#HELLO because? not only did he have curse memories of trying for a child but never being successful

[lizardthelizard]

Been having Thoughts about August again.

So, you know how, in the Pilot episode, Emma comes to Storybrooke and, once she makes the decision to stay in Storybrooke for Henry, the clock tower starts working again and time becomes unfrozen ect?

Well, I'm just thinking about August and his reunion with Geppetto in The Stranger. And the parallel between that and between Emma causing the clock to work again.

Because, the clock that Geppetto and Pinocchio were working on in Fairy Tale Land is now broken in Storybrooke and sitting in Rumple's pawn shop. And, it's not until August makes the conscious decision to try and make amends with his father that he's able to help Marco to fix the clock and get it working again.

And, of course, it's a metaphor for the pair of them making amends and fixing their estranged relationship and for August trying to do the right thing for once in his life ect.

But also? I feel like it represents some of the same things that Emma(/Henry) 'fixing' the clocktower does, just on a smaller scale. Because, even though Marco still doesn't have his memories back and doesn't know that August is his son...He's still able to act as a mentor type figure, and August might not be filling the role of 'son', but he IS filling in a gap that Marco has been feeling throughout the 28 years of the curse in some small way. And the fixing of the clock has set things in motion for the pair and their future (even if August doesn't think he has much of a future left).

It's about change!!! It's about setting things in motion! it's about repairing the damage that has been done by both Regina and by Marco and August themselves!

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[kissorkill16]

A Child's Distorted Memories: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nightmares are terrifying...that's all I want to say.

Nicky tossed and turned in his bed, hyperventilating and clutching the sides of his head, and squeezing his eyes shut.

Meanwhile, the voice of the tall, dark, distorted shadow kept whispering in his ear.

"Stay. Hide. Forever. Darkness.", it kept repeating. "Stay. Hide. Forever. Darkness."

"Stop!", whimpered Nicky, "Leave me alone!"

Then he felt a hand grab his shoulder and yanked him out of the bed.

"Let me go!", he screamed.

The figure broke down into two shadows, and there were now just two little girls. He recognized those girls immediately.

Lucy and Mya.

"Join us, Nicky.", said Mya. "Join us and we can be together!"

Nicky kept shaking his head and backing away, but Lucy grabbed his arm.

"DON'T MOVE AWAY FROM US!", she screamed. "YOU WILL DIE EVEN IF I HAVE TO KILL YOU MYSELF!"

Nicky managed to free himself from Lucy's grip, but he ended up falling backwards. It was a long drop, and he ended up falling flat on his back.

When he got up, the first thing he saw was his grandmother. Her face was unreadable, and she spoke in a deep voice...

"You have cursed yourself with inescapable death."

He heard her say that before, and his eyes widened.

"Bubba, please -"

"You did this to yourself, Nicholas. Now you will forever suffer the guilt of saying you hated me, and all I've ever done is try to protect you.", she said. "Everything in this town, deadly and demonic, is going to come for you. You're not safe, Nicholas. No one is safe. No one."

Then she vanished into thin air.

"Bubba! Come back!", screamed Nicky. He tried running to the mist where he first saw his grandmother, but he ran right through it, and straight into the wall.

Nicky backed away from the wall, and he immediately knew where he was.

Mr. Peterson's basement.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!", he screamed as he backed up against the fake window, and ended up falling through it. He once again fell right on his back.

He got up, but this time, he didn't know where he was. Everything looked so shiny. He was surrounded by mirrors, and each and every one showed his reflection...

All except the one in front of him.

That mirror showed the reflection of Mr. Peterson.

He backed away, heavily hyperventilating and beginning to cry a little, his back pressing against the glass surface.

"You enjoy spying on me, don't you?", said the man. Nicky shook his head, "No! I don't! But I didn't have any other choice -"

"Bullshit.", growled Mr. Peterson. "I gave you so many chances to back away from this, to leave me alone, but you just love not listening to people, don't you?", he didn't even wait for an answer. "Yes, you do."

Nicky kept shaking his head.

"You love the intrusion, you love the thrill, you love just running away from me."

"I ONLY DID IT BECAUSE AARON WAS IN TROUBLE!"

Mr. Peterson let out a loud, boisterous, earth shaking laugh that nearly made the glass break. "And I only did what I had to do to keep him safe."

Nicky slowly took off his shoe, and was getting ready to throw it at Mr. Peterson.

"By the time I'm done with you, you're going to wish you were still in my basement.", said Mr. Peterson, "At least there, you were safe."

Nicky threw his shoe at the mirror, breaking it into a thousand pieces on the floor. He ran through the hole he broke the glass into, and suddenly, he was at school.

The hallway was flooded with people, and they were all holding that one humiliating picture of his mental breakdown, some were pointing at him and laughing. And there was one particular person in the center of the room, holding her camera and laughing at him.

Finch.

"Look, everyone! It's Nutty Nicky!", she said aloud, pointing to Nicky.

Everyone suddenly turned to the boy, and Nicky clutched at the side of his head, backing up against the wall as he tried to drown out all of the kids laughing at him.

Finch stepped closer to Nicky, aimed her camera at him, and shot the picture. "Smile, Nutty Nicky!", she said.

A loud flash of light took Nicky somewhere else.

Mr. Murtaugh's Science Room.

There, all of his friends were lined up, and they all looked at him with hatred and disgust.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Nicky?", asked Enzo. "You're freaking everyone out, even us. I'm sorry, but I can't be friends with you if you've become such a loose cannon."

"Yeah. Me neither, man. Nice knowing you, Nicky.", said Maritza.

"I can't believe I ever thought you were cool.", said Ivan.

The three of them disappeared. However, one of his friends stayed in their place, still staring at him.

Trinity.

She moved closer to him, pointing a finger to his chest. "Nicky,...you are the most useless, idiotic, pathetic piece of shit I've ever met in my life. I'm ashamed to have ever called you my friend.", she growled and whispered.

All of these words pained Nicky to hear. Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes, but then Trinity pushed him, and he was falling again.

He once again landed on his back. He slowly got up, and at first, he didn't know where he was. But once he looked around a little more, he nearly screamed.

He was once again in Mr. Peterson's basement.

Only this time, it was full of fire and rubble.

And out of the rubble emerged two burning skeletons, and they kept calling out to Nicky.

"Come join us in hell, Nicky.", they said. "Once you're dead, you'll finally be at peace."

Behind the skeletons emerged two shadows. Lucy and Mya.

"We'll be happy in death together forever."

Nicky quickly got up and tried running up the stairs to the door, but the door slammed in his face. He kept trying to pull or push it open, but it was locked shut.

Then someone said behind the door, "Have fun with your friends, Nicky."

It was Trinity's voice.

"Trinity, help me! Don't leave me here!"

"I'm sorry, Nicky, but I'm running out of time.", she said. "I'll be right back for you, I promise.", then she ran away.

"She's not coming back.", growled the voices behind him.

Nicky turned around to see the skeletons, the shadows, and the fire creeping up the stairs. The skeletons grabbed at his ankles, pulling him down, but Nicky grabbed onto the stairs and tried to kick them away.

"Leave me alone!", he screamed. "Trinity, help!"

"You're here forever.", chanted the voices. "Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever..."

As they chanted, Nicky began to lose his grip on the stairs, and he was being dragged down by the demonic skeletons and shadows of Mr. Peterson's basement.

"You get out, but you'll never leave."

Nicky gasped awake, clutching his chest and hyperventilating. He held his shaking knees, trying to steady his quivering body.

Then he started sobbing.

These nightmares have been getting out of control ever since that day Trinity left him in the basement, leaving him to find his own way out.

He took his bag from under his pillow and pulled it over his head, tightening it around his throat.

He didn't care if it was risky, he didn't care if he'd tried to poison him, he needed to talk to Mr. Murtaugh.

Because at this point, he seemed to be the only person who would be able to calm him down.

[alexanderlightweight]

hello! how you doing? thank you for your works ❤

this is for wensday prompt: jace and izzy going insane because they lost alec and meanwhile alec is chilling with prince of Edom and planning his wedding <3

i'm good thank you! i hope you are doing well too

thank you for the prompts <3

this is the alternate piece to vampire!alec fic called art of obsession and it's what would have happened if clary and the others had fucked up sooner rather than later. Alec ends up in Edom and Edom is very happy to keep him for Magnus who has been magiacally following him for a while

i hope you enjoy!

lumine

-

“We don’t even know if she’s trustworthy!” Alec protests as Fray insists, they use Iris Rouse to find her missing memories. Memories that no warlock has heard mention of and only Rouse has been willing to look for. “Something else is going on Fray, you just can’t see it.”

“Go home and be a coward, Alec!” Fray yells back and Alec would happily leave her to her fate, except she’s got his little sister and Jace in her web and in the array and he can’t leave them to take the backlash by themselves. Which is the only reason he grudgingly gets into place, furious even as he lends his strength to the ritual.

“A price must be paid, to return your memories from the clutches of Edom, what will you give?”

“Anything!” Fray yells, like the imbecile she is, and Alec curses himself for getting talked into being a part of this ritual.

“You will each pay a price!” Rouse yells, “something you love will be taken from you and—” her eyes widen, and she pales as she drops to her knees. “Forgive me!” She screams into the whirling abyss of magic, “I did not know it belonged to you. Please, take what you will from the circle. Anything in my contract and power, I give it to you in return for sparing my life.”

Alec curses her betrayal, and he readies himself, expecting a demon to come through and instead the array lights up with magic. It’s tantalizing and breathtakingly beautiful and Alec has to remind himself to focus in a way he hasn’t had to since he was a child

It doesn’t hurt, not even when it’s coursing through his body like a current and Alec can hear screaming, but not the sound of his own voice. The ground seems to open up Alec sees flames reaching for him hungrily before darkness takes him and he knows nothing.

—

“So just what about you does Edom like so much?” Magnus hums as he goes to where Edom’s magic is greedily hoarding away a live sacrifice that she plucked from earth. “Show it to me.” He demands and he snaps his fingers until the magic sulkily parts.

 “Is that my—” Magnus trails off, shocked to see Alexander Gideon Lightwood lying in a writhing mass of Edomeic magic.  For a moment, Magnus considers pressing the issue but then he realizes that he has Alexander all to himself, in Edom, with no one to rely on but Magnus.

“Oh darling, we are going to have a lovely time.” Magnus promises as he picks up Alexander and carries him from Edom’s core where Alexander was lovingly stored. Edom has spent too much time twined with Magnus’ soul not to know who Alexander is. Magnus keeps far too many intimate and magical trackers on Alexander for any power he wields to mistake him. It means that when Alexander stepped into whatever ill-advised ritual he did, Edom recognized the taste of him and used the power at her disposal to claim him for her king.

Magnus settles Alexander in his own bed and wipes away the soot and sand and chalk from him with soft touches and lingering caresses.

While unharmed, there is no telling how disoriented Alexander will be upon waking, or if the magic caused him any pain. There’s nothing really to do but wait and Magnus summons the memories that the ritual was trying to take as well as the magicks sense memory of the event. 

It’s with a dark chuckle that Magnus watches and sees it go down and he knows exactly what happened. Rouse attempted to piggyback off the remnants of the ritual lingering in Clarissa’s mind, not realizing the signature belonged to Magnus. His magic would have seen the intrusion as a parasite and demanded payment in full and Edom had chosen Alexander to pay the price.

Brutally efficient and far less personally involved than Magnus’ first dozen plans.

Magnus now has his boy and Alexander has no way of leaving.

So, in Magnus’ opinion, things are going splendidly. It’s been a far less traumatizing experience for his boy than it could have been and Magnus is happy to keep him in Edom until the problems of earth fall into ash.

Magnus has no need for his seat of power on earth, especially not when he’s king of an entire realm in Edom.

—

“Alexander, how are you feeling?”

