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queers-gambit · 1 year

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Blue Moon Wreckage

prompt: your husband can often lose his temper and resort to the man he was before you. you grow tired of lashing your tongue, and learn your husband responds better to silence.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 4.3k+

note: another stand alone, no sequel

warnings: cursing, talk of child abandonment, vulgar dialogue, old-fashioned views on marriage (maybe idk), not edited. small angst, small comfort. author probably missed some warnings.

The entire city cleaned up in preparation for Princess Rhaenyra's nuptials to the heir of Driftmark, Lord Laenor Velaryon. It was refreshing to see citizens rejoicing in a common theme and going around to hang different decorations; chandeliers of strung florals, wreaths woven and hung, lanterns set all around to create an ambiance in the street.

Romance was in the air.

It put people in jolly spirits, brought them elation, and gave the ability to decompress from the woes of life. Wine tasted sweeter, the food saltier, and many merchants came into town for the week-long celebration of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the hopes of selling enough wares to pay for three of their month's expenses. Every room at the inn was filled, brothels hosting the leftover stragglers; money was simply made in an abundance after taking advantage of the citizens come to celebrate.

And yet, deep within the halls of the Red Keep, not all were so at peace with the state of things.

Maids and servants all skidded around the corridor that housed your bedchambers shared with your husband. The walls almost vibrated with the sheer force of the yelling that took place, and while the sun shone on the rest of the Kingdom, there was a dark shadow over the Red Keep.

Rarely, and it was the truth, rarely did you and Daemon ever fight. He was your best friend, he was the love of your life, you've known him for years, and had long since developed an effective way to communicate. Daemon wasn't easy to deal with, in fact, even to those who knew how to handle him, he sometimes pushed past boundaries and threw curveballs into the mix. You were not immune to his sharp tongue and wicked-fast wit, but in reality, Daemon never actively sought conflict with you, so fighting was incredibly rare - though, not totally unheard of.

Like a blue moon - not totally unheard of, but still considered rare. And in pale moonlight, the ship you and Daemon found yourselves sailing on seemed to crash into a set of cliffside jagged rocks, all but imploding the balance you had found yourselves in.

A shipwreck during a blue moon.

Before you, Daemon was violent and volatile. He was irresponsible, impulsive, stubborn, hotheaded, and blood thirty. Many Ladies all vied for the Prince's attention, but as he grew older, he became more and more reckless and more Ladies started keeping their distance. Expect you. You heard rumor his grandmother, the Queen Alysanne, meant to marry him off to Rhea Royce but your father was almost too smart for his own good. He devised a tantalizing offer that the Crown would've been foolish to refuse - thus binding you and Daemon to fate.

Before you, Daemon wasn't a man. He was just a second son trapped in a shell of his body, full of anger with nowhere to expel himself. A boy with a temper. A lad with attitude. He was knighted at 16, an impressive feat, and not a full moon cycle later, you and Daemon wed. He wasn't easy to love, but that was because he was so defensive in his life living in his older brother's shadow.

Before you, Daemon never believed in love or acceptance. Yet everyday he spent with you, he was reminded of his value and worth as a person - not just a Prince, or a Targaryen. You worked every day for his trust and confidence, and once you had it, it was an unshakeable foundation. Daemon was everything to you, and before him, you were shy and awkward and overwhelmed in the glaring eyes of court. Now, you were confident, humble, and weeping with power.

You kept Daemon balanced in his head and heart.

Before you, he was like a wild dog. Now, he was domesticated for you and you alone. He realized how much his recklessness hurt you and never wanted to be the cause of your pain, so, Daemon cleaned himself up. Most days, he was perfectly content in life, and others, he was still as stubborn as ever, but every so often, Daemon loses sight of himself and resorts back to who he was before you.

Fighting with Daemon was always difficult. He wasn't accustomed to losing, so, when you two went toe-to-toe, he was out for blood. He loses himself in his anger, fueled only by the need to cause the most harm with his sharpest words. Daemon jumped to conclusions faster than a grasshopper hops from blades of grass because he was vastly insecure, and it took most of your will to restrain your anger enough to soothe him of his worries.

Daemon hated fighting with you, and you hated fighting with him. There was never a true victor because you both hated it so much. Perhaps that was why your once-in-a-blue-moon fights turned so gruesome and emotional; you both hated fighting that it made you fight even harder.

How you came to this, you didn't remember. One moment, you were enjoying a morning feast with your husband, and the next, you were locked in your chambers, lashing at each other's throats with hateful words.

"I do not understand!" You sobbed. "You agreed to this - "

"No! No, I did not! You did not consult me on this matter, you just accepted responsibility. For the both of us!"

"He is my little brother, Daemon!"

"He is not our responsibility!"

"He is now!"

"Because you took action without a word to me!"

"I did not need to consult you; he is my blood."

"But not mine."

You scoffed, "For fuck's sake, Daemon, do you hear yourself? You are whinging over a child - you're bloody jealous of a child! Where is the man I married?"

"I have done all I am expected and required as a husband, it is you who refuses my seed. Who refuses to grow our family!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Now you want a baby!? Married ten years, we are, and NOW you want to whinge about babies!? I am busy in case you've not bothered to look around every once in a while," you snapped, "and I understand having a baby is not ideal right now!"

"So, you will not take my seed because you are busy raising another man's?"

"He was my father - oh, Gods be good, why're we fighting over this?"

"You need to understand, he is not mine," Daemon seethed. "He will never be mine and I do not wish to treat him as such. The life and luxury we live in are not meant for a child that is neither of ours."

"What would you have me do!?"

"Send him to your brother."

"Oh, spare me this notion, Daemon! I will not hear of it! No! We are not discussing this again and again!"

"You mean to disobey me then, wife?" He snapped, making your mouth snap shut. "Huh? Think you're immune to the duties you must uphold as a woman? Think that allows you free rein? You are luckier than most that I allow you to have a fucking opinion; do not abuse my generosity. You want the child to stay, fine, I hear you, but I say he goes. Guess who's want will triumph?"

You blinked several times, unable to find words.

"Nothing to say?" He taunted. "That is a first, wife, you surprise me. In your moment of silence, do well to listen to me now: the child goes, or I do. You either get rid of the child or I will remove myself from this sham of a marriage."

"I do not recognize you, you are not my husband," you finally sighed. "Do me a favor and figure you may speak to me again once you're ready to apologize. If not, I assume by week's end, we will be celebrating both Rhaenyra's wedding and our annulment."

"Too much time has passed for such - "

"I know a Septon that will forge documents. Now," you eyed him up and down, "once more, do not think to speak to me unless to grovel for my forgiveness."

"You will die before that happens."

You nodded slowly, then shrugged and dodged around him to exit the room. You could not bear to be around him any longer, storming away to where your small brother was being looked after by a Septa. You did not speak to Daemon the rest of the day, feeling yourself brimming with anger as you replayed his words.

How dare he find insult in your desire to do "the right thing" by caring for your brother after your parents met their untimely demise? How dare he cite "wifely duties" to you? Just how dare he!

The day was supposed to be merry. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun and romantic and exciting and gossip worthy. Yet now, you were feeling annoyed, frustrated, weighed down, and plain stupid. You felt alone. You felt tired and worn thin. Your little brother, Jamie, always put a smile on your face, but now, you were simply ready to cry just by looking at him. This planted the seed of resentment towards Daemon, and through the day, only festered.

"My Lady?" You glanced in the mirror to see your hand maiden, who was doing your hair, humming in question. "Alyria has arrived, she will watch young Lord Jamie for the evening."

"Good, thank you," you sighed. "Has Daemon come around?"

"No, my Lady."

"Hmm."

Not 30 minutes later, you were walking towards the decorated throne room with your hair braided back, make-up laid perfectly, and your dress a dark grey, black, and Targaryen red.

However, before you could walk in, someone called your name. You paused, letting Daemon approach you, his eyes raking you in as he realized you dressed to match him. "You look beautiful," he complimented, but you just stared; then sighed through your nose and straightened up. "What? You're not speaking to me?"

"I told you the terms in which you should find it acceptable to speak to me again."

Daemon scoffed, "You're still on that?" You did not answer, just stared forward. "Fine, be that way. Come," he offered his arm, but you brushed past him to finally enter the throne room. Your names were announced, albeit begrudgingly because most in the castle harbored ill-will towards Daemon. They just felt bad for you, not knowing of the man you had grown to know and love unconditionally.

You took long strides to shorten your journey, but behind you, your husband just sauntered in as if the center of attention. However, no matter where he was, Daemon was always the main character, and he was quite the peacock in flaunting himself. You bowed to the King and his daughter, heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra. You took your seat beside the Hand of the King, Ser Strong, as Daemon climbed the stone stairs with a smug expression before taking the seat beside you at the very end.

Needless to say, Daemon was not accustomed to being ignored. You did not look at him, did not speak to him, ignored his direct questions, even went as far as to slapping his hand away when he reached for your thigh. When your hand rested on the table and he laid his over yours, you pulled it back.

It drove Daemon absolutely up the wall.

"And how fairs your brother, my Lady?" Ser Strong asked gently. "How does he like life in the Capital?"

"He adores it," you hummed with a nod. "He is learning so much and loves watching the boats in the harbor."

"How old is he now?"

"Just shy of 4, my Lord."

"Well, what would the little Prince like for his nameday?"

"Oh, uh, no, he's not a Prince," you spoke gently.

"No? Well, I suppose until Viserys recognizes him."

"Well, Daemon's made it clear that if I do not give custody of my brother up, this marriage is null and void, so," you clicked your tongue cheekily, sipping your wine, "no use in titles."

You knew others heard you and smirked to yourself. Another gulp of wine and you were standing, excusing yourself, and moving onto the dance floor. Rhaenyra giggled when you gave her a playful twirl before taking your place with a partner, falling into rhythm with those around you. The entire time, you felt Daemon's eyes burning into you.

You didn't care. You carried on as if there wasn't a ring on your wedding finger weighing like a full fish net, like you weren't burdened by your marriage.

You danced with a Tully, Stark, Frey, and Lannister boy, all who looked at you like a delectable treat but were being effectively ignored, just like your handsome, white-haired husband. It was a lively time, twisting and turning and leaping and being lifted in ture with the instruments playing. Rhaenyra caught your eye a few times, grinning and giggling as she, too, let herself destress in the glee of the festivities. However, when the Frey lad spun you around, you had thought of the devil so much, there he bloody was.

Your husband smirked down at you, "You look startled, little bird."

You scoffed and moved to go around him, but Daemon's hand was darting out to grab your upper arm. He pulled you further into the crowd to use them as a layer of protection, turning sharply to leer over you. He snapped in High Valyrian, "What're you playing at? Hmm? You mean to embarrass my entire family by being so cold and shrewish?"

