#waiting to see if the next flash of lightning will be the end of him 😢

[taters169]

The Tin drabbles

Thunderstorms

Masterlist

@augusnippets day 3 thunderstorm/blizzard/heatwave

TW tiny whump

Another flash of lightning lit up the room shortly followed by a boom of thunder as Michael stood shaking by the tin.

"There's no use crying about it now" said his Master. "You earned your time out so get in the box" he nudged the open tin even closer to Michael

"Please sir, I'm sorry! Please just let me stay inside" Michael sobbed as he stepped into the tin

"If you are very lucky I'll bring you back in in a couple of hours. And if you're really lucky this conductive metal tin of yours won't get struck by lightening" his Master said gleefully as he pushed on Michael's head forcing him to curl up in the bottom of the tin. "After all if that happens I doubt there would even be much of the tin left, nevermind your pathetic little frame"

Michael wrapped his trembling arms around his knees making his already tiny form even smaller. Wracked with sobs struggling to catch his breath as he felt the panic rising. He saw the grin on his Master's face as the lid was snapped shut trapping him in.

"Come along then little toy" said his master as he felt the tin being lifted "let's find a good spot in the garden for you"

[monstersholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn’t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[tojisteddy]

Soft daddy simon is actually so so hot like when hes normally mean but hes nice and ugh. Please please more nice dad !! Maybe when blackcat reader gets hurt / has a nightmare ? Im a slut but im a bigger slut for h/c

Thunder & Lightning | cw: 18+ mdni, fluffville, softdom!Simon, dd/lg dynamics, dad bf!Simon, daddy used once tho, blackcat!reader

It was late, too late for anyone in the house to be up. But he heard it, the shift of feet back and forth, a tugging of carpet and then the little opening and closing of the end table that stood in the hallway. Like a cat trying to get in to a closed room, except you hadn’t just come in like you usually do.

Simon sighed, taking his aching body and leaving from the comfort of his bed.

“What’re you up to kiddo?” His voice filles the hallway but it’s nothing but soft, the gentle look in his eyes tells you that as he leans on the doorframe. He looks down at the state of you, scarf on, eyes wide but the tinest bit of tiredness in them, cuddled up on to the bench by the window, flipping through some book.

“I’m reading.” You say softly.

“It’s 2 am.”

“I’m an early riser.”

And then, there’s a flash of white light from the clouds that fills the hallway, a loud rumble to follow. Simon isn’t scared of it, he’s had to work long nights in the pouring rain, swim through flooded waters, the commotion of a fight— he’s used to it. So much so he has to hear that white noise or something for him to go so sleep. You on the other hand, his precious little baby, brown eyes widen at the boom, your body doesn’t jolt, but the blonde senses the tenseness in your shoulders, the ever so minuscule twitch of your finger as you flip to the next page of the book.

You’re scared.

And no, not just from the thunder and lightening, a fear that hides in your tiny freezes to see if it hit anything or just to stop, but leaps out when he’s not there. It’s something else, something clouding your mind. But he made sure to get you to sleep before the storm came through in your room, he had work to finish. But you’re up now. Precious thing. Simon nods to himself, walking towards you with his heavy footsteps. Then lifts you without a second thought, setting the book on the end table and patting your back, “Let’s sleep in your room, yeah Kitty? Get you t’sleep.”

You hum, but you’re unconvinced, wrapping your arms around his as he lays you down in your fluffy bed, your head softly hitting your cheetah print pillows while Simon climbs in behind you, tugging you by the waist closer to him. His chest meeting your back, his large calloused hands rub all over, to soothe you.

You don’t know how much time passes. But you can hear Simons breathing get slower, every pitter patter of rain hitting the window and the roof.

“I had a dream… that I got struck by lightning,” you whispered, staring towards the wall, the little dots forming in your eyes. “And then I couldn’t get out of the rain… the water kept rising… and I couldn’t see you.”

There’s a pause, you shuffle your feet on the sheets, deciding it’s better to warm your legs in between Simons. You wave yourself off, “It’s stupid, you’re sleeping.”

Theres a grunt, the older blonde shushes you, “ ‘S not stupid swee’art. Just was scared is all, ‘nd your dreams got to you. But ‘m right here, right? Daddy’s right here.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That’s right.”

“ ‘M not goin anywhere either. Love you too much.” He takes your hand from underneath the comforter and kisses it, then kisses your shoulder blade.

And it does the magic trick, settles you finally, your tired eyes close as you cuddle into Simon.

A peaceful night at the Riley house despite the storm outside.

a/n: that’s for the request!! I’m slowly (extremely slow) but surely trying to knock these out. Sorry for the wait. I woke up at 3 am and randomly wrote part of this.

most recent masterlist

[zevrra]

caught in the rain—

synopsis: you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, fem!reader, hogwarts legacy, sebastian sallow(18+), about 3k words

“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” You mutter. Mostly to yourself but you wouldn’t at all be surprised if Sebastian had heard too. You both had been sent out together to gather some information about some dark magic being practiced on the Poidsear Coast.

Everything had been going smoothly, from taking witness statements to tracking down the dark wizard’s hideout to the coast, even the two of you getting along.

That is until an unexpected heavy downpour comes. Cold rain falls heavy like a thick blanket on the two of you, forcing you to take shelter. Every piece of clothing you wore was soaked—down to your very bones. Thankfully, Sebastian and yourself had managed to find an abandoned home. Boarded up with a more than obvious appearance of not having been taken care of in a very long time.

While you say things could not be worse you really didn’t mean it. Being rained on and forced to wear your freezing clothes wasn’t truly the worst thing in the world. Neither was being stuck in that house with your academic rival. And crush.

“Well. Try not to make it sound so horrible now,” Sebastian sarcastically says. Teasing you as he shrugs off his heavy coat in some hope to warm himself. Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt as he does anything but look at you. “We could be in some troll’s den. That would be worse.” He chuckles as he checks out the house, hoping to find anything to maybe start a fire with. Swatting away at cobwebs with an annoyed look.

You sigh. Too cold to even defend yourself at the moment. Moving to stand next to a window. Watching as lightning flashes across the sky and the harsh sound of thunder that follows.

“We’ll be here all night if this storm doesn’t stop soon.” You say, irritated. Not that sleeping in some random home, far from the safety of Hogwarts, with no other change of clothes, no warmth, and no bed, didn’t sound fantastic and all but it would also reset all of your progress from today. Tracking down the dark wizard hiding out on this coast had been an assignment given to the two of you and not completing it would leave you both looking rather poorly in your professor's eyes.

“You worry too much,” Sebastian says, cutting into your thoughts, making you look away from the window and towards where his voice had carried from.

You watch as he moves towards the other end of the dark home, Lumos, lighting the tip of his wand as he examines the place. Stairs lead to a second story or perhaps an attic in the farthest corner from the door. Off next to the stairs is a large stone fireplace just waiting to be lit.

“See, always so dramatic.”

You roll your eyes at Sebastian as you follow him into the home. Shoulders tense as you wait for anything to jump out at you. No damn spider was sneaking up on you, not today. In a smaller room straight across from the stairs sits untouched furniture from who knows how long ago. With chairs perfect for disassembling and using as firewood.

Well, at least you’d be semi-warm and somewhat dry for the rest of the time being.

After some rearranging and the use of Incendio, the two of you make quick work of starting a fire and laying out your cloaks before the hearth to dry. Now you are left in just your blouse and skirt, shoes and socks forgotten until they also get the chance to dry as the storm continues to rage outside.

Sebastian stood beside the fireplace, hands held out to try and warm his fingers up. The dull sound of the rain is really the only noise the two of you make. You were friends, classmates, but above all rivals. You could have a civil conversation but seeing as the two of you were there on an assignment, things were tense as both of you wanted to outdo the other.

You shiver, curling up on yourself by pulling your knees to your chest. The fire was working well but the wet clothes still sticking to your body kept you from truly getting to warm up.

“I’m going to go look for a blanket.” Sebastian says, suddenly breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nod in response as he leaves to rummage around the forgotten home. His search for a blanket takes him up the stairs and you watch him go. An eerie feeling creeps up your spine as soon as you‘re left alone. The strange feeling of being watched itches just behind your senses of being cold. It makes you look over your shoulder a few times. That is until Sebastian finally returns.

A thick quilt is draped across your shoulders that startles you ever so slightly. In all honesty, you had thought Sebastian went to retrieve the blanket for himself. Now with the heavy cloth wrapping around your own body you realize that he had been watching you beforehand. He had retrieved the blanket solely for you. The thought makes you flush.

He moves to sit beside you now. Hands returning to hover out in front of the flickering flames. “There’s also a bed upstairs. If you’re tired.” Sebastian once again cuts through the silence to speak.

You laugh at his words. Shaking your head as you tighten the blanket around you. “Tempting but no thank you.” You reply, turning your gaze to the fireplace.

“Why not?” Sebastian asks. From his tone he seems genuinely confused.

His confusion makes you chuckle again. As if he really didn’t know. “Oh alright, Sebastian. Let me just go take a small nap while you run off, find and finish our assignment, and then take all of the credit.” You tease. A smile stretches across your lips as if you’ve caught him in the act.

You imagine he’ll make some funny quip about how you were right and that he was just thinking of a way to get ahead in your studies but instead he says nothing.

The silence has you lifting your head to glance over at the other. His brow is furrowed and there’s a deep frown on his face. Clearly you’ve said something wrong.

“Do you truly think I’m so shallow?” Seb whispers. His voice drips with displeasure.

The disdain in his tone was not something you were used to. Sure, Sebastian had had his moments for being a little irritated with you. From cave crawling and accidentally setting off a trap to the two of you butting-heads for top grades but never had he sounded so…upset and hurt before.

Now it was your turn to truly be confused. You did not think of him as shallow or selfish but you also wouldn’t put it past your rival to take the upper hand on you.

“I don’t find you shallow.” You awkwardly reply. Suddenly you’re thankful for the sound of rain and thunder. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” You add quickly afterwards.

“We may be rivals academically but I’m not your enemy. I’m not evil. I still care for you.” Sebastian says with a sigh. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Searching for something you’re not sure of at the moment.

“I apologize,” You mutter. Now would be the perfect time to suddenly disappear. “I simply just thought because of school you would take the opportunity…” You ramble. Wondering why you were even telling Sebastian any of this.

This time, it’s his turn to laugh. It’s a very dry and curt laugh. No humor lingers behind it like it normally would. “I would never sabotage you.”

“No?” You reply short and simple. Wondering why now he would have a soft spot for you. Seeing as he had never before when it involved your academic standpoint.

“What do I have to gain besides you hating me?” Sebastian asks, again genuinely curious. His now warmed hands rub against his cold shoulders and biceps. Hoping to chase away the chill. “I would never want you to hate me.” He adds in a hushed voice.

Listening to Sebastian be so open was definitely something entirely new to you. He was the type to be open about pretty much everything except his feelings. His true, genuine, feelings. And now that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, you couldn’t help but want him to keep talking. “Not that I would ever hate you but would that really be the end of the world?”

Sebastian turns to look at you then. His brown eyes meet your own as the light from the fireplace softly caresses his features. Turns his freckled face into something far more gentle than you’re used to. Yet you weren’t entirely sure if that was because of the dim lighting or the fact that he was looking upon you with such tenderness that it made him look more attractive suddenly.

“To me, yes, it would be.” He admits openly. As if this is something Sebastian said on a daily basis. As if he constantly told you how important you truly were to him.

Upon realizing his confession, Sebastian’s eyes widened. He coughs in an attempt to move the conversation along, or even just to simply cover up the fact that he just told you how horrible the world would be without you. His face flushes a dark red that even in the dim light you can see.

“Only because, well, you know! I wouldn’t have anyone else to compete with!” He stammers, trying to save face.

It’s a little too late for that now though. You knew he meant something a little more meaningful.

You smile as he avoids your line of sight. “Sebastian…” You whisper. His name rolling off your tongue has him freezing in place. Unsure if he should flee and never speak about this ever again or just stay still long enough he can pretend he’s dead. “Be honest.”

Sebastian continues to ignore your gaze for the most part. Fiddling with some interesting looking piece of dust on the rundown wooden floor.

“I don’t know what you mean. I am honest! All the time!” Embarrassingly he answers. “You’re just too dense to see it!” The insult is a hollow insult at best. Just another tactic to avoid the situation he’s started.

You hum in response. Scooting closer to the other to try and get a good look at his blushing face. “How so?”

“N-nothing! No, I don’t know!” Sebastian deflects. Attempting to turn and hide his face from your gaze.

You had never seen him so defensive before. Wanting to close off from you entirely but that was something you would not allow. He started this and he needed to finish it or else you might go mad.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Not that you couldn’t read his body language at the moment but you still wanted him to tell you. To be loud and clear with his feelings so that you too could be honest about your own.

“Ugh!“ He groans in frustration. His hands come up to hide his face from your gaze. Covering over mainly his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you looking at him. “I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met! You’ve never noticed it before so why are you suddenly so keen!?”

The inside of your stomach does a flip. The first day you two met was almost three years ago. Had you really never noticed any of his advances? You think back on all the times when he’d let you copy his notes when you were busy with Mr. Fig for the day. Of all the times he called you annoying but would do anything you asked of him. The countless hours you two would spend in the undercroft, practicing your spells and studying together.

All this time…and he only ever stayed by your side.

You reach to grab gently ahold of his wrists. Somewhat prying his hands away from his face so you could get another good look at him. He’s a mess. Red as a tomato. Blushing like he had been sick with a fever. Hair tousled and curled far more than usual from previously having been rained on.

Sebastian Sallow, your friend and rival, sat before you entirely and wholeheartedly shy. Something you would never have imagined to happen before this day.

He’s still under your touch. Still attempts at avoiding your eyes even now. Doesn’t stop you from reading over his features. From every freckle highlighted by his blush to the pretty length of his eyelashes. He was so handsome. Far more than you had ever realized before.

“Sebastian,” You whisper in a soft tone. As his name is called, his head shifts ever so slightly as he finally meets your gaze once more. A rush of emotion swirls up inside of you. Your chest tightens with sudden adoration for the man sitting before you.

He doesn’t say anything in response though. Just slowly takes control over his own hands, placing one against your cheek. His fingers run gently across your skin. Pushing back damp hair as he finally wants to look at your face.

“You’re an idiot. A fool,” Sebastian mumbles after a few painstakingly long heartbeats. “How did you not know?” He asks as his thumb caresses the high of your cheekbone. A lighthearted tone to his voice. As if it were obvious.

His words make you laugh ever so slightly. Of course you hadn’t realized it. Too blinded by your competitive drive to know that all along he was only competing in hopes to make you like him. Which was silly in itself. Seeing as you had always liked him too.

“Forgive me for not seeing it before,” You reply with a smile. Reaching to touch the back of his hand lovingly. “I would like to know everything now.” You add as you turn your head to kiss the inside of his palm.

His breath hitches as he watches you kiss his hand. A slight tremble in his shoulders tells you he’s holding back on moving things further. Even as his thumb brushes against your lips, while his brown eyes stare at every curve his thumb traces. Wanting to commit all of you to every bit of his memory.

“You…you’re over dramatic, always worrying about me. Sometimes you’re too loud. You manage to best me at everything.” Sebastian rambles on with a soft laugh. “And I love every bit of it. Your drive, your excitement, the way you laugh. Everything about you…”

Sebastian softens as he continues to stare at you. His eyes flick up from your lips to your eyes before glancing back down at the lips he tenderly touches. “And I’ve wanted to kiss you for far too long…”

The words he speaks makes your heart beat far too fast. With how hard your heart beats and how tight your chest is, you could almost swear your heart might have burst out from beneath your ribcage right then and there.

Your own face softens. Pressing your lips gently into the pad of his thumb. “What are you waiting for?” You ask with a smile. And immediately Sebastian mirrors your smile. Now, nothing was going to hold him back.

For a moment, as he leans forward to capture your lips, you thank the sudden rainstorm. For without it, you would never have ended up here, held so lovingly in Sebastian’s arms.

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (1/2)

- Summary: When young Luke came to Storm’s End as his mother’s emissary, Aemond wasn't the only one there to greet the young Prince.

- Pairing: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: Reader is a Dragonslayer (a warrior) that saves Rhaeyra's child and fights for her. This is based on the request below, with my own twist in it, and it's the result of the votes that ended yesterday:

- Rating: Mature 16+ (last part will be rated higher)

- Word count: 8 000+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen is currently under construction. It will be posted once the second part of this work is out. Also, for more of my works visit my blog.

The storm rages fiercely over Storm's End, the winds howling through the stone walls of the castle like a restless beast. You stand in the shadowed alcove, your eyes tracking the young prince as he dismounts from his dragon, Arrax. The creature’s scales gleam wet in the flickering torchlight, its eyes wide with agitation. The beast feels it, the looming presence of something much older and much deadlier. You know without looking that it is Vhagar, the monstrous she-dragon that casts her shadow over the stormy skies.

Lucerys Velaryon, the boy prince, has the look of a cornered deer as he glances around the courtyard, his gaze inevitably drawn to the dark silhouette of Vhagar looming ominously in the distance. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The dragon he rides is no match for the ancient beast that waits, almost as if it hungers for the boy’s fear.

But it is not Vhagar that makes Arrax twitch nervously, shifting its massive claws on the slick stone ground. No, there is something else—another presence that unnerves both dragons. A primal fear ripples through the air, a fear that runs deeper than any rivalry between dragonriders.

You know what they feel. It is the Banshee, your mount, your companion. She lies in the caves beneath the castle, her leathery wings folded, her shriek an unspoken warning to all dragons that a Dragonslayer is near. You’ve ridden her across the skies of Essos, and now you have brought her to this cold, storm-battered land, a place so different from the sunlit shores of your origin.