Alec blinks awake to gorgeous gold watching him with sincere concern and a hand holding his own firmly, but softly and he has to bite back the urge to lunge forward and hold the other close. It’s a visceral and deep reaction and he shudders, fingers clenching down to ensure his savior doesn’t leave him.

“Thirsty,” he gets out and he holds on stubbornly with a pout, determined not to be the reason the gorgeous man above him leaves.

“Well then, why I don’t I get you a glass.” His savior soothes and then magicks — he’s a warlock which is amazing, it means he doesn’t have to let go of Alec’s hand and that is very important for some reason Alec can’t remember — a glass of water into his free hand. He holds it with a straw up to Alec’s mouth so he can take slow, careful sips of the most delicious water he’s ever had. It’s cool and refreshing and it soothes the dry burn of his throat beautifully, so that he feels like he’s drank pure magic more than water.

“You were exposed to the salt plains of Edom for a few moments, sweetheart. It’s why you’re so thirsty. Come here, Alexander. Drink more.”

Alec hasn’t introduced himself and doesn’t know the other’s name, but he doesn’t care and he drinks deeply and even lets himself lean trustingly into the other because if this is death, it’s the sweetest embrace Alec’s ever known.

“Alexander, darling. Aren’t you a treasure—” he’s told as he slides listlessly towards the other and then lips are being pressed to the shell of his ear, “I’m Magnus Bane, darling.”

Something in him reacts to that name, to the power behind such a person but Alec can’t find it in himself to care, not when he’s being taken care of so well.

“Magnus,” he murmurs and there is something devilishly intimate in being allowed to say such a powerful name.

“How I adore my name on your lips.” Magnus admits and the words make Alec shiver, because he’s worth so little but Magnus is holding him like he’s priceless.

“How did I even get here? I was, there was a ritual.”

“Yes, a warlock was trying to trick my magic. She wanted to endear herself to me undoubtedly, but she was going about it in a very wrong way. “

“Edom claimed you for me, Alexander. And the price for trying to steal from a king is steep.”

“So, I was taken as a sacrifice?” Alec asks, wondering why feels so very calm despite the danger he could be in.

“Actually, as a consort. We’re very compatible and all of my magic can tell and recognize such a thing.” Magnus tells him with a smirk and Alec finds himself forgetting all rationality and blushing because that’s not exactly what he thought Magnus was going to say and he doesn’t mind at all.

—

“We have to find another way. There isn’t a single warlock powerful enough to help us who will also risk getting involved in hell politics. No one is going to risk opening a portal to Edom.” Jace says hoarsely as he watches Clary grimly strike the last name off of their list.

“We can find someone else, someone not on the list!” Clary suggests and then winces, probably remembering that they’re still trying to fix the problems.

“Alec didn’t trust Rouse and you saw what happened, we need a better solution than this. Alec is Raziel knows where! For all we know, he could be in Edom itself! We don’t have time to be sitting around here.” Izzy is furious and it shows with the way she throws a dagger and Jace intervenes, getting it taken care of before it can hit Clary.

“We can petition the king of the East Coast.” Jace says slowly, face grimacing with the weight of such a stupid suggestion and Izzy’s hope curdles even as it flares.

“Yes, he would have the power. Wouldn’t he?”

“But Iz, you know deals with him are never straightforward and an audience alone comes at a heavy price. I don’t think we have the time for it.”

Izzy swallows and then nods, “then we go to the clave. We’ll use the possibility of the cup as leverage and the fact that Rouse purposefully made the ritual fall. She practically sacrificed Alec to whatever that demon was.”

“We can’t do that! I need the cup to find my mother.”

“Actually, we need your mother to find the cup.” Izzy reminds her, “we’re all just hoping that if we find the cup first, we’ll figure this mess out. That does not mean we’re going to leave my brother in some angel forsaken dimension that we can’t even track him to!” Izzy slams her fists down at the last part, “especially when you created this mess. So, help me Jace, if I lose Alec because of this.” And Izzy looks wrecked in a way Jace has never seen her and he winces, because it’s bad enough how much it’s affecting Izzy, but all Jace can think of is how many times he’s told Alec that ‘his best wasn’t good enough’ when it was the only thing getting their asses through bad situations safely.

Without Alec, Jace isn’t sure where to go now that no one has his back. He’s never had to face a situation where Alec didn’t come for him and Iz and Jace is finding that he doesn’t like it, his breath catching in his throat and he clears his voice roughly.

“Look, we’ll figure this out. We need to sleep okay; we can’t contact the clave like this. Hodge knows Alec is MIA, he has alerts out for him on the downlow, so the clave and Maryse don’t find out until we can make it work. Okay?”

Clary and Iz both nod and Jace hopes he’s making the right call as he sends them and himself to bed, his hand clenching around his hilt and he wonders if Alec is even still alive.

[completeoveranalysis]

Hi Nick. If you don't mind, can you share a summary of what you think Ashura's overall goals were? I'm still sincerely confused. And we now have the "reasoning itself crumbling" thing. He saw and saved this child cursed by FWR... or foresaw. He always planned for Fai to kill him. Was the whole point really to break Fai's curse out of care/love? Or to prove he could? He clearly didn't consider Fai's empathy or emotions. It start out with good intent but then his reasoning crumbled? thank you

Hello Anon! I don't mind at all! I absolutely love talking about these topics more, so thank you for asking!

The Ashura Problem is such a fascinating scenario because I'm pretty sure CLAMP deliberately wrote it to be both misleading and illogical. If it doesn't make sense then CLAMP absolutely achieved their goal, but that doesn't make it any easier to puzzle out.

So! The options!

(With content warning for everything that happens in Seresu oh my goodness)

Option A) That Ashura was a terrible person.

This is the interpretation that most closely matches Fai's lived experience, especially during the Seresu arc.

This explanation focuses on the fact that Ashura manipulated and twisted Fai's entire life and psyche until he was a broken person who would not have survived his own storyline. Ashura used all of Fai's tragic circumstances to mould him into doing exactly what Ashura wanted; he used Fai's dead brother against him, he trapped Fai into making promises he could use against him, he used Fai's emotional wounds to manipulate him, he limited Fai's magic for his own ends and deleted his memories of it, he committed mass murder, he tried to hypnotise Fai directly, he tried to get Fai to kill Kurogane, and then he tried to kill the entire Tsubasa family - all to get Fai to kill Ashura. It's worth noting that all of these actions echo the narrative impact Evil Wolverine has on Fai as well, and we can clearly see how broken Fai is over all of these revelations, even aside from the fact that we are told that Fai would have killed himself if he had succeeded in granting Ashura's wish. It all points to a very solid verdict, and one that pretty much the entire story supports from the very beginning.

The only thing missing is his actual goal. Why is he trying to get Fai to kill him? Is it out of boredom? Is he immortal and can't die without external influence, and so wanted to manipulate events until he got what he wanted? Is he just doing it all for the hell out it, and sees a dramatic death as just another fun thing to aim for? Or...

Option B) Ashura did it all to save Fai

This is the interpretation that mostly comes to the fore when Ashura dies, having failed in his long game to get Fai to kill him by his own hand.

This option revolves around Ashura's otherwise missing motive. The strongest motive potential motive we have for his actions is that he was trying to break both of Fai's curses at once; to become stronger than Fai so that Fai would be forced to kill him, and in the process wouldn't trigger the second secret curse and save Fai's life in the process.

The thing that muddies this interpretation is how badly he treats Fai to make it happen. Over the course of his entire life he breaks Fai. All his actions are hurtful and twisted, and he is willing to murder as many people as needed to make this goal happen, including literally everyone else Fai values in his life. Nothing about the Fai that's left behind is left unmarred by tragedy and self loathing - but he would be alive! And that seems to be what Ashura was aiming for, in this line of reasoning.

This neat thing about this option is that it really plays into the darker characterisation that CLAMP like to work with. Ashura has his own set of morals, inhuman and unknowable, and so he's willing to cross lines that seem to defy all the rules of empathy that you'd think would apply here. DID Ashura think this was still an acceptable result? Did he commit to this goal with the willingness to break and murder literally anything he needed to in order to make it happen? It seems so! But can he really say he loved Fai if he was willing to do this to him? He could see the future, so how could he not see that his actions would kill Fai just as surely as the curse would?

So it's either that, or

Option C: A bit of both!

This is the option that Tomoyo presents in Nihon, after the fact.

Tomoyo posits that both options are true at the same time, and the reason why this doesn't make sense is because of Fei Wang's influence on the universe. Logic itself is breaking down, so Ashura's actions have lost any logical integrity somewhere along the way.

This option allows for the paradoxes to exist as a deliberate example of the wider affect the overall plot is having on the multiverse. Tomoyo says that yes, Ashura did love Fai and was trying to save him, and also yes, his actions don't reflect that and would have killed Fai through his abuse in the misguided attempt to save him.

At this point in the narrative I think it's option C that CLAMP are set on. It does seem like they deliberately wrote the scenario so that Options A and B don't internally make sense on their own on purpose, so that C can rise out of the ruins and cast a shadow on the rest of the narrative right before things really start to kick off in the main plotline.

I hope this helps! This is my ultimate understanding of Ashura's plotline as it stands, but if anything isn't clear feel free to let me know and I can talk even more.

[ladywaffles]

i apologize for the number of prompts you are about to receive but may i humbly request, as my first and most godawful prompt:

(hugs) 16. ‘not wanting to let go’ hugs for ilsa/ethan <3

hello mar! :) here is the first of your prompts, absolutely no worries for submitting multiples <3

spoilers for mi7 under the cut!

not wanting to let go

send me a list, a number, and a mission: impossible pairing!

He doesn’t get the game until it’s too late.

Ethan has put his life in Benji's hands for years now, and Benji has never failed him.

So what was your scenario? There’s a guy being shot at in the water. All of a sudden, decides to light up a flare and swim around? I mean, what did you assume they’d be thinking?

Thinking? I didn’t assume they were thinking. I assumed they were shooting at anything that moved, I just gave them a target.

But he forgot the cardinal rule of espionage: always remember who you’re fighting against.

He doesn’t spot the trap until he’s in it, until Gabriel’s mercenaries have herded him into an ambush like a farmer guiding an unwitting lamb to slaughter. Gabriel—the Entity—played him, just like he played those Russian agents in Moscow, like he’s fooled every last one of his aggressors over his long and storied career.

He wasn’t thinking.

It was never Benji to begin with, and now the clock is ticking.

He’s cursing every second he has to waste fighting Gabriel’s hired guns, because he knows Ilsa, and he’s beginning to know Grace, and neither of them are one to back down from a challenge. Gabriel promised that one of them would die tonight, and he’s quickly running out of slack on the rope to stop it.

He runs blindly through the streets, turning corners he can only hope will take him in the right direction, tearing through alleys to take any shortcut he can to get to Ilsa faster.

When he gets to her, the scene is too familiar. It’s like he’s a young man again, adrift in Prague, watching his mentor and all of his friends fall to a rogue assassin’s bullet.

Ethan falls to his knees by her side, her eyes glassy and unfocused, Gabriel’s knife plunged into her heart.

Ilsa, who had never been to Venice before. Ilsa, who loved candied dates. Ilsa, whose party trick was reciting the Arabic alphabet backwards.

He smooths her hair away and tucks it behind her ear. He hates that he’s already thinking of her in the past tense.

He gently pulls her into his arms; he doesn’t want to hurt her any more than she’s already been injured. He’s careful to avoid disturbing the knife. Ilsa deserves better than him twisting the blade in her heart.

He can hear Grace’s light footsteps, circling back to the bridge after running from Gabriel. He doesn’t pay her any attention. He can only think of how cold Ilsa must be, so he holds her closer to keep her warm.

