#flora reads endless

[parisblood]

ARGHHHHH

[mycological-mariner]

Finished chapter 1 of Flight of the Heron. Oh my god. I thought y’all were joking but no. I was reading it at the gp waiting room and I laughed out loud. I’m not sure I was meant to but come on just. Everything is going wrong for him it is past the point of sorrow and straight into comedy

[retiredteabag]

An Uninformed Narrative

Synopsis: You had lived in Stardew Valley for a year before you met the hunter from the adventures guild, Sukuna Itadori. It did not take long for him to catch your attention but you couldn't help feeling as if his affection resided anywhere but you.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

This is a Sukuna stardew valley au, heavily inspired by @tearzintheclub's similar series with butcher!sukuna, I highly recommend reading their work, they are super kind and were a big motivation for me to make this!

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been dying for a decade before coming to the valley, still, unmercifully, alive. The bitter years you spent milling away on a computer, endless days blurring onto the next. A monotonous cycle of tireless work for a corporation that left you unfulfilled, complacent, and depressed. Holed up in a city you did not even like.

It was corrosive, only now, a year later, could you look back and realize that life didn't begin for you until you moved to your grandfather's farm.

It had been hard work. You knew it would be. Still, the labor it took to keep up with crops and farm animals had been more than you anticipated. But you had friends now, and goals. And that was more valuable than anything.

One year ago, when you came to the valley, romance was quite possibly the last thing occupying your mind. Only now, being able to comfortably settle into your home, could you allow yourself to think about things other than the prosperity of your land and the health of your animals.

That brings us to now.

You had read books about the Stardew Valley mines back in the mountains north of town. Harvey, the village doctor, had warned you of its treacherous depths. Having focused most of your efforts on farm/house maintenance, you had not traversed into dangerous territory beyond upgrading your tools and acquiring bug meat.

This is why, after a whole year of living in the valley, you were surprised to receive a notice in your mailbox from "The Adventurers Guild", an initiation of sorts, requesting you to slay 10 slimes to be granted entry.

You had thought about it all evening. By the next morning, you felt up for the challenge. After taking care of the chores you left you made your way up past the carpenter's shop, dropped off a fish you caught the night before to your friend Linus, and entered the mines.

It had been scary but you protected yourself well and acquired some gems and geodes to show for it. It was late when you made the trek home, but you were determined to enter the adventurers guild the next day.

It had been a delight to meet Gil and Marlon, the two men who ran the guild. They sold weapons and protective gear, offered rewards for monster slaying, and purchased monster loot. Still having some on you, you traded them in for the cash. With a smile on your face, you decided to go into town to buy some icecream for Yuuji, Jas, and Vincent.

Penny, the town's teacher, had the kids in the museum for lessons until 2 PM, so you traveled quickly to meet them in time.

Penny was always a delight. Kind to everyone, even if they did not deserve it. She was so good with the kids as well, and dedicated much of her time to their education.

You had met Penny just a few days after moving to the town at the local flower shop in the Cidersap Forest. You had learned she was quite fond of Poppy flowers and the owner of the little place, Jin Itadori, was unbelievably generous, always interested in hearing about your farm, and always willing to give out a flower or two.

Yuuji, being the florist's son and Penny's student, became a quick friend of yours and always wanted to talk whenever you came by the shop. Of course, you never minded and listened intently whenever the boy felt like sharing a fun fact about the flora in his home.

--

Time passed with the changing of the seasons and it wasn't long before fall was upon you.

Ever since entering the mines and joining the Adventures guild, you have been thinking about the quests Marlon and Gil have sent you on. Though it is dangerous, scouring the mines for the flesh of monsters, it brings you a thrill to know you are doing something good for the community.

A post had gone up on the community board in town about collecting bat wings and bringing the population down to a manageable level the other day, and in your spare time, you had been working on completing the quest.

It was late one night when you began to make your way back up to the mountains from the mine's elevator, you had quite the collection and enough time to sell it at the Guild before making your way home.

"You've been keepin' busy." Marlon greeted you as the wind pushed the door open along with your arm.

You smile at the man, unloading the backpack of your finds. "Well there's always something to do around here." you reply.

"True as the day is long...." Gil rocked back and forth in his chair, pretending to hear your conversation.

"I must say I'm glad to have you 'round. The quest board in town seems to be worked through much faster now." Marlon takes the post you handed him and the 200 bat wings, he was just about to hand you the payment when the door to the Guild swung open.

The hinges seemed to rattle with the shock of the large man's blow of it. He's huffing, yanking a balaclava up and over his face.

He has thick, pink hair and bright red eyes, he's enormous, having to duck just a bit so as not to hit his head on the door frame.

You looked at him, a bit shocked at his garish entrance. He looks so familiar, but his face is covered in tattoos. A unique style you've never seen before, certainly not in Stardew Valley

Despite being at the counter yourself, the lumbering man strides right up next to you, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. And just then, you have a thought.

Was he doing town board requests too? He was clearly not from the village, you would have met him by now. But Marlon does not spare him much of a glace, even when a stack of bones and a collection of rings is placed on his counter.

"Those damn haunted skulls are somethin' else." The man looks at Marlon with a gaze of distaste but the Guild leader just laughs. The large man doesn't look at you once.

Despite the chill of fall present in the air, he has sweat glistening on his exposed neck, he runs a hand through his hair and you can't help but notice how handsome this man is. The only thing, who was he? And why was he monster hunting in the Valley's mines?

"You got a problem?" Shocked from your thoughts, you look up. You hadn't meant to stare but upon his antagonized question your eyes bulge a bit.

"No! No, no, sorry..." You turn away, collecting the gold Marlon left out for you, ready to turn and leave when the man behind the counter made a gesture with his hand.

He called your name, "This is Sukuna, likely haven't met em' have ya? He's real reserved and all."

So he lives here? How could that be? "Oh, it's nice to meet you!" You go to shake his hand but he just looks you up and down, effectively dissuading that desire.

"So you're the rookie taking all the board requests in town, hmm?" He looks so domineering, still, even having just met him, you can reasonably assume that's just what his face looks like.

You shuffle where you stand, "Er... maybe so, yes... I'm sorry, I didn't know that was your area..." You wave your hand to the array of loot he had seemingly just acquired. He scoffs.

Marlon looks to you, "Sukuna is our most tenured monster hunter-"

Gil interjects from his rocking chair, "If ever there's a board request this here man can't handle, I know hell's right about frozen over."

The man before them did not crack a smile. A shiver went down your spine.

"I see, well, I live on the farm behind the Cidersap Forest-"

He cuts you off, looking almost annoyed, "I know who you are."

Oh.

Okay...

"Gotcha, sorry, well... it was nice meeting you." Sukuna stares at you for a moment before turning back to the Adventurers Guild leaders.

The awkwardness of the moment was painful, you already know youll be obsessing over this first impression for the next month or so and your shaking leg is telling you it is time to escape the embaressment before this man shuts down any more small talk.

You wonder if perhaps Sukuna is upset with you for "taking his job". Or maybe he had a bad day. If he really had been hunting Haunted Skulls, he had probably been dangerously deep in the mines.

Even though his gaze had been piercing, his frown looked permanent, and his tattoos gave off a highly intimidating look. You could tell there had been no malice behind his demeanor. And that, would be a small comfort as you mulled your way through the darkness.

You spent the whole walk home thinking about the large man. You had been everywhere in Stardew Valley yet had never met him.

He must live out of town, you thought as you checked the weather for tomorrow.

Rain. That meant another day in the mines. You needed an upgrade on your equipment if you were going to continue supplying for your growing crops' demands. That meant plunging deeper into the depths of the mine.

Sleep pulled at you even still, just as your eyes fell shut the memory of the pink-haired man popped back up into your brain.

His shirt stuck nauseatingly to his toned chest, his neck glimmering in the firelight of the guild, and those eyes. The red, sharp eyes he had looked you up and down with.

"I know who you are."

It was a small town. Even if you were from the outskirts. It was a shame though... having not met the man before... he certainly seemed interesting.

You shook the man from your thoughts as your dog climbed into the bed and the two of you began to doze off.

Unknown to you, a long and unexpected day awaited you at dawn.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[ace-turned-confused]

planted in your garden | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: joel has always shown his love for you through flowers, and now it's your turn to do the same word count: 1k warnings: 18+ only, reader has tattoos & is shorter than joel, joel being soft & lovey-dovey & just the best in general, bit of spiciness at the end a/n: written for @morallyinept's Fauna & Flora Challenge ❤️ not beta’d or any of that jazz, please enjoy :)

If there’s one thing you know about Joel Miller, it’s that he will always find a reason to buy you flowers, no need for a special occasion. It’s been a long hard week and I wanted to get you something, saw these pretty flowers and thought of my pretty girl, got them just because I love you. Whether it’s an entire bouquet or just a few wild stems tied together by a ribbon, you’re sure he’s given you more flowers than you’ve received in your entire life.

It started on your birthday — you told him you hadn’t planned anything because you didn’t want a big fuss and it wasn’t a number worth celebrating, and he insisted on bringing you dinner so you wouldn’t have to spend the evening on your own. Every number is worth celebrating, it means you’ve been around another whole year. You were floored when he showed up on your doorstep, pizza boxes in one hand and a bunch of red and pink tulips in the other.

“Saw the ink on your arm there and just assumed they were your favourite. None of the stores ever have anything fresh or pretty enough, so I just cut these from my back garden.”

Joel Miller. Cut red and pink tulips for you. From his own garden.

You’d only known each other a few weeks at that stage, and he’d been more observant in that short time than any other man you’d met. At first, you didn’t read into it too much, he’s just doing something nice for you. You told yourself it didn’t matter that this ‘something nice’ was the single nicest thing anyone ever did for you.

You ate your takeout pizzas and talked for hours that night, record player on in the background, sharing stories of years gone by and remembering the person you each used to be. A few stray tears even slipped down your cheek at one point — Joel moved to sit close next to and almost on instinct you rested your head on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting knowing just how vulnerable you could be around him. He was a kind soul, a rather rare find in today’s world, and you found it surprisingly easy to open up to him.

You asked him for a hug that night and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him, his chin resting on the top of your head and it was the safest you felt in years. Of course, and next time you don’t have to ask. You smiled into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He eventually pulled back to check on you and planted a hand on your waist; he bid you goodnight with a wink, called you sweetheart and went home, leaving you standing like an idiot, mouth hanging open in a daze and still feeling the heat that had radiated off his palm and the grip of his fingers through your shirt on your skin.

‘Sweetheart’ played in your mind over and over for hours, days, weeks after that — soon enough you acknowledged that you weren’t immune to his charms and you’ve never looked back.

The flowers aren’t only for you to enjoy — you noticed early on that Joel takes great pride in his garden. The lawn always mowed, flower beds always with manicured edges, bees and butterflies in abundance. You’ve spent many hours lounging in the sun just admiring him, your book long abandoned — temples and greying curls damp with sweat, t-shirt clinging to his arms and back, gym shorts showing him off deliciously, all while he potters around tending to his garden, refilling a bird bath, touching up the fence and spewing out endless plant facts.

He even expanded the bed of tulips, planting bulbs of different varieties and an array of colours — ones with frilly edges, ones with pointed petals, and even blooms that look almost hand-painted in their beauty. He told you he’d been planning this for months, long before he met you, but you knew that part of him was doing this for you, too.

Late one night he finally told you the red and pink of your birthday flowers represented eternal love and affection, and sheepishly admitted he only remembered that once he’d already knocked on your door. He had hoped you wouldn’t ask him the meanings that night and figured there must’ve been someone looking out for him when you simply accepted them with a dazzling smile and that twinkle in your eyes. He wonders how things might have played out differently if you had asked him that night.

Now it’s Joel’s birthday and you want to do something special for him — so here you are, lying underneath him in a matching set, simple and white and covered in daisies. Propped up by his elbows, he traces over a flower right in the centre of your bra.

“You gonna tell me anything about them?”

“Daisies supposedly represent innocence and purity…” His voice fades off as he trails his fingers featherlight across you, goosebumps rising in his wake. With a faint smile pulling at his lips, he lifts his gaze to look you in the eye. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

He leans to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth and you feel him pressed against your core, thick and heavy. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he grinds his hips into you, your fingers raking through his hair and tugging ever so slightly. He pulls back and starts snaking a hand down between you, now taken by the same applique daisies on your panties.

“Not sure those words apply right now, though,” he whispers to you, knuckles grazing the fabric.

“What, ‘innocence and purity’? You don’t think that’s true about daisies?”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout the daisies, sweetheart.” He smirks at you and you simply grin at him and huff a laugh in response as he shuffles down your body to pull your panties down your legs.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[quietstormxr]

Healing Scars

Xaden Riorson x Reader

TW: This post contains mentions of self-harm, depression, and suicidal thoughts. If you find any of these things triggering, I suggest skipping this one.

Also, to anyone reading this feel free to message me if you're in need of someone to talk to. I know it can feel hard to believe in the low moments, but please know that there are those out there who do love you and need you in so many different ways.

If you are in the United States and need someone else to speak to, please try: National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline or dial 988 or (en Español).

Summary: As a daughter of the apostasy, you had no choice but to join the riders quadrant. Memories and your past do nothing but bring you down in every way.

A/N: Swearing, insinuated FW/IF spoilers

Word Count: 8k

This is probably the day I die.

The thought is both sobering and brings you an unfortunate sense of peace. After years of trying to hold onto a sliver of hope that things weren’t as bad as you thought, your mind had turned on you. 

Losing your parents to the apostasy was a blow that seemed to drag you under time and time again. The only thought pulling you forward being holding on for your younger sister. The way that she had looked at you that day as if you could rescue her from the nightmare the only picture stopping you so many times. The flash of dragon fire, the rush of pain flaring to life down your arm, the high-pitched scream from your sister that still rung in your ears six years later, and all of the memories sharper today than ever before.

