#and he pushed you into the dark where you slept for centuries until a little girl woke you up by sheer dumb luck

[rcmclachlan]

what if i put my life in your hands? what if i took your life in mine?

[daycourtofficial]

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 8k | Warnings: blood, gore, violence, death

Summary: in the immediate aftermath of your arrival in Autumn, Eris moves forward with his plans to overthrow Beron and secure the throne for himself

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is a companion piece to ‘Chains around my demons, wool to brave the season’ but can be read by itself

Author’s note: Happy day 3 @erisweekofficial !!! The second I saw the betrayal prompt I knew EXACTLY where to go with it. I wanna give a big shout out to @mybestfriendmademe because they actually commented on my first gingerfucker fic about writing Eris killing Beron and it's always just been floating around in my head and now it’s here!!! Also need to thank @basketoffish - this fic wouldn't be half as good without her input/editing/brainstorming.

Beron Vanserra was going to die come sunset.

On the other side of the window, the trees shook from the wind, bending to their will. The branches occasionally scraped the window, calling for the male inside.

Eris laid in bed, gazing toward the closed window, his mate tucked into his arms. He never slept with the window open - it was a vulnerability, an opening, a way in. He watched the closed window, irritation creeping in at the persistence of the trees, their scratchy call grating on him.

You hadn’t been in Autumn for more than a few hours, but Eris could feel the tides changing. He couldn’t tell if your sudden arrival made the trees louder, their calls more insistent, or if he was more receptive to their pleas. 

He felt the call deep within him.

Eris has had centuries to contemplate the many, many ways one can kill their own father. Wrapping his fingers around Beron’s throat, applying more and more pressure until he felt the life seep from his body. Tying weights to his ankles and pushing him into the nearby lake. A dagger to the heart. A sword slicing across his neck. A hunting ‘accident’ that saw Beron caught in a bear trap laced with faebane, a sacrifice to the animals nearby that his father’s flesh was worth more as a meal than as a father.

Eris had imagined it all, each scenario becoming more and more detailed and gory than the last. None seemed foolproof enough to kill his father.

All except one.

It was dark as he moved about the room, though no less loud as he continued to ignore the shaking windows, the frenzied tapping of the trees as they tried calling out to him. He knew what they wanted, wanted it himself, but pretended to avoid it - his destiny - for as long as possible. Their calls followed him as he moved about the room, steps silent as he outlined his plan internally, going through every step as he placed plates of armor on his limbs. The clay colored metal fit like a second skin, that layer of protection doing little to slow him. He ran through every minute detail, everything that has to work out in his favor for a positive outcome.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice stops him cold, halting his movements. He hesitates before he turns around to face you - he hadn’t heard you stir, hadn’t felt the twinge in his chest at you waking - had no time to prepare for this reckoning,

“Going for a stroll.”

You blinked, making a show of running your eyes over his partially armored body, clearly in disbelief. He could kiss you for not scoffing in question, cry because the understanding feels worse. He sighed in defeat, leaving his things on the bed before moving toward you. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, mouth opening and closing, the words not coming, but you waited.

“Please.”

It came out more like a sigh. He could have said more. He probably should have. Your soft gaze hardened his resolve even further, determination further settling in his bones as his shoulders straightened. The bond picked up in his chest, the duet between your souls a familiar song. As the sun would rise on this day, the melody that was so familiar to him would be played with trepidation, tempo increasing as the day continued, as if the string connecting your souls had no idea the outcome the day would provide, the Mother herself plucking the string in anticipation.

He took in the planes of your face and he could feel the lightest touch of your powers deep in his chest.

Resolve.

Determination.

Love.

He could hold you, tell you how he had to do this. How he couldn’t stomach the thought of you in Autumn with Beron just around the corner. How his world shifted with the mating bond, as if he had been walking through life at an angle but could now stand straight. Instead, he watched your breathing, eyes roaming across your face. His thumb brushed your lip, taking in the shape of your lips, the slope of your nose.

“My mate.”

It conveyed all of his thoughts and more. His thumb caught your jaw, holding it in his grasp just enough to keep you from turning away. As if you would ever look away.

“Stay with my mother. Please.”

His tone was urgent. A final instruction he had to share or else he’d be unable to leave. You must’ve seen the urgency, the plea in his eyes - protests and questions swallowed as you nodded. This was his fight. A meticulous plan he had cultivated over a century of scheming and bargaining and debating. The abruptness of his plan being put into motion wouldn’t stop him from keeping out any unknown players.

Especially you.

He looked to the window, finally acknowledging the call from the trees, allowing their song to entice him and coax him from his place of comfort. 

Gods, he hated leaving you. Hated every part of it. Years later, when he would think about this day, mull over all of the impossibles that happened, he would tell his children that the hardest part of the day was when he gave one final kiss before departing without looking back.

His hands itched to hold you longer, his palms burning with the feeling of you as he winnowed outside the Forest House, landing not too far from the exit. He had considered winnowing directly, however he had to be careful to reserve his magic for the day to come. He only winnowed outside the house so he would be seen by as few people as possible. 

Eyes and ears were everywhere inside.

Eris moved through the forest, the wind through the trees a familiar song as he looked to the moon, asking for the first time in centuries for some entity to look over him. A century of unanswered prayers led him to not bother to ask for much, but tonight it was more than his life on the line.

Eris followed the beaten path to the stables, long legs leading him through the stalls, until he finally came to a stop before Cameron, his red friesian, and his preferred mount of many years. She had been a young foal much too small to hold his weight when Eris first met her but he'd been patient and encouraging, feeding her sugar cubes as he watched her grow into her gangly limbs. He was rewarded by the now sure footed beast with gentleness and docility, even as the stable hands fought to land in her good graces.

Cameron had been a young foal when Eris met her, much too young and small to handle his weight. He had enjoyed watching the young beast grow, feeding her sugar cubes as she went from gangly limbs to a sure footed force to be reckoned with, docile and gentle for eris even as the stablehands fought to land in her good graces, but she was always docile and gentle for Eris.

He walked her out of the stall after providing a saddle for himself, closing it behind him, leaving as little evidence he was here as possible. Once out of the stall, he mounted her, swinging one leg over her back before she took off, the Forest House disappearing behind him quickly.

