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stellarbit · 23 days

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Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba.

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out.

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water.

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left.

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down.

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached.

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start.

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers.

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town.

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade.

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man. “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.”

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?”

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died.

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors.

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders.

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered.

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear.

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them.

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

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minkydinks · 6 months

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SandWings

It's finally time, people!!!

SandWings have been on the agenda for a while and I'm so happy to finally have them done. Here's as much info as I can give right now.

General

SandWings are medium-sized bipedal dragons that inhabit the desert, badlands, and other transitional biomes of Pyrrhia. They come in a variety of muted desert-y colors, but the most common include: Yellow, brown, red, dusty orange, and some black.

SandWings, unlike most other tribes, are built for running long distances rather than flying. While their wings are still perfectly good for travel, it's far more efficient to travel on foot, since they are the fastest tribe on the ground.

Their wings are smaller in comparison to their body than most other tribes as well, so they largely rely on desert thermals to keep them aloft. In places with minimal air currents, or with excess cold, SandWings have trouble gaining lift.

SandWings have light armoring along the scales of their back, although these armor-plated scales are not quite as tough as you would expect. These armored scales are thicker than the rest as to protect them from the harsh sun; although they do double as a nice additional protector from other SandWings' venomous tails. Otherwise, they're not great for protection.

Their armored appearance bears heavy resemblance to MudWings, and it is believed that MudWings and SandWings are quite closely related; albeit MudWings are much more on the heavyweight-end.

A SandWing's horns can be of any shape and array, although most commonly, SandWing horns protrude forward like bull horns; especially female SandWings, where they're used to vie for the throne. These horns are utilized at high-speed to ram into targets, and to duel with rival SandWings. Being hit by a SandWing horns-first at top-speed is near equivalent to being impaled by a motorcycle on the freeway.

SandWings are also adorned with frills along their head, neck, & chest. Male SandWings have additional frills along their lower jaw & lower torso.

These frills are continuously-growing, meaning that SandWings typically cut, style, & shave them at their discretion. Some SandWings prefer their frills long, like Princess Blister. Other SandWings cut them quite short to keep them out of the way during battles, like Six-Claws. Short frills became standard for SandWings during the War of SandWing Succession, as they became a distraction or a detriment otherwise. It was rare for a SandWing not to have short frills during the 20-year conflict, if they were battlers and not factory-workers.

SandWings are notorious for their potent venom. This venom is created and stored in sacs inside the barb at the tip of their tails.

While adult SandWings are perfectly capable of killing another dragon with a lethal dose, SandWing dragonets are far more deadly. Not strictly because of the venom, but because they lack the control needed to limit how much venom they inject. A sting from a newly-hatched SandWing is more likely to kill you than a sting from an adult, who can decide how much they want their sting to hurt.

Culture

SandWing culture is nothing mysterious; they have some of the most well-known festivals and armaments in the continent.

SandWings, having so much land to themselves, utilize much of it for factories and plants. They are one of the most technologically advanced tribes, with steampunk-esque mechanisms and structures throughout their kingdom.

Their metals of choice include copper, tin, and bronze; much of it mined within the desert itself. However, with the SkyWings' alliance, SandWings on Burn's side of the war have been able to import metals and other materials from the mountains to create stronger weapons & armors. Similarly, Blister & Blaze's forces have been able to do this as well, albeit with fewer materials overall and less armored dragons total.

Weapons and armory aren't the only things SandWings create with their metallurgy though. SandWings, having deep respect for their veterans and a cultural motto that you will always survive to fight, also create advanced prosthetics.

Prosthetic legs & arms are the most common, but you might also catch a SandWing with a prosthetic wing or tail. Some SandWings get horn replacements if their horns break off in battle and become less effective at fighting with.

Prosthetic wings are by far the rarest to find, since they are the most expensive to make & obtain, and don't actually perform quite as well as a normal wing. Most dragons with prosthetic wings use them to show off their worthiness in battle, how they survived and were heavily rewarded for their supreme skill and efforts.

Each prosthetic, weapon, and piece of armor comes branded with several labels: The name of the factory it was made in, the name & seal of the queen/princess it was made under, and its serial number. These labels would allow each rival sister to check their dragons' true alliance. SandWings with the seal of a rival sister would be killed, as it would then be apparent who they went to for their supplies.

After the end of the War of SandWing succession, the seals for Burn, Blister, and Blaze were retired in favor of Queen Thorn's own seal. As a result, armor with the royal SandWing sisters' seals were considered limited collector's items, and have increased dramatically in their value.

Prior to the death of Queen Oasis, these seals were not a generic serial label, but a gift from the Queen, almost like being knighted. To have armor with the Seal of the Queen was considered a great honor, but times have changed.

RGAAAAH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS If you have any questions or ideas you want me to fill in on, please shoot me an ask or something bc I would love to answer !!

#wof #wings of fire #wof tribe redesign #sandwing #dragon

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 months

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: prince alhaitham x knight male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: the rescue of the prince.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.23k ~ OG ONESHOT ~ PT.2 ~ PT.3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: death of knights and death of a dragon

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: nobody asked for it but i just finished the song of achilles and i must grieve

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The dragon breathes fire in the knight's stories. It's breath burns like the hearth of a forge, melting your men from armored, hard bodies, to muscle, then bone, then nothing but dust as though burned on a pyre. Their ash began, already, to fly in the wind. Unburied, their souls would never rest, and so, you prayed instead, for their dreary threading upon this Earth in eternity to be as satisfactory as God could make it.

You hefted your sword above your head. The dragon scale you struck blemished, but the dragon didn't bleed. Its body was impenetrable, guarded not by steel but by the will of nature itself, years upon years of evolution. What did dragons have to fear, if not each other? Scaled, each was, in story and in life. They are solitary creatures for a reason.

The dragon roared, slighted, even, by the smallest blow upon its body. It turned to you and rightfully you ran behind the overhanging of rock from the mountain above. Your men would not call you a coward for this—they were dead.

Rock did not burn as metal nor bone did, but even the air that was left affected by the dragon's flame heated your armor and burned your skin.

You fought through the feeling as you ran. You would be saved from the flame of the dragon's breath if you were below its snout, and so that you did; it almost seemed a miracle the speed that you procured from your limbs, limbs that were heavy with exhaustion of the travel and sudden ambush of the dragon.

But then there was the now, you were so close to the underbelly of the dragon, it could swipe its feet, sharp with claws, and you would be done for. But there was a webbing between its toes, uncovered by scales.

The dragon swiped and you jumped over. Then, with its leg behind your back and its heel between your feet, you struck down.

It was unlucky that you had missed, instead striking the meat of its foot, but the dragon was unluckier so, or more foolish, to flinch away; likely it had never been stabbed before.

You stayed strong even as it flinched away from you, leaning all your weight on your side to make it pierce all the way through, down to the ground, so as the dragon pulled away, it tore a line through its foot, breaking it in two.

The dragon howled in pain. You could not do the same for the other. As negligent as the dragon was to have not seen past this outcome, it would not do the same thing again.

It prepared to strike again in but a moment, you would not be able to run as you had before, you had retrieved your sword from the ground, and you were still stupidly close to this beast.

So instead, as you stood still and seemed to surrender your life hopelessly, you thought. What had made it so easy to tear through the dragon's foot?

The scales of its back were impenetrable, but you hadn't struck its back. The large scales that adorned it seemed to get smaller as they went down to its extremities, to its toes. The way through the top of its foot seemed hard, but plunging it down was not. The underside was easy to pierce.

The underside? With its four feet on the ground, a dragon never had the need to protect its belly. For this reason, it had never needed the strongest scales there.

The dragon lifted its head in the next moment, determined on squashing you with it. You had no doubt it could.

However, as it slammed down, you pierced its chin with your sword. As you expected, it had been easy. Harder, still, was to continue on. You walked further under the dragon, still holding your sword in its body, and the path you walked on the ground mirrored the tearing above you.

Blood spilled down upon your as you walked your path, but you remained determined. You closed your eyes and your nose and the tearing above continued.

Your sword carved down the dragon's mouth, then its throat, then its chest.

In the next instance, you were squashed. You were almost certain you'd be dead, if you hadn't entered the very tear you'd caused.

Had your men been alive, your tale would've become a legend: the first man to escape a dragon's mouth.

You crawled through its esophagus, up into its mouth; treading, then, between the two halves of the tongue, and finally to its teeth. The only resistance you dealt with now as you pried its jaw open was the weight of its head.

Covered in blood, mucus, and saliva, you lay a burnt, but not dead man in front of your once prison.

You could not rest yet, however. The prince still needed rescuing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He awoke, suddenly, to the loud clanging of armor. The dragon must be back with more treasure to bury him with, but then, as he found the effort to open his eyes, he saw a knight.

His armor was stained with blood. The dragon would not want it.

"Prince!" He recognized him in an instant as the knight pulled off his helmet. Once, you were just one of those gaudy, disused war generals he was forced to be respectful to; but now, you were different. You were his savior.

His eyes lit up, and he had a will the size of the dragon's hoard to speak, but his stomach was empty–what use did a dragon have for keeping its treasure alive?–and his mouth parched.