You scoffed, glaring at him for a moment before he reached forward to grab your neck and cheek in a possessive hold. "I dare you to raise a sharp word at me," he sneered quietly, keeping you in place. "You have ignored me all fucking day, these games are at an end. I have always known your voice to be a sweet remedy, do not deprive me of it longer."

"Then apologize," You snapped.

"For what? Speaking the truth? That you refuse to sire my children because you are too occupied with your wee brother? For taking in a child without so much as asking me? Tell me, what am I apologizing for?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and swatting his hand from you. However, just as you meant to walk away from him, someone gasped and yelped from the people around you. Daemon brought you into his chest as a sudden crowd thickened, two bodies hitting the floor in a gruesome fight. This encouraged others to get rowdy, and before you could comprehend his actions, Daemon was stooping low to hoist you over his shoulder and stride away.

When out of the fray, Daemon slowed himself enough to set you down at the base of the stairs leading to the Royal banquet table, both his hands going to your cheeks. He panted lightly, looking you over, "All right? You hurt? They touch you?"

"No, I'm okay," you sighed gently, reaching up to hold his wrists in a brief show of affection. However, the crowd only grew in size and aggression; the Royals all taking refuge on the elevated landing to take a headcount. Not a moment later, Ser Harwin Strong, the Hand's eldest son, was emerging from the crowd with Rhaenyra hoisted up his shoulder.

But your attention was drawn elsewhere. You parted Daemon's side to get under Viserys' arm, lifting him up slightly as he coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned when you saw the blood, his eyes meeting your wide ones. You asked the only question you could think of, "Does Daemon know?"

"No," he matched your tone in a whisper.

You nodded and assisted him into the closest chair. After the death of Ser Laenor Velayron's paramour (Ser Joffrey, was it?) the hall was cleared of everyone to only leave the immediate family. In hopes of avoiding future turmoil, it was decided that the Realm's Delight, Rhaenyra, was to wed the Sea Snake's son, Laenor, now instead of at week's end. Viserys asked his brother to stay but you were quick to bow out, promising it was a family affair and you should get ready for bed anyways.

Daemon looked close to protesting your departure but was unable to utter a single word, only watching you scamper out of the throne room as the High Septon finally arrived.

Rhaenyra and Laenor married in front of his mother and father, Rhaenys and Corlys, and his sister, Laena. King Viserys was there with his brother Daemon and wife Alicent, leaving only the Hand present to pose as "unbiased witness".

Further into the castle, you collected your brother, Jamie, and quickly got him ready for bed. Your heart felt heavy with guilt as you looked at him, understanding on a deeper level that if it came down to it, you'd do anything to keep Daemon in your life... And if he said your brother had to go or he did, well, you feared to find out if he was serious.

Jamie fell asleep on the long bench at the base of your bed with a fire crackling in front of his face. He had fallen asleep listening to you read, your emotions catching up to you to let you finally sob quietly while preparing for bed. You hated the idea of losing either Daemon or Jamie, and the fact that you had to choose? It felt impossible. So, once ready for bed, you tied on your dressing robe and bent at the waist to kiss Jamie's forehead. You then found yourself standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, wine in hand, staring out into nothing as you were wrecked emotionally from considering Daemon's ultimatum.

You were overwhelmed.

The door opened behind you and your eyes screwed shut. You took an even breath in, heard the door shut quietly, and then turned to spy your husband already staring at you. His face was neutral, passive, and you knew he was sizing you up just as you were him; both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Your resolve crumbled.

As if your minds were connected by a string, you surged forward as Daemon took a few steps toward you, meeting in the middle, and wrapping your arms around one another. Daemon held your waist tightly as yours tied around his neck in a vice grip, breathing in his scent that seemed to mingle permanently with the smell of dragon. He felt gentle trembling from contained sobs, soothing you with hushed cooing; hand petting the back of your head.

When you pulled back, it was only just enough to find his lips; drenching yourself in sheer relief at the familiar taste and feel of your husband. Just before you could whimper you were sorry, truly being unsure what you were actually apologizing for, when he beat you to it.

The space between your lips was filled with Daemon's rushed words, both his hands cradling your cheeks as he spoke, "I'm so sorry, my love. I am. I am truly so sorry. I hate fighting, I hate us fighting, it just feels so fucking wrong, I'm so sorry."

"No, it is I who am sorry, husband."

"Nothing to apologize for," he rushed, forehead glued to yours as he moved you backwards to the bed. "You do not apologize to me; you have done no wrong. It's me, I am the one who should grovel. I do deserve your kindness; I am so sorry for what I've said." He took a long breath, just holding you carefully, "I was out of line."

"No, you were right. I did not consult you; I should have. It is not just you or I in this, but the two of us together. I shouldn't have acted without so much as a word."

"It is okay," he assured softly, "it is more than all right by me now. I just," he sighed, "I needed to think, process a little. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, I should've listened to you and been a supportive husband, but instead, I just fought with you." He frowned, petting down your face with a dainty finger. "We fight because we care, but Gods do I hate it."

"I do, too," you whispered. "Can we just," you sighed, "go to bed or something? I'm exhausted."

He nodded, glancing at the foot of the bed before looking back at you, "One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"We will talk to Viserys in the morning about recognizing Jamie."

You frowned, "Well, hang on, I think I understand your point, too, Daemon. Listen, yes, I want us charged with Jamie's care, but I do not wish to replace his parents."

"He should still have a title, a place at court. Access to tutors and such."

You smiled fondly, whispering, "That is the man I married."

Daemon prepared for bed as you check Jamie, finding him fast asleep still. Your husband came to bed after blowing out all candles, leaving the fire simmering and you both under a single linen sheet. He laid on his back with you flush against his side, both hands holding your form and tracing idle patterns.

Every so often, he'd squeeze you tightly and kiss your forehead, but otherwise, you both just laid in peace. However, Daemon broke the silence, "I did not mean to cause you harm. I just felt panicked, I think, after the war."

You nodded with understanding, "Our time is on the horizon, Daemon, I promise, I just needed to find balance with Jamie. I've never been a mother before, 's very odd."

"Perhaps we can learn together, I've never been a father," Daemon offered softly. "I fear I have not been entirely welcoming."

"You've time to remedy it," you urged softly. "But you are not obligated."

"He will be our shared responsibility."

You smiled against his chest. "So, tell me of the wedding."

"Nothing special," he sighed. "Viserys fell ill. And I do mean literally fell."

"What? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's being seen to... But I was thinking..."

"Of?"

"Us. Our family."

"Hm, and what of them, my love?"

Daemon sighed, reaching for your cheek in order to find your lips in the dark. "We will leave," he whispered, licking another kiss to your lips. "We'll go across the Narrow Sea together, raise a family away from the politics and chaos."

"You would miss your family."

"I would rue staying in this city. Away from here, we'd have liberties and freedoms Kings Landing does not offer us, nor our kids."

"I will think on it."

When morning broke through the window of consciousness, Daemon realized you were still sound and dead asleep, but there was something or someone poking his arm in an annoying repetition. When he blinked awake and looked to the culprit, he smiled slightly at Jamie. "What's wrong, little lad?" He asked quietly, voice heavy and hazy with sleep, seeing tears fill the kid's eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?"

"I wet the bed," he frowned, looking at the lounge he slept on all night. "I didn't mean to. It was a scary dream."

"It's okay," he whispered, glancing at you before standing from bed. "C'mon, it's all right, we can clean it."

He nodded and let Daemon sit him at the bottom of the mattress, some two full feet from touching you. Jamie watched Daemon work, gathering any linens to set aside to be washed before plucking the child into his arms. He took his to the washroom and got him cleaned up before redressing him for the day, Daemon quickly doing the same, and then the two left for the day.

You slept while Daemon took Jaime to breakfast. You slept while the two ate and made merry; getting to know each other. You slept while Daemon answered little Jamie's questions. You slept while Daemon offered to introduce him to Caraxes, his dragon.

By the time you were awake, dressed, and approaching the mess hall, Daemon and Jamie were leaving to head for the Dragon Pit. When they saw you, Jamie grinned and squealed, "Sissy!"

You grinned when he rushed for your legs, greeting him with enthusiasm. You hoisted him onto your hip as Daemon approached you, pausing to lean in and kiss you. "Where are you two lads off to?"

"Dragons!"

You chuckled, "Yeah? Uncle's taking you to see the dragons? You're very lucky, not many people get to see them up close."

"Would you care to join us?" Daemon offered.

"No, no, that's quite all right. Thank you, my love, but perhaps this is best kept to a boy’s trip," you quipped, pecking Daemon's lips. "Bring him back in one piece, please."

"Of course," Daemon agreed, taking Jamie's hand when you set him on the ground. He stole one last kiss before leading Jamie away; where you watched them walk away and felt something stirring in your gut; suddenly come alive with tingling electricity. Instead of venturing into the mess hall, you instead continued your way to where you could meet the Grand Maester for a series of tests.

Learning you were pregnant was surreal, but incredibly elating. You were humored by the fact that, just hours ago, you and Daemon feuded for this very reason. However, after simply seeing your husband and little brother get along so effortlessly, you had no doubt in your mind you could handle this. Worrying about having Jamie and a newborn so close together was valid, of course - but it wasn't something you actually needed to worry about now.

Plenty of families had children with shorter age ranges, but none of that matters now - not when you were so explicably happy. All that was left to do now was tell Daemon and Jamie.

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 5 months

Text

Gaming - "Beautiful Adeptus, Sky Weaver"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which the Traveler and Paimon unknowingly come across a mysterious adeptus by the name of Sky Weaver while the two are exploring near the sparsely populated cliffsides of Mt. Mingyuan. Or; In which the long-forgotten tale of the adeptus Sky Weaver is uncovered by Aether from the lips of the various Adepti of the Nation of Liyue and the people who know them.

🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆

The silhouette of Yilong Wharf draws nearer and becomes larger with each step taken toward it; the distant view is rendered unfocused by the uneven terrain being traversed. The sleepy sun is drooping down behind the teal hills to the west, bathing the sky in an ethereal medley of pinks, yellows, and reds. The afternoon today seems to hold an air of melancholy that wasn't present in the last, yet it still has enough beauty to overshadow that faint sadness.

Aether sighs for what could've been the hundredth time today; his mind playing the memory of the events on Mt. Mingyuan on a loop. He did regret leaving the mountain, even if it was on request out of concern for his and Paimon's safety. There were so many questions he wanted to ask them, the possibility of also gaining more information about Lumine meant that most of them were about her. Yet there was also the mystery of Chenyu Vale's skies that he longed to uncover; the curiosity that it stirred in him tumbled about in his mind.

‘But… that's not too important right now…’

The golden blonde thought as he gazed down at the snoozing fairy-like girl in his arms with soft eyes, gently moving a lock of white hair from her face.

