girl.”

He holds out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you married.”

The music starts. The guests rise.

And as I step into the sunlight, veil floating behind me, bouquet in hand, I see Theo waiting at the altar—his smile wide, his eyes a little glassy.

I take a breath.

Behind me, I know Charles and Alex are watching. Cheering me on.

The boy I once loved. The girl who became my friend.

And in front of me, the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

My heart doesn’t ache. It soars.

Because in the end, we all found our forever. Just not the way we once imagined.

And maybe that’s the most beautiful part of all.

[gumified]

Omgg for a part two or ‘whispers of gold’ you could do on insight on their life after escaping the dungeon.. 💕

you can even show detail about satorus kingdom and his personal life with reader being human and him taking her there when other demons consider is improper or even hate it…

You can make it fluffy like a domestic day with them stuff like that <3

perhaps a wedding/pregnancy fic also? 🤭

pairing: demon!satoru x human!reader

summary: domestic bliss after you escape <3

content: 0.7k, fluff, just a cute little drabble i whipped up <3

note: maybe maybeee i'll write a pregnancy fic if these exams let me, we will see <3 ENJOY THO MY LOVES

If anyone told you that the life you would have found the love of your life while being locked up in a dingy dungeon you would’ve laughed in their faces. Yet here you were. The world you discover was vast and filled with so many beautiful sights that you found it hard to comprehend just how gorgeous everything is. Your whole life had been spent cooped up in the tiny village you called home, now with Satoru by your side everything seemed technicoloured. 

Days turn into weeks turn into months and you find yourself even more enamoured by the demon than you already are. He had teleported the both of you to a breath-taking meadow when you had first escaped. There was an abundance of wildflowers and in the middle stood a little cottage. It seemed as though he had plucked the perfect home from your head and spun it into reality. 

Satoru tried his best to assimilate into human life as best as he could. There were many mornings that you awoke to the sweet scent of flowers and him fumbling in the kitchen looking very out of place. He keeps his promise, taking you to the most magical places in the kingdom. Secret glades, glistening lakes, hidden forests. Satoru loves to show off his powers, teleporting you to breathtaking vistas and enchanting places, always with a playful grin and a request for a kiss as “payment.”

One particularly memorable evening, he whisked you away to a cliffside overlooking the ocean. As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the water, you sat together, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I thought you might like this place.” He whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Satoru.”

The seasons changed, and with them came new adventures and experiences. Spring brought picnics in the meadow, where you would lie in the grass, watching the clouds drift by, hands intertwined. Summer meant long days by the lake, swimming and sunbathing, the two of you laughing and splashing like children. Autumn was a time for cosy evenings by the fire, wrapped in blankets, sharing stories and dreams.

And now, it was winter. Snow blanketed the ground outside, little snowflakes falling from the sky as you sat cuddling in front of a fire. His arms are wrapped around your body and you lean back against his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth radiating off his body. Satoru’s chin’s on your head and you bask in the bliss that you were now so familiar with. Your hand found his and you smiled as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Remember when we first escaped?” You mused at the distant memory. “Feels like forever ago.”

“It does.” Satoru hummed as you listened to the slow beating of his heart.

Silence stretched between the both of you and all that could be heard was the gentle crackling of the fire. 

“Satoru.” You begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I first met you, I never imagined we’d end up here. You were...terrifying.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he gave a short laugh. The mere sound has butterflies erupting in your stomach. “I was trying to be. Demons aren’t supposed to be comforting.”

“But you are.” You insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. “You are to me.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You changed everything.” His voice was quiet. “From the moment I gave you my name, I knew things would never be the same.”

You lifted your head to look into his eyes, the firelight reflecting in their depths. “You changed everything for me too. You showed me a world I never knew existed. You showed me love.”

Satoru’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I love you.” He murmured against your lips, the words filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, your heart swelling with happiness that you found. 

The grasp he had on your heart was tight and you knew he would never let go. You knew that Satoru would be yours forever and you forever his. The love you held for him was something you always cherished and now that you were here, in his arms, you never wanted to let him go. As the night continued, both of you drifted off to sleep. The fire continued to crackle and the light flickered. The matching gold bands the both of you had on your fingers glinted in the light, the memories of the promises you both made to each other only a few months ago.

[softlytowardthesun]

I’m thinking about Danaë, Perseus, and Andromeda.

Danaë was a princess, once. Her happy life was upended the day her father caught wind of a prophecy that his grandchild would be his undoing. She was imprisoned in her own home, and when her son was born, she and the baby were banished and left for dead. Yet Danaë powered through, as heroes are known to do in these types of stories. This single mother in a strange land raised her son with pride — not hubris, but true, righteous pride. They have no need of gods or monsters or the kingdom that cast them out; all mother and son need are each other.

Perseus’s call to adventure begins when yet another evil king decides to treat Danaë as an object instead of a person. Polydectes will force Danaë to marry him unless Perseus can cross the world and return with the head of the Gorgon Medusa. Perseus is in no place to protest, not when the truest hero he’s ever known is counting on him. This is not a quest for glory, but piety: the duty a child owes to their parent.

In his travels, Perseus meets Andromeda, chained to a cliffside and awaiting her grim fate. She too, has a story of a mother and child. Queen Cassiopeia foolishly offended a long list of sea gods and their kingdom will be washed away unless the gods exact their price. Cassiopeia did the offending; it should be her on the cliff. But Andromeda has to suffer for the sins of her family, just like Perseus. He chose to risk his life for his mother; Andromeda had her fate chosen for her.

Maybe Andromeda tried to talk herself into thinking her death would mean something. She’s grown up as a princess, where each generation of the dynasty is meant to be in unbroken continuity with the generation before. The crown she is presumed to wear weighs down any hopes for her own life. If Cassiopeia tells her to die, it is her duty and honor as the child to obey. Secretly, she prays that her death will mean something for her mother — that the next child she has will be granted the freedom of choice Andromeda herself never knew.

But Perseus, raised by a mother worthy of her role, knows that is bullshit. He knows Andromeda deserves better than this, and he breaks the cycle by destroying the monster and breaking her chains, will of Poseidon be damned. And when Cassiopeia reunites with her child, it’s clear she has learned nothing. She immediately tries to force Andromeda into an unhappy marriage - just like what Polydectes means to do to Danaë.

Now Andromeda and Perseus are both angry. She is ready to let her so-called family crumble. She shields her eyes, and lets her suitor and her mother meet the Gorgon’s eyes. She walks away from the stone to which she was chained, into a new life of her making.