‘Remember Y/N, you always need to take care of Flora. She’ll be looking to you to keep her safe.’ Your mother’s parting words to you constantly sounding in your ears. 

You tried to lock down the feelings you’d try to keep hidden, but the crushing weight of your directed fate weighed heavy on your soul. 

Looking up, your feet began to feel as if they are full of the stones holding up the fortress in front of you. No amount of description or facts listed could’ve prepared you for the force that was the war college you now found yourself in front of. 

You swallow thickly the bile and nerves that threaten to explode as you trudge towards the table with the rolls. However, nothing can mask the looks of disgust that you garner as you slog through the families saying their goodbyes. It seems every pair of eyes you pass stares at the black swirls that rage across your arm, a mark that noted, to them, you were the enemy. Yet, here you were, holding on by a single thread and not a threat to any one of them, let alone an entire kingdom.

As you walk up to the tables, you notice there is another child of the apostasy taking names. He looks up at you, but there’s no gleam of recognition, so he treats you as if you’re any other cadet. The hope that some of those would remember you diminishing little by little. Your parents were officers in Fen’s Assembly, but you were never one that fit into the group that would gather at Riorson House.

Realization that you’ll be just as alone here as you had been for the last six years hitting you hard. As you start making your ascent, your thoughts begin their incessant spiral. The thought of the way you were ignored and belittled by the other children in the orphanage in Calldyr leading to the blazing doubts you have about your own worth. 

Spending six years drowning in the passive aggressive taunts of the children of the orphanage, the endless punching bag for the staff, and the personal maid of the entire facility left you drained. You had no more tears, no more rage, no more screams, just nothing. Empty.

As you rounded the last few steps of the tower, you felt your face slacken. Devoid of all feeling and emotion, you found yourself finally at the top of the tower and across you could see the bridge that may just be the end of it all. 

Your eyes focus in on the narrow bridge as the cadets and candidates around you fade into the blackness around you. Your mind zoning in on the thought that you can finally forget. Forget the hurt, the burn of the anger, the sting of the pain, the fierce ache of the agony, the profound feeling of loss, the isolation of loneliness. 

Blindly walking forward as the next person in front of you does, you don’t notice the movement of the cadets that are taking names. You continue walking forward until you are the only one left before the opening of the stone bridge that looms to be your judge, jury, and executioner. 

As you go to take the next step forward, you are jolted back to the present by a firm hand tightening on your shoulder. You look to your left and are shocked to see a boy, no now a man, that causes your brain to ring with familiarity. Gone are the slightly rounded slope of his cheekbones and jaw, to now reveal a harsh slash of cutting bone along with a shadow of dark stubble.  Though you can’t help but notice how the color of his eyes and the sweep of his hair has remained the same, even though so much time has passed. The look he gives you is full of something you can’t quite understand, but at the same time you chalk that up to your own spiraling thoughts of nothingness.

“Y/N.” He says quietly as he looks back at you intently. The shock that he knows your name must flash brightly in your eyes because it seems his face falls slightly, as if disappointed you expected otherwise.

His hesitation at your shock doesn’t last though as he slightly lowers himself to speak in a hushed whisper only you can hear. 

“Make sure to keep your head up and remember if your pack falls, let it. I expect to see you on the other side.”

The second half of his statement leaves you with another flare of shock. Why would Xaden Riorson care if you made it across the parapet? In fact, if you were to fall that would be one less burden for him to carry. 

As if you said the thought aloud, you watch as his face falls into a slight frown while your brows furrow. Though you give him a curt nod before you continue to walk to the opening of the turret. 

The storm brewing inside of you seems to stretch to the skies as you look up and the rain begins to pour. You huff a laugh as you drop your head in a shake, hair now soaking and damp running down your back. Deciding to at least attempt to try, you pick your head up and slowly begin to put one foot in front of the other. 

As you step outside of the protective walls, you are blown to the side as a fierce gust of wind seems to batter at your frame. Through some blessing from Zinhal, you manage to stay upright. Before your thoughts have time to catch up, you find yourself stepping through the other side of the turret walls and entering the quadrant. The way your thoughts seem to drown out the trial ahead of you working in your favor.

You can’t help but huff as you give the rider your name. Surely you must be the only cadet who was hoping that you wouldn’t see the inside of the rider’s quadrant today. As soon as you say your name, you look around at your new personal hell and try to find the best corner to hide away in. 

Hidden. Invisible. 

_____________

Two weeks have passed, and you still find yourself alive. You huff a laugh at the thought while pulling your hood above your head. Who knew that the curse of this place for you would be the wanting to die and having difficulty doing so? At every turn, it felt as if any minute you could feel the release of death, but for some unknown reason, the axe had yet to fall completely.

You now find yourself creeping out of the dormitories in the middle of the night to convene with the rest of those cadets that are marked. Though you were invited by another cadet, you find yourself alone again making your way to the tree the other cadet had described. 

As your feet lumber to the meeting spot, you realize that you have been procrastinating as your pace becomes slower than a snail. You round the corner and see the group gathered under the tree, the words of Garrick slowly reaching your ears.

It’s then you realize this is the older riders trying to help. At the understanding, you stop entirely. There’s no reason for you to waste their time when your plan isn’t to survive or thrive in the quadrant. Instead of progressing forward or letting anyone see you, you slink into the shadows of one of the nearest trees and let your back hit the trunk and your body slide down to the ground.

You let your head fall back onto the tree and close your eyes. As you sit there, your hand seems to wander of its own accord to the dagger you have strapped to your thigh. You feel as your fingers brush the hilt that is carved with runes. Letting your fingers sink into the ridges of the hilt and tracing the dips and curves. 

Soon enough, your fingers have gravitated even lower and are ghosting across the sharp blade. You barely register when your own hand pulls the dagger from the sheath, and you begin to run the blade lightly up your thigh. 

As it skims around your waist, you bring the blade up to study it in the light. Hilt resting in your right palm, your left is now open with the shining blade laying across it. Your head tilts as your eyes begin to focus on the sharp silver glinting in your hand.

Vision tunneling, there’s nothing around you to stop the call of your mind to slash the gleaming metal across your palm. You can even imagine the well of the blood across the open wound and the slight sting that will accompany the damage. Before your brain can begin to bring the pressure to your hand, you’re shocked to find a black shimmering band coiling across your dagger.

Focus momentarily broken, your gaze is stolen by the way the shadows seem to coil and dance in your hands. Moments later your concentration is broken by the sound of footsteps through the grass beside you. You startle slightly when the large figure sits down next to you. 

His hand immediately darts to yours, taking the dagger from your grasp. As your gaze begins to sweep to his eyes, you watch as hand moves slowly and sheaths the dagger back at your thigh.

“Why didn’t you join the others?” He questions, an authoritative tone coating every word.

You shrug your shoulders struck with nothing but apathy. “Didn’t feel the need to, I suppose.”

Then you suddenly realize, through your own zoning out, you heard the words the man next to you said. 

“Didn’t you just tell that other first year to accept their fate and not take up any more of your time?” You retort your patience wearing thin when all you want is to slip into the darkness. 

“I was just sparing you from wasting your time.” The snap of your tone reverberating between you both in the darkness. With the anger flaring, you turn to get up and away from the man next to you, but you find yourself rooted to the spot when his hand clamps around your wrist.

“Yes, I did say that.” He snarls while looking at you with a gaze that could pierce stone. 

“Precisely, so please dear Wingleader, please just write me off in your books.” You can’t help the defiant tone that the man brings out in you. “I’ve always been an afterthought, a footnote in the story. At this point, I just want my story to reach the end.”

As you’ve continued speaking, you watch as the anger radiating from Xaden has grown to full wrath at your words.

“Why?” The one word turns your sulking into confusion as he continues to seem to study you, eyes burning. 

“Because I’m done. I’m tired of just existing.” The words leaving your mouth in an exasperated sigh. Your entire face falls, along with your body the fight draining from you. “Besides, why do you care? For all the years I’ve known you, you’ve said more words to me tonight than ever before.”

“You act as though people don’t see you. That they never have.” He argues. 

“They haven’t. The only reason I’m still here is because my parents told me I had to take care of my sister.” The derision in your tone is unavoidable as the force of the request begins to finally take its toll.

Xaden continues to study you as if this is the first time he’s actually seeing you. The scrutiny begins to gnaw at your insecurities, and you find yourself drawing into yourself. Sensing your hesitancy, his gaze softens. 

“Do you remember the first night you arrived at Riorson House?” He asks. You can’t help the furrow that sets into your brows as you contemplate his question. 

“Of course. It’s hard to forget feeling like an intruder when you’re fifteen years old and constantly moving around.” You sass at him.

His face falls ever so slightly while seeming to remember the night himself. “Yes, well that may be what it looked like to you, but things aren’t always what they seem.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means a beautiful girl shows up at a fortress filled with idiot teenage boys and they clearly didn’t know what to do.” He says with a reflective gaze levelled back at the moon. 

Your own bewilderment at his words can’t be hidden by the darkness of the moon. “You’re trying to tell me that you all avoided me because I was beautiful, and you were teenagers?”

The way your eyes roll and the scoff that leaves your lips is unavoidable. You can’t honestly believe anything coming out of this man’s mouth.

“Besides, I wasn’t the only girl there, was I?” You bark the tone of incredulity settled deep into your bones. 

“Just do yourself a service and forget I’m here. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, I’m sure.” You continue rising to your feet and pull your hood back above your head. You let your feet carry you away from Xaden and back towards the citadel. 

As you make your way there, you try to shut off your mind, but can’t help the way it wanders at the words he said. Was he really being truthful or was it just a way to get under your skin and through your defenses?

You shake your head willing the thoughts away as you toss of your cloak and try to settle into your bed. Staring up at the bunk above you, you will your mind to settle as it continues to race with questions. If he wasn’t willing to help the other first year, why did Xaden stop you from slicing your own palm? What game was he playing at?

__________

Though you haven’t tried, the work of the rider’s quadrant has seemed to overpower your raging thoughts. The training, the fights, the academics, all holding your focus more than you thought possible. No matter what you tried, you were never able to completely give up the rouse of trying. Maybe it was the years of pushing through, maybe it was just the curse of never wanting to let anyone down, but you threw on a face of interest and found yourself being friendly and clicking with your squad mates.

In the dark cover of night, while everyone else was asleep you could finally drop the mask and let the emptiness settle into your bones. As an expert at sneaking past the patrols of the halls, you learned the times that they would be on your barracks block. 

Moving quietly through the halls, you scaled the stairs of the academic tower to the top. The latch of the now familiar door slightly creaking as you lifted the hatch to move to the roof. A huff leaves your lips as you think of someone you know finding you up here. The shock of their face as you balance on the precarious slate tiles that line the roof. Sitting down, you hear the unmistakable roar of a dragon as you look to the sky. The sight of the creatures now becoming a permanent fixture in your mind.

The thought sobering as you find yourself moving closer and closer to Threshing and the certainty you have in your mind that no dragon will find you worthy. 

Better yet, maybe one will be merciful and incinerate me onsite.

The thought coils around you like a blanket as you move further down the slope of the roof. Feet dangling over the side, you recline yourself on the tiles as you begin to throw your dagger in the air, the silver glinting menacingly in the moonlight. 

Hours pass and you don’t even realize, caught in the churning of your own thoughts and the mesmerizing twirl of your dagger. Rays of gold and orange begin to crest on the horizon, and you know it’s time for you to make your way back down towards the barracks to avoid being seen. 

As you turn to get up, you feel one of the tiles begin to shift. Before you can think of a way to move without disturbing more, you find your knee falling back into the roof tiles. The reverberation through your body throwing you forward, and your face colliding with the slate. Even before pulling your face up, you can feel the warm trickle of blood that is now staining your right cheek.

Mentally cursing yourself, there’s now no way to avoid a large bruise and cut to your cheek that you’ll have to come up with a story for. The small door creaking again as you open the hatch back up to get to the stairs. Continuing to climb down the spiraling staircase, you wipe at your cheek and realize that there is still a stream of blood flowing. The scarlet staining your fingers drags your attention away from the stairs and the hall around you tunneling your vision as you study your reddened fingers.

It isn’t until you realize that you’ve entered back into the sunlight of the rotunda that your awareness returns. As you look up, you lock onto a gaze you never expected to see. Eyes begin to scan your body up and down, a sliver of concern lancing through the golden flecks. You bring your hand down to your side, wiping the blood on your pants as you move on from the gaze and begin walking again. 

You hear the footsteps before you feel the hand that clamps around your arm turning you towards the man. 

“What the hell happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing.” You reply tearing your arm away from his grasp. 

“Nothing doesn’t leave you with a split cheek and bruising on your face.” Xaden growls back at you while going to loom over you.

“You’ll be surprised to find that intimidation doesn’t work with me Riorson.” You bite back. “If you must know, I tripped. Happy?”

You go to step around him as he continues to eye you with suspicion. Suddenly a flash of horror flies across his face and his hand is braced firmly on your arm again. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” He hisses the anger rising in his irises. 

“Maybe I am. What’s it to you?” He rears back at your words as if you slapped him across the face. You watch as his gaze burns changing from anger to concern, searching your face as if looking for another answer.

“Do you really think your life isn’t worth saving?” Xaden breathes as if he’s trying to convey something that you just don’t understand.

You just shrug your shoulders back at the brooding Wingleader, your nonchalant attitude causing his shoulders to droop. However, the next thing you know, he’s squaring his shoulders again and hardening his stare. “Come on, you’re going to the healers to get that taken care of.”

As he turns and begins to tug you by your hand, you try to pull back your hand. “I’m fine.” You argue as you continue to try and pry your wrist from his grasp. 

He whirls around and you take a slight step back. Realizing his own actions, he slows his movements as he brings his hand to your face. His thumb gently brushes over the cut moving some of the blood from the cut and you slightly wince at the pain. Golden flecks seem to disappear as he watches the movement cross your face.