As Lucerys is escorted into the great hall, you follow silently, a shadow among the guards, your steps barely a whisper against the stone. The hall is dimly lit, the flames flickering in their sconces as the storm rumbles outside. Lord Borros Baratheon sits upon his chair, his face a thundercloud of displeasure, while Aemond Targaryen stands off to the side, his single eye gleaming with malicious intent.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” Borros announces with a voice as heavy as the storm, “sent by your mother, the Queen.”

Lucerys takes a breath, standing tall as he faces the Lord of Storm's End. His voice is steady as he presents his mother’s terms, but you can see the tremor in his hands, the boy struggling to maintain his composure under the weight of the situation.

Aemond steps forward, his presence dark and threatening, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You’re a brave boy to come here alone, nephew,” he sneers, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword. “But bravery only goes so far. You owe me an eye.”

The demand hangs in the air like the threat of lightning. Lucerys’ eyes widen, his breath catching as the terror grips him. He steps back, his hand instinctively moving to his sword, though you can see he knows it is futile. 

Aemond’s voice drips with venom as he draws closer, reaching for the sapphire in his empty eye socket. “Don’t be afraid, boy. It’s a simple thing, really. Just a payment for what was stolen from me.”

Your movement is like a shadow across the floor as you step out from your place against the wall, your boots making soft, deliberate sounds against the stone. Aemond’s attention snaps to you, curiosity flashing in his eye as he sees a figure unlike any other in this hall.

“Who are you?” Aemond demands, his voice tinged with both suspicion and interest. The hall seems to quiet, even the storm outside pausing as if to hear your reply.

Lord Borros rises from his chair, turning his gaze to you, and his expression is a mixture of awe and unease. “This is the emissary from the Free Cities,” he says, his voice uncertain. “She arrived a few days ago, from across the Narrow Sea. An emissary, she claimed, from an ancient order.”

You tilt your head slightly, regarding Aemond with those eyes of yours, eyes that many have said carry the weight of ancient knowledge, of secrets lost to time. When you speak, your accent is thick, your voice smooth, yet carrying a hardness beneath it, like a blade wrapped in silk. “The boy will return to his mother,” you state, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Aemond’s eye narrows, his curiosity turning to annoyance. “You think to order me around in my own land? I am a Targaryen, the blood of the dragon. And you—what are you?”

“I am Y/N,” you say simply, letting the name hang in the air, as though it should explain everything. And to those who know, it does. “And I have no interest in your games, dragonrider. The boy leaves. Now.”

Lucerys looks at you with wide eyes, relief and confusion mixing on his young face. He knows not who you are, nor why you would intercede on his behalf, but he knows better than to question the chance at survival you offer.

Aemond, however, is less easily swayed. “You do not command me, woman,” he snarls, his hand finally gripping his sword hilt.

Your eyes lock onto his, and there is a cold, ancient fury in your gaze that makes Aemond pause, just for a moment. “Do you hear that?” you ask softly, almost a whisper.

He frowns, confusion crossing his features. But then he does hear it—a low, keening wail, barely audible over the storm, but there nonetheless. It is a sound that twists something deep in his chest, a primal fear that is older than his bloodline, older than even the dragons themselves.

“That,” you continue, your voice never rising, yet commanding all attention, “is a Banshee’s call. Do you know what it means, dragonrider?”

Aemond doesn’t answer, his grip tightening on his sword. But you see it, the flicker of doubt in his eye, the instinctive fear that his ancestors would have known all too well.

“It means,” you say, taking a step closer to the prince, “that the Dragonslayers are near.”

Silence falls heavy in the hall, the only sound the storm raging outside and that distant, eerie wail of your mount. Aemond’s confidence wavers, just for a heartbeat, and you seize the moment.

“Return to your mother, boy,” you say to Lucerys, your tone softening slightly as you address the prince. “And tell her the Dragonslayers have not forgotten.”

Lucerys doesn’t hesitate. He turns and strides from the hall, the guards parting before him. Aemond watches him go, his eye flicking between you and the retreating prince, torn between pride and the icy fear that grips his heart.

As the doors close behind Lucerys, Aemond turns back to you, but you are already gone, melted back into the shadows of the storm. The Banshee’s wail echoes in his ears, a sound that will haunt him long after this night has passed.

And in the distance, through the storm and the dark, Lucerys Velaryon rides his dragon into the night, the words of a stranger echoing in his mind as he returns to his mother—a warning, a promise, and a name that will not be easily forgotten.

The storm's fury is unrelenting as Vhagar takes to the skies, her wings cutting through the tempest with the power of a creature that has lived through centuries. Beneath her, the world is a blur of rain and lightning, the roar of the wind nearly drowning out the beat of her wings. Aemond’s eye is fixed on the smaller silhouette ahead, the young prince Lucerys and his dragon, Arrax. His pride, his rage, they drive him forward with a singular, furious intent.

"Do you think you can escape me, boy?" Aemond mutters to himself, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins. His grip on the reins tightens as he urges Vhagar onward, the ancient beast responding to his will, her massive form gaining on the fleeing dragon.

But then, something shifts.

It begins with Vhagar. The she-dragon, who has known no fear in over a century, falters mid-flight. Her great head swivels, nostrils flaring as if sensing something that doesn’t belong in this world. A deep, rumbling growl escapes her throat, a sound of unease that Aemond has never heard from her before.

"What is it, girl?" Aemond calls out, his voice straining against the storm, frustration creeping in as Vhagar slows her pursuit. He yanks at the reins, but the dragon resists, her great body twisting in the air as if trying to turn away from something unseen.

Then it comes—a sound like no other. Piercing, shrill, it cuts through the storm with an unnatural clarity. A cry that chills the blood, a scream not of any living thing, but of something that should never have existed. Aemond feels it like a knife in his gut, a primal fear that shakes the core of even a Targaryen prince. Vhagar responds with a bellow of her own, but this is not a sound of defiance—it is one of terror.

Through the torrential rain and flashes of lightning, Aemond sees it. Emerging from the swirling clouds above, the Banshee appears, its form massive and menacing, a creature out of nightmares and ancient legends. It is larger than any dragon, its wings long and leathery, resembling those of some dark, twisted bat. Its body is sinewy and powerful, covered in scales as dark as midnight, its maw filled with razor-sharp teeth that seem made to tear through dragon flesh. Eyes that glow with a sickly green light fixate on Vhagar, and in that gaze, there is nothing but hunger.

A hunger that could swallow the world.

The Banshee shrieks again, and this time, the sound is closer, more intense, reverberating through the storm as if the very heavens themselves are crying out in fear. Vhagar roars back, but her voice wavers, no longer the dominant force of the skies. She tries to pull away, her vast wings beating furiously as she begins to ascend, desperate to escape the horror that has locked its gaze upon her.

And there, atop the Banshee, you sit. The storm whips around you, yet you are steady, your body moving fluidly with the creature’s every motion. Your eyes are fixed on Aemond, a cold determination set in your features as you close in. The distance between the two monstrous creatures shrinks with every heartbeat, the Banshee’s speed unnatural, as if it is not bound by the same laws of the world as other beings.

"Vhagar, no!" Aemond shouts, desperation creeping into his voice as he feels his mount’s fear, her once obedient nature slipping through his control. He pulls harder on the reins, but the ancient dragon does not heed him. She banks sharply to the side, attempting to flee, the instinct to survive overpowering all else. 

"Stay and fight, damn you!" Aemond roars, but his voice is lost to the storm and to Vhagar’s terror. For the first time, Aemond realizes that he has lost control. Vhagar, the greatest of all dragons, is fleeing like a hunted beast.

From behind, Lucerys and Arrax, seeing their chance, dart downwards toward the safety of the clouds below. The boy doesn’t look back, but his heart pounds with both fear and gratitude, his only thought now of returning to Dragonstone and the safety of his mother’s arms. The storm swallows them, the smaller dragon vanishing into the darkness, seizing the slim opportunity for escape that has been granted by the terror you’ve unleashed.

You see this, the boy’s escape, and though you could chase, though you could end him as well, your focus remains on Aemond. This is a message, a warning, and it is Vhagar who must carry it back. 

Aemond’s face twists with a mix of rage and helplessness as he feels Vhagar’s massive body turning, wings beating harder now, not in pursuit, but in retreat. You let out a command, your voice carried by the storm, not in words that Aemond understands, but the Banshee does. She dives, a predatory speed that belies her size, closing the distance between them in seconds.

Another scream from the Banshee, and this time, Vhagar shudders violently, nearly throwing Aemond from her back. The ancient dragon, who has seen countless battles and burned entire cities to ash, is utterly broken by the presence of this creature from a bygone era. She dives desperately, fleeing into the clouds, seeking any refuge from the horror that chases her.

For a brief moment, as you pull back, allowing Vhagar to escape into the storm’s embrace, your eyes meet Aemond’s. In that gaze, he sees something that shakes him more than the sight of the Banshee or the fear in Vhagar’s eyes. He sees the cold, unyielding power of an order thought extinct, a legacy that has returned from the shadows of history. 

And then you and the Banshee vanish into the storm, your form melding with the darkness as if you were never there. Only the lingering echoes of that terrifying scream remain, fading into the storm, a sound that will haunt Aemond for the rest of his days.

Vhagar continues her frantic flight, the once-proud dragon now reduced to a fleeing beast, her rider clinging to her, his pride shattered, his mind reeling. Aemond’s thoughts are a whirlwind of anger, fear, and humiliation. He came to these skies with the intent to prove his dominance, to assert his strength, but now he returns with the bitter taste of defeat and the knowledge that there are forces in this world even dragons fear.

And far below, Lucerys and Arrax race through the storm towards the safety of Dragonstone, the boy’s heart pounding with relief and terror. He will make it home, but the memory of this night will stay with him—the night he was spared not by his own hand, but by a mysterious stranger on a creature of nightmares.

The Dragonslayers have returned. And the dragons of Westeros will never be the same.

The skies over Dragonstone are dark, heavy with the remnants of the storm that raged over Storm's End. The air is filled with unease as the guards and retainers of the castle stand vigilantly on the battlements, their eyes scanning the horizon. They know who they are waiting for, though they dare not speak of the dread that gnaws at them.

Suddenly, through the mists and rain, a shape emerges. A dragon, smaller than most, with wet and weary wings straining to keep it aloft. Arrax lands heavily in the courtyard, his scales slick with rain and his breath labored from the flight. The beast's eyes are wide, pupils darting in a way that betrays its fear. 

Atop him, Lucerys Velaryon sits slumped in the saddle, his small form trembling, soaked to the bone. He barely has the strength to dismount, nearly collapsing as his boots touch the ground. His hands are shaking uncontrollably, and his eyes—those eyes that should be bright with the fire of youth—are wide and haunted, filled with the terror of what he has just endured.

From across the courtyard, Queen Rhaenyra breaks from her retinue of Queensguard, her heart seizing as she sees the state of her son. “Luke!” she cries, her voice cracking with fear and relief as she rushes to him, her skirts billowing as she nearly stumbles in her haste.

“Mother,” Lucerys gasps, his voice a whisper against the wind. He’s shivering violently, his teeth chattering as the cold and fear clutch at him.

Rhaenyra reaches him, wrapping him in her arms, her grip firm and protective as she pulls him close, heedless of the rain that soaks through her own clothing. Her heart pounds in her chest as she feels the tremors racking his small frame. “Gods, what happened?” she whispers, her hand cupping his face as she tries to meet his eyes, searching for any sign of injury, any indication of what has terrified her son so deeply.

Lucerys buries his face against her shoulder, his breath hitching as he tries to find the words. “I—I saw him, Mother,” he begins, his voice shaking as badly as his body. “Aemond was there… at Storm’s End. Vhagar was with him.”

Rhaenyra stiffens, her blood turning to ice at the mention of Aemond and his dragon. “Did he harm you?” Her voice is fierce, though a mother’s terror lies just beneath it. “What did he do to you?”

Lucerys shakes his head frantically, clutching at her arms as if grounding himself in her presence. “He… he wanted to take my eye, Mother. He said… he said it was a debt. But…” His words trail off, his breath catching as he struggles to explain the horror he witnessed.

Rhaenyra’s grip tightens, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of rage and fear. “But what, Luke? What happened?”

Luke pulls back slightly, his wide eyes meeting hers, filled with a confusion that mirrors his terror. “She… she saved me, Mother. A woman… a stranger. She stopped Aemond.”

Rhaenyra blinks, her mind racing. “A woman? Who was she? What did she look like?”

Luke swallows hard, his voice trembling as he continues, “She… she wasn’t from here. She looked… different. Like no one I’ve ever seen before. She had an accent I didn’t recognize. Lord Borros called her an emissary from the Free Cities.” His voice drops to a whisper, as if saying the next words might summon the creature back. “And she had a… a beast with her. Not a dragon, but something else. It was… it was terrifying, Mother. The dragons, even Vhagar… they were afraid of it.”

Rhaenyra’s heart pounds faster as she listens, trying to make sense of her son’s words. “A beast? What did it look like?”

Luke’s eyes glaze over slightly as he recalls the image burned into his mind. “It was… huge, bigger than any dragon I’ve seen, with wings like… like a bat’s. And its scream, Mother… it was like nothing I’ve ever heard. It made the storm itself seem quiet. And she was riding it… commanding it.”

Rhaenyra’s blood runs cold, her mind racing through the possibilities, but nothing matches the description her son gives. A creature that could frighten Vhagar, the largest and oldest of the Targaryen dragons? It sounds like a nightmare given form, a horror from ancient times.

“Are you sure of what you saw, Luke?” she asks gently, her tone softening as she brushes his wet hair from his face. “Could it have been… something else? A trick of the storm?”

Luke shakes his head vehemently. “No, Mother. I saw it. I heard it. She told me to go, to return to you. And when I left… Aemond was chasing me, but then the creature came after him instead. Vhagar fled, Mother. She was terrified.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. If Vhagar, the mightiest of all dragons, could be driven to flee… what manner of beast had her son encountered? And who was this woman, this stranger who had saved her child from a fate worse than death?

A feeling of unease settles over her, a realization that something far greater and more dangerous than she had anticipated is at play. The knowledge that ancient powers, long thought to be myths, might have returned to the world shakes her to her core.

But for now, all that matters is her son. She pulls him close again, holding him tightly as if to shield him from whatever darkness lies out there, whatever force has set its sights on the Targaryen bloodline. “You’re safe now,” she whispers, trying to convince herself as much as him. “You’re home, and you’re safe.”

But even as she says the words, her mind is already racing ahead, planning, fearing, wondering what this new player on the board means for the future of her house, for her claim, and for the survival of her children.

The night is still and heavy with the remnants of the storm, the winds howling softly through the dark corridors of Dragonstone. Rhaenyra is deep in a restless sleep, her mind troubled by the events of the day, her dreams haunted by the image of her son, drenched and trembling, speaking of a beast that defied all she knew of the world.

But suddenly, her sleep is shattered by a sound so primal, so raw, that it feels like the earth itself is tearing apart. The roar of dragons, rising in a cacophony of fear and fury, echoes through the stone walls of the castle. It’s not just any dragon’s roar—it’s the sound of dragons in terror. Rhaenyra bolts upright in her bed, her heart pounding in her chest as the walls seem to tremble around her.

She hears another roar, louder this time, unmistakable in its ferocity—the Cannibal. The ancient, wild dragon’s scream is so powerful that it seems to shake the very foundations of Dragonstone. The deep, guttural sound reverberates through the castle, making the torches flicker as if the flame itself is afraid.

And then, cutting through the night like a blade, comes another sound—a wail, high-pitched and unnatural, unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s the cry of the Banshee, echoing through the skies above the island, a sound so filled with dread that it makes her blood run cold.

Rhaenyra leaps from her bed, pulling on a robe as she rushes toward the door. Her heart races, a mix of fear and adrenaline driving her forward. She flings open the door, her voice breaking the silence of the corridor. “Daemon!”

As if summoned by her cry, Daemon Targaryen appears, already dressed and armed, his face set in a grim expression. He doesn’t need to ask what’s happening—the screams of the dragons and the wail from the skies tell him all he needs to know.

“They’re afraid,” Daemon says, his voice rough with tension as he strides toward her, his eyes blazing. “The dragons are terrified, Rhaenyra. Whatever it is, it’s here.”

Rhaenyra nods, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she hurries to follow him. The two of them rush through the castle, Daemon’s men falling in around them, their faces pale as they hear the screams that fill the night. The ground beneath their feet seems to tremble as if the very earth is trying to recoil from the presence that has arrived on its shores.

They reach the courtyard just as another roar shakes the air, but this time it’s different. This time, it’s a sound of submission, of retreat. In the distance, high atop Dragonmont, the dragons that make their home in the ancient volcano are pulling back, their massive forms retreating into the dark, smoke-filled caves, away from the open sky. Even the Cannibal, the most feared and untamed of all the dragons, has gone silent, its defiance turned to fear.

Rhaenyra’s eyes follow the direction of the retreating dragons, and there, near the rocky coastline, she sees it—the Banshee. It stands on the blackened sand, its vast wings partially spread, casting an ominous shadow that stretches out over the churning waves. The creature is even more terrifying than she had imagined from Lucerys’ description, a monstrous form that seems to absorb the darkness around it, its eyes glowing with that sickly green light that cuts through the night.

And before the Banshee, standing with an air of calm command, is the woman—Y/N. She stands tall, her presence as formidable as the beast behind her, her eyes fixed on the castle. Even from this distance, Rhaenyra can see the confidence in her stance, the ease with which she controls the horror at her side.