The young couple returns to Seriphos. Perseus saves Danaë from the dread altar. A worthy king claims the throne, and in a remarkable stroke of luck for Greek mythology, Perseus kills his evil grandfather without technically violating Ancient Greece’s taboos on kin-slaying. Andromeda and Perseus ascend to the throne of Mycenae, and have that rarest thing in any myth: a happily ever after.

Andromeda gets a husband and a crown, sure, but she also gets Danaë. Danaë is everything Cassiopeia wasn’t: humble, resilient, and loving. She raised Perseus well, and she teaches Andromeda how to stand tall against monsters: not the sea beast, but the creatures that would rather offer up their own children than admit that they were in the wrong.

[kinardsevan]

Buck sees an old video of Tommy during a rescue and is insanely turn on so he goes on a deep dive to find anything he can. Competency kink unlocked

It was all Evan could do to close his mouth as he stared at his brother-in-law’s phone. Chimney had mentioned the rescue earlier in the day, but fuck, something about actually seeing Tommy repel down the side of a mountain with nothing but a harness to hold him up was hot. 

It was a risky move. Granted, Evan was learning his boyfriend loved risky moves. This one in particular though, had been in an icy downpour in the middle of December. He’d been the only one tall enough to be able to make the drop between where the rope ended and the cliffside in order to reach the kids who had fallen there and get them back up into the harness so they could be pulled back up to safety. There was plenty to be said about how the rescue could’ve gotten Tommy killed, but the fact that he’d done it was hot. He’d put everyone else on the scene before himself, never mind the way his clothes were sticking to him from the rain. Even though the video was over a decade old from some news footage, just seeing had been what kept Evan going through the rest of his shift, after which he’d promptly driven to Tommy’s house, determined to get his tongue on his boyfriend's skin and lick every inch of his beautiful, beautiful chest. And that was only the beginning. 

A week and a half later, Evan was stuck on the couch, courtesy of a bad strain in his leg on a rescue of his own. He’d been ordered to sit out the following shift and rest, and of course Tommy had to work. Evan had hated it at first. At least, until he hobbled into his livingroom, halfway through an episode of Days of our Lives when the news cut in. 

It was hot. So hot that Evan had to unbutton the collar of his polo when he saw his boyfriend on the TV.

Harbor was at a scene on a highrise, trying to get people out of a partial collapse, and Tommy was fucking repelling the side of the building to get people out. The news was holding such great coverage that Evan was able to watch him get two kids, an adult, and their dog out of the building before they finally switched to an interview with Chief Simpson. And it was right about that time that Evan realized he was hard. He groaned at the realization, far too frustrated from the way watching his boyfriend work affected him, and even more frustrated at having to solve his own problem. 

Still, he didn’t forget. 

Nine hours later when Tommy stumbled through the doorway to the loft, Evan was at the door, waiting. He promptly shoved Tommy back against it and hit his knees. Tommy furrowed a brow, running a hand through Evan’s hair as he looked down at him. 

“What’s happening right now,” he asked, a little incredulously.

“Watched my sexy ass boyfriend save an entire family today,” Evan replied, unzipping his pants and reaching into them. Tommy groaned and dropped his head back against the door. “Figured he should get a reward for that.” 

Tommy tilted his head down, ready to say that it was just his job, he wasn’t doing anything extra, only to get a full view of Evan going completely down on him, pulling a moan out of the middle of his chest. 

“Fuck, Evan- oh my god.” 

Little laughs, almost cunning. And then all the way down. Tommy jolted. And then, only because he wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer otherwise, he pulled Evan off of him, pulled his pants back up. Evan scowled at him. 

“I was doing something,” he whined. 

Tommy shook his head, leaning down and sweeping his boyfriend up from the floor, tossing him over his shoulder like a ragdoll. 

“Sorry baby. My boyfriend said I need to do him instead. Besides, you said yours deserved a reward, and this is the one he wants.” 

[halloweenbitch2764]

Mmmmmay I get some headcanons on Shane with a reader who likes to mend clothes as a sort of love language? Shane’s jeans have a hole? No problem! Nothing a needle can’t fix! Shane laments his favorite shirt got pecked apart by chickens? Perfect opportunity to use that thread they got a while ago! Shane’s ratty hoodie is a challenge but they are willing to take it on, maybe some colorful patches etc.

Just something with someone who loves Shane and expresses that love trough making sure the clothes he either needs or straight up feels good in are well mended and taken care off?

One of my favorite asks so far so of course you can have it! Thank you so much for the ask, this seems like such a cute idea!

!Spoilers Ahead!

Shane With A Reader Who Mends His Clothes

When you moved to Pelican Town you had brought all your sewing stuff with you

You had been taught young how to sew but weren't the best and never really tried to get better

That was, until you moved to Stardew Valley

Being a farmer meant you tore your clothes pretty frequently, and they would need to be sewn back together to be wearable

So you picked back up on sewing

It didn't take long for your skills to improve (with some help from Emily), and the stitches started blending in with the clothing seamlessly

During that time you met and slowly became friends with Shane

He resisted your efforts but you eventually became close friends

After his breakdown at the cliffside and him beginning to get his life back together, it didn't take long for you two to begin dating

You had realized how tattered and worn out Shane's outfits were

Some were just general wear and tear, some were from the chickens, and some were when he'd try to help out on your farm

First, you offered to start working on his jacket

He wore it everywhere and you figured that making it look better could be a confidence boost for Shane

So you got to work, and after a few days of fixing and sewing, you were able to make it look almost brand new

Coincidentally, Shane had mentioned that the chickens pecked apart his favorite shirt and that it was likely ruined

You took the shirt in and worked your magic, sewing it back to being wearable

After a rough day at JojaMart you noticed a rip in his shorts

It didn't take long for you to fix it up since it wasn't a major tear or anything

Shane never failed to thank you for fixing his clothes

He had no idea how to sew and figured he would have just had to throw out the clothes otherwise (save for the pants since it was a simple tear)

His clothes began to help give him a confidence boost, which he desperately needed

You continued to sew as needed, and Shane cherished that you would do something so sweet to help him

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (daenys)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: contact

- Next part: the gift

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Previous part has been fixed.

I am Daenys Targaryen, born of flame and blood, heir to a legacy that stretches across millennia. My House was once the pinnacle of power in the known universe, its dragonlords feared and revered by all. We ruled from Valyria, the greatest civilization the galaxy had ever seen, until the Doom came. The fires of war—nuclear and cruel—swallowed our homeworld and all we had built. Our enemies conspired, believing us destroyed, our legacy reduced to ash and ruin.

But House Targaryen was not so easily extinguished.

In the aftermath, my ancestors did what Targaryens have always done—they adapted. They fled to the furthest reaches of space, to the uncharted corners of the galaxy where the light of the Imperium could not reach. There, we found a new home, a planet of red skies and volcanic peaks, a world where we could rise again. We named it Albiron, and from its molten heart, we rebuilt our civilization.

