#sitting there waiting and rotting and dreaming about rotting and covering the land in rot

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I think Malenia's grab throw and impale you attack is cool but waterfowl still feels goofy to me idk

[dozing-marshmallow]

If you havent yet, could you consider making more of the chris nibling headcannons? :>

Shoutout to presofthepbnjbro for making the first chris’ nibling reader request on my blog that’s kept you all hooked since.💙

I had a special scenario in mind for this one! Have fun reading!

CHRIS MCLEAN X NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS (PART 5)

It was an easy day with Chris on his island, happily spending a school break with him.

You were sitting on his sofa, watching TV, when your whole sight is covered by darkness.

“Ah!” On instinct, your hands shoot up to mend your eyesight, just for the source of this unpredicted darkness to come from Chris’ hands.

Your uncle gives a hearty laugh at your reaction,“Greetings nibling! It’s a glorious afternoon, the sun is shining and I was hoping you’d want to come outside to spare yourself the brain rot.“ he dramatised with words so light from his dark vocabulary, fingers tapping rhythmically on the sofa. 

He wants to show you something.

“Okay!” You switched the TV off and skip with him in curiosity.

Outside was shining. Hairs of grass tickle your ankles and the golden ball kissed your skin. Where Chris was walking, you grasp a large shadow of a thing you’ve never seen before.

Getting closer, the little voice in your head blasted off,“Chris! Is that a trampoline?”

“Yep!” he held his hand out to it,“(Chef) just set it up. Not too shabby, huh? All ours.” you adored how he phrased it- ours. Like he too is going to be utilising the garden equipment like a child.

You ran around the width of it,“Woahhh! It’s so large!” Larger than any trampoline you’ve seen! Screw watching TV, this thing is a dream! “Thank you, uncle Chris!”

“Take your shoes off before you go in.” He instructed, a rare time where he took his status as uncle formally.

“Yes, yes!” You tear your sneakers off and jovially crawl into the opening of the trampoline. You get to your feet and begin jumping instantly.

A little bit after, Chris took his shoes off and joined you inside, zipping the portal down shut.

“Chris! We should have a password!” You suggest, jumping area to area in squeaks.

“Smart idea! Whatever should we make it?” He evaluated, copying,“Can’t make it my or your bday, that’s too easy...”

“How about my mom’s birthday? No one could know that!” 

How untroubled you are!,“Oooo! She wouldn’t like that, but it’s a great password! You get extra points for brutal honesty!”

“It’ll help her remember it too!” You came stationary, as he gave a rush of unexpected laughter,“You can do those cool things people do on the trampoline, right? The uh, you know when you do a rolly polly in the air?” You didn’t know the name for it.

“Oh! You mean this-“ Chris hops to the middle and warmed up his jumps to gradually get heavier before he set off upside down into the air and stuck the landing back on his feet.

“Woahhhhh!” You ensured you did not blink the entire time. It looked too amazing to be real!,“Again, again!”

So he does to your admiration, the second time being more captivating. You wanna learn how to do that!

“Look at this!” For now, it’s your turn to show Chris he wasn’t the only one with trampolining tricks. 

As you were about to showcase, however, he gave an unkind jump, screwing the balance of the trampoline’s gravity thus causing you to fall onto the fabric.

“Chriiiis...” you whine in your forced cross legged position.

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughed, helping you up,“Go on, inspire me.”

“Ahem.” let’s try this again. You jump enough power to do a successful back landing.

“Wow!” Chris cheers.

“Wait wait.” you point, jumping again, this time doing swivel hips transitioning into front landing.

“Way to go!” After he watched you do your thing, Chris does another free act of acrobatics, springing an idea to mind.

“Chris! Let’s play trampoline tag!” you mischievously smiled.

“Oh?” He had one of his own,“Bring it!”

“Kay!” You hold your finger to his chest,“Tag! You’re it!” 

You were about to turn around and start hopping when he lightly shoved you on your back,“Tag! You’re itt!”

Cue the chase!

Man this trampoline really was the best for a game of tag! You caught him a few times and slipped on multiple occasions; as of now, you were back to being tag!

It didn’t help that he had a larger mass than you, meaning every now and then, he’d raise a really forceful jump that’d send you flying on his landing, buying himself more time.

“Oof!”

“Hehe!”

A lot of times, both nibling and uncle had to use the walls of the safety net to redirect.

You can see he’s getting tired... You’re gaining on him... You’re gonna get him!

“Timeout!” He holds one hand horizontal on top of his other vertical hand, panting.

“Heyy! No fair, you can’t do that!” You scold him, beads of sweat falling from your face. He was right there!

“Can!...Never said anything about it!” He backed up in glee, sliding down near the zipper, keeping his hands rigid.

You humph,“What did...you need a break for anyway?” A seagull flew by.

“It’s drawing close to lunchtime-” He uses a hand to cover his yawning mouth, taking this to use your hand to tap him.

“Tag.”

“You got me.” His normal chuckle slightly hoarse from dehydration,“Seriously though, we should grab a bite and a drink. We’ve been out here for a wh-ile. You up for ordering pizza?” you couldn’t imagine a way for him to enliven you any more!

Anticipatory against your sore limbs boosts you to exit the trampoline. Goodness, the rewarding convenience reminds you of what the contestants must’ve felt every time their labour was worth it. Those teenagers...

You hope somewhere, wherever they were, they got to make the most of today like you were right now!

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

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

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

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

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

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

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

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

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

[teddy06writes]

Greek Myth AU: Eros and Psyche Part Two

Eret x afab!reader

trigger warnings: general death/death mentions, Aphrodite being a bit of a bitch, reader is pregnant for the sake of the original myth, but its not mentioned that much

premise: again, this explains the original myth, this part is the second half/the challenge thingys.

Part one

list of Greek Gods/characters for this work

Eros- Eret

Aphrodite- Puffy

Zephyrus- Philza

Zeus- Dream

Pan- Tubbo

Demeter- Ranboo

Hera- George

Hades- Wilbur (only mentioned)

Persephone- Niki

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

"No love can exist without trust."

The words echoed through (y/n)s head as they wandered through the still dark field. It seemed no use to them to even try to go back to the villa.

Slowly, they came to a stop next to the brook, laying down amongst the bank, one hand on their stomach as they watched the water pass, wondering what they would do.

How could they go on if Eret had left?

"Are you alright?"

(y/n) jumped at the sudden noise, sitting up and turning to see a saytr- no not just any Satyr, they found themself face to face with Tubbo, god of the wild.

"Uhhh...."

He let his head half fall sideways to look at them closer, "You don't look alright. Have you been crying?"

They sniffed, nodding, "I suppose so, yes. I've just had... a rough day."

He nodded, "Does this have anything to do with what I heard Eret shouting earlier, cause that sounded pretty bad."

"It- was actually."

Tubbo winced, "Yikes. You know, though from what I heard, from what I can see now, you really do look like someone who is very much in love. Don't leave yourself to rot here, you must continue on, and win his affections back."

"But how can I? I've lost all of his trust." They sighed.

"You must try, you must." Tubbo insisted, he offered them a hand and helped them to stand, "There is a way, and you will be able to find it. That I am sure of."

So, (y/n) traveled on, through the lands until they at last reached their home nation. Soon, they sought out their sisters, telling them that their deception had caused them to be cast out, not by a beast, but by the god Eret, himself.

When their sisters claimed excuses, and hurried off (perhaps to try and be taken by the god), (y/n) could only sigh and move on.

As they continued the travel, searching for any signs of their husband, he was stuck in Puffy's castle, the splash of oil having done much more damage than she'd originally thought.

All too soon, Puffy had found out where Eret was, and what had happened. Furiously, she rushed into their chambers, utterly pissed that she had gone so far against her instructions as to fall in love with (y/n).

The goddess was in such a rage, that she hardly noticed the state he was in, instead yelling on about how 'that wretched mortal would need to be punished'.

"No!" Eret cried through gritted teeth, "They may have betrayed me, but this is not their fault!"

"She shall be punished!"

It was only the announcement that Ranboo and George had arrived that pulled Puffy out of her yelling.

"Puffy, what's happened?" George asked once she had returned to the main room.

"Do remember that mortal? The one everyone was infatuated with?" Puffy asked, annoyed.

Ranboo nodded, "I thought you had sent Eret to get rid of them."

"The foolish boy went against me, brought her to some place, kept her safe, and now he's been burned because of it." She sighed, "The mortal will have to be dealt with. No simply plots of a forced love. I shall send them straight down to Wilbur's domain."

George bit his lip, "Well, are you sure that he didn't hide them away for good reason?"

"He fell in love with them." Puffy scoffed.

"Oh come on Puffy, don't punish them just because she fell in love. Doesn't he deserve ore than that? They must have fallen in love for a reason? You are the goddess of love, surely you should understand." Ranboo attempted to defend Eret, only to be cut off.

"I do not care what I should or should not understand! I want this mortal punished, and punished they shall be!" Puffy roared.

Meanwhile, (y/n) still wandered the land, looking for their lover, even as their health seemed to decline.

It had been a rather nice day when they stumbled upon the abandoned temple, covered in debris, and tools left behind. Some how, despite everything, it only made sense to clean the temple. To restore, to the best of their ability, to its former glory, or at least till it didn't look a mess.

It was slow work, but soon they had cleared the weeds, moved the old offerings back to their place, and found a place for the abandoned tools.

"You, poor (y/n)!"

They looked up to find Ranboo, towering over them, "M'lord?"

"I have come with a warning. Since your betrayal of Eret, Puffy has been after you, and you have been in great danger. Still despite this, you've come to clear the temple that my followers have abandoned. Why is this?"

"No place should be abandoned as I have been." (y/n) answered softly.

He frowned, sighing, "Well, I value my alliances with Puffy to much to harbor you. But, I will not turn you in, nor alert her in anyway you were every here. Consider yourself blessed."

As he disappeared, (y/n) couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief. They hadn't been met with Puffy's wrath yet. But that did not stop their sorrow.

Wandering farther and farther away from both the valley, and their home, (y/n) came across another temple, taking a rest from the road to step inside.

At the alter, they prayed, "George, queen of Olympus, I beg of you to help me. I am but a mortal, plagued by sorrow, driven out of every place Aphrodite seeks me. I do not wish for my child to be born to this life. Oh, dear George I beg for your help!"

George, hearing these prayers, quietly appeared to them, "Poor dear. I cannot help you, no matter how much I wish too. Puffy's anger stretches far, and even I cannot shield you from it."

When he had disappeared, (y/n) was forced back out the wandering, wondering, if maybe they revealed themself to the goddess, they might receive some mercy.

After a long pondering they set out, and after journey, the found themself at the palace of Puffy. Upon turning themself into the servants, (y/n) found themself dragged before Puffy, who demanded to know what they were doing.

"So you have finally decided to pay me a visit? Or is this just a trick to see your husband, who sufferers from a wound given by your hand!"

It had been a long afternoon for (y/n), until at last the servants, and even Puffy herself, let off, and gave time for the bruises to fully form, as Puffy taunted them, "Such a plain and boring mortal, how could he have fallen for you? And even given you a child? What a pathetic thing it will be."

It didn't take much longer after that for Puffy to decide, "A challenge then, you look to be a maid, lets see how well of one you are. Then you might gain enough favor to see your husband." She called for bags of wheat, barley, beans, lentils and chickpeas to be spread and mixed on the floor, "Have all of this sorted, before the night, and you may win some favor."

And as she disappeared, (y/n) wept, it would be impossible for them to sort the pile, let alone by the time she returned. It had seemed so hopeless, until, droves of Ants, driven by pity made there way into the room.

"Fear not, we shall help you with this task."

Soon the grain was sorted, and the ants disappeared as Puffy returned, looking around incredulously, "This work mustn't be yours! Surely it isn't! You foul thing! This work is far from over!"

The next day, a new challenge was assigned.

"There is a field, a few miles from here, where golden sheep graze all day. Travel there and bring me back a tuft of wool from one by the time the sun sets, or give up on all hope of seeing your husband again." Puffy commanded.

Obediently, (y/n) set out, and as they crossed the river, a soft nymph whispered the secrets to gathering the wool from the dangeours animals.

Carefully, (y/n) waited until noon had passed, until the sheep had settled to one ide of the field, and crept out, gathering the soft tufts from the briars of the bushes.

Yet again, Puffy was surprised by their ability to comply and finish these challenges.

"Surely your husband had some hand in helping you finish this. Quickly mortal, while there is still light, take this, and fetch me the water from the upper most point of that mountain stream."

(y/n) took the pitcher, and slowly began to hike toward the mountain, dreading the dangerous climb ahead. The mountains slowly grew nearer, until (y/n) was forced to fully climb up and over rocks, and the potential fall could prove fatal.

They had paused for a rest, breathing heavy and staring up at the setting sun, there was no way they could make the trip to the top of the mountain and back before night fell.

Yet again, it all seemed helpless, until a kind eagle, indebted to Eret, swooped down, "Give me your jug child, and allow me to help."

When they returned to Puffy's castle, again they were met with surprise. No one had expected their return.

"You have done what I asked, and that makes me suspect you to be a witch. It will take a greater test to determine if you should see your husband again."

(y/n), barley held in a sigh, bowing their head.

"You will journey to the underworld, and meet Niki. She makes a beauty cream, I need you to get some for me. I've exhausted my supply."

(Y/n) began to shake, tears beginning to spill from their eyes, surely this task was impossible. No one could journey to the Underworld and make it back alive.

"Better get going." She scoffed, "And remember, not a single drop

They had no choice but to go.

It was a slow, painful journey, and it took much help, much advice to reach the underworld.

They called upon Niki, who greeted them kindly, and listened to their plight.

"I just wish to see my husband again, so I can explain myself, so I can apologize." (y/n) finished with a sigh.

Niki frowned, "That I cannot help with. But I can supply you with the beauty cream, to bring back to Puffy."

A box was filled and closed out of their view, before Niki presented it to them, with a warning, "The contents of this box, are not meant for mere mortals. It is highly dangerous for you to even look at it. You mustn't open this box, not for anything."

"I understand." They said, taking the box.

The journey back to the overworld seemed to pass quickly, but soon (y/n)s thoughts began to betray her.

Why would they carry this beauty cream if they were not able to take a drop for themself?

How were they suppose to confront their husband if they looked as ragged and hungry as they did now?

Slowly, the temptation took over, surely they would need this beauty cream more than the goddess of beauty.

As soon as the box was opened, they fell to the ground, nearly dead.

While they slept off their injuries, a great fight took place between the gods.

When they had at last awoken, they were greeted with the sight of their lovers face.

"Eret!" They gasped, "I'm sorry! I truly am! I don't know what I was thinking! Please forgive me! I love you!"

She smiled softly, "There is much we have to talk about my sweet."

It had been decided, that (y/n) would join the gods on Olympus, and remarry the god Eret.

Puffy would hurt them no more, and Eret, having heard what lengths they had gone too to get back to them, he couldn't keep them away.

[xmyshya]

Shoved it: chapter I - Grind

summary: You don’t like skaters. They’re unruly, misbehaved and rude. But this one encounter just might change your view. genre: fluff warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (seriously, make a dentist appointment), slow burn, mutual pining betas: @vanille–kiss​ as always I'm eternally grateful to you, I love you lots a/n: Written for ANILYSIUM (former HQHQ) Server Collab with the prompt “Meet Ugly”. Check the event’s masterlist here! series navi: masterlist | next wc: 1.4k

Books. You love everything about them - the scent of the ink, the feeling and texture of paper under the pads of your fingers, the sound of pages being turned, the way how 26 letters bloom as a whole new world in your mind.