Daemon’s hand moves to the hilt of his sword as he stares at the woman and her beast, his eyes narrowing in a mix of fury and awe. “Is this the creature the boy spoke of?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

Rhaenyra nods, unable to tear her gaze from the sight. “It is,” she whispers, her voice tinged with fear and a growing sense of foreboding. “And that… that is the woman who saved him.”

Daemon takes a step forward, his gaze shifting to Caraxes, who is visible in the distance, his great head peeking out from the entrance of his cave. The Blood Wyrm, who has faced down dragons and men alike, recoils, his body pressed low to the ground as if trying to melt into the rock itself. He refuses to come forward, his instincts telling him that this is not a foe he wishes to face.

Rhaenyra watches as Daemon's knuckles turn white around the hilt of his sword. “Even Caraxes is afraid,” he mutters, almost to himself. “What manner of beast is this? And who is this woman?”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, Y/N takes a step forward, moving with a grace that belies the danger she embodies. Her voice carries across the distance, strong and clear despite the howling wind. “I come not as an enemy, but as an emissary.”

Rhaenyra feels a shiver run down her spine at the sound of the woman’s voice. There is something in it, an authority, a power that feels ancient, something that commands respect and fear in equal measure. She steps forward, placing a hand on Daemon’s arm to still him, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

“You saved my son,” Rhaenyra calls out, her voice steady, though her heart is pounding in her chest. “Why?”

Y/N’s gaze meets hers, and for a moment, Rhaenyra feels as though she’s being weighed, measured by a force that sees far beyond the physical. “Because the time has come for old debts to be paid, and old alliances to be rekindled,” Y/N replies, her accent unfamiliar, each word carrying an air of inevitability.

Daemon steps forward, his posture rigid, every muscle coiled with tension. “What are you?” he demands, his tone edged with suspicion. “And what do you want from us?”

Y/N regards him calmly, her eyes as unreadable as the stormy sea behind her. “I am the last of the Dragonslayers,” she says, her words cutting through the air like a blade. “And I seek what was lost to time—an alliance, forged in blood and fire, that will reshape the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Rhaenyra’s breath catches at the mention of the Dragonslayers. The name is one of legend, spoken of only in whispers, a myth more than a reality. Yet here stands proof, undeniable and terrifying. “An alliance?” she echoes, her voice a mix of intrigue and caution. “With whom?”

Y/N’s gaze sharpens, and a ghost of a smile touches her lips. “With House Targaryen,” she says, the name carrying weight as if it alone could alter the course of history. “If you will accept it.���

The words hang in the air, filled with promise and threat alike. Rhaenyra and Daemon exchange a look, the gravity of what is being offered sinking in. The roar of the dragons has died away, leaving only the sound of the wind and the waves crashing against the rocks.

The Banshee shifts behind Y/N, its wings rustling like the ominous whisper of death itself. Rhaenyra takes a deep breath, stepping forward, her voice firm as she speaks. “Come inside,” she says, a queen’s command, but also an invitation. “We will speak more.”

Y/N inclines her head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment, before turning to her beast. With a simple, fluid motion, she mounts the Banshee, the creature responding to her touch with a soft, almost affectionate growl. “I will come,” she says, her voice carrying across the distance. “But know this, Queen Rhaenyra—what I bring is not just an alliance, but the power to change the very destiny of your house.”

With that, the Banshee lets out one last, bone-chilling wail that echoes across the island. The creature takes to the skies, its massive wings beating against the wind as it rises into the air, carrying its rider away from the shore and into the stormy night.

Rhaenyra watches as the dark silhouette disappears into the clouds, her mind racing with a thousand questions, her heart heavy with the knowledge that whatever comes next, it will be like nothing Westeros has ever seen.

Daemon stands beside her, his eyes still fixed on the sky where the Banshee vanished. “We must be ready,” he says quietly, his voice laced with both determination and unease. “Whatever she brings, it will not be easily controlled.”

Rhaenyra nods, her gaze steely as she turns back toward the castle, already thinking of the steps she must take, the alliances she must forge, and the preparations she must make. “Then we shall be ready,” she replies, her voice firm with resolve. “For House Targaryen will not be brought low, not by dragons, and not by beasts.”

Together, they walk back into the heart of Dragonstone, the weight of their decisions pressing heavily upon them, the storm outside now a mere whisper compared to the storm that is yet to come.

The great hall of Dragonstone is eerily quiet, the only sound the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth, its flames dancing in the dim light. The storm outside has settled into a steady, rhythmic beat against the stone walls, as if the very island holds its breath, waiting for what comes next.

Daemon Targaryen stands by the fire, his eyes fixed on the flames, deep in thought. The warmth of the fire does little to chase away the cold unease that has settled in his bones since the arrival of the stranger and her beast. Rhaenyra sits at the head of the table, her posture regal and composed, though her gaze is sharp and searching as it rests on the woman before them—Y/N, the self-proclaimed last of the Dragonslayers.

You stand before them, calm and composed, the flickering firelight casting shadows across your face. Your expression is inscrutable, your eyes reflecting a depth of experience and knowledge that stretches far beyond the walls of this ancient castle.

Daemon finally speaks, his voice low, but filled with the weight of old memories. “When I was a boy, I used to sit at my wet nurse’s feet as she told me the tales of old Valyria. Stories of dragons soaring above the world, of their might and majesty… and of the terror that once threatened them.” He turns his gaze from the fire to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “She spoke of the Dragonslayers, warriors from an ancient order, born from the fear and hatred of those who had no other means to fight back against the dragons. It was said their beasts were as fearsome as the dragons themselves—monstrous creatures that could strike terror into the heart of even the most battle-hardened Targaryen.”

He pauses, his lips curving into a wry smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But those were just stories. Tales meant to frighten children and remind us of our place in the world. When the Doom of Valyria came, the Dragonslayers were said to have perished along with the dragons. Swallowed by the same flames that consumed the Freehold.”

Daemon’s smile fades, replaced by a hard, calculating look. “So you must excuse me, Lady Y/N, if I find it difficult to believe that I now stand face to face with a ghost from those old tales. A Dragonslayer, here to negotiate with the very people her kind once hunted. It seems… unlikely, doesn’t it? Like a dragon holding court with a woman who eats dragons.”

Rhaenyra watches you intently, her fingers lightly drumming against the arm of her chair as she waits for your response. The tension in the room is felt, the air thick with unspoken questions and unvoiced fears.

You meet Daemon’s gaze without flinching, your expression unreadable as you consider his words. When you finally speak, your voice is steady, carrying an authority that demands attention. “You are right to be cautious, Prince Daemon. The tales of the Dragonslayers are shrouded in myth, and much has been lost to time. But make no mistake—those tales were born from truth. My order existed long before Valyria rose to power, and our purpose was never simply to destroy dragons.”

You pause, your eyes flicking between Daemon and Rhaenyra, measuring their reactions. “Our purpose was—and still is—balance. The world must be in balance, or it risks falling into chaos. The dragons of Valyria were a force of nature, powerful and wild. But when they were allowed to spread unchecked, to conquer and dominate, the balance was threatened.”

Rhaenyra leans forward slightly, her brow furrowed in thought. “And now? What is your purpose here, in Westeros? You say you seek balance, but what does that mean for my house? For my children?”

You turn your gaze to her, your expression softening slightly as you consider your words carefully. “The balance is delicate, Queen Rhaenyra. It is not my intention to see the dragons of Westeros wiped out. That would tip the scales too far in the other direction. The dragons are a part of this world, just as you are, just as I am. But if they are allowed to overwhelm this continent, to destroy all in their path, or if they are allowed to die out entirely, the balance will be lost. And when the balance is lost, it is not just the dragons that suffer—it is the entire world.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow as he considers your words, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, though he makes no move to draw it. “So you would see yourself as some kind of guardian, then? A protector of the balance? And what if that means turning against the very dragons you claim to protect?”

You meet his challenge with a steady gaze. “If it comes to that, Prince Daemon, then so be it. But understand this—my purpose is not to hunt dragons for sport or to seek vengeance for old wrongs. My purpose is to ensure that the world does not fall into chaos. If that means working with the dragons and their riders to maintain the balance, then that is what I will do.”

Rhaenyra exchanges a glance with Daemon, her expression one of deep contemplation. “And what would you ask of us, then?” she inquires, her tone thoughtful, though there is a note of steel beneath it. “What role do you see House Targaryen playing in this balance you speak of?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze steady as you address both of them. “House Targaryen is at the center of the storm that is coming. The dragons you command are both a weapon and a symbol, and their power must be wielded wisely. I offer you an alliance, a way to ensure that power is used to preserve the balance, rather than disrupt it.”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, his skepticism still evident. “And if we refuse?”

You smile faintly, a hint of something ancient and knowing in your expression. “Then the balance will be lost. And I will do what must be done to restore it, with or without your cooperation.”

Silence falls over the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—fear, determination, and something akin to respect. She finally rises from her chair, stepping toward you, her gaze unwavering.

“You speak of balance, but know this—we are not easily swayed, and we do not take threats lightly,” she says, her voice strong and clear. “But if you are truly here to preserve this balance, then we will consider your offer. For the sake of our children, and for the future of this realm.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her words. “That is all I ask, Queen Rhaenyra. Consider my offer, and know that I am not your enemy. Not unless you make me one.”

Daemon watches you closely, his hand still resting on his sword, but for now, he remains silent, his thoughts unreadable.

Rhaenyra turns to him, her expression one of quiet resolve. “We will speak more of this, Daemon. But for now, we must be cautious. This alliance may be what we need to ensure the survival of our house.”

Daemon nods slowly, his gaze still locked on you. “Very well,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “But know this, Lady Y/N—if you betray us, if you threaten what is ours, you will find that dragons are not so easily tamed.”

You smile slightly, a knowing glint in your eyes. “Nor are Dragonslayers, Prince Daemon. But I hope it does not come to that.”

With that, the tension in the room begins to ease, though the underlying unease remains. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, and the storm outside continues to rage, a reminder that the true storm has only just begun.

The night has settled over Dragonstone with a profound stillness, the earlier storm having finally exhausted itself. The air is cool and crisp, carrying the scent of the sea, and above, the sky is a vast canvas of stars, twinkling like distant, forgotten fires. The castle itself is quiet, the flames of the torches flickering softly in their sconces, casting long shadows across the ancient stone.

Rhaenyra finds herself drawn to the open balcony, her steps light as she moves through the corridors, her thoughts still heavy with the weight of the day’s revelations. As she approaches, she sees you standing there, your back to her, gazing up at the night sky with a stillness that almost seems inhuman. The soft light of the stars bathes you in an ethereal glow, and for a moment, Rhaenyra is struck by your presence. There is something otherworldly about you, a beauty that is both mesmerizing and unsettling, even to one of Targaryen blood, who is no stranger to the idea of beings who are not entirely of this world.

Your figure is tall and graceful, your hair catching the faint light as it moves gently in the breeze. Your clothes, simple yet elegant, seem almost to blend with the shadows, as if you are a part of the night itself. There is an air of timelessness about you, something ancient and enduring, and it stirs a deep curiosity within Rhaenyra, a need to understand the enigma that is Y/N.

You speak before she can announce her presence, your voice soft but clear, carrying the weight of knowledge and memory. “It is said that my people came from those stars,” you begin, still gazing upward, your eyes tracing the patterns in the sky. “Long ago, when the world was young, their ship crumbled down in fire, crashing into what would become the Valyrian Freehold. Can you imagine it, Rhaenyra? A ship that sails among the stars, crossing the vast emptiness between worlds?”

Rhaenyra pauses at your words, her breath catching as she considers the image you’ve painted. The idea is both wondrous and terrifying, something beyond the scope of anything she has ever known. She steps closer, her eyes moving from your figure to the sky above, trying to see what you see.

“It’s a beautiful thought,” she says softly, “but also a frightening one. The idea that something so vast, so unknowable, could exist out there. Or worse, that there might be nothing at all. We would be so small… so insignificant.”

You finally turn to face her, your eyes meeting hers with a look that is both kind and ancient, as if you hold secrets that span the ages. “That is the truth of it, isn’t it? The vastness of the universe, the endless expanse of stars… it can make one feel so very small. All the battles we fight, all the kingdoms we build… in the end, they are but whispers in the wind compared to the forces that drive this world and all the others.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softens as she looks at you, the intensity of your words resonating deep within her. She takes another step closer, her voice tinged with gratitude as she speaks. “I wanted to thank you… for what you did for Lucerys. You saved my son’s life. For that, I am in your debt.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her thanks with a faint smile. “What I did was just,” you reply simply, as if there could be no other course of action. “The boy’s life was not meant to end that day.”

Rhaenyra studies you, her curiosity growing, fueled by the mysteriousness that surrounds you. She has faced dragons and men alike, but there is something about you that captivates her in a way she does not fully understand. “You said you were the last of your kind,” she begins, her voice gentle but probing. “Does that mean you have no family left?”

You turn back to the sky, your expression unreadable as you consider her question. “There are a few others of my order,” you say after a moment, your voice touched with a hint of melancholy. “They are scattered across the world, trying to survive as best they can. But they are not of my blood. My true family… they are gone.”

Rhaenyra feels a pang of sympathy at your words, a sudden connection to the pain you carry. She knows the weight of loss, the emptiness it leaves behind. “I am sorry,” she says quietly, her voice filled with genuine compassion. “To be the last of your kind… it must be a heavy burden.”

You nod slightly, your gaze distant as you continue to stare at the stars. “It is,” you admit, your voice softening with the weight of memory. “But it is the burden I was born to bear. The last of my bloodline, the last of those who once stood against the might of dragons. My family was everything to me… and now, they are nothing but memories and dust.”

Rhaenyra steps closer, standing beside you now, her gaze also turning upward to the stars. She feels a strange sense of kinship with you, this woman who has seen so much, who carries so much pain within her. “I understand what it is to lose those you love,” she says quietly, her voice filled with a sadness that mirrors your own. “I have lost many, and I fear I may lose more before this is over.”

You turn to her, your eyes searching hers, seeing the strength and sorrow within her. “That is the way of the world, Rhaenyra,” you say softly, your tone both comforting and resigned. “We are all bound by the same fate—loss, pain, and eventually, death. But it is what we do with the time we have, the choices we make, that define us. We must find the strength to carry on, even when all seems lost.”

Rhaenyra nods, her heart heavy with the truth of your words. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, to find the resolve she needs to face the challenges ahead. “I will do what I must,” she says, her voice filled with quiet determination. “For my family, for my children… for the future of this realm.”

You give her a small, understanding smile, a flicker of something almost like pride in your eyes. “You have the strength within you, Rhaenyra Targaryen,” you say, your voice firm with conviction. “I see it, just as I see the stars above. You are meant to be more than a queen—you are meant to be a force that shapes the world.”

Rhaenyra feels a surge of emotion at your words, a mix of fear, hope, and a deep, unspoken bond with this woman who seems to understand her better than anyone. She looks back at you, her gaze filled with both gratitude and a growing respect. “And what of you, Y/N?” she asks softly. “What is your place in this world, now that you are the last of your kind?”

You turn away from the stars to meet her gaze once more, your expression resolute. “My place is wherever I am needed,” you say simply. “I will do what must be done to preserve the balance, to ensure that this world does not fall into chaos. Whether that means standing beside you, or against you, remains to be seen.”

Rhaenyra nods slowly, understanding the gravity of your words. She feels a deep respect for you, for the strength and resolve you carry, and she knows that your path and hers are now intertwined, whether by fate or by choice. 

For a moment, the two of you stand together in silence, gazing up at the stars, each lost in your own thoughts, yet connected by the shared understanding of the burdens you bear. The night is a vast and heavy dread of what lies ahead, but in this moment, there is a sense of calm, of quiet resolution, as if the stars themselves have blessed this fragile alliance.

The morning sun has risen over Dragonstone, casting a warm, golden glow across the ancient stone walls and the restless sea beyond. The storm of the previous night has left the air fresh and crisp, with only a few lingering clouds on the horizon. The castle is stirring with life, as servants go about their duties and the guards stand watchful at their posts.

You are standing in the courtyard, the early light catching in your hair, giving it a strange, almost ethereal sheen. You are calm, composed, your posture relaxed as you watch the sea, seemingly lost in thought. The events of the previous night, the tension, and the conversations have left their mark, but you show no outward sign of it. You stand there, a figure of quiet strength, almost as if you belong to another time, another world.

Luke approaches you cautiously, his small feet making soft sounds against the stone. He is dressed in simple, practical clothing, appropriate for the heir of a noble house, but his expression is one of nervousness and gratitude. His young face is still pale from the fear of his encounter at Storm's End, but there is also determination in his eyes, a resolve to confront what haunts him.

He stops a few paces away from you, hesitant at first. “Lady Y/N,” he begins, his voice small but earnest. “I… I wanted to thank you. For what you did at Storm’s End. You saved my life.”

You turn to him, a gentle smile curving your lips as you look down at the boy. There is a kindness in your eyes that seems to ease his nerves, though the depth of your gaze still holds a mystery that he cannot quite grasp. “You owe me no thanks, young prince,” you say softly, your voice steady and warm. “I did what was just.”

Luke swallows, glancing down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at you. “But… Aemond,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly at the name. “He won’t forget what you did. He’ll come after you. He won’t stop until… until he gets what he wants.”

You regard him with calm assurance, unbothered by the warning. There is a quiet power in the way you stand, as if the threats of men and dragons alike hold no sway over you. “Let him come,” you reply, your tone even, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. “Aemond Targaryen is not the first to seek revenge against me, nor will he be the last. I have faced dragons before, and I have survived them. If he wishes to challenge me, then he will learn that some battles are not so easily won.”

