#The sheer panic in Lightning's eyes

[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion loses sight of you in a fight, he fears the worse has happened to you. He finds you and manages to bring you back to shadowheart for healing, only to discover he has more to protect than just you…

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Pregnancy

(Click For Part Two)

You were fearless. He watched as you swung your dagger effortlessly, piercing into the necks of their enemies.

He wondered how you still managed to look elegant even when covered in the blood of fallen warriors.

His gaze never left you for too long, making sure you were safe, while he stealthed around the makeshift arena, racking up his own share of kills. How glorious this was! There was so much blood splattering all around them and with his love at his side it truly couldn’t get any better.

Astarion’s eyes couldn’t be everywhere though, and at some point, he lost sight of you. The last person to recognize him for what he’s worth, the one person he truly couldn’t afford to lose.

His head darted across the battlefield, desperately trying to find you. His panic plunged into sheer dread as fear overcame him. It was happening all over again, he’d seen this before… Alone.. No, please, he couldn’t let this be his fate.

He hadn’t felt fear this whole day; why should he? He was free of Cazador, had you- A subtle manic laugh drew from his throat, he’d never be free of fear, instead of fearing for himself or what his old master would do to him he now feared what would happen to you when in danger.

His red eyes turned a dark shade of black. The expression of a crazy man etched onto Astarion’s face. No, he wouldn’t let fear consume him, no more! He’d finally be the protector! Overcome with fury he went on a rampage. Cutting through the battlefield, slaughtering anyone and everyone in his way, determined to find you. He raced over to where he last saw you, faster than a blue dragon's lightning splits through the air in a storm.

Was he truly going to be the reason you passed on to the next life. Was his fate to destroy everything he held near and dear to his heart? He nearly killed you before with his own fangs and now, no! He wasn’t the cause of that, was he? He hadn’t ever tasted human blood before, but if he was stronger it wouldn’t have happened! If he would’ve ascended he would’ve been able to stop this, however he’s still just a spawn… How could you have fought for his love, a fool who couldn’t even protect you. A fool who was going to be the reason you die.

“FIND HER” He roared at the top of his lungs. “FIND TAV!”

The group of companions didn’t dare hesitate and instantly started searching the grounds, Gale being the second most worried.

Astarion was about to collapse to his knees before hearing Gale's voice, “I’ve found her!” in the distance. It filled him with more apprehension. All he could think is, ’what if she’s dead’.

Staggering up the hill where Gale’s voice had come from, Astarion can see a figure laying in the dirt next to the wizard, “No! You can’t die dammit! Get up!!” he rushed out his words, dismay evident in his tone as he knelt next to you.

“She is unconscious, but alive. There’s hope.” Gale replied.

Astarion let out a shaky breath of relief.

“We must get her back to camp,” Astarion demanded. “She needs Shadowheart, she’s the only one who can fix this!” His voice cracked despite his efforts to mask it.

“I agree.” Gale, mere inches from grabbing you to lift you in his arms until the pale elf stopped him, “Don’t touch her!- I- I will carry her.” Trying to compose himself he lifted you bridal style.

Astarion never left your side during Shadowhearts attempts to heal you. Time never bothered him, not after his 200 years of torment, he waited as “patiently” as he could.

“Honestly, how long does it take! You could at least give me some good news!”

Shadowheart continued to focus on you best she could, everyone including the gods were used to Astarions fits at this point. Gale on the other hand not so much, he could hear Astarion all the way in his own tent which caused the wizard to scrunch his nose. Eventually, leading him to where you were being treated, “Astarion, why don’t you join me in some wine. I’ve got quite the choices, besides… It might be best if we give her some space.”

Astarion scowled, “You expect me to leave her side to join you in some cheap wine? Really? I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Gale.”

“It’s done. She’ll be fine after some more rest.” Shadowheart stood from your side and wipes the blood off her hands. She’s been traveling with you and these two men for far too long, toning out their bickering was a skill of hers at this point.

Turning to face you, if his heart could beat he knows it would’ve dropped in his chest this very moment… “Leave us-“ kneeling down next to your bedroll, his eyes fixed on your bandaged wound, “please.”

“I was able to save her,” -Shadowheart bent down towards Astarion- “and the child, but it took most of my energy and resources… Don’t ask for me again for a while. Keep them both safe.”

He was quiet, his eyes wide after the news he was just told.

“Ahhh,” Shadowheart’s voice was surprised, “she didn’t tell you yet? Hmm or perhaps she hadn’t known yet? Curious.”

Astarion could only stare at his love, “A-are you for certain?”

Gale interjected, “I doubt her magic would deceive her, congratulations.”

Dark bruises and cuts decorated your once perfect skin. A deep purple shade surrounded your right puffy eye. His eyes traveled further down your body, stopping at your stomach.

He caressed your still flat stomach, causing you to wince and awake. Retreating his hand, he awaited for your eyes to open and look up at him.

A-Astarion?” You spoke with a small smile carved on your lips.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” He struggled out, trying his best not to crumble.

You were both silent, hands entwined with one another thankful that you both can spend another day alive in the presence of another.

He was the first to break the silence, “thank you.”

You were so weak, but you wanted to know why he was thanking you out of the blue, “For what?” Your voice barely heard.

“For this,” his hand stretching out to rest on your abdomen, “for giving me purpose again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing what he was talking about until it finally hit you. Your arm wavered as you lifted it to place your hand atop of his on your belly. A gentle smile forming on your lips as you stared into his vermilion eyes.

When your breath became labored indicating you had fallen asleep again, Astarion’s attention was back at your torso where the bandage was slowly being stained by your blood. This moment of relief turned to anger again as he lashed out, slapping a metal canister of water out the tent with force. The absolute intrigued him at first, more power meant being stronger to protect you, but now… He was beyond ever considering it again. The cultist not only almost killed you, but the child growing from within you!

“How dare they…” He seethed, “How dare they harm her and my child!”

Astarion was pacing around angrily, how could he have allowed this to happen? He started to blame himself.

“Astarion-“ You spoke up, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show them, my love-“ he cut you off, “that nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.” He growled.

His eyes darkened again: “I’ll make them pay.”

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 3

Three are now dead, but the killer seems to be caught ... but this night is not over until the room is found.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Silver, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Death, murder, blood, anxiety, kidnapping, overall dead dove content warnings

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Link to the Google Form to vote!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

The body count had risen to three; Dire Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect (whose blood still stained the floor, the iron scent permeating the air), and now, Divus Crewel as well, the latest victim. One minute the professor was alive, shaking from anger that one of his students was killed on his watch and that he was the prime suspect of the killings. But now he was sprawled out on the ground, killed in an instant.

The remaining students — Vil, Rook, Azul, Jade, Silver, and Cater — were silent, processing what exactly had just happened. The lights had flickered only for a minute, and in that minute, the killer had struck. But the silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder, lightning illuminating the windows, and bringing everyone back to the present, to their laughably horrible situation that they had found themselves in by sheer chance and bad luck and timing.

Silver sat down on the staircase, and put his head in between his legs, taking deep breaths. Despite his training, he did not consider that he would be witnessing death so soon. The small part of his brain that had a sliver of hope that his friend had survived their gruesome injury, but he was just lying to himself; no one could survive that.

Vil was pacing, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering to himself. He thought he could read people, what with being raised amongst the stars that hid behind too-sweet smiles that belied venomous words. What was there to gain from any of this?

Rook was cracking his knuckles, and then rubbing his eyes, trying to think of why this was happening. While he could appreciate the hunt, this was something entirely different. Yet, it also reminded him of several books; one being a murder mystery, and the other about the deadliest game, of hunting a fellow person.

Azul was shaking and biting his nails, his resolve long gone. Had he made himself the enemy of one of his peers? Was he going to be next? He was supposed to just be perfecting a potion recipe for the next test, yet he found himself way above his head.

Jade looked at Azul, taking in that his house warden and friend was shaking more than the leaves outside in the howling wind. He too was disturbed by the night's events, sick to his stomach even, but he couldn’t show weakness, especially if he wanted to see it through.

And Cater? He was paler than a ghost, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead, and he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. His cheery smile had left long ago, and now panic was fully starting to take control. Why? Why? Whywhywhy? WHY?! Yet he stayed silent.

No one spoke, but they eyed each other with caution. Every time that they had went to the mirror and they voted through it, someone died. Was it the mirror? No… no, that didn’t make sense… None of this made any sense though. 

“No more votin-” Silver whispered.

Cater cracked his head around, green eyes judging every move the underclassman made. “And why’s that, Silver?” His voice was shaky, but Cater wasn’t trusting him or anyone for that matter. “Afraid that-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Vil barked, commanding everyone’s attention, eyes all on him. But he was used to eyes being on him, and he stayed cool, despite how this may damn him into being guilty in their eyes. He didn’t care at the moment though, all he cared about was no one else dying. “Look at what being suspicious of each other has brought us,” his eyes wandered to the dark clotted blood that had now gone cold. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, keeping the calm mask up. “I agree with Silver though; voting through the mirror only ends up with someone… dead.”

“Then how do we proceed, Roi du Poison?” Rook asked, falling to his house warden’s side. His eyes looked over everyone, picking up their behaviours, emotions, and any tells.

Azul’s head snapped up. “The potion-” he started muttering to himself, before clearing his throat and gaining his composure again. “A truth potion, but one that shows the truth about the situation, we can use that to find the killer.”

Cater looked at Silver, and offered him his hand; a peace offering. Silver took it, and brought himself up on wobbly knees. A truce.

Jade placed his hand on Azul’s shoulder, offering him a bit of comfort that not everyone was out to get him. “Was that what you were working on?”

Azul nodded, and he started making his way towards the alchemy lab, where hopefully they could put an end to the killer’s little charade once and for all.

…

…

Vil helped Azul make the potion, and both students kept a keen eye on the other, but they made it without incident. And to show the others that they hadn’t tampered with it at all, they took it first, with the others shortly following suit.

“What about the room?” Silver asked.

“We can figure that out once we find the killer,” Jade countered.

Everyone looked at each other, taking in any minute details, but everyone was calm; the potion apparently did wonders to calm the nerves… but that in itself was a dangerous effect, since now everyone’s guards were down, making them easy targets.

Vil took in a breath and released it. “Who killed Dire Crowley? Why did you then kill the Prefect, and then Professor Crewel?” 

But no one spoke up.

“It isn’t me,” Vil said confidently, hoping that his speaking up prompted the others to follow suit.

Cater was to his left, and he spoke next. “I didn’t do it.”

Then Silver, “Or me… I couldn’t do something like this…”

“I did not do it either,” Jade offered.

Azul’s eyes went wide, and he eyed the next person in line. “The killer isn’t me.”

All eyes fell on the last person left in their little circle; Rook. With all of them but him left, that only left him.

He let out a throaty, quiet, chuckle. “I suppose this game has run its course,” he tipped his hat to them, green eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. “As for why? Hmmm,” he hummed, and the hairs on everyone’s necks stood on end. There was something off about Rook, this wasn’t Rook. 

“You’ll find that out when you guess the room.”

What?

Everyone took a step closer to each other, away from Rook, and they whispered amongst each other, voting on what room Crowley’s murder took place in.

“Alchemy lab,” Cater spoke for the group, trying to keep his resolve as Rook seemed to stare into the very contents of his soul, like he was searching for something.

Rook stepped forward, still smiling. “Ah, désolé Monsieur Magicam,” the whites of his eyes started turning black, “but you would be wrong.” The lights flickered again, and in the seconds of darkness, Rook was gone, and so was Cater.

GOOGLE FORM (voting will end Wednesday, October 18th at 9pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

…

To be continued

[and-the-stars-collided]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[jesswritesthat]

Miya Osamu: Slammed

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.7k, fluff, humour

• First aid was not where you expected to be, and that’s only your first encounter with the famous Miya twins.

Warnings: Swear word, a nosebleed

>>>>——————————>

Osamu has waited for this moment all his life, in fact he's surprised it hasn't already happened multiple times - but it's one thing to cross off of his bucket list.

Atsumu slams a volleyball into a the face of a beautiful person.

More accurately: Atsumu looks like a damn fool in front of a beautiful person.

It's the sheer grovelling, combined with painful stammering that has Osamu smirking like a madman. Honestly part of him knows he should be more considerate but this was Atsumu he's talking about, he's got to take joy in the little things (like his twins' overwhelming panic).

Osamu made his way over to his counterparts’ heavy but hilarious mistake, the person the Inarizaki setter hit soon discovered to be you.

With a hand covering your nose you consistently batted away the incessant fretting of the blonde twin who looked like he was about to cry. Mortified was an understatement.

"I'm so sorry! God I just caught the ball wrong and it went spinning at ya'. Are ya alright?"

"I'm fine, let me—"

"Ya not! Ya might be bleeding, lemme just—"

"Tsumu!" The second a hand lurched the blondes shoulder, he was gone and replaced by a far calmer silhouette.

"Allow me." A palm was offered toward your upper arm but halting before touching you until you nodded. "I'm gonna take you to the locker room, ya won't be bothered by annoying brats whilst we check ya over."

So you allowed the other Miya twin to guide you in the direction of their club room whilst ignoring the volatile comebacks he'd received from the blonde.

"Am I supposed to be in here?"

"I think our Captain will let it slide considerin' yer condition." Osamu calmly answered, more occupied with reaching for the first aid box on top of a locker set.

"My co—" Just as you'd said that, you'd noted the smears of scarlet painting your hand once removing it from your face. "Oh damn."

"That's all yer got to say?" There was a hint of amusement there as he sifted through the first aid kit acquiring necessary materials.

"You're not bothered by blood?"

"Nah, seen enough of it fighting with 'Tsumu. Anyway, can I sort it out for ya?" Before you knew it he was knelt before you with material perched between his fingers - almost as though proposing to you with a cotton ball. Shaking that left field thought away with an embarrassed smile you stuttered your reply.

"Uh sure, thanks."

That's how you ended up alone in the VBC locker room with Miya Osamu caressing your face with far gentler touches that you believed him capable of despite the contrasting sting of antiseptic. Realistically, you couldn’t blame yourself for getting lost in a fantasy…

"Your eyes are like melted platinum."

But you’d defiantly blame that stupid spoken comment on the hit to the face. What were you thinking?!

"What?"

Already you were out of his reach, one step from the door only spinning around in surprise to reply to him.

"I said I feel better, gonna go—"

"Wait up."

"Hm? Oh does it look it good?" You felt it was painfully obvious you were putting on a carefree facade, especially when you playfully posed to emphasise the nose plaster with a pretty smile.

"Somethin' like that."

Then you were gone, hand covering both your taped nose bridge and your heated skin from the remnants of Inarizaki. Atsumu was quick to skid into your path and catch you in his arms though - another apology on his tongue.