The Knight dragged him out of his prison of silver treasure, and then into his arms.

He felt warm. Not a scalding kind of warm that came from the burning of one, as he likely was, but warm as a blanket in the winter. He closed his eyes and relished in it. The metal of the dragon's hoard was never warm, especially not on cold nights.

His body rocked as you carried him, but he was too numb to feel it.

After doting on the warmth, he opened his eyes and stared. The heat of his gaze was intense, almost as though he was just as intent on melting you like the dragon was. But it was a different intention he held, as he was instead looking to admire you.

He had never looked at you, really. He only ever let his eyes wash over the room, and you were just one of the many faces he glazed over.

But now, you seemed different.

He saw you in a new light, and in this light, he felt enamored. His savior.

He felt like a princess kept in a tower, saved by an honorable knight. The princesses in the stories never met the knight before that moment, and the simple act of saving them was enough to fall for. He thought it foolish, once, but he was becoming a victim of it now.

His gold tunic stained red where you touched, and the hands that held him felt awfully sticky, but they held him with a gentleness he'd never felt before.

It was just a thing of the moment. He told himself afterward. I am not in love.

And he wasn't, it was true, but that didn't mean he wasn't incapable of it later.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #🎟 // genshin impact #🎫 // alhaitham #🌸 // success!

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rileysluvr · 11 months

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i need to take care of this giant guy so bad he is my everything (he doesn’t even exist) um anyways. könig nsfw!!

“Just relax, baby,” you purr, applying just the slightest amount of pressure to his chest. His legs give in despite his mind being as fuzzy as TV static, body drained of any fight it could possibly have left, and he sits on the end of the bed, looking up at you with tired eyes. “Let me take care of you, yeah? Can I make you feel good?” you ask. “I think you deserve it.”

He nods weakly, and you take a step closer between his legs, your hands coming up to knead at his slumped shoulders. Your fingers slip under the ends of his veil just a bit, “Can I take this off?”

He’s already shuddering under your touch; your skin hasn’t even made contact yet, besides your gentle hand taking his cold, large one and leading him to the bed prior to having him like this, the moment he arrived off the plane. He had already taken off his vest and armor, in a hurry to alleviate some tension from his overworked body, but his muscles were still stiff in a way no release of tactical gear could solve.

He needs you to help him. Fix, him.

He nods once more, and you give him a sweet smile. Your hands meet the rim of his helmet and you pull it up, worn fabric coming with it, your actions so tender and serene he thinks he may just fall to pieces right before you. He wonders if he was just imagining your smile becoming brighter once his face was fully uncovered—he, of course, wasn’t—and he closes his eyes, the warm air around him feeling as cold as an icebox as it makes contact with his hot head. Having gone multiple days straight wearing it, he rolls his neck, thankful to finally be free from the extra few pounds of weight.

You lean down to place the helmet on the floor next to your feet, out of his sight, and mind, like he would ever want to take his eyes off of you in the first place. Rising to standing up straight, still barely taller than his mountainous stature, you bring your hands back up to his neck, needing to feel him with you, and have him feel secure. You pull him into a soft kiss, and his lips are cold and shaky against yours. You hadn’t felt him like this for a while, and you missed it, missed him, dearly. A hand falls to tug at his shirt, rubbing the fabric between the tips of your fingers, and you’re leaning more into his space. “This, too?” you mutter into his mouth.

“Yes, please,” he manages to breathe, and your belly ignites with butterflies, regardless of how lucid his response was.

Your fingers maneuver to the bottom hem of his t-shirt and he lifts his arms; he knows he must look like a tall child right now, but he’s simply too exhausted to pay mind to it. You lift the soft material from his body, pale and seemingly flexing with the wave of coolness that hits his skin, apparent by the goosebumps that wash over his muscular form. The shirt joins his helmet on the floor and you allow your hands to scale his body, working up his forearms and then his biceps and chest before landing on his face. Your thumbs smooth over the apples of his cheeks as the rest of your palms encase his heavy head by the jaw and above. He’s still sat hunched over, though it’s hard to appear smaller when your shoulders are twice the size of the average man’s and built of nothing but pure strength.

“You’re beautiful, König,” you remind him, and he damn-near whines at the words alone. You pull away for only a second to take off your shirt, and his drunken eyes are transfixed on your body, and the way your breasts sit so prettily in your bra. He could never get used to any part of you, each time he sees and hears you feeling like a first again. “Every part of you, and I’ll never let you forget it.” You undo your pants and allow them to gently slide down your legs, revealing your panties that match your bra in lacing, and inch by inch of your skin until you’re fully available to his starved eyes. You step out of the fabric, closer to him, between his knees. “Go ahead and lay on your back for me, baby.”

He reluctantly follows your kind order, fearing he may succumb to his drowsiness the second his head hits the mattress, but he doesn’t, and instead feels a bit more conscious than before, the uncomfortable straining in his pants spreading far past ignorable. Needy, he’s becoming, fighting the urge to buck his hips forward into nothing, chasing some, any sort of friction, and losing poorly.

You want to make him feel better. That’s all you want to do.

He moves further up the bed until his legs are fully on the bed, and you simultaneously climb up onto his lap, and then his waist, leaning down to seize his lips in a sweet kiss. You pepper his face in kisses, across his cheekbone and down behind his ear, teasing him, knowing how ticklish he is in that particular spot, and you giggle against his skin as he jumps slightly beneath you. Down his neck and across his shoulder, your soft kisses don’t end. Your lips creep further down his sculpted chest and he tenses up when you graze over his hard nipple; bless him, he’s so sensitive to your touch, releasing a muffled moan at the contact. You trail down his body, and he can’t even think, or process how badly he needs you. You’re eventually between his thighs, lips dragging down the line of dark hair that disappears beneath his jeans. He’s losing more of himself by the second, gut feeling like it’ll burst any moment now with the amount of butterflies swarming around in it. Like his chest is going to cave in with the weight of love you give him, and he can't handle it.

You actually kiss the ever growing bulge in his pants, smiling up at him, and his brain short-circuits. Your palms massage at his thighs, mouth already salivating as you barely graze past the area that needs the most attention. Another buck of his hips, a particularly whiny hum from his throat, and your fingers are at his zipper, taking your time in undoing the confinement. You tap his thigh twice and he uses his last bit of strength to lift himself a bit, and you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off from under him.

He’s leaning back on his elbows to watch you take his hard cock in your hand, outright awing at the size you could never seem to familiarize yourself with, and you begin moving your hand up and down his length. His body jolts when you swipe your thumb over his swollen tip and lazily smear his pre as far as it will go, an unconcealed groan from the back of his throat shattering the air around you. He fails to keep his body at bay as he chases more friction, and you coax him to relax through countless shushes and coos of praise, which ultimately only make it all the harder for him to last. Slowly, almost excruciatingly, you’re moving. His breathing picks up, still shaky and shallow and showing heavily in his chest. You look up at him with big eyes.

He knows your next move when you adjust to better have your face at his crotch, arms resting on each of his big thighs, and you lick your lips, smiling when you notice his parted ones. How utterly fucked-out he looks, having done nothing, yet. You open your mouth and take the head of his cock between your wetted lips, encapsulating it in your hot mouth as it takes up all the space you could offer. He lays back with a desperate, almost animalistic groan shamelessly pouring from his lips. Your tongue tortures him, in the best way possible, as you suck on the tip of his cock like a lollipop that’s far too big for your mouth, your hand continuing to pay heed to what you couldn’t with your tongue. You know he’s getting close with the way his groaning turned to pathetic whimpers in the matter of seconds, his back arching slightly off the bed in an attempt to keep himself from bucking his hips too hard into you, head turning to the side and back as his eyes can’t decide on staying open or not.

He can’t form words, only deprived hums and whines. He can only grip onto the bedsheets under him, and he can only let you do what you want because you’re the only one who can make him feel this way. The only one who can pull these sorts of noises from him, take control of him so easily. Only, ever, you.

You watch his abs flex and back arch, the sweetest of whimpers spilling from his throat and refusing to die out as your tongue pushes him over the edge. Sucking the head of his cock so beautifully, and he can’t even watch, eyes screwed shut and occasionally hiding one half of his face in the sheets he laid on. Your tongue presses up against the slit of his cock and he bucks his hips up once again in response, entirely out of his control. A moan from deep in your throat coats his cock and the entire length of his spine, and his breathing borderlines heaving.

He spills his cum in your mouth with a suffocated moan, strings of whispers of unintelligible German and swears, and you hum with him, hand continuing to stroke him through his high. You smile widely at the hot, tangy liquid that soaks your gums, and you pull away, watching the string of saliva that connects your bottom lip to his cock break. You swallow his thick cum, and he’s now leaning up a bit to see you, your eyes looking up at his own that can’t seem to pull away from the dribble of cum that’s slipped from your lip and trickles down your chin.

He groans—pathetic to him but music to your ears—when you crawl back up to straddle his waist. He’s still hard, painfully, and you know why. His head falls back against the mattress, utterly dazed and heavy, and your hands are back trailing his body. They find purchase cupping his cheeks and chiseled jaw. “How was that, honey? You feelin alright?”

He nods almost frantically. “M-more,” he chokes through his panting.