It’s a beautiful spring day, one that carries the warmth of sunshine and scent of freshly revived greenery in the air. Birds are chirping sweet love songs, you’re wearing your favourite flowy dress, gentle breeze makes the short stray strands that slipped from your bun tickle your nape.

On a day like this, it’s extra hard not to bury your nose in the tome you carry around these days. Technically, you know you should pay attention to your surroundings, especially when you’re walking and not sitting on the bench, but it’s just getting to the good part, where the thief prince is about to steal a kiss (and a heart) of the princess and -

Huh?

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun is finally out, no sight of rain clouds, no school today, absolute freedom. Which is why Suna Rintarou is rushing to the park, using his worn skateboard for the first time this year. He surely hopes he hasn’t gotten rusty with the break, but damn does it feel good.

The wind is ruffling his bangs that stick out from underneath his beanie, and it makes him want to go faster, faster, and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to fly. Or at least jump really well. So he pushes again and again, despite moving at a decent speed already.

There are stairs nearby, and Rin feels today is the day he beats his record at how far he can land. He’s approaching it fast, the top is right there, he can see it, so he pops the board and then shoves it, his ankle at a perfect angle, and shit, if it ain’t the perfect pop shuvit, and fuck, he’s middle air and knows he’s gonna fuck it up.

Because at the bottom, right where he predicts he’ll land, there’s you. A cute girl, with her hair and dress flowing with the wind, eyes trained on a book in her hands, and she doesn’t even see him.

Which is why he crashes with you, having enough mind clarity to push his board in another direction and cover the back of your head with his hand, before he falls on top of you on the pavement. You blink at him with a confusion clear in your gaze, almost as if you don’t know where you are. He smirks at you lazily, and in his most seductive voice lets out a,

“Hi.”

You still look at him with those huge doe eyes, like a little lost lamb, and he would love to sink his teeth in your flesh like a big bad fox. The boy opts for helping you up, instead. He can do that other thing some other time. As you shake off the dirt from your dress, he opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s met with

“What the hell?! That was dangerous! You could have hurt somebody! Have you thought about it? This is a public place, you… you… you punk!”

He’s staring at you dumbfounded, surprised at your sudden outburst. Definitely not what he expected after protecting you from the impact, and definitely not after presenting you his best smirk, the one that has every girl swooning. Suna shakes off his haze when you reach the top of the stairs, and mumbles at the sudden realisation.

“But… I’m not a punk?”

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

You’re running. Your feet hurt, lungs burn, and you don’t really see where you are or where you’re headed, but it’s better than getting caught by palace watchmen. The hand around your wrist has a tight grip, as you’re dragged through narrow dark alleys. Suddenly, the man in front pulls you behind a corner, his arm wrapped around your waist, both your chests heaving against each other.

“Are you okay, Princess?” He asks, voice still a little breathy from the exercise, and you nod. “I think the guards are gone now.”

“Are you the Prince of the Thieves?” His smirk grows wide in the shadows.

“I did steal you from the palace, did I not?” His face is coming dangerously close, olive eyes boring into yours. “If you’re not careful, I might steal your heart as well.”

His breath is fanning over your lips as he whispers the last sentence, you part your mouth…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Shit.

Wait, why did the Prince have the face of that punk?

***

Luckily the bus you take to school isn’t crowded. You squeezed yourself into a window seat with earphones completely sealing you off from the surroundings. Hopefully upbeat music will be enough of the distraction from the weird dream. Hopefully.

Relaxed, you close your eyes and sing along in your mind, tapping the rhythm on your thigh. You let your mind wander, as you imagine yourself dancing to the song, feeling the endorphins pump through your veins.

Until an image of those greyish-yellow eyes glinting in the darkness flash in your head.

Well, shit.

***

If there was any hope of relief from being haunted by that intense gaze at school, it’s gone now. As a top student you were always focused on lessons, always ready with an answer for any question; but today it’s completely the opposite.

First, you somehow managed to forget a basic algebraic formula. While solving a problem on the board. The class was shocked, the teacher was not impressed, you were embarrassed… Still feeling the heat of shame hours later.

Then you completely spaced out, forcing the English teacher to repeat your name over and over, telling you to continue reading a text. And you didn’t even know which part you should continue from.

After that came chemistry, and you nearly blew up the lab after messing up the proportions of ingredients. Why were you so affected by some punk you didn’t even know? Why were you seeing those damn eyes everywhere? Even in the cafeteria, at the table across from yours, that boy also has those eyes.

Wait, no. Oh no.

You’re staring at him unabashedly, silently praying to be wrong, waiting for something, anything, to prove that it’s not the person from the park. It doesn’t come, but the heavens curse you instead.

In a slow motion you observe how his eyes meet yours, and as if it wasn’t bad enough, he smirks. You make off the cafeteria so quickly, that you nearly trip over your own two feet. Seriously, what did you even do to deserve this punishment?

It’s Monday again, and Suna would rather stay at home and sleep. But he has to show up to class, so he reluctantly crawls out of the bed, throws on his uniform, and after brushing his teeth leaves the house. It’s such a drag, honestly. Nothing interesting ever happens.

Rintarou nearly dozes off on the bus, the steady hum of the engine and gentle rocking serving as a lullaby. But he can’t sleep, he can’t miss the stop and be late again. So he forces himself to watch the monotonous scenery on the other side of the window.

As predicted, the day goes by slowly. There’s nothing amusing about listening to those old peoples’ rambling on subjects nobody even cares for. Like hell he’s gonna need inorganic chemistry or classical Japanese. So Rin is sitting at his desk, chin in the palm, thinking how it’s a waste of perfectly fine weather for skating.

Finally, the lunch break comes and he drags his feet behind Miya twins to the cafeteria. It’s not his favourite place, it’s crowded and loud, but his buddies fighting over food makes it worth the hassle. They’re doing this right now, Osamu trying to steal his brother’s onigiri, while Atsumu attempts to poke the other boy’s hands with chopsticks.

Suddenly Rin feels somebody’s intense gaze. It’s not like he’s not used to it, girls usually stare at them lovingly, but this feels different. Curious, he glances in the direction he thinks it comes from and sees… you; barely aware of the smirk curling his lips. But then you run off, probably flushed. That must be it, right?

Suna feels like he hit a jackpot.

[inviciousx]

nuclear winter of our discontent

Fractured strips of moonlight shone down from the caving ceiling as Ryat started mixing several ingredients into a metal bowl he'd stolen from an old diner he'd passed on the way out here. Locals in the wastes called this the Old North Church. He called it a resurrection ground. His mind drifted as he added a bit of purified water into the mixture and pulled out his blade. Slashing it across his hand, he let a few drops of blood fall before he could feel it start healing. The demon couldn't help but replay the last twenty-four hours in his head. It had been more excitement than the last two centuries combined. Latin fell from his lips as his gaze moved over the pile of old bones laid over the debris in the floor. God he hoped he'd dug the right grave. As flesh began to form over bone, he began to hold even the tiniest bit of hope that be wouldn't be alone anymore.

She was waking. Not from a dream, but from darkness. Like Jesus saw daylight again on the third day, light was pouring in from behind her closed eyelids. She remembered, before her eyes ever opened: that awful flash, heat searing her skin, only time enough left to drop to her knees and cling to the soft grass one last time. She stirred, grunting softly, and blinked up into the sky. She inhaled softly. What she was was nothing like the fiery destruction that had knocked her out. It was silver and peaceful, quiet.

Caroline pushed an elbow under herself and began to rise, beginning to look around. The darkness surrounding her seemed to pop as her eyes adjusted from the moonlight pooling around her. There were shapes an figures, perhaps, but she could make out nothing specific. She sat up completely, wincing loudly and clutching her side in pain. Had she been knocked back into something in the blast? "Hello?" she called hoarsely. 

  Red eyes watched her from where Ryat sat in a dilapidating pew. It was one of few that was still being held together, probably by all the dirt and grime that covered it. Her resurrection had taken longer than most, but he supposed that had something to do with the fact that she'd been dead for 200 years. He really wasn't sure how he was going to explain that yet, but he knew he had to. She was going to be punished into a brand new world, a terrifying world... Just like he had been. It seemed like he had just traded one hell for another. At least now he had something other than his own thoughts, even before he had brought her back. Sitting there frozen, a captive to the body he had once enslaved hadn't done him any favors. "Morning sunshine. It's about time you woke the hell up," he muttered, finally getting back to his feet to move closer to her, stepping into the moonlight. "You're very.... Very late to the party." 

The light in the hunter’s eyes brightened with confused realization as the demon’s voice purred through the darkness and echoed subtly off the walls. A sharp creak of wood made her head swivel, and, through the light of the moon, she found two red eyes peered back at her. Her heart slammed in her chest. “Ryat. .” she breathed, but offered nothing else, shifting slightly in the pile of rubble. She watched dumb-struck as he emerged into the circle of light. There should have been a million thoughts running through her mind, but it was empty, save for watching his face looking down at hers. She could barely read his expression, but what else was new? His eyes were shadowed but the irises glowed. He looked different, somehow, but still very much the same. Her face winced as she tried to process what he meant. It all. . . felt like a dream. “What’s going on?” she asked softly

Stooping down next to her, he sat with her in the rubble. He was already dirty, grime and filth covering his clothes. Not to mention blood.... "What do you remember?" He questioned, choosing his words uncharacteristically carefully. "I mean the very last thing you remember, because I need to know where to start explaining, and I don't have much time." Being what he was, he was able to see through the veil of death. He knew the difference between when he was dead and when he was alive, and he knew what happened in between, but he doubted that she had that luxury. Or maybe it was a curse.... He wasn't sure. A while caused crimson hues to look back at the black dog that laid guarding the door. Another whimper had him getting to his feet. "Come on. We need to move. I'll explain, but we need to get to higher ground. He wouldn't take her all the way up to the steeple yet, but he would at least hide them in the stairwell for now. Sitting here felt like being a sitting duck. 

The hunter's eyes searched his face wildly for a hint of why he was asking such questions. The last thing she remembered? The last thing she remembered was everything, everything exploding and vanishing and then the sudden lack of everything. The emptiest nothing that she could conceive, and could still feel in her bones, as if she was hollow. Her hand seized on his arm like a snake."Ryat..." Caroline repeated, anxiety growing in her voice and heat swelling to her face. The urgency in his voice and the measured tone was making every hair on her body stick up like a pin prick. Ryat used her grip on him to hoist her up, but she collapsed to her knee, finding the legs underneath her shaking and uncoordinated. "Help me. Please." she asked of him, and braced herself around his middle. The black dog circled around them, but always stayed behind, unnaturally bright eyes glaring at the back of the building--if it could be called that. Half up the stairs, encased in near-darkness, and almost suffocating in dust, Caroline pushed against the demon and let herself sink to a stair. Her legs burned as if she'd been marooned in the desert. The hunter breathed heavily, dropping her hand from him to lean forward, taken by the vertigo in her brain. She looked up to what she could see in front of her face--shocking red eyes and a half-shadowed face looking down at her. "The last thing I remember. . ." Her face contorted at the memory, too painful for even tears. Her gaze searched for the words in the dust particles floating around them. "The last thing I remember is the. . ." The hunter blinked faster, as if the emotions that had been stopped where her memories ended were picking up as she remembered ten seconds over and over again in her mind. The more she remembered, the more the monstrous sounds came back to her. "Oh, God. Oh, God." she whispered. She looked back at Ryat, pleading, reaching out to a hand she couldn't see in the dark. "What's happening? Why am I here?” 

The fear and fragility coming from the normally quick witted hunter only added to the gravity of the situation. Even with his superior hearing, Ryat wasn't sure what was waiting for them outside. There were things in this hellacious landscape that put the creatures of nightmares to shame. The large Shepherd Dog sat at the bottom of the stairs, ears twitching with each sound, though he wasn't sounding an alarm again yet. He knew she remembered the end. Her reaction told him at least that much. "What you remember.... That's what a lot of people called the end of the world. As you can see that isn't exactly accurate...." He still picked and chose his words, knowing that the smallest thing could be like a detonator, and right now he didn't have the luxury of having the time to help stitch her back together. At least mentally. "It was damn close though....and that was 200 years ago. The world you knew, hell the world we both knew, is gone. There are things even you can't imagine. Whole damn world went to hell in a hand basket." The air here was too thick with dust and the smell of mold from the nuclear storms that passed settling into the interior of the building. Reaching into his pack once he slipped it off his shoulder, he found a stimpack. "I don't know how much this is gonna help, but it should do something," he stated evenly before injecting her with the medicine inside. 

Caroline lower lip trembled fiercely as he spoke, but he brows were set in desperate refusal. His words were gathering like a holy flood at the levies, and she bit her lip, shaking her head. The end of the world. The end of the world. The end of the world. Pictures flashed in her mind as rapidly as film ticking through a camera. Home. People. Friends. Life. Gone. . . “Please stop.” she said quietly, squeezing his hand as it released hers to shuffle inside some backpack. The pinch in her arm barely registered past the screaming her in own head. Voices, like a hundred-strong choir was screaming through their murder in her ears. “Stop!” she screamed through it, bracing her hands on the edge of the step and kicking out sharply at his leg. Something connected and she scrambled up and away, spilling onto the landing and throwing herself towards the next set of stairs. It only look another flight to reach the top, which spilled out into a windowed perch with half the wall broken out. Caroline gasped and looked around wildly. A thin layer of snow was coating the rooftops in her sights, but it all blurred together. Steps were right behind her as she made for the roof.

A hiss of pain left the demon's lips even if it wouldn't last long. "You God damn bitch!" He growled, moving after her with speed only a creature such as himself could possess. Maybe the stimpack had been a bad idea.... He'd thought it would do good to help her feel better and give her some mobility. The dog let out a bark at the sudden outburst and Ryat took off after her trying to ignore the pain in his shin. Snow glittered on the roof as it came into his view and his arm shot out, grabbing her ankle as she tried to scramble to the sloped, rotting roof. From his place on the stairs, he roughly tugged her back, not giving a single shit if he caused a few bruises on the way down. "What the fuck?" He grit, red eyes seeming to look through her as he appraised her. "I didn't spend the last twenty four hours gathering the shit to bring you back to let you toss yourself off a god damn steeple!" His grip on her ankle released only to grab her by the arm and pull her up to her feet, but this time he held her steady.

Caroline yelped and slammed to the ground hard as her feet were wrenched from beneath her. Her vision turned into a dropped snowglobe for a brief moment as he torso landed on the raised ledge were a wall should've been, half of body on the roof, half still inside the tower. All she could manage was a strangled grunt of resistance as she was pulled back over the threshold, icy flakes stinging her face. She lost herself in a flurry of kicks and palm-thrusts into Ryat's shoulders, but it was a charade for all the good it did. The young woman gasped as she was forced to stand, and, wrangled in his unquestionable grip, she looked at him wildly. His dark, hidden face from before now reflected so much silver light it was like he was glowing. His raven hair was tussled from the skirmish and blew slightly in the wind whistling through the broken windows around them. Caroline breathed hard, small fogs of hot breath crystalizing between them. Her eyes were stricken, but clearer, as if the truth was easier to see in the moonlight. "You brought me back?" She paused, forgetting to breathe. "I. . died?" The last word was barely a breath.

@a-beast-in-repose

[blownbybakugou]

I Am The Game

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: Slight angst, Fluff

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Shigaraki poisoned Toga, but you made a cure and saved her life. Toga snapped and praised you as her god, then lead you to the league of villains, where Tomura took an interest to your quirk...

Word Count: 2.7k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Blood, attempted murder, mention of actual murder, cussing, mind break (non-sexual), Yandere properties, tooth rotting fluff, aged up/down reader (22), slightly Ooc Toga.