Eris tries not to think of the day ahead as he goes through the motions of saddling Cameron. Doesn’t want to think of the many lives on the line for him nor about how he would rather not involve Cameron or his brothers in this. He closed the door, double checking the stalls to make sure he's left as little evidence as possible. He cannot afford to count his regrets now. He will have an eternity to repent, as hellion or High Lord. Once out he mounted her with practiced ease, swinging a leg over her back mid stride, the Forest House a speck in the distance before he's fully seated.

The landscape changed as Cameron galloped beneath him, her hooves leaving impressions in the mud in their wake as they rode north, the trees leading Cameron with their song. Once the song got loud enough, he pulled the reins, stopping in a clear field. HIs pull urged Cameron to stop before dismounting and tying her reins to a nearby tree. He gently stroked her mane, the horse unsettled at Eris’s destination. He spoke softly, telling her he wouldn’t be long. It had a slight effect on the mare, her hooves staying planted as Eris turned from her.

The leaves crunching beneath his boots got louder as he approached the exact spot he’s thought about every day for the past century. Mapping out the exact route in his head thousands of times. The leaves sounded like the bones of the fallen beneath him, a walk through the graveyard of his father’s reparations.

He could feel the thrumming in his chest as he got closer, a rhythmic pulsing mirroring his own heart. It sounded nothing like the song of the mating bond inside him, the tones deeper and more primitive. Almost like the drums of fire night, calling to him from deep within his soul. The call to fire night is one of claiming a body. This call was the same, but the call asked for violence, not eroticism.

The drums became louder as he walked in circles, trying to pinpoint where the sound was loudest. If the sound grew softer, he marked a line in the dirt with his boots before turning around until eventually he had made a circle of marks about three feet in diameter.

Eris considered turning around, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, but the wind pushed him forward. He sunk his knees into the earth, his fingers breaking the topsoil. Dirt clung beneath his nails as he clawed through the soil, moving mound after mound toward him. The dirt began caving back into the hole, causing him to start pushing the dirt away from him.

He felt more and more rabid the further he dug, as if he should have brought his hound Clover to do this instead, her paws much more efficient and adept at digging than his fingers.

But he didn’t want Clover here, or any other living creature for that matter.

He hardly wanted Cameron here, but he needed her. Too far to travel by foot, and he didn’t want to waste his magic by winnowing everywhere.

The song in his ears had gotten louder as he dug, a chorus of long gone heartbeats drowning out all noise. The song was deafening now, uncertain he’d ever be able to hear any other song again.

His nails made a toe curling sound as they scratched across a metal box, his ears twitching at the sound. He dug around until he could see the entirety of the box, his hands moving to pull the box from the earth. He inspected the long box, the metal exterior having no cracks or screws keeping it in place. After finding none, he took a deep breath before placing his hand on the top side of the box, pushing heat from the palm of his hand onto the surface of the box, the dark gray metal glowing orange from the heat. 

His fingers gripped the hot metal, his skin unflinching from the heat as he curled his fingers into the metal, forging his own opening. The contents glittered through the hole he created, his eyes full of reflected light as his fingers wrapped tightly around the jewel encrusted hilt that turned into branches.

The hilt was magnificent - a sword truly made for slaying a beast. The song in his ears was louder, the heart beats racing as he unsheathed the sword from the prison it had been confined to for over five centuries. A legendary sword - one of the few magic imbued items in the Autumn Court.

The Spine of Autumn.

A name unspoken for centuries, millenia perhaps. Beron had spent a long time ensuring the few who had known about it were quickly taken care of, never to be seen again.

The light hit the metal as he pulled the sword out, the blade glistening in the sun. The sword was harsh on his senses - the glint of the hilt nearly blinding, the song in his ears deafening. 

The only thing keeping him grounded was the cool touch of the sword against his palms.

He placed the sword into the sheath he brought with him, the long blade covered in cracks of lava hidden once more. 

He placed its old sheath back into the box before he reburied it, the efforts much quicker than unearthing the blade. With the box in the ground once more, Eris turned his back on the mound of disturbed soil. His steps were quick as he reached Cameron, mounting her quickly before taking off once more, the handle of his sword gleaming in the sun.

The sun rose higher as Cameron ran through Autumn, her chestnut braided mane glowing in the morning light. Both of his stops were kept to a strict itinerary- entering his younger brother’s separate homes, Alastor and Cormac, telling them that they knew exactly what to do and to begin their work.

He didn’t linger - hardly spent enough time in their home for his scent to linger for long before departing onto the next brother. He hadn’t bothered planning for Flint, knowing it would be in vain. It was more likely that Flint would turn him into Beron for his treason than even consider helping, so he stuck to the brothers he knew would provide some aid.

The long journeys between his brothers gave him large chunks of time devoted to praying to the Mother that things were going as they should in the Forest House.

There was, unfortunately, one place Eris had to winnow to. Too far to reach in time by horse, once he had made it a few miles from the barracks, he had dismounted from Cameron before tying her reins to a tree once again.

“I shouldn’t be long, Cam.”

He stroked her mane slowly, trying to reassure the mare that he would be fine. There was a nip in the air as Eris strolled into the human lands, the early morning fog hovering just above the wet grass as he approached the manor. 

Swift knocks twinged with urgency met the wood. He could hear movement from behind the door, hushed voices coming from behind it before it swung open, a dark skinned woman with bright red hair looking up at him. Her eyes looked Eris up and down, an eyebrow raised as she quickly shut the door, steps quick as she went further back into the house, before a moment later the door swung open again, Lucien’s tan skin greeting Eris instead. Lucien’s hair shone against his dark chest, his fingers fumbling with the tie of his breeches.

“Lulu.”

Lucien met Eris’s tone with an eyeroll and a quiet fuck you before his fingers moved to shut the door, but Eris quickly placed his foot in the doorjam. Lucien sighed out of his nose, turning on his heel inside the house knowing Eris would follow. The inside of the manor was covered in gray walls, gold ornate furniture, and, much to Eris’s amusement, a bright pink couch he walked towards as Lucien sat opposite him in a red and gold armchair.

“What do I owe the displeasure?”

Eirs took in the room - a handful of landscape paintings on the walls, the two humans Lucien lived with down the hall listening. Lucien’s scent wasn’t very strong, meaning he likely got back into the moral lands not long before Eris’s arrival.

“There used to be a time when you were delighted to be in my company, sunshine.” 

“Anything is preferable to the company of our other brothers.”