Luke looks at you with a mixture of awe and confusion, struggling to understand the depth of your confidence. He is young, and the world is still a place of fear and uncertainty to him, but your words carry a weight that he cannot ignore. “But… aren’t you afraid?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilt your head slightly, considering the question with a faint smile. “Fear is a natural thing, young prince,” you say gently. “But I have learned that there are things far greater and more terrifying than a man or his dragon. We are all small in the grand scheme of things, and what we fear today may be forgotten tomorrow. What matters is how we face that fear—whether we let it control us, or whether we rise above it.”

Luke nods slowly, taking in your words. There is a wisdom in them that speaks to him, even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet. He looks up at you with a newfound respect, feeling a little braver, a little stronger in your presence. “I’ll remember that,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination.

As you and Luke speak, Rhaenyra watches from a distance, her eyes flicking toward you every so often. She stands near one of the arches that lead out to the courtyard, her gaze following the interaction between you and her son. There is something in the way she observes you—a mixture of curiosity, admiration, and perhaps a touch of something more that she doesn’t fully acknowledge, even to herself.

Rhaenyra notices the ease with which you speak to Luke, the way your presence seems to calm him, to give him strength. There is a grace in your movements, a calm assurance that draws her attention, almost as if you are a beacon of light in the chaos that surrounds them all. She sees the way Luke looks up at you, his young face filled with awe, and she cannot help but feel the same pull, the same captivation.

She remembers the conversation from the night before, the way you spoke of balance, of the vastness of the universe and the insignificance of their struggles in the grand scheme of things. It had left her feeling both humbled and intrigued, as if she were standing on the edge of some great revelation, something that could change everything she thought she knew.

But now, as she watches you with her son, she sees another side of you—a protector, a guide, someone who understands the fears of a boy and can ease them with nothing more than a few well-chosen words. It is a quality that Rhaenyra cannot help but admire, and it deepens the connection she feels toward you, a bond that is growing stronger with each passing moment.

Luke takes a deep breath, standing a little taller now as he looks up at you. “Thank you, Lady Y/N,” he says, his voice more confident this time. “For everything.”

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “You are a brave young man, Luke. Never forget that. The world is a dangerous place, but you have the strength within you to face whatever comes. Trust in that.”

Luke smiles, a small, genuine smile that lights up his face, and then he turns to go, feeling a little more at peace with the world. As he walks away, he glances back at you one last time, as if to hold onto the strength you have given him.

Rhaenyra steps forward as Luke leaves, approaching you with a mixture of caution and curiosity. “He admires you,” she says softly, her voice carrying a note of gratitude and something more, something she does not name.

You turn to her, your expression thoughtful as you meet her gaze. “He is a good boy,” you reply. “He will grow into a strong man, one who will carry the weight of his name with honor. But he is still young, and the world is full of challenges he has yet to face.”

Rhaenyra nods, her eyes lingering on your face, taking in the details of your features, the way the light plays across your skin. There is something almost hypnotic about you, something that draws her in, and she finds herself feeling a connection that she cannot fully explain. “I can see why he admires you,” she says softly, her voice tinged with both respect and something deeper, something that stirs within her like the rising tide.

You hold her gaze, your expression unreadable, but there is a softness in your eyes, a recognition of the connection that is forming between the two of you. “And I can see why you care for him so deeply,” you reply, your voice gentle, almost tender. “He is your son, your legacy. You have given him strength, Rhaenyra, just as you will need to give him guidance in the days to come.”

Rhaenyra nods again, feeling a surge of emotion at your words. There is a bond forming between you, something that goes beyond mere friendship or alliance. It is a connection born of shared understanding, of mutual respect, and perhaps even of something more, something that neither of you is ready to name just yet.

For a moment, the two of you stand there in the courtyard, the world around you falling away as you share a quiet, unspoken understanding. The sun continues to rise, casting its golden light across the castle, and in that light, the bond between you and Rhaenyra grows stronger, deepening with every passing moment.

And in the distance, the sea continues to churn, its waves crashing against the shore, a reminder that the world is vast and full of challenges. But in this moment, on this morning, there is peace, and there is a connection.

[saintsanddevils]

Weaver of Fate

Liam Mairi x Fem!Reader

Summary: No matter how long it’s been, every part of you mourns Liam. You can’t let him go. With the help of your signet, you rewrite his fate. But at what cost?

Warnings: angst, grief, mentions of death & blood, eventual happy ending

Author’s Note: I think this can be seen as an alternate universe to my “Unravel Me” fic

Word Count: 2.8K

Posted on AO3

Masterlist

Fog envelops my steps as I walk across charred earth. The chill of the night clings to my cloak. It’s quiet, a stillness settling over the field where hours earlier, it was complete chaos.

Sulfur and ash still fill the air of Athebyne. Rot and the coppery smell of blood cling to me as I force myself to not look at the destroyed city. Sharp memories from hours ago hit me like a tidal wave. The roaring of dragons. The palpable panic coursing through our squad as Xaden barked orders. Violet’s lightning cracking across the sky. Cloaked Venin swarming the city. The screams of Athebyne’s citizens.

The echo of their cries is still here, haunting every step I take as I turn away from the city. I’m not here for Athebyne. I don’t wish to relive what will surely bring me nightmares for years to come. No. I stay as far from the city as I can.

Instead, I go to the last place I wish to be.

The earth here is stained in crimson, scorched by dragon fire. A strange sense of dreadful awareness fills me as I stare at the ground.

This is where Liam Mairi died.

Where I watched him choke on his last breaths, clinging to the red scales of his dragon, Deigh, before death finally came for him. Seconds away from entering the afterlife and he still had a smile rivaling the brightness of the sun.

That’s who Liam was. He was the light of a new dawn, the feel of fresh dew on grass, the racing of a pulse. He was the embodiment of life.

How cruel to die so young, fight a war he never should be apart of. He was the best of us. He is the best of us.

Flashes of stolen kisses in corridors, hands clasped tightly, and whispered affections plague my mind.

“We’ll be together again, in the next life.”

I flinch at the memory of his breath on my lips. His hands losing their grip on me as his eyes dimmed, his soul fading.

“I wish we had more time.” I choked through my sobs, clinging to him, begging every god who could hear me to let him stay.

Liam had only given me a soft smile. The sort of smile he only reserved for those early mornings when we awoke in one another’s arms. It was full of something so hopeful and soothing, it stabbed my gut like a jagged knife to see it when he lay dying.

“Death cannot stop me from seeing you again,” he gave me a swift, soft kiss. It burned my lips. “I will always love you.”

The burning behind my eyes is unavoidable now as tears stream down my cheeks, dripping to the dirt stained by his blood. My eyes are swollen from hours of crying and I’m shocked to find I still have tears to spare.

I don’t have time to cry. I only have a few hours to get this right.

Kneeling to the ground, I lay my hands atop the bloodied soil, closing my eyes. Breathing deep and slow, I open the door to the power lying in wait beneath my skin.

I’ve never done this before. It’s new and desperate of me, but I have to try.

Hope clings to me like a second skin as I breathe, in and out, concentrating on the feel of the earth beneath my skin.

My signet is healing, but something crawls beneath my skin that is not of this world. Every time I heal and mend, the power hungers for something more. I feared, for a long time, this was something pulling me to become Venin. Something that takes and takes, wreaking havoc and stealing life. But it only occurred to me after Liam’s death that it wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t a hunger for power, but a sense of not reaching my full potential. Like having a set of keys and a locked door before me. I only need to find which key will open the door.

Taking a vial from my pocket, I don’t look as I coat my hands in the substance within. It feels grainy and powdery. I know without looking it’s dark, coating and staining the skin of my palms.

It’s the ashes of Liam’s body.

After his death, his body was brought back to Tyrrendor after the battle and stacked upon a pyre. He was burned, as is custom, and I can still feel the cloying smell of burned flesh choking the air. I had stood there for hours until the flames were mere cinders and his body was nothing but ash.

Every second since his death, I’ve become a ghost. There’s a pain that lingers, hanging between my ribs, that sharpens and intensifies with every breath. The idea of continuing this life without him tortures me. After all the love he’s given me. Every smile, every touch, it was all stolen by time.

I don’t know what made me do it. Something clicked inside of me as I watched the flames of his pyre. An instinct I trusted immediately as a plan slowly began to form. When Xaden finally left my side and I was left alone, I bolted forward, grasping an empty vial from my jacket and filling it to the brim with his ashes.

That was an hour ago.

Now, I’m holding on to every instinct I’ve been following since his death. Concentrating on the ash coating my hands, I pour everything, every ounce of my power, into the earth. I’ve always imagined my healing signet to be a tapestry of golden threads, weaving the body to mend at my will. Now, I see traces of withered, dead strands in my minds-eye, lying in wait as the golden threads of my power reach for them.

Pain pricks up my spine as my power extends, those golden threads stretching as far as they can. My pulse beats heavily in my blood, breaths heaving from my lungs as I push myself to the limit. Burnout isn’t an option.

Like the snap of broken rope, I’m untethered, my power sparking from my fingertips as I fall to the ground, heaving. Gasping breaths, I finally open my eyes, staring at the blood-stained dirt beneath my splayed fingers.

It didn’t work.

I try again. The dirt caking under my fingernails as I dig deep. I pour myself into my power, straining to catch anything that will reach back.

Nothing.

I shake my hands out, flexing the muscles and tendons, and do it again.

Nothing.

It’s not fucking working.

Rage slowly rises, burning like acid in my stomach as I let every frustration, every ounce of bitterness, consume me.

A scream escapes my lips. And another. Until I’m left screaming and heaving in the dirt.

I scream and scream and scream.

It’s hoarse and echoes through the valley. I sense my dragon’s distress, but I block them out. I need to stay focused.

I can’t let Liam go. I won’t let him go. Never again will he be separated from me. In this life or any other.

This time, once my voice lets the last of my frustration die in my throat, making it rough and hard to swallow, I close my eyes and picture Liam. Every dip and curve of his face. Every freckle, mole, scar, and dimple. Muscles lining his arms, his relic tattoo stark against the skin of his arm and collarbone. The way his hair gilded the sky in the afternoon sun. His infectious laugh. How his teasing and flirting were intoxicating and thrilling. His attention a drug as his crystal blue eyes would trace me, holding me captive.

Warmth seeps into my bones as I grip the dirt, desperately. I cling to every memory I have of him. Every trace of life within him, pulling him back to me, like an anchor.

The memory of his smile, so carefree and brilliant. The way he lit up the darkest parts of me with every tilt of his lips, his eyes glittering with mischief. I always felt privileged to be able to see him smile at me so freely. It was always there for the taking and he gave them to me without ever holding back.

The memory of his hands clasping my hips for the first time, adjusting my stance on the mat during training. How a blush rose to both our cheeks when our eyes met. His flirtatious smile consuming his face, brightening the world with it.

The memory of the first time he cornered me in the hall, longing and desperation clinging to him as he confessed how much he wanted me. How much he needed me in his life as more than a friend. I remember returning his affections with a soft kiss that had him easily confessing how much he loved me. My laugh echoed in the hall before his own joined mine.

Every memory of his lips against mine, soft and searching, insistent and desperate, strong and sure. Even our last kiss, the morning before we left for Athebyne, where he kissed every inch of my skin until I was blushing and swollen with them. His tongue tracing my collarbone before whispering sweet nothings into my skin, sending goosebumps down my body.

The feel of his hand in mine is the last memory that keeps me centered and focus. The way his palm slid against mine, fitting entirely too well to not call it fate. To not call what lay between us a form of love so true and destined, it felt like breathing.

“Death cannot stop me from seeing you again. I will always love you.”

And just like that, I breathe. I breathe long and slow, letting my memories consume me, carry me, guide me.

With every memory, every brush of his presence in my minds-eye, the glittering golden threads of my power slowly begin weave together. I’m so lost in the depths of my mind, clinging to the lingering imprints of Liam, that I don’t notice the spark.

I open my eyes, gasping as I see light shining from beneath my palms. It’s a wondrous sight, something I can’t look away from. And I feel…. I feel the soul of the earth, the roots far below, responding to my touch as something beats beneath my skin. A steady rhythm.

Almost like a heartbeat.

I’m doing it. I’m doing it!

I can’t help but inflate with hope, smiling at the strangeness of my power as it buries further and further until I feel every rock and blade of grass around me.

A sudden flare of blinding light, chaotic and bright, breaks across the field from beneath my palms, stealing the last of my energy, before I fall to the dirt like a puppet cut from their strings, darkness clouding my vision.

The last thing I sense, before I let the darkness wash over me, is a slow heartbeat and a firm chest beneath my hands.

———

I wake to the sound of my name. It’s desperate and unsure, breathless and hopeful. Rough, shaking hands hold me, arms firm around my body as those hands cradle my face. My eyes blink slowly until I’m staring up at a predawn sky, the night and stars disappearing as the sun slowly rises in the distance.

It takes a moment for me to remember someone is holding me. That I’m not alone.

I jolt when my eyes lock on blue ones.

“Liam?” I choke, voice hoarse.

He smiles, tears in his eyes as he stares down at me, holding me closer. “It’s me.”

My hands shoot out, tentatively touching his cheek, his nose, his jaw. He closes his eyes at my touch, leaning into it. My heart soars as I feel his skin, warm and full of life. The smell of him washes over me, so familiar I breathe it in greedily. I leap from his hold, wanting to get closer to it, to him. I wrap my arms around his neck, grasping on to him as a sob tears from my chest. Liam holds me just as tight, arms banding around me, as if reassuring me that he’s really here. Maybe even reassuring himself.

“How?” He whispers against my hair.

I shake my head, never leaving the comfort of his chest as I bury myself in him.

“I couldn’t do it,” I whisper. “I couldn’t let you go. I knew I could bring you back, so… I did.”

Liam pulls away, his fingers tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. It’s still dark, but the small traces of dawn light his eyes a calming blue that reminds me of the sea in sunlight. Glittering and beautiful. It’s so familiar, the ache in my chest slowly ebbs.

“You brought me back?” His whisper is uncertain, but his face tells me everything. It’s as familiar as my own. The way his eyes hold traces of hope and longing.

I smile brilliantly up at him. “Death can’t keep us apart.”

A breath escapes parted lips before he surges forward. His lips find mine and nothing about this kiss is soft. It’s desperate, like clinging to life with bare hands, trying to keep oneself from leaving this world and on to the next with every breath. It’s aching, like the hollow in my chest that is slowly knitting itself together with every brush of his skin, every breath he takes. It’s consuming, like the love that surges between us, real and everlasting. Something so unbreakable, even death can’t stop us from being together once more.

That thought alone has the tears stream anew down my cheeks as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, opening my mouth to let his tongue remind me what it feels like to live. To love. To cherish.

I climb atop him, something desperate clawing its way beneath my skin, as I cling to him, hands grasping at his hair. He’s just as rough, just as searching and overcome with this need to feel alive. His rough, calloused hands dive beneath my shirt, touching my skin. I moan at the feel of him, his skin so familiar, it’s imbedded into my own.

The slide of his skin against mine, his hands inching up my spine, makes me shiver. He pulls me even closer, lips now tracing my jaw, nipping my throat, sucking the skin of my collarbone. He groans as my breaths come out raggedly. His hands now pressing into me, forming bruises. It grounds me.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

With my hands in his hair, I pull him back to my lips, kissing him with abandon. Reminding me this is real.

When his hands slide down my skin, I moan once more at the feel of his callouses. Gods, I need him. I need-

He pulls his skin away from me and I grunt in frustration.

He laughs against my lips, before kissing me anew, this one sweeter, gentler. The racing of our heartbeats echoes between us as we slowly come up for air.

When he gives me another slow, burning, lingering kiss, he smiles against me. “Whatever you did, however you did it, thank you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need to thank—“

“I do.” His grip tightens, holding me closer still. “How can I not? You brought me back. It’s a gift to be in your arms again. To be breathing.” He shakes his head before touching his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and breathing deep. “I’ll never stop being grateful. I don’t deserve you.”

I soften, my hands tracing his jaw as I lean in, kissing him once more. “We deserve each other.”

With his hand clasped in mine, everything is as it should be. The beat of his heart beneath my palm is the calm in the storm, reassuring me I will never be alone. Never again.

Sunlight breaks through the clouds ahead and if sparkles across the morning dew. I can’t help the hope rising inside of me at the sight. A new dawn, a new beginning. Together.

I close my eyes, basking in the sun, holding Liam close. Its warmth is similar to his touch. All-consuming, reassuring, and constant. A beacon in the darkness.

For the first time, I take a long, deep breath, knowing this is not our end. With him by my side, I can face anything.

Nothing will keep us apart now. Not the Venin. Not the looming war ahead. Not even death.

Not even when my eyes open, blinking in the sunlight, and traces of red, the color of blood and sacrifice, glimmer in the depths of my irises.

Unravel Me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

As I wind down the pines 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, grief, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Left alone after the death of your grandparents, you must survive the remote backwoods.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You stand with your bowl. You go around the table and stop beside Bucky. You moved without thinking. Of a habit you thought long past forgotten. You always clean up after supper. 

“I’ll wash up,” you gesture to his bowl sheepishly. “If you like?” 

He sits up and stares at the table. He nods. “Thanks.” 

You carefully take the bowl, the spoon sliding against the brim. You back up and turn. You keep your footfalls light, as if too much noise might break the peace. In his own way, he reminds you of a sleeping bear. Grandfather used to tell a funny story about one in a cave. He showed you the scars and all. 

You set the bowls in the sink and turn on the faucet. There’s a glass bottle with clear soap. You add some to the cloth. You clean the porcelain and put it in the metal rack. You lather up the pot and ladle next. 

You hang the scrubbing cloth on the side of the dish rack and taking the dry cloth from the hook near the stove. You wipe the moisture from the bowls and stack them, then the cutlery, and finally the pot. You look at the cupboard doors and hesitate. You don’t want him to think you’re snooping. Or worse. 