"I'm all bandaged up, please don't worry!"

"Lemme make it up to ya though—"

"Aha no need, just win the next game. Bye!" You'd slipped around him, seemingly in a rush to escape but the setter was distracted by the reappearance of his twin.

"What did ya do in there?! (L/n) ran out like lightning!"

"D'ya think my eyes are like platinum?"

"Huh?! I think ya blind dumbass!"

"I'm not the one who took out..." How did he not ask your name?! "Tell me ya know who that was!"

"Dunno, why'd you care so mu— oh ya caught a crush huh?" Admittedly Atsumu was caught off guard by the sudden demand but that was quickly replaced with teasing intuition.

"No idiot, ya should check on 'em tomorrow if yer not a complete asshole."

"I was gonna anyway!"

"Liar." A dangerous glare was sent toward his twin, Osamu already one step ahead. "Ya don't even know who they are."

"Yes I do, I'll prove it ‘Samu."

Now he could just let Atsumu do all the work, but then a concerning thought crossed his mind, and he couldn't help his next challenging words.

"Not if I find 'em first."

<——————————<<<<

[readychilledwine]

Tainted Love pt 2

Eris Week - Day 3 - Healing and Betrayal

Summary - You had never planned on falling in love with Eris when Beron assigned you to spy on him.

Warnings - injuries, angst, Lucien and Eris's relationship, miscommunication

A/N - Is it a character week if I'm not rewriting something last minute 🤔 Happy @erisweekofficial day 3! This may get a part 3 that jumps in time. I'm not happy with it, but that's normal for me lately with my writing (and that's okay). Plus, I want to write some Mabon magic ritual smut for funsies.

🐕Find pt 1 here🐕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Healing Halls were Eris's least favorite place to be. The smell was potent. The air was too stale. The environment was lifeless. He had hoped Rhysand in all of his glory would have found a way to change that.

But Rhysand was just one male. One male who couldn't even get his hound to correctly communicate why they had warned him about you in the first place. At least the shadowsinger had the decency to look guilty.

Azriel was supposed to him you were playing a dangerous game, that you were spying for Beron, yet in doing so pushing all of Eris's wants. That as far as Rhys could tell from your mind, you were loyal to Eris, but feared losing your position with Beron would lose Eris a valuable tool.

You were right. Had you let Eris begin calling the shots, you would not have gotten half the things accomplished you did.

And because of Azriel's anger, his miscommunication, Eris had almost lost you.

Your hand was still cold as Eris held it, warming it and your bed with his magic. Blood was dried and clinging to him like a second skin. Yours, his, the guards, his father's. He had never lost control the way he had tonight and he prayed he never would again.

Your pain, the way it shot down the bond and settled in his bones and skin, it would haunt him. It was an ache that would linger. Regardless of your breathing. Regardless of your cheeks regaining their soft blush.

He had never felt panic like he did when he and Azriel had found you. The sheer desperation that set in seeing you lifeless, of hearing your heartbeat slowing to a stop, was also going to linger. You had been saved my a miracle he'd forever repay to the Mother in her glory but it left him with needs.

He just needed you to breathe. To open your eyes and wake up. He held no concerns in the world other than you and you alone. Regardless of what you had done to him.

Eris knew deep down you wanted to tell him, that you love him, that none of this was meaningless or fake.

No one was that good of an actress. No one would fake the look of love you had in your eyes when you saw him. No one could fake the way you looked in his arms, in his bed. No one could fake the bond sitting in his chest.

It was such a special thing, a blessing. To be able to feel the female he loved so intimately. To know that right now, the dreams playing in your mind were happy. That you weren't in pain.

Azriel stood and squeezed Eris's shoulder, “I'm going to go get you a drink.” He grunted in response, eyes never leaving your sleeping form. They had given you the best healers and medicines, but the wounds were deep. Scars dancing your back like lightning would forever remind him of what his father had done.

He felt a tremor of his new power run through his body again and shook his shoulders to recenter himself. He had not expected the weight her instantly felt when he gained Beron's power, but he had not been expecting to gain it so soon. His more primal instincts were heightened.

The need to protect.

The need to fight.

Needs for other activities he only wanted to enjoy with you.

He had to shake that as well, smiling as you sighed and adjusted in the bed.

“Wake up, sunflower,” his voice held an air of command he knew he would have to be careful with. “Open your eyes for me.”

Your fingers twitched in his, your nose scrunching slightly as the medical smell hit you. You could hear Eris, feel his presence in your chest. The words you would say to him if you could. You felt your senses slowly coming back. Soon it wasn't just Eris you could hear, but the ping of glass bottles, the crackle of a hearth.

The air was off. It wasn't a lingering scent of bonfire and fallen leaves, but instead a soft musk and Cyprus.

Night Court.

You were in the Night Court.

He commanded you again, calling for you like a king to his soldiers and forcing your body to respond to him with a soft whine as you curled your toes and slowly opened your eyes.

Eris was on you in seconds, helping you sit up before his arms were around you. A new 3rd emotion hit him, undeniable relief. His hand lingered on your heart as he pulled back, “I'm glad you are okay.”

“I-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I know. I know everything. Rhysand read your mind."

You nodded, but the words still needed to be said, “I never meant to hurt you. As soon as the bond snapped, I wanted to tell you, but it felt like-”

“It was too dangerous,” he put it simply. “I know.”

“Beron-”

“Is dead,” the words seemed to tilt your world upside down. “When I felt what he did to you, when I saw what he had done, I couldn't stop myself.”

You had to process that slowly, word by word, “How do you feel?”

“I feel everything,” he took a deep breath “Anger, joy, mourning. I thought it would bring me nothing but happiness, but seeing him-”

“It's complicated. Because he was your father. Because he was not always the monster you learned he was. Because you will never get to fix that bridge, but at the same time you get to heal and relax.”

He nodded at your words. “I don't know what I would have done if you died, y/n. I would have burned that whole court down, consequences damned.” Eris took a deep breath as he laced his blood stained fingers into yours. “You played such a dangerous game, sunflower.”

“I wanted to help you, take him down from the position I held.”

Eris took your chin in his, “And you almost died. The one being who has helped me cope with my past, who has made me feel whole, who has helped me heal my inner child. You almost died.”

There was silence again as the door opened and Lucien and Madja came in. The youngest son of Autumn didn't speak as he began to look over your lingering injuries and Madja began to mix something. He didn't even look at Eris. Nor Eris him. The sadness in both of them was clear. “Lucien?”

He glanced up at you, “Yes?”

“Did you get to see your mother?”

Lucien's lips twitched up, “Not yet. I was told I had to help heal you or my favorite pieces of me would get attached to a wall.”

Your eyes went wide as you gave Eris a dirty look, “I regret nothing.”

“Jerk.”

“Asshole,” Eris fired back at Lucien.

“Rather be an asshole than a limp dick.”

The two of them bickering back and forth lightly. There was no malice in their words.

“Eris,” you interrupted. “I think you should take Lucien to her.” The brothers both went still at your words. “And take a bath while you're there.”

Lucien hid his smirk at that as well as he could, “Because you smell like rot.”

“He smells like change,” the words were slow. “Like the beginning of healing, a cycle turning.”

“A grove of trees that seemed to be dead have come back to life in Autumn,” a purr from the doorway made you glance over there. “They are blooming white flowers.”

Rhysand commanded the room while he entered it. Sitting across from you as Madja moved to give you a vial before leaving. “Take that,” Eris tilted your hand to your lips. “Are you referring to the grove near summer? The one that stopped producing nearly 100 years ago?”

Rhysand nodded as he looked solely at you, “It appears that they needed new Leadership to bring new life. I think your dear mate knows something about that.”

More eyes looked to you as you glared at Rhys. “I found research in Beron's office that pointed to Autumn dying from the lack of magic being put back into the lands. Your father evidently was not taking part in some hunt?”

Lucien chuckled, “Oh it's a hunt alright.”

“Mabon,” Eris rolled his eyes. “It's not exactly a hunt, sunflower.”

“It's our Calanmai,” Lucien explained. “Not surprised you don't know what it is considering females aren't allowed to know but are expected to partake if chosen.”

You only nodded before looking at Eris, “That needs to change.”

Eris looked to Rhys. The High Lord put his hands up, “Eris, let me give you advice Helion's father gave me. Being a powerful High Lord means nothing if you are not good to your fae. To be good to your fae means to put their safety and needs first. To do will heal your court, but, to heal your court you have to heal yourself. Think of all the lies and things hidden from you. The betrayals you faced,” a pointed look your way. “It this how you want Autumn to be from this point forward?”

Eris shook his head, “No.”

“Then you must look inward, heal the parts of you that have been tainted by Beron, and with those things healed, your court and land follows.”

Eris raised a hand to Lucien wordlessly, waiting for his baby brother to take it. A tanned hand laid in his, a metal eye whirling, “Where are we going?”

“Home,” Eris said. “To mother. Thank you for healing my mate, Rhysand. But I fear her stay has come to an end.”

The Lord of Night nodded, “Be better, Eris.” It was the last sentence before magic ripped you through the fabrics of the world and the familiar halls of the Forest House appeared.

Lady Autumn sat at her piano, long graceful fingers kissing the keys as she played freely for the first time in 300 years. There was a smile on her face that both of her sons knew. A smile saved for her private moments with her boys. Lucien stumbled to her, making her hands stop.

“Mama,” his tone was filled with broken emotion, bliss that had Eris grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together as you both watched. “Mama!”

“Lu,” her own voice whispered as she stood and rushed to him. “My baby.” Their hug was a moment that you felt. It was a fracture in your mate's soul beginning to fill.

“We should give them privacy,” you pulled him away as Lucien and Lady Autumn fell to the ground holding each other. “Unless you need to see this?”

“No. We can go,” Eris glanced at you. “This seems like a good beginning.”

You could only nod as sobs of joy filled the air, “For healing Autumn or you?”

“Both,” he tried to sound confident. “For healing both.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

Tainted Love Taglist:

@unfortunately-a-dazai-kinnie @kennedy-brooke @y0urm0m12 @slytherinindisguise @river-of-woe @darling006 @endless-worldss @sharknutz @saltedcoffeescotch @mal-adaptive-dreams @chaos-on-stand-bi @wrensical003 @bookwormysblog @mp-littlebit @ratgirl2020

[dutifullylazybread]

I’m shamelessly jumping in here after that anon ask and submitting: 25!!! 25!!! 2️⃣5️⃣ I am desperate 💖🥰

An accidental kiss!! I got you!!

This was so fun!! :D

(cw: unannounced kiss)

--

“Focus just a little longer.” Tav lifted her voice over the magic crackling against her palms, the sheer energy seared the inside of her nose.

She couldn’t spare Rolan a glance, let alone see if he was managing his end of the spell.

Her eyes watered and the inside of her mouth thrummed, numbing her tongue and her lips and setting her teeth to shuddering.

As sparks of lightning bit into her cheeks, Tav spoke the incantation, taking care to enunciate each syllable slowly, correctly.

Holding a storm in her mouth was like trapping lightning in a bottle—doable, but not enjoyable. 

Tav inhaled, filling her lungs with air and electricity. She grit her teeth together, stoppering the spell in her chest. It lashed and it writhed and it whipped at her insides. 

She raised her eyes to Rolan. As she contained the storm, he sculpted the spell. Every motion was smooth, controlled—the order that she needed for the chaos that she contained.

She watched him go through the motions.

She counted the seconds.

And then, as he lifted his hands skyward, directing the magic, Tav took in one sharp breath through her nose and then, in an explosive burst of air, she expelled the tempest in her lungs.

The ground quaked with the first thunderclap. 

Her lips were abuzz with magic.

And the robin’s egg blue sky began to gray and darken to charcoal.

A spear of lightning illuminated the bloated storm clouds, lancing open the underbelly of one.

And then, as Tav and Rolan watched in bated silence, rain started to fall. First a sprinkling. And then a drizzle.

They were soaked through in moments. Their robes clung to their skin, and their hair ran slick with rainwater. The sounds of the city were muffled by the downpour.

Tav laughed, her chest aching. Now that the storm coalesced over their heads and not within her body, she felt lighter.

“How are you feeling?” Rolan asked.

“Fine,” she said, a touch breathless. As she spoke, a spark snapped against the roof of her mouth. She flinched. “My lips feel a little funny,” she admitted. She tried to stifle her wince as a tendril of lightning wriggled in the back of her throat.

“You said you could manage your share of the spell.” She didn’t know how he could make simple statements sound so accusatory.

“I did, didn’t I?” She shrugged. To summon a storm came with risk—something she had done her best to manage.

Rolan clicked his tongue. “You took in too much. Here, let me help—”

He took her face in his hands, dragging her lower lip down with his thumb. 

The magic lingering in her lungs and on her tongue sparked and shivered. Tav opened her mouth as Rolan leaned forward, pulling the electrified Weave from her with a soft command and an intake of breath.

The hair’s breadth of space between their faces burned bright as Rolan coaxed the lightning out of her.

And, as if drawn in by his words, as if connected by a taut thread, when Rolan unspooled the spell from her chest and eased back, Tav leaned forward.

The kiss was sudden. It was laced with the caramelizing tang of sugar—the Weave adopting a new form.

Rolan made a noise in the back of his throat. He went rigid with surprise, only to relax against her. His hands fell from her face to the sides of her neck. He stroked his thumbs down her jawline.

Were it not for the spark that burned their lips, Tav was unsure they would have pulled away.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Tav said. “I should have asked first. That was stupid of me and I—”

Rolan’s eyes widened. He cast his gaze about, swallowing roughly. His softened posture hardened again. “Right,” he said. “I suppose we did get caught up in the moment.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing to fret over.”

She nodded, gripped with nausea-dripping uncertainty. Her chest was now abuzz with panic. She’d ruined everything. Their friendship? Their relationship as colleagues? She could feel it crumbling.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Zurgan. Just ask next time. It’s not that complicated,” Rolan said, rolling his eyes.

“It was a—wait, what?”

He caught himself, as if shocked by his own words. “That is—I didn’t mean—”

Tav took a step towards him. Without hesitation, he closed the space with a step towards her.

She would take the chance--she would unstopper the affections she'd trapped in her heart for well over a year.

“May I kiss you?” she asked him.

Rolan features were caught somewhere between longing and disbelief. But he smiled. And he nodded.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

As the rain pelted down on them, chilling the summer heat, they kissed again.