“You aren’t.” He says quietly. “Will you please go to the healers with me?”

Unsure if it’s the tone of his voice or the gentleness of the question, but you give a curt nod in affirmation before he’s gently pulling on your wrist again and leading you to the healers. 

And not for the first time your interaction with Xaden has left you bewildered. 

The scent of healing herbs assaults you as you enter the healers and take a seat on one of the waiting beds. Waiting for the healer to come in, you can’t help but study the man that seems to always pop up during your lowest moments. As if he feels you study him, he picks up his head from the chair he is seated in, and his gaze rises to meet yours. You watch as his brow furrows in confusion.

“Who were you fostered with?” He asks as he tilts his head as if trying to piece together a complex puzzle.

You look back at him with a quizzical expression wondering why it could possibly matter where you were.

“No one.” You reply flatly looking at the questioning onyx eyes as he raises his scared brow. “I was sent to an orphanage in Calldyr because none of the families wanted me.”

It’s surprising to see the amount of shock that passes across his features as you go quiet after revealing this information. You can feel as the tension in the room seems to rise as neither one of you speaks. In a bid to break the heaviness that has settled between you, you decide to share what happened that day.

“While we were waiting with the rest of the children to be chosen, Lady Hawtrey took an interest in my sister and took her back to Grenmont Hall.” You continue with a shrug. “But after they left, no one gave me a second glance. My parents weren’t well known enough for me to draw interest I suppose. Or at least I wasn’t that interesting to anyone.”

A remorseful Xaden Riorson is a sight that you never thought you’d see in your life, yet here he is looking like he’d give anything in the world to change what happened. The golden shine in his eyes when he looks up at you causes your breath to catch in your throat. 

“No one told me that anyone ended up in the orphanage.” He breathes quietly, the weight of your circumstances weighing down his shoulders.

You can’t help the way you reach out instinctively to comfort the man in front of you placing your hand over his.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” The conviction in your voice causing it to rise slightly. The situation you had found yourself in after your parents’ death wasn’t ideal, but you knew you couldn’t let the man in front of you take the blame. “You were only a teenage boy making decisions for the fate of over a hundred children. Nothing like that should have ever fallen on your shoulders.”

The look in Xaden’s eyes as he looks back at you could be mistaken for reverence, but your mind knew that there was no way a man like him would ever look at you that way.

The spell between the two of you is suddenly broken when the healer enters the room. As she begins to fuss over your injury, you watch as Xaden rises and moves to the corner of the room. 

“My goodness, how did you manage to get cut by slate?” The healer asks almost to herself as you feel her pull a small sliver from the cut. “I can’t even remember any slate that is on the grounds, except for the roof.”

You slightly wince at the revelation she makes, and Xaden must’ve seen your face because the softness of his eyes is gone, and the hard steel of his stare is back. The next thing you know he’s turning and walking out of the room. You let your shoulders droop as suddenly a sense of guilt overwhelms you. You try to shake it, but the feeling that you’ve disappointed Xaden sits heavy on your chest. You look up trying to blink back the tears that are now stinging your eyes, but nothing seems to stop them from falling down the side of your face.

After being given clearance to leave, you slowly walk back towards the riders quadrant and your mind can’t help but wander to your interaction with Xaden. As you go over the morning, you think maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought you were.

___________

Then the day that you know will change your life one way or another arrives.

Threshing.

As you stand with the other first-years, you can’t help the way your mind reels at the fact that you’ve even made it this far. You sway back and forth on your feet feeling the daggers on your body shift in their sheaths. The band of the bow hanging across your body heavy with the possibility of use. 

You scan the crowd looking at the people around you and can see the looks of fear and even some that have a hint of blood lust in their eyes. You know however that you have resigned your fate to whatever the gods expect to happen today. 

While checking your sheaths one last time, your brows furrow in confusion as your hand clamps onto a paper that was crumpled in one of your empty ones. Pulling the paper out and hiding it in your palm, you quickly read the hastily scribbled note. 

You are worthy and important. Never forget that.

You try but come up blank when you try to decipher who’s handwriting this could possibly be. Before you can stop to give it more thought, the whistle blows, and you find yourself stepping forward to meet whatever fate lies ahead for you in the forest.

Hours later, you begin to feel a pull and find yourself moving further and further into the darkness of the forest. You had left behind several dragons and even some cadets that seemed out for blood, skirting through the shadows of tree cover.

Coming to the front of a cave, you begin to hear harsh breaths whooshing from the entrance. Taking a deep breath, you begin to slowly trek into the gaping maw of the cave. Unsure if you’ve just walked into a trap of your own making, voices are now floating to you on the wind. 

Trying to squint to acclimate your sight to the dimness of the cave, you can barely make out the outline of two other cadets. However, those figures are not what causes your breath to catch. There in the dim glow of the cave you can see the slight gleam of a shiny black or blue dragon, the miniscule light from the cave opening illuminating the scales with every color. Your eyes widen as you take in the size of the creature that is laying on the ground appearing not to be concerned with the other two cadets that have swords drawn in front of it.

“Come on dragon.” You hear a male voice taunt. “Which one of us are you going to find worthy?”

“Yeah,” an unmistakably female voice adds. “Let’s get going with this choice of yours. We need to get back to the celebrations.”

A large puff of steam leaves the nostrils of the large dragon, clearly a huff of annoyance. As you continue to watch the scene, two glowing golden orbs focus on you.

‘Are you going to take care of these two or are you going to make me?’ A rough female voice cuts through your thoughts.

Your eyes blow wide as understanding punches you in the gut.

“You think I’m the one you want?” You can’t help but voice the thought. 

The minute the question leaves your mouth, a breathless curse soon follows. Now both cadets have turned to you and have their weapons drawn.

“Looks like we’ll need to take care of this one first.” The male drawls while starting to slowly step towards you.

“What makes you think a dragon like that would find you worthy?” The female taunts as you watch her begin to move towards you as well. “You’ve barely been squeaking by in this quadrant. What better way to earn a dragon than take out one of the weak links.”

“And a traitor at that.” The male voice adds.

You can’t help but bristle at their words, although the ever-present nagging voice does nothing but agree with the sentiment at least about being a weak link. Not waiting to weigh your options, you remove the bow from your back and go to nock one arrow. Trying to analyze who is the bigger threat works against you as the male figure begins to charge towards you. As you pull the bow tight, you take a deep breath hoping that your aim is true in the dim light of the cave.

You loose the arrow and it strikes true hitting the cadet in the left side of his chest. As you watch him slump down, you suck in a tight breath when you feel the bite of a dagger split your side. You quickly look up to see the female stepping slightly back a wicked sneer across her face. Swiftly drawing your own dagger, you don’t think twice before letting it fly. 

Unfortunately for you, the girl dodges and swings back in an arc slicing your forearm. You quickly turn yourself and draw a second dagger from the sheath. Circling the girl, you notice that she must have been hurt already as she’s limping away from her left side. Without dwelling on your options, you surge forward and crouch low while aiming your dagger for the back of her knee. 

Not expecting you to squat low, you hear the slice of the blade as the girl’s dagger slices through air and then the scream of pain as she falls to the floor. You turn over your left shoulder and go to stand. You feel as your ankle is tugged back, and you scream when her blade pierces your calf. 

Dragging yourself forward, you grab an arrow that had fallen to the ground. You bring it over your head and with force drop it down on the back of the girl’s hand. With your leg immediately released, you scramble up and limp to where your bow had fallen to the ground. Nocking the second arrow of the day, you take a deep breath and exhale letting the arrow fly into the girls back as she tries to scoot away. 

With both threats eliminated, the feelings of guilt hit you with full force knocking the remaining breath from your lungs. The darkness of the cave seems to coil around you, letting your mind wander to all the reasons you should be the one with an arrow in your back.

‘Do you always deem yourself unworthy?’ The rough female voice slides through your mind again breaking you from the spiral of your thoughts.

Your gaze flies back to the two glowing orbs that are a stark contrast to the darkness from the cave.

“I haven’t had any reason to find myself worthy.” You reply though you can feel the smallness of your own voice.

You stall in fear as the dragon stalks towards you, the golden eyes narrowing on you. It’s in that moment if you wonder if she will incinerate you out of sheer annoyance. Before you can take your next full breath, you find yourself being nudged back by her large snout.

‘You now have no reason to doubt your worthiness.’ She says as her eyes continue to narrow on you. You swallow thickly as your mind begins to wonder if it’s too late to run.

‘You will not run from me, Y/N L/N. You are my rider and are more laudable than most cadets on that field. Come.’ She raises to her full height before beginning to stalk out of the cave.

Your feet seem bolted to the floor as the large shadow of the dragon passes overhead. You watch as she stalks out and looking at the opening of the cave, you can see that the darkness has descended on the forest as well. 

‘My patience is wearing thin. Come now and mount, Treasured One.’ Her voice brooks no room for argument, and you follow the orders of the dragon in front of you.

Its then the pain of your injuries rears back, and you hiss in pain as you begin the trek out of the cave. You have your palm pressed to your side as you try to staunch the bleeding from the wound. 

‘Take off your shirt and hold the wound closed. The faster you do this, the faster you can record our bond and seek medical attention.’ 

You look up at your commanding dragon and give a slight nod as you begin to lift your shirt over your head. You take the sides and secure it on your uninjured side and then look up at your dragon again. Your eyes now slowly roam over the expanse of the indomitable creature in front of you and your eyes widen. This must be one of the largest dragons you’ve ever seen.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to mount.” You say as you worry your lip between your teeth.

‘Do not be silly. I’ve seen what you are capable of. Stop stalling with your self-doubt and mount.’ She says as she brings her head slightly down for you to see the sweeping horns and glinting scales of her face.

At this point, you know there is no reason for you to keep arguing, lest you’re incinerated for petulance. You take as deep of a breath as possible with the sear of the pain from your side still radiating and run towards the dragon’s leg. With all the effort you have left, you manage to make it to her shoulder and carefully step to take your seat. 

As soon as you find yourself seated correctly and grabbing the pommel, your stomach bursts into your chest as you feel your dragon leave the ground.

‘My name is Candrirnome of the Uarraig line, but you can call me Candrir.’ She informs you as you begin to see the field come into view.

You hum in acknowledgement in your mind, though you find everything taking on an edge of fuzziness. Holding your hand to the wound at your side, you pull it away to feel the sensation of warm blood coating your palm. 

‘It’s time for you to tell the roll keeper my name and get medical attention swiftly.’ Candrir orders as she lands with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. 

You slowly get up, limping as the dripping of your wounds begins to take your strength and slide down her leg with the grace of an elephant. You tumble forward when you reach the ground and land on your hands and knees. You hear a menacing growl above you and as you go to look up, you find yourself being hoisted up to your feet by your waist.

As you look down to figure out what has a hold on you, your brows furrow when you realize shimmering shadows are wrapped around your waist trying to pull you to your feet. You shake your head clearing some of the haze and begin slow steps to the podium. 

After giving your dragon’s name to the roll keeper, you slowly trudge to the medical tent. 

‘Let him help you, Treasured One. The dragons will return soon.’ Candrir relays in your mind.

Your brows pull in with confusion etching on your face as you finally can see the opening of the medical tent. You know you must be a sight to see, your shirt tied around you, limping from multiple wounds, and your chest bindings on full display along with scars that you had so far kept hidden. 

As you finally enter the tent, you feel someone place a jacket over your shoulders and you immediately turn behind you trying to assess the new threat. Surprisingly enough, you look up into concerned eyes, the color indiscernible in the dim light. The quick action has the wound in your side pulling and you double over as a fresh wave of pain radiates down your body. 

Two arms grab you behind your back and knees bringing you to the nearest cot. You feel as warm hands untie the shirt that is holding your wound together and can’t help but hear the way his breathing stops when he sees the wound.

Your eyes begin to close as the exhaustion of lost blood hits your abused body, your breathing turning shallower than before.

“Hey” the man before you says quietly but with command, while gently shaking your shoulders. “You need to open your eyes. Come on, you need to stay conscious.”

“Open your eyes. You didn’t survive Threshing and bond a dragon to die in a medical tent.” The command in his voice rising as your eyes continue to drift closed.

The words finally registering, you do your best to open your eyes to the man in front of you.  Your brain immediately notices the way his eyes have turned to pure obsidian, losing all the soft golden hue. 

Your words rasp as you tease. “Careful Wingleader, someone might think you actually care.”

The immediate scoff that leaves his mouth has you turning your head away. 

“No, if you can tease me, you can keep your eyes open. Nolon is on his way.” He says while he turns your face back to his gently. 

As if being summoned, Nolon appears next to you and immediately begins cleaning the wounds you’ve sustained to mend them. You hiss in pain as the antiseptic hits the wound in your side relieving some of the blurring that had been overtaking your vision.

“If you are going to stand here Riorson, I suggest you keep her distracted. This wound is deep and will take a few minutes to knit back together.” Nolon tells Xaden while continuing his work cleaning the wound. 

“Here Cadet L/N. Bite down on this strap, I’m sorry but this isn’t going to be pleasant.” Nolon explains as he places a leather strap in your mouth. 

The next thing you remember is the wound beginning to burn as you feel the deep gash being magically healed. Everything in you wants to scream, but you just bite down as hard as you can and close your eyes. You can feel your face contort in pain, your eyes and brows furrowed tight. Your breathing turns labored as you try to focus past the pain that seems to be radiating from your every pore. 

As the pain of mending begins to subside slowly, you suddenly register the rub of calloused fingers over your knuckles. Finally opening your eyes, you look up to see Xaden with a concerned concentration staring at the wound on your side, almost as if he is trying to use his own power to mend you. As you stare at the brooding Wingleader, you can’t help but wonder exactly what is going through his mind. 

Why does it seem like he’s always in the right place at the right time, at least for you? What exactly are you worth to him?