She was born in Alexandria, in Egypt—her father was a diplomat, and she spent countless days dancing under the desert sun as a child until her hair was nearly bleached blonde. She must be freezing in the chill coming off of the Adriatic Sea, in this inky black night.

Benji appears at his side, a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“Ethan,” he says, his voice rough. He sounds like he’s aged ten years in the scant few hours it’s been since they last saw each other. “Ethan, we have to go.”

“No,” he replies. “I can’t leave her.” He holds tight to Ilsa, unwilling to let her go.

“Ethan, we need to leave,” Benji insists, and Ethan can tell that every word is killing him. He doesn’t want to abandon Ilsa any more than Ethan does. Our Ilsa, he’d said before. She belonged to them; she was family. How could they leave her behind?

“Ethan, please,” Benji pleads. “Please, before they find you!”

He inhales, trying to commit the smell of her perfume to memory, and presses a kiss to Ilsa’s forehead. With a light touch, he closes her eyes. He’ll never see that shade again. He lays her down on the cold, stone street and folds her hands together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, fingers tracing her jawline. “I’m sorry, I—”

He cuts himself off. Their time has run out. He kisses her cheek one last time, then gets onto the waiting speedboat. Grace is mute, frozen on the bench. Benji steers them away, staring mournfully at the sun rising over the lagoon.

Ethan doesn’t let himself look back.

[tsarinatorment]

TSATS was just. Bad. But there are parts I'm carefully picking out that I did like, for instance that Will is working on developing his photokinesis! Thought it was stupid until Apollo gushed over it, now he's not only taking pride in it but actively starting to test his limits. And... he can make (what are implied to be) Curses of Delos magically start to grow when he sings? That's such a dumb and useless power that Apollo would be completely thrilled over. I love that.

Hello, anon! "TSATS was just. Bad." is a very accurate summary. You didn't need to add the extra sentences and I was worried when the preview showed me that "But-"

But then I read the rest of the ask and [throws aside a large rock] actually I'm not mad at you, because I am actually doing a similar thing. There are some very small details that can be lifted out from this otherwise rubbish tip and repurposed for better use, and Will's photokinesis powerup is certainly one of those!

The "Care Bear" thing is a bit cringey - initially I appreciated the description, because I have fond memories of watching a Care Bears VHS in my childhood and could visualise what Mark was trying to describe there (unlike some younger friends who I had to find old gifs for to show them), but then I did some digging and realised that Care Bears has now been swallowed up by the behemoth that is Disney+ and therefore that this was actually some badly shoved-in marketing, which, urgh. Don't do that. However, I do like that Will has now, effectively, weaponised it (or is in the process of trying to).

You're right that it's a great continuation on from what started in TON - where Will has gone from embarrassment over it, to being proud of it, to actively working on it to see what he can actually do with it, which could well have been inspired by Apollo in TON himself, when he strips Nero's divinity and shatters his fasces. That concept is absolutely fantastic (although we could have done with a better, less cheesy, application; the implication of it being his heart's light is neat but it shooting out of his chest with no real direction like he's got a random inbuilt laser beam there is certainly not where I'd have taken that, personally...) and best of all - it's conceivably tied in to TON already so it's a detail that makes sense even without TSATS and can therefore be utilised without actually having to acknowledge TSATS as canon (win-win!)

On the flip side, the Curse of Delos thing is a little much, imo. I love powerful!Will but he's still got to stay within the constraints of being a demigod, for me (yes, I do believe that if he chose it, Will could ascend to godhood and would deserve it; I also believe he would never choose that). Curse of Delos is explicitly stated to only grow on Delos and around Cabin Seven - Apollo's two most sacred places. There's no way Will, a mere demigod, could literally consecrate ground in his father's name like that. At a stretch, we could say that this scene is actually Apollo hearing Will's hymn (given that it's stated to be one of his healing hymns) and... idk, growing him some flowers as some sort of message? But then that begs the question of where the fuck is Apollo in this story and why is all he's doing, growing flowers when Will sings? It also just doesn't fit Will's general theme, because while in theory yes, music could make flowers grow (especially if sung by a child of Apollo or Demeter), Will is also not a musician. He's very explicit about that back in BOO, so he, of all Apollo kids, being the one to summon flowers when he sings? Doesn't actually track. Give that power to Austin when he's playing the sax or something.

Yes, there are some very small details in TSATS that are worth not discarding (although almost all of them still need reworking, so really I should say concepts that are worth not discarding), but there's not many of them...

[asystemerror]

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

Here's a writing one I did for class a while back! It was meant to be a backstory/flashback for one of my characters in a story my friend and I are writing called, Desiderium!

Neil is essentially a spirit medium who's been born with the ability to see ghosts due to a "family curse". Because of this, he's picked up a fair share of curious ghouls over the years. Mrs. Adlehorn included haha. I was hoping with this short story I could make her less of an antagonistic character as she is now in the story and more of one who simply lets her emotions get the better of her when protecting people she cares about.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

If Mrs. Adlehorn could say anything about the afterlife, it was that it slowly got duller and duller as the years went on. Her poor house had slowly become empty over the years as fewer people became interested in living in a house like hers. It was ironically fitting, she supposed. The liveliness of her life had seemed to slowly fade as time passed and her memory had slowly faded from the public's mind. She had a sense this would happen, of course, yet seeing time pass without her still felt strange and off putting. Like something she'd hear on a late-night radio show than her actual current experience. 

She tried not to think too much about it, it served her nothing but worry after all. However, it was hard as her mind and soul drifted aimlessly around her house. She spared only quick glances towards the all too familiar rooms of the house, occasionally taking note of a new spiderweb or dust that was plaguing one of the many disregarded pieces of furniture. Those were normal occurrences around the house. What wasn't was the creaking footsteps that came from her parlor.

It seemed that she had a visitor of sorts, a young lad who had wandered into the house for whatever reason. Mrs. Adlehorn had never been good at guessing ages, but from his general appearance, she'd guess he was maybe 10 or so. Perhaps coming here was a dare among school friends? Youth exploring abandoned places? Whatever the reason the visitors seemed to leave as quickly as they came, often freaked out by the eerie quiet of the house. Yet, she couldn't sense any trace of discomfort from this child. In fact, If she didn't know better, she'd say they were looking directly at her.

"Hello, Miss."

She jumped at that. As a ghost, she usually wasn't able to be seen - let alone addressed by most people. She glanced around, double-checking that the child was, in fact, addressing her. When the empty room confirmed this, she gave an answer. "Hello there. Who might you be?"

"My name is Neil." They answered. "I came here because people kept telling me about a ghost that's seen in the upstairs window. I wanted to see if the stories about it were true."

"Oh? Are you satisfied with what you've found so far?" She questioned, curious about how aware the lad was of his 6th sense.

"I think so... I didn't expect to find anything if I'm being honest." He muttered. "Ghost stories are usually made to scare younger kids. I didn't think anyone was actually going to be in here...If that makes sense."

"What do you think you're going to do now?" She asked, accepting the explanation from the child for now. She didn't necessarily expect any huge revelations from the child. It was, however, slightly humorous how shocked they were at seeing a ghost. She would have guessed he'd seen at least one other spirit before herself, even if just at a quick glance.

"I think I maybe want to try to figure out why there are so many ghost stories around this place." He said, still sounding unsure in his own statements. "Surely there's a reason right? Now I'm thinking it can't all be stuff to scare little kids if you're here."

"That's correct. What a smart child you are." Mrs. Adlehorn said miming a small pat on the lad's head. "However, I'm not sure you're old enough to hear that story yet. Perhaps another day?" Or when the poor kid was older. She didn't think it was appropriate to explain what exactly happened in the building quite yet.

[witchyleehibernates-fics]

Ghosts and Roses

Summary:

“Rose… Rose Zhang. Mama called my Rosie.” Percy’s heart lurched, and he took a shuddering breath. “You.. you have the same name as my mommy’s friend.” Percy’s eyes closed slightly, as he shuddered again. He should have figured that time would have been so much different once you were dead. “Was your mommy’s name Hazel?” Percy asked, and Rose nodded. Percy bit his lip as he took a deep breath. If Nico was also still alive, he would have felt Rose die, he would have felt Hazel dying. “Where were you and your mommy?” Rose moved to point in a direction, so Percy started walking. It was a much shorter walk than Percy had anticipated, and he got there seemingly just after the paramedics did. Percy held Rose carefully as she turned to look, tears running down her face again. ......... Title is from 'Ghosts and Roses' by Jeremy Renner

Content Warning's/Trigger Warnings: Dead Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson is a ghost, Mentioned Child death, hurt comfort

Characters: Percy Jackson, Original Child(ren), Nico Di Angelo, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,808

Status: Complete

Fanfic Links:

|| Ao3 || Fanfiction Net ||

......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... .........

Percy wondered if having memory gaps was normal when you first died. Because Percy didn’t remember the events leading up to his death. However, he did remember dying. How he’d gotten to Alaska of all places and died, Percy didn’t know. He did know that someone had searched for him and had brought his body home.

Percy only knew this because he was standing in a graveyard, staring at his own grave.

There were no other ghosts in the graveyard, or maybe Percy just couldn’t see them. Maybe they’d moved on; Percy hoped so at the very least.

He sighed, turning and looking around. He’d read almost every grave in the graveyard… Cemetery? Percy wondered what the difference was between a Graveyard and a Cemetery. It was… lonely. Percy was lonely.

He swallowed as he closed his eyes, a feeling of sadness sweeping through him as he tried to think back. Thinking of the events leading up to his death gave him such severe headaches that Percy had stopped even trying too three days prior. But sometimes, it felt like he couldn’t remember his mom, or his sister, or his friends.

He remembered that he used to bake with his mom, they would make blue cookies after really hard days. Or when they were celebrating something, which made Percy smile. Other days they would watch movies, Finding Nemo was his favorite when he was a child. His mom’s favorite was Pirates of the Caribbean. One that they could agree on was one of the Narnia movies, the one that took place on the sea, but Percy couldn’t remember the name of it.

He remembered meeting his sister for the first time, he had never known his mom was pregnant. Percy remembered having mentally cursed out Hera when he found out how stressed she’d been, and she worked nearly the entire pregnancy? Percy would probably always cherish the memory of Estelle calling out his name, or a form of it at least, for the first time two years later.

Percy could remember last Christmas, when he was with all of his friends and they were passing around gifts around a lit up tree. Most of them liked the idea of Christmas, or the tradition of it. They’d planned on creating their own traditions, and they had all planned on learning more about other religion’s holidays.

Percy opened his eyes as he looked around the graveyard once more. He wondered if maybe he had moved on, and this is what the Fields of Asphodel looked like for spirits. Maybe he’d been forgotten about. Percy turned, taking another look at his grave… Maybe he just wasn’t ready to move on yet.

“Hello?” Percy turned, finding a little girl wandering around the graveyard, tears running down her face. “Please… Please my mommy is hurt! She needs help!” Percy frowned. The little girl didn’t look hurt, but Percy knew from his attempts to leave the graveyard that there was just a several mile stretch of road.

Percy hadn’t heard a car pass by since the day before, early in the morning.

He sighed, knowing that if she had survived a crash that happened, that he wouldn’t have been able to help. He went to turn away again, already planning on seeing how far he could walk just to see if there had been a car crash, when something-someone tried to get his attention.

“Hello? Mister! Mister please!” Percy turned back, surprised that the little girl could see him. “Please! My mommy’s hurt!” The girl was crying, even as she ran towards him. Percy… Percy’s heart hurt, knowing that the little girl was dead.

And she didn’t even know it.

“You can see me?” Percy asked, shaking his head as if to shake the thought away. That wasn’t the problem here, and it was such a stupid thing to say. “Are you okay?” Percy moved forward, crouching down as the little girl, no older than maybe five, got to him. It was still a stupid question, but it was the best that Percy could think of to work with.

