#there are others too. but lake is the most raw.

[glados-kisser]

I miss my friends who aren't anymore. People who I connected with so briefly and strongly.

[guiltyidealist]

> 👁👄👁

> fucked up (but pretty goddamn)

> the ̵m̷ę̶å̸t̷ ̵p̵į̷ł̶ë̶ ̸-- raw in the back (lmao), cooked at the front door

> my pet bnuuy (: oh bnuuy we're really in it now..

sad to report he despawned when I left the region ):

> interior design (pictured: "I CAN Do This" Corridor, fire supplies, desk and storage space, çåttâïl čhāįr)

> rate my setup 😎💅

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[seungiesz]

remembering your first date

bang chan x afab!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 724

You and Chan were sitting in your favorite café, sipping coffee as the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the window.

The conversation had long since drifted from the long workweek, you two were catching a break from, to the topic of your upcoming anniversary.

"I still can't believe it's been three years," You said, leaning back in your chair and smiling. "It feels like yesterday we were at that little Italian place."

Chan raised an eyebrow. "Italian? We didn't go to an Italian place."

You paused, confused. "Yes, we did. You know, that cozy spot down the block from Minho and Jisung. I wore that red dress—"

Chan shook his head. "No way. We went to that sushi place by the park. You had that adorable little blue skirt on, remember?"

You frowned. "Sushi? That doesn’t sound right. I’m almost positive we went for Italian. There was a candle on the table, and the waiter kept calling me ‘ma’am.’ You even made fun of him for it."

Chan laughed. "That’s definitely not how it happened. I remember because I couldn’t stop laughing when the waiter said I looked like I belonged in a mafia movie. I was wearing that gray blazer I love, remember?"

"Babe, you're getting it all wrong. The gray blazer was on our second date!" You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief. "We definitely went to that Italian place."

Chan’s eyes narrowed, thinking hard. "Okay, okay, let’s break this down," he said, leaning forward. "You remember the part where I told you I hadn’t had sushi in years since my business trip in Japan?"

Your expression softened. "Oh, that was your big ‘I’m cultured and worldly’ moment, wasn’t it? And I told you I didn’t like sushi, but I’d be brave and try it. And you got all smug when I ate that piece and pretended to like it."

Chan chuckled. "Exactly! You didn’t even like sushi, and you ate it anyway just to impress me. I still can’t believe you didn’t just admit you didn’t like it. It would have been adorable if you’d just said, ‘I’m not really into raw fish,’ but no, you had to put on a show.”

You squinted at him, lips pursed. "I didn’t put on a show. I was trying to be polite. It wasn’t that bad, you know? I mean, the rice was good…"

Chan laughed again. "Yeah, sure, the rice was good." He paused, thinking. "And what about when we went for a walk afterward? You were all into the idea of watching the sunset over the lake, right?"

Your face lit up. "Yes! That’s exactly what happened! We were walking by the lake, and you kept trying to make me skip rocks, but I was terrible at it."

Chan shook his head. "You’re mixing it up again. We never went near the lake. We went to the little park near your apartment. You tripped over a tree root and I caught you, and you gave me that ‘oh my god, I’m so embarrassed’ look. I thought you were going to die of shame."

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process. "No, Chan. I know I tripped on the sidewalk, but it was by the lake. I remember it so clearly."

You both fell silent, exchanging glances as if waiting for the other to crack.

"So," Chan said after a moment, "What do we agree on? Can we at least agree on the part where I paid for dinner?"

You grinned. "I remember that part perfectly. You offered to split it, but I insisted on paying for my own meal. You said I was ‘too independent’ and that you liked it. That was… kind of cute."

Chan smirked. "I still don’t get why you wouldn’t let me pay. I thought that was part of the deal!"

You laughed. "It was a test. I wanted to see if you’d insist anyway."

You both chuckled, and the disagreement hung in the air, but for the first time tonight, neither of you minded. Because even if the memory was a little fuzzy—or completely off—you both knew the most important part of that night was clear: the two of you were still here, three years later, still arguing about it.

And maybe, just maybe, that was perfect enough for you two.

[inkinflux]

Lakefront Liaison

Jayce Talis x gn!Reader (& kinda Steb x Reader if you choose to interpret it that way I guess?) | 2.6K | SFW (tw: half-hearted suicide attempt) You must learn how to move on after Jayce's death. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

The lake was pink as it reflected the hues of the clouds above. Small flames danced on the surface, doubled by the water’s mirror. Lily pads bumped against your calves at each subtle movement, the smell of water lilies mingling with the scent of melting candle wax.

Across the way, a drooping willow’s arms skimmed the water, dancing in the calm breeze. Your mind filled in the gaps of the shadows, inventing a familiar form standing under the canopy, his face turned away.

You squeezed your eyes shut, heart tugged by a heavy weight. Underneath your eyelids the familiar sting welled, the pain around your raw eyes getting too much a bear.

A grounding hand came to rest upon your shoulder, giving a light squeeze. You turned, wiping your face, earning a saddened look from Caitlyn.

The stiff fabric of her eye patch crinkled as her brow furrowed, and you could tell her seeing you like this made it very difficult not to join in your crying.

“We’re going to grab a drink, since the service is over,” she told you gently. “Come with us.”

You shook your head, turning back to the water filled with floating candles, wanting to join them in their suspended peace.

“(Y/n),” Caitlyn stepped down next to you. Instinctively, you reached out to hold her forearms, steadying her to prevent her from slipping against the mossy stone underfoot. Doing so unfortunately brought you face to face once more, nowhere to run. “I know the easiest thing right now is to shut out the world. Trust me, being alone is the worst thing you can do to yourself.”

You averted your gaze, catching Vi lingering at the top of the stairs, the flames on the water reflected in her glassy eyes.

“I don’t want to have to talk about how I’m feeling,” you said. “I can’t describe it, and it would be painful to try.”

“No talking. Understood.” Cait began up the stairs, tugging you along. “Keeping in the company of those who care about you is enough.”

Vi wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you passed. The two had somewhat adopted you in the wake of all the chaos, keeping you company despite every refusal, waking you up at the appropriate time to drag you out to breakfast and bringing you dinner when you inevitably forgot to eat again.

They both wore their scars on their sleeve as they sat in the booth across from you. Spilling thoughts and feelings over quickly emptying drinks, talking through the difficult things in soft, solemn voices, holding hands all the while. You were glad you had them, and you were glad they had each other, but their support wouldn’t fill the empty seat beside you.

The way Cait traced the white lines on Vi’s face, the way Vi placed tender kisses to Cait’s knuckles, it all reminded you of what you had lost. What you would never hope to find again.

Anger had already passed, that stage of grief marked by broken furniture and slashed canvases that had littered your apartment, the only evidence remaining being a few dents in the walls and floors. You were nowhere near acceptance yet, and you doubted you’d ever get there, standing stagnant at the station of despair.

Everything felt heavy, even more so once you’d knocked back a couple drinks.

“You know, whenever he went away on his travels, he’d always bring back trinkets,” Caitlyn reminisced, leaning against Vi’s side. “I thought it was the most exciting thing. A carved stone from a village in the Shurima deserts. Dried plants from some deep forest in Valoran.” Cait smiled to herself. “I used to think he was the coolest person in all of Runeterra.”

Your soul sunk just a little further. You’d been so selfish in your mourning, barely able to rally the energy to check in on everyone else who had loved him. Ximena had wept enough to fill the lake for a second time over, and all you’d managed to offer was a shoulder to cry on. No comforting words, no soothing reassurances.

To think, if life had gone a different way, you might have become her daughter-in-law.

You dropped your face into your hands, shoulders shaking as the guilt overwhelmed you. Caitlyn and Vi grew quiet, unsure if their shared stories were helping or hurting.

“(Y/n),” Vi cautiously came over and slid next to you, warm arms holding you tightly. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Cait gave her a sharp look across the table and she grimaced, giving a shrug in response. They’d tried so hard to accommodate you, giving you space to grieve but not letting you drift so far out to sea that you risked losing yourself. It was a delicate balance, especially at a time when they were mourning themselves. But they had each other for support, and without Jayce, you had no one.

Not only did you have to carry the pain of a missing heart, but at each turn you found hatred and anger lobbed against your parted friend. The blame had been laid squarely at Viktor’s grave, for which there was no physical embodiment. No monuments carved in stone, his name stricken from every Piltover Academy record, as if he had never existed at all.

To know he was being regaled as a hero only as a direct opposition to his partner would have killed Jayce. No matter how much you fought the narrative, it had already been woven in the tapestry of history, the loose threads burned and sealed.

And that cruel, twisted history had happened all without you.

“Thanks for inviting me out,” you announced, “but I think I’ll go home now.”

Vi and Cait hadn’t fought you on it. They’d offered to walk you home, but you’d declined, claiming the quiet would be good for you.

The cobblestone path swirled beneath you in your tipsy state, the night crisp and hinting at an incoming autumn. You hadn’t consciously thought about where you were going, but your feet led you back to the lakeshore.

A majority of the candles had been snuffed out, the candles burned to their ends. You wobbled as you descended the stairs into the dark water, its refreshing cold welcoming you into its hold.

Lily pads darted away from the movement, water lilies bending against the small waves. The slick rocks on the lake’s bottom kept making you slip, water splashing into your face as you surged forward, deeper.

Your clothes dragged you down, heavy and weightless at the same time. Soon, you could no longer reach the bottom with your toes, and you began to wade with outstretched arms and kicking legs. You swam with effort to the center of the black lake, amongst the few candles that continued to flicker against the encroaching night.

It was there that you decided to turn onto your back, floating and gazing up at the clear, starry night sky. No matter how you tried to burn it from your memory, it would always serve to remind you of that day when the sky turned into roiling waves of agony. Before it was all blown away in an instant, with a finality you had known was the last moment of Jayce’s life.

The pain tore at you like clawing hands reaching from the bottom of the lake. You cried, tears slipping down the sides of your face, into the calling void below.

You closed your eyes, replaying warm memories as you stopped treading the water, allowing the weight of everything that had transpired to tug you down as low as you felt.

When you opened them again, you could see the distorted stars above, and the black circles of the floating candles, some surrounded by a small sliver of dancing light.

You sunk further and further, until your back hit the stones, and the surface was a slash of barely visible sky. The black silhouettes of small fishes travelled across your vision, darting around the spots of colour that started to sway in their own current, replacing the oxygen that was leaving your body.

With your body cradled by the soft aquatic plants, you thought you could fall peacefully asleep. You drifted subtly, until you were beneath the weeping willow. It gazed down at you with disappointment, its limps tracing the surface, beckoning you to return.

Your lungs burned, your pulse becoming a thundering drum in your ears as you gritted your teeth against the urges of self preservation.

Your limbs started to feel prickly, the tips of your fingers twitching up, wanting to be taken in the willow's arms.

A shadow peered over the edge, watching you now. You blinked up at it, willing the phantom away, to leave you alone in your water-logged grief. But no matter how you tried, your chest kept floating up, your heart less of the heavy stone than you thought it was.

When you burst against the surface tension of the water, the first breath felt like a knife against your throat. You coughed, sputtered, splashing the pond scum away.

“It’s late for a swim.”

You glared up at the uninvited guest. His cheeks flared as he looked down upon you, his enforcer beret slightly askew.

“I could have you arrested for that.”

You balked. “For utilizing a public space?”

The enforcer gave you an incredulous look. “For public indecency in the form of a dead body.”

He extended a hand. You frowned at it.

“Come, now,” his voice was so quiet, like he wasn’t accustomed to using it. “My shift ended ten minutes ago, and I’m in no mood to get in there to heave you out.”

“If your shift’s already ended, why don’t you leave me be?”

He huffed a sigh, rescinding his extended arm. “You’re right. There’s no use fighting.”

First, he rid his beret. Then, he unbuttoned his coat, shirking it off onto the grass. His shoes were the last thing he took off before he slid into the water beside you, still in his trousers and undershirt, re-emerging to shake the water from his face.

You starred daggers at him. “Well now I don’t want to stay. I can’t brood with you here.”

The enforcer smirked, startling you with a splash of water in the face.

“Hey!”

“You weren’t afraid of letting the innocent civilians of Piltover wake up to see your bloated corpse. Why does it matter if I’m here now?”

You rolled your eyes, drifting to the lip of the pavement, hauling yourself with your heavy clothes up and onto the edge.

The enforcer followed, sitting with a wet thwap beside you, dripping lake water in a steady beat that broke up the silence now between you.

It was a while before he said, “You’re Kiramman’s friend. I’ve seen you around.”

You nodded, refusing to meet his eye as you stared down, kicking your feet against the water, back and forth in a soothing repetition.

“You were in a relationship with Councilor Talis.”

Your movements stilled.

“Yeah.”

The enforcer pushed a webbed hand into your vision. You glanced up at him, his pale eyes glowing in the moonlight. “I’m Steb.”

You took his wet hand, shaking. “(Y/n).”

He gave you a gentle smile, then leaned back on his hands, peering up at the sky.

“It’s strange. For all the friends I lost that day, I’ve made many more as a consequence.”

A dragonfly landed on your knee, and he stared at it, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Were you there?” You asked, watching the dragonfly’s wings still as it rested on you.

“Yes,” he said, picking up his beret and beginning to circle the crest with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, for all he had been through, and for needing to deal with you. Once again, guilt nipped at your heels. “I just… don’t know how to be. It feels like the world keeps spinning, and people are starting to get on with their lives again, but I can’t.”

“I understand,” he told you, watching as the dragonfly took off, hovering close to your face without you noticing before it took off again.

The damp clothing pressed close to your skin was starting to bring the cold with it, and the sunken smell of lake water was becoming less pleasant with each passing second.

Steb moved to get to his feet, but your incoming words stilled him.

“He was reckless.”

You tugged at the grass beside you, tearing the blades of chlorophyll methodically.

“He never cared whenever he got hurt. Always racing off to protect everyone else. Even when it put him at risk, he’d do what he knew was right, no matter the cost.”

Steb settled in beside you, mirroring you grass-picking, though his movements were a lot slower and more relaxed than your anxious ripping.

“I wish he was here so I could scream at him for being so stupid. I wish I-” you choked up, your vision blurred with tears, “I wish he could be here to take responsibility for the pain he’s causing me.”

Words that had felt set in amber in the presence of your friends melted onto your tongue in the company of a kind stranger. It felt so liberating to unbury them from your chest.

“To die is the greatest betrayal of all,” Steb said, pointedly.

You rubbed your face, sniffling. “I get it. I was being selfish.”

“Yes,” he replied, getting to his feet. “Don’t feel bad about it. Dying is easy. That’s why it’s so often done.”

You accepted his arm this time, pulling you up out of your sorrow. Steb was more solid than his slender figure implied. Short fins ran down his arms, twitching as the cool breeze blew against his wet skin.

“Go home. You stink.”

“So do you,” you countered.

Steb raised a brow. “Now, who’s fault is that? I did just have my uniform starched, you know.”

Your lips quirked upwards. It felt like turning your back on a long, empty corridor towards a light.

“There’s a dry cleaner slash café on my street.” You hadn’t even thought about what that sentence implied before it left your mouth.

Steb tilted his head, reading the internal war plain on your face.

“You’ll pay?” Was all he asked.

You nodded, shoving away the guilt that threatened to bubble back up to the surface. “Sure.”

Steb picked up his relatively dry jacket and beret, tying the laces of his shoes together and throwing them over his shoulder.

“It’s not a date,” you clarified awkwardly.

Steb shrugged. “I didn’t interpret it as such.”

“Cool.”