“Don't worry, Paimon, I'll make sure to cook you something extra delicious once we get back to the Inn. I shouldn't have scared you like that.”

Aether mutters to her as he strokes her head.

The small girl peels her eyes open just a bit and smiles sleepily at her traveling companion; her eyes are all red and puffy with dried tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Hehe… Paimon will make sure… to hold you to that, so make sure you keep your promise, okay?”

She whispers between yawns in her hoarse and scratchy voice; a little fist going up to rub at her eyes as the other takes a handful of his shirt.

The golden blonde only nodded and chuckled softly at her cute mannerisms, the display reminding him of a small child. He watched as she made futile attempts to fight sleep; eyes drooping and head bobbing to the side. The soft smile on his face only softened further as he took the initiative and began to gently rock her back and forth. Paimon seemingly finally relents and falls into slumber; her little hand still holding onto his shirt.

Aether sighs once again, somehow traveling with Paimon has made him miss his sister even more with each passing day. Instead of being the younger sibling, he feels like the older one. He'd always wanted a younger sibling, to be looked up to and relied on, to be sought out for protection or advice. Somedays, he wonders if Lumine is relieved now that he's not tagging along with her everywhere; since he fished the small girl out of the water on the beach under Starnatch Cliff, the golden blonde has learned how much responsibility is required to take care of someone younger than you.

The familiar sight of charcoal gray shingled white walls closes in as the golden-eyed boy approaches the side entrance of the wharf. He can already see the adeptea filled shallow baskets that were sat out to dry in the hot sun a couple days before. The children that usually wandered about and played had long retired back to their homes and into their beds at this time of day.

The setting sun, now just barely peeking over the rolling hills in the distance, has blanketed the landscape in a warm peach film.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be far more productive.

It had been a few days since the incident at Mt. Mingyuan and Aether had thought it best to begin making their way back towards Liyue Harbor. At the moment he and Paimon were behind Mt. Lingmeng on the side opposite to river Jademouth; about halfway to Qioaying Village. The two were now enjoying some of the golden-eyed traveler's cooking as they relaxed after the days of walking that they had endured.

In the peaceful atmosphere, the only noises were the rhythmic sloshing of the river beside them, the bubbling of the water cooking pot, and the crackling of the fire beneath it, Paimon's munching, and—

“Oh! Hey Traveler!”

A familiar voice called out to the golden blonde and broke him from his observation; the figures of a certain aspiring wushu dancer and his suanni companion coming into view.

Aether smiled, it had been a while since the two had last seen each other. Gaming's refreshing grin never failed to put the otherworldly blonde at ease when he was stressed; not to mention he always carries around that delicious winter melon cake.

Paimon grins as she floats off the chair that she was sitting on previously; overenthusiastically waving to the ochre-eyed boy and Man Chai. A chunk of chicken on the skewer that the girl was violently waving around flew and landed on the ground, making her whine and pout. The golden blonde chuckles at her as he pulls more food out of the cooking pot that he was kneeled over.

“I hope I'm not interrupting you both. I saw you from the road and thought I'd say hi!”

The red-brunette goods transporter chirped kindly as he approached the small camp that the traveling pair had set up just off to the side of the nearby dirt road.

Aether only shakes his head in response and offers the other boy a few skewers; piercing steaming and fragrant chunks of chicken and mushrooms onto a few more of the still bare sharp ended sticks. Gaming thanks him and grabs a few, though the golden blonde suspected that it wasn't out of hunger but to be polite.

The four of them –well, three, since Man Chai can't really talk– caught each other up on what they had been up to while the other was away. In the midst of it all, however, a certain otherworldly boy had an epiphany. Didn't Gaming know Cloud Retainer? If he knew her, he might also know that mysterious adeptus that was on the mountain! Although it might be a small stretch, it was worth a try at the very least.

“Hey, Gaming. Do you know of any adepti that live on Mt. Mingyuan or like to visit it often?”

The golden-eyed traveler eagerly inquired during a moment of comfortable silence between the trio.

Aether's sudden question had brought an expression of deep thought to the red-brunette's face; the boy's brow and nose crinkling as he contorted his face in contemplation. It was truly a cute display, though Paimon and the golden blonde wouldn't dare to say it out loud just in case they embarrassed the other.

Tapping his chin, the ochre-eyed boy glances to the side as if he had found an answer, but was unsure if it was the correct one. But, he nodded to himself with resolve before turning his gaze back to the long haired boy.

“I think I know who you're talking about. I don't know his name since he never told me, but he let me give him a nickname instead. Uncle Měilì is what I call him.”

Gaming replies, yet his answer only seems to raise even more questions.

“Uncle Měilì? Why did you call him uncle? Ah! Are you half adeptus!? Hey! How could you hide that from Paimon!?”

Paimon exclaims, spewing questions while placing a hand on her chest and giving Sword & Strongbox goods transporter a scandalized look; leftover food scraps still clinging to the corners of her mouth.

The ochre-eyed boy chuckles in a bashful way as a cartoon sweatdrop falls down the side of his head in a slow and comical fashion. Scratching the back of his head; he looked away in embarrassment at the sound of the name Měilì coming from another person's mouth. He was really bad at naming things when he was young, it seems.

“No, he's not my uncle by blood. He's just taken care of me from time to time since I was little,so I call him Uncle. It's like how I call Aunty Xianyun, Aunty.”

The red-brunette explains, adjusting his position to sit cross-legged instead of crouching just above the grass covered ground.

Paimon bobbed her head in understanding, her white hair bouncing and swaying along with the movement before Aether grabbed her chin and turned her face in his direction. He brought a small rag up to her cheeks and wiped away the leftover crumbs from earlier that had been bothering him; muttering something about how the small girl was 'so messy'.

“Did this adeptus you're talking about have the form of a glowing cloud of mist? Maybe glowing as well?”

The golden blonde asked absentmindedly, his focus still occupied with cleaning up his fairy-like companions' appearance.

Gaming's eyes seemed to glimmer with familiarity at the other boy's words. He grinned widely, holding up his weight with his palms pressed into Chenyu Vale's token blueish-greenish grass. His body rocked back and forth with giddiness as memories flooded in and swirled around in his brain.

“He let you see his illuminated beast form? You both are lucky; he's usually not comfortable enough to allow people to know he's there, let alone see him. I even have a hard time convincing him to let me see it.”

The goods transporter gazes at them both with admiration, clearly impressed by their normally impossible feat.

Aether raised a brow, his mind stewing with the new information. That was ‘Uncle Měilì’ true illuminated beast form? Weren't the adepti all some iteration of the ancient beasts of Liyue? Considering the other known adepti and their adeptal forms;

Zhongli is a dragon, Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper are cranes, Moon Carver is a stag, Madam Ping….?, Xiao is some type of bird, Ganyu is Half Qilin, Yanfei is Half… something, Tubby and Chubby are finches?, Changsheng is a Serpent, Fujin is a Carp, and Lingyuan is a Suanni?

All of them are some type of animal, so what's with the adeptus on Mt. Mingyuan?

“Is he not an illuminated beast? I mean- I know you called it his illuminated beast form, but all Paimon and I saw was a cloud of mist.”

The golden blonde asked as he finally pulled away from his little friend, turning his gaze back to Gaming.

“You sure are curious about Uncle, but I don't mind answering more questions. Uncle is an illuminated beast; under the cloud of mist is a tortoise. The cloud is kind of like a tortoise shell from what I've seen.”

The red-brunette answers him calmly, tilting his head back to look up at the darkening sky, the sun beginning to hide itself behind the hills in the distance.

Golden eyes follow the aspiring wushu dancer's vision, taking note of the time. Aether then turns to his travel bag, opening one of the pouches and pulling out a sleeping bag.

“How about you stay the night with us, it'll take a while for you to get to the next village.”

The Outlander suggests, lifting the sleeping bag towards Gaming with a kind smile that had an underlying pleading look to it.

Ochre eyes curve into crescents as the boy grabs onto the offered sleeping bag, carefully bringing it towards himself as he beams at the golden blonde in gratitude.

“Im- I'm heading back to Wangshu Inn in the morning to let Miss Verr Goldett know that their goods have been delivered… Do you want to come with me, since you're heading that way anyway?”

The red-brunette suggests, shyly diverting his gaze to the side and scratching the back of his neck.

Both boys get under the covers of their respective sleeping bags, facing each other as their companions also slide themselves into the warmth of the makeshift bed.

“That would be nice, it's been a while since I've traveled with someone other than Paimon.”

Aether spoke in a whisper, golden eyes heavy with fatigue; he paused for a while before speaking once more.

“Goodnight, Gaming.”

“Goodnight, Traveler.”

The red-brunette whispers back, snuggling deeper into his sleeping bag.

“Goodnight, Traveler and Gaming don't let the cincins bite.”

Paimon's sleepy muffled voice called out the two from her place inside her and the golden blonde's shared sleeping bag.

“Rrmph”

Man Chai grumbles, softly headbutting Gaming's chest in complaint.

“Hehe Yes, you too, Man Chai.”

The ochre-eyed boy chuckles as he softly pats his suanni companion on their furry head.

As the four fell into slumber, the moon rose into the sky. Vibrant colors weave themselves into the dark tapestry that was the blackened night sky, creating a colorful masterpiece.

🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Genshin Masterlist and Series Masterlist!

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! #thetaleofskyweaver @itztaki @sassy-cat-in-town @xharisrealm @lupicalbestwolf @pjmsies @just-here-reading @chibiduck @dellalyra @kiiyoooo @heavenlysilence0vx @2nd-number @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mshope16 @paastaboi @a-little-pebbl

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otherswap · 1 year

Text

otherswap.neocities.org

An alternate take on the Underswap AU premise featuring different character pairings & the Holidays from DELTARUNE.

AU details below:

Characters shown here: Asgore Dreemurr → Rudolph Holiday Toriel → Dess Asriel → Noelle Flowey (Asriel) → Flowey (Chara) *NOTE: Chara is still the first human to fall down. They switch story roles with Noelle. Papyrus ↔ Undyne Sans ↔ Alphys Mettaton ↔ Mad Mew Mew Napstablook ↔ Ruins Dummy Annoying Dog ↔ Temmie

Characters not shown here: Monster Kid ↔ Snowdrake Muffet ↔ Burgerpants Grillby ↔ Nice Cream Guy Gerson Boom ↔ Snowdin Inn Keeper (QC) Bratty & Catty ↔ Royal Guard 01 & 02 *NOTE: Any character not mentioned thus far is either unchanged or has not been thought about yet.

---

The Underground: The Ruins → The Depths

The deepest part of the Underground. The Depths are composed of dark, volcanic caverns and serve as the entrance to the rest of the Underground.