“I’m-I’m not hurt, by my mommy, she’s covered in red like when-when I scraped my knee when I fell off-off my bike, please mister, she needs help!” Percy knew his face had softened, but he knew that she didn’t know she was dead, it was only going to make things worse if he didn’t let this play out at least a little.

“Can I pick you up? Where is your mommy? Can you take me to her?” Percy asked. He had the feeling that, if he had been alive, his heart would have been racing. Was this something that Nico normally did? Or Hazel? Percy couldn’t fathom having to do this everyday, nevermind several times.

Percy could remember that there were times that Nico would just curl up against Will, knees to his chest and his head down as if he was hiding. Will would simply hold him, and if Percy happened to pass by, he could swear that the air was fighting with itself. Nico’s powers made everything around him cold, while Will pushed as much heat out that he could handle, or those around him could handle.

Only once had Nico had to come to Percy, but Percy tried to mimic that as much as possible. Hazel too, if Percy really tried to remember, he could remember a time or two that she’d gone to him when Hazel couldn't find Frank or Leo; her boyfriend and her best friend, both Percy knew, being the only people Hazel normally went too.

“She…” The little girl started sobbing in earnest, and Percy moved to wrap his arms around her. The little girl hid her face against Percy’s chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck, or atleast definitely tried to.

Percy moved to stand up, picking her up in the process. He started to hum, rubbing her back after she was situated comfortably in his arms. He could vaguely remember doing this with Estelle once or twice after nightmares.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, I promise.” Percy assured, continuing to hum quietly as he started pacing. The little girl only continued to cry, holding tighter to Percy as he attempted to comfort her. “My name’s Percy, Percy Jackson,” Percy uttered quietly after a while, when the little girl was only sniffling and was no longer seemingly inconsolable. “What’s your name?”

“Rose… Rose Zhang. Mama called my Rosie.” Percy’s heart lurched, and he took a shuddering breath. “You.. you have the same name as my mommy’s friend.” Percy’s eyes closed slightly, as he shuddered again. He should have figured that time would have been so much different once you were dead.

“Was your mommy’s name Hazel?” Percy asked, and Rose nodded. Percy bit his lip as he took a deep breath. If Nico was also still alive, he would have felt Rose die, he would have felt Hazel dying. “Where were you and your mommy?” Rose moved to point in a direction, so Percy started walking.

It was a much shorter walk than Percy had anticipated, and he got there seemingly just after the paramedics did. Percy held Rose carefully as she turned to look, tears running down her face again.

“There’s my mommy!” Rose pointed, and Percy felt his breath catch as he saw Hazel. Definitely much older than Percy had last remembered her being. There was a little boy in the backseat too, unconscious, and there was someone already moving to get to him.

Percy felt a little overwhelmed by all the red and blue flashing lights, which made him uncomfortable. He backed up a little just as one of the paramedics pulled Rose’s body from the car.

“That… Mister Percy… Why do I see myself?” Rose asked, her voice sounding almost numb with shock.

“That’s because you’re dead.” Percy told her, feeling tears building in his eyes as he looked down towards her.

“Like my mommy’s friend?” Rose asked, looking back up at Percy with wide eyes. She looked like she was starting to panic too.

“I am your mommy’s friend,” Percy uttered quietly, moving to brush back Rose’s hair. She turned her head to watch as her mom was put in the ambulance, and Percy followed her gaze. Hazel was crying, and Percy was honestly surprised that she was awake. She was staring right… right at Percy and Rose.

“I got her.” Percy mouthed, holding Rose a little more protectively. Hazel nodded, a bit of relief as the little boy was pulled from the backseat, thankfully unharmed for the most part. Maybe a bit of whiplash, but he would make it. Percy hoped that nothing serious had broken. “I got you.” Percy held Rose as she cried, waving towards her mother.

Percy looked around and found that Frank was in another ambulance, with the doors already closing as they prepared to take off. Percy watched over the scene as Rose cried against his shoulder. Percy swallowed as he took a deep breath, a habit he would never lose, despite not needing to breathe.

He waited until all the ambulances were gone, and even some time after. He felt the urge to just stay, and Rose wasn’t asking anything, though Percy wondered if she had fallen asleep… Could ghosts sleep? He never had too, but it would make sense if Rose was going off of habit from while she was alive.

“Percy?” Percy turned, finding Nico… Nico looked older, he looked healthy, and Percy could only hope that his brother had stayed with Will. They were good for each other. “Oh, Percy, is… is that Rose?” Nico sounded horrified, eyes wide and there was a deep sadness there.

“I got her…” Percy uttered, rubbing Rose’s back as Nico took a deep breath. He nodded, laughing slightly as he shook his head. “Are you okay?”

“Just found out my niece is dead, and my dead best friend found her.”

“If it helps, she found me.” Percy told him, huffing a breath of laughter as Nico glared at him. There were tears in his eyes, and Percy understood he was grieving. “Hazel, Frank, and the little boy were taken to hospital.”

“Andrew.” Nico uttered, and Percy nodded his head. “How did she find you? Didn’t you go to Elysium?” Nico sounded confused, and Percy tilted his own head in confusion.

“I’ve been in the graveyard, just up the road, since I-... I don’t actually know how long I’ve been there.” Percy frowned, shrugging lightly. Nico looked pained.

“Of course, come on. I’m taking you both home.” Nico uttered, and Percy supposed that ‘home’ meant the Underworld. That Nico had meant that he was going to take Percy and Rose to Elysium.

Percy only nodded as he moved, taking Nico’s hand.

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Feitan comfort? With a lil angst. Like how he would be trying to comfort a S/O when they are having a high like panic attack or something? It doesn’t have to be that but something like that? Sry if it doesn’t make sense. G/N please!

Hello, thank you for the ask! I put some Meteor City headcanons of mine and made this into a short fic, so there might be some things that sound a bit confusing. Some dark themes here, so it's under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

Feitan comforting his s/o who is going through a panic attack

tw: panic attack, human trafficking, war

Feitan and the word "comfort" don't really go together, he knows that himself too. Ever since he could remember, he never really understood what "comfort" meant. All he knew was that it was close to the feeling of joy, of warmth. But was that something that could be explained through words? No. He wasn't sure what it truly was like, but maybe comfort was the thing he felt when he heard the screams of the Kurta, when he tortured someone to the point of death, or when he met Chrollo for the first time who seemed to give Meteorites, the citizens of Meteor City, a path to take.

But then he met you, a meteorite who came from a country that he couldn't remember the name of. He didn't think much of you at first, stopping by at a canteen in District G of Meteor City simply because Shizuku was parched and Phinks was hungry. You were working there, a regular citizen who had no idea who you were talking to. But somehow, you became close to him, and the moon allowed the sun's rays to pass into the shadows. Feitan began to keep his eyes on you, perhaps out of the sick mind that he had, thinking you would only last a week in the desolate city. But you stayed for a month, then a year, then it became two years. Before he knew it, he was falling for you. You were a simple meteorite, following the commands of the elders and the martyrs that shaped the forgotten country. But you did something to him, you made him feel joy, warm. You were "comfort" to him. Feitan never asked you to date him, nor did he confess his feelings to you, but you could read him immediately.

The two of you were together for a few months, with you showing most of the affection and him mainly giving you gifts he scavenged while outside of the city's safe, trash-built towers. It was very nice for you to have his company, though you were unsure of Feitan's association to the troupe, who did great things for the Meteorites but at the same time cursed their existence with their fiery actions. Either way, the two of you found ways to date or at least do some kind of bonding.

But then came a day when you remembered how you ended up in this city, a horrible memory. Something gripped your chest and seemed to claw into your neck. You were staying with Feitan alone in the empty canteen late at night, but when you heard jets fly above the skies you felt your heart jolt. Something told you to run, to scream, to just disappear. It was a flash of your world from before the Meteor's shadow, the jets grew louder and your fear just seemed to grow. Feitan was sharpening a pocket-knife he acquired when storming an office of a mafia boss that took the children of Meteor City into their throngs of child slaves and fake soldiers. His intuition let him know that something was wrong, and he looked up at you only to see you with wide eyes. You were gripping your neck, breathing heavily and then suddenly you began to pant. You were getting louder, just like the jets from above. He looked at the ceiling as if he could see beyond the moldy paint and then back at you. You had sweat breaking out, and you just kept breathing harder. Feitan stood up, about to call out your name but then you began to scream.

"No, no no no stop, I don't want to hear this! STOP! a-aAAHH!" you were crying, curling up into yourself and falling to your knees like you were hit with a punch into your gut. You kept screaming, but he was standing there.

Was he supposed to feel good? Just like when he heard all those people he tortured from before? He was supposed to be laughing at your miseries, telling you to cry harder and that nothing was going to help you. But he felt the opposite, a cold slash cutting into his heart if he even had one. Out of all the things that the wise elders, out of all the things that the "one whose eyes are open in the Meteor's shadow," Chrollo, taught him, they hadn't taught him how to comfort a lover. How do you comfort the thing that gave you comfort? How was he to heal the only sun that he knew?

He stepped closer, almost like scared to hurt you more than you were already hurting. The jets were growing quieter, but your sobs were still loud. Finally, he placed a hand on your head, you were shorter than him with your body being curled into a defensive position. It was like it was a battlefield for you.

"Y/n," he whispered, but you didn't seem to hear him. FInally, he gently placed his hands on your ears to cover them, then placed his forehead on yours. It was something the wise head of the spiders taught him, that the eye of one's soul could be the forehead, hence the mark of the meteor on Chrollo's own. Perhaps Feitan could look into your spirit, perhaps he could comfort you this way. He wasn't sure what he was doing, he hadn't read any kind of romance or comfort book before. He couldn't even read properly. But he didn't want to give up, he wasn't going to let you suffer. For once, perhaps he could cause something other than pain. It lasted more than ten minutes, just him staying still and keeping you close.

The sound was quieter for you, and you felt Feitan's forehead on yours. He didn't say anything, but he was close, close enough for you to suddenly feel like you weren't in the dark. The memories of a forgotten war started to blow away like the sands in the desert. You tried to see Feitan through the tears that blurred your vision, but all you could do was weep as you calmed down. Finally, when the jets were gone, when the city slept once again, Feitan removed his hands and sat in front of you, cross-legged like the elders.

"Okay?" he asked, sounding cold as ever. But through his eyes you could tell he was asking out of concern rather than annoyance. Smiling weakly, you nodded.

"Thank you."

[niharikaaa2]

Here is the first chapter of my fic. I hope you all enjoy. Constructive criticism highly appreciated.

Soumya

Soumya almost fell to his death. He craned his neck to try and look down. He was about 7 storeys high in the air. He exhaled slowly and repositioned his feet carefully on the tiny ledge. Father had claimed that the fort was made to be impenetrable. Well, in actuality, it was large and ostentatious, made to show off the wealth the House of Agni possessed, and highly annoying to climb.

Soumya grunted and found another gap in the wall to grip. Slowly he inched towards the window to his left, his window.

Well, atleast it used to be his window. After that night, his father had denied him entry into his own home. He chuckled as he remembered that night. His father, ever the show-off. All about appearances, all about perceptions. It did not matter that he himself had trained Soumya and his brothers to be killers since they were seven, it did not matter that he had poisoned their minds since childhood by speaking ill of other houses, it did not matter that he had cursed and lamented when Chandrika was born even though the houses had been on a mutual truce for many years. It did not matter what was done behind closed doors, in the corridors of their ancestral home. In there, the only witnesses were the memories of the past and the house itself, and after all, it is a known fact that houses happen to be excellent secret-keepers.

No, the only reason he was exiled was because he was not careful enough. He had been found out, the secrets were at threat of being laid bare for the world to see. No, that was simply too inconvenient. Soumya was not the heir to his house, he had always been a bit of a trouble child, it was much better, his father had calculated, to let him go. And so it was.