In the depths of Albiron, we discovered the drakaon crystals, a powerful source of energy that has allowed us to evolve beyond the constraints of the galaxy's fuel economy. The Imperium and the Spacing Guild cling to melange—the spice that gives them control over space travel. But we, the Targaryens, found a way to traverse the stars without reliance on their outdated systems. The crystals not only power our ships but enhance our technology, giving us the strength and independence we needed to survive.

And survive we did.

Our ancestors safeguarded the ancient knowledge of our House. The secrets of forging Valyrian steel, a craft thought lost to time, still live within us. Our swords, forged in dragonfire, remain unbreakable, as sharp as the day they were first drawn. We hold the wisdom of Valyria—its sciences, its alchemy, its weaponry—all hidden away from the prying eyes of the Empire that now rules the stars. The new emperors and their Bene Gesserit servants tried to create their own messiah, to forge a future in their image, but they could not control us.

They do not know what we are capable of.

And now, after millennia in the shadows, we are stirring again. The galaxy has forgotten our name, but the time will come when they will tremble at the sound of it once more.

For fire and blood will always rise from the ashes

The icy wind cuts through your cloak as you press yourself against the jagged cliffside, the snow swirling violently around you. Arctis is unforgiving, a frozen wasteland where the cold bites at your bones, and the endless white stretches far beyond sight. The Harkonnens are still searching, their patrols scouring the frozen plains, desperate to find you. Their ornithopters hum overhead, casting dark shadows against the snow as their engines roar through the storm.

You crouch low, your breath steady, watching as a squad of Harkonnen soldiers trudges through the snow below, their visors scanning the terrain. They’re relentless, but you’ve been trained for this. The cold, the endless hunt—none of it is new to you. The blood of the dragon runs in your veins, and you know how to wait, how to survive.

The satchel at your side holds something precious: an ancient dragon egg, long since turned to stone. It’s a relic of your past, a symbol of your House’s power, though the Harkonnens know nothing of its true worth. To them, it’s a prize, a trophy. They think capturing you and your egg will give them leverage—perhaps even power. But they do not understand what they’re dealing with.

The blizzard rages on, the wind howling like a beast across the frozen plains. You pull the hood of your cloak tighter around your face, your eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of the ornithopters. Their searchlights sweep across the cliffs, but they won’t find you. Not here, not in the storm.

You move silently, your footsteps careful as you navigate the narrow path along the ridge. The Harkonnens are close, but you’ve learned to avoid them, slipping between their patrols like a ghost in the snow. You’ve disrupted their operations, destroyed their mining equipment, and now they’re hunting you—desperate, angry, and foolish.

You crouch behind a snow-covered boulder, listening to the distant hum of their comms. Their voices crackle through the static of the storm, distorted but still clear enough to hear.

“…continue the search… she can’t have gone far…”

You smirk to yourself. Let them come. Let them search. You’ve been evading them for days, and they still have no idea what they’re up against.

Your thoughts flicker back to the hatchery—the ancient underground structure they uncovered in their greed. It had once been a place where dragons were born, a relic of Valyria’s greatness, long forgotten and buried beneath the ice. The dragon eggs within had turned to stone long ago, but the Harkonnens, ignorant as they were, believed they could extract some kind of power from them. They were wrong.

The Harkonnen soldiers below continue their search, unaware of your presence. You wait, patient, watching them pass by. When the last of them disappears over the ridge, you move again, keeping low to the ground, careful not to make a sound.

A distant shout catches your attention, carried by the wind. You freeze, listening. They’re getting closer. The hum of the ornithopters grows louder, their engines cutting through the storm. They’re sweeping the area, desperate to find you before you can strike again.

You tighten your grip on the hilt of your sword, the Valyrian steel cold against your skin. The ancient knowledge of your House flows through you—the blood of dragonlords, the fire that burns even in the coldest of places.

The storm is your ally, masking your movements, your presence. You can feel the Harkonnens growing frustrated, their search becoming more frantic. They think they can capture you, but you are not so easily taken. You were born of fire and blood, and you will not fall to the likes of them.

In the distance, the hum of the ornithopters fades, replaced by the howling wind and the silence of the frozen wasteland. You remain still, your breath steady, waiting for the storm to hide you once more.

The hunt continues, but you are patient.

You always have been.

The storm raged on, swirling the snow into thick, blinding curtains around you. The wind howled, its sharp edges cutting through the air as you huddled beneath an outcropping of jagged rocks. Your breath came slow and steady, your body still despite the cold biting at your skin. You had lived in conditions far worse than this; the ice and snow of Arctis could not force you out of hiding.

The Harkonnens had passed, their search party moving farther into the storm. But you remained cautious, listening for any signs of movement. The winds carried faint voices—not the harsh tones of Harkonnen soldiers, but something else. Low, deliberate, and organized. You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, straining to hear.

The voices grew clearer as they approached from beyond the ridge. You crept forward, carefully peering out from your hiding spot. Through the swirling snow, you could make out a group of men, moving in two tight formations. They were well-armed, disciplined, their movements efficient and purposeful. It took a moment to recognize them, but soon you realized they were not Harkonnens at all.

These men were from House Atreides.

You observed them quietly, hidden in the shadows. Two distinct groups, both moving with military precision. Though you didn’t know them by name, you could tell from their movements and the way they coordinated their search that these were capable soldiers. Their formation suggested high-level training, and the way they swept the terrain for threats made it clear they were not to be underestimated.

Unbeknownst to you, these were two teams separated from Duke Leto’s main force—led by none other than Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck, two of the Duke’s most trusted men. But here, in the blizzard, they were just another force you had to evade.

You listened closely as the men talked amongst themselves, their voices carried by the wind, though still muffled by the storm.

“The Duke’s with them still now,” one of the men said, his voice barely audible. “Escorted willingly to their camp. There has been no contact since.”

“They didn’t try to stop him? By the sound of his voice Leto sounded determined.” another voice responded.

“No, they welcomed him. These unknown forces—whoever they are—they’re not hostile to us. Not yet, anyway.”

You felt your pulse quicken. Your brother, Aelor, had found them first. Of course he had. He had been scouting the planet for days, and if anyone could make contact with the Atreides without hostility, it was him. He had always been the diplomat, the one to make the first move. But that meant time was running short. The Harkonnens were still searching for you, and now the Atreides were caught up in the middle of it.

You leaned in closer, straining to hear more, but just as you shifted, the snow beneath your foot crunched—too loud in the stillness.