Snowdin → Clearwater

A tropical paradise with a resort at its heart, run by Gerson Boom. It's considered the nicest part of the Underground and many monsters wish to live here.

Waterfall → Forestgrove

Forestgrove has a temperate climate, lush vegetation, and fields of Golden Flowers. The vast tangle of forest makes it easy to get lost in, unless you know your way around.

Hotland → Highpeaks

A vast and densely populated city built into craggy cliffsides of the Underground. The city features many apartments, restaurants, shady back alleys, and the Royal Science center.

THE CORE

Located within Highpeaks is the large cold-fusion reactor facility that supplies the Underground with electricity. It was created by the former Royal Scientist.

New Home/The Capital

The highest point of the Underground. Just beyond it is the Barrier, but seldom few live here anyways. The frosted-over castle is always decorated like it's Christmas Eve.

---

Important info: OTHERSWAP is not being developed as a fangame, mod, comic, or anything of that nature. This is just an AU setting created for funsies. It is not trying to replace or "improve" the original Underswap AU.

This AU was first conceptualized shortly after the release of DELTARUNE Chapter 2. At the time of posting, there is no official design for Dess or Mayor Holiday. Dess' design may be changed in the future if she ever appears in official UTDR content and Mayor Holiday has not been included in OTHERSWAP at all. Although she takes the role of Toriel in this AU, Dess is still the eldest daughter of Rudolph Holiday and is treated accordingly. This AU has decided to replace the Dreemurrs with the Holidays as they also exist within UNDERTALE canon (UNDERTALE 5th Anniversary Alarm Clock Winter Dialogue - Asgore, UNDERTALE Xbox port exclusive dialogue).

Artwork posted by this account (@otherswap) is created by @dvdexe. A full list of credits can be found here.

#otherswap #undertale #utdr #undertale au

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newabsolum · 5 months

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🍄 settled on a cliffside in New Absolum sits a quaint inn. rumour has it, that the inn's current owner was a powerful druid during her younger years.

if you want to be a member of our inn staff, feel free to get involved in our discord!

#mineblr #minecraft #minecraft builds #cottagecore #lore #roleplay #We got different peeps running the blog so expect different writing styles :D

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sinelanguage · 1 month

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i propose lusan and 30 + 45 :excellentemoji:

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go down.

When the Sunny ported at an idyllic spring island in the middle of an annual festival dedicated to romance, Sanji thought he was in a dream. Everywhere he looked there was a romantic vignette, from the secluded benches with perfect cliffside views off the water to the countless intimate restaurants with oceanside seating. There were food stalls up and down the island’s main road, all selling unique specialities the likes of which Sanji had never seen before.

There’s never been an island that appealed to Sanji more specifically than this. It's perfect.

And yet he doesn’t get to experience the perfect night of romance with one of the lovely women on the island. No, instead he’s stuck with Luffy.

As soon as they port, Luffy drags him around by the arm and says they’re going on an adventure today, and despite Sanji’s very loud and desperate protests Sanji’s along for the ride. Everyone else on the crew had already left, leaving him the only one to make sure Luffy didn’t either piss off someone important or eat something inedible.

And despite Sanji’s best efforts, Luffy still eats something inedible. It’s a pastry from a shop that forbad Devil Fruit users from buying anything, and yet Luffy still did. The pastry makes him wrinkle up like a salted snail, and the only cure is apparently a goodnight’s sleep.

What a damn joke.

And so instead of enjoying the festival, sampling the cuisine, romancing the women of the island, Sanji drags a half-catatonic Luffy to the nearest inn so he could sleep off his mistake.

“So, what? Typical suite?” The inn clerk says, bored. He pages through a book in front of him, not even looking Sanji in the eyes.

Maybe fighting the inn clerk would make him feel better, but no. He’s on a mission here. Sanji takes one deep breath in and one long breath out.

“One typical suite,” he grits out, throwing a handful of Berri on the counter. Luffy almost falls off his shoulder as he does. “For whatever room you have that’s already set up, I don’t care as long as it’s available now.”

The clerk shuffles through his desk without even looking away from his book, fumbling around until he plucks out a small key with a large pink heart keychain with Room 15 engraved on the front. It chimes loudly as Sanji grabs the thing and shoves it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” Sanji says. The clerk simply grunts.

Dragging around an ungrateful Luffy, Sanji ignores any and all protests on his mission to find the room. Each of the doors are brightly colored with little hearts engraved around the side, and it doesn’t take him long to find Room 15.

The door opens easily, creaking up slowly. Shoving Luffy inside, he flops on the ground as Sanji shuts the door behind him. He locks it for good measure, shoves the key as deep into his pocket as he can considering how large the heart keychain is, and takes a look at the room.

The room is lit only by candlelight, soft flames make the pastels of the walls and decor glow. Despite the obnoxious size of the keychain, the theming of the room is remarkably subtle by comparison; it’s a normal inn with dark wood furnishings and soft floral touches, and one tall, floor to ceiling window with an unobstructed view of the ocean. The smell’s subtle, too, a soft seabreeze with a hint of floral.

Okay, fine. Things are looking up for him, he and Luffy can get a goodnight’s sleep, Sanji can wake up early in the morning, and he can explore the island to his heart’s content. A romantic breakfast isn’t as ideal as a romantic dinner, but he’ll take what he can get. He looks around the room for the beds, and–

With a jolt, Sanji realizes that there’s only one bed.

That makes a remarkable amount of sense. Of course. Of course this is a typical suite on the island of romance. It’s perfect and lovely and he’s here with Luffy. It makes Sanji want to cry on the floor and drown in a puddle of his own tears.

“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy calls from the floor; he still links wrinkly, but at least he’s talking again. “Sanji, where are we? What happened to the food? And the festival? We were having so much fun.”

“You ate poison, dumbass,” Sanji says. He picks Luffy up by the scruff and sets him down on the edge of the bed, watching as he practically melts into it. Before he has the chance to crush it, Sanji takes off Luffy’s hat and sets it on the dresser. “You need to sleep it off.”

“That’s so lame,” Luffy says, flopping down on the bed. He tries uselessly to grab at Sanji, he’s still wrinkly and weak. “I wanted to do the whole festival.”

So had Sanji; in retrospect, Luffy dragging him around did mean he got to experience as much of the island’s food as possible. Every booth had its own specialty, from freshly seared meats to delicate pastries, and Luffy made sure to drag him along to every single one of them. That was somewhat unusual in itself; Sanji expected him to stay by the barbeque and eat the island’s entire stock of meat, but instead they got the full sample of the island.

Including the mysterious pastry that somehow took Luffy out of commission.

“You’ll have time in the morning, as long as you don’t eat anything stupid again,” he says. He takes off Luffy’s shoes then shoves him further up the bed so he’s not hanging half off of it. “What even possessed you to eat that thing? There were plenty of warning signs saying Devil Fruit users shouldn’t buy them.”

“But I wanted to try everything with you,” Luffy complains. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

Sanji snorts. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I didn’t turn into a snail after eating a croissant.”

The noise of complaint Luffy makes is as passionate as it is pathetic.

Sanji could probably leave Luffy now; he’s fine. He’s probably fine, Sanji doesn’t need to babysit him all night. He can enjoy himself on the island himself, like he planned on.

Luffy tries to hold himself up by his forearms, then falls back down onto the bed with a pathetic groan. He looks truly miserable, his hair mussed unevenly and his skin still wrinkly. He's like a fish set out to dry.

No, there’s no way Sanji could just leave him here. With a dejected sigh, he starts taking off his shoes, and then his tie, setting them together with Luffy’s hat on the dresser. They don’t have actual sleepwear, so just that will have to do.

“Get under the covers and scoot over,” Sanji says. “We’ll finish the festival in the morning, okay?”

With a hum of agreement, Luffy squirms around the bed until he’s halfway under the covers. He doesn’t seem to be able to manage much more, pouting up at Sanji with his cheek pressed into the bed, one leg fully over the covers and the other just over them.

“Idiot,” Sanji grumbles again, scooting himself in bed right beside Luffy, trying to get the entire bedspread over them both. “You can’t pout, this is your damn fault.”

As soon as Sanji’s horizontal under the covers, Luffy whines and clings to him as much as he’s able to. It amounts to one arm over Sanji’s chest and his nose pressed into his shoulder, his legs still not fully under the covers with how much he’s squirming.

“But you had fun, right?” Luffy asks, his breath hot against Sanji’s shoulder. “You liked the, uh…” he struggles; Sanji can feel him frowning. “You liked the fruit things. The lemon dragon one.”

“The dragon fruit tart with lemon curd,” he says. He did like those best; the flavor profile was unusual, and he bought a second one just to examine how the baker flavored the tart crust itself with lemon zest, just subtle enough to compliment the curd. “Yeah, I liked those best.”

He’s expecting Luffy to go on, but instead he doesn’t. Then, there’s a loud snore in his ear, and Sanji realizes he’s fallen fast asleep.

Well, he’s not sneaking away now. So much for Sanji’s adventure on the island of romance; the place offered so much promise, too. Each of the food stalls he and Luffy visited were perfect, and if Luffy hadn’t been taken out of commission, they’d have toured the entire island before nightfall.

Despite Luffy’s typical reckless adventure, he’d even taken the time to bundle up their snacks to some of the better lookout points, too. His mouth watered the whole time, like he was ready to pounce, but grumbled and dragged Sanji up to one of the benches with a view of the water. They’d eaten their tarts, there, Sanji chattering the whole time about how this island had the perfect conditions for fruit trees.

It was, frankly, nice. Sanji wished he’d gotten his perfect date, but really, he’d have just done everything Luffy took him on today.

The soft sound of the waves outside is barely audible over the sound of Sanji’s heart in his own throat. That wasn’t– that wasn’t Luffy’s ideal adventure, Luffy had taken him on Sanji’s perfect adventure, from going to every single food cart to trying everything he could, even if he didn’t like it, up to and including a pastry that made him wrinkle up.

This was a date, wasn’t it? And Sanji didn't mind. Actually, he rather enjoyed it, up until Luffy took himself out of commission. He’d been so disappointed about the night ending, he hadn’t even thought about the details before.

Luffy mumbles something incomprehensible in his sleep, pressing up further into Sanji. Sanji can’t seem to calm down, his face heating as he realizes Luffy essentially took him on a date, and Sanji booked them a room in what amounts to a romantic honeymoon suite.

“Shit.” Luffy grumbles beside him, holding him closer. “Oh, no,” Sanji says. He just went on a romantic date? With Luffy? “What the hell.”

He hadn’t minded the date. He really hadn’t minded the date, and Sanji has a bad feeling that the thought is going to keep him up all night, and ruin his chances of a date with anyone other than Luffy in the morning.