And they swallowed the sparks of magic twisting between their tongues.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

angst? me? haha... 2.4k words of it actually c:

cw: slight sensory deprivation (blindfold/mention of going non-verbal)

you still remember the first time it happened. how could you forget? the sheer panic and rapid thoughts racing through your mind when the itch in your throat had produced a single, golden ginkgo leaf from your tongue.

in the stages of grief, it states there are five. you beg to differ since you spent so long staring at the yellow leaf in your palm for so long your eyes felt irritated from the lack of blinking. you couldn't just deny that something was so very wrong when the evidence had come out of you.

you didn't feel anger either. confusion, fear, the deepest pit you've ever experienced in your gut? that's what you felt, but not anger. this was something that was bound to happen one day if you lived long enough to see it, so it shouldn't anger you anyway. still, that doesn't mean that that stage was skipped.

no, jing yuan felt it for you.

jing yuan hated yaoshi, the adundance. he loathes them from the deepest, darkest and most tainted part of his soul. the loathing he felt no doubt could even be felt by the continuously passed on entity of his Lightning-Lord. it was a sick twist of fate that he had been with you when you coughed up that leaf, stood so closely within your personal proximity when your life started ticking away from him.

jing yuan was not a loud man when it came to his negative emotions. he- in fact- made a bad habit of keeping most of them internalized and kept solely to himself. may haps he would tell you or yanqing that which would plague him to the point of bursting- but those rare moments only happened well away from the public eye of the luofu residents. no, jing yuan is a man who radiates anger like a brewing lighting storm devoid of rain and thunder. it's quiet and heavy and skin crawling.

you were younger than him, you still had time to enjoy your long life before having to worry about the effects of mara. you should've still had time to enjoy your long life beside him.

"y/n," his voice calling you is breathless as he moves swiftly to stand in front of you. he takes your wrist gently- you can feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly- and he brushes that yellow leaf onto the ground under his boot. "let me see," he says. finally registering back into reality, you lift your chin and he's immediately searching your face and eyes for any signs of... just something.

maybe he was looking for something that was invisible. a way to prove that what just happened before his very eyes was a trick of some sort- maybe a sick prank you'd be begging him to forgive you for later. or maybe he had already reached a state of dreary understanding and was searching for a timeline of how much time you have left.

"jing yuan," you softly call, and he flinches when he hears the drag of your voice that indicates your painful coughs from a moment ago. "it..." you take a deep breath, "it's going to be fine. let's just go to lady bailu and-"

"no," he quickly shoots down before his brain could think otherwise. his outburst startled you both, and if it weren't for such a dire situation, his wide eyes that quickly scrunched closed may have been cute in a way. "no, just- nevermind." he lets out a deep sigh. "we should go see the dragon lady, you're right. and i-" should contact the ten-lords commission. but he doesn't want to. if he does, then you'll be taken from him and imprisoned with every other marastruck xianzhou native they've taken under his order.

his hands that were wrapped around your wrists grow slack and you easily slip free from his grasp. dropping one hand, the other raises to brush back the wild, white treses that always cover his right eye.

"we'll start with lady bailu, okay?" he just nods, not able to formulate words anymore. he had a letter sent to the alchemy commission announcing his visit along with you for the following day, giving him some time to compose himself. a single day would do you no harm after all.

"is there still nothing that can be done?" jing yuan knew the answer already. of course, there wasn't. there hadn't been for as long as he's been general- which was longer than most of his predecessors. the best 'solution' he had at this point was the small gourd gripped tightly in his fist. this had been his second time back to the alchemy commission, the first time had been with you but now he stands here alone.

"you know as well as i do," bailu's voice spoke as she stood in front of him with her hands on his hips, "this is the most advanced treatment i have. the alchemy commission is still no closer to finding a real cure, so please make do with this for now."

"i understand," there was no point in trying to converse longer. the longer he spent here the longer you waited for him back at home. he had contacted bailu with means on the downlow and had even attempted to keep who the afflicted person was if word did spread.

of course, that didn't work out like he wanted and just by his mannerisms alone, the young high elder knew it was you. she had never seen the luofu's general so disheveled before- normally able to keep a better lid on his emotions.

"you have my gratitude," he said before dismissing himself.

this small gourd could last a patient anywhere between a few days, a few weeks or at worst a few hours. your mara hasn't been active for long, just a day or two before jing yuan could get his hands on the elixir she uses for the marastruck soldiers she comes across.

"only administrator one ochoko of elixir a day! no matter how bad it gets, you cannot exceed that amount!" were bailu's specific instructions. he dares not go against them. at the very most he could stretch the treatment up to around 40 days if he was lucky.

and then there was the probability of you losing your mind quicker than he could treat you. so, he took another precaution.

when jing yuan returned back home, back to you, he had found you sitting on the wooden veranda surrounding the house. the breeze was something you always enjoyed. your head was angled up towards the sky, but you saw nothing behind the blindfold covering your eyes.

sensory deprivation. in cases of mara, cutting off senses of the body can slow the spread of it. surely with this and the dragon lady's elixir...

"y/n," he calls and you swivel your head towards his voice with a smile. one that was so innocent and warm he wished he could see your eyes.

"welcome back," you greet him as he pads softly over to you. running the pads of his finger across the skin just below your blindfold, his chest tightens. its not fair.

"i'm home." jing yuan is glad you cannot see his frown.

the time it took for the alchemy commission to finally find out jing yuan had been seeking bailu's guidance for a marastruck xianzhou native was more than his pessimism expected, but less than his desired yearned. he was cornered at the seat of divine foresight, surrounded by alchemy commission enforcers and yanqing who had been privy to the secret considering he lived with the general and you.

the general sat at his desk, his fingers weaved together and propped up by his elbows. his forehead lowered and resting on the backs of his hands with his scrunched-up expression hidden under his white mane of hair that had been tied up messier than usual- if one could believe it with the nest of hair he normally had.

hearing the underlings of bailu chew his ears off, he could only catch a glance of yanqing at his side. arms locked at his sides with his fists clenched- jing yuan could only imagine the face he was making.

"y/n must be apprehended and relocated to the shackling prison, general. you're aware of this."

"all too well," he whispers to himself, but with the heavy quiet everyone can hear him. "yanqing," he calls without lifting his head.

"general?" the general had never heard the boy so soft spoken before. all his bravado seems to have shrunk.

"i will be contacting the ten lords commission," he swallows. "please make preperation for it."

"yes, general." the painful swallow in the young boy's voice was enough to tell jing yuan that he understood.

'go spend time with y/n before they're gone.' that was what jing yuan really said.

soon, jing yuan's office was clear of all guests and he finally lifted his head and leaned himself back in his chair. letting out a breath, he knew it was coming. you had been coughing up more leaves than he had expected and despite everything he tried, the affliction was ruthless.

it wasn't fair.

the next day, jing yuan had decided to do one finally task. for himself and for you. instead of waiting for the ten lords commission to come knocking at his doorstep, he was going to take one last final measure. even if it changes nothing and you're still taken away from him- perhaps it could extend your sanity just a little while longer. that alone would give jing yuan the smallest peace of mind.

your body had been getting weaker, and patches of yellow gingko shaped markings had spotted all over your body. jing yuan had to practically carry you all the way to the divination commission to meet with fu xuan.

"general," fu xuan's soft voice speaks as he undoes your blindfold but softly instructs that you keep your eyes closed for him. "are you sure you want to do this?"

"i've made my decision."

replacing your blindfold, the general places his palm across the span of your eyes. your hand reaches up to gently rest on his wrist and he can see the cursed yellow blotting you under your sleeves meant to keep it hidden. he grimaces.

"you're taking my memories... aren't you?" your voice had gone scratchy and distorted a few days ago, so you had refrained from speaking. another pointless suppression tactic.

"yes, my dear," he brings you down to your knees beneath the matrix that was ever turning. he kneels with you, keeping his hand over your eyes. "i am."

"yanqing?"

"he knows. i... i asked him not to come." he didn't want you to look that boy in the face and not know who he was. "after this, you'll be taken to the shackling prison." jing yuan closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath. "i'm so sorry."

"i know." your gentle grasp on his wrist tightened and he wishes you'd rip off his gauntlet and embed your nails into his skin just so he'd have something left of you after the day's end. "it'll all be okay."

"no," he refutes, "it wont."

"general," fu xuan wistfully calls. "the ten lords commission will be coming shortly. if you're sure about this, then we must act quickly." the general nods, lifting off his knee to lean and push his forehead against yours one last time. his bangs still tickle your face, and his skin is warm. the way he smells of tea and the elixir you had been taking envelops you and you feel oddly at peace.

the next and last time jing yuan see's your eyes, they're stripped of everything he ever memorized about them. and you didn't recognize him.

the buzz about the general losing you was all hush, like a ripple that kept coming into contact with him. you were gone, taken away from him and all he wanted to do was find a way to get past it. get over it. accept it. but all the outside noise just kept reminding him about how much it hurt.

the buzz turned into murmurs, turned into static and as the days past public life returned to normalcy on the luofu. now, as welt, march and the trailblazer all walk around the divination commission they pass by a small jade plaque that had been placed there several years ago. it looked well-kept and there was a name inscribed on it.

"so, was this y/n person important or something?" march asks, unaware of the intensity that question could hold for some. fu xuan looks at the plaque that used to sit comfortably at the seat of divine foresight before it was moved.

"they were. a very important person who meant a lot to all of us on the luofu."

"did they...?" march's voice was sad, and welt tries to keep her from asking anything more. the plaque was obviously a memorial.

"they were stricken with mara a long time ago." fu xuan takes a deep breath and turns to the curious girl. "i'll be happy to answer any questions you have about them, but you must not bring the subject up to the general under any circumstances."

"the general? but why not?"

fu xuan's face falls and his lips curl over her teeth in a small frown that was biting back too many things she need not disclose to outsides ears.

"it would be pointless." was all she replies.

fu xuan looks longingly at the matrix and can picture the face of the general who had completely recovered from the loss of his partner. the general who will gaze out over his desk at the large star chess board in his office. the general who still entertains his young retainer in both combat training and chess games. the general who still had a bad habit of dozing off and slipping away from his seat and paperwork.

the general who doesn't remember he was ever in love to begin with.

sometimes, the general of the xianziou luofu finds himself starting out into empty space. the words 'it isn't fair' repeating in his subconscious bring a pain to him. he doesn't know what they mean. what wasn't fair? all he can do to shake the feeling and words is resume meditating.

jing yuan didn't know why he meditated. but he did know that he didn't want to remember why it hurts.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. “I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

[idyllic-affections]

we'll meet again.

summary. ""I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now… goodbye, [Name]."" trigger & content warnings. major character death (the reader), mild blood. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/no comfort. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. this is an expansion of these headcanons. while this oneshot could be read as a standalone, it makes slightly more sense with the background context. also i think this oneshot only really makes sense if youve read the demon slayer manga; you wont understand the fight scene if you havent. anyway i have NO excuse for this. im so sorry (no im not LMAO)

       "Tokito, move!"

       Perhaps it was the urgency in their tone, or perhaps it was the evident desire to protect a young life that they deemed unsettlingly evanescent, yet Muichiro obeyed with no hesitation. Perhaps it was simply the trust and respect he held for his mentor.

       Regardless, he moved.

       The second he released the hilt of his blade, they clasped it, pushing the boy further away with all their might. Though they may have missed it, Muichiro grimaced from the utter force they exerted against his core and stumbled slightly when attempting to regain his balance.

       ...

       He hadn't sparred with them in quite a long time. He'd forgotten the kind of power that they could demonstrate.

       Though the blade had been red before when clutched in the Mist Hashira's hand, it was blazing now, making the Upper Moon suck in a sharp, painful breath. Their glare was steely enough to make even the bravest man falter.

       If Kokushibo was not a demon, perhaps even he would have wavered.

       "You will not harm my Tsuguko."

       Lightning struck their core, tearing and searing the seams of their flesh to reach its sharp nails into their delicate innards. They hardly processed the gaping gash across their torso until the pain came in seconds later, making the floor sway beneath their feet and their vision spin. A glare that was once as sharp as their nichirin blade was now unfocused and hazy.

       Their legs gave out from underneath them.

       Through the pounding of their heart in their ears, they heard a distant, faint cry of their name.

       A moment passed, then another.

       Tender fingers brushed hair that'd stuck to their sweaty, pale face away, caressing their cheek with a trembling hand. "...[Name]-nee?"

       "Ah..." they laughed, choking up a bit of blood in the process, before wincing at the sharp pain that struck their abdomen after. "That's the first time you've called me anything other than [Name]-sama, Mui-kun. It's cute. You should've done it a long time ago."

       "H— wait, hold on, just stay awake a little longer," he urged, hands scrambling to peel away at some of the fabric sticking to their flesh. The boy's pupils were blown wide with panic; that much they could tell, despite their blood-loss induced dilirium. "We'll close your wounds, just... I need..."

       "Hey..." they called weakly, gently pushing his hands away from their wound with what little strength they had left. "Tokito."

       "I just, I- I need to start a fire. We'll cauterize them—"

       "Tokito-kun."

       "—It'll be okay."

       "Mui-kun, please, just stop already! Listen to me!"

       Glossy tears spilled over at the sheer breathless desperation in their voice. Never once had their voice raised in his direction, and perhaps it was a mix of the utter overwhelm of the situation and the shock of hearing them yell (at him, specifically) that pushed him over the edge.

       In the end, Muichiro was still only a child.

       Their chest rose up and down in heavy puffs as they tried to catch their breath, squeezing their eyes shut as the room spun.

       "[Name]-nee... don't go yet. Please, please... not you too..."

       "Shh. I'm still here. Just, ah... just give me your hands. I'll throw up if I open my eyes."

       He was quick in clasping their chilled hands between his own, sharing his body heat and offering what little comfort he possibly could to both himself and his rapidly declining mentor. A deep weight settled in his gut at the realization that he wasn't just in some horrible nightmare—that, once again, someone he adored and loved wholeheartedly was leaving him alone.

       To them, the warmth he radiated was indeed a comforting reassurance. He was warm. Alive.

       "Listen to me. You've gotta kill Muzan for me. This isn't fixable. This couldve been you, laying here in your own blood, you know? You're too young to die here. Too many kids have given their lives already. You had better not die, you hear me? I'll give you hell if you do."

       When he laid down beside them, shedding blistering tears on their shoulder, they caressed his head lovingly with the last of their strength.

       "You had better not die, Muichiro."

              — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Hello! It's nice to meet you. I am [Surname] [Name], the Demon Slayer Corps' Cloud Hashira, and I'll be your mentor from here on out."

       The warmth with which they regarded him was... foreign. Despite the nervous smile tugging at their lips, their welcoming warmth was oh-so evident. How could one who had seen so much bloodshed still have eyes that shone comparably to stars?

       Muichiro blinked—once, twice.

       "Okay."