He heaved himself up. He had no wish to come back, he was never particularly fond of the dreary old fort anyway . He was only breaking in to take what was his, nothing more. The only reason he had not come back sooner was because of his hosts. Though he was eternally grateful for their hospitality, they tended to be...... overbearing. He was always accompanied by guards, so it was quite difficult to sneak out. In retrospect, it’s likely they were there to make sure he didn’t sneak out. Bur Soumya had his ways. Aranya had repeatedly adviced against his plans. He did not quite understand why Soumya needed those particular weapons. He could have had his pick from the armoury of the House of Chandra, but those wouldn’t be the same. His weapons were like his limbs, he wasn’t the same without them. He had tried to explain this to Aranya, but he didn’t understand. His friend had always been a scholar, not a warrior.

Soumya creapt through the dark hallways, his steps like a cat. He knew this fort like the back of his hand. He made his way down the spiral staircases, through narrow corridors and finally through a final, steep staircase leading down to the earth. He had met no guards, no resistance. Everyone was asleep during this hour, even the spiders living on the walls were entangled in slumber’s webs.

Finally, he reached the heavy, wrought iron doors of the armoury. The lock hanging from the iron rings was specially made by craftsmen from overseas. In other words, it was fancy and convoluted for anyone who was inexperienced, but a novelty item to anyone who knew anything about locks. Soumya took out his lockpicks. These had never failed him, and they didn’t fail him now. He smiled as he remembered father’s boastful remarks about this lock. “Impossible to pick apart” he had said.

He sighed and pushed open the doors.

He was greeted by an unmistakable mocking laugh.

“Hello, little brother.”

Tags: @melancholicmonody @aasthuu @inc0rrectmyths @ma-douce-souffrance @ramayantika sorry it took so long, but here it is. Hope you guys like it.

[sunarintarouproperty]

A Little Too Late

A Little Too Late 

Fandom: Haikyuu

Genre: Angst 

Includes: Suna Rintarou 

Warnings: Pure Angst, Mention of Cheating (Please Let Me Know If I Missed Anything)

A/N: After a few hours, this is the continuation of “Better This Way” - as requested~. I felt the ending was a little rushed, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless! This is part one if you haven’t read it yet! 

Maybe it was the nostalgia that caused Suna to walk alone along the bustling city streets at night or maybe it was just boredom. It didn’t seem to matter as he had no particular destination in mind and let his feet carry him aimsley, watching with uninterested eyes at the many people who passed. 

It was around Christmas time when the streets were a little busier and filled with countless families and groups of students who were enjoying the holiday festivities together, all of whom were basking in the Christmas glow. 

Laughter filled the air, but it was maybe that which caused him to feel a little more lonely. Usually, time around this year would be spent around with his friends and family; however, this year his family was out of the country for the holidays and his friends had their own families to take care of. 

It didn’t help that 6 months ago, he found out his ex girlfriend of 4 years that he was thinking of finally proposing to, was cheating on him with a coworker of hers. Suna found the entire situation ridiculous because after hearing her complain relentlessly about wanting to get married, he finally got the courage to buy a ring, only to find her the same day with her co-worker getting busy in the back of his car down the street from their apartment. 

However, it was during those six months after the split up when Suna began to uncover some buried feelings that he thought he got rid of, which is probably why he was walking down the familiar street. A street that you both used to accompany each other frequently, especially during the holidays. 

To his right, he could see the same skating rink he took you to every year as tradition, along with the hot chocolate stand nearby that you always insisted on drinking at. He believed your reasoning was to support small businesses instead of going to places like Starbucks for overpriced drinks. The entire moment was bittersweet, because even years after walking out on the most important person in his life, Suna could still feel the overwhelming guilt of not realizing how actually important you were to him sooner.

After his breakup, Suna tried his hardest to get in contact with you, only to find out that you switched your number and deactivated your former social media accounts. He even went as far to ask former friends and acquaintances of yours about your whereabouts, only to be told that you moved out of the country less than a year after what happened. 

Did he hurt you that badly to the point where you couldn't stay in Japan? Was it him or was it the memories? Breathing out a heavy sigh at the thought, Suna stopped briefly to watch the condensation from his breath.

And it was from that brief moment that he saw from the corner of his eyes, a familiar figure that he always failed to chase after in his dreams amongst the moving crowd. With widened eyes and head whipping around widely in order to catch another fleeting glimpse, Suna could feel the desperation claw at his throat. He didn’t know if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but Suna needed to see you again in front of him, even just once. 

And it was by chance when Suna’s eyes landed on your figure that stopped to peer into a shop, looking ethereal under the store’s lighting as snow slowly cascaded down from the clear, night sky. The entire moment was a bit picturesque as he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Without even realizing it, his feet led him to stand a few feet behind your figure as he desperately tried to engrave this scene into his memories. The entire situation felt like a dream to the point he was almost afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear right before his eyes once more. 

Feeling the peering eyes, you slowly turned around to face the man who once caused you immense heartache. But instead of cursing him out like he expected you to, all you did was smile. A smile that took his breath away and left him gaping in awe. 

“Y/N…” Suna mumbled, eyes shifting around nervously with his hands shoved into his coat pockets to hide his clenched fists that trembled slightly. After countless dreams and wishing, you finally stood before him. He wanted to apologize for hurting you and telling you that he's been missing you like crazy. Suna honestly hoped it wasn’t too late to start anew.

“Hello, Suna.” You said while smiling warmingly. Your eyes met briefly before you looked around at your surroundings to admire all the twinkling lights for a moment. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” 

Despite your good intentioned acknowledgment, Suna wanted the ground to swallow him whole as you addressed him by his last name. He internally cringed, but he had to remind himself that he wasn’t as close to you as before and there was no reason to be upset. After all, this was the grave he dug himself. 

“Yeah,” Suna managed to breathe out, mouth opening and closing as he tried to form proper sentences as silence engulfed the air around you. You didn’t seem to mind his lack of words, almost too busy watching the colorful lights around you.  

“How have you been?” He finally asked, watching as your eyes finally turned back to him. “I heard you moved out of Japan.” He listened attentively, wanting to hold onto your every single word.  

Your eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention as he wondered if your eyes always looked this beautiful.

“I’ve actually been great! And yeah, I moved briefly to California in the U.S for schooling.” You said, the corner of your eyes crinkling in happiness at the thought, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by Suna. 

“Look,” Suna began before he was cut off abruptly by a shout.

“MAMA!” A child screamed that caused your head to turn in their direction. Almost immediately, your entire expression seemed to brighten even more as you waved back at the voice. 

Turning to look, Suna almost wished he hadn’t. In the arms of a man was a two year-old child who closely resembled you that was waving widely and giggling in your direction. His heart clenched painfully at the resemblance of being reminded of his younger years with you. And it wasn’t just any man with the child… Suna recognized him as Iwaizumi Hajime, the athletic trainer for MSBY.

It was at this moment when Suna turned to look back at you when he saw the unmistakable engagement ring that glittered mockingly on your left hand as you waved back. Your eyes were filled with complete love and adoration as you gazed at the two, with Suna wishing you looked at him like that once more. Suna felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as his fists clenched even tighter in his pockets, but still keeping up his almost indifferent expression at the newfound revelation. 

Chuckling, you turned back to Suna. “You were saying?” 

Suna almost wanted to scream, whether it be from pain or anger, he still managed to keep his composure as he stared at your face trying to remember every single detail-knowing full well that this could be his last.

“It’s nothing…” Suna managed to speak after a moment of silence. 

Peering closely at his face, you could see a whirlwind of emotions behind his green eyes. Immediately, Suna could tell that you saw right through his facade, something that you’ve always been able to do since you guys were kids. However, you chose not to comment knowing his life was none of your business anymore.  

Instead, you gave one last smile to him before you began to walk away and straight into the arms of another. You briefly stopped and without turning around, you said, “I wish you the best in life Suna.” 

Despite the immense heartache he gave you years prior, you couldn’t help but be thankful. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to become the stronger version of you right now and happily married to someone who cherished you everyday without fail. Without him, you wouldn’t have been able to meet the most wonderful child.  

Suna laughed bitterly at how ironic it was to see only your back as you walked away from him like he did to you all those years ago. He wondered if this was the gut-wrenching pain you felt, but he figured it was well deserved karma for how he treated you. 

Instead of calling out to you one last time like he desperately wanted, he walked in the opposite direction of the one he loved a little too late. The one who got away... 

“Yeah, maybe it is a little too late…” 

[blzzrdstryr]

By proxy

Platonic yandere!Kaeya & child!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2195

A.N.: My first time writing platonic yanderes, hope you'll enjoy.

It's an impulsive decision for the most part - taking you, that is.

Kaeya trudges through the Wolfendom forest, a couple of his underlings, Addler and Otto, following behind as they trail a group of treasure hoarders. Criminal gang must have known that knights are on their tail, there's no other explanation for their sudden fleeing, leaving an already broken camp behind and taking only the most valuable possessions.

It's raining and he silently curses, even if this will give him advantage in battle, but archons, it's so cold. Huge droplets fall on the ground with a resounding sound, drenching everything and turning the forest landscape deep into nigh impassable terrain. Mud clings to their feet, slowing the group down, as the Sun starts to set. Sky turns all shades of purple and red, dimming light throwing the last rays over the Mondstadt as the darkness settles, yet Kaeya and his group still carry forward through the palisade of tall trees.

“Sir”, Otto carefully starts: “It seems that criminals are already several miles away from us”.

Kaeya nods for the knight to continue, already knowing that it will be an ask to stop - the weather is hellish and the rain is one of the heaviest Kaeya has ever had to experience.

“With how strong this rainfall is, the gang's traces will be gone in under an hour”

"All the more reasons to push on and catch them then", Alberich replies, paying zero attention to Adler's slight trembling or Otto's teeth chattering. The group continues on their path through descending darkness, their footsteps hasting despite the clinging and growing fatigue.

Suddenly, as the knights make their way around the cliff, a slight whimper is heard. It's human enough to stop the group - maybe some unlucky civilian got in the way of the gang, maybe criminals left their injured one. Kaeya just nods to the pair, as Otto and Adler unsheathe their weapons, wordlessly understanding the gesture.

Cavalry captain takes a step into the forest pit with a raised sword, all sight and ears, light blue vision on his belt shining and flickering both in caution and anticipation. He walks slowly and quietly, like a cat, careful not to step on the leaves and twigs lying around, and then he sees you.

You are a child, all thin and small in the way that the sick are. There are dark circles under your tired eyes, and the scrapes all over your body. You look already dead. He runs up to you, as he sees your figure swaying and knees buckling, saving you from the fall. Your skin burns Kaeya as he carries you back to the knights - it must be fever then. You blink at him several times, saying something, but your voice is too small and weak to make out anything among the droplets falling, and then you stop, eyes rolling back and head lolling to the side. You blacked out.

He thinks about handing your body to either of the knights and then continuing to run after the gang into the knight, but then decides against it - heavy rain must have blurred all the footsteps they left. Adler almost fails. You escape your delirium a couple of times, babbling words about forest and rain and wolves, and Kaeya, despite his focus on the trail ahead, can't help but listen to what you say. It's childish nonsense for the most part, an incomprehensible product of the feverish mind, yet sometimes you say meaningful things - I thought I would die, I got scared of wolf howls, The rain was so cold.

Some small part of him shrinks and aches at these words, a long buried hurt resurfacing once again. Kaeya frowns and huffs as he tries to get rid of the images of the days long gone in his mind - rainy night, hunger, pain, cold, he will die here. His lips quirk and a humorless laugh escapes him - the irony is painful.

He drops you off at the church, concerned Barbara taking you to the hospital and Kaeya, after a brief report to Jean, goes home, his mind still stuck on the memories of days long past. You will be fine, he tells himself, the church has good healers and the orphanage is nearby. Once you get better, you’ll get sent there, where devoted nuns will raise to be another disciple.