Groaning, he tries to force his eyes closed, listening to the gentle sound of waves and Luffy’s considerably less gentle snoring. Then, in a moment of pure curiosity and self indulgence, Sanji puts one hand on Luffy’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. He makes a satisfied sigh, and Sanji’s heart races without his permission.

Oh, no.

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go.

#bagelbagel #ask game #one piece #lusan #the face I made seeing these two prompts together........

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saliyahdomera · 6 days

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Hear me out….

“Are you alright in there?” I could hear Halsin’s light taps on the shabby door to the dimly lit bathroom I stood in. “We’re getting ready to head to Moonrise, but Jaheira is awaiting your orders.” His voice is soft, he knew me too well to know that something was wrong.

He knew something had crawled under my skin and gotten to me, per usual. “I’ll be out in just a moment.” It was all I could muster, and even I knew my voice was not convincing.

“We’ll be just downstairs.” The sound of his heavy footsteps dissipated as I continued to stare into my reflection. The reflection of a woman who just found out who she truly was. A Bhaalspawn.

Of all things, this was the last thing I expected to find out about myself, yet it made so much sense. The voice inside of my head always tempting me to use my knife instead of my words, the way blood splatter made me feel inside and the way something churned deep inside me everything I shoved those urges away. Of course I was connected to Bhaal.

I’ve been carrying the image of the God in my face, my hair, the way I spoke. As I stared at myself, I knew I needed to change what I saw in the mirror, turn my reflection into one that mirrored who I am presently.

But, that was not a possible task. I had permanent indications of my origins. These tattoos a permanent reminder of my transgressions, my iris’ colored in by Bhaal’s hands. I knew no matter what I did, I would never be able to seperate myself from His image.

I look down to the sink as I grasp onto it in my realization, a desperate attempt to ground myself to the grave reality I’m facing. There are more daunting tasks at hand than my lineage, my devotion. Yet, when my eyes land upon a rusty knife, it was like all the lights came on upstairs and I knew, albeit small, this was one way I could take back control.

——————

The room was buzzing with anticipation, every Harper and ally yearning to kill Ketheric Thorm. Footsteps made a few heads turn as she descended the stairs towards her companions. A smile spread across Gale’s face. “You took my advice. I like this look on you.”

Her mind went back to a moment when she found Gale on a cliffside near their camp late one night.

“Hair holds memories. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard that saying, have you?” Gale looked over to her, taking in the length of her hair, the ends of her braids pooling on the ground behind her as she sat. “If you want a new beginning as I heard you state, I would start there.”

The words were engrained in her mind. They had been since that night. They had just rescued Halsin, Gale barely knew you, yet he wanted nothing but the best for you. “I have to agree with Gale, this suits you.” Halsin patted her back as she walked forward, yelling out a command to charge Moonrise Towers.

As bodies swarmed out the doors of the Inn, she stood in place. She felt as if she finally had the upper hand the first time in her life. Though it was a small victory, in the form of chopping almost three feet worth of her hair off, it was a victory for her nonetheless.

Letting the hair fall to the floor, it almost felt like letting her past roll off her shoulders.

And she’d have to carry that feeling for now, at least until she could face her bloodkin and refuse Bhaal in His temple.

So until then, a haircut will just have to do.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #dark urge #bg3 durge #gale dekarios #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #halsin #gale of waterdeep #the dark urge

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lovelyney · 2 years

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⎯⎯ PROLOGUE, HABROMANIA❞

DESC. habromania: a form of delusional insanity in which the imaginings assume a cheerful or joyous character.

WARNINGS. suicide attempt, mentions of family abuse (physical and mental), mentions of self harm, intrusive thoughts.

SONG. Again ― Crusher-P

PREV. 《 MASTERLIST 》 NEXT

IT was around midnight when (NAME) finally reached the top of the peek overviewing Qingce Village. her arms and legs felt numb from the exertion, yet she never paused to recover — hell, she didn’t even think about it.

normally, she would not have dared take such a risk, never mind in the middle of the night — especially when she despised heights. regardless, she couldn’t stand to live another day suffocated by her own parents and intrusive thoughts, if you could even call it ‘living,’ she felt she more ‘existed’ than anything.

her lungs burned as she sucked in a breath and propelled herself up, legs threatening to buckle as she overlooked the stars enveloping her hometown. “how pretty...” she uttered in a hushed tone, balling her hands into a fist as she reflected on all the painful memories that she once strived to forget. she hiccupped, “i—i hope i’ll at least become one of these stars when i pass — to have people wish on me and look at me with fondness instead of hatred...”

her hands, scarred and bruised from all the bottles thrown, cupped her arms tightly. it was a miracle that (NAME) turned out so saintly, considering her guardians were the contrary — abusive and burdensome. whenever things didn’t go according to their plans, they used her as an emotional punching bag, yelling and hitting her. they locked her inside Qingce Village, threatening to hit harder if she ever thought of leaving; they feared she would tell someone and ruin their perfect ‘reputation.’

(NAME)'s fingernails dug into her soft skin, opening old scars and creating new ones — scars intentionally carved by her own hands. she didn’t have a healthy way to cope, having no friends in the village because her parents simply didn’t allow it. as a result, she started lashing out at herself; scars, bruises, burns, scrapes, her body was covered in them all — anything that distracted her from the dull pain she felt in her chest. she blamed herself for everything, despite nothing being her fault. she wondered if any of it mattered now that she was going to take her own life. would her parents be relieved or angry? she didn’t care anymore; she just wanted it to be over.

(NAME) squeezed her eyes shut as her feet touched the end of the edge. while everything was screaming for her to back away, her thoughts, as always, empowered her. “stars, here i come.” she thought as she stepped off and descended down the cliffside — the wind harshly hitting her face being the last thing she felt.

Xiao let out a low growl as he finished off the hilachurls near Qingce Village. “that should be the last of them...” he grumbled and removed his mask. he lifted his head up, honey eyes dilating when he saw a figure falling from one of the tallest cliffs in Liyue.

quickly teleporting to there, he caught them before they could hit the ground. “what in gods name were they doing so high up...” questioned the adeptus as he landed on the grass, although he had an inkling of what the answer was. his eyes landed on her arms — bloodied from the deep scratches she had etched into them. “i—i need to get her patched up who knows how long she’s been bleeding.” he said and left for the entrance of Wangshu Inn.

when he walked inside, a warm pair of amber eyes peeked up from a pamphlet — saddening when they regarded the injured girl in Xiao’s arms. “archons, what happened?” he asked as he rushed up to him.

Xiao’s eyes narrowed at the boy, holding (NAME)'s head closer against his chest protectively. he wasn’t certain why he felt so defensive over a mortal he had just saved, but something in him yelled to protect her.

“why does it concern you? do you know her?” he barked, his grip on her getting slightly tighter.

“ah — apologies, no, i don’t. i just noticed that her cheeks are wet, her arms are bleeding, and her hair’s all over the place... it looks like she’s gone through quite a lot.” he informed and carefully brushed a few pieces of hair out of the girl’s face. “would you mind if i assisted you with treating her injuries? i mean no ill intent when i say this, but you look like you could use some help.”

Xiao huffed stubbornly, slightly humiliated that he made such an observation. it’s not like he was wrong; Xiao’s medical knowledge was limited, and Verr Goldet was asleep.

“fine. do as you wish, but i won’t hesitate to rid you if you even dare try anything,” he threatened and ambled towards the inn’s spare room, kicking open the door with his foot.

Kazuha stayed silent, paying little to no attention to his threat as he followed him inside the bedroom. he cautiously lifted (NAME)'s sleeves — bandaged thumbs gently caressing the various scars that littered her arms. “these—these scratches are relatively deep and are in a particular pattern. . . did—did she do this to herself?” murmured the blonde.

Xiao suppressed a sigh and sat on the floor next to (NAME). “that is what i’m led to believe. for what reason, i’m—i’m not sure. you mortals are so fragile; why go through such great lengths to harm yourselves?” he answered as he cleaned off the blood on her arm.

the latter’s eyes flooded with sorrow while he bandaged her arm in gauze. he whispered, “is it correct to assume she tried to take her own life?”

he fell silent for a short moment, a sad feeling stirring in his chest at the question. “yes, given the fact she was falling from the peak near Qingce Village,” he lamented — his hands dropping to his sides.

Kazuha nodded, a soft sigh falling from his lips. “Xiao, i—i don’t think it’s safe to leave her by herself. if she truly feels this is the only way to escape, she may very well try again.” he acknowledged. “perhaps we should look after her for a few days? she must feel so alone...”

Xiao winced, the thought of spending actual time with someone plaguing his mind. “and why must i be included?” he inquired.

“you’re an adeptus, correct? you could probably teach her a lot. and forgive me if i’m wrong, but isn’t letting her go while she’s a danger to herself against your policy?”

Xiao blinked as he stared down at (NAME), watching as her chest rose steadily up and down. something in him — a dull pain — stabbed him in his chest as he recounted the times he wished to disappear. with a solemn sigh, he looked up at Kazuha with crossed arms.

“alright, fine. i’ll watch over her with you, but you’re going to have to keep an eye on her when i’m out conquering demons.”

CUSTOMERS. @eimuros ― @miaoxi ― @oceanbluesixeyes

#⟡ — fawn’s flowers #⟡ — make a wish #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #lantern rite #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n

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oldandkinky · 2 years

Text

Wrote a little something based on @spielzeugkaiser s heartwrenching Lovechild AU, because I like to hurt myself, apparently.

CW: A/B/O, vomiting, torture, sad Jaskier, non-linear narrative, unplanned pregnancy

Also on AO3

The first time Jaskier has to pull off the road to go vomit into some bushes, entirely unprovoked by too much to drink or food that has gone off, he brushes it aside. It's a fluke. These things happen.

He keeps telling himself that right up until the sixteenth time, after the mountain, when he wakes up and immediately has to roll to the side of the cheap inn bed he's in to vomit onto the floor instead of the mattress.

After, he lies there, staring at the wall, the sharp scent of his sick in his nose and tears welling up in his eyes. For weeks, Jaskier has tried to ignore the obvious even when it was staring him in the face, but now… Well.

He rolls onto his back and, after a moment's hesitation, reaches down. His hand slips under his shirt, rests on his belly, above the place where he now acknowledges his child is growing.

His, and Geralt's.

After the mountain, Jaskier is a mess. He keeps telling himself that, surely, Geralt didn't mean those things, that he was just- overwhelmed, angry, sad, whatever.

He tries to justify it to himself, the way he has so many times before when Geralt was nasty to him. The Witcher has a lot on his plate, he'd tell himself, he didn't mean it, it was nothing personal.

But this time… Well, this time Jaskier can't convince himself. The things Geralt said to him on that cliffside were too close to the insecurities Jaskier has been harbouring all throughout their acquaintance, too close to his own guilt about bringing Geralt to Cintra, about the djinn. That's the only reason why he turns away, why he collects his things and makes his way down the mountain alone.