Two of the Atreides soldiers, their instincts honed from years of combat, immediately stiffened. One of them, a man with sharp eyes and a scar down his cheek, turned his head slightly, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade.

“Did you hear that?” he muttered to his companion.

The other man, stockier but just as alert, nodded, his eyes scanning the area. “Something’s out there.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t afford to be caught—not now, not before you had a chance to finish what you had started. Without waiting for them to spot you, you pushed yourself up from your hiding place and began to run, your feet light on the snow but fast enough to kick up a trail in the storm.

“Hey!” one of the soldiers shouted, his voice sharp. “Stop!”

You didn’t look back. The wind whipped against your face as you ran, the storm providing just enough cover to keep you from being seen clearly, but you could hear them behind you, their footsteps crunching through the snow, their voices calling after you.

“Stop, damn it!” another voice yelled. “We’re not Harkonnens!”

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop now. You had no idea what they would do if they caught you. For all you knew, they might try to turn you over to the Harkonnens in exchange for leverage or an alliance. You couldn’t take that chance.

You ran faster, weaving through the rocks and cliffs, your cloak whipping behind you. The Atreides soldiers were fast—faster than you had anticipated—and they were gaining ground. You could hear their boots thudding against the frozen earth, the clinking of their armor as they chased after you.

“Stop, we’re not your enemy!” one of the voices called again, closer this time.

You pushed yourself harder, but the storm was growing fiercer, the wind tugging at your cloak, pulling you back. The cold bit into your skin, slowing your movements as the snow thickened around you. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see the sharp-eyed soldier closing the distance between you, his hand outstretched.

“Stop!” he commanded, his voice firm. “We’re with House Atreides—stop!”

Panic flared in your chest, but you couldn’t let it control you. You needed a way out, but the storm was growing too intense, the landscape blurring before your eyes. You stumbled slightly as the ground beneath you dipped, but you caught yourself, forcing your legs to keep moving.

But the Atreides soldiers were relentless, their pursuit unwavering. If you didn’t find a way to lose them soon, they would catch you. And then everything—your mission, your House’s survival—could be compromised.

In the distance, you could hear the faint hum of more ornithopters, but whether they were Harkonnen or Atreides, you couldn’t tell. The storm masked everything now, the world narrowing down to the sound of your breath, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, and the pounding of your heart.

You had to escape. You had to find a way to evade them.

Because if they caught you, the consequences would be far worse than just being another prisoner.

Gurney Halleck’s boots pounded through the snow, his breath clouding in the icy air as he and Duncan Idaho sprinted after the fleeing figure. The storm was growing worse, and the swirling winds tugged at their cloaks, but Gurney’s focus was razor-sharp. Whoever this person was—Harkonnen, rebel, or some other unknown—they had to catch them before the Harkonnens did.

Ahead of them, through the thick snow, the figure moved swiftly, almost too fast for the conditions. Gurney could make out only a vague silhouette through the storm, darting between the jagged rocks and heading straight for the frozen lake that stretched out beyond the ridge.

Duncan glanced over at Gurney as they ran, his sharp eyes narrowing as the unmistakable sound of Harkonnen ornithopters roared overhead. Their black, beetle-like forms cut through the sky, their engines loud even over the howling wind.

“Harkonnens!” Duncan shouted over the noise. “I’ll deal with them—keep after the runner!”

Gurney nodded without breaking stride, his focus narrowing on the figure disappearing over the edge of the ridge. “Go!” he shouted back. “I’ll get him!”

With a final glance, Duncan peeled away, motioning to the rest of the Atreides soldiers to follow him. They fanned out, preparing to engage the Harkonnen forces as the ornithopters swept in low, their blasters lighting up the snowy landscape.

Gurney, now alone in pursuit, gritted his teeth and pressed on, his legs burning with effort as he crested the ridge and saw the frozen lake below. The figure was already halfway across, their feet moving swiftly but carefully over the ice.

Gurney’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious—crossing a frozen lake in the middle of a storm was dangerous—but he had no choice. The person was fast, but Gurney had tracked many runners in his time, and he wasn’t about to let this one escape. Whoever they were, they had answers he needed.

His boots hit the ice, and immediately he felt the treacherous surface beneath him. Every step had to be calculated, the slick ice making it difficult to gain speed. But Gurney was relentless, his eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

They were nearing the far edge of the lake, and Gurney knew he had to close the distance before they reached cover. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, his feet sliding slightly on the ice as he tackled the figure to the ground.

The two of them hit the frozen surface with a thud, the impact jarring but controlled. Gurney quickly pinned the runner down, his strong hands gripping their arms and forcing them into submission. He expected a struggle, but what caught him off guard was the sudden stillness beneath him.

The figure twisted beneath his grasp, but not with the strength of a hardened soldier. Gurney blinked in surprise as he looked down at the person he had just caught—and found himself staring into the face of a young woman. You.

Her face was striking, though it was partially hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. She had pale blonde hair, almost silver in the dim light, and her eyes—unusual lilac eyes—narrowed at him with fierce defiance. There was something otherworldly about her appearance, something that startled Gurney more than the fact that she wasn’t a man, as he had first assumed.

“Who—?” Gurney began, but before he could finish, the woman twisted again, trying to free herself. Her movements were quick, but Gurney held her down, his instincts now on high alert.

She wasn’t Harkonnen—of that he was sure. No Harkonnen would move like this, or have those eyes. But who was she?

Before he could ask, a blaster shot echoed across the lake, and Gurney instinctively glanced up. The storm was still raging, but through the snow, he could see Duncan and the Atreides soldiers engaging the Harkonnen forces near the edge of the lake. Ornithopters circled overhead, firing down into the snow, but the Atreides were holding their ground.

Another sound—this one closer—pulled Gurney’s attention back to the woman. She had stopped struggling, but her eyes were fixed on something behind him. Gurney turned his head just in time to see another squad of Harkonnen soldiers emerging from the storm, their weapons aimed directly at them.

“Damn it,” Gurney muttered under his breath.

Without wasting a second, Gurney hauled the woman to her feet, his grip firm but not cruel. “Come on,” he said urgently, his eyes flicking to the advancing Harkonnens. “We need to move, now!”

She hesitated for a moment, her violet eyes darting between Gurney and the soldiers. But when she saw the Harkonnen forces closing in, she seemed to understand the danger and nodded.

Gurney tightened his hold on her arm and pulled her toward the far edge of the lake. They had to reach cover before the Harkonnens caught up—or worse, before the ice gave way beneath them.

The icy wind slashes at your face as your captor drags you across the frozen lake, his grip firm, unwavering. You twist your arm, trying to pull free, but the man doesn’t loosen his hold. His face—grizzled, hardened—remains focused on the danger ahead, but you know he’s underestimated what’s coming.