It's as if your own thoughts were said out loud as his gaze swings back to you. The stare that he gives you makes you feel like he sees entirely too much. Your own musings over the complicated man in front you are broken when Nolon finally takes a step back. 

“Everything seems to be stitched up.” Nolon says to both of you. “However, you will need someone to assist you to get back to your dragon and to your new room tonight.” 

Nolon finishes before walking off to tend to his next patient. You take a few deep breaths trying to will away the lingering pain from the wound and its mending. Feeling steady enough, you put both your hands on the side of the bed and go to get off before a hand comes out and stops you.

“Didn’t you just hear the mender? You’re going to need someone’s help. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He says flatly as if you are a naïve little child that needs to be scolded for not listening. 

“Of course, I heard him, but regrettably for me, I don’t see anyone volunteering to be my nursemaid. Besides, I can’t exactly look weak to the ones that are still looking for a dragon to bond. That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place.” 

You huff out in irritation and begin to turn on your heel, but the minute you try to pick up your foot, you feel yourself falling to the side.

“Can’t you just listen for once.” He says tersely as he pulls you into his side beginning to walk.

Irritation bubbling through you, you can’t help but retort. “Can’t you just let me die.”

His steps falter immediately, and you must brace yourself as you feel your body beginning to fall. You squeeze your eyes shut, but for some reason the contact with the floor doesn’t come. You open your eyes to see yourself again wrapped in bands of onyx shadow. The wielder of said shadows still looking at you as if you’ve just called him the most offensive name on the continent. 

“You can’t honestly mean that.” He says, though you’re unsure as to why his voice is so quiet. 

“You’ll find I very much do. That’s what happens when you find yourself alone day after day and crying yourself to sleep night after night.” It seems the blood loss has loosened both your tongue and your ability to filter your mouth because everything you try to keep hidden begins to spill out. 

“Day after day waking up just wanting one person to give enough of a damn to be there. To show that you are important, that you’re wanted. To hug you just because you mean something to them. To sit with you and enjoy something simple. But alas, how would you know what that feels like? You have a found family and friends that look to you and have your back. Hell, almost the entire quadrant has some kind of feeling about you. You may wield shadows, but you don’t live in them. I do.” As you finally shut your mouth, you can feel as dragons begin to land back around you. You cast your eyes down and slowly begin the walk back to your spot next to your dragon leaving the Wingleader behind you.

_______________

Days pass and you find yourself wishing for the bitter bite of the incoming winter chill. Something to distract you from the hurt that you inflicted on a person who was only trying to help you in your time of need. Since the night of Threshing, you haven’t been able to meet the gaze of your Wingleader. Every time you find yourself in the same vicinity, you immediately dart as far away as possible. 

Reminiscing on all the words that escaped your mouth, you can only cower in shame at having said that to the man who watched his home, father, and city burn and then go through the brutality of taking responsibility for 107 children to save them from the same fate.

Wrapping your fur lined cloak over your shoulders, you slink through the shadowed corridors and find yourself underneath the same tree that you had your first conversation with months before. As your nervous habit dictates, you remove one of the daggers from the sheath at your thigh and begin to twirl it through your fingers.

It isn’t long before you begin to feel the presence of someone in the clearing with you. You hear the snap of a branch to your left and immediately get to your feet with your dagger poised to strike the intruder.

“Hard to believe you’ve survived this long with a fighting stance like that.” The voice says. 

You immediately roll your eyes not interested in the critique of your fighting style. 

“Yeah, well, I get by.” You sass irritated and sitting back down trying to get back the calm you had before the intrusion. 

You mentally curse when Xaden comes to sit down next to you. With an exaggerated sigh, you bring your face to look at his not trying to hide your irritation at the disturbance. 

“Can I help you with something or are you just here to intrude on my solitude?” You muse to your new companion.

“Intrude on your solitude, now why would I do something like that?” He teases back at you.

“Oh, I don’t know, because you just excel at irritating people.” You say while waiting for the man next to you to look you in the eyes. “Or is that your second signet, shadows and irritation?”

A look of shock passes over his features, and you furrow your brows almost thinking you imagined the gesture. You gently shake your head to yourself as you realize it must’ve been a trick of the light. Quiet falls between you as your head falls back to the tree you had been resting on. As the guilt of after Threshing hits you again, you can’t help but break the silence.

“I’m sorry.” You begin, the hesitancy in your voice very present. “I – I shouldn’t have said what I did. It isn’t fair to me to put that on you. Of all people, you have carried a weight heavier than all of us.”

You lower your eyes the heavy weight of your accusations sitting on your chest. You feel as his fingers lightly grab your chin and begin to bring your face back up to his. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” He says in a soft tone you’ve never heard from him before. “I know all too well the dark places your mind can take you, especially after everything we’ve been through.” 

You don’t miss the soft snort he gives before continuing. “Hell, the things we go through on a daily basis are enough to bring most people to their knees.”

A comfortable silence spreads between you both as your face turns to look back at the stars. 

“Thank you,” You begin quietly after some time has passed. “Thank you for all the times that you have saved me. Those are the words I should’ve told you after Threshing, but sometimes all the scars just feel too heavy.”

You take a deep breath and let your hands fall to your sides resting on the grass on either side of you. Seconds later you are caught off guard by a warm calloused hand wrapping around your own, intertwining your fingers. 

“Sometimes you need someone who has scars to let you help you heal yours.” He muses while looking up at the stars, thumb slowly stroking over your own. 

Even though he isn’t looking directly at you, you can see the way his features have softened as you sit there watching his profile. Memorizing his features, you can’t help but take a deep breath and think that maybe you mean more to the man in front of you than just another child of the apostasy. 

[leirastar]

new world | prologue

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 1.6k | 7 minutes Warning: wings, weapons A/n: Hello everyone! i'm very glad to you meet you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much i loved writing it.

Beneath the vase expanse of the golden-hued sky, where the sun and moon dance in harmony, located in the heart of an endless sapphire sea lies Hala.

A chain of islands said to be molded by the hands of ancient gods, each whispering a story of creation, balance, and power.

Its skies shimmer with the iridescent glow of the Aetherion, whose bearers are gifted the ability to soar between earth and sky and serve as the stewards of the land.

At the center of the land, Kaizo Kingdom, the Heart of Hala, stood tall and unyielding, its golden spires reaching for the heavens. Its black bat-winged ruler was renowned for his keen intellect, ensuring that the kingdom remained both the center of commerce and an untouchable entity. Ruled by the sovereign Kim Clan and led by King Hongjoong, descendants of the Shadow Monarch, Kaizo was a beacon of unity and wisdom.

Kaizo city is alive with activity, its streets teeming with merchants, scholars, and travelers from every corner of the seven kingdoms. Though neutral in the wars that raged around it, Kaizo’s alliances carried weight, and Hongjoong’s choices could shift the tides of battle in an instant. Proudly safeguarding the Pact of the Eight Kingdoms, the kingdom was heavily guarded, as its borders touched all seven kingdoms. The bustling markets of Kaizo showcased goods from every corner of Hala, and its rulers, known for their impartiality, served as mediators in times of strife, making the city a beacon for those seeking opportunity—or refuge—if they could survive the journey.

To the Southeast, Leon kingdom stands proudly. Ruled by the Choi Clan, where endless golden sands meet towering forests and deep, labyrinthine caves. Its ruler rumored to possess the strength and cunning of a lion.

King Jongho, adorned with powerful wings veined in shades of earthy brown and sunlit gold, rules quietly. Known to have mastered their diverse terrain, using it as both a sanctuary and a weapon. Their castle, built high within the caves, overlooks the forest canopy and sprawling deserts, offering an impenetrable vantage point against any threat.

These landscapes are more than barriers—they are the foundation of Leon’s economy and culture, offering rare gems from the caves, unique herbs from the forests, and spices from the desert.

To the northeast, dense forrest and rolling fields mark the lands of Caius.

Presiding over this serene paradise is His Majesty King Seonghwa, whose gentle yet unwavering leadership mirrors the tranquility of his lands.

Caius flourishes as a fertile haven, where crystal-blue seas and shimmering lakes weave through lush forests and vibrant fields. The kingdom’s unique geography provides abundant resources year-round, renowned for its blooming herbs and medicinal flora, which grows in endless cycles, fed by the fertile soils and pristine water resources.

These natural gifts not only sustain its people but have made the kingdom famous across Hala for its healing remedies and restorative traditions.

Southern to this estate lived the Kingdom of Satriya. Famous for their silver-armoured knights known as the most disciplined defender in all of Hala, their fortresses carved into unyielding stone. Every path through Satriya is a calculated defense, its people prepared for any threat.

Presiding over this fortified kingdom is King Yeosang, a ruler whose strict discipline and formidable presence inspire both loyalty and fear. Known as the Demon of the Silver Wings, his piercing gaze and unrelenting expectations command respect. Tales of his terrifying battlefield strategies and unwavering enforcement of order have spread across Hala, deterring enemies and ensuring Satriya remains impenetrable.

Satriya remains as the most private of all kingdoms, its gates closed to anyone who is not born of Satriyan blood. This exclusivity fosters a deep sense of unity and loyalty among its people, but also shrouds the kingdom in mystery to outsiders. Despite his fearsome reputation, his people trust him implicitly, knowing that his rule is the cornerstone of their survival.

Satriya’s eastern border meets Kaizo, while its westernmost cliffs descend into treacherous seas. The kingdom’s trade in sturdy weapons and tools extends its influence far beyond its borders, solidifying its position as an indomitable force in Hala.

Bordering the southern of Kaizo lay a united land of Charadyn and Kian. Despite their distinct identities, the two kingdoms share a deep bond, their rulers united by friendship and a shared appreciation for life’s riches.

Charadyn Kingdom belonged to the prestige Jung Clan. Notorious for their eternal bonfires, Charadyn thrives on the never ending celebration and wealth.

From a young age, King Wooyoung embraced the lively spirit of his kingdom, forging a reputation as a leader who rules not just with authority, but with the joy and vitality that inspire his people. Festivals in Charadyn are legendary, attracting visitors from every corner of Hala, who come to revel in the kingdom’s unending celebrations.

Charadyn’s economy is built on its vibrant cultural exports. Its exotic spices, rare jungle plants, and handcrafted artifacts are sought after across the realm. The kingdom’s thriving tourism, driven by its grand festivals and fiery traditions, further fuels its prosperity. Its northern border touches Kaizo, while its southern coast provides access to maritime trade routes, strengthening its position as a cultural and economic powerhouse.

Not far from the buzzling, lively, vibrant city of Charadyn lies the Kingdom of Heritage, known as the Kingdom of Kian. Ruled by the noble Choi Clan, Kian’s people hold a deep belief that their lineage is blessed by divinity. Adorned in jewels and celestial artifacts, King San governs with pride. The kingdom flourishes through its abundant natural resources and exceptional craftsmanship. As a leading exporter of diamonds, sacred relics, and luxurious textiles, Kian’s wealth is unparalleled. Its fertile plains provide plentiful harvests, sustaining its people and fueling trade with neighboring lands.

Far to the Northeast of Kaizo, high above the clouds, nestled among breezy mountain peaks, lay the Aeros Kingdom, home to the dragon breeders. Composed of multiple floating islands suspended in the skies, Aeros is a breathtaking spectacle of nature and magic. At its heart, perched in the middle of the heavens, stands the grand palace of Aeros, a shining beacon visible from every corner of the kingdom.

King Mingi, with his tundra-like wings, presides over this aerial wonderland, where the roar of dragons harmonizes with the gentle whispers of the mountain winds. The skies are alive with the majestic flight of dragons and their caretakers, whose unbreakable bond with the creatures defines Aeros’s spirit.

The kingdom thrives on the trade of dragons and their rare, coveted scales, used for crafting armor, ornaments, and magical items of extraordinary value. In addition, Aeros exports sky-bred textiles, lightweight yet durable, imbued with the essence of the breezes that carry the kingdom’s legacy across Hala.

Bordered by the icy seas and blanketed in perpetual mist, lies the Reed Kingdom. This land is cradled by the ocean, its shores wrapped in an ethereal veil of fog that rarely lifts. Yet Reed’s true majesty lies above, connected to the lowlands by a towering, frost-covered bridge. High in the frigid mountains stands Reed’s capital, an unyielding fortress of ice and stone nestled among snow-capped peaks. Here, the cold is relentless, and the winds howl like the spirits of the mountains themselves.

King Yunho, with his indigo wings, embodies the kingdom’s cold, unwavering resolve. His strength and endurance mirror the icy resilience of his domain, and his piercing gaze leaves little room for doubt or defiance. Under his steadfast rule, the people of Reed have flourished despite the harshness of their environment, adapting and thriving where others might falter.

Reed’s economy thrives on trading its unique resources to other kingdoms. Rare ice crystals, harvested from the deepest caverns, are prized across Hala for their enchanting properties, beauty, and magical applications. Additionally, frost-forged metals, tempered by the frigid climate, are crafted into tools, weapons, and armor of unparalleled durability, making them essential for kingdoms facing harsh conditions. Reed’s expertise in producing cold-weather goods sustains its prosperity, exchanging its treasures for resources it cannot cultivate within its icy domain.

Reed is a kingdom of stark beauty and unrelenting strength, where the sea meets the mountains in a breathtaking display of nature’s extremes. To venture into its icy wilderness is to face a world that demands respect—and a king who commands it. Outsiders who dare step into Reed often find themselves frozen in more ways than one, humbled by the cold and the unyielding presence of King Yunho.

The royals held immense power over Hala for a reason. The rulers of the eight kingdoms were no ordinary beings; they bore the mark of True Aetherion, a glowing imprint on their foreheads that pulsed with celestial energy. This blue blood, shimmering with the essence of the heavens, set them apart—not just in authority, but in being. It granted them the ability to command the skies, their wings reflecting the power and pride of their Country.