It doesn't make his heart hurt any less.

For a few months, nothing much changes in Jaskier's life. He goes to Oxenfurt, he teaches, he performs. It's all he knows, the one thing that offers stability right now.

He's tired, all the time now, and as the nausea and morning sickness fades, his belly begins to grow. He finds himself sitting in his bed often, stroking the little bump and singing softly, voice cracking as he sings despite the tears.

Jaskier has been on his own in one way or another since he was fourteen, but he has never felt this utterly and completely alone.

"Do you have children? A few little wolflings somewhere on the continent?"

They're curled up in their bedrolls, Geralt's arm slung over his waist. Sweat is still cooling on their skin, and Jaskier looks up at the clouds, dotted across the late afternoon sky like sheep.

Geralt grunts against his shoulder. His thumb is drawing circles onto Jaskier's ribs. "Can't have any," he rumbles. "Witchers are sterile."

Jaskier hums and twists to press a kiss to Geralt's forehead. "Pity," he muses, "we'd make some cute babies."

Geralt huffs, then bites the curve of his shoulder, and Jaskier stops thinking about children entirely.

The letter arrives a few weeks after Jaskier has stopped teaching. He spends most of his time in his flat now, writing or composing.

He's not hiding, he tells himself.

It's a summons, a letter from his mother. Word must have reached Lettenhove, rumours that the family disappointment has managed to get himself knocked up, just the way his parents feared all this time.

'Come home at once,' the letter says. Even in written form, his mother's instructions brook no argument.

Some nights, when all Jaskier has just enough coin to get enough to eat for Milek, when he remembers the look of despair on the boy's face as he watches yet another group of children at play, children that ignore him because he's a stranger and their parents told them not to play with his sort - meaning with a bastard -, when his own hunger drives him nearly mad…

Some nights, Jaskier hates Geralt.

He wishes he could bring himself to hate him on most nights.

He has never known agony such as this. Giving birth was nothing, nothing, compared to this. His stomach roils at the scent of burning hair, of charred flesh, and he screams his throat raw as the mage grins at him.

He wishes he could think of Milek as his skin sizzles and pops, but all that runs through his head is this: Geralt, please, save me, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt-

It's not Geralt who saves him. Why would it be?

"You should have come earlier," Father says, disdain on his face and in his voice.

In Jaskier's arms, Milek fusses. Jaskier is so, so tired. "I know," he says quietly. Father's lip curls.

"We'll find a wet nurse as soon as possible, then you can-"

"No. No, I'm- I'm not doing that."

He walks away, Father's outraged scolding ringing behind him. Jaskier doesn't care. He just wants to sleep, wants to be alone.

That's a lie.

He wants… He wants Geralt. It hurts, the memory of the venom Geralt spit at his feet still so fresh, but Jaskier can't help it.

He wants Geralt. He wants to show him his son, this beautiful little boy they made together.

But he can't. He doesn't know where Geralt is, if he's even still alive. Cintra has fallen. The princess has vanished. Yennefer is presumed dead after Sodden.

There's only Jaskier, and Milek.

Yennefer is so much smaller than him, unusually small for an alpha, but right now she may as well have Witcher strength, Jaskier thinks. She's all that is holding him up, that is keeping him from collapsing, and he resents her for it, somewhat.

He guides her to his flat, a dingy little thing over a bakery. Living there had been excruciating in summer, the ovens heating the small space unbearably, but it's been getting colder and now it's a boon.

Roselyn, the baker's oldest daughter, opens the door for them when Jaskier calls for her. Her eyes widen almost comically when she sees his hands. Yennefer sends her running for hot water and bandages with a few curt words, and Jaskier whimpers as she lets him sink onto a chair.

"I'll need your help," he mutters. Now that he's back home, that the terror is wearing off, that he can smell Milek, his chest is starting to ache.

Yennefer scoffs. "Of course you do, just wait for-"

She's interrupted by a whimper, and Jaskier curses when the let-down comes, milk seeping into his shirt. Ah well, it's ruined anyway, with blood and panic sweat, what's a bit of milk added to the mix?

Yennefer stills. Her eyes are wide.

He gets to his feet, ignoring how his legs wobble. Milek begins to fuss, and Jaskier drops heavily onto the bed. "I'm here, sweetheart," he murmurs, then looks up at Yennefer. "Could you…?"

She swallows visibly. Behind her, Roselyn enters, carrying a bucket of steaming water. Yennefer seems to shake herself. Then she gets to work.

The first time Geralt kisses him, Jaskier kind of wants to punch him.

Geralt kisses him, in the doorway of their little inn room, and then he turns away and leaves for a contract.

It's so typical.

He's a day out of Lettenhove when the cramps start. Jaskier had rented a spot on a caravan, which means it's slow going. There's a woman riding in the back with him, her and her three children. She has been giving him and his big belly sceptical looks the whole journey, and when she catches him wincing through one of the cramps, she calls the caravan to a halt.

"Bloody foolish thing to do," she scolds him as she helps him off the cart. "You oughta be at home with your mate, not traipsing around the countryside-"

Jaskier doesn't know what his face is doing, but it must give everything away, because she falls silent, her expression softening.

"Don't worry, lad," she murmurs as she guides him into the shade by the side of the road. "We don't need no alpha to bring this babe into the world, do we?"

Jaskier grimaces, and nods, and pants through the next cramp. She's right. He doesn't need an alpha.

He doesn't need Geralt.

He doesn't.

When Milek calls him papa for the first time, Jaskier cries.

"How is that possible, Jaskier?"

Yennefer is in a chair beside the bed, watching him with a look of shock on her face. She's not a healer, she told him earlier, but her magic was just enough to take off the worst of his injuries. Now, his hands are cleaned and salved and bandaged, and he's holding Milek close as he nurses.

"I don't know," he murmurs. He has thought about this so often, has tried to figure out how it could have happened. No answer has presented itself.

"Witchers are sterile," Yennefer says, but he can hear the doubt in her voice.

"I don't know," he repeats. "I swear it's the truth. It… It would be easier if it wasn't."

Yennefer doesn't accept his offer. Jaskier is at once relieved and crushed by it.

Relieved, because Milek is his. He carried him, nourished him, brought him into the world.

Relieved, because Milek is all he has left of Geralt.

But the terrible weight of it all is pressing in from all sides, and he doesn't know how he is going to survive.

Jaskier has changed. He knows part of it is age catching up to him. There are lines around his eyes, his mouth now, his skin grown softer.

But the loose skin of his belly isn't down to age.

Milek is watching him curiously as Jaskier pokes at himself after his bath, his little curly head tilted to the side.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Was I really in there?"

"Yes, honey."

Milek looks up at him, eyes so wide and full of wonder. "Can you put another baby in there? We could throw stones."

There's a terrible ache behind Jaskier's breast, and later, when his beautiful little boy asks, "Where's daddy, papa?", it burns as hot as it ever did.

Time should have cured him of this yearning, but it hasn't. He doubts it ever will.

When Milek is seven, Jaskier looks up in the tavern he's playing in one day and his heart nearly stops. Across the room, there's an unmistakable head of white hair.

He meets yellow eyes, and it's like his stomach drops out beneath him. All he wants to do is run.

Somehow, through sheer force of will, he finishes his song. His hands are a good excuse to stop playing, the scars making it hard to play for as long as he used to, and he collects his meager coin and hopes that he can duck out of the backdoor before Geralt catches up to him.

A hand on his arm, oh so familiar, stops him dead in his tracks.

"I apologise," Geralt says quietly, in that tone Jaskier recognises as the one he usually uses for children and horses and spooked survivors. "I don't mean to intrude, but… I couldn't help but wonder if, maybe, we know each other?"

This is a cruel joke. It must be, except Geralt isn't the type. Maybe it's a doppler, that would make sense-

"If I'm mistaken, I'm sorry, it's just that I lost my memory and-"

Jaskier turns on his heel, gapes up at him. It's unmistakably Geralt, he realises. There's a new scar, cutting through his left eyebrow and over his cheek, but Jaskier would know his scent anywhere.

He wants to cry. He wants to slap Geralt, to yell at him, wants to fall into his arms and never let him go again. He wants to take him to the shitty little inn room where Milek is waiting, wants to finally, finally, introduce his son to his daddy-

Geralt looks at him without a trace of recognition, and Jaskier swallows thickly.

"No," he says, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. "I'm sorry. I don't know you."

He turns away, and Geralt lets him go.

He doesn't know who took him. For someone who has tried to stay out of all of the bullshit happening on the continent for the last couple of years, Jaskier has amassed an astonishing amount of enemies.

He's not scared. Not really. Not for himself, anyway.

No, he's scared for Milek. He's only thirteen, all alone with no clue where Jaskier went.

He curls up on the filthy ground of the cell they tossed him into and tries to hold back his tears. They argued, just before Jaskier was grabbed. He doesn't even remember what about, just that he was so, so angry and so was Milek, and they yelled at each other, and what if that was the last things they said to each other?

What if he never sees his son again?

When he hears about the female Witcher that has started taking contract, when he hears about her ashen hair and green eyes, he's torn between relief and anger. It's a familiar feeling after all these years.

Cirilla must be sixteen now, almost a woman. Older than her mother was on that fateful night. The last time Jaskier saw Cirilla, she was barely out of swaddling clothes. It feels strange to think of the girl as a woman.

She's a Witcher now, or as close to one as she can be. That means that Geralt did find her, that he raised her, trained her. It's a weight off Jaskier's chest. Resisting one's destiny is never a good idea.

But it brings flashes of the old anger back. Why could Geralt raise her, and not his own son?

"You kept him a secret," Yen reminds him gently one night, and Jaskier deflates, all at once.

He did.

It was the right thing to do.

"Time for bed, baby," he urges when Milek rubs his eyes again. Predictably, the boy shakes his head.

"'M not tired!"

He never is, like all children. Jaskier bribes him with a story.

"Your daddy saved me," he murmurs, stroking the boy's soft hair as Milek cuddles into his side. "He made a deal with a witch, one that could have hurt him terribly, just to save me."

Milek hums and takes his thumb out of his mouth, just long enough to ask, "Because he's a hero, right, papa?"

Jaskier smiles, and ignores the burning in his eyes. "Yeah, baby. Because your daddy is a hero."

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky omegaverse #geraskier lovechild #spielzeugkaiser #oldandkinky pregnancy

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carnivorousyandeere · 1 month

Note

how would the cliffside yans be like with a darling that is possessive of them?