A smile creeps its way onto your lips and you conceal it the best you can. You lean down and turn your head to better understand him. “What was that, baby?”

“I need more, please,” he whines, fully given up on keeping his composure. “I need to be inside you, please, meine Liebe…i-it’s been so long, and I miss you. So much,” he breathes, weary and unadulterated.

You’re dumbfounded by his words, tickling every nerve in your body just as his heavy palms do, running up your bare thighs and squeezing slightly, as much as his tired body will allow. You lean forward and capture his lips with yours once again. Your body heat partially relieves him from the shivers that fight to reach every inch of his naked body. Sweet and salty, remnants of his cum that still coats your mouth fighting with the lip gloss that stains your lips.

He’s more dominant, hungrier than before, as he searches for more of you in your mouth. His kisses falter to the corner of your mouth, wet and sloppy and a reflection of his exhaustion, how hard he worked to be with you. A hand moves to the back of your neck to keep you still and stable with how much he was pressing his face against yours, and he reaches your cheek. You bury your head in his shoulder due to the stimulation he brings unto you; merely his lips inching closer to your most sensitive area. He turns his head a bit to whisper in your ear–entirely unraveled and desperate–a straightforward, single line of begging, “…Please fuck me.”

It’s your final undoing. You sigh a shaky breath before returning a dumbified and delicate, “I can fuck you.”

He finally relaxes with a faint smile and you sit up, his hand falling to your hip. You refuse to make him wait any longer, laying under you so sweetly, asking for it so nicely. He closes his eyes as you scoot back on his lap and take his cock in your hand, watching as his jaw clenches with a groan. You move your palm and fingers up and down his cock as you lift your hips, slide your panties to the side and move over him. You moan unabashedly when you shove the head of his cock in your soaked pussy, inadvertently teasing the both of you with how you strive to get used to his size again. His whimpers are already drowning out your own, becoming more impatient and needy as you slowly sink down onto him.

He’s instantly drunk when he bottoms out inside you, if he wasn’t enough from when he first finished in your mouth, and he can barely make a noise with how tight you are around him. He’s fighting not to cum so early, and you’re not helping with the way you’re squeezing around him. He’s seeing stars, and you haven’t even started moving yet.

The stretch of his cock stings so pleasantly, and you sit there for a moment, in the moment, with him. No discomfort; only bliss. He’s just so pretty, lying under you. Toned chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he takes, muscles flexing in his neck and shoulders and arms and all. A body that reminds you of ceramic brought to life, dating back to ancient times you were somehow lucky enough to come into possession of. His cheeks are pink and his hair is disheveled, and he’s unable to keep still for the life of him; just how you like him to be.

He swallows thickly, and without the bounce of his Adam’s apple there to remind you of his state you would have forgotten how badly he needs his release. Wholly entranced in his being.

You raise your hips about half way off his cock, and slide back down again with a whine of your own. His whimpers are stronger, and you know he’s going to cum soon with how he’s twitching inside you. How he’s failing to keep his body on the bed, attempting to move his hips up into you just as he was earlier when you took him in your mouth, and you do nothing to stop him.

You want him to cum, so badly. You want to take him for all that he has, make him feel as good as possible before you even think about yourself. You need this, just as much as he does. He always came fast, but when you learned he could do it again and again for you? That’s when you truly had him wrapped around your little finger.

A snicker leaves your curled lips as you do it all again, watching him squirm under you. He wants to hold out for you, please you first. But he knows he won’t be able to, despite his struggles of tensing muscles and series of exasperated pleas and choked ngh’s and mph’s. He knows you don’t want him to hold himself back, either, and the idea soothes his guilt just a bit.

Again, your pussy squeezes around his cock as you lift your hips from his lap, and you sit back down. It’s just too much, and he spills his hot cum deep in your pussy with a strained, loud groan, as his back arches off the mattress beneath him. You hum happily as you feel him fill you to the brim, a great smile on your lips. You’re not going to stop.

“That’s my good boy, Köni.”

He mumbles incoherently at your words, feeling as if his mind would fully crumble at any moment. You begin riding his still-hard cock and he groans, having not enough time to recover from his orgasm. His cum in you makes the act all the more pleasurable, partially conciliating the ache of the stretch that his big cock brings you. You set a slow pace, agonizingly, as he catches his breath.

He’s putty under your grasp. He can’t think or speak, and you revel at the sight of his pleasure, wanting it engraved in your mind for the rest of time. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each drop of your hips, and he could just about die right this instant.

His hands reach for and knead at your hips, trailing up the sides of your waist as you continue to rock back and forth on his cock. They find your chest and he cups your breasts in his palms, massaging at the flesh through your lace bra; Christ, his hands are huge, and you feel so safe whenever he has them on you, anywhere. Strong, sculpted and veiny, just like the rest of him, earned through the hard work of which he credited each success to the simple existence of yourself. He’d be lost without you, taking care of him, and he’d be deserted without the motivation to make it back to you so he can return the favor in full.

The muscles of your thighs burn greatly as they straddle the sides of his waist, and you couldn’t care less. Your orgasm is building, just as his third one is, and you’re desperate to chase them both. His pelvis works against your clit with every grind of your hips, and you gasp when he suddenly raises his hips for a quick moment, turning into an unconcealed moan straight from your throat as he goes on to babble under you. Your leisurely pace remains intact despite your overwhelming need for more friction.

“Come on, honey, just a little bit more,” you coo, sweet and breathy. “Doin so good for me, you know that?”

He eagerly nods his head against the mattress as the side of his face is pressed against the sheets, the stimulation from both your body and your sweet voice being too much for him to handle. His stomach feels tight, just as yours does, and he can feel himself spiraling into yet another high. He’s moaning with every breath he takes, absolutely unraveling beneath you.

“I’m gonna, mph, scheiße…I’m gonna-,” he pants, fully lost from himself. “...Schätzchen, please, I-I can’t-”

“Shh, baby,” you attempt to calm him, barely able to hold it together yourself as your belly tenses and your thighs stiffen a bit. “Just cum one more time for me, yeah? That’s all I need from you.”

He’s nodding his head again, and straining his neck to do it, for you. He’s breathing fast and shallow, and with just a few more sways of your hips, he’s cumming in your pussy for the second time with a tired groan, more powerful than either of the previous two. His noises spur you on, fast thankyouthankyou’s straight from his heart as you ride him through his high. The coil in your belly finally snaps, and you finish on his cock with a dauntless moan. Your thighs are shaking when you finally come to a stop, hands finding his to squeeze tightly. You’re fighting not to lean forward and just collapse onto him, even though you know he loves you as his personal weighted blanket.

His spent cock and cum still stuffed in your pussy, you feel so full you could almost be sick; an ailment you wouldn’t mind being stuck with. Some of his seed escapes from your cunt, seeping onto his pelvis, and you shiver when the warm liquid grazes your clit. You lean down to kiss him once more. Lovingly, and passionately, easing back from sex and into comfort. You’re tired, and you can’t begin to imagine how exhausted he must be. You pull away with a hum, satisfied with your work and admiring his fucked-out features.

You start to turn to slide off his lap so you can find something to clean him up with, when his heavy palms land on your legs to keep you on top of him. You halt your movements instantly, and give him a curious look. “What’s the matter, honey?”

“Nothing is the matter,” he chuckles, only making you more confused. He reaches for your hands that are at his abdominals and he holds them in his bigger ones, bringing them to his face. He places kisses to each of your knuckles, gentle and warm, and you smile wildly at the gesture. “Can I ask you for one more thing, meine Liebe?”

“Of course, baby,” you say, even though you have no clue what more this man could need other than sleep. You squeeze his hands, “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer you, and instead drops your hands to wrap his own behind your knees. He pulls you forward and onto his stomach, humming when the significantly cooler air around you first makes contact with his used cock, and you as well when you’re struck with the absence of his size. You furrow your brows. “Köni, what are you doing?” you laugh, puzzled and almost nervous.

“I need to return the favor, don’t I?” he quips, sleepiness still apparent in his voice but partially masked with cockiness. He maneuvers his arms under your thighs and pulls you up to sit on his chest, and while you attempt to keep your weight off of him, he simply won’t allow it.

“What you need…is to rest,” you argue, though your actions entirely contradict what you claim. You allow him to adjust your body to his liking, as if you’re weightless and perfectly malleable.

“I cannot care about that when you’re here.” Despite your playful protests, his big arms wrapped around your thighs keep you secured to his chest. “Need to taste you,” he nearly whines, “Will you let me, Schatz?”

You’re reluctant, and your cheeks flare up. You really think he should rest, and you feel guilty for wanting more. But Goddamnit, he’s just so enticing when he begs.

“…Baby.”

“Please?”

Fuck. How could you say no to him?

You hold his eyes prisoner in your gaze for a few seconds, “thinking” before you nod dumbly, and he smiles. He turns his head to plaster lazy kisses all up the inside of your thigh, and then the other, and you’re already struggling to keep still. His soft lips that stay hidden for the majority of his life, on your body, dangerously close to where you needed them, him, the most. He knows he’s teasing you, and he’ll continue to act oblivious to it as long as he can get away with it.