You paused in your step, the vibrant hum of life around you fading as a sudden stillness overtook the air. The faint glow of the Aetherion above pulsed rhythmically, and a powerful gust swept past, bending the trees and rippling the waters in its wake. A dark silhouette descended from the clouds, cutting across the horizon like a falling star, its form too grand, too perfect, to belong to mere mortals.

Your breath caught as the figure moved with otherworldly grace, its wings glinting with hues that mirrored its domain—golden like Leon’s sands or indigo like Reed’s icy peaks. As it passed overhead, you caught a glimpse of the faint glow on their forehead, unmistakable and radiant, the mark of their celestial lineage. It was rare to see a royal so far from the cities, their presence in such remote lands a reminder of the power they carried, bound to the skies.

Though you couldn’t tell which kingdom they hailed from, you knew without a doubt it was one of the eight royals.

Since only they bore the mark of the Aetherion carried from the blue blood of the Primordials, their very existence was tied to the elements that shaped Hala.

They are Hala Core itself. 1

Taglist (OPEN):

@caratiny-latte @pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum

[mrsoharaa]

𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 🎀🍰

characters; SatoSugu (Gojo Satoru + Geto Suguru) x Reader

cw; none! pure FLUFF! the two dummies being completely lovesick and mopey over their pretty spoiled angel! birthday trope, completely SELF INDULGENT (since it's my bday todayyy <3)

Your lumbering eyes blink heavily to the flaunting streaks of the peeking sun seeping through your bedroom shades. A heavy distinctive weight of multiple objects weighs all over and around your sleeping form, a low grumble tittering off from your supple lips.

Gradually stirring awake from your deep slumber, you glance down at your chest to a note with a beautifully fully blossomed peony taped to the feeble paper. Blinking, you sit upright and take the note into your hands, carefully holding the gorgeous, flourishing flower and reading over the neatly familiar font written in perfect alignment.

Good morning and happy birthday beautiful :)

Sorry that me and Satoru are not there to hold you in our arms and spoil you with endless kisses and affections, but we had to do some...shopping for your surprise for tonight. (I really didn't want to spoil anything about it but I guess I kind of did...)

As you can tell, Satoru had bombarded you with boundless hoards of gifts on you. He was dead set on drowning you in a heap of stuffed animals, jewelry and your favorite type of throw blankets. He's utterly ridiculous, but he loves you incessantly so I suppose that makes up for it haha.

A tender smile seeps onto your cheeks, glancing up and around the bundled stock of adorable stuffed animals, fluffy throw blankets and fancy expensive boxes that you'd presumed to be the priceless jewelry Satoru had hauled for you. Your heart flutters warmly, frantically at the adoring thought.

A bit much don't you think, Toru?

"Oh 'Toru..." you giggle softly under your breath, your softened eyes scrolling back onto the heart felt letter in your free hand.

We should be back home in a few hours or so, so please enjoy your comfortable day lounging about my love. We'll bring home some snacks on our way back.

Oh, and my gift for you (minus the flower of course, because I think I remembered you saying that Peonies were your favorite some time ago) is in in the living room. I hope you like it angel :)

Again, happy birthday princess.

Much love from your goofballs - Suguru + Satoru.

Your heart continues to patter wildly against your chest, smiling ever so giddily to yourself as you glimpse over the mount of gifts hoarding over you. Gently placing the adoring letter on your nightstand, you gently caress the soften petals of the elegant flower, gingerly bringing it to your lips and tending a ghost like kiss to the sweet scented flora. Inhaling the candid natural scent of it's aroma.

"Oh my silly thoughtful boys" you murmur lightly, feeling your eyes swell with happy tears, your heart fluttering happily to the thought of the two idiots you grew to know and love over the years, spoiling you.

Feeling the enthralling excitement swarm in the depths of your stomach, you carefully rise from your gift-cluttered bed and stand onto your toes. Stretching out your limbs, you felt the soft silk of your blush pink night gown grace over the upper plain of your exposed thighs. A tingling, lulling sensation peppering all over your awakening skin.

Still holding onto the flower in your hand, you gleefully make your way into the living room. Stopping immediately at the frame of your bedroom door as your pupils dilate with vast enchantment and wonder.

With your ceiling littered with heart shaped balloons of soft pink, rose gold and white, the dining room table neatly decorated with two tall standing candles, silverware and dishes adroitly placed and pink rose petals lightly scattered along the sleek table cloth and your dishes - you couldn't help the overwhelming warmth resonating deep within your heavy chest.

Those thick, kindred tears welling back at the corners of your blurry irises.

"Suguru..." you hardly whispered out with a soft gasp, blown out watery irises carefully skimming along the beautifully decorated room from their courteous hard work.

Light footing of your delicate steps drew you close to the breath taking scenery displayed out before you. Daintily, you brush the pad of your fingers along the silken table cloth and rose petals that swarmed over your dining room table. Thoroughly, admiring every detail and care they took to prep this, just for you.

Your eyes spot another note in the middle of the table, folded in half and nestled against one of the standing candles.

You carefully take it and open the smaller note.

I hope everything is to your liking angel, I wanted to make everything as perfect as I could for you :) I hope it's not too much.

(Satoru says he helped pitched in, doesn't want to seem like he didn't put in any effort or whatever haha)

Happy birthday sweet girl, dress up nice tonight, we're cooking and tending to you thoroughly tonight. Tonight will be all about you sweetheart.

- Suguru G.

Oh, so he wants you to collapse from a cardiac arrest from all the cuteness and what not?

Grasping onto the small, gracious note and hugging it close to your chest (where your heart rests), you couldn't help the familiar overwhelming feeling of sheer bliss and joyous enlightenment embellish all over your body. Filling your heart and soul with boundless love and adoration.

Tears swiftly cascading down the soften plush of your blossoming cheeks. Breaths catching tightly at the perch of your lungs, heart still restlessly plummeting to the endearing thought of your boyfriends going out of their way to woo you with such enchanting gifts and basking wonderment.

You couldn't help the over joyous feeling coursing through you, titillating excitement pouring through your veins as you rush to your bathroom to get ready for the enticing night!

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ Chapter 05

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: subtle yn lore gets dropped here…

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

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After Bakugou had been generous enough to help haul in your endless pile of boxes—a consequence of your admittedly irresponsible spending—it seemed he decided to spare you further torment by announcing his departure.

Something about heading to the training arena to "get some real work done."

Not that his presence was bad.

No, it was torturous in the best way possible!

The I-want-him-to-stay-in-my-room-forever-and-keep-calling-me-princess kind of way.

Did that sound crazy?

Even with your ever-growing crush on the blonde, you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that washed over you at his exit.

He’d seen you like this—flustered, fumbling, barely holding yourself together—had even insisted you put on those stupid glasses, and yet…

Somehow, it wasn’t as horrible as you expected.

A warm flutter settled in your chest at the realization. He hadn’t cared about your appearance, hadn’t picked you apart like so many others had. It was a refreshing change from the judgment you’d grown used to.

You never quite understood why people felt so comfortable talking about your looks.

You barely felt comfortable talking to people, period.

And yet, strangers—people who didn’t know a thing about you—felt entitled to comment.

Your figure was amazing. Your hair looked great. What diets had you gone on?

God…

Bakugou didn’t seem to care about any of that.

His focus had been on your vision—or lack thereof. A stupid little thing, but the fact that he didn't seem to care about your looks made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Now, left alone in the quiet of your room, you sat cross-legged on your bed, manicured fingers scrolling through your phone.

Your official account, @OfficiallyFlora, gleamed on the screen. The blue checkmark beside your username felt more like a weight than an accomplishment.

Your profile picture, an overly polished shot of you in your glittering hero costume—stared back at you. The flawless image, taken against a pristine white backdrop, was the product of your mother’s money and marketing efforts.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

Too pretty. Too refined. Too far from the girl sitting here now, sock clad in her bedroom, still reeling from the lingering scent of caramel and smoke that Bakugou had left behind.

Are your teeth really even that white in person?

You don’t know…

Your bio reads: Official Page of Pro-Hero Prospect Flora, making your hearts bloom with every step towards justice!

You sighed, rolling your eyes hard enough to strain something. The bio had been written by your mother’s PR team, dripping with saccharine energy that made you cringe every time you read it.

The rest of your feed wasn’t much better: high-definition shots of battles, cherry blossom-themed merch promotions, and glamorous magazine features.

It was a glossy, manufactured version of you that bore little resemblance to the person staring at the screen, glasses perpetually sliding down her nose.

Growing bored of the staged content, you switched to your private account.

Your followers on this one are, well. Your classmates, surprisingly enough, and one of your mother's pool boys who had asked for your Instagram years ago before you ever even had an official page in hopes of getting to talk to you more?!

You can't help but quirk a brow, you should really get him off your page...

Here, the photos were more personal: snapshots of your travels, close-ups of meals you’d enjoyed, and a random assortment of things that caught your eye.

The likes rarely climb beyond single digits, but it was real and a better representation of yourself than the other page.

A pang of curiosity struck as your fingers moved on autopilot, typing in Bakugou’s name.

His official account, curated by Best Jeanist’s team, popped up first. His posts were as structured as yours—action shots, hero promotions, and carefully orchestrated PR moves.

But unlike how you felt about your feed, his action shots were breathtaking.

One image, in particular, caught your attention: Bakugou holding a tiny kitten that had been stuck in a tree. His sharp features softened as he cradled the fluffy creature, his biceps bulging against his hero suit.

You snorted, amused by the juxtaposition. No matter how intimidating he looked, the sight of him with a kitten was almost too much.

Shaking your head, you scrolled through some of your classmates’ accounts. Their updates showed them at the beach, enjoying pizza nights, and huddled around a glowing campfire.

Seems like without Bakugou around to act as head chef, they had to order takeout instead.

You frowned, an unshakable pit forming in your stomach.

You drop your phone onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. Maybe what you needed was a nice meal—something indulgent to shake off the restless energy.

The thought of heading to the nearest convenience store for another pint of ice cream crosses your mind, the idea warm and tempting. But no.

Not this time.

Instead, maybe you could make an effort. Doll yourself up a bit, put on some makeup, and head out into town. Who needs a big group when you’ve got yourself?

Determined to follow through, you sit up and scan the endless boxes of your new purchases. Finally, you land on a little buttercup-yellow tweed Chanel set, complete with a mini skirt and cropped blazer.

You slip it on, the fabric hugging your figure perfectly and highlighting your silhouette in all the right places.

Hell, for this price point, it better do all of the above!

You turn to your vanity, reaching for your makeup bag. You opt for a soft, casual look—subtle yet radiant, with just enough shimmer to catch the light. Twinkly in all the right places.

To complete the look, you sling a new ivory-colored purse over your shoulder. A cute yellow dandelion charm clipped to the side adds just the right touch of cuteness.

Standing in front of the mirror, you take a moment to admire your reflection. You look polished, confident, like someone ready to take on the evening—even if it’s a solo adventure.

Maybe you’d check out that new sushi spot closer to home!

Yeah, it’s fine that your classmates wouldn’t join you! They'd probably just make you more anxious anyways.

But as you’re heading downstairs and toward the door, you suddenly freeze. A realization dawns on you.

Hajime has the weekend off.

You groan out loud. How are you going to get there? You can’t drive!

Frustration bubbles up, and you slap your forehead. Were you really this helpless? The thought makes you wince, embarrassment creeping in at the edges of your thoughts.

"If I speak, you gonna jump and scream again?" A voice, an irritatingly familiar voice announces his presence.

The familiar gruff voice startles you, and admittedly, you do almost scream. Holding it back though, you whirl around to see Bakugou having just walked out of the elevator behind you.

He seems freshly showered, with his hair still a bit damp, out and pushed back from his handsome face. You could smell him from where you're standing.

Ugh, delicious as usual.

“You did kind of surprise me,” you admit, voice sheepish as your eyes dart away from him.

His eyes roam over your figure quickly, though you don't notice the action over your own mourning of the evening.

“You’re going out?”

The question leaves his mouth before he can stop it, and if he could, he’d smack himself upside the head. Why the hell did he even ask? It’s obvious you are. And more importantly—why is he even starting a conversation in the first place?

Up until literally yesterday, you were just another classmate. Background noise. But these back-to-back interactions are becoming unavoidable, and unfortunately, you’re slipping out of the backdrop and into his world.

You shake your head, lips pulling into a soft, resigned smile. “Well, I was going to, but… I just realized I don’t have any way of getting there.”

“Hah? Can’t take the train?”

Heat blooms across your face, creeping down your neck. “Oh, well… I’ve never taken public transportation.”

There’s a beat of silence—just long enough for you to see the exact moment Bakugou short-circuits.

“Is that some shitty joke?”

You thought your cheeks couldn’t possibly burn hotter, but—oh, look at that! They can!

“I- um, well, no. It’s not.” You swallow, fiddling with the strap of your ivory purse. “Hajime’s driven me everywhere since I was little.”

He blinks, slowly. More in disbelief than anything.

“Hajime?”

You nod. “Yeah, um… my personal driver.”

For a second, you think he might actually roll his eyes. On anyone else, the whole spoiled rich kid routine would piss him off. But with you, it’s different.

Maybe it’s the way you look so flustered, like you’re embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe it’s the way your voice dips, like you’re apologizing for just existing.

Either way, it leaves him feeling something weird—something dangerously close to wanting to help. Again.

Twice in one day. A world record, if he says so himself.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You wince, shoulders curling inward. “I know! It’s bad, okay? But it’s just how I was raised…”

How you were raised?

Bakugou’s brow lifts slightly. So what, you were raised to be a stay-at-home daughter? Spend money like it’s a full-time job?

He knows about your family. Everyone does.

A mother who inherited an entire hero firm from your grandparents—a dynasty so powerful its stocks and investments practically fuel Japan’s economy. And a father who died in the field before you were even born—a rising star in the hero world, gone far too soon.