“Left of the stove,” Bucky stands at the other end of the counter. Second shelf.” 

You nod. You open the cupboard and reach to put the bowls away. 

“Drawer in the middle,” he directs again. You put away the spoons then hang the ladle with other big utensils. “Below, to the right.” 

Right next to the stove you find the home for the small pot. You tuck it away and stand. You hang the cloth on the hook. 

“Thank you for the soup, mister.” You say. You swing your arms nervously as you sway. The rain batters at the window panes like pellets. You look over as the glass flashes. “When it slows down, I’ll be out of your hair.” 

You sidle past him to look out. The trees lean beneath the downpour and the sky is a smear of shadowy clouds. Another strike of lightning cracks in the distance and sends up a blind white flicker. 

“Should stay away from the windows.” He girds. 

You back away. He’s probably right. Your great uncle was struck. You never met him but you heard the story. 

“Sorry,” you clasp your hands behind you and face the dining room. You bounce on your heels. You just want somewhere to wait it out so you can go. 

“Couch is free.” He drawls. 

You look at him as he goes to the window. You stare at his back. He tilts his head as rivulets run down the glass. 

“Thanks, mister.��� 

You leave him. You go into the next room, the same one you woke in after he found you in the garden, and you sit in the corner of the couch. The storm can’t last forever. 

You push your thumbs into each other. Your grandparents taught you patience if anything. Loneliness taught you more. You could be with your thoughts. It’s not so bad. The wind and the whipping rain is almost soothing when it’s not about to knock the walls down. 

“You should sleep.” Bucky startles you as he enters. He has a pillow and blanket hugged against his side. He bends his knees to put them on the far end of the couch. “Rain’s gonna stay.” 

“I can wait,” you offer. 

“Sleep,” he insists. 

“You too, right?” 

He pauses as he stands straight. He pinches the hem of his shirt as he considers you. His forehead creases. 

“I’ll try,” he acquiesces. 

He leaves you. You get up and grab the blanket. You are pretty tired.  

You put the pillow against the armrest and fan the blanket over the cushions. You shut off the lamp and tuck in. 

A light comes dimly from the doorway. You’re not sure where from. You roll over and face the back of the couch. You listen to rain as you close your eyes and start to drift. Four walls and a full belly. Grandmother always said that’s something to be grateful for. 

🌳

You sit out on the steps and breathe in the scent of dew. The sunlight softly peers between the trees as it drifts along its ascent. It’s early still. You woke at dawn and couldn’t settle back down. Not wanting to disturb the house or its resident, you snuck out onto the porch. 

You cup your chin and smile at the robins poking their beaks into the earth. Not far from them, there’s a wooden table, atop it are planters full of lush sprigs of dilly, sage, and basil. You can’t almost smell them from here. They look greener since the rain. Everything does. 

The door opens behind you. You sit up and crane to see over your shoulder. You stand and face your host. 

“Good morning, mister,” you say. 

“Thought you left,” he utters. 

“If you want me to--” 

“Not what I said,” he stops on the top step as you stand on the second. He puts a hand on the pillar and looks over the yard. “How’s the shed look?” 

“Gee, I didn’t even check yet,” you scratch your neck. 

“That’s fine.” He sniffs. “I’ll have a look.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No need,” he steps down beside you and past you. 

“But, mister,” you follow him, “I think I’m feeling better. I can help now.” 

“You should go sit,” he marches around the house and past the rows of sprouts and carrot leaves. 

“You can’t do all this by yourself. Not easily. I could do little things. Your herbs are looking good. I can hang em out to dry for ya. It’s nothing. And I could check for rot. I know how to do that.” You offer. “While I’m at it, if ya got some laundry needs doin’--” 

He stops short and you nearly his his arm. He stares at the shed. The roof is inside and the door is in the mud. It could blow over with a breath, like that story about the pigs. 

“Oh, mister,” you squeak. “I’m sorry about the shed.” 

“Driftwood,” he mutters and turns back. He looks at you. “Could be worse.” 

You nod and stare at the ruin. You furrow your brows. “Oh, gee, I coulda been inside... You saved my life again, Mr. Bucky.” 

He grumbles but doesn’t say anything. He heads back to the house. You trail behind him. 

“I’m gonna pay you back. Just like you said.” 

“You sure are talkin’ a lot. Must be feeling better,” he stops by the porch steps. “You deal with those herbs then.” 

“Okay,” you grin. “I can handle that.” 

His eyes skim you up and down. His expression remains stony. You slouch and clamp your lips together nervously. You hope you’re not too much of a bother. 

“Quietly,” you add. 

He hums but offers little else. You’re content. You don’t like sitting around doing nothing. You want to help, any way you can. 

🌳

After you gather the herbs, you rinse them and lay them out on a towel to dry. You strip the lower half of the stems and make little bundles, tying them with brown twine. Bucky supplied everything you needed for your task. 

You hum out of tune as you work. The windows are open and let in the tweet of birds and gentle breeze. The residue of the rain lends a freshness to the house as the dinginess washes away. 

With the bundles in a basket, you head outside. You don’t see Bucky as you come into the sunlight. You shield your eyes with your hand and go around the house to the laundry line. 

You keep the basket hooked on your elbow as you drag the stool over to where you need it. You make sure it isn’t too muddy, it won’t do to be sinking in. You step up on the seat with a fistful of pegs, and set to hanging the herbs. 

You get the first few bundles clipped on and tug the line. The wheel creaks but doesn’t turn. You look at the pole and yank again. It’s stuck on something. 

The stool wobbles as a shadow emerges from around the side of the house. Without a word, Bucky grabs the wheel and wiggles it. You watch him as he pokes his finger through. He twists it roughly then grunts, retracting his hand in pain. 

You hop off the stool and it tips over. He looks at you, his blue eyes alight, and you put the basket on the ground. You drop the pegs onto the herbs. 

You rush to him without a thought. You already see the blood dripping down his thumb. 

“Oh no,” you reach for him, “that musta hurt.” You latch on and he tenses. He resists as you try to pull his hand closer. You stop and look him in the face. “I-- Oh, you’re hurt. I only--” 

He relents and unlocks his elbow. You refocus on his thumb. There’s a deep gash beside his nail. You frown and glance at the wheel attached to the pole. The storm knocked a screw lose so the wheel catches on it. He must not have noticed. 

“Can I clean it? It could get infected?” You ask. 

He draws his hand from yours. 

“Sure, don’t wanna get this all inside,” he examines his hand. 

“Alright, mister, I’ll be back.” 

You hurry to the back door. You slow as you remember the night before when he smuggled you inside. You swing open the screen door and stop on the mat. You leave your shoes there and continue down the hall. 

You go into the bathroom. Cautiously, you search. You find a brown bottle of peroxide and some gauze. It will do. You go to the kitchen to grab scissors then retrace your steps. 

You come outside and find Bucky sitting on the steps. You lower yourself beside him. You cut a short length of gauze to soak up the blood. You take his hand and gently wrap it around his thumb. 

He pinches it with his index finger and you pull away. You wet more gauze with peroxide. He lets go so you can clean the cut. You press against it to keep the blood from overflowing. 

“Sorry, mister, not tryna hurt ya.” You say. 

He doesn’t say a word. You put your other hand against the back of his. 

“It stings, I know.” You hold his hand like that then slowly peel the gauze away. “I’ll wrap it for ya.” 

He still doesn’t speak. You do as you say and wrap his thumb, testing that it’s not too tight before you tuck in the end. You bunch up the used gauze and cap the bottle. 

“You alright?” You ask. 

He holds up his bandaged thumb and curls the rest of his fingers. He stands before you can look him in the face. He marches to the line and pulls it. The wheel whines but turns. 

“I’ll finish that. Just gotta put this away and wash my hands.” You wait for an answer. None comes. That’s okay. Your grandfather could be quiet too. 

You go back inside and put everything back where you found it. You dispose the bloody bandage and go back out. He’s trying to clip a bundle up with one hand. 

“Oh, mister, your thumb’s gonna hurt a whole lot if you don’t rest it,” you say. “I told ya, I’ll finish.” 

“I can do it,” he huffs. 

“I know. I’m just thinking. That’s a deep cut.” 

He ignores you and manages to pin the stems. He bends and grabs another. 

“I could do you some lavender ointment. Grandmother used to put it on my cuts.” You suggest. “Grandmother knew everything.” 

He’s quiet. He rolls the line as he struggles to clip the bundle above him. You grab the stool and step up. 

“What happened to her?” He asks. 

“Mister?” 

“You said she knew. Not knows.” 

You smile. You try not to be sad. Grandmother always said being sad all the time is a waste. 

“She died. Her lungs got real bad.” You explain. “She was old.” 

He nods. “Sorry. It’s never easy.” 

“Not for me. But I think it was for her.” You catch the bundle as it slips out of his grasp. You hold it in place and let him clip it. “She wanted to be with grandfather. She’s happy now.” 

His blue eyes meet yours. A small crease forms between his brows. His jaw clenches. He looks down and gets another bundle. 

“Suppose...” he drawls. 

[ink-stainedkiss]

Graying Skies - Megumi Fushiguro

Synopsis: A ceaseless thunderstorm broods over Jujutsu Tech and it makes you begin to loose sleep. Thankfully a just as restless Megumi is here to provide company.

Since it was raining today, I decided to incorporate it into my work. I am so happy to finally create a work about my favorite grumpy boy🫶. Feel free to request more Oneshots like this if you enjoyed it!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but it’s just making out

Word Count: 1.2k

Thunder clapped violently above head, shaking the entire building, and making the raging thunderstorm outside worse. Bolts of lightning came crashing down, their natural light flashing through the crack of your curtain. It had been raining all day, so you had to go to classes with the continuous pattering of droplets hitting the roof to complete it. The atmosphere made everyone at Jujutsu Tech tired. Gojo Sensei even turned on a movie because he was too sleepy to teach, which was understandable. You couldn’t train because the workspaces were slick and Principal Yaga was weary his students would catch a cold if they were outside for too long.

Classes had ended and everyone was in their assigned dorms. Some people like Yuji and Nobara had already passed out, unfazed by the weather, but you found yourself on the opposite side of the scale. You sat on your bed, knees tucked into your chest as your eyes stared at the darkened sky. Usually, you were fine about going to sleep in the rain, but something was nagging you tonight. You decided to wait it out since tomorrow would be the weekend and you could sleep in forever how long you wanted. A few candles scattered in your dorm created a soft glow and even with the occasional cracks of light and booming thunder, it was calming.

Your eyes felt heavy and you wondered if you should try to go to bed, but just as that thought appeared, there was a soft knock at your door. You turned, brow raised. Who would be knocking at this time? “Come in.” The person on the other side of the door pushed it slowly open and when they came into view, you were a bit stunned,” Megumi?” He stood in your doorway, looking away from your curious gaze, almost like he was embarrassed. He was in his sleep clothes, a black long-sleeve and simple grey sweatpants.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he mumbled. You giggled softly, motioning to the lit candles,” You’re alright, I’ve been up for a while.” He nodded,” You couldn’t sleep?” You shook your head to his question,” No and it looks like you can’t either.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly,” Yeah, I was trying to find someone else who I could stay up with…” The fact that Megumi had gone to your door first without question was something he was going to keep to himself.

You watched in amusement as he shifted on the balls of his feet, clearly struggling to sound his thoughts. You scooted to the wall side of your bed,” Well, I am in the mood for some company.” Even in the darkly lit room, you could see him exhale out of relief and he walked over. When he was sitting next to you, you noticed his tense position and tried to make it less unpleasant.

“Do you like the rain?” Your question was barely audible and if the boy wasn’t right next to you, Megumi probably would have never heard it. He thought for a second, noting how you weren’t looking for an answer right away,” Not that much,” facing him, there was no unintelligible expression on your face. Nothing that agreed or disagreed with his claim, but you were clearly telling him to continue.

Megumi shifted on your mattress, sinking further into the cushions,” It mostly annoys me. It makes everything soggy and it can drench you if you were ever caught in it.” He smiled a bit as he kept saying,” When I was a kid, I would ask my dad to stop the rain since I wanted to play outside.” Though a tiny grin was on his face, you could feel the bittersweetness of the memory.

Instinctively, you scooted closer, your shoulders touching, and continued to listen to the boy,” But I don’t despise it. I think the older I got the more I learned how relaxing it can be.” Your eyes caught onto the window again as it lit up in a blue-grayish color,” I think I like it more than some people.” Though you didn’t know, Megumi turned to you, his eyes scanning your calm face as you watched the rain pour down.

“Most call it gloomily and I can understand why they don’t like it, but rain can bring people together.” In the moment it was as if a bubble was formed around the two of you and anything outside of it didn’t matter,” If someone forgets their umbrella, one of their friends, or a stranger offers to share theirs. Kids enjoy it because of the large puddles, but even some adults can’t resist the urge to jump into the water.” Megumi wasn’t sure what was in the air, but you sounded so beautiful even if you were just talking about rain.

A warm smile spread onto your lips as you recalled classic movies,” And I would kill to share a kiss in the rain. There’s something so intimate about not caring if your clothes or hair are ruined and only focusing on the love of their life.” There was a beat of silence and you let out a tiny giggle,” Sorry, I think I’ve been watching too many romance-“

You were cut off by warm lips pressing into yours. Coincidentally, a strike of lightning came down once you realized what was happening. Megumi was kissing you. Megumi Fushiguro was kissing you. You instantly brought your hands to his face, pulling him closer. Your lips moved in synchronization as if you’ve done this a thousand times before. Little pants pushed past your lips as you backed away for only a second for air, then moved right back to each other. You tangled your hand into his raven hair and he easily lifted you to sit on his lap.

Your room was filled with breathless gasps and muffled grunts as you moved as one. The tension grew as Megumi moved to your neck, craving your skin against his lips. Allowing him more access, you craned your neck back and let out a faint moan as he suckled on your skin.

Sadly, a rather loud and disruptive Thunder echoed across the campus, making both you and Megumi jolt in surprise. You made eye contact with the boy and then began to giggle. Megumi thought I was the prettiest noise he’d ever heard and couldn’t help but chuckle. When your laughs died down, you stared down at Megumi, noting how the orange glow in your room decorated his face beautifully. He was so gorgeous like this. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, and bruised lips. So caught up in his appearance, you leaned in, planting another sweet kiss on his lips.

Pulling away, you rested your head against his own, continuing to play with the back of his hair. A thought crossed Megumi’s mind that had him smirking. His eyes examined your face,” Ya know, I don’t think I mind the rain anymore.” A hearty giggle left your lips and you nodded in glee,” Yeah? You’re not wishing it would go away?” He shook his head, sultry eyes landing on your plump lips once again.

You leaned in, interlocking your mouth with his once again. Unexpectedly, he flipped you over, making a squeal leave your lips. The shock was quick to pass as you felt Megumi wrap his arms around your body. You rested on your side and the boy held you close, his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled at his clinginess, which he would never show in public, and placed a peck on his cheek,” Goodnight Megs.” He gave a muffled response that was filled with sleep.

Megumi had come to your room to hopefully wind up cuddling with you, but he ended up with something ten times better.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Sending love and hugs your way! 🫂💗

I’m not sure if you’re still doing the comfort/fluff blurbs. But a rainy day in with Logan, watching movies and building a pillow fort because why not 🥰🥰 (he wouldn’t admit it but I feel he’d love a pillow fort lol)

Rainy Days and Clint Eastwood

Logan Howlett X Reader

He insists on watching Clint Eastwood movies

A/N: Omg dami. I appreciate you waiting as long as you did for me to redo this after it got deleted and honestly I like this version MUCH better lol. Hope you enjoy! Also, pretend that you and Logan have a surplus of pillows and blankets.

Warnings: Fluff, thunderstorms, flirting, Clint Eastwood quotes lol

"You shoot to kill, you better hit the heart. Your own words, Ramon."

Ramon aims his gun, firing off two shots at the cowboy character. Loud bangs echo into the room, making you jump. The men around Ramon, including him, all stare in anticipation at the body on the ground, sweat covering their faces.

"Oh-" You quietly mutter under your breath. Logan glances at you- a faint smile growing on his face.

Alas, despite taken 5 shots already, the lone cowboy stands up, and continues walking closer.

"The heart, Ramon. Don't forget the heart. Aim for the heart, or you'll never stop me."

"Okay so either he's a mutant or he's wearing a vest."

"Baby they never make people mutants in these movies."

"Mm. Cuz they're bigots."

Logan chuckled. His hand squeezing you reassuringly and pulling you closer. "Enjoying the movie now huh?"

"Only, because the Clint Eastwood guy reminds me of you."

"That so? The only way to keep your attention is it?"

You giggled, responding with a mischievous maybe before shushing him to continue focusing on the movie.

Rain pattered on the window, distant thunder rumbled. The home was chilly, but snuggling next to Logan- a real human furnace- had kept you warm. His arm wrapped around you, hand scratching your arm gently up and down while you were tucked safely into his side.

Logans had reached down to the bowl of popcorn that was in his lap- only to discovered unpopped kernels and a few burnt pieces. He looks at you accusingly, who was currently snacking on the last bit of it.

"What? You're a slow eater." You shrug. "It was getting cold."

"I'll make some more." He unwraps his arm from you, grabbing the bowl to sit up. You fell onto your side onto where he was sitting, his body no longer the support to keep you sitting up. With his back to you, you took noticed of his rear in his sweatpants- reaching out to pinch a cheek.

He jumped in surprised, "Hey!" He looked over his shoulder, brows creased. Trying his best to look angry- but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

"You got a cute tush Lo."

He grumbles, continuing to walk away, "Damn right." You heard him mutter, resulting in a loud cackle from you.