You take his face in your hands, swiping over his eyebrow with your thumb, admiring his beauty and being. Just for existing, being as good as he is all around, and his every feature that came along to work so wonderfully together. How you managed to find each other, a miracle, and you’d never wish a single detail about it to be different, ever.

He soon has you hovering above his mouth, pulling your soaked panties to the side with two fingers and bringing you down with his other hand. His drowsy eyes stay on yours when he sticks his tongue out, hot and rough, and wastes no time in leaving a dragged out stripe along your cunt that had you moaning weakly and shakily. You jolt to try to escape the sudden stimulation, intrusion in your most reactive bits, and his heavy arms around your legs are quick to pull you back down, full weight and all. His eyes are sweet, purely innocent, like he’s not about to ravage you until you’re a shaking mess above him.

He needs this so bad, more than anyone will ever understand. He groans unashamedly as he tastes you for the first time in too long, savoring the flavor of your slick mixed with his cum that spreads so graciously across his palate. He sets a rhythm, pitifully hungry yet still tranquil as can be as he takes his time working through you. Hums and whines spilling from high in his throat, same as you as you watch from above.

His hand finds yours and your fingers interlock to rest on your thigh. He hits a particularly sensitive spot, neglected with his absence, and you squeeze his hand, head thrown backwards to look up at the ceiling. You’re squeezing his hand harder by the second, and it tells him everything he needs to know, how close you’re getting and what you need more and less of. He’s willing to go to any lengths to get you to cum in his mouth, use him to get off, God, please just do it, please.

Your mind is mush and you can’t think to do anything but let him have you, take care of you despite him being the one who should be taken care of because he just deserves it so much.

You’re soon cumming on his tongue as he holds you down onto him so lovingly, having you ride his face through your high. You’re so stimulated as all the breath from your lungs is ripped from your chest, core flexing and the muscles in your thighs hotter than the sloppy, open-mouth kisses he smothered your clit with. Your shoulders are slumped and then straight, and slumped again, and your eyes refuse to stay open with how heavy your head feels.

He moans as more of his cum is eased from your cunt with your own orgasm, licking it up clean like it’s his duty to do so. You taste of all things heaven, and he missed it so fucking bad while he was away, as did you. He’s drunk, and he can’t hold himself back from more and more consumption.

You try to pull away, you really do, but he’s far stronger and manages to keep you stuck to him. The change of pressure when you’re brought back down from when you somehow inch away is intense, sending a shock through your body that tells you, you must stay, no matter how hard it is. The overwhelming sensitivity quickly turns to your source of even more pleasure as his hot tongue works at your pussy, and you already feel the coil in your lower belly stretching to an unimaginable length and tension inside you once more.

He can’t stop. You just taste too good, and he’s full-on whimpering beneath you because helping you get you off is just as good as when you had his cock in your mouth, if not better. He wants to serve you until he drops, though he can’t help but feel like he’s only serving himself with the way he unconditionally wrecks and devours every bit of you with his lips and tongue and getting this much pleasure from it. He wants to die between your legs, and die a happy man he would.

Your grasp on his hand tightens as your third and final orgasm of the night strikes you without much warning, moans broken and muscles aching. You fight to hold yourself up even as you’re fully sat on his face, with his own arms to hold you still. Your legs are trembling around his head and shoulders, and he knows he did you justice, the idea enough to make his skull cave in on itself. Your mind is fully foggy as he guides you down to a calmer state, hands soothing over your thighs and calves.

You want nothing more than to curl up to his side and mess with his hair until you fall asleep, leave the mess for the next day you’ll be spending all with him, not a single other soul. You’re quick to move to sit back on his chest and you’re lucky he gives in, otherwise he’d have you like that above him for another hour. Your breathing is finally beginning to revert back to a somewhat normal rate, and you look down at him with a smile. His eyes are heavily-lidded and deep, and he’s got a great grin on his lips that is surrounded and garnished with the residual slick of yours and his ecstasy.

“God, I love you so much,” you pour out, and tears would be prickling at the corners of your eyes if you weren’t still so starstricken from sex.

He crumbles under your gaze and words, and he would blush if his cheeks weren’t already painted a bright pinkish shade. “I love you.”

You scoot down his body so that you’re laying on him, your head resting on his chest just underneath his chin. He wraps his big arms around your smaller body and embraces you in a hug, majorly one-sided as he squeezes you so unintentionally tight you can barely get your arms to his sides. You giggle against his chest, burying your face into the very man who’s pulling this reaction from you with his inadvertent tickling and teasing.

“You’re everything to me,” he says. He kisses the top of your head, and you finally manage to get your arms around him the best you can. “I don’t know what I would be without you, and I hope to never find out.”

He knows he’s going to wake up insanely sore with a stiff neck, but it’s all going to be alright because he’s finally with you.

#cod mw2 #könig #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod

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hermitscratch · 1 month

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imp n skizz + 27... the besties. did you know skizz irl sometimes kisses impulse n the cheek. to annoy him

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

27. A platonic kiss, Impulse/Skizz, 873 words

This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life.

The exhilaration of starting anew had hit him full force. The space between seasons had been spent dreaming up builds of grandeur, and he was finally able to see what he was working with. Better still, he had a partner in crime to share his vision with. Providing Bdubs his first clock was a point of pride, and Bdubs had accepted it with promises of a great future ahead of them.

He'd made momentous progress. Maybe not on the scale of Doc and his villager operation, but the humble underground iron farm he and Tango constructed would serve them well. The land that would become a sprawling cyberpunk city was sectioned off. His strip mine was fruitful, piles of diamonds to be fashioned into armor and equipment as needed. Everything was coming up Impulse.

When the day was over, the rest was well-earned. The Mountaineers, as Scar had named them, reconvened to share dinner around the fire. He took the chance to wash up in the river- a water well would be a tomorrow project, once he had a place to lay his head that was more permanent than the blocked off mouth of his cave- and laid down for a good night's sleep.

...Any minute then.

Impulse rolled onto his back and sighed. It didn't feel right, and Impulse knew what was missing.

This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life, because Skizz was there.

Skizz was there, and so much as thinking his name made the thread connecting them hum. Before Skizz was a hermit, when Impulse had been summoned and made the decision to stay, it was easy to ignore. The proximity now, though, made it impossible. His very soul knew its other half was near, and Impulse longed.

Skizz hadn't wanted to be coddled. He was determined to stand on his own two feet in this server of building gods and redstone masters. It was with full support that Impulse had agreed to let Skizz forge his own way, neighbors instead of roommates.

...But surely Skizz wouldn't mind a late-night visit, right?

Impulse relit the torches by his bedside. He didn't change, just throwing on his shoes. On his way to the door, he wondered if it would be worth taking his wings out. It would make the trip incredibly short, at the cost of nearly guaranteeing he'd spend all night at Skizz's. He wouldn't mind, but if Skizz did...

"Aaah!" A yell made Impulse jump as he opened the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. An equally startled Skizz stood in the doorway, a hand on his chest as he settled down. "You scared the dookie right outta me, dude," He said, heaving a breath, "Don't you know it's like, dumb o'clock in the morning? Nice jammies though," Skizz snickered.

Impulse snorted. Skizz was wearing a matching set. "These old things? Aw, they're nothin'," Skizz barks a laugh, and Impulse chuckles with him, a line of tension leaving his shoulders, "I know it's dumb o'clock in the morning, what're you doing at my front door?"

"Well I- y'know, I was in the neighborhood," Skizz started, wings held around his shoulders like a mantle, "And I'm thinkin' to myself, I think, y'know... I'm really feelin' it! And if I'm feelin' it, my best buddy over here, Mr. Impy Dimpy Dippledop, well, he's gotta be feelin' it too, right? Am I right? I bet I'm right," Skizz poked at Impulse's cheek.

Impulse huffed fondly, lightly smacking Skizz's hand away. Nobody could manage to be longwinded and straightforward like Skizz could. "I might've been on my way to yours for the same reason," Impulse admitted.

"Good thing I beat you then," Skizz cackled, "I don't have a bed yet!"

"Skizz!" Impulse laughed, "That's the first thing you do!"

"I was excited, okay? Some stuff fell through the cracks!" It only made Skizz laugh harder, "Are you gonna invite me in or not!"

"Okay, okay," Impulse placated once their laughter calmed into the occasional giggle. He stepped away from the doorway and gestured Skizz to follow him inside, "Come on in, make yourself at home. Don't forget to shut the door behind you."

Impulse heard the door close. The place was basic, really, meant for function over form. A double-wide bed, some chests for storage, and the simple wall that separated the space from the outside. There was a joke on the tip of Impulse's tongue, something about excusing a mess that wasn't there, but it's forgotten the moment he feels arms around him.

Arms, and then wings, warm and white and all-encompassing like a blanket settled around his very soul. If Impulse looked behind himself, he was sure Skizz's halo would be showing. In turn, Impulse's horns grew. Dark scales climbed up his arms where he held Skizz's arms across his chest, and his tail found purchase around Skizz's leg.

Skizz squeezed him in a hug, lowering his head to leave a kiss in Impulse's hair before burying his face in it with a content sigh that made Impulse want to melt into bed and never get up again.

"Yeah," Skizz mumbled, soft and tired, "This is home."