The sound of a steaming kettle is what woke Himiko, her body jerking up from its placement and her eyes flashing across the room. She was startled from her surroundings, to say the least. She was not able to recognize anything around her, then her eyes land on you, a young woman in her early 20s pouring a cup of herbal tea into a mug and treading towards the bed Toga was seated on.

“W-Who are you?” Toga asks, scooting back until she was against the wall behind her. “My name is Y/n. You were betrayed by your leader, and I saved you from your demise.” You spoke strongly. “But why?” Toga softens, her muscles relaxing the slightest bit. “I have a proposal. You being loyal, agile and brave, makes you a worthy companion. And therefore, I would like to ask you if you would join me, be my partner in crime, or whatever you wish to call it”

Your voice was silky and pristine while your expression contradicted what she heard. Your eyes were dull, but she couldn’t exactly tell what they looked like exactly, since they were settled on your lap, and had no emotion in them whatsoever and the rest of your face was soft and glowing with beauty. “You barely know me, how do you know if I am as loyal as you think I am?” Himiko questions, giving a quick grin to show off her sharp canines.

“I have watched you for quite awhile. I knew what was going to come of you, and I felt that I should recruit you as my own, since they didn’t see the potential in you.” You hand her the mug of tea you had poured and look her in the eyes for the first time. Toga was instantly entranced, the color of your eyes flourishing and dancing in her own. “Drink this. It’ll get rid of the headache you have.”

She hadn’t even noticed the pounding in her head until when you mentioned it, but she takes the herbal mix quickly, eager to please you. She gulps it down as fast as she can and sets down the mug with a bright smile. “That was good tea Y/n-Chan! Thank you.” You are taken aback by the sudden change of mood, but make no mistake to question it. Instead, you get up to put the mug in the sink of your apartment.

“So, do you accept my offer?” You query, glancing back at a very giddy Himiko. “Yes! You saved my life, how could I say no?” Her enthusiasm was confusing to you. She is a villain whom found out her own boss backstabbed her, yet she is being so trusting of you. As if you were her mother, or sister.

“Wonderful. We will be moving a lot, and before we start the murderous sprees, I believe a talk with your former boss, is in order.” You state, walking over to her with a smug smile. “Oh my god yes! This is going to be so fun!” Toga beams.

You kicked down the door with a small smirk, looking at all of the people inside and giving them a mock wave. Himiko giggles and leaps over the now broken door sending a deadly glare at Shigaraki, whom was leaned back in a chair nearby. “Hello everyone. This, is a warning. Dishonor has plagued you all, and we’ve come to rip it down. If you do not change your ways of betrayal, I shall send you all to a nightmarish hell, where you all will perish in ways unimaginable. But anyway, this is my partner, Himiko Toga. You may know her?” You send a teasing laugh in the way of Tomura.

“You are weak, especially without someone of her abilities, and you were a fool to try and kill her.” You say, moving up to his face, his scarred, oddly attractive face. He growls, and places his hand firmly on your cheek, waiting for the cries of mercy to begin. Only for you to punch him right in the nose. “What do you think you’re doing, you handsy bastard!” You yell, shaking your hand out.

Shigaraki takes a second to process the event that just played out. You didn’t decay. He touched you, with all 5 fingers, and you didn’t decay. “Who are you? And what the hell is your quirk?” His raspy voice sought out. “None of your damn business”

“Join us. You’re clearly very powerful, and we could use someone like you.” You snap you head to meet his daring orbs and glare him down. “You have nothing for me, therefore, I will not stay.” You try and shake free of his grasp, but his grip only tighten in determination to have you stay. You were the one he was meant to be with. The only one who he couldn’t kill with his deathly touch. He couldn’t lose you like this.

“Let go.” Himiko demands, clasping a knife closely behind her back. “What if I make you a deal? If the girl stays with you, you can both stay in the league. Sounds fair, right?” Shigaraki grins, pulling you into him. “That’s the boss’ choice, not mine. I follow her now.” Himiko snarls. “I shall not stay unless I hear an apology for Himiko.” You sneer, pushing yourself away from him and pulling your hand out of his.

His body jerked at the thought of admitting he was wrong. But you were worth it. You had to be worth it. “I’m sorry, Toga. I thought it would be better for the league, but I was wrong.” He grumbles begrudgingly. Your breath hitched, much like everyone else’s. You hadn’t expected him to actually apologize. You thought he would refuse you, and you and Toga could move on. But no, apparently this guy really didn’t want you to leave.

“Okay then, I suppose we can stay. Are you okay with that Himiko?” You question, looking back at your shocked friend. “Of course boss!” She cheers, giving you a loose hug around the waist. “I’m going to work on something. Toga, I need you with me.” You motion over to a booth with a table that was a bit dusty, but cleared off nonetheless.

The blonde female skipped over to the sitting area as you walked behind her, trying to ignore the scarlet eyes that followed your every movement.

You both sat on the red cushions of the booth seats, and you activate your quirk to begin the creating process. A cyber holographic screen projects out of your eyes and you let it float in the awaiting air as you reach into your backpack for your keyboard and controller.

You set them on the dust covered surface and watch as transparent green strings go to attach into each of the devices you had placed there. “Wow! Your quirk is so cool Y/n-Chan!” Himiko gushes, smiling widely and bouncing in her place.

“Thanks, I suppose. Stand and pose with your knives. Look frightening if you would.” You claim, fingers pressing against the hologram to move the surroundings inside.

Happily, Toga obliges. She puts on a face much like a yandere’s and hovers her knives with one behind her and one in front, seemingly about to strike. “Wonderful.” Your hand mindlessly reaches out to the side, scanning her body all while your other hand typed in code to enter her into your program.

Shigaraki’s vision trained intensely on your abilities, his gaze landing strictly on the translucent green display even when his eyes tried to wander further. What the fuck was your quirk? The question haunted him, he needed to know what power you held that stopped him from disintegrating your body, that let him touch you.

You could easily feel the many observations of the others around you, but you pay it no mind as you program Himiko into your game. Well, many have called it a game, but it is no game. It’s a nightmare no one would ever want to live in, let alone see. You were the one who made it into that, and you were also the one who trapped people inside of it.

You snap out of your thoughts of misery, and continue typing code while letting your scan sweep over every inch of Himiko’s form. She had done many poses for you, and you had implemented twice as many into your data base with only doing some slight editing and Himiko was evidently cheerful about it.

“You can sit back down. I have what I need now.” You say nonchalantly, your gaze not leaving your work. “Okay, got it boss!” She says, seating herself almost immediately. “Would you like to give it a try?” You ask, typing one last line of key into the system before starting and holding the controller out to Toga. “This is gonna be so fun!” She excites, throwing her arms in the air and squealing. If everyone wasn’t looking at you before, they definitely were now.

“Okay, there are 31 enemies in the area, all of which are horrendously terrifying. They plan to kill you in the most awful ways, and if you get trapped I’ll pull you out right away.” You speed through the explanation, trying to be vague about the outcomes and twists so that she could not easily defeat the monsters inside of your game. “Got it boss!” She beams, grabbing the controller and getting sucked into your algorithm.

Shiggy couldn’t believe his eyes. Did Toga just get sucked into a video game? This was his every dream, and he feels the itch to want to talk to you and claim you grow with every passing minute. “Stop being a pussy and go talk to her, Scarface.” He hears a deep voice scoff. “Whatever patchwork” Tomura retorts.

You watched Himiko pass each fictional horror character with flying colors, each one of her tactics more impressive than the last. You were implementing her fighting style into the game while also observing her movements to know when to pull her out of the fake environment.

You were snapped out of focus when you heard Shigaraki seat himself beside you and you lift your head lifting up to give him a daring glare, silently lettting him know to screw off. “I saw your quirk.” He says, pointing to the green panel before you.

“Yeah, And?” You snort, going back to typing away at your keyboard. “I want to play.” He deadpans. “Fuck no. Go away.” You retort, shooing him off. “Why the hell not?” He growls, clenching his fists tightly. “Because you’re a dick, and I don’t like you.” You exclaim.

“You sound like a fucking 5 year old! Just let me play damnit!” He demands, looking at your unaffected expression. “No.” You respond. With Tomura’s distractions, you had completely forgotten about Toga, who was finished with the main course of the levels, and was waiting to be let in.

You use your quirk to let the luscious blonde back into reality, and listen as she gushes over the details of your powerful quirk. Well, that didn’t last long due to her noticing her former boss’ presence. “What are you doing here Shigaraki?” She asks, suspicion lacing her voice.

“I want to play her game.” He states, voice raising ever so slightly. You laugh at his confidence in the matter. “Oh, honey,” You start. “I am the game. And you have to be really special if you want to play me.” You giggle, packing up your stuff and leaving him there with a heavy blush.

ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴏᴡɴʙʏʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ ©

[tayaminaka]

headcanon, dazai, Fukuzawa, kunikida, chuuya and poe that S / O ends up dying in the birth of his daughter and ends up being born with a fragile health that in many times almost died as he goes about dealing with the death of his s / o? And the fear that your daughter will die? (Maybe I'll send more headcanons because I really like your writing ♥ ️ ♥ ️)

Authors Note : Finally I finished the oldest request. Sorry for the long waiting and thank you for your patient.

Dazai Osamu

Dealing with your dead was already difficult for him but knowing that his little light might die too, terrifies him, even if you can’t see it

The first months after your dead your daughter slept with him in your once shared bedroom. He watched her sleep with empty, nearly dead eyes and hoped that every breath won’t be the last

Dying along with you would be a great option for him, than slowly rotting on the inside. But the thought of your daughter suffer alone and be fully on her own holds him back, letting him suffer with her

He would always fool around with her. Play pranks on Kunikida and then run away (everytime he catches them, Dazai becomes all the beating),telling her random things about people they see on the street or simply vibe with her

But the Agency sees that something is missing in his eyes, that something has changed but he will try to act like he acted before by pulling a smile on his face and acting like a fool

After the usual treatment in the hospital they both would go to the arcade and play games together. He would mostly let her win but not without a little challenge

When she gets sick he would sit beside her bed for hours, pat her head and give her either water or warm tea. But if your daughter has enough from the bed he would bring her to the couch, laying her head on his lap while covering her in a warm blanket. He would mostly either be half asleep or won’t sleep at all if she’s too sick

Every time your daughter is in a nearly dead state, he’s barely holding himself together. Mostly he just lays at home, while drinking himself to sleep, trying to silence the pain

But there is no day he misses the visit time. Even if there are days where he barely holds a smile up, he’ll be there to at least hold her little hand

On evenings, when he finished work, he would give her piggyback rides home. Most of the times she would already be asleep, leaving him with the sunset and the silence

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Will hold her always close to him. Holding her little hand while they both walk, let her sit on his lap and hug him while he’s doing paper work or let her play in his office while he’s at work. As long as he can see or hear her everything is fine

Especially in winter and autumn months he would be extra careful. He knows that even a little cold can turn into a high fever so he will often, very often, pull the extra warm jacket out or put two pocket warmers in her pockets

But he still would go for a walk and pet cats with her. It is their favorite thing to do, especially after a stressful day at work or a boring visit at a hospital

If your daughter is upset and starts to cry because she needs to go to the hospital again to receive her necessary treatment he would put her on his lap, hug her while patting her head

He would always give her a little treat for every medical treatment she gets. Of course some treatments are painful and for everything he would get her a plushie. Her eyes always shine when he gives her a new plushie and that makes her day a little better

When his daughter is in a near death state he would brush her hand with his thumb, telling her that it will be fine and promising that the pain soon will be over

He won’t cry neither at work nor at home but if you look closely you can sometimes see a blis of sadness in his eyes. But every time he looks at your daughter something in him aches heavily

Sometimes your daughter would just fall asleep on his shoulder and he would cover her with his haori ,remembering how he once did it with you

Kunikida Doppo

With a serious face he would try to hold himself together, don’t letting any emotions out. But on the inside he’s a complete wrack and mess

The director gave him some weeks off so he could collect himself a bit, even if it’s hard for him. The first days he tried to follow his usual routine but even that became difficult

He’ll always be really patient with her, allowing her to do with his ideals and schedules what she wants. Usually he’s really strict with that but how can he say no to her if she’s asking him for something

A walk is a must after treatments. Both have enough from the sticky medicine smell of the hospital so a walk on the fresh air is really pleasant, especially after rain

But will be really strict with her health. Will run always after her, be it telling her to take her medicine, put a scarf on or eat healthy

He will always be serious in the hospital and with the doctors. Somebody might say he doesn’t care at all, but your dead affected him deeply because this one time he hadn’t even the chance to save you

But every time his daughter is laying on that damn hospital bed crying, be it being in pain or because she’s upset, he’ll hold her close to him and stroke her hair, patiently calming her down

On some points he would just sit down, take off his glasses and just cover his eyes with one hand, questioning everything and thinking what he should do

Chuuya Nakahara

Deep anger and sorrow spread trough him as he heard the news. How could this happen? Everything was fine, wasn’t it? But now it’s already too late and there is no turning back

For him it’s like somebody threw him in a cold sea without teaching him how to swim, watching as he slowly drowns in his hopeless thoughts

He would become colder at work, less talkative, more quieter and sometimes even absent-minded, dreaming about stuff that won’t come true

But on the field it’s the complete opposite. He’s more aggressive, letting out his anger and frustration on the enemy’s, only to go back to his usual quite state

Mostly if she’s sick or in pain he would take her in his arms and slowly walk around the house, humming a soft melody and whispering that everything will get better

After treatments at the hospital he would carry her home, pat her head and tell her that she did well and that he loves her. He would also do whatever she asks him, even if he’s busy. Be it let her float around the house or play with her for hours, he will let his paperwork lie on the table and spend his time with her

On rare nights were your daughter just can’t fall asleep he will put the warmest coat over her pajama and go for a little walk with her on his arms. He would land near the next wending machine and buy her a little snack or her favourite soda, even if it’s already past midnight

When she’s nearly dead, he would sit beside her, talk with her or play with her for hours even at night but when he’s at home he would just drink and smoke most of the time, not knowing what to do to distract himself.

And when the point comes that even the best medicine doesn’t help in his daughter, he’s ready to lay down his pride and enmity and ask the Armed Detective Agency’s doctor for help

Edgar Allan Poe

His eyes are widened and he can’t even find words to say something. But when he realizes what he just heard you can see small tears fall from underneath his hair

He started to sleep and eat less, only taking care of your daughter. He stopped writing novels, so even Ranpo became concern about his state

He was lost and terrified about your daughter so he stopped everything, trying to fully concentrate on her

Only after a long time he started to write again. Your daughter would sit on his lap, curiously trying to catch his pen and making him smile with that

At night he would sit beside her bed, writing another novel of his. Your daughter always sleeps much better with the writing noises of his pen

Would fall into full panic if your daughter forgets her scarf or hat at home. He’s too afraid that something might happen so he would even run after her

Will go up and down in the hospital hallway, nearly having a mental breakdown of not knowing how to help your daughter if she’s in a nearly dead state

Sometimes if everything just won’t get better he won’t go out from his mansion rather just lay in bed all day.

When he visits her in this state, she’s gonna pat his head with her weak hand and teary eyes and tell him that everything will be alright

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Julian

A-a-and it’s over! Thank god, this one was incredibly hard to finish. I apologize to all Julian fans in advance for writing this but I am not really sorry! Well, maybe only a little bit.

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Julian (because he deserves it). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Julian spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot

Pairing: Julian/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Julian, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez this one’s not so good ಠ╭╮ಠ

Size: around 2500 words yet again (what a coincidence, I know)

I open my eyes and see that everything around me is incredibly, terribly dull. It’s swamps as far as the eye can see, with only occasional floating isles of solid land. All of the trees are rotting and old. Their thin branches are reaching up like long eerie claws, with vines hanging everywhere, blocking many paths and obscuring the landscape. I cannot see the sun; the whole sky is covered with heavy clouds ready to burst any minute.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out whose dream this is. Being here alone brings me no satisfaction so I immediately venture to find the owner of this gloomy realm.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, I finally spot a figure leaning on a broad tree trunk. I would have probably missed it, was it not for its white broad shirt floating in the wind.  