Your mother, a young heiress to millions. Your father, a pro hero at the height of his career. Expecting their first child. A baby girl—you.

And then, just like that, it all came crashing down.

A mission gone wrong.

A hero lost.

Your father’s death sent shockwaves through the country, leaving Japan in mourning—not just for the man he was, but for the legend he never got the chance to become.

He doesn’t say anything right away—just stares at you with an unreadable expression that makes your stomach churn.

Then, without warning, he mutters, “Get your stuff. We’re going.”

Your head snaps up. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” He’s already pulling on his sneakers, his movements brisk and determined. “No way in hell am I letting you graduate from U.A. without knowing how to take a damn train. That’s pathetic.”

“Bakugou, you really don’t have to—”

“Second time today.” He cuts you off with a sharp look over his shoulder. “It’s already happening. Move it, princess.”

Your mouth opens, ready to argue—but the words die in your throat when you see the set of his jaw, the fire in his gaze. He’s not going to back down.

You’re not sure what’s more overwhelming—the idea of taking your first train ride…

Or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one dragging you along for the ride.

You gulp, hurrying after him as he strides out of the dormitory, his natural pace effortlessly long and brisk. You almost trip trying to keep up, the heels of your boots clicking against the pavement.

God, why does he walk so fast?

“We’ve got a station down the block from the UA gates,” he says, barely glancing at you. “We’ll go to that one.”

You nod, stiff as a board. “Gotcha. So, um… where did you want to go?”

His blonde brow arches, the side of his lip curling like you just said something unbelievably stupid. “What? This isn’t about me. This is about teaching you how to get on a damn train.”

You wince, embarrassed. “Right. That makes sense.”

The two of you walk in relative silence, the crisp evening air settling over you like a thin veil.

The streets leading to the station aren’t crowded, but there are enough people out that you can feel the occasional passing glance—whether they recognize you as a hero-in-training or simply because you look like you don’t belong in a place as mundane as a train station, you’re not sure.

Your perfectly tailored blazer, Italian leather purse, and neatly manicured nails feel almost too polished for the scuffed pavement beneath your feet.

Bakugou, on the other hand, fits in seamlessly.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his comfy sweatpants loose around his legs and tight at his waist.

He looks completely at ease, like this is just another part of his day—meanwhile, your heartbeat is rattling in your ears at the thought of navigating a train station for the first time.

After a few minutes, you reach the station entrance, the underground stairway yawning open before you. A few commuters shuffle past, swiping their cards at the turnstiles, moving like they’ve done this a million times.

You, however, stay frozen at the top of the stairs.

Bakugou doesn’t notice at first, too busy pulling out his own train pass. But when he looks up and sees you still standing there, brows drawn tight with hesitation, he sighs.

“Seriously?” He tilts his head, exasperation flickering in his red eyes. “It’s just a staircase, princess.”

“I know it’s just a staircase,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing down at the tiled steps leading into the station.

You’ve never been in one of these before, never had to navigate the organized chaos of public transport, never had to think about swiping a train card or picking a route.

A ridiculous thought hits you—you’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you don’t know how to take a train… or the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is the one who has to teach you.

You bite your lip, it's silly and you know it. “What if I mess up?”

Bakugou stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he snorts.

“With that attitude, you’re definitely gonna mess up. Sour face you got going on”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

His smirk is almost smug. “But that’s the whole damn point. You mess up, you figure it out, and then you won’t be a clueless dumbass next time.”

You scowl. “Your motivational speeches suck.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes before nudging your shoulder—just a small push, barely enough to make you step forward, but it’s enough to shake you out of your own head.

“Come on,” he mutters, starting down the stairs. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You inhale sharply and, with no other choice, follow him down.

The air shifts as you descend—cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of rails and the distant hum of an approaching train. Your grip tightens around the strap of your purse, nerves bubbling in your chest.

Why is everything so loud down here?!

Bakugou moves ahead, seamlessly navigating through the turnstiles. He scans his card with an effortless flick of his wrist, stepping through without hesitation.

You, on the other hand, stop in front of the machine, frowning at it like it’s a puzzle you weren’t given the pieces to.

Bakugou turns, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he drawls.

You glance at the screen, then back at your card. “Do I just… tap it?”

“No, you rub it on the damn thing and hope it opens.”

Your glare is sharp, but you say nothing, instead hesitantly pressing the card against the sensor. The gate beeps, unlocking with a mechanical click.

You blink. That’s it?

“Wow, you did it.” Bakugou’s tone is mockingly slow, like he’s congratulating a toddler for taking their first steps.

You don’t know how, when, or what possesses you with a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, your hand reaches out, shoving his shoulder.

His muscled frame barely budges under your touch, solid beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He snorts, a short chuckle slipping out as he steps toward the platform, the train’s arrival chime ringing through the station.

Then, as you approach the edge of the platform, a realization slams into you like a ton of bricks.

“…Wait.” You stop in your tracks, eyes widening. “How do I know which train to take?”

Bakugou exhales so deeply it sounds like his soul is actively trying to escape his body.

“God help me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw tightening as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying something he’ll regret.

For the first time today, you swear he actually looks pained.

Oh lord. Oh good grief. If you were just about anybody else right now, Bakugou wouldn’t just be snapping—he’d be out of here so fast, you’d be left choking on smoke.

The fact that a pro-hero-in-training, someone who’s supposed to be saving lives, has never taken a damn train is the kind of thing that should be illegal.

So why is he still here?

Why hasn’t he turned on his heel, thrown up his hands, and left you to fend for yourself like any rational, self-respecting person would?

He blinks, his gaze lingering on your face, and for a brief moment—so fast you almost miss it—you swear there’s something unreadable flickering behind those sharp red eyes.

Maybe it’s the way your lashes frame your doe-like eyes, dark and long, casting delicate shadows across your cheeks. Curse you and your stupid, stupid eyes. Is this some kind of second quirk? A hypnosis ability?

Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the way you fidget without realizing it.

Your hands twist together, fingers tangling like they’re trying to hold onto something steady.

Absentmindedly, you twirl the diamond-encrusted eternity band on your index finger, turning it over and over in a nervous rhythm. It catches the dim station light, flashing every time you spin it.

Bakugou’s gaze follows the movement, and something about the unconscious gesture makes his scowl deepen.

“…Tch.” He clicks his tongue, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “You really are helpless, huh?”

The words are gruff, edged with frustration, but he still doesn’t walk away.

Instead, he takes a step toward you, nodding toward the digital display overhead. The glowing letters flicker slightly, listing station names, times, and train lines in a way that makes your head spin.

“C’mon, dumbass. I’ll show you how to read the damn schedule before you get yourself lost in the middle of the city.”

Relief washes over you as you quickly follow his lead. “Ah, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me… just pay attention.”

And you do. You pay such good attention that by the time you finally grasp how the whole system works, you’re practically bouncing on your heels in excitement, a bright grin stretching across your face.

You stand on the platform, buzzing with a newfound confidence, while Bakugou—looking as perpetually unimpressed as ever—waits beside you with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets.

Then, the distant hum of the train grows louder, and soon enough, the sleek cars pull into the station with a sharp metallic whir.

The doors slide open, and you eagerly step forward, your heeled boots clicking against the platform as you move inside. Bakugou follows closely behind, scanning the interior in one quick glance.

The train is relatively full—enough that only one open seat remains near the doors. Without hesitation, Bakugou nudges you toward it.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, grabbing onto the nearest safety pole as the doors begin to close.

You shake your head, brushing him off. “I’m okay.”

He scoffs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “The train moves fast and isn’t super smooth. I’m sure you don’t wanna go through all that with those on.”

You glance down at your shoes—sleek, heeled boots, stylish but sturdy. Your lips curve into a small smile.

“I’ll have you know my hero costume boots are even higher than these.”

His brow arches slightly, the hint of sarcasm sparking in his eyes. “Yeah? I’m impressed, considering how fast you ran away from me on day one.”

Oh, hell.

Heat creeps up your neck at the reminder, your confidence faltering for a split second. But you recover quickly, squaring your shoulders with a dramatic huff.

“Wow, Bakugou Katsuki, impressed? By little ol’ me?” You place a hand over your heart, feigning exaggerated awe. “It’s an honor.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but there’s something unreadable in the way his gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer.

Then, the train lurches forward.

Despite all your earlier bravado, you do wobble slightly—just enough for Bakugou’s smirk to return in full force.

“…Told you to sit, dumbass.”

But you can’t.

Not because you’re too stubborn. Not because you’re still trying to prove a point.

But because—oh.

A singular, large hand is suddenly tight on your waist, steadying you with an effortless grip.

Oh my.

Who needs a safety rail when Pro Hero Dynamight is holding you like this?!

You internally scream, the realization hitting you all at once. The touch itself isn’t anything crazy—it’s barely even a thing, just a reflex, something automatic, instinctual. Nothing compared to the absolute torture of this morning’s, uh, straddling situation.

And yet, this feels just as bad—if not worse.

Why? Because Bakugou, in all his brash, loud, obnoxious glory, doesn’t even seem to realize he’s still holding onto you.

His grip is firm, warm even through the thick expensive fabric of your clothes, and worst of all? It lingers.

Still there.

Still present.

Still burning through your skin like a brand.

Oh, hell.

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

[thatlittlered]

the craft | celebrimbor

warning(s): afab!reader (use of the word lady), very discreet spoilers for rings of power

GIF by @leotanaka

author's note: i think i deserve a little kiss for my use of the title craft because of its dual meaning, don't you? going to write another part, unless I don't because I can't be trusted :)

read the rest of "the craft" here

-.-.-

 A beautiful sunset melts from golden to orange and fiery red hues, almost as crimson as the seeds of pomegranate in your fingers. Fruit of the only such tree in the whole of Eregion and yet another undoubtedly hospitable gift from the Elf-lord Celebrimbor, whose kindness and generosity have proven to be as boundless as his artistry.

 A guest within his palace for far longer than initially intended, you cannot help but feel horribly indebted to him; a sentiment he has always refused to allow you to express and instead showered you with even more gifts, so many that you could not possibly take them with you if and when you are ever to return home, or whatever might be left of it once these dark times are hopefully over. Such is the cup you are currently enjoying warm tea from, the kind that he personally recommended and had sent to you. Laced with intricate carvings of beautiful flowers you do not think you’ve ever even seen in your long lifetime, this gift surpasses the simple nature of others, for it was crafted especially for you and whilst you may not know this part, bears the likeness of his favourite flora that grows near the bank of the river Bruinen, where he had hoped to take you soon. Alas, his tender plans were soon cast aside when the mysterious stranger Halbrand unbeknownst to you, began to seduce him into isolation and an obsessive mulling over the Rings.

 You have not met with Celebrimbor in weeks and his forge, which had previously been open to you in yet another attempt to make you feel welcome and perhaps even timidly show off his craft, now remains completely shut off from the rest of the world. Your gentle requests to meet with the Elven-smith go unanswered, as do your letters to the dear and endlessly respected friends who had sent you here in the first place. Of course, neither attempt at communication ever reaches its intended receiver. The stranger has made sure of that, and while you suspect something is amiss, all this silence has become its own form of isolation.

 You were sent here as a trusted friend, meant to provide guidance and council while the High King leads the way toward the necessary path of war and your other companions follow, yet the situation has rendered you incapable of aiding either cause. It seems there is nothing to do but wait and carry on enjoying the commodities the Elf-lord sends your way despite his absence.

 As if brought to life by the intensity of your thoughts, there is gentle knocking on your door, the kind you recognize from the often times he has been so eager to be in your company before.

 'Come in.'

 You try to wipe your fingers clean from the evidence of the sweet seeds, but his rushed entry in your chamber surprises you. Your still-stained thumb leaves the smallest of bloodlike marks on your tunic, but you do not notice when your eyes meet Celebrimbor’s. A smile blooms on his tired face instantly as he once again rushes to approach you.

  'My dear friend, glassen na chen cenin.' It is my joy to see you.

 You move to take hold of his hands in reverence, but he once again surprises you by grasping your face in his palms instead. The stranger’s persuasion has given him a newfound confidence along with a sense of purpose, when he had been as shy as a youngling in your presence before.

 'My Lady.'

 The title he has given you is not one of true nobility, for you bear no such titles, but one that simply rolls off his tongue in his endless admiration of you. Anything else seems too intimate when he tries to speak it, even your name in itself. His thoughts are muddled and overwhelming in your presence.

 His palms are warm and surprisingly soft when they hold you. It is impossible not to smile.

 'I did not expect your visit, but I am glad to be proven wrong.'

 He frowns gently and you cannot help but admire the creases of his lovely face as they are illuminated by the last rays of sun for the day.

 'I am deeply sorry for my absence. I can only hope you do not think I have abandoned you, for in my heart and thoughts, I am always with you.'

 Your own hand caresses just above his brow in an attempt to soothe him. He always worries so, but you would gladly take over each and every of his burdens if it meant he would finally be at peace. He has never spoken words like these to you before, always hiding behind the cloak of hospitality in an effort to be close to you. Celebrimbor, the Ñoldorin prince and last of the line of the Fëanor, has inherited none of his ancestors’ pride, but instead carries the shame of their actions deep within his soul, where it most wounds him. It is that shame that has for so long allowed him to succumb to loneliness and refrain from fantasies of greatness.

 Annatar’s revelation comes as a gift, a holy permission, to bring forth life’s work that could dare to compete with that of those who came before him. It allows him to venture and now, clad in this new air of hope and ambition, come before you as he truly is and as he truly hopes to be beside you.

 'I couldn’t possibly think myself abandoned when you shower me with gifts, even in your absence. I am aware of the weight that has been placed upon your shoulders and you have rightfully given your time to more important matters, or persons.'

 'None as important as you. Please, do not mistake it for hospitality, for I act based on my own selfish affections.'

 'How can any such affection be selfish? I would say it is anything but.'