#Skizzpulse #ImpSkizz #ImpulseSV #Skizzleman #Hermitshipping #Hermitcraft #Hermitfic #MCYT #Asks #Anonymous #Skizz #Impulse #Astral Library #My Writing #Reminder that the feelings described in this fic are not inherently romantic and neither is the concept of soulmates #This can be read either way but it was intended as more of a platonic life partners situation

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animatorweirdo · 1 year

Text

Imagine being a Targaryen and befriending Smaug

(So, this might be long, but I hope you enjoy it. It has also come to my attention that it’s just easy to write reader gender neutral since I rarely have to specify the gender, but this is male reader)

Requested by @weird-addiction

Warnings: violence, mentions of dead and crushed eggs, mentions of cannibalism, Smaug is kind of a douche, overprotective dragon companion, some fluff, found family kinds of feels, angst, death and war.

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-After your banishment, you traveled far and wide, avoiding people and hunters who tried to take bounty over your and your dragon’s head. You couldn't let that happen, especially when carrying your dragon’s only egg.

-You could feel through your bond how your dragon, Skarlax, was getting tired from all the constant running and flying. It wouldn’t take long before she got fed up with it and decided to fight your pursuers. You knew it would only end badly, so you had to find a safe place soon.

-Your search led you to a witch, who told you about a place called the edge of the world, where rumors said traveling through the mysterious clouds of the sea would take you to another world. It sounded unbelievable and impossible, but knowing your situation and how desperate you were to find a haven, you took the risk.

-You fed Skarlax and flew into the clouds in the sea. It was a horrid journey. The storm that followed almost took your life, so either the gods decided to be merciful, or you got lucky to survive such a force of nature.

-You found your way to a place called Middle-Earth. It was such a beautiful place, and you could feel yourself wanting to discover all of it. Other Targaryens always thirsted for conquest, but you always preferred to travel and uncover than try to conquer.

-However, you knew you needed to find a home for Skarlax and her egg soon, so you traveled to look for a good home for yourself.

-You found your way to what seemed to be ruins of an old kingdom inside a mountain that stood alone from others. You marveled at the two great statues standing near the entrance, and you couldn't help but walk in – wanting to see more.

-The sight was breathtaking. You walked through the stone halls, taking in the designs and the beauty of the stone murals and the statues. The city was unlike anything you had ever seen before. It was marvelous, especially when it was underneath a mountain.

-You studied the old murals and pictures on the wall, trying to learn the story behind the city and its people. You were surprised when you discovered that dwarves used to live here. You noted the size of the old bones and armor you found, so these dwarves were much bigger and buffer than the dwarves in Westeros, and they were considered a different race, not ordinary people with a defect from birth.

-You were discovering so much, and it made you excited. Skarlax just followed you as you walked around the place.

-You found an old forge. The room was a mess but perfect for incubating Skarlax’s egg. It also had bigger rooms and old chambers nearby, so you and Skarlax didn’t have to sleep in the same room.

-You tried to tidy up the place and prepare a fire until you heard your beloved companion growl and hiss defensively. She was unnerved by something like the place was not safe.

-You had been with her long enough to know the nature of her behavior, so you knew she was not smelling another human or a wild animal. It was another dragon.

-You felt excited that there was another dragon and unnerved because wild dragons were dangerous when they were not fond of humans, so you quickly tried to leave the place rather than trying to find the dragon.

-You almost reached the entrance till you felt the hall shake, and the mysterious dragon showed himself, his scales gleaming red and his eyes burning with golden flames. You were left stunned as you marveled at his size. He was big. He was bigger than the biggest dragon you knew in Westeros, and there was no doubt his wings could cover a whole village in their shadows.

-He was a magnificent specimen, but you left your thoughts elsewhere as he did not look friendly when he looked down upon you.

-One thing you did not expect or think possible – was for him to speak.

-” Well… little rat. Why the rush?” His deep voice shook you to the core.

-You were shocked, unable to utter a word. There has never been a recorded dragon who could speak like a human. It was impossible, but then you remembered that you were in another world, so anything was possible now.

-Oh, how your relatives would have flipped their crowns and heads if they knew there were dragons that could speak.

-You collected yourself and kept eye contact with the dragon. You apologized and tried to tell him you did not mean to invade his home. You thought the kingdom was empty of life.

-He seemed amused by your answers and questions if you had not heard the stories about the dragon that dwelled beneath the lonely mountain, sleeping in the stolen treasures of Erebor.

-You made a quick note of that and explained you were new to these lands and Erebor was your first stop because you wanted to investigate. You had no idea he was there sleeping.

-You introduced yourself out of politeness, and he introduced himself as Smaug.

-You tried to think your words carefully since he seemed to toy with you like a cat with a mouse, except it’s a tiny man and a giant dragon.

-He approached you dangerously like a snake and then noticed the egg that rested against your chest in a pouch. When he saw the egg, he looked agitated and almost demanded to know if you had stolen the egg.

-You tried to tell him the egg belonged to your friend, but he didn’t seem to believe you and seemed ready to burn you alive.

-You were too far away to take cover, so you held your breath as his chest glowed with brilliant light, and he opened his mouth.

-Luckily, Skarlax came to your rescue just in time and attacked Smaug. She stopped him from raining fire upon you by scratching his head. Her smaller size allowed her to fly in the hall and maneuver around the enormous dragon while throwing and dodging the attacks.

-Smaug growled and quickly snatched her tail, throwing her away.

-Skarlax got thrown onto the floor, but she quickly got up, ready to fight. However, you stopped her, speaking to her in High Valyrian and preventing her from making poor decisions.

-You have always admired her determination to fight for you, but even you knew this was a fight she would not win, so your only hope was coercion.

-You calmed her down, then turned toward Smaug, explaining she was your travel companion and the egg you were holding was hers. You were carrying it for her as you traveled to find a safe home for yourself and the hatchling inside.

-You also explained you were from a place where dragons did not speak, so that’s why she was not speaking like him.

-Smaug calmed down and then asked for your story. Since you gained his interest, you happily told him your story and why you were flying around to find a new home for yourself since you got banished from your old one.

-Smaug listened to your story. He looked down upon Skarlax as she was protective of you, and she had a saddle on her back, so he did not have anything nice to say about it. However, he was willing to forgive you for trespassing.

-His race was already under threat of extinction. So he did not wish to harm the egg in your hand and its mother. It would mean he would contribute to the death of his race.

-He then said you could stay in Erebor since it was big, filled with gold, and you could incubate the egg. It would be safer than in the outside world since people feared dragons.

-You agreed to his reasoning since Erebor would make a good home for you and Skarlax’s hatchling.

-You promised you only wanted to care for your companion and her future offspring, so you had no interest in his gold or treasures.

-After that encounter, you finally managed to tie up the old forge and start incubating Skarlax’s egg. Skarlax was not happy with Smaug’s presence inside the mountain, so she was constantly watching the door, guarding you and her egg while having the pissiest face you have ever seen on a dragon.

-You shook your head since she looked like a brooding child, but you understood her protectiveness.

-She was mistrustful toward other dragons because when she had her first clutch of eggs, they were crushed and eaten by the dragon named Cannibal. It crushed your heart when you found her mourning and ready to fight the terrible wild dragon, but you stopped her because you knew she couldn’t have won.

-She didn’t give birth to more eggs for some time – until her mate died in a war. His rider brought him to a hopeless battle, and they both got shot from the sky. It crushed her even more, but she was able to give birth to one egg just when your house decided to banish you from the kingdom.

-You were the only one she trusted, so she allowed you to take it, and you both escaped the kingdom and Westeros.

-It would be awkward in the future when the tension between you and Smaug was this high, so you needed to do something to soften it up.

-After resting through the night, you decided to confront Smaug and talk to him.

-You were nervous when you walked through the stone halls since yesterday’s events were still fresh in your bones. It made you shiver how you almost got burned alive, but when you found the treasury, you were amazed. There were gold, gems, trinkets, and all kinds of treasures everywhere.

-You never thought such a treasury was possible. There was no way gathering all the gold and treasures into one place in Westeros could even fill half of the hall in front of you. You were pretty sure even the riches pigs would sell their soul to have such wealth.

-You concluded Smaug was one of those dragons that hoarded treasures, so you began to look for him and call out for him while stumbling on the hoard of gold.

-You knew Skarlax was watching from the shadows, carefully observing, and ready to act for your safety, so you tried to keep calm when Smaug finally heeded your call and rose from his golden hoard.

-You were still intimidated by his size, but you held your breath and told him you wanted to talk with him – anything to ease the tension and create a good relationship.

-Thanks to your experience dealing with silver-tongued people in court, you made Smaug curious about your homeland and its dragons, so you ended up making a decent conversation.

-He was not fond of the idea of his kin submitting to humans, so you had to give a brief explanation: dragons in your homeland were like your kin – not pets or slaves.

-He found the idea ridiculous but was curious to know more, especially the language you spoke with Skarlax when you calmed her down from attacking him.

-You told him about High Valyria and how it was like a dragon tongue since most dragons in your house don’t listen unless spoken in that language. Smaug kinda liked it and asked if you could teach him some words in your language.