You lingered there, hands holding your elbows, unsure what to say next.

“It was nice to meet,” Steb spoke into the awkward tension, seemingly immune to it in his stoicism, “despite the circumstances.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else could be said.

“Tomorrow?” Steb checked.

“Yes.”

“8am works for me.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Steb gave a concise nod, then turned on his heel and left.

You blew out a breath, wide-eyed in your realization that this is what living on without Jayce meant. It meant making plans to meet with strangers and build new friendships. It meant finding ways to fill the days with activities. It was what Cait and Vi had been trying so desperately to encourage you to do.

The grief still sat patiently at the bottom of your stomach, but as least you knew you weren’t tied to it. Even if it was tiring to continue treading water, there was someone at the surface to keep you company as you did.

And he was very happy indeed to have his uniform in perfect order the following day, his cheeks ruffling in delight as he sipped his coffee and read the morning paper by your side.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141! As classic highschool jock tropes

(Im brainrotting agane so lets get this outta the way)

Tw: nsfw themes/ implications 18+ !!

So the 4 are the popular kids for sure

However wacky they may be, or how god awful their reputation is— the people love em, and are very VERY downbad for ‘em

Price, as the captain of the rugby team, is the cocky type

Overconfident, knows how to sell himself, the typical rich kid that would hold parties after every game win

And they always win

Price is the Troy Bolton equivalent, with all the talents but none of the motivation to use ‘em or explore the arts

He is committed to the game, and the only time where you can find him dead serious and hyper focused

Though in relationships? He’s far from that

Body count? Don’t even try and think about it, its not like he keeps score either

But he does score them based on how good they are (he is BI and will fuck anyone)

The fact that he hasn’t fucked you would be quite rare

Protection king actually, because he will NOT take responsibility for what happens after the deed

But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t raw dog you if you wanted to :)

Ghost, is still as enigmatic as ever and the most brooding out of the four

But that doesn’t mean he won’t kick your ass

To be honest, he wouldn’t hold back at ALL (especially if you insulted his rock music or his fashion sense)

He does play in the same team as Price, and is actually his second in command

He’s super quick on his feet because he does boxing at the side

(How else would he expel all of his angsty teenage energy?)

That’s why he’s always sluggish and the type to sleep in class (but still get straight As ‘cause he’s just a natural smart ass like that)

Teachers are afraid of this man and is also scared of the backing that he has because of his parents and his association with Price and his own parents too (they fund the school board)

In terms of hooking up other people…

He doesn’t do it often but when he does-

Well, let’s just say that people go to him if they feel a little…experimental

Aftercare? The bare minimum ‘cause he knows its intense

Will he do it often and go out of his way to do it? No (but maybe he would for you)

Gaz, is the the “nice” guy out of the four

He’s the type to always get straight As, participate in all the projects, join community projects, be student council president—

Yes, he wants absolute control under his finger tips

People really don’t know if they’re being tugged on strings with him at the helm, doing every bit of his bidding without even him lifting a single finger

While he sits there, looking all pretty

He does play sports but is quite average

But you already know that he’s the one lifting his shirt for the nice lowkey, candid abs pic

Always a performer in the field, which sometimes pisses off Price and Ghost (they’re very competitive when they get into the zone) but really does decently enough that he gets scouted too

Although, he prefers that he handles more of the internal working of school

Slowly ensuring that the four of them have absolute control of the school— all for their amusement of course

His hook-up culture is a bit…skewed

A sadist in the sheets and a masochist in the closet

An absolute wild animal if you managed to hook up with him

But if he hooks up with any of the three other guys?

Well, let’s (also) just say that Ghost has to get his practice in somehow, right? Or when he’s frustrated and need to take it out in a…more sensual way

He is as willing as the day he joined them

Soap, is the wildest party animal out of the four

And because of that, he’s the go-to guy for supplies in alcohol and drugs

Even has connections in getting places for parties (like abandoned parks, houses, a lake side getaway- whatever you wanted he’ll get it)

But for a pretty penny, of course

He is the stash keeper in terms of money and all of the above

He’s also the hustler, working hand-in-hand with Ghost whenever they need to deal with someone

Unruly doesn’t quite match the energy he gives off everyday

Messing and pranking with the teachers aren’t even enough for him

Vandalizing is too common and just wreaking havoc is the name of his game

He does play on the team with the rest but often gets fouls or does foul play that he gets red carded out immediately anyways

Does he care for any type of attraction with hook-ups? Nope

He just fucks ‘em and leaves, responsibilities be damned

You chose to be with him anyways, right? Its not like forced you to the lone room upstairs or anything

Its not him who removed his clothes in front him— it was all your own will and he simply just jumped at the opportunity and your wide open arms

You, on the other hand, just transferred to this school

Unknowing of its inner workings

You find yourself at this school because of a troubled family life

With such a failure in their lives, they decide to dump you here by your lonesome

And now you have to figure out how to live in and outside of this school

Lemme know if you want more crumbs of this hehe <3

[bluebellhairpin]

Sandor Clegane X Fem!Reader

Summary: A Mouse and a Hound, sounds like the start of a bad joke. It only gets worse when one's been scarred by ice, the other by fire. Who would've guessed they'd help each other face their fears before one chooses to face death. (word count; 8.7K <)

Warnings: Canon-typical themes. Probaby a 'too soft'/ooc Sandor. Injuries + blood + scars. Character death. Fighting. Swearing. Sandor and Reader match each other's jealous freak. Sexual themes (Smut is implied but not shown + they talk about fucking a lot.). Borderline eloping. Pregnancy + food cravings (chicken). Reader is fem bodied + she/her pronouns + called woman/daughter/wife/mother + smaller than Sandor + nicknamed Mouse.

Listening to: 'I Bet on Losing Dogs' by Mitski - "I bet on losing dogs. I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place by the ring... I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side."

AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Ice. It can be as thick as stone or thin like parchment paper. It can form as frost, snow, sleet and hail. Most often it covers lakes, rivers and the ocean in the cold weather of winter. Ice is water in its frozen, solid form. And right now you were standing on a giant lake covered in ice.

In the beginning it was so thick, covered in snow so well, that none of you even realised what it was you ran onto. With the weight of the wights swarming at your heels, though, it began to creak and groan.

The noise of the crack below your feet echoed in your mind. Nothing else mattered as you skid to a stop on shaky legs. Your eyes fixed on the slippery ice below, peripherals caught your group continuing to run away - to safety, thank the gods - and wights behind you fell into the water below, but strangely all you could see was your sister.

Her face floated beneath the ice, frozen in time in a place she wasn’t supposed to be, face dead from a time long ago. The wrights disappeared, the new shouts of your friends faded. You couldn’t look away. You’d spent so long trying not to remember what happened all those years ago, running from it, yet here you were.

No longer were you a woman grown battle-hard, but a girl who was foolish enough to ignore your parents warning to not play on the frozen lake. You’d brought your younger sister with you, so young and trusting, of course she’d believe her big sister wouldn’t lead her toward pain. You were supposed to protect her, love her, care for her. You’d see other children sliding around on the ice, so when your chores were done and the lake was void of others, you took your sister’s hand and told her you’d be able to play anything you both wanted without worrying about being knocked over by an older child.

Having the lake to yourselves was supposed to be fun.

It was the worst mistake you’d ever made in your whole life.

Winter was leaving. Although you were in the North, the ice was still thinning. No one else was there because they knew better. You didn’t know better. It took you both two laps before the ice cracked. One step was all it took to no longer support your weight. Your world was plunged into ice cold darkness. The freezing water hit your lungs, causing you to gasp on reflex. Your lungs filled with water, your eyes stung from the cold. You kicked and grasped for the surface, and reached it just before it was too late. Clawing at the ice, you pulled yourself to the thicker ice, coughing and shivering, thanking the Old Gods that you hadn’t drowned.

Then you noticed your sister was gone.

You sister whose hand you were holding. Who you dragged down with you after the ice cracked from your weight. Your weight, not hers. You couldn’t see her. She was so young. She couldn’t swim. It was all your fault.

You screamed her name. Screamed for help. Tears ran hot down your face. By the time help came the sun was fading, your throat was raw and your hands were sore, frozen and bloodied from pounding on the ice. You were shivering so hard your teeth felt like they’d crack. The people around you called your name. You couldn’t look away from the water.

They called your name again, and her face was all you could see below your feet.

Again, and she floated away. Down so deep no one could find her, not even when summer came again.

Again. Your name. Louder. Rougher. More desperate. You looked up from the ice. There was your group. Your friends. And Sandor Clegane. There was so much distance between you and yet you could see fear in his eyes like it was written on paper in your own hands.

Turning behind, you saw wights. Most had stopped still, but the ones closest to you were reaching toward you. Swiping and grasping at the air between you. They were so close. But so was the crack in the ice. It was the only thing dividing you from them - the only thing stopping them from coming closer, and the only thing stopping you from running to your friends. To Sandor.

Sandor had been your companion for so long, and now he wouldn't stop yelling at you to run. You’d run on ice before, it ended with your sister dead. He knew that. He was the only one who did - not Jon, not Tormund, no one else in the whole world had bared their fears to you like Sandor, so you hadn’t bared yours to them. Sandor knew why you couldn’t move, for you it was like the fire that rendered him useless, and yet.

“Come on you bitch, move!” he yelled.

Somehow his words hit you like a tonne of bricks. Your breathing picked up. You stopped listening to the ice. All you could hear was your heartbeat. All you could see was Sandor.

Your foot shifted, the ice groaned under your weight, it cracked behind you as you moved, but you ran. You weren’t even looking when you started running, keeping your eyes closed was the only way you could move at all. If Sandor’s face was the last thing you saw, so be it. You were sure that was going to be true.

Yet as your legs started the burn from how hard you ran, arms encased you. Frosted fur was under your fingertips, and your feet left the ground as your speed made you swing in the hold of whoever caught you. Your eyes opened and you sobbed. You did it. The ice didn’t crack. You made it to Sandor and you were safe. For now anyway, but that was all that mattered.

“You can slaughter wights, but ice is what gets you shaken up.” Sandor said as a cold calloused fingertip traced your jaw with a featherlight touch. “What a woman.”

“Don’t tease me.” you said between the chattering of your teeth. Funny, the cold hadn’t hit you until now.

“I ain’t teasing,” Sandor let you go slowly, as if pulling away would make you fall apart like broken glass. It mightn’t be a far truth with how much you were shaking. His voice was the softest you’d ever heard it. “I just didn’t believe you when you said you were afraid. While you may be quiet as a Mouse you’ve never been afraid like one, but the look on your face made me think you were gonna die.”

“Would you pick water over wine?” you said, “Of course I was scared. Felt like I was going to shit out my own heart.”

“Ah, now I see why the Hound likes you.” Tormund said, nodding with his arms crossed. “You sound just like him. Like a bitch. I like that.”

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor spoke at the same time. The contrast between how he growled and you shuddered was comical, but the fact you both said it at the same time made the others laugh despite your dire circumstances. Tormund could only look at you as if to say ‘told you so’.

You looked up at Sandor, he was already looking down at you. With the energy you had left, you could only resign to letting it be. They could say all they wanted about your fondness for him, and his for you. At the end of the day you could deny it all you wanted but it wouldn't make it less true. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your shaking body to him as your group moved to the centre of the island you'd found yourselves on.

Now all you had left to do was hope the Dragon Queen Daenerys knew to come to your aid - because with the wights surrounding you, there was no way you were getting out of there on your own. Maybe it would've been better to have fallen into the lake.

There was a time when you were never so scared of ice - a feeling lost long ago to the passage of time. There was also a time when you didn’t know Sandor from a stranger on the street. You might never have met him at all if not for being in the right place at the right time.

You supposed the Starks were the cause of a lot of things in your lives.

You happened to be in Winterfell all those years ago when King Robert Baratheon visited Ned Stark. You were a messenger - one of the best - travelling all across the North had been your job over the few years prior. Ned insisted you stayed for the King’s feast before you left again, reasoning that your hard work needed to be rewarded now and then - beyond silver stags you were paid in.

So you joined the Starks to greet the King’s entourage, and that was where you saw Sandor Clegane for the first time. His eyes were hard and disinterested from under the dog helm he wore, and he was so large and imposing - but he was so quiet. The only words you ever heard him speak were when you’d come up behind him to offer to take the reins on his horse. He hadn’t heard you coming, and almost knocked you on your feet when you tapped his shoulder armour.

“Fucking mouse.” he’d said.

You however didn’t speak to him during that night at Winterfell, or at all during the days that followed, but you watched him. Saw him push away a mug of ale for a jug of wine. Watched as he ate, and watched as he walked away with Prince Joffrey. Really, it had taken a couple years to speak to him after you first met him.

Years after Robert Baratheon died, and Ned Stark was executed - you met him again. He was travelling with Arya near the kingsroad.

You’d spent the last few years working for Robb, King in the North. His father and mother had always trusted you to ferry messages and items all across the North, so he did too. You served faithfully until you took a message to the Bolton’s at the Dreadfort. Thereafter Ramsay Snow had taken you as a plaything, which had left you naked and alone in the woods one night with your back and shoulders torn to bloodied ribbons. A couple of farmers from the nearby Hornwood had found you, nursed you back to health - and with news that Robb was still at The Twins, you started travelling there as soon as your healing wounds allowed it.

News reached you of a justifiably dubbed Red Wedding, and the massacre that happened to the Stark army at The Twins. You knew you couldn’t go there anymore. It wasn’t safe there for you, and it wasn’t safe to go back North on your own either, not with the Bolton’s spiders crawling everywhere. So you went south. Aimlessly you followed the Kingsroad, and who else did you meet but a missing Stark daughter.

Arya had recognised you immediately. Your heart sang at the way her face lit up, and at seeing she was alive. She’d been lost after her father died, laying your eyes on her yourself was such a relief. Especially after hearing what the Frey’s did to Robb and Catelyn.

It took Sandor a moment longer. A few moments, actually. He’d dismounted his horse and watched you embrace Arya before giving a name to your face.

“Mouse,” he said. His face was hard to read, but you could see something in his eyes had changed since you last saw him shadowing Joffrey.

“Hound,” you replied. Apparently he didn’t like that. Sandor sneered down at you when he spoke again.

“Bitch.”

“Hey!” Arya said, turning from where she once held onto you. “She’s done nothing worth insults. Don’t call her that.”

“I can call her what I like - I’d bet money I don’t even have that she’s going to stop me from handing you in and getting my ransom.” Arya stepped forward as if to start arguing with the man before you set a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Arya,” you said, “he can spew insults all he likes. I can see the stick that's shoved up his arse, must be uncomfortable. He has my sympathies to do as he pleases with his words.” Your comment both made Arya burst into giggles and Sandor turn away to mumble to himself. You mounted your horse, and as Arya climbed on after you.

“I’ll let you ride with her only if you follow me like there’s a leash on your horse, understand?” Sandor asked, turning his horse to stand right in front of yours. His eyes were just as hard as they were all those years ago at Winterfell, but they were no longer disinterested. Instead he looked at you in a way that made you feel like he was going to eat you alive. “Unless I have to leash you like a bitch?”

“My back is aching from when a Bolton bastard set his dogs on me, I don’t have the strength to match your insults right now, Ser.” You said. Arya was quiet behind you, the only reaction she had to your words was loosening her grip on your waist.

“I’m not a knight.” Was the only thing Sandor said before urging his horse to walk.

He only ever called you Mouse after that.