 'Oh, but I fear it is. Even my coming here is to satisfy my own longing after having spent so many morns and nights without seeing you.'

 Neither of you possess the poetic prowess to capture the tenderness of this moment, the ceaseless warmth of still being held in his hands without a regard to impropriety. Even if you did, words would undoubtedly fall short.

 'Well, I am glad to have your company, for as long as you can spare it.'

 'I never wish to withhold it again.'

 Celebrimbor melts into this half-embrace until his forehead gently leans on yours.

 'I only wish I could be of assistance and help you bear this great burden.'

 'Your mere presence renders my soul lighter, guren vell,' my sweet heart, 'but I know now that what has been bestowed upon me is not a burden, but a gift unlike no other. Just as you are. I have been sworn to silence, but know that we have been blessed and when my work is finished, our woes will be over.'

 Something has changed within him and it is there for everyone with eyes to see. It worries you.

 'Sworn to secrecy? Even from I, despite my knowing the truth of your assignment?'

 He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead, holding you even closer.

 'What started as a desperate attempt to clutch at whatever power can be wielded in our favour during these trying times, has now become much larger, much more important than I could have ever imagined. Bigger than you or I, for it was brought forth by a glorious agent of Valinor and now I can finally be of use to this greater cause.'

 He senses the uncertainty in you before you can speak it.

 'You must think I’ve gone mad.'

 'Of course not. I would trust you with my life, my faith knows no bounds. My hesitance is rooted in concern.'

 'Concern for the safety of the rings?'

 'Concern for you, melethron nîn.' My beloved.

 There is such emotion in the way he is looking at you.

 'I cannot gainsay that which has been asked of me, but afterward…'

 'Afterward?'

 'After I have proven myself worthy, perhaps you would consider staying here, with me. Perhaps then I will be someone you could imagine a life with.'

 'Oh, Celebrimbor, you already are. What words must I speak for you to know the depth of my feelings?'

 Words are miniscule when faced with the self-doubt that’s so deeply rooted within him. The stranger has seen this and taken full advantage. The promise of glory has overshadowed the love you so willingly offer, even though the allure of recognition was that he might come to deserve it in the first place. His adoring smile distracts from how flat your reassurance has fallen. His mind is set.

 'When all of this is over, I promise to devote myself wholly to you and only you. Gerog i chûn nîn. Until then...' You hold my heart. His hands leave your skin for a moment in order to produce what must be a gift, neatly wrapped in rich velvet fabric. 'It is nothing of great significance, but I wanted you to have these.'

 You carefully unwrap it, only to find inside the most beautiful jewels, cast in gold and carved with astounding detail, so much so that you can clearly make out every petal, every stem of the flowers he has chosen that remind him of you.

 'I noticed you like to adorn your hair. I thought these might be to your liking, though my hands could never make something akin your beauty. Only the Valar can master such a craft and you are the living proof.'

 Such sweetness comes from his mouth. Such thoughtfulness to even now, amidst the chaos he was forced in, dedicate all this time and effort to something just for you.

'Nothing of great significance? This is the most significant gift I have ever received. The gift of all gifts; a token of your love.'

 Proper elven courtship is forgotten when your eyes lock again. A kiss is required for the sake of both of your sanities and you happily initiate. You would have thought him shy and reserved, but he quickly responds in equal fervour. Your lips are soft against his thin ones and his heart sings. If only he could find within him the words to convey that. Nevertheless, you do not require it of him and he loves you even more for it.

 You are content to stay where you are; mouths and bodies tenderly interlocked. When you part, there are only childish grins to be shared, ones not to be expected from eternal beings, but perhaps maturity comes hand in hand with love and the two of you have only now found it.

 'Might I?'

 With an approving nod, you turn your back on him, once again placing your trust in the man you’ve come to love. He laces his fingers in your hair so gently, as if set to work on fragile sheets of gold, but to him, any part of you is far more precious. You feel him carefully pick strands and clasp in them in the lovely jewels, up until the last one. Curiosity wins and you try to turn your head enough to see, only to witness him touch your hair against his lips before adding the last one.

 Celebrimbor blushes upon being caught, but does not look away. You take this opportunity to simply look at each other. He wishes to gather you in his arms, but does not dare. You, again, are happy to take the initiative, but he stops you before you can embrace him fully.

 'Are you hurt?'

 There is ample confusion until you feel his hand gather in the skirt of your tunic where the blood-like stain still resides. The panic on his face is touching, yet unnecessary.

 'Do not worry, my love, it is only pomegranate.'

 When in your arms again, he seemingly relaxes, yet his mind is still racing. A familiar sense of dread pools somewhere within him.

 This is a bad omen.

[theblueflower05]

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

[parisblood]

AND IF I CRY???

[araksi413]

System SQQ thoughts (as in plural system, not SYSTEM, that comes in later)

- SJ is a trauma holder and host for most of their childhood, discipleship and then during their peak lord years. To him this is his life, their system is covert, and he's not aware of it.

- SY is a normal part, fronted sometimes during their childhood and life, in the calm moments. Especially during their disciple years when they were studying flora and fauna (SJ just thinks he zoned out.)

- The SYSTEM is the overseer and persecutor. It doesn't front, doing its job in the headspace and keeping the two from realizing they exist.

- But then The qi deviation happens, and SYSTEM decides that SJ is just not handling it properly anymore, putting their existence at risk. It pulls SJ into the headspace and shoves SY to the front.

- SY creates the "this world is a book i read" as an explanation as to why he doesn't have memories but knows how this world works (especially flora and fauna, must've been the only interesting part of the book!)

- The SYSTEM cofronts with SY a lot of the time, especially at the beginning, doing its job as a persecutor to keep SY in line. (None of the possession detection tests work, because it is the same soul. Just not the same person)

- SJ sometimes gets to see what's happening at front, especially when the SYSTEM is there and can't entirely block him out. SJ passively influences SY sometimes, especially when his Qi-ge is present.

- SJ hates SY at the beginning. SY stole his life, and is ruining it, and just doesn't understand what he's doing!

- Eventually SJ gets to cofront while they're teaching or doing paperwork, reluctantly helping SY. SY explains this to himself as just a kind of grumpy inner monolog. ("That form needs to go to An Ding right away, put it on the right pile idiot." "Right, right of course, right away me.")

- SY manages to save LQG in the Linxi Caves bc he has less of an emotional attachment to him then SJ, and it doesn't get in the way of stopping his qi deviation. Also he still views everyone as characters, which is an additional distance that helps him that calm enough in the moment.

- It's SJ fighting during the demon invasion. SY just doesn't have that much control, he has just enough to get by + muscle memory, but not enough to fight Like That.

- And of course, it's SY that gets them poisoned with Without A Cure. Of course. Life gets back to "normal", just with additional visits from LQG.

- Then the Immortal Conference happens. While standing at the edge of The Endless Abyss, SY heavily disassociates, only going through motions automatically, and only because the SYSTEM is there.

- Only when LBH is gone, he comes back to himself and breaks down. Collects the sword shards and disassociates some more, only getting back thanks to his martial siblings.

- SY is rarely not disassociated for a long time after LBH is gone. He stays at the sword mound most days, far away from the body.

- SJ hates this new development. He might even.. care.. for SY, though he'd never admit it. Eventually SJ starts fronting at night. Just to get them to eat something, to do their work, to help them live.

- When they get sent on missions outside of the sect, its usually SJ fronting. This becomes very confusing to LQG, who often comes with. SJ does try to act like SY, but it is a little off-putting.

- SY fronts during the missions when there's interesting beasts, or when it's something he needs to know to not get fully lost on what's happening.

- During succubus mission SJ comes to front, pushes LQG into the pond and runs away as fast as possible.

- When they're about to go to Jinlan city, they've got a pretty good system (hehe) down. SY is still mostly unaware, just knows that... something... is going on. Suspects its the "previous soul of this body" leaking through. He let's everything happen because he just doesn't care much anymore.

- Jinlan city is awful for both SY and SJ. Neither of them can handle seeing LBH, both of them are in a panic, blurring together. It's hell and terrifying and then they're in the Water Prison and it's so much worse.

- Those moments when SQQ doesn't say anything in the Water Prison? Noones fronting. It's all a mess. The SYSTEM tries to help, but it really doesn't work.

--------------------------------------------------

that's as far as my daydreaming got me! since idk what SQH deal would be here (is he an actual transmigrator? is he the original SQH? is it smth else?), idk if the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom bodies would even be here?

so they probably wouldn't try to escape without a backup plan, SY's pseudo-suicidal tendencies would be kept in check by the other system members.

i dont know how the plot would continue.

additional thought: Luo Bingge splits after they push LBH into the abyss. He was a fragment before, psrt of a little nightmare here and there, but after the abyss he fully forms. He's a persecutor, doesn't front (SYSTEM won't let him), but he does uh, torture SY in headspace. maybe SJ doesn't realize for a while? maybe he sees it happen and that's why he's also terrified of LBH in Jinlan ? idk. what do they do with Bingge afterwards? also no clue. He's a fun thought but too much of a complication i think.

if anyone else has thoughts please please please please share them <3

[foone]

We build bases on the moon. Colonize the planets of the gas giants, terraform Mars and Venus, build orbital habitats around everything with enough gravity to hold it up. We invent FTL, and send ships named after dreams to every star we have cataloged. We have rulebooks and plans and endless ideas of what we do when finally we meet another spacefairing race, but it never happens. We don't hail any vulcan cruisers above the skies of Epsilon Eridani and get in no laser battles with a star destroyer in the scarlet light of Wolf 359. No one responds to our endless messages sent to the heavens.

Life? We find that everywhere. If a rock is big enough to hold onto enough atmosphere, we find something growing there. Maybe just a moss or some protokarotic slime, but there'll be something growing there. We spend centuries cataloging the flora and fauna (and everything in between) of a million stars, and never meet anyone who can say hello back.

Not yet at least. In the unending sunset of the Mu Herculis system there's the Peterson's Mermaids who are just developing language and starting on metallurgy. The vampires of Fomalhaut b have begun to write down numbers, and we expect them to have a full language sometime within the next hundred thousand years. There's no animal life on Gliese 499 d, but we have reason to suspect the clonal organism inhabiting most of the northern forest is verging on sapience. And we don't even have time to get into the theory that 55 Cancri B (the red dwarf orbiting the star Copernicus) is a living being in it's own right.

There's plenty of life to study. Lots to learn. But we never meet anyone we can greet in friendship, and there's no star gods out here in the black. We've looked everywhere.

Humanity takes decades to come to terms with the reality of the situation. But we do, of course. We can't give up now.

We searched endlessly for the ancient aliens with all the answers, who built hyperspace portal networks before our sun even burnt, and couldn't find them. We settled for locating our brothers and sisters amongst the stars, another race that had fought their way up from the trees and into the stars, and couldn't find them either.

We always dreamed of finding a parent we could look up to, or a sibling we could share the sky with. They weren't there.

Humanity settles into their role. It wasn't what we hoped for, but we'll be the big brother/big sister to the life of the universe. Not the parent, no. We didn't create them, and we don't control them, but we'll protect them. We'll help them when they fall, and let them make their own mistakes when they need to. But we're here to be the role model and the helper and the partner in crime, the one we wanted but never had.

We keep searching, of course. And our observers on a thousand planets report that there are hints of an ancient race, older than writing, mentioned in the myths of endless cultures. Gods from the skies who stopped the flood, who ended the plague, who taught them to plant a new crop, who stopped the war just as the bombs began to fall, and who led them to a new land when the star began to flare.

We investigate these rumors and myths and stories, just in case we missed the Ancients we always wanted to find. But at the heart of these stories, there's always a description of the helpers: bipedal, two arms, two eyes, no fur, no wings. And if the species has developed art and writing, there'll often be a drawing of a figure, standing alongside a local god or great leader, and nearby the legend will read "humans".

Art historians and religious studies scholars are amused at how often they give us halos. Someone even suggests redesigning our force-suit geometry to reinforce the impression, but cooler heads prevail. We're not doing this for praise or worship. We're doing this because no one could do it for us.

Millenia later after we've been joined among the stars by our sibling races, a mermaid and a vampire are idly chatting while they wait for their turn through the portal network around Fornax A. "What drove the humans to do all this? Why did they take it upon themselves to search every corner of the universe and decide to protect and shelter and guide the many younger races of the stars?". The mermaid shrugs, which is hard to do without shoulders. "I think they just wanted friends."

The vampire looks out the observation window, at the thousands of ships from hundreds of spacefairing races, waiting in line or jumping through phase gates to the other side of the cosmos. "Well, they've got them now."

There's a beep from a console, and a warning light activates as the ship accelerates towards a shimmering gate. Our children play among the stars, without fear of the dark. There's no monsters there, we checked. There's only us.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Part 1

No matter what Er-ge might think, it really was an honest-to-god mistake. He really did not intend to land himself back in the hospital! He was trying to keep himself out of it, in fact! It wasn't his fault that when he ate while hate-reading his most despised web novel, he accidentally sent it in the wrong pipe. It was just an accident!

Then again, maybe if he hadn't tried to stuff his mouth at the same time he had been furiously ranting about the latest Proud Immortal Demon Way update, he probably would have still been in the comfort of his home. No matter - his er-ge would never let him forget if he would admit that he was at fault. So, no; it was an unavoidable accident!

He didn’t remember much, only his meimei’s desperate attempts to do the something-something maneuver to save his life, the loudness of the sirens, and suffocation. Sure, it was painful, but the scariest part was the knowledge that he was going to die. That he would never hug his family ever again, that he would never drink a chai latte ever again, and that he’d never have the opportunity to create something, instead of destroying it. He’d lost consciousness with the heavy feeling of wasted opportunities.

But he got a second chance. If it weren’t for his meimei, he wouldn’t have made it - but there he was, recovering in the quiet hospital room, having one more chance to be the person he always wanted to be. Kind. Helpful. Somebody who creates. Somebody, who is not a shut-in coward, afraid of opening up to people and to new experiences. A better version of himself.