-You were glad. It means you have created a good start, so you visited Smaug often and taught him some words in Valyria, and in return, he taught you something about Middle Earth and other races like elves and dwarves.

-Skarlax was still uncomfortable with his presence and preferred to avoid him. She spent most of the time with her egg after making sure you would be alright by yourself.

-Smaug asked for her story after observing how spiteful she was toward him, like she hated dragons, and you told him how her first clutch of eggs got destroyed by another dragon named Cannibal and how her mate perished in a war.

-Smaug was surprised to hear about Cannibal since it was frowned upon to crush and eat a female dragon’s eggs, so he showed some sympathy. He went out of his way to hunt some prey and offer it to her as a peace offering, trying to show he was not a threat to her or her egg.

-Skarlax was a proud dragon but accepted the offering since she could keep a more watchful eye on her egg.

-You were happy since the tension was slowly decreasing, and Skarlax was slowly softening up to Smaug when he continued hunting for her. You gave Smaug some hints about her favorite food, and it helped make better bonds for them.

-Helping him get Skarlax’s trust gave you a chance to befriend him, and he was comfortable enough with you to talk casually.

-He admitted he grew to enjoy your company just a little since you entertained him with riddles and rumors you heard whenever you left the mountain to gather food and water for yourself.

-You even went out of your way to bring him more treasures to add to his hoard, which helped you grow to a friendship level. It was hard work, but it was worth it.

-After living together for some time, you might have noticed Smaug showing signs of interest in being mates with Skarlax. He kept hunting food for her and sometimes helped with incubating her egg. You liked the idea of them being together, so you wanted to help him since you knew Skarlax better than anyone.

-She might have grown comfortable enough not to fight Smaug upon first chance, but she was still protective of you and her egg, so one way to gain her trust was to show he was trustworthy.

-Smaug didn’t deny he was interested in her and listened to your suggestions.

-It was difficult for him to gain her trust, but when he defended her egg from an intruder. Skarlax slowly cracked down her walls, and even she began to show interest in him.

-You then helped out by giving Smaug hints on how to romance her now the challenging part was over, and one way to do it was by speaking in High Valyria with her.

-You never imagined you would become a wingman for dragons and a third wheel.

-You watched their romance grow and gave them peace by guarding the egg. It was lovely, but you were amused when you watched your proud companion and Smaug become enamored with each other.

-You were first worried when you thought about when they became mates and got into ‘that’ business, but then you remembered Skarlax keeps growing every year, and she was already half of Smaug’s size, so there shouldn’t be any complications.

-The day finally arrived when Skarlax’s egg was finally hatching.

-In your old way, it would take a Targaryen to make an egg hatch, but it wasn’t impossible by naturally incubating. It would only take a long time, so you ran out of the forge when you heard those first cracks.

-You were yelling, and you dug both dragons out of the hoard to tell them the news and make them watch the hatching with you.

-You brought the egg for them to see, and you all watched as the baby dragon finally dug its way out of the shell.

-It was a beautiful little she dragon. She looked like Skarlax, but unlike her mother, the little dragon was purple and red, and her horns and spikes were black. Oddly, she also had gold dusted on her chest and head, which made her look beautiful and like Smaug, in a way.

-Skarlax was purring in delight, and her eyes were filled with love when you brought her hatchling to her. Even Smaug was watching rather lovingly.

-It was a happy moment when you welcomed your newest member to your odd little family.

-Now, the naming part was the hard part. You didn’t know what to call the new hatchling, so it took a long time for all of you to brainstorm some names.

-You gave some name suggestions in Valyria and names that described her color and that, but Smaug was quick to brush them off because he thought your name suggestions, like Amethyst and Hearthfyre, sounded stupid.

-He didn’t have better name suggestions, so you then suggested names in elvish since you have been learning and suggested Malleniel, which technically meant daughter of gold.

-Smaug admitted that the name had a nice ring to it, so you all agreed to call your little hatchling, Malleniel.

-It was a happy time for all of you with Malleniel. You often offered to babysit her, so you two grew close. Skarlax was full of joy to be a mother, and even Smaug sometimes played with her like she was his.

-You were one big happy family. Sometimes you all nap together on the hoard. You cuddle with Maleniel while Skarlax covers you, while Smaug covers all of you. It was uncomfortable to lay on the gold, but you did not mind.

-You thought it would be like this, and you would happily watch Malleniel grow till the old age hits you, but alas, like a curse, your happiness did not last long when they came – the dwarves and the hobbit.

-You were with Malleniel when you saw someone walking through the halls – toward the treasury where Smaug and Skarlax were resting. You were suspicious and prepared with a blade, so you followed the intruder.

-You were surprised to find that it was not a human, but something smaller with very hairy big feet. Your first thought was a dwarf, but you then remembered Smaug telling you they were bigger and had a beard, so you brushed it off and continued observing the creature.

-The little person was odd and frightened to be there. You tried to make sense of him till Malleniel grew impatient on your shoulder and growled, alerting him of your presence.

-He was startled to see you. He was definitely not expecting to encounter a human man, especially a man with a dragon sitting on his shoulders. Your appearance most likely frightened him even more as your silver hair glowed in the dark, and you glared at him with your purple eyes.

-You demanded to know what he was doing in your home, and he was nervous and confused when you referred to the place as your home.

-He tried to question you, but you pushed the questions back at him.

-He introduced himself as Bilbo Baggings. He called himself a hobbit which made you curious because you had never heard about them. You would have asked him more if he was not an intruder.

-You talked for some time as you tried to figure out his purpose in the mountain, and it was clear he was looking for something. You just didn’t know what because he was trying to avoid answering your questions.

-You introduced him to Malleniel and advised him to leave. Smaug was not very keen on visitors right now.

-You were too late to tell him to leave when you felt the room around you shake, and a familiar dragon appeared out of the corner. You knew it was too late for him, so you left Smaug to deal with your visitor.

-You hoped it would be a quick death since you wanted to know him more, but then you hear voices and Smaug being more active. It left you concerned, so you followed the voices and observed how the dwarves avoided and rebelled against Smaug.

-It looked like they were succeeding, so you quickly confronted Smaug before he could go after them.

- ”Smaug!” You called out, stopping in front of him.

He snarled after he got constantly hit with strange bombs before looking down on you and Malleniel.

“(Name). I want you to take Malleniel and return to Skarlax. If things get out of hand, I want you all to leave the mountain,” He said, making your eyes widen at the thought. “But what about you? I could help you!” You said.

“Ensuring Malleniel’s safety should be your first priority. These pests turn out to be more troublesome than I anticipated!” He said with hateful venom in his tone. “So I will not risk Skarlax’s and Malleniel’s life as long as they’re in the mountain,” He explained, then looked down on you softly. “So please, take them to safety for me,” He said, then continued chasing the intruders.

-You felt conflicted as he was part of your family, and you had a bad feeling, but you respected his wishes and went to find Skarlax.

-You stayed hidden with Skarlax. She wanted to join Smaug to chase off the intruders, but she listened to you and kept watch over you and Malleniel.

-You felt the mountain shake and heard Smaug’s roar. He was outside, so you carefully led Skarlax and Malleniel out of the mountain – avoiding the dwarves’ attention and following what was happening next.

-You watched as Smaug was burning the Laketown. He was most likely taking revenge on the intruders, but then you heard him roar in pain and fly in the sky before suddenly falling toward the lake below.

-Your heart stopped at that moment because you knew he was dead.

-Skarlax called out to him in pain, wanting to fly to him but staying beside you as she couldn’t leave you and Malleniel undefended.

-Your mourned and hugged Malleniel, who was confused. You hugged her and cursed the dwarves for killing your friend and taking away one of the most important members of your family.

-Skarlax kept you close, trying to comfort you. She grieved with you till dawn, and the battle for the mountain was beginning.

-You watched as elves and the humans gathered in the city, ready to attack the mountain since the new dwarven king refused to share parts of the treasure even though he promised it to them. You found some irony in that.

-They always said dragons were the greediest creatures on Middle Earth, yet here was a dwarf doing the same.

-One night, you found the hobbit sneaking out of the mountain, and in a fun twist of fate, he dumped you on his way to the city.

-You were not happy to see him because he was also responsible for Smaug’s death, but you did not care enough to harm him.

-Skarlax was near to eating him alive, but you convinced her to stay put, and you two talked for a while. You asked what he was doing, and he explained he intended to give the heart of the mountain to the elves and humans. His friend valued the rock above all else, so it should be able to convince him to open the gate and avoid conflict.

-You found his intentions honorable and brave. You would have done the same if it meant you could have saved Smaug’s life.

-Bilbo showed sympathy when he saw how much Smaug mattered to you and how Malleniel got robbed from a father figure. You brushed his apologies off since it was already too late.

-When he asked why you were still around, you told him you wanted to see the elves and humans break through the walls and see his friend get taken by his creed.

-He asked you if there was a cure for the dragon sickness, but you answered there was no such thing. His friend can only overcome it by himself or let it consume him.

-You allowed him to continue his task, and you watched as the whole thing unfolded in the morning.

-The stubborn dwarf still refused to open the gate, and you waited for the moment to see the battle begin, especially when more dwarves appeared and they started killing each other.