The ruse grated on Eris. He had half a mind to come clean, uncaring of the two humans listening down the hall. But this was Lucien’s life. The choices he made were his to tell, and if Lucien wanted to continue the ruse, then so be it.

“I see your choice in decor has become rather flamboyant with time.”

“My time in Spring made me quite fond of hues of pink.”

The two brothers stared at one another, not letting many words pass between them, an almost awkward silence stifling the room. Eris had turned to the one common ground that always remained between them, like a second language only they knew.

“Have you heard about the birds of Night? The one so precious to Rhysand and the other bats?”

Lucien’s eyes widen if just for a second before returning to an unamused look.

“Yes, I’ve kept my ear to the ground and heard rumblings.”

I know about you two.

Eris reoriented himself, fixing his posture. “The flightless birds have left outside of their normal migratory patterns.”

She’s left Night unexpectedly.

Lucien shifted in his seat, and Eris knew he understood.

“And where have they gone?” Lucien was giving Eris his full attention, and it panged in Eris’s chest that the only reason for that was the subject matter.

“They’ve begun crossing the border, making it past Winter into Autumn, either forgetting or not caring about the predators that lurk there.”

“And why are you here?” An almost accusatory tone, one he has become accustomed to hearing from his youngest brother.

“I know you’re quite fond of these birds and I’m sure we can come up with some plot to protect them.”

Please help.

Lucien’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes cast to the door Vassa and Jurien stood behind with bated breath.

“Yes, I’m sure we can. Did you have something in mind?”

Eris nodded without speaking. Lucien nodded quickly before rising, running a hand through his long hair.

“Allow me to change into more appropriate attire and I shall accompany you.”

After several moments, Lucien reappeared in light armor that had their family crest on the chest, but he could see black leathers peeking out from beneath the metal plating. Eris’s throat went dry at the sight, not knowing Lucien had such armor, much less kept it for whatever purpose.

“Don’t look so surprised. Mother brought it some time ago.”

Of all the reasons for Lucien to be wearing Autumn armor, that was certainly not one of them. Before he could ask, Lucien clarified further.

“She dropped them by one evening quickly because the last time we had met, I had told her an interesting story about a bird and a fox.”

His mother had known for quite some time - but Eris had never indulged her in details past the night he discovered his mate. “And how did the story end?”

Lucien shrugged, attempting to seem unbothered, but his eye betrayed him. The golden thing whirred in its socket, making the hair on Eris’s arms raise. “It hasn’t yet.”

Eris waited as Lucien changed and the two brothers winnowed directly into the barracks, Lucien groaning at the site of Alastor and Cormac before him. 

“You failed to mention the likes of these two were involved in your harebrained schemes.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lucien. Everyone save for Flint is involved.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak once more, but Eris’s raised finger stopped him.

“When all of this is done, the three of you may fight for a century for all I care. We don’t have to like each other, we just have to be in agreement as to the real threat.”

No one spoke his name. A habit since childhood, as if the utterance would summon him.

Eris breathed in through his nose, preparing himself to share parts of his grand plan.

“The three of you will be a part of my army.” Their voices started up again, but his raised voice immediately silenced them. “The three of you will blend into my army, seizing the Forest House. I will be meeting with him this afternoon, and the three of you will work with my guard to take control of the house once I’m inside. Once we have control, he will fall shortly after.”

“What of the advisors?” Cormac’s thick accented voice cuts through, interrupting Eris.

“Don’t worry about them. They are being dealt with now.”

That raised more questions than it answered, but Eris didn’t have the time to walk his brothers through his plans.

“I have to go, but I am entrusting this to you three. Having a stronghold in the Forest House is key to this plot, otherwise it will all fall apart and we will all be executed for treason.”

His eyes looked at each of his brothers, taking a few seconds to remember their faces. None of the relationships within the Vanserra family tree were ever simple and clearcut. His brothers all hated him for various reasons, and he them. The only thing truly connecting them other than blood was pure hatred directed toward their father.

On any other subject, he knew having his brothers involved would be a risk. But the three looking at him now would do anything to see Beron disposed of, no matter the cost. Petty squabbles can come later. His ears rang again with the drums, his fingers annoyed at every surface he touched that wasn’t the hilt of the sword.

He spent several minutes going over the layout of the house with them, which strategies would work best for taking it as a stronghold. It was mostly for Lucien’s benefit, Beron having changed a few things around since his youngest brother was ran out of Autumn.

“You all know what to do.”

He didn’t have the ability to convey any of his feelings towards them. How he felt like he failed them by allowing Beron’s corruption to turn their hearts. How he should have killed Beron centuries ago.

But he doesn’t. Instead he turned, walking through the barracks before finding Cameron once more and riding through the trails of Autumn toward the Forest House.

Upon Eris’s arrival into the Forest House, the house moved about in a sense of normalcy. Servants fluttered about, avoiding his eyes as they went about their duties. He made his way to the throne room, where Beron preferred their private meetings to be held. He pushed open the double doors to find Beron already sitting at the throne, waiting expectantly. Eris walked forward before stopping halfway between the door and Beron to kneel.

Over the years, Eris had allowed himself to seem sloppy for this moment. He spent the mornings and afternoons training his soldiers, his armor more like a second skin. 

The first time had been a mere accident. He had forgotten to shed his armor, not thinking about the rules and expectations Beron sets upon his family. Instead of the issue they had planned to discuss, Beron had forced Eris to shed his chest plate, spending the hour-long meeting whipping his back instead.

When Eris had returned to his training, the pain from the wounds on his back gave him an idea. He didn’t do it frequently enough for Beron to punish him outside of these perceived wrongdoings, but just enough so a small pattern would form. Eris just needed the right moment, just needed Beron to be comfortable enough so he could move things into motion.

But it never came.

Beron’s voice filled the hall, the room entirely empty save the dais decorated with one throne.

“Any male in a position of power will always wonder how he will fall. He will try to see thousands of possibilities.”

Eris remained kneeling, not having been dismissed or even acknowledged when Beron began speaking.

“It is always on your mind - who is an ally and who is a foe?”

Screaming could be heard through the halls, the unmistakable sound of fighting coming through the crack beneath the door. Beron didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the sounds beyond the door. Somehow he knew this was coming.

Eris kept his head down, gritting his teeth in annoyance that someone tipped off his father, but his jaw fell slightly at the sounds of barking beyond the door.

It was Clover, he was sure of it. He had told Alastor to put armor on his hounds and release them, wanting them to act as an alert system to those inside the house that more soldiers were approaching. He didn’t expect them to be in the middle of the battle.

He could hear their growls and the shrieks of those they dug their jaws into.

He had been training the hounds for years on who to attack. Any advisors who happened to pass the kennels and were received less than kindly, Eris chalked it up to his hounds being bitches. The real truth was he spent decades gathering the scents of those advisors, guards he couldn’t sway, anyone who would stand in his way, using the clothing or fabric whenever he would be training his hounds on aggressive tactics. Getting them used to their targets.

But they still weren’t supposed to be here.

Thousands of hearts were beating in Eris’s ears, uncertain which was his own. He was sweating now, trying to keep the sword unsheathed for as long as possible.

Beron’s smile was feline as he took in the sounds of chaos. “Beautiful sound, isn’t it? I always loved the echo of treason in the afternoon.”

Beron breathed in deeply through his nose, straightening as he stood. Eris finally stood before he unsheathed the Spine of Autumn, the sword glowing all on its own. The molten lava in the metal practically crackling with heat. Beron laughed at the sight of it.

“You wield the power of things you don’t understand, boy. Give it to me.”

Berin held out his hands, fully expecting Eris to blindly obey his command. 

“No.”

Beron’s eyes crackled with anger. He never responded well to any defiance from any of his sons. In a fit of rage, Eris struck first. The first deviation from his plan. His sword sliced through the air, Beron quickly unsheathing his own to block. Beron’s counter attack was expected, Eris able to block with his hilt quickly. 

Several moments passed as the two swapped blows back and forth. Eris was sweating profusely, the roar of the sword growing louder in his ears, now silently chanting kill, kill, kill. Their combat consisted of matched hits, the room a sweltering heat between the two of them. Eris rolled from Beron’s blade, maneuvering through the room, trying to use anything in the bare room to get any form of leverage against his father. He walked up the steps of the dais, blocking each of Beron’s blows as he walked backward up to the throne.

The doors shook, he could make out occasional shouts and yells from his brothers from the other side, their voices desperate to get in. Each time he swung the blade, he could practically feel the rage of his last act of betrayal through the doors as he could hear them fighting off any more of Beron’s guard.

“I always wondered which one of you fools would try to overthrow me. Delightful to find out all of you participated in the coup.” Eris swung once more, his centuries of training his body into a weapon needed for this very moment. 

“Eris.”

His name was a hiss from his father.

“You are playing games you do not understand.”

The only other noise in the room was the clanging of their swords, the air heavy with dreams on both sides. One wanting a successful coup, the other wanting to prove time and again his strength and brutality.

“I understand well enough, father.” Beron tsked as if admonishing a schoolboy, his mouth sneering into a smile. “No, you don’t.”

Eris’s limbs ached as he bore the brunt of Beron’s full strength with each block and each attempted attack, the throne room devoid of any way to tell the passage of time. Was this purgatory, an in between life for those the Mother deemed unworthy of rebirth?

“A month before you were born, the stakes with Hybern were rising steadily. I found a witch and had a curse placed on myself.” 

The drumming in his ears made his father’s words next to impossible to make out, but somehow his mind knew what he was saying even if his ears couldn’t pick them out.

“Whoever kills me, kills themselves in the process.”

His father’s words did little to stop his movements, his attacks using more and more of his strength. The doors rattled once more, an echo of broken promises added to Eris’s neverending list of lies and betrayals.

He knew he was lying to his brothers when he said they would have a chance at Beron. The lie had rolled off his tongue, a means to get them here no matter what. Every plan he had had to get to this moment with their involvement in one way or another. Vengeance was always at the forefront of their minds and he gave them a taste for it. All he can do now is hope they will see this through.

His father having a debt for his soul, a life for a life, was not surprising to Eris. He was certain there was some cosmic debt for killing his father. Everything he worked for in this life came at a cost, why should that stop now in his final act?

If this was the end, he’d do all he could to ensure he had slain the dragon.

Eris mustered the last of his strength. The male who calculated every move, every breath he had taken over the past five centuries. 

It was the last move to make. The last time he’d deviate from the plan.

A life he’d dreamt of so close if he outstretched his arms his fingertips could ghost over it.

He thought of whispered promises, midnight declarations of love.

And he erupted.

The sword was bright and covered in blue flames as it met Beron’s sword once more, the clanging metal echoing through the air. Every slash, every hit was countered perfectly. 

A battle of wills.

Eris tapped into the well of rage within him, using that to push himself forward. To keep striking, even as Beron matched every hit. Eris felt his father having to use the well of power within him, and he was certain if he could just wear the bastard down he would have a shot.

Beron was powerful, a magic so deep and vast it wasn’t unheard of for new High Lords to drown in it. But Eris was ravenous, a hunger for that power so deep his bones were malnourished.

After what felt like centuries, Eris was finally able to thrust under Beron’s guard, the point of his sword nicking Beron in the neck. His father acted quickly, his counter parry catching Eris in the side, the heat from the blade slicing through the metal of his armor. Beron stomped forward, his sword raised over his head and Eris just barely blocked with his hilt in time. Eris pushed forward, using his legs to push Beron off of him to allow himself some breathing room. 

Beron took Eris’s expectation and used all his force to swipe his sword through the air, causing the Spine of Autumn to slip through Eris’s grasp.

Beron used the advantage to hit Eris in the torso, the reverberations from his armor causing his chest to vibrate. He took two more hits before his knees fell, the armor digging into his skin as he panted for breath.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” The words crashed into Eris as Beron’s sword hit him in the side.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see the greed in your brothers’ eyes? Expect your wretched softness to stray your mind?” 

Another clang, this one to his thigh. His limbs were roaring in pain, the heat of the room sweltering.

“You think I’d make my father’s mistake and let his runt of a son take his crown? No, my dear.” His tone was softer, as if he were imitating Eris’s mother, the sound causing Eris’s stomach to churn. 

Eris saw the sword glint in the moonlight, and he watched a hand cover the light from it. Beron smiled, his teeth covered in blood, making him appear more animal than fae.

“All of my idiot sons working against me. I should be proud to produce such heretics.”

Beron turned his sword, using the hilt to hit Eris square in the chest, causing him to fall onto his back, the clang of the armor echoing through the throne room. His father stalked toward him - a predator at the end of the hunt. His teeth gleamed in hunger.

“Perhaps your little coup would have worked if you had just one more of your brothers aiding you.”

Flint stepped out of the shadows, appearing from behind the High Lord. Flint was only a few years younger than Eris, but he had gladly taken on the personality that Beron wanted him to have. His long, practically maroon-colored hair covered parts of his face, but he made no move to fix it.

Eris was the only son to live permanently in the Forest House, all the others were scattered across Autumn in the hopes to keep more of the population in line. Flint had been sent to the furthest reaches of Autumn because he so resembled Beron with his cruelties that the High Lord wished for the farthest communities to feel his power.

Flint carried with him an air of unease, the scars on his face making him seem far more sinister than the legends that surrounded him could. He kept his words far and few between, preferring to keep any disagreements in the physical sense.

“Do not fret, I’m sure your mother and brothers can learn some very valuable lessons from your folly, even if you’re too charred to do the teaching.”

Beron gleamed with wicked delight as he heard Flint pick up the sword, his steps growing nearer. His father stayed rooted as his brother moved closer, dragging the sword behind him, the drag creating a terrible high-pitched noise.

Eris’s eyes were calculating as he looked to the sword, trying to gather any semblance of strength to move, to pick himself up. He just needed a speck of energy, to hold out long enough for the magic of the new High Lord to heal him.

But he was stuck. He couldn’t move. Forced to observe his own failed assassination. Ruminate on the life spent to get to this moment just to fall short.

Flint heated the sword, his flame dancing around the metal, turning into a redhot coloring.

His thoughts flicked through the hundreds of people he brought with him today, the fighting in the hallways, the banging on the throne room doors. It all faded to nothing, the only sound in his ears the tune of the mating bond deep on his chest.

It was a beautiful thing, even if it was only real for a glimmer of time.

Flint handled the sword, checking the weight of it as Beron looked to his oldest son, his eyes full of eagerness at the possibility of spilt blood.

Eris’s breathing was labored as Flint lifted the hilt high over his head before he quickly turned and sliced the sword through Beron’s neck, his blood flowing across the front of his body. The heated sword sliced easily through the High Lord, a squelching sound coming from him as Beron’s face remained with the sneer he held before it fell from his neck, his body following suit. Beron’s head rolled a few feet, his body slumping to the ground in a thump. He watched Beron’s eyes, watching the life seep from them as his head landed a few feet from Eris’s knees.

Beron’s armor clanged throughout the throne room, the last sounds of a tyrant jarring and almost anticlimactic.

The beast was slain, a shocking finale to a tyrant’s life. Eris couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t allow himself to feel anything other than concern at the male that was staggering before him, swaying on his feet.

Eris quickly moved to stand, not bothering to look at his father’s body as he darted forward, just in time to catch Flint. His weight was heavy in Eris’s arms, the deadweight nearly causing both males to collapse. Eris wiped the blood from his own mouth before trying to speak.

“What the Hel were you thinking?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, the deep brown full of sadness as if Eris could watch all of his memories through them. The air was colder now, the rhythmic prose of the sword gone from his ears as his intended target had been slain. The bloodthirst sword had been quenched, but his brother had paid a steep price.

“You told me to strike when they least expect it.”

Autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet, his boots blocking out the chill of the air, his ears full of the sounds of tiny exhalations. He stood, watching the small boy maneuver around the tree, cutting up the bark with each slice.

“You’re too loud.”

Flint moved his head quickly, startled at Eris’s presence.

“I didn’t hear you.”

Eris moved toward his younger brother, easily pulling the sword from his hands.

“That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

He looked at the hilt of the sword - much too heavy for a boy his brother’s size. He huffed as he pulled a small dagger from the lining of his jacket before handing that to Flint, ignoring his brother’s attempts at reaching the sword again.

“Flint, there’s a reason every male worth his weight carries a dagger.”

Flint handled the small blade, flicking it through the air as if fighting an opponent, nearly cutting Eris’s jacket in the process.

“Why?”

“Because daggers allow you to strike when your opponent least expects it.”

His own words echoed back to him, feeling so unfamiliar in Flint’s mouth.

He always had the same eyes. Full of depths Eris could never fathom, a bottomless well of sadness and concession to an unwanted life. Somewhere over the centuries they lost that spark that Eris loved so much. He wondered briefly if to have a child is to watch that spark dull. But then his thoughts wandered to Lucien - the only one who got out, who got their spark back.

“Flint, we’ll get the healer. Mother’s coming, you have to- you have to see her.”

Eris started clawing, tugging with everything in him on the bond in his chest, urging you to come quickly. He needed someone, anyone to come. To see what his brother had done for him, for all of them, for Autumn.

“Eris, I-“

His bloodied hand reached up, shushing Flint. He was growing pale, his cheeks losing the red glow they always had.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll- we’ll be okay.”

Tears fell from Eris, landing directly onto his brother’s chest. He wasn’t sure where it came from - perhaps some pit deep inside of himself still cared for Flint. Their relationship was rife with double and even triple crossing, each conversation a meticulous game of chess that allowed for no winners, only heartbreak.

The blood loss was getting to him, he was sure of it. The room was spinning and the pounding in his ears finally stopped only to be replaced with an incessant ringing. His limbs felt so warm, his body overheating. He wrapped himself around his brother, trying to warm him.

“Flint, I have - I have a mate.”

As he spoke, he heard the doors burst open, and could hear the footsteps as several fae entered the throne room. He didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes on his brother’s. He didn’t know why the admission had come forth, some part of him knowing that his brother was not going to make it through the night. It slipped from his lips, only now realizing this was the first time he had told anyone he had a mate.

His mother had sniffed it on him the night the bond snapped. Lucien - Eris had no idea how Lucien knew. 

But Flint was the first one Eris ever got to tell. And he watched his brother smile, an act more taxing than it should be, his eyes flickered with the life they used to have. Flint’s hand reached up, cupping Eris’s, before he nodded his head.

It was too late for words, but Eris knew what his brother was saying.

Eris looked into that dark brown - the color of soil, chocolate, coffee. Things that give life, things that are worth living for. And he swore he watched the life fade from them slowly, a dull sheen creeping in from the edges.

Traitors don’t get a victor’s life. 

To stab from behind is either cowardice or cunning, depending on which side of the blade you’re on.

He felt the presence of others, but this moment was all consuming: grief, relief, the new influx of emotions and sensations as High Lord.

This was supposed to be his ending. He had accepted that the moment Beron mentioned the curse, having given up any hope of leaving this room alive. He had accepted that Beron would be the last face he saw. A terrible ending to a life unlived.

He looked down at Flint, his eyes still having some life, and he called for his mother, beckoning her near. He didn’t take his eyes from his brother, but he somehow knew she was who Flint would want to see in his last moments. 

“Flint,” Marigold cooed, dropping to her knees next to Eris. He moved Flint’s head into her hands, his brother relaxing at her gentle touch, combing her fingers through his hair. His brother didn’t stir, so Eris jostled his body, desperate to get Flint this final moment with their mother.

“Come on, wake up. You have to tell her.”

Eris jostled him a bit more before his brother opened his eyes, half-lidded looking up at Marigold. Eris’s heart panged for her - another son gone at the hands of a Vanserra. Beron’s cruelty left no survivors, not even for a mother.

“I did it for you, Mother.” His voice was weak, but his words were full of need, as if this were a final confession. Marigold’s face remained soft, a flicker of a memory passing through Eris at being tucked in at night. Her soft voice lulled him to sleep, her serene smile the last thing he saw before he slumbered. Eris hoped death felt safe and warm like that memory. 

“I know, sweetheart.”

Flint coughed, a congested sound that didn’t sound right echoing through the throne room. Eris knew his other brothers littered about the room, but he didn’t dare look away from Flint. For the brother who gave up everything, Eris could devote his full attention in these final moments.

“It was all for you.”

He clutched her other hand tight in his, and she pulled him up to rest his head in the crook of her neck, sliding him from Eris’s grasp.

“I know, I know.”

Marigold did not ask for a healer. She must have known what Beron’s curse entailed. Perhaps having three of her sons killed by other family members was enough penance for her wrongdoings. 

Eris felt the magic surging through him, amplifying his senses, emotions, everything in him. It stitched and healed all the broken skin, the marred flesh. He felt his mate’s presence on his back, gentle touches that screamed I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. But his eyes stayed on his brother, each breath more taxing than the last one. 

It was Lucien who came forward with the ornate crown that looked like an infinite circle of branches with dying leaves and berries in his hands. A crown Eris had spent his whole life imagining how it would feel on his head. His neck didn’t ache with the weight of expectation like he thought it would as Lucien placed it atop his head.

It felt as if the sprigs were nestling onto his head, the crown coming to life to fit him perfectly, to take root with him as if to say you cannot go back.

Choices all led to this moment. Every decision made over the course of five centuries led to the thrumming power in his veins, the powerful family of nine now about to be a dwindled mess of five. 

There was no way back. What even would there be to go back to?

For centuries, Eris had thought he was doing it all alone. Scheming in the dead of night, forced to bloody his own hands. As his mother held Flint, his breaths taking longer pauses in between, his heart slowing in Marigold’s lap, Eris realized that he would never have gotten to this point alone.

A family fractured and wounded by each other for centuries, all coming together for this one moment in time. Nothing was simple in the Vanserra family, no relationship untouched by Beron. No matter how warped and twisted they were, this was still Eris’s family and they all came through when it mattered most.

There was no way to know how the future would unfold for the Vanserras. Millions of cruelties lay between all of them, even his mother was guilty for holding a grudge with him for what he took from her. No one in this room had the joys or naivety of youth.

Flint stopped breathing in his mother’s grasp and once she knew he was gone, she began sobbing into his head. His mother hardly cried. He had watched her deliver all of his brothers and been there in the aftermath. Heard her cries when Beron had first discovered her affair with Helion. These cries were different -like an animal howling at the moon in anguish. An unjust ending for their beloved child. Fire crackled in Eris’s veins, a silent promise that this was the last betrayal on the Vanserra line.

Roots popped up from beneath the tiling, startling Cormac before they wrapped around Beron’s body and severed head and dragged him beneath the surface, uncaring as they broke limbs and skin, the resounding crunch from either the tree or his body. His father’s body was pulled from the surface, a violent burial that left the throne room a disaster.

Outside the doors, Eris could hear the trees and paused at the tune of his mating bond. Despite there being no windows, the song was so loud his brothers could make out the melody. He listened closely, the song had a slow melody that flowed well. It sounded different than before - as if there were a different arrangement of instruments. The melody was the same, but it was less harsh than it was when he left the Forest House this morning. Then it sounded like a march, a call to battle. But now it sounded like he could make grand sweeping movements to it, spinning about a dance floor. It was then he understood. It was a waltz.

He listened once more, hearing the silences of the song that were usually filled in by your presence, only to find the gaps more prominent without your duet. His eyes stung as he realized they were singing a song of him and that it sounded beautiful.

The song of Eris floated through the trees, being carried on the wind throughout the fields of Autumn, telling the land that the evil has been expunged. The fields would bloom quickly, the land becoming more fertile and bursting with the life that had been missing for centuries. 

Across Autumn, the new High Lord’s song would be whispered, a beacon of hope to those long suffering beneath a tyrant. For the first time, the fae would hear Eris’s song and they would dance to it.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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Thanks for reading❣️

[monstersinthecosmos]

Vamptember Day 8 - Evil is always possible

{giles corey - no one is ever going to want me}

“Do you want to come hunt?”

The voice is gentle, and he covers his face with his hands. Too gentle, so that it grates on his nerves. Treated like a child.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. He can’t see the clock, and isn’t sure how long he’s slept. But the bed is soft, and he thinks he could stay here. How long could he stay, in this one space, until the world collapses around him? Surely the room wouldn’t stay locked up tight. Funds will run out one day, or the elements will reclaim the space, or people will force their way inside. What then, discovering a monster sleeping in the bed.

Need to sleep, he thinks, but doesn’t have the energy to say it out loud.

His body knows better, though, as if the Blood inside has a power reserve. The sleep won’t happen here, he knows that. But the thought going somewhere safer feels so nice, even just to imagine. It feels like breathing fresh air, like rinsing years of stress from himself, and he wonders how deep in the forest he can find a hiding place. Somewhere nice and cool, like a cave. Like forgotten ruins. It’s soothing to picture the perfect darkness, the chaos of nature growing around it, tucking him away for centuries. 

“You haven’t fed in a while,” says the voice, and then there’s a hand on his forearm. It doesn’t push at him to get up, just holds there. So soft, but he’s too tired to argue.

Not hungry. 

He shudders at the thought. 

Perhaps it’s more truthful to say that he’s always hungry. And he knows that the blood would be a balm. There might be a few minutes where he feels better, where this isn’t such a chore. 

But it’s an illusion, isn’t it? Fleeting. Always over too soon, and the truth is that he’s just left with all their grief afterwards. It fills him with revulsion, imagining it. Tasting all of that fear, and their pain, and their deaths. Over so fast that he’s not sure the meaning. It’s like a human smoking a cigarette for five minutes of peace, or the glow of an orgasm that only leaves them feeling disgusted afterwards.

He thinks he might cry.

The emotion is heavy, and that the tears don’t come is only because it’s too hard to move from under it. Everything just crushes him there.

The hand recedes. And bare footsteps are soft on the carpet as they circle to the other side of the bed. And then the mattress is dipping beneath the weight, and there’s a body pressed up behind him, chest flush with his back, and an arm wrapping around his waist.

Breath near his ear, and someone nuzzling into his hair, and he’s too crushed under his heartache to swat them away.

“Please? For me?”

I can’t, he doesn’t say out loud. And he feels them, all of them, for a moment. All that weight crushing him down, all the lives he’s taken. The thought of hurting someone else makes him feel sick.

“Little Drink, then,” the voice suggests, and the gentle hand reaches to touch his hair, tucks a strand behind his ear. “No one has to be hurt, you know that.”

How long before his body is covered in cobwebs?

“Please?” the voice asks again. Quieter, like they’re breaking. Like they’ll give up soon, and leave him here to be swallowed by time. “You know I’m not going to do that. Please come out with me. I want you to come.”

The hand slips beneath the hem of his shirt, skin on skin, sliding up to cup over his heart. Cradling there, as if he can keep it safe.

“Marius, please,” he whispers. He kisses the back of Marius’s neck. “I won’t even drag you to the dance club, I promise. Just please get up. I want you to come.”

[onyourhyuck]

Oops! I Did It Again. | Huang Renjun. (M)

Prologue- “I’m sorry but you’re a player. I’m not falling for it again.” + “Come on baby. You can do it again. Three times a charm.”

summary: you’re a popular player at your university. You catch people like they are pokemons. Huang Renjun fell at your demise twice but he is telling himself he won’t go back to you for a third time. That’s what they all say however…

the warnings: player!fem reader x Huang Renjun. smut and suggestive. this relationship is typical friends with benefits that’s on and off. reader and renjun have a sorta toxic dynamic (fr red flags together). grinding. sex on top of their car(?) in an empty parking lot.

the notes- inspired by Britney Spears Oops I did it again.

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renjun was done with your excessive player tactics that leave him high and then you leave him low to dry. one day you’re so in love with him and the next day you are back to your usual routine. pulling people around place to place by strings as if they were your own little brand puppets. well renjun is most definitely not going to let you use him like this. no way in hell. you can continue dreaming about it but it will never happen. that’s what he told himself. But his best friend, Chenle, thinks otherwise.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes the pen in between the two fingers watching you come forward slowly with a wide smirk and a lollipop stuck on your cherry red lips. those same devilish lips were round his cock two days ago, they should’ve stayed on there considering he’s about to be your victim now. Chenle bellows. “That is my cue to leave man. Good luck. You’re probably going to end up hooking up with her again.” The blonde heavily emphasis on it.

Renjun turns around side-glaring his beautiful doe-Iris at the boy. “I won’t hook up with her again.” he hiss.

“that’s what you said the second time.” chenle sang walking away from the dark and empty parking lot with no car but renjun’s red mercedes. the car is the old version from the 90s; vintage and aesthetically pleasing in the 21st century. now that you two were alone you lean on the car pushing one hand around renjun who was leaning on the door. your face barely giving him space and the sweet favourable raspberry lollipop makes a satisfying small but clear ‘pop’ in between your lips. With a deep sigh you tilt your head cutely.

he hates how attractive you are. Your magnetic field has no reason to be this radiant where he can only see and think of you wherever he goes. The way those denim blow shorts rest upon your figure so nicely, fitting your round ass and the curve thin waist with your little heart shape belly piercing out; the open white shirt sleeves rolling up on the forearms and the white tank top revealing the cleavage blocking renjun’s sight makes it awfully hard to parry out of sight. the way your arms block him from exiting the small space your arms gave him where so you can lean with your intimidating flirtatious man-eater eyes laying upon him as if he were your one and only prey. in all honesty, he were your favourite. You love the power he gives over your when you darn well about the way you make him head over heels. The charge he gives you so submissively but at the same time he was hard to tame down too. there is no doubt you were hard to obtain and get because of how much your dating lifestyle differs from setting down but renjun wasn’t clinging on you. he wasn’t expecting anything less than one night stand. even though he’s practically in love with you, you’re using him till he can’t give out more— . This makes renjun different from the other people you slept with.

he isn’t easy. You love challenges. You’re back for more until he breaks down and Renjun knows. He rolls his eyes to the side at the momentarily silence. “What do you want y/n?” You only smirk at him. “I want you babe.”

“Very funny.” Renjun pushes your two arms back to you and off the car. You lick the lollipop as you trail softly, watching the car.

“Go to your other hoes. You seem to never run out of them.” He said shading past you as you smile only at those pathetically pity words ; oh how cute renjun is when he sulks and pretends he isn’t hurt by your lifestyle. you can only lean on the front of the car where you follow him.

You sneakily add with a wink hitting him. “You are my favourite hoe, injun.” renjun couldn’t lie when his nickname rolls out your lips like a melodic song— changing the subject he murmurs lowly. “don’t call me that.” he throws.

You turn around looking at him with blank eyes, questioning what he had said. renjun looks back at you with careful eyes watching yours, trying the best to not sail and get lost in those ocean eyes. “You can’t call me injun. Only friends call me that.”

“ouch so cold hearted baby. two days ago i was allowed to scream your name so loud my neighbours know you. they haven’t even met you.” you point out bringing the both of you to reminisce the lovely night you spend with him for the second time, the night he cannot forget no matter how much he tried to. a reddish colour tints his cheeks and you grin ear to ear as those round brown eyes staring into yours widen in shock. “Remember now? our beautiful night we spent together. God i can’t forget that. the way you were moaning my name all night long, kissing each other.” you trail listing all sorts of dirty things you’ve done together that might. The way you tied him up and edged him for hours. his body shivers when you lean closer bringing your lips close to his but renjun was quick to snap out of it.

he moves away as he lets out a big deeply sigh. he looks back at you with hateful eyes but something on them were still love. “I’m sorry but you’re a player. I’m not falling for it again.” He strictly bellows at you with a belittle tone enough to make you feel more adrenaline and rush to prove him wrong . He thinks he can restrain himself? He could barely do it two days ago and four days ago where your first time together happened. What’s he so sure about the third? you can’t wait to break down his spirit. Your hands reach over cupping his face so lovingly, the way your touch melts him like he were an ice cream on a hot summer day was inane.

Your voice seductively touches the tip of his trembling heart at your service. You just have to play your strings there and there and he will be running to you. Chasing you. “Come on baby. You can do it again. Three times a charm.” You were so quickly witty. Renjun felt himself move forward as you pulled away suddenly.

He can’t stay away from you. He can’t forget you. He cannot get enough of you; at this point is he even human? Or is he only your favourite boy toy? As much as that sounds like heaven to renjun, he knows how his feelings play a big role on your advantage. But he can’t help but fall in a little deeper and wanting to indulge. He’s wishing to go back. His mind , heart, body , spirit all of them want to crawl back right at you.

Renjun saw your back turn to him when you start to walk away from the car entirely. In your head there was a five second count down; 1. 2. 3. 4… and 5. On the final number a hand reaches to grab on your wrist pulling your body down on the car bonnet, lifting your perky ass on top of the vehicle he has your legs straddling his waist as he practically moans when reaching to roughly kiss you. You were so right, in less than five seconds he was dragging you back. Back to him. He crawled to you again. For the third time. In the never endless cycle of toxicity between you two it made yourself and him indulge proudly. Your skin on skin contact casts shivers and the rough wind brushing behind yours back only enhance the pleasure and adrenaline quickly.

Grinding on your core. Renjun was desperately finding a way to create fiction. You let out a sultry chuckle watching the boy whine a grunt.

“You’re so pathetic. Rejecting me and then running right back up.” You whisper to him and he looks at you with an embarrassed expression. “You’re one to talk y/n. You don’t fuck with the same people more than once. So why me?”

Silence engulfs your two before your scrunch and furrow your eyebrows together. Grabbing his shirt roughly pulling him forward where you kiss those lips so deep it makes them swollen and red. You couldn’t help but feel angry for being called out, because it is true. You just hoped he didn’t notice. You don’t know why you’re always coming back for more but nevertheless, he was your favourite so perhaps that’s why. You pull away. String saliva connecting you and Renjun who were lost and drunk on your sex completely, you push him on top where you are on his lap straddling it with a direct grind between your entrance and his harden crotch. Soft moans linger into the air. He can’t believe he is going to fuck you out into the open on top of his car— and where any car can come in this parking lot.

“Just shut up and let me fuck you while you sit still and look pretty hm?”

It’s risky. But so are you. Renjun is aware what he brought upon himself and now the consequences to this will hit him in the morning.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE UPDATES.

[smuttyfang]

Vampire!Levi, Obsession

I’m ready for Halloween 🎃.

Words: 1,682

You felt so damn neglected.

He did the best he could, you supposed. He wasn't the best at showing his emotions. He tried, but sometimes he struggled to let any feelings out. Well, a lot of the time actually.

So you were determined to force them out of him. By any means necessary.

You looked around his bedroom, where you usually spend most of your time, and saw him focused on a book. He was at his desk, facing away from you. Sometimes he would hum before flipping the page, but that was the most talking he had done all night. He was dressed in a suit, with a large jacket draped over his shoulders. His hair was slicked back like always. He was incredibly handsome.

His bedroom was stunning. Red velvet curtains covered the tall window in front of his desk. Gargoyles loomed over the room on the upper middle of each wall. The castle as a whole was always so dark, but there were just enough candles to light your way around. His coffin was laid in the corner of the room, while the opposite corner had a bed, also covered in red velvet blankets and sheets. He'd gotten that bed just for you, when you became his. You still weren't sure exactly how.

"I never slept much, in my coffin or otherwise, until I had you." He'd said. "I enjoy lying next to you. Even if I still can't get any damn sleep." It made you sad to think about it. How it was quite romantic - as romantic as he could be, anyways. But now he was so interested in his book, he was paying you no mind. While it made you a little sad, it also managed to make you feel excited. You'd done this before and you knew exactly what kind of reaction it would draw from him.

You could cum just thinking about it.

You tell Levi that you were going to use the restroom. His eyes never leave his book.

"Get back here as soon as you're done." You nod, silently walking toward the door.

"Do you still not trust me?" Your voice fell into a sad tone. He sighed in response, tapping his finger on the page of his book.

"I would just prefer to know where you are at all times." Nodding and exiting the room, you begin walking down the hall toward the bathroom, but continue walking right past it. It began to rain and patter against the windows. It was peaceful, but it would also help cover the sound of your footsteps. As you turned a corner, a bookshelf caught your eye. You had used this one before, but you didn't get very far last time. He caught you as soon as you pulled the book out and stepped inside.

You were determined, more than ever though, to make him search hard for you.

As you approached the bookshelf, you tried to remember which book to pull to make the bookshelf reveal the secret passage. All of the books were very generic books that most people had. 'The Da Vinci Code' by Dan Brown. 'Labyrinth' by Kate Mosse. 'Dracula' by Bram Stoker. As you looked, there was one that caught your attention. 'The Munich Manual Of Demonic Magic'. Levi had told you about this book before. This was a translated version, but the original was written in Latin. It deals with demonology and necromancy. You pulled the top of the book and heard a small clicking sound. The bookshelf had slightly opened on one side, giving you access to the hidden hallway. You slipped inside and pulled the bookshelf back against the wall as much as you could.

"Damn.." You shivered. It was pretty cold in these hidden hallways since he never used them. There was no light either, so you had to feel your way down the walls. You felt for a short while until you came to an intersection. It felt like you could go right or left. You chose right, away from the room you shared with Levi. Feeling your way down until you reached what felt like the end, you pushed and it came open. It was another bookshelf, keeping another room hidden away. The first thing you noticed were the spiderwebs covering the room. They were everywhere. This room looked as if it hadn't been touched in centuries. There was also no door. The only way to this room was through the secret passage.

You felt sad and realized how little of this castle you'd