“Let me go,” you say sharply, your voice cutting through the storm as you glance back at the advancing Harkonnen forces. They’re closing in fast, their dark shapes moving with deadly precision across the ice.

The Atreides soldier barely acknowledges you, his grip tightening as he pulls you along. “Not a chance,” he mutters, his voice gruff.

You grit your teeth, frustration boiling inside you. He doesn’t understand the danger—not fully. The Harkonnens aren’t just after him or his men. They’re after you. And they’re not going to stop until they have you, no matter who stands in their way.

“You need to let me go,” you repeat, more urgently this time, your breath visible in the freezing air. “You can’t fight them while dragging me along. Let me go, and we’ll have a chance to survive.”

He doesn’t slow down, his eyes scanning the horizon, but you can see his jaw tighten. He knows you’re right. The Harkonnens are gaining momentum, their boots pounding on the ice, the sounds of their shouts growing louder.

As the blizzard intensifies, you can make out the rough bark of one of the Harkonnen officers through the storm. “Keep the girl alive! She must stay alive!”

You tense at the words, but your captor’s steps falter for just a moment, his head snapping toward you. He knows now—they want you alive. For a moment, he hesitates, his grip loosening just enough for you to jerk your arm free.

Before he can grab you again, you turn to face him, your lilac eyes flashing with intensity. “Let me fight, or we’ll both die.”

He studies you for a split second, his instincts warring with his sense of duty. But as the Harkonnens close in, their weapons raised, he makes a decision.

“Fine,” he growls, finally releasing you. “But stay close.”

You smirk despite the cold, the tension in your body finally easing as your muscles loosen, ready to move. This soldier doesn’t know what you’re capable of—but he’s about to learn.

The first Harkonnen squad reaches you, their weapons drawn, their faces twisted with a cruel determination. One of them rushes toward you, his blaster raised, but you move faster than he can react. Your hands find the hilt of your hidden Valyrian steel blade, and in one swift motion, you unsheathe it, the metal gleaming in the pale light of the storm.

With a speed and grace born from years of training, you dodge his first strike, your body moving fluidly as if in a dance. Your sword hums through the air, cutting through the cold like a whisper. Before the Harkonnen can fire, your blade is at his throat, and in a single, decisive motion, he falls.

Your captor—the Atreides soldier—watches you, stunned. He’s seen warriors before, but nothing like this. Your movements are unlike anything he’s witnessed—swift, lethal, and otherworldly. You hear his breath catch as he engages the Harkonnen beside you, barely keeping up with the chaos that’s unfolding around him.

The rest of the Harkonnens press forward, but you’re already a step ahead, moving like a shadow on the ice. Another soldier charges, his weapon raised, but you sidestep him with ease, your blade slicing through the air with lethal precision. His body crumples to the ground before he even realizes he’s lost.

The storm howls around you, the snow swirling in thick, blinding waves, but the battle is sharp, focused. You fight like the blood of the dragon runs through your veins—fast, furious, and unstoppable. The ice beneath your feet holds, but you can feel the tension in the air, the weight of the conflict hanging like a blade ready to fall.

Beside you, the Atreides soldier fights fiercely, but you can sense his astonishment. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected you. The Harkonnen forces are brutal, unrelenting, but you fight as if every strike has been calculated a hundred times before it happens. You are the storm, and the Harkonnens are nothing but kindling in your path.

A Harkonnen lieutenant rushes forward, his face twisted with rage. “Take her alive!” he roars. But before he can reach you, you spin, your sword flashing in the storm’s light as it cuts through the air, meeting his weapon with a sharp clash. The force of your strike sends him stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock.

You don’t give him a second chance. Your blade is at his throat in an instant, and with one final strike, he falls, his body hitting the ice with a dull thud.

The sounds of blaster fire and plasma rifles echo in the distance as the Atreides forces engage the Harkonnens, but here, on this frozen lake, you stand victorious over the bodies of those who had dared to hunt you.

Your captor—still catching his breath—turns to you, his eyes wide, his disbelief clear. “Who the hell are you?”

You sheath your blade, the cold wind whipping at your cloak as you step closer. Your lilac eyes meet his, unblinking.

“I am Daenys Targaryen,” you say calmly, your voice carrying over the storm. “And you were right to let me go.”

Before he can respond, another group of Harkonnen soldiers emerges from the storm, and this time, they don’t hesitate. They charge forward with renewed fury, their weapons raised, their intent clear.

Without a word, the Atreides soldier grabs your arm, pulling you toward cover as the next wave of battle begins.

The blizzard whipped violently around you and your captor, the snow swirling in a thick veil of white as the cold air bit at your skin. You could hear the Harkonnen soldiers shouting, their voices growing closer. They were relentless, but you were ready—your sword still slick with the blood of those who had tried to capture you. You glanced at the Atreides soldier next to you, his breath heavy as he clutched his rifle, scanning the horizon for more threats.

Then, through the storm, you heard a voice—a sharp, commanding one, calling out through the chaos.

"Gurney!" the voice called, rough but strong, cutting through the howling winds. "You there? Gurney!"

The man next to you—Gurney, apparently—responded immediately, his tone urgent. "Duncan! We’re pinned down! The Harkonnens have us locked here on the ice with the girl!"

At the word girl, you scoffed, barely able to contain your irritation. You were no mere girl; you were Daenys Targaryen, the blood of Valyria running through your veins. You had fought and survived where others would have perished. Being reduced to nothing more than a ‘girl’ felt like an insult—one you’d gladly repay once this was over.

But Gurney’s use of the word didn’t seem to faze the man on the other end of the comms—Duncan—at least not at first. You could hear a brief moment of hesitation in his voice as he processed what Gurney had said.

"Wait—what?" Duncan’s voice faltered for a heartbeat. "A girl? Out here?"

The disbelief in his tone was palpable, as though the very idea of a young woman being out in the middle of this frozen wasteland was beyond reason. You clenched your jaw, the irritation bubbling up inside you again. But before you could say anything, Duncan quickly recovered, his voice sharp and focused once more.

"Doesn’t matter," Duncan continued, his voice steely and decisive. "Both of you need to keep moving. I’m sending you coordinates now—regroup there. We’ll cover you. But don’t stop, Gurney, do you hear me?"

Gurney nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the advancing Harkonnens. "Copy that," he responded, his voice clipped. "We’ll make a break for it."

Gurney’s grip on your arm tightened, and he pulled you back slightly, his face set in concentration as he surveyed the chaotic battlefield ahead. The Harkonnen forces were relentless, pushing forward through the storm, their blasters firing indiscriminately as they closed in on your position. The ornithopters circled above, their harsh lights cutting through the snow.