Fire. From a forest burning to a candle flame, it can be the difference between death or life. It can heat your home or leave the air smelling thick of smoke and ash. It can help wounds heal or can be the cause of them. Fire is as dangerous as heat can get. And right now there was an entire moat-worth of fire surrounding Winterfell.

You knew that the attack of the Night King was going to be bad - you’d seen the wights firsthand, fought them already, and you’d seen a White Walker take down a whole dragon. The worst part, by far, was having to wait and not being able to see nothing of what was coming, nothing except the ice cold winds of an early winter. The dragonfire helped as the battle started - but it also didn’t. You wanted to see, but as soon as you did you wished you hadn’t.

The sight flashed in your mind like a flickering flame. Coming and going. Waves and hordes of wights as far as the eye could see.

Daenerys’ army and the other soldiers had retreated back into Winterfell’s walls. You stood beside Arya watching the wights get burnt by the flames. They already smelt like death - rot and dirt and cold flesh - now their bodies were thawing and burning, and the smell of charred skin and muscle was being carried high by the smoke. You’d never smelt flesh burn before. You wondered if this was the smell that haunted Sandor.

You turned to look down at the returned soldiers lined up in formation in the courtyard below, searching for Sandor’s face among the dozens of men. When you couldn’t find him you turned back around. What if he hadn’t made it back inside the gate?

The thought that crossed your mind then was so strange. You wished you were facing a thousand frozen lakes. If you were, Sandor would be right by your side the whole time. He had no fear of ice, not like you did. The fire before you had scared him away from your side, if he was still around at all - but you’d much rather fear eaten him alive than death. The realisation shook you. Even now the strongest, most fearless man you ever knew was gone. Because he was scared.

You had a second realisation then. That one made you step away from the wall you perched by with dread - not because the wight’s had figured out how to cross the flames, but because Sandor was probably all alone.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked, watching as you slowly started to move.

“I need to be down there,” you said, your hand grazed her shoulder as you walked past, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you promised. Turning on your heel, you rushed down the stairs, almost slipping on the last one, to reach the soldiers below and begin pushing through them to find Sandor’s face among them.

“Ready yourselves, they’re going to breach the wall!” Someone shouted behind you, but you were too focused on hunting down your Hound. Really, you almost went right past him. He was hiding in a doorway, and if you hadn’t locked eyes you would’ve lost him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, rushing forward. “We need you to help us fight Sandor.” you said. You pushed yourself up, trying to level your face with his own. His head shook, clearly disagreeing.

“It’s fucking useless. Death’s at our door, it’s all around us we can’t fight that.” He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes reflected the orange glow of fire. He wasn’t listening to you, he was listening to the fire. “There’s no point.”

“And death was below my feet yet you made me run from it - and I did run from it, for you!” You said, an emotion reaching your voice that you hadn’t let show yet. “Fuck everyone else, I need you Sandor. I need you to fight. I can’t do it without you.”

Sandor looked at you then. His dark eyes no longer held an orange glow, instead they flickered across your face, distracted. You read him, saw his brow furrow and lips part open - he was going to argue. But you weren’t going to have that. You swung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him down to crash his lips to yours. It was a hard kiss, one that lasted too long to be considered safe in your circumstances, but it was distracting. Grounding. You needed to bring Sandor out of his own mind, and a kiss was a nicer way to do it than a slap to the face.

“If you don’t live to see the end of this night I’m going to find that red witch to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.” You said with a gasp, pulling away with a hand on your sword. He seemed dazed, yet you could tell he was indeed more focused. “I need you to stay alive,” you added as you backed away to join the fight, “when this is all over I want you to fuck me.”

You were bloodied and covered in dirt, somehow limping, your head hurt like seven hells and you couldn’t stop smelling smoke, but you were alive. Somehow you were alive. The thought made you want to cry.

Not knowing if the same could be said about Sandor did make you cry. Tears blurred your vision as you searched. Every body laid dead wasn’t him, but neither was anyone left standing. It felt like your heart was breaking.

You stumbled through each hallway and room until you reached the doors to the main hall. Who knew what was waiting for you beyond the doors. You refused to dwell on it, instead shouldering the heavy oak open. Your knees almost gave way when you saw Sandor standing beside Melisandre. You surged forward, very nearly jumping into his arms. One wrapped around your waist while the other cradled your head close to his own. If you weren’t so busy being relieved you might’ve teased him about going soft.

But really you didn’t care about that right now at all.

You pulled away, letting him hold your weight completely as you took his face in yours hands.

“You’re alive.” you breathed, smiling in disbelief.

“A mouse told me you needed me to stay alive.” Sandor said, lips quirked up in a rare smile, “Couldn’t let down my woman.”

You’d counted the losses, burned your dead, and now were celebrating those who’d stayed alive. The feast, in all honesty, was magnificently loud. You were sure the only reason you’d lasted this long was because the shock of being alive hadn’t worn off yet.

Tormund had ushered you over to his table of Wildlings, and you'd already decided that you were going to steal their jug of wine when you went back to Sandor. The Wildling leader had his arm slung over your shoulder, swaying on his feet as he told some story about his life beyond the Wall. You were sure his story was as gripping as it was daring, but you really weren’t paying him mind at all. Your eyes weren’t leaving Sandor, and his weren’t leaving you.

He was looking at you like someone crossed a horny dog with a jealous badger, the jealous part flaring whenever Tormand leaned closer to talk right in your ear. He was drunk, and you’d learnt he was quite harmless - Sandor however probably didn’t know that. For everyone’s sake you probably should find your way out from under Tormund’s arm. After all he had the other occupied with another woman, and his drink, both of which would see his night ended happily.

You’d barely looked away from Sandor to grab the wine jug, turning to make up some excuse to pry Tormund’s arm off you when the man interrupted your unspoken words.

“Look,” Tormund leant down once again, whispering loudly in your ear as if attempting to be subtle, “A dead woman!” He pointed behind you, and you turned to see that indeed there was a woman. One who had sat herself down in the seat next to Sandor. Your seat.

“Excuse me,” you said, pulling away with the jug heavy in one hand, slipping an unused dinner knife in your other.

“Watch this lads, you’ll wish she was your wife after this.” You heard Tormund announce to his table as you stalked away. The poor lady had no idea you were coming.

You stood behind them, quickly your hand passed between them both as you reached forward. The tip of your stolen knife narrowly missed where the woman’s hand rested on the table. She jumped in her seat, hand flinching away into her lap, and looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Seeing as you need your tongue to suck a cock, and you probably want to keep yours, I suggest you fuck off and try and weasel your way into someone else’s man’s trousers.” You pulled the knife away from where it jammed into the wood, and she scurried away. In the background you heard a group of men erupt in laughter as you pushed the wine before Sandor, taking up the seat by his side.

“I was handling that.” Sandor said, watching as you settled into a place by his side which was much closer than anyone else would be allowed.

“The fuck you were.” you replied, reaching for his empty cup and filling it. He moved his arm from where you’d squished it between your sides, instead now letting his hand rest on your waist.

“I was.” he disagreed.

“Do you want to get in my pussy tonight or do you want to keep arguing?” You swivelled in your seat to face him, tilting your head. You could tell he was about ready to give up, a smile playing on his lips.

“Both sound like a good time to me.” he said, pulling you a little closer as he spoke, but he relented. Who would’ve ever guessed that you’d be the one to get the great fearsome Hound to heel so nicely.

You could see Sansa slowly walking over, her eyes were on Sandor. She must’ve felt you looking at her because then she looked at you. The softness of her face made you smile, and as much as you’d loved to stay and spend time with her, you could tell there were things that needed to be said between her and Sandor.

Moving to stand, Sandor’s hand tightened its hold on you. Before you left you lent down to capture him in a kiss. Short and sweet, and tasting like wine, a hint of what was to come later.

“You know where my room is.” you said, having distracted him enough to now start to move away.

“I’d knock down every door if I didn’t.” He squeezed your hip one last time before letting you slip away.

Having been a friend of the Starks for so long, and having done so much for them had granted you your own room. No communal servant’s barracks for you. Your room though was still small, but it was yours. There was a lit hearth, a washbasin, and a good bed - they’d even given you a large rug to cover the parts of the floor that were left without furniture.

You stood staring at the bed. It was plenty big enough when there was just you, Sandor though was a much larger person. Where it might fit two of you, It might just be comfortable for one of him. You smiled though, since it meant you’d just have to stay close to him if he did stay the whole night with you.

You really hoped he would stay. Really you’d want him to stay with you forever, but that decision wasn’t yours to make. You could only wish he felt the same.

A knock on your door had your heart skipping a beat. You barely had to open it before Sandor came in and shut it behind him. You took a step back as he stepped in. His only move then was to take your cheek in the palm of his hand.

“You promised. Gonna live up to that?” he asked. You stepped forward, placing your hand over his while your other looped under his belt to pull him closer.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” you said, “and my mind’s never been changed. I want as much of you as you can give me.” Sandor looked down at you with a smile.

Before you could blink, he reached down and his arm wrapped around the back of your thighs. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lifted you into the air, and his face was level with your chest. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and by the gods the way he made you feel so small was almost inhuman. Though, the way it excited you was borderline heavenly.

“Careful what you wish for.”

Indeed you were right, the bed was just too small for the both of you to spread out comfortably.

You couldn’t really say you wanted to do that though. His skin was so warm, heartbeat so strong under our palm, and despite how sticky you both were with sweat, being so close to him felt so nice. It was like finally soaking into a hot bath - the relief and pleasure of it even now it was all over - it was like you needed him.

Floating in and out of sleep and awake while being wrapped in him under the furs of your bed was indeed what heaven must feel like.

Although it had you thinking in among your dazed and hazy pockets of sleep. How strange it was that Sandor seemed to feel the same way. He hadn’t let you so much as move to be by his side, let alone let you go.

He’d never been quite like this before - tolerated it from you, sure, but never recoperated to such an extent. It made you feel like something was wrong.

Your head raised from where it was tucked just below his burn scar, and you felt his arms shift to keep you close as you pulled back just enough to see his face clearly through the last light of the candles burning.

“Something is wrong.” you said. Sandor’s chest rose and fell beneath you in a sigh. So there was something he wasn’t telling you. His lips stayed sealed shut though, and you weren’t going to have that. “Sandor, tell me.” you whispered.

“I can’t stay,” he replied.

The way he spoke had genuine concern rising inside you, you’d never heard him talk like that before in your whole life - maybe he never even had until now. It wasn’t that you were worried about him leaving you, although the thought had you feeling so sad you could be angry, but instead you were filled with an awful amount of dread. It was like he was telling you he wasn’t coming back. Like he was dying.

“I want to but, fuck, I can’t. There’s something I have to do and no one else can do it for me.” That made you think back to all the times he confided in you about revenge. It hit you like a wall of stone - that he was leaving you to go kill his brother. Somehow he must’ve felt it land in your heart. A calloused hand ran up your back, lightly tracing your scars up to your shoulders, pushed you back down so your head rested next to his, body pressed flush to his own.

You felt like the only thing you could do was hold onto him tighter, sliding your hands in under his back and pressing yourself so close that your ribs might just open up and keep him there with you instead. But they weren’t, so instead you just let your tears fall.

“But you’ll die.” you whispered, lips tickled by the hair of his beard since you now refused to let him go.

“I know.” he said, and with the gentleness of a much smaller and kinder man, he turned his head and kissed the tears away from your cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’m not worth your tears.”

“No Sandor, you’re worth so much more than that. I’d give my life for yours. I can’t believe you can’t see it for yourself.” Your hands curled, fingernails digging into his skin. Sandor didn’t flinch, perhaps he saw the pain as a just punishment for cracking your heart in two, so you relented, instead pressing your nose into his neck. “I don’t know if I can live without you now.”

For what felt like a long time, he didn’t say a word. He let you cry some more, and didn’t once try to stop you, just held you as close and hard as you held him. Over his breathing, you heard the coals in the fire crackle one last time and fall into the soft ashes.

Your tears had stopped, and breathing turned shallow, when he spoke again.

“When I close my eyes for the last time I want to see your face,” he said. Under your chest, his heartbeat quickened. “The face of my wife.”

A moment passed.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” It took him longer to answer you, you thought perhaps you didn’t say it outloud.

“Does it sound like I am?”

You sat up, palms on his chest as he looked up at you with his hands gripping your hips and waist.

“Sort of? But right after you told me you’re going to fuck off and kill your cunt brother? Your timing is a bit shitty.” you asked. His hand squeezed your hip and his eyes fixed straight up onto the ceiling.

“It’s selfish, to marry you just to make you a widow, I know that but I think you know I’m not someone who thinks much of others.” You leant back over him then. Forearms framing his head as you brought your face over his.

“You do, you think of others often. I know your heart’s bigger than you realise - that’s why I’ll marry you.” The way his face changed when he heard your soft words from one of self-loathing to one full of love - all directed at you - made you wish you hadn’t spent so much time not sharing a bed. “We can do it tonight. We can wake the septa, no one else has to be there.”

“No, no Faith fuckers.” he responded gruffly before pausing, “Unless you want that?” He backtracked so fast it almost made you laugh. You shook your head though. You were from the North, if you believed in gods at all, the Seven weren’t yours.

“I’d rather go before the Old Gods -”

“- then we’ll do that.” Sandor cut you off. He sat up then, with you still placed nicely in his lap. The furs on your bed almost slid away, but he held them up to your shoulders so the cold night air didn’t reach you. “If we do it, we’ll fucking do it properly.”

You knew how foreign to proprietary Sandor was, it almost wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary. You’d thought about marrying him in the past, what that kind of life would be like. You’d imagined just running off someplace no one knew your names and saying you were husband and wife. Never once did an actual wedding cross your mind, yet here Sandor was offering it to you on a hastily prepared silver platter.

It made your heart ache in such a bittersweet way. Why did you both have to wait until it was almost too late?

There were very few people who you could think of to wake for a last minute wedding in the middle of the hour of the wolf. Night was at its darkest, people would be in the dead of sleep. Or that’s what you thought when you and Sandor carefully chose who you wanted most to be there.

Arya was the first person both you and Sandor could think of. She either wasn’t sleeping at all or was having a hard time doing so, because when you knocked on her door she was as awake as you were. The way her face lit up reminded you of when you first saw her after hearing about her brother and mother’s death.

She’d immediately thought of Sansa, as if you hadn’t already. You said Sandor was doing the same as you were with the elder Stark sister, so instead she offered to get Jon herself. As Warden of the North, and head of Winterfell, by right he was the only person who could properly officiate a marriage before the Old Gods. You barely gave her permission to go fetch him before she was off down the hallway to get him all on her own.

There was only one person left for you to get then.

By the time you’d reached the Godwood, there were a surprising amount of torches lined up and around the weirwood heart tree. It had seemed that while a lot of people in Winterfell had gone to bed, word had spread to those who had continued to stay up to celebrate or couldn’t sleep. Sandor and you only invited four people, yet there were at least a dozen torches, maybe more.

Arya and Sansa stood lining the short pathway you were to walk to reach Sandor near the base of the tree. On the other side you saw the faces of Brienne and Gendry. Among the more distant crowd there were people from across Winterfell, and the glint of a gold hand could be seen from the torchlight. Even Daenerys with her white hair had quietly joined with a content look on her face, and a torch in her hand just like everyone else.

You almost couldn’t believe that all those people were awake, yet thought this was worth leaving their beds for. But then you supposed rounding out a victory celebration with a wedding was a hell of a way to do it. Or for some an excuse to prolong their drinking and eating just that bit longer. Whatever the reason, you didn’t really care.