You continued watching the movie- utterly fascinated by the scheme the cowboy seems to be playing in order to get as much money as possible. Rain began to hit the windows harder, drawing your attention to the gray weather outside. A flash of lightning struck, and you counted the seconds.

1

2

3

4-

The thunder rumbled through the house. Indicating the storm was pretty close. You remember when you were a kid how storms terrified you. You were told that counting after a lightning strike would show you how far away storms were. You would anxiously watch the skies through your window for every strike of lightning and counted each time- until the higher the number become and gave you a sense of relief the storm was leaving. The shorter it was, you would get nervous- and resort to building a fort to keep you safe.

Grown up, you've grown out of the fear. The storm was making you nostalgic anyway.

You sat up, beginning to gather the collection of blankets in the living room, including a few stored in an old antique seater chest. For some reason, every time you go to the store- you always end up coming back with a new blanket.

Unfolding them and displaying them out- you started plotting. You wanted your fort to be cozy- and also be able to see the tv for you and Logans rainy movie day.

You were in the process of grabbing chairs from the diniing room, stacks of books for weight, and placing a blanket over the tv when Logan came back with a fresh bowl of popcorn.

You hadn't noticed him yet, focused on your plan before he cleared his throat, startling you.

"What in the world are you doing?" Logan asks, a hint of a grin on his face.

"A fort. Blanket fort." You say, matter of factly.

"A what?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what a blanket fort is." You put your hands on your hips. He quirked a brow.

"The name gives it away."

"It's fun! You ever make one when you were a kid?"

"Uh..No...Not exactly."

"Right. You were born in like 1562 or something. Probably wasn't invented yet."

"You're a little off on the dates princess."

You smiled as he approached you, popcorn bowl in hand. He examined the mess of blankets, chairs, books, and other various items. "So what's the point?"

"it's like making a little cozy...cave I guess." You shrugged. "It's warm and quiet. We can fill it with snacks and pillows and more blankets." You leaned forward, wrapping you arms around his hips and tipping your chin up at him. "Our own little love nest."

"Hm." He hums, tipping his chin down to nuzzle over your nose. "Guess the mess would be worth it then." His voice low, his eyes meeting yours with an excited glimmer.

"Definitely."

"Alright, lets get started."

You clapped your hands excitedly, taking the popcorn from him- not before munching on a few. Directing him in your idea, he agreed and you both got started.

You got distracted by the movie and popcorn throughout- while Logan become extremely focused- careful to make sure the fort was sturdy. Once the main part was finished- you climbed in and Logan used to your muffled voice squeal and call it perfect- your head peaking out. "We need so many blankets. and pillows."

"Here." He handed you a few couch pillows, and a quilt.

"No." You climbed out. "So much more. Be right back."

You disappeared, and Logan moved on to continue putting the fort together. Making sure he could fit comfortably. You came down soon after, covered by pillows and blankets from your bed- you went to work to create your nest.

Making it as soft as possible, you covered the floor with blankets, pillows, more blankets- and a few extra pillows to lay your heads on.

Finally finished, you got Logan to climb inside to lay down. He looked around, and you tried to read his expression.

"Well?" You tilted your head. "What do you think?"

"Mm. Yeah...Not bad." He gives you a small shrug. "Kinda...cozy."

He doesn't look at you, but you could see in his eyes, and his body language they way he relaxed into the blankets. Logan, being the ever stoic man he could be- you've learned to read between the lines with him.

He absolutely loved it.

"C'mon." He urged you to curl up next to him, but you held your hand up.

"Wait- I'll be right back."

You climbed out of the fort, disappearing between the blanket doors. Coming back a few minutes later with drinks, snacks, and the remote. Once everything was settled, you curled into his side- using an extra blanket to cover the both of you. You could hear thunder booming- only much more muffled from the fort shielding you and Logan from the storm outside.

"Yeah, this is pretty nice." He mutters quietly, squeezing you closer. You hummed- turning your attention back to the movie, nearly over now during your fort ordeal- eyes growing heavy as you snuggled into Logan's side again.

"What do you want to watch next?" Logan asks, looking at you when he recieved no response. You were dead asleep within minutes.

He admired your peaceful face, grabbing the remote at your side to turn the tv off- leaving off the sound of rain and thunder that was slowly fading further and further away. He pulled you to his chest, and allowed himself to slip into a slumber with you.

[devinescribe]

The Kinda Guy to…

Tuffnut Thorston edition

- Always trying to make you laugh. It's his favorite part of you!!

- Needs someone down with the chaos but willing to reel him back in. Ruffnut encourages his idiocy, so if you're like... "Yeah but I like my boyfriend alive..." he's like "oh yeah wait.."

- You need to like Chicken. She's his baby. If you are together, that's your baby now too. "Babe babe babe hold-"

You're ready holding her and cooing at her with a smile.

He's even more in love.

- Knows 4 other languages besides Norse...(5 if you count post lightning Snotlout) says he loves you in all of them, and teaches you. Says it's to help for extra communication during missions and patrol but it's his way of spending extra time with you.

- Falls for you when he sees you (accidentally) blow something up during a dragon raid back when they were still fighting dragons. The building was already so damaged, there were dragons in it... kaboom was easier.

- prefers someone who can keep up with him in terms of like energy. Always willing and waiting to just hop up and go.

- Yall remember in RTTE when the twins found a rock that said they were the owners of the edge? Yeah makes you the exception to the rules because "you're basically a Thorston already... Y/N Thorston-"

- If you don't have your own dragon, he's like "well they have a back just hop on" wonders if they can grow more than two heads. He's determined.

- When they first move out to the edge, he's so sad cuz he didn't bring you along (in the universe you don't have a dragon) and Ruff can handle his whining to the point she's sleeping outside. One day you appear outside their door and Snotlout is just grumbling about "and don't ever say I don't do anything nice for you"

- (think adults) Yall know that scene in Hotel Transylvania when Johnny is like "OH YEAH DID YOU SEE THAT THATS MY GIRLFRIEND!" Yeah it goes a little something like this

"OH YEAH DID YOU SEE THAT?! THATS mY GIRLFRIEND!"

"I'm your wife, Tuff."

"OH YEAH MY WIFE!! even better-"

- Would be a good boyfriend cuz... he has a sister. Even if Ruff is... well Ruff, still!

- As much as they bicker, it is imperative that you and Ruff like each other. She's his twin, he NEEDS you two to get along. (You do. She jokes about stealing you from him.)

- The tears episode. Oh boy... you're the only one that doesn't say tears. He watched you turn Hookfang on Snotlout for saying it. It was funny. He regrets bringing you to this island.

- If you're ever in trouble?? Oh yeah, he does now thinks later. That's how he is, especially when you're in trouble. Like... he just flies off to get you.

- That often ends with him being tied up next to you. Well… at least you’re together? How did he fly Barf and Belch without Ruff? He didn’t. She’s there too.

- The only time you have actively stood up to Astrid was when she kept saying tears😭 he’s so moved it’s… it’s just… he cries for an hour.

- Loves when you indulge his crazy. Like, yes, please encourage him to blow up that building as the plan.

- Hiccup could make a totally sane plan, and he’s like… eh. So, the gang tells you to tell him your plan. (It’s just Hiccup’s plan) He agrees right away.

- Do you have fire resistant clothes? No? You should get some.

- He is a physical touch guy. Like… just piles on top of you. Actually, you should flop onto him. He likes the pressure.

- Vocal stims. So many. He just says what’s on his mind always.

- One time you do the grueling process of… combing out one of his dreads… why? He saw the lil braids Hiccup has and said he wanted one. And you indulge him.

- Pouts when he doesn’t get a kiss and he asks for one. That is the ultimate betrayal.

“Y/N can I have a kisssss?”

“Tuff, I would love kiss you but I’m sick…”

“…so you hate me and want me to die.”

…

News flash, he gets sick. You’ll never guess why.

- Brags about you. Calls you his brain. Cuz you can obviously think things through before doing them. He can’t.

- Prime example? How he asked you out. It’s the second day of the Trial of Flame, and he’s telling you (after almost dying) how much he likes you and wants to go out with you. Bad timing. But the best intentions.

- If you have a dragon, he’s often amazed by what you do with said dragon. How in sync you are, how you do stuff with such ease, like you were born to be a dragon rider.

- He loves your dragon extra if it’s a destructive, deadly breed.

- Don’t leave him with your dragon if it is. Because any explosion you hear after… it’s them.

- Remember when Hiccup said “Where there’s smoke there’s the twins?” Yeah that got updated. “Where there’s smoke there’s the twins. And Y/N. We will figure out whether voluntary or involuntary.

[buckys-little-belle]

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

[myymi]

Sonic is twelve years old the first time Tails falls asleep on him. Over the months that the two of them have been traveling together Tails has fallen asleep next to him many times. Some nights he had darker dreams and would end up quietly shuffling his sleeping bag close to the hedgehog's, claiming that it was in the exact same spot it had always been in when Sonic would raise a brow at the proximity after waking up. Some days the sun would be just warm enough that the kid couldn't help but curl up in the soft grass after they stop for a quick water break, his tails wrapping around his small body as he snuck in a quick power nap.

But in all those instances never once had Tails actually slept on him. He kept close, but never dared to rest on top of the hedgehog for reasons the hero didn't quite understand then. They had stopped at the hotel in town for the first time in a while, having enough money to check into a one bed room on the ground floor. Tails thought that it was luck that it happened to be the same night there was supposed to be a storm, but Sonic had planned for that. He wouldn't usually buy a room just to get out of a storm, but the kid was tired and Sonic would rather not make him wait out a storm in an open cave where the sound of the booming thunder was amplified rather than muffled by protective walls. As Tails hopped onto the bed after they'd entered the room, Sonic made a beeline for the thick, dark blue curtains and tugged them closed. He's found that the darker the curtains the better they are at keeping the flash of lightning from assaulting their eyes. It keeps the room darker in the mornings as well, which the little kit seems to appreciate, even if he never voices at that. Sonic was rummaging through the backpack when he heard a squeaky yawn, followed by a quiet grunt as Tails fell back against the bed. He kicked his shoes off, not caring about where they landed before wiggling his way underneath the covers. The hedgehog couldn't help but smile as he shook his head, pulling out two of their water bottles to set inside the fridge so they could have something cold to drink in the morning. Leaving the backpack on the desk, he walked up to the bed and poked at the lump underneath the covers. Tails hummed before he peeked his head out, sleepy blue eyes halfway covered by his eyelids as he stared up at the hedgehog, waiting for him to tell him why he was bothering him. Sonic smiled as he made a 'c' with his paw, placing it at the top of his stomach before dragging it down. 'Hungry?' Tails bit his lip as he considered it. He would normally wave it off, but some hotels had free food. It was usually just breakfast, but if Sonic was popular enough in the zone then they'd receive free dinner too. As he thought on it, he vaguely remembered the front desk person did offer them dinner. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Free?"

Sonic frowned at the question, but he did nod. He repeated the sign for hungry, reminding the cub he was waiting on an answer. Tails nodded as he climbed off the bed, not bothering to put on his shoes as he followed Sonic out of their room. He covered his mouth as he let out another yawn, his other paw reaching out to grab hold of the hedgehog's to make sure he wouldn't fall behind. The hero responded by gently squeezing the smaller paw as he led them to the eating area. As the voices from other hotel guests steadily grew louder, Tails pressed closer the Sonic's side. When they finally entered the dining room, his tails twirled around each other before clinging against his leg. Sonic gently patted his head when he noticed, quickly bringing him to the small buffet. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid get enough to eat. Besides, these places always ha extra food when the night was over. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options without flying, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid had enough to eat. Besides, these places always had extra food when the night was over. He gave himself a smaller portion of everything the fox picked out, knowing the kid would end up pushing his leftovers to Sonic. Tails didn't always pick out his own food. He used to refuse doing so altogether, saying that he was fine with whatever Sonic wanted to eat. The first time he'd gotten the kid to pick out their lunch Tails had beamed when he realized the older seemed to enjoy his choice of food. Since then, he always got the same thing as Tails whenever he got the cub to pick out something to eat. It seemed to help him voice what he wanted instead of just accepting anything he was given.

Sonic was going to eat at one of the tables, but the little fox was yawning a little too much for him to be able to stay awake long enough to walk back to their room after dinner so he decided on walking back now. But, with the tween's paws being full of their food, Tails was forced to hold onto one of his tails as they made the journey back to their room. Tails climbed back onto the bed so he could hold the food while Sonic turned on the T.V, flicking it onto a random cartoon channel before pushing away the covers so he could sit next to the kit on the bed. Tails frowned as he handed the older his plate of food. "I thought you didn't like cartoons?" He asked once he realized what channel the older chose, looking at the hedgehog expectantly as he took a bite of the chili on his plate. It wasn't nearly as good as Sonic's, but it wasn't bad. Sonic shrugged as he stabbed his fork into the small salad, leaving it there for a moment so he could sign his response before picking it back up to eat his bite. 'You like them.' "I know that." Tails said through his mouthful before quickly swallowing, "But you don't like them. We can watch something else, I don't mind." The hedgehog shrugged again and took another bite of his food without making any move to respond, causing the cub to pout. Too tired to really fight on the subject, Tails leaned against the headboard of the bed as he quietly ate the rest of his food. Sonic didn't really care about cartoons. They weren't his first pick by any means, but he didn't mind turning it on for little kids to watch. Which Tails is a little kid, despite how smart he is or how much he'd argue that he's "really not that much younger than Sonic" when he's still only four years old. The two of them ate comfortably with the T.V on a low volume but still loud enough to hopefully cover the sounds outside that the walls couldn't muffle. Sonic shifted his position a few times to try and block the window so Tails wouldn't see what little light pressed past the curtains. Tails squeaked out another yawn once he finished eating, handing his half-eaten plate over to the hedgehog. Sonic quickly scraped the rest of the food onto his, setting the now empty plate on the beside table so it'd be easy to grab when he leaves to put the plates back up after he finishes his own food. Apparently too tired to feel embarrassed right now, Tails wiggled under the covers until he was fully laying down before leaning over to rest his head against Sonic's hip instead of the pillow directly behind him. The hedgehog froze at the contact as his eyes snapped down to the kit, only to find that he was already out cold. Soft snores escaped him as his breathing evened out faster than Sonic has ever seen, the fox easily finding comfort in the physical contact. Too stiff to be anywhere near comfortable, Sonic gently laid his paw across Tails's torso, giving him a couple soft, awkward pats as he just watched the younger breathe for a few seconds. It took him a minute to settle against the headboard again, but it's faster than it usually takes him to get comfortable with someone touching him unprompted so he sees it as a win. And he only relaxed further after Tails started to quietly purr. They stay like that until Sonic finished his plate, stacking it on top of the other dirty dish before he laid down to join Tails in the dream world. He lifted the kit's head just enough to move around, gently setting it down on his chest when he's in a comfortable spot. He brought his paw up to scratch the cub's ear a few times before letting it settle around his back again, easily falling asleep at the soft sounds of comfort coming from Tails. The dishes will just have to wait until morning. ----

[springgirlshowers]

could you do joost x gn reader, but it’s literally just them cuddling in bed during a thunderstorm??

Monsoon Season

Pairing: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used)

CW: none!

WC: 726

AN: such a cutey cute lil concept!! fun fact: i wrote this as it was storming hard as hell outside lmao

Just as you were about to send Joost a text, asking how far away he was, you heard the front door open behind.

As you sat up from your spot on the couch, you were met with Joost standing with grocery bags in his hands, absolutely drenched from the rain.

It had started storming about ten minutes ago and Joost must’ve got caught in the middle of the rain on the way back from a recording session.

“I got the stuff you said we needed for dinner.” Joost gave you an amused smile as he held up the bag.

You immediately got up and went over to him, as much as you tried not to, you giggled at a bit at his soaked state.

“Thank you.” You smiled, giving him a small kiss, “Now, I’ll put these away, you go change.” You said as you took the bags from his hands, he just nodded and kicked off his shoes, walking down the hallway into your shared bedroom to change into drier clothes.

You put the groceries into the fridge and kitchen cabinets while waiting for Joost to get finished changing.

You were already done putting everything away by the time he returned, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a green hoodie, camouflage patterns on the hood. His hair had dried a bit more, now messier.

Joost walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Better?” You asked, putting your hands on top of his.

“Mhm, much.” He let out a happy breath. It felt so peaceful in the apartment, the hard rain from outside with the warm light from the lamp in the living room made the perfect cozy atmosphere.

Until a flash of lightning and loud rumble of thunder struck outside, scaring and making both of you jump of you a tiny bit.

“The weather app said it’s gonna be like this for the next few days.” You sighed, turning around in his grasp.

“I guess we’ll be stuck inside for the next few days then.” He moved his hands from your waist to the sides of your face, you nearly shuddered when felt how cold his palms were.

“You’re really cold. You’re sure you feel better?”

“I could use some warming up.” He shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him take your hands and drag you into the bedroom.

You got into bed first, shuffling under the sheets while Joost followed, laying on top of you.

“I’m so tired. Today was so exhausting.” He mumbled against your chest. Joost enjoyed making music, but this feeling wasn’t uncommon for him after being at the studio for hours on end.

“How’s the album going?” You hummed, pulling the blankets up over the both of you.

“Its frustrating. Nothing is turning out the way I want it to.” He let out an annoyed sigh at the thought of it. “I’m honestly just thinking about scrapping most of the songs because of it.”

“Oh come on, you’ll get them how you want them eventually.” You frowned. “You always do.” You added, hoping it would bring some relief.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” You ran your hands through his hair, he let out a pleased breath and wrapped his arms a little bit tighter around you in response.

Even though you didn’t have a good look at his face, you could feel his smile against your skin.