-It was interesting to watch for a moment, but then the earth shook, and you saw the earthworms opening tunnels for something. You then saw legions of orcs marching through, and now, it was throughout the war.

-You saw the dwarven king joining the battle, which meant he had overcome his sickness, and they all fought honorably and like it was the last day on earth.

-You decided to leave because you knew the battle was lost. The orcs outnumbered them massively, so you knew they would die either way.

-You were prepared to leave till Bilbo found you and begged for your help.

-You refused and asked why you should help the people who helped to kill your friend. You were not risking your life for people who would kill Skarlax and Malleniel at first sight.

-Bilbo explained that if you helped them, the people would not harm you or your dragons. If you helped them win the battle, they would even give you a safe haven.

-You highly doubted that since you considered Smaug as a friend.

-However, Bilbo then convinced you that if you helped them, people would not come after you or your dragons. They could send word all around the land to prove you’re a friend and not an enemy. You and your dragons would be safe.

-You thought about, and even if you did not want to help the killers of your friend, you had to think about Skarlax’s and Malleniel’s future and safety.

-You pushed your feelings to the side and gave Malleniel to Bilbo.

-Bilbo was shocked to hold a baby dragon, but when you threatened to kill him if she came under any harm – he sucked it up and made it clear he heard you loud and clear. He then watched as you mounted your dragon and took flight toward the battle.

-When you flew above the battlefield, you yelled out for Skarlax to fire.

-Fire rained down upon the orcs. They screamed as they burned alive, and the dwarves, elves, and humans were left shocked by the appearance of another dragon.

-You cut the rest of the orcs away, giving a burning barrier to the people and preventing the rest of the orcs from overpowering them. You then continued burning them all. You also took down the trolls that tossed boulders and stones.

-You gave no mercy to the orcs, giving a chance for the dwarves, elves, and humans to win the battle, and the war was soon over.

-Seeing no reason to fight anymore, you returned to Bilbo and saw Malleniel alright.

-Bilbo thanked you for helping and promised to let everyone know you were a friend.

-You almost found revolt in the idea but couldn’t do anything about it. You took Malleniel and prepared to leave for good.

-Bilbo wished you good luck and said if you ever found your way to the shire, he would always welcome you. You almost found some warmth in those words but brushed them away because you doubted you would ever meet again.

-You bid him farewell, too, and flew away from the lonely mountain.

-You looked back, watching your home get smaller and smaller. It left you with deep sadness, but you knew it was necessary.

-You managed to find a new home even though it wasn’t easy, then watched how Malleniel grew up into a healthy young dragon. You missed Smaug and felt sad that he couldn’t be there to see her grow. However, Skarlax then laid two new eggs, and you were happy that your friend’s memory won’t die.

#smaug x platonic reader #smaug x reader #male reader #targaryen reader #hobbit x reader #hobbit imagine #hobbit headcanon #tolkien #middle earth #middle earth x reader #smaug imagine #smaug headcanon

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thesistersarcheron · 6 days

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Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween, Breeding Kink, Beast!Rhys, Biting Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)

Read Chapter 3 on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.

A beast of scales and spikes and fangs loomed large and black over Feyre.

Ice crackled through her veins and tensed the limbs that had just been rendered deliciously lax. Frigid terror warred with the desire that had turned her molten beneath her mate’s tongue, and base human instinct froze her body into place—the same that had once brought her eye-to-eye with a faerie wolf.

Fight or flight.

And, Cauldron fry her, she had never been one to choose flight.

“Rhys?”

“Yes, love?” the monster above her drawled—and Feyre saw what she didn’t before.

The familiar upward sweep of the beast’s cheekbones. The slant of the dark, slitted-pupil eyes. The elegant, regal line of his strange maw.

Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out, Rhys had told her the day she spent cleaning lentils out of his hearth Under the Mountain, offering a glimpse of talons and shadowed wings while she brandished an iron poker at him. While your Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining.

Entertaining. Fucking hell, there was nothing entertaining about this horror in the slightest.

If she had any breath left in her lungs, she might have laughed hysterically and uncontrollably at herself. At the memory of the mortal girl who thought that a wolf, a Wyrm, and a half-transformed High Lord with only the dregs of his power were frightening. Those little spectacles had been nothing. Less than nothing.

Because now, above her? Rhys was terror given form, the primal fear at the heart of every nightmare in the flesh. He was a predator, built for rending limbs from bodies and tearing hearts from chests.

He was Winged Death.

Feyre swallowed, looking closer.

The golden brown skin she had waited centuries to touch was gone. All that remained now was a broad, massive body covered in layer after layer of rippling ebony scales. Ridged and almost featherlike, they blanketed him in impenetrable armor that stretched as far as Feyre could see. And where the scales ended, the massive, membranous wings of a demon began, jutting upward from his back—austere, violent appendages tipped in claws that glinted like daggers in the low light. The sharp, dark edges of them, of all of him, faded into the swarm of shadows that surrounded their alcove.

His shadows. The lethal camouflage of a male who bent the night to his will.

His hands curled around her waist, and she felt the razor-keen talons he had once leveled at Amarantha prick her sides. When she dared to glance downward, her eyes skimming his trim waist, she found that his even feet were transformed, replaced entirely by grotesque, clawed appendages she had no name for.

But that was of little importance once the rough, strange underside of his cock slid through her oversensitive, slick folds again. Made her suck in a sharp breath as the bond twinged and he lifted himself off of her so she could see that too.

Gods, he—

Her mouth went dry at her first glimpse of his considerable length, hanging heavy and hard over her stomach. It was the same midnight shade as the rest of him, her own wetness glistening like stars in the night along its length. But the coloring, the size, weren’t what snared her mind.

It was the ridges.

Her heartbeat accelerated to an uneven, excited patter in spite of herself.

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre #rhys #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #my fics #poltergeist darling #a court of thorns and roses fic

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new-dinosaurs · 28 days

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Thyreosaurus atlasicus Zafaty et al., 2024 (new genus and species)

(Armor plates of Thyreosaurus atlasicus [scale bars = 5 cm], from Zafaty et al., 2024)

Meaning of name: Thyreosaurus = shield lizard [in Greek]; atlasicus = from the Atlas Mountains

Age: Middle Jurassic (Bathonian–Callovian?)

Where found: El Mers III Formation, Fès-Meknès, Morocco

How much is known: Partial skeleton of one individual including several vertebrae, ribs, armor plates, and a limb bone.

Notes: Thyreosaurus was a stegosaur, possibly closely related to Adratiklit, which is also known from the Middle Jurassic of Morocco, and Dacentrurus from the Late Jurassic–Early Cretaceous of Europe. The type specimen is estimated to have been about 6 m long in total body length, but had not finished growing when it died.

The armor plates of Thyreosaurus were unusual in that they exhibit a cross-hatched texture on one side. In other armored dinosaurs, similar textures are generally found at the base of bony armor where it is embedded into their skin. The describers of Thyreosaurus thus suggest that these plates lay flat against its body, instead of standing vertically as is typical of back plates in other stegosaurs.

Reference: Zafaty, O., M. Oukassou, F. Riguetti, J. Company, S. Bendrioua, R. Tabuce, A. Charrière, and X. Pereda-Suberbiola. 2024. A new stegosaurian dinosaur (Ornithischia: Thyreophora) with a remarkable dermal armour from the Middle Jurassic of North Africa. Gondwana Research advance online publication. doi: 10.1016/j.gr.2024.03.009

#Palaeoblr #Dinosaurs #Thyreosaurus #Middle Jurassic #Africa #Stegosauria #2024 #Extinct

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simpsations · 1 year

Text

Dragon male x male reader

In a well known kingdom, surrounded by mountains, dubbed the kingdom of the mountains by all that bare witness to the vast and beautiful lands.

The King Meldric, of this land was a seemingly kind soul, the most respected alpha, one of the most powerful and peaceful rulers across the lands. His daughter, princess Claire, was said to be the most beautiful omega woman in the kingdom, blessed by the gods.

The king cared for his daughter more that anything, so when how entered his daughter's sleeping quarters he was shocked to the core to find it bare and tattered nothing but small spurts of blood and a large fire-orange dragon scale left as evidence.

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

The word of the missing princess spread through the kingdom faster than the speed of light. The king's men traveling through the villages and valleys in search for the praised princess.

They searched day and night in hopes of finding the princess, but they came up empty handed. The king set out told all of the tragic events begging those who were deemed strong to help find his beloved daughter and bring her home. Most pushed it aside stating that if the princess was supposedly taken by a dragon she withe already be dead or forcibly mated with the beast, and they couldn't fight against a dragon, other voiced pitty or concern, staying optimistic about the negative things that could have happened.

The king's words soon reached a small village, then got to you, an Omega male, the only son of the chief of your village. The second eldest of four.

Even though you were on such a low rank you had worked hard to become a knight, though still in training.

Once you got word of the princess' disappearance, from one of the drunk general heads, you decided that it would put you in a good light to save the princess.

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

This lead you to where you where now, out side of a large cave, your body covered in armor that was almost too stiff for no reason. You could very much hear the loud cries of the dragon.