All you cared about was the man waiting for you below the white barked tree, and how badly you wished that this was under different circumstances - that he wasn’t doing it just because he was leaving you to die tomorrow.

"Who comes before the Old Gods on this night?" Said Jon. You had no family, at least none who could come to Winterfell so quickly. Jon was already occupied, so there was only one other person you could think of to drag out of bed to represent you at your wedding. And he was someone who’d probably never been to a Northern wedding once in his whole life.

In fact he was someone who thought you and Sandor were already married.

"A daughter of the North comes here.” Tormund said, he paused for a moment, swaying on his feet as he tried to remember the words Jon hastily tried to get him to memorise. “A woman, grown,” He finally started, “She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods to be wed. Who comes to claim her?" Sandor stepped forward, hands clasped together in front of his belt. He was refusing to look at anyone else but you.

“Sandor of House Clegane. Who gives her?"

"Tormund.” Tormund said, you could see from the way Jon’s eyebrows raised that he was expected to say more. “Giantsbane. Of the True North.” He added. Jon sighed as Arya snickered from where she stood to your right.

"Will you take this man?" Jon asked you. You looked up at Sandor, smiling as an overwhelming urge to cry rose inside you. You willed it down, wanting to keep on a facade that tonight was happy, and not the sweetest goodbye in the whole world.

"I take this man." you said.

You hadn’t seen Sandor in months. You couldn’t lie, you didn’t expect him to come back, both of you knew that a fight against Gregor Clegane was always one that ended in death.

News travelled fast about the destruction of Kings Landing. You hadn’t heard from him since then, there was really no other conclusion to come to except that he’d been part of the massacure. You desperately hoped that Gregor died too, that at least if you did lose Sandor it wasn’t in vain.

Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it. So you ran. Weeks ago, you’d arrived at the Wall to meet with Tormund. Almost all the places that you called home were haunted by Sandor - you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You couldn’t stand to be in the North, so you decided to go beyond. Somewhere where no one would know your name or his.

A land of ice and snow was better than having to stay where everything reminded you of him. If you stayed, you would’ve flung yourself off the tallest tower you could find - and that, you knew now, would’ve been counterintuitive to preserving what Sandor had left behind.

Most of those in Castle Black gave you a wide berth. You didn’t blame them, you weren’t really making yourself friendly. But one awkward conversation about what happened had Tormund acting almost like a guard dog. ‘Nothing could take down your man’ Tormund had said - you would’ve bet money that there were tears in your eyes when you replied ‘You’ve never met his brother’. It was good, having Tormund watching your back like that, since no one ever asked you what happened, but it was bad because no one ever asked you anything anymore.

Most of your days were spent on top of the Wall, waiting until the day you could leave with the Wildlings when they left to return to their home. Not many joined you up there. Tormund came at least once a day, ‘to make sure you haven’t fallen off’ - usually around dinnertime. Any other time meant something happened which he deemed worth your attention.

“A raven came.” Tormund said one day, “It’s from Winterfell.” You could see the crumpled paper in his hand over the fur of your cloak. You turned back to the ledge.

“I don’t want to read it.” Your arms crossed under your cloak, resting over your stomach.

“You should.” He said and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. You turned on your heel, almost coming nose to nose with the Wildling leader.

“Go. Away.” you hissed, bearing your teeth at him in a way akin to a cornered dog. He stared at you down his nose, watching as your eyes flickered over his face, and then as you turned away again.

Apparently though he wasn’t done.

“Jon’s coming.” He started again. You almost rolled your eyes - the man couldn’t leave anything alone. You just hoped this wasn’t the raven that brought the message of Sandor’s death. “Since you’re going to be a bitch about it, you can find out the rest when he arrives.”

In a way you supposed that was good news. At the very least laying eyes on Jon would be a familiar comfort. Having him tell you to your face that your husband died could be considered a mercy.

After having spent time at this exact castle a few years ago after the first time you thought Sandor died, it was almost unfit for Jon to not be here. He helped you a lot the first time, maybe he could do it again. Although this time you weren’t sticking around, and this time you had a little more than just yourself to take care of.

Behind you, Tormund sounded like he was beginning to leave when he stopped again.

“And you should come down. Food’s almost ready, you need to eat.” he said.

“I’m not hungry.” you called over your shoulder.

“I’m not telling you to eat for your own sake,” he replied. You looked back at him, and he raised his eyebrows in expectation.

Tormund, somehow, knew about your condition before you realised yourself. You hadn’t had your blood in months, longer than the last time you saw Sandor, and in the beginning you didn’t think much of it. Sometimes you missed it completely, especially considering everything you’d been through. You reasoned the grief alone would be enough. Tormund thought differently.

When you asked him how he knew - which he brought up while supervising you eating on one of the first night’s you arrived at Castle Black - he gestured to your chest, talking about how they looked different, like those of a woman who's going to have a babe.

He was lucky he moved so fast, otherwise the knife you threw at him would’ve ended in his shoulder and not the wall.

Regardless, it made you think. All evidence pointed to it being a possibility, and as the days turned to weeks with no blood, your unwell feeling seemed less like mourning and more like sickness. Now, apparently, your unborn child had become your weakest point. Tormund could use it to make you do just about anything he wanted - which mostly was making you eat and sleep closer to a normal person than you would’ve liked.

So you sighed with one more longing glance beyond the Wall.

“Fine,” you said, “let’s go eat.”

Not two weeks later, and you were atop the Wall again. That day was particularly cold, even the little fire you stood next to wasn’t helping keep you warm. Your teeth chattered, and you cursed the wind, but you didn’t go back down to the castle.

The sun was barely seen in the sky through the clouds, but you could tell it was only midday when you heard the telltale noises of footsteps trekking in your direction. They didn’t sound like Tormund’s, so you didn’t hold back your bite when called out to them.

“Come another step closer and I’ll shove one of these burning logs right up your arse.” you said, refusing to turn around, shoving your hands under your arms to help stop the cold reaching your fingers. “Tormund can go fuck his horse. I’m not falling for it again, if Jon’s here he can come see me himself.”

“That’s a ‘fuck you’ of a welcome if I’ve ever heard one.” That voice. You knew it. Your head whipped around so fast you could have broken your own neck. “I don’t know what else I expected though.” You were dreaming, surely. There was no way Sandor was standing before you.

“I’ve gone mad.” you whispered, unblinking in case closing your eyes for a moment would make him disappear. “You died.”

“I didn’t.” He slowly stepped forward, snow crunching under his feet, and he came to a stop just before the step up to the ledge you stood on. Your face was almost level with his now. Gods, his face was more worn than you remembered, but he sure looked real. “My wife needs me to be alive. So I lived.”

Your hand reached out to his face, tracing the lines of his scar and the edge of his beard. His hand reached out to grab your wrist, head turning so he could kiss your palm. His eyes closed for a moment as your skin touched his, and when his eyes opened again it was like a shot went through your heart. He really was here.

“You really are alive.” you breathed. He smiled, oh how you missed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. The sight brought a smile to your own face, something you hadn’t done since you last saw him.

“If I’m not, this is the best death a man could ask for.” he said, and his hand snaked under your cloak and found its place right on your hip - where it belonged. You other hand moved to the other side of his face, cradling it in your hold so you could take in every line, scar, and hair.

“No, Sandor Clegane,” you said, near close to tears in relief to have him back, “you’re as alive now as the day I first met you.” With a gentleness like the kind he showed on your last night together, he leant forward and kissed you. He was so warm, you’d missed it so much more having thought you’d never get a chance to feel it again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you almost drowned in the moment of finally holding him again.

You barely moved away when the kiss broke, too caught up in having him back to want to pull away completely. It was a shiver that brought you back to earth, one that came from you, and one that had Sandor frowning.

“You shouldn’t be out in the cold.” he said, tucking you in under his arm and pulling you away from the ledge and back toward the elevator, “You hate the cold. Makes me wonder why you were going to go out there in the first place.”

“It’s about the only place this side of the Narrow Sea that I thought wouldn’t remind me so much of you that I’d be sick.” The hand that rested on your shoulder squeezed knowingly. Your own hand reached out from under your cloak and took hold of his fingers. You doubted you wouldn’t be able to physically let go of him for a while.

“Guess that’s not a problem anymore.”

“Fuck no,” you scoffed, turning to him as he pushed open the elevator door for you, “I’m dragging you to Dorne after this so I can thaw out.”

“You don’t like the heat either.” His fingers stayed grasped on yours as he guided you through the door first. Somehow his large hand hadn’t been bitten by the cold yet, and his palm felt so warm against your frozen fingertips. His warmth made you smile, it was more proof that he was really standing before you.

“I don’t care,” you said, smiling up at him, “I won’t care as long as I’m with you.”

“Chicken?” Sandor asked. “You don’t like chicken.”

You looked across at him from where you sat in Castle Black’s dining hall. You were currently sucking a chicken bone clean of its cooked flesh, and you shrugged at his almost confused way of frowning at you. In the past it might have been true - you preferred more iron-rich meats, which often left the chicken all for Sandor - but not anymore. You’d even stolen some off his plate.

“I do now.” you said, licking at your fingers. “Your child has been having a powerful influence over me already. Unfortunately it’s one of the few things I can stomach right now.”

“Child?”

“You didn’t notice?” You sat back, pushing your cloak aside purposefully to reveal your stomach, showing it off a little - as if there was even anything to show yet. “I think I’ve even started getting bigger.”

“Big?” Sandor scoffed, sitting back in his seat but still eyeing you wearily, ”You’re pulling my dick if you think I’d notice. Everyone’s small to me, no matter how ‘big’ they think they are.”

“You’re so mean to me. The mother of your child -”

“For fucks sake.” he mumbled. His eyes rolled, and a hand came up to run over his face when you started talking again.

“- You ought to be nice to me, I’ve been mourning you a long time, and looking after your child all on my lonesome.”

“Excuse me. Liar!” Tormund stood abruptly behind you, causing you to jolt in your seat as his own scraped against the stone floor. “I’ve been keeping you fed! The Hound will have no choice but to like me for keeping his woman healthy for his return.” He spoke proudly, coming to your side and resting a hand on the table near your plate.

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor said. You weren’t happy about him coming near your food, and Sandor was just unhappy with Tormund around.

The contrast between how you growled it out and how his voice was more of a mumble made Tormund bark out a laugh. The switch in personalities was comical, even you could see it. It reminded you of a similar time, one where the stakes were more deadly than just losing food, but felt no less homely because you had Sandor by your side then just as you do now.

The look Tormund sent your way was knowing, almost loving in a way that was as inconspicuous as your hulking personality of a husband allowed. Nevertheless his hands raised in surrender, and he stepped away as he sent a wink toward Sandor.

With the Wildling gone, you turned back to Sandor. He was already looking at you. If anyone didn’t know him like you did they might’ve thought he was so deep in thought that he was looking right through you - but you knew better. He was looking right into you instead. Deep into your soul that he might as well have laid you bare and be picking you apart.

“You’re having a child?” he finally asked. So that’s what he was trying to figure out.

“I’m having your child.” You bowed your head, keeping eye contact, pointing to him with a bare bone as you switched to another as you spoke. He leaned forward, tilting his own head ever so slightly.

“You sure it’s mine?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Now was your turn to scoff, food forgotten, and you leant forward so your heads were even closer. So close you could almost whisper and still be heard. “The only person I’ve been with in the last five years is you.”

Sandor smiled then. An almost-full, genuine-looking smile. His next words were softly spoken, almost proud.

“So you’re gonna be a mother,” he said. It made you want to lean even closer and kiss him senseless.

“And you’re gonna be a father.” you replied. He reverted back to that deep stare, an almost dopey, soft look in his eyes now. It took a few quiet breaths before he talked again.

“We’re gonna be a family.”

“We already are.” Sandor had a small gentle smile, one you realised was reserved only for you. It made you all soft and gooey inside. You couldn’t help it, he was asking for it. You had to kiss him now.

taglist: @anxiety-made

[kiame-sama]

Random Headcannons for the TWST Monster AU that I have drawn so far.

Warnings; Ortho and Grim are platonic, yandere, multiple yanderes, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, virginity mention, Rook has a thing with the Human's feet, Idia is about 9ft (274.32cm) in my AU, antler rack point system/terminology, Lilia is 700+ years old and has seen some shit,

- Riddle has a near instinctual drive to be near the Human he has come to adore because Unicorns and Humans were among the first to befriend one another. Unicorns are driven to be around Humans as the emotional control most Humans have soothe the Unicorns. The Human does not need to be a virgin for the Unicorn to feel bonded with them, but the idea of 'purity' has been upheld by Unicorns for a long period of time. Unicorns can mostly sense a Human's virginity through their heightened magical senses, typically compelling the Unicorn to feel an emotional bond with the Human and a desire to protect that purity their Human has.

- Riddle admires the Queen of Hearts who was a Unicorn like himself. He always loved stories of the Queen's King of Hearts- a meek Human man- who convinced the Queen to show fairness and give trial to those who were accused of breaking laws. From the time he was a foal, Riddle believed that if he ever met a Human, he would make them his King of Hearts and have an unbreakable bond with them the same way the Queen of Hearts did with her King of Hearts. The second Riddle learned there was a Human in Night Raven College, he was already planning how he was going to propose to them and make them his cherished King of Hearts.

- Riddle studied the history of Humans when he was a young child, almost as closely as he studied the rules the Queen of Hearts made. He grew up with a certain prejudice towards Gnolls, Nemean Lions, and other species that ate Humans previously. Most Unicorns share this prejudice as the extinction of Humans led to the realization that a Human's emotional wellbeing actually empowered the Unicorns they lived with, meaning their extinction weakened Unicorns as a whole. Unicorns that had been in the presence of Humans before their extinction actually suffered withdrawal symptoms when the Humans were no more, leading to the belief that Humans were almost addictive in different ways to different species.

- Riddle can barely swim and when he does swim, he is swimming for his life. Some Unicorns are excellent swimmers, but Riddle is not one of those Unicorns. When Riddle was younger he actually fell into a lake and almost drowned. A rather young Trey was the one who pulled Riddle from the water, taking the drenched Unicorn back home for sweets and comfort where he met the Bakeneko Che'nya and the three became friends. Riddle is twice Trey's age, but Unicorns age twice as slowly as most other species, meaning Trey is actually more mature than Riddle despite Riddle being older.

- Leona is a Nemean Lion and Nemean Lions are obligate carnivores, meaning their diet is about 70% meat. He usually eats his meat raw as he is too lazy to cook it, but he has picked up on the scents Ruggie has brought back to Savanaclaw and has wondered about joining the Gnoll for his daily visits to Ramshackle for food. He is aware others don't trust him alone around the Human, but Ruggie is also a species that traditionally ate Humans and seems to get along just fine with the Human.

- Leona calls the Human by the nickname 'Mousey' because he sees the Human to be as fragile as a mouse when compared to his own strength and power. It really isn't worth killing a Mouse for food when you're a Lion due to how small they are and Leona views the Human as the same. It isn't worth eating the Human for the absolute backlash and poor treatment he would receive as a result when he has already received poor treatment from many other students due to the still damaging rumors around Sunset Savana.

- Leona actually told his brother Falena about the Human that first day they fell into the sorting ceremony. Falena was dubious about the authenticity of Leona's claim until Cater's picture with the Human began popping up everywhere as all of Twisted Wonderland learned there was a Human at Night Raven College. The elder brother urges Leona to be careful but to try and befriend the Human as it could only mean good things for their Kingdom and for the view of the Kingdom. He has asked several times for Leona to intentionally take a photo of the Human with the Nemean Lion to create the foundation for a more positive look for Sunset Savana.