However, he was stuck in hospital for a while - until his er-ge, Shen Jiu, told him he was finally free to go. So, with more free time than responsibilities, he turned to that one piece of media he’d ever regretted allowing to stay how it was: Proud Immortal Demon Way.

He just couldn’t stay away from that dumpsterfire. He was too deep into it.

He should have hated it! He should have stayed away from it, if nothing else, to avoid almost dying again because of that piece of trash. Yet, he couldn’t do it. He just loved it so much. Well, not it; he loved what it could have been, if the author, Airplane Shooting Towards Sky wouldn’t have been determined to drive him absolutely insane with his priorities. So much papapa, and for what?! What about the world-building? What about character depth and development?! It was so promising at first! Airplane’s cultivation world was unique, the flora and fauna - except for the overwhelming number of sex pollen - were absolutely breathtaking to read about! The characters were interesting; all of them had some mystery in their backgrounds. And the protagonist? At first, he was the best protagonist Shen Yuan ever read about! He continued to be, even after the trauma, the blackening, the hundreds of wives, but… Shen Yuan had to admit: his favorite protagonist, instead of going through a character development, went through the reverse. And it was too painful for Shen Yuan to allow it.

So, he decided to do something about it. Opening up his alternative fanfic account - he didn’t want anybody to know what he, as Peerless Cucumber, was reading when he wasn’t criticizing PIDW -, he allowed himself to enjoy the freedom. With his fanfiction account, he never interacted with the fandom outside of the occasional comments on other people’s works, so the quasi-anonymity gave him the push he needed: he finally started to write Saving the Scum Villain, fixing all the glaring flaws, inconsistencies, and outright discrepancies.

He thought about all the wasted potential in PIDW (the world-building that got overshadowed by endless explicit scenes, the underdeveloped characters who could have had so much more depth, the storylines that were abandoned in favor of cheap, overused tropes), and found the way how to correct them: save the Scum Villain, save the White Lotus, save the story! He could write the version he wished the author would have written.

However, it was easier to be said than to be done. Sitting on his bed in his hospital room, Shen Yuan felt the cursor was taunting him as it was blinking on the blank screen. He could feel the familiar restlessness of the anxiety settles in his stomach. He could almost hear the echoes of his er-ge’s disgusted voice in his head: “Fanfiction? You are writing fanfiction?”

Running his hand through his hair, he huffed, “You are just as much of a coward as you’ve always been.” It was a vicious cycle; the longer he hesitated, the heavier he felt, and the less equipped he felt to really write his dream PIDW.

But then he remembered the feeling of wasted potential, how it had haunted him after almost dying. How much he wanted to improve both his own life, and the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way. He started to ask something else from himself: “But what if I could make it better?” He took a deep breath and wrote his first few words.

<The vibrant market stalls were brimming with colorful fruits and fragrant spices, the laughter of children playing nearby mingled with the distant sound of a guqin, weaving a melody that echoed the simple joys of life. Yet, for a little boy, this lively scene felt like a world apart, a painful reminder of everything he had lost and never had. As he huddled in the shadows of the bustling marketplace, the rich colors and joyful sounds became a cruel backdrop to his existence - a constant reminder of his hunger, the gnawing emptiness that churned in his stomach. Envy twisted in his gut as he watched the children run freely, their faces lit with laughter, while he navigated the harsh reality of the life of the less fortunate. Each day was a battle against the bitterness that threatened to consume him, leaving him grappling with the hopelessness that came from simply existing on the streets, where kindness was as scarce as the food he desperately sought.>

While he knew it was only a draft, with each sentence, Shen Yuan felt more comfortable. He planned to introduce his story in a different way Master Airplane had done, but to make the necessary changes, he needed to go back to the roots of his fanfiction: canon PIDW. Just as he started to immerse himself in the first chapters of the web novel, ready to take notes on all the tiny details Airplane had ever hinted, a knock interrupted him.

“What are you doing, san-ge?” His meimei asked, peeking into the room.

Shen Yuan shrugged, “You know, just saving the world! No big deal.”

Meimei raised an eyebrow, a slight smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “Whose world are you saving?”

“Luo Binghe’s,” Shen Yuan admitted. His sister gave an understanding noise. She has heard him rant about that web novel, countless times.

“That explains everything,” she nodded wisely, sitting down next to the sickbed. “What a hero…”

“Right? I can’t let a bunch of characters with great potential wallow in bad writing forever! It would be a crime against humanity or something.”

His sister laughed at his excitement, but she felt like something unknotted from her heart. It was lovely to see her brother finally be so lively and full of light as he was ranting about his plans on how to improve the story. Shen Yuan didn’t notice how many hours he was talking about his outlines and ideas, nor the way his sister's smile was a bit wobbly at the corner of her mouth.

When she had to leave, she made him promise that he would keep up with the story. Shen Yuan didn’t understand why she thought it was so important for her, as she never read PIDW - nor would he ever recommend it to her! -, but it was something he could definitely promise. He would write his revised PIDW until the very end!

-*-*-*-

The first chapter he posted, was technically not even a chapter, only a comprehensive guide to the main characters, the canon structure of the cultivation world, and the lore behind the key elements that would affect his version of the story. He introduced some of the peaks Airplane never spoke about in details, he clarified each peaks’ and sects’ core motivations and values, and the differences between spiritual, physical, and demonic cultivation. He explained the structure of the demonic world and its hierarchy, and who were the key players. He was pretty sure nobody really read it, especially not the PIDW fans who wanted nothing except for papapa, but it was for his own peace of mind anyway. He wanted to make a guide to canon; after all, he didn’t want to make a completely new story - he just wanted to elevate the already existing one! He wanted to expand it, and play with it; figuring out the lore behind everything to make it make sense! Giving characters complex motivations, relationships, and arcs that weren’t abandoned for more senseless papapa! Building up a protagonist, who wasn’t just a power fantasy, who survived because the Plot said so, but a flawed, yet relatable individual who worked on his own perceptions, ambitions, and insecurities!

And so, the second - well, first - chapter was born. It wasn’t perfect, as he had to get used to writing again after so many years, but it was something. Something, that told a story of a young orphan boy living in a difficult situation, and who lost the only person he’d ever loved in a tragic fate. Only when he reached the conclusion of the chapter, did he name his character: Shen Jiu. The Scum Villain.

After all, if you save the Scum Villian, give him a relatable background, and make sure gets the push he desperately needs to change, you can save the best protagonist ever: the cute little bun that was Luo Binghe. And the best part was that everything he wrote was built on the teeny-tiny crumbs Airplane left between two torture fantasy scenes.

For a moment, he imagined Airplane reading his story, learning from it, and turning PIDW into a classic novel, but then he snorted. Only in his dreams. Probably that hack of an author would lean more on the sex scenes if he’d ever learn about StSV as a fuck you. At least he would never know that it was his biggest hater, Peerless Cucumber was writing it…

The usually boring and tiring hours in the hospital turned more exciting while creating something. He forgot how much it meant to him when he was younger, stuck in the hospital, he found writing to cope with pain and boredom. It was much better than just allowing the nurses to stick him full of needles and read shitty web novels all day.

The only other thing that made his days more interesting was the guy in the other room.

He remembered hearing one of the nurses telling her colleague, “Poor guy. He accidentally electrocuted himself with his computer. It is a miracle he survived!”

At first, he wasn’t interested in the guy, but then they met in the hospital’s garden. Shen Yuan had been outside for his daily walk out in the fresh air when the guy was trying to figure out how to use the wheelchair alone. He looked way too pale to be healthy and was clearly exhausted, his hands trembling with each movement.

Feeling concerned, Shen Yuan approached him, slowly, as if he was moving closer to a wild beast. Or more like, to an overly anxious hamster.

“Hey,” Shen Yuan said with a smile. “Would you like me to help you?”

The guy blinked, his wide, brown eyes darting towards Shen Yuan - oh, he had such beautiful eyes! -, before quickly flicking away. Shaking his head slightly, he denied it. “I’m fine,” he whispered.

He looked anything but fine.

But Shen Yuan knew it better than to push. The guy was obviously scared, maybe even panicked, so he didn’t need a stranger crowding him. However, he didn’t want to leave the poor guy alone, because who knew what could happen to him, so he stayed.

Walking a bit farther away, he sat down on the bench; even though he needed to rest for a bit. Almost dying was not a fun experience, nor a quick way to be healthy again.

“Okay, but if you need anything, I’m here,” he stated. The guy didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up. But Shen Yuan could clearly see his distressed posture. He waited a moment, then added. “You know, I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty good at being a distraction! You know… if you ever need someone to divert your attention from something. If you wish to.”

The guy tensed, but then, hesitantly, glanced back at Shen Yuan.

“A… distraction?”

Shen Yuan nodded. Grinning, he said, “I’m good at talking about random stuff. About books, K- and C-dramas, Western series, making fun of conservatives, fun facts about animals and mythical beasts… Hell, I can even tell you about most of the famous K-pop band’s lores, if you want me to! Or you can listen to me ranting about fantasy and Xianxia world-building and the numerous ways an author can screw up the economy and livability of their world! Basically, I can talk about anything.”

For a moment, the guy just stared at him, his expression showing the same incredulity everybody always looked at him. Shen Yuan wondered if the guy would be the same, and rather choose anxiety than the infodump Shen Yuan could provide for him, but then…! A miracle happened! The man’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile!

“I’ll keep that in mind.” It wasn’t an ask for help. But it wasn’t a rejection either.

They stayed relatively silent for a while, but when the nurses came for them both, they parted with a smile and the unspoken promise that they would meet again.

Even just thinking back to that first meeting filled him with warmth. He wished they could talk more the next time, or at least just interact again. Until then, however, he had his fanfic to occupy his mind, time and energy.

While the first few chapters didn't gather much attention at first, slowly, but surely, he started getting comments and compliments, people wishing him to continue with his work.

Amongst the few comments, one was standing out. It wasn't the usual “pls more!” or “when will you update???” or “this sucks. You should write more about qjl pushing sj down and- [redacted]”. Instead it was thoughtful, even enthusiastic.

Fallingfromsky1: I really like the way you’ve fleshed out the cultivation world! The attention to detail with the sect politics and partly ancient, partly modern, partly created customs is exactly what PIDW was missing! It makes the story so much richer. Can’t wait to see where this goes!

Shen Yuan blinked, a little surprised. Other than the above mentioned ones, most of the comments he’d seen on fanfiction in the PIDW fandom were either thirsting over characters or begging for more smut. This... this was different. It wasn’t just a compliment; it was someone who cared about the same things he did.

Without thinking too much about it, Shen Yuan replied:

NobodysShizun: Thanks! That’s exactly what I was going for. I thought PIDW’s world had a lot of potential, but it was wasted on... well, you know. I hope you will continue to like it even when I shift the focus to Luo Binghe. I want him to feel like a real person, not just a sex-crazed stallion for readers to project onto.

Almost immediately, Fallingfromsky1 responded:

Fallingfromsky1: Oh, definitely! I can't wait to read it! That’s one of my biggest complaints too. The characters in PIDW could be so much more, but it’s like the author keeps sacrificing depth for... other things. I think what you’re doing here is amazing. Even the Scum Villain feels much more relatable.

Shen Yuan felt a weird sense of validation from those words. It was like Fallingfromsky1 understood exactly what had driven him to write this fanfiction in the first place. For the first time, Shen Yuan felt like he wasn’t just ranting into the void.

His interactions with Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky were a completely different beast. They were nothing like his conversations with Fallingfromsky1, which had become comfortable and almost... reassuring. No, when it came to Airplane, things were prickly from the start, like a battleground full of grenades.

The web novel that had driven him to the edge of frustration - and, let’s be honest, the brink of insanity and death - was something he continued to read even after he’d started writing his own fanfiction. For one, he needed to know how canon progressed to be able to improve its quality. For another… he would have read it anyway. There was just something infuriatingly addictive about the terrible plot and ridiculous characters, not to mention the endless papapa scenes. He was hooked and not even his much better story could fulfill his need of bad literature.

After each new chapter, Shen Yuan found himself unable to stop from leaving biting, sarcastic comments on the story under his usual handle, Peerless Cucumber. He wanted to keep his accs as far as he could for as long as it was possible.

Peerless Cucumber: Great. Another fight resolved with the power of an inexplicably sudden increase in the protagonist’s cultivation without anything at all. There weren't any helpful flowers around him! He didn't even dual cultivate! Then pray, tell me, how the fuck did his cultivation get better so suddenly?!

Shen Yuan hit send, feeling deeply irritated with the author. Sure, he had long since proven that consistency and thinking wasn't his strong suit, and Shen Yuan's come to accept that nothing about PIDW was ever going to make logical sense, but at least venting in the comments helped ease his annoyance.

To his surprise, not long after, a reply popped up.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: Hey, it’s called plot progression, Cucumber-bro. Maybe read a book on narrative structure instead of whining in the comments?

Shen Yuan blinked. It was quite sudden; Airplane never responded to his comments before. This was new. And... well, a little thrilling. Exciting. It felt strangely like a secret.

Peerless Cucumber: Oh, trust me, I’ve read plenty of books on narrative structure. Maybe you should try that sometime instead of churning out nonsense every other chapter.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: At least I’m consistent in said nonsense. What's your excuse for staying with me after more than 400 chapters?

Shen Yuan couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his phone. He never would have expected that Airplane was so snarky and that he would ever talk with him like this. He was quite excited to explore whether it was going to be the beginning of something new - leaving snarky comments on PIDW, only to have Airplane respond with just as much sass. He hoped it would continue.

He hoped Airplane would enjoy it as much as he would.

Next

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon. 

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall. 

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek. 

A dull ache began in your back. 

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you. 

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason. 

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.