You could hear more of Duncan’s voice in the distance, directing his own men to lay down cover fire, but it wasn’t enough. The Harkonnens were too close.

“We need to move,” Gurney muttered, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Now.”

He glanced at you, his eyes hard and calculating. He didn’t know who you truly were—he only knew that you were important enough for the Harkonnens to want you alive. For now, that was enough for him.

“Keep up,” Gurney ordered as he turned toward the coordinates Duncan had sent. Without another word, he took off across the ice, moving swiftly despite the uneven ground.

You followed close behind, your movements fluid and precise. Every instinct told you to fight, to turn and face the Harkonnens who hunted you—but you knew there would be a time for that later. Right now, the priority was survival.

As you and Gurney ran, the sounds of battle raged all around you—blaster fire, the roar of engines, and the shouts of men locked in combat. You could feel the ice beneath your feet shifting slightly, creaking under the weight of the violence above it, but you kept moving.

"Stay low!" Gurney barked as he ducked behind a large chunk of ice, pulling you down beside him. Plasma shots zipped overhead, lighting up the storm with flashes of red and blue.

You could hear Duncan’s voice again, this time over Gurney’s comm. “We’ve got them distracted—keep moving, Gurney! Head for the ridge. I’ll meet you there with reinforcements.”

Gurney gave a terse nod, not wasting time with words. He glanced over at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—perhaps respect, or maybe just acknowledgment that you weren’t the helpless ‘girl’ he had assumed. Either way, you were both in this together now, and you had no intention of slowing him down.

As Gurney prepared to move again, you looked back over your shoulder. The Harkonnens were relentless, pressing forward, their eyes locked on you. You could hear them shouting to one another, their orders clear: "Take her alive!"

But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. You were no mere prize to be captured. You were fire, you were blood, and the day of reckoning would come soon enough.

“Ready?” Gurney asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. "Lead the way."

With a quick signal, Gurney rose from cover, pulling you with him as you both sprinted toward the ridge. The storm raged on, the ice creaking beneath your feet, but you moved with purpose, knowing that Duncan and his men were waiting.

The Harkonnens would not have you today.

The ridge came into view through the swirling storm, and you and Gurney pushed through the biting wind, your breath visible in the freezing air. Ahead, the forms of more Atreides soldiers emerged, and you could see Duncan Idaho standing at the front, his hand signaling his men to hold position. As you and Gurney neared, Duncan waved his men forward, laying down cover fire to drive the Harkonnens away. Their retreating shouts echoed through the blizzard, and soon the battlefield quieted, leaving only the howl of the wind.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Duncan signaled to his men again, his voice sharp. “Surround her!”

Immediately, several Atreides soldiers moved in, forming a tight circle around you. You could feel the irritation rising within you, your muscles tensing as their weapons remained trained on you. You clenched your jaw, biting back a retort, but the annoyance was clear in your eyes.

Duncan stepped forward, his gaze sharp and assessing as he took in your appearance. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your sword, your stance—he was calculating, sizing you up, but you stood firm, refusing to let him see any sign of discomfort.

Nearby, Gurney moved closer to Duncan, and the two of them began speaking in low voices. You strained to hear, knowing they were discussing you, but the howling wind muffled most of their conversation.

“What’s her story?” Duncan asked, glancing briefly in your direction before focusing on Gurney. His voice was calm but edged with curiosity.

Gurney, his face still stern from the intensity of the chase, spoke quietly. “She calls herself Daenys Targaryen.”

Duncan’s reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at you, disbelief flickering across his face. “Targaryen?” he repeated in a hushed tone. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought the same,” Gurney muttered, his voice low and cautious. “But we’ve seen many impossible things on this planet.”

Duncan’s expression remained skeptical, but you could tell he wasn’t about to dismiss the claim out of hand. He took a deep breath, then stepped closer to you, his eyes searching your face for answers. There was a heaviness in the air, the kind that came with the weight of secrets and the unknown.

“What are you carrying?” Duncan asked, his voice calm but demanding, as he gestured toward the satchel at your side.

You stiffened at the question, your hand instinctively tightening on the strap of the satchel. “That’s none of your business,” you said coldly, your voice firm despite the storm swirling around you.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, one of the Atreides soldiers acted swiftly, stepping forward and snatching the satchel from your grasp. You spun toward him, ready to fight, but two other soldiers quickly closed in, blocking your path and preventing you from reaching the man who had taken it.

“Give that back!” you snapped, anger flashing in your eyes as you took a step forward.

Duncan opened the satchel carefully, his expression curious but guarded. His brow furrowed as he reached inside and pulled out the heavy, smooth object—the petrified dragon egg. He held it in his hands, examining it with a look of confusion and mild disbelief.

“It’s a rock,” Duncan said, shaking his head slightly as he turned it over in his hands. He glanced up at you, his expression puzzled. “The Harkonnens are chasing you… for this?”

Before you could respond, Gurney stepped closer, his eyes widening slightly as he saw what Duncan was holding. His tone was urgent, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice. “Duncan, that’s not just a rock.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “What is it, then?”

Gurney took a breath, his eyes locking onto the egg in Duncan’s hands. “It’s a dragon egg.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to still, even as the storm raged around you. Duncan’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, his eyes flicking from the egg to you.

“A dragon egg?” Duncan repeated, incredulous. “That’s… impossible.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but laced with a warning. “There are many things in this universe that you don’t understand.”

Duncan stared at you, clearly trying to process the implications. He glanced down at the egg again, turning it over in his hands, as if expecting it to reveal more of its secrets. “The Harkonnens wouldn’t go to this much trouble for a stone,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But if what Gurney says is true…”

“It is true,” you interrupted, your voice steady. “That egg is more valuable than anything the Harkonnens could hope to steal. But it doesn’t belong to them—or to you.”

Duncan looked back at you, his expression unreadable. He still didn’t fully trust you, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes now, a recognition of the significance of what he was holding.

“Why are the Harkonnens so desperate to capture you?” Duncan asked, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “What’s your connection to this… dragon egg?”

You met his gaze, your lilac eyes unwavering. “Because they know,” you said, your voice steady despite the cold biting at your skin. “They know that House Targaryen is more than just a myth. And they will do anything to claim what is ours.”

Duncan glanced at Gurney, who gave a slight nod, as if to confirm the gravity of your words. The storm continued to howl around you, but now the weight of the moment pressed down on everyone standing there.

The Atreides had stumbled into something far greater than they could have imagined.

And for the first time, Duncan Idaho realized that their fight with the Harkonnens was about to take a turn none of them could have predicted.