- Leona warned everyone in Savanaclaw that first day to not touch or hassle the Human regardless of what the Human may do. He did this through direct treats and displays of power over his dorm to ensure not a thing happens to that annoyingly fragile Mousey. He also threatened that should anyone from the dorm harm the Human, he will use King's Roar on them and erase them from existence for their crimes. Despite how moody he behaves towards the Human, he actually longs to be by their side and wonders how it would feel to be pet by the Human after a long day. He will never ask, but one day he may demand affection from that Human.

- Ruggie tends to be loyal to those that feed him, only sharing his own food with those he deeply cares about. Leona was the primary source of food for the Gnoll and so, Ruggie became a lackey for the Lion simply because the Lion fed him, but it was still not as much or as often as the Gnoll actually needed. Once Ruggie began getting meals from the Human, he actually has filled out a bit more and isn't quite as skinny anymore, having a more balanced diet and hearty meals. Ruggie would even turn on Leona for the Human should they ask him to. He won't be excited about it, and he will be terrified, but he will still do it only for them.

- Gnolls do have a gene for growing winter coats, much like their Hyena counterparts, but he is not a fan of the cold despite that fact. It takes more calories to stay warm in winter- even with thick winter fur- so Ruggie has a certain dislike for the cold. His fur becomes extremely dense and makes him look much fluffier than usual, making it ideal to bury one's face in and take comfort in the thick pelt. Ruggie wonders if he can carry the Human around in winter because they are usually so warm and they may enjoy the thickness of his pelt during the cold seasons as well.

- Ruggie has fallen into the habit of waking early to camp out outside of Ramshackle so he can smell when the Human starts cooking breakfast. Alternatively, he has also started camping out near Ramshackle in the evenings for the same reason. So long as he can keep getting those wonderful meals, he will be able to die a happy Gnoll. Should the Human ever need a taste tester, he will happily volunteer his services and will always be ready to eat more of whatever it is the Human makes. Food is food and food is good.

- Ruggie loves physical affection and yearns to be in a group for both numbers and camaraderie, so anytime he is around the Human, he feels that sense of belonging. He will likely be the first to beg the Human to pet him, melting from the feel of their soft hands in his fur. His tail will wag and if the petting is sublime enough, he may even begin to cackle and whine from the petting. Once pet, he will become hooked to the gentle affection and will become rather needy for continued petting in the future. He is happy to try and pet the Human in return, but he does need to be careful of his claws and it confuses him that the Human is not as enthusiastic about being petted instead.

- Vil is a very proud Harpy and is genetically built to be proud. As a Peacock Harpy, Vil grows long train feathers that he tends to carefully. Stepping on, touching, or otherwise brushing against his feathers will make the Harpy angry with the offending party excepting very few- primarily Rook and the Human- and he will become violent towards those who dare sully his feathers. Tail feathers are saved and used by the Harpy as tokens of affection or approval, crown feathers are saved in a jar and are only going to be gifted to someone who truly means the world to Vil, flight feathers are saved, neck and body feathers are either thrown away or used as stuffing for pillows.

- Vil has made many adjustments to his dorm uniform to accommodate his tail and wings, going as far as to leave large slits in the back of his uniform that allow him to insert his wings into the openings. There are several buttons that run the length of these openings so Vil can button up his uniform around his wings instead of leaving them open and his back exposed. His pants are made with a large opening in the back that can be buttoned at the top to close his pants around his tail without impacting his feathers. He has made similar adjustments to his ceremonial robes and to his regular uniform.

- The purple in his hair and the blue and white coloration on his face are not artificially added. The skin around his eyes has that color as a natural tint, but Vil will occasionally cover it up with foundation to put on different eye-makeup. He usually doesn't cover up his eye-marks as he sees them as his natural beauty shining forth but he will occasionally reshape them with makeup or add a glitter over them to emphasize his features. The purple is a unique color even for peacock Harpies which can actually be attributed to Vil's mother- a Purple Chested Hummingbird Harpy- and his extra color makes many other male Harpies jealous as purple is a rarer color.

- Vil's temper doesn't often show through, especially because he is an actor and has learned to mute his natural reactions, but there are several signs to tell how Vil feels at any given time. When his neck feathers ruffle he is usually in a bad mood or something has irritated him. When his seven crest feathers raise up- as they are typically laying flat into his hair- he is feeling proud or posturing to tease other males. When his crest is up and his tail feathers are up, his wings will spread out and display, this is only in the extremely rare case Vil is showing off for a prospective mate. To date he has only displayed his full feathers twice, and once was on accident, the other was for his Human when he first officially met them.

- Rook has always had a certain obsession with those who are different- either more beastly than others or more tame- and his Human checks every box Rook has for the most interesting being he has met. From the Human's near useless natural weapons to the Human's surprising fragility, Rook is hooked on knowing everything he possibly can about the Human. He has a particular interest in the Human's feet as most other species in Twisted Wonderland do not have feet the way the Human does. Even Vil and beautiful Neige have bird feet and talons instead of these odd feet the Human has. He will try to keep his unusual interest concealed for the most part, but can't resist holding the Human's feet and even petting them as he paints their nails.

- Rook has an instinctual aversion to garlic and does what he can to avoid foods with garlic in them as well as mint and lavender. The scents are very strong and almost overpowering to Rook, so it bothers him deeply when there are even cloves of garlic around him. This being said, if the Human made food with garlic in it, Rook would still eat it and fight every single instinct he has to spit it out. Even if it hurts his stomach and makes him ill, he will eat the food because HIS Human made it for him and he needs them to know how much he adores them and values their skills. Vil is almost disgusted with how down bad Rook is- knowing how much the Drider despises garlic- but acquiesces to the fact that he also has a similar drive to appease and please the Human.

- Rook can spin three types of webbing that all have different uses in his everyday life. First is his sticky webbing which is used to make most webs and to ensnare prey despite him rarely using this webbing for hunting. Second is his nesting webbing which is not sticky and has the consistency closer to silk, used mainly in the heart of his webs as bedding or as a way to keep warm in cooler weather. Third is binding webbing often used to tie up prey and mates alike, stronger and sturdier like rope compared to other webbing. Vil is particularly interested in the second type of webbing as it is ideal for making fabrics that are more durable and breathable than silk. Rook demands that at least one of the outfits chosen for the Human by himself, Vil, and Divus is made from his personal silk. He secretly hopes to make Lingerie from his silk for his Human and hopes they will give him a show while they wear it.

- Rook prefers wild caught game as opposed to meats from livestock and will often hunt his own meals down in the forests around Night Raven College. He often offers these meats to Vil as well despite the fact the Harpy dislikes how gristly wild caught game tends to be. Rook hopes that one day he can catch prey for the Human to cook up, wishing to be a kind of provider for the Human he adores so much.

- Grim has an extremely acidic stomach and can digest most items, even if they are not traditionally considered food items. He can eat rocks and tree-bark but prefers the food his Human makes for him. He has no allergies that he is aware of and has a very large appetite for one so small.

- Every scar was made by a different animal and every scar was a time Grim almost lost his life to one of the other beasts of the forest. Due to his injury over his right eye, he can't see very well out of it and it occasionally causes him pain.

- Grim is considered to be an anomaly as he is more sentient than the other wild beasts of the forests but his magic is more like a wild animal. As a result, Grim cannot use a magestone due to the wild nature of his magic, but he is also more resistant to overblotting as well because his magic is fueled by the magic in the land itself.

- For as long as Grim can remember, he has lived in the forests around Night Raven College grounds. As a result, he has a certain jealousy towards the students he would see wandering around the school grounds. He never understood why they were so special and could go to the school but he couldn't.

- Ortho is 40% mechanical as a result of being attacked by a Feral Overblotted Shinigami when he was young. His injuries almost killed him and resulted in him having to live in a mechanical iron-lung to keep him alive while Idia began crafting his augmented limbs. It is because of these injuries that Ortho has become such a powerful mage as he needs to use magic to fuel the limbs and make them work. This constant use of magic has actually increased his resistance to Overblotting due to the constant magical output and presence of blot within Ortho's body, giving him a resistance to the magical waste created.

- Ortho is the baby of the Shroud family and is often given preferential treatment as a result of this. He doesn't like it. Due to his injuries he has always had a longing for independence that he can't really have given the fact Idia is the one who makes and updates his cybernetics. Ortho is smart for his age, even for a Shinigami, and as such is able to attend Night Raven College with Idia despite the typical school age for Shinigami being 25. Ortho may be 13 and seen as a young child by his family, but he is actually more magically adept than almost every other family member except for Hades.

- The device on Ortho's hip is an O2 and CO2 monitor that adjusts automatically based on how much oxygen is in his blood. He can take the mask off, but he cannot be without it for long as it does help him immensely with breathing and removing CO2 from his body. His lung is an artificial creation made by Idia and almost functions as well as a real lung, but still falls just a bit short of the real deal. Most of Ortho's prosthetic limbs are works in progress as they need to be altered and adjusted as Ortho grows, given Shinigami keep growing throughout their lives.

- Ortho's wings are modeled after Harpies more than the traditional Shinigami wings as Shinigami have specialized feathers that technically should not be able to be used for flight. Similar designs would leave Ortho flightless, so Idia made Harpy-like wings instead so Ortho can still use them to fly. He is sad that his wings are not like the wings of his family, but he understands that Shinigami feathers are quite different from typical bird feathers.

- Idia does not wear makeup. His lip color, eyeshadow and even the gem-like structures on his face are all natural formed. The gem-like structures are actually a result of acne scars because Idia often picked at his face when he was younger, leading the skin to grow back stronger and almost like gemstones. They are rock-hard and shine like gems despite being natural formations of skin and change color with his hair due to having magical qualities much like the flaming hair all Shrouds possess.

- Idia's hair changes color depending on his emotions and it usually takes a strong emotion to make the flames that are his hair change color. The typical fire-red is when Idia becomes heated or legitimately angry usually due to a videogame he is playing or someone is pushing him too much. He learns that his hair will burn a magenta-pink when he is gazing affectionately at his Human while they game, immersed in the story and general gameplay. When his hair burns this magenta color, heart shapes can be seen within the flames. His hair will burn white if he becomes too anxious, the lighter his hair becomes the more anxious he is.

- Idia is aware he is different in size compared to the other students and often skips classes because of it. He doesn't want to be looked at or perceived for too long, hence why he actually waited for Ortho to grow up a bit so he could attend Night Raven College with his younger brother as an anxiety buffer. Due to Idia's anxiety at being looked at, he often will curl up his body and tuck in his limbs while sitting to appear smaller than he is. His hope is the smaller he appears, the less likely others will be to stare at him when they see him.

- Idia's hair is flames and as flames they put out a natural light. This light is less intense than most flames, but it does mean that Idia and others of the Shroud family struggle to sleep. Shinigami don't need as much sleep as most other species and can go days without sleeping, but when they do need sleep, they need eye-cover to not be woken up by their flames. Their hair is water resistant and can continue to burn underwater as it is magical in nature and behaves differently from regular fire due to being Shinigami fire.

- Silver has a three point rack as he has three points to his antlers, so not the biggest rack and not the smallest either when compared to other Cervitaur. He does shed his antlers and even has velvet that he needs to rub off of his antlers whenever a new pair grow in. Lilia is obsessed with collecting the shed velvet and antlers as they are a way for the old Bat Fae to remember his son by. Silver is not Fae and will likely die before Lilia does as a result, so he is indulgent of allowing Lilia to collect the antlers and shed velvet. Silver often leaves home to shed his velvet or antlers because Lilia can be a bit too excited to collect the shed and will even try to take the velvet directly from Silver's antlers before he can get it off himself.

- Silver wields a short-sword and has been trained in the use of a variety of weapons by Lilia to protect Malleus. He prefers the shortsword as it has greater control than a greatsword but has better reach than a dagger. He can often be seen training with Sebek and Lilia in the use of this weapon and will train until he is proficient enough to dispatch enemies efficiently. Should Silver lose his sword, he can also use his antlers to skewer his foes and his legs to kick them as needed.

- Silver is a herd species, and Malleus' Hoard is his herd. He will feel nervous or uneasy if he is alway from his herd for too long and can often struggle to make himself comfortable without at least one member of his herd nearby. Despite this, he can still fall asleep in random places despite how alone he may be even with his preference to be around his herd. He is protective of his herd and will be violent towards those who threaten any member of his herd regardless of if that member is stronger or weaker than he is.

- Silver grew up eating Lilia's cooking and believed all cooking made food worse, not better as a result. Once he tasted his Human's cooking, he actually realized that it was just a problem with Lilia's cooking specifically. He now hopes he gets to taste all kinds of meals and hopes they are all made by the Human he so deeply cares for. He still cringes any time Lilia wants to cook and hopes that perhaps his Human can teach his Father how to actually cook things properly.

- Lilia has had several adopted children over the years, Silver being his most recent adoptee. Lilia has raised only one Human, but he loved his little Human baby and it broke his heart to see that same infant become elderly and pass due to age. He still thinks Humans are precious and hopes that he can cajole this new Human into giving him more babies to raise. If Lilia had his way, he would be raising a herd of half-Human infants, one Dragon halfling, one Cervitaur halfling, one Raiju halfling, and one or more Vampire Bat halflings. He genuinely wants an infant combination from every Hoard member including himself.

- Lilia is sensitive to sound and will often be the first to alert to abnormal sounds due to this sensitive hearing. This also means that whenever Malleus conjures thunder, Lilia will magically deafen himself or dampen his hearing so the thunder does not cause him pain. Lilia takes comfort in hearing the heartbeats of Malleus' Hoard around him while he sleeps and can usually tell whenever a Hoard member is having a nightmare due to their heartbeat. He will often try to groom the one having a nightmare and soothe them back into restful sleep.

- Lilia is second in command of the Hoard and technically has the final say even over Malleus as he is the eldest of the Hoard and has more experience than Malleus by at least 500 years. Usually Lilia encourages Malleus to be the final say in decisions but will put his foot down should it seem like the Dragon is making a poor choice or is acting too closely to his emotions. He is often the one who makes the rational suggestions in a heated moment and has greater control of his emotions due to his age.

- Lilia learned to cook through observation of the Humans he often took shelter with in times of war in Briar Valley. Because he was never officially trained to cook, he is abysmally bad at it but still tries so he can revisit those lovely memories of sitting around a table with a Human family, breaking bread and making friends over a shared meal. Lilia mourned the extinction of Humans more than most and even more than most Fae as he spent so long among the fragile species, protecting them and learning to love the beautiful and kind creatures that were so very different from himself.

[celesterayel]

goodbyes & waiting | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: happy holidays! could you write a luke x aphrodite reader? (maybe with angst?) <3

IN WHICH — there are the moments you shared and the sadness that came after.

"trust that you betrayed, confusing that still lingers. you took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers" - o.r.

w.c. 1k

warning(s) : lots and lots of angst ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note this act hurt me so much in the feelings. I've never written something so angst, hope you enjoy it tho, love :)

your heart didn’t hurt, it burned.

you wished you could tear the wretched thing out and never feel anything again but it remained there, silently killing you from the inside out. in your palm lay a small pendant, not the prettiest thing by any means and resembling more like something you’d find at a second-hand store. the chain was thin and dull but at the center lay a small heart of twine and charms. your finger brushed over it, as if attempting to soothe your own heart, a manifestation of your pain literally.

god, you wanted to burn it to the ground. you wanted to scream so loudly and raw that you’d scream your vocal cords out of your throat. you wanted to scream at the gods–fuck them and fuck the fates–and most of all, at him.

had it meant nothing to him? this…whatever it was between you two? how could he have left you so brutally? without a second thought.

the pendant burned in your hand but you’d sooner kill yourself than part with it. it was the last thing you had of luke castellan. the boy who had loved you at your lowest, who once would have rather burned the world than let it hurt you. but he had hurt you and with the blow of godliness that ran in his blood.

you never did see it coming.