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: violence, murder, unhealthy relationships, d/s dynamics in some ways, enabling

Kurtis: happier than a puppy in a room full of tennis balls. Dramatically swooning into your arms about it. Kurtis’ dream, after all, is to be your possession, your accessory, your plaything, your lover— anything yours. He also kind of likes to tease you about it, though~! If you’re more of the shy and sensitive type, he won’t go out of his way to make you jealous because he wouldn’t want to see you cry, but he also thinks it’s cute when you’re pouting from jealousy and clinging to him. If you’re more of the confident and aggressive type, Kurtis might let other people flirt with him, so he can see you get riled up (and maybe have jealous sex~).

Cecilia: thinks it’s cute, romantic, even sexy. You might even catch her hiding a blush and a smile with a fan~! It’s kind of like foreplay or dirty talk to her, in some way. She might softly chide you and whisper in your ear to save that kind of thing for the bedroom, where she’ll allow you to smother her with your affection and tell her how jealous you were of other people getting to talk to her at that boring business meeting. She’s not ashamed of you and being yours, but she’s also more private and not very big on PDA.

Isla: Isla is so satisfied and content, like a cat that got the cream~! And honestly, with her job as a singer, she gets a lot of unwanted attention from patrons of the Cliffside, and so it’s a relief when you shoo those other people away. She’s extremely likely to feed into that behavior, almost training you like a dog to keep being so possessive and protective by giving you all the treats and affection you could want. Deep down, Isla’s still filled with anxiety, wondering if your feelings that seemed to burst like flames might fizzle out just as quickly one day. You might catch her staring off into space with that conflicted look as she ponders what she’ll do when that day comes— she’s increasingly sure it will, the more you know about her— but if you ask what she’s thinking of, she just smiles, presses a kiss to your nose and brushes off the question.

Airna: Gets very flustered about it, constantly blushing up a storm. It makes her heart race whenever you tell people to back off, that she’s yours! It makes her heart race even more if you actually get into a fight for her (though she would never instigate, like Kurtis might). She daydreams about that a lot, getting hot under the collar thinking about you caving somebody’s skull in, and then getting to take care of you after. Forgive her if she squirms a little bit on your lap while staunching the bleeding from your eyebrow, and bites her lip if you hiss at the burn of the disinfectant…

Eris: confused, discombobulated, in disarray. Like a cat that watches you comfortably from a distance, so you think they might want some scritches, then hisses when you try to approach. As obsessed as xe is with you, the unexpected constant proximity of you makes her heart beat too fast and her mouth water. It lights xir nerves up to an almost painful degree. She can’t handle it, and so she tries to retreat to that safe distance to watch you from. It’s rather confusing, to be honest, having her scare other people away from her and then acting strange when you try to do the same for her. It makes xir anxious to see you start fights she’s not confident you can finish. If your possessiveness and clinginess start slow and grow with time, it’s much easier for Eris to adjust.

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throughtrialbyfire · 3 months

Text

“Cycle of the Serpent”

Chapter 24 - Fort Hraggstad

prev. chapter | index

preview:

Fort Hraggstad, once an outpost meant to fortify the roads against bandits and their throngs, had been reduced to an outcropping of stone clinging to the cliffsides of Haafingar Hold with bone-frail fingers. The roads, congealed with mud and snow to create a slush that pervaded the pathways towards the fortress, sucked at the bottom of the trios boots like the tendrils of Hermorah beneath the seas maddening waves. Wyndrelis drew in a breath and crept silently behind his companions. The mountain air, familiar and thin, eased itself into his lungs. His home town had been deep into the mountains of Cheydinhal county, where the lush green gave way to thick stone and craggy cliffs, northern flowers of Skyrim familiar in their shapes. He sent a quick glance to Athenath, who seemed to be struggling against the trudge up the paths from their huffed murmurs and subtle puckering of their chin, the smallest indicator of a pout, much to the stifled amusement of the Dunmer. Then, he made the slow shift of his eyes to Emeros, the grave intensity of his amber gaze outmatched by the slow, cautious pace he took in his stride. The Bosmer knew the sort of work they were getting into, whose hands they were dirtying theirs for. And by his posture and his subdued scowl, his aim was to get this over with and pretend the work was not for Tullius, but for his companions, and solely them. The sun rose like a draugr from a coffin, the waves of the sea anxious paces along the cliffs and marshy shorelines. Quick meals had in the inn and supplies packed, the three elves barely shed a word as they got ready. The journey would take roughly half the day, at least. Wyndrelis observed the grave looks on his friends faces and wondered how they would fare when they approached the fort. None of them thought themselves ready to do this, truth be told. He certainly didn't. But choice wasn't a luxury they could afford. And when Emeros outlined the quickest route to and from the fort, Wyndrelis merely peered down at the paper and gave approving nods, while Athenath tucked their tambourine inside the chest at the end of the bed, along with any other items the elves may want to leave behind for now. They'd begun the hike up the ancient pathways early that morning, when uneasy clouds ghosted the growing blue of the skies. The waters tossed up the carcasses of albatross birds shot down by practicing Imperial archers, and the mudcrabs fed off the rotted remains. The stretch of road the group had elected to take wound them along slick and well-worn stone paths, each flinching at the sound of wildlife out of sight, keenly aware of the attention of any living creatures in this part of Haafingar. They were far and away from any help, no guards to save them should they be cornered by a pack of wolves on the mountainside. The forests thickened with pines, swaying on their rakish centers in ways that made Wyndrelis uneasy. The mage pushed his glasses up his nose, his breath creating clouds of fog that warmed his face as he walked through them, white irises skimming the landscape. Emeros clutched the map, nails digging into its papery surface. The Dunmer fanned his fingers between lengths of his raven-dark hair, pushing the feathery strands against the winds that tousled it around the back of his neck, tickling the skin. He cursed quietly, but knew it was no use. Here, the wind was a perpetual thing, only cut by the rail-thin trees pushing up through the snow like needles through an incision. He grimaced. Scrunched his nose.

{ read on ao3 }

#tes fic #tesblr #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fic #the elder scrolls #skyrim #ldb oc #last dragonborn oc #bishop.txt #cycle of the serpent #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; emeros #oc ; athenath #my writing #dragonborn trio

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opultea · 2 years

Text

A Home

Kazuha x Reader - Gender Neutral Reader (No pronouns) - Romantic - SFW - Fluff with mild angst

Kazuha had long been the wandering ronin. There were many times through his endless journey when he wondered how endless it may be. He knew that there was no returning to his homeland in the foreseeable future, not with his picture on wanted posters and the closing of the nation. But Kazuha never truly minded his wandering. It was his calling.

The wind had never been as fresh as when Kazuha strolled across cliffsides and mountain views with no expectations. No society, no name of nobility in this foreign land, no one to stop him. And nowhere to stop. Only the grass, the ocean view of Liyue, the breeze, and the open sky.

That sky was storming the day Kazuha met you. Not fond of stopping to admire the sky in its tempest state, the wandering samurai often found caves to huddle down in until the thunder passed by. Though the storms in Liyue were not as long, loud, or damaging as those in his homeland, they still managed to split his heart with every bolt.

Back turned to the shattering world outside the small alcove he found himself in, Kazuha fiddled with the orange ginkgo leaf in his hand. The land of commerce had many of these trees, lining their city streets and dotting the plains and mountaintops. They were not as deeply coloured as the maples he was used to. Yet with harsh rain nearing his back and thunder cracking through the air, something to remind him of his past comforts was more than appreciated. Kazuha often quite liked the rain, he found the scent of its arrival calming, and its song soothing. But this was not the calm of rain. This was a storm.

You did not mind the rain, but today's downpour was nearing torrential, the basket in your arms flailing in the winds. It was not far till you reached your home, you had only gone to purchase some groceries from Wangshu Inn. You lived somewhat far from other homes, the inn being the closest building to your own house just south of it. It may have been considered lonely, or even desolate to others, but you enjoyed the quiet. Each morning you rose with the sun and the birdsong, each day you tended to your garden and listened to the babble of the stream. It was a shame you couldn't hear these things above the storm today.

Raising your head to better survey your current distance from the safety of your home, you couldn't help but pause at an irregular colour jutting out from a rock wall. Did someone leave a blanket here? Or maybe a random flyaway cloth got stuck on the rocks? Approaching to investigate the strangely bright object, you braced yourself against the wind, hoping to ease your mind of its strangely intense curiosity. It felt as if something was pushing you to go closer, the wind on your back staggering you forward.

You furrowed your brows as you recognised a human silhouette behind the bright cloth. What was anyone doing out here in a storm like this? You steadied yourself on the stone at the entrance of the small rocky indent, tensing your arm to keep your basket from flying from your hold in the wild winds.

"Excuse me? Are you alright?" You asked, voice raised just enough that the crouched figure could hear you over the gales. The person turned quickly in surprise, revealing the rain-stricken face of a young man, his body shivering from what you assumed was the cold. "Are you far from where you live? If you are, you're free to take shelter in my home,"

The words seemed to sadden the man at first, but his expression settled into a gentle smile.

"I am indeed quite far, further than I have ever been. But I will humbly accept your gracious offer," His tone was the softest you'd ever heard. You wondered what had softened it so.

A crack of thunder burst through the air that had eased around you, shifting the atmosphere of the exchange back into its initial turbulence and necessity. You looked up to see the shock of violet in the sky, following the deafening bang. The storm must be right above you now.

"Come on, it isn't safe out here," You coaxed, gesturing for the man to stand and follow after you. His sadly furrowed eyes stared past you at the inclement sky, a streak of something new behind his gaze. But you didn't have time to ponder, you had to get the both of you out of the worsening weather. "My house isn't far,"

The two of you whipped like blades of grass in the viscous winds, nearly toppling several times as your visibility decreased. The dark clouds swallowed the heavens, churning and daring to swallow you as well. Luckily you reached the steps of your small home before the wind picked up enough to blow the rain directly into your eyes. Ushering the stranger inside, you put your basket down on the floor by the kitchen and led the man to the dining space.

Kazuha watched as you shivered, your hands shaking with the chill as you lit the small fireplace. Your home was quaint, but it matched you. He was inclined toward the forest of house plants that stood in the corners of the room, noting their health and appreciating the freshness they added to the room. Kazuha only noticed you had left once you came back into the room holding a pile of towels. Thanking you quietly, he took a moment to dry his hair as neatly as he could as to not flay the water onto your floor.

You realised your strange guest was standing in the middle of the room rather awkwardly. Now quite self-conscious of your hosting, you invited the man to sit down by the fire.

"You'll have to excuse my lack of proficiency in entertaining, I don't often have guests," You smiled apologetically as you sat beside each other.

"Not at all, I'm most grateful for the kindness and the shelter," His softness persisted as you conversed quietly by firelight, learning more about each other in slow words. The night darkened silently as the storm raged on in its void, stirring an appreciation for the warmth within your small abode.