Before I can come close enough to make my presence known, Julian looks in my direction. He doesn’t seem surprised and displays something more akin to mild excitement.

“I have not expected to see you here, but now that I have, I don’t want to imagine what would happen if I didn’t!” he shouts and waves at me.

I give him a smile and approach. My boots are already sodden and I am just glad to stand on the solid ground and not ankle-deep in mud.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, leaning back against the tree with arms crossed on his chest.

“Looking for you, of course,” I say, trying to shoo away the annoying insect that seems to have gotten stuck in my hair.

“Oh, how sweet of you,” he says and winks, grinning all the time. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“And why exactly are you here?” I ask. I know that the majority of ordinary people cannot control their dreams the way magicians do, but there still has to be a reason why Julian is in such a place out of all the possible options.

“As far as I can tell, it’s just your regular old meaningless dream, so, probably, no reason. Although now that you are here, I start to doubt that,” he says and squints at me, his gaze full of artfulness.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips.

“No, no, I’m serious!” he says hastily. “I just started to miss you, and now you’re here so I... I’m just glad to see you. And I do want to spend some time with you now since there’s hardly anything better I could be doing here.” The usual grin is back on his face and I cannot help but give him a smile in return.

“You are truly unbearable, you know that?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, then…” he mutters and I notice how his back arches against the tree he is leaning at.

“Well, then...?” I repeat and raise my eyebrow even higher, waiting for him to elaborate. I can guess what crossed his mind, but with Julian I can never be sure about anything.

“Perhaps, I deserve to be disciplined…” he proceeds intriguingly, starring at me, hardly trying to hide the hunger in his eyes.

I shrug and curve my lips, pretending to have no idea what he is talking about.

Julian sighs impatiently and pulls me by my arm, making me bump right into him. I hear his breath quickening and feel the tight grip on my wrist which signals that he probably does not intend to let go.

“Let’s just say, you have my permission to be a bit more… rough today. I do deserve a punishment after all,” he whispers and gently traces my neck with the tip of his nose.

I sigh quietly. Sometimes I give in to one these moods of his, but it just cannot go on like this forever. Not the way he makes it at least.

“To deserve a punishment, you first have to actually convince me you did something bad, Julian,” I say and carefully pull away from him.

He furrows his brows as he is taken aback by my response. Soon, however, he plasters another toothy smile on his face and lightly tugs at my arm.

“Oh, so you want me to beg for it, I see. Fine by me, I even like this idea a little more…” he says and kisses me behind my ear.

I enjoy his closeness but cannot stop worrying that there is no getting through to him because of how obsessed he is with his feeling of guilt. I decide that there is no other way for me to resolve this other than changing my strategy, so I try to soften the expression on my face and push him against the tree.

“Actually, I thought, maybe I could ask you to be rougher with me,” I whisper, doing my best to sound sincere with my request, and rub my nose on his cheek.

I feel him tremble with his whole body and pray to all gods that my plan works.

“Me?” he asks in disbelief. I look up at him, my eyes full of plea and sincere wish, and he immediately gives in. “Right,” he says and lets out a nervous laugh,” I cannot be the only one who gets all the luxury. It’s only fair if I… If I…”

I nod agreeingly and tilt my head back a little, exposing my neck. I see the uncertainty in his eyes and stroke his face gently to encourage him.

I realise that I myself seem to start shaking, expecting eagerly for him to act, and I can neither understand why nor stop it. There is always a certain tension between us at moments like this, yet this time is feels different.

Julian wraps his arms around me, continuing to stare fixedly at one point on my neck. I feel my heart rate escalating and pray that he does something already because the wait is killing me.

He leans in and lands a few careful kisses on my neck. They seem to be as pleasant and gentle as always so I find myself enjoying them and even am able to relax a bit. Lingering uncertainly for a few seconds, he finally decides to give it a try and quickly bites me at the base of my neck. I yelp as it hurts a little more than I expected, and he immediately jerks back.

“I am so, so sorry!” he yells, his eyes round and full of guilt and fear. “Are you okay? Is there any blood? Let me take a look at it. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

I reach to the spot where he bit me before he does anything and feel it with my fingers. There obviously is no blood as he hasn’t bitten even remotely violently enough to pierce my skin. I exhale with relief and look at his worried face.

“Oh, please, forgive me, I will never do it again! What was I even thinking?” he says and pulls on his hair, sliding down the tree trunk.

I squat beside him and lift his face by the chin to make him pay attention to what I want to say.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, feeling the waves of guilt for what I made him do starting to wash over me.

“Horrendous,” he says, his eyes already trimmed with red. “And guilty, and sorry, and…”

“That’s also how I feel when I hurt you, Julian. That’s what I wanted you to understand,” I finally muster and feel the heavy burden lifted off my shoulders.

He squeezes his eye shut and bumps his head against the tree behind him.

“How foolish of me… I have never even thought about that before. I don’t know how you can forgive me for this,” he mutters. It looks like he wants to reach out and grab my hand, but decides to jerk back when our fingers nearly touch.

I take his hand into mine and the leather of his glove feels cool against my skin. We’re both exhausted so the sooner I end this conversation the better.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty or sorry, I just want you to respect yourself more. Don’t sell yourself short, you also deserve care and affection, just like everybody else,” I say, stroking his hand. “There is time and place for everything, of course, so if you want me to, I can treat you differently, but I don’t want to see how you look down on yourself all the time.”

Julian’s lips stretch into a wide sincere smile and he looks at me with all the warmth that a single person can hold.

“I am such a fool, even the manifestation of you I have in my mind is much smarter,” he says quietly.

I look at him questioningly, not understanding what he is trying to say.

“This single dream is the best and most useful one I have had in years. Now that you’ve opened my eyes... I will not make the same mistake when I wake up and meet the real you again, my darling,” he says and lovingly strokes the side of my face.

“Julian…” I begin, not even knowing how to approach this, “you do know that this is me, don’t you? I am not something you made up in your sleep, this is actually me.”

I watch his eyes that were so calm moments ago become wide again and slide closer to him. The last thing I want is for him to have a breakdown because of me.

“I am… the worst,” he simply says and sighs.

“That’s not true,” I object and kiss him softly on the lips. He returns my kiss with triple the force, and I feel like I’m melting under his touch.

All of a sudden, a big heavy droplet lands right on my nose and, disappointed, I am forced to open my eyes. Soon, many more of them follow, and before we know it, we are both sitting soaking wet under a tree that has absolutely no means to protect us from the rain.  

I am worried for Julian so I look him up and down to make sure he is alright. I notice his now half-transparent shirt sticking to the skin on his chest and his shoulder and hastily look away, but he has followed my gaze and is already grinning at me again.

“We should seek shelter,” I say, trying to shout above the storm that is starting, and help him up from the ground.

“Agreed, I am not a fan of drenching in the rain, even if this is a dream. Come on,” he says and confidently wraps his hand around my waist, “I know just the place for us to hide.”

Soon the rain turns into a downpour and we have to run for our lives to avoid its stinging heavy droplets almost bruising our skin. The place is magical, after all, and so is the rain, so it’s much more unpleasant than any other rain I’ve ever experienced. I suspect that the place is in such a state of gloom precisely because of how Julian feels but I keep it to myself and follow his lead. Even while running, he holds my hand tight and turns around every minute or so to make sure I am fine and able to continue going.

I trust Julian to choose the path among identically looking withered trees the branches of which are interwoven with different sorts of creeping plants. My trust pays off when we arrive at a cave entranced which is carefully tucked away behind tall dry bushes. I definitely wouldn’t have noticed it if I were to look for shelter on my own.

The cave is rather small, there’s barely enough room for it hold two people and an impromptu campfire, but we manage. Most of the twigs we are able to gather are completely wet, so I have to use a bit of magic for the sparks to finally start the fire. Julian is ecstatic about what my magic can do while I am silently thanking Asra for teaching me this trick right in time for me to be able to use it now.

Being able to catch our breath in the modest sanctuary provided by the cave, we relax a bit and ponder over what we can possibly do here with such limited possibilities.

I sneakily peer at Julian to make sure he is okay (or so I tell myself at least). He’s in a better condition than I expected, breathing deeply and with his cheeks pink from running, but still drenched to the bone. I cannot help but lower my gaze a bit and notice that his shirt is now sticking all over his upper body, contouring every muscle.

It goes without saying that he immediately catches my glance and reveals his teeth in a predatory grin. I must’ve been gawking at him for too long. It makes me feel embarrassed so I shift my gaze to the fire before me.

“Oh, no need to be so shy, after all, my view here is not much worse than yours,” cackles Julian and slides closer to me.

I doubt his words, remembering that I am also wearing a travelling cape given to me by Asra on one of the holidays we celebrated together in our shop.

It suddenly dawns on me that I actually know the spell that can dry our clothes so I think about using it to help out Julian, but then hesitate. He doesn’t seem like he really needs it now and I am somehow amused by the idea of him staying the way he is.

“How are you feeling? Want me to dry your clothes?” I ask to get rid of the pricks of my conscience.

“No, I don’t think so,” predictably says Julian. “I haven’t felt this good in a while, actually. What about you?”

“I am… fine,” I say. I really am fine but feel hesitant about saying it because it seems to me that he wanted to hear something else instead.

Julian pouts and only nods silently to my reply.

Not knowing what to do, I take off my cape and wrap it around his shoulders to make sure at least the exposed areas of his skin are covered with soft cloth. It makes absolutely no sense since we’re still in a dream and I have a dozen other ways to help him if he wanted me to, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

His smile softens somehow and I see the tips of his ears, which are sticking out from his wet auburn hair, growing red.

“Come here,” he says and motions me to come sit on his lap.

I oblige and soon lean my back against his chest with his long legs resting on my sides. He lets his slender fingers slide into my hair, combing it and scratching the delicate skin on the back of my neck. It’s a very calming and pleasant feeling, so I close my eyes and let myself get some rest.

“You know…” I start, feeling that I simply have to say it.

“Mm?” he mutters, preoccupied with my hair.

“That… what you did… wasn’t so bad,” I say shyly, hoping he will still understand even with me sparing him the details.

Julian’s fingers stop moving and he tilts his head to take a cautious look at my face. Before he can come up with any ludicrous remarks on the topic, I hurry to elaborate.

“Well... it’s you, so I know you’ll never hurt me or… And I’ll also never really hurt you, so… You know… You understand, don’t you?” I ask pleadingly. This turns out to be much harder than I expected. “Sometimes I’m just not in the mood and I want to be gentle with you. You deserve it.”

“I do?” he only asks.

“Change my mind,” I reply playfully, thinking that I will most likely regret it later.

I hear him chuckle and a second later feel his teeth carefully nibble at the base of my neck a few times. It tickles more than it hurts so I follow the reflex and tilt my head back to make him stop.

“If I do, will I ever be able to change it back?” he asks curiously, slides his arms in front of me to hug me and begins to trace circles on my stomach.

“With enough effort, everything’s possible,” I say, positioning my body a bit lower to rest my head on his chest.

“That’s good to know.”

[pieces-by-me]

You have me

Words: 2459

Summary: Hvitserk went through the same thing once. But can he help her get through it too?

Warnings: Mentions of death, drug abuse, angst. (English is not my first language)

Prompt: angst = comforting the character after the death of someone dear to them.

-So this is my little thing for @maggiescarborough​ 400 follower writing challenge. I wanted to post this sooner but I just got stuck. I hope you still enjoy reading this and that you like it. Also this is my first time writing for Hvitserk. 400 is such a big step and I’m sure you already grew but still I’m really proud of you! I hope you have the best of days 🌼

Hvitserk frowned as he entered the house. Empty again, like all the other times he visited the small hut at the outskirts of Kattegat. It looked like someone broke in and ransacked the whole place. Tables lay on their side, legs broken off. Clothes torn apart on the ground. Books, books the inhabitant loved dearly on any normal day, lay spread across the room. Pages kinked and ripped. No one was there and the hearth in the back looked like it wasn't used all day.

“Oh Y/N”

Y/N was not at her home but Hvitserk knew exactly where to look for her. There where three possible places. A little clearing in the woods filled with small yellow flowers, the offshore piece of land that was hidden from the people of Kattegat or, and he hoped she was not there again, the hut between the stables and the eel fisher. The same hut he himself used to visit in need of his next fix. A dingy and hideous place for such a person as her.

He went to the forest and beach first without any luck of finding the girl he searched for all day. How can she be there again? He only brought her home late at night and it was barely noon on this day. The dark blond haired men went with his fingers through his hair as he stood in front of the door he himself stood so many times. Deep breaths in and out to calm his nerves. Without knocking he went inside and was met with the disgusting smell of vomit, shit and death. Any man would say it was not a pleasant blend of smells.

Lost eyes found his. But none of them were with a shade of light he used to see in his favorite pair. Anywhere he looked he saw old men and younger once. Lying on the floor, snoring away or cowering in the corner. Trying to escape the ghosts. For just the smallest of seconds he thought he saw a burnt figure standing in the back stretching their arm out towards him.

“Snap out of it!”

The inner call to himself brought him back on his search. But after checking almost everywhere he gave up and went back to the entrance. Where could she be? Why wasn't she here?

Then the sound of a woman vomiting on the floor in the west corner, hidden under old fishnets and rotten blankets, made him stop. Sadly the sound was all too familiar to him.

Hvitserk made his way over to the ball of fabric the women hid under. The body shaking and heaving after throwing every little bit of food and water up. Drenching the floor in sick and tears.

Taking in a deep breath Hvitserk bend down to lift up the tattered bundle of cloth.

When he revealed the women he was met with the disoriented eyes from his childhood friend, Y/N. Unfocused, dull and broken. Thats all he could see in her stare.

“Y/N? Come on I'm taking you home.”

With only one word she broke his heart again.

“Mikkel?”

No he wasn't Mikkel. He couldn't be. Everyone in Kattegat knew about the little man that died unfairly and far too soon. Mikkel was Y/N's little brother. The one that made everyone smile. The one that always had a plan or idea to brighten up your day. The one that was good.

12 years and he was just ripped away. The saddest part was that nobody knows how he died.

One day he was found in the woods. Drenched in blood and cold to the touch. Some said he died because of the cold and then animals showed up, others said he was ripped apart by wolfs and then some, the once that were cruel, swore he was murdered and left there to rot.

Who would murder a 12 year old child that never did anything evil?

All these unanswered questions plagued Y/N's mind. Hvitserk could see that day after day. He could relate to that far too well. He also seeked out the bliss of not knowing and swimming in mushroom dreams and mead. But he got out. He had his little brother to help him. To get him out of this pit. And he would be damned if he let you stay in it. She may not have her little brother anymore but she had him.

“Y/N it's me, Hvitserk. Come up we have to get you back. You're freezing and you need something to eat.”

A rare clarity settled in her eyes at his voice. And with that clarity came anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone!” It was supposed to be a scream but her voice sounded horse and bitter. Not enough use made it brittle and not enough water made it harsh. She spoke in stuttering sentences. Broken just like her.

“And I told you every time that you will not get rid off me.”

With that he grabbed her arms, pulled her up and swung her over his shoulder. Maybe a little harsh to just take her, but he did this often enough to know that talking to her wouldn't work.

Her failed attempt at punching his back felt like jumps from a flea and her demands to be put down didn't make it out of her mouth. Because after only five minutes of walking like that she threw up again. Lucky for Hvitserk's pants nothing more then water came out.