✩ ‧₊˚

you had first arrived at camp a year before percy jackson appeared. no sooner than you did, were you claimed by your mother, the goddess aphrodite. and unlike how the poets and half bloods describe it, children of aphrodite were not all inherently blessed with grand beauty. rather you were made to be beautiful in the way extraordinary things are: ingrained into the brain like a itch in a way so profound.

something about you entranced others, maybe the way you spoke or how you approached everyone like they were someone you had known since forever, you were just always a shining light for others to flock too. something so incredibly enchanting, gentle like the breeze of the camp waters. 

luke was the first person to approach you after being claimed, the same boyish smile you’d later fall in love with on his face. 

“the names luke castellan. yours?” he breathed out, something about the way he looked at you like you were every enchanting thing in the form of a person made your heart sing. 

you knew that your heart would belong to him every moment after. 

something in the way he looked at you like you were his forever after made you feel complete. like you weren’t so alone in this world made of monsters and man, godless beings of hunger and pain. and it seemed like he knew it too because there was a knowing in his eyes, a connection between you too that would hurt for every lifetime and the next. 

you and luke only grew closer after and where you went he followed. where he strayed, you wandered. secrets moments shared beneath candlelights with his hands on your waist and yours bunched in his hair. 

“your my forever, you know that right?” he’d whisper against your lips, trying to breathe you in like you’d disappear from his arms. 

you’d just kiss him harder like his words could burn themselves to your lips. like he could burn himself into your very being and never leave you. one day you’d tell him he’d already had.

moments by the lakes where he’d hold you against him and you’d rest on his shoulder like it was the only place you’d ever need. trinkets you’d find when you’d go exploring with the littlest campers that you gifted to him and he kept like they were the grandest of treasures. times when he’d cry into your shoulder and you’d just hold him all the more closer like you could take the pain. the pendant he had spent months and late nights learning to craft from hand to give you. you planned out your future together late, late into the night when you couldn’t sleep: maybe someday he’d whisk you away to visit paris or to see the great big apple–only later you’d go without him. 

holding you so tightly, he’d ask, “where would you want to go if we ever leave here?”

“anywhere you go.” the late nights near the lakes always made it seem like your cocoon, a safe haven from everything else. nights like these only made you fall in love with him more. 

“yes, but if you could pick anywhere, where would you want me to take you, “ he huffed out, chuckling. 

you grab his hands and press a kiss to his lips, tasting freedom and fire all in one breath. kissing luke was always electric, every want and lightning burn in one breath, one touch. 

you leaned back, before contemplatingly saying, “i’ve always wanted to go to see the city lights in the big apple.”

“i’ll take you one day.” it was a promise. a future for you both. 

“i’ll hold you to that.”

✩ ‧₊˚

but it never did happen.

✩ ‧₊˚

you remember the scream you felt bottled in your throat when you found out what had happened. the looks the others had given you when percy told you what luke had done. why he wasn't here with you guys. why he wasn’t here with you.

the betrayal hurt more than anything you had ever felt. parts of the pieces of the future you had made crumbling as quickly as you both had made it. the trinkets you had given him were gone just as he was.

as the months passed, here you stayed as the others left. hoping that by some miracle, your golden boy would return to you. that'd he'd come back ready to make good on his promise. he’d return to the lake where you had once built your future but he never did and the scream in your throat never left.

you promised me, luke.

footsteps approached you and there at the bottom of the hermes cabin stood percy jackson, “y/n, it’s time to go.” 

he looked at the pendant in your hands before giving you a sad smile. he knew your history and your pain–once upon a time, luke had been his first real friend.

you wiped the tears that had fallen down your cheeks and slipped the necklace back onto your neck. you couldn’t bear to part with it, not even after all this time, after all these moments. 

you looked behind you to the cabin one last time—breathing in the old memories and letting them go one last time—before you turned back around. 

“let’s go.” 

in the end, your golden boy had been far too much like his father and you were the one to be left waiting.

[nativegirltapes]

can you write drew and angel!reader on holidays and there at the pool and she’s just diving in and playing mermaids and doing handstand and drew’s just stood in the pool watching also add them doing other bits on holiday thank you baby love u 🩷🩷

love you too baby <333 this may not be exactly what you asked but oops hope you still like 🙁

⍣ ೋ 🎀

it was your first baecation with drew; and you were determined to do it all. your list consisted of, wearing lowkey matching outfits while walking on the downtown strip, skinny dipping late at night in the lake, getting fucked raw in your boujee hotel room, and of course shopping with your boyfriends money!

the minute drew told you he was planning a vacation with just the two of you, you were already getting your little bucket list ready. and despite drew not seeing the appeal to some of your ideas, he was still 100% in, being more than happy to make you happy.

and while most of the that has been accomplished, some more than others, today was more of a laidback day. you and drew had managed to get the communal hotel pool all to yourselves.

you were busy jumping in and out the pool, making drew watch you. you begged him to join you, but he said he liked watching you more. "okay well there's only so many tricks i can do." you stood next the pool, staring down at drew in the water. you literally looked like a wet dog, but still so beautiful to him.

"yeah i'm not impressed anymore." drew joked.

"hey!" you pretended to be offended, jumping in the water right next to him so you could tackle him. "i will drown you." you said as soon as you're head came back up from the water.

"try me."

you latched onto his back, trying to get some leverage even though he was so much bigger than you. your grip on his big beefy arms making you horny, forgetting why you were even trying to attack him in the first place.

"you were saying?" he laughed as he had you in a headlock position. little did he know how much you enjoyed having his muscular arms around your face.

"oh shut up." he let you go, to which you swam away from him and shouted. "catch me if you can!"

[geotjwrs]

snap-shoot

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The air was thick with anticipation on the set of "Summer Winter Fall Spring." The past few months had been tumultuous, with the film's production halted due to the allegations against Percy Hynes White. The studio had ultimately decided to recast Percy's character and reshoot most of the movie. After weeks of deliberation, they cast Y/N—a talented actor who had previously worked with Jenna Ortega in "Scream VI," "Beetlejuice," and "Wednesday" season 2.

Jenna had been the one to suggest Y/N for the role. She knew his talent and believed he could bring a fresh energy to the project. What she hadn't told anyone was how she truly felt about him. Working together had always been a joy, but over time, her feelings had grown into something deeper.

Now, with the last day of filming upon them, Jenna felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. She knew she had to reveal her feelings to Y/N before it was too late. But how?

The day began early, as usual, with the cast and crew bustling around the set, preparing for the day's shoot. Jenna found herself standing next to Y/N as they waited for their first scene.

"You ready for this?" Y/N asked, giving her a playful nudge.

Jenna smiled, trying to push aside her nerves. "Always. Just another day at the office, right?"

Y/N laughed. "Exactly."

Their first scene was a dramatic confrontation, their characters in the midst of a heated argument. As the director called action, Jenna felt herself slip into character, her emotions raw and real. Y/N matched her intensity, his eyes locking with hers, the connection between them palpable even through their performance.

As they finished the scene, the director called cut, and the crew erupted into applause. Jenna and Y/N shared a look, their breathing heavy from the emotional exertion.

"That was intense," Y/N said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Jenna nodded, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through her. "You were amazing."

"So were you," he replied, giving her a warm smile.

The rest of the day was filled with similar moments—scenes that demanded their full attention and emotional depth. In between takes, they found themselves gravitating towards each other, sharing jokes and light banter to keep the mood light.

During one of the breaks, they sat together in the shade, sipping on iced coffees. Jenna looked at Y/N, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the intensity of his performance.

"You know," she began, "I'm really glad you're here. I don't think I could've gotten through this without you."

Y/N looked at her, his eyes softening. "I feel the same way. You've always been my rock on set."

Their moments of connection weren't limited to breaks. In one scene, their characters shared a tender moment by a lake, the tranquility of the setting mirroring their own feelings. As they filmed, Jenna felt a sense of calm wash over her, the lines between their characters and their real selves blurring.

After the scene, Y/N turned to her, his expression thoughtful. "You know, these moments... they feel real."

Jenna's heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "Yeah, they do."

The day progressed smoothly. The scenes were intense but fulfilling, and the chemistry between Jenna and Y/N was undeniable. Everyone on set could see it—the way they interacted, the effortless connection they shared. As they wrapped up the final scene, the crew erupted into applause, celebrating the completion of the reshoots.

"Great job, everyone!" the director called out. "That's a wrap!"

Jenna felt a pang of nervousness as she watched Y/N interact with the crew, thanking them for their hard work. She knew this was her moment. Taking a deep breath, she approached him.

"Hey, Y/N," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you have a moment?"

Y/N turned to her, a warm smile on his face. "Of course, Jenna. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she said, glancing around. "But maybe somewhere more private?"

He raised an eyebrow, curious but obliging. "Sure. There's a little spot I found nearby that's really peaceful. Want to go there?"

She nodded, and they made their way to a secluded area just outside the set—a small clearing surrounded by trees, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. It was serene, the perfect place for a heart-to-heart conversation.

They sat down on a blanket Y/N had brought, and for a moment, they simply enjoyed the quiet.

"You know," Y/N began, "I've always loved working with you. Every project we've done together has been incredible."

Jenna smiled, feeling her heart race. "I feel the same way. You're an amazing actor, Y/N. And... an amazing person."

He looked at her, sensing there was more she wanted to say. "Jenna, is everything okay?"

She took a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. It's been on my mind for a while now. I suggested you for this role not just because you're talented, but because I wanted to spend more time with you."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

"I've developed feelings for you," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to tell you, but I couldn't let this project end without you knowing."

For a moment, there was silence. Jenna felt her heart pounding in her chest, fearing his reaction. Then, Y/N reached out, gently taking her hand in his.

"Jenna," he said softly, "I've felt the same way. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't want to risk our friendship or make things awkward on set."

She looked up at him, relief flooding her. "Really?"

He nodded, his eyes warm and sincere. "Really. You mean so much to me, Jenna."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, a smile spreading across her face. "So, what now?"

Y/N grinned, leaning closer. "I think this is the part where we see where this goes. Together."

Jenna's heart soared as she closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It felt like the culmination of all the moments they'd shared, both on and off set.

As they pulled away, Y/N brushed a strand of hair from her face. "How about we start with a real date? No scripts, no cameras. Just us."

Jenna nodded, her smile bright and genuine. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

The two sat together, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. They talked about their dreams, their fears, and their hopes for the future. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the clearing, they knew this was the start of something beautiful.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry, meus cupitus - TSH

TW: gore, toxicity

Where do I even begin? I should start by mentioning that this little piece was inspired by multiple books including but not limited to: "The Meek One" by Dostoyevsky, "Lolita" by Nabokov, "American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis and "The Iliad" by the one and only Homer.

This is the toned-down version. I felt that the original was much too explicit to post, but nevertheless it will continue to live in my drafts. Keep in mind, that this version may still be incredibly violent for a part of the audience. Read at your own risk.

Henry, meus cupitus, the last season of the year. My sin, my soul. Henry Winter marching down the banks with his umbrella and books.

He was Henry when we spent our weekends at Francis’ country house, rowing on the lake, finding out about the moon landing. Henry Winter was him, spreading around campus like a dark November mist or in Julian’s attentive green eyes. But he was and still is Henry Marchbanks Winter ever since my ears listened to the convoluted story of the scar; ever since he started forgetting the Latin diary in my sight; ever since our ἕνωσις.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what right have you to judge me? No one should speak of love in the third person, for it is intangible, running so differently through our bones, that it mimics our soul’s very rhythm and so drowns each of us with unique scents, extorted from the desire for which we spill blood. And yet, here it is, my poor heart standing trial for its depth. Little lords and gentlewomen of the jury, I urge you to be magnanimous and instead ask yourself: how will I ever stay behind all on my own? 

We met at Hampden. Our fates intertwined unexpectedly, gloriously, under the pressure of Julian’s classes and consequently under his guiding gaze. We were each other’s equal, neither of us possessing the ability to surpass the other. Though our views on matters weren’t, generally speaking, that different we still somehow managed to find little details so insignificant that the vast majority forget. What I believed in he stood against. What he stated I debated. A continuous chase between cat and mouse, except neither of us hid in walls. Oh, please, listen, how beautifully we were at each other’s throat with winged words whispered by Pallas Athene herself! With every class, my desire to stomp on his toes, to cut out his tongue and compare it to mine, to reduce him to absolute submission grew. As I’m sure did his. My only wish, which Zeus who drives the storm clouds later granted me, was to have him under my despotism. It was sickly divine and it consumed my insides raw. 

Fate is funny in its own sadistic way. And so, despite everything, despite every warning that I’m sure his precious guts gave him, he fell in stride with me. Dangerous, obsessive me. Slowly, with every argument we lost ourselves in the other’s carefully crafted web, our souls moving to do their twisted dance. We couldn’t stop and certainly, we did not want to stop mixing that which made us two. The knot of selves was but a mere preamble to the waltz of unification we performed under the influence of all the gods above. 

Now, most esteemed jury, that you understand the extent of our strange relationship, I can begin to narrate the following events: his demise (and the attempt of mine). I’ll tell it as I myself see fit and understand. That’s the horror of it for me, that I understand everything.

On October 11th of a certain year which I fail to recall, we were sitting against each other on the couch in his apartment, talking, quietly laughing, wasting our minds with wine as one does during the exam period. Take note, that Henry is reserved while his usual self, however, alcohol slightly enables the more emotive side of him. Through our conversation, he grew serious. I didn’t have to ask I knew he was going to tell me.

“You ruin me. You must know since you keep doing it.” Henry mumbled under his breath.  “You lurk through the darkest depths of my mind,” I looked at him, his expression a mirror of mine “I wander dazed, like Hades’ dead undead, unable to form a single coherent thought.” He scoffed. “You are my worst nightmare.” 

I remember closing my eyes for a moment. Knowing he was suffering because of me filled me with bliss. I could see that he was terribly irritated with his emotions, but I wasn’t going to soften anything. Oh no, on the contrary, seeing him in such a state made me deliberately want to intensify it. And then I opened my eyes only to find him, him, holding a knife to my throat.

“This has to stop.” He said solemnly, yet my gaze fell on his shaky hand. “I don’t want to plague my rationality further with you.”

I knew that all he had was his mind. And so, when I felt the sharp metal press against my neck; when I saw his determined, icy gaze I knew I had to twirl around him again. To prove to him that we are far from equals, that I am the sublime.

“You don’t have to love me.” I started out almost desperately, though it was only a trick, I assure you.  “Don’t answer me anything, don’t take any notice of me at all, and only let me look at you from the corner, turn me into your thing, into your little dog..” I whispered.

With his thumb, he wiped away the wetness falling from my eyes (not tears). He was distracted and so I gripped his arm turning it away from my throat and towards his chest. He reacted and used his force to push it in my face. I stopped it with my free hand just before the tempting edge deflated my round eye and all the liquid from it spilled on my face. However, doing so, Henry did severe my ring finger. It ripped from the last jagged skin and juicy flesh that held it tied to my stained hand, fell on the sofa and rolled down onto Henry’s oriental rug with a barely audible thump, all while leaving dark red stains behind. I got up and used my body to push him to the ground. I step on my lost finger. It lets out a crack. He drops the knife due to the force and I get my greedy hands on it. He hurried to get up but I straddled his hips and kissed him, pushing my wet tongue into his warm mouth. I lost myself in it and I only snapped out of my daze when I felt his thick blood staining my skin. Drip, drop, little ladybugs everywhere. 