       Awkward silence descended for a brief moment as the boy fidgeted slightly with the bandages wrapped around his body.

       "Oh, uh, right," they stammered, plucking amaranth from their hair. Their hand raised with purposeful delicacy so that, had he so desired, he could withdraw from their gentle touch. He did not. His lack of movement prompted them to tuck the plant behind his ear. "Here."

       "What's this for?"

       "Well, I've never had a Tsuguko before, so I want us to have a good relationship. Some of the other Hashira say gift-giving is a good way to build rapport. Also, I've been thinking about your name."

       "My... name?"

       "Yes. The 'mu' in your given name—it's the same as the 'mu' in 'mugen,' isn't it? The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.' I like to think so, at least. Amaranth is a symbol of immortality in some countries. It's... it's the closest I could get to infinity," they laughed. "I thought about bringing a lotus instead. Maybe I should have? A lotus would've looked a little nicer. Hmm..."

       The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.'

       Where...

       Where had he heard that before?

       "You wanted to bring me a lotus that day, [Name]-nee. It was because they symbolise eternity, right?" Muichiro mused in a quiet whisper that would inevitably be lost to the breeze. No-one else was meant to hear, anyway. His words were for no-one but his late mentor; that much was blatantly obvious. "I didn't think you'd ever join this graveyard."

       The rows of graves behind Oyakata-sama's seemed endless, really. Day after day they used to get bigger and bigger as Demon Slayers fell. It was somehow comforting to Muichiro that no-one would ever have to join said rows ever again.

       "You know, lotuses also symbolise rebirth. That's why I brought you one."

       With delicacy so obviously mimicing that which they had once displayed towards him, he laid the flower on their grave, careful not to disturb the dirt too much.

       "I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now... goodbye, [Name]."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! for clarity's sake, the line "The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen'" is a reference to what muichiro's brother said before he died.

[jackles010378]

Regarding Y/n

What if it was you that got hit with the memory loss spell instead of dean? Dean and Sam try everything to cure you....

(Dean winchester x y/n)

In the quiet town of Lebanon, Dean and Sam, were grappling with a challenge unlike any other they had faced before. It began when y/n Dean's girlfriend jumped in front of him to shield him and accidentally became the victim of a powerful memory loss spell.

Dean paced back and forth in the bunker, his heart heavy with concern "I frickin hate witches" he yelled. He couldn't bear the thought of y/n forgetting him and the time they had spent together. She was the love of his life, and the idea of being a stranger to her was tearing him apart.

Desperate for a solution, Dean picked up his phone and dialed Rowena's number. The powerful witch, usually a source of knowledge and assistance, was the only hope he had left. But to his dismay, Rowena informed him that she had encountered this particular spell only once before and had been unable to find an antidote.

Left with no other choice, Dean set off on a mission to locate the witch responsible for casting the memory loss spell. Sam stood by his side, ready to help his brother however he could. He didn't want to leave y/n on her own so he phoned Jody and Donna, both women dropping everything to come be with y/n, the women that once saved their lives. Dean knew it would be a treacherous journey, fraught with danger and uncertainty.

Their first lead led them to a small town on the outskirts of Kansas. The locals spoke of a mysterious woman who had recently arrived and possessed unique magical abilities. Dean and Sam tracked her down and demanded answers.

The witch, Lilya, revealed that she had cast the spell under the command of a rogue coven, seeking to eliminate any traces of supernatural interference in their lives. The coven had brainwashed her, exploiting her powers for their nefarious purposes.

Determined to help y/n restore her memories, Dean and Sam convinced Lilya to guide them to the coven's hideout. They ventured into the heart of the forest, where dark magic permeated the air. The brothers had faced countless supernatural threats in the past, but this felt different. This time, their objective was not to destroy evil, but to save their loved one.

As they delved deeper into the hidden lair, Dean and Sam encountered a series of increasingly complex traps and spells meant to deter intruders. But nothing could stop their unwavering resolve. They fought through every obstacle, leaving no stone unturned.

Finally, they reached the inner sanctum, where the coven gathered to harness their powers. A battle ensued, the sound of spells reverberating through the room. Dean fought with all his might, his motivation fueled by the love he harbored for y/n.

In the midst of the chaos, Sam managed to find the original witch, the one responsible for casting the memory loss spell. Power crackled in her fingertips as she prepared to attack. But Sam, quicker than lightning, intercepted her, overpowering her with sheer determination.

With the threat eliminated, Dean rushed back to y/n, trembling with anticipation. He held his breath as he recited the reversal incantation he had discovered during the fight. And as the words left his lips, a surge of energy enveloped y/n, her eyes widening with recognition. After the spell she passed out. Sam Jody and Donna looked on, panic set in their faces. Dean picked her up off the sofa and carried her to their bedroom. He lay her gently on the bed fearing the worst.

A few days had passed and Dean was getting worried, but then she whispered his name as her eyes fluttered open, "Dean." Relief flooded through him, as though a weight had been lifted from his heart. y/n's memories returned, washing over her like a tidal wave. She held onto Dean, tears of joy and relief streaming down both their faces.

From that day forward, Dean and y/n cherished every moment they spent together. The experience taught them the importance of love, resilience, and the unbreakable bond they shared. And amidst the chaos of their hunter lives, they never took a single memory for granted again.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hide & Seek

I don’t think you should look behind you, Lizzie.

The sea was dangerous. 

It was no place for a human.

Sheer cold winds howled as the waves crashed against each other. The sky was pitch black, only illuminated by the bright crash of lightning overhead. The torrential rain pelted the ocean around her, driving the waves higher and making it harder to see. Warring sounds of nature were the only thing the survivor could hear as she kept as still as possible, clinging to floating pieces of driftwood and debris to hide her frail body from the terrors of the deep. 

The survivor was drenched in water, barely breathing as she pressed her body down against the wooden planks as she tried to make herself smaller than she already was. She shivered, the freezing air surrounded her. Thunder rumbled overhead, and her blue eyes narrowed as she adjusted her blurry vision from the chaos around her. She shouldn’t be here. She should be on the island with her friends. She should be safe. She was supposed to be safe. The survivor took in deep breaths, her hands covering her head as she tried her best not to scream in fear. 

Don’t let them find you.

A blinding flash of lightning struck the sinking, burning vessel in front of her. What was once the ship that she and her parents had boarded was now nothing more than a wooden plaything for those monsters. She strained her ears, listening for any screeches or roars that bellowed from the deep, but there were none. Only then did she dare to move. 

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her eyes were glued to the destroyed ship, the only thing left that provided her a sick sense of relief. It was a reminder of how lonely she was. She hated being alone. She moved the messy pink hair away from her face as tears began to form. Her fingers ran pulled at her hair as her breathing quickened and her vision blurred. 

She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and her stomach twisted in pain as her head hit the wood below her. She had to be strong. Her parents told her to be strong. She had to be. She was the unshakable Elizabeth Shadow, inheritor of the Shadow Pearl corporation, nothing should scare her. Nothing should scare her. She was a big girl. Big girls shouldn’t panic. This should all be over soon. 

How did this all happen? Just a few hours ago all she saw was the clear, sunny sky and peaceful waves. Lizzie closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, casting her mind back to the once-calm waves and breezy chill that danced across the ships. She needed to calm down. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

—————

The skies overhead were a beautiful baby blue, lazily hung with small specks of clouds and filled with the songs of migratory birds that passed by. How these birds flew across these long patches of ocean was baffling to her. Lizzie stood on the upper deck of a grand cruise ship, watching the birds fly in the distance. Her hands against the railing as the salty sea air blew through her hair as she cherished the view of the ocean. The ship was a fine white vessel used for transportation and leisure. It had several polished wooden floors with different levels to accommodate all the people on board. The ship rumbled with the vibrations of big engines propelling forward. The ship’s hull was lined in the typical metal plating meant to defend the ship from the sea monsters infesting the ocean. 

It was hard to believe this place was as scary as all the stories her friends had told her. She heard lots of stories of dangerous sea monsters, and while she did fear them as any kid did, the sea didn’t look like what she pictured in her mind. It was just a big pond filled with fish enough to feed the entire human race, all animalkind even! Ponds aren’t scary.

There was no storm. There were no tall sharp rocks to destroy ships. There was not even a hint of mist! Most importantly, there aren’t any vicious monsters coming for their ship. She didn’t think there would be any monster coming close to her ship. With their ship being a transportation boat, they were protected by several hunting ships that formed a circle around the big boat. No monsters would attack them, they’d be fine.

Hunters, Lizzie knew of the profession through Grian. His parents were hunters; trained and ready to kill any sea monster that comes their way. Grian described their ships as being covered in big weaponry and parts of the monsters they killed as trophies. Lizzie stared at the metal walls covered in spikes and harder material, showing some dents and bitemarks as they stuck to the passenger ship’s side. The hunter ships all had huge sails to carry them across the waters and an engine for a speedy getaway, all for the safety of fellow humans. 

Lizzie stared at the hunters’ ships as Grian’s words echoed through her mind. His parents were no longer in this world, but Grian was still excited about becoming a hunter. 

Lizzie could see the passion in Grian’s eyes as he spoke about hunting, full of wonder and amazement as he recollected what his birth parents had told him. Her friends all had different thoughts about hunters. She asked Martyn what being a hunter was like, given he was already training to be one, and he gave her a huge grin as he answered her: It was awesome.

 She remembered the look on Grian’s face as Martyn recounted all the cool tricks his parents had taught him, the sour expression on his face was priceless. He’d said, “How come you get to do all of that? Why can’t I?”

Lizzie visualized Martyn’s cocky smirk as he rustled with Grian’s hair, “That’s because my parents are actual hunters! Yours are smarty-pants hunters, you don’t do these sorts of stuff!”

When she asked Jimmy if he wanted to be a hunter too, his eyes had gotten big and he’d shook his head, “No way! That’s too much for me. I’d rather do what Mum and Dad do, it’s more my speed.”

Lizzie could practically hear the loud laugh Joel made when Jimmy had said that, causing a light chuckle to slip out of her. Joel had wrapped an arm around his taller brother, rolling his eyes, “He’s way too scared to do it. He thinks a monster is gonna come up to eat him or something. We’ll save him though!”

The memory of their shared laughter warmed her heart. She was excited to see them again.

Lizzie and her parents were on their way to meet with her friends and their parents, the adults planning on talking about some sort of deal she didn’t fully grasp yet. Eh, that was adult talk, she didn’t care for it. She wanted to be there to see her friends. 

Lizzie walked along the upper deck, one hand tracing the railing as she stared outward, passing small waves at hunters when they looked her way, smiling and laughing. She heard two voices up ahead, discussing something. There was nothing for her to do there other than to watch the ships go by, so Lizzie abruptly stopped walking to listen in. Two people were leaning by the wall, and to not look like she was eavesdropping Lizzie walked past them and ducked behind the wall. They wouldn’t notice her.

The two people were in a hushed conversation, one figure leaning towards the other as they spoke. It didn't seem to register to either stranger how loud they were being with their whispers. One of the voices was more frantic in their speech, stuttering, “What if they find us?” 

The other voice chuckled, soft thuds indicated they were patting their friend’s shoulder as they sighed, “They won’t. They’re not real.” 

What wasn’t real? 

The first voice spoke up again, their tone unchanging, “B-But they are! If not them, then–” 

The second voice sighed loudly, raising their voice and cutting the other off, “Then nothing, my friend. If monsters try to approach we’ll be protected.” 

The first voice spoke up again, much more quietly and less frantic. It didn’t seem like they were arguing anymore, “It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s–” If they weren’t arguing, Lizzie wanted to know why the first one was so scared.

The second one spoke up again, their tone in a low hiss, “The sea princes don’t exist, mate. They’re fairytales.”

Sea princes? Weren’t those the stories Grian and Martyn used to tell her? Her thoughts were interrupted as a low growl of thunder rumbled above, dark clouds began to form. Uh oh. Best to go downstairs with her parents. She didn’t want to get hit by the rain. Rain was scary. 

Her mind wandered back to the sea princes as she walked to her parents’ room, getting as far from the rain as possible. It was a popular story. As far as she knew, the sea princes were these big and ugly creatures who towered over all of the sea monsters. Mermaids fought them, which made Lizzie interested in the myths.

Lizzie walked down the staircase leading her down to her room. Which one was it? The third floor. It should be there. 

She shook her head, coming back to her thoughts. Mermaids, right. 

Mermaids were a beautiful mix of human and fish, guarding humanity from the evil sea princes as their sworn enemy. People sometimes caught sight of them as they stood on the edge of port towns or sailed on big ships. Lizzie gasped in realization. Big ships just like this one! Maybe she’d get to see a mermaid! Stories said seeing one was a blessing. It would be a magical moment for her to meet one on her very first ship ride!

The other thing was the treasures. The way Martyn described them made them sound so cool. There were ancient totems that could defy death, apples made of pure gold, even tomes and texts that could turn people into gods. Supposedly all those treasures existed somewhere in the ocean, surely giving anyone thoughts of what powers they could have with it. People could live forever, talk to fishes, make plants grow, anything was possible!

Lizzie visualized finding one of the treasures, a great and shiny orb that turned her into an axolotl mermaid queen that could fight off all sorts of danger to protect her friends. To her, it didn’t sound outlandish at all, it sounded cool. A lot of people wanted to find sea prince treasures, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to find it too. All sorts of cool things could be under the ocean, they just needed to look. 

Lizzie peered through a big wall of glass looking in on one of the lower floors. She saw plenty of people sitting on couches and talking. Some of them were noticeably hunters, looking out towards the open sea with weapons hung on their belts and scars marked on their bodies. 

They were fine, they were safe. That one person from earlier was wrong, they were protected from whatever danger came their way. 

She turned away, continuing down the stairs and into the hallways, pulling out a key with a tag of her room number. Three-four-one. It was somewhere down the corridor. She looked at each of the plates by the doors before stopping at one. Three-four-one, that was it! Lizzie inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. She greeted her parents with a smile, “I’m back!”

Lizzie’s father turned and grinned, crouching as his daughter ran up to give him a hug, “How was your little exploration? Find anything cool?” She looked at him with her big eyes, shaking her head. 

The room was spacious, but maybe it was because she was still so small, her parents looked big in the room. They didn’t seem to fit on the bed together, as Lizzie remembered her father offering to sleep on the couch. At the end of the room was a window overlooking the sea, a big bed, and a couch beside it. There was a small sitting area with a couple of bookshelves and complimentary snacks left with a desk. The door to the bathroom was next to the entrance of the room, with a closet off to the side. 

Lizzie sat on the couch, swinging her feet, “Nothing much! I did hear two big kids talk about the sea princes though.” 