You had a look of a deadman - a strange catatonic serenity was radiating off of you, as you looked at the captain with a glazed yet piercing eyes, both seeing him and through him. It’s cold, so cold, yet no one is here. There are hot tears on his face, wet tracks burning his skin. His tummy is empty and aching, cold bites at his limbs, but Kaeya patiently waits for the adult to return. Father said that Kaeya was their last hope, so sure he would never leave him to die, right?

Cavalry captain barely sleeps through the night, memories and inner demons eating him from inside. When he does manage to doze off, a vague picture of darkening forests and howling winds wake him up, a fervent chanting buzzing in his head - Where is his father? Where is his father? Where is his father?.

Kaeya comes to you the next day, as his shift ends, legs heading to the towering church at the top on their own. Barbara leads him to your bed, your unconscious form lying limply. Idol explains your health issues to him - fever, malnutrition, inflammation, common cold and slight poisoning. The scratches you had yesterday were healed, Barbara says, but the rest of the problems can't be easily fixed with a bit of a hydro.

"Then, what medicines do they need?", Kaeya asks, understanding the unspoken words. The Church of Favonius, despite the large funding it receives from the city's treasury, still lacks a lot of resources and materials. People are free to come and get cured, without having a single mora to pay, which means that most of the remedies disappear at an alarming rate - be it some herbal balm for aching joints or a simple linen bandage.

The idol rustles in the hidden pockets of her dress, taking out a pencil and sheet of paper and begins to write, the list grows as Kaeya’s eyebrows get higher and higher. There are dried Liyuen herbs, exotic Sumeru fruits, specially treated Snezhnayan and Fontaine tinctures and medicines.

Kaeya is taken aback for a second by the sheer length of the final list - most of the items will have to be ordered and shipped and despite his salary of the captain allowing such expenses, it’s still strange to spend so much mora - a complete stranger. Captain contemplates just leaving you there - nuns will take care of you, but the hurt resurfaces again and he sees another person lying on the small hospital bed - little him, scared and confused.

He ends up buying all the listed things, and despite his efforts not to, continues to regularly check up on you when he has time. Sometimes, Barbara says, you wake up from your slumber, enough to utter some confused noises and questions, but then you drowse off again, both sickness and medicine pulling you back to sleep.

Kaeya, to his displeasure, never catches you conscious in time, until he comes one evening, expecting to spend the time looking at you sleeping again only to see you half sitting on the bed. Your posture gets straight the second you notice him too, an expression of confusion and fear appearing on your face.

"Hello", Kaeya starts, slowly walking up towards you, keeping his posture small and voice as friendly as possible:"I am that knight who carried you here, remember?", he explains, seeing the further abashment on you face.

You nod at him, prompting him to continue:"So, I just decided to visit you to ask you how you got in the forest and why were you alone"

"Sister Barbara said that you came here almost everyday," you reply, voice absolutely flat and face having no expression. Kaeya looks at you briefly - it’s rare for children to speak in such a cold manner, you must have something on your mind then.

"Yes, I did" , he says in the same friendly tone.

"Just to know why I was in the forest?" , your voice betrays you, a hint of hurt seeping into it. Ah, that’s why you asked.

"Hm, of course no! I also wanted to see you get better" , he smiles at the end, leaning a bit closer to you. You mull over his words, thinking of their sincerity, and then a later second you say, with much less caution and guard up:

"Well I am better now and…" you get silent for a good minute:"I don't remember why I was there. I think it's because of the fever". Your voice becomes strangely controlled again - you lie to Kaeya, you didn’t forget anything. A part of cavalry captain swells and purrs, recognizing himself in you,

"Do you want to live with me?". He asks instead of trying to get the truth out of you. Your eyes shine and a surprised noise comes out of your mouth at his suggestion - something between a squeak and high pitched yelp.

His apartment isn't the best place to bring the child in - there are far too many bottles and not enough food - Kaeya lives off the takeout from the Good hunter and the skewers he grills when missions call him to leave the city walls. Nonetheless, you don’t look too disgusted with his living conditions, so he considers it a win, as he heads for the tiny kitchen to make you a soup.

It turns out a bit burnt in the end - Kaeya added too much wood to the stove, but you still gulp it down, not leaving anything and thank him for the meal. He makes a mental note to buy you a bed - right now you’re sleeping on a small couch, and clothes to change.

You are a quiet child, too fast to apologize for the smallest mistakes and wary of him when he’s in a foul mood - it gives Kaeya an idea why you were in the woods. Your days together flow slowly and steady with Kaeya falling into routine - he wakes up, makes a breakfast for the both of you, you eat it, as you shyly tell him about your newest interest or finding - a drawing, a strange bug, a shiny rock of unusual colour, then he leaves for work, instructing you to go to the neighbours if you have issues, and leaving a premade dinner for you. Then he comes back, now listening to you talking about your day - you were drawing again, or you played with the other kids, or you were running and catching the butterflies, the now dead insects left for him to look at.

It’s a mundane life, something that Kaeya thought will never please him. There is a large pit inside of him - it was growing and festering with years - Khaenri’ah, father, Diluc, Crepus, that fight. It’s ugly and snarling and thoroughly scorched, a part of his soul that keeps him awake and anxious and angry and sad during bad nights. The pit quiets a bit when Kaeya takes care of you - toys, foods, games, the same way he wishes he was treated as a child.

Crepus Ragnvindr was a nice person, he took Kaeya in, clothed and fed and kept him safe for years, yet there was always an invisible line that separated Khaenri'ahn from Diluc - warmer voice, higher expectations, more praise. Kaeya doubts Crepus noticed this truly tiny gap in treatment, Diluc for sure didn’t. Alberich did his best to ignore it, yet he couldn’t, this difference nagged him at the back of his mind, alienating him in the newfound home.

That must be why he does his best to spoil you - it's new toys and furniture and evening walks around the Mondstadt with you on his shoulders. Soon, a new rumour starts to travel around Mondstadt - about a stray being picked up by another stray. Amber seemingly forgives him for the incident with Collei, Jean gives him a raise the same month, for child expenses, she succinctly says, Albedo off handedly mentions Klee and her desire for friendships, even Lisa gives him a couple of fairytale books, warning him what will happen if he will be late to return them beforehand. Diluc doesn't comment on the irony the next time they happen to meet, but he sees some Dawn Winery workers looking after you, when he is busy with Favonius stuff.

Kaeya, for the first time in years, feels truly happy. He has family again - you and him this time and he's willing to smother you with affections. He buys you things he wishes he had, and teaches you the skills he thinks will help you in life - how to fight, how to lie, how to kill someone with words alone.

It's a strange love he has for you - never seeing you as you - but it's genuine and all encompassing. Kaeya doesn't want little him to suffer again.

[tarosin]

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 13-15

Series Masterlist

Y’all know what’s coming up next, time for some *~buildup~*. So I’ve decided to forgo my usual bullet point system for the next two parts in the series so it’ll just be a full fic chapter style thing. Anyway, enjoy the prelude to the angst!

MC was comfortable.

They were sprawled out on the floor of Lucifer’s study, folding and crinkling old bits of paperwork that their father had damned to the shredder. Bean attempted to swat at the loose paper, only to flop onto his back. MC giggled and scratched behind his ears, the kitten batted at their hand in response.

Lucifer was doing paperwork, though he was getting quite distracted by the antics of his child and the cat.

Finishing up their paper snowflakes, MC unfolded them and hummed to themselves. The snowflakes turned out much better than that line of paper people that they had accidentally decapitated earlier.

“Tadaaaa!” MC chirped, holding up the paper snowflakes.

Lucifer looked at them, then chuckled and shook his head. “MC, I know it’s winter up in the human world, but it’s not down here. Why are you making snow themed decorations?”

“There’s no sun in the Devildom, it’s always a little cold out.” MC replied. “So it’s gotten me in a snowflake-y mood.”

Lucifer smiled slightly as he adjusted the paper orchids on his desk. MC had attributed their skill in paper crafts to their plethora of Mother and Father’s Day gifts they had given to their other parent over the years.

“What are you working on now?” He asked as he continued to absentmindedly work through the mountain of paperwork.

“I need to make something for Beel.” MC sighed. “I made him a pizza slice craft… but he ate it.”

“Perhaps this time you should make him a Fangol ball.”

“Yeah… that might be best.”

MC had offered to help out their father with anything involving the exchange program, any questions or improvements to be made, any issues that needed to be solved, and things that could be done to make future students more comfortable. Things were going well, but not every bit of work Lucifer was doing involved the exchange program, which left MC to play with the cat and the loose paper.

“Do you need help with anything, father?” MC asked, rolling onto their back and holding Bean above them.

“Not yet, MC.” Lucifer replied. “Most of your work here is done anyway.”

“Hmph, that sucks.” MC pouted. “I like helping you.”

They caught the ghost of a smile on Lucifer’s face after they said that.

“It’s nice that someone in this house does.”

They continued to play with the cat, Bean ended up getting his claws stuck in the carpet, MC had to help him out, Bean returned the favour by attacking MC’s poor defenseless hand.

“MC?”

“Yes?” MC looked up from their battle with Bean.

“What was your life like in the human world? I assume it wasn’t common knowledge that you’re half demon.”

MC giggled a bit. “Kind of boring, it’s much more exciting down here. Back in the human world I couldn’t exactly practice my magic without needing to explain to the insurance guy that the reason the windows are broken is because I wanted to move the remote closer to me without getting up.”

“Hm.” Lucifer smirked. “Laziness gets you nowhere.”

“I know. But at least now I can move things without breaking anything I don’t want broken.” MC smiled as they used their magic to move their father’s coffee mug a few inches to the left. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

MC felt their hair get ruffled and their glasses moved slightly off their nose. “What about you, father? What was life like without me?”

“Well, it wasn’t boring.” Lucifer replied. “Just ever so slightly less chaotic.”

Bean lost interest in the game and rushed out of the room to yowl angrily at one of the vases in the library or hallway. According to Lucifer, those artifacts came with the house and were insanely cursed. Bean appeared to be offended that he wasn’t allowed to knock the objects off of the table.

MC took a quick breath and steeled themselves to ask a question they had asked a dozen times before. “What about the time before that? Like when you were in the Celestial Realm?”

Lucifer stiffened in his seat. “Why do you want to know about that?”

“No one really talks about it, and I want to know.” MC frowned, but did their best to shrug as casually as they could. “I also want to know about Lilith, no one ever talks about her.”

“Just wanting to know isn’t a terribly good reason for digging up the past.”

MC bristled at his dismissive tone, every time they had asked about that time he had avoided answering. They ground their teeth as they responded. “Well, this is my family too, I deserve to be a part of it.”

“What does knowing about the Celestial Realm have anything to do with being a part of the family?”

“Because I’m the only one who doesn’t have any memories of it!” MC finally snapped. “Even Satan has some of your memories and I have nothing! I’m being left out and it’s not fair!”

Lucifer looked up from his paperwork and glared at MC. “Watch your tone.”

They looked away and muttered something under their breath.

“Speak clearly, MC, I don’t have time for mumbling.” Lucifer said, his patience rapidly draining.

“I said you sure keep a lot of secrets!” MC growled, getting to their feet and crossing their arms. “You won’t tell me why the Grimoire is downstairs, you won’t tell me anything about the Celestial Realm or the Celestial War, you won’t tell me why I’m not allowed to go in the attic, you’re keeping so much from me!”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that you don’t need to know about any of those things?”

“I don’t need to but I have a right to!” MC felt every single one of their insecurities rise and bubble in their chest. “You don’t trust me, do you? That’s why you won’t tell me anything!”

“MC, calm down.” Lucifer growled.