I opened my eyes only to find his, or rather my, icy eyes still staring at me. What was left of my finger I dipped in blood and licked it. The glorious taste of his fluids mixed with mine exploded on my tongue and a voice whispered. And I believed it blindly, madly, terribly.

You all whom you believe yourself above me, pitiless hermaphrodites, inquire endlessly about the location of his body. It is not good manners to insist. Settle down, brutes, I’ll give you a clue just so you’ll leave me alone to mourn.

I listened to the voice that sang so sweetly in my ear. That is where his body is, in eternity with me.

Pass judgment on me, for that is why you’re here. However, you all are witnesses to my ‘crimes’, so judge yourself too, with the guidance of the Gods, for every accusation that leaves your wretched lips is a cast of your own dark depths. Answer if you are without sin: is it wrong to prove yourself to the one you love?

[thehypnone]

In the Rain of Summerland

WC: 3,4K

Relationship: Rain/Dewdrop

Tags: Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Water!Dew, Transmasc Dew, Vaginal Sex, Possesiveness, Lake Sex, Marking, Biting, Mild Blood, Tentacle Dick, Gill Play, Cunnilingus, Choking, Creampie, Kissing in the Rain, Love Confessions

Rain couldn’t bear it anymore, the innocent yet hungry looks Dewdrop was throwing his way, when he thought he wasn’t looking. That was an issue on its own. Rain was always looking.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Rain knew perfectly well a storm was coming.

Dewdrop didn’t, weather wasn’t his area of expertise. Rain decided to… use that.

He couldn’t bear it anymore, the innocent yet hungry looks Dewdrop was throwing his way, when he thought Rain wasn’t looking. That was an issue on its own.

Rain was always looking.

Dewdrop was the most beautiful little creature the Pit ever dared to spit out, the younger water ghoul was gone, deep in love the moment his eyes landed on him. On his long, silvery blue hair, obsidian-like twisted horns, deep navy blue eyes that shined with raw power, called for him. There was no way Rain could stop himself from following that call.

He was scared. Scared that he was too obsessed, that he’d lose all control the moment Dewdrop let him in, that he was imagining things, that all Dewdrop was feeling for him was the simple feeling all members of their pack shared. Or worse, that he didn’t like Rain at all.

But Rain wasn’t a coward, or a quitter.

No, he’d take rejection if that was his fate, but he would never forgive himself for not trying.

That’s why that day, when the storm was coming, he had plans.

“Dew?” he knocked at the ghoul’s door, anxiously waiting for it to open. Rain’s face lit up, warmth blooming in his chest, when he was met with Dewdrop’s face. His hair was all tangled up, loose strands wrapped around his horns, but his eyes were bright, there wasn’t any sleepy fogginess in them. Rain didn’t wake him up, then.

“Hi,” he mumbled, lips curling up into a lazy smile.

“Hi,” Rain giggled, daring to lift his hand above Dewdrop’s hand, silently asking for permission to untangle the hair from his horns. The smaller ghoul nodded, smile growing, and Rain couldn’t help but grin himself. “Any plans for today, Droplet?”

“No,” Dewdrop hummed, visibly fighting the need to start purring, to let his eyes slip shut and his shoulders slump at the soft attention Rain was showering him in.

“Good. I’m kidnapping you, then.” Dewdrop gasped dramatically, hand landing over his heart just a bit too slowly. “Meet me by the lake after breakfast, okay?”

“That’s not kidnapping,” Dewdrop grumbled, “and I already had breakfast.”

“Oh,” Rain’s kind smile turned into a smirk, “is that so?”

“Mhm…”

“In that case–” Before Dewdrop had a chance to realize what was happening, Rain had already hoisted him up and thrown over his shoulder. The smaller water ghoul huffed, feigning annoyance, before inevitably relaxing into the other’s hold and starting up a quiet purr. Before long the echoing sound of Rain’s steps on the Abbey’s tile turned to nearly silent padding on wet grass.

They—well, technically just Rain—walked in comfortable silence, up until the very shore of the lake. Dewdrop was set down only to strip his clothes, minus underwear. Rain couldn’t drag his eyes away from him, chest filling up with more and more adoration for the little ghoul with his every move, every revealed inch of skin.

Rain undressed too, not noticing how Dewdrop took his turn in staring at the other in awe, and they both jumped into the water. They gave each other a moment to unglamour in the comfort of their beloved element.

As their eyes adjusted to the slightly murky water and fell on the other one, they both gasped, bubbles escaping their gills. They saw each other’s aquatic forms numerous times, and yet that beauty never failed to stun them.

Rain’s form kept the dark blues and violets of his partially glamoured body. Iridescent scales, delicate fins, waves of void-colored hair, glowing eyes and luminous markings over his spruce blue skin made the water ghoul a creature of myths, a work of art ripped out of a painting to add grace into the ugly real world. If you asked Dewdrop, that is. Rain knew he was pretty, yes, but Dewdrop saw so much more.

For Rain, Dewdrop was not only so much more. He was everything. Where Rain was a mere deep sea creature, Dewdrop was a siren luring in humans and ghouls alike with his beauty.

His aquatic form was as bright as his demeanor, bright reds and oranges mixing with silver and deep blue, just like Rain’s. He liked to think of this similarity as a prophecy, a sign from Lucifer himself that they were meant to be, that even before Dewdrop let Rain in, they were already carrying pieces of the other with themselves. 

Grinning at each other they swam up. At least that’s what Rain thought was the plan, but when he broke the surface, Dewdrop was nowhere to be seen. He looked around, unconsciously letting a longing chirp escape his mouth.

Suddenly, the water rippled and Dewdrop jumped out of it, his scales and hair reflecting the bright sun, making him glow in a way that caused Rain’s jaw to quite literally drop. The smaller ghoul disappeared under the water with a splash again, as Rain continued to stare dumbly at the disturbed surface of the lake where Dewdrop had fallen back. He was so in love.

Once he shook himself out of the trance he was put in, the ghoul dived under himself, looking around for his beautiful siren. His. He needed Dewdrop to agree to be his. He needed him.

Rain couldn’t see him anywhere, though. The lake was big and deep, full of plants, rocks and caves, but he didn’t think Dewdrop would hide from him. Did he hide? Why, what did Rain–

“Will you meet me there,” a voice rang out. One of an angel, as Rain heard it. It clung to every single drop of water surrounding him, it wrapped around him like vines and pulled, “underneath the pallid city lights?”

Rain was swimming before he realized he moved, following the voice that came from everywhere around.

“In the rain of Summerland,” he swam lower, closer to the bottom of the lake, where sand was bright and soft, “over the ashes…”

He knew Dewdrop was close, probably even closer than he thought, but he didn’t see him. Couldn’t see him, anywhere. Rain started to get anxious. Maybe he was no more than a plaything for Dew, like countless others? Just another fool bewitched by him. Ready to fulfill all his wishes until Dewdrop would get bored of him and send him away, maybe kill, maybe eat, to then go look for his next prey.

“Our memories,” this time it wasn’t all around, it was just in Rain’s ear, “in open hands.”

Cold, webbed hands landed on his hips, making him let out a gasp, his gills flaring. They slid to Rain’s front, caressing his stomach, catching on his scales, then moving up to his chest, brushing against his pebbled nipples. The bigger ghoul sank a bit lower as he sagged into Dewdrop's soft touch, eyes slipping closed, “Dew, baby…”

“Mhm…” Dewdrop purred, nuzzling his neck, “I’ve got you, Rainy, relax.”

Dewdrop swam around him, gluing his chest to the other ghoul’s. Rain dared to open his eyes, finding the navy blue orbs already staring at him. Into him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Dewdrop giggled, mirroring their earlier interaction and Rain could feel his cheeks go warm even in the cold depth of the lake. They kept staring at each other, faces inches apart, not daring to blink, to waste even a fraction of a second. Dewdrop glanced down at Rain’s lips just once, and Rain had never had so much hope in him as in this moment. He was ready to burst with it.

“Dew…” he whispered, a silent question, a plea, his own eyes now pinned to the smaller ghoul’s mouth.

“Please,” Dewdrop breathed out into the water and Rain didn’t need any further encouragement. His fingers tangled in Dewdrop’s hair, as much as the webbing between them would allow, and he crashed their lips with a bruising force.

The moment they touched something inside Rain snapped, like a rope that was slowly being pulled over a candle. He kissed to devour, wrapping his arms all around Dewdrop and holding him tight, so he’d never leave. The smaller ghoul kissed him with equal amount of need, but no possessiveness. He was the one who wanted to be claimed, owned.

“R- Rain,” Dewdrop sputtered, trying to pull away. Rain froze, suddenly terrified of all his actions from the past few moments. He knew he was too obsessed, he was crazy, he never should’ve–

“I– I’m sorry, I–” it was Rain’s turn to move back. He was surprised to be stopped by Dew’s tail wrapped around his middle. When did that happen?

“I was about to say,” he pulled him back in, “that I want you… to make me yours.”

 Rain choked on a moan, feeling his cock—tentacle, technically, in this form—kick where it was still trapped in his boxers, “Dew– wh– what, are you… do you mean it? I need you to mean it, I need you to be–”

“Shush,” Dewdrop placed a finger on his lips, “I mean it, Rain.”

“N– no, Dew, you don’t– you don’t understand, I– I’m going to lose it,” Rain started rambling at this point, terrified of the possibility of scaring Dewdrop, of hurting him. “I’m- I’m a beast, I’ll go fucking feral, it’s– it’s my kind’s thing, I just– I don’t want to hurt you, ruin wh–”

“Rain,” Dewdrop interrupted him, voice stern, “I know what you are, I know you. I’m not afraid. I could never be afraid of you, I trust you and I want you. Mark me up, spill my blood, but please don't make me wait any longer.”

The bigger ghoul stared at him with his mouth agape. He wanted it, too, all of that, Satan knows how much, but Dewdrop was so… he was so beautiful, small, delicate. Rain would never forgive himself if he’d really harm him, even if realistically he was well aware it was just how Dewdrop looked. He wasn’t a kit or a porcelain doll, he was a centuries old, powerful water ghoul. And he asked Rain to make him his.

At the end of the day… who was Rain to decline such an offer?

He brought his hand to Dewdrop’s face, cupping his cheek with all the gentleness in the entire world. Rain was holding the entire world, or at the very least his entire world.

“I trust you,” Dewdrop said again and this time Rain truly snapped. He cradled Dewdrop’s head and all but slammed their faces together licking into the smaller ghoul’s mouth as he let him in. He finally let him in. Rain could cry. He just might.

Dewdrop moaned into the kiss, digging his claws into Rain’s shoulders as he let himself be taken, basically a deadweight held up in his arms, helped by their water.

Rain trailed his lips down, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his way. If they wouldn't be in the lake, there would surely be a trail of spit running down Dewdrop’s face. The bigger ghoul didn’t stop when he got to the set of slits on the other’s neck, adorned with soft purplish-orange fins. He kissed them reverently before sucking the delicate flesh into his mouth, pulling a beautiful whimper from Dewdrop.

After dragging the tip of his tongue along the opening of Dewdrop’s gills Rain continued on downwards, pausing at the subtle swell of his chest. He did the same to his pierced nipples as he did to his neck, gently biting, sucking and teasing with his tongue.

“Rain…” Dewdrop cried out. Rain moaned himself as that beautiful voice that lured him in like a sailor earlier was now singing just for him.

He moved further down, big hands gripping slim hips, kissing and licking down Dewdrop’s body, nipping at his belly, until he got to the waistband of his underwear. After glancing up to make sure the ghoul didn’t change his mind and seeing nothing but lust on his face, Rain peeled the boxers off and nuzzled his cheek against the soft curls he was met up with. His nose finally reached the very source of the sweetest, most alluring scent. Slightly musky, salty caramel overwhelmed his senses and there was nothing apart from Dewdrop, not even Lucifer himself, that could force him away now.

Rain wrapped his arms around those slender thighs and dived in, Dewdrop’s hands flying to grab at his horns, pull on his hair, as the other’s tongue slid against his aching cunt, licking in between his folds.

“Oh, fuck, oh–” was all Dewdrop could spit out as Rain expertly brought him to a brink in mere seconds. He dipped his tongue into him while nosing at his clit and the smaller ghoul could do nothing to stop the orgasm that was rushing at him like a freight train.

And like a freight train it hit him, legs clenching around Rain’s shoulder, hand tightening on his horns, as he came. The bigger ghoul smirked against his cunt, drinking up everything Dewdrop spilled before it could mix with the water all around them. He’d never waste such a gift.

One more wrecked moan escaped Dewdrop’s lips when Rain glanced up, hungry eyes staring up at him from where he was, quite literally, swimming in between his thighs. With a force that made Rain whimper, Dewdrop hauled him up, kissing him in a way that would steal all the air from both their lungs if not for their gills.

“Dew, shit–”

“Fuck me, Rain, please,” he whined, clawing at Rain’s hips where he still had his underwear on. It did nothing to hide how painfully hard he was, but it was a barrier nonetheless. He nodded and Dewdrop didn’t waste any more second before shredding the fabric and letting the scraps float away.

Dewdrop gasped when he finally saw what was hidden from him, eyes sparkling at the beautiful thing he just couldn’t wait to get down his throat. Not now, though. 

Now—or yesterday, really—he needed it deep inside his dripping pussy, filling him up.

His eyes returned to Rain’s face, finding his lips curved into a smirk, eyebrow raised, “Like what you see?”

“Shut up and get it in me,” Dewdrop spat, no real venom in his words. Just pure desperation that made Rain shake with need, too. There’s no way he’d last any more than Dewdrop did.

Rain grabbed Dewdrop’s leg and hooked his thigh over his hip, letting the tip of his cock nudge against the smaller ghoul cunt, “Don’t… fuck, don’t tease.”

“Never,” Rain murmured and snapped his hips, sheathing himself in this blissfully wet warmth in one move. They moaned in unison, shivers going through both of them. Rain had to take a moment, he was dangerously close to bursting just from that unholy feeling enveloping him.

“Rain, I don’t care,” Dewdrop mewled, apparently guessing Rain’s thoughts. “Blow right away, I don’t care, just move.”

With a groan he wrapped his arms all around Dewdrop, holding on for dear life, and hid his face in the crook of his neck as he started thrusting, slow, but hard. There was barely any space between them, but Rain’s every move was making his dick hit that sweet spot inside the other ghoul with deadly precision. They’d both fall apart in just minutes.

Dewdrop felt Rain getting desperate in seconds, though, the hands groping him tensing, the mouth on his shoulder opening and closing as if he wanted to ask for something but lacked the courage.

The smaller ghoul uncurled his own arms from around Rain and grabbed his face, pulling him up for a deep, desperate kiss again, one they both moaned into.

“Dewdrop, Dew, please, choke me, please,” Rain begged when they pulled away. He tilted his head backwards, baring his neck. Ready for Dewdrop to either spill his blood or let him spill inside his body.

Dewdrop obliged, wrapping his fingers around Rain’s neck and after just a second of doubt he squeezed.

“Fuck.” Rain was absolutely wrecked, seconds away from bursting, and Dewdrop knew just exactly how to tip them both over the edge.

He cradled the back of Rain’s head with his other hand and brought it back to his, covered in bruises already, neck, “Bite me, Rain. Mark me, so everyone knows who I belong to.”