Her mother looked up from the bed, closing the book she was reading as her husband sat beside her. The couple shared an amused glance, smiling at each other before looking at their child. Her mother tilted her head, “And you don’t look scared at all! What a big girl you are, Lizzie.” Lizzie giggled, her feet kicking faster. 

Her father sighed loudly, striking a dramatic pose, “Honey, she’s getting so old! We’re getting old!” 

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes, “Ay, that we are. She’s brave enough to be out on her own, exploring the ship and reporting her findings. I remember how scared you were when we first told you about them,” she sighed, glancing to the side as she chuckled, “You’re growing up so fast.” 

Lizzie stuck her tongue out, furrowing her eyebrows, “But I don’t wanna be old yet! I still–”

Loud, piercing bells began to ring in the distance as the ship made a loud creaking noise and nearly went sideways with a sudden push, sending them sprawling. Lizzie gripped the bed as her parents reoriented themselves. Lizzie’s father approached the window and stuck his head out as her mother motioned for her to come to her. Lizzie shifted on the bed. She didn’t want to move, she just got there! The bed felt comfortable.

Lizzie could hear a low trilling sound from the open window, echoing as glass windows began to crack. The noise vibrated the ship. The bells continued to ring as voices of the hunters rang through the air. There were loads of hunters around the ship. She should be fine. They all should be fine. 

Her father shut the window, turning to his wife and child. His eyes were wide, but he tried to stabilize his breathing, “We have to leave. Now.” 

Her mother nodded as she shot out of bed and hastily gathered her things. Lizzie sat on the bed, shifting around as her parents paced around the room in haste. “Why do we need to leave?” she questioned, “The hunters should be able to stop the monsters!” That was their job, wasn’t it? There were four hunting ships in the area, they should be enough. 

It didn’t stop her father from continuing, “I know they will, but we also need to be protected. We have to stay safe.” 

The waves continued to jostle the ship, the gentle swaying became harsher as some kind of noise escaped from the ocean. Lizzie could hear the muffled sounds of the hunters firing their weapons, but there was no sound of a creature getting hurt. Lizzie’s eyebrows furrowed, “But the hunters–” 

Her mother was the one to cut in this time, carrying bags with some of their clothes hanging loosely out of the top, “Lizzie, no buts. You’re a big girl, but even big girls get scared when the threat is very real.” 

No. Big kids don’t get scared. She won’t be scared. Stories about sea monsters used to frighten her, but not anymore. She’d be brave. 

Lizzie hit her fist against the cushiony bed. Her voice rose as she firmly declared, “I’m not scared!” The light from the window had cut off before either of her parents could say anything in return, tossing the family into the pitch black darkness. 

Lizzie saw her parents walking backwards in fear, staring at the window. Their faces were pale and their eyes widened as they took shaky steps. She watched her parents’ breathing quicken as they sank to their knees. Lizzie cocked her head, raising an eyebrow with a frown, “What’s wrong?” 

Her parents didn’t look at her, staring at the window instead, but her mother spoke, “Lizzie. Walk to us, slowly.” Lizzie had the gut feeling to turn back. She shifted her body, starting to turn, but her mother caught on. “Don’t look behind you. Look at us. Me.” Why not look behind her? What could possibly– another monstrous trill resonated in the air, shaking the ground.

Something was blocking the window. 

Now her mother was staring right at Lizzie, her eyes wide as her breathing became loud and uneven. Lizzie got off the bed, slowly taking small steps before her mother took one second to glance back at the window. 

Lizzie looked behind her.

An eye. A huge one. The white of the eye was a pitch black abyss with a piercing orange and blue iris staring directly at them. The creature’s pupil was large and ice white. A sound emitted from its throat as it rumbled through the structure of the ship. Lizzie could feel it shake the floor beneath her feet, her body shook along with it. 

Time seemed to stop around them as they were locked in a staring match with a monster that could so easily tear them apart. Lizzie’s body shook, her heart was pounding out of her chest as she shakily took a step backwards, away from the eye. The eye moved along with her, as if following Lizzie’s every movement. 

The eye moved in closer as the ship began to tilt. Lizzie and her parents lost their footing, sliding across the floor and hitting the door as the creature made another low trill before a sudden shriek, distant from the ship, broke the air of silence. The white pupil suddenly narrowed into a slit as the massive monster produced an unholy roar that shattered the window. 

The creaking wood of the ship crumbled and cracked, metal bending and twisting before snapping open as water rushed in. Horrified screams and gasps came from the other rooms and were drowned out as the echoing trill resounded through the deep. Lizzie’s parents grabbed her and swam out through the shattered window. The beast was no longer in sight.

Lizzie learned an important thing that day; she didn’t know how to swim. 

Don’t panic. Panicking will make things worse. 

Lizzie could feel her mother’s arm wrap around her, hurriedly placed on a wooden door. Lizzie’s heart pounded out of her chest. Her parents were there, close to her. They weren’t on the door like she was.

Everything became a blur after. 

Rain started to pour. Hunters screamed in fear, “What is that thing?!” before their ships snapped open and bodies fell into the salty sea water below. 

There were people in the water. So many people were in the water. 

Thunder and lightning raged in the sky as the creature’s long tail pierced out of the water from time to time, slowly but surely circling around them. Lizzie didn’t know where the ship was; she’d lost her parents. They’d become separated as chunks of different ships had begun to scatter and crash into the water as two different beasts roared and shrieked. 

Lizzie could hear her parents call out to her. She flailed her arms, “Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?!” She looked around her surroundings in hopes of finding them. Please. She needed to see them again. She looked at the direction she had heard her parents. Where were–

The monster let out a bellowing roar, rattling the water as a gigantic red fin shot up from the depths swiftly knocked Lizzie into the water as it swam past. She was disoriented– where were her parents? She called out to them again. She needed to find them.

“Mom?! Dad?!”

She couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

Lizzie didn’t know where to go. She flailed her arms aimlessly while the cold waters tried to consume her, eventually finding something to desperately latch onto as she struggled to remain afloat. She remembered she had grabbed a wooden wall and stuck to it for dear life. More and more voices were drowned out by the rain. The only thing she could hear over the sound of the burning ships and the angry weather were the monsters. She prayed to whatever god was out there to spare her. She didn’t want to die.

The monsters disappeared, but not for long. They were coming back for her, weren’t they?

Lizzie had been able to wedge herself between two pieces of debris to hide. The monsters didn’t seem to have noticed her. The waves that used to crash against her only pushed her slightly. Lizzie looked up to see the long finned tail of the creatures sink below. 

Why had it been staring at her? Her parents? Was it some kind of sick game? She did not want to play. 

She was alone. 

Everything had been fine until now. Maybe if she never boarded the ship, her parents would be okay. She wanted them here with her. Maybe it was better if her friends visited her instead of the other way around. 

The waves rocked her shelter, as if trying to calm her down. It wasn’t working. 

Lizzie looked up from the piece of wooden wall beneath her, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a lot of the floating debris moving in the same direction. Lizzie wiped the tears away from her eyes as she tried to focus. The… the debris weren’t moving because of the waves. They were moving because the creature was circling them! Lizzie covered her mouth from screaming as a small vortex was created, her head becoming light as she heard the beast roar. 

Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. 

The spinning got faster, making Lizzie want to puke, but the motions came to an abrupt stop as she was gathered with the other floating debris. Her eyes widened as she heard other people crying out in fear. She wasn’t the only one! There were others who were still alive!

The rain made it hard to see the looming figure rising out of the water before her. She saw faint hints of blue, its chest had stripes of other colors glowed faintly in the darkness. Lizzie heard shouts over the ocean, but the storm and the crashing waves swallowed the noise. She heard a rumble in the water before a second figure appeared, something blurry white and red bursting up. The other beast. There was another one.

What if they were looking for her? 

Lizzie could hear the beasts ‘speak’, grunts and guttural echoes boomed above, she wished she could shut her eyes but they were fixed on the monsters. She didn’t even have a clear look at either one, just knowing one of them was red and the other was blue. She heard something rise from the water as the terrified shrieks of the other people filled the air between rolls of thunder, “P-Please! Spare us! We have families– children to come home to!” 

Lizzie heard a loud crash of water, likely the monster was angry at their response. Did they even understand human speech? She didn’t need to worry about that. 

The air hung silent as thunder echoed. One of the humans began to speak, “Y-Your eye… we apologize for–” The red beast growled. Its sounds were different from the blue one, a rumbling echo instead of a rattling thrill, yet carried the same booming volume. Its tail swished, jostling Lizzie’s hiding spot, unknowingly giving her a better view of the creatures. 

One of the beasts was covered in shiny, golden spikes. Its tail was armored, red with a blue-green tail fin. The other beast’s tail was blue with colorful splotches, its fins were a red sunset-like hue with patterns of flickering stars. She couldn’t see the end of its tail, likely underwater. 

Something that stuck out to her weren’t the colors or the shape of their tails though.

She could be seeing things, but they looked human.

The blue one’s colorful stripes almost looked like tattoos along its back, Lizzie could see red fins coming from its head and she swore it had long teal hair. The red one had pearlescent white hair with brown streaks coming from it, unable to see much else other than that.

Why did they look human?

The men’s screams were tossed upward, the beasts thrashing and moving the debris, along with Lizzie, around. She swore the beasts were laughing, their bellowing unholy roars boomed as Lizzie braced for something. Anything. She was expecting the monsters to end it, to just kill them and leave. 

Yet…

“HUNTERS…” 

Lizzie shut her eyes. There was no way this was real. She had to be dreaming. This was just one bad dream, right?

“...DON’T BELONG HERE.”

It spoke.

Those were human words.

No ordinary beast can just talk, right?

This was all a bad dream. Lizzie just needed to wake up. She covered her ears, blocking out the dozens of screams as they were silenced by the sound of jaws snapping. Her heart began pounding and with one final crash of lightning, she shut her eyes for a long, long time.

—————

“Lizzie?” 

Where was she?

“Lizzie, wake up.” 

Was she dead?

“Are you okay?”

Are her parents alive?

“Lizzie, are you there?” 

Was she back home?

“Please. Wake up, Lizzie.”

…Those were her friends calling her, weren’t they? 

Lizzie shot up, breathing heavily as she grasped her chest. This wasn’t the ocean. It was bright and sunny. She could hear birdsong outside and the gentle brush of leaves against the wind. Sunlight filtered through the window behind her, looking around, she could see the expressions her friends were giving her. 

Joel was right beside Lizzie, clenching his fists with hunched shoulders, his eyes glued on her. Jimmy was on the other side, one of his hands held onto his head, gripping his blonde hair as he leaned over. Grian was beside Jimmy, his wide eyes stared at her as his eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip. 

They were here. She was here with them. Her parents. 

Lizzie took in a deep breath, “Where are my parents?” 

The three brothers shared a glance, exchanging mini expressions until Joel nodded, placing his hand on the bed as an offering. Lizzie placed her hand on top of his. Joel glanced at the floor as he sighed, “They’re… they’re.. How do I phrase this?” Joel’s eyes couldn’t meet hers. They were what? What happened? 

Lizzie glanced at Grian and Jimmy, who kept their heads low. Why was everyone acting so weird? Lizzie’s grip on Joel tightened as an air of silence washed over them. 

“Everyone was-.” 

His voice trailed off. Silence. If it weren’t for the birdsong outside, the silence would have been deafening. He didn’t finish his sentence. That only meant one thing, right? They were gone. Dead. Not in this world anymore. The last thing she did was be a disobedient child. She was the worst. Lizzie felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hands covered her face as she screamed. She screamed so loudly the brothers flinched, Lizzie’s chest heaving as she sobbed.

She wanted her parents.

She needed her parents.

This wasn’t fair.

Lizzie’s hands slumped on her sides as she laid on the bed. This can’t be real. She felt Joel hold her hand as he looked at her.

Joel rubbed his thumb over Lizzie’s hand as she gripped it tight. “But you survived. It’s… a lot to take in, but I promise, we’ll be there for you.” Joel looked back at her with a smile, tilting his head. 

Grian stood up from his chair, slamming his hands on the sheets, “We’ll find out what beast did it, and tear its heart out!” Grian’s enthusiasm for being a hunter was strong, surprising her now with how intense his gaze was, affirming his resolve. Maybe it was because his birth parents died, he felt something new towards Lizzie. She decided not to think about it. 

Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need time to calm down, Liz. However long it takes, we’ll be there.” Jimmy was always the butt of the joke, always made dumb little quips, but he was an amazing friend. She was glad she met all of them. They were her best friends. She couldn’t imagine facing life without them. All of them.

Lizzie smiled, looking at all three as tears formed in her eyes, not of sadness, but relief, “...Thank you.” 

—————

She never did find out what beasts took her parents that day, but she would learn it eventually. Lizzie breathed the fresh salty air, it was just as she remembered. The waves rippled past the ship, birds called in the open air. All she needed now was time. Time to recover, time to heal. Time to figure out the rest of her life. She held the steering wheel firmly as she exhaled, closing her eyes. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see Joel with his hand on her shoulder, their engagement ring glistening in the sunlight.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, “Any attacks before we charter home?” She could see a glint in Joel’s eyes as he smirked.

Joel took his hand off of Lizzie’s shoulder and shoved it into his pocket, “Maybe. Let’s have one last hurrah before we head home, sounds good?” The mischievousness in his eyes faded as he tilted his head. Lizzie adored how much he cared about her. She’d be fine. She felt reassured with everyone on board supporting her recovery. She gave Joel a small kiss on the lips.

“Aye, captain. Love you.”

But maybe, maybe it was better to leave some mysteries unsolved.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, there ♡ I saw your requests are back open and I was wondering if I could request some more Thranduil smut where the reader (female human) has a nightmare or is just deeply upset over something (whichever you prefer) and he comforts her, but then it slowly turns into a slow burn fuck sesh 🔥🔥 thank you so much. I hope you are having a good week.

Well hello there! I had a great week, I hope it was the same for you! Now, onto your request.

"Light after darkness"

✨Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✨Themes: Some angst | Smut | Soft 

✨Warnings: Insecurity (Reader) | Mentions of imprisonment/torture | PTSD | Kissing | Fingering (Fem. receiving)| Body worship | Nicknames | Explicit language | Mild dirty talk | Penetrative sex | Cream pie 

✨ Word count: 3k words

✨Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Summary: A bad nightmare and waking up in the dark ends up with something much lighter and sweeter.

✨ Author's notes: "Girdle of Varda" is a band of countles stars similar to the Milky Way. 

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The vision returned, darker and more sinister this time.