“No!” They snarled. “You’ve been keeping me in the dark!”

Lucifer slammed his hands on his desk, cutting them off. MC almost flinched at the sudden noise, the silence that followed was deafening as they stiffened their posture and felt their hands curl into fists.

“Take a walk, MC. You’re being ridiculous.”

MC opened their mouth to speak, to yell, to scream about the unfairness of it all, then closed it. What good would it have done? They turned on their heel and stomped out of the study.

—————

Time heals all wounds, doesn’t it? Not this time considering Lucifer and MC were still upset at how their last chat ended.

Mammon, Asmo, Beel, Satan, Levi, and MC were lounging around in the living room. It was time for the monthly repainting of everyone’s nails, and MC was getting their turn.

“You have to take better care of your nails, MC.” Asmo tutted. “Clean them more often, file them, take those vitamins I recommended,”

When Asmo was lecturing someone, it was always very much a: ‘nod and make random affirming noises every once and a while’ situation. Mammon snickered at MC’s predicament.

“Don’t think you’re exempt!” Asmo held up the nail clippers at Mammon. “Your nails are filthy too!”

The two began to bicker, MC rolled their eyes and moved over, their nails were still half finished. Satan let out an explosive sigh and closed his book.

“Another day in paradise.”

“Paradise Lost, you mean?” MC teased, Satan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The formerly average bickering of the second and fifth borns had slowly begun to escalate to their usual game of ‘who can make the other cry first’, a game which Asmo was defending champion of.

“Would both of you dummies CRAM IT?!” MC turned and snapped, the two ignored them and their shouting only grew in volume. “I don’t even know why I try.”

The two’s fight had shifted from words to throwing things, nail polish bottles, the nail filers, the clippers, pillows, mugs, the coasters, nothing was off limits. A wayward nail polish bottle hit Satan in the head and ended up spilling all over his pants.

“You two…” Satan growled. MC shifted away from Satan and got closer to Beel, Satan had been progressively getting more and more irritated as the day went on, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!”

Satan leapt off the couch which resulted in Beel dropping his massive stack of pancakes onto the floor. MC suddenly felt significantly less safe.

“Beel, it’s okay, we can make more really quickly.” MC offered, gently patting him on the shoulder. Beel looked from MC, to his poor pancakes, then let out a mournful sigh.

“I’m hungry…” he mumbled, MC leaned their head against his arm.

“We could order in from Ristorante Six if you want!”

The entire time that conversation was taking place, Satan, Asmo, and Mammon were in the middle of killing each other. Levi rolled his eyes and shifted his position in the armchair, the sounds coming from his 3DS got louder as he tried to drown out the fighting.

“Tsk… stupid normies.”

Finally fed up, MC shot up from their seat. “WOULD YOU IDIOTS SHUT UP?!”

The creaking of the door to the living room opening caused everyone to freeze, Lucifer..? No… not him.

Belphegor pushed open the door.

As casual as could be, he grinned and gave everyone a wave. “My dearest brothers, oh how I’ve missed you…”

Everyone stood in complete and utter silence as Belphie casually strolled into the room, he surveyed the mess and let out a giggle.

“Geez, don’t fall over yourselves to welcome me home.”

“…Belphie?” Beel took a few tentative steps forward, then rushed forward and scooped his twin into a back breakingly tight hug.

“Hello to you too, Beel,” Belphie’s smile could have lit up the entire Devildom as he gave Beel a few light pats on the back with his one free arm. “You guys could learn a thing or two from him.”

“Y-you’re supposed to be up in the human world, what are you doing here?” Asmodeus finally piped up.

“Well, I wasn’t actually in the human world. I was locked in the attic.”

“What?!”

Everyone with the exception of MC expressed their shock with a variety of cursing and confused exclamations. MC looked down at their feet and clasped their hands behind their back.

“I’m out now,” Belphie gestured to himself. “Obviously. And we have MC to thank for that.”

MC was now the centre of attention, they felt their face burn with embarrassment. “I-I u-uhm…”

“Speak up, MC,” Everyone whipped their heads around to see Lucifer standing in the now open doorway, his posture was stiff but his expression was completely murderous. “What exactly is Belphegor talking about?”

Their heart hammered in their chest and their ears began to ring. Shit… shit… this wasn’t supposed to happen this way… MC’s ribs seemed to constrict and tighten with guilt as their heart continued to race.

“Oh fuck off,” Belphie scoffed. “You know full well what I’m talking about. You’re the one who locked me up there!”

“Lucifer…” Beel growled. “Is that true..?”

“Yes!” MC finally found their voice and met their father’s stare. “It is true! I found Belphie stuck in the attic over a month ago.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed dangerously as he shifted his gaze to Belphie. “And the attic is where he’ll stay.”

“Like hell!” Belphie spat. “I’m not going back up there.”

“Do you really think you’re in any place to defy me right now?”

“He’s not going back into the attic, Lucifer.” Beel practically snarled.

The air cackled with tension before MC spoke up again. “Father, can’t we just talk-”

“Stay out of this, MC.”

MC felt the tips of their ears redden as they clenched their fists and stepped up next to Beel and Belphie. “No.”

“MC-”

“No!” MC growled. “Why should I listen to you?! You haven’t told me why you took such bullshit measures to keep your own brother locked up in the attic and lied to everyone about it! What gives you the right to tell me what to do?!”

With one final glare shot over their shoulder, MC, Beel, and Belphie stormed out of the house, leaving the other five brothers behind.

Taking into account Beel’s much larger height and amount of strength, it was a miracle MC was even touching the floor while the trio sped down the street. Belphie was completely elated, taking extra time to walk ahead and point things out.

“Ahh,” Belphie sighed, resting his hands behind his head. “It feels so good to be free…”

“I’ll bet,” Beel smiled softly at his twin and ruffled his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Beel, shush. None of this is your fault.” Belphie tutted.

MC kept their eyes trained on the ground, a ball of guilt beginning to form in their gut. Was this the right thing to do? Run away? What were they going to do..?

“MC?” Beel asked as he suddenly lifted them onto his shoulders, MC squeaked in surprise and scrambled to adjust their balance so they didn’t topple over. “You okay?”

“Ye… yes Beel.” MC took a breath before beginning to giggle. “I’m okay.”

“So uh…” Belphie looked around. “Where are we going to go? I don’t have any money on me.”

“Neither do I,” Beel mumbled. “And I left my DDD back at the house…”

MC thought for a moment, then brightened and pulled out their DDD. “Purgatory Hall! Luke owes me a favour, and there’s no way he’d turn us away.”

“Whose Luke?” Belphie asked.

“MC’s best friend.” Beel replied.

“He’s not my best friend!” MC sputtered, nearly dropping their DDD while in the middle of crafting the text to the angel. “He just owes me a favour after I saved him from those stupid lesser demons…”

“Oh, okay then.” MC felt Beel subtly shake his head to Belphie, who snickered.

Soon, the three were crammed into Luke’s room at Purgatory Hall. MC had been there and stayed over dozens of times before, but the near constant smell of baked goods that permeated throughout the entire dorm hall never failed to make them drool. It seemed that Beel was having an even worse time with the amazing smells, he was staring off into space with a long string of drool dangling out of his mouth.

Luke folded his arms and tapped his foot as he tried to unsuccessfully scowl at the three. The angel had just recently come to terms with MC’s parentage but clearly wasn’t ready to host two full demons in his temporary home.

Simeon on the other hand was quickly looking from Belphie, to Beel, then to MC as if trying to glean the details of the entire situation from their facial expressions and posture alone.

It wasn’t difficult to see that MC wasn’t doing terribly good. The realization had finally fully sunken in and they were anxiously fidgeting in their seat.

Belphie seemed the most calm out of the group, he was leaning back against the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world, if the ottoman were just a little bit closer it looked like he might have kicked his feet up.

“So,” Solomon said, absentmindedly twirling a string of bright purple magic between his fingers. “What’s the story here?”

“Family drama…” MC murmured, their eyes unconsciously flicking to look at Belphegor.

“Family drama that was both caused and solved, by you, MC.” Belphie chirped. “I haven’t thanked you for getting me out of the attic yet, have I?”

MC knitted their eyebrows in confusion. “I never got you out of the attic… I haven’t gone up there in over five days…”

“Then…” Belphie said slowly. “What opened the door?”

Now that was a question that couldn’t be answered by anyone in the room, which left the group in quite the awkward spot. In the end it didn’t end up mattering too much, Belphie was just happy to be out of the attic, and even though the trio were technically in hiding, he was just glad that this was all on his own terms.

Beel and Belphie took some time to catch up while Luke and MC played crazy eights. MC was beating him, but Luke didn’t plan on surrendering any time soon. The half demon continued to fidget and twitch throughout the game, their heart and mind racing despite the complete lack of nearby threats. Luke took notice and also began to fidget.

“I…um…” Luke mumbled and looked away. “Are you… are you and Lucifer okay?”

MC pursed their lips and gave him a half-shrug. Luke hadn’t exactly taken the news that Lucifer was MC’s father very well… for a while he refused to even look at MC properly, and when Lucifer found out about how upset that was making MC… Luke was lucky MC was just sad and not angry.

Even Luke with all his ‘demons are awful and evil’ talk, no one could deny that Lucifer cared about MC a whole lot.

“We’re um… I don’t know.” MC finally replied. “He’s mad at me… I’m mad at him… y’know…”

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded, awkwardly giving MC a quick pat on the head. “It’s okay, MC. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Giggling slightly, MC returned the head pat, their spirits rising slightly. “Gasp! A chihuahua petting someone? This is amazing, call the news stations!”

“Hey!”

After silencing Luke’s yapping and agreeing that he was in fact an angel and not a chihuahua, MC found themselves leaning on the doorway to one of Purgatory Hall’s balconies. Belphie stood with his back to MC, leaning on the railing and letting the wind gently ruffle his hair. He had a serene smile spread across his face as he took a deep breath in.

“Belphie?” MC asked, padding over to look over the railing next to the Avatar of Sloth. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just enjoying the fresh air. The attic got really musty after a bit.” Belphie replied, another gust of wind blew past, making MC shiver. “It’s nice…”

“Well, enjoy it all you want, because you’ll never be stuck up there again!” MC chirped, but their cheery demeanour faltered as thoughts of the rest of their family entered their mind.

Belphie opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. His eyes narrowed as he stared blankly ahead for a few moments. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his now analytical gaze moved to MC. “You miss them.”

The comment wasn’t framed as a question, more a statement with the slightest tinge of disbelief. MC looked up at him and nodded. “Of course I miss the others. The reason I got you out of the attic was so we could all be together. I didn’t want the reunion to be like… like this…”

A smirk made its way onto Belphie’s face as he held out his arms. “Does someone need a hug? It sounds like you need a hug.”

The teasing tone almost immediately made MC roll their eyes, but they stopped themselves. They really did need a hug… they rushed forward and wrapped their arms around their uncle, the soft cardigan cushioning their face. Belphie slowly patted MC’s back, his hands slowly rising until one rested right between their shoulder blades, he then stiffened. MC felt him suddenly suck in a breath of air, but his arms remained wrapped around MC.

“Belphie..?” The half demon asked again, shifting their head to look up at him. He was staring straight ahead, almost like he didn’t want to even look at them.

“You…” Belphie whispered. “You care about them… don’t you..?”

MC felt the hand resting between their shoulder blades tense ever so slightly as it rose to the back of their neck.

“Of course I do, you guys are my family.”

Belphie stood completely frozen, MC slowly began to unwrap their arms from the hug, but Belphie remained rooted in place, and the hand on the back of their neck prevented them from fully leaving.

“And they…” Belphie gulped. “They really care about you…”

The two stood completely frozen in silence for God knows how long before Belphie let out a shuddering breath and practically collapsed into MC, the hand that was formerly against their neck was now cradling their head as he gave MC a hug so tight and suffocating that MC was worried their back might break.