The sound of the rain hitting the window and soft thunder in the distance with the warmth of your body against his and you raking your hands through his hair made him feel the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

It didn’t take long after for his eyelids to become droopy, eventually shutting his eyes in complete bliss.

“I was thinking dinner tomorrow could be pasta. But you might have to go back into the rain again to get the noodles.” You joked, there was no response from Joost.

“Joost?” You said softly, no response again.

Craning your neck a bit to get a better look at his face, you could see he was absolutely knocked out.

His eyes shut, lips slightly parted, face completely relaxed. You smiled to yourself, deciding maybe you could let him sleep for a little bit before you got up.

[writerastray]

ride 4 u {Blood Rush}

General Masterlist - Blood Rush Masterlist - Read this before interacting

-> Word count: 3.5k

-> Relationships: Han Jisung/f!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

-> Genre/Tropes: Crime/Mafia AU, Romance, Mutual Pining, Romantic/Sexual Tension, Toxic Love (Spoiler tags: Ex's to Lovers?)

-> Synopsis: You swore you’d never see Han Jisung again. Your plan was to focus on your studies and enjoy your normal college life. However, one phone call changes everything, dragging you back into the chaos you tried to escape.

-> Warning tags: Physical Abuse, Weapons, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Car Accident, Toxic Relationship. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

⚠︎ I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share it. This work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Jisung didn't answer his phone.

You crossed the street. You felt grateful for the rain on your skin; you needed to cool down after tonight. 

Thunder and lightning sent chills down your spine. The traffic was massive, a chaotic canvas of red and yellow lights. A car accident could be seen not so far away. 

You were so tired. It was always you who needed to cover for him, and yet the guy couldn't even tell you he was fine.

The subway entrance, a few feet away, was packed with people coming out of it, but you didn't have a choice—it was the only way to Jisung's apartment.

You kept your head down as the cops ran past you; all of them were headed to the accident scene. 

You had no idea where Jisung had gone, but at least he wasn't dead. 

You had to believe that.

Your lungs felt constricted as soon as you headed to the crowded platform. You hated the feeling of being trapped and having no choice but to wait. 

Your roommates, right now, must be getting ready for a party; you should be with them, messing up your makeup a thousand times before giving up and asking one of the girls to do it for you. 

It had been a while since you’d done anything with them, really.

Or, maybe if not partying, you should, at least, be studying. You had promised not to disappoint your mother anymore with your bad grades.

That was how your life should be.

Everything was supposed to go back to normal once you had broken up with Jisung.

But then he made a call. A single call, asking for help, saying he was in trouble. After a month of trying to forget him, trying to put your life together, fit in, be like everyone else, all it took for you to go back was hearing, "Help me, please."

"What's in it for me?" You had asked, and he promised to disappear from your life if you helped him, he promised that you could go back to your boring, normal life. 

So how did you end up in a crowded subway on your way to his house, again?

"Three deaths," you heard an old woman say next to you, "apparently a rich businesswoman and her husband.”

"No, a lover outside of marriage," added a man by her side.

"They collided with a government official," said someone else.

The news display flashed: 'Prosecutor, lead investigator in Case 143, killed in a car crash.' 

Your stomach rolled; you shut your eyes, trying not to vomit. 

What these people didn't know was that the man who died was working for Chris' rival mafia, carrying crucial evidence against Chris. 

Jisung's mission? Eliminate the target, secure the evidence, then escape. 

It didn't go as planned, and now you were on your way to the problem, just like you always did when it came to him.

You dialed Jisung again, but it went straight to voicemail. 

You swore never to agree to do anything for him again. You were done with him, his friends, and their schemes. 

The last place you should be was in the subway, praying for an asshole to be safe after he had killed three people tonight.

Want to keep reading? You can check it out on my AO3—just click this link to continue: ride4u🖤

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2025 by Writerastray.

[snexy-the-snail]

Thunderstorms

HAHHA as Promised! Everything is going according to plan, few more noms planned, some drawings, I might slip a LMK in as well!

The clouds over Manhattan had been brooding for hours. For Percy, that always meant trouble. Ugh. Why couldn't it wait? He was supposed to be having a break from all of these demigod issues.

He wasn't surprised when the first lightning bolt crackled across the sky. The next one struck in the middle of Central Park. Typical.

It wasn't normal. He knew that, mostly because he could literally see clear skies because of the massive storm in front of him. He jogged toward the smoking crater, reaching into his pocket and having Riptide ready, uncapping it just in case. He half-expected to find a rogue monster crawling out of the hole or maybe another minor god with a grudge.

Instead, standing in the middle of a circle of scorched grass, radiating divine pressure like a thunderstorm in human form, was Zeus.

"Seriously?" Percy muttered, halting just short of the god. "This better not be another lecture."

Zeus turned to him slowly. He was wearing a sleek black suit, clearly tailored by someone who didn't know the meaning of 'off the rack.' His beard looked trimmed, but somehow, it still managed to bristle like an oncoming storm.

"Jackson," Zeus said, in that voice that always sounded like it was trying not to split the sky in half.

Percy held Riptide loosely at his side. "Look, if you're here to try and kill me, I'd appreciate a little warning. I haven't had lunch."

Zeus blinked. Not exactly a warm reaction, but also not a bolt of divine retribution. That was something. Progress maybe? Then again, Zeus had been odd since the end of the Second Giant War.

"I am not here to kill you," Zeus said slowly, as though the idea physically hurt him to say.

Percy cocked his head. "That... sounded like it had an unspoken yet at the end of it."

Zeus sighed, and for the first time, Percy saw it not as the god of sky and thunder but as a tired parent whose patience was being tested.

"I do not know how to speak with you," Zeus admitted. "Not as an enemy. Not even as an ally. You confuse me."

Percy blinked. "I confuse you? You literally hit my kite when I was five."

Zeus actually winced. "That... may not have been my finest moment."

Silence settled between them, awkward and thick as the summer heat. Still, the confirmation that it had been Zeus had sorta given him closure. He hadn't flown a kite since.

"I owe you," Zeus said eventually. "More than I care to admit."

"You could start with 'thanks for not dying while saving Olympus.' That'd be a first." Percy crossed his arms, giving the god a cautious glance.

Zeus looked at him, and for a moment, Percy could see the struggle there. Pride didn't come off easily from someone like Zeus. It clung like armor. Actually, Percy didn't even expect a thank you; they just expected a flash to happen, and poof, no more god.

"…Thank you," Zeus said, the words grinding like stone. "And... I was wrong to treat you as a threat."

Percy stared at him. Waiting for a catch. A lightning bolt. A trap door. Anything.

Instead, Zeus stepped closer cautiously, as though trying not to startle a wild animal. That was probably a good idea, considering Percy still hadn't set Riptide aside.

"You are Poseidon's son," he said. "And that has always made it hard for me to see you, not just the blood you carry."

"So this is about my dad. Again."

"In part," Zeus admitted. "But you're more than your father's son. You've proven that again and again. I was too proud — too wary — to say it until now."

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it again. This was... weird. Uncomfortable. Like watching Ares try to hug someone.

"So what now?" he asked, suspicious. "You want to have a picnic? Toss a football? Pretend we're all one big dysfunctional family?"

Zeus actually chuckled. It was quiet and dry but real.

"I am not asking for peace," he said. "But perhaps... something less than rivalry. A truce. A start."

Percy looked at him for a long time, then slid Riptide back into his pocket. "Alright," he said slowly. "One condition."

Zeus arched an eyebrow.

"No lightning bolts. Not even one. I don't care if I sneeze near your throne; keep the weather to yourself."

Zeus nodded, and though the corners of his mouth didn't quite lift into a smile, there was something lighter in his face.

"No lightning," he said. "Not today."

Zeus looked up as the clouds rolled away, sunlight slipping through in warm ribbons. Percy followed his gaze, half-expecting the god to vanish in a crackle of ozone and theatrics. Instead, Zeus just stood there. Silent. Almost... expectant.

Percy rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh... you're just gonna stand there? Or are you waiting for me to say, 'Let's be friends'?" He asks, putting Riptide away. It made him feel.. unprepared.

Zeus didn't move. But something in his posture suggested patience. Or maybe confusion. Or just the fact that he had no idea what to do next.

"Alright. You're in the mortal world. Do you want to talk like equals, or whatever? Fine. Have you ever actually seen New York? Like Street level." He didn't want to know the details, but he doubted the gods actually spent genuine time in the world.

Zeus blinked again like Percy had asked if he wanted to try vegan tacos.

"I have..been to cities many times."

"Cool," Percy said. "But I'm guessing you haven't had halal food from a truck or almost died crossing 5th Avenue."

"Why would I die crossing a street?"

"You wouldn't," Percy said, thinking that the image of Zeus being thrown by a car was amusing. "But I might if I don't get lunch soon."

"Then let us eat. I will summon a chariot."

"No!" Percy said quickly. "No summoning. No thunder-horses. We're walking. Like humans. That's the whole point."

Judging by the slight twitch on the god's lip, Zeus had been absolutely fucking with him. "Man, you suck. I genuinely thought you'd summon one." He says with a groan as they start walking. It was.. awkwardly silent. Neither of them was sure what to say. Zeus had been one of the gods who voted about his death, so there was that.

He ordered for Zeus, not entirely sure how much the god would know about mortal food trucks. He sighed heavily as he walked to the bench with the food and drinks in hand. They sat on a green bench near the falafel cart, the scent of sizzling lamb and garlic drifting in the air. Percy held a wrapped gyro in one hand, his Coke balanced between his knees. Zeus sat stiffly, holding his own gyro like it was a mildly dangerous animal.

"So," Percy said, between bites, "this is called lunch. Mortals eat it every day. Revolutionary, I know."

Zeus let what sounded like a snort out, taking a bite of his own food. He didn't exactly have an outward reaction, so Percy would mark this cart out of the rotation of bringing gods to. They finish in relative silence, Percy setting their trash into the bins and dusting his hands off.

Zeus stood following suit. "You mentioned earlier that you liked 'skate shops.' There is one nearby." Wow, he was surprised that God had remembered. He thought that information would go in one ear or the other.

"Yeah, so?"

"I will buy it."

"What- hang on, where did that come from?" A skate shop, sure, something from the inside, but a whole shop!? The idea made Percy's head spin. "Why would you think that's a good idea?"

Zeus seemed a tad confused like a teacher being corrected for the first time in centuries. "This is difficult for me. Connection, without transaction." He admits after a moment. Percy feels a smidge bad for the king of the gods.

"You can't fix stuff by throwing gold at it. Do you think this, hanging out, grabbing food, walking around, is something you have to earn by buying anything that I want? No."

"I... see," he said eventually. Percy watches as a more contemplative expression crosses the god's face. Percy's shoulders relaxed a little, a sigh escaping him,

"I'm not doing this for anything in return. This is my home, and even when I have weird guests, I... I do like showing them around." The word guests was the nicest way he could describe it. How many gods had he walked through the city with? Far too many now.

Zeus looked toward the street. Taxis honked, a saxophone wailed somewhere in the distance, and two pigeons fought over a napkin near a manhole.

"This city is chaotic," Zeus said. "Messy. Loud."

"Exactly," Percy said with a slight grin. "Just like people."

Zeus gave a small nod. "And yet... I can see why you love it."

They stood there for a moment before Zeus straightened up again, looking at Percy. "So me this..skate shop then." He murmurs. Percy nodded and took the lead.

"Sure, it's a great little place..ah, it has all the wheel replacements I need sometimes." It felt odd sharing his hobby with a god. He wasn't even sure his own father knew about this.

The day seemed to go by fast after that, Percy getting on a board for a bit, Zeus making the best impression of a disapproving mother as he zoomed down the street for a test run.

By late afternoon, the city had softened.

The golden haze of the setting sun bled between skyscrapers, casting long shadows that danced along the sidewalks. The endless honking of taxis had faded into a low, familiar hum. The air still buzzed with energy. New York never truly slept, but it was calmer now. Like the city was exhaling.

He hadn't even realized it at first, the way his shoulders had lowered, the way he stopped instinctively checking behind him for monsters or sudden godly vengeance. He and Zeus had walked through four neighborhoods, passed street performers, bought (but didn't finish) two slices of dollar pizza, and spent twenty minutes debating whether pigeons were nature's greatest failure or greatest survivors.

Zeus, to Percy's utter shock, had laughed.

It wasn't loud, and it didn't shake the pavement. But it was real. And more surprisingly, it didn't feel like a power play. It just felt... human. Like the brief glimpses of genuine fondness he saw in Poseidon.

They sat now on a rooftop garden, one Percy knew from patrol routes with the Hunters overlooking the Hudson. The water shimmered with the fading sun, orange and gold rippling like someone had set the river on fire. The memory of the river sent a jolt of panic through him; he instead took a breath in and leaned back against a planter box.

"So. You didn't smite anyone. You didn't declare war on Times Square, and no pigeons suffered your wrath for stealing pizza."

"It's a rat with wings. The last thing it needed was pizza."

Percy snorted and let his eyes drift shut for a moment, forcing himself to stay calm. He felt it, then the tug behind his eyes, the weight in his limbs. It had been a long day, and walking a god of Olympus around Manhattan was oddly more exhausting than fighting a cyclops.

"You're tired." Zeus noticed, and for some reason, it made him feel..relaxed.

Percy cracked one eye open. "What gave it away? The yawning? The fact that I almost face-planted into a bush five minutes ago?"

"You're mortal. Even blessed by Olympus, you have limits."

"Yeah," Percy said, yawning. "That's kind of the deal."

He stretched out his legs, brushing a fallen leaf from his jeans. He wasn't sure when it had gotten so quiet between them, not awkward like earlier, but companionable. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.

"I always assumed you hated me," Percy said finally. "Not just because of who my dad is. But because I didn't... follow the rules. I said no when I was supposed to kneel."

Zeus was quiet for a moment, then said, "You remind me of Poseidon; to a degree, it hurts."

"Figured."

"Indeed," Zeus said, smirking. "But he is my older brother, and he is able to withstand my anger." More silence fell over them before Zeus opened his mouth to speak again.

"You are a child, and that is something I often forget."

They sat a little longer, watching the sky turn from gold to soft purple. The wind picked up, cool and smelling faintly of rain. Zeus didn't rise, didn't call a storm, didn't flash out in divine light. He simply sat, hands clasped loosely, as the mortal world passed around him.

Eventually, Percy rubbed his face and stood, swaying slightly.

"Alright, old man. You've officially out-walked me." He felt exhausted and worse; he didn't know who would be on 'Percy duty' tonight. Maybe his dad?

Zeus stood, too, far more gracefully. "You were an acceptable guide."

"I'll take that as a glowing review."

They didn't hug; he wasn't sure Zeus knew how to. But as they turned back toward the stairwell, Zeus hesitated, thinking something was wrong. At this point, the sky had darkened into a soft indigo streaked with the last traces of daylight. The wind up on the roof had cooled, brushing past them in slow, whispering gusts. Below, the lights of New York blinked on one by one, like the stars were slowly rising from the pavement instead of the sky.

Percy hadn't moved much. He sat slouched against the planter box, knees drawn loosely toward his chest. His breath had evened out from the earlier walk, but Zeus noticed the tension hadn't left his body entirely.

"You seem... burdened," Zeus said, watching him.

Percy didn't look at him. "I mean, yeah. Kinda comes with the job description. 'Demigod: world saver, monster slayer, anxiety collector.'"

"You joke. But there's weight beneath it."

Percy was quiet. The wind picked up again, rustling his hoodie. For a while, it seemed like he couldn't answer. Then, finally, in a voice lower than before. "Sometimes I still see it. The wars. The Titan army flooded Manhattan. The fires. The ground cracking under Olympus. The faces of the kids I couldn't save. That I didn't save."

He swallowed hard. "And the Giant War, it never ends. Even now, when it's quiet, it's still in my head. Like I'm waiting for the next thing to go wrong. I can't sleep sometimes. Or I'll wake up thinking I'm back in Tartarus." His voice faltered.

"I hate that place. I hate what it did to me. And sometimes... I hate that I survived it when others didn't."

His hands were trembling now. Slightly at first, then visibly. He tried to clench them into his sleeves like he could hide it as if it wasn't real if he didn't acknowledge it. This was the most he had spoken about it to anyone. It felt like with each god, his trauma was loosening, and he couldn't stop talking about it.

"I can't even wish I didn't exist because then- then Nico would have been the one to suffer."

Zeus didn't speak for a long moment. But then, slowly, he stepped closer. And without the grandiosity of a king or a god, he knelt beside Percy and opened his arms. Percy flinched not out of fear, just instinct, his hand flying to his pocket. But Zeus didn't move or force anything eventually; Percy leaned in. It wasn't a dramatic embrace. It wasn't loud or cinematic. Percy's head found its way to Zeus's shoulder, and Zeus's arms wrapped gently around him. The embrace was odd, like being encircled by a warm summer breeze, and the smell of rain and ozone filled his nose.

"I did not understand," Zeus said softly. "I saw your victories but not the cost. That was my failure."

Percy didn't answer right away. His breathing was still ragged; after a moment, he nodded into the god's shoulder. Zeus pulled back slightly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulders. "You are strong, Percy Jackson. But strength does not mean solitude. You are allowed to rest."

Percy gave a tired, skeptical half-laugh. "Sure. Easier said than done." It was hard resting when the fear of memories haunted him. It wasn't like there were many solutions to it, either.

"No. I'm offering to swallow you." Zeus smiled faintly. Percy hesitated, heart pounding a little faster. Being eaten was gross, sure, but he was slowly getting used to it- well, with his usual set of gods. Adding Zeus to the mix? How would his dad feel about this- how did he feel about this?

"…Okay," he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "Just for a little while." That wouldn't hurt, right? He needed the rest- his dad was always harping about that.