When he made it back to her little hut he brought her right to her bed. Or more to her pelt covered floor. Y/N was just laying there. Not saying anything and not looking at him. But she was also not trowing up anymore so that was good. Hvitserk used the time that was spend quiet with cleaning her hut and trying to fix her table as best as he could. But after two hours she still said nothing. She wouldn't even look at him. He knew that she was not happy with him, but he was not happy with her either. Though he wouldn't tell her that. He knew she needed time and help. And he would be here and help her. Help her get on her feet again.

“Why are you still here?”

Her voice sounded through the hut but it sounded fake. Not like her own.

“You didn't eat the whole day so I'm staying until you have something else in your stomach then mushrooms and alcohol.”

“I'm not hungry”

“We both know you're lying so just stop it already.” Nothing was said after that for another while.

The sun was close to setting and Hvitserk was getting worried. Y/N didn't move or say anything while he cleaned her room and made some mediocre soup. This couldn't go on any longer. He thought that after a while she would accept his help and get better, but no matter what he did she shut him out even more. Maybe it was not enough. His help. Or maybe it was the wrong way. Waiting for her to come to him.

As he looked at the women who was so dear to him he had enough. He wanted her back. As selfish as that sounded. He wanted to hear her laugh again. See her smile. Having her arms around him. He wanted to stumble upon her on the market and ask her how her day went. Not having to search for her and find her with the other addicts in a dingy hut. He wanted to find out what happened to Mikkel so that he could bring her a little closure. Something that would bring her mind to ease, so she wouldn't have to imagine the worst scenarios about her brother. He just wanted her.

Hvitserk went over to her lying body and saw that she trembled again. Not out of cold, or hunger but out of craving for something else. Small noises came out of her mouth. What is he supposed to do? All his attempts at getting her back on her feet were fruitless. Putting his hand on her shoulder her trembling and sniffles stopped.

“Leave me alone Hvitserk.” She wanted to sound strong. To make him hear how much she didn't want him there, even if it would be a lie, she wanted him gone. But her voice was frail and came out not louder then a mouse's squeak. His eyes grew hard at that. That was enough. He would not sit there longer and look her withering away.

“Stand up.”

Nothing. She didn't move even a little bit.

“I said stand up!” His voice raised to a level far from loving. With a tight grip on her shoulder he turned her around. Glassy and confused eyes met his. She didn't think he would make her stand up. Normally he would leave and hope she would sleep and get better. But not this time.

“UP!” Screaming may not have been the best way but it brought her to her feet. Raising with her shoulders still in his hands he stabilized her, she was far to malnourished and weak to stand on her own. Y/N stood in his arms for the first times in weeks but the look in her eyes showed that she would rather be anywhere else. Anger replaced confusion and her voice found new strength.

“What the hell is your problem? I said to leave me alone! Why can't you just do that?”

“You gave me no choice! Everyday I search for you! Everyday I find you in that hut that slowly kills you! And everyday you send me away, just to get back there! Not this time. I will stay near you and won't let you leave until all these foul things leave your body and your need for them stops.”

“I don't want you here!” Her screaming broke his heart. 'She does. She's just not herself right now'

Hvitserk had to belief that, otherwise he would tear up. And he couldn't. He had to be strong for her.

“You only want me to leave to get back to your mushrooms. But I'm not letting you go. I won't lose you”

“You don't understand. I need them.” Tears were falling from her eyes. Not a care in the world how she looked. She lost the care a long time ago.

“You don't. You just need-”

“YES I do!! I can't bare it. I don't want to! I won't!” Her hands grasped at his shoulder now. Trembling and shaking like leaves on trees. And just like leaves her body was slowly being pulled to the ground. But she held on to him and he held her. “Please....just leave” Her voice was small again. Tired and cracking.

“You have to.” His voice mirrored hers. Quiet and small. He didn't want to scream anymore. He felt her closer then ever. Not just her body but she was there. Her old self showed itself. Just a glimmer. But that was all he needed.

“You have to or otherwise this will never get better. You will loose yourself in this.” For the first time in too long she looked into his eyes. Hearing his words.

“You'll have to feel this. Pain and grief. And everything that comes with it. Fear, anger, panic and all the other ghosts. Otherwise you will never feel love or joy again. You will get through this. And I can help you, if you let me”

Trembling lips, flowing tears and choked gasped where his answer for a while. But he held her eyes with his. He was here and wouldn't go anywhere.

“Mikkel died. He is dead.” She never spoke it aloud. Those words never left her lips and now that they did she broke. Her body falling and sobs escaping her lips. Screaming at the pain that made itself notable after weeks of being extinguished and pushed away. Her brother was gone.

“I don't want to feel this!”

Hvitserk caught her falling figure before she hit the ground. Taking her in his arms. Holding her tight as to squeeze all her parts back together. He caressed her back, hoping it would bring her comfort.

“This is normal. You will survive this. Everyone does. You will come out of this. You are not alone even if you think that right now. I'm here. I will not leave you. You will survive this.”

His words and strokes were met with screams of agony. Clawing at his back as if it was the only thing keeping her together. Grounding her in a way that only he could do in this moment.

Sobbing into his neck. Tears also falling from Hvitserk's eyes but he didn't care. He held her as long as she needed. Slowly after what felt like hours her body slowly shut down. Exhaustion weighing her down. Soft whimpers only left her mouth now but her arms stayed strong holding onto him.

“I'm here. You have me. And you will get through this.”

And she would. With time she would. She nodded her head. Never being more grateful that he didn't leave her. He helped her. The only one she couldn't push away. She wanted to thank him. Crying to him that she wound't know where she would be if it wasn't for him. But she was so tired now. She would tell him. But now she needed sleep.

Hvitserk felt how her body slowly slacked against his form. Pulling her completely into his arms and of the floor he laid her back on her furs. Brushing fallen strands of hair out of her face she looked up at him. Her eyes looked like her own again. Not fully glowing but a sparkle of hope nested itself into the far corners of them. Holding on to his hand she squeezed as much as she could. Her voice still quivered but he heard the honesty in her words.

“Thank you.”

Sending her a smile he only nodded his head. Her eyes closing fast and she was pulled under by sleep. Still clutching his hand.

He sat there beside her for a while just looking at her features. She didn't look pained for the first time. And his small smile grew. After a while he stood up. Reheated the soup on the hearth and waited for her to wake up. She would have to get back her strength.

Y/N would get through this and he would help her every step of the way.

[darkeninganon]

(Quackity, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo finally interact in the Ender Family AU! Dream’s design is based on @winifreyd and their White Enderman Dream design! Warning for referenced torture, extreme injuries, forced feeding, mouth trauma, tortured, choking, and cursing. If you spot something else, message me and I will add it and apologize profusely.)

Ranboo fidgeted, dreading this plan. Tommy and Tubbo- okay, no, just Tubbo- had made up this plan the same day Quackity had left the prison with a beautiful... fur coat. A white fur coat. Everyone knew Dream was covered in white fur, and took such great pride in it, he was likely to kill you just for talking about touching it. Well… Technically he had that right because to touch his fur you had to touch him, and he did not like to be touched.

A hand rubbed against his own, drawing Ranboo from his mind. He looked to where the hand came from, finding Tubbo running his finger through Ranboo’s fur. Right, Tubbo liked to feel Ranboo’s fur when he got too nervous. The half enderman looked to Tommy, who was biting his nails. Ranboo pulled up his sleeve, holding his arm out in front of Tommy. The other boy looked at him, incredulous and confused. “Apparently petting me helps people calm down.” The half enderman laughed, dry and nervous.

Tommy hummed, looking back towards the entrance to the entrance of the prison. They were in the portal area, right outside the prison. They all had seen what Dream had become, now they needed to confront one of the people who may have contributed or even allowed it to happen. The trio sat there, waiting as the day passed by, slowly but surely, Tommy and Tubbo getting more and more antsy as Quackity’s arrival was delayed longer and longer.

Finally, the guest of honor had arrived. Quackity turned the corner, freezing as the three teens perked up and locked eyes with him.

“Oh… What… what’re you guys doing here?” Quackity questioned, stepping into the open room. He couldn’t look suspicious to these three. Not now, not when he was so close.

“We were waiting for you.” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms as he struggled to stand up, legs having cramped and fallen asleep hours ago. “We have some questions for you Big Q.”

“Oh, well, what do you want to know?”

“Why the hell are you visiting the prison everyday?”

Quackity stared at Tommy, as if he had never expected anyone to ask that question, ever. “Uh, I’m training to be the next warden. Why else would I be going to the prison?” He laughed, a nervous flicker of his eyes.

“Great, where do you live?” Ranboo stepped in now, rolling Tubbo’s sleeve between his fingers as his platonic husband continued to pet his fur. “We kind of haven’t seen you in like… Forever.”

Quackity nodded. “Yeah, I uh, made a country. Las Nevada. It’s pretty cool.” He fidgeted. He needed to pay Dream his daily visit… Or ask Sam to fill in for him. “Do you guys want to see it?” The three teens nodded, believing the story so far. “Great! Follow me. It’s pretty far.” Quackity smiled, walking off with the three boys in tow. Sam looked out from the cameras, breathing a sigh as the group left. He could only hope Quackity wouldn't want to show off his trophies.

Sam jumped as his communicator went off. A message from Quackity: I'm trusting you to convince Dream today. Sorry to put this on you so suddenly. Sam sighed, his grip growing tighter. He... He had to. For Tommy. For Tubbo. For the whole SMP. Sam sent back a quick response: Roger.

Sam sighed, standing up and heading for the cell. He had to at least try. Yet another sigh. He was sighing too much these days. Sam walked to the cell, drinking a fire resistance potion and swimming through. His eyes landed on Dream, curled up and bandaged, fur grimy and dirty. He hadn't moved in days, potatoes rotting in the pool of water that was used as a reset point for the prisoners. Not that Dream would ever use it, what with his one cannon life left. Sam stormed over to Dream, tangling his hands in the creatures hair to retch his head up. Dream opened his eye, cloudy and unfocused.

A mumble fell from the creatures lips. One word, probably Sam's name. It didn't matter. "I have to do this Dream. Quackity needs that information." Sam pulled Dream up by his hair, slamming his head into the wall. Dream stayed there, limp, staring at Sam. The warden shook his head, letting Dream drop to the ground without a care. He walked to the puddle, pulling out one of the rotting potatoes. It was like sludge with a rock-hard core.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. It was gross but Sam wasn't about tear Dream limb-from-limb. That was not his style. Sam stood, walking over to where Dream lay, still limp and pliant. Sam grabbed his chin, digging the points of his gauntlets into Dream's jaw. "You need to eat, or else you'll never heal." With that, Sam shoved the rotten food into Dream's mouth, holding his hand over Dream's mouth, staring down as the prisoner's eyes widened and he started coughing, thrashing and lightly hitting Sam in and effort to get free. "Swallow, Dream. I'm done with you wasting the food you are given."

Dream suddenly grabbed Sam's mask, tearing it off the warden's face in such a way that Sam yelled and fell back, kicking Dream in the face. "What the fuck Dream?! You know that's- ARGH!" Sam screamed in rage. Dream knew not to fight back against Sam, even more than he knew not to fight back against Quackity. Sam had netherite with thorns whereas Quackity did not. Sam grabbed another potato, grabbing Dream's ankle and dragging the gagging prisoner closer. Sam wrapped a hand around Dream's neck, using his greater size to choke and pry Dream's jaw open.

Sam froze.

Dream's sharper canine teeth were gone, while his slightly sharp front teeth were broken beyond repair; jagged and cracked. Dream was gargling some nonsense, pawing at Sam's arm. Sam let go, dropping the rotten food as he did so. He suddenly began to tear at the bandages, staring in horror as the realization slowly hit him: Quackity took Dream's teeth, and Dream... Dream wasn't acting out by not eating.

Sam ran from the cell, running down the corridors and out of the prison. Sam slumped to the ground, covering his mouth. He had left his mask in the cell. He took out his communicator, hands shaking as he typed a message to Quackity: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Quackity cast a glance at his communicator, frowning at the message. He ignored it, putting it back into his packet. "It's right up here." He stated, climbing over the last hill, the lights of the city bathing him in a multicolored glow. "Boys, Welcome... To Las Nevadas!"

The three teens stood on the crest of the hill, mouth agape at the city. It wasn't a city in the normal sense, but there were obviously multiple buildings, each one flashy and bright in its own right, they just blended together in a way that was indescribable.

"Holy shit Big Q!"

"Woah! Nice!"

Ranboo remained silent, staring in awe. He was oblivious to the way Quackity was glaring at him, the way Quackity was sizing him up and seemingly inspecting his eyes and teeth from a distance.

"Come on guys, why don't we get a closer look?"

Quackity's remark finally snapped Ranboo from his trance, finding the other three already a small distance ahead, the half-enderman jogging to catch up to them. Quackity was ranting about the city, talking about how it was mostly just hotels and casinos so far. One or two places for food and drinks, but no actual restaurants. Ranboo spun around as they walked, wanting to take in every detail. Things like this were... They brought something out in him, something that he hadn't felt in... forever? Forever.

The group stopped in front of a massive building, right in the center of the city. "And this is my place! Come on in, make yourselves at home~!" Quackity stated, loudly, opening the door with a flourish. The trio of teens stare in awe; gold, silver, white, and red decorated the whole immediate room, with a huge glowing bar at one end and plenty of tables for poker, slot machines, and other games scattered throughout the room.

The teens separated throughout the room, staring at the whole area. Tommy ran to the bar, making high-pitched noises of awe at all the fancy bottles lining the wall. Tubbo ran to the slot machines, running up and down the rows and rows of them bouncing around and probably imagining how much gold, diamonds, and maybe even netherite he could get. Ranboo ignored all the other tables, walking to a game he had never seen before. It had a wheel at one end, and red-and-black number on a grid going from 1 to 36. Looking back at the wheel, Ranboo found that one spot on the wheel was green, a red ball resting in the spot.

Ranboo picked up the ball. It was... such a weird weight. His back fur stood on end as he continued to look at and play with the ball. What even was it made out of? It looked like it was glazed or covered in glass. And why was his fur raising so much? Why did it make him... uncomfortable? No, not uncomfortable... scared, sick, angry.

Ranboo rolled it around a bit more, putting it back as Quackity called the trio over to a curtain. "This is my VIP room. You guys will be the first to see it!" He seemed so excited, pulling on a beautifully white tassel to draw the curtain open.

The VIP room was much darker, deep blues and blacks covering the small room from floor to ceiling, with dulled redstone lamps over the few sitting areas scatter throughout. Quackity ran off, mentioning that he needed something to make the room complete. Ranboo ignored the room, inspecting the pull used to open the curtain. It looked... Ranboo looked to one of his tails, the white one... The pull looked so much like it. Ranboo began to play with the pull. It was much softer than his tail could ever be, either of them; and it lacked the sleek fur at the end, instead ending in soft, cloud-like fur... or something. Ranboo had no idea what it was made out of, but much like the little ball from the game table, it caused the fur on his neck to stand on end.

"Alright guys! Check this out!" Quackity cheered, finally having come back. He strode into the room, draped in a lovely fur coat, standing out in the dull room as he flopped down on the sofa. Tommy and Tubbo stared in awe. Tubbo was immediately fascinated by how soft it was, while Tommy was inspecting the sleeves and hem.

"Damn Big Q, why the fuck didn't we have you make the uniforms? You would have made them even better than me!"

Quackity gave Tommy a look. "What?"

Tommy held up the bottom hem of the coat. "The seams! God, leather and fur and hide are so fucking hard to work with, but you... Jesus how fucking long did it take you to sew this? The seams are invisible. You have to teach me." Tommy continued to inspect the coat where the seams should be, clearly fascinated.