Eventually, you went about setting up your most comfortable sleeping mat for the stranger you now knew as Kaedehara Kazuha of Inazuma. It was late, and now that the two of you were mostly dry, it would only be good to rest. Kazuha attempted to wave your request for him to stay, excusing that he had spent many of his nights out in the wilderness.

"There's no doubt you'll get sick if you stay out there, and it's no trouble for me. If anything, I'd enjoy the company," You assured, lighting a small lamp to keep some glow in the darkness now that the fire was low.

Kazuha nodded agreeably, but you did not miss his glance out at the tempest.

The night was cold and long, but the sweet breeze of daybreak gave Kazuha a reason to smile at the sky again. He rose from his beddings to this lovely scent and the accompanying fragrance of jasmine tea that he supposed you were brewing a room away. Entering the kitchen, the samurai spied two bowls of congee steaming on the table.

"Ah, good morning," You greeted, turning around to gesture to the light breakfast you'd prepared. "Please sit, I just whipped something up quickly."

Smiling at your kindness, Kazuha placed himself on the stool in front of the serving of fresh food. It had been a while since Kazuha had eaten a warm meal that was prepared for him. His diet usually consisted of fish he caught in the rivers and the fruits he plucked from tree tops. The warmth of the bowl and accompanying tea cup made his heart grow warm too.

You had already begun eating, though not so subtly glanced up to see if your guest liked the food you'd prepared. You'd hate to serve something he didn't like, or that he was allergic to. You would've liked to ask beforehand but feared you'd only disturb his sleep. Perhaps you were overthinking this...

"Thank you for the meal, it was a perfectly rousing dish for a misty morning such as this one," The compliment relieved you of your stress, though it crossed your mind that anything this soft-spoken stranger said would put you at ease. "I'd like to offer my service in any work you may have, as payment for the shelter and kindness you have provided,"

"Oh! There's no need for that, I'm sure you've got your own business to attend to, and I'm used to doing the work alone," You excused, clearing the empty bowls to wash.

"Please, allow me to repay your hospitality," Kazuha stood to meet your gaze. "I am a wanderer, and so have no daily business I must attend to, and I can assure you I am capable of any physical work, if that is your worry." Although you still had reservations about making your guest work for you, his insistence and careful words were enough to convince you to allow him his boon.

"Ah, alright," You sighed gratefully. "I have a garden just outside that needs attending. The rain would have done its work last night, so it only needs to be weeded, and the radishes should be ready to harvest."

In the following days, the night raged with storms, prompting Kazuha to stay and continue to provide his services for your garden. You quickly discovered that he possessed a prodigious connection to nature, somehow always knowing when the flowers on your pumpkins would bloom and when the kale would need to be covered overnight. Your garden had never looked greener.

Similarly, your house had never been so warm. Each night over a shared dinner made from the vegetables harvested that day, Kazuha would regale you with tales from his travels. You were fascinated by his adventures, listening intently and watching the memories swirl behind the samurai's eyes.

Kazuha in turn had never found a companion so ready and willing to hear him speak. Although he had found that the crew of the Alcor were always up for a tale, Kazuha had to admit that they were not the most attentive audience. So many jugs of alcohol would do that to a crowd of rowdy sailors. Even the silence the two of you shared as you worked together was refreshing. The ronin was fascinated not only by your apparent interest in him, but also by your lifestyle. You lived alone, not only in your home, with no other houses in the surrounding area. He wondered how long you had been alone.

One bright morning, after the plants were cared for, you and Kazuha sat out on the steps in front of your door, a small basket of dried seeds at your feet. You often left a portion of the seeds from your garden to feed the birds with, enjoying the cute sight of the sparrows and finches flittering about each other. Kazuha seemed incredibly at home in this activity, managing to spark your further amazement when he coaxed several of the birds to feed from his open palm.

"Oh!" You gasped in delight as several more finches took rest on the wanderer's shoulder. "You have such a way with them, I don't think they'd ever trust me enough to do that," You admitted that you'd always wanted to gain the trust of a bird. After all, that was part of the reasoning for this regular feeding.

"There's nothing much to it, really," Kazuha chuckled lightly as a sparrow hopped between his fingers. "But I think we can make that wish come true,"

Kazuha scooped some seed from the basket, before letting it fall into your hand. Slowly, and locking your gaze to make sure of your comfort with his hold, he lifted your hand with his own. Kazuha's hand was warm, as all of him was. You couldn't help but notice the light roughness on his skin, letting the back of your hand sink into his palm as Kazuha raised it to meet his shoulder. The finch that sat peacefully on the samurai's shoulder jumped slightly at the approach of your joined hands but did not fly away. All your concentration was held on keeping your hand still, staring hopefully at the hesitant bird.

You bit your lip to hold the squeal of joy that erupted when the finch hopped onto your hand, pecking at the seed within it. And while you relished in the joy of your wish fulfilled, the man whose body was closer to yours than you remembered watched your delight in a mirth of his own. His chuckle brought your eyes to meet his, and suddenly you remembered that Kazuha's hand was still holding your own. The warmth and safety Kazuha emitted caused your body to lean into his, your shoulder eventually coming to meet Kazuha's.

You continued to stare at each other for a short moment, your heart fluttering so fervently that you jolted away in fear that Kazuha could hear it. Although, part of you believed that no matter your distance, Kazuha would always be able to hear your heart. He had a knack for knowing your true feelings before even you did.

The startled movement alarmed the birds into flight, taking their leave as a flock.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have moved so quickly," You dejectedly apologized, watching the passerine as they hid in the tree tops.

"It's no issue. If anything, I'm sorry if my proximity caused your distress, you are always welcome to let me know if I am ever making you uncomfortable. It would be my greatest displeasure if I was to do anything of the sort,"

"No!" Your cry shocked Kazuha, his mouth ajar as you grasped his hands in your own again. "You have nothing to apologize for, I was just concentrating on the bird so much that I didn't even realise what was happening! I didn't mind at all, really if anything, I'd like you to do it again!"

It was your turn to be shocked by your words. Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way to retrace the conversation, but you failed to find anything any less awkward than your silence.

Your heart stuttered when Kazuha chuckled before he slowly brought his hand up to brush your hair from your face.

"I'll keep that in mind,"

It was another night shared with a homemade meal, though tonight the two of you sat beneath the stars on the first clear night since Kazuha had arrived. You had laid a blanket across the grass to keep the cold of the earth off your backs, and laid yourselves across it after your dinner to watch the night. Your shoulder pressed against Kazuha's as you indulged in the quiet. It was nice to see the stars again, sharing the quiet of the evening with your newest friend. The company was nice too, it was rare to have someone in your home for so long.

"I will be taking my leave soon," But of course it couldn't last. You tried not to startle at the sudden declaration, heart clenching with a sadness you tried your best to withhold. Voice careful so as to not reveal your hesitance, you inquired further.

"Oh, I see. When do you think you'll be going?" Kazuha let a breath leave him, the warm fog drifting and dissipating into the night.

"Tomorrow, at noon. I must admit I am sorry to leave you, but the wilderness is my true calling. I fear I may have left it too long,"

"Of course. I'll pack a few things for you to take on your journey," You had always known that Kazuha would have to leave sometime, but you allowed yourself to brush this future away in preference of considering the warmth of the present. Now, the moment you had been shunning from your mind was finally happening.

Kazuha, sensing your despondency, shuffled carefully closer to your laying form. Turning away from the night sky, he gently brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen onto your face. His gaze deepened you, and yet laid you bare all at once. You had never felt so seen as you did under Kazuha's gaze.

"You deserve my honesty, and for this reason, I must tell you that the time I have spent sharing your company was some of the most pleasant I have spent during my wanderings. But I must follow the sun, and continue to travel across the horizon as I have,"

"I understand," Your voice cracked in its smallness. "I just... I know I'll miss you,"

Kazuha smiled sadly.

"And I, you,"

It was not long before Kazuha wandered across the fields, a pack of your vegetables on his back, all too soon a dot between the cold earth and the cloudy sky. You let yourself cry that night.

In the few months since Kazuha's absence, you learned to get used to the quiet and the cold again. At first, you'd brewed too much tea and called for the man that was no longer there. You'd sit outside in the night and imagine the ghost of his memory pressed against your side. You wished you could send Kazuha letters, at least some form of communication to ease your aching heart. But as a wanderer he had no address, only the wind to lead him, you could not.

Visiting Wangshu Inn for your next grocery run, even Verr Goldet felt the change in your demeanour. It seemed that however you tried to ignore the ache in your chest, it implored you to feel it.

"How have you been Y/n? I feel like it's been some time since our last chat," Verr asked carefully as she packed you some butter and mushrooms.

"Oh, you know. Same old quiet," Your polite smile did not do much to diminish the inn owner's concerns. She let you go with an offer of her counsel or ear, whenever you might find yourself needing it. You appreciated her offer deeply, but knew you didn't want to admit how much his absence affected you.

It was a sunny morning when you heard the birds louder than they had been in months. You were sitting at your table, eyes distant and gaze tired as you let your tea grow cold. Some days were harder than others, occasional evenings spent as if Kazuha had never been there. Most spent pondering where in the world he might be now. What hurt you most was how much this was affecting you. How was it that a single man was able to twist your soul into his even while you were miles apart? You almost wanted to forget. It would be easier if it had never happened at all.

But, no. You treasured the small time you had spent with the wanderer, filling your home with warmth and, you now realise, a shy love. You would never forget him, even if it hurt you to know you may never see him again.

The birds chirped closer now. What had them so energetic today? Perhaps you were late to feed them, it seemed more difficult to keep up with your tasks on the bad days. Picking up the small woven basket of seeds, you opened your door to greet the sparrows. But who greeted you instead made you drop your basket. Seeds scattered across the wood of your porch, the flock of birds happy to clean up your mess as they landed around you to eat.

"Good morning, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Oh how you missed the softness of his voice.

"Kazuha?" You breathed, your soul suddenly refreshed with new pull.

The man smiled sweetly when you said his name, stepping forward with arms open, inviting you to act on the vigour he knew you felt. For he felt it too. You let yourself fall into his arms, holding him tightly and finally indulging in his warmth once more.

"I'm sorry I left, I truly am."

"No, you needed to go, I didn't want to stop you from following your heart," The two of you separated enough to drink in each other's eyes. It had been too long since you felt this light.

"You're right, I did need to follow my heart," Kazuha admitted. "But the longer I journeyed without you, the more I realised the truth. You are the only day I would wake for, and the only sun I would follow. You have my whole heart, and with you, I will always entrust it."

The confession brought an air to your lungs, fresher than any you'd ever tasted. Only Kazuha could bring this air to you, you knew that all too well.

"I will keep your heart close to mine, because it's more precious than you know. I love you Kazuha, I think I have for a long time,"

"And I, you,"

Kazuha had long been the wandering ronin. But the time he spent building a home for his heart with you, he would not exchange for any wind of freedom.

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