Zeus nodded once, solemn. "Close your eyes."

As Percy did, light shimmered around him, the feeling of warmth wrapping around him. It was like a windstorm but not.. unpleasant, sorta like when Jason used his powers. The familiarity makes him relax.

He didn't open his eyes until the temperature became.. boringly normal. He opens his eyes a crack, letting a surprised breath out. The mouth, if he could even call it that, was like being in the clouds. Nothing technically was holding him up; he was just sorta floating like weird cotton candy that buzzed around him like eating the blue espresso jelly beans did.

"None of you are normal." He mumbles, jolting when a shock runs under his hands. A chuckle followed shortly. He wasn't sure which was up or down; he just felt like he was floating. Partly, there was the wait for the drop or a squeezing pressure, but it wasn't coming. He waited a bit, staring into the light grey color of the mist surrounding him.

"Is..this..it?" He asks after a while, blinking as several currents of electricity run under him. A tingling sensation shot up his arms, followed by a rumble much like a thunderstorm beginning.

"What do you mean by 'it'?" Echos all around him. Other voices rumbled around him when he was inside, but Zeus was the only one who truly rumbled deeply like a storm.

"Sorta just floating here, and it's freaking me out," Percy mumbles. There was silence before the grey solidified, becoming darker and more firm around him. It was more like being in a hammock, light swaying, his form cradled by the- actually, he wasn't sure what it was. It was like silk sheets more than anything. He felt more supported either way, his eyes drooping now he wasn't trying to figure out which direction he was lying.

"Is this more adequate?"

"Yeah..surfaces are..more comfortable," Percy mumbles, stifling a yawn. The space lit up with brief traces of what he assumed was electricity. It was oddly comfortable, considering normally storms like this freaked him out. He struggled to stay awake now, his breathing evening out. Like always, the twisting dreams that plagued him were absent, making sleep very hard to resist.

If Zeus answered, Percy wasn't sure what was said, diving into the unconsciousness.

When he woke up again, he was in his bed at the apartment. Dew drops, clinging to his hoodie, but not much evidence that he was tucked inside a god. he sighs, running a hand through his hair as he lays back down. How had his life gotten to this point? He looks at his nightstand, letting a snort out when he notices a brand skateboard, one with a lighting design.

Maybe Zeus wasn't too bad when he didn't want to kill him.

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt12

Familiar Winds

(Summary): After reaching Mondstadt you run into an unexpected hurdle but a few familiar faces are here to help you

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): traveler!Lumine, abyss prince!Aether, Paimon, Childe, ???, ???, ???, & ???

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, (y/n) used, reader knows some Spanish, cannon typical violence, & blood

(Word Count): 3.2 k

“Italics” = Non human speaking

The boat ride took days to reach Mondstadt from Inazuma, you can’t complain since luckily your boat hasn’t gotten struck by lightning. You haven’t experienced any storms on the trip, but you’ve been on edge since you remembered watching videos of random players trying to reach Inazuma with various methods and all end up getting striked by lightning back in your world. Perhaps Teyvat itself has decided to bless you with luck on your voyage, hopefully that luck continues

With that blessing a little obstacle presents itself. The large mountains that litter Dragonspine. It’s not as bad as it is in Liyue but with the snowy terrain it adds an extra level of danger

You turned towards your companions. “So, how are we going to scale this? I don’t exactly have the upper body strength like you all have.”

“I guess one of us is going to have to carry their Grac-” Childe was cut off

“I’ll do it.” Lumine said

You see the two men wanting to argue with the blonde but you shut it down. “Okay.” Said loud and clear

You get on Lumine’s back and spot the others hang their heads in defeat and start to climb up the side of the mountain

“I hope I’m not weighing you down too much.”

“It’s nothing, I stopped the hand of Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.” Lumine reminded you of her fight with Scaramouche when he was still a Harbinger

The trek up the mountain wasn’t too eventful, besides you telling yourself to not look down

Eventually you and company make it up and begin to walk to the Frostbearing Tree. During the walk you were surprised to see that the weather wasn’t as harsh as you expected. The wind swirled around you almost as if it was caressing your face

Finally in front of the tree you took a deep breath you put your hands on the tree and felt nothing

Confused, you take your hand off the bark and place it on a different part of the tree. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to concentrate but it felt like some force is blocking you from connecting to the elemental energy.

“Am I doing something wrong?” You said as you pulled your hand away. “I can’t resonate with the tree.”

“Don’t be sad, it might be because you’re tired and haven’t had a proper meal.” Paimon tried to reassure you

“Maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be better.” You said and out of the corner of your eye you see a flash of teal fly overhead

“Your Grace.”A voice reverberated through your head

“D-did any of you hear that?” You asked but was met with confused looks

“Come here.”

“There it is again, you guys seriously don’t hear that?”

“Are you sure it isn’t just the wind?” Aether said

“I know it’s not the wind.” You told

“I have to see you.”

You glance over to your companions who are none the wiser of the disembodied voice you’re hearing. Fed up you slowly make your way towards where the voice is coming from, the twins and Childe hesitantly follow you. Rounding the corner your greeted by the sight of the dragon, Dvalin

“Eek!! What is he doing here?!” Paimon screamed as she flew behind you

The twins and Childe quickly drew their weapon ready to charge at the dragon

“Fear not, for I have no intention of harming their Grace.”

“Wait, guys.” You said as you pushed through your companions. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do, I would be a disgrace to not recognize the mighty creator of this world. I do apologize for that fool Barbatos attacking you without any hesitation.”

“I don’t hold a grudge against him because my doppelganger uses the gnosis to control him, along with the other archons.” You explained and saw a look of anger and confusion fills the dragon’s eyes

“That insolent fraud! I should go to their floating palace and maul them!” The dragon roared causing your companions to cover their ears

“I get your frustration, but I beg you to not do anything rash. I’m currently in the middle of getting my old powers back and when I’m ready I will confront them and I will need all the help I can get.”

“If you are in need of powers I will lend you some of mine.”

“Are you sure? I just don’t want it to bite you later down the line.”

“Nonsense, it is the least I can do and you won’t get any power from it.” Dvalin gestured his head towards the direction of the Frostbearing tree. “That tree has been tainted long ago.”

You had an inkling that its corruption had something to do with the large pillar floating above it, but decided to leave that topic of discussion for a later date

“Okay, I’ll take some of your powers.”

You hesitatantly put your hand on Dvalin’s snout and you focused on concentrating your hand began to glow a bright teal color, you kept your hand on the dragon until the light stopped

You cup your hands together and started to imagine a small tornado. A little vortex formed in your palms and then quickly dissipated when you separated your hands

“I have a question, does Andrius know about my situation? Like does he know that I’m the creator?” You asked turning back to Dvalin

“Why would he not be knowledgeable about your predicament?”

“Just making sure, I don’t want to get my hopes up and for them to side with my doppelganger.”

“It’s such a sad situation for the divine creator to take such a precaution for fear of death in a world that is supposed to worthship them.”

“Don’t feel bad, some people know the situation, and I have another request, but I don’t want to seem like I’m asking for too much.”

“Nonsense, your request do not bother me in the slightest.”

“If you say so, then can you give me and my friends here a ride to Wolvendom?”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“Thank you so much!” You said and turned towards the others. “I don’t know how much of that you caught, but we’re going to Wolvendom to meet Andrius.”

The twins, Childe, and Paimon shared confused glances at each other but eventually hopped on Dvalin. With flaps of his wings the dragon was off the ground and took flight

Soaring through the skies of Mondstadt, the lights of Mondstadt city could be seen in the distance. You turn your head to see Dawn Winery and remember the servants and Diluc. Especially the kindness and respect they showed you, gossiping with Moco and Hillie, the motherly care from Adeline, and the kindness the master of the house, Diluc. You wish you could go and see what’s happening with them after you were labeled as an imposter, or at least thank them for their hospitality

Before you know it you find yourself in Wolvendom, Lumine offered you her hand to help you off of the dragon

“Thank you Dvalin.”

“It was nothing your Grace.” Dvalin flapped his wings and flew off

“Are you okay? You seem like there’s something on your mind.” Lumine asked

“I’m okay, just thinking about Dawn Winery.”

Before the conversation could go any further a whirlwind of snow suddenly appears and instantly becomes intense, more intense than the winds in Dragonspine. The snowy wind concentrates into one spot to reveal the Great Wolf King of the North, Andrius. The wolf looked majestic in front of you and towered over you and your friends. The air around him dropped several degrees to the point where ice formed around the arena, shivers wracked through your body despite the thick coat you have on

“Greetings, your Grace.”

“Uh, hello Andrius.” You nervously waved at the wolf

“There is no need to be fearful of me, your Grace.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just very different seeing you face to face, than to how I would usually see you. But I digress, I need to ask you something.” Your expression turned stern and Andrius’ ears perked at the change in your once shy tone. “Can I borrow some of your powers. If you can’t then I’ll understand.”

“The divine creator reborn into a human body was something I did not expect to happen, otherwise if me parting with a portion of my powers means their Grace returns to their former glory then it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

Andrius puts his head down for you to put your hand on, once you do your hand glows in a manner it did when you took some of Dvalin’s powers. Your hand stopped glowing you take it away from the wolf

“Thank you, I promise you once this is all over I will give you your powers back.”

“Anything for you, your Grace. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be able to speak to you like this. I owe you my life.” Andrius said and the wind began to pick up and before you could get a word in a gust of icy wind blinds you. “It was good to see you again.”, when the wind drops he’s gone

“He disappeared.” Paimon said

“Maybe he couldn’t keep his physical form since he gave me some of his powers.” You reasoned

“Anyway, see if you got some cryo powers, Paimon’s curious!” The fairy said as she kicked her feet

You look around to your eyes landed on a Flaming Flower Stamen. Raising your hand, you focused into concentrating your new powers until the side of your face felt the cold emitting from your hand. You flicked your hand towards the flower, the blast of cryo quickly dissipate before it can reach the flower. Confused you tried it again but the same thing happened, disappearing as soon as the energy leaves your hand

“Maybe I’m doing something wrong?” You said dishearted

“Try summoning electro.” Lumine said as she studied you intensely

You summon a spark of electro that was much larger than what you originally intended it to be

“Okay now summon some anemo.”

You do what she told you. “What are you getting at?”

“When you use either anemo or cryo the elemental energy flow is slower than when you use the other elements.” Lumine explained

“So what your saying is the powers their Grace got from Dvalin and Andrius is weaker than the elements they go from resonating with the trees?” Aether concludes

“Well it has to suffice since I don’t know long it takes until I can step foot in Snezhnaya.” You said as you put your hands in your pockets. “We’ll decide what to do in the morning, it’s getting late we should retire for the night.” Aether said

“Yeah, he’s right. We should get out of here, ‘cause I don’t want to run into any wolves. The last thing I want is to get woken up by some wolves.” You agreed

After some walk and climbing (well you were on Lumine’s back) you all find a spot that was perfect, it was on the cliff right next to the arena and no knights were stationed there. Best part it gave a beautiful view of Mondstadt city

“Stay here, we’ll gather some firewood.” Lumine said as she and Aether begin to walk away

“I’ll stay here to protect their Grace!” Childe said as he sat next to you

The twins rolled their eyes and walked towards some trees with Paimon following behind them

Once the twins were quite a distance away from the camp site

“So, how are you liking Teyvat?” The ginger asked

“It’s nice, besides everyone trying to hunt me down.”

“Yeah…”

“But I have notice some weird things.”

“Hmm, like what?”

“Mainly the moon.” You said was you leaned back with your hands propped up behind you.

“It’s so weird that the moon is constantly full here.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Back in my world it doesn’t produce light, the sun provides it. It even has stages called ‘phases’, a full moon happens every once a month or so.” You explained as you looked up at the moon. “But I find myself becoming mesmerized by it. The moon was beautiful back home but here, it fills me with a feeling of nostalgia.” You sighed blissfully as you rest your head in your hands. “It’s silly I-”

Suddenly your pulled towards Childe as a ball of fire is hurled at the seat you were once sitting in

You turn to see smoke coming from a giant claymore, wielded by a man with his long firy red hair tied in a low ponytail and some of his hair framing his face to show he’s wearing a domino mask

“Stay behind me.” Was all the ginger said before he charges at the masked redhead

Summoning his blades he makes swings towards his opponent which were expertly dodged by the Dark Knight Hero despite him hauling a giant sword

“Die Fatui scum!” He yelled as he swung his heavy claymore as flames bursts from the great sword

Childe uses his sword to block the attack, but the heat from the claymore quickly evaporated the hydro blade and thus sliced into the Harbinger, drawing blood

This is bad. With Childe’s bloodlust and the other’s hatred for Fatui, you know this will end in one or both of them dead. You got to think of something!

You could use cryo? No, it’s too weak to stop the flames

You could use either electro or pyro, but you can’t fight fire with fire and the electro might hurt Childe

So against your better judgement you take deep breath and yelled. “Diluc!” This caught the redhead’s attention

Shocked and mortified he swung his claymore at you, aiming for your face. You put your arms up to at least block a good portion of the attack. You hear the sleeves of your coat get cut. Blue beams shot past your head

“Your fight is with me!” Childe said as he shot hydro infused arrows at Diluc

Blood still gushing from his arm he draws another arrow and shoots. The redhead uses his great sword to shield himself from the arrows

“Take this!” Two voices yelled out in unison and a large sized tornado hits the masked hero

The redhead was pulled into the vortex and swirled around until the whirlwind stopped, disoriented Diluc tries to pick himself up but his arms fail him. He looked up at the direction the vortex came from and saw the iconic platinum blonde hair and white dress

“Traveler? Then does that mean…?” Diluc turned his attention towards you. “Me- Mentir?!” Diluc gasped, his eyes widen in shock as his eyes trailed down to see the golden liquid flowing from your arms. “Oh my Archons… Y-your Grace.”

You looked at your arms to see a decently sized cut on your right forearm, the left one was lucky cut not too deep. Upon seeing the blood staining your jacket Diluc instantly took a handkerchief and walked towards you but Aether and Childe step into front of you

“It’s alright you two, he means well.” You said as you pushed your way towards Diluc

“It’s not much, but when we get back to the manor, it’ll be treated properly.” He wrapped the cloth around your forearm. “I’m so sorry for harming you, your Grace.”

“You don’t have to call me that, we knew each other before things went sideways.”

“Of course, your- I mean Mentir.”

“Actually (y/n), is fine. Mentir is a fake name a gave you, sorrry…”

“Then what does ‘Mentir’ mean?”

“Funnily enough, Mentir means ‘to lie’ in another language from my world. I freaked out and gave you an obviously fake name, sorry again…” You explained fiddling with the fur on your borrowed coat

“We’ll talk about this more once we’re in the manor.” The redhead said as he gently took your hand and lead you to his home

Your face instantly heated up once you saw his features up close. Fluffy red hair framing his handsome face, sharp eyes with a chiseled nose and jawline

So focused on not drooling all over yourself you all made it to Dawn Winery

“It will be okay, most of the staff has retired for the night.” Diluc reassured as he slowly opened his front door. “Make yourself comfortable while I retrieve the medical supplies. Traveler can you help me with closing the curtains.”

You sit down at the table and watch Lumine and Aether close the drapes, soon Diluc comes back out with a small box that looked well used in his hands

You take off your jacket and the redhead kneeled down in front of you, Diluc makes quick work of your injury. Taking his gloves off he proceeds to remove the handkerchief that was a crude attempt to stop the bleeding. Once in his hands he tucked the rag into his pocket and turned his attention to you. Cleaning the wound with a gentleness that contrasts his scarred and callous hands, then wrapping your arm in gauze with a precision that came from years of practice, careful to not make it too tight on you

“There, that should be good.” Diluc stood up and took your jacket. “I’ll have this fixed and washed for you by the afternoon.”

“Thank you so much.” You smiled at the redhead

“Oh! It’s nothing, it’s the least I can do since attacking you without a second thought.” Diluc reasoned as a small blush crept up on his face

“It’s fine, I should have known, with your situation with the Fatui.”

“Anyway, what about sleeping arrangements?” Lumine said trying to steer the conversation away from the topic

“You can room with me, Your Grace! I can protect you better that way!” Childe smiled. And tonight’s is the perfect opportunity to showcase my stamina I told you about!”

The twin looked the ginger with disgusted looks that mirrored each other’s all the while Paimon looking clueless

“Ugh, can’t you show more respect instead of this degeneracy.” Diluc scolded

“If you didn’t run around playing ‘hero’ you would know a thing or two about bedding anybody, but you don’t.”

“Listen you Fatui scum-” Diluc stormed towards Childe but stopped when you stepped in between them

“Look! I will tell you what I told this one.” You hissed out while gesturing to Aether. “I am not in the mood to play referee between the two of y’all, you’re grown ass men, act like it!” Your eyes catch a glimpse of a wine bottle on the table. “Wait have you been drinking since I’ve been gone?” You walked towards it noticing it hasn’t been opened yet

Diluc turned his gaze towards where you’re standing. “I brought this down to the cellar, I do not know how this got up here.”

“Maybe you accidentally left it up here without realizing?”

“Maybe, but if that’s the case then why hasn’t any of the servants brought it down to the cellar.”

A sudden floorboard creaking catches all of your attention. Slowly creeping your heads towards the source of the noise and your all greeted with the sight of long navy blue hair, an azure eye with a four pointed star as its pupil. Holding an extra bottle of wine in his hand

“Hi…”

“Kaeya?!”

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @bore2808 @nickey-diano @transbirbboi @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @chocolatekuns @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @rebeccawinters @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7lowxr @blackcoffex @itz-luna @flowerypesky @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial @d4y-dr3am3r @yuriclouds @artwitchh @mercy-not-merci @xyaxyn