Ranboo came over as well, cautiously reaching out to feel the fur coat. His fur was raising again, telling him to do something... to take the fur coat and then beat Quackity senseless. Then his finger touched the fur.

All fight left Ranboo.

The ball came to mind.

The curtain pull came to mind.

And now the fur coat.

Ranboo ran from the building, clawing his way over the hills. He could hear Tommy and Tubbo yelling for him, asking him what was wrong. He didn't answer... Tubbo should know, Tubbo should be able to tell.

The fur of an Enderman is very distinct, after all.

[watarigarasu]

October 25th – Ghost

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Word count: 1,174

Warnings: None

Author’s note: None

“Why are you not asleep, little one?” The Elvenking’s voice wrapped its velvet fingers around your mind and gently brought you down on earth, back to the reality.

The night was warm, the moon fully round and low on the endless sky as you observed the trees dancing slowly to the silent rhythm of the dark. There was no wind to brush against your bare arms and yet, the air was clear and refreshing. Looking at the landscape in front of you, the now peaceful forest and the narrow stream flowing down in between the polished rocks felt as if you could drink the moonlight from the cold water.

The blissful taste of the stars upon your tongue.

“I thought I heard a ghost,” you admitted the truth, noticing the soft flutter of the long robes Thranduil was wearing as he approached you from behind.

Slowly, you turned to him to see his reaction but just as expected, there was none. He was looking at you in the same way he always did, with the same amount of reservation and haughtiness. It was only the tone of his voice which revealed curiosity.

“A ghost?”

You nodded.

“I was certain that your kind does not approve such, nor do they acknowledge their presence.”

“Most of them don’t, that’s true.” For a moment you grew silent, thinking about the right choice of words. “But I suppose they tend to see them differently than I do.”

The Elvenking passed by you, apparently heading to the stream’s direction, his steps slow but confident, the equal of almost two of yours. You observed him as he walked away, his long hair almost reflecting the moonlight, so ethereal that it seemed as if he was part of it himself. As if he was nothing more than a strand of light toughing the ground, gliding above its surface with an indescribable grace. Featherlike and glorious, not making a single sound—an embodiment of a perfect dream you did not want to wake up from.

“Tell me about it,” he spoke to you and you knew that it was an invitation for a walk.

Eventually, you obeyed and caught up with his pace.

“I had troubles falling asleep tonight,” you started slowly. “That’s why I decided to get some fresh air, it often helps to clear the mind from too much thoughts. However, when I crossed the gates and reached the forest, I heard something unusual. Or, to be more precise, I felt something strange.”

You peeked at his profile looking for any signs of disapprovement regarding your late night walks all by yourself where who knows what could lure in the darkness, but the Elvenking remained calm, apparently waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how to explain that so it’d make sense, My Lord,” you sighed. “Whenever I told people about it, they never seemed to understand it, repeating that it was probably my imagination.”

“If you live long enough, you grow to realize that there are things beyond imagination, little one. No wonder that your kind could not appreciate it, they are simply too naïve for that.”

It was one of the greatest and most surprising compliments you have ever received from him and so, his words made you smile. You managed to learn how to listen to what he was saying to understand his intentions beneath, and although it took you many years of misunderstandings and piling questions, you were satisfied with the result. He never meant to harm you, especially not with his harsh words but it took a lot of patience to hear the meaning of silence in between them.

“I agree,” you admitted and your gaze involuntarily wandered to his perfectly shaped lips. You cleared your throat. “I believe I’ve seen many, many ghosts during my lifetime.”

There was a gap between the branches where the moonlight spilled on the grass, white as milk and translucent like a veil sewn from the droplets of the rain. When you stepped into it, Thranduil slowed down before completely stopping and taking a look up, at the stars above. The constellations were creating various shapes you still could not always name but the single sight at his focused face was enough to understand that he knew them all.

He remembered them all and missed them deeply.

“Where did you saw them?” he encouraged you to speak.

“Anywhere.” Was the simplest answer.

Sitting down upon one of the larger rocks, you eyed your surroundings, astonished that his mere presence seemed to ward off every kind of evil spirits. It was just you and him and the forest has never been as peaceful as that night.

“Sometimes I can sense them when I look through the books from your library,” you continued quietly. “They are there, in between the pages—a single note left in ink centuries ago by an anonymous stranger. Or the old paper crushing under my fingers, the very same one which must have been held many, many times before I could even think about touching it. Were they taken far away, on an adventures? Did the covers see the lands I can only observe on the maps? If they could speak our language, what would they say? What stories are they hiding? The pieces of soul of every person who left an impression upon them is still remaining here, in the same place, but it’s mute and I can only wonder about their secrets. I can only imagine what would those ghosts say.”

Focused on your own words, you did not notice when Thranduil stopped paying attention to the stars and instead, it was completely yours. He watched you play with your fingers and noticed the moonlight on your skin as your voice echoed in his mind, vivid and alive.

“I see them in the palace often,” you stated. “I see them in the old halls and in the polished stairs and I wonder, how many were there before me. How many memories did those halls remember, how many joys and tears, how many laughs and loves. How many lost friends and relatives. How many of them are now nothing but an inaudible whispers. And I can’t help but think that soon, we’re all eventually going to join them and become a memories, a ghosts of the past. Do you think anyone would be able to hear us then, My Lord?”

The Elvenking remained silent, noticing the tears glistening in your eyes, stuck in between the eyelashes. There were no words which could comfort you now, for nothing he would say would change the inevitable truth.

“I hear you now,” he whispered and reached to take your hand in his, the warm, soft skin warming up yours as he spoke with a delicate tremble in the same, stoic voice. “Even if the world will burn down and the forest will rot to the last root, even if the darkness will swallow it whole, I will still hear you. I will always hear you, my love.”

[radiant-flutterbun]

Mason’s Brightside Part 2

   Part 1

“No Mason, weird dreams are not a symptom of the herb I gave you last night,” Alaria sighed “If you had listened to me you would know the opposite is true.”

    “No dreams is a symptom?”

    “Yes and so are dehydration headaches so make sure you drink lots of water.”

Alaria shooed Mason outside of the healing den and he nearly crashed into Corkscrew, a spiral.

    “Watch where you’re going!” Corkscrew snarled.

    Mason ignored him and went to get something to drink, his mind however was still thinking about that dream. He’d never been a vivid dreamer. Something about it was so unnatural.

    Evan came up to him later in the day and he described the dream to him.

    “Weird right?”

    “Yeah but sometimes a dream is just a dream. Don’t read too much into it.”

    “But it felt so real!”

    “You sure it’s not… Ya know your mind playing tricks on you?”

    Mason glared at Evan “It wasn’t that.”

    “Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to imply…” Evan coughed “Maybe you’re just not used to a good night’s sleep is all.”

    Mason thought about that for a moment “That… Ok yeah that I can believe.”

    The next night he was given the same herb from Alaria and he found himself right back at the Emperor’s Wake.

    “Good to see you again Mason,” It was the tundra. They were sitting beside him, so close that Mason could feel their fur on him “Are you on your way?”

    “I-” Mason began and then he snarled “What are you doing in my head?”

    The tundra looked back at him calmly, “You can thank our local dreamwalker for that.”

    “Dreamwalker…?”

    “You’ll be waking soon. I don’t have time to explain. Please come here to the Emperor’s Wake. I’ll explain everything. It’ll be much easier in person, I promise.”

    Mason was about to speak when he found himself awake, sunlight danced across his room. 

    He began to pack his things. It didn’t take long. Being formerly dead, he didn’t have any personal belongings from his world. All he had were just a few art supplies Flare had been kind enough to give him, a simple dagger, a water canister, a few snacks and a blanket. Everything fit neatly in a bag he wrapped over his shoulder.

    He trotted down the stairs from his room and into the clan lobby. He made his way to the main exit when Evan found him.

    “Where are you going?” He asked, seeing the bag.

    Mason sighed “The Emperor’s Wake.”

    “What? Isn’t that where that monster is?”

    “Yep.”

    “And you want to go there?!”

    “Correct.”

    “Why?”

    “Because that’s where the dragons in my dreams told me to go.”

    “So you’re just going to listen to random dream dragons now?”

    “See this is why I was trying to avoid you.”

    Evan looked hurt “You were planning on leaving without telling me?”

    “Because I knew this would happen! I knew you wouldn’t understand! Listen, I've been here before. I know that whoever these dragons are, they're not going to get out of my head until I do what they want me to do.”

    “Hey no offense Mason but the last time you listened to some... thing in your mind you ended up hurting a kid.”

    Mason snarled “He wasn’t just a kid. Don’t oversimplify what Muerto is.”

    “I’m just saying, if you knew that was Match speaking to you, would you still have done the things you did?”

    “Yes. Match is just another self centered god, but at least me listening to him, capturing Muerto, weakening him. Getting him to spill his dirty little secrets. At least that did something! You would have rotted away to nothing and we would have all been trapped in that horrible place until we died. I got the gods’ attention. I changed things!”

    Evan took a deep breath “Ok. Yeah you’re right. But I also don’t have to like what we had to do to get where we are now. Maybe this time we can take some time to think about what we’re getting into before we have to hurt anyone?”

    “We? You want to come with me?”

    “I don’t like the idea of being near that monster, but I hate the idea of letting you go alone even more.”

***

    Mason waited for Evan to pack his things. Like him, it wasn’t much so they were off on their journey soon enough. Evan felt bad leaving without a word so he took the time to leave a note for Nike.

    The two took off and soared over the Sunbeam Ruins in the direction of the area now known as the Emperor’s Wake. Mason had a map with him to help him keep track of their journey. As he flapped his wings he noted how natural flight felt to him. It was strange to him how quickly he picked up the skill. His original body was not one designed for flight and never in a million years would he have guessed he’d eventually become a dragon. Sepulchral had taught him to fly after he had entered the Dragon Planet. Sepulchral was a good teacher, and unlike all of the other Selcouth creatures that were brought to Sornieth, Sepulchral actually had wings back in their world, making him uniquely experienced with flight. But even with such an excellent teacher, Mason felt like he shouldn’t have picked up the skill quite so quickly. It only made it more frustrating that relearning to draw was not as natural to him.

    “Sorry about planning to take off without you,” Mason said after a few miles of silence.

    “Hey, it's cool. No big deal,” Evan responded.

    “What were you going to tell me the other day, by the way? I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. Sorry again.”

    “Oh that?” Evan laughed nervously “That was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

    Mason glanced at his friend “Alright…” He thought about pushing the subject, but decided to let it go.

    The two flew in silence until it got dark. They camped out in a secluded pine forest for the night and took off again when it was morning. 

    Their flight was uneventful until they flew over a patch of land that was scarred in an unusual way. Most of the Sunbeam Ruins were filled with rolling fields of grass and green pine trees dotted with ruins from a forgotten era. But this patch of land was blackened and dead. It was not burned like a fire found it, rather it looked like a perfect circle of the land just shriveled up and died. Below structures that were not ancient ruins were crushed and destroyed like a tornado ran through the community.

    “What do you suppose happened down there?” Evan asked.

    Mason shook his head “Nothing good probably. Let's keep moving.”

    It wasn’t long before the land began to look more like what Mason saw in his dreams. There were tell-tale signs of destruction, but not quite like the shriveled dead land they had just passed. Mason searched the ground below him and nearly stopped mid flight. There on top of a hill covered in ruins was the same rugged tundra that had spoken to him.

    Mason landed beside them with a thud and Evan landed more gracefully beside him.

    “You!” Mason snarled.

    The tundra smiled and waved “Mason! So good to see you in person. And oh look! You brought a friend.”

    “Why were you in my head? How do you know who I am? What do you want with me?”

    “Holy shit,” Evan was ignoring the tundra and instead his eyes were fixed on the horizon “It’s real.”

    Mason heard a roar and looked up. There in the distance was the rampaging beast, the Emperor Luminax. It was even more horrible than it was in his dreams.

    “Terrifying isn’t it?” The tundra asked, following Mason’s gaze.

    “It’s just… Hard to believe it’s real.”

    “I know. Seeing your first Emperor… It makes you wonder what’s real and what’s fake. But that thing is real alright. It’s destroying lives and the gods are doing nothing about it.”

    Mason snorted “Yeah that sounds about right.”

    “Ah, don’t like gods do you?” The tiny bug dragon from Mason’s dream landed on top of the tundra’s head “I knew this one would fit in well!”

    Mason peeled his eyes away from the undead creature in the distance “Ok, no more talking until you two explain why you were in my head.”

    “Ah that would be Karyu’s doing,” The tundra addressed the bug sitting on their head.

    “How dare you!” Mason lunged forward to swat the bug, but they quickly flew away. Mason ended up hitting the large tundra’s antlers instead. Mason’s hand stung and the tundra glared at him.

    “Maybe instead of threatening my friend, you could sit down and listen.” The tundra shoved Mason to the ground. Mason tried to get back up, but stopped when the tundra gave him another glare.

    Karyu flew back onto the tundra’s head and pointed at Mason “That one tortured a kid god, so I guess I shouldn’t really be too surprised. Still, he has use here.”

    Mason’s eyes widened “How did you-”

    “My name is Perryn,” The tundra cut Mason off and smiled “I’m an Emperor hunter, and my friend Karyu here is a dream walker.”

    “And demigod!” Once again Karyu took off from their perch on Perryn’s head. They circled in the air and as they landed they began to transform. Before Mason’s eyes the little bug dragon grew in size. They spun so fast it forced Mason to blink and with that one blink a new creature was standing where the bug disappeared. Its body was unmistakably human to Mason, but it still had some of the bug features of its dragon form. Antennae sprung up from Karyu’s head and insectoid wings from their back. They wore a long robe and their long purple hair touched the ground. They were still small, Perryn towered over them and so would have Mason if he had been standing, but they were no longer squishable. 

    “My mother is the goddess of dreams for this world, and lucky me, I’ve inherited some of her powers,” Karyu walked up to Mason and poked his snout. He snapped at their fingers “You have the most fascinating dreams out of everyones’ I’ve walked through. So many memories are mixed with yours. Some juicy ones too!”

    “No. You didn’t.”

    “It’s just a shame that lately you haven't been dreaming much. I’m guessing insomnia? Well that’s no good for me or my pals here at The Guild of Osiris! I was afraid if your sleeping patterns continued I would have lost contact with you! And that would have been a real bummer.”

    “Which is why Karyu had to bring me into the picture,” Perryn said “We needed you to come here before they lost contact with you and they thought you would listen to me and not them.”

    “And I was fucking right!” Karyu grinned and then leaned close to Mason and whispered “I just thought Perryn would be more your type. I’m gorgeous, I know, but I’m taken.”

    Mason just stared at Karyu. He opened his mouth and then closed it like a fish out of water.

    “Yes. Karyu was right!” Peryn shouted and then coughed “And now you’re here like we were hoping. Karyu has seen a lot of things about you from their dream walking ,which I know may be awkward and invasive-”

    “You don’t think?” Mason found his voice for a moment.

    “But Karyu has a knack for finding those who are perfect for helping our cause. Mason, is life uncertain to you? Maybe you’ll make a good Emperor Hunter.”

[possum-rat]

King ophelia

is this nearly 2 months late? yes yes it is.