Once you finally entered the cave it seemed to be well lit to show a large scaled mound surounded in black chains that looked to have violet vainds running through the iron. Another pathetic cry was heard as the chains seemed to glow slightly.

While making your way closer to the beast while trying not to make a sound, you accidentally kicked a stone across the Rocky ground.

The sound of the stone finally dropping caused the beast to rise up and turn it's head towards the offending you. It's slits for eyes became almost invisible, a deep rumble in it chest as it bared it's teeth to you through a muzzle.

The dragon seemed to be hurt and slightly afraid of you. The large beasts stared seemingly angry yes the young omega could sense a large amount of distress in it.

Taking the sword from it's sheath around your waist, you brought it to the chains, ready to hack through them, though once the sword toughed the chains the vain like purple substance seemed to fade away with a white light, the chains loosening untill they lay surrounding the dragon, to both you and the beasts surprise.

The dragon's pupils dilate slowly as it looked from you and the chains. The sound of a horrid scream sounded behind the dragon.

Looking to see the lost princess seething looking not as perfect as the stories say, the dragon was quick to turn and snarl at her, before she could start questioning the two, the dragon opened it's mouth and shot a blast of fire at the princess, only stopping when it deemed the princess dead.

You stood there in shock, trying to back away quietly, you're armor making a noise that alerted the dragon, it's head and long neck moving to block you from the entrance of the cave.

"Uh.. I don't mean any harm..." You slowly lowered your sword to the ground and rose your hands Into the air in surrender, backing up only to hit the body of the beast.

Suddenly the dragon was engulfed in light, it's body morphing into a more humanoid form, it wings shrinkened slightly, it long red hair fell down to it's mid-back, it's skin was a pale completion with the same fire-orange scales that the large dragon had, it's tail bacame shorter and thinner still long enough to drag on the ground, it towered over you by a foot, scars littered it's chest neck and thighs.

Although the figure looked intimidating, it's eyes set on you as a deep purr sounded, almost vibrating thought the cave.

You looks nervously at the now humanoid dragon, taking notic of his lack of clothing, while he just stared at you like a puppy about to get a treat. You were quick to turn your back to look away from the bare man in front of you, you attempt to exit the cave now that the dragon's he's isn't in the way, but the winged man was quick to wrap his arms around you and hold you tight to his body, he smelt strong of pine wood and wild berries, for some reason you felt contempt with staying in the arms of this strange dragon man as well. "Garnot's savior? Garnot's mate?" The actual vibration of his voice deep in his chest shook you, the dragon man not letting you go any time soon sat himself down with you cradled close to him.

______________________________________________________________________

Sorry I killed the princess off so quickly, I wasn't in the mood to do much on her.

I couldn't think of any forms of dialogue.

This request is from @obsessivevoidkitten I hope you enjoyed it.

I'm not to versed on the omegaverse

I literally deleted the longer version of the beginning of this, I'm sorry.

#lgbtqa #m4m #monster male x male reader #omega male reader #omegaverse

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beebopurr · 4 months

Note

Uh, this is pretty long. I hope you like it!

———-

The prior lighthouse keeper warned April of the storms that raged the region.

Impenetrable weaves of clouds enfolding the sky, freezing volleys that shot through bone, frenzied waters made into maws and mountains. The storms were the main reason the lighthouse was one of the few in America that still manned a keeper. Cursed things, she was told, born from a cursed anger.

But when April saw a blue light flash from the southern coast of the island, she moved.

Outside, the world was narrowed to a 10 ft. beam of a flashlight. Rain pelted April’s face, mottling her glasses. Her boots slapped into ankle high pools that swallowed the footpath. The wind hadn’t quite picked up though, thankfully.

As April made her way down the crest of the island to the shore, she looked out for the blue light. It never flashed.

When she finally reached the beach, April heard more than saw the crashing of the angry waves. She swept her flashlight across the water’s edge for any sign of a ship. The light didn’t look like it could’ve come from anything bigger than a fishing boat. She began traveling along the coast. The island was small enough for her to search the entire stretch even under limited vision.

There. Gripped onto the fringes of the beach was a form that could’ve barely qualified the size of a rowboat.

Oh god.

April rushed forward. Were they out in the storm in that thing? Or did they come from a bigger ship, maybe to get help? She needed to––

April stopped her tracks.

Her gaze was held by dark, forward facing eyes.

They were breathing heavily. The movement pulled tight against the fish nets that ensnared their entire figure. And it was a figure. Long limbs, vertical torso, and a head perched on wide shoulders.

They were scaled. Green with yellow stripes, as far as April could tell under the weak lighting. A giant blue shell, like a turtle’s, enveloped their back, and their chest looked made up of hard armor. On their face, two red crescents stretched through the eyes. They were missing an arm.

For eternal moments, all April and the creature did was stare.

———-

The keeper was going to run. She was breathing heavily, her face scared.

The nets weren’t heavy, but locked under her gaze they crushed Leo like a thousand stones. He felt his pulse match the beating of the rain. The keeper took a step back from him.

She stopped. Leo’s breath stopped with her. The keeper’s face did something complicated; lips thinned, a crease pinched between her brows, eyes shut. Leo couldn’t decipher it.

When she looked at him again, the keeper didn’t run.

Humans that didn’t run from the unknown were dangerous. Either they were stupid, crazy, or saw something to gain. But when Leo looked at her hard gaze, her hands were low and open.

She took a slow step toward him. Leo clenched the sharp rock hidden behind his back. His head was the closest to her, with the water lapping at his feet.

Leo could bare his teeth at the keeper. He knew their human resemblance were unnerving. Snapping at her might run her off; but it might also just stall her.

Leo couldn’t afford back-and-forth struggling. By now, his brothers were looking for him. Worried about why he didn’t come home during the storm. If they found him now, tied at the feet of the new lighthouse keeper, there’d be no world where they’d stay out of sight and unknown. It’d be Leo’s fault for being careless and getting caught in the fish nets.

The keeper took another step, and slowly put her free hand into a pocket. She pulled out what Leo recognized as a switchblade. She held the knife loosely, aimed towards the clouds.

If the keeper got closer, Leo wouldn’t be able to bash her head in quick enough if she lunged at his neck. It would’ve been a different story if he had two arms. The new lighthouse keeper looked small, but she was tough if she got to the coast through the storm on her own. Though, If she truly meant harm, then Leo shouldn’t do anything at all.

Him and his brothers couldn’t hide from her forever on this tiny island. If the keeper was dangerous, then it was better that was learned now with Leo alone, than with any of his brothers.

When the keeper took another step closer, Leo didn’t react.

Steadily, she made her way close enough to kneel next to him. She looked at Leo, his face, as if asking for permission. And maybe she was. Leo lowered his head back to the wet pebbles and bared his neck towards her.

She placed her flashlight on the ground, and with her free hand reached for the heaviest knots that coiled around Leo’s throat. She pulled a handful taut, creating a gap. Carefully, the blade was inserted under the netting, and, sharp edge facing herself, the keeper pulled.

A series of snaps cracked through the air, and Leo felt the netting around his shoulders go slack. He took a breath.

The keeper moved down his chest and methodically repeated the same motions, cutting with sharp side pointed towards herself. She did this twice more around his legs, and when Leo moved to pull the rest of the rope off him she stepped back. He finally got his feet under him.

The water lapped at Leo’s feet, he threw the netting away from it. The cove where him and his brothers lived was safe from flooding, holding old warm blankets they scavenged from sailors and the lighthouse.

One of his brothers was there, probably Mikey, as ancillary to check if Leo got back on own. By now, Raph and Donnie would still be looking for him. Leo would need to spin a tale for them, something about getting a bit tied up and briefly having to take shelter. Keep them from worrying. He looked at the waves. For a second, he just stared.

Leo turned around. The keeper matched his gaze, looking at his face. And there was that peculiar expression again. Something softer than fear. Whatever it was, Leo believed it was sincere.

The keeper opened her mouth, it was hard to hear her through the storm and waves. “You got anywhere to go? Somewhere safe?”

Leo didn’t answer. He stared at her.

“I, uh, I don’t know how much you can understand me, but I’ve got a place at the lighthouse. You could stay with me.”

Unwittingly, Leo’s gaze drifted up towards the shining beacon of the lighthouse, its unwavering light revolving through the rain. He couldn’t remember the last time he took shelter there from a storm. But he remembered the warm scaleless hands, the rough voice that deepened during the dramatic parts of the bedtime story.

Leo looked back at the keeper. She wasn’t like him.

She didn’t run away though. She cut the ropes off Leo. Her eyes were green, he just noticed.

The keeper mimicked Leo’s glance towards the lighthouse behind her and hesitantly pointed towards it, “Yeah, the lighthouse. You wanna come?”

When she began walking towards the footpath that was flooded with puddles, Leo followed her.

I AM NOT LITERATE ENOUGH TO PROPERLY EXPRESS JUST HOW FUCKING COOL THIS IS

I've re-read it multiple times already it's so good... you get it.

The way the only reasons he could think of for her not to run away are a. She's dumb, b. She's crazy, or c. She wants something from him, is driving me nuts you literally hit the nail on the head

#READ THIS ITS SO BASED #SHAKING YOY #lighthouse au #asks #fic #<I say it qualifies #this is so cool

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