Duke Leto Atreides sat quietly in the meeting room, his hands resting under his chin as he tried to process the gravity of what Aelor Targaryen had just revealed. The room was still, save for the faint hum of the advanced technology that surrounded them, but inside Leto’s mind, a storm was brewing. He had heard impossible things in his life—tales of lost Houses, ancient enemies, and forgotten powers—but this was something else entirely.

Aelor had told him in no uncertain terms who he was and who his people were. House Targaryen, the long-lost, feared enemy of the Imperium, had not perished. They had merely retreated into the shadows, rebuilding their strength, and now… now, the Atreides had aided them.

This could mean disaster for his House. If the Imperium learned that the Atreides had sided with the most feared enemy of the past, it could be seen as treason. And yet, there was something in Aelor’s calm, confident demeanor that made Leto pause. Something that told him this was not just another power struggle. This was about survival—about the future.

Beside him, Thufir Hawat stood, his arms crossed, his ever-sharp mind cataloging and analyzing every detail of the conversation. Leto knew that Hawat was already formulating plans, strategies, contingencies. That was his gift—his curse. The Mentat could see possibilities where others saw only chaos.

Leto exhaled slowly, his eyes still focused on the table before him. The weight of the decision ahead pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“I understand what you’ve said, Aelor,” Leto finally spoke, his voice calm, but edged with caution. “But you must know what this means for House Atreides. If the Imperium learns that we’ve aided your people—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Duke Leto,” Aelor interrupted gently. “You merely defended yourselves. The Harkonnens were the aggressors here, as they always are. The Imperium does not need to know what they do not see.”

Leto’s eyes flicked up to meet Aelor’s, searching for any trace of deception. But Aelor’s face was calm, his expression almost serene, as though he held all the pieces to a puzzle that no one else could solve.

Before Leto could respond, the door to the room slid open, and Kellor stepped inside. His expression was strained, but there was an urgency in his eyes that caught Leto’s attention immediately.

“Duke Leto,” Kellor said, “Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck are trying to establish communications with us. They’ve encountered something… unexpected.”

Aelor, who had remained composed, suddenly straightened, his violet eyes sharpening with interest. Leto glanced at Hawat, who gave a slight nod, his calculating mind already considering the possible scenarios.

“Patch them through,” Leto ordered, standing from his seat. His eyes flicked to Aelor, and he gestured for him to join. “We’ll find out what this is about.”

Moments later, the room was filled with the crackle of the comm system coming to life. Duncan’s voice, steady but with a hint of tension, echoed through the room.

“My Lord, we’ve secured the area,” Duncan began. “The Harkonnens have retreated for now, but there’s something else you need to know.”

Leto exchanged a quick glance with Hawat before answering. “Go on, Duncan.”

There was a brief pause before Duncan spoke again. “We’ve… captured someone. A young woman. She says her name is Daenys. Daenys Targaryen.”

At that, Aelor’s calm demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes widened, and he stepped closer to the comm system, his voice filled with sudden urgency. “I wish to speak with my sister.”

Leto, sensing the importance of the moment, didn’t hesitate. “Duncan, Gurney, Daenys’ brother is here. He wishes to speak with her. Patch her through.”

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by the sound of static as the comm system adjusted. Then, a new voice came through, heated, full of frustration and defiance.

“Aelor!” you said, your voice sharp, cutting through the distance like a blade. “What the hell are you doing?”

Aelor’s reaction was instant, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly as he heard your voice. His response came swiftly, spoken in the fluid, melodic language of High Valyrian.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon, līragon issa kesīr. Nykēla ñuha hāedar naejot ivestragīr.” 

Leto and Hawat exchanged a quick glance, both of them recognizing the ancient language but unable to understand its meaning. Leto’s mind, however, was elsewhere—focused not on the words, but on the sound of your voice. It was sharp, yes, but there was a melodic quality to it, a tone that stood out even in the midst of the moment.

Aelor spoke again, his voice softening slightly as he continued to address you in High Valyrian. For a brief moment, the storm of emotions seemed to calm between you both.

After a few moments of conversation, Aelor turned back to Leto, his expression more composed now. “I need to retrieve my sister, Duke Leto,” he said, his voice firm. “She is of great importance to our House.”

Leto nodded, the decision already made. “Duncan, Gurney—send me your coordinates. We will come to you.”

Duncan’s voice came through again, clear and direct. “Understood, my Lord. Coordinates incoming.”

Leto took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The impossible had become reality. House Targaryen was not only alive—it was standing before him, and the choices he made now would shape the future of House Atreides, for better or worse.

“Let’s move,” Leto said quietly to Aelor and Hawat. “We have a lot to discuss.”

The sky above the frozen plains of Arctis was a swirling gray, but through the storm, two banners flew proudly in the icy wind. A red hawk in flight on green and black, the proud sigil of House Atreides, stood side by side with a red three-headed dragon on black, the ancient and feared symbol of House Targaryen. The two House banners, both powerful in their own right, flapped together in the cold air as the transports descended toward the meeting coordinates.

Leto Atreides sat in the lead transport, his mind racing as they neared their destination. Beside him, Thufir Hawat sat in contemplative silence, his Mentat mind already running through countless calculations. Aelor Targaryen, seated across from them, was composed, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed his concern for his sister.

As soon as the transport landed with a soft thud on the snow-covered ground, the doors slid open. The cold wind rushed in, but before anyone could react, Aelor was already on his feet, stepping out into the snow with purpose. The Atreides soldiers followed suit, along with Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor.

Aelor spotted his sister immediately, her figure standing tall in the distance, surrounded by Atreides soldiers. Without hesitation, he rushed toward her, his cloak billowing in the wind as he moved across the snow with surprising speed.

You saw him approaching and, despite the tension of the situation, allowed yourself a brief moment of relief. Aelor reached you and without a word, he embraced you tightly, his arms wrapping around you in a gesture of both protection and reassurance.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon,” Aelor whispered in High Valyrian as he held you, his voice soft, meant only for your ears. You had been through so much, and yet here he was, just as you had known he would be.

When Aelor finally stepped back, there was a flash of warmth in his violet eyes as he looked you over, ensuring you were unharmed. He then gently took your hand and turned to lead you toward the gathered Atreides men.

As you approached the Atreides soldiers, Duke Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor stood in quiet observation, taking in the scene before them. Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck were still standing near the transports, their faces reflecting a mixture of surprise and wariness at the unfolding events.

Aelor led you to stand before the Duke, who was visibly taken aback the moment his eyes landed on you. Though he recovered quickly, the brief flicker of surprise in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Hawat. The Mentat’s sharp eyes caught the Duke’s subtle reaction—his gaze lingering a fraction longer than usual on your face, perhaps noting your striking resemblance to your brother, or perhaps something else entirely. Hawat filed the observation away in the recesses of his mind, a detail to be discussed later.