@king-ophelia 

“If i die im totally haunting your ass”

(Y/n) x C!Sam  Platonic

______________

Mentions of: death, blood,tommy’s prison arc 

There had always been a close Mentor and Student type of bond Between a certain droopy elf-eared green-tinted skinned man and a young kid around the age of 15-16? Some might even say that it was closer, more Father and child-like. So naturally when Awesamdude began distancing himself from everyone while making the prison (Y/n) felt a mixture of anger and slightly guilt. Guilt because it wasn't Sam’s duty to take care of them. Sam had simply shown them Human kindness, and (Y/n) not having many good encounters with people had clutched to the praise that Sam had given on the regular. (Y/n) had only felt angrier and angrier as time passed. Especially when Ponk had stumbled into their small dark oak cottage on the outskirts of what was Pogtopia. His red yellow and black mask burned beyond repair and holding what was left of his arm. Leaping up from the small couch situated in the middle of the small one-floor house (Y/n) turns their attention to Ponk. As they work feverishly whispering that it’ll be okay more to themselves than anything else. That day they realize that the Man that they had admired so much and had tried to please didn't care. ------ “Sam? I made something look!” (Y/n) says happily as they pull the prosthetic arm they had been working on for Ponk. “I'm busy (Y/n), Tommy needs help with something,” Sam states as he brushes past (Y/n) without a thought. “Of course. It’s always Tommy and tubbo this. Why don't you have a second of time for me?” (Y/n) mumbles dejectedly. Shoving the arm back into their bag they grumble annoyed. Eventually, they bump into Foolish. “(Y/n)! Didn't see you there! How are you?” he asks cheerfully crouching into a squat. “I made something for Ponk. I tried showing Sam but he was busy. As always.” They say quietly while fiddling with the hem of the bag. Foolish’s emerald eyes widen in interest. “You did? Can I see?” Nervously they pull a wooden base of an arm armor of the bag before turning their attention to Foolish, (Y/n) smiles shyly up at the man before gently placing the arm in his huge calloused hands. Foolish sits on the ground in front of (Y/n) and turns the arm silently, his jade eyes staring intently at the arm that’s a quarter -if that -the size of his hand. Growing more nervous and agitated at the lack of response (Y/n) a close mentor-student type of bond between Sam and (Y/n). If you were to look closer it might be called a Father/child type of bond. Maybe even Found Family. Always ever since (Y/n) had been younger. (Y/n) had always looked up to him, always trying to be just like him. Horror was the least they felt when Ponk- stumbled into (Y/n’s) small cottage. His arm was bloody in his other arm. His mask torn in places, his hood pulled up pasted his face. To cover the deep cuts. Dropping the book they had been reading: The Book thief, on the couch they spring up and run toward Ponk one line still ringing in their head. “I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.” The meaning of those words smacks (Y/n) like a truck. Just like how Sam had destroyed (Y/n’s) view on the world, Ruining the one last thing that kept (Y/n’s) view of the parental figure like a parent. It didn't help that (Y/n) was the youngest in the vast land of DreamSmp. Being 12 when they lost their first life jumping in front of Technoblade's fireworks that Schlatt had ordered him to fire at Tubbo. And 13 when they had lost their second life to a forest fire that Niki had started. Niki had apologized of course, but techno. You know how he is. ---- It had been a few weeks after Ponk’s visit, and (Y/n) had been wandering around looking for Sam for some input. Eventually finding him they tap his shoulder and present the Wood and golden ornate hand they had been making during the past 2 weeks. “Sam! Look!” They state excitedly. As they hold out the arm. “That's nice (Y/n). But I'm busy. I need to help Tommy with his hotel.” Sam says as he shrugs (Y/n) off brushing past them. Nodding slowly (Y/n) stands on the prime path before turning and shoving the arm into their bag before walking down the prime path with no particular idea. “Oh- sorry I didn't see you there-” A tall man with bright observant jade green eyes and golden shining olive skin gazes down wearing Egyptian royalty wear with gold, and emerald stitching along the hems of the shendyt. Shifting down he smiles down at (Y/n) his gold ornately patterned Wesekh with lapis emerald and Netherite hangs off his chest while he grins happily. Sharp shark-like teeth gleaming. “(Y/n) right?” he asks as he offers out a huge hand. “Y-Yeah. You're Foolish right?” the man nods causing (Y/n) to breath in deeply the scent of pine filling their nose. (Y/n) gazes at the ground while Foolish asks “May I see the arm you tried showing Sam?” nervously (Y/n) obliges. As Foolish sits on the ground examining the minuscule arm (Y/n) grows agitated at the lack of negative response- well any response. “Sorry- I know. It's stupid and it won't work-” they mutter quietly. “No, no-no. that’s not it at all. Im amazed at the level of detail on the fingers and the knuckles (Y/n).” --------- “Tommy? I can give a note to Dream so you don't have to see him.” (Y/n) states with an undertone of wanting to prove themselves. “No- You're too young-” he begins. “No.” They interrupt loudly. Tommy raises an eyebrow. (Y/n) never really questioned anybody's judgment, they merely followed without question. “I- uh. I want to help. Please.” they continue their voice growing quieter as the sudden jolt of courage dissolves into fear of rejection. Tommy nods a small smile on his face. “Sure. Only if you pinky promise you’ll be safe okay?” ------ As they reach the prison, the anger they had repressed for months begins bubbling up. In addition to anxiety. (Y/n) hadn't really interacted with Dream much. Only briefly when he needed somewhere to hide. And foolishly (Y/n) had let him. As they reach the other end of the portal Sam doesn't look up from the desk he’s sitting at. “Tommy. Kid. I have something for you to sign.” he says tiredly. As he places a book in front of (Y/n). “Read that out loud.” (Y/n) feels a twinge of anger at the nickname Sam had given Tommy. Sam had never taken the time to do that for (Y/n). Taking a deep breath they begin. “Page 1 I HEREBY ASSUME ALL OF THE RISKS OF VISITING THE HOLDING CELL, including by way of example and not limitation, any risks that may arise from negligence or carelessness on the part of the Prison guards, prisoners misbehaving, from dangerous or defective equipment”  (Y/n) read haltingly and slowly sounding out negligence. Sam suddenly glances up and sighs “(Y/n) why are you here. Tommy said he’d be here.” ignoring what sam had asked they continue rambling

“Page 2 or property owned, maintained, or controlled by the Prison Guards. I certify that I waive, release, and discharge the Prison from any and all liability, including but not limited to, death, disability, personal injury, property damage,” they glare at Sam and murmur “you did that to ponk. You hurt him.” they take another breath before continuing:

Page 3 property theft, or actions of any kind which may hereafter occur to me, including my traveling to and from visiting the Prisoner. Written name, then sign: (Y/n)” They sign it and slide the book toward Sam. “(Y/n). Why are you here.” they scoff annoyed and reply “Why else? I'm visiting Dream. I'm telling him something Tommy wanted me to say.” ------------- As (Y/n) reaches the platform they turn toward Sam and state. “Sam. If I die. Then I’m totally haunting your ass.” Sam sighs and retorts “You're not going to die. And stop talking. Face forward.” Nodding (Y/n) turns forward tears forming in their eyes. Gazing up at the ceiling (Y/n) lifts a hand pressing it against their eyes while mentally shouting at themself to not cry. Being in prison wasn't as bad as they thought. Dream seemed nice enough, so he made conversation. “So (Y/n) have you made anything new? I’ve heard that you like making things.” Dream says as he leans against the wall his tone curious. (Y/n) jumps at the opportunity of having someone showing genuine interest in what they enjoy. “Well- I’ve started reading Norse Myths. Those are cool- I also really like- I like uh building things. Like a few weeks ago I made a fake arm for ponk cuz Sam ripped him off.” They state excitedly. Dream nods his mask contorting into a small smile. “Wait-” Dream pauses his mask’s eyebrows contorting into a frown “Did you say Sam ripped off Ponks arm?” (Y/n) freezes the hairs on the back of their neck suddenly standing on end. They laugh awkwardly, alarms blaring internally “What- nooo that's preposterous. Why would Sam do that? I mean Sam loves Ponk.” they blabber nervously as they fiddle with their hands nervously. Suddenly there’s an ear-splitting boom. Causing (Y/n) to freeze in place. ------ About a week has passed since (Y/n) got trapped in the prison. (Y/n) eventually grew more nervous and twitchy whenever Dream so much as looked at them. On the 4th day, they had gotten a cat. (Y/n) had named the calico “Fat Ass” as he was one of the Fattest cats (Y/n) had seen. On the 8th day or so (Y/n) had been trapped Fat Ass had seemed to have enough with everything and committed unalive by walking into the lava. (Y/n) would never forget his pitiful yowls as he burned alive. The ninth day (Y/n) began growing desperate Screaming at the lava for hours on end until their throat grew dry or Dream had yanked them up and tossed them across the small room. As he yelled “(Y/N) SAM DOESN'T CARE. HE’S GOING TO LEAVE YOU HERE TO FUCKING ROT. WHY WON'T THAT GET THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.” (Y/n) grew silent at that. Playing with the orangy drawstrings of their hoodie. “Okay.” (Y/n) whispers in defeat. “You win. Just stop yelling at me please.” Dream scoffs bending closer to (Y/n) grabbing the collar of their Hoodie. “(Y/n). You're pathetic. I could kill you right now and revive you because I'm bored. I could do that for hours and Sam wouldn't move a damned muscle.” (Y/n’s) (e/c) eyes widen in fear as they whisper “Your lying.” gulping they rasp “You wouldn't. You don't have it in you-” Dream grins. “(Y/n), I’m a GOD.” He Lifts a clenched fist before sending it into their gut. “I can do this as much as I want and you can't do anything about it.” He sends blow after blow. And as he bends closer to (Y/n). They take the chance and grip his ears tightly. Before screaming as loud as they could. “SAM-” As Dream sends another punch to their gut (Y/n) pulls down hard on the ear. Dream squeezes his hands around (Y/n’s) throat. “SAM PLEASE HELP. DAD-” they wail as they kick trying to escape Dream’s grasp as air begins to be a long-lost luxury. “Aw- Are you calling for daddy? He won't come (Y/n). He’s busy.” Those last words are the final words (Y/n) here before everything doubles and shifts into kaleidoscopic colors and shapes, and they take one last half-hearted breath.

(Y/n) wakes up in a calm place. Everything is so...peaceful...weirdly so. As they spin in a circle they see a playground. The cool midnight breeze ruffling (Y/n’s) hair as they skip toward the structure. Not thinking twice (Y/n) sits on one of the swings and begins to kick off. The rocking mixed with the cool breeze of the night and footsteps- wait why were their footsteps… Jumping from the swing at the top of its arch (Y/n) comes crashing down to earth. Wincing at the feeling of their body slamming against the ground. “Hello?” (Y/n) asks quietly. “Dear? Oh my- oh you were so young- Come here let’s have a little chat you and i.” a feminine voice says. (Y/n) tenses up and replies “Can- Could I stay here? On the swings I mean? I- I don't really know- I’m a little scared here- Where am-” the feminine figure comes into sight wearing a flattering simple black dress that throws her elegant features into greater depth. “Oh Honey, Do whatever makes you comfortable okay? You're in well that's hard to explain. But to put it simply, you're dead. I guess this Empty park is yours- what did My husband's son call it? Limbo? You're stuck here while we talk.” (Y/n) freezes tears forming as they sit in front of the woman. “No- I cant- Sam saved- I’m just- I'm dreaming right?” they whimper as they clutch the soft material of their sweatshirt. “Sam- He was- He saved me and I'm just having a nightmare.” (Y/n) whispers to themselves as they rock back and forth. “Here Honey let me help you. You have a bad cut and I don't want it to get infected.” (Y/n) nods slowly and as the gentle touch of the woman’s hand grazes their cheek (Y/n) jerks awake with a start. ------------------------- There had been an alarm. Luckily Sam had been in the prison at the time. As the automated voice says calmly “The Prisoner is displaying violent acts toward the visitor.” Sam’s blood runs cold. “(Y/n)” he gasps as he sprints through a special tunnel he had created in case of an event like this. As he waits for the lava to drain he regrets ignoring (Y/n). As the lava finally drains he can see Dream leaning against a wall, a hand covering his left ear as bloodstains it. While (Y/n) seems to be asleep at his feet. That doesn't help his fears. “Dream. What the hell did you do?” Sam asks quietly as he reaches the halfway point of his destination. Dream turns slowly before reaching down to (Y/n’s) head and turning it where it’s on full display for Sam to see. Bloody, and 2 giant purple hands print upon their throat. Sam Backs up disgust filling his brain. “They wouldn't stop yelling for you. I got annoyed.” dream states simply. Sam backs away in disgust as he crouches down and hoists (Y/n) up. “Sam- D’you know they kept begging for mercy. They shouted and I quote“Sam Please help. Dad” Dream’s tone is mocking as he stretches. “Obviously you failed them as a parent. When they first came in they were so eager to have someone listen to them for once instead of being bossed around.” Dream laughs. “They tried so hard to make you happy or to be proud of them. (Y/n) felt so neglected that they were genuinely excited when me- a prisoner showed interest. That says a lot about them doesn't it Sam.” Sam stares at the floor, his heart beating faster and faster. “Sam- I heard what they said to you before they came in here.” As Sam steps back onto the floating bridge he set’s (Y/n’s) body down and backs up his hands rubbing his face as the Lava begins to return to place. Sam leans on the wall a few feet from the lava covering the entrance of Dream’s holding cell. ----- Phantom(N/n). That's the only thing the ghost remembers. The only name apart from Awesamdude. Phantom(N/N) is pretty sure that Awesamdude isn't their name.  Standing in a small purplish room, where two unfamiliar men stand one cowering under another man with a scar running down his face making his eye white. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) backs up and crutches into a small ball trying to stay out of view. But they were spotted. The man with the scar crutches in front of Phantom(N/n) and smiles offering out a reddish hand. Phantom(N/n) gazes up at him before taking it nervously and avoiding the gaze of the man wearing green while Alive(Y/n)’s voice murmurs to stay away from Dream. The man with the scar has warm hands Phantom(N/n) notices. Glancing up Phantom(N/n) smiles up at the man, as he gently guides the two of them across the bridge. As they reach the other end Phantom(N/n) lets go of the man's hand, noticing then that he has Light brownish feathers coming from the side of his head along with wings coming from his back with dark shiny greens and other colors. “(Y/n)?” he asks as he places his hands on each side of their shoulders. Phantom(N/n) frowns before saying “Oh you're talking about Alive(Y/n), I’m Phantom(N/n)” they smile up at him taking in his injury. Gently raising their hand Phantom(N/n) places a finger on the man’s cheek while frowning. “Does it hurt?” Phantom(N/n) asks their head tilting in concern. Phantom(N/n) removes their hand from his slightly rough scar before turning when a set of footsteps grow louder. As they turn Phantom(N/n) fiddles with the orange drawstrings while they gaze at the shiny slightly refective Blackstone floor. Lowering themself Phantom(N/n) sits on the floor tracing the cool stone tile as the two people talk in hushed hurried tones. Before the man with duck-like feathers suddenly erupts “SAM- THIS IS A CHANCE FOR YOU TO TRY TO REPAIR YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH (Y/N).” The other man Sam retorts his voice shaking “Quackity. (Y/n’s) dea-” Phantom(N/n) looks up at those words. As their eyes meet Sam’s they flick their gaze back to the floor. “I’m not (Y/n). I’m Phantom(N/n).” Phantom(N/n) murmurs quietly while Quackity and Sam continue to argue. As their shouting becomes louder and louder Phantom(N/n) stands up and tries to find an exit. Finding a passageway probably for employees Phantom(N/n) walks through pressing a hand to the wall as they skip through the cold narrow halls. The cool rush of air a pleasant change in contrast to the hot sticky-stale air of the prison cell. The yelling growing fainter Phantom(N/n) feels a breath of air go. On they didn't realize they were holding in. Reaching into their pocket Phantom(N/n) pulls out a soft Bunny. One with orange wool, and a small carrot attached with a thin string. Holding it in their hands Phantom(N/n) stares at it a small smile spreading on their face. An expression of confusion replaces the small smile before the grin returns.“ You’ll be...uh...Your...Pluto. Yeah, you’ll be Pluto.” One of pluto’s shiny black eyes catches the light of something and Phantom(N/n) stiffens as they gaze forward. Slowly turning around Sam stands their Axe in hand. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) says with a huff.“That’s not nice. You shouldn’t point pointy sharp things at people. Someone could get hurt.” Sam frowns before crouching infront of Phantom(N/n) and placing the axe somewhere in his inventory. Smiling in approval Phantom(N/n) shrugs their jacket higher on their shoulder before jumping toward Sam. “Who are the rings for? You and Mr.Quackity both had 2 each. Are you married to two people? Do I get 2 more dads?” The questions roll of Phantom(N/n’s) tongue fast. Sam stands up resting Phantom(N/n) on his hip his left arm securing them to his body. Sam hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.- yeah you do. Do you want to meet them?” the two people walk through the same hall that Phantom(N/n) had walked through. “Mr.Quackity? Who are you married to? Isn’t it the man with the swirly pattern and the other man with the headband?” Quackity nods slowly before muttering. “Something like that. They forgot about me.” Phantom(N/n) doesn't seem to like this information. Squirming in Sam’s grasp Sam gently places them down before they grab Quackity’s hand and smiling up at him “Well We’ll go make them unforget! Come one!” They state firmly as if there were no room for criticism.