“I’m sorry MC… damn it I’m so sorry…” Belphie whispered, pain and regret lacing every single word while MC could only knit their eyebrows in confusion and gently pat him on the back.

“I-it’s not your fault, Belphie, everything will be fine, okay?”

MC felt Belphie shake his head as he released them from the hug, his expression was a crude mixture of glassy and downright horrified.

“I don’t know about that, kiddo.” He rasped, he slowly reached a hand out and ruffled MC’s hair, before giving them a half-smile. “But thanks anyway.”

That odd interaction lingered in the back of MC’s mind as the day progressed. The complete radio-silence from the HOL had been the front runner in MC’s growing list of worries. Why hadn’t anyone tried to call them? Or go after them?

Luke being the sweet friend he was, invited MC to bake with him. The delicious smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies didn’t exactly soothe MC’s anxieties, in fact, they only worsened when the sound of shouting made its way into the kitchen.

“What’s going on up there?” MC said as they stared up at the ceiling.

“Maybe it’s-”

The hairs on the back of MC’s neck stood straight up as a massive magical shockwave slammed into the two. This wasn’t any ordinary magic, it was ancient, and much more powerful than anything MC had ever felt before. For the first time in their life the little voice in the back of their head wasn’t screaming at them to fight and prove their superiority, it was begging them to surrender. To run and hide and pray to whatever would listen that whoever set off that magic wouldn’t find them.

Thousands of years worth of demonic instincts went ignored as MC rushed out of the kitchen to go see where and what the source of the magic was. Their blood ran cold when they reached the top of the staircase and saw exactly who was standing there.

He had clearly just shifted out of his demon form a second prior, the golden glow in his eyes had just begun to dull when his gaze landed on MC.

“L-lord Diavolo…” MC stood completely straight and still, they did their best to suppress the shudders that wracked their spine while they were in the presence of the Crown Prince of the Devildom. The very idea of addressing the demon that stood before them with any kind of disrespect or even camaraderie was completely absent from their head.

Diavolo’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but that provided no comfort to MC as every limb in their body seized up.

“MC,” He nodded in greeting. “I’m glad you’re well.”

Feeling slowly began to trickle back into MC’s arms, but they didn’t dare move from their spot. “What are… um… what happened?”

“Well,” Diavolo began. “Belphegor being out of the attic is the main reason I’m here.”

“Y-you knew about that?” MC sputtered.

“Yes, and after someone let Belphegor out of the attic I needed to make sure he didn’t do any damage.”

“Damage..?” MC mumbled. “What do you mean damage?”

Diavolo sighed and took a few steps closer to MC. “I take it you know Belphegor opposed the exchange program, right?”

MC nodded.

“Do you know why?”

MC hesitated, then shook their head. “No. No one told me.”

Diavolo looked away from MC, his forehead creased in thought before he eventually shook his head. “You’ve done a lot for your family, MC, you took on a burden no one asked you to take, and that’s very commendable. But it’s time you let the adults handle things, alright?”

“Alright?!” Any lingering traces of fear completely vanished as MC clenched their fists and stared down Diavolo. “This isn’t fair! Belphie hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“While free, Belphegor poses a threat to more than just the exchange program.” The shift in tone from calm to stern made any retort MC could possibly muster die in their throat. Diavolo smoothly moved past them as he began his descent down the staircase.

He turned to look at them once again, and his voice softened. “One day I hope you’ll understand my reasoning and be able to forgive me, MC.”

After Diavolo left, MC sprinted into Luke’s room where Belphie and Beel were supposed to be, only to find Beel floating midair. He was posed in a way like he was lunging for something, his eyes flashed when he saw MC and he suddenly dropped straight to the ground.

“Diavolo took Belphie.” He rumbled.

“Yeah, I figured.” MC muttered as they helped up Beel. “Listen, we need to do something and I have an idea.”

—————

MC bolted through the hallways of the Demon Lord’s Castle, the memories from the retreat serving them well as they made it to the corridor where the door to Barbatos’ room was.

Beel was doing his part, he gathered his brothers and he was in the main hall distracting Barbatos and Diavolo by pleading their brother’s case. Not that any of them knew it was a distraction. MC’s plan wasn’t their best work, but it was all they had.

They twisted the doorknob and the door opened, revealing the creepy room MC remembered. Hundreds of doors lined the seemingly never ending walls of the room. Staircases twisted and winded around, leading to yet even more hallways. How was MC supposed to find the door they were looking for in there..?

MC shut the door behind them as they walked closer into the room and began to inspect the first sets of doors. Many of them were similar in features, but some had more… distressing things added on.

One of the doors was being held shut by dozens of heavy glowing chains, there was no padlock in sight, but the chains themselves seemed to be at least somewhat alive as they wrapped themselves protectively around the door. From the sudden feeling of intense dread and terror that gripped MC, they decided it would be best to steer clear from doors like that.

The hallways warped and shifted around MC as they continued to search the room for their door. They needed a door to at least a few hours before Belphegor somehow escaped from the attic.

“Down here?”

“This one.”

“Oh no… what have I gotten myself into..?”

Unfamiliar and unseen voices echoed down the never ending hallway, closely followed by the sounds of multiple doors opening and shutting. There were others somewhere in the room…

MC’s listening was brought to an abrupt halt when they passed by a seemingly normal looking door, but something about it yanked at their mind. This was the one. They just knew it. This was it. They were going to fix this. Fix all of it.

They opened the door and stepped in.

—————

Lesson 16’s coming up next folks, beware and be afraid!

[roscgcld]

HEADCANON + VARIOUS || S/O TURNING INTO A CHILD

request: Hello 👋if it’s okay to request more than one character can I request jjk toge and yuta reaction to reader Turing into a child but she’s afraid of them!

note: HELLO LOVE! Just want to say you’re my first request, so I do hope that I meet your expectations haha! But I love this idea a lot! The idea is so cute! I definitely enjoyed writing these a lot! 

sort of part two: where the reader apologises with a flower!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: inumaki toge, okkotsu yuta

pronouns: them/they

proof read: N/A

INUMAKI TOGE 

Toge is literally the baby of the two of you - so one day when he woke up in bed with a child that looks like you sleeping next to him, I bet you he freaked out and screamed ‘Okaka!’ so loudly that it woke you up

When you woke up and saw a man with weird tattoos by their mouth and tongue, staring at you with wide eyes, you did the most normal thing any child will do - you cried your little heart out

He was so terrified that he didn’t hear someone knocking on his door loudly; not even when Maki just got annoyed and kicked his door down instead to get in 

It only made you cry harder, and at first no one knew what to do since there was a child - well, it was YOU, but as a child, crying your little heart out on your boyfriend’s bed

You only stopped crying when Maki picked you up and started rocking you in her arms, quietly reassuring her that everything was alright

Toge did try to hold you, but you just curled deeper into Maki’s arms with tearful eyes, causing him to falter in his movements as he pouted at you as well

“H-He’s scary.” You whispered to Maki not so quietly, causing Maki to bite the knuckles on her free hand to hide her laughter; her entire body shaking with effort whilst Toge had just pouted - his head being patted by Panda gently in what was supposed to be a soothing gesture

For the rest of the day, you basically avoided his shadow like the plague - crying out loud and running away to the nearest person when you see him walking towards you, staring up at him with tearful eyes whilst hiding behind a laughing Gojo’s legs whenever he’s close - even refusing to accept a drink that he got for you from one of the vending machines 

You were even okay with Yuta, who Maki called on her phone over Skype to show the man what happened to their fellow friend whilst he is abroad

He managed to make you giggle and smile over a phone call, which did not help Toge’s mood at all

He just spend the entire day pouting and sulking, hiding his entire face into the giant zip up collar of his shirt to hide his tearful eyes

It was funny at first, but then they felt bad for the cursed speech user as the day goes by, since they know just how much he relies on you - so having you scared of him did not help his mood at all

When the next day arrived, with you returned to your normal form and confused to how you have no memory of events from the day before, went looking for your boyfriend - I bet you he’s going to cling on you the entire day with the most tearful puppy eyes 

You were concerned with how out of character that is for the usually cheerful boy, and after gathering evidence from the multitude of videos and pictures that Gojo and Maki took of you - especially ones of you basically sobbing whilst running away from your upset boyfriend - you just showered the poor boy in love and attention he clearly wanted 

“You poor baby.” You cooed at your boyfriend with a grin as you run your fingers through his soft white hair, kissing him on the forehead as he just whines with his violet eyes staring up at you sadly. “I hope you know that I love you a lot, even if my child self was scared shitless of you.”

OKKOTSU YUTA

Yuta was actually abroad when he had gotten a call from Gojo - who sounded far too awkward and hesitant than his usually overconfident and infuriating attitude

“Yuta, you might want to come back as soon as possible - your lover is currently using my paperwork as a colouring book.”

And let me tell you - that boy rushed back through any means at his disposal; convincing one of the other shamans who knows how to teleport to get him back to Jujutsu Tech as soon as possible

When he arrived, bursting into Gojo’s office whilst panting from all the running he had done, his wide blue eyes immediately staring at the child you sitting on Gojo’s lap without a care in the world. “W-Wha - Y/N? Is that you?”

You looked over at the doorway curiously, only to freeze up and immediately turned to hide yourself in Gojo’s chest, causing the strongest shaman in the world to look down at you in amusement; rubbing your back softly whilst asking you what’s wrong

“S-Scary man..” You mumble quietly to Gojo, who ended up just bursting out in laughter; completely ignoring the confused look Yuta threw at him

When he did manage to pry out what you said from Gojo, it made Yuta sad - but if he was being honest, not that shocked. He grew up with people always fearing him because of Rika

Then he remembered that technically, you were just scared by his appearance; which did not help matters at all

For the rest of the day Yuta sort of just shadowed you and Gojo, who was more then willing to show you off both the staff and the students as if you were his child that he brought to work that day

You adored everyone from Principal Yaga to even Panda, but when your boyfriend tried to coax you to just talk to him, you quickly shook your head and ran straight to Toge to hide behind his legs

This cause poor Yuta to sigh and hang his head in defeat whilst Toge just smiling at his friend as he picked you up in his arms

“Maybe she just finds your eyebags scary, Yuta-kun.”

“Gojo-sensei, you are not helping.” 

He did manage to get a few reactions from you, like you nodding hesitantly when he asked you a question and even accepting a lollipop that he held out to you hopefully; but you still refused to talk to him or even stand near him

It broke his heart and put the man in quite the sour mood, that did not get any better since Gojo, being the prick that he is, is naturally rubbing it in his face

But Gojo did try to help Yuta by convincing you that the ‘scary man’ was actually really nice and sweet - but you refused to get too close to Yuta; starting to scream and cry when Gojo tried to hold you out to Yuta to carry

Which caused him to get hit over the head by Principal Yaga

It ended up with a sulking Yuta going away to hide in his room whilst the others tried to keep you entertained for the rest of the day; constantly checking up on the other man to make sure that he was alright

When you finally returned to normal the next day, you spent it trying to cheer your boyfriend up after asking about what happened yesterday, and why did no one tell you about your boyfriend’s return?

“Yuta, baby, you know you’re really cute, right?” You cooed to him as he laid his head on your chest, your arms wrapped around him lovingly whilst he pouts and nuzzles into your chest sadly with his strong arms wrapped around you. “I am sure that younger me just saw your sword and got scared.” 

You felt like what seems to be a huff against your neck, causing you to giggle softly at his reaction to your words. “Y/N, I love you and all - but stop trying to make me feel worse. I’m just sulking at the fact that my girlfriend indirectly called me ugly.” 

You just rolled your eyes fondly and play with his hair as you cuddle him close, massaging the back of his neck lovingly. “You’re so dramatic.”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform