#among ink rain and clouds

[rebelfell]

shelter from the storm

eddie munson x fem!reader

When your power gets knocked out, your neighbor comes to check on you and make sure you’re okay. Among other things.

18+, MDNI 2.8k

cw: plus-size reader, drinking/smoking, references to r’s shitty ex/domestic disputes, some good old making out & grinding.

The lights in your trailer barely flickered when the storm outside knocked out your power. 

In an instant you were plunged into total darkness, broken up only by brief flashes of lightning that struck overhead. The silence that engulfed you was almost oppressive, the outage having silenced everything, down to the ambient noise you had grown so accustomed to you only noticed it missing once it was gone—the distant drone of your A/C unit, the steady hum of your fridge, the static buzz of your radio.

They all ceased at once, leaving only the sounds of the storm and your heavy breathing.

You’d curled up on the sofa just as it was getting started, your eyes drifting from the old black and white movie playing on your TV to watch the trees bend and sway in the howling winds, dark clouds heavy with rain rolling in to blot out the sun.

And if you just so happened to catch a glimpse of your next door neighbor outside weatherproofing his windows, dressed in nothing but gray sweats slung dangerously low on his narrow hips and showing off his toned, tapered waist…

Well, that was just a bonus.

You certainly hadn’t chosen this spot in particular for its view of Eddie’s place. And it wasn’t like you had sat here many, many times before to watch him lounging on his porch, strumming his beat-up acoustic, or doing maintenance on his van in a sweaty tank top that clung so artfully to his lean frame, showing off sinewy, tattooed arms that flexed with every crank of a wrench and made your mouth run dry imagining his veins bulging while he cranked something else.

No, you simply enjoyed watching the storm. Seeing the rain come down in sheets, darkening the earth and tamping down the dust of the main dirt road. You found it oddly soothing to see the garishly bright cracks of lightning split the sky before the BOOM of thunder that followed.

At least until the power went out.

You jumped slightly at it, in spite of yourself, heartbeat picking up in your chest. You inhaled deeply, taking a moment to steady yourself only for you to jump all over again as someone started knocking rhythmically on your front door.

It was Eddie. And he was drenched.

In the handful of seconds it must have taken him to leave his place and cross the road, he had been effectively soaked through.

His clothes were clinging to him, his white shirt translucent enough in some places you could see the black ink drawings scrawled on his skin under it. And his long hair, typically all frizz and fluff, had started to form into wet clumps, his short bangs plastered to his forehead, water running down his soft features. And his pants…

Well, you couldn’t even trust yourself to look down at his pants right now.

But even in his current state, his smile still shone like pure sunshine as he grinned and motioned behind you inside your darkened trailer.

“I saw your lights went out too,” he said. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh…oh yeah, I’m–I’m fine,” you replied, shifting excitedly under the intensity of his gaze.

“You sure? You look a little…” His eyes flickered as they ran up and down your body, lingering on the sight of your bare legs in your sleep shorts, your thighs pressed tight together. “...spooked.”

You swallowed harshly, practically gulping as his eyes returned to your face.

“N-no, I’m just—” you tittered nervously, “Sorry, it must be the storm. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh. Okay. I, uh…I guess I’ll be going, then” he said, glancing out at the storm raging beyond the cover of your porch. You felt your bottom lip pull between your teeth as you watched him turn.

“Eddie, wait!”

You called out to him, words tumbling forth in a mad dash. For a moment, you feared the storm might be too loud and he wouldn’t hear you over it, but it seemed your voice had risen enough to make him pause, his foot hovering over the top step, Adidas slide being pelted with rain.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked.

He looked back at you over his shoulder and then slowly swiveled back around, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. You licked your lips, still trying to be coy as you held his gaze.

“I made up a cooler in case the power went out,” you explained. “Y’know, just to avoid opening up the fridge. Wasn’t exactly expecting to need it so soon, but…”

You gave a little shrug of your shoulders and leaned up against the door frame. Eddie’s eyes traveled all across your body again, and from the salacious look in his eyes, you might have thought you’d just offered to blow him right there on your porch. Which you hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He jerked his chin lightly in a nod, Cheshire Cat grin spreading. Teeth showing.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

Eddie settled himself in on the couch while you went to retrieve a pair of beers from the cooler, lighting some candles along your way.

Seeing the one you’d preemptively set out on the coffee table, he leaned forward and dug his Zippo from his pocket. He lit it on his thigh, dragging it towards his body to open the top cover and then flicking it forward against his pant leg to strike it.

A long flame emerged from the silver box and he touched it to the wick, face bathed in the same wash of warm, orange light as when he lit up a cigarette or a joint. He caught your eye as you watched him from the kitchen and you chuckled when he started to expertly flip the lighter over and under his fingers, shiny metal catching the candlelight before it was tucked away.

He held his hand out for the beer you extended as you approached and you tried not to think too hard about just how large it looked as it wrapped around the emerald body of the bottle, his chunky silver rings only making his long fingers look all the more delectable. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes that had gone black in the dark. As though they were all pupil.

“Nice view,” he smirked, his gaze dancing as he nodded out the window at his own trailer.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, settling into the cushions. “Except for when my neighbor’s out there.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie’s brow arched, crooked smile still spread wide. “He must be super distracting. Can’t keep your eyes off him, can you?” 

You scrunched your nose, bobbing your head.

“More like I can’t get a minute of peace with all the racket he makes.”

You stuck your foot out to kick him, but gasped softly as he wrapped his hand firmly around your ankle and pulled your leg into his lap. Your toes wiggled against his thigh and Eddie’s grip on you loosened. He brushed his fingertips in swirling circles up your bare calf, letting them drift lightly over your skin until he heard your breath stutter and felt you shiver under his touch.

Shit. How long had it been since someone had touched you like that?

Eddie stopped himself halfway to your knee, eyes lifting to meet yours from under a raised brow in a silent question of, is this alright?

And you aren’t quite sure of your answer. 

You’ll have to let him know once you figure out whether or not you’re dreaming.

A clap of thunder outside restarts your heart in your chest. Your whole foot flexed instinctively, the dampness under it reminding you of how he had arrived, soaked through and dripping.

“Do you want some dry clothes?” you asked, drawing your leg back and tucking it underneath you. “I have some stuff you can wear, y’know. Sweats and a tee shirt.”

No underwear, but you don’t say that. 

Eddie’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and he stared intently at your mouth as he thought, startling when he realized how long he’d been quiet for. Like he forgot how to talk.

“I’d love it,” he said, eyes never leaving your lips.

You slinked back towards the bedroom and went to your closet to dig out the last lone box of your ex’s shit—your spite box, for lack of a better term. It contained all the things he’d been asking you if you’d seen anywhere since he moved out.

Things you felt he no longer had any right to.

Among them, a Venom tee from their Seven Dates of Hell tour you’d found at a flea market and he’d just started wearing because it was “too small for you, anyway,” apparently; and a pair of cashmere joggers you’d splurged on as a gift when he burned a hole in his regular pair.

“Bathroom’s through there,” you said, nodding towards it as you held out the clothes to Eddie.

He rose off the couch abruptly, crowding into your space so your bodies were just inches apart. His scent came off him and made a home in your nose, thick and musky like suede and a bit earthy like the weed he might have smoked earlier or maybe even had on his person.

You found yourself fluttering at the sudden intrusion. But you didn’t dare pull away.

His face was even more beautiful up close, littered sparsely with freckles you had never noticed before. The lines under his cheeks so deep you could see them even when he wasn’t smiling. The slightly round, almost bulbous tip of his nose that added to his soft features.

Warmth enveloped your fingers as he laid his hands over yours to take the clothes from you, so much electricity buzzing between you you half expected all the lights to jolt back to life.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he purred. All low and rumbly like the distant thunder.

You tried to answer, but with your mouth and throat suddenly achingly dry for some reason, you could only nod as he brushed past you to go change. Blaming the lack of A/C for the way your face flushed and how your chest heaved, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

Reaching for your beer that was already starting to sweat with condensation, you gulped down a long swallow merely for some relief. And you nearly spat it out at what you saw next.

You couldn’t see Eddie, but he left the door open while he changed and his top half was just barely visible in the mirror. He was mostly shrouded in shadows, but the flame that flickered in there danced over the shape of his torso and the angular planes of his back as he turned.

The soft clinking sound of him undoing his belt preceded him dropping his pants, revealing that slutty little waist of his and the very top curve of his ass. Internally, you cursed your mirror for cutting off where it did and then chastised yourself for even looking.

Fucking pervert, you thought bitterly.

You returned to the couch and forcibly turned your head back towards the window. The rain was coming down so hard now you couldn’t even see Eddie’s place. It made your heartbeat quicken at the thought that he might not want to go back out in it anytime soon. That he might stay.

“These belong to numb nuts?” Eddie asked from behind you with a smirk you could hear.

He plopped himself back down on the sofa, so close it made you bounce slightly on the middle cushion, his knee now brushing with yours.

You paused for a moment, admiring the sight of him. The shirt was a little big, but it hung nicely on his broad shoulders and he’d tucked the hem partially into the waistband of the joggers. They certainly looked a lot better on him than they ever did on your ex.

“Technically,” you smirked back, “I kept them in lieu of alimony.”

Eddie smiled, but it fell slightly, his eyes cast downward to where your knee met his. He ran his thumb over the valley between them, touching yours and then his in a steady rhythm.

“You doing alright?” he asked. “With all that?”

You shrank slightly, thinking of all your fights with him Eddie might have overheard. All of the times you slammed the door as you stormed out and went to sit on the picnic table in your robe and slippers, eyes stinging as you tried not to cry.

You were so tired of crying.

More than a few times, Eddie had happened to come out for a cigarette while you were there. He always shrugged off your apologies, like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you told him you were sorry about the noise.

He’d just shook his head and muttered, don’ ever need to apologize to me for that as he pulled a Camel from his pack with his teeth.

Before long, he’d started to pull out two and lit them both at once before handing you the spare.

“I think I am, actually,” you said, surprising yourself with how true it was. “I…I don’t think I realized just how much of his shit I was carrying around with me until I put it down.”

Eddie nodded thoughtfully and his eyes flitted back up to your face, a proud smile on his lips.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice far too deep and his eyes too dark for you to mistake his intentions.

The praise trickled down your spine like you were underneath a shower head with a slow leak.

It made you squirm with need, nearly convulsing you wanted so badly to turn on the tap full blast and let the water spray down your back.

Eddie licked his lips and he nodded downward, making you think for one mind-melting second that he was trying to get you to look at his cock. But he was just indicating the pants on his legs.

“These are so soft,” he hummed. And your eyes followed his hand as he rubbed it back and forth across his own thigh before they lifted to meet his gaze. “You wanna feel?”

He shifted down in his seat, letting himself sink fully into the cradle of the cushions. Both his feet planted solidly on the floor, legs spread slightly apart so his lap looked like the most inviting and enticing seat you’d ever seen in your life. It made your heart hammer as you stared at it.

“C’mover here, pretty,” he said, patting his thigh once more. “Please?”

Your head shook on instinct. “Eddie, no, I’m—”

He silenced the too heavy already queued up on your lips by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face into his. He licked the words right off your tongue and swallowed them down like they were his abandoned beer.

The surprise of his mouth on yours made your mind blank, your body and instincts taking over completely as you scrambled on top of him.

As your knees settled on either side of his hips, he groaned deeply—not in pain, not grunting with effort, just with the pure joy of finally getting to feel your weight settling onto him.

His arms slid around your waist and he squeezed you against him even tighter, encouraging you to give more of that exquisite pressure. He kissed you until your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, your head falling forward to lay on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

You inhaled more of his scent, extra concentrated at his neck, making you dizzy with his musk. 

He kissed along your shoulder, to your neck, to the lobe of your ear he took between his lips and sucked on it like it was your clit—hard.  And your reaction was more or less the same as if it was.

Your back arched, chest squishing up against his until his chin rested in your cleavage. His arms un -wound from around you to run his hands up the curve of your spine, making you shiver when his fingertips reached the nape of your neck.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he husked gently in your ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on your skin. “I know what you want…”

A gasp fluttered in your chest as his hands dropped to your thighs, rough palms coasting across soft skin until every single one of your fine hairs was standing on end. He then grabbed onto your ass, firmly gripping your cheeks in each hand to haul you forward in his lap, the firm shape of his hard cock pressing insistently against the dampness soaking through your shorts.

“How about…” he groaned low in your ear once again, his warm breath rushing across your neck, “...we see how many times I can make you cum before the lights turn back on?”

ty for reading. love you, mean it! ☔️

[javiersprincess]

𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓

tags: diluc birthday fic - fem reader, size difference, accidental creampie, temperature play, possessiveness, established relationship, the first time being intimate, marking, knight of favonius and cryo vision wielder reader. 6.k

synopsis: 𝐖𝐇𝚬𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝚶 𝐌𝚬𝚬𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝚶, 𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓 𝚶𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒.

You regret taking upon this assignment - more like a favor. The next time you see the blonde alchemist, you will freeze over all his ink pots. A small revenge for the suffering he put you through to head to his camp on Dragonspine for research notes he left behind. You sigh, tucking away the wind glider that you had used to descend the mountain, and think back to why you were sent - Klee is currently sick and has monopolized Albedo’s efforts, and you have always been weak to help the needy so you had readily agreed to the errand despite the blistering cold of the haunted mountain.

It seems your time under the tutelage of the Acting Grand Master has done you more harm than good.

Misfortune smiles upon you as you walk down the path that veers off the snowy side of the mountain, to the small river that leads onto the familiar view of tall grass and proud trees that decorate the land of the Anemo Archon. You are still shivering, and there is still some powdery snow on your hair that melts in the presence of the sun but as soon as you blink the sky darkens. You feel a small drip on the top of your head, and your shoulders drop in defeat as the scent of wet earth fills your nose and the sky is bloated black by the clouds - rainfall.

Just your luck, huh?

Your breath still mists over your lips and you shudder - fresh off the mountain and now getting soaked through by the rain a fog settles over your vision and you curse at how it blurs the sights together. Sucking on your teeth you ponder your options, it would be dangerous to use your wind glider now - you can’t see well, the mist of the mountain and the rain clouding what you can perceive even with your goggles. All you do is sigh and tug on your bootstraps, you are going to have to climb down the mountain.

It was easier than you expected if you discount the chattering of your teeth and the loss of feeling in your fingers despite your gloves. As you jump, climb, and trudge down the woods of Mondstadt you fail to notice that you have gone too far to the left of your map, and as you can begin to see the telltale sign of small, modest houses and crystal flies among grape vines; there is a flush that blooms across your face that isn’t from the nipping cold.

You’ve taken a big veer to the left and found yourself at Dawn Winery, subconsciously and purely by coincidence of course. A certain redhead flashes in your mind’s eye and you groan, bringing a hand up to your face in embarrassment. Even during your duties as a knight, your heart still leads you to the man you’ve recently started to court after having a harmless crush on him since his time in the Knights at the tender age of 14.

Lightning flashes, thunder booms, and the wind picks up whipping the hood of your outerwear back, you are so caught off guard you take a misstep sliding down the rocky side of the natural f formations of the mountain until you land at the base of the evergreen trees that reside on the paths that lead to the front door of the manor. It’s almost as if the Anemo Archon was pushing you toward the front door of the man you have loved since childhood. Picking yourself up, you swipe at the mud that mars your sleeves and trudge your way up the first paths that have turned into a mush of mud and rainwater. Arriving at the door you use the knocker, beating on the dark wood once and twice. You don’t have to wait for long when you see the familiar face of the head maid Adelinde, her blonde hair shines in the light of the lamp she holds in her hand. You wave timidly when she gasps your name, worry painting her face as she pulls you inside.

She’s rather strong for a maid, you think amused.

“What in the name of Barbatos were you doing out there?” She asks, lighting the fireplace in the drawing room and taking your outerwear away from you. You wince at how it drips onto the expensive wood flooring and how mud stains her sleeves. Your hair drips down your neck and you shiver, she hands you a towel - kept in the cabinet near the fireplace for emergencies at the table that is first seen when you enter through the front doors of the winery. She drags you to one of the fine chairs in front of the fire.

Before you could answer, a deep masculine voice rings from upstairs, calling out for Adelinde. Steps can be heard on the polished wood and you nervously tuck a stray hair behind your as the all too familiar scent of smokey wood and lampgrass fills your senses.

“Master Diluc, it seems we are having a special guest stay with us for the night.” The head maid says eyes flickering between the two of you as you squawk from your place in the chair. Diluc turns the corner, red eyes wide when he sees you, soaked through and shivering like a stray left in the rain. With the speed you’ve seen him exhibit in battle, he is by your side, his hand outreached to touch you before he freezes and drops his hand, still gloved by his side. Touching you so early into your budding relationship wouldn’t be proper -  and Diluc is nothing but a gentleman first and foremost.

“What happened?” He unknowingly parrots Adeline from before and you shudder before answering him, tentatively looking up at his eyes that flicker like the flames in the fireplace.

“Master Albedo asked me to retrieve research notes he left on the mountains.” You confess and wince at the scoff that leaves your lover and quickly fill him in as to why you went,

“Klee is ill so Albedo couldn’t go - I agreed to go.”Your stammer, feeling hot as the stern look on his handsome face fades to worry, you can still catch a subtle “The Knights are incompetent as ever.”

“You still shouldn’t have been sent alone.” Diluc murmurs, eyes flicking away to the flames in the fireplace. He sighs and goes to remove a red palmed glove, you watch the small action with wide eyes and swallow when you see his hands - pale and scarred, faint red hair glows in the low light of the fire and he says your name softly.

“May I touch you? I can use my vision to warm you.” You nod, wetting your lips as his hand comes to rest on the side of your face, warm and gentle in the way his palm molds to hold the weight of your cheek - red eyes glint pleased by how your shoulders drop and your eyes flutter shut by the comfort his body heat gives you. He smiles, cheeks tinged pink when he hears the small sigh that you puff out.

“I’ll have Adeline run you a bath and set some clothes for you. Have you eaten yet?” Your eyes, cloudy and relaxed, meet his eyes and he feels his heart might burst at how you look at him so trustingly - you shake your head to show that no, you haven’t eaten yet. 

“Some supper will be served for you then.” You think it’s from your long exposure to the elements but you usually would stammer and sputter at such treatment - telling him that he’s spoiling you too much but now you relax like the cat in the sun into the palm of his hand and let him do as he pleases.

“Send her to my quarters after her bath. We’ll eat there.” He instructs, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into your cheek. Diluc’s blush darkens at the soft sound you make when he releases his hold on your face, he steps closer and your mind clouds as he becomes your world. He settles before you, tucking a stray hair from your face as he takes in your tattered form,

“It appears I’ll have to exchange some words with the Chief Alchemist. I can’t have him sending my love away on such dangerous tasks.” You wince at his words but your heart softens at the worry in his voice and the pet name he regards you with. Clearing your throat you try to soothe him,

“It’s alright Master Diluc - I should have been wiser and not agreed given the circumstances, the mountain has always been dangerous,” Your rambling is cut off by another pleased sound you make. He had momentarily moved away to remove the other remaining glove and pressed his now free hand to your forehead. Warm and dry, you feel the callouses from wielding the claymore against your skin but you could sigh at the touch. The hair there is still wet and you can feel how he gently tucks away the damp strands as he slowly increases the temperature on his hands to keep warming you up.

 “It’s only Diluc when you refer to me, dearest.” He rumbles from his position in front of you - something sweet in his smile as he recounts a fond childhood memory.

“My mother would refer to my father as Master Crepus when she was cross with him so,” Red eyes as warm as the embers in the fireplace before you dance so joyfully and you can’t say if it is the fire that warms you from the inside out or by how Diluc speaks to you as softly as the bat of a crystalfly’s wings. You find that you can’t bear the weight of his loving eyes so you duck, tucking your head into your chest and letting your wet hair block your view. 

“O-of course, Diluc - I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles at you, the name he is so proud of sounds so sweet coming from your lips and he can’t but give into his lesser nature and hurries for you to say it again. Pushing and tucking away the hair you used to hide your flustered state, the skin where his hand had rested almost aches from his presence,

“Say it again, say my name one more time.” He asks, and you concede with a shy smile - stuttering over the proud syllables of his name. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, eyes wide and face hot. You hide your face with the back of your hand, from behind the fire cracks. Anything that Diluc wishes to say, from asking you to say his name again or a comment on how you can’t bear his gaze Adeline calls from the staircase - “The bath is prepared, please head this way.” She says, smiling kindly to you as you rise but not without reaching out to squeeze his hand once then twice. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” You manage to squeak out - still timid but ever eager to be at his side. He smiles in that soft way where you can’t help but think he really hasn’t changed since he was a boy that would smile so freely. Adeline leads you to a much more private and grander bathroom than the one you have been directed to use before during your previous stays at the winery. The bathtub is filled with steaming, bubbly water, and the scent of flowers is heavy. Adeline instructs you to strip, turning for privacy and you tentatively begin to under the belts that keep up your trousers and armor.

You soon are undressed, and you are careful to submerge yourself as quickly as possible - clearing your throat timidly to allow Adelanine to turn over. The foamy surface of the bath allows you some privacy and the head maid smiles at you as gently as she usually does, collecting your muddy and soaking clothes into a wicker basket.

“I will set these aside to be washed in the morning - there will be a change of clothes brought to you when you are ready. The supper will be in the Master’s room as well.” She parts with those words and you don’t know if the heat you feel in your body is that of the bath or of the prospect of being in Diluc’s bedroom, alone with him. All the times you have spent with him were under the eyes of the staff - shared dinners and chess games, you playing the lute for him as he rested his eyes and listened lovingly. You don’t think that Diluc allows the staff into his room anymore, he is no longer a young lord that needs help being dressed so as you wash the mud and snow from your hair you can’t help but think of the private affair of dinner. Even the lovely scent of flower soaps and perfumes can keep your mind off it, you tilt your head back until it meets the rim of the tub.

You begin to observe the room around, all dark wood and gold - you see the engravings of grape veins and owls and it’s hard to not let your mind wander to your redhead lover.  You blink once, then twice, and sigh from your heart as you think of his vermillion eyes and delicate touches. Your hand, silky from the soaps and still toppled with foam rests upon your chest where the heart lies and you feel its steady beat rising as you sink further and further into your thoughts of the only man you’ve loved your whole life. The sea of your thoughts and the satin water of the bath have become one - you don’t realize you are in a trance until there is a knock on the door. You call out to let the person in, thinking it to be the ever-so-helpful blonde maid, who holds you in high esteem for making her lord smile so sweetly and boyishly.

Instead, the one who peers through the door is the object of your affection - broad and towering from your position in the bath, holding onto delicate fresh clothes in his arms. Nothing is said as he finally catches wind of your position, dewy and slick with soap studs barely giving you any sort of decency of your more personal affairs. Wide eyes framed by dark lashes from the water gaze at him and if Diluc was a lesser man his resolve would have collapsed to bone and dust. He most certainly found you beautiful but here, served in the luxuries of his home Diluc can’t help but find you divine.

“I have brought you clothes, a nightgown, and something for extra warmth,” He said, eyes to the side as he could hear the splashing of the water - you were raising your arms to cover yourself. DIluc swallows around nothing and lowers his gaze to the corner of the bathroom.

“I apologize, I should have knocked.” He utters his voice uncharacteristically soft and he hopes his ears don’t match his hair. You tuck wet strands of hair behind your ear and shake your head even if he can’t see it.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You say, and it is true. He is your lover. These types of things are bound to happen if your relationship is to continue. You eye the clothes in his hands and bite your lip as you confront the reality of the situation.

“Diluc,” You say his name, and something hot runs up his spine. You say his name so softly it is almost like prayer and he can not deny the pleasure of hearing it be sung too sweetly. “Could you help me out of the bath?”

He wonders if this is his last day on this earth. Diluc lets his eyes flicker to you - eyes bright and hopeful as you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. Clearing his throat he can’t help but think he will never be able to deny you anything if you look at him like that.

“Yes, if that is permissible by you.” He agrees and you smile from behind the water, directing him to where you had seen the towel that the maid who most likely planned this happening had set them. The towel was fluffy and white, encompassing his form as you slowly rose from the now tepid bath water - you saw how Diluc scrunched his eyes shut and tilted away his face until you were wrapped in the white fabric. Clearing your throat was the sign to let Diluc lift his head and you were so close you could see the soft pink flush on the tips of his ears. Nothing was said for a moment - the moment was too precious to spoil, Diluc thinks you must be something divinely made and you can’t seem to wrap your head around how safe he makes you feel.

Is this how the jovial city of Mondstat feels knowing such a gentleman guards her walls with the ferocity of The Four Winds?

“Get dressed when you are ready - the nightgown should fit you comfortably. I’ll wait outside to take you to my quarters.” Diluc explains, eyes on the floor to avoid staring at the exposed skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Your knuckles were wrapped in the fluff fabric of the towel - you brought one up to wipe at your lips as you nodded at him. 

“I’ll be quick, promise.” The words are earnestly said, you mean them wholeheartedly and Diluc fights the urge to clutch at his chest when you speak to him in that way. In a manner that is too stiff but it’s all he can do he nods and departs from you only to bring his hand to his face and groan softly into the gloved palm. How cruel is it that you are so unfairly endearing - how is he supposed to be the gentleman he was raised to be when every action you take seems to erode his resolve?

 You are quick to change - giving yourself only a moment to gaze at the ornate nightgown you have done. It was made of a nicer quality fabric than you owned, silken and white it shined in the candlelight and was tied in the front. It was a bit loose around the shoulders and dragged behind you a tat and you can only assume that this was meant for a taller and more mature woman than yourself. After hearing a knock at the door you hurry to dry your hair some more - only for it to still be wet, sticking to your neck. You go to the door and smile when you see Diluc, a flush to his cheeks and an uncharacteristic wide-eyed look on his face when he sees you like this - dressed in a pretty little fabric that does not hide any of the curves of your body the way your uniform armor does. 

“Ah, do I look odd in this? I don’t really own anything of this sort of style - ah that’s not to say I’m not thankful! This is really pretty and it’s so soft on my skin-”

“You look wonderful in it.” Your rambling is cut off by his comment, there is something devoted in his voice that makes you timid. Face flushed from either the heat of the bath or from his praise you chose not to think of it, keeping your eyes on the dark wooden flooring and letting your hair fall into your face. Diluc can’t help but study you, a dangerous game and maybe it suits a man like him who has always invited danger into his life but right now you turn him into half of a beast and have a stumbling kitten. Lust is not a foreign concept to the Master of the House but it is one he had often thought he could without.

How foolish is the young Master? How foolish is Diluc, who ravaged the lands of Snezhnaya because the want in his chest told him to? Lust is passion, hatred is passion - Diluc though stoic and hard of face is still at the mercy of his passion. The heat of his vision pulses in time with the heat at his core; the one that makes his eyes linger on the swell of your chest for too long and it’s the same heat that makes him think of what your form would be like under his hard hands.

 You, who is kind and loving, who loved Diluc when he was a boy barely capable of picking up the claymore at the shy age of 10, and that you love him now who is dressed in pristine whites and smell of cecilias - how could his passion try to keep itself away from you? As you walk next to him, your elbow crossed with his after Diluc had offered you his arm. You are in his private quarters sooner than you had believed and chills break onto your skin as the scent that always clings to his skin is doubled in the presence of the room. Lampgrass and smoke, grapes on the vine and pine - the smog of the scents are pleasurable as the hand he places on the small of your back to press you forward. The door shuts behind you and it does nothing to break you from your spell until you feel the breath of the one behind you, voice deep enough to be commanding; “Go sit down, the table is set.”

It makes you smile when you see the spread - Goulash, Northern Apple Stew, and Moon Pie are the main dishes. You tilt your head as you near the small table and you can see the smaller dishes that you have mentioned to him that you like. Mondstadt Hashbrowns, Satisfying Salad, and even Mint Jelly. Diluc comes up from behind and blushes when he catches your eye instead of focusing on pulling out a chair for you. He gestures to sit and you do, smiling in that all too delicate way you do when you feel spoiled. 

It’s his favorite smile of yours - he hopes he can keep it on your face for as long as he lives.

“Here let me serve you,” He offers and you nod, watching how he passes you a dish of Goulash, a soup known for warming up those who have recently left the mountain of Dragonspine. It would make your tail wag if you had one as he cares for you and fills your plate as soon as it is empty. Dinner is filled with small moments that keep a smile on your face - wiping the sauce on your cheek and even taking your seat in one hand, tugging it closer to his side so your thighs brushed and pressed against one another. It’s almost romantic, here in the safety of the winery dining with him as you both discuss the simplest and most casual of topics that one only shares with their most loved ones.

You mentioned how the cecilia blooms seem to have doubled this season from the heavy rain and Diluc mentions being interested in a board game similar to chess from Inazuma named shogi. You take note to ask the traveler how to purchase a set and Diluc thinks of bringing you a bouquet of cecilias - the flower you love so much. 

Dinner is over sooner than you’d like but your eyes are half-lidded, the exhaustion of your trip to the mountains and the warmth of the meal making you weary. He notices, laughing softly when he takes note of how you sway side to side in your seat. Faster than you can blink you find yourself whisked away until your back is against the plush mattress and a wine-red comforter is tucked to your chin. With lidded eyes, you realize that he isn’t joining you to bed and you say his name in a voice that is just a tad whiney though you will never admit it.

“Where are you going?” You say with something needy in your heart and Diluc who leans over you, red hair cascading like the waterfalls that litter the landscape of Liyue in the few times you’ve crossed through Stone Gate comes to mind. His face hovers over you, you can see the faintest blotches of freckles over the noble bridge of his nose and you see how the cupid’s bow of his top lip is the slightest bit uneven. He doesn’t quite smile, lips only twitching in a soft way that conveys his affection and his hand - he abandoned the gloves for the meal, comes to rest at your brow and his gaze turns soft like a cloud when he brushes your hair away.

“I’ll sleep in a guest room, you can take my bed.” He speaks softly as if his voice grows in volume in any way you would break in his hold. Your own hand goes to his fingers and palm molding into the grooves of his knuckles with your thumb rubbing at the bare skin. Your hands aren’t as soft but they dry and even at the tips of your fingers Diluc can feel their strength. The fire is dying but something is coming to life inside of you - it makes your heart ache as a new type of heat blooms in your stomach that does not come from any soup or hearty meal. The same heat that pours in Diluc’s vision, the same that fuels his passion, and the same that brings you to your knees.

“I’m still cold.” You say but your eyes say what your heart wants -  “Don’t go, stay with me, don’t leave alone, I want you.”

“Oh?” Diluc speaks after a beat of silence, vermillion gaze ablaze with so many questions and you read them all. Your gentleman in red is installed to care for and protect the weak, the vulnerable, and the needy. You know what he wants to say - “Are you sure? When I start I won’t be able to stop.”

You’ve tilted your head, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to the scared, rough palm. Strength pulses through each digit, much like your own and your eyes are like snowfall. All pure and gentle, he finds it hard to refute you; hard to leave you in bed all alone when you look at him with sweet eyes begging him to stay. How could he say no to you? How could he deny you what it is you desire when all this night he has been attending to your every whim?

His lips are on yours and his hand heads south, cradling your jaw in his vast palm he tastes of apple cider and you taste of mint jelly - his mouth turns ravenous as if it didn’t have its fill at the dinner table. Diluc is still not satiated, his tongue warm and silken in your mouth traces the grooves of your teeth and you sigh into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, blunt fingers curling into red tresses and you can’t help but tug the slightest bit. He groans softly at the slight sting and he finds himself tugging back the comforter until you are bare to him, your skin breaks into goosebumps at being exposed to the open air again. 

Diluc pulls away for air and spit strings connect you two until they break, the drops dripping from your chin to your neck. The milk light of the moon breaks through the curtains and Dilu can’t help but give into his lesser nature to drink you greedily with his scarlet eyes. Your face is warm, your breath condensing into steam from the difference of temperatures and he can’t help but find it lewd.

“I suppose I will have to stay with you tonight, won’t I? I can’t have you going cold under my care.” His voice is deeper, ravaged by the lust in his veins and you nod letting your fingers curl into his fur-lined jacket. You nod, head spinning from a simple kiss and you return the gesture to his thumb that rests on your swollen lip.

“Take it off - take it all off and join me.” You mutter, voice sluggish and the flame of your lust turns your mind to mush. Diluc can’t help but laugh - utterly breathless and enchanted by you, his hands leave you to push away his jacket and as it falls to the floor you bring your own hands to his face to keep kissing him. You press your lips to him, to his chin and cheeks panting and mewling into the brief space shared between you both as he can’t help but tease you.

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough? Do you still want more?” You whine and shake your head, eyes hazy by your own inability to be suave and smooth when faced with the enormity of your wanting.

“More - please, please give me more M-mast-”

“Diluc. Say my name and my name alone, you’re my lover only.” He cuts off your begging with a tone that leaves no room for argument. You nod to him hastily, whining as he grabs your wrists in his own hands. You are lovely like this, panting and chest heaving. If he had better lighting he wonders if he could see the hearts in your eyes as he lets his hands go back to unbuttoning, unbuckling, and pushing away the clothes on his form. His vest, shirt, and tie have all been removed and his chest is bare to you - the sight of a thick, burly chest covered in a thin layer of red chest hair makes you moan. When morning comes you are sure to be embarrassed, ashamed of your wanton and lewd behavior but that can come in the light of dawn.

You’re fine with acting like a cheap whore rather than the refined knight everyone knows you as if it’s for Diluc and for Diluc alone.

Everything happens so fast it’s hard to keep up with - his hands are under the skirts of your nightgown, broad fingers meeting the sticky lips of your cunt and mewling under him when they run down the seam of the folds. Your slick sticks to his knuckles and he laughs breathlessly and without mirth when he tilts his head to get a good look at how you whine - bringing the back of your hand to cover your face that grows hot with your own desire. It feels like you are melting, the heat of his hands is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers that sneak their way into you. Index and middle fingers curl inside of you as his other hand curls around the one that lays helplessly amidst the plush pillows and blankets of his bed.

“So demure, so lovely - my sweet knight, how pretty you cling to me.” His face does not leave from above you, lips only a breath away as his words like candle wax, hot and cling to your ears. You brush your lips to his panting and hungry as you nod almost mindlessly only to jolt with a moan when you feel his thumb that was not idle begin to swipe at your flushed clit at the rhythm of your heart. Diluc can’t help himself, tilting his head as he ponders the matter of his mind letting his fingers search for what it is he seeks; hounds sniffing for the rabbit in the meadow. You squeal suddenly, your thighs threatening to shut when the blunt tip of his fingers meets the softer, tender spot of nerves on your upper walls. A flame dances in his eyes as he smiles - a cold and victorious as you moan his name again and again as you melt under him.

“I found something, didn’t I?” Diluc is not one to tease but he can’t help but to as your pleasure folds over his hands like syrup. The release of your cunt clings to his fingers like it too, tastes just as sweet. You are open now, wet and darling with the pretty nightgown he gave you rucked up to your stomach and he can see how you twitch for more. The hand that held yours goes to his belt and you mewl from his departure making something smug in him grow three times over. The ever-kind and independent knight you reduced to a spoiled soiled pet, you really are an endearing darling to have his own.

His own, the thought makes him sweeten, pressing a kiss to your pliant and drooling mouth as he frees his cock from the prison that is his trousers. His mouth hovers over your lips and he asks you with his cock pressed between your bodies. It drools onto your thigh as you look down at it, your head swimming as you think about how it will be inside you if you permit.

“Are you warm enough now?” Diluc asks - still playing the game from before and you shake your head reaching down with a blind hand to take the shaft of his cock in your grip.

“No - no I’m still cold, warm me up some more please.” You say and he groans as you squeeze your hand around him with your thumb coming to swipe at its ruddy head. He whispers to you a rugged and breathless “okay” and he slips inside you like you were made for him. Birds have wings, lions have claws and he has you; Diluc not once believed he would ever find completion in his life but now he feels inside of you when you squeeze around the thickness of his length.

Breath-like steam brushes past your face as his hand goes to grip the headboard with a fierceness you’ve only seen from him twice. You are panting, almost going cross-eyed at the stretch, the heat, and the fullness you are feeling. Beads of sweat fall down your back and wads of tears make their way to your eyes and down your cheeks as you begin to hiccup at the first, second, and third thrust he gives you. You moan his name, say it like it's the only word you know - the first one to grace your lips and shape with your tongue. It is what makes lust dance along his spine like lightning, how you squeeze and drip and moan; Diluc is helpless to you, growing more enraptured by your hedonistic beauty with each thrust he gives you.

His grip on the headboard tightens and he feels the wood splinter and smoke, steam rises from his back as he moves faster and faster. It’s almost like you are the metal in his workshop and Diluc the blacksmith; forging you into something new, something whole with the weight of his cock and the blistering heat of his lust. You come without warning - a surprised shout of half his name as you squeeze tight around his cock. The tightness is unexplained and it stops him from thrusting with a sudden washing tide of his own completion. A mix of your own slick and his spent spills from around the walls of your cunt that flutter around his flushed cock as you tremble in the aftershocks of your pleasure.

Dilcu only watches, mouth agape and wide eyes as he takes you in - soaking and sopping, moaning, and whining beneath him. Your cunt leaks, dripping down his balls with the milky white combined release of the two of you and he finds that it isn’t enough. No, he wants more, vermillion eyes drink in the patheticness of your state; the drool that makes your lips shine in the low light and the tremors in your chest. His mind is set in stone, cum still hot inside of you with his cock twitching that the idea of filling you again and again his hips roll back and then forward into you. Gasping, your hands that had hung limp and useless at your side come to clutch at his biceps leaving lines as red as his noble hair - you are helpless in his grasp just like the headboard that smokes from above you.

“Diluc - Diluc wait, too much, too much!” You want to gasp, you want to warn but all you can hear is the wet skin of your ass smacking against his pelvis and his grunts that echo in his room.

“I’m not warm enough, not yet.” You wither and collapse on your back letting go as he pleases moaning when you release in the back of your mind that the ache in your gut each time he fucks both his and your cum back into you. Your head tilts back, empty and so far gone all you can do is hang onto him as you take note of the small specks of melting ice that hangs above the headboard that he grips with all his might.

[ghostmaldo]

ˏˋ ╎ ⁀➷❤️🍒´ˎ˗ Prompt: You don’t have to earn my affections with Lucifer and GN!Human!MC ˏˋ ╎ ⁀➷❤️🍒´ˎ˗

⭐️Headcannons⭐️

I didn’t have any energy left to really proof read this one but I was feeling this one a bit 😭.

Ask box : Open heart💙

Playlist played during writing process: https://youtu.be/a50H8JJ_kaE?si=q1lOOgvWQrJIFlnT

<—Lucifer pov —>

~It’s been a long grueling last few days for Lucifer. His paper work never seems to become lighter. The head aches become stronger and worse of all… his thoughts were swimming in self doubt. Even if he is the avatar of pride… his self doubt grew with each passing hour. Hair in disarray and his uniform splayed out messily on his body. Too consumed by the ink on the page to be bothered to fix it.

~ What was he doing wrong? His brothers didn’t like him… He wouldn’t either for being the soul reason for them to be kicked out of their heavenly home. He hadn’t been strong enough then… hell… he may not be strong enough now to carry them all.

~Thoughts like this continued to swirl in his clouded mind. Dragging him further in a dark abyss. The words on the page became mute and his hand holding his pen stopped moving.

~”Lucifer?” He flinched. Eyes flickering up to the door where he found MC standing there staring at him worriedly. He lifted his head quickly, greeting with a half-assed smile. “Ah, (MC), forgive me I didn’t see you standing there.”

~This didn’t deter the worry in their eyes. They calmly walked over to where he was, taking the seat next to him. “Lucifer… are you sure your alright?” They asked sweetly, it nearly made him break right there. Yet his pride kept a strong hold on him.

~”I’m fine (MC), I’m a bit busy with all this paper work-“

~ His words were cut off when MC wrapped their arms around his torso. Carefully laying their head over Lucifer's frantically beating heart. He froze, unsure of what was happening. Awkwardly stiff while MC comfortably embraced him.

~”You're a terrible liar.” They spoke simply, burying their head further in his chest. It was at that point he surrendered himself. He let his pen fall to his desk, melding himself with MC. Breathing in the scent they’d come to adore. He felt himself completely relaxed against them. The numbness in their fingers disappeared as he ran his hands through their hair.

~”I don’t know what's gotten into that silly head of yours Luci… But I’m here for you. Always.”

~He struggled to find a response to their statement. But it touched his heart in a way no other being had ever accomplished. He pulled them into his lap. Cradling them as close as possible to him. His worry slowly chipped away with the presence of MC.

“Thank you MC.”

~~

MC POV

~The sudden lack of rain drops slamming against their shoulder brought them out of their busy mind. Turning their gaze upward, they found Lucifer standing above them with a brow raised. An umbrella shielding them from the freezing rain.

~“MC, your soaking wet…”

~They peered at their uniform… sure enough he was right. Their clothes stuck uncomfortably to their skin and it was then they realized how cold they were. They’d been so caught up in their self loathing they hadn’t even realized when it had started raining.

~”Why don’t we go inside before your catch your death, perhaps you can tell me what's on your mind?”

~They nodded slowly, rising to their feet and followed Lucifer along to his room. Leaving behind a trail of wet foot prints along the carpet. Once in the safety of his room, MC cracked. Softly sobbing while Lucifer gently changed them out of their soaking clothes and provided his t-shirt and comfortable pants to be in. They confessed how unworthy they’d felt lately. Other demons' words lurking the back of their mind… what gave them the right to be among them at all? They were only human after all.

~ Lucifer directed them to sit on the bed, laying them down against his chest as they sobbed softly. Rubbing soothing circles into their back. “Human you may be, albeit perhaps not a smart one at times…” he flickered his eyes over to the soaking pile of clothes currently in his bathroom sink. “I’d say you are more than worthy to be here, here with us… with me. Don’t ever forget that. We cherish you very deeply MC.”

~He wiped away the stray tears from their eyes. Giving them a warm kiss on their forehead. The darkness chased away by Lucifer's confession. Soon enough, they both lay asleep in each other's arms. Forgetting about all those crude words. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was this moment.

[wispstalk]

bruma vignettes

Bruma in spring: The roads, clear of snow for the first time in months, offer no easy passing. The forested slopes soak up meltwater; the roads turn to mush, rutted deep with wagon-tracks, the movement of herds to fresh pastures where the grass bursts from the sleeping soil.

The Hero of Kvatch and his apprentice go out ranging. Looking for sinister signs among this flurry of movement: reddening skies, whiffs of sulfur. Combing the wilderness for arches of black stone, witnessed only by themselves and the hawks. One erupts from the spongy ground of a pristine glade, turning it hard and cracked and burnt. Sparrows and stags and pine martens flee. The two hunters enter.

After the gate falls, the Hero of Kvatch stalks back to the trail. No one is faster than his apprentice, but his long legs outpace her. Absorbed in his brooding, he vanishes around the hairpin turns that snap back and forth across the mountain.

She finds him waiting for her on a rocky ledge that punches a gap in the masses of trees. A nice view of the valley below. He’s chewing something. Holds out his hand: a spruce tip, such a bright green it seems to glow with reckless optimism.

For fending off scurvy and spring sicknesses, he tells her. That is the lens through which he sees the world: its ailments. He sets about filling his hip pouch with the buds, claims it makes a pleasant tea. Raw and fresh, the initial taste is bitter, the texture like soft caterpillar legs dancing over her tongue. She almost spits it out. Endures. Savors the reward of subtle earth and spice that lingers in her mouth, all the way to the temple.

—

Bruma in summer: Sweltering days giving way to cool nights. No one quite knows how to dress themselves. Pile on layers, peel them off, odd assemblies of thick woolen shawls and trousers hacked off at the knee. Sticky, fragrant shade beneath the bowed branches of the laurels; sere fields and pastures where they have been cleared away. The sun makes lazy exits and the markets become livelier in the evenings once the breeze kicks up. Music and chatter drifting from tavern doors, flung open wide.

—

Bruma in autumn: A storm surges up from the balmy Abecean. The Jeralls turn their backs and let it blow itself out. Pounding rain recruits cold and wind on its way north, turns to hail: the lash of Kynareth or a tribute to the stone.

Down in the foothills, the trees throw out one last defiant burst of color. Clad like festival dancers, they form a circle around the valley with all its smoking chimneys, a sort of reverse bonfire. They shed their red and gold finery in tantalizing pieces. Naked grey branches, stoic in the wake of their revels, keep weary watch over the houses nestled in the cradle of the mountains.

Peer through the windows of those houses, glowing gold with lantern-light. See that there are harvests on the tables within, despite everything.

—

Bruma in winter: There is a path, hidden by hemlock branches and the bare skeletons of wormwood, that carves its way into the sky. Now it is so clogged with snow that those who walk it must wear bearpaws of bent willow and tie trailing sprays of pine to their packs to mask their footsteps.

When the snow-haze lifts, the temple in the sky can almost be seen. A determined eye might catch a rocky ledge where the shapes are a bit too regular. The temple meets that gaze with indifference: any challenger must first survive the climb.

Within Cloud Ruler, there is safety and boredom. The Blades spread crushed rock on the icy battlements, in part to make their patrols less perilous, and in part for something to do. The heir to the throne is a fixture in the great hall. His eyes grow shadowy as the long nights, his hands stain with ink, the cedar smoke of the hearth sinks into his hair and the roughness of his rare-used voice.

He realizes that it has been days, or weeks, or— some time since he has been out to greet the sun. Its wan light feels like a cruel mirror. But he goes around gathering up armor against the biting wind: a shirt that smells of a friend, smoke and sweat and horse and iron. A bearskin coat over that, and an old worn blanket of checked wool.

His slippered feet are unsteady on the hard-packed ice despite the gravel. He makes it to the battlements, stares down at the expanse of grey and white that yawns beneath him. Snaps an icicle the length of his arm off the ledge of the wall. Holds it up, considers the way it gathers up enough wan light to glitter.

He hucks it, like a spear, at a crooked spruce that clings to the downslope. The tree shudders and drops its burden of snow. The shatter and soft thump are amplified, bouncing off rock faces, and a patch of snow shifts and slides until it comes to rest against a boulder.

He lets out a soft curse and a laugh. Careless. Petulant. All the snow that mantles these moutains could be brought down, perhaps by a shout of anguish or frustration or sheer bafflement. The heir to the empire has had enough of inviting catastrophe. He knows how to take pleasure in a little peace and quiet.

White peaks scrape holes in a matching sky and vanish into them. These austere mountains have borne the cold for countless turns of the season, before there were people to do any counting. They will weather more yet.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 3: Phantom Lord

Raining Hellfire (Eddie's Version) | Part One

Word Count: 3580

Warnings: swearing, bullying, i swear writing these is boosting my serotonin levels he's just adorable rn

[A/N: Massive applause to anyone mildly interested in this fic , I've been writing these chapters just to distract my mind from the many horrors of life-]

Phantom Lord

Paired with RH1: Chapter 3: Photo-Op

“Hey there, freak.”

“Wow, who let the freak out?”

“Who is that guy, again?”

Eddie walked through the murmurs of gossip and attention-seekers, ignoring the disgusted looks from the cheerleading team. As he passed them, he thought he recognised one of the girls, her head down as she hugged her books, barely glancing up through her blonde bangs. She looked kind of embarrassed.

If he hadn’t caught his Walkman in his driver’s seat door, then he wouldn’t have to put up with this. He’d be strolling through the halls with Metallica soothing his urge to scream.

When he finally made it to his locker, he began shoving in his new DnD campaign ideas and caught sight of a slip of paper resting among an old plastic bag. With a frown, Eddie plucked it from his locker and turned the paper over. His heart dropped a little.

‘You won’t be so lucky next time Freak’

Eddie’s gaze drifted over his shoulder to where Tommy and Carol were stood, smiling sinisterly at him. Carol gave a little wave just as Tommy loosened his arm from her shoulders and started walking over to him.

Crumpling up the paper, Eddie chucks it back in his locker and takes a deep breath. Not one day went by where he was just left alone.

Tommy’s hand reached out and slammed his locker shut, leaning with a grin. Eddie simply rolls his eyes and, in turn, catches a glimpse of something that boosted his day by millions.

You’re shoving books into your backpack, looking over your shoulder and frowning. Eddie watches as you walk over to the bulletin board and rip away a poster that looked to be graffitied with red ink. There was something about you that looked a little sadder today, almost closed off. And his theory became apparent when you actively avoided talking to Wheeler and Harrington, a sick look on your features.

Eddie knows you’re upset, a jumpy look anytime a locker slammed shut. He wanted to go up to you, but he was too busy listening to Tommy’s rants about how ‘freaks like him shouldn’t be let into public places’ or something along the lines of that stupidity.

And once the shrill echo of the bell echoed through the halls, he didn’t have time to say hello or attempt to help you with whatever was clouding your mind. You were off in a rush, gripping tightly onto the marked paper in your hand and disappearing into the crowd.

He knew he should be attending his English class. It was important to his grades, ones that were failing miserably. Once upon a time, Eddie had been ahead of his class. But once he started giving up on trying to prove himself, his attention span plummeted drastically.

It didn’t help that in their last session, they were given a pop quiz that Eddie struggled through entirely. He couldn’t help it; the longer he stared at the page, the worse the words became. He found that he seriously couldn’t concentrate without music blaring into his ears.

So, instead, he made the executive decision to skip.

There wasn’t anywhere he could really go without old Princi showing up and threatening another suspension or whatever. Not inside the school, anyway.

That’s how he ended up with his back against the bark of a thick tree, staring out into the distance. And he had been there for about 2 hours.

It wasn’t his fault really. As soon as he sat down, his mind had raced through his campaign for the following evening, trying to remember any inconsistencies. And, in turn, he started to drift off. It wasn’t until the second bell rang that he was startled awake, rubbing his eyes against the blinding sun.

Eddie wondered where you were right now. Probably doing school work like he was meant to. And he bet you were a genius. Nothing like him, then. Jesus, why would someone like you even want to be seen around him? He wasn’t smart enough, or cool enough, or-

With a frustrated sigh, Eddie knocked the back of his head against the tree trunk and scrunched his eyes shut. He really wished he had a functioning Walkman right about now.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself from all his thoughts, he bends his knees and begins tapping them. It felt like a natural move; air guitar just wouldn’t hit right. Soon the tapping became a furious beat, the last song he listened to taking over his fingers with the metal rhythm. In fact, he was so used to the Metallica song blaring at him recently that his imagination soon took over.

Hear the cry of war

Louder than before

With his sword in hand-

Someone plopped down on the grass beside him and Eddie’s heart leaped into his throat, practically bouncing off the tree. Then a sweet melody erupted in the air and he instantly knew who it belonged to.

“Don’t let me stop you.” You laughed, shuffling around the tree and, once you were satisfied, stretching your legs.

“You’re really good at sneaking up on a person.” He laughed back, moving around until he was sat directly next to you. It was an automatic response for him to be as close as he could get.

“Why did I have to move to this side of the tree? Mine was much comfier.” Eddie asked, slumping down with one of his legs bent. He was trying desperately not to stare at you, instead positioning his head so he could look into the distance. It didn’t stop his eyes however.

“I skipped History.” You said simply, resting your head against the tree trunk. The way the sun hit your face- jesus, you were killing him.

“Ah. I suppose I’m in the presence of a… rebel?” Eddie faked shock, clasping both his hands on either side of his face. It made you smile, and his life felt complete.

“A regular trouble-maker.” You nodded, looking out at the field before you.

“Well, I’m glad. Can’t argue with the company.” He smirked, glancing your way. When your eyes met his it always made his heart flutter.

“So, what were you pretending to listen to?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. Eddie winced.

“You saw that?”

“I think everyone in my class could see it.”

“I hope they enjoyed the show.” He chuckled. Now he understood why you positioned yourself further around the oak tree. You were tactical.

“You play the drums?” You say, mimicking his earlier solo demonstration and he couldn’t help grin.

“Nope, more of a guitar guy.” He admits. The best part of Eddie’s day was getting home after a long day and just strumming along another song he cooked up for his band. Just thinking about it now made him that much more peaceful.

“You’re so obsessed with your guitar. I can feel it.” You deduced suddenly and Eddie’s eyes widen.

You were laughing as his shocked face met yours.

“If you were to see her, you would be too.” Eddie defends. Maybe he should be a little more embarrassed at his love for an inanimate object. But at this point, he felt too comfortable with you to try and hide it.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You nudge his shoulder, and Eddie narrows his eyes. This was the perfect opportunity to test the waters.

“No, I don’t think I accept that. You will definitely meet her someday and bow to her greatness.”

A smile happened, something shy and giddy. You look down, fiddling with the hem of your jacket. Fuck, you were so unbelievably cute.

Rather than admit to his feelings, he clears his throat. “What about you? Any instruments? You could join my band.”

“Uh no, not really, but you have a band?” You ask with full excitement.

“Yeah!” He smiled, sitting upright. “We’re called, uh, Corroded Coffin.” He added quietly, scared of your response.

It wasn’t everyone’s taste, for sure. And certainly not something approved by parents. In fact, maybe it was a stupid name. You’re gonna hate it, he’ll hate it, they’ll just have to come up with something brand new or just quit altogether-

“That’s…” You begin, eyes light. “...so freaking cool.”

“You think?” Eddie grabbed onto his hair and covered his face, hoping to hide the little red that crept onto his cheeks. It made you smile.

“Definitely.” You assured, earning a wide smile from Eddie, his big brown eyes staring back at you.

You really exceeded every expectation Eddie had of you. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect, you always topped it. Everything you did was just mesmerising, even little things like the way you adjusted your jacket against the hot weather, revealing a hint of the shirt you wore.

Eddie thought he stopped breathing.

“Wait, Metallica?” He said excitedly, spinning around the grass so he was sat directly in front of you and pointing at your shirt.

“Ah, yeah, I found it earlier this year when I was shopping with Nancy. She didn’t really like it but they just came out with their album ‘Kill Them All’ and I understand it’s not really her kind of music but once you start listening it’s so hard to stop.” You ramble, smiling down at the fabric.

Eddie was fully shocked.

“Favourite song?” He questioned, determined to find out if you were just playing with him.

“Phantom Lord.” You replied immediately. Oh fuck.

“Good choice.” He nodded casually, trying not to scream in absolute awe of the woman you are. “I didn’t think you listened to that kind of music.”

“I listen to basically every kind of music. Growing up in a house where everyone had different music tastes will do that to you, I guess.” You laughed, but Eddie noticed your smile faltered at the mention of your family.

He figured you didn’t have a great home life. From avoiding your surname completely to the way your face fell anytime you talked about them… he understood, he really did. It’s why he decided not to push it until you were ready to talk about it.

“So you get the best of everything. It’s a sweet deal.” Eddie decided to say, a relieved look in your expression when he didn’t pry.

“Yeah, until I spend all my money on cassette tapes.” You laugh softly.

“Any you think I would like?” He asked. He was looking at you now, not even distracted by the sound of bell as students rushed around to get to lunch.

“Hm, I’ll think about it.” You smile as if you already knew.

As soon as you stand, Eddie mirrors your movements, leaning down to grab your bag and hand it over to you. Should he have carried it? Shit, Wayne always told him to offer to carry a lady’s bag. Or would it send the wrong impression?

Even with his flurry of anxious thoughts, you managed to calm him when you asked what other bands he listened to, what Corroded Coffin played and if you could attend any gigs. Every little gesture you made to being genuinely interested in what he had to say meant everything.

In your own world, you both somehow drifted towards the cafeteria. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Hellfire Club sat at their usual table, busy discussing something that normally Eddie would be invested in knowing. But he didn’t think bringing you to the table of freaks and nerds would be a good idea. Not when you obviously have problems with the assholes ‘running’ this place.

So, instead, he sat across from you at a free space on the end of a busy table, the other kids too busy in their conversations to even notice. Eddie wondered why he had never seen you in the cafeteria before. Surely he would have noticed you?

As Eddie goes to answer your question on which Black Sabbath songs you should begin with, laughter erupted from behind him before some pretty unholy sounds echoed about. From the annoyed look on your face, he just had to turn around.

“Oh Steve!” Carol was moaning while Tommy proceeded to make clear gestures to their joke. Nancy Wheeler was retreating further into her seat while Harrington was attempting to diffuse the situation. As if he could ever have control over those idiots.

Eddie turns back to you just in time to see you lean across the table and snag an apple from a deserted plate. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, your eyes set across the room before your raise your arm and the apple slipped from your fingers.

Following the direction, he watched the hard fruit fly across the room until it hit Tommy’s back. Their little show came to an abrupt end as Tommy began searching for the culprit. Eddie ducked down, shifting his head to see you had done the same.

Once Tommy had returned to his seat and the air was deemed safe, you both popped your heads back up. Your eyes lock and you burst into laughter.

“Nice aim.” Eddie laughed, looking over at Tommy now rubbing the sore spot on his back.

He caught sight of Nancy’s smile sent your way. Eddie’s suspicions of you were confirmed there and then; you would fight anything to make your friends happy. He wished he had that confidence instead of running from his problems all the time.

Just as Eddie was about to shift back around, he clocked the frown Harrington was sending to you, the boy’s eyes meeting his before settling back on yours. You must have responded because then he was looking away and joining in a conversation. That was weird. Too weird.

Eddie started to feel something horrid twisting his insides.

“Are you free later?” He broke the silence, focusing back on his sandwich in hope that it made him appear nonchalant.

“Yeah.” You reply quickly, but then your face twists. “I mean, no. I’m not. I have plans today.”

“Oh.” He responded before he could stop his mouth voicing his disappointment.

“But I’m free tomorrow.” You quickly add and he meets your eyes again, smiling. He waited for you to explain your plans for tonight, but you never did. Maybe it wasn’t his business.

“Well, did you want to... hang out?” Eddie threw it out there, trying to make it as vague as possible just in case he was wrong.

“Definitely.” You grin at him and his heart skips. Thank god. Eddie wasn’t even sure how he was gonna brush it off if you said no.

He notices your eyes flicker to something behind him and, once again, you became very distracted. But he was used to that already; he wasn’t offended.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then? I have some stuff I need to sort out.” You start to stand from your seat, slipping the bag onto your shoulder.

“See you tomorrow.” He nods as you walk away.

He barely has time to acknowledge that he’s going to be spending more time with you when someone jumps on him from behind. Eddie truly thinks his heart stopped beating.

“Take us to your leader.” A fake robotic voice drawled into his ear and he’s immediately laughing, shoving them off his back.

“Jesus, Gareth, you tryna kill me?” Eddie shakes his head as his Hellfire members slide into the seats opposite.

He simply just stares at Eddie, a weird smile staining his face.

“The hell are you making that face for?” Eddie grimaces, noticing Jeff’s snicker.

“You wanna, uh, share something with the group?” Gareth insinuates, leaning forward with a smirk.

Eddie knows exactly what he’s referring to. His reputation among his peers was pretty good, they respected him for sure, but they certainly didn’t see him as a ladies-man.

“Yeah, matter of fact, I do.” Eddie nods, dumping the rest of his sandwich on an empty tray. “Hellfire’s off tomorrow.”

“What?” Jeff’s mouth drops open and Gareth recoils.

Never in his time as Hellfire Dungeon Master has he ever cancelled a campaign. Not even when Louis was attacked by a cat (that thing was the devil incarnate and not in a cool way) and ended up in hospital getting shots for every kind of disease. Or even when Carl’s dad was reversing the car in their driveway and accidentally ran over his son’s foot; that scream would have been heard for miles but in a few months he was good as new. And yet, here he was, doing it with such ease that his friends couldn’t believe their ears.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Gareth interrogates, narrowing his eyes.

“I have plans.” Eddie shrugs, but Gareth sees straight through him.

“Shit, man, don’t tell me you’re letting a girl control your life already?” He assesses and Eddie groans.

“No, asshole, I just decided that we should move Hellfire to Fridays. End of the week makes more sense, right?”

“It would make my mom happier that I wasn’t staying late on a school night.” Jeff concludes quietly and Gareth sucks his teeth.

“Who is she, anyway?” He asks and Eddie is ready for the ground to swallow him whole. “She one of the wannabes?”

“No.” Eddie answers too quickly for there to be any chance in convincing them his feelings were only casual.

“Oh my god.” Jeff leans back, blinking. “Eddie Munson has a crush.”

“A crush? Dude, no.” Gareth grimaces, “We already agreed that girls are only gonna drag us down and tear us away from valuable time we could be spending on finishing a god damn campaign.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie rubs his temple, “you’re so dramatic sometimes.”

Jeff mindlessly nods until Gareth sends him a look and then he’s vigorously shaking his head.

“Whatever, man, I can deal with Hellfire Fridays.” Gareth sighs, slumping in his seat. “But I swear to God, if you end up ditching us-”

“Not gonna happen.” Eddie insists, palms against the table as she pushes off his seat. “Now I gotta sort some shit out before Wayne’s back so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just not at Hellfire.” Gareth grumbles and Jeff jabs his side, earning a yelp of objection.

Soon they’re all standing, Gareth making his way past Eddie and Jeff following behind.

Eddie’s about to leave for his van when he feels Jeff’s hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Just ignore him, man.” Jeff smiles, nodding to the doors you had disappeared through earlier. “She seems cool.”

“She is.” Eddie frowns as Jeff catches up with Gareth.

He can’t help feeling like he’s disappointed his friends. Gareth had every right to be annoyed by his sudden change. Hell, even Eddie didn’t know what was happening to him. He had barely known you two days and suddenly he’s shifting everything in his life to make room for you?

He thinks about this as he trails through the halls, aware that the clock was ticking. Eddie was meant to be in the woods by now, meeting another client. If he wasn’t so broke, Eddie would have ditched the deal and headed straight home instead.

Once he made it to the parking lot, he spots his van and fishes the keys out from his back pocket. His eye catches something not so far from him.

You’re crouched with Jonathan Byers, picking up small pieces from the ground. Eddie rears closer, overhearing conversation.

“You didn’t have to do that. Stick up for me?”

“Well, they didn’t have to do that.”

“Y/n is quite the hero type.” Eddie interrupts, smiling. It falters immediately when he sees the tangled patch of hair on the back of your head, a shattered camera laying at your feet. His eyes flicker between you and Byers. “What happened?”

“Harrington happened.” You explain, standing up and brushing at your tatted hair.

Eddie’s face twists. “Ugh. I hate that guy.”

“You do?” There’s a surprise in your voice, a hint of a smirk on your lips.

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. All that hair? Nothing but ego and asshole-ry.”

“Agreed.” Jonathan spoke up, the remains of his camera now in his bag and his attention shifts to you, a soft look on his face. Eddie feels that familiar twist in his stomach. “I’m gonna head home, thanks, Y/n. Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah, actually, can you drop me off just outside the route to the power lines? I’d go straight to the Wheelers but I figure Nancy’s heading there with Steve…” Your voice trailed off and Jonathan chuckles, nodding.

“Uh, bye.” He says to Eddie and he almost misses it, too transfixed on trying to assess the situation.

He hadn’t really realised until now how much time you and Jonathan spend together. Maybe because he wasn’t looking for it before. But the way you both so easily conversed, looking at eachother like it’s been years of bonding. The twist in his stomach grew tighter and tighter until he thought he was gonna throw up. How could he be so stupid?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.” You smile at him, snapping his attention back and giving a small wave.

“Yeah.” He manages to reply, backing away until he was walking back to his van, barely acknowledging his other Hellfire members stood there. They were probably wanting to know the deal behind cancelling their campaign tomorrow.

It made sense that you already found someone; you were everything any guy could want.

Chapter 4: No Use Pretending ->

taglist: @cherrymedicine13 . @nix-rose-q .

[apocalypsewriters]

I posted this snippet a few days ago and thought I should release the whole poem into the world. Enjoy!

I am not a Romantic.

That’s Romantic with a capital R.

But there is something to sunrises. I’ve seen hundreds 

And still could watch a thousand more. 

Pale golds stretching fingers into clouds, 

spinning them into sugar across an indecisive sky. 

The air is made young by morn 

And sweet by birdsong, 

Even among concrete trees far 

From metropolis of forest. It is inevitable and infinite, 

Infantilizing in nature, starting the world anew.

But sprawling forests, drowning 

Plains, mountains, and valleys steal my breath 

Before giving it back a hundredfold. 

A simple symphony of trees whispers 

To their shrilling occupants. Company rustles 

In every bush following ghosts of the millions 

That came before them, treading the same trail. 

Among green so dense, I can pretend there is nothing 

But wind and rain shaping the earth, sparing none in its path.

But there is something gloriously equalizing 

In the silence of a waterfall. 

With gentle frenzied hands, it carves 

Through mountains and their peaks until freefall. 

Mist kisses rocks, teasing ferns and algae into bloom. 

Dragonflies flicker like stars 

Among froth and reeds in wordless synchronised chaos.

I am not a romantic. 

That’s romantic with a little r. 

But if I could wake up to my family 

Snoring in a glorious cabin every day, I’d feel 

Carnally home. Under cotton and down sheets, 

A dozen or more of us coexist in a blanket 

Of care and comfort. I’d lay there forever, the only one 

Awake, knowing contentment, knowing love.

But the midnight after prom makes me believe in love. 

I went alone with the closest family I found 

At school, all two of them. 

Alcohol and sleepiness loosened my mask, 

Sent my tongue flying to spew words I held 

Behind barred lips. Brain fuzzy, phrases tripping, 

I laughed myself to sleep with my best friends. 

Their presence sits with me in anything 

I do, itching to share with them both.

But turning pages to reunions and first times and hand-holding 

Makes my heart swell. Whether 

The fictional are destined to find each other or 

Coincidence writes them to find their mirror, 

I burn through books

At breakneck paces. The human experience 

Immortalized in ink, echoing authors' desperate 

To be remembered. Their togetherness 

Brings a smile to my eyes and tears to my chin.

I am aromantic.

That’s aromantic, one word.

But I am afraid of being alone. Connection is 

Heralded as inevitable, inescapable. But my connections 

Aren’t seen as enough. But I might be left behind 

For romance, tossed aside in friendship. 

But even though there are people, I won’t have 

My person that I’m supposed to bring everywhere. 

But I’m afraid that I will be left with a hole in my chest, 

Trying to fill it with butterflies that flit away to be together.

But there are few like me. 

I wasn’t born speaking the language 

Of four out of five people my age. 

But there are others who don’t understand 

That language, yet I get lost 

In their conversation. We are unaddressed and left

Undressed and alone, together. I tug 

On the sweater sleeve and it all turns to yarn 

In my hands as I lose the thread of conversation. 

And I am adrift in a colourful sea, threatening to drown.

But I will find company in platonic romance. 

My love multiplies, dividing my heart into infinite 

Treasured pieces, unencumbered. 

Because there will never be The One 

Because there are so many to love. 

We found friendship first and I will hold it 

Forever. My feelings won’t be fickle, instead 

Flourishing in gardens of affection. 

While romantic happenstance escapes me, 

Platonic suits me fine. 

[inun4ki]

死/// Idling.

A walk among the hydrangeas had only done one thing: Proven that, before anything else, Kaede was becoming less and less interested in returning home.

After all, what was the point? The higher ups were always sending him away on dangerous missions - often, for several weeks to months at a time; He may as well be an outsider, an intruder in his own home. It didn't much matter to him that the children would flock to him once they'd see him, hound him down and climb him like a meager tree - they were too little, to understand - and he cared even less that Kurai, Aoi, and Terin would do the same, always so concerned the second he'd set foot inside the main house.

He scowled, his expression laced with...malcontent.

The air was cool and damp on his skin, misting the colorful hydrangeas with morning dew, and a blanket of clouds heavy with rain loomed darkly overhead as autumn had finally rolled in. A fog had begun to work its way through the Shikabane compound, too thin to properly obscure his path, and it was then he decided to return to his room, meandering through the gardens and narrow pathways until at last the hydrangeas faded away.

Cold feet slid noiselessly across the hardwood, careful to avoid the creakiest of planks, so quietly slipping through curtained doorways and winding halls until, at last, he'd arrived. And, for a time, he thought of his mother, wondering what she'd have thought about it all - his icy indifference, the fate he'd resigned himself to so early in the morning, the tentative balance struck between familial responsibility and curse eradication tearing him in two. He wondered what she'd say, if her words would be useful - comforting - because neither Kurai's nor Aoi's could lay to rest his weary soul, and Terin's were beginning to sound like obnoxious summer cicadas, background noise on a humid night.

Kaede eased himself into the seat at his desk, the plain, boring walls of his overly traditional bedroom offering no reprieve. Even the chair was uncomfortable - it didn't feel like it was his - but he settled in anyway, crossing his legs at the knee and firmly planting his chin in the seat of his palm. Seemingly endless sheets of parchment were splayed out before him, his uneasy gaze flitting between haphazardly stacked old letters and the pens and brushes kept in simple mugs, empty ink pots and stained rags, only half-acknowledging the unopened envelope sitting on top of it all. He didn't want to read it.

The envelope was thick, presumably with pages upon pages of Aoi's pointless rambling (or money, hopefully), as if his cousin was desperate to remind him of what awaited him at home (he was). Aoi...didn't understand, either, believing a long-winded reminder would bring Kaede back to center (it wouldn't). He'd have chuckled to himself, if the familiar pangs in his chest hadn't cut so deeply. How ironic it is that the family he'd been fighting so hard to protect and provide for had become strangers to him, strange little aliens he happened to be related to, the close relationships he'd strived to maintain fraying like old threads.

Was it...his mistake, that'd made him feel this way? Or was it merely the natural degeneration of bonds caused by distance and absence? Indifference born of something he'd been fostering for what seemed an eternity, too guarded and too cautious to let even the ones he loved most in. Pitiful, really, but he wished the word bit down a mite harder. He couldn't bring himself to care, the weight of his heart carried in his jaw.

Or, rather... he couldn't bring himself to show it.

Kaede bit his lip as he idled, fingertips drumming anxiously on the ball of his chin. In the span of few moments, he'd opened the paper window, spun around in his chair, ran his fingers through his hair, and shifted positions seven times, his composure having all but cracked like brittle armor.

Was he just telling himself this to put his mind at ease? So he wouldn't have to properly deal with his conflicting emotions, his inability to cling to his hope - or how Terin and Aoi worried for him so? They never knew if he'd come home, after all; There were far too many curses that've cropped up in the last few decades, the balance ever-shifted - and no one really knew in whose favor. Strong as Kaede was, he had his own weaknesses, and it didn't take much to find and exploit them. They cared, of course, far more than they should.

He wished they'd worry more about themselves. He was fine - he'd be all right. The more curses he exorcised, the more curse users he killed, the more blood that was on his hands...

A bone-chilling breeze drifted in through the window, drawing him from his thoughts as a shiver wormed its way down his spine, a heavy sigh escaping him.

He never could figure out what to do with his time off, other than wallow, could he?

Partially amused, Kaede glanced out of the window, measuring the breadth of the blue and lilac hydrangeas still clinging to life in the garden. He couldn't remember when exactly so many had been planted, nor when they'd all begun to bloom so beautifully, but he'd have to thank Kurai for his hard work tending them - someday; They were far more comforting than the eerie but apt spider lilies that once plagued the grounds. But, perhaps, that was why there were so many hydrangeas these days - the spider lilies were just too on the nose.

After all, the massacre...

He grimaced, a new chill seeping into his very core.

Much blood had been spilled on Shikabane grounds over the centuries; They were always too focused on slaughtering each other than they ever were anything else. How legions of curses hadn't spawned from such utter depravity, tragedy, and malice should be a surprise to anyone. Or, perhaps he was cynical, faithless in his age. Despite its troubled history, there has always been at least someone willing to put in the hard work and make the difficult choices to change. Maybe it was that meager glimmer of hope that outshined all the rest, little changes eventually snowballing into an avalanche of peace and serenity. Plant a tree today, so it may fruit tomorrow.

Muushi hopped onto the window sill, obscuring the hydrangeas in Kaede's immediate line of sight, her inky black and white fur glistening with dew. She must've fallen asleep outside, nestled in her favorite patch of grass in the greenspan beyond the garden. Tentatively, he reached out to her, gently dragging his fingers between her ears. She only glared at him with slit pupils, the burning orange of her eyes telling him all he needed to know about how she felt in the moment. She always was a moody little thing, but, eventually, she began to purr.

It was moments like this, when the morning was misty and frigid and his mind wouldn't rest, that Muushi's company was most welcome, no matter her irritable stare. A tender smile eased across his face and he pet her for a while longer, rubbing her cheeks and scratching her chest, quietly delighting in the presence of his cat.

That is, until her purring hushed and her fangs lodged themselves in his finger.

"Ara, Muushi-chan, are you that angry with me?" he grumbled, withdrawing his hand, scowling. But his frustration melted away as quickly as it'd come on, his brows lofting sympathetically. "I'm... sorry I was gone so long."

He slid off of his chair and stood, leaning over his desk to carefully lift Muushi off the window sill and pull her against his chest, cradling her in his arms. Burying his nose in her fur, he closed his eyes, his fingers carding through her fur. She squirmed and chirped in his grasp, her paw pressing into his cheek, whiskers tickling his skin, but she didn't seem to outright hate his affections. He'd missed her dearly, try as he might to deny he'd missed anyone at all.

"I'm not sure what to do, Muushi...," he murmured into her ear, kissing her forehead, and setting her down on his desk in one easy swoop. "I don't want to write any letters today, or answer any phone calls. Ara, I just know Aoi will come looking for me the second he figures out I'm home."

Muushi didn't respond, too busy licking her paws. He tapped his fingers on his desk, drawing small circles into the wood.

"Sweet girl, I so missed our little chats," he muttered - half amused, half indignant. But, then, he grinned down at her, giving her ears a gentle scratch. "Such a brat..."

When she didn't so much as look his way, Kaede plucked the thick envelope out from underneath her, running his fingers over the seal and deciding it would just be best if he ripped the band-aid off. Tucking his finger underneath a loose corner, he steadily peeled the envelope open, cornflower eyes narrowing upon the confirmation of his hopes - and the distress of a secondary truth. The envelope held within it a hefty bundle of cash, no doubt payment from the higher-ups Aoi refuses to use. He always claimed guilt - 'that's your hard-earned money, Kaede-dono' - and propriety, as if it didn't rightfully belong to the clan, as Kaede'd willed it. Aoi's stubbornness in this regard would no doubt explain at least half of his unreasonably lengthy letter.

He dumped the envelope beside Muushi, renewed frustration creeping into his gaze. And then he... picked up the letter. Aoi's hand-writing was terrible as usual, but something Kaede'd been keeping at bay washed over him all at once - relentless and withering.

How it is to love in a world unsuitable for it.

[auburniivenus]

25.  UMBRELLA :  for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day.

Rain falls gracefully, bequeathing ethereal ballads upon the realm. Symphony of droplets, a delicate overture, plays upon petals like a whispered secret shared among the trees. Flower’s vibrant hues, saturated by the rain’s touch, burst forth in a kaleidoscope of colors, as if nature herself is immersed in a vivid watercolor dance. With grace, the auburn maiden opens her pastel pink umbrella, encompassing Sora's head with its canopy. “I knew it would rain, so I came prepared.” She lifts her head to admire him, now properly shielded from the deluge. Rain becomes the celestial ink that inscribes the narratives of the gods upon the canvas of mortal existence.

“It’s amusing how water can enhance the petite flowers. It rarely rains in late spring.” Affirms, entwining her arm in his, strolling across the promenade. While in motion, a precipitous gust of wind promptly traverses the air. Overhead, foreboding, ominous clouds hang, poised to unleash their wrath. With a firm hold on his arm, Inoue experiences a rush of excitement and apprehension running through her bloodstream. As precipitation increases, the once dry promenade undergoes a remarkable change, becoming a luminous canvas. “We need to find a shelter.” Utters, trying to hold her umbrella. Lightning illuminates the horizon with its electric fury crackling across the sky. Thunder booms, echoing as if ZEUS is applauding their daring escapade. @bishonenprince

[sleepyowlwrites]

FTWT CCCLXXI

since I desire to watch Teen Wolf, Stargate SG-1 AND The Umbrella Academy, I am watching none of them, and instead I'm watching five minutes of random never have I ever episodes despite being actively annoyed by the characters. unrelated, I drew on my hand in green pen and it says "I am creation both haunted and holy" and what a line THAT is. (it's half-alive, you all should be listening to them) okay so tag now. @winterandwords @did-i-do-this-write

push (death story)

“It’s not really the Under, though. Space is pretty liminal here. Gravity is just a concept. If we push through the perceptions and find concrete substance, we’re really next to time. So even though you fell, it wasn’t really down. It was sideways. Not that it matters. However we are is what we perceive. It’s all the same in the end.”

“So this is-” Lawrence screws up his face, trying to think about any of that information in a way that sticks. “This is the Sideways? The Adjacent? The Next-Door?”

Din chuckles, or swallows their own teeth. Lawrence can’t tell from the sound. “You’re starting to understand.”

pull (city story d0)

When they pull up, there’s a group of guys loitering beside the door, smoking. One of them glances over and nods at Rune. Jet turns in time to see her roll her eyes while taking off her helmet.

“I thought you said no punching people.”

“I meant it!” Rune grabs his arm and holds it. “This is a gym. I full intend for us to punch bags made for punching.”

Jet shakes his arm but she doesn’t let go. What is happening?

The same guy wanders over from the rest, stomping out his cigarette on the pavement. “Hey, Rune. Who’s this?”

“This is Jet,” Rune answers, very blandly, like she doesn’t want to be conversing with him.

Oh good, Jet can already feel his instincts creeping up his spine. Days of peace are overrated. If they do end up punching people, he’s fine with that. “Nice to meet you,” he says, equally blandly.

lift (she stole the night from you, 2020)

she comes in quietly dripping black lace like ink off a letter left out in the rain and it drags behind her - staining the carpet, the walls; she lifts a finger to trace your expression like she wants to feel it deeper than her skin and it settles like a dust cloud over her hair - staining the strands, her neck;

carry (the chamber of restitution, 2011)

By silent consent, they stayed close together while trekking through another long white hallway after the red room. After arriving at the mouth of a cave-like staircase, Rothis took the lead, not because he thought Quileya was afraid, but because he didn't want to show his own fear. A brave face was almost as essential to a mission like this as bringing along the proper equipment. Not that it was wise to ignore caution when poking around in Its territory, but courage was often the most important tool a wizard could carry.

The staircase, besides being black and dark and wide enough only for two people to pass each other, also seemed endless. Around and around the two wizards stepped, with Rothis holding a wizard's light in one hand to show the way. Although he could not see her, Rothis knew that Quileya was preparing her spells, reciting in her head eight of nine words to a killing spell, or a shield spell, among others. He tried to do the same. If not for Quileya's interpretation of the pattern messages from the red room, he wouldn't have felt so nervous. But the words kept rebounding in his mind. Enter the chamber of restitution; the debt will be paid; life will end.

mountain (dreams, whispers, fireflies, 2017)

you are a leaf fall in autumn you are a wind down the mountain you are a heartache and you are a pretty pain

you are a warm fireplace you are affectionate nicknames you are a ship and you are an airplane

river (jasper and juniper, 2022)

We don't eat the fruit from the trees with red roots. We don't drink from the jasper waterfall. We walk down the hill in boots that take long strides, eating up the grass as we go. Daisies grow under the junipers down in the valley. They turn red up in the hill, where they drink the river and blush all day. It doesn't hurt them, just changes their face.

tree (the other colors might have been, but I didn't see them, 2021)

I lay back on sweaters that need mending and poke holes in the ceiling and when it starts raining I think maybe I’ll just drown now. Maybe there are new worlds at the bottom of the sea. My house is underwater when the sun comes back outside and I’ve grown roots. There is a tree poking out of my windows, draped in honeysuckle and last night’s noodles.

I dig my way out of the driveway and build a monument to myself in the snow. Winter was ages ago. I’m still sleeping it off.

dirt (guild story d0)

Sharp teeth sank into his skin, the pain a welcome respite from the darkness. Marz opened his eyes with a shuddering breath, his body quaking from the effort of it. Two bright blue eyes stare up at him, unblinking. A mangy street cat let out a half-hearted growl as it released its bite into Marz’s arm. As it backed away, Marz lifted that same arm up above his head, wondering at the smooth skin of it.

Hadn’t he just been covered in dirt? In his own blood?

The second realization jolted him upwards. Marz sat panting in the alley where he’d fallen, the ground cold and icy beneath him, the air frigid around him. He moved his limbs around. They all followed his commands, as energetic as ever, and none of them were covered in either dirt or blood. Instead, on his wrist sat a bracelet.

teeth, take, turn, time. BONUS: traipse, turmoil. @talesofsorrowandofruin @ink-fireplace-coffee @pepperdee @bloodlessheirbyjacques @asher-orion-writes OR ANYBODY

[inc0rrectmyths]

Can you write more about Artemis and Athena and Zeus interactions?

Omg sure!

Here's a small drabble!

Context: Titanomachy

Summary: Zeus is accompanied by his two most able daughters to face the common enemy, Kronos. But when Kronos unleashes his deadliest weapon to strike young Athena and Artemis, Zeus finds himself standing between his father and his daughters. The thought of losing the two most superior females amongst his children was horrifying.

(also kinda throwing shade on Zeus' sons lmao)

---

In the midst of the chaos and thunderous clash of battle, Zeus stood shoulder to shoulder with his two daughters, their determination was unwavering, and Zeus has never felt more proud. His daughters were more capable than his sons will ever be. Both in courage and in wit.

The battlefield echoed with the clash of weapons and the roars of combatants, but amidst it all, a sense of unity and strength held Artemis and Athena together. Zeus' heart swelled at the view of his two young daughters wielding weapons in their gentle hands. Athena's spear tore through the flesh of the enemy's infantry. While Artemis' arrows cut through the air and landed on their targets.

As the enemy, Zeus' very own father, Titan Kronos recognized the immense skill and power possessed by his own granddaughters, fear spread among his ranks. In a desperate bid to eliminate the threat, he unleashed a devastating weapon, a weapon of unimaginable power that could wipe out anything in its path, the weapon of time itself, the scythe of Kronos. He directed the weapon towards his targets. As Athena and Artemis were busy with combat, oblivious to the attack that was threatening to attack them from the back, Zeus took notice of it. Thunders roared in the sky as the mountains shook.

Zeus' rage was as big as Mount Olympus. As his eyes grew darker, his adrenaline rushed.

In that dire moment, as the deadly weapon hurtled toward the sisters, Zeus' instincts kicked in. Without a second thought, he stepped forward and shielded his daughters from the impending destruction. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and love, and he braced himself for the impact.

And suddenly everything went dark. Thunder roared louder, the ocean was disturbed as if Poseidon himself yelled in agony, the ground shook signifying Hades' cry of defeat.

But Zeus wasn't in agony nor was he defeated. His chest was striked by the scythe, as he stood there, golden streaks of liquid poured out of the injury.

The weapon struck with a blinding burst of energy, its force ripping through the air and consuming everything in its radius. The ground trembled beneath the intensity of the blast. When the dust and debris finally settled, a scene of chaos was revealed.

"Father! " two feminine voices filled with rage and with despair were heard, so harsh, they almost sounded masculine.

Then Zeus felt himself feeling lighter and lighter as he dropped to the ground. And the final thing he remembered was two familiar and very distinct scents engulfed him. One of the wet forests after rain, of hilly mountains up in the clouds, fruits and nuts and another scent that was like old books, ink, incense and of honey.

Zeus lay there, his body battered and broken, his armor scorched by the weapon's power. His daughters knelt beside him, tears streaming down their faces as they realized the extent of this war. He had taken the full impact of the deadly weapon to protect them, to ensure that they could continue their duties as the goddesses of Olympus.

Through the pain and weakness, Zeus managed to smile weakly at his daughters. "My brave fighters," he whispered, his voice filled with pride and love. "Olympus is proud of you both.. "

<time skip>

Zeus' eyes opened in a familiar place, surrounded by familiar faces. He spotted Hera, worry evident in her face, Hestia and Demeter sat with Hades, discussing something in a hushed voice while Poseidon sat alone, his face in his palms. Zeus also felt two pairs of soft hands holding onto him.

"Father! You're awake! " Athena's voice beamed with joy.

Zeus tried to sit up, but a sharp pain stopped him from doing so as he fell back with a groan.

"Don't even try to sit up. You need rest to recover… " Artemis' voice said, very close to him.

"The.. the war.. " Zeus managed to mutter.

"Ares and Apollo replaced Athena and Artemis. We joined the forces too. Victory was ours. " Hades announced and Zeus has never felt so relieved in his godly life.

"And fath-.. Kronos.. we put him back in Tartarus.. " Demeter added.

Zeus smiled at his siblings, his gaze lingering a while longer at Hera who gave him a smile of relief and comfort.

"At the end.. My daughters proved their worth. And that's what means the most to me.. " Zeus muttered to himself, his hand painfully rose and patted the backs of Artemis and Athena.

"Good job girls. " he smiled and closed his eyes, he can finally have a good sleep after weeks of hard work.

[primroseprime2019]

First Line Tag

RULES: Share the first sentence of your last ten stories. If you haven’t written ten stories, share as many first sentences as you have.

—————————————

Thank you for the tag, @spuddlespud

The Rose, The Moon and The Sun: It was Monday morning and outside of the door of the Pizzaplex, Vanessa was waiting for Primrose.

The Human Among the Elves: Out on the Mediterranean Sea, a few ships drifted through the light storm. Lightning flashed and crackled.

The Last Immortal Dragon: In Los Angeles, the city was busy as usual. The sun glowed over the buildings and the light reflected off of the windows.

Witch of the Moon: I sat in my room, reading my books. I had been studying some magic for a while. Okay, that was a little lie.

Diabolik Lovers: Bloodlines: The sun glistened through the clouds as a car drove down the road.

Stars Colliding: Megatron stood in the control bridge, in front of the large screen that showed the stars. The moon shined bright in the dark sky and Megatron wasn't going to lie when he saw that it was beautiful.

Apex Legends: Dragon’s Heart: Pandra sat in her room, writing in her journal. She sighed as she looked out the window in boredom. She could hear the distant howls of prowlers outside.

Assassins of the Stars: The night in Chicago was quiet. It had snowed a little while and it still was. There was usually rain or snow.

The Ink Demon Returns: "Ace, are you sure we should be here?" Kai asked nervously as he chewed his fingernails. He and his brothers and sisters stood in front of a large studio that looked to be boarded up.

Fury of the Stars: The night air was stale and fireflies fluttered through the grass. The moon was high in the star-filled sky and it glowed down on the grass and trees.

Tagging: @illiana-mystery @movieexpert1978 @talesofsorrowandofruin @junypr-camus @thegloweringcastle and anyone who wants to join

[eleanorlouisamarie]

On Staying with Poetry

Something Like a Sonnet for Phillis Miracle Wheatley

Girl from the realm of birds florid and fleet Flying full feather in far or near weather Who fell to a dollar lust coffled like meat Captured by avarice and hate spit together Trembling asthmatic alone on the slave block Built by a savagery travelling by carriage Viewed like a species of flaw in the livestock A child without safety of mother or marriage Chosen by whimsy but born to surprise They taught you to read but you learned how to write Begging the universe into your eyes: They dressed you in light but you dreamed with the night. From Africa singing of justice and grace, Your early verse sweetens the fame of our Race.

June Jordan, 2002

Elegy for the Native Guards

Now that the salt of their blood Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea . . . —Allen Tate

We leave Gulfport at noon; gulls overhead trailing the boat—streamers, noisy fanfare— all the way to Ship Island. What we see first is the fort, its roof of grass a lee— half reminder of the men who served there— a weathered monument to some of the dead.

Inside we follow the ranger, hurried though we are to get to the beach. He tells of graves lost in the Gulf, the island split in half when Hurricane Camille hit, shows us casemates, cannons, the store that sells souvenirs, tokens of history long buried.

The Daughters of the Confederacy has placed a plaque here, at the fort's entrance— each Confederate soldier's name raised hard in bronze; no names carved for the Native Guards— 2nd regiment, Union men, black phalanx. What is monument to their legacy?

All the grave markers, all the crude headstones— water—lost. Now fish dart among their bones, and we listen for what the waves intone. Only the fort remains, near forty feet high round, unfinished, half-open to the sky, the elements—wind, rain—God's deliberate eye.

Natasha Trethewey 2005

Sonnet Sequence from The Native Guard

February 1863

We know it is our duty now to keep white men as prisoners—rebel soldiers; would-be masters. We’re all bondsmen here, each to the other. Freedom has gotten them captivity. For us, a conscription we have chosen –jailors to those who still would have us slaves. They are cautious, dreading the sight of us. Some neither read nor write, are laid too low and have a few words to send but those I give them. Still, they are weary of a negro writing, taking down letters. X binds them to the page—a mute symbol like the cross on a grave. I suspect they fear I’ll listen, put something else down in ink.

March 1863

I listen, put down in ink what I know they labor to say between silences too big for words: worry for beloveds— My Dearest, how are you getting along— what has become of their small plots of land— did you harvest enough food to put by? They long for the comfort of former lives— I see you as you were, waving goodbye. Some send photographs—a likeness in case the body can’t return. Others dictate harsh facts of this war: The hot air carries the stench of limbs, rotten in the bone pit. Flies swarm—a black cloud. We hunger, grow weak. When men die, we eat their share of hardtack.

Natasha Trethewey 2006

[underestimated-heroine]

"Autumnal", by Ray Harvey

Summer dies, the long days wane away. The heat in the sky melts like lead to liquid pools. The hills beyond are as white as clay. Now creep in the gentle autumn ghouls, Trailing behind their silken shawls of Lethe- an mist. Shadows warp, gourds enlarge. And now what is always there but not Quite clear — that blot lurking on the vision’s marge — Emerges with the year: unresting death, The slow blood sloshing with every breath Upon the bone-carved door. The senses clot.

Blue, blue days, windy days. The brittle clack of Leaves and their soft collisions in the dust. Dusty smells, leaf-fractured streets, the trees above Hissing thinly, like a pit of snakes. Must It all be quite so beautiful yet so hard to bear? This softly killing air with its furnace blast Of fume, its whispered currents of decay, Must it seep into my bones? Must it come so fast? One by one the rib cages of the leaves tear From their stems like wax. Big trees go bare. The glare Is great, extinction certain. Life won’t let life stay.

Now the morning grass lies flat, blanched and cold with frost. The sickles swing in the apple trees Whose limbs are stiff and leak like ink across The voided sky. A chopper fleet of bees Sack the throat of the friendly hollyhocks. They sweetly sway, but at what cost? At what cost are These people-sized flowers born? Why bloom At all? To what end? There at the field’s far Edge, where scarecrows spill their guts and the pale shocks Of corn glow white, the thud of fruit sounds like rocks On the hardened earth, and a goat coughs in the gloom.

The hunt sweeps out. Stag are bled, hung from their hocks In the boughs: throat-gashed, reeking, with antlers chipped, Disgorging chunked gallons into the groin-high stalks Where late the grasshoppers arced and flipped. Sweetly sour fall, with all your puffball that glow Like alien skulls in the lemon-lime glades, Glades choked with moss and mold. Yeasty earth, rains Distilling punky tea as color fades And hoof prints are raised intaglio On the forest floor. Across the ground below, Vapor hangs above the stubble plains.

And scuffed-up apples, so convex And so supple, come raining down with muted Clops. The cottonwoods are spending gold. Complex Odors — woodsmoke, crushed grass, denuded Bark — cast a pall. The sun is warm, the water cold, Streams die quiet in their empty beds. Stout-chested robins with their wind-mussed Hair, like shabby Halloween décor, jerk their heads, Leer. Last gnats everywhere ignite gold In the long last rays of the sun. Old Flies fall off. The summer moths have turned to dust.

We live a little while, a little while And we die. Our wings are mutable. This blown- Up shadow of me, hinged across a pile Of bone-white rocks, and once so small, is now grown Tall and unclear, in danger (I fear) Of slipping into nothingness. It’s slouched And leaning toward the extreme sea wall. The eternal surf is booming. Insects crouched On wobbly knees stare into the sere And melon vault. And do they, too, sense an ending near, Or care? Like me, both love and hate this lovely fall?

The year grows old. A wan crepuscular light. Time now for thought, time for bloody autumnal wine. Time for walking into the complicated night Beneath molten skies and moaning trees that line Like sentries the heaved-up, humpbacked, clicking walks. Pretty warts of lichen are tattooed all about. The squash exudes an oily musk. Gaudy gourds Bloat fast, tubers weird and curved like trout Beside these utterly lifeless rocks. Among a murder of crows, one groks From the deathless firs, and crickets strum their chords.

Is this my soul, then, expiring whitely Into the unanimous dusk? The clouds beyond Look similar. Harvest moon is lifting lightly Within — gorged and pocked, a lobeshaped flaxen-blond Or a skull of ice, soaring up new at the dying Edge of day, while simultaneously streaks Of a burgundy-and-purple sunset slaughter Bloom like flowers over the western peaks. Snows to come will come soundless, hushing the crying World. Full season’s here. The geese are flying Like arrows across the icy water.

[themisontears]

Pending Card Reading List

Vyn

SSR

Between Good and Evil

Fetters of the Past

Burning Embrace

Hungering Desire

Gilded Gloaming

Drowning in the Ashes

SR

Eternal Whispers

Entangled in Love

MR

Buckle Down

Fragrancy of Incense

Luke

SSR

Perfect Partner

Alluring Gaze

Through The Heavens

Under the Milky Way

A Dream of Benji

Orange Scent

SR

Radiant Sunlight

Inner Sanctum

Timely Rescue

A Star in the Palm

Among the Great Blue

Together With You

MR

Companionship

Entrusted Feelings

Moonlit Prisoner

Passionate

Attunement of Guqin

Artem

SSR

Por Una Cabeza

Sunshine After the Rain

Eternal Yearning

New Skies

Lavish Invitation

SR

Winning Ball

Autumn Dreams

Thin Veil

In Sickness or in Health

Darkest before Dawn

Staying Humble

Focus Fire

Sparks

Heart Listener

MR

Intentions

Unwilling to Part

Imitation

Longing

Ready to Go

Composition of Ink

Marius

SSR

Expression Through Art

World of Glitz

SR

Overtone

A Dance on the Clouds

Dreams of Thebes

Falling into You

Twilight Beauty

Love Berries

MR

Palpitations

First Glimpse

Sincerity

Heart Ring

Immersion of Tea