[floral-and-fine]

When Light Enters the Wound part 1

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Title inspired by this quote: "The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”- Rumi

Summary: When The Hound is saved by brother Ray, he meets the woman who brought him back from the brink of death.

A/n: So I suddenly had the urge to write my first GOT fic, mostly because I'm thirsty for Sandor. Thank you @ewokiee​ and @liamakorn​ for all the help!

*not my gif

Cracking an eye open, Sandor was greeted by a heavenly sight, a lovely woman leaning over him as the sunlight shone upon her, resembling a divine glow. The sky above her was a brilliant blue and there was a gentle breeze that tickled his face.

Sandor felt fingertips delicately skim across his cheek and neck, her touch was so light and feathery that it caused goosebumps to appear in its wake.

Surely, he was hallucinating, his mind playing tricks on him as his body bled out, or perhaps it was a fever dream caused by infection. Either way, there was no way in hell any of this was real.

Not able to keep his eyes open any longer, he allowed sleep to take him. Sandor would consider himself a lucky man if he died in his sleep dreaming about a beautiful woman he’s never met, it was far better than the alternative, to continue rotting slowly on this godforsaken hill.

But when had he ever been lucky?

…

Sandor furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes, he had expected to either be dead or still outside waiting for a wild animal to finish him off, not in some tent.

Sitting up, he was shocked to find how good he felt, his body was well-rested, free of any aches and sores. Rolling his shoulders he noted that the gash that had been giving him such grief was gone and his leg had healed.

Immediately, he started patting the rest of himself down, lifting up his tunic, searching for any bruises or cuts, but there wasn’t a single scratch on him.

“What in the seven hells?” He muttered lowly. No healer in Westeros was this good or thorough, he should be dead…

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts, as the flap of the tent was drawn back and an older man with dark gray curls and sympathetic blue eyes stepped in.

The stranger chuckled to himself. “It��s nice to see you awake,” he commented, with a smile. “Honestly, I can’t believe you survived.”

Sandor grunted in response, “you and me both.”

The man sighed, crouching down. “I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he explained, with a shrug. “But you were so close to death, that even I doubted she could save you.”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed. “She who? Was this the work of some fucking witch?” He spat.

The man didn’t seem phased by Sandor’s aggression or accusation, actually having found it more entertaining than anything else.

“I don’t think she’s a witch,” he answered truthfully. “But I’m no expert on the matter.”

“So if you’re not the one who healed me, then who are you?” Sandor interrogated.

“Name’s Ray,” the man introduced himself. “I’m the Septon here.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, “course you are.”

“My flock and I have decided to settle down here in these parts.”

“Where’s here?”

The Septon smiled and gestured to the exit.

Sandor cautiously got to his feet, standing upright without any pain. How the hell had he been fortunate enough for some magical healer to find and save him?

He grimaced at the thought, he wasn’t sure what to think of it, seemed too good to be true, so there had to be a catch, some bullshit about the Lord of Light or The Seven.

Ray took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air as he took in the sight. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sandor hummed half-heartedly, it was nothing special just hills, trees, same old shit he’s seen for months now since leaving King’s Landing.

As they walked, Sandor noticed everyone hard at work, women cooking, men building, children running and playing.

These people were the decent and simple sort, not the kind of people Sandor was accustomed to. People in the city were always looking for a way to screw each other over as a way to gain more power or gold. He had grown accustomed to being wary of strangers, never letting his guard down in King's Landing or while he's been on his own, it was all part of surviving in this world.

As the flock noticed him approaching, they kept their distance but were polite enough.

“They’ll warm up to you if you give ‘em a chance,” Ray reassured. “Doubt they’ve ever seen anyone quite as intimidating as you.”

Sandor didn’t give two fucks, either way, they already treated him better than most people he’s encountered over his life.

Suddenly, Sandor stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a familiar face, he couldn’t believe she was real.

The woman from his hallucinations was sitting alone, washing clothing in a small stream. Her face scrunched in concentration as she scrubbed the linen against the washboard.

The Septon followed Sandor’s gaze and smiled, “that’s her, the one who healed you.”

Sandor nodded, swallowing thickly, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her.

“She’s a good woman, remarkably kind... and forgiving,” something about the Septon’s expression indicated that he knew rather well just how forgiving she was.

“When we found you, I thought you were already dead and was ready to put you in the ground,” Ray recounted. “But she got down on her knees, and pressed her ear to your chest, and was able to hear the faint beating of your heart...insisted that we take you in.”

Almost as if she could sense the Septon speaking of her, her head turned in their direction. Her eyes lit up as she recognized her patient up and about.

Forgetting about the laundry, she stood up and made her way towards them, stopping just a few feet from Sandor.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice soft and warm, a tone unfamiliar to Sandor as people rarely spoke to him before in such a manner.

“Fine,” Sandor grunted, looking away.

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “Never seen anyone in such bad shape before.”

“What can I say, I’m a big man and tough to kill.”

She laughed lightly, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. “Do you have a name stranger?”

Sandor looked down, worried to reveal his identity, his reputation as The Hound preceded him. These were decent people who took him in, and they may not be too fond of having a murderer amongst them.

“Sandor Clegane,” he finally answered.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she tilted her head. “I’m y/n l/n.”

Y/n, the name suited her, or at least Sandor thought so.

“Well, I better finish the wash,” she muttered, looking back at the basket and clothes. She waved goodbye, her eyes meeting Sandor’s before she sauntered away.

“Still think she’s a witch?” Ray teased.

It was odd to Sandor, neither y/n nor Ray behaved like the religious sort he had encountered in King’s Landing or anywhere else for that matter. Most of the ones he met acted like they were holier than the gods themselves, looking down at the common folk for living their lives, for just existing.

The Hound quickly found his place amongst the community, Although he kept to himself, he worked harder than any other man and did whatever work was needed.

He was breathing heavily, swinging the ax over and over again. The dull thwack of the ax splitting the wood was all he could hear.

These hills were quiet and peaceful, perhaps Ray was right and there was something beautiful about this place. Sandor hadn’t given it much thought, but it seemed that in comparison the city was cruel and chaotic and smelled like piss.

Since sunrise, Sandor had been working without pause, not even stopping for lunch. Even while working he seemed to keep his distance from the others, and the only people who ever came around him were Ray and y/n.

Hearing a twig snap behind him, Sandor, out of habit, swung around with the ax in hand, prepared to attack but immediately lowered it when he saw that it was y/n standing there.

“For god sake woman, don’t you know better than to come sneaking up behind somebody?” He complained, gritting his teeth. “It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Most people would shrink away from Sandor, especially after such an outburst, but y/n didn’t even flinch, and he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop coming around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she laughed.

Sandor scowled, “you didn’t scare me, but we might need to get you a bell or something, so I don’t kill you by accident.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I brought you some supper.”  She held out the plate towards him. “Figured you were due for a break.”

He nodded, setting the ax down before taking a seat on a nearby log. Y/n joined him, sitting by his side just a few inches of space between them.

Typically, Sandor wasn’t one for company, but he made an exception for her. She was different, didn’t avoid him, and always looked him in the eye, never shying away. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, especially not from a woman.

Sandor had yet to figure out why y/n even bothered with him at all, why she brought him his meals and kept him company in the evenings, or why she even bothered to save his life.

“It’s a nice day,” she wondered out loud, admiring the sky.

Sandor shrugged, focused more on his filling his belly than the weather.

“Suppose we better enjoy while we can,” she noted, soon everything would be covered in a blanket of snow, that would last for years.

She bit her lip, thinking about how she wouldn’t mind spending a long winter with Sandor, surely he’d be able to keep her warm during the long nights.

A couple of men came rushing towards y/n and Sandor. “Lady y/n come quick,” one of them started. “Efran fell while working on top of the sept.”

“It looks real bad,” the other added.

She immediately got to her feet, lifting her skirts to keep up as Sandor followed.

When they arrived, the group of people surrounding Efran parted allowing y/n through.

The poor man was lying on the ground groaning, his leg was twisted and bone poking through. She crouched down beside him, then looked up. “We’re going to need to set the leg first. Someone hold him still please.”

Sandor stood behind the group, peering over their heads, he was curious to see just what y/n was capable of.

The man howled in agony as they held him down and y/n straightened out his leg, popping the bone back into place. “That’s the worst of it,” she said, trying to comfort Efran.

Laying her hand upon his leg, y/n closed her eyes, Sandor could’ve sworn that she was glowing, a gentle light emanating from her body. Several moments passed, all eyes were on her and everything was silent.

As she opened her eyes and lifted her hand, the gash and bone had healed, looked as good as new.

“Take him to his tent so he can rest,” y/n instructed, dusting off her skirts as she got off the ground.

“So how are you able to… heal others?” Sandor asked bluntly, now that they were alone again.

“Not sure,” she said, folding her arms. “I’ve never really been the religious type, I don’t pray or even know who or what to worship for that matter… Ray says it’s proof that there’s something, but I don’t have any answers.”

Y/n noticed the rough conditions of his hands, they were rugged and calloused from before, but she could see new blisters forming and small cuts all over his knuckles, most likely the result of all his hard work.

Reaching out she took his hands in hers. Her thumbs gently caressing over his skin. A warmth began to spread from her touch to his skin.

“Good night, Sandor,” she murmured, before letting loose of his healed hands.

…

The morning was still young when the flock had gathered to listen to the Septon's sermon.

When Ray started to speak, it wasn’t what Sandor expected. It wasn’t a lecture on sin or how the gods were judging them.

The Septon’s story hit a little too close to home for Sandor. He had always believed that the only thing he was good for was killing. For the king and for that shit Joffrey, he had committed horrible atrocities, he murdered an innocent child for gods' sakes.

Sandor’s eyes flickered down to y/n who was sitting in front of him as he stood behind her. He wondered how much she knew about his past. Would she still be just as sweet and kind to him if she ever saw what he was capable of?

Ray’s attention turned to y/n then Sandor, the older man couldn’t help but notice how Sandor looked at the healer of his flock. He recognized almost immediately how much he and the Hound had in common, and knew well what inner turmoils the man was struggling with.

“I was hired as a sword for a pretty damn easy job,” he sighed continuing his story. “Just had to kill a woman. I didn’t care why didn’t even question it, Figured it was as good as done.”

Ray ran a hand through his hair. “On my travels to the small village she resided in, I was ambushed by some bandits, they robbed me blind and left me for dead out on that road. I thought this had to be it, they took my money, my horse, cut me open… and then things went dark until I woke up in a small hut.”

“The villagers had brought me to their healer, a young orphaned girl... when she introduced herself that’s when I realized that this girl was the one I was sent to kill.”

“You’d think I would’ve changed my mind right then, and leave her be,” the Septon shook his head a distant look in his eye. “But I had just lost everything, I needed that gold, or at least that’s the excuse I made.”

“I bided my time, gained the trust of the village before deciding to act,” Ray looked down at his clasped hands. “On that fateful night, I took a knife from the kitchen, and was fully prepared to slit her throat as she slept… but as I held it, pressing the sharp edge against her skin, it hit me about how I was taking something good from the world, and how goodness was so rare to find. Who knows how much goodness I had already taken from the world, what right did I have to take more?”

Y/n smiled at the Septon, encouraging him to finish their story.

“For the first time in my life, I wanted to do the same to bring some goodness into the world, no more death, no more senseless violence… that wasn’t going to be my life anymore,” Ray wandered over to y/n, patting her shoulder. “Since then, I’ve changed my ways, and with the time I’ve got left, I plan to use it for good.”

Just as the Septon's lesson started to sink in for Sandor, three men on horses approached.

Ray tried to appease them, but still, their presence made Sandor feel uneasy.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these men were up to no good. Stumbling upon this community was like finding an unguarded vault, supplies, food, women, all for the taking.

Y/n joined Ray, a kind smile on her face as she tried to reason with them as well.

It didn’t escape Sandor’s attention how the man in the yellow coat was eyeing y/n, the stranger's intentions were anything but good.

Sandor’s fists clenched as they made eye contact, he should grab an ax or something and take care of them now.

But Ray seemed to urge against it.

“Do you really think they’ll come back?” Y/n asked once the three strangers had left.

Sandor’s shoulders slumped, “Aye, to them this is easy pickings… unarmed common folk with plenty of supplies and food.”

Y/n wrung her hands nervously. “I see,” she mumbled, looking back at the tents, these were her friends, her family, this was meant to be a safe haven. For the last decade or so, she and Ray had worked hard towards their goal, they were so close to it now.

Sighing, Sandor laid a hand over both of hers, “I’ll do what I can… just stay with me.”

She nodded, taking in a deep breath, “you’re a good man, Sandor.”

He shook his head, “I’m no such thing.”

“It’s a shame you don’t see it,” she said softly, now cradling his large hand in both of hers. “When I spotted you on that hill I saw so much potential, even covered in all that blood and dirt… the world needs you Sandor Clegane.”

For the rest of the day, y/n stayed by Sandor’s side, watching him work and helping when she could.

Deep down Sandor hoped his instincts were wrong, that those men would simply move on but when a shrill scream shattered the peaceful silence, he already knew it was too late.

Rage, as Sandor passed body after body, all he felt was rage. This community hadn’t done anything to deserve being slaughtered like this. They were innocent people, just trying to live their lives and do some good for the world. The monsters hadn’t spared anyone, not even the children.

This once-peaceful place, the place he was considering to call home, had now been desecrated by a massacre, completely destroyed.

‘Nowhere is safe.’ This tragedy solidified these words in his heart.

Sandor came to halt when the Septon came into view, feet dangling in the air as his body swung from the skeleton of the unfinished sept.

Y/n stumbled beside him, her sight blurred by tears, but it was her heart-wrenching cry when she saw the Septon that pulled Sandor from his stupor.

She fell to her knees, face twisted in anguish as she wailed, she had never seen such horrors in her life.

Grabbing her by the arm, Sandor yanked her to him, blocking her view of all the horrors that surrounded them, and wrapped his arms securely around her.

She buried her face against his chest as he held her close. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she clutched him as tightly, all the strength in her legs had given out.

As he comforted her, her pain only fueled his anger further, Sandor spotted an ax nearby, those fuckers were going to pay. He was going to hack them all to pieces.

He pulled away from her, his hands cupping her face, “we’re going after them, all of them.”

Stray tears fell from Y/n’s eyes and slid over Sandor’s hands. “Promise?” She whispered.

...