It started as an inky black mist rolling in, and the world went dark. Lightning struck like a lance, its flash splitting the sky, but little could be seen, save for shadows in the gloom. Ugly things, ones only found in the darkest pits, slithered about, muttering in a tongue that was foul and torturous to listen to. There were flashes of terror and suffering, and there was laughter, coldness, and cruelty. There was the glint of steel, of eyes glinting like red, hot coals. And the pain, sharp and intense, returned, with memories of a dark time flooding in like waves crashing over jagged rocks. 

And that flood only grew, with those waves rising higher and higher. Your heart lurched at the next flash of lightning, at the glint of a sword, at the sound of a beast pounding over muddy earth. You caught the subtle sheen of armour, the agonizing sounds of frantic screams. Red eyes flashed in the darkness again, hot and angry this time, rushing towards you, and then —

"Starlight?" a comforting voice called out from the darkness, pulling you out of the dream and slowly into waking. "Starlight, are you all right?"

You jerked awake, a silent scream trapped in your throat. The utter clarity and terror of that nightmare left you shaken and cold, and you trembled, your eyes barely making out the outlines of a large room. "It's dark," you said in a panic, your chest heaving heavily. "Why is it dark?"

You heard nothing, save for the muffled sound of feet over thick carpets. A candle was lit, its soft, golden light dispelling some of the gloom. Someone walked over to the large, arched windows, opening them to a wide expanse of the night sky. Sheer drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. And how beautiful the sky was! Countless stars glittered against an endless field of inky black, with the Girdle of Varda and a pale full moon standing out against them all. How comforting it was to see that sky after weeks of darkness, the light of that candle, but most important of all, the face of the ellon who made his way back to your side.

"Are you well, starlight?" He studied you, his eyes filled with growing worry. "You were struggling in your sleep."

"Bad dreams again," you tried to take a deep, steadying breath to try and compose yourself. "From before and..." You began to weep then, shedding sad, bitter tears, as the memory of your capture kept flooding back. Thranduil felt helpless, unable to defend you from an enemy he could not fight or even see. It made him angry—so very angry, that he couldn't shield you from the horrors that plagued you some nights. In the end, he settled on the one thing he could do. He joined you in bed, gathering you in his arms and holding you while you wept.

Tears fell, hard and relentless, and you clung to Thranduil's robes, your chest heaving painfully against his. And Thranduil refused to let go, holding you silently without complaint. His presence was a great comfort, and his touch was soothing. You lost track of time, so lost were you in your grief. And it slowly passed, with your tears easing and your sobs quieting. The pain you felt ebbed, and yet you felt empty instead of light. 

"Do you wish to talk about it, starlight?" Thranduil's voice was warm and deep as it cut through the haze. 

"Tis the same as before," you choked, nestling into him. "A foul mist and lightning. Daggers and those ugly red eyes. Then a sword flashed in the darkness. Your elk pawing at the earth. Screams." Your eyes drifted down, to your exposed left arm. "The pain."

Thranduil ran a careful finger over the scars on your forearm, a gift from your orc captors. "Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head. "Not anymore. But I can still feel the blade. And I hate it. I hate how it looks. How it makes me look." You sniffled again when you went over those scars, all words, all in the black tongue of Mordor. No amount of healing could make them go away, and you were bound to carry them for the rest of your days. "I feel ugly."

How Thranduil hated it, hearing you talk like that. He couldn't bear to hear you talk of yourself that way. "You are beautiful starlight, and it pains me to hear you talk of yourself that way." 

"But look at these!" You cried and stuck out your arm, so he could see. "They will never go away, so how can you say that I am?"

Thranduil took your hand into his and lifted it to his lips. "I am not blind to them, starlight. I say you are beautiful because you are. Remember your first night after waking up?" His pulse scrambled with each little kiss when his lips pressed against your skin, at the scent that filled his lungs—the sweet scent of you. "When you were strong enough to dine with the rest of us?"

Your cheeks warmed; how could you forget? Thranduil was the first to rise when you walked in, his eyes fixed on you and no other. He had insisted you sit next to him, and he spent almost the entire night talking and dancing with you. "I thought you had never seen a mortal before me," you managed a weak smile.

"Hah!" Thranduil guffawed, his lips skimming over your fingers. "Mortals, I deal with plenty. You on the other hand? I have never seen anyone like you, and I could not keep my eyes off you. You were a vision that night... You are a vision, starlight. I wish we had met under happier circumstances, but I am glad we did. I would not change the past several moons for anything."

You barely remembered the first few days of your rescue. All you did have were hazy memories of that battle, of opening your eyes and seeing Thranduil for the first time, the fall of his silver-blonde hair, the steel of his armor, the cloak that kept you warm on the ride back to his halls. Still, those first memories of him, blurred as they were, were so precious to you. "I would not change one thing either, save for maybe this."

Thranduil's lips left your fingers and trailed down your arm, barely skimming over the scars. "You are beautiful, starlight," he breathed softly. "Will you let me show you just how beautiful you are?"

You hummed sweetly, all too aware of the heavy thud of your own heart. And to have him take his time to make you feel good? Well, you were not going to say no to that. "Yes," you said, your breath hitching when his eyes darkened.

Thranduil took his time, slowly unburdening you of your robes and unburdening himself of his. He started by touching you first, letting his hands glide all over your body, slowly and gently, like he was touching you for the first time. And he trembled, his breath soft and tremulous, his hands shaking as they continued with their gentle exploration. "Just feeling your naked skin against mine is enough to make me weak," he murmured, delighting in the little gasp he heard. "So soft, and I cannot get enough of it."

His touch slowly grew insistent, and his light brushes grew a little rougher, a little greedier. His hands were everywhere, over your thighs, your belly, the soft swell of your breasts, deft fingers kneading at your flesh. You shivered, your body slowly easing over soft, silk sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric. Thranduil saw this and groaned under his breath. He had only just begun.

He moved over you, his thighs pushing yours apart. Propping himself on one elbow, Thranduil continued with his exploration, his soft, luscious lips just hovering over yours. His free hand kept gliding over your belly, over trembling muscles, and his eyes locked on you. And those eyes of his, burning bright even in the light of that single candle, the blue of them as vibrant as a clear morning sky. That was the only first clear memory you had of him after your rescue: opening your eyes and finding him looking down at you on the ride back. A gasp then ripped through you when his hand came back to your breasts, stroking the soft skin, his fingers drawing little circles, then pinching lightly at first, then growing rougher, until it felt like your entire body was aching. Flushed and breathless, you moved a hand over his, trying to guide him. 

"No," Thranduil gently ordered, his lips brushing over yours. "Not tonight."

You swallowed and moved your hands over your head, your body pulsing as he continued, brushing his fingers over your throat, your lips, and your eyelids. 

You were everything he wanted, needed, even. And he didn't stop. Not with his hand, not with his lips. Thranduil kept brushing his lips over yours, savouring the sweetness of your mouth and he felt it—the slow pin-pricks of desire smolder and grow stronger, degree by slow degree. Hunger threatened to overcome him, but he forced himself to hold back just a little longer. He wanted to taste more of you first. 

Your back arched against him, and you sighed helplessly when he dipped his head, his lips and his tongue leaving a damp trail in their wake. "I cannot get over how sweet you taste," he mumbled against your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Just thinking about my lips against your skin is enough to make me hard."

You pulled away and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, searching for any sign of a lie or a tease. There was nothing but love and dark hunger burning in them.

"D-do you m-mean it?" you still asked, as doubt slowly sunk its claws into you. Thranduil was the Elvenking, an ellon who could have had anyone he wanted, and yet he chose you, a mere mortal with a scarred arm. His choice shocked many, and you were constantly worried despite his promise of devotion.

His eyes grew serious as his hand went lower, to the apex of your thighs. "I mean it, starlight, every word of it," his voice was thick and hoarse, a groan escaping his lips when you arched your back again, your mouth parting in a soft moan as his fingers rubbed up against your heat.

There was no talking now, just feeling. Thranduil watched, his blood heating at the sight of you writhing beneath him. He wanted to see, truly see, what pleasure was like on you, and he was not disappointed. Intoxicating, was what it was, and he took his time, drinking in the myriad of expressions that washed over your countenance—the looks of shock, desire, and pure ecstasy. Thranduil enjoyed it all, committing everything to memory. 

"No starlight," he denied you when you tried to move your hand over his once more. "Not tonight. Let me take care of you."

Oh, how he took care of you, running the pads of his fingers over the warmth of your slit, your little pearl. And how it thrilled you—how it sent jolt after jolt of intense pleasure washing all over your body. Having to keep your hands to yourself and letting him take control—it all felt so wonderful and so very erotic. And then he slid a finger in, gently curling it around your pulsing walls, pulling shameless moan after shameless moan out of you.

"You are made for me," Thranduil's breath had grown ragged, his eyes feasting on the sight of you moving frantically, how you bucked against his hand. And how his heart pounded against his chest as you continued to writhe beneath him, your walls clenching around his finger. "Just me. And look at how glorious you are right now, starlight. Look at how your body responds... I could spend all day in our chambers like this, just watching you."

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered weakly, your body slowly unraveling beneath him. You were unsure what heated you more, his words or his touch. "D-dont stop. P-please."

The king growled in approval, his own body aflame. "That first night with us," he crooned huskily, his lips skimming over the shell of your ear. "When you came to eat with us, and I saw you, I thought I had strayed into a dream. I could not keep my eyes off of you, starlight."

"M-more," you pleaded, your body tingling at his words, your muscles tightening more and more with each passing second. "P-please my k-king."

Thranduil was almost undone by that alone. And he felt it—your thighs shaking, your walls slowly tightening. He withdrew his finger and positioned himself, his lips just a hair's breadth over yours. "Your body is intoxicating," he breathed, trembling when the tip of his cock rubbed against your slick. "Fuck," he mumbled, his very breath shuddering. Thranduil swallowed and forced himself to focus. He was not going to move along blindly. He wanted you to feel as much pleasure as he did. 

And you could no longer bear not touching him. You could no longer bear this waiting. You reached over, twining your arms around his broad shoulders and tracing lines between his shoulder blades. "I'm ready," you whispered. "Please, my king. I need to feel you inside of me again."

Thranduil's gaze cut to yours. There was nothing but lust shining in his eyes and it thrilled you to have him look at you like that. 

"Please," you pleaded once more. "I need you inside me."

Thranduil hesitated briefly. Just briefly. He looked at you, eyes filled with reverence, his free hand brushing over your hair. You looked up at him, the two of you staring at each other in wonder. There was a pause. The very air seemed to still. And then, his mouth captured yours in a kiss. His kiss seared, his mouth hot and hungry as his lips plundered yours. Your heart fluttered when he pressed himself against you and his tongue licked past your parted lips to dip into the warmth of your mouth. A noise rose at the back of your throat, a soft, needy moan, something dark and sinful, enticing him to kiss you even more. Your arms tightened over his shoulders, and your legs scrambled for purchase against his hips. You felt it—him piercing your core, his cock sinking inch by slow inch, pushing you deeper into the bed. And oh, how good it felt to have him inside you, filling you to the hilt. Belonging to him, just him. Oh, how you loved that, knowing you were his. And then he moved. His first thrust ripped a gasp out of you; the second, a dreamy sigh.

Thranduil was slow and deliberate. His thrusts were gentle and steady, as if he didn't want to shock you, or cause you pain. All you could do was cling to him, your body tightening again with each passing moment. It was always like this, always so good, and only he could make you feel like this, take you higher and higher, to places you have never been before.

Thranduil's breath quickened and grew ragged. He grunted when your hands moved up and buried themselves in his thickhair. Those grunts grew deep and gutteral and turned to moans every time you tugged, every time you pulled him closer to you. Feeling your naked skin against his hammered at his restraint, and he slowly picked up the pace, going harder and faster, his hips slamming against the inside of your thighs. His moans matched yours, his free hand kept gripping at your hip, so he could go deeper. And how he loved it, how you held him, how your body responded to him.

"You are perfect starlight," he rasped, rough and deliberate, when your hands moved back down to his shoulders and your nails dug into his skin. Thranduil didn't mind it one bit, for it meant you found pleasure in what he was doing. "You are perfect even with your scars, and I would not change a single thing about you."

You would have replied, but your answer was muffled by his kiss. It didn't matter. Hearing that he fully accepted you, scars and all, was enough. Seeing and hearing how strong his desire was for you was enough. You cleaved to him, your legs clinging desperately against his hips as he took you closer and closer to the edge. It was there, in the trembling of your thighs and in the quickening of your breath. Thranduil felt it—the coiling of muscles in his belly, the frantic pace of his breathing. "Together then?"

You looked up at him and nodded. 

Moans spilled free and filled the room, drowning the sound of skin slapping against skin.Thranduil didn't let you go, not when your orgasm ripped through you and you cried for him, his name repeatedly rolling past your lips. Oh, how that shattered him—his name on your tongue, your walls clenching around his cock. Thranduil took you over the edge and fell with you, his moans peppering the air when those coiled muscles snapped, making him lose himself in you. You barely heard it, so caught up were you in your blissed-out state. You barely heard it, the satisfying grunt, the gruff, throaty moan. You felt his body trembling violently over yours before he spilled his seed inside you. One last thrust, one final moan, and he let go, propping himself on his hands to stop himself from collapsing over you.

You hear nothing, save for the sound of your choppy breathing and his. Only that and a sweet smelling wind that blew in through the windows. You opened your eyes to that glorious sky, those glittering stars, and the soft light of the moon. You hungered for such sights, to see light after being kept in the darkness for so long, and Thranduil made it possible again, in more ways than one.

"My king," you breathed when Thranduil moved to his side, taking you with him. The strength of his arms and the gentleness of his touch were nearly enough to make you forget. Nearly. The memories will always remain, but you knew you would be safe in his arms and that nothing could get to you now.

"My queen," Thranduil brushed his nose against your hair. He then started to hum an elven lullaby, his soft, soothing voice lulling you into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @viivi

[distilledmelancholy]

Nightlight

You, the reader, are afraid of the dark, and during a thunderstorm the power goes out!

1.9k words

Cw: I did not beta read this we die like MEN

Instead of the usual gentle pitter patter of a gentle rain shower, there are raging bullets pelting the window. Flashes of occasional blinding white light, and then thunderous booms echoing through the dark sky. Your house was dark, except for a few miscellaneous nightlights you have set on in the room. Storms didn’t scare you at all. In fact, the flashes of lightning were almost welcome, as it helped illuminate your room far better than any number of nightlights could. You appreciated anything that would help your room not be completely dark. 

You begin to drift off, tucked into warm, thick blankets with the comforting sound of rain and thunder. Just as you are about to succumb to slumber, an ear shattering boom shakes your house, causing your light fixtures to physically shake from their place on the ceiling. In a second, the nightlights you had scattered in your room die out, plunging your room into complete darkness. You can’t stop yourself from letting out a scream, from both the surprisingly loud thunder, and from being forced into the dark. You whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to pretend like the lights didn’t just go out. 

Fall asleep. Fall asleep. Please, just fall asleep. 

You lay there for a few moments, before opening your eyes again. You can’t help but feel like you’re being watched as you strain your eyes to make out any shapes in the dark. Maybe a glass of water will help, you reason with yourself. You feel around on your bedside table and feel for the drawer. You slide it open and stick your hand in, searching for your flashlight. Once you locate it, you flip the switch and a beam of light shoots from its front. You shine your flashlight around your room, warily checking the corners and dark spots in the room. Satisfied, you get up from your bed, slip on your slippers and make your way out of your room, down the hallway, and to the kitchen. 

The darkness looms around you as you warily make your way to the cupboard for a cup. You could almost swear you heard something as you whipped around, panicked. You scan the flashlight around the room, looking for the source of the noise. When you see nothing, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You reach into your cupboard and pull out a cup and turn on the tap to fill the cup when lightning flashes and you swore you saw something out of the corner of your eye. You whip around once again, watching the darkness. Another flash and you see a tall, lanky, dark figure standing in the corner, watching you.

You instinctively let out a shriek, dropping the glass cup in your hand and stumbling back, falling onto the floor in fear as you try to back away from the creature. In your panic you didn’t notice the shards of glass impaling themselves into your skin as you slid yourself across the floor. You desperately reach up to the counter to pull yourself up and feel around for your flashlight, but to your horror you cannot find it. With your adrenaline in overdrive, you make a mad dash to what you think might be your front door, willing to do anything to get away from the creature that has made its way into your home. You end up running full force into the door, crushing your nose and stunning you for a moment, before you shakily feel for the doorknob, and fling the door open.

You are immediately greeted by the full force of a raging storm, the wind and rain now coming inside. Head reeling, now feeling a wetness run down from your nose, you set out into the storm, in just your pajamas and slippers. You can’t even feel the tears on your face due to the intense downpour as you flee across your yard, in a random direction.

It felt like the rain was drowning you. It was so hard to breathe from the sheer terror coursing through your veins mixed with the tsunami coming down on top of you, which chilled you to the bone. Slowing down to catch your breath for a moment, you slipped on a big pile of mud (which was basically the whole yard) and fell backwards, onto your butt. You let out a cry of pain as you catch yourself with your hands, now feeling the glass shards that are still embedded in your skin.

You can’t help but let out a pitiful wail as you try to push yourself up again, hoping that somehow, somebody will hear you and come to your rescue. And your prayers were answered.

“…Y/N!”

Huh? You could have sworn you heard something. You lift your head and look up, trying to make out anything in the storm.

“Y/N!” You heard it again, but clearer this time.

You look towards the voice and see none other than Wally Darling! He’s running towards you! He quickly makes his way to your side, and helps lift you off the ground, before throwing one of your arms around his shoulder and marching you towards his house. Your legs feel like jelly, and every step you take exhausts you. The adrenaline you felt before worn off, and now you regret even doing this to yourself in the first place. All because of some stupid shadow.

As soon as you get close to Home, it swings the front door wide open so Wally can help you through the door.

“…How… how did you find me?” You ask, shakily sitting down when Wally guided you to the couch.

“Oh, my goodness…” He said, cupping your face, “You’re bloody.” He stated with a look of great concern and even a little bit of fear.

He quickly makes his way out of the room, leaving you sitting on the couch, trying to take everything in. You had a splitting headache, and you felt incredibly weak, like you would just fall over any minute. Wally returns with a first aid kit, and a towel. You didn't realize you were trembling until he wrapped the towel around you.

"Y/N!" Wally waves his hand in front of your face.

You look at him and he repeats himself, "I asked what happened? Why were you outside in this storm? In your pajamas no less?"

You just looked away and shrugged your shoulders slightly, not having any energy. Wally lets out a sigh before opening his first aid kit and begins wiping the blood from your face, and where it dripped onto your neck. He sets the damp washcloth to the side, turning your face to the side with his hand to inspect for any other injury.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asks gently, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

You hold out your hands and show him your palms. His pupils dilate and a horrified gasp escapes from his mouth. He makes quick work of extracting the glass, and then disinfecting the wounds and cleaning them of mud and grass. He then tightly wraps your hands with bandages and gathers all the dirty medical supplies and disposes of them.

He then makes his way out of the room again. A moment later he returns, with a fresh washcloth, and extra clothes. He sets them on the couch next to you.

“Here, you can clean yourself up in the bathroom and change.”

You gather everything in your hands and head to where Wally pointed and close the door and lock it when you make it to the bathroom. You peel off your soaking, mud-soaked clothes and begin to wipe yourself off with the damp washcloth. You then put on the spare pajamas that Wally had brought out to you, which were a little too big for you. You fold up your muddy clothes and leave them in a neat pile in the corner of the bathroom. You take a towel and begin drying off your hair.

Once it’s not dripping wet, you fold the towel and set it on your pile of dirty clothes. You then make your way out of the bathroom, and back to the living room, where Wally is waiting for you. You have calmed down enough now to notice that it seems his power has gone out too, as there are a few candles and lanterns set up to help illuminate the room.

“Will you tell me why you were outside, neighbor?” Wally asked, tilting his head.

“I…” you begin to speak, but the fear of what you thought you saw in your house comes back, “I-I thought… It was so dark…” you manage to choke out, tears filling your eyes.

Wally immediately notices your distress, and gently guides you back to the couch, and he sits down with you. As tears begin to fall down your face, he soothingly rubs a hand on your back, encouraging you to continue.

“The dark… it terrifies me. I had nightlights in my room, but the power went out. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water, but then I thought I saw something!” you cried, “standing in the corner, watching me… I dropped my cup and fell on it, and then I got so scared I ran outside!” you began to tremble recalling the events.

Wally scoots closer to you and rests his head on your shoulder, still rubbing your back. “Next time you get scared, come over to Home. We will keep you safe…”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around Wally, bringing him into a tight embrace.

“You must be very tired, neighbor,” Wally said, not pulling away from the embrace, “you should go back to bed. You can sleep in my bed.”

At the mention of sleeping, you can’t help but let a big yawn escape you. You do feel tired, both physically and emotionally. You nod and Wally takes your hand, guiding you from the couch and up the stairs towards his bedroom. He brings in an electronic lantern and switches it on and sets it on the bedside table.

“Here, this can be your nightlight.” He said as he looked over to you, and patted the bed, “come on, bedtime!”

You made your way over to Wally’s bed and tucked yourself in under the covers.

Wally tilts his head at you, “Is there anything else you need?”

You hesitated for a moment, before moving over to the side of the bed and patting the empty space next to you. Wally immediately sits on the bed and looks at you.

“Will you… stay with me tonight?” you shyly ask.

Wally’s pupils dilate in surprise, and you thought you saw his face go a little pink.

“Of course, anything you need,” he said and slowly slid into bed next to you, being as close to his edge of the bed as possible.

“Thank you, Wally,” you turn on your side and look at him, “It’s nice to not be alone after a rough night.”

Wally turns on his side to face you. He’s quiet for a moment before speaking, “goodnight (Y/N),” he murmured.

“Goodnight Wally,” you smile and wrap an arm around his body and pull him closer.

This elicits a small squeak of surprise from him as you wrap yourself around him and cuddle into him. Wally stares at you with big eyes, and a pink face. You let out a long sigh as you listen to the therapeutic sound of rain hitting the window, and the occasional thunder booming. You close your eyes and allow sleep to take you.

[2chopsticks2eyes]

Hi hi, just a little Misung x reader time, imagine Minho x mc who are already a couple and live with roommate Jisung.. who they had caught fucking himself on a dildo and using a fleshligh at the same while moaning their names 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ when he thought they were out in a date 👋👋

Of Course You've Got to Help Him Out!

You don't barge in on him, afraid he would panic, but you and Minho took a mental note of it. (And of course, you two fucked like rabbits later that night to the thought of Jisung)

It started when Jisung and Minho were at home while you were out shopping (all according to plan) and Minho was extra cuddly with Jisung, making the younger sweat. He would do things like grip the man's bicep and compliment him on his physique or started a tickle fight that had them wrestling around on the couch.

You happened to walk in when Minho had Jisung between his legs on the couch and was massaging his shoulders. You bit your lip when you heard his hums of appreciation. You then composed your facial expression and walked the rest of the way in. Jisung's eyes were shut and his head was lolled to the side, but his brows were turned in and he held his lower lip between his teeth.

Minho smiled at you mischievously and you returned the look. To bring Jisung back to Earth, you plopped your keys down on the entryway table with a loud *chink*! His eyes flew open and he stood up at the speed of lightning from in between his hyung's legs.

"K-kitten! I didn't hear you walk in!" You couldn't hold back your crooked smile at seeing the man so flustered. However, before he could escape, Minho grabbed him by the waist and forced him back down in front of him to continue. "Hyuuung!" Jisung whined while trying to escape.

"It's okay, Hannie. I want Min to help you feel good." You said as you walked over to them. Jisung looked apprehensive but suddenly moaned when Minho began his ministrations again. He sucked his lips in and blushed furiously, but couldn't compose himself from his hyung's expert hands.

You pinched your mouth tight to keep from smiling as you placed your shopping bag down on the coffee table. "Hanji?" He hummed in response as his eyes fluttered close from a particularly pleasurable spot on his neck that Minho found. You used the opportunity to pull out the one item of clothing you went shopping for. "Do you think you could try this on for me?"

He slowly opened his eyes to see you holding up a completely sheer/see-through shirt that was long-sleeved and black. His eyes widened.

"I saw this and instantly thought it would look good on you."

"But you can see through it!" He said, taking the silky material from your hands.

"Wear it with that sexy black vest you showed me." Minho said in his ear and the younger man's eyes fluttered.

"Pleeease Sungie!" You said as you got on your knees in front of him and pouted your lip up at him, your hands finding purchase on the top of his thighs.

He exhaled a shaky breath as he gazed down at you. "...Yeah. Yeah, okay..." He said in almost a whisper. Again, before he could move, Minho started pulling up his shirt. "H-hyung!" He said, trying to reach Minho's hands to stop him. You eagerly also pulled on the front of his shirt to rid him of it, scooting closer so that you were in between his legs now. "Wha-? Wait!" He said as he involuntarily laughed at the unexpected interaction.

"What's the big deal? I've already seen you shirtless Hannie." You said as you accidentally ran your hands over his abs and pecs as you rid him of his shirt. (And my word, the man is made of satin)

"Oh, you know what, kitten?" You hummed in response after the shirt was finally discarded. You already knew what he was going to say, but you tilted your head in question anyway, not retreating from in between your roommate's legs. Minho propped his chin up on Jisung's shoulder to look down at you. "Before he tries that on, can I massage him a bit more? There are some trickier places I couldn't quite get before because of his top."

"Of course! Actually, I know he's been working his chest and abs a lot too. How about you massage the back and I'll massage the front?"

"You have a beautiful brain, babe." You smiled up at your boyfriend and used Jisung's knees to pull yourself up and against him to give your boyfriend a chaste kiss over his shoulder. When you stood up, Jisung had the widest eyes and looked completely flustered.

"I'll go get some lotion, be right back!" You ran into your room and grabbed some massage oil before returning to your spot on the ground between his legs, even if he did seem a bit shy about it.

"Just relax Hannie." Minho purred as he manually rolled the younger one's shoulders back. You and Minho rubbed some oil into your hands and Minho went straight to work oiling the boy up.

You, however, looked up into his eyes from hooded lashes and then slowly glided your hands up from the hem of his pants (which did a horrible job at hiding his bulge) and traveled all the way up to meet where Minho had oiled up his shoulders.

Han let out a shaky breath when you ran your hands back down to his waistband. "You're so tense, Hannie..." You said in a velvety tone.

"Y-yeah..."You watched in hunger as you saw his Adam's apple bob from his dry swallow.

Your hands kneaded into his abs and Minho did the same to his arms. "Let me help you out, kitten." Minho's hands suddenly circled under the boy's arms and around to grope and squeeze the boy's pecs, making the younger gasp.

"Mmm, thank you, jagi. I think we need to focus on the front right now anyway..." You said to Minho, staring straight into Jisung's eyes all the while.

You continued your ministrations and watched as your boyfriend pulled the other back against his chest and started mapping out Jisung's pecs thoroughly. It was when Minho focused on the nipples that Jisung started squirming. "Guys..." Jisung breathed.

"Shhh... relax, jagi..." Minho whispered in Han's ear, feeling the younger's nipples quickly hardening.

"Jisungie?" The man's attention was brought back to your sickly sweet voice. Your hands began massaging lower. "Why are you feeling more tense, baby?"

His breath shuttered. "I.... I... I--"

"Can I help you out, handsome?" You've crossed that threshold and you were going to do it with flair. Your hand drifted down to his obvious boner in his jeans and added pressure. "Both of us?"

Jisung involuntarily threw his head back on Minho's shoulder with a groan. "We've been dying to get our hands on you, jagi. Let us do this for you." Minho growled in his ear, followed by a wet kiss on the boy's jaw.

Jisung's eyes were turned inward in pleasure as you continued to palm him when he looked down at you again. You took a risk and pulled yourself closer so you could lick a strip up his abs, damn the massage oil.

"Oh, god..." He breathed. You continued to palm him as Minho kissed along his neck in waiting. He waited for any trace of reluctance, and then ultimately nodded his head. "Y-yes. Yes, please..."

My bitches:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@sweetracha

@moonlightndaydreams

@noellllslut

[voxmilia]

Sire! the people plead for inkblade headcanons and scenarios! Will thou not have mercy???

The peasantry demand inkblade, do they? Very well, I shall oblige!

My dear friend Nick @starlingcity just added a new song to our inkblade ship playlist and I got baby about it so these are gonna be more tender and more on the love half of enemies to lovers but!!

Oisin left a note in Adaine's locker asking her to prom freshman year. It was at Ivy's insistence. However, it was right before the bad kids ended up in jail for the death of Johnny Spells. So after days turned to weeks turned to months, that sliver of courage left and Oisin asked Kipperlily to break into Adaine's locker and steal it back. (It doesn't take much for Kipperlily to hate any of the bad kids but this is something she quietly judges Adaine for for years.) Oisin doesn't tell her until long after they've started dating.

It's 3 am and Oisin wakes Ivy out of trance to text her frantically, wondering if she thought it would impress Adaine if he got SO good at glyphs, he could write a message to her inside the giant orb she carries around. Ivy calls him a twat and tells him to go to bed. (The dragon in him, two years later, hopes she's impressed when that same magic throws her into the maws of his distant relatives.)

A headcanon Nick has is that Oisin is a leather worker as a hobby, making things like Ivy's quiver and his spellbook holster. He makes another spellbook holster (it's NOT a courting gift, Ivy, shut up) and leaves it in Adaine's locker early senior year (Kipperlily grumbling as she unlocks it). Adaine knows who it is by the clouds and lightning bolts etched into the leather. She does not thank him but she does wear it when she doesn't want to wear her backpack. (She thanks him belatedly, eventually)

Their first moonar yulenear as a couple, he makes her a sheath for the sword of sight. She thanks him immediately this time

Demi aroace Adaine had never had a crush before Oisin; she thinks the moment at Fabian's party is just the alcohol. She thinks it's a low grade panic attack when he waves at her in the hallway, when he messages her an apology for his party. (Embarrassingly, when she discusses it with her doctor, said doctor tells the young oracle that she likely doesn't need a higher dose of her medication because this isn't that sort of panic. She doesn't tell anyone about the mistake.)

Oisin ended up with an awful stomach ache after the party at Fabian's - he was NOT built to process milk. It's karma, and even he knew it.

Adaine admits to no one that Oisin is partial inspo for why she gets a magic tattoo between junior and senior year, instead crediting only Ayda and Fabian. She and Oisin do get matching tattoos after they get together - the design Nick and I have atm is the eye of the sword of sight surrounded by lightning bolts. (She's the oracle that survived the storm, after all)

EVERYONE knows about Adaine speaking draconic and how Oisin thinks that's very hot, and how they banter and snark at each other with it. But Nick and I have decided that Adaine speaks it almost exclusively the first couple of times Oisin visits Mordred Manor - the sheer love in that house overwhelms him and speaking in a language only Adaine knows makes it feel private and he can breathe a little easier. (Aelwyn teases her relentlessly for this)

Adaine doesn't trust him afer he's revived and he's mostly understanding. It gets old, how much she assumes the worst in him - deserved but still tiring. However, he never stops her when she casts Detect Thoughts. Is it invasive? Yes. Does he believe he owes her that much? Also yes. (She finds ways to disbelieve him anyway, for her own sanity. He gets it but he hates it.)

Eventually, when everything is love now, Fig suggests a double date with Ayda (Fig, who had always been so trusting, so willing to extend a hand, is one of the first bad kids to swallow her pride and try and make begrudging amends. Lucy's presence helps.). Oisin and Ayda get along like a house on fire and Adaine "I never really felt like a kid" Abernant, gets the very sweet teenage experience of sitting in a booth at a crappy dinner, with a boy's arm around her shoulders, laughing with her friends. Content. Happy. Silly. Young.

[pufflehuffing]

I'm Well Acquainted With Villains That Live In My Head. - Sebastian Sallow

pairing: post-relic Sebastian Sallow  genre: angst, read at your own discretion, this is your only warning!  warnings: HL spoilers ✧ death ✧ poor mental health ✧ mentions of suicide and murder ✧ self-harm ✧ torture ✧ abuse ✧ hypothermia ✧ vulgar language summary: Sebastian is sentenced to live the rest of his days in Azkaban where his mind is slowly corrupted by the darkness and despair surrounding him, the only thing saving him from the Dementors being his obsession with those who left him behind to rot. [part 1] A/N: I wrote this to Mansion and Perception, albums by NF in case you want to set the mood. Thinking of turning this into a Dark!Sebastian series if this fic is received well! I've already written two other chapters.

If Sebastian couldn't already see Thestrals, he would've been graced by the unfortunate ability to do so now. The last words Anne spoke to him that dreadful day were the only thoughts still swimming in his clouded mind while the bitter cold seeped into his purple fingers and crawled its way towards his neck, finding refuge along his pale skin. 

“You’ve made your choice.” 

Not an exclamation out of blind anger or hurt; not a plea for him to mend his ways. But instead, a verdict. One that was somehow worse than the one placed on him by the Wizengamot. The vivid memory of that cloudy afternoon in Feldcroft still looms over Sebastian. Flashes of green lightning still spark in the corners of his mind. Then, red ones accompanied by the familiar voice of his twin shouting Bombarda. The spellbook of Salazar Slytherin was—Sigh. The spellbook… 

Sebastian remembers crying out a fry scream to her and weakly reaching out a hand as he slumped against the cobblestone wall of the catacomb, but alas, he was too late. It vanished into thin air—Along with the relic. Along with his innocence. Along with Anne, who Apparated away with the forever-sleeping body of their uncle, without even granting Sebastian one final look in his eyes.

Once he managed to get up, his manic state carried him out of the catacomb, his feet moving before he could process his actions. In an act of pure survival, Sebastian conjured his broom and flew back to Hogwarts, too shaken up to Apparate to the Undercroft without risking splinching. When he landed in the Transfiguration courtyard, his classmates were returning from dinner and crowding the now unfamiliar surroundings. Sebastian stumbled off his broom and hurried inside the Defence Against The Dark Arts Tower, feeling like he would both pass out and throw up from the sheer panic he was enduring. He hobbled through the corridor and up the stairs, clutching the railing to ground himself like his life depended on it, avoiding interactions with anyone in the sea of people that was now swallowing him whole.

Before his friends and classmates alike had a chance to clear their shocked expressions and ask him what was wrong, Sebastian had already disappeared. He paced through the Undercroft, biting his fingers and pulling on his hair while his mind raced a hundred miles an hour. Finally, Ominis arrived. Then, she did. The new fifth-year. The Hero of Hogwarts. The girl who had such a prowess as a wielder of Ancient Magic. The girl he had hoped would help him save Anne once he had the relic. He fell to his knees and pleaded. Pleaded with his closest friend and the girl he had grown so fond of to understand. Please understand. “I did it for her,” he lamented over and over again. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to—”

What happened after, was a blur to the boy. He was beside himself with remorse and grief. Not only for his uncle, but for his friends too. For Anne. For Ominis. For her. Sebastian did not know who told the Headmaster of his actions, but he was picked up by Professor Sharp and sent to Black's office at the highest point of Hogwarts a few days later, just before his first class of the day. He had begged and begged them not to turn him in, claiming Anne needed him by her side, but unfortunately he wasn’t granted that trust. Was it Ominis who finally had enough? Was it— A tight grasp on his cloaked shoulder led him through the nearly empty corridors before he could process what was going on.

The clutch of the ex-Auror somehow felt familiar, as if Sebastian was being dragged outside by uncle Solomon for coming home with yet another shrivelfig in hopes of curing Anne. Roughly pushed inside the Headmaster's office and onto a chair, Sebastian faced Black and his eyes shifted away in shame. Lowering his head to hide into his shoulder, his tear-filled gaze flickered to see Professor Weasley standing near the window, her face darkened by the light behind her. She… looked so… disappointed. Was that even the right word? No. Heartbroken. Distressed. Sorrowful. A look that Sebastian had grown somewhat accustomed to after getting into trouble so many times before for breaking curfew or pulling pranks, however it was now magnified beyond comprehension.

“Mr. Sallow,” Black began in his typically aloof manner as he paced in front of his desk with his hands behind his back, feigning authority. “We've received word of your…eh, endeavours outside of school grounds and—” He was interrupted by Sharp clearing his throat. Sebastian lifted his face to the front again, like a wounded animal looking for someone to help. He noticed Sharp sending his superior a pointed look, to which he received a nod, granting him permission to speak as Black stepped aside. The former Auror’s voice then resounded through the office as he went to stand in front of Sebastian too, crossing his arms beside the awkward Headmaster. “Mr. Sallow, we'll cut to the chase,” his piercing stare bored into the fifth-year, as if he were interrogating him on the Ministry's behalf. “The Ministry has sent two Aurors on their way to apprehend you. They'll be arriving shortly.”

Sebastian’s ears perked up and he blinked his tears away. Aurors. Ex-colleagues of Sharp. Ex-colleagues of… Solomon. He hoped he’d see Officer Singer, whom he knew from Hogsmeade. Perhaps he could fall into her good graces again and somehow convince her this was somehow all a grave mistake, that the boy who helped defend Hogsmeade against a troll attack at the beginning of the year had merely acted out of self-defence. Unfortunately luck was never on the Sallow family's side. 

Sebastian didn't remember much else from the conversation, he could only stare: at the floor, at the professors’ clothes as he was too ashamed to look them in the eyes. Professor Weasley broke the silence before Sharp’s piercing gaze could take another chance to fire. “Before you go, Sebastian,” she began with her motherly voice, giving him some dignity by calling him by his first name. “Your sister’s owl has delivered a letter to Headmaster Black for you that she wants us to read to you.”

Weasley took a deep breath and swallowed down her emotions, wanting to grant Sebastian a proper reading of his sister's final words to her brother who never gave up on her. It was the most she could do for him now. The Deputy Headmistress cleared her throat and unfolded the letter as she took in Sebastian's slouched posture. Memories of him asking her about her previous job as a Curse-Breaker and begging her to help him find a cure for Anne's curse flashed before her eyes and she cleared her throat to calm herself again. The motherly woman looked back down at the parchment that was dotted with dried tears and shaky handwriting. She began reading with a strained voice, forcing the words out as clearly as she could without stopping, giving Sebastian his last taste of humanity before he'd be taken away to face the horrors the Wizengamot would make him endure.

“Sebastian, Too much has happened. I needed to get away from here for a while. I miss Uncle Solomon. I need time. I will always love you, but I don't know if I can ever forgive you. Anne”

A deafening silence fell over the four people in the room. Professor Weasley rubbed her lips together as she placed the letter back in its envelope with trembling hands. She mustered the courage to look Sebastian in the eyes again and saw that he was staring at the floor again. Silent tears streamed down the boy’s face as he imagined his sister’s voice telling him he won’t be forgiven. Headmaster Black broke the silence by taking a deep, snotty breath. “Mr. Sallow—”

Before he could continue, his authority was once again pushed aside by banging on the door. Sebastian broke out into a fever and sweat poured out of his skin. The Aurors. His eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. A way out. The door to the balcony. No. The window. And go where? Perhaps I could just drop dead and— He couldn’t even finish the thought. The lump in his throat travelled up to the back of his mouth while Professor Sharp’s boots boomed across the office. He opened the door and raised an eyebrow before straightening himself again. “Ah. Headmaster Black, a visitor.” Sebastian didn’t dare turn around to see who it was when Sharp stepped aside to show a blond quiff standing in the doorway. Professor Weasley’s heart broke even further when she saw the shaking black wand in his hand and the crust of dried tears on his cheeks.

“Mr. Gaunt,” Black piped up with a head tilt when he recognised the family friend. A Gaunt was always welcome in his office. Sebastian's eyes snapped to the door, turning his head so quickly that his neck cracked like a whip and his muscles tightened and burned. “Come in,” the Headmaster continued. The red light at the tip of the shaking wand carried Ominis inside the office, standing just beside the door while Sharp closed it behind him. Sebastian wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t find the strength to do so.

“What is it, Mr. Gaunt?” Black cocked his chin to look down at the boy through his lashes. Ominis’ milky eyes lifted and he turned his head. “I… I wanted to see Sebastian before he’s—” His voice sounded like sandpaper scratching against metal. He had been crying. The trembling off his hand expanded to the rest of his body when he choked out another sentence. “I need to tell him something, sir.”

The three adults exchanged a dubious look before flickering their gaze back to the boy on the chair and the boy by the door. Sebastian could only stare at his best friend, he couldn’t believe this was real. “Very well. Spit it out, Mr. Gaunt,” Black nodded with a hum. Ominis was too distressed to focus on his wand telling him where Sebastian was positioned in the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and his fist tightened while he took a deep breath. After a few seconds, he lifted his head in Sebastian’s direction, his voice quiet as a mouse. “Sebastian, it… It was Rookwood who cursed Anne, not the goblins.”

Sebastian couldn’t believe it at first, then he realised it all made sense. The new fifth-year being ambushed in Hogsmeade, the raid on Feldcroft to search the Morganach home, the digging under Rookwood castle... “Children should be seen, not heard.” Why didn’t she tell him? She was chasing Rookwood every chance she got! His anger towards goblins and dark wizards only grew. His anger towards her grew. A guttural gasp escaped Sebastian’s mouth and his breathing grew heavy. She had stood beside Sebastian throughout the entire school year, coddling him with words of comfort and reassurance, all while she knew. She. Knew. That’s why she didn’t want to pressure the Keepers about knowledge of her magical abilities. She knew it wouldn’t matter. She knew and didn’t tell him. 

Blind rage started bubbling inside Sebastian again, just like it had a few days ago, which Professor Sharp noticed. He watched him closely, his hand on his wand, ready to draw if Sebastian made a sudden move. A thick, heavy silence fell over the five people in the room. Sebastian’s fiery eyes bored into the floor, it was a miracle the floorboards didn’t scorch under his burning gaze. Five minutes of silence later, they were startled by two booming knocks on the office door. With a heavy sigh, Headmaster Black opened it. When he recognised the navy uniforms, he nodded solemnly and stepped aside. 

Two Aurors walked into the office with raised wands. Sebastian still sat frozen. Professor Weasley’s eyes flickered to the now infinitely small boy. Seeing him sit in the middle of the room, she almost felt like his trial had already started. The boy who had so much love to give, now reduced to a criminal. A teenage criminal. A child… One of the men spoke, a thick Scottish accent booming through the office. “Mr. Sallow, you are under arrest for the murder of Solomon Sallow,” was all Sebastian heard through the grainy noise in his mind. A sudden grasp on his shoulder shocked him back to the walls that seemed to close in on him. He was dragged up to his feet by the other officer. Sebastian’s instincts kicked. He struggled. Then, he screamed out to Ominis. He screamed. Again. And again. And again… All while the officers did their best to cast the Incarcerous spell on him. Tears started falling out of his eyes like a river, too flooded to see Ominis was weeping too. The blind boy’s trembling hand let go of his wand, and it fell to the ground. Now completely disoriented, he shut his eyes again and clawed at them with his palms as he cried. 

Before Sebastian could reach his hand out to give Ominis a final goodbye, a final touch, the Aurors decided Petrificus Totalis was easier to restrain him. He felt his muscles tighten and spasm until he stood stiff, his arm now beside his body instead. From his hazy eyes, he could still make out the black cloak of the boy in front of him, which was being wrapped in red-coloured limbs. Professor Weasley. The tears that dripped from the brunette’s eyes cleared, and he saw Ominis, who was hugged tightly as he cried while she turned her face away from Sebastian with a pained grimace. Before he could make out the vague shapes of Sharp and Black, he Apparated away with the two men holding his arms. This was it… Gone. All of it. His sister, his uncle, his friends, his… Life. Freedom.

To be continued.