His mouth opened in a whine when Dewdrop’s fingers dipped into his gills, curling downwards to make Rain truly shake, cock throbbing.

“Go on,” he encouraged one more time, and with last snap of his hips Rain bit down, warm blood filling his mouth as Dewdrop’s cunt was filled with his cum, the smaller ghoul’s own release running down their thighs.

They both thought they passed out a little bit, high on oxytocin, dopamine and each other. Rain didn’t pull away from Dewdrop’s neck, carefully lapping up at the bite. The other gently slipped his fingers out of Rain’s gills, moving that hand to his hair and scratching at his scalp soothingly.

After a while Rain came back down and got brave enough to face Dewdrop again. He was so afraid of seeing resentment on that beautiful face. Or worse… fear. Fear of him.

There was no such thing when he dared to lift his head. Dewdrop’s expression all but radiated happiness and adoration for Rain.

“Are you okay?” Dewdrop asked. He nodded.

“Are you?” the bigger ghoul muttered and he could swear Lucifer grabbed his heart and squeezed when Dewdrop smiled at him with a nod. There was no saving Rain now, he was beyond damned.

“Ready to go up?” He gave yet another nod before starting to reluctantly pull himself away and out of Dewdrop, missing the clutch of his body already. Rain couldn’t help but look down between the smaller ghoul’s legs to see the water around become slightly milky when his own spend started to leak out of him. It was so fucking hot, Rain could barely contain himself from dipping down again and eating it all out of Dewdrop. Maybe later, back in his—would it be their now?—bed, Dewdrop would let him check if anything was left.

Holding hands, they swam closer to the shore, and up to the surface. Dewdrop didn’t notice Rain’s suspicious grin, a bit of blood still on his fangs, taking it for a sign of unfiltered happiness, just like the one splitting his own face. It certainly was, the smaller ghoul just hadn’t known everything yet.

They broke the surface and as Dewdrop started shaking his head with his eyes closed, not unlike a wet dog, Rain pulled him close again, “Hey, Droplet.”

Dewdrop chirped and paused, eyes opening to find the other ghoul already staring down at him with a bright smile. Now that he could see and feel, without the distraction of wet hair splattering all over, he realized it was raining. Not only raining, they got caught up in a full storm, with growls of thunder sounding in the distance. It was far away enough that they were still safe in the lake, and it was perfect. 

“Rainy–”

“It is,” Rain cut him off with a giggle. Dewdrop followed, hot blush creeping up his cheeks. He looked down, fidgeting with his hands, that got awkwardly trapped between their bodies. The bigger ghoul chuckled again as he noticed. He pulled Dewdrop’s hand apart, dragging them to hang around his neck, his own landing around Dewdrop’s waist as their finned tails and webbed feet kept them afloat. 

“Rainy?” Dewdrop tried again.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he said simply, lips curving into the biggest smile Rain has ever seen. He wished he could reply in a similar fashion, but words left him, sailing away with the tears of happiness that suddenly started running down his face. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Dewdrop’s again. Only this time, there was no teeth, no fire, no taking.

There was pure feeling, love. It was a kiss that said more than any words in any language could ever express. It was a promise and a plea.

“I love you, too,” Rain said after a long moment, when their tears had long mixed on their cheeks with the rain still pouring down on them, when their harmonized heartbeats were as loud as the thunder still rumbling far-off.

[sol-consort]

How do you think the mass effect species would feel about camping?

Like marshmallows, and spooky stories around the campfire to scare the kids, style camping?

Camping

[General, Alien species]

Salarians

You'd expect the species stereotyped to spend 70% of their limited lifespan in sterile labs to be a fish out of water when it comes to nature's domain

But you'd be wrong

Salarians are little camping freaks

What else do you expect from a haven tropical world such as theirs?

The open spaces incorporated into their infrastructure give way for the flora to intertwine around their buildings

The warm sun, the light breeze, the chirping of birds

As far as salarians are concerned, camping is like a trip back home

The dirt, the mud, the smooth rocks even feel just right against their skin

Much like humans get lost staring into the swirling campfire's flames for too long—an ancient habit nurtured by our stone age days

Salarians are not so far off when it comes to forests and lakes

Not to mention the delicious bugs

Oh yes.

You have the urge to pick a berry from a Mystery Bush out in the forest and munch on it

While your salarian fishing buddy has been eyeing the fly buzzing around your opened sugary drink

They Thrive capital T in the grassy fields

The humid atmosphere does wonders to their skin

Mosquitos never bother them

Life is good as a salarian camping

Most of their childhood was spent diving into lakes and playing around trees in Sur'kesh's lush forests

Daring each other to lick rocks

Easily holding their breath underwater for an extended amount of time

With their perfect memory, there was no fear of ever getting lost

A lot of human cautionary horror tales about kids straying too far into the forest never work on Salarians

"Why didn't they just turn around and leave? It's not that hard"

"What do you mean all trees look the same? No, they don't. They're extremely different. You'd be blind to mix one with another."

The human camping experience seems a little excessive to them in comparison

Why do you have to start a fire? Can't you just eat raw things or pack nutrition bars.

Why so are your tents so big and flimsy?

They only sleep an hour max so they never bother with tents while camping

Simply taking a power nap in a folding plastic chair is all the rest they need

They're more solitary than humans, so a tribal species including them in such activities feels strange at first.

Not bad strange, just new.

The cooperative experience of setting up the tents

Picking roommates and dividing chores to get dinner ready and a fire going before nightfall

Eating at the same time around the fireplace, exchanging stories whilst in a circle

Then it's time for dessert as the stories get more dramatic and spooky

Always accompanying another person when they want to wander into the forest

Whether it's to take a piss or pocket some cool shiny rocks before the crows get to it

The Buddy System

It's incredibly intimate for a salarian

At one point they wonder if the humans are going to make them cuddle in one big pile for heat like they did in their primal days

Like other tribal species they've observed do

The salarian spends all day mentally preparing for it

And just as the first human begins to yawn, infecting the rest with their sleepiness

The salarian thinks oh! This must be It!

Here it comes!

...except everyone just retires to their own tents

Which boogles the salarian mind even harder

You spent all day together, practically attached at the hip

But when you're sleeping—arguably the most vulnerable hours you humans spend defenceless and unconscious

The optimal time for a predetor to strike

You suddenly crave independence so badily??

Fine. Go have your rest.

The salarian will stay awake to keep watch

And scream murder if anything remotely bear shaped makes itself known from behind a tree

Definitely just to ensure the safety of the humans yes

And absolutely not because that story one human told about that unusually slender man in a suit is looping in their brain

They're not scared of him or of the weird collectable letters he litters around!

[butternutt613]

Guys I need to share this because I think first year Ominis and Sebastian are just the cutest thing ever! This is a tiny piece of the much longer chapter I'm working on for In the Shadow of the Serpent. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~

The first solid memory crashed into him like an avalanche, sending him tumbling to the floor. The cold air washed over the Black Lake, chiling the small boy who stood on the edge of the dock. The water lapped at the small boat before him and he clenched his fist around his newly procured wand. The smooth hawthorn wood was warm in his hand, humming softly. Water had always unnerved him, especially now as his wand, who had just started to learn to guide him, couldn't conjure up a display of exactly what was before him. It seemed to be a never ending black pit that, if he were to fall in, would send him tumbling into the void for eternity.

He had watched as other children clambered aboard the little boats, laughing loudly as one deep red aura rocked the boat violently and splashed water towards a group of yellow and pink magic. Ominis stumbled back as he was splashed with the icy water. He was too focused on the water spraying from the boat that he almost wouldn't have noticed he stepped on another child's toes if the other boy hadn't cried out, shoving Ominis back.

Ominis stumbled frantically grasping at air to stabilize himself. All he found was the sleeve of the boy's robe, pulling him down with. Fortunately for Ominis, they did not land in the water, but rather on the muddy bank. Ominis could feel the cold, wet dirt sink into his skin as the boy started laughing hysterically.

“Oh Merlin, that was fun!” The boy laughed as he started to get up.

Ominis turned his head to say a few choice words when he was met with the most brilliant aura he had ever seen. The golden magic that radiated off the boy was raw and untamed, flickering erratically as he hooted with laughter. Ominis couldn’t look away.

Surely this is what the sun looked like? He thought to himself. He wasn't sure how long he had stared at the beautiful aura. It had felt like a lifetime, when in reality it was only a few short seconds.

The boy, now standing, offered his hand to the other, drawing Ominis from his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he took the boy's warm hand. As the other boy started to haul him to his feet, his sleek dress shoe slipped out from under him, sending him careening back down with the boy.

He could feel the boy staring at him for a moment as Ominis laid sprawled across the boy. Then the laughter started back up just as lively and rambunctious as before. The boy squeezed his side as he laughed. Ominis could feel his skin get hot. He had never been this close with someone who wasn't family.

“Oh… Oh, I am so sorry mate!” The boy barely managed to get the words out before he dissolved into more laughter, flopping into the mud that squelched underneath him.

Ominis sat there, watching the boy shake with laughter. He was mesmerizing.

“Sebastian?” A voice called from above them.

Jolting, Ominis pushed at the boys chest, scrambling away, hands slick with mud. Once he had put some distance between them, he looked towards the new voice and was met with another brilliant aura. This new one was such a lovely, soft lavender color. One glace and he was already drawn in.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” The soft, feminine voice asked again.

Sebastian.

The boy, Sebastian spoke again, voice still quivering with laughter. “We just had a little accident, didn't we… um,” Ominis could feel both sets of eyes on him again as the mud seeped into his clothing.

“Ominis. I am Ominis Azrael Gaunt of the most noble and most ancient House of Gaunt.” He recited the traditional pureblood greeting, as that was ingrained in his head by his governess for being the proper way to introduce himself.

This caused the new students staring at him to giggle together.

“Well, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Ominis Azrael Gaunt of the most noble and most ancient House of Gaunt,” the girl said in an overly posh voice through fits of giggles. “I'm Anne Illene Sallow and this is my brother Sebastian Raguel Sallow. We're from, well, the not so noble and not so ancient house of… Sallow?”

The pair bust into laughter again and Ominis could feel his cheeks heating up. They are mocking him.

“Come on, Ominis Azrael Gaunt. We got to get on the boat or we'll be left behind.” The boy, Sebastian, grabbed his wrist and drags him up. This time they didn't slip on the mud while making their way back on top of the dock.

Sebastian’s hold on his wrist was warm, tight but not crushing like he is used to. It was nice.

Back on the edge of the dock, covered in mud, Ominis stared down at the rocking boat as first the girl, Anne clambered on before Sebastian followed. He wasn’t holding on to Ominis anymore and the young wizard suddenly felt rather cold. He twisted his hawthorn wand between his fingers. He had to get on the boat. Just get on the boat. Do it Ominis. You are a Gaunt…

Sebastian’s yellow aura pulsed around him as he reached out to still his fingers. “Are you alright, Ominis?”

Ominis could feel the golden magic caress his own, calming his mind. “I… I do not like water,” Ominis whispered, ashamed to admit that fact. He was supposed to be strong. Fear nothing. He was a Gaunt.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Sebastian’s voice washed over him. “I've got you.”

Anne’s voice followed, wrapping around him like a lullaby. “We'll stick together.”

And they did. They wrapped their small hands around him and guided him safely to the center of the boat. They sat on either side of him, bodies pressed flush to his side as the boat started to drift over the calm Black Lake.

~~~~~~

Hopefully the rest of the chapter will be ready later this week!

[darkfluffydragon]

Operation Abundance Oneshot: Aureate's Dream

(Quick reminder that Aureate is Golden Cheese Cookie, includes poly ancients.)

Aureate lay nestled within the arms of Pure Vanilla Cookie, their bodies enveloped by the cool shade of a towering palm tree. The bright, warm day bathed them in a soothing light, casting dappled patterns across the plush blankets and pillows scattered around them. Her wings, shimmering with a golden hue, draped protectively over him. They were both adorned in jewellery, catching the sunlight and adding a touch of added beauty to their rest.

Sleepiness weighed heavily on Aureate, her eyelids fluttering as she teetered on the edge of slumber. The warmth of Pure Vanilla Cookie's embrace was comforting. It was a momentary escape from the reality that often haunted her. The rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart, it all created a lullaby that pulled her deeper into tranquillity. It was a loud, alluring call of sleep that distracted her from the visages of castle ruins, dust, and sand that was supposed to be anything else but what it had become.

Yet, even in this peaceful moment, her thoughts were restless. She gazed at Pure Vanilla Cookie. She longed to tell him how deeply she loved him, to pour out her affection in rambled heartfelt confessions. She wanted to share with him the depth of her gratitude for his unwavering kindness, his gentle personality that had become her anchor, her constant.

She thought of the other heroes, the brave, *wonderful* cookies she had journeyed with. Each one carving a space in her heart. She wished she could tell them all how much she treasured them, how their strength and courage had inspired her, had made her feel as though she was part of something greater. Those feelings were real, raw, and pure, born from true bonds and shared experiences.

It was emotions built up from shared stories around the campfire, from laughter and banter that erupted when Dark Cacao was pushed into a syrup lake by Hollyberry, from the concern and worry they showed when she found herself too weak and tired to stand back up after a battle. It was from the time Dark Cacao had risked his life within a rampaging winter storm, in order to find and drag the lost ancients, still young and mere adventurers, back to safety. It was from how Pure Vanilla stayed unwaveringly by their side whenever they were injured, or how White Lily murmured about such curious new findings, or how Hollyberry always knew how to make everyone smile.

They were her treasures. Like the streets, the buildings, the gold, the cookies of her kingdom. Just like those, they were her dearest treasures. The ones who had grasped, captured, her affection and her love. The ones who treasured her as much as she treasured them.

For so long now, she had kept the truth to herself. There had never been a good time. She wanted to invite them to her grand palace, to spoil them in her riches and feed them the finest feast and liquor in all the land. She wanted them all to be together, underneath her desert’s starry sky as she offered to them the most valuable gem she owned, her heart. 

They would spare no expense. No, each of them held their kingdoms and traditions too closely to themselves to simply be happy with only her offerings. They would go to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, of snow and warriors where they would prove their worth to the king’s loyal subjects. They would go to the Hollyberry Kingdom where they would eat and drink and dance the week away. They would go to the Pure Vanilla Kingdom to enjoy the stores, the scenery, and the everyday life of such a peaceful haven. They would journey into the forests with White Lily to search for flowers and berries, and return back to their roots as simple wanderers searching for a purpose. 

But Aureate knew these feelings were meant for her real friends, not the illusions that surrounded her now. This scene, this perfect moment, was a construct of her desires, a prison crafted from the deepest yearnings of her heart. The heroes here, though they looked and acted like her friends, were mere reflections of her memories, not the genuine souls she held dear. 

She never had the chance to tell them how she felt, she never got to hold them all within her wings. 

Her heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips as she looked at Pure Vanilla Cookie. She cherished this moment, even as she knew it was a fleeting, beautiful mirage in the desert of her longing. She held onto the warmth, the comfort, the love, knowing that one day she would find her way back to them (if what that child said had been correct). She would return with more power than ever, with a complete soul, with her kingdom and cookies back in her hands. She would return, victorious.

Until then, she would keep her feelings close, a precious secret tucked within her heart. The words would wait for the real heroes, for the day she could look into their eyes and speak from the depths of her soul. For now, she embraced the dream, her wings curling tighter around Pure Vanilla Cookie, as she drifted back into the warmth of sleep.

She dreamt a life with her most beloved Treasures.