Leto, however, was quick to compose himself. He offered you a respectful nod, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, his voice steady. “Lady Daenys, it is an honor to meet you, though I wish it were under less perilous circumstances.”

You met Leto’s gaze, your posture regal despite the harsh conditions. “Duke Leto,” you acknowledged, your voice firm but respectful. “The peril is far from over. I fear the Harkonnens will not stop at their defeat here.”

Leto nodded thoughtfully. “That’s precisely why we need to discuss the situation further. The Harkonnens won’t let this go. We’ll need a plan to contain them.”

Aelor glanced at you, then back to Leto. “My sister is right. The Harkonnens have learned of the underground structures beneath this planet. If they know about this place, they’ll soon search for more. Every world we’ve known that contains these structures will draw their attention.”

At that, Leto frowned slightly. The gravity of the situation was clear—this was no isolated conflict. The Harkonnens were after something much larger than just control of Arctis.

Thufir Hawat, standing beside Leto, broke his silence, his sharp eyes locking onto you for a moment before addressing the group. “We must assume that the Harkonnens will use any information they’ve gathered here to pursue your House further. If they know of the structures, they won’t stop until they’ve uncovered whatever they believe to be of value.”

Sergeant Kellor, ever the practical soldier, crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between Aelor and you. “What exactly are these underground structures? What do the Harkonnens think they’ll find?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Aelor, and for a moment, there was a silent conversation between you—an unspoken understanding. You had both known this day would come, but it didn’t make it any easier to explain.

“These structures,” you began, your voice measured, “are remnants of our ancient civilization. Some of them were once hatcheries, places where our dragons were born. Though the dragons themselves are long gone from there, the Harkonnens believe they can extract something of value from what remains.”

Leto’s gaze hardened as the weight of your words settled in. “The Harkonnens believe they can use your history to gain power.”

Aelor nodded. “They will stop at nothing to claim what they think gains them leverage.”

Hawat’s mind worked quickly, processing the implications. “Then we need to ensure that they never get that chance.”

Leto met Aelor’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever else was happening here, the Harkonnens were a common enemy, and for now, that was enough to unite their Houses.

“We’ll work together,” Leto said, his tone decisive. “We’ll put a stop to the Harkonnens, but we need more information. We need to know the full extent of their plans.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but insistent. “I can help you with that. I know what they’re after. And I know how to stop them.”

Leto studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before nodding. “Then let’s begin.”

...

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the cruel and ambitious heir to House Harkonnen, stood at the center of the command room, his back to his men, staring down at a tactical map of Arctis. His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles white with barely contained rage.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the low hum of machinery and the distant howl of the blizzard. Feyd's men, hardened and ruthless as they were, stood rigid, afraid to speak but knowing they couldn’t stay silent for long. They had failed—again—and there would be consequences.

Finally, one of the soldiers, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, cleared his throat and spoke, his voice shaky. "My Lord, the girl… she managed to escape. The storm provided cover, and our forces were scattered. We—we lost her in the confusion."

Feyd turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the man who had dared to speak. His face was a mask of barely controlled anger, his lips curling into a sneer. "She escaped?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "One girl… against an entire Harkonnen strike force, and she escaped?"

The soldier swallowed hard, his throat bobbing nervously. "Yes, my Lord. The storm—"

"The storm?!" Feyd exploded, slamming his fist onto the table, sending the holographic projection flickering. His voice echoed through the tent, and every man within it recoiled at the sudden outburst. "The storm is no excuse for incompetence! She’s a single target, and you let her slip through your fingers like sand!"

He began to pace, his hands flexing and unflexing as his mind raced, the fury building with each step. "And now… not only has the girl escaped, but the Atreides are here. They’ve joined forces with the Targaryens." His voice dripped with venom at the mention of House Atreides, his family’s ancient enemies.

One of his lieutenants, a man with a scar running down his face, stepped forward cautiously, trying to keep his voice calm in the face of Feyd’s wrath. "My Lord, the Atreides forces have bolstered the Targaryens’ position. They outnumber us now, and our operation is compromised. If we continue this conflict, it will draw the gaze of the Emperor… and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood."

Feyd stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked at the lieutenant. "The Emperor? The Sisterhood? And do you think I care about their gaze?"

The lieutenant opened his mouth to respond, but Feyd cut him off, his voice colder than before. "You think they don’t already know? You think they aren’t watching? We are all pawns in their game, but make no mistake, I will not be humiliated by Atreides dogs and Targaryen ghosts!"

His words hung in the air, the weight of his threat clear to everyone in the room. Feyd had no intention of retreating, no intention of admitting defeat. His hatred for House Atreides ran deep, and the very idea of their forces allying with the Targaryens had ignited a fury that could not be easily quelled.

The tent fell into a heavy silence, the soldiers exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better than to argue with their commander when he was like this. No one wanted to be the one to deliver more bad news—or face the consequences of his wrath.

After what felt like an eternity, another soldier, younger and clearly less experienced, nervously cleared his throat. "My Lord," he ventured carefully, "what… what should we do about the Targaryen girl?"

For a moment, the tent was silent again, but this time it was different. Feyd stopped pacing, his expression shifting from anger to something more sinister—something almost amused. A slow, twisted smile spread across his face, and he chuckled darkly.

"Oh, don’t worry about her," he said softly, his voice dripping with malice. "I’ll catch her. She can’t run forever."

He turned back to the map, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light as he traced the coordinates of their last known position. "Daenys Targaryen may have escaped for now, but she’s made a fatal mistake. She’s shown us just how far she’s willing to run. And when we catch her… well, I’ll make sure she regrets every step she took."

His men remained silent, their unease palpable. Feyd’s mood had shifted, but it hadn’t improved. The promise of what was to come for Daenys Targaryen and her allies was not one of mercy.

Feyd turned back to his men, his tone hardening again. "We’ll regroup and press on. This failure—your failure—will be delivered personally to the Baron." He smiled coldly at the thought of his uncle, knowing the consequences for his men would be severe.

"But until then," he added, his voice dangerously soft, "we hunt. And when we find the girl, we’ll make sure the Atreides and the Targaryens learn that no one crosses House Harkonnen and lives to tell the tale."

The soldiers nodded in grim silence, knowing there was no room for argument. The hunt would continue, and this time, there would be no escape.

Feyd’s eyes gleamed with the cold fire of vengeance as he turned back to the map. He had no intention of letting this go. House Targaryen, House Atreides—they would all pay. And it would start with you, Daenys.