#WHY IS THE WARRIOR AREA SO EMPTY!!!

[thecedarchronicle]

holding your guys' hand right now. i dont like to be a hater on star stable unless its valid criticism where criticism is due. but...is this a safe space for me to say that wild woods is singlehandedly the most lacklustre and disappointing letdown of star stable's entire history maybe.

[zara-renata]

The right hand, the left hand, the heart of Sylus Qin | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Sylus meets with his legal counsel while the twins give you a tour of the base, you wake up from a dream, Sylus wastes some eggs, you attempt to get to know Sylus better, and you have your first 'date' with Sylus Qin. Part 16 of the Sylus series. Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV They/them pronouns used to describe reader, meant as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. slow-burn friends-to-lovers. This story contains: a lot of fluff and patient, tender Sylus, despite the following: MC questioning their sanity, MC with self-esteem issues, MC in the death-throes of fear-driven denial regarding the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Sylus has been interested in them this entire fucking time, Aidan antics, twin antics, a little self-induced MC angst, mentions of violence, profanity, alcohol use, discussions of gray morality.

Sylus lets his bedroom door shut behind him, leaving you to dress, preparing to leave you in Luke and Kieran’s hands. His heart—so long an empty cavern, echoing the rapid-fire rhythm of its beat—clenches, jams. You’re just on the other side of the door, and you’re already too far.

The twins are leaning against the hallway wall on either side of the door. As he steps out, their heads snap up.

He pauses. “Show kitten around the base, wherever they want to go. Finish the tour with the guest wing.”

Kieran straightens. “Why the guest wing? Is your hunter not staying in your room?” He’s still hoarse from the previous night, and Sylus makes a mental note to get him some throat lozenges. It was your feral kitten who hurt him, after all, although it’s arguably also Kieran and Luke’s own fault for approaching a seasoned warrior in a notoriously dangerous area like a couple of serial killers. Which the twins are, but not in the typical sense of the term.

“Kitten hasn’t decided where to stay yet,” Sylus answers, secure in the knowledge that you will choose him. But he is serious about wanting to at least offer you the choice—of rooms. Because even if you choose another room to stay in, he intends to find his way there at the end of every day. You sleep much better when he’s around, after all. Even then, you’ll still have a choice—you can always try to kick him off the bed again. He’ll just sleep on the floor.

“Do you want us to fix that?” Luke asks hopefully. “We can flood that floor if you want. Whoops, all the rooms are out of order!” he feigns surprise, poorly. 

Sylus snorts. “I have a feeling that if you tried to flood only the one floor, the whole base will end up underwater.”

“Is that a no?” Luke looks disappointed.

“That’s a no,” Kieran answers for Sylus. “Understood. We’ll show them all the entertainment options we have to incentivize a long stay, before we show them the guest rooms.”

Sylus nods. “Call me, if it looks like kitten is getting overwhelmed. Their last stay here… had unintended consequences.” 

“Oh you mean when you starved them and forced them to resonate with you and threatened to leave them to die?” Luke asks, counting on his fingers and tilting his head.

Sylus sighs. “Yes, Luke. That’s what I mean.”

“Okay, then we’ll tell them all about how awesome you are so that they forget that you can also be a massive asshole,” Luke perks up.

Sylus just looks at him for a moment. Even with his aether core, it took him a while to get used to Luke’s particular brand of practical, blunt straightforwardness. So few people speak to Sylus with such raw honesty and fearlessness that spending time with Luke is always a refreshing palate cleanser after enduring meeting after meeting with intimidated, simpering fools who would turn around and slit Sylus’s throat if given half a chance. He tells himself that’s the only reason he tolerates such insubordination from this half of his right-hand man.

“Oh, that’s a sound plan Luke, well thought!” Kieran agrees, pleased with his other half. 

“Just give them the tour and keep them company until I’m done.” Sylus learned long ago that attempting to corral the twins’ machinations is usually fruitless, but clear instructions tend to keep the fallout from being too disastrous.

The young men nod in unison. Sylus considers continuing to take his sweet time to get to his office, just to further infuriate the undoubtedly seething Aidan who is waiting for him. But then he remembers the last time he had to wade through a bunch of barking human beings at one of Aidan’s munches. He sniffs. He’d much rather get business over with and get back to you as quickly as possible. If Sylus wasn’t already keenly aware of how much your presence in his life is already changing him, he’d realize it now as he swallows his pettiness and teleports to his office, instead of making Aidan wait out of principle.

As he re-materializes in his office, Aidan turns from looking at the wall where a majority of Aidan’s fountain pens have ended up embedded, forming the image of a large happy face.

“How surprising that you didn’t throw them in the pattern of a skull emoji—” Aidan begins, until black-red tendrils materialize around his ankles and sweep him off his feet. They hold him dangling, headfirst. He lets out a little delighted squeal that makes Sylus wince.

“If you’re trying to discourage my insubordination in front of your paramour that you’re undoubtedly about to ream me for, I’m afraid it’s having the opposite effect,” his legal counsel grins happily, wriggling against the evol restraints.

Sylus comes to a stop in front of him so that they’re face to upside-down face, his thumbs hooked casually in his sleep pants pockets.

“Oh, I am aware,”  he says in disgust. “But despite your interrupting a very pleasant moment with kitten, I feel that I owe you an apology for making you miss knitting club. So enjoy my mercy before we get down to business.”  

“And people say you’re a monster,” Aidan continues grinning dopily at him. 

“People are fools,” Sylus tsks. “Oh, before I forget. Speaking of interrupting my moment with kitten… they say that if you ever call them kitten again, they’ll tear out your tongue and make you eat it.”

Aidan’s eyebrows shoot up… or down, depending on your perspective. “They said that?”

Sylus considers lying, but he doesn’t want to mischaracterize you or your words to anyone. “Not the part about forcing you to eat it,” he admits. “But if kitten doesn’t, I’ll make you.”

Aidan just laughs. “I don’t believe your empty threats. My tongue’s too expensive for you to waste like that. Still… removing my tongue, huh,” he continues thoughtfully. “No wonder you’re so obsessed.”

Sylus turns, leisurely making his way to his desk as the evol tendrils bind Aidan’s wrists behind his back, jerk him upright, and then toss him onto one of the black leather couches in the office’s sitting area. They dissipate as Aidan snickers a little breathlessly.

“First the happy face. Now giving me a little treat instead of a lecture. I’ve never seen you in such a good mood.” Instead of sitting up like a proper employee showing deference to his employer, Aidan just stretches languidly across the couch and props his head up on a fist. “Although I’m still pissed that this is how you treat my pens,” he frowns, jerking his head back toward the impaled wall.

“I pay you enough to purchase all the pens you could ever want, plus the factory that makes them.” Sylus sits down at his desk, slouching behind the paperwork still strewn haphazardly over it that he abandoned after receiving the call from Luke informing him that you were running from him again.

“But what you do not pay me enough for is missing knitting club. The grandmas are going to give me hell the next time I go,” Aidan grumbles. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Sylus drawls. “Now, if you’re done whining, let’s get through this so that I can get back to kitten.”

Aidan lets out a dramatic sigh and sits up, as if the effort is utterly exhausting. “Have you had a chance to look at the latest draft?”

Sylus flicks the messy stack of papers with his fingers and they go sailing with his evol to Aidan’s lap. Aidan lifts one page, a look of disdain on his face as he holds it so that he can look at Sylus through the neat hole punctured in it as a result of Sylus’s boredom with the pen.

“That’s what I think of the latest draft,” Sylus says.

Aidan tsks. “Good, that was my feeling as well. But you didn’t have to mutilate the damn thing.” He gathers the pages, trying to put them in order. “After I’m finished reprinting it,” he sighs dramatically again. “I’ll redline it and get it to them this week.”

Sylus just nods, staring out into the night through his office’s wall of windows. It’s not too foggy, so the N109 Zone’s skyline glitters menacingly, an undersea predator luring prey in the dark.

“Next order of business: FJB group’s CEO is hounding me again to arrange a face-to-face with you. He’s getting… aggressive.”

“Hardly surprising, considering the type of entitled scumbag he is,” Sylus scoffs. “I’m not interested in his offer. Keep ignoring him.”

“Sylus, I don’t think he’s the type of guy who will simply get the hint and slink back to his hole. Doing nothing will only embolden him.”

“Embolden him to do what? If he doesn’t get the message and tries to approach you directly, just eliminate him. I do not have the patience right now to play games with him.” He has much more interesting things to focus on, now that you’re in his bed, in his home, just down the hall. And this time he’s certain you’re right down the hall, and not sprinting through the night like a panicked deer. A deer capable of taking down wolves, but still, a deer all the same.

“That’s a bad call, and you know it,” Aidan argues. “He is strong enough to have an exclusive grip on the flesh trade. If you remove him, ten other would-be heads of the hydra will sprout and it will destabilize the Zone.That means more collateral damage.”

“An exclusive grip that he has only because I allow it,” Sylus snorts. “And what, more collateral damage than the people he traffics?”

Aidan gapes at him. “What has gotten into you? This is the reality of humanity. People are not going to stop exploiting each other, no matter how much of an iron fist you wield. The only thing you can do is ensure that you think strategically enough to minimize the inevitable harm.”

Sylus frowns. That is indeed what he has always thought. The depravity of humanity is such that eradication of human suffering is impossible, and no one person can save the world. People can  hardly save themselves. Sylus himself has learned that lesson the hard way, over and over. It’s not his responsibility to save everyone. That is something that this version of you simply does not understand, and you’re vulnerable because of it. Someday, if Sylus doesn’t stop you, you’re going to get yourself killed because of your misguided sense of duty to strangers whose fate is being born to suffer. But knowing this version of you… thinking about how hard you take every loss, the way your already broken heart is chiseled further with every person you can’t save… his own assault rifle heart jams again. 

The CEO of the FJB Group is just the type of person Sylus thinks you’d like to bathe your feet in the blood of, even if you hate admitting that to yourself. Sylus would happily string him up, field dress him like the pathetic prey he is, and let his corpse drain for your bathing pleasure.

But since you’re still having a hard time admitting that yourself, he’s worried that if he does, you might get mad. And Aidan’s right. If he kills this fuck, ten others will try to claw their way up to take the empty throne.

“Noted. Just keep ignoring him. If he still won’t take no for an answer, let me know.” Aidan looks relieved, until he continues. “But I’m going to rely on you more for the next few weeks. Handle everything you can without bothering me, unless you want to contact me in a personal capacity. Things are settled enough after cleaning house—I want to focus on personal matters for the foreseeable future.”

Aidan jerks to his feet but takes a deep breath. He begins to pace, hands folded behind his back. Sylus appreciates his self control, as he knows that his litigator’s instinct is to immediately counter-argue his disagreement.

He stops, turns to Sylus, huffs.

“Speak,” Sylus orders, lifting an eyebrow. Seeing Aidan flustered is always amusing, but Sylus is impatient to get back to you. Maybe he’ll be done quick enough to take over the tour himself.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? The risks…” Aidan begins, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

“Whether it’s a good idea or not, it’s happening. The whole reason I’m here is finally in my bed. Everything else is secondary.”

Aidan looks pained. “I still don’t understand your single-minded fixation on this one person. This one person who happens to be a Deepspace Hunter, whose job mandate is to hunt you, in particular, and bring you down. There are literally thousands of other people in the world who would probably be thrilled to be in your bed. Why limit yourself to one, and to one who poses such a risk to everything you’ve built? To your very life?”

“Not all of us have such a low threshold for amusement that just anyone in their bed will do, like you,” Sylus clicks his tongue.

“It’s not about a low threshold of amusement. It’s being open to the possibility that each person you meet is a gift, containing an entire world, and the pleasure is opening the box to see what’s inside,” Aidan retorts, “You’re just a snob, and refuse to acknowledge that other people have rich inner lives, just like you do.”

“Save me your idealistic speeches about free love and the beauty of the human spirit. How you can come from where you’re from, handle the shit you handle in your line of work, openly acknowledge that humans are scum, and yet still enjoy them like little snowflake gift boxes, is simply beyond me.”

“I’m full of imagination,” Aidan sniffs.

‘You’re full of bullshit. You’re just easily bored and like to fuck,” Sylus baits him, knowing that Aidan is actually sincere.

“Excuse you!” Aidan does not disappoint. “How dare you—and what an accusation, coming from you, the man who can get bored in the middle of murdering someone. How do you even know that your obsession can retain your interest in the long run?” Aidan lobs back.

Sylus just smiles, with teeth. His fascination with you was already gigantic before he laid eyes on you again. It has only grown, the longer he gets to spend time with you. Your mix of strength and fragility. The unpredictability of your pleasure and your anxiety. Your blood thirst and your compassion. How can he ever get bored, when he has no idea what the next expression on your face will be? When he has no idea how you’ll manage to misinterpret the obviousness of his devotion to you, his endless patience, his worship?

“Oh god, never make that face again. I’m going to be sick. You’re so in love and I hate it,” Aidan gags exaggeratedly, like a cat hacking up a hairball.

“Then don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Sylus advises.

Aidan hangs his head for a moment, hands on his hips. When he lifts it, he looks more serious than Sylus has seen him in awhile. “Joking aside, Sylus. How do you know that if things go south between you, the hunter won’t turn on you? This is a huge risk not only to you, but everyone you care about in this organization if you’re taken out.”

Sylus sits heavily back in his chair. He spins it a little, from side to side, as he thinks of how best to answer in a way that Aidan can understand. “I won’t let things go south between us. I will do whatever it takes to make my kitten happy, so that they’re never tempted to turn on me.”

“Even you can’t guarantee that. Love is messy, and it’s so close to hate. Especially when you begin that love with torturing them and using your evol on them without their permission,” Aidan says, wincing, as if he’s regretful about being so brutally honest.

“I have plans in place to protect the people who need protecting, in case I fuck up so badly that my beloved is driven to taking me out. And if it comes to that, I’ll deserve it,” Sylus sighs. He appreciates Aidan’s concern, but every minute he spends expressing that care is another minute that Sylus is kept from being near you. “Let me worry about the risks. Your job is to keep the empire running while I fortify the foundation that will prevent your worries from coming to pass.”

Aidan looks like he wants to say something else, but after a moment, his shoulders slump. “We just got you back. Don’t get yourself in trouble again. And of course. You don’t have to worry about the rest.” He straightens. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some puppy tails to pull.” He flicks a little wave in Sylus’s direction. “I’ll see myself out. Toodaloo!”

Just as he’s reaching the door, Sylus remembers the last thing he wanted to ask of his left hand man.

“Aidan.” Aidan jerks to a halt, and turns around, eyes narrowed, as if he can sense that whatever Sylus is about to ask will be a huge headache. “Set up a meeting with my architect, and get me a list of names.”

Aidan just stares at him for a beat. “Do I even want to know what type of names?”

“Experts in wildlife conservation. Particularly of the sealife variety.”

“You want a meeting with your architect and a sealife conservationist.” Aidan says flatly.

Sylus just stares at him.

“May I ask why?”

Sylus shows his teeth again. “I’ve been informed that the base needs an aquarium for orphaned and injured fish.”

Aidan gapes, but then rolls his eyes so hard that Sylus is worried they’ll get stuck. “I’m thrilled that your hunter makes you so happy. Really. Just thrilled. But I’m starting to get the feeling that they’ll also be the death of me, whether they take my tongue or not.” 

“Spare me your editorializing and just get it done,” Sylus forestalls further whining. He’s getting increasingly impatient to get back to you.

Aidan groans, because he views it as a moral imperative to always make sure that everyone within a five kilometer radius understands the terrible sacrifices he must make as Sylus’s lawyer. “Fine . You’ll have your list by the end of the week. But I’m leaving before you can transmit any more demands from your kitten.” He sweeps out of the room in a huff and the door slams behind him.

Sylus sits for a moment as the door swings shut. He takes Aidan’s concern seriously, but even his furiously spinning mind has a hard time planning for a scenario where you turn on him. Not in this life, at least. He doesn’t want to dwell on the past when the current you, so utterly sweet, so pliant in his arms, all of your spikes withdrawn for him and him alone, is walking around in his lair, with no plans to leave for the foreseeable future. He wants to rest too, while you’re here. He doesn’t want to think about the past, or a future he has yet to secure. He simply wants to be with you.

He doesn’t want to waste another minute. He stands and heads to the door.

You wake up.

All at once, on a gasp. Your heart is pounding. You’re aching, aching, because you just woke up from a dream you can’t remember and the only things that remain are the feeling of pleasure, of security, of desire reciprocated.

You lie there, eyes still closed, hoping that you’ll be able to re-access the dream—maybe if you can fall back asleep quickly enough, you can pick up the severed thread again, return to whatever was giving you that feeling of a feast when you’re famished, a waterfall when you thirst, the weight of another’s body on you, in you, filling you so completely it eclipses that constant emptiness you carry with you through all of your days.

But despite all of your yearning, all of your effort, you can’t return to whatever you were dreaming about. Only that feeling remains—safety. The certainty that you’re utterly cherished. That all of your worries from last night were simply little nightmares, extinguished upon your waking.

You remember where you are. Who you’re staying with. Who you were anguished about as you imagined him taking another to his bed. It all seems so silly now—you talking yourself into being sad, with no reason at all to believe that he would do so, when you’re the one he has invited into his home, you’re the one he wraps himself around at every opportunity, you’re the one who he insists he wants in his bed.

What a strange sense of double vision, or cognitive dissonance. Wishful thinking. Delusional fantasy. You know that there was a reason you were worried that Sylus would be seeing other people while you stay with him. But you’re now utterly convinced that such a worry is completely unfounded, so absurd as to make you laugh out loud. But you have no idea why you have this certainty now. It feels like someone reached inside your brain and flipped a switch, and though there was a logical reason to worry, you can no longer bring yourself to believe that Sylus would ever want another in his bed.

You feel insane.

You open your eyes, expecting to see the white canopy of the swinging garden fuck-bed above you, but you see the black, ornately carved ceiling of Sylus’s bedroom instead. You are certain you fell asleep in the greenhouse. How the hell did you wind up back in Sylus’s bed? The feeling of unreality intensifies.

You turn your head and feel an immediate sense of calm wash over you as you see Sylus sitting next to you, his glorious chest no longer bare, but clothed in a simple black sweater, his gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on his sexy hooked nose. He has his tablet in one hand. He looks down at you, one corner of his mouth lifted, and you have the most intense sensation that you know what his lips feel like. That you could map his tongue, recognize it by the feel of it in your mouth if you were blindfolded, its heft and insistence between your lips.

You feel insane.

“Finally awake, kitten?” he asks, nonchalantly. He reaches down and brushes his fingertips along your cheek.

“How did I get here?” you ask, trying desperately to push the feeling of being pressed beneath his beautiful body into something soft out of your mind. Of soft silver fur under your hands. His voice— Yes, Beloved?

“The better question is why weren’t you here to begin with?” he snorts softly.

“What?”

He continues to look at you with that amused, barely-there smile. “Not fully awake, huh. Why did you go to the greenhouse when you were tired, when you had assured me that you would stay in my bedroom while you're here?”

You look away, back to his ceiling. The elaborate moulding is as extra as the rest of his place, but it’s so beautiful, you can hardly fault him for his preference for lovely things. If you can afford it, why not surround yourself with beauty? You just wish it wasn’t such an oppressive black. But it belongs to Sylus—he chose it, so you think you could tolerate it forever, given the whisper of a chance.

You don’t want to answer his question. But that sense of security, assurance, safety , remains with you, even as you fail to comprehend where the fuck it could have come from. You feel brave enough to ask the question that was torturing you before you fell asleep. “Can you give me plenty of advance warning if you’re going to invite someone over for…” you hesitate, trying to think of a more mature way of saying “sexy fucking fun times.” Nothing comes. “For fucking? I don’t want to get in the way,” you finish, lamely. But the thought of him actually wanting to fuck anyone else strikes you as so absurd that it doesn’t even hurt to say it out loud. You don’t think you even need to ask this question anymore, because you already know the answer.

But that’s insane. And you’re a lot of fucking things, but you think you’re pretty well-grounded in reality. You’re hyper-aware of reality—the reality of being you, with all of your flaws, your broken pieces barely held together, which is part of your whole goddamn problem. If you were oblivious to your own weaknesses, to the reality of living in such a cruel world while being a walking open wound, you could strut around like a mediocre white man and feel entitled to everything, including Sylus’s exclusive affection.

“Is that why you snuck off to the greenhouse, instead of coming to nap in my bed like we agreed?” He sets his tablet aside. 

“I never agreed,” you mumble, thinking about how he had said that if you found a room you liked better, you had a choice of where to stay. That conversation was left open-ended. There was never a deal.

“A technicality,” he dismisses your protest. “Unless you found a room that you like better?” he asks archly, setting his glasses on top of the tablet and leaning down, running his nose along your cheek. 

Nothing has changed. No room, not even the greenhouse with its life and relief from the oppressive marble halls of his base, is more appealing than any room where Sylus is. You shake your head, and his lips brush the edge of your mouth.

“But you were worried about me bringing other people to my bed, even though I have everything I want right here already,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes against the onslaught of sensations—his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin on yours. You don’t want to admit it, but now that your bizarre certainty has been confirmed, it feels silly to pretend otherwise. “Yeah. I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“So that’s the reason you ran, again?” he asks, sinking lower, getting comfortable on his side facing you.

You just nod instead of answering, and it’s not because you want to feel his lips on your skin again.

“Come to me next time, when you’re worried about something like that,” he demands, but it feels like a plea.

That sense of safety is filling you, making you brave. You want to bottle it so that you can drink it every time you feel insecure in the future, despite how nuts it’s making you feel. “Okay,” you agree quietly.

“Thank you, darling,” he smiles fully, and it’s so soft, you could die.

But hearing him say “darling” is like a gunshot next to your ear while you’re sleeping—you’re slammed into another reality, the sensation of Sylus’s hands on you, gripping your waist—his heavy body pressing yours into warm sand, sucking on his tongue, reveling in the feeling of a part of him filling you up—

You can’t. You can’t. You’re delusional, no matter how real the memory feels.

“Darling,” you choke, trying so hard to sound unaffected. “That’s new.”

“Do you dislike it?” he asks, brushing some hair from your cheek, resting his hand on the side of your head, thumb drifting along the line of your jaw.

You love it. You want him to repeat it, over and over, until you forget your own name. “I suppose it’s better than ‘kitten,’” you grumble.

“But I thought that you were okay with being called kitten, as long as it was me doing the calling,” he teases. 

You scowl at him.

“Then, darling,” he pauses dramatically, like the big drama queen he is. “Was the only reason you ran, again, because you were worried I wouldn’t warn you if I had a guest? Nothing else was distressing you?”

No matter how safe you feel, no matter how assured you are now that for as long as you’re in his home, he doesn’t want anyone else around but you—you can’t bring yourself to admit this to him. You can hardly admit it to yourself. Not wanting him to be with others implies a sense of ownership, and you know that he is not yours. In any way, shape, or form. How can you be possessive of something that doesn’t and never will belong to you? It does not matter how much even thinking that he doesn’t belong to you sends a feeling of wrongness through you that is almost physically painful.

You shake your head.

“No, nothing else was bothering you? Or no, I lose this round of the guessing game?” He watches you for a few moments, the movement of his thumb so soft against your skin. 

“I win,” you say, feeling wobbly, feeling safe, feeling unhinged, feeling invincible. He doesn’t belong to you, he wants you and only you, As if I would ever want anyone else in my bed, now that you’ve been in it. You can hear his voice in your head, saying things that you don’t dare dream of him saying. 

“Not ready yet, then,” he says, and it almost sounds sad. But his face doesn’t change. “Well, there will be other rounds of our game,” he says lightly, a clear transition. He’s letting it go, and you are relieved. “In that case, are you hungry?”

Hell, if you’re in the process of losing your mind, you might as well do it on a full stomach.

“I could eat a horse,” you answer, trying to match his light tone. 

“That can be arranged. But I’m rather attached to the ones in my stables, so we’ll have to outsource your request,” he says, one sharp canine peeking from behind his top lip.

“Sylus!” You’re horrified. “It’s just an expression.”

“I told you that you could have anything. You have only to ask,” he shrugs.

Now you’re horrified and curious. “Have you eaten horse before?” 

The canine gleams in the dim light of the lamp on his nightstand. “There are few things that I haven’t eaten, darling.” His hand moves from the side of your head, down, until he slips one long finger between your throat and his tie still secured there. He tugs, gently. You remember that you don’t have any of your own clothes, and you’re still wearing his. “There are places where eating horse is as customary as eating beef. But I never really cared for it.”

“That’s a relief, somehow,” you say, even though it’s ridiculous to mourn the horses that fed him, when you ate the steak he served you earlier with such enjoyment. It’s all cruel, in the end—the necessity of survival which depends on another’s suffering. Your heart hurts, so you reach up and rub it. His blood-bright eyes follow the movement of your hand.

“My tender-hearted kitten,” he whispers, with that same strange sad tone in his voice. “Sometimes we must do things to survive that deprive another of life. Do you also mourn the wanderers you have to kill?”

You look down at his strong throat, the pale, soft skin there. So thin, fragile, with his fast pulse beating beneath. “Sometimes, when they’re particularly beautiful. When it’s so obvious that they’re only following their nature, and that their violence isn’t a result of cruelty, like people. They’re just made that way.”

“So you don’t regret the people you have to kill?” 

You would like to lie, and say that you regret it deeply. That you’re as generous toward your fellow humans as you are toward wild beasts, to the beef on your plate. But you promised Sylus you’d be honest with him, if to no one else. You shake your head.

“Sometimes, the sense of satisfaction I get when I’m forced to put down someone I know who has done horrible things—” you whisper, closing your eyes. “It’s frightening.”

“Kindred spirits,” Sylus’s deep voice, the warmth of his breath, envelop you. 

Are you and he really so alike? You had snarled at him, when you first met him, that you and he were not the same, that you would never be the same. You had snarled it at yourself, as much as at him. You open your eyes, and his eyes are all you can see. He looks so happy, hearing you admit the worst of yourself. You realize that you hardly know anything about this man. His past. His family. What he was like as a child. His hobbies, if he even has any. All you know is that he is a killer, a businessman. And that he touches you with the tenderness of a man handling something priceless. That’s all. Yet here you are, his hands on you, still gently tugging on a tie wrapped around your throat. Here you are, so attached to him already that the thought of him bedding another feels like your aether core mutilated heart is shredding itself. How did this happen?

You want to know everything about him. You tell yourself that it’s not because you’re ravenous to unravel his mystery, to be sated from the knowing, and cherish him the more for it. You tell yourself that maybe, the more you learn, the more your heart will ease, and familiarity will breed contempt. Maybe you’ll be able to let him go when this is over, if you know all the ugly parts of him, all of his annoying traits like everyone has. You decide to ask him about when the fake dating will start, so that you’ll have an excuse to ask him to share as much as he’s willing about himself with you, as he practices sharing himself with his beloved.

As if I would ever want anyone else in my bed, now that you’ve been in it.

You shake your head. You’re not his beloved. Why wouldn’t he just tell you, if you were?

Would you have believed me, if I had told you that I wasn’t behind your family’s murder?

You close your eyes again. You feel insane.

I expect you to remember what you just said, when this is over.

You can’t. You can’t. If you’re wrong—

You open your eyes again. You’re here now. You’re here now, and he has the tail of the tie clasped softly in his palm, and he’s gently pulling it so that it tightens on your throat, a hair’s breadth, and then releases. It feels good. You want him to pull harder. You want to know everything about him, and forget everything else. You’re in a dream, and you don’t have to wake up yet. You’re not insane. It’s just the certainty one sometimes has in a dream—you know something to be true, even though you don’t know how you know. Sylus wants you, and only you with him right now. You’re going to indulge.

“To be clear, I don’t want you to serve me horse,” you tell him, pulling back a little so that the tie tightens against your throat again. He inhales sharply, but the corner of his mouth lifts.

“As you wish. Let’s go to the kitchen. You can choose something that you do want me to serve you.” He pulls a little harder on the tie and you let out a soft gasp.

You want him to curl it around his fist, pull you to him, devour you in a way you feel like you know, with a strange certainty, that he would. But you can’t tell him that. Not yet. If you’re wrong—

You open your eyes. Sylus’s face is flushed, his bright eyes narrowed on the tie, on your throat.

“I want to go to the kitchen, but I don’t have any of my own clothes,” you say softly, needing desperately to break this spell before you do something that you can’t take back. 

Sylus looks confused for a moment. “Do you need your own clothes?”

“Do you want me to walk around in your oversized clothes the whole time I’m here?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all, but I don’t need it. Did you not find anything to your liking from the selection of clothes in your size in the dressing room?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “I know you’re spoiled, but I didn’t realize to this extent,” he says, not sounding displeased at all.

“What clothes?”

Something in Sylus’s face changes. “Did you not… explore the dressing room?”

You shake your head. “Mephisto was watching me, and I didn’t want to upset him by touching anything I shouldn’t,” you shrug. “So I just grabbed what I could see.”

Sylus laughs softly. “Why would Mephisto get upset by you touching anything in this house?”

“Because it’s your house, and I’m an interloper, and he squawked at me when he saw me touching your ties.”

“And yet you’re wearing one.” His eyes flick down to your neck again.

“Okay, so I was being petty after he squawked.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. “So you thought I didn’t arrange for you to have clothes you’d be comfortable in. And you thought that Mephisto was… surveilling you.”

You’re confused. “Um, is that not the case? And then you sent the twins to show me around to make sure I don’t go anywhere I’m not supposed to.” At his pained look, you rush on. “I get it. You probably have a lot of valuable stuff in here, and just the intel about the layout of your base is probably even more valuable.”

Sylus sighs and drops his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You stare at him. Do you trust him? You let your eyes drift from his beautiful eyes, to his regal nose. His soft silver hair sweeping messily over his forehead. Would you be here, lying in his bed in his criminal headquarters at the pinnacle of the N109 Zone, if you didn’t trust him? He apologized for hurting you when you first met, and promised never to do so again. He’s been nothing but kind to you since those first long days with him. He’s promised never to use his evol on you without your permission. He said that once given, he never breaks a promise. And you believe him. Of course you trust him.

“Yeah, Sylus, I trust you,” you say softly.

“Okay,” he says, sitting up, pulling the tie gently with him so that you come too. You sit, legs tucked under yourself, as Sylus sits on his own knees, and very gently begins to untie the tie. The silk whispers along your skin as it falls away from your throat. He then lifts it slowly, watching your reaction. But you just sit still, letting him sweep it across your eyes as he blindfolds you, securing it at the back of your head. It’s comfortable.

You feel him take your wrist and tug softly, and you go with him. Your feet hit the soft rug, and you follow where he leads, enjoying the warmth of his calloused hand on your wrist, enjoying the mystery of where he’s leading you.

After an unexpectedly short amount of time, he stops. You feel cold as the warmth of his body disappears, and you hear what sounds like doors opening, or cabinets. He returns to you, and his delicious scent fills your senses. He undoes the knot, and the tie falls away.

You’re in his dressing room, towards the back where you didn’t venture earlier. Door after closet door is open, and you see rack after rack, shelf after shelf—clothes that look like the ones you have at home. Athletic wear. Hoodies. Comfortable clothes you would wear on your days off. But also clothing that you don’t have in your own closet—formal wear. Club clothes. Expensive fabrics. Pair after pair of a variety of sneakers, boots, dress shoes.

“New rule. The next time you are faced with two possibilities—when you think that what you perceive could be negative, but could also be positive, try to consider that the positive is true,” he says gently, placing his big hands on your shoulders and leaning down a little to meet your gaze. “I had Luke and Kieran fetch some things from your home that I thought would make you feel at ease here. The earring. The plushie you hug the most often. Your phone charger. Your laptop is in my office. But I didn’t want them to go through all of your things, and they have no interest in invading your privacy. I was hoping you can make do with new clothing that I thought you’d like, as well as your own care products while you’re here. If you’re missing anything, just tell me, and I’ll arrange for it to be sent.”

As he speaks, you feel your eyes getting hot—in dawning horror, you realize that you’ve started to cry. Why the fuck are you crying? You don’t want him to see, but you’re helpless under his big hands keeping you grounded. You take a big, shuddering breath. All of this kindness hurts. But Sylus isn’t done hurting you.

“And Mephisto isn’t following you to surveil you. He’s programmed to greet you, and to follow you in case you need backup and company. If you don’t have your phone on you, you can still reach me, wherever you are in the house, through him. There’s also an app on your phone for you to change his settings if you want. If you don’t like his voice module, you can make him meow.” Sylus slowly pulls you to him, looking down into your face. He thumbs the tears from your cheeks, brings them to his mouth, and rubs the moisture across his bottom lip. He then pulls you closer, hugging you tightly to his chest. “And I sent Luke and Kieran with you to see the house because the last time you were here, you were really scared. Since I had to meet with Aidan, I didn't want you to be alone, but also didn’t want to force you to sit caged in my room until I could show you around.”

You press your face into his chest, breathing against his rapid heartbeat, feeling all the anxiety and sadness of the tour and return to the greenhouse draining out of your body.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bowed head. “If you’re unsure of my intentions, even after all this—if you consider the positive possibility and can’t quite believe it, then just ask me,”  he says softly into your hair. “There’s no need to torture yourself with me.” He lifts your chin, and his barely there smile lifts his mouth. “That’s my job. And there will be no doubt when I actually intend to torment you.”

You smile through your stupid embarrassing tears, laugh a little wetly. “It’s true. Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”

“You know that much, at least.”

“How could I miss it?” you ask.

“Good fucking question. How could you possibly miss so much?” he nudges your forehead with his forefinger.

You scowl at him. You feel light. And with the relief, comes the hunger. “Didn’t you promise to feed me? I’m starving,” you gripe, refusing to think about what else you’re missing. 

I can promise you that whomever you’re thinking my 'crush' is, it’s not the person you're thinking of.

The only way he could have promised that is if he knew that you’d never consider yourself a possibility.

And Sylus says he always keeps his promises.

“Well, I can’t let my spoiled kitten get any more hungry,” he interrupts your thoughts.

You shake your head. “It would be terrible if I end up having to eat you because I’m so hungry,” you tease, but he just lifts his eyebrows as if intrigued.

“Would it be so terrible though?” he asks. You pull back and gently push him toward the door.

“Go, make me something delicious while I get dressed,” you order him with a laugh.

“I see how it is— just a little reassurance, and suddenly you’re bold enough to give me orders." He tucks his thumbs into the pockets of his black, worn looking jeans. “Finally,” he says, looking incredibly satisfied, before disappearing in a whoosh of air, scarlet-ink mist, and feathers that float gently toward you before falling to the floor.

You turn, sighing happily at the sight of all of these new clothes stretching before you. You don’t deserve this. You’ve never been a big shopper. Budget too tight, too much ammo and manga to buy instead, when you practically live in your hunter uniform. But you spotted some yoga wear from a brand that is wildly expensive but makes the softest, best fitting shit you’ve ever put on your body. You shake yourself. Indulge. Indulge. Indulge. 

After you’ve checked your bandages and cleaned up a bit in the bathroom, you drift through the base and find Sylus in the kitchen, as promised. Soft lighting from floor lamps and recessed fixtures hold back the N109 Zone’s night stretching beyond the kitchen’s large windows. Soft classical music accompanies the sound of Sylus digging around in the huge fridges, the clatter of a pan placed on the gas burning stove.

“So you’ll be cooking personally for me today? Not your chef?”

“Not my chef,” Sylus confirms. “I’m the the chef today,” he smiles slightly. “Sit.” He points to the bar stool on the other side of the massive kitchen island.

“I can cook,” you protest. At Sylus’s doubtful look, you defend yourself. “It’s true. I can cook. Xavier loves it when I have the time and energy to make something and invite him over, because it’s fucking hard to cook for only one person,” you say mournfully, suddenly worried about how Xavier will feed himself while you’re not there to ensure he eats vegetables along with his ramen. But he survived long before he became your partner. He’s a big boy, you tell yourself. 

“Oh, I bet he does,” Sylus says under his breath. “And I am cooking because I thought you would want to give your abused feet a break.”

You squint at him. “They hurt, but they’re still functioning.”

“Again, just because they’re functioning doesn’t mean you have to use them more than necessary. And I believe you when you say you can cook. But do you actually like to cook? Or do you feel like you have to, because it’s cheaper than delivery?” Sylus asks, breaking an egg into a bowl. “While you’re here, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t actively enjoy doing. You’re not here to survive. You’re here to recover.”

You’re so touched by his words that it takes a moment for you to get your mouth to answer him. Something’s wrong with your eyes again, and your throat is suddenly tight. You clear it. “Definitely the latter,” you admit, thinking of a million other things that you’d rather be doing than cooking yet another meal. You often wish you could just slurp all your nutrition from a pouch and be done with it. “But I do like baking. That doesn’t count as cooking, because the result is fun.” 

Sylus laughs softly. “Then when you feel up to it, you can teach me how to bake your favorite things, because that’s something I never really do. In the meantime, when chef isn’t here and whatever she’s left behind in the fridge for heating up isn’t to your taste, I’ll cook for you. Deal?”

You watch Sylus’s big hands gently crack more eggs, grind some salt and pepper in the mixture, fling a little bit of butter onto the now hot pan. You could get used to this beautiful creature preparing meals for you. And you could get used to baking delicious things, and feeding each bite to him by hand. You’re here now. You’re going to indulge. “Deal,” you smile. “But while you’re doing that, I need coffee. Can you point me in the direction of your coffee shit, coffee maker, and mugs?”

Sylus pauses. “I don’t have a coffee maker.”

You stare at him. “What do you mean you don’t have a coffee maker.”

“I mean, I have a french press. But I don’t have a drip coffee maker.”

You squint at him. “You have a fucking ice rink in your villain HQ, and you don’t have a coffee maker? You make your coffee, by hand, every morning? Do you also insist on hand grinding the beans with a mortar and pestle every time you want a cup? Are you as much of a coffee snob as a wine snob?”

“Aren’t you sharp-tongued for a kitten who is depending on me for its caffeine fix.” Sylus sounds infinitely amused.

“I’m just consistently in awe of all of this means you have at your disposal, and yet you do nothing with it. And I’m assuming that since you don’t have a normal coffee maker, you’re also too much of a snob to have one of those fancy as fuck espresso machines that can make whipped foam, along with an entire fleet of flavor syrups on tap.” As you talk, you become more distressed. “Oh my god, Sylus. You’re a hipster billionaire. You’re like, the worst of everything wrong with our capitalist society,” you say forlornly. Why can’t you be nuts about a normal man? What’s wrong with a guy with a tidy little flat and a drip coffee maker? A nice accountant whose only crime is jaywalking, maybe a little tax evasion, for a treat, every year when filing. But no, you want to have the stuck up edgelord who can explode people with his mind and who thinks even professional espresso machines are too plebeian for his refined taste buds.

Sylus is just staring at you, an eyebrow lifted. “What I hear you saying is that you want a fancy as fuck espresso machine. Is that correct?”

You sigh in resignation. Your heart wants what it wants. “What you hear me saying is, okay, Sylus, where is the french press, the coffee beans, the grinder I’ll no doubt have to grind them with, and your mugs?”

“The espresso machine will be here when you wake up tomorrow. As for the french press, beans, grinder, and mugs…” he smirks at you as he points to one of the cupboards over the long, black marble kitchen counter.

You slip from the stool and go to open the indicated cabinet, finding the promised french press and tasteful glass jar of whole coffee beans. Of course even his storage containers are fancy and pretty. But you stop short, as you notice Caleb’s gift and the CUNT mug sitting on the shelf next to the coffee supplies.

You blink. You blink, and turn to look at Sylus, who is now busy scrambling the eggs. “You brought Caleb’s mug,” you breathe.

“I told you, I wanted you to have the things here that make you comfortable,” Sylus shrugs, not turning away from the eggs.

You could cry again. The thoughtfulness of this asshole takes you by surprise, every single time. But you don’t want to cry. You want to enjoy. You whip around and march over to Sylus, who is still serenely stirring the eggs. You peek around to catch his eye, ensuring that he knows you’re there. His red gaze flicks to you for a moment, returns to the eggs. You then step behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his broad back.

Your warning must have been successful. He doesn’t throw you to the floor, or even stiffen—his shoulders seem to relax, and he leans back a little, as if trying to sink into your hug. He puts the hand not stirring the eggs on your forearm, as if to hold you there.

“Thank you,” you whisper, squeezing tighter. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, as the scent of butter and eggs, the soft sound of cellos, the dark night and warm lamplight surround the two of you.

“It’s everything,” you counter.

“You deserve to be harder to please,” Sylus grumbles, turning off the burner. He turns, and you try to step away, but he keeps his hold on your forearm until he’s fully facing you. He leans down and scoops you into his arms, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. He then just stands there, hugging you tightly to him. You hug him back, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes closed to better soak in the feeling of just holding him, of being held.

“Your eggs will get cold,” he says after a while, regretfully.

You just squeeze him harder. You’ve eaten worse. 

You feel him laugh softly, your chest vibrating with his amusement. “As you wish."

Suddenly, the moment is shattered with a ruckus like a herd of elephants pounding down the hallway, along with a crash, gleeful laughter and yelps.

“Cheater, tripping is cheating, cheater cheater cheater!” Luke roars.

“The first rule of race club is there are no rules in race club,” Kieran bellows, voice closer to the doorway, until suddenly it’s filled with two grown, grappling men, big biceps straining as they each try to prevent the other from entering the kitchen first.

“No… you… don’t!” Luke pants, wrapping his arm around Kieran’s neck in a chokehold and trying to drag him back into the hallway.

“Oww, my throat, Luke, my throat still hurts,” Kieran whines. Luke looks stricken and immediately lets go, only to find himself shoved back further into the hallway as Kieran cackles and comes careening into the kitchen, socked feet sliding along the smooth, marble floor until he crashes into the kitchen island. He lets out a loud whoop, throwing his arms in the air. “Kitchen-race champion, kitchen-race champion,” he chants as Kieran scowls at him from the doorway.

“That was a dirty trick,” he seethes. “You know I wouldn’t ever want to really hurt you.”

“I keep telling you that you’re too gullible,” Kieran smiles at him fondly. “You know all is fair in love and the kitchen race game.”

“Some love,” Luke snorts, and then his eyes widen as he seems to notice you and Sylus behind the kitchen island for the first time. You turn to look at Sylus, but his eyes are on your face, as if he hasn’t stopped looking at you the entire time you’ve taken in the twins’ skirmish, as if what just occurred is daily life at Onychinus HQ and not even worth looking at. You glance back at the twins.

Kieran turns his head to follow Luke’s gaze and then straightens as if at attention. “Oh, apologies boss! We didn’t know you were…” he takes in how you’re attached to Sylus like a koala. “You were preoccupied in here.”

You look back at Sylus, but he just stares at you. Okay, if he’s not going to say anything, you will. “We’re not preoccupied. Sylus was just making eggs.” You cough a little. “Sylus, you can put me down now.”

He just hugs you tighter.

“Eggs? Oh, can we have some? I’m starving after my big stupid cheater of a brother scared the shit out of me by acting hurt,” Luke grumbles, sending Kieran a dirty look. Kieran holds out his hand, and despite his indignation, Luke slides into the kitchen on his socks like an ice skater and takes Kieran’s hand, who then wraps his brother’s arm around his own shoulders. 

“Let that be a lesson. How to fake out your opponent, and how not to be so gullible, even with me.” Kieran reaches over and rubs his fist into Luke’s bouncing curls. Luke ducks his head and sweeps Kieran into a chokehold again, who just laughs. “That’s it,” he crows, and the two tussle like a couple of puppies.

“I can’t make coffee if you won’t let me go,” you say softly to Sylus amidst the racket the twins are making.

“Do you really want to make coffee now?” he asks, turning, setting you on the counter and simply standing between your legs. You’re getting the feeling that he likes this position, because it puts your face a little closer to his if the surface you’re sitting on is high enough.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask curiously.

“It’s getting late again. Between the tour and your nap, it’s closer to the time I go to bed now. You’ll be up all night if you have caffeine now.”

“Then why didn’t you say so when I first asked about the coffee?” You tilt your head.

Sylus just looks bored. You’re learning that he does this when he isn’t interested in answering you, when you’re most interested in the answer. Suddenly it dawns on you. “You wanted me to see the mugs.”

He just lifts his hand and fiddles with the hem of the soft long sleeved shirt you’re wearing. “Now you know where they are, in case I’m not around,” he shrugs.

You lean forward, placing both of your palms on his cheeks. He sucks in a breath, but stays still. “Thank you,” you say.

“You’ve already said that, and I’ve already said it’s nothing,” he answers, his stubble shifting under your hands.

“If we’re not going to have coffee, and it’s almost time to go to bed again, what did you have in mind for after we eat?” you ask, running your thumbs under his lovely eyes, indulging, indulging, not worrying about anyone else, not worrying about tomorrow or the day after. There is only today, every day, until this is over.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, leaning in, letting you pet him.

You think about it. You’re still so tired. You think you’ll probably be tired for weeks, until you’ve slept enough to make up for your enormous sleep deficit of the past year, however long that takes. Your feet hurt. You just want to be near Sylus. He’s asking you what you want to do like he intends to do it with you. So instead of worrying if that’s the case, if you’re misunderstanding something, you say what you want.

“I want to start fake dating you,” you say. His eyes widen a little, and then he frowns.

“Fake dating?” Kieran’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you realize that the twins had stopped roughhousing enough to overhear your conversation.

“What do you mean, fake dating?” Luke asks, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, your boss just asked me to help him practice dating so that he can successfully woo the person he’s in love with,” you say, the picture of cheerful helpfulness. This is already enough. You’re happy to help. And you’re going to indulge the fuck out of pretending that he’s looking at you, instead of imagining the other person he’d like to have in his bed more than you. Because you can’t imagine it’s you. You can’t. Because if you’re wrong—

Kieran and Luke’s mouths drop open. They look at each other, and then look at Sylus.

“What the fuck, boss—” Luke begins, as Kieran says “For someone so intelligent, you can be so stupid—” before Sylus cuts them both off.

“Take some of the prepped meals that chef left in the fridge and then leave us.”

For a second, they both look like they want to argue, but then they dutifully snap their mouths shut in unison, and you get that strange feeling of uncanniness again, like they’re just one person who happens to have two bodies. They efficiently go to the fridge, grab some containers of what must be the prepped meals, and leave you and Sylus alone in the kitchen, now with only classical violin filling the silence.

“Was that a secret?” you ask, feeling bad if you just made Sylus lose face with his employees.

“I have nothing to hide when it comes to you,” he says. “But they don’t need to know every detail of my personal life, even if they may disagree with that statement.”

“Okay,” you say, still feeling bad for some reason. 

He touches your chin, lifts it. “What did you have in mind when you said you want to start fake dating?”

“When we talked about me helping you, you seemed to be okay with the idea of practicing sharing parts of your life with your crush. I was thinking maybe while I’m staying with you, you can already start.” You smile at him, hoping he can’t tell how much you want him to say yes.

“Am I not already doing that?” he asks.

You tilt your head. Okay, so he has invited you into his home, showed you around. But you still know so little about him. “I guess so,” you say. You feel a bit silly now. Maybe you were hoping for too much. Maybe he’d rather get on with his normal routine, and isn’t interested in any usefulness you have to offer at the moment.

You’re suddenly really tired again. You want him to back up, to stop looking so closely at your face. “The eggs are cold now,” you say, trying to keep your hand still, trying to resist the urge to dig your nails into your thigh. He’s right there. He asked you to hurt him instead. You can’t hurt him, so you can’t hurt yourself.

“Then I’ll make new ones,” he says, still watching you like a hawk eyeing a mouse about to bolt from hiding.

You’re not hungry anymore. You hate the yo-yo of your emotions. You want to be as unruffled as the man in front of you. You’re hoping that the more rest you get, the longer you have to recover, you’ll regain some semblance of equilibrium, some resistance to the rawness of the feelings hemorrhaging from your heart. But you know if you won’t eat, your blood sugar will crash and you’ll be left feeling faint.

“No worries. Do you have string cheese or something? Just something to keep me from feeling lightheaded?”

“I'm not feeding you logs of trash cheese while you're a guest in my home," Sylus tsks, probably affronted at the mere suggestion that he would have string cheese in his house. "What else do you want me to share with you about my life?”

“What?” You were just talking about cheese. Now you're being interrogated.

“You said you wanted to start dating. That you were interested in me sharing parts of my life with you. What else do you want me to share with you about my life?” he says slowly.

“Oh. It’s really nothing. You’re right, you are already sharing a lot by having me here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t say I’m already sharing a lot, as if you were asking for too much. I said, ‘Am I not already doing that?’” because I thought I was sharing my life with you by inviting you here and hoping to spend time with you. So now I want to know what else you want me to share.”

“You want to spend time with me?” you ask.

“Why else would I ask you what you would like to do until it’s time for bed?” he asks, gently flicking your forehead.

“Maybe you wanted to occupy me so that you would be free to do whatever you really want to do,” you say, wincing a little.

Sylus hangs his head. Huffs a little laugh. “Your mind is incredible.”

You scowl at the top of his stupid, pretty head. ���Okay, if you’re going to mock me—”

“I mean it. Your imagination is impressive if there is any ambiguity in a statement. We've been over this, and you promised to try to choose the positive interpretation over the negative."

You look away, feeling shitty for already breaking your promise. Sylus lifts his head and guides your gaze back to him with his forefinger on your jaw. "Habits are hard to break, I know. So let me rephrase. I would like to spend time with you until bed. How would you like to spend that time?” He places his palms on your thighs and smooths them soothingly up, and down.

The soothing gesture works. You feel the impending withdrawal into yourself, into your protective, sad little shell, reverse at his words, at his touch. You think about all the things you were shown today, and what the two of you could do for a little while together. You’re too tired to read, so the idea of visiting his library is out. You don’t want to work out, obviously, so the gym, the ice skating rink, even the pool—no good. 

“You have a home theater. Do you like movies?”

He perks up. “Yeah, I do.”

“Wanna show me what movies you like? Maybe we can watch one?” You’re casual. The absolute definition of chill.

He eyes you for a moment. “When you say practicing to ‘share my life,’ is this your way of asking to know more about me?”

You shrug like it’s no big deal. Like you’re not terribly eager to know every single thing about him. “If you want.”

“If you wanted to know more about me, you could have just said so. No need to frame it in fake dating.”

“But we made a deal. You wanted to practice—”

He interrupts you. “All right, we can date. But just ask if you have questions. And just assume that I want to spend time with you.”

“Our deal was fake dating,” you try again, because he keeps dropping the ‘fake’ part and it’s doing things to your heart.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, darling,” he lifts one corner of his mouth.

“But that’s the deal—”

“Uh huh,” he says absently, lifting you from the counter with one arm, turning to the fridge, and rifling through it with his free hand. He manages to agilely balance a stack of containers. “There’s a bar in the theater room, so we can get something to drink there,” he happily informs you.

“Of course you have a bar in there, you alcoholic.”

“Now, now, no need to call names,” he says serenely, carrying you and the food into the hall and heading towards the theater room.

Once there, he tosses you gently on one of the super soft, overstuffed in contrast to other furniture in the house, and of course ubiquitously black, leather couches that sits in front of a huge screen on the far wall. The couch is so soft you hardly bounce, just sinking into the cushion with a laugh. He sets the food containers on the low table positioned in front of the couch, between its two chaise lounge sections that stretch out on either side.

He sits down next to you, so close that his big thigh is squished against yours. “The dvds are in the cabinet over there,” he says as he opens one of the container lids. “You wanted to know what movies I like? Knock yourself out.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You excitedly make your way to where he pointed and throw open a dark paneled cabinet door. Shelf after shelf, going all the way up to the high ceiling where you’re certain Sylus can’t even reach, full of dvd after dvd. You run your fingers along their edges, reading titles silently as you go. 

It appears that Sylus is a fan of classic films. You see titles that you’ve never watched, but have heard in passing from cultural references or watching annual movie awards when you’re lucky enough to not be working through them during a particular year. Black and white films. Foreign films with directors you’ve never heard of. As your gaze drifts over his collection, sounds of cabinet doors opening on the other side of the room serve as background noise. The clink of plates, of glasses, liquid being poured.

You don’t think you see one film from the last decade in his collection. But maybe they’re higher up.

“How do you get up to the top? I don’t see one of those fancy library ladders on a wheeled track anywhere. Does the great Sylus Qin resort to using a step stool?” You ask absently, still scanning the titles. He appears to be a big fan of horror movies. You’re also a huge fan of horror, but you can recognize that you’re a bit of a barbarian in that you’ve never watched the true classics. Maybe you can expand your cultural horizons while you’re here. Knowing more about classic film could come in handy while working undercover at pretentious wealthy bastard functions.

Your thought is interrupted as you yelp, having been lifted into the air by scarlet-ink tendrils and carried swiftly toward the ceiling, where you’re now hovering, eye level with the upper shelves of Sylus’s dvd collection. You look back down at him, where he isn’t even looking at you as he is artfully arranging your movie snacks in little bowls and plates.

“A little warning would be nice,” you say drily. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teases. “Can’t have you getting bored with me.”

You snort. “That’s my line.”

One moment you’re floating leisurely near what looks like his Russian film section of his collection, and the next you’re being deposited onto his lap as he sinks back into the soft couch.

“The presumption of people insinuating that even the possibility exists that I could ever be bored with you is astonishing,” he grumbles, and your heart hurts a little. Even other people can see how ill-suited you are for this mercurial, privileged man—a man who could have anything and anyone he wants, and has the propensity for boredom that goes along with it. “I don’t like it.”

You just smile at him, because what can you do? “People are wise.”

Sylus scowls like he just sucked on a lemon. “One other person, and he is a silly deviant and has been corrected, just as I’m correcting you.” He places his hands on your shoulders, thumbs smoothing over the skin of your throat. “In no universe could I ever be bored with you.”

“You don’t even really know me,” you say gently, letting your head fall forward under his soft touch. He slides one hand around and palms the back of your neck, squeezing gently.

“Don’t I?” he asks.

“You may know the ugliest parts of me because of your aether core. But you don’t know my daily habits. My annoying quirks. How I brush my teeth. My favorite foods. My fondest memories. My pet peeves when it comes to lovers.” You lean your head back now, baring your throat to him, letting his big hand keep you upright. “And I don’t know yours, either.”

“I know the most essential parts of you to be assured that I’ll never tire of learning about the details,” Sylus answers, shaking you gently.

You open your eyes, lift your head. “But I don’t know the essential parts of you, let alone the details.”

His wine dark eyes look so soft as they meet your gaze. “Don’t you?”

You remember the feeling when you first met him. The voice in your head, urging you to devour him. Insisting with a violence that scared you that he was yours, to consume, to swallow, to feast. The recognition in you when you resonated the first and only time, when you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. You might not have an aether core in your eye, but maybe you do know the essentials of him. His cruelty. His violence. His single-minded pursuit of his goals. His steadfastness as he chases you, over and over again, as you run, over and over again.

I expect you to remember what you just said, when this is over.

You do remember what you said at Amnesia. And you remember a kiss that never happened, the taste of his tongue on yours that you can’t possibly know. You feel insane.

“Do I?” you echo him.

“Mmm,” he murmurs his confirmation. “And now we have all the time in the world for you to satisfy your kitten’s curiosity regarding the details.”

Maybe it’s okay to be a little insane in a dream. 

“What movie do you want to watch?” you ask, leaning forward, running your nose along his, inhaling the scent of his skin.

He exhales, his warm breath soft and carrying the scent of some smoky liquor. “Why don’t you choose?”

“What if you’ve seen it before?”

He turns his head a little, so that his lips brush the edges of your mouth. “I’ve seen all of the films I own.”

“Won’t you get bored rewatching?” You resist the urge to turn your own head, to meet his mouth— you can’t, you can’t, not yet. What if you’re wrong—

 “I won’t get bored. I’ll be watching through your eyes this time.”

“You have so many, how can I choose?”

He smiles faintly against your skin. “What kind of movies do you like?”

You think for a moment. “I like all kinds of genres. Horror is probably my favorite, but only when I’m in the mood. I think the movies I like the best tend to be character driven. When I care about what is happening to the people, what choices they’re making—when I want them to prevail over the conflict. Not just gritty and dark for the sake of being edgy. And I like happy endings unless it’s a horror film. Life is hard enough, without spending it watching depressing Russian films,” you smile against his cheek in turn before sinking into him, resting your chest against his, tucking your face into his neck. His hands drift up and slowly caress your back.

“So you like fairy tales,” he says, but not dismissively. An observation.

“No, you’re the one who likes fairy tales—the original versions. Grim, unlikable characters being taught a lesson. Sad stories where no one wins, to confirm your cynical outlook of an unsalvageable world.” You’re teasing him, a little. But you also think it’s true.

He huffs a laugh. “Judging my taste in films, just as you judge my taste in coffee, wine, home decor, occupation—the list goes on. I’m the one who should be worried that my darling will grow bored with me.” He pauses. “You actually know quite a few details about me already, don’t you think?”

Your mind drifts to all the time you’ve shared with him, all the things you already know about him. Maybe he’s right, and you know more than you think. He has been showing you himself, every minute you’re together. Maybe if you manage to stop navel gazing and wallowing in insecurity, you’ll learn even more.

“In no universe could I ever be bored with you,” you echo him again.

“I'll hold you to that promise,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You’re getting so sleepy. If you don’t start the movie, you’ll be asleep before the opening credits are over.

“So pick your favorite movie, Sy. I want to watch it through your eyes.”

His arms tighten even further, forcing a puff of breath from your lips. “In a minute, darling. Stay like this, for a little longer.”

You nod, feeling his rapid-fire heartbeat under your own, slower heart. It’s soothing, in a way that firing a real gun no longer is for you. 

“If you don’t start it now, I’m going to fall asleep,” you mumble, sinking further.

“Then sleep,” he says. So you do.

Sylus holds you in his arms, and for once, his mind is quiet—no churning plans, no tweaking the spiderwebs of action and reaction, force and counterforce, push and pull, either for his business or to draw you ever closer to him. He’s just a man, sitting with his heart in his hands—safe and calm. He misses you, as he always does, when you’re so close but asleep. He considers joining you in your dreams again, just to make sure that they’re as peaceful as you deserve, but decides against it. He skirted the edges of his promise to you by doing it once, even though he remains convinced that it was necessary. You were willing to share your fears with him after you woke up—he just mixed up the order a little bit by reassuring you first and then asking questions second. But he’s unwilling to risk it again.

This is enough, for now. He feels the steady beat of your heart against his own submachine gun rhythm, and his pulse slows, slows, until for once, he feels like he can breathe fully without having to check behind himself, check the exits, check contingencies and backups, check the pulse in your throat to make sure you’re still here, you’re still real, you’re still letting him so close he can taste your skin when he inhales the scent of your neck. You’re in his home, and you just had your almost-first, definitely not fake despite what you tell yourself, date. Watching a movie together, the most cliche, boring date of all, and you fell asleep before it even started. You called him something other than his full name for the first time, and not in a teasing way like crow man or good boy—an endearment, something no one else will ever have the privilege of calling him. It takes him a little while to figure out the feeling that has been spreading through him since you hugged him from behind in thanks for the lousy gift of a couple of mugs you already owned—a feeling like how he has always imagined sunshine would feel on a mild summer day for a normal person.

Oh. He laughs a little breathlessly. He’s happy.

If he wasn’t aware of how much you’re already changing him, he’d realize it now, as he hugs you as tightly as he dares without waking you, feeling as foolish as Aidan waxing poetic about every new person being a gift with a surprise inside. Sylus doesn’t need any other people to maintain his attention—you are the gift, a nesting doll puzzle box, a gift within a gift within a gift, and he’s so fucking happy you’re letting him open each of your secrets, one by one, that he’s dizzy with it. The ratatat of his heart fires, and fires, and fires. For the first time that he can remember, he’s looking forward to tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

end note: My dear readers, once again I have failed to deliver big toys and action, but the plot has inched along very slightly with Sylus's conversation with Aidan, and hopefully the next part will contain MC having the run of Sylus's place and getting into some trouble with the twins and Noah if I recover from real world events and don't just crawl into a hole and hide for the next four years.

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 6)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev) (Next)

            With your presence now known on Fruit and Flower Mountain, you found yourself the subject of intrigue. Gossip was whispered and theories were spun like a spider’s web. In less than a day, the whole mountain was in a tizzy over the King’s human guest.

            Servants gave polite bows while observing you from the corner of their eyes. The guards were less blatant with their stares but watchful gazes seemed to linger on the stranger in their midst. All the suspicion and confusion was understandable; even you could offer no explanation for your sudden patronage.

            Rumors had spread outside the palace walls, making your tour of the village interesting to say the least. Most of the demons seemed curious, a few friendly smiles and disgruntled frowns thrown in the mix. The children openly gawked, daring each other to get closer with shoves and giggles. You shyly nodded and waved as Shihou pointed out different areas and people of importance.

            It was all quite ordinary despite being at the foot of a demon stronghold. Cubs played games with their friends. The elderly relaxed and sipped tea. Warriors trained with fists and weapons. Food was prepared, clothes were washed, neighbors visited and shared each other’s company. It reminded you of your own village, a thought that tugged at your heart and prickled your eyes.

            The more you saw of the peaceful lives on Fruit and Flower Mountain, the more your homesickness grew. By the time you were brought back to the palace, your mind was burdened with worries of your own village. Especially in the harsh winter that existed outside the mountain’s spell.

            You were startled from your thoughts by a gentle hand grasping your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Shihou asked softly. His bright eyes searched yours, brimming with concern under tightly knitted brows.

            “It’s nothing. Just…” You pondered your next words carefully before continuing. “Do you think I would be able to speak with the King?”

            The question seemed to catch him off guard. “I mean, sure, if you wanted to. Why?”

            “I need to ask him a favor.”                                                            

            Shihou tilted his head curiously. “Is it something I can help with?”

            “Maybe, but I would rather ask him myself,” you said decisively. “I don’t want to get you in trouble if he says no or gets angry.”

            “Whatever it is, I doubt he’ll get upset.” When you refused to elaborate, he sighed. “But if you insist. He might be in his throne room if you want to check.”

            You nodded, both relieved and nervous all at once. “Thank you, Shihou.”

            The palace was slowly becoming more familiar to you. Treasures and tapestries helped you keep track of the various halls and floors. You even recognized the stairway as Shihou detoured your path down towards Water Curtain Cave. When you reached the same antechamber from before, Shihou hung back.

            “You go ahead,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be out here.”

            “But…I wasn’t…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling guilt for excluding Shihou. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to hide anything from you. Please don’t be mad?”

            Shihou shook his head with a soft smile. “I’m not mad. The King just prefers his conversations in private so I’ll wait here while you ask your favor. Besides,” his attitude shifted to something teasing and mischievous. “My peach friend will tell me eventually, right?”

            “Yeah, sure,” you chuckled at his cheeky request. “I’ll tell you depending on what answer I get.”

            “Alright. Better not waste time, then.”

            Steeling your resolve, you gave Shihou a final nod and marched through the doorway before you could change your mind.

            The empty cave was almost more ominous than when it had been full of demons. Every step you took echoed over the melodic sound of rushing water. The fading rays of the sun shimmered through the flowing waterfall, dancing flickers of light along the stone walls. You could make out the looming shape of the throne but no one sitting in it. You sighed, though from relief or disappointment, you weren’t sure.

            As you turned to leave, the quiet clearing of someone’s throat froze you in place.

            “Were you looking for something?”

            A shadow broke away from the far wall, lingering just behind the empty throne. You immediately recognized the distinct silhouette of gleaming armor and arching feathers. It was too dark to see more than the shine of his eyes but the Monkey King’s presence was overwhelming even from across the cavern.

            “I…” You tried to speak but the words vanished as your mind scrambled in surprise. Dropping into a respectful bow, you hid your face and took a moment to collect your thoughts. “Forgive my intrusion.”

            “You’re not intruding,” he dismissed casually. The authority was still there but his voice sounded softer as it filled the space between you. “I wasn’t expecting your company but it isn’t unwelcome. What can I do for you?”

            You straightened up but kept your gaze lowered to the floor, not bold enough to meet his eye. “I wanted to thank you for letting me to stay as your guest. Without your generosity, I may not have survived.”

            “It was the least I could do given your circumstances.” While his words were sympathetic, his expectant stare was heavy in the darkness. “Though, I get the feeling that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

            Being so easily deduced sent a shiver of dread down your spine. “Well, no. You see…” Fidgeting under his scrutiny, you forced your request out as steadily as you could manage. “I humbly ask permission to visit my village.”

            Monkey King stilled, shock nearly vibrating from his rigid frame. “You wish to leave?” he asked, a bitter tinge rumbling in his voice.

            “No, just for a visit!” you quickly clarified. “I want to let everyone know I’m still alive and see how things are since I’ve been away. My father was the overseeing noble and with my sister acting in his absence, I worry the village may suffer from her negligence. Especially with food being so scarce in the winter.”

            The explanation calmed his bristling but the glowing eyes continued to study you. “Didn’t they cast you out and send you to the mountain as a sacrifice?”

            “My sister is the one responsible for my banishment. She sent me here when I had nowhere else to go; everyone was too fearful of her wrath to take me in. I may not be allowed to return home but I still have friends in the village. If I can see them and know they’re well, that will be enough.”

            A deafening silence followed your plea. You waited, anxiety building the longer you went unanswered. After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, Monkey King sighed.

            “Very well, you may go; on one condition.” He held up a single finger, the stern tone leaving no room for dispute. “You must return to the mountain by sundown.”

            “I will,” you nodded in eager agreement.

            “One more thing.” Monkey King paused, seeming to struggle with what to say next. Thoughtful hums and quiet fidgeting whispered from his shrouded form. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, his tail a lashing shadow behind him. With a sharp nod that shook his feather crown, he came to some sort of decision. “You may take some fruit with you to share with the village. If they are in need of anything else, I will do what I can.”

            Surprise, joy, and endless gratitude all swelled in your chest at the news. Beaming and nearly on the verge of tears, you bowed again. “Thank you to much, Monkey King.”

            “Sun Wukong is fine,” he said, almost in request. “My subjects call me by name, you may as well.”

            “Thank you…Sun Wukong.” The name felt strange but pleasantly informal on your tongue. It would take some getting used to. Nevertheless, you were glad for the friendly gesture.

            “Go now; your guard will escort you to the mountain’s border when you’re ready.” In the time it took you to blink, he had melted back into the shadows. Unsure if he was still lurking or not, you gave a final bow before hurrying out of the cave.

            Back in the hallway, you felt like you could breathe again. The antechamber was cozy and less imposing, warmed by the glow of a crackling torch hung on the wall. Under it, Shihou was still waiting, arms crossed and chin tucked as he dozed. You tiptoed over to him, poking at his cheek till he blearily blinked awake.

            “Hey, how’d it go?” he yawned, playfully swatting your hand away. “What did you ask?”            

            You couldn’t contain your excitement, nearly bouncing on the spot with an overjoyed smile. “Looks like I’m picking some fruit tomorrow!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(It's finally here after a week of fighting dialogue! Huge thank you to everyone enjoying this so far! All of the wonderful feed back means so much to me and I appreciate it more than words can describe.)

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter XI

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 9.6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)

Notes: A one month turnaround for me and this series is becoming unheard of. Probably due to the lengths of these chapters. Why do they keep growing???

Hashirama enjoyed lingering in a lovely garden, and political figures, no matter the rank, tended to flock around Hashirama. So, to accommodate Hashirama’s tendency to idle in nature and the massive posse of political figures that vied for his attention, a sizable courtyard area was built near the Senju dwellings.

When Tobirama tore through the garden and stormed inside, he appeared troubled, much more so than usual. While he usually tried to ignore Hashirama’s bids for laughs and attention, the speed and force with which he stormed through the courtyard raised Hashirama’s brow. 

Tobirama was granted a brief reprieve. However, his brother's delayed presence was strictly attributed to the many political figures Hashirama had to gently dismiss before he could follow Tobirama inside. 

Tobirama was already hunched over a desk, penning away at some lengthy document with his forehead in his palm. While the desk was cluttered, the mass of papers and stationery items were allotted into neat, well-maintained piles for their size. Hashirama frowned in the doorway, allowing his brow to twitch a minuscule amount before he quietly shut the door. His head dropped before it rolled back.

“What happened?” he asked. 

Tobirama didn’t answer. His back flexed with more tension than needed for the simple task of writing. Hashirama let out a deep sigh. 

”I did tell you that it would not end well, now did I not?” 

“I was the swiftest messenger,” Tobirama snapped, slamming his quill on the table. The sound reverberated across the near-empty room. He sat straight, facing forward as he took a steady breath in. But the moment he took to calm himself did nothing for the volume of his voice. “What do I have to shrink away from regarding the Uchiha? We had all killed our fair share on the battlefield. Facing a fellow warrior with a grudge is no matter to me!”

Hashirama flinched neither at his brother’s volume nor the physicality of his outburst. His face slowly melted from its usual brightness to a concerned neutrality.

“Well, this tells me that you did not engage with a fellow warrior.” Hashirama’s gaze narrowed. He hardly let a beat pass. “What did you do, brother?”

The room fell silent. Tobirama should have known that his brother was far too clever to let him ignore what happened at the Uchiha compound. He didn’t expect that in any reality. The moment his hands found your skin, Tobirama knew there was no coming back. It would have to come out eventually, given that this was surely the end of the Uchiha-Senju compromise for which Hashirama had worked so hard. 

And for what he had told you about slapping the scroll out of his hand, the incredulousness he committed was far more severe and far more reckless. 

Tobirama turned, his face nothing less than severe and neutral as he approached Hashirama to kneel and bow deeply at his feet. His head hardly touched the wood flooring below for Hashirama to be filled with dread.

“I have committed a great error, for I have laid hands on a member of the Uchiha council!” Tobirama proclaimed, his forehead digging into the floor. 

Hashirama took a moment of pause above him. 

“And this was in self-defense?”

Another moment of pause came. Tobirama didn’t let it last for long and spoke what he knew was the truth, “No,” he said.

Tension grew in the stale air.

“For the sake of clarity,” Hashirama started. Tobirama’s heart had already begun to palpate in anticipation of the words he knew would come next. Hashirama’s voice had hardly wavered, but Tobirama knew his brother well enough to know that Hashirama was barely restraining rage. “You had laid hands on Madara’s companion.” 

Your name followed, spoken in the same way one would name a jutsu. The mere word stilled the atmosphere in such a way that Hashirama didn’t need explicit confirmation.

Tobirama breathed in.

“Yes.”

Hashirama hummed, deep in thought behind his neutral eyes and deepening frown. Yes, his mind was working quickly, perhaps almost as swiftly as the rising heat of rage in his chest. Hashirama hardly wore his expressions on his face when it came to grave matters, a stark contrast to his usual jovial demeanor. 

“Pick yourself up, brother.”

Tobirama obeyed, and just when he got to his feet, Hashirama’s fist flew mercilessly across Tobirama’s face. It was a strike thrown without frills, just hard knuckle against skin at a velocity unseen. The sound snapped through the room, as red stained Tobirama’s starkly pale skin. He recoiled, having been forced down to one knee from the sheer power of such a simple strike. Hashirama hardly had anything to add, watching as his brother maneuvered his own jaw, popping it back into place. Tobirama’s hand came away with a streak of blood from his ruptured nostril. 

“I cannot say that was not deserved—”

”You best have a great explanation.” Hashirama fidgeted, moving to turn but jerking back toward Tobirama. Hashirama held a hand to his own face, squeezing and massaging the skin of his cheeks as he heavily pondered. He stared off into a corner of the room. “Madara loved Izuna more than anyone else, and I had just barely managed to persuade him into these negotiations—”

—“I know this, brother, the deepest apologies could never—”

“Tobirama, you do understand that you have attacked a civilian?” Hashirama asserted. Another great pause filled the space between them. There was too much to say and little time for it. “You have laid hands on a civilian much smaller than yourself, a diplomatic ally, and the very person that has the most sway over Madara and, by extension, the Uchiha as a whole.” 

Even now, Hashirama's voice held great patience but left little room for escape. He spoke to understand, even as the fate of a unified Land of Fire looked as if it would crash down around him. 

“I need an explanation,” Hashirama said. “If I am to face Madara— for there is no doubt that Madara has already heard word— I require your reasoning.”

He looked Tobirama in the eye, concern and complexity swimming around his dark irises. Tobirama had since picked himself off the floor.

“I am sorry…” Tobirama’s head bowed. “I cannot offer you an explanation that Madara would accept. I am certain that the truth would only make him more furious than he already is.”

“You have bigger issues than Madara if you refuse to speak,” Hashirama said with an acute frown. “Without information from you, I can only assume the worst.”

Tobirama ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, especially out loud. But in the face of his brother, with such important things in the balance, Tobirama couldn’t hesitate. 

“We were involved long ago when we were but children… Perhaps for a series of weeks… Perhaps less,” Tobirama admitted, and to his slight surprise, Hashirama wasn’t fazed. Why would he be when he had also snuck off to see an Uchiha in his youth as well? Tobirama expected no less. He squared his shoulders, clasping his hands together as if delivering a report. “Seeing her after so long… She had brought up things that had happened, and I lost my temper.” His slender eyebrows wrinkled his forehead. He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I spoke in a foul manner. She, rightfully, retaliated… and I did the same tenfold.”

Tobirama nodded, thinking as to whether he had left anything significant out of his brief summary. Shame coated him like a blanket. It all sounded so trivial when put in such a way.

Hashirama placed his hands on his hips, casting his gaze toward the ceiling. He breathed in deeply, then out.

“Of all the women…” Hashirama sighed, letting his eyes close. “She did not sustain lasting damage, did she?”

“Of course not,” Tobirama defended, sounding almost insulted. “You think I would brutalize a council member unprovoked in the middle of the woods?” He shook his head, his fingers momentarily finding the hair just above his forehead. He raked the strands back like a comb. Tobirama’s eyes also fell shut. He took another breath in as if preparing himself for his next confession. “I pinned her by the neck.”

“By gods, Tobirama!”

“My aim was not to kill or injure.”

“I am sure she was petrified all the same! And you know as well as I that Madara would not see it that way,” Hashirama asserted. “All he will be able to think is that you attacked his companion when he was away—”

—“Please stop referring to her as this.”—

“You could have faintly touched the shoulder of her robes, and that would have been far too much aggression shown toward an Uchiha woman.” Hashirama shook his head.

Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“My regretful actions aside, I do not understand why it should matter whether she is a woman or not.”

“Because the Uchiha are of a different culture, brother. Only a handful of female Uchiha warriors have existed in their history, that being only so many you could have come across, and yet you had to choose Madara’s closest companion to pick a fight with!” He shook his head, letting it fall back into his hand again. “I must go tend to this. We can only hope that Madara remains in a headspace from which he can be talked down.”

Hashirama grabbed his haori, pulling it over his shoulders as he primed himself toward the door. Tobirama didn’t budge. He knew that the mess he made had to be mended by Hashirama. No one else could pull off such a feat.

“I am prepared to take full responsibility,” he said with certainty.

“Madara will certainly demand your head,” Hashirama countered gravely. “We can only hope that creativity finds me on my journey there.”

***

“Where have you been?” you snapped. Madara had barely made it to the compound before you were upon him. “You have been gone for hours!”

You barged out from the Uchiha compound, marching across the dirt clearing to Madara, who stood still. A massive beast was slung across his shoulder, its head handing over his back. 

He scowled. You spoke to him with quite the tongue on you for as long as he could remember. He hadn’t been particularly fond of it then, and ever since he had been chosen as the head of the Uchiha, his tolerance for your attitude had dwindled immensely. Madara checked you far more often, unashamed of using his title to silence you. Still, your familiarity with each other was enough to overpower formalities more often than he would have liked.

“Hunting,” he deadpanned. He spared a momentary glance at the beast draped over his armor.

You looked at it incredulously.

“Is that a deer?” The rest of the council, who were used to your spats with Madara, completely passed the two of you by. They carried their gear, chatting amongst themselves and paying little mind to what you were on about. “You know better than to hunt deer in Nara territory!” 

You placed your fists on your hips, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest after being pent up all afternoon. Of all the times for the Uchiha men to get restless, it had to have been the time you needed them most.

“Well, I will inform you now that while you and the rest of my kinsmen have disappeared for half a day, Tobirama Senju came to this place in search of you!” You huffed, too wrapped up in yourself to notice Madara’s darkened demeanor. You opened your mouth wide to continue, ready to spit venom and fire alike. “I do not even know where to start when it comes to the absolute nerve—”

“I am able to believe such things,” Madara interrupted, his intonation a tick lower than usual. The volume surprised you. He looked at you straight on with a severe air about him. “What did he want? It better have been a very important message to compensate for his coming to this place. Tobirama should know better than to show his face here.”

You sputtered, thrown off by not being able to finish your earlier thought. But with Madara’s words, you were suddenly too caught up in what he said to remember the entire rant you wanted to unleash. You blinked a few times. You had a whole tirade ready that you had carefully been scripting in your head since you dragged yourself back to the compound to await Madara’s return. Now, as things weren’t happening the way they had in your head, you found yourself thrown off.

“Only to deliver a scroll,” you stammered, trying to pick a direction. Your personal issues aside, was there a reason that Tobirama should have been hesitant to show himself at the Uchiha compound? “Did… something happen between you and Hashirama? Because Tobirama came to this place absolutely—”

“A scroll? Bah!” Madara shook his head, waving a hand. He began to march off to follow the rest of his men. “If you are asking just me, I would believe that Hashirama and I are on favorable terms,” he announced into the evening atmosphere. Madara spared a brief, singular glance back at you. “Unless Tobirama suggested otherwise… Even so, a discussion with Hashirama would be paramount before I believe a word that man speaks!” 

Even for his noises of annoyance, Madara appeared almost unconcerned. And while you could see the visible tension in his form on his dismayed expression, Madara continued on.

You followed behind him. You had never been able to keep up with Madara’s long and fast strides. You were convinced he walked like that on purpose. 

“Madara! Will you just let me speak?”

“You have been allowed to speak for the duration of this. Out with whatever is negging you so.”

The head of the beast he carried laid limply over his shoulder, or perhaps the better term would have been heads. It was some sort of two-headed deer with great antlers, a good portion of which dug into the back of Madara’s armor. It couldn’t have been comfortable to carry. 

You breathed in with certainty.

“While you were away, Tobirama had come to this place and raised a hand to me—”

“Madara! My friend! Talking about me, are you?” Hashirama’s voice drowned you out completely.

You turned in shock as Hashirama made his way up the hill, trudging through the dirt path with a great smile and wave of his hand. From the little time you had been acquainted with him, he had always been rather loud when he grew excited. Even during negotiations, the sheer volume of his voice was enough to hear from several rooms over. 

Madara turned as well with a sigh. He readjusted the deer on his shoulder.

“Will no one let me place this thing down?” He lamented to no one in particular. His voice rose when he called across the clearing. “What do you want, Hashirama?”

”No need to be so hostile, Madara!” Hashirama laughed, making short work of the distance between you. “Do I need a reason to visit?”

It was in one moment that you made eye contact. Hashirama’s gaze met yours, and in that connection, his eyes flickered from wide and jovial to wary. The upturned corner of his lip faltered, and it all happened in an undetectable fraction of a second.

He knew. 

There was noise all around you. Madara continued to speak, sighing and complaining as the noises of nocturnal bugs seemed to grow to an unbearable volume. Even the gentle evening breeze seemed to hit your ears in just the right way as to be almost deafening.

Despite how authentic it might have been, you knew that Hashirama’s upbeat and charismatic demeanor was a calculated tool. For as energetic as he was, there was always a certain volume that masked the way in which Hashirama played his cards close to his chest. 

And yet, for all the noise, it only took one look at Hashirama—one pointed gaze that pierced through his carefully crafted diplomatic demeanor—to understand your mutual situation instantly. 

He had come to begin damage control, and you had yet to tell Madara what Tobirama had done. As long as Hashirama wasn’t here to pick a fight, the discussions were still on the table, contrary to Tobirama’s earlier threat.

— “Hashirama?”

Madara’s voice cut through your mental stare. Hashirama’s shock was visible but melted quickly into an endearingly sheepish expression.

”My apologies, my friend, you must speak up!” he laughed. Madara groaned with a roll of his eyes, once again readjusting the deer on his shoulder. 

“I hardly have the time for these things!” He frowned. “What are you doing here, Hashirama? If you do not answer, we can settle your matter during daylight hours.”

“The sun still prevails!” Hashirama gestured loosely toward the setting sun, and in the golden light, you stole another pointed gaze toward each other. “But truly, I wanted to apologize for my brother.”

Madara glanced in your direction.

“Go inside.”

“You speak as if I have not participated in every diplomacy session for the last two sunsets,” you countered. 

Madara hardly had the time to eye you warily. And after a long hunt, Madara had too little patience for beating around the bush. He had truthfully wanted to be rid of you and Hashirama. But as he glanced between the two of you, he knew that trying to avoid one would pick a battle with the other. Reluctantly, Madara’s eyes settled on Hashirama.

“Tobirama should have been relieved that myself and the rest of the council were not here to humor his lapse in judgment,” Madara reluctantly gruffed with a deep scowl. “We may be engaging in peace negotiations, but bear in mind that the passing of my own brother was not all that long ago.”  

His words struck you, the weight of them looming overhead as your mind had yet to piece things together. 

“We may be on friendly terms with the Senju as a whole, but a killer entering our estate is pushing the limits on our… courtesy. Especially with a lady present with no guardian by her side.”

Madara didn’t talk much about Izuna or the nature of his death. Aside from the night Madara begged you to accompany him to the village negotiations, Izuna’s name hadn’t come up since, no matter how much you pushed.

You had wanted to talk about him so as not to let his memory fade, but Madara had refused to speak about the matter. You dropped it, a part of you trying to be understanding while the other was far too wrapped up in the fact that the ceasefire had turned your world upside down.

“Most certainly; we are in complete agreement.” Hashirama nodded profusely. “I will ensure that he will not play courier in the future.”

And yet, when Madara spoke of Izuna’s death to Hashirama on a random summer night in the clearing just outside the Uchiha dwellings, you knew the truth. You just didn’t quite believe it. It hadn’t hit you yet.

“That would be agreeable,” Madara agreed. A beat passed. Hashirama made no motion to leave or speak. “Anything else you wish to discuss?”

Hashirama stole another glance at you.

“Yes, in fact, this is not all I wanted to speak about—”

“I was not aware that Tobirama had been the one to kill Izuna,” you said, your voice projected by pure shock. But the volume aside, the words were enough to slice through the clearing and still the powerful men that stood before you. 

The entire sentence had been flat, devoid of shock, hurt, or anger. It was a statement in every sense of the word that nearly forced the air in the clearing to a thick, atmospheric standstill. 

It felt odd to say out loud like none of the words you spoke were words at all. You could feel the reality of it all floating around you, like tiny particles of truth hovering over your shoulders, ready to fill your chest like crashing waves. And yet, no sensation came. 

It was an objective truth devoid of sharpness, unable to penetrate the core of your soul. Reality felt numb, the shapes of things in your vision sharpening significantly as the most minute textures and details became glaring. 

You thought it would have felt as if the world was crashing down… and yet all you could feel was the warmth of the little embers that had been sparked in your chest.

Hashirama’s tongue recoiled as Madara turned toward you with regretful concern. 

“Is this true?” you asked. 

All Madara could do was look at you before deflating his chest with a deep sigh. He didn’t answer. Hashirama stood by. It didn’t take an emotional genius to recognize that now was hardly the time to have the conversation he had come all this way to have. And yet, the repercussions of leaving you and Madara to hash out the details surrounding his beloved brother’s death were even more daunting. 

“Hashirama—” It was another instance of Hashirama not being where his feet were. He blinked a few times, the motion of his surprise subtle as you and Madara stood closely before him. “Unless your matter is urgent, I must ask you to save this discussion for another date.”

Hashirama took a steady breath in, taking the nanosecond that he had to consider the facts in front of him. He saw Madara fatigued and moderately high-strung. And perhaps he could have worked with that if it wasn’t for the outlier: you. 

You stood by Madara’s side, having overstayed your welcome in the conversation long enough to have swerved the topic so off-topic that it would be impossible for Hashirama to even consider bringing up the indiscretion that Tobirama had committed against you. His brother had wronged both you and Madara. Hashirama knew he either had to nip it in the bud and risk making matters worse or leave the two of you alone. In doing so, he would be trusting that, for whatever reason, you would continue to hold your tongue about your interaction with Tobirama.

“Bah, woman, is it your intention to make things difficult? My shoulder has been bearing the weight of your dinner; I will have you know!”

“It is hardly the fault of my own!... Hunting in Nara territory… What were you thinking? You knew better than this!”

Madara scoffed.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Were not these the thoughts that clouded your brain when you held such crucial information away from me, Madara?”

Right. Right. 

Hashirama bobbed his head a few times and held one hand up to bid the two of you goodbye. Neither of you noticed. 

***

It always started with something like this: something that didn’t bother you until you and Madara bickered more and more. And suddenly, the jabs made half lightly turned into actual problems. Or perhaps they were problems when you initially picked a fight with him, masked by pettiness until you hardly had the restraint to hold your punches.

With Hashirama long forgotten, you bickered all over the Uchiha compound. Hell, you had exchanged words over Madara breaking down the deer he brought back. The antlers— you had decided over verbal blows— would be returned to the Nara to use in their medicine as a gesture of goodwill. Any additional meat that wasn’t roasted over the fire that the other Uchiha had been tending to outside would be salted and brought to the Nara aunties to be incorporated into the next day’s lunch. 

This all, of course, meant nothing to you in the face of the revelation you had uncovered during Madara’s and Hashirama’s conversation. 

“I had known that this would be the outcome,” Madara had sighed following a bombardment of questions. “I bring it upon myself at this point.”

It wasn’t until Madara was finished with all of his tasks and appeared to be looking for anything else to do that you finally cornered him on the engawa. 

“Why?” You had called into the night. 

You gazed at the back of Madara’s large form. Lanterns burned around you, casting a gentle, warm glow onto the wood at your feet. Fireflies and other creatures of the night hovered somewhere in the darkness, the blackness of the night making your wooden engawa feel like the only place in the world. And perhaps at that moment, the Uchiha dwellings were all that existed to you. 

“Was it a surrender?” you asked. You would nearly say you cried it, but no tears welled in your eyes. Your face scrunched, puzzled, as you tried to assemble the pieces. “Has this all been a convoluted way of us begging for our lives?”

Madara stood still, just like the world around you. You were sure he had something heated on his tongue, something along the lines of these things not affecting you. But it did affect you. 

Helplessness was not foreign to you, and yet, for everything that happened up until now, you have never felt as utterly helpless in your life.

You kept pushing and pushing him, knowing he would explode soon enough. But perhaps that was the point; you wanted him to explode. You wanted something, any sort of information that might make you feel less helpless than you felt. 

But for Madara’s infamous temper, he was resigned.

“I suppose it was a surrender in a sense,” he admitted. “For Hashirama defeated me in battle.” 

He kept talking, but you expected more. You expected to be told your place and to keep your nose out of things that weren’t your concern. 

It all made little sense to you. There was little logic to you in the first place. You were a simple apothecary— who shouldn’t have even had that position— becoming the most important Uchiha woman practically overnight. You shouldn’t have known a single detail. You shouldn’t have exchanged words with the Uchiha council, let alone national dignitaries. 

Madara was clan head. 

Madara should have been strong enough for the Uchiha. 

He was smarter than this. He was more driven than this, yet the Uchiha floundered on a field that wasn’t battle. Madara should have taken care of it all just as he promised! Madara shouldn’t have put any of it on your shoulders in asking you to be with him, especially if he knew he was out of his league. 

You wanted a fight.

You stared at the back of Madara’s head, watching as he began to retreat.

You took a deep breath in before you called, “And so you betray the last words of your brother?”

“Woman!” Madara roared for the first time that evening. He whipped around, the sheer tick in volume making you flinch. But even so, you faced him without fear, the ember in your chest flaring to life to form a great flame. You didn’t move from where you stood, even as Madara stepped forward. Your eyes widened in anticipation.

You were picking a lot of fights as of late.

He had a feral look in his eye that only intensified with the glow of his sharingan. The very sight of his red irises made you feel small, shrinking as you lowered your head, trying to hide your excited glee. You gritted your teeth, ready to engage in the verbal fisticuffs you graciously requested.

But to your disappointment, Madara almost seemed to deflate. His eyes closed as tension built up in his forehead. He ran a hand across his face with a deep sigh.

The nocturnal creatures of the forest continued to chirp around you. They were the only things keeping you anchored to the reality below your feet. 

“You want a story, do you?” Madara muttered in a soft tone that didn’t suit him. “You want me to tell you about my duel with Hashirama?”

His finger gently found the bottom of your chin. Madara tilted your head up before his arms coiled over his chest. It was another action that didn’t suit him, yet the night continued to surround you, enveloping you in a muted blanket of protection from the outside world. 

It felt like the summers of your youth. Festivities and special events happened during the day, leaving reprieve and anticipation to the night. The air in the Land of Fire was prone to mugginess to the point where it was almost stifling without the cool air that sailed through the trees. But even so, it smelled the same as it did back then. Your skin felt a bit sticky, but not to an overly uncomfortable extent. You were just warm, almost warm enough to sleep. 

“I had left our home in anger— in grief. I was fully intent on Hashirama and I killing each other the moment I tracked him down. And, as honorable as he is, Hashirama allowed the duel I sought. I suppose I should have known it would only result in a loss,” Madara narrated. Another victory for Hashirama was undoubtedly a blow to his ego, but Madara told the tale levelly. The tone in and of itself carried a great respect.

“And he had simply spared you,” you assumed.

“Nay,” Madara answered. “Hashirama had all the opportunity to finish me then and there. I had practically asked him to honor me with a warrior's death, for then perhaps I could have been reunited with Izuna… but instead, he presented me with a proposal.” Madara made a vague gesture. “This. These negotiations with the hope that we might stop fighting.”

You breathed. The lanterns flickered in the dark, only providing enough light to barely illuminate Madara’s somber face.

“And you believed him,” you finally spoke. “Why?”

Something flashed across Madara’s dark irises, a certain softness to pair with his regretful resignation.

“I would not expect you to understand,” he said. The corners of his lips dipped into a slight frown.

You let him simmer, once again unsatisfied. And truly, there was nothing else to do but probe, not when the Uchiha compound was the only thing comprising your world. Or perhaps it wasn’t the compound as much as it was the engawa upon which you and Madara stood.

“Do you consider that Hashirama believes in us as strongly as you believe in him?” you asked.

Another moment passed.

“Yes.”

“And what do you think of this in the context of all of this? Do you think Hashirama would be in favor of our equality in the village?”

“I believe that Hashirama holds pure intentions.” 

Hashirama, not the Senju. And certainly not the rest of the clans gathered. 

Your eyes narrowed.

“And you think that will make a difference?”

The embers in the lanterns suddenly flared, glowing only slightly bigger. The glow that cast across Madara’s face brightened for only a moment, making the shadows that enveloped his right side seem darker. His black hair held a golden sheen to it. 

“That is yet to be foreseen.”

***

Madara retired early that night. He decided he didn’t want to talk any further, rejecting all speak about Hashirama and Tobirama. Like before Hashirama’s visit, any further mention of Izuna was once again forbidden. But despite one thing in its singularity returning to normal, Madara, ever physical, arrogant, and stubborn, appeared far more pensive as of late. 

He was quiet. It was odd seeing him so quiet. It felt wrong seeing a fighter such as Madara so limp. Despite what your teenage self would have protested, you almost missed Madara’s pompous confidence and self-righteousness. As tiring as he was, his attitude always gave him a spark: a fire that had been missing ever since his defeat at the hands of Hashirama. 

You wanted to ask him, “Where is your fire?”

Perhaps it was because the context of bloodshed was the only place he knew how to fight in the first place. He might have known no other way. And yet, it was odd— painful even— to see Madara out of his element. 

He seemed lost, pushing toward a goal he did not even know how to achieve. His seemingly blind loyalty to Hashirama was another mystery. While Hashirama was undoubtedly a great man, you could hardly say you knew much about him. You undoubtedly didn’t know enough to wrap your head around Madara’s unyielding trust in the man whose throat he’d held a kunai to for a lifetime. Perhaps he was right when he said you wouldn’t understand. 

Perhaps none of it was Hashirama at all. A greater part of you knew that it wasn’t the defeat that plagued Madara’s mind, and that idea holed itself somewhere in the back of your thoughts. 

You couldn’t sleep. 

The memory of Izuna haunted you, something you thought you shoved into a neat lockbox the night Madara came to the apothecary. You hardly remembered him for his last, bitter interaction with you following the Uchiha council’s meeting, but rather the night following the failed raid on the Uchiha settlement. You remembered how he stood in your apothecary, surrounded by candlelight, marred by blood and gore despite his clean hands. 

“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you had asked him, banking on Izuna picking up the subtext you were too afraid to say out loud. 

There was a brief moment, a second of thought, where you wondered if saying the quiet part out loud would have made a difference. Instead, he haunted you: a spirit of a dear childhood friend, a brother in all aspects but blood, and a potential of something and nothing that faded with the strike of Tobirama Senju’s sword.

Tobirama Senju: another man you wanted to forget. You refused to think of him at all. The mere thought of him made you cringe, yet the rage he had spurred on brought you here.

It was the one place where you thought you could feel a semblance of control over your present. You could sit in the council chambers and imagine what it would look like to have a novel idea. But now, you found yourself hiding again, pressed against a wooden beam in the dark as hushed voices deliberated inside. 

The memory of the initial meeting flashed across your thoughts as you stood outside the discussion hall. You had long since extinguished your lamp, holding it near your hip and close to the ground as you flared your sharingan. Your back met the outside of the hall, unabashedly listening in on the muffled conversation within. 

The walls were made of paper, as was traditional, and any structure that wasn’t made of paper was made of wood. The walls of the Uchiha meeting hall were made similarly, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your many nights of peering through those cracks were to prepare you for this very moment. 

You were drawn to the hall, following only aimless instinct after your discussion with Madara.

“And you think it wise to offer the Uchiha such a central location?” You heard. You weren’t acquainted well enough with all the clan heads to properly recall who was speaking. It sounded like Hyūga if you were to take a guess. A laugh resounded from inside the meeting room.

“Do you desire their proposed allocation?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then leave it be,” the second voice said, “You knew as well as I that any intelligence that Madara holds ends at the battlefield. Best to get them out of the way now. From there, we have more room to talk policy.”

The voices drifted, and as the collection of clan leaders trickled into the hall, you swiftly fled into the forest line to lie in wait. The collection of clan leaders slowly trickled out of the conference building, chattering amongst themselves. The head of the Fuma clan, an old ally of the Uchiha, and Inuzuka, to your surprise, were among the gathered. 

It was long past sunset, but that didn’t seem to affect the way they loitered outside the conference hall before slowly departing back toward their respective dwellings. You observed their hushed whispers from the canopy of a tree, sitting amongst rough wood and biting insects until the clan heads and their respective trustees left into the dark. 

You waited. You waited a few moments longer to ensure they all had left before you dismounted from your hiding place. Slowly, you approached the hall and quietly slipped in the door. 

The negotiation hall was still. And only when you determined that no one was left in the building did you relight the ember of your lantern. You scoured the rooms, starting with the one the three clan heads had just met in.

You weren’t surprised when you found it exactly how it had been set up. The room was spotless, with everything neatly in place, as you’d expect from high-ranking shinobi. 

You wandered to the main negotiation room just down the hall, where all the clan heads would gather again the next morning. It, too, was still.

You placed your lamp down at the table, taking a seat in Madara’s chair. You gazed across the room at where Hashirama would sit the next day. A neutral painting hung on the wall above his seat.    

You thought about the way Madara reluctantly consented to your use of the sharingan to record the conversation. You thought back to the charged looks exchanged between you, Madara, Hashirama, and Tobirama. How could you forget? 

You took a small stack of pages from your robes, a quill from your hair, and a bottle of ink from a string around your waist. You kept an internal record of the meeting and, by extension, a written one. Papers quickly consumed your waking hours since the discussions began. 

The other council members, Madara included, hardly touched papers, let alone put a quill to them. And plot to undermine the Uchiha aside, the whispering clan heads were correct. The Uchiha council were warriors through and through. The entire council had been chosen through battle, as Madara had been chosen as clan head. Scribing was not in their wheelhouse, nor was it in their interests.

It had only been a short time since negotiations began, hardly a week, let alone a handful of days. The Uchiha had yet to give a formal dissertation. Rather, Madara spoke strongly about what he was in favor of, what ideas he rejected, and almost predominantly off-cuff when it came to any ideas he had of his own. Ones that he almost always failed to share with you until it mattered.  

You had penned a few of these rough notes down on the pages below your wrists. As you studied the pen strokes, you couldn’t help but consider that many of Madara’s ideas were strikingly coherent, branching into topics from economic policy to the village grid. However, they lacked structure, well-thought-out details, and were surface-level at best. It didn’t matter how good his speeches were or how well you penned your notes if they couldn’t hold up to basic probing. 

The Uchiha didn’t have a proposal, especially not in the way that other clans did, but were expected to speak soon. Other clans were far better with organization, preparing lengthy dissertations and proposals that would be open for discussion and, ultimately, a vote. A haphazard way of running things, the proposed ideas were arranged by category and run through several rounds of deliberations and cuts until the most popular compromise prevailed.

You studied your handwriting, and the ink started to look less and less like words. You couldn’t make sense of it either, and for all the times your breath hitched when Madara should have done something different during the conference, you had no better ideas yourself. Rather, it took several read-throughs to wrap your head around the complex topics, hardly knowing a good idea from a bad one.

The Uchiha were a battle-minded clan, and you were a woman apothecary who was almost entirely self-taught. Then there was Madara. His struggle with bureaucratic competency aside, he might not have said it, but Madara was incredibly invested in a village of unity. You could see it when you spoke on the engawa. Madara himself aside, it was the only way forward where the Uchiha could even think of seeing the future. 

You considered your leverage and the grief that plagued Madara’s heart. Finally, the unlikely last piece of the puzzle was the negotiations as a whole. 

You gathered the documents and slid them into a hidden compartment of your robes for safekeeping. The warm glow of the tiny ember in your lamp illuminated your face in golden orange light before you blew the flame out. The smoke wafted up into the air, leaving the scent of burning in your nose.

***

A water fixture sat near the Senju dwellings. And at the risk of sounding dubious with your words, its structure felt very Senju in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The water ran from a small pond adorned with lilies and tall grasses and down a manufactured stream lined with round river stones. 

You made your way through the yard, stopping in the center to watch the stream run across the stone. Although, it appeared you weren’t quite as stealthy as you thought you were.

“I could have sworn you were Madara coming to take my head for my transgressions.” 

When you turned, Tobirama was ducking through the doorway and emerging out from the darkness of the Senju dwellings and onto the engawa. You turned away from the stream, quelling the startled jump in your chest. He was, after all, who you had come to see. 

Tobirama’s expression was neutral: neither pleased nor displeased with your arrival at the Senju dwellings so late at night. His surprise, however, was palpable in the air. The feeling was mutual.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word, Tobirama stepped down from the tall engawa and onto the ground below. It all happened quickly: the near effortless leap to the garden to meet you, your panicked step back, and as Tobirama began to bow, you had quickly ordered him to stop.

He had made it to one knee, seeming to freeze in place with the one word for him to halt. It was another instance where you had confused the both of you. His eyes cast down somewhere random; his forehead crinkled as he pondered his actions and wondered where he had gone wrong. Tobirama placed his other knee on the ground and gripped the pebbles below, fully intending to repent with a deep bow. 

Clans and other politics were far from his mind. He was ready to place his pride aside to grovel, but you scolded him again.

“Stop.” It was hard to determine exactly what your tone was. Not quite angry, not quite frightened, your voice was far from neutral and yet far too composed to place an emotion properly. As much as your heart beat loudly in your chest, Tobirama hardly knew better. How could he in the face of your scornful gaze? “Get up.”

Tobirama made piercing eye contact from his bowed position. You stood a distance before him, fists balled and jaw tensed. 

Slowly, he rose to his feet. Even when his face was nearly on the ground, Tobirama held a presence over the courtyard, and the energy he reined over hardly dwindled as he stood at his full height.

He was tall, perhaps even taller than Madara, and yet you hardly felt the domineering presence you grew used to in the Uchiha settlement. You practically expected it from a warrior as bulky and stoic as Tobirama. He seemed to have grown bitter in the years you had been apart. Hardened. Logical. And yet the dark chakra that seemed to drip from Madara in spades was not present in the Senju courtyard. 

Tobirama almost made himself another fixture of the garden, one you might glaze over if your eyes were to bounce across the foliage. You weren’t great at sensing the chakra of others unless the output was explicit— you were hardly one to use jutsu on a regular basis— but if Tobirama was letting any of his energy slip, you couldn’t sense an ounce. He was calm, ready to accept whatever punishment you were there to serve him.

In fact, he reminded you of…

“Is it true that you were the one who had slain Izuna?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quicker than you thought it would. In its singularity, the word was void of a brag or a boast. It came quickly, the noise not overstayed in the air—a singular truth.

You huffed, squaring your shoulders as you swiftly marched forward. You hitched the sleeve of your robes as you did, quickly closing the gap between the two of you as you wound up for a hefty strike. You walked until you were directly in front of Tobirama, arm cocked and at the ready. But for as quickly as the ember inside of you had flared to life, it extinguished into little more than smoke.

Tobirama had closed his eyes, and you hadn’t noticed that he had actually lowered himself a bit to allow better access to strike his face. When the hit didn’t come, he opened his eyes again, ever-neutral. 

You took a step back and lowered your arm, and it wasn’t until you were a few steps away that Tobirama stood tall once more. Then, he waited. 

“Hashirama and Madara… they have met before,” you spoke the accusation softly. 

“Yes, they were friends once.” His voice rumbled like he was narrating a story. Tobirama was straightforward, and the new information came with neither fondness nor judgment. After all, who was Tobirama to judge the way in which Madara and Hashirama met?

 You took a deep breath in before letting a steady stream of air out. The motion melted some of the tension in your shoulders. It was just one new piece of knowledge you didn’t know before, yet the affirmation of your suspicions somehow made you feel slightly less alone.

“Did they meet—” You only wondered momentarily if you should say the quiet part out loud. — “Were they like us? The way we met?”

“I suppose,” Tobirama answered. “Although—” He glanced away for a moment that barely caused a pause in his words before meeting your eyes once again. —- “I hardly believe that the two of them were doing anything like… what we were doing.” 

You quickly tore your gaze away.

“You have become bitter and vulgar.”

“It is simply the truth.”

The small stream continued to trickle behind you, and the sound of water pouring over water was a constant background noise to your aimless conversation. You took another deep breath. 

“You have more,” Tobirama said. Aside from the few times you had witnessed his temper, you found that Tobirama tried to hold things close to his chest. This included the question behind his simple, three-letter sentence. You wondered, during the time between him talking and you answering, if it was because of his temper that he tried to keep so stoic.

“While Madara certainly seems confident that the Senju will not betray us, I would like a safety net.”

“The Senju have no intentions of betraying the Uchiha,” Tobirama put plainly and curtly. He pushed back on you a bit more forcefully this time, red irises boring into you. “Might I remind you that Hashirama took the initiative and spared the Uchiha—”

“I do not truly care for the minutia.” You didn’t know the whole story, but you weren’t about to let Tobirama know that.

“Well, you should.” The corner of his lips twitched downward slightly, but he gave little else. “If you are to engage in these negotiations, I would advise you to keep the details in mind.” 

“It does not take a genius to realize that the Uchiha are perceived as a threat to be undermined during negotiations.”

“We are the wrong people to be having these discussions.” His words came out more like a sigh, despite the mounting pressure of your exchange.

Tobirama shook his head, melting a bit into a more relaxed stance as he did. He was certainly still tense, but the deflating of his shoulders only highlighted the stress that had filled them moments ago. 

“Hashirama has no intention of acting in any other way than good faith. He and your clan head want this village to become a reality the most, you know,” he said.

Tobirama waited for you to respond, pursing his lips inward. He nodded a few times as if something else was on his mind. The time that passed when you didn’t respond appeared to make him restless.

“Your people will defend themselves as much as you will collaborate with others,” he continued. “It is truly not so different than any other negotiation you have done. Perhaps even similar to that of your alliances with the Fuma and the Hagoromo.”

“Most certainly,” you said, vaguely recalling the exchange of sake cups between the two allied clan heads with little other discourse. The Uchiha had, after all, been the most powerful force in the area, and an alliance saved both clans from being pushed from their territories. They had little to stand on other than a few generations of goodwill and Madara’s favor.

“I am confident the proposal that Madara has written up is a strategy that will give every scribe a run for their coin indeed,” Tobirama huffed begrudgingly.

“Most certainly.” You nodded, wondering if you had missed word about a monetary fee. You didn’t quite understand him. It must have been a Senju turn of phrase.

The stream continued to babble in the background. The night only seemed to grow darker, almost completely enveloping the lone lantern that glowed at the far end of the compound. Even so, the light was enough to make out the bare minimum of your surroundings, and your superior vision made up for the rest. Tobirama didn’t appear bothered by the lack of light. You wondered if he felt just as nostalgic meeting in the dark as you did. 

“Madara does not have a plan, does he?”

“Most certainly not.” You probably shouldn’t have answered so honestly, especially in the context of the negotiations and your long, strained history with Tobirama Senju, but he was going to deduce it either way. “That is why I am here.”

Tobirama’s bottom lip tensed. You could tell he was trying to fight a disdainful scowl. He wasn’t doing a great job. 

“Did my brother not already pay a visit to the Uchiha dwellings?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did I not already try offering you my deepest apologies—” You hummed in confirmation. — “To which you had refused?”

“You can offer your apologies in a different way—you know politics and formalities. You are good with your words. Seeing you at the unity banquet was enough to know this.” You squared your shoulders, tilting your chin up. Your gaze drifted away momentarily as you fished for the documents in your robes. “You may offer your apologies by assisting the Uchiha in formulating a compelling proposal—”

“Absolutely not.”

— “That will ensure our fair share of resources and land in the unified village. And the Senju will back us on the matters we pursue.” You held out the notes you took. Tobirama barely craned his neck to glance at them before he crossed his arms over his chest. “That is how you can repent for laying your hands on me… and for striking down Izuna.”

Tobirama’s piercing gaze flickered up to yours. He apparently gave up his efforts to suppress his scowl. 

“You are absolutely mad.”

“I believe that I am being fairly calm.”

He leaned forward, bending slightly at the waist. His arms were still coiled over his chest.

“You are absolutely out of your head,” Tobirama corrected, gesturing to his temple before returning to his upright position. You understood that one. Tobirama nearly waved you off then and there. “You know that what you demand is impossible, just as much as it is ethically dubious. You cannot expect this of me with any ounce of true seriousness. This is all not to mention that the thing you hold is hardly even a proposal! They, they— they are scribbles at best.”

“If your answer is no, then perhaps your clan— as well as the others— should be aware of your actions,” you snapped, pulling out the weapon that Tobirama was waiting all this time to hear. “The Uchiha are out of their league. I would rather utilize your skillset than cause waves amongst the clans, but I will do so if I must.”

“If that is what you deem appropriate, then so be it,” Tobirama spoke sharply. A pang reverberated throughout your chest. He had called your bluff. “Actions have consequences, and I am ready to atone for my own.” 

“I am presenting a way for you to now.”

“I would have much preferred if you struck me if I can speak candidly,” Tobirama muttered. He shifted where he stood, shaking his head. His shoulder jerked back to adjust the way his robes sat. “I cannot play advisor for Madara. I apologize; I cannot do this for you… There are boundaries for these things.”

Tobirama spoke in the way he always did: neutrally, resigned, and lacking in true harshness despite the nature of his words. He stared at you, once again waiting for you to speak. 

“Well then,” you spoke, having little clue what was actually going to come out of your mouth next. You stood a bit straighter, steeling your resolve. You placed a hand over your chest. “Play advisor to me. Review what I have written. Ensure that Hashirama supports it by daylight.”

Tobirama said nothing as he quirked an eyebrow. And slowly, his cold exterior began to crack from the brows down. He snorted, his shoulders bouncing as his head dropped into an amused swivel. 

You hardly noticed how your breath hitched or when you began holding it. But when the air left your chest, it did so with a stuttering, burning huff. The hiccups between the stream of air held the remaining face you held. 

And not one to be laughed at, you turned to leave.

Tobirama only spoke as you began to march away.

“Alright.”

The singular word made you freeze in your tracks. Tobirama’s head dipped again somewhere behind you, bobbing a few times as his arms uncoiled and his hands found his hips. By the time you turned around, Tobirama’s mouth had formed a tight line, barely restraining the amused smirk that tugged at his cheeks. 

“Pardon?” You blinked.

“Alright,” he repeated, the semblance of a smile melting into a serious expression once more. “My debt is to you, not Madara,” he hummed with a bounce of his brows. “I will take a look at your drafts as long as they were written by you.” Tobirama nodded in affirmation, gesturing toward you to accent his counteroffer.

You breathed in, an awful pang reverberating through your chest. Overcome by a moment of pure instinct and guts, you hadn’t thought he’d take you seriously. 

Wait—

“And you are aware that I know nothing of politics!” You gulped, a part of you thinking that perhaps Tobirama would revoke his consent in favor of your earlier proposition. 

What were you thinking?

“Not much less than Madara from your explanation,” Tobirama muttered with another bounce of his light eyebrows. 

“That is different!” you snapped. “Madara is at least a—” 

The sight of Tobirama’s narrowing eyes made you falter. They moved almost independently of the rest of his face, shrinking inward in scrutiny before returning to their original size. It all happened with one subtle beat, but it was enough to throw you off your train of thought.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Tobirama continued,

“You have put these ideas belonging to Madara to paper. Continue to do this. Probe him for details, granted he has them, and have the draft approved by Madara. I will assist you in polishing the final product.” Tobirama nodded, almost seeming to warm up the idea in real time as the corner of his mouth dipped in thought. “The Uchiha will receive what they fight for— I cannot make guarantees— but in terms of atonement, I agree to guide your strategy.”

Your strategy. He spoke as if you were some military officer.

“It is a deal.” You didn’t give yourself time to think. You couldn’t afford it, and if you changed your mind later, you were sure you could burn that bridge when you got to it. He was giving you exactly what you wanted, after all. You had little room to complain after the fact.

You offered Tobirama a nod, wanting little else than to retreat. But when you turned on your heel to disappear into the night, Tobirama called your name. 

It spilled from his lips in an almost questioning tone, as if he had something to add, but the fact that he had called you at all made you stop in your tracks. The syllables sounded weird coming from him, and it occurred to you that it was the first time you heard him speak your name in years. 

You turned, your heart beating heavily and steady in your chest as you met Tobirama’s eye. He cleared his throat.

“The blackmail—” His head dipped as if you were trying to hide the way his lips contorted into a slight smile before his gaze returned to yours. —“It was a nice touch.”

Your voice stalled in your throat.

“I am sure that it will make you think twice the next time you are about to behave brutishly,” you oped with a frown. It was officially too late in the night for further repartee. 

“Certainly it shall.” Tobirama bowed his head, and when he looked up, you were gone.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Part of me wanted to make everything up until now split into Act I and Act II, with this section being maybe Act II or III. Because it feels like a different story, doesn't it? And it feels like it's just starting. This is where the crux of what I wanted to write is actually coming which is crazy. Go figure... 11 chapters of set up.

A recommendation for the Madara fans; The Head, The Neck (Madara x Reader) reads like an alternate universe in which you let Madara marry you. Unfortunately, 'tis only a oneshot. Foul Creature did have a sister series that also took place in the village negotiations and featured Madara as the main love interest. However, I don't think I'll drop the link to that since I don't have plans to update it anytime soon.

I think I'm going to set a loftier goal for the next chapter. I miss Yonji and want to write a chapter of ... And the Beast before chapter 12 of this series. This one is also so long it should be enough content to hold everyone over. Let's set it at 100 likes and 50 reblogs, no restrictions. See you later.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

| Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)|

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

[crimsoncandy04]

Good day! Tomorrow or later I should say because it's already 10:41 pm, it's my birthday! Dec 29, can you please make Scaramouche is obsessed with us? Like OBSESSED OBSESSED, make this as my birthday gift please! 🥹

As you wish. (I can't say no. I'm now bound by birthday law. When the special boy or girl makes a birthday request, one simply MUST comply. This is what the ancient texts state. Otherwise the stars will declare thee an absolute asshole for at least a year.)

Happy birthday! I hope this is to your liking ;) and may you see many more yearly returns after this!

(I really tried. Usually I take a while to write because my inspiration is slow to come and quick to leave. But I really wanted to give you something. I hope this doesn't read as rushed.)

TW: Paimon abuse.

❤️💜���❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜

Recently a bunch of strange things had been happening to you and Traveler. First a bunch of your supplies had been discovered missing one morning (Traveler had blamed themselves and believed they had probably just neglected to notice some stuff falling out of their backpack while fighting), but a few hours later, both of you were swore you were being followed too (Traveler could recognize human footsteps but every time they tried to turn around and go scout the area for thieves, there was no one around), after that a few days later, you would discover that your favorite sweater had vanished from your tent, Traveler had their tent knocked over completely one night, and even woke up with their clothing sewn into the floor of it the next day.

If you didn't know any better, you'd have guessed a vengeful spirit was stalking you both. And that these cruel and disturbing pranks were its way of exacting revenge.

But that couldn't be possible right?

Thankfully the activity had ceased for a few days after the last misfortune had befallen Traveler, and both of you had hoped that you could rest easy before finally heading to explore the nation of geo for the first time ever!

It was an exciting idea. However, the night before you two were supposed to set off, something happened again and this time it was serious.

Paimon had been hurt.

It wasn't serious thankfully.

But someone had been cruel enough to think that chucking a rock at her head would be funny and after picking up a bleeding and weeping Paimon from the grass, Traveler had had enough and grabbed their sword and said they were going to catch this monster once and for all. They then left Paimon in your care as they left the campsite and headed into the trees. A look of pure unbridled hatred and silent fury in their golden eyes.

And so after that, you spent a little while sitting next to the tiny sleeping fairy inside Traveler's tent and watching over her.

You hadn't been expecting to suddenly hear footsteps outside of your own empty tent across the small clearing sometime later after nightfall.

You became eerily still.

Something didn't feel right.

It was too quiet.

Why was Traveler just hanging around outside?

You slowly got up and headed for the opening in the tent to see if your friend was okay, but just as you were about to pull back the fabric and look out, something in your very spirit made you stop dead.

Call it intuition.

Or a gut feeling.

But something in you was telling you to stay quiet and not let whoever was out there hear you.

So was this a thief?

You instinctively reached for your dagger in the pocket of your coat. You weren't the fighter here. This was true. You were the healer to Traveler's warrior but that's what kept you guys compatible on the battlefield and friends everywhere else.

However that didn't mean you didn't know how to stab someone in self defense if you needed to.

A strange soft yet sinister voice suddenly caught your attention from outside.

"Your friend has gone to play hero again. Leaving you to care for that...thing."

That voice was familiar. But where had you heard it before?

You clutched your weapon tighter.

"They're foolish. Leaving someone like you to care for the injured. Someone who... can't even manage to grasp their weapon properly."

You barely had time to scream before you realized that the voice was in the tent with you. Strong hands moving to cover your mouth and wrap around your waist as you feel someone's cool breath against your ear.

"Don't fight me. I'd hate to start off on the wrong foot by stunning you." The voice cooed in your ear. You had been trying to turn your head and kick. But your attacker sensed your intention and easily knocked you unconscious with one swift strike to your head.

You woke up later laying in a strange bedroom. The scent of incense and a strange perfume filling the air.

You try to sit up but something prevents you. You feel with your hands and discover that you are quite literally chained to the bedframe behind you. A thick metal collar and chain leash secure you in place. You can roll over but that's about it.

"Sleep well?" The same voice from earlier asks. You look around the dim candle-lit bedroom and see a barely illuminated figure standing at the foot of the bed.

"Why did you bring me here? Who even are you?" You ask cautiously. Afraid of accidentally angering your kidnapper in your defenseless state.

"You caught my interest. So I decided to keep you."

"Are you serious? You can't do that! What about my friend? He'll wonder if I'm dead!"

The figure was on you in the blink of an eye. It was then that you finally see him clearly.

A beautiful young man with thick indigo hair and eyes framed by elegant maroon colored eyeliner. He was breathtaking.

And suddenly you almost didn't care that he was sitting on your stomach and pinning your hands on either side of your head.

"Don't talk about those insignificant beings. Never again. from now on only talk about me okay?" You didn't know if this was jealousy or ego from the way he said it but you really didn't wanna push your luck. However, he seemed to misunderstand.

"I wasn't insinuating anything. Traveler is like my sibling-gah!" Suddenly the pale man's hand wrapped around your throat.

"of course it's them. That annoying pest is always ruining things for me. Listen closely starlight, because I'm only going to warn you once..." He leans down and whispers in your ear.

"I better not ever hear that name leave your mouth after today. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I need to. Don't push me." He then loosens his hold but doesn't pull away entirely.

Instead shifting in his position and laying on top of you before kissing you deeply. You moan a little as you feel him shove his tongue in your mouth and move to spread your legs so he can be between them. His hardness already catching your attention as you feel him grind against you almost roughly.

"relax. Don't be nervous. I promise I'll make this hurt in all the right ways only~" the man teased as he broke the kiss and began to leave small kisses on your chest and stomach.

Why did this feel good? This was a bad man. You didn't even know his name!

You feel him tugging your underwear aside and giving your clit a gentle lick.

It was enough to make you audibly gasp.

"look at you, making just the most disgustingly cute noises~" he gives your clit more attention. Holding your thighs apart as he sucked and licked at your precious nub even as you started shaking.

"ah~ suck harder ~ please mister!" You feel him hum against your cunt as he hears your wanton plea.

"it's Scaramouche sweetheart. Use it." He then continued to tease your pussy with his lips and tongue as you started to feel your insides flutter.

"Scaramouche~ don't stop! Fuck this is amazing...!" You try to squeeze your thighs but scara keeps them forced apart still. You're stuck as you feel him suddenly shove his tongue deep into your pussy. Tasting your soft and moist inner walls as you suddenly cry out. This sensation pushes you over the edge completely and you end up climaxing harder than you ever had in your entire life.

Scaramouche licks the side of his mouth and grins mischievously at you from between your legs. Mumbling something about how adorable you look when at his mercy.

He isn't finished though.

You watch as Scaramouche begins to remove a few layers of his clothes until he gets to his shorts. Easily tugging them down and freeing his cock afterwards. Your eyes widen.

There was definitely a reason he tried to get you excited first.

Scaramouche was huge.

It felt like a threat on your life actually.

Especially when he teased his tip at your entrance and then finally began to slide more of his enormous shaft into you.

You try to say something but he quickly covers your mouth with his hand.

"shh...you can handle it. Relax."

You wince a little as you feel your body struggling to accommodate Scara's dick. Yet once it's finally in, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before pulling nearly all the way back out and then suddenly slamming into you.

It takes him kissing you again to keep you from screaming as both pleasure and pain overwhelmed every inch of your body.

Why? You were so confused right now. This shouldn't feel good yet...

"scara you're too big! Ah~" he doesn't let you finish before thrusting against your sweet spot. HARD.

He has a smug look on his face.

"I knew you could take it. Fuck. You feel better than I imagined~" he groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and began to pound deeper into your aching cunt. Making you practically mewl as you clung to him as well.

"I waited for so long, for just the right moment...and finally after making that bastard leave...I could have you ~" he grunted as he placed another messy kiss on your lips.

You felt both good and bad shivers run down your spine at his words.

It had been him?

Scaramouche had been the one tormenting you and Traveler for the past week? Why?

He seemed to read your mind.

"because you caught my attention. You... interested me. And I decided to keep you. You're not leaving. Don't ever try." He emphasized his words with an almost painful thrust against your cervix.

You moaned uncontrollably as he then did it again and again.

"This body is mine. I'll use it how I please. I'll breed this pretty cunt every day if I want~"

You feel yourself getting close again.

Why were his words turning you on so much?

Fuck you wanted him to ruin you.

He quickened his pace after a few minutes and you knew he was getting close as well.

His possessive gaze fell on your flushed face and bouncing tits and for a second you swore you saw something reminiscent of affection in his eyes. Yet it was quickly replaced by coldness again and lust.

So that was why...?

Scaramouche loved you...

Maybe that was why this was bearable to you.

Did you perhaps feel a little attracted to him as well? You looked at him through watery eyes and felt your heart race upon seeing his piercing gaze meet yours.

Yes. You did like him. At least a little.

Scaramouche finished inside you not long after this realization of yours. You ended up cumming together and after that he went to actually lay beside you for a bit. Pulling you against his chest as he played with your hair and just seemed to get lost in the feeling of you on his arm.

This wasn't so bad.

The bedroom you were locked in was rather spacious and extravagant looking. You were laying upon soft silken sheets and the perfume from earlier made you feel relaxed and comfortable where you lay.

He could have locked you in a basement.

Clearly it wasn't that bad here.

And Scaramouche wasn't bad either.

You hugged him tightly and fell asleep in his arms.

This psychotic stalker may have gone about his feelings the wrong way. But he seemed to not be a danger to you.

And so for now, you reasoned...

That you could love him too.

❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜

[alostlovergirl]

Marriage of Convenience

(Not my gif)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: He really needs a wife.

Tags: arranged marriage, some of Loki questioning his feelings (?), reader questioning her feelings (?)

Note: This is going to have a few parts… so let’s see how much I can pump out of this story.

Part 2: The Marriage Pt3: The Sex

It started out as a simple suggestion. “If you want to be around her so much, why not marry her?”, more as an unfunny joke from his father rather than a suggestion and it earned an eyeroll from the teenage prince of mischief with a huff. He didn’t think about it, simply feeling seen and comfortable with his childhood best friend, spending all the time he was supposed to be training with her. She was a just a random villager that he met as a young child when she snuck into his room during a party his father threw. They have been inseparable since, building a nice friendship that would last for lifetimes as his mother would put it. This friendship also gained her family royal protection, keeping Loki’s friend safe from all harm that would be sent Asgard’s way. Now, since he was being forced into an arranged marriage to a woman he barely knew, he was starting to consider asking her to marry him.

He makes his way to the city, thinking about how he was about to ask her. Should he be direct about it? Or should he try to sugarcoat this as much as possible so that his friend wouldn’t think he was weird? It was a dire situation for him because he didn’t want to marry at all, he wanted to be free to do as he please, not have a wife or husband nagging him 24/7 about his kingly duties. He wanted a throne, but not like this. Thor gave up the throne, in pursuit of being a warrior that protects Asgard instead of a king, leaving the crown to the second and youngest son. This marriage came about for him to accept the crown, with a wife by his side or he could forget about even inheriting the throne. He walks past the townspeople, going towards a small stone house in the middle of the city, a smile gathering on his face. He was always excited, like a little puppy, to see his best friend cause its his little chance to be happy for a few hours a day. He made for his favorite woman no matter what he was doing, even if he was injured from a battle, he would limp his way to her to come lay on her couch, listening to her worry about his wellbeing.

He loved her… well being her friend. The two of them were perfect for each other, in more ways than Loki is ready to admit right now. He knocks on the door, standing back from her oak door, looking over the tidy little home she has made for herself. As soon as she opened the door, he is greeted by his smiling friend with a laundry basket being held into her hip by her forearm. “My prince.”

He snorts a reply. “You know I don’t like you calling me that...” That just made her laugh a bit, immediately letting the god into her home, closing the door and trapping in the warm air in her home. He liked being in her home. It was so much more comforting than his chaotic life of royalty. It was a nice place for him to relax, especially when she gives him an empty, golden mug and fills it with his favorite wine. “You owe me 90 coins for that expensive ass wine, mister.” She teases him, smiling before going back to her little area in the middle of her carpet, scrubbing at her clothes. Loki followed her into the laundry room and sits in a stool in the corner, resting the mug in between his leather cladded thighs, watching her wash her clothes vigorously.

“So, what brings you to my home, friend?” she asked, peering up at him as she scrubbed up and down with the soapy brush, hands already rough from the number of times she has scrapped herself.  Her question fogged his mind because he never really thought about how he should ask her to marry him. He has never shown no type of interest towards her, considering he never let himself feel those types of feelings, making this more difficult to imagine her having a positive reaction to his proposal, but unless he marries the spoiled brat of a princess that he is going to be promised to soon, he better just come out with it. He takes a deep breath, picking up his mug and chugging it before putting it down on the floor. The God kneels in front of his friend, grabbing her hands from the warm water and squeezing them tightly. “I need your help... and this is not like me to ask for help as you know, but I am about to be promised to a woman that I simply cannot marry...”

Her eyebrow raised, confusion filling her face as soon as he grabbed her hands with such a tenderness that she had never seen. Loki, being a trickster, every time he has seen her, he has scared the living shit out of her. Now, here he was, unexpectedly popping up at her door and looking at her with such desperation in his eyes. Just how bad was this woman that he was being betrothed too? She relaxes her shoulders and looks at him, a nervous smile appearing on her face as she wonders how much trouble she is going to be in for the idea he is about to suggest. She was already on Odin’s trouble list. Nothing could have possibly prepared her for what he was about to ask her to do.

“I am going to invite you to dinner tonight... and I am going to propose to you in front of my father, mother, brother and my betrothed. It will pull me out the engagement with her and it will put me in an engagement with you.” He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t asking her to accept a marriage proposal to him and possibly uproot her peaceful life to being in the public eye 24/7. She went quiet, not sure how to respond and not making eye contact with him as she thought about the suggestion. “You are basically asking me to enter a fake marriage with you? Would we get married, Loki?”

He sighs, looking down a bit, losing a bit of his confidence. This is not like him at all. “I could try to hold it off as much as possible, but we would have to get married. See, my father has told me that I would have to inherit his throne to retire him and my mother. Thor would have been the perfect choice. Already married and the first son... but he gave up the throne, leaving me with the burden of finding a wife.” Her stomach was swirling with nausea and butterflies, thinking about how the hell she was supposed to handle the responsibility of being the Queen of Asgard. She has seen Frigga’s workload, and it is not nothing that she doesn’t ever want to inherit. Seeing her hesitance, he started to plead. “Please. It is a selfish request I ask of you, my dear friend… but I cannot marry that woman.” He held her hands, tighter. “She is annoying...”

She laughed, snorting a bit and breaking the tension in the room. “She is that annoying that you ask your friend to marry you?” she jokes, pushing her hands upwards and holding his forearms, leaning a bit closer to him. “If I do this for you, promise that it won’t get weird?”

He nods immediately, pulling her into a tight hug, grateful for her acceptance. “I promise, friend.”

When the night came along, the nerves were starting to set in. She was friends with Loki, but she had never been inside his private room and here she was, sitting there in a silk gown that was cold against her skin. She played drums on her thighs as she waited for Loki to get dressed for tonight’s dinner. She was about to proposed to… for the sake of her friend. She didn’t know why she was so incredibly nervous, enough to feel like she was about to throw up. “How do you sleep in here?!” she called out to her friend, who was with a servant in his giant closet. She was trying to break the mood with a little joke. “It seems so uncomfortable in here... I don’t think I would get a wink of sleep in here.”

It made Loki chuckle from the closet, a rustle of leather against leather being heard. “It’s comfortable... warm and the bed helps. I sleep like a brick most nights...” She giggles, running a hand through her hair. Even his voice seemed to calm her, making her smile more times than she wanted to admit. He finally steps out, dressed in his normal outfit, without the cape and hair slicked back with gel. His heavy horned crown sat upon his hair, framing him out perfectly. He gives her a little spin, fishing for some compliments. “How’d I look?”

“Like my Loki...” she hums, standing up, still a bit wobbly in the heels he had chosen to wear. He said it would impress his father if she stood a bit taller, almost the same height as Loki. She walked over to him, adjusting his crown and making it crooked on his head, earning a signature grin from him. Loki, since he has grown from the young boy that she befriended, has grown into a handsome young man. It made her feel something in the pit of her stomach that she ignored completely. “Seriously, you do look good. How do I look?” She gave him a little smile before pulling back from him, letting him see her outfit. He just smiles, eyes raking over her body in a, what he hoped, friendly way.

“Amazing.” He simply says.

He takes her warm hand into his cold ones, leaving the room with her. He enjoyed the little jokes she could make even before meeting his father, making him feel like something that he couldn’t ignore. The feeling made him feel nauseated and excited at the same time, leading her down the hall to the dining room. She looked absolutely ravishing in her dress, not helping the feeling. He straightened his posture as he could hear his father and the father of his betrothed laughing, heartily. The smell of meat and sweets filled his senses as he opened the door, leading his friend to her seat before taking his seat next to her.

The dinner went as expected, introducing herself to the king and queen in a respectful way. Saying hello to Thor and greeting the lady, who was giving her some death glares from across the table. She keeps her demeanor poised, something that she and Loki would laugh about later. When the proposal comes along, it comes after dessert and a little nod of approval towards his son from Odin. She could hear an audible breath from Loki as he stood up from his chair and moved it. He takes her hand, gently and lifts her up from her seat, pulling her almost too close to him, feeling his breath encase her face, making her shiver a bit. “Just act surprised... afterwards... I am going to kiss you to really sell it.” He whispered, looking into her eyes and making sure she understood her assignment. She nods, slightly and backs away from the prince, watching in fake surprise as he drops to one knee, spewing out some fake sympathy words. Hell, he even earned some fake tears from her as he opened the ring box. The story he was really trying to sell here was that two of them had been in a relationship for quite awhile before now and gods, was she selling it especially. A little squeal and an excited nod when he asked for her hand in marriage really made his betrothed, who they had totally forgotten about, angry enough to leave the room. The relief she felt radiating off his body was enough to relax her as he slid the ring on her finger.

She had totally forgotten about the kiss… she almost bit his lip when he did kiss her, pulling her in closer by her hips and her hands on his board chest. The kiss felt electric, feeling a wetness gather between her legs that she never felt for her friend. He pulls back, saliva connecting their lips and a weird look on her face that she had never seen before from Loki. It was like a hungry look… like that kiss had awoken something in him and it would have only gotten weirder if he wasn’t snapped back to the reality that he was standing in front of his parents and brother by them clapping.

She was now engaged to her best friend... Oh god, where does she go from here?

[theothernads]

݁𝜗𝜚 ݁₊ ❛❛ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁸: 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 ❞

₊ ❛❛𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬❞

☰ SYNOPSIS: ₊˚⊹♡ : ᯓᡣ𐭩<a

With the third magical academic year starting, you and Jungwon plan to have a normal school year and complete many goals. Except, you have to earn Enchantix with your frequent burn-outs, and Jungwon wants to become a full-fledged warrior and push past his anxiety. With their own goals in mind, they feel like 2 idiots that keep meeting by chance. However, when mysterious events threaten the magical kingdoms and schools, the specialists and fairies have to figure out the culprit and save the magical universe. But fate has other plans for their adventures and for your ‘coincidental’ meeting with Jungwon.

☰ 𝖸𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ➤ft. NewJeans, Enha, TXT, BTS, esp, Jungkook, Itzy, Le Sserafim

╰┈➤𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask) ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

Wc: 5.26k

<< M.LIST >>

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JUNGWON WAS TOO BUSY MEDITATING TO REALISE THAT THE GRAND OPENING CEREMONY HAD ALREADY COMMENCED. Sure, he was supposed to be practising and perfecting his dragon techniques before the show — but how was one supposed to do with anxiety strangling his muscles so effortlessly.

So, here he was on the empty bleachers, legs crossed, hands on his knees with a straightened back, and with firmly shut eyes. Jungwon forced every gripping hands of apprehension off his body and kept it at a distance. He couldn't mess up. Which is why he made a mental checklist.

Even the navy bodysuit, or uniform, he wore was meticulous and neat since he had promptly ironed it before the others awoke. It didn't matter for Sunoo and Riki with their wizardry. They simply eradicated the creases with a few words.

Jungwon was snapped out of it when he heard the sprightly snarls of dragons in the adjoining area next to the bleachers in the stables.

The dragons weren't overly massive, but they were big enough that they could probably eat Jungwon in a single munch. He tried not to think of that other factor — that his own dragon would find him an edible snack.

The one he trained with was called 'Scales'. A little generic, but for the past few weeks, Jungwon and him had built a foundation of trust, stable, and enough for him to tread on.

Scales had minimalistic beauty; white, short fur, thin orange scales striped from the sides of the jaw to the nape, and black horns protruding from the top of his head. The wing interior was a flaming orange as well.

Despite the way Scales had his amber eyes tracking Jungwon's every move, the two had the fundamental belief needed for today's events and for the future.

It was nearly time. Jungwon absentmindedly grazed a hand over his right bicep, trying to feel the comfort of that tattoo hidden underneath his clothes. As if he could feel the radiating positivity through the hard material of his bodysuit.

The boys made fun of his far-fetched meditation tendencies, but without it, he genuinely wouldn't be able to keep his composure from crumbling.

It was going to be completely fine if he let's go of the lingering hands in his head that controlled what he was thinking of. Forcing his muscles to relax, he stood from the empty bleachers and sauntered to the busy stables.

The subtle growls and snarls of the creatures reverberated from all directions, but he was accustomed to all of the brusque sounds.

Scales sat idly in his stable, it's bridle intricately knotted around a the hook of the brown pillar.As Jungwon approached, Scales let out a recognising puff of air, making him cringe as his locks sweeped all over the place.

Jungwon fixed his hair and forced the flickering anxiety to dwindle away from his thoughts.

"I can do this," he mumbled under his breath, though he was sure Scales heard it from the way he tilted his head and blinked its orange eyes once. Jungwon felt a little stupid, but whatever.

He reached out to stroke Scales on the long nose, the hard scales and fur felt underneath his gloves. After all the weeks of training and the techniques memorised to the bone, he hoped no hurdles would suddenly appear. The desire to get through this first half of the morning was strong, bolted into his head stubbornly.

"Jungwon!" A voice cut through the air, startling him from Scales and to the approaching footsteps.

In his line of sight, Jungwon observed his classmate, Beomgyu, and two other girls whom he had never seen before. Even if he was tightened with awkwardness, not used to getting so comfortable, he forced a cordial smile.

One girl had platinum blonde hair in a bun, big eyes and round cheeks that lifted as she sweetly smiled. The other girl had jet-black locks and wavy loose hair with doe mischievous eyes.

Jungwon waved as Beomgyu approached, dabbing him up with a smile before flickering his gaze to the other girls.

"Are you ready?" Beomgyu asked with spirit in his tone, holding Jungwon by the shoulders.

"I guess so. I've been practising with you, so it should be good," Jungwon replied with a shrug and a tight smile. "Who are your guests?"

Beomgyu gave a look of realisation as he realised the two girls by his side and gave a dismissive wave of the hand. Pointing to the blonde, Beomgyu grinned.

"Her name is Onda. She came from my home kingdom — Karunda — by a scholarship." Beomgyu explained. Jungwon gave a subtle nod of the head of acknowledgement.

"And her name is Yuna," he pointed to the one with mischief. There was something puerile running in her mind, behind those charcoal eyes of her. It threaded caution into his own skin, wanting to keep his guard built.

"They're both witches," Jungwon heard, and that's when he felt the stones of realisation hit his theories and confirmed the suspicions.

Judging witches based on their powers was below Jungwon. He would never do that. But, no one could blame him for building some internal walls to block out any hexes or pranks that were always worse than Riki's ideas.

And his were bad enough. Even then, Jungwon didn't let those little thoughts shine through his expression.

"Nice to meet you, guys," Jungwon said finally with another nod of the head. Hopefully, they took him as the shy and introverted type. It's not totally a lie.

Yuna and Onda grinned and nodded back, strangely in sync, creeping Jungwon out internally.

"So nice to see a friend of Beomgyu's!" Exclaimed Onda.

"I know, right? And a dragon rider. We're so excited," said Yuna, the mischief sticking out like a thorn. Again, Jungwon shouldn't judge, and he won't.

"Yeah, Jungwon here is pretty impressive," Beomgyu said, patting him on the back encouragingly.

"Thanks, Beomgyu. I have been taking your tips and tricks," commented Jungwon in appreciation.

A snort escaped Beomgyu, as if whatever he was saying was just a silly comment. "Jungwon, you have plenty of skills yourself. Remember, just follow the routine and stuff. I'll be right behind you."

"Technically, you're coming after me," Jungwon said with an easy chuckle, earning another amused pat to the back and a roll of the eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll do great," Beomgyu remarked with Jungwon's comment. He appreciated the royal's reassurance because, honestly, Jungwon needed all the scraps of validation.

He felt like charity.

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THIS WAS IT — THE MOMENT HE WAS WAITING FOR. Just before the tunnel leading to the very open arena, Jungwon was geared up proficiently. With the navy helmet and the visor protecting his face, he observed the slightly-tinted view.

Gloves were in place, the palm of them attached to the reins by some magnets to make sure that riders didn't fall to their deaths. Which he was deeply relieved about.

As Jungwon waited for the trumpet, he let himself pick off the negative thoughts pricking his sides. If he kept thinking about, he would squirm, meaning he would have a weak grip, and ultimately lead to an even worse consequence.

To clear himself of it, he mentally walked through the routine; off the ground, through the hoops in the air, to the centre of the arena, swiftly rise, wait, and dive back to the ground.

Easier said than done, but there was no point in actually thinking of how smooth it would be. He needs to make sure it is smooth, feckless.

The snarl from Scales broke Jungwon out of his little daydream just as the trumpet blew into the air. That's the signal.

Jungwon jerked the reins softly, making the crowds murmur reach him. From what he could hear, it was abundant with students, but it was expected because it consisted of 3 schools: Red Fountain, Alfea, and Cloud Tower.

The only thing he concluded from that was how he was clearly overwhelmed.

Through all of the bubbling malaise in his gut, Jungwon willed everything in him to breathe through it, as if oxygen was enough of an antidote for his severe case of apprehension. There was nothing else to do now — he had to digest the onslaught of uncomfortable thoughts.

Gradually, Scales treaded out of the tunnel, and the sunlight hit Jungwon, making him squint and observe the rounded crowd from all corners of his sight. The faces weren't clear — gladly; that would make his nausea rise again.

Instead, Jungwon directed his gaze to the clear blue skies with a few clouds scattered and frayed above. Not enough to conceal the blazing sunlight beaming down. It was a momentary distraction from the fact that he was seconds away from taking off.

When Scales sped up toward the centre of the courtyard, he snapped out of it, shifting his weight forward and firmly pulling the reins back. The motion caused Scales' wings to spring out and flap furiously until Jungwon felt the wind hit his body and for the gravity to tilt his figure.

The dragon lifted, climbing the air gracefully as if climbing some invisible stairs.

Jungwon couldn't tell if the crowd was cheering, but he couldn't care less when the ground was becoming the size of his palm. The breeze up here was unrestricted, away from the tormenting anxiety on the ground.

Nothing from down there could grow and grab at his feet, nor could it root him down. He was too elevated in the air for this, the magnets on his boots and gloves keeping him close to Scales.

Scales reached the pinnacle of the sky and then dived, shifting Jungwon's whole gravity forward. He grunted, hoping he didn't die now that he had done all the training weeks beforehand. It was silly to even let the thought fleet past him, but he was only a guy.

An anxious, apprehensive guy that rode dragons.

Jungwon's legs clenched by the sides of Scales as he dipped, nearing the shimmering hoops that stayed suspended in the air at different angles and levels.

The first shimmering hoop dissipated into a million sparkles once Scales zoomed through it, and Jungwon shifted his weight forward, veering the dragon to the next hoop that was a few feet lower. Scales chuffed, some smoke strangely leaving his mouth. The crowd cheered again.

Whatever. This was normal, and it was also normal for Scales to have smoke cascading out its nostrils. Jungwon's grip tightened on the reins, just how he tried to hang onto the tiny remnants of gratification.

After a few more hoops, Jungwon should be done with the routine and achieve the small goal of completing a dragon routine.

In about 44 seconds.

Aiming towards the next hoop, Jungwon went to shift his weight forward when Scales abruptly stopped. The whole movement made Jungwon jolt forward, his breath cutting short and the panic creeping up his throat.

The wings flapped erratically, out of rhythm, making the dragon jostle jaggedly as if there was some kind of invisible force hitting the creature. Jungwon tightened his grip on the reins if it wasn't tight enough before, trying to compose all of the nerves suffocating in his chest.

Forcing out a breath of air, Jungwon went to stroke the white nape of Scales. What on Magix..? Scales moved back and forth as if the disorientation blanketed the creature over his own eyes.

"Hey, Scales? It's okay, it's okay—" Jungwon tried to say loudly enough for the creature to hear through the helmet. His hand stayed on the nape, trying to ease in the composure by rubbing the fur.

The more the seconds went on, the more Scales erupted into discomfort, making Jungwon's panic flood his chest and nearly bolt all his muscles into place.

Then, Scales roared in anguish, the sound totally foreign to Jungwon that he couldn't help but feel a wave of shock and alarm. Throughout all the weeks that he trained with his dragon, that sound was not in his memory. Nor had he heard it.

Which means it cannot be good and that he may be in trouble since he is still suspended in the air, far from the safety of the ground.

He could die — no death. Nope. He wasn't even going to think about it.

Shaking his head out of the cloudy and dark scenario, he stroked Scales again only for the dragon to jerk to and fro, nearly sending Jungwon off the saddle. He grunted and held back a scream, trapping it in his chest.

"Scales—"

Jungwon was cut off when Scales lifted his torso, making his whole gravity shift, his body falling backwards.

Jungwon yelped, and he was only saved from falling to the ground when his one magnetised hand was still attached to the reins, leaving him hanging and swinging aggressively to and fro.

The magnets at his feet clearly didn't work. The lurch of alarm and bewilderment was enough to make his breath hitch, the inevitable thought of death or injury causing him to clutch onto the reins even tighter.

"Oh, fuck," Jungwon whispered under his breath. He couldn't even find his voice under all this.

Scales jostled again, swinging Jungwon abrasively into its body, and he hissed as pain tinged the base of his ribs. The creature was vigorously trembling and thrashing, snarling all at once, and here Jungwon was, stuck in a storm of panic and fear.

But there were bigger things to resolve: the part where he doesn't die.

Another thrash in the air, and Jungwon felt his grip on the reins loosen as Scales fought against an invisible force.

His eyes darted everywhere, throat tightening as he tried to build a plan from the dirt of his empty head. Another wave of panic caught his breath and forced a hit of dizziness at his mind.

He could hold on — but that may hurt Scales and deliver a few more bruises on himself. Or, he could dop and hope for the best.

Under the helmet, a bead of sweat forced on the crown of his head, breaths harshly escaping his lungs as the clutches on the reins were beginning to crumble and falter as Scales frantically thrashed.

Jungwon felt the world spin and shake, another yelp escaping him. As his vision trembled, he caught sight of the roof down below, the jagged and curved edges at each vertices, shaping into a short hook.

It was enough. And he didn't have a choice now since Scales was still in the storm of his unknown tantrum or fight. Jungwon's mind worked in overtime, trying his best to even scan the position and angle, forcing all the panic down.

Another shift of vision as Scales roared, the sharp echo making Jungwon flinch, his legs dangling and body bumping against Scales' upper torso. He was glad he wasn't getting slapped by the enormous wings.

Another look down towards the roof and Jungwon's head spiked with apprehension, the impulsive thoughts overriding every rational thing.

Jungwon let go.

The fall was quicker than he thought when he left a thrashing Scales. Except, he couldn't care to look back at the creature, nor even let out a scream. He couldn't.

Approaching the little hook-shaped edge, Jungwon's fist shot to it, and bright blue strings sprang out and curled around the corner, grappling onto it.

Jungwon let out another grunt as his body swung in the air, swooping forward and back, and he dangled, his breaths heavy. Jungwon ignored the ache up his shoulder and the cramp in his knuckles.

What just happened? He nearly fell to his death and depended all his life on a hook on a roof. He swore under his breath, the anxiety never settling and clouding his head and chest more.

When he looked down, he still saw the injurous distance below and firmly shut his eyes.

This day turned into an absolute piece of shi—

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" A voice snapped him out of the clouds lingering in his mind. When he pressed the button on the side of his helmet, his visor lifted, and he saw... you.

But you were suspended in the air with the most idyllic mint and pink-tinted wings, half half-up and half-down with orange flowers of caution sprouting in the sides of your head. You donned a pink outfit and boots.

"I... uh..."

Concern crossed your vision as you observed Jungwon, ignoring the shuffle of students below evacuating the open arena and getting to safety.

Jungwon glanced and winced at the ache in his muscles, only suspended by the sturdy strings of his gloves. But also, he was hanging like a monkey. Embarrassed, he gave a small and awkward lift of his lips.

You smiled back, albeit a little. "Hold on, I have a spell."

With a subtle lift of your arms, green sparkles floated from your hands and made a path around him, swarming about his waist until he felt his gravity shift.

Not a word came out his mouth as his breath hitched, not even arguing as the strings unravelled from around the crevice of the roof, and he stayed levitating like you.

There was total diligence and professionalism in your gaze, your hands staying in place as you lowered him slowly to the ground. Your eyes flickered to his, a wave of palpitations passing in his heart.

Once his feet touched the ground, you followed close after, both relieved. Jungwon never thought he would think of kissing the ground, but it definitely crossed his head.

Letting out a breath of restrained air, you approached timidly, refraining from touching his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Scales still snarled in the air, flying from one place to the next, and people were still running and evacuating out. Jungwon glanced up at the aggressively confused thing, then back at you with a small nod.

"I'm fine, thank you." Jungwon breathed, again glancing back at Scales, who soared sharply and screeched in more anguish. His shoulders sagged in bewilderment.

"Okay, what the fuck just happened?"

It was Riki running over with the other guys. Jay grimaced, crossing his arms. "Language!"

Shut the fuck up, Jay!" Jake sharply replied over the others running over to Jungwon.

Taking off his helmet, Jungwon ran a hand through his damp locks, not noticing when your eyes lingered and then snapped away. At this point, Scales dived for the bleachers, landing with a crunch as some benches broke, making everyone flinch.

"Yn! You're so crazy for running off like that!" Minji said, running over with the other girls, all transformed. Glancing over, you nearly stumbled when she held onto your shoulders and scanned your face.

"I'm fine. Really. But we have a new problem," you responded, looking over to the dragon stepping on the white bleachers and seats and increasing the costs of repair. His wings flapped violently, smoke and screeches escaping its lungs as if there was something chasing him.

Jungwon let out a huff of frustration and confusion. "We were fine! I don't even know what happened!"

Heeseung flinched slightly when Scales crushed another seat under the stiff claws. "Yeah, well, this isn't normal."

"Yeah, thanks, Hyung," Jungwon muttered.

Cortadorta and some other professors ran over quickly, exchanging ends of the same rope. People moved out the way, including you and Jungwon, as they sprinted to Scales diligently and tossed rope over it's back.

Safe to say, it didn't help because the next thing everyone saw, Scales' wings violently sprung and snapped the rope out of Cortadorta's grip.

"Well, how do we subdue it?" A new voice spoke up. Leerae approached beside you, her blonde and peach hair pulled back into a ponytail, donning an emerald outfit.

Jungwon looked back at Scales, seeing the increasingly cascading smoke into the arena. Sunoo cringed, worry flashing across his eyes.

"... smoke means fire... right?" Sunoo uttered, blinking profusely with concern. Sunghoon nodded with an apprehensive hum.

"Oh, totally."

As Sunghoon finished saying that, a flash of flame spurted out of Scales' jaw, burning the seats before him, the white bleachers now an ashy grey. Everyone stepped back, eyes now on the stomping dragon. The professors were clearly struggling.

"Okay, the teachers can't even help it. What can we do?" Hanni asked, flying a few feet above you with perturbed eyes analysing the scene.

Everyone turned to Jungwon as if he had answers piled on top of each other, but he was actually sinking into the deep anxiety. This was not what he was prepared for.

A sigh slipped past his lips, holding his helmet tighter. "Scales must be distressed. I just don't know what is causing that distress."

Leerae stepped forward with focus, her green and white wings fluttering slightly. The dragon stomped more, flames increasing by the minute and burning more seats.

"I can get near him, use my powers to calm him," she said to everyone, bringing up another idea. Jungwon breathed and nodded, the determination slowly rekindling.

"We need a plan," you chimed, and Jungwon gave a soft look to you.

"First, trap him, and then we can subdue. Us guys can stop him from destroying any more seats. And the girls..." He turned to you and your friends, a silent understanding passing by.

"And we'll do what we do best," you finished his sentence, causing an encouraging smile to lift his lips.

No more words were needed before everyone set off; the boys sprinted skillfully near the bottom of the dragon, Jungwon leading with strong strides.

You and the girls flew way above the dragon, finding the bird's eye view on how to repress any more damage to the school.

The girls gave you a nod, and you took a deep breath before curling your fists slowly, hauling every bit of energy you could draw from your powers.

As you did, vines curled out the ground of the bleachers, rushing up as the ground rumbled around the boys. It didn't disturb the boys from stopping their mission.

Multiple emerald vines climbed the air swiftly and curled over Scales to create a makeshift net and keep him from violently flapping his wings. Your other hand shot out, and more vines curled around his jaw, restraining him from breathing more hostile flames.

Scales growled, strident. Down below, Jungwon took the chance to climb the seats, hand darting out and causing the same blue, sturdy strings to wrap around one of the ankles and keep Scales from crushing anymore seats.

Jay and Heeseung did the same, sneaking around Scales and grappling more rope around the claws. The creature growled again, squirming under your emerald nets and the sturdy restrictions.

This time, Minji flew to the flames, taking the chance to absorb the flames. The flickering fire simmered into wispy, orange ribbons that dissipated once approaching her hands.

With the flames now gone, Haerin let her eyes sparkle and dart over the dragon critically until landing on the tail. She fluttered over the body before turning.

"I think I see something!" She yelled, pointing to the grey ring around the tail, the colour contrasting to the usual white fur. Leerae was already on it, zooming through the breeze to hover by the thrashing tail.

You shakily breathed, curling your fists tighter and forcing yourself to grip whatever connection of magic you had in your grasp.

"D-did you find anything?!" You exclaimed in growing alarm.

There was no reply for a few seconds, only the snarls of Scales reaching your ears before Leerae responded in an equally bewildered tone.

"I don't see anything!"

"What do you mean?!" Hanni yelled, joining Leerae in the air with confusion flooding her tone, examining the tail. Shaking her head, Leerae twisted in her place.

"What I mean is that I don't see anything! It's... gone!"

Haerin didn't believe her and joined the other two girls with her green and purple wings fluttering ferociously. "It couldn't have!"

Though, Haerin couldn't say anything because when she did float above the tail, she saw that the grey ring she had spotted had crumbled away into nothing but dust and sparkles. And Scales was still growling and violently seeking escape.

"G-guys!? I can't hold on much longer!" You yelped, losing the grip on the strings of your magic, feeling it flicker and dwindle. Forcing your fists tighter, you let another shaky breath and attempted to endure a little more.

Even Jungwon, Heeseung, and Jay struggled with the increasing movements of Scales, the claws tensing. Jungwon was worried the sturdy rope would snap if the creature dared to struggle harder.

Jungwon didn't even know how to pacify Scales. He didn't even know how to reach the solution. And if he didn't, who else would?

With you struggling to keep the emerald vines in place and the boys grounding the ankles, Leerae's eyes darted from each end of the dragon. From the tail to the trapped wings to the restrained mouth. In a second, Leerae swooped over to the front of the dragon, at eye level to Scales.

"Yn, let go!" She called out to you swiftly. Confusion hit you in the gut, nearly making you loosen your magic.

"What?!"

"Just do it!" She gazed back at the dragon, her forearms extending to let a green and golden glow emanate from her palms.

You didn't understand in the moment. The scenarios that weaved in your thoughts weren't thoughts of resolution or success. But, you had to preserve your trust for her. She's your friend.

With another quiver of a breath, your hands unfurled, losing the grip on your magic; the emerald vines broke and shrunk away with a snap, causing Scales' wings to extend instantly.

Hanni and Haerin yelped as they retreated from the dragon, and you felt yourself falter in the air.

Hastily flying to the dragon's nape, Leerae forced her fingers onto the white fur, the glow of her magic seeping into him its skin.

At first, Scales snarled in confusion, squirming and chuffing air in exasperation. Then, he huffed out a breath slower, as if everything Scales did was a distant dream that fogged his memory.

You and the girls watched in awe as Scales began to sit, the sturdy strings around the ankles retracting back to the boys.

Jungwon was visibly relieved. The boys almost fell to the random seats on the bleachers. Sunoo, though, almost did fall to the ground in exasperated happiness.

The professors got to action, working to handle the reins and lead Scales back to the stables to figure out what happened.

With a composed dragon, you and the girls lowered to the ground. Your boots touched the ground as you delivered another shaky breath, and your transformation disappeared with a brief glow to return you to your normal attire.

Leerae joined you as the boys sauntered over, all drained of energy, and slightly breathless. Dani touched Leerae on the shoulder, grinning.

"Leerae, that was amazing!" She squealed. Leerae sheepishly smiled.

"I learned it from my mother. Creatures always go crazy in Tir Na Nog," she replied

Jungwon stepped up, brushing the hair away from his eyes, approaching you and Leerae with appreciation glimmering in his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I don't know what got into Scales," Jungwon uttered as he stared at the now calm dragon being handled by Cortadorta. He really didn't think this day could have gotten worse. He nearly fell to his death.

Sunoo scoffed slightly with crossed arms. "He's a dragon. What do you mean you weren't expecting fire?"

"Fo your information, I have trained with him for weeks. And he hasn't breathed fire once." Jungwon replied with the roll of his eyes. Sunoo had wobbled over as if he had fought the dragon himself. The younger one knew his older friend was a little dramatic.

Even then, whatever Jungwon said was true. Scales never breathed fire, but today, he did. The questions in his head were firm, ingrained in the layer of confusion that sat at the ground of his head.

"This is why I don't fuck with dragons—" Sunoo began to say when he yelped, an electric shock spelled at his side from the direction of a grumbling Riki.

The boys didn't bat an eye, but you and the girls couldn't help but stare in bewilderment.

Leerae shook her head and smiled as she stood beside you. She was still in her fairy form, and you felt the sting in your chest. It was humiliation. You wished you could endure things more, survive the need for more magic in situations like this. Though, you swallowed it down and let it dissolve in the pit of your stomach.

"Well, I hope everyone is okay," she repeated with clasped hands, as if all of it was no problem for her. The others all murmured in agreement, looking to each other with unclear communication.

You sighed and gazed back at Jungwon; the brown, hickory eyes, the ones that seemed to hold the stars in its globe, the navy bodysuit that hugged his shoulders well, and the gloved fingers.

That's when a note in your head went off, remembering something. Wordlessly, you ran off to find your bag that was left on the ground a few meters away, not minding that a thousand gazes followed your stumbling form.

You didn't care. There was favour to be returned. When you returned with your backpack, you hauled the white shirt out, still somewhat uncreased, folded, and neat.

Jungwon couldn't help but let the small smile promptly take over his confusion, observing the way you held it out.

The girls gave each other a knowing smile, except Leerae, and the boys did the same to each other as well.

"Your shirt...," you said as you handed it over. Jungwon let his fingers brush yours, the tingle passing by like lightning. Regardless, Jungwon ignored it and smiled at the smell of lavender.

It perfectly emanated you.

"You even washed it. Thanks," Jungwon commented softly, not able to hide his endearment behind his voice when he lifted the article of clothing to his nose.

No words came to your throat because there was a flurry of flutters that you didn't understand the meaning of. It was ridiculous. You shouldn't be welcoming any butterflies, actually.

If you heard closely, the others exchanged, knowing grins, nudging each other.

"Yeah, I wanted to. Um, yeah."

'Um, yeah'? What was going through your head? The awkwardness just poisoned all your common sense and words apparantly.

To Jungwon, he just chuckled, that signature smile as he folded his shirt more. You were adorable. And the flowers that sprouted in the sides of your head was another mystery he wanted to delve into.

Minji put an arm around your shoulder, startling you out of your embarrassment with her teasing smile.

"We should get out of here, right?" She said to you and the other girls waiting closely behind.

"I could use some refreshments," Leerae agreed with a firm clap of her hands. Well, after saving the arena from flaring into flames, everyone deserved something to satiate their hunger.

As you went to walk, you stumbled again, the fatigue eating away at you. Minji stabilised you by linking an arm with yours, concerned, but you dismissed her with a small wave of a hand.

She didn't say more before leading you away. Before you totally lost sight of the arena, you glanced over your shoulder to discover the pretty hickory eyes that caught yours in the moment.

Your body welcomed even more inane butterflies.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ᥫ᭡.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

<< M.LIST >>

[NOTES]: I took so damn long with this chapter that it's painful😭 im so sorry. But um, here's a Jungwon meme to make yall feel better! 💀

REBLOGS, LIKES + COMMENTS are appreciated <3

© 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗱𝘀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay @melancholy-z @n1k1mura @wensurr @jiiyen @jwonistic @lo-la17 @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @luumiinaa @xwonz

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Let’s keep that Mac love going can I request “he asks you out” from the master list? Gotta love The Emo Monkie manss😂💜🖤

LMK!Macaque: He Asks You Out.

Content/Trigger Warnings: N/A.

Authors Notes: Gladly. :3 Hope you enjoy!

<---Previous | Masterlist | Next--->

“Hey, Macaque,” your voice startled him. 

“(Y/n), hey, you're here early,” he managed his charming smile at the sight of you. He wore casually appropriate clothes for movies, his hoodie was up, hiding his ears and the majority of his head.

“MK said it was important, but seeing that we’re in front of a movie theatre, I was obviously tricked into having friend time,” you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing here?” you smiled at him, his world felt like it had frozen solid even though his face felt like it was on fire. 

“Oh, well…” He lost his voice. He couldn't remember why he was there for a second, but collected himself and cleared his throat. “MK invited me too,”

“Oh, cool,” you smiled at him then turned your attention to your phone as it went off. 

It was MK texting you to let you know he was on his way, but running late. Luckily for him, you didn't have a busy day, so you didn't mind waiting a bit for him. Especially now that it meant having Macaque as your company for an extended period of time. You stole a glance at him to find he was already studying you with a somewhat content expression. 

“What?” you smiled awkwardly at him, to which made him clear his throat and look away. 

“Nothing,” he tried to play it off as nothing even though his heart was skipping beats in his chest. “You just, um… look nice,” was his lame excuse, even though he did think you looked pretty.

“Thanks,” you glanced away to hide your blush. “MK said he's a bit delayed, so there's that,”

“Hm,” he nodded as he took in this new information. Not really something he didn't already know, he was the reason they were delayed in the first place, after all.

“I know we should wait for the others, but we can get something light to munch on while we wait.”

“That's fine,” he gave a nod. 

You and Macaque walked into the theatre and got in the short line at the cafeteria section. You both had looked over the menu in the hope to get a light appetizer while you waited for MK and the others. It was silent between you both, but not an awkward silence. You both unnoticeably stole glances at each other till you caught each other’s gaze, to which you both looked away with blushes.

Once your appetizers were ordered and collected, you found an empty seat in the waiting area and sat down. Silence took over the two of you once more. You spent a good five minutes looking towards the entrance in hopes to see the group, but had no such luck.

“So, (Y/n),” Macaque’s voice snapped you out of whatever trance you were previously in.

“Yeah?” you looked up at him with a curious smile. 

“I was wondering if maybe…” his hesitance caught your interest. 

“Yeah…?” you encouraged him to continue, which he did.

“I was wondering if you'd wanna do this again sometime…?” he asked. “With me… alone.”

“Like…”

“Like a date,” he nodded slightly and looked away to hide his embarrassment, which you thought was cute. 

“Like… a date date?”

“Yeah, a date date,” he nodded sheepishly. 

He’s too cute! You internally squealed before collecting yourself. 

“As long as you promise it's gonna be a shadow play,” you teased. He looked at you with a dorky smile. “I'd like that a lot.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” you couldn't stop smiling at him. “I really liked the one with the Warrior, the one with the Goddess was nice too,”

“I bet,” he chuckled deeply and shook his head at your antics. It was no question about it, he was so smitten with you. “Tomorrow then?”

“I'm free,” you smiled at him. You were now, anyway. “You have my number, let me know when to get ready,” you added, then glanced around as people started crowding. “This place is starting to wake up, where are those idiots?”

“No clue,” he shrugged, but he smirked to himself at the thought of how ticked Monkey King must be at that moment. 

“I'm hungry, let's get something to eat before the lines start to get long. Then we should catch a movie,”

“I could eat,” Macaque said as he lazily followed behind you. “Wait, a movie?”

“Yeah, who knows how long till they get here, I'm not gonna just wait around,” you stated and looked at him with a mischievous smile. “We can call it a practice date.”

That made him laugh.

“You get the food, I'll get the tickets,”

“Sounds good!” you grinned and once you decided on what to watch, and he told you what he wanted to eat, you divided to conquer.

Let’s just say… the unexpected practice date was a lot better than you'd thought it would be.

[onskepa]

Hey there, i have a request for mother's day and i know you said wait for sequel we can say this is for amber on mother's day. Amber heard about mother's day and want to make something very special for her mother aka neytiri, and show her gratefulness for all the years her and jake sully did for her.

helloooooooooo~!! Alright, since it does count as mother's day request, I shall make it. Hope you enjoy!

Amber: Our little flame

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

Amber: Glass heart

Amber’s pov 

Mother’s day is coming up. Every year on a certain day, everyone celebrates their mother in different forms of appreciation. Every year it's something different, every year my family gives something special to my mom, neytiri. While not mother by blood, she is through love. I love her, and I know she loves me with her endless hugs, kisses, and the abundance of affection I get from her on a daily basis. 

However, every year its the same. 

When mother’s day arrives, all of my siblings give her something sweet or beautiful. Something that lasts a good long while. What do I give her? Simple, typical, useless things. I do give her something shiny from my collection but in reality it means nothing to anyone. A shiny rock has no meaning, a little bead is empty of purpose.  I do my best, honestly, but it is hard. My mother is a respectful tsahik and warrior in the clan. Anything I give to her seems beneath her standards. At least that's how I see it. 

Which is why this time, I have a goal. A goal that will have real, true meaning. Something that will last a long time and will be the best thing to give her. 

And maybe outshine my siblings.

Third pov 

“You’re smiling my daughter” mo’at teases, she herself growing a pleasing smile as well. Neytiri turns to her, showing a lovely grin, “is it wrong to smile?” she asks playfully. Together they clean the area inside of the healing hut. The day was coming to an end and there were no more na’vi to heal. 

“No, but it indicates your expectations of the coming celebration” mo’at says as she stacks her bowls and wipes away any mess. After checking all is set, together they make their way to the community dinner. Impossible to miss, the two mothers see their family, all huddling and chatting away. 

“Anothers day of work” Jake comments as he welcomes Neytiri in his arms. Humming in agreement, she looks at all of her children. Each doing something either individually or together. Among them, her eyes land on Amber who sits still while playing with a literal ball of fire.

Neytiri loves her daughter Amber very much, and would do anything for her. While refusing to say out loud, neytiri struggles at times to see eye to eye with her eldest. Amber’s fascination with fire was always there, thinking it was some curious phase that would be quickly increased into something more. 

However, fire is just one of many things that builds a wall between mother and daughter. Neytiri does her best, and she knows so does amber. Which is why, every year on mother’s day, neytiri lowers her expectations for amber. She shouldn't expect anything really, but it still lingers. She wonders what it will be this year. 

A new shiny rock? Perhaps a roughly carved bead. Gifts from amber are predictable but cherished nonetheless. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Jake asks, abrupting her internal thoughts. Blinking her concentrated look away, she looks up at her dorky husband and smiles. “Just thinking” she responds cooly. Jake lets out a small chuckle, “let me guess, looking forward to mothers day aren't you?” he teases, already knowing the answer. Neytiri couldn't help but widen her smile, answering in her own way. 

As the couple snuggle up against each other while enjoying their evening meal, neytiri still couldn't help but linger in her thoughts a bit more. Seeing amber eat in silence, observing her every movement with great silence, neytiri wanders what will await on that coming day. 

Amber’s pov 

The hunt for the perfect mother’s day has begun! I officially have exactly 8 days before the deadline. Every day mom and grandma have a smile that gets bigger every day. I see it as a timer. The wider the smile, the limited time I have. Though it is not just me who hunts for the ultimate gift, like I said, I am in competition with my siblings. But I must constantly remind myself, it is not about myself, it is about mom. 

I guess one of the down sides of being a dragon is the natural god damn pride that has to be checked all the time. Can't be selfish, I can handle it. I got this. 

5 days later 

The need to shove a hot burning coal down my siblings' cocky throats is tempting. Already they have perfect, beautiful gifts, where does that land me? Nothing, again. Even neteyam, my cute baby brother, is outshining me. Maybe it is the dragon pride or maybe it is something else, but deep down my anger is roaring. Yet I keep silent. 

I still have 3 more days. 3 days to give mom something special, something useful. Again, its tricky, mom has everything she needs. Medical herbs? Kiri got that covered, new arrows? Lo’ak made sure they are extra sharp, her favorite fruits? Tuk knows the ripe ones, fresh meat? Neteyam catches the biggest hunt, new bandage supplies? Spider can double it in an hour. 

To clear my thoughts I decided to read some of my mother's stories. My deceased biological mother, Clare, left me a data box full of our kinds histories, stories, traditions, everything. If there is anything I am curious about, I can easily look into the data box. 

Wild Breeze. 

A dragon who lived between the 13th and 15th century. I love her story, according to the book [hologram?] wild breeze was an albino fire dragon. Her scales and the base of her horns and eyes were red. While rare, her palness wasnt what made her stand out among the family back then. It was her fire. Her fire was white, so bright and hot, it can burn a person and they wouldn't feel it and be dead before they realize it. 

Fighting was not her passion, but glass art was. Living near the sea was her stable home, where she had an unlimited supply of sand. With her fire she made so many art pieces and would give them to anyone with a keen taste. 

Seeing some examples in the gallery, they were beautiful. Wild breeze definitely had a talent. Making beautiful glass flowers, animal replicas, and other dragons, she made everything. Hell, mother was thoughtful enough to even make a copy of wild breeze’s instructions on how to make certain things- 

Then I hit the data box in my head. 

Didn't hurt, but I know it's going to leave a bruise later. 

I have an idea!! 

Third pov 

Mother’s day has finally arrived. The day began so perfectly. The sun was shining, ripe fruit carefully picked, the soothing sounds of pandora was heard all over the village. Neytiri couldn't ask for a better way to awaken on such an important day. She rises to a view of her family all huddled up together. Surrounding her and holding each other.  She gives her thanks to Eywa everyday to witness this beautiful scene. However, her joy was cut short as she did not see amber among the tangled limbs and soft snores. 

Normally amber would huddle with tuk as she gets cold easily at night and amber would provide endless warmth. This time, the youngest was being huddled together between kiri and neteyam. 

Quietly she gets up to look for her eldest daughter, inside, outside, amber’s presence isn't anywhere. Where could she be? 

Going back, Neytiri shakes Jake in a panicked way. 

“W-what….?” Jake wakes up groggy, rubbing his eyes. 

“Ma’jake, amber is not with us. She is not in the pile” neytiri whispers hurriedly, trying not to awaken her other children. 

“Ssshhh…..it is alright, amber told me last night she was spending the night with norm and max” jake replied so casually. This only made neytiri more confused and worried. Why did Amber only tell jake? Why not her as well? 

“Im going to get her” she says, this made jake become more wide awake. Quickly he grabbed her hand, bringing her back down. 

“She will come back, there is just something she needs to do. We will see our daughter again soon” jake reassures. 

Neytiri scowls but accepts. Laying back down but this time with no comfort. This is the first time one of her children had spent the night out of their home. Even spider spend all his nights in their marui. 

This made neytiri wonder what is so important to amber that she stayed away for this long? 

Amber’s pov 

It took long, long, looooooooooong grueling hours, but it's finally done. My lungs, my mouth, my tongue, my nostrils, they all sting in a burning manner. Mother did give plenty of warnings in the videos, but its worth it. I can only hope mom likes it. 

I'm so tired, I didn't sleep a wink at all. 

I was awake for 20 hours straight. 

I had to fly to the Tayrangi clan since they were the closest clan that lived by the ocean. Ikenyi, bless her heart, allowed me to take some of their sands for my idea. Still wobbly in my flight but I made it back to the rusty hells gate and began my work. 

And what work it was. Wild breeze made it seem so easy. Though I guess it was since her fire was ultra hot. 

Now I just need to be awake a little longer to give it to mom. 

Third pov 

The day is close to its end. The celebration began early and its still going. Neytiri received wonderful gifts from her children and husband. She danced, ate to her fill, tried to enjoy mother’s day but the obvious absence of amber was bringing her mood down. She had not returned. Everyone said she will come back but clearly it's not gonna happen anytime soon. 

As the night came, the more worried neytiri had. 

“Im going” she announces to her family. They didn't need anymore explanations, her family knew instantly what she was talking about. 

“Mom, come and enjoy your day to the end. Don't worry about amber” lo’ak says. 

Neytiri hisses in annoyance. 

“No worry, no worry, all of you say that but she has not come back! I cant enjoy it any further knowing she is out there-” 

“LOOK” kiri was pointing. 

Neytiri was so quick to turn her neck, it was a bit creepy. 

Coming towards her was none other than amber. She was running while making sure she didn't step on anyone's tail. 

Seeing her daughter again, with a great sigh of relief, neytiri meets her halfway and holds her tightly. 

“You little…!! Words cannot describe how worried you have me! Not telling me where you were, only telling your father. Not seeing you all day only just now! You better choose your words wisely to excuse this foolish behavior!” neytiri scolds. 

Amber only nods, she takes out note book from her bag and flips it open. 

“I am sorry mom, but I had to do something really important” was written on it,.

This confused neytiri. 

“Why use that? Can you not speak?” she asks, her voice calms down from her anger. 

Amber shakes her head, flipping to another page, it reads “no, I was using my fire. I reached my limit, my throat, mouth and lungs all hurt. I am drinking water to cool off the heat. Though I won't be talking for a good while. Not until it heals” 

“Using your fire? For what?” neytiri asks further. 

Amber makes a guestiring sign for “one moment” 

Taking out from her bag while flipping the page to a colorful writing, “happy mothers day” 

Amber hands something to her mom, a bit heavy. 

Neytiri sees what is on her hand, “a glass ball?” 

Amber guided her mom, placing it in the path of the fire pit, did neytiri see something else entirely. 

With shimmering colors, the light from the fire illuminates the Sully family inside the glass ball. All smiling, holding each other as they do when spending family time. They looked small in the ball, but with the fire, they looks massive against the walls of the hometree. Each sully member had a color, in great detail as well. 

Jake was green, kiri was purple, spider was blue, lo’ak was green, neteyam was yellow, tuk was pink, and amber was orange, and neytiri was bright blue. All of them shinning and spreading colors around the surroundings. 

The sully family looks in awe, seeing themselves in the glass ball was like magic. 

“You made this?” Neytiri asks, her breath taken. 

Amber nods, flipping to another page, “I wanted to make something really special. Something meaningful. What is more perfect than our family? To preserve our precious moments together. Dad likes to take pictures, but this is my way of keeping a moment immortal. Think of it as my thanks to you. Even though I am not your real daughter, thank you for raising me and loving me as your own. So, happy mothers day. I love you so much” 

While Amber couldn't speak it, the words touched Neytiri's heart. Hugging her daughter close, fear tears escaped her golden eyes. 

“My amber, you don't have to do anything big for me. Just having you by my side is enough. But I am very grateful for your gift. You and your siblings bring me great joy every day. You are my child no matter what. My motherhood began with you. So I should also thank you for being in my life” 

To say, this has been the best mother’s day neytiri could ever have. 

Aaaaaaaaaaand this is it for this one! I hope you all enjoyed it! Until next time! See ya!

[persefolli]

Hi can I request a Jake x Fem reader x Tonowari imagine and they are interested in her and she knows this but is holding back her feelings as she doesn’t feel seen by anyone in the clan including them as she is very in tune with her emotions and everyone else’s as well and sees a lot of things that others don’t and is very observant to her surroundings. She spends a lot of time alone (fishing, hunting, making weapons and healing etc) and one day they both ask if they can join her while she fishes to which agrees with a nod of her head going back to her fishing in silence, the men look at each other over her head wondering how they can get her to talk more, they ask her simple questions at first before they get into the deep stuff as they are curious about her and they truly see her even if she thinks no one does and they tell her that they notice that she is very good at comforting people and love how observant she is and they tell her that she can confide in them anytime as they want her to open up to them when she’s ready, she gives them both a hug individually with them reciprocating it with soft touches on her body before they all sit down watching the eclipse with her resting her head on Jake’s shoulder and her holding Tonowari’s hand? Thanks 😊

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝟕𝟓% 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Oh you’d wish they’d stop looking at you. You felt it, you could feel the pity, the curiosity pulsing off of their gaze.

Were you in trouble? Did you anger the warriors? Who even are you?

You were sure those were the questions that swirled in the Metkayina’s minds when they caught one of their leaders staring at you. 

It made you feel anxious, but again, who were you? You were nobody, and that's why you didn't care.

After a long day of fishing for yourself, you dragged yourself home, where your pod sat empty. No mama or pop to come home to, no sister, no brother, no one. You allowed your pod to sit dark, only sources of light coming from your bioluminescent necklace, anklets, and bracelets, and the moon.

Silently you worked around your home,  tidying up and throwing some fish on a pan to cook. During your cleaning, you noticed something was out of place. A pile up near your front door. You tilted your head and approached the pile, looking closer until you realized it was seasoning. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the small bowls of crushed powder inside. In front was a small note that read ‘to less lonely dinners’ You scoffed and kicked over the pile, spilling  the powder everywhere.

Tears pricked your eyes, you didn't know if this was some sick joke or if this was an offering. You noticed the markings in the corner of the note, J.S. 

Of course Jake was behind it. Rumors swirled around the village that Jake was…a not so nice guy, but he needed to, as he was the clan's designated warrior. 

The next morning you went to your normal fishing post, to see that your rod and machete had been moved. You looked around at the other Metkayina women who stood on the shore, huffing as they fished.  “You were booted.” Another na’vi walked up to you. You recognized her as the previous warrior's daughter, the man who was kicked from Jake’s spot at his arrival. “Olo’eyktan moved you to another side of the reef.” She handed you a small folded paper and began treading in the sand.

“Probably had so many complaints about you making people uncomfortable.” You scowled at the na’vi and her nasty spirit. You knew of her, and her father who were known for being cocky na’vi’s. You walked through the village and along a trail to a more secluded area of the reef, where the ocean spread wide and few families lived. In the middle of the shore there was a singular table, where you saw your familiar rod and machete laying there.

You huffed, looking around to see the lack of Metkayina, apart from some children playing in the sand meters away. You walked forward and took your rod in hand, immediately holding it over your head and throwing it forward to land in the water. The water ran along your ankles, cooling you down from the hot sun that beamed down on you.

Strangely, you caught something. It had only been a few moments and you already caught a fish. You immediately began tugging on the rod, pulling the fish out of the water. It was a long carp, flipping and seizing in the sand. You smiled, and began running to the fish, but before you could a large bird swooped down and grabbed the creature. “Damn you!” You looked up and hissed, watching as the bird flew away. You took in a deep breath, and sighed, calming yourself down. The bird was probably looking for a catch for a while….Eywa would reward you for this.

By the time the eclipse came, you managed to catch a bucket worth of fish before heading back to the main village. You zoned out walking down the trail, listening in to the bugs and critters that chittered in the night. A heavy weight knocked you back, and you gasped, looking up offended. “My bad.” Jake said. Your eyes softened once you realized that it was your superior. 

“It’s okay.”

“Y/n.” He said as he recognized you. “Perfect timing. I need you now.”

He began walking off the trail and into the forest. You followed him, walking all the way to an opening, where there was a tree with knobs protruding from it. Two bows hung, and there was another basket full of arrows nearby. He reached up into the tree and grabbed an arrow, handing it to you.

“I heard some rumors and I need to see if they're true.” He grabbed three arrows and handed it to you. “Three targets around you, I won’t tell you where they are. Show me what you got.” Jake squatted and took a seat, leaning against the tree. 

As confused as you were, you weren’t gonna dismiss Toruk Makto. You walked deeper into the opening looking up into the night sky that was covered by leaves. Your ears twitched, and you closed your eyes, listening to your mind, and your gut.

Left. You snapped your body to the side, drawing an arrow and releasing it, hitting something in the distance with a clang. 

Up top. You raised the bow over your head and released an arrow, watching as the arrow fell left-wards again and hitting something else with a clang. 

You then turned to Jake, with the final arrow in your grip. You aimed the shot right at him, swiftly moving your arms and hitting the tree right next to his ear. As the arrow grazed the tip of his ear, and hit the tree, you watched the tree bend in a strange way and echo with a clang.

Jake smiled, standing from his position where his head was millimeters from the arrow. “Why are you not on my team?” He asked, alluding to the warrior team that he led on insurrections monthly. 

“I-...I can't.” You walked over and hung the bows up silently, and began walking off. “Hey!” Jake stopped you.  “Did you get my gift?”

“No.” You stated, remembering that you had knocked the seasonings over in an agitated state. 

“I’ll be sure to send some more. Was hoping we could put it to use.”

You shook your head, making sure he saw your rejection. It was weird seeing a sudden initiation in conversation with you, especially after all this time. Why was he just now reaching out to you?

---

The next day you opted to go fishing again. Archery was very tiring and after Jake's surprise test you had no idea what was in store for you in the forest. You walked past the village,  watching as the Metkayina struggled to fish, as this side of the reef seemed to fall victim to the fish migration. Maybe it was a good thing you were moved.

You walked along the trail and made it to your fishing spot, smiling at the emptiness of the beach. No children or annoying animals this time.

You fished for a few minutes before you heard pairs of footsteps approaching. You groaned internally, knowing that you were about to be bothered.

“Can we join you?”  A deep voice sounded from behind you. You turned around and saw Tonowari, and Jake standing there with rods. Internally you jumped, but you nodded at them and turned right back to the ocean, fishing in silence.

The two set up shop on each side of you, silently throwing their rods into the ocean as well. You felt the glances every once in a while, but eventually they stopped. Jake looked over at Tonowari and nodded. 

“I moved you to this side of the reef.” Tonowari confessed. You snapped your head to look at him, nonverbally asking him ‘why’ 

“I'm well acquainted with the fishing patterns, I knew the migration was coming soon.” Tonowari dropped his rod and took a seat in the sand. “I'm sure you knew that as well because you didn't put up a fight.”

You looked away. He was right. You stayed with the group to blend in, you didn't want to be the odd one out but even so you still managed to outcast yourself.

“You're also good in the forest.” Jake chimed in. “Do you not like hunting?”

“No.” You blurted. Something told you to respond, to stop being so standoffish, and now was your opportunity. The two na’vi’s seemed equally surprised at your response.

“Is it the people?” Jake asked.

“The water.” You responded. “It calms me.”

Tonowari hummed and looked back out at the sea. “I agree.” Jake sat his rod down as well and walked near Tonowari, sitting in the sand. 

“If I may ask. What exactly do you need calming from?” Tonowari asked. 

You stammered, still feeling odd at the certain urge to spill every single one of your thoughts that have lingered for months now. You took in a deep breath and began talking. “The clan, the village, everything. I don’t feel like a true na’vi when I'm around everyone else. I'm just…every other clan member.” You mumbled.

“But you have special skills.”

“Yeah right. When has anyone ever asked me to participate in the clan showcases? When have I had the privilege of joining elite fishing or hunting squads because of my diligence? Never,” Your voice shook out of frustration.

Tonowari looked at you with somber eyes, guilt slowly consuming him. He’s always taken notice of you, yet he never made any moves or said anything to make you feel at home. On top of that, it hurt him to see that one of his clan members felt like they had no real purpose within the clan. 

“Y/n. I’ve seen you in the forest. Getting the good kills in. I’ve seen you properly hunt, and comfort the poor creature before it goes.” Jake began.

“I’ve seen you fish, and swim without disturbing the cycle of peace.” Tonowari chimed in “We see you Y/n. We’ve always seen you.” 

You looked forward and held your rod up high over your head, wiping the tears that fell on the back of your right hand. You refused to look at either of them.

“Let it out.” Jake stated. 

You let out a sob, dropping your rod to the side and palmed your hands into your eyes. You cried hunched over, facing the sand. The two na’vi men walked up next to you. Tonowari placed his hand on your back while Jake kneeled in front of you. “That's all I wanted.” You croaked. He pulled your face up to look at him as you cried. “I just wanted-” You began plucking your fingers from your forehead over and over, signifying that all you wanted was for someone to see you.

“It's time for you to get the recognition you deserve.” Jake ran his thumbs along your cheeks. 

---

After a long crying session, you had finally calmed down. The three of you had created a fire, where currently a fish was being roasted on top of it. 

“My mom and dad left a few years back. They wanted to live with another reef clan.” You broke the silence. You wanted to show them that you were indeed capable of being comfortable. The two men turned to look at you, silently listening. “I didn't want to go because….the reef speaks to me. This reef. The people here I-....I just didn't get a good feeling leaving to another clan.”

“Have you heard from them since?”

You shook your head. “I guess I wasn't important enough to reach out. But…they left for a better life so…does that mean-”

“No.” Tonowari placed his hand on your knee. “Life is not better without you.”

You nodded off, looking at the shore. “I think I've been used to being alone. It's okay. But sometimes I wonder why…what is it about me? Why are the two of you here?”

Jake chuckled, and repositioned himself to lean back and sit. “When you saw we wanted to join you, even when I called you to the forest, how did you feel?”

Your eyes wandered a bit, “Scared. Annoyed. Anxious.”

Jake tilted his head, humming satisfactorily, “So, how do you think people feel when a quiet pretty girl like you comes around?”

“None of the feelings I just listed.”

“Give yourself credit, girl. Think of it like this.” Jake sat up. “We know…nothing about you. You're sassy, quiet, sweet, and helpful. What would anyone even say to get your attention?”

You hummed, not even thinking about it in that perspective. Maybe you did come off as intimidating.

“Some na’vi may be threatened by your skills, others may think you're too out of their league, but most are blind to your talents.” Tonowari added on. “But we've been watching, from your bullseyes and buckets of fish we know…. how amazing you are.”

You bashfully smiled and leaned your head into your pulled up knees. “Why thank you.”

The fish began to crackle, signifying that it was ready to eat. With sticks the two men began to move, flaying some meat off the fish and placing it in a leaf to serve. Of course, they gave you the biggest portion. 

After finishing, you began to pack up your supplies, being ready to leave for the night. “Thank you both so much, for everything.” You walked up to Jake, embracing him in a hug, which surprised him. You did the same to Tonowari, trying to wrap as much as you could of him in your arms. 

You quickly broke away from him and began walking, but you were halted by Jake’s hand on your wrist. “Hey Y/n?”

You turned around but yelped once you were pulled to the ground, knees first in the sand in front of Tonowari. Tonowari grabbed you and pulled you into his side, and Jake took his spot next to you. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easily.”

Tonowari took your hand and you leaned into Jake as the three of you let out a sigh of relief.

[tonowarii]

Hi can I request a Jake sully x fem Metkayina reader x Tonowari where she is fishing by herself outside the reef as she wanted to explore the island more and they both have been searching for her all day as she is their mate and have missed her all week not knowing where she disappears to. They eventually find her there about to call the fish, they pull her to the surface causing her to release the arrow accidently as she is shocked by the sudden pulling of her body towards Tonowari and Jake with them both having a furious look on their faces about to ask her why she put herself in danger but they see a dark shape coming towards them, Tonowari quickly places her on his Tsurak, Jake getting on his too the 3 of them quickly leaving as they know how dangerous the Akula is which is close to them, they luckily escape with minor injuries. When they are safe on land, they have an angry look on their faces again both of them pacing around wondering how to approach the situation without getting angry at her, she tries to talk but they both look at her which stops her immediately knowing they aren't ready to hear what she has to say yet, Tonowari speaks first asking her why she went fishing so far outside the reef in a stern tone before Jake does knowing he has a harder time controlling his emotions than Tonowari. She looks down at the ground playing with her necklace as she is nervous to say why she went out that far to fish, Tonowari kneels down in front of her grabbing her hands before looking at Jake silently asking him to kneel down too, they both take one of her hands each both looking at her with soft eyes rubbing her hands gently, she sighs before covering her face with her hands mumbling that she wanted to surprise them with their favourite food which can only be found out there and decorate it with pretty coral and shells, they both pull her into a hug rubbing her back kissing her head saying how cute she is asking her to not go there again without at least one of them or at least taking a warrior with her before they all go back home to cook dinner together with all of them laughing and maybe them two calling her sweet names a lot, thanks!

i'm- head empty; no thoughts. just imagining im sandwiched in between these two..

i can take them (but not in a fight)

Husbands In Distress

tonowari x reader x jake sully

wc: 1.1k

warning/s: jake and tonowari worrying over you, slight fighting, these two being scary idk

gif is not mine, credits to the owner!

Holding your crossbow underwater you began calling for the fish.

You hadn’t known how long time had passed as you were looking for that one specific fish you had in mind that would very well please the two of your beloved.

That’s why you were here out past the reef, thinking it was a great idea to surprise Jake and Tonowari with their favourite food just in time before they return from their hunt.

Although back in the village, the hunting party returned earlier than expected. Jake and Tonowari excused themselves to find you, their first thought was you were in your marui, waiting for them.

Until you weren’t.

“Can’t find her.” Jake said to Tonowari as he stood outside your marui.

Tonowari and Jake both walk towards the communal area, spotting your close friend, Ronal, in which they decide to approach her.

“Ronal, have you by chance know where (Y/N) could be?”

Ronal looks up to the two, blinking in thought. “I know she said she’s going hunting outside the reef, that is what she told me.”

That simple sentence was enough to send their hearts dropping as Jake was the first one to turn on his heel, already calling for his tsurak while Tonowari nodded a ‘thank you’ to Ronal before mirroring Jake’s actions.

Ronal simply rolled her eyes at the two before going back to her work.

Believe it or not, Tonowari trusted you that you knew your way around outside the reef, but with you going without them knowing- well it was enough to worry him. Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t like it when you go venturing alone, especially outside the reef as Tonowari’s tales told him how dangerous it was.

Aha! Finally spotting the fish you were looking for hours, you smile to yourself as you aimed, closing one eye as you concentrated.

You were about to shoot when you feel yourself being yanked from out of the water a little too harshly, your finger squeezing on the trigger upon surprise as it shoots up in the air and into the ocean, the fish nowhere to be found.

Instead, you find yourself in front of Jake and Tonowari, their faces fuming.

“What on earth are you doing?!” Jake’s voice pulls you to reality and you stare at him. About to respond, you opened your mouth but Tonowari’s voice followed. “There’s no time for this now, look!” Tonowari turns to see something moving in the distance, fast.

Your eyes widened as Tonowari calls to his tsurak, since he was the one holding you, you were helplessly flung onto it as you yelped in pain. “Hey!” You exclaimed as you felt like you were being thrown around like a doll all of a sudden and you weren’t liking it one bit. The akula barely misses the two of you as it launches in the air, teeth bared as it landed back in the ocean with a huge splash.

Jake climbs upon his and he signals to Tonowari for them to go.

In almost a blink of an eye, you found yourself back at the village, Tonowari lifts you in one swift motion, your feet landing in the communal area.

Jake dismounts, standing beside you while Tonowari does the same on the other side.

You were in between the two men. You feel their hot gaze on you as you stared at the ground.

Shuddering as you felt Tonowari’s huge hand land on your back, you look up at him. He wears a soft expression, but you knew better. Under that soft expression hides anger that you have to dig for. Turning towards Jake, however, he doesn’t hide his emotions as he was looking down at you with a scowl that you could almost feel the intense heat radiating off him.

You gulp nervously. Jake jerks his head towards the direction of your shared marui, growling his words. “Let’s go.”

Making it towards your marui, you first step in as Jake followed, then Tonowari last as he seals the entrance, notifying passer-by’s that no visitors were allowed at the moment.

Turning, you find the two of them staring at each other, almost mentally debating who should start talking. The silence felt like torture. Deciding you had enough, you stepped forward, mouth open as you were about to speak.

Jake and Tonowari’s eyes snapped towards you at a bizarre speed, making you step back and shut your mouth with a defeated sigh.

Tonowari finally spoke. “Why were you out past the reef?”

You sat down on the bed, eyes trained on your necklace as you found it interesting at the time.

Out from the corner of Tonowari’s eye, he could feel Jake still fuming. Reaching a hand to touch Jake’s shoulder, he looks at him. Tonowari leans his head towards your direction and Jake sighs, his anger dissipating in him and was now replaced by worry.

Only then you return your focus towards them as you felt a finger lifting your chin up to face them. The finger belonging to Tonowari while Jake held your other hand. Their anger was completely thrown out the door as it satisfied them enough knowing you’re here.

The feeling of their hands massaging yours makes you shy away. You cover your face in your hands, knowing the reason why you almost risked your life outside the reef was just because of your love for them.

You mumble it out but they only had confused looks.

“What’s that again, honey?” Jake softly asked, prying your hands away from your face. You avoided their gaze on you as you looked up, gulping.

“I just wanted to surprise you guys when you come back… you know… with your favourite food and- and I was thinking of decorating it too- I didn’t realize how late it was and-“ You cut yourself off from your own rambling as you cringed at your words.

But Tonowari and Jake found it far from humiliating. They found it sweet, even if it did almost cause them to have a heart attack- it was sweet. They look at each other before laughing. It was your turn to glare at them, huffing and standing up but they quickly pull you back down again with a loud thud.

“That’s sweet.” Jake said.

“Next time, please bring at least someone with you- tell us you’re going outside the reef so we know. You could ask me or Jake the next time.” Tonowari advises. You sigh loudly. “Then it wouldn’t be such a surprise, wouldn’t it?”

They both chuckle at your sass before the two of them leaves a peck on both your cheeks, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug.

The hug was cut short when a stomach grumbled in protest. You and Tonowari look at Jake with a teasing expression.

Jake flusters, shaking his head. “Alright- alright I’m hungry… is that surprise dinner still up, honey?” Jake turns to you as you and Tonowari laughed.

You raise your hands to cup their cheeks, them leaning onto your touch as you smiled at your boys.

“Of course, be glad I managed to capture a few ones before you kidnapped me!”

[writtenjewels]

Heart of Stone

[random AU idea time!]

Salim tried to hold back his excitement as he entered the temple. These old places were so full of history. Being here to see it for himself, to look at the artifacts with his own eyes, see the carvings and the architecture of long ago, was exactly why he was here. Though of course the others on the expedition would say he was here as a translator. He was there to read any of the Arabic script found in the temple. All the rest of it—the artifacts, learning about this lost culture—it was a bonus.

The Americans who hired him all brought something to the expedition. Rachel was familiar with the area and spoke the language, though she couldn't read it; her husband Eric was a scientist, more interested in the caves that now served as home to the temple; Nick was brought on to take stock of any artwork; Joey took photographs; Clarice was consulted on any flora or fauna they found; Merwin was in charge of all the equipment. Salim tried to be polite to all of them.

Eric led the way into a new passage of the temple. It looked like a large audience chamber. It was empty except for a statue standing just to the right of what might have once been a throne. Eric motioned for Merwin to set up lights so they could get a better look.

Salim had seen pictures of famous statues like Michelangelo's David and The Thinker, but never had the opportunity to see one in person before. Looking at this one, he could see it deserved to be among those masterpieces. This piece was carved in the shape of a man. If Salim were to guess the intended age, he would say perhaps early thirties. The armor suggested this was meant to be a soldier or a royal guard. A helmet covered the statue's head, but enough hair was showing for Salim to see that every strand had been painstakingly chiseled.

“Look at this,” he gestured to the others. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“It's incredible,” Rachel agreed. “It's so detailed, too. It must have been modeled after a real person. See?” She aimed her flashlight to sweep over the statue's face. Salim followed the light, nodding as he took in the jawline and shape of the statue's nose. “What do you think, Nick?”

“Amazing,” he awed. “It must have taken them years to carve this thing. I wonder why there's only one?”

“Maybe they saw how much effort it took, and stopped,” Joey suggested. He lifted his camera to take a picture. “Why isn't he holding a weapon?”

Salim noticed that, too. The statue was not wielding a sword or a spear. Instead, it held a shield out in front as if preparing to defend against a threat. Salim imagined that in the right hands, a shield could be a powerful weapon on its own. The others moved on to explore the rest of the chamber but he stayed by the statue. He was curious about it. Who was the warrior, and why go through so much trouble to carve him in such fine detail?

There was something strangely lifelike in the statue. Though the eyes were blank stone, they held a fierce determination. Salim imagined this warrior was a great defender. The armor left the statue's arms uncovered, showing firm muscle. It looked like there was something on the statue's left arm. Salim leaned in a little closer to take a look.

“Oh, that's a shame,” he said out loud. “Someone's been down here and drew graffiti all over this statue.” He lifted his eyes up to the statue's face. “If you lived in our time, my friend, that might make an interesting tattoo.” The statue stared back at him, ever vigilant in its silent guardianship. “We're lucky you're here,” Salim remarked. “Just between us, I don't think any of them know how to fight.”

That was when he noticed the carvings on the shield. Most of it was worn away, but he could make out a few of the words.

“ 'Awake protector',” he read out loud. “ 'Guard against all enemies.' All enemies, hm? By yourself? I'm impressed.” He smiled at the statue. Eric called to him. “I need to get back to work,” Salim said. He gave the statue a friendly pat and headed over to where Eric was waiting.

That night, Salim was having some trouble sleeping. The Americans had all settled by now. After tossing and turning, Salim got up and went for a walk. He went a few paces away from camp and caught something shifting in the darkness ahead. He looked back to make sure. Yes, all of the Americans were accounted for. Clarice said there were likely to be different creatures making their home in these caves, like bats. Salim wished he thought to bring something to fight with. The closest thing he had to a weapon was a crowbar Merwin brought along with the rest of the gear. Salim hurriedly snatched it up and carefully made his way forward.

There was movement again. Salim raised his crowbar prepared to strike. He didn't want to hurt any of the wildlife here, but he certainly wasn't going to allow a bat to fly into his face. More movement, and this time it was followed by a noise like shifting rock.

“Hello?” he called. “Is someone there?”

“Hehhhhh.” The noise sounded more like a groan. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. “Hehhhhlohhhh.”

“Who's there?” Salim demanded. “Come out where I can see you!”

The shifting rock noise happened again, louder this time. There was a shape approaching him. It was too big to be a bat. Salim's heart pounded hard against his chest. He gripped the crowbar in both hands. The shape drew close enough for him to make out that it was roughly human-sized.

The figure at last came into view. The crowbar slipped from Salim's fingers and clattered to the ground. He barely noticed, too stunned by what he was seeing.

The statue of the warrior was standing there, staring right back at him.

[luimagines]

Hi Pinky! So like, I had a thought. (Dangerous, I know.)

What if the Chain gets to a town and the townsfolk are just BEGGING this group of obviously well trained warriors to help them in their plight. They’re willing to pay upfront and they tell tales of a wicked beast that dwells in a cave nearby that torments them and has for several years! They beg the Chain to slay the beast and free them from its evil spirit.

Naturally, the Chain investigate.

After a journey, they arrive at the cave… which at first glance is full of treasure! Sweet! But as they continue to investigate, there’s no sign of this beast. But it seems an area of the cave has been made to resemble a home. A bunch of cloth has been piled up in the shape of a bed, a tree stump (looks like it was legit pulled out of the ground) was placed like a table nearby, and wooden boards against the wall were made to resemble cabinets. They were empty. More of the cave had the crude decor, it was like an imitation of sorts.

Anyway, as they’re investigating, they hear something approaching! So they hide and wait for whatever it is to show itself. Turns out, this ‘beast’ is nothing more than a girl (or boy. Or gn. Idk. I’m a girl so I project) maybe in her late teens or early twenties. However, it was clear she wasn’t quite… Hylian. Her skin was a pale gray. She had horns protruding from both sides of her head, and instead of hands and feet, she had claws/talons. And when she opened her mouth, she had rows of razor sharp teeth.

“I’m home~” She said in a singsong voice as she pulled a brand new gem from her bag and placed it with her other treasures. She then proceeds to throw a bloodied fish onto the table and dance around her home without a care in the world.

The details get fuzzy at this point because I’m unsure exactly how the Chain respond. But the gist is either they show themselves or the girl finds them. She then proceeds to get very scared and cowers. This eventually turns into the Chain questioning her and they find out the townsfolk weren’t truthful. Turns out, she has only ever set foot into the town once… and was chased out with torches and pitchforks. And they often come by when she’s away and trashes her home and takes her belongings.

She tried to mimic the Hylian homes she’s seen, so that’s why the decor of the cave was the way that it was. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was all for, but she wanted to be like them. She knew the people in the town slept in beds and put food on a table, so she adopted the habits.

She likes shiny things! So that’s why she has so much treasure. She goes out on treasure hunting trips and finds anything shiny. She has never stolen her shiny treasures. She actually finds ruins and similar places to dig and find what she wants.

This is also where details get fuzzy. Idk if the idea will ever continue in my mind because I’m honestly unsure of what happens. I kinda think some of the Chain (Time) is like “not our circus not our monkeys” because she’s not actually doing anyone any harm. But the other half of the Chain is like “We can’t just leave her and met the townsfolk continue to torment her!” Again though, details are fuzzy and I’m unsure of how to continue.

Hope you have enjoyed this little idea I had. Feel free to comment on it or add your own spin to it. This goes for you and everyone else who sees this.

For the longest time, I thought I already responded to this. Oof- my sickness was deep-

Poor Reader, they were just trying to fit in with the people and instead they were run out of town and attacked.

I think it would make more sense if Reader finds them first. they have no reason to show themselves to the "threat" especially if said threat doesn't know they're there yet. It's a learning opportunity to see what they do and what they've been doing in the comfort of their own home.

If Reader found them on their own, it cold lead to more angst and more opportunity to open up the dialogue for the viewer (I can't really call y'all Reader here, can I?) to learn more about the current world and circumstances. Use for exposition purposes.

I wonder why Reader was trying to copy the people so bad though? Where did Reader come from?

Furthermore, I think maybe the next point of what to do next would lend itself nicely to having Reader join them in their adventures. It's the perfect middle ground to the whole "not our circus, not our monkeys" thing you mentioned while also giving Reader an opportunity to escape the harrassment from the townsfolk.

Granted, I'm not entirely sure where to take it from this point as well. But maybe the community can come up with something. XD

[kurithedweeb]

Today we're talking about Irene! Well, her powers. Well, Anastasia's powers. Well, how weird I found Irene's powers set considering what we knew about the magick system and how I tore it into little pieces to play around with as my little heart desires.

I propose that Irene not have healing or purification or revival or dimension-making powers at all. I propose that she have a single power and that it involves time dilation.

Her immortality isn't immortality at all: her magick has simply slowed her body's aging down to such a crawl that it looks like immortality. When she heals someone, she's speeding up the healing process so much that it's like watching a timelapse, or if she's reviving someone she's turning time back to when the body was alive. When she heals farmland, she's either returning it to its previously healthy state or speeding up the soil until the nutrients have replenished. When she's supposedly making another dimension, what she's doing is speeding through an area's history for the opening of a naturally occurring divide, because come on there's gotta be some, and then just hopping through to an already existing place.

What are the side effects of this? Aside from the pretty shiny light effect.

As Irene she didn't have to eat or drink nearly as much, or sleep, but she slept regularly because her mind still got exhausted even if her body usually didn't. People she heals have shortened lifespans, the time they would have naturally taken to heal is chopped off their lifespan and for some reason they always get real hungry and thirsty after a healing. Some of them lose weight like they've been starving for months. Those brought back from the dead either remain in a death-like state when they're revived like their soul isn't there, fall into comas and vegetative states, or come back insane from whatever they saw on the other side. Farmland will quickly go back to being barren if farmers don't change their rotation often enough or fix the underlying cause. Sometimes the dimensional divides rupture and void spills into her home dimension, which she then has to rewind back into the space between dimensions or launch into hyperspeed so hard it crystalizes, and this also explains how the situation in VOID Paradox got started and the black and purple void-like stuff Zane covers Phoenix Drop with.

The Irene Dimension was already an existing realm adjacent to the MCD Overworld realm. It was an empty anti-void. Irene took up residence there and used the space to experiment more with her magick, which resulted in the time dilation issue between the Overworld and the Irene Dimension, which then accounts for her disappearance when the Divine Warriors regrouped after Shad.

OH!! It also accounts for why praying to Irene(?? that's what the wiki said) reverted Alexis back to a baby over time!! Irene/Anastasia accidentally dosing Alexis with a bit of her time magick when she visited her because it was reacting to her hope that Alexis could be returned to her natural self!! This probably didn't make her human again, but her Shadow Knight form gradually coaxing her back to the adult form she took would give the illusion of her growing up and she'd learn to handle the Calling the way she would any other violent urges (since that's all anyone thinks they are) as she grew and since she never goes to the Nether or gets influenced by Shad in person she'd probably end up the most stable Shadow Knight ever. Man, learning she's immortal for seemingly no reason by not aging while the rest of her friends start getting old would be trippy for her. Triggering her Shadow Knight form on complete accident when her body's old enough to handle the change would be traumatizing for the whole family.

Anyway, time magick!

[skyward-floored]

in downfall iau, you said warriors and wild sometimes cross paths? what's that like?

Link = Wild, Cryonis = Warriors. They cross paths now and then after this, but it’s usually only a brief nod in the halls, if anything. They don’t get much time to socialize.

...

The day Link met Cryonis wasn’t exactly one of his proudest moments.

It was at some point in the middle of his training, early in his high-level classes. He didn’t remember the exact date, but it had been a couple of years before he was assigned to guard Flora, he remembered that.

And while the date didn’t stick in his head, the rest of the day’s events certainly did.

Link had caught a cold somewhere, an awful one that made his nose run and body ache. His instructor always pushed him hard, but today had been awful, Link’s head pounding, his limbs shaky. The mere idea of food had been nauseating, and he’d done every back-breaking exercise that was demanded of him with a hollow stomach that twisted when he so much as moved the wrong way.

His instructor had been less than impressed by the end of it, and given him an extra fifty laps to run. Normally Link would barely break a sweat at something like that, but today he nearly threw up as he finished.

He knew if he did it would only increase his punishment though, so he swallowed back the bile, and tried not to shake as his instructor finally, finally dismissed him.

Link stumbled away from the training area, thoughts only on dragging himself to his bed and passing out.

He would have too, if he hadn’t accidentally turned the wrong way in his dizziness, and then been unable to ignore his stomach any longer.

There wasn’t a bathroom down this hallway, but as luck would have it there was a janitor’s closet. Link stumbled inside the tight area, closed the door, then threw up into the nearest empty bucket.

“Whoa, easy there, kid.”

The voice startled him, but Link was too busy heaving to reply. It wasn’t until he finally finished that he shakily raised his head, and saw that there was another person in the closet with him.

His hair was blond like Link’s, though considerably shorter and a little more pale. His eyes were a sharp blue, and he had a blue and white outfit on, one that looked somewhat familiar... but Link’s brain wasn’t up to puzzling out where he’d seen it before.

All he knew was that he’d been caught somewhere he technically shouldn’t be in.

“S-Sorry,” he rasped, then stumbled back to open the door and leave. He’d barely moved before the man scooted forward and gently caught him by the arm though, concern in his red-rimmed eyes.

Huh, that’s weird...

“Hey, wait a second,” the man insisted, pushing him to sit down on an overturned bucket. “You look pretty shaky. Plus you were just puking your guts up, why don’t you catch your breath and sit for a minute?”

Link would have argued, but sitting down felt so good that the words fled from his mouth. He bobbed his head in small agreement, and focused on breathing steadily so he wouldn’t throw up again.

“Panic attack, or sickness?” the man asked after a few moments of nothing but Link’s shaky breathing.

Link held up two fingers, and the man nodded, looking just a hair more worried than before.

“I was afraid of that. I heard something was going around,” he said sympathetically. “Do you need a hand getting back to your room? Or maybe the clinic, if you’re going to keep losing your lunch like that.”

Link firmly shook his head. He didn’t need an escort or anything, that would only draw attention to them both.

And of course, the action of shaking his head made him dizzy, which set his stomach off again, and he lunged for the bucket. He threw up into it again, though nothing much came up this time as he heaved.

He stopped before long though, and realized the man had scooted closer to him of all things, and was watching him intently.

“Yeah... you’re definitely sick. I think I should take you to the clinic,” he said worriedly.

Link shook his head again (much more slowly this time), and managed to raise his head and look the man in the eye.

“You don’t want to go there,” he guessed, and Link nodded. “...That’s fair. I’m not really a fan either.”

Especially if doctors freak you out, Link thought with a shiver. He’d been put through too many exams to count over the years, tests to see if his super-speed held up in certain conditions, all kind of invasive checks of his physiology. He’d probably have to sit through another checkup if he went there now, and considering how he already felt close to crying, that would not be a good thing.

“You need some kind of help though,” the man said, standing up from his own overturned bucket and holding out his hand. “I’ll settle for a compromise— if you let me help you back to your room, I won’t drag you to the clinic. Deal?”

Link hesitated.

Sure this man had been kind up until now, but Link didn’t know him. And yeah, he was obviously a super, but Link had met plenty of his own kind willing to stab others in the back if it meant making things easier for themselves.

“I can get some medicine for you too,” the man said more quietly, drawing Link from his thoughts. “I know of a way to get some, no questions asked. So long as you let me help you back to your bed?”

Link exhaled, and nodded.

Why not? What did he really have to lose here? He might as well give this guy the benefit of the doubt. His head hurt too much to think of a different plan anyway.

Plus if it came down to it... Link could still run. It wouldn’t be fun or easy, but he could do it.

The man gave him a small smile, then extended his hand again, letting Link take it. The man’s hand was cold, but soothingly so, the temperature nice against Link’s own too-warm hand. He helped him stand up, and as Link’s head spun from the change in altitude, he suddenly recognized where he’d seen the man before.

“Cryonis,” he realized, then shrank back when he realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Yes, that’s me,” Cryonis replied, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll forgive you for not recognizing me sooner since you’re under the weather, though I’ll admit it’s kind of refreshing not to be recognized. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t my idea to be put on those posters.”

The last sentence was said in a teasing tone, and Link smiled in spite of himself, rolling stomach and aching limbs forgotten for a moment. Maybe he’d be okay.

After setting the messy bucket over by some others that obviously needed to be cleaned, Cryonis pulled the closet door open, and gestured him out. Link followed him, and they walked down the hallway, moving much slower than Link was used to going.

They progressed mostly in silence, Link focusing on keeping his legs from faltering. Ever step made his head pound, and his stomach was rolling again, the taste from the last time he’d thrown up still in his mouth.

He swallowed. Nope. He wasn’t going to be sick again. He needed a distraction.

Link snuck a look over at Cryonis, noticing again how red his eyes looked, and overall how he just seemed... sad. Grieved, maybe?

Come to think of it... why had he been in that closet?

“Where’s your room?” Cryonis asked as they turned towards where the supers’ quarters were, and Link pointed down the hallway.

“Second barracks,” he said quietly.

“Really? You’re pretty young to be there, were you in the accelerated program?” he asked softly, and Link nodded. “Huh. Well we’ve got that in common. Of course things weren’t as bad when I was your age, but still...”

He trailed off and cleared his throat, looking away from Link.

Link thought he’d heard his voice crack a little, and he frowned, thinking again of how red Cryonis’s eyes looked. Should he ask what was wrong? It seemed like there was something bothering him, but... talking wasn’t exactly Link’s forte.

Luckily (or not) for Link, his stomach took that moment to heave, and he stumbled, leaning against the wall and trying desperately not to throw up again.

“Easy kid, breath slowly. Here, sit down for a second.”

Link felt cool hands push him carefully down to the floor, and he shakily breathed in, fighting against the nausea.

“Why... you doing this?” he whispered once he got his stomach under control again.

It didn’t really make any sense to him. Link had stumbled into a closet and thrown up, and the random man inside of it not only offered to walk him to his room, but he was actively trying to help him feel better and even offered to get him medicine.

...Why?

“I have the ability to help you. Why would I withhold that?” Cryonis said softly. “And I... don’t often get an opportunity to do that. Help people. And when I can, I can’t do much. Especially for other supers.”

Cold air seemed to accompany the last few words, fragile with grief, and Link didn’t know what to say in response.

“But I can help you,” Cryonis continued, clearing his throat. “And before you ask, no, you don’t need to repay me. Only payment I need is you getting better.”

Link smiled a little wobbly at the sentiment, something in his stomach that wasn’t nausea flipping around. Cryonis offered him a hand up again and held him steady when he swayed.

“C’mon. Let’s get you back to your room,” Cryonis said with a faint smile, and Link let him lead him back to where he slept, somehow managing to keep his stomach steady the rest of the way there.

Cryonis escorted him as far as he could— he didn’t sleep where Link did, and didn’t have clearance to go inside, but he promised he’d swing by with some medicine later. And Link gave him a small smile in return when he told him he’d see him later.

And it wasn’t until later, when Link was wrapped in a blanket, his stomach finally calm as he drifted off to sleep, that he realized something.

He’d never found out why Cryonis was in that closet in the first place.

[achaotichuman]

TELL ME ABOUT CEPTHIZ!!!

Also do u wanna hear me stupid joke??????? It’s a pun on the name

YES YES YES YES YES I GET TO RAMBLE ABOUT THIS

So, when I started the fic, I wanted to include my own OC monsters, because I love it when life is born from death, and creatures that blur the lines between this life and the next. And since my whole fanfiction (A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning) revolves around this kind of dance on that line, I thought why not create a creature that plays around with that idea.

So, the Cephtiz are actually quite sad in how they exist, they are the bodies of people who were unfortunately caught in the battle of Hybern, and Koschei in the Spring Court. When Koschei died (he was killed in the Spring Court, but that's a whole story) the life in Spring began to turn rotten. It festered, and these Fae bodies still had the remnants of Spring Magic in them, and since Faery bodies are built to house life (souls etc.) they became the vessels for these creatures called the Cephtiz.

Now, the Cephtiz cannot be killed by physical force, and even as Spring began to heal, they still roamed the land, killing off breathing creatures and feeding on their Life force and magic to rejuvenate themselves. Its like a sick twist of the whole magic of the Spring Court itself, which is all about rejuvenation.

And the more magic they stored, the more their bodies began to heal. Some Cephtiz becoming so recognizable, they could walk into villages and be invited back into houses, fooling grieving families into believing they are their lost relatives. Then they will feed on the families lives.

As the Cephtiz cannot be killed, they have to be warded off. Things that can prevent the Cephtiz from targeting a town, village or household are things like basic warding spells, cleansing spells. They are fairly easy to ward off, since as people became more aware of them, they stopped falling for their tricks, and the Cephtiz began to starve, weakening their magic. But for the stronger Cephtiz, stronger rituals are needed to prevent them entering homes. So, rituals that involve communicating with the dead can prevent the Cephtiz from entering, since the Cephtiz are uncomfortable and sometimes (if the person who once housed their body was strong enough) fear the soul they stole their body from.

The Cephtiz can only be entirely killed if they are starved completely, and the only people who can go near them and come away relatively unharmed are Tamlin and Dahlia (his daughter) since their magical influence over the earth takes precedence over the Cephtiz. As the Cephtiz can manipulate the earth, causing foliage to rapidly rot and die off, can cause the magic in the air to feel drained, rotten or sour, and can manipulate the area around them to change paths or change the growth pattern of plants very quickly.

Tamlin and Dahlia are really the only ones strong enough to trap the Cephtiz, and then starve them over a period of weeks before finally having the empty rotten corpses burned, the ashes are then buried as a final send off to the person the Cephtiz had possessed.

Some other lore about the Cephtiz. They can replicate voices from their preys past and use it to lure them further into their grasp. They can behave in manners that is very akin to Suriels, speaking in riddles, rhymes or singing words that sound prophetic, leading some to believe the Cephtiz are harbingers of impending doom, or imminent death.

The Cephtiz are also likely to hunt in packs, and behave very similarly to each other. Often formulating plans, enacting strategies and changing their behaviors quickly without so much as giving any kind of signal to the others, leading to speculation that they may be a hivemind. Or in a similar way to fungi being able to communicate without noise or movement, they have some kind of system of communication through foliage.

Also fun fact, the name by itself 'The Cephtiz' is entirely made up, but I based it off of the Persian name Sephtis which means Eternal Death (feel free to pull me up on that if I am wrong, I checked across multiple sources to make sure I was correct, but sometimes even in depth research doesn't pay out entirely) but in any case, I also like the name Cephtiz because it just sounds like sepsis and this creature is extremely infection-like and it sounds icky and death-like and all the lovely disgusting things I want my readers to feel when they read about them.

Anyway, anyway, thank you for letting me ramble, and please tell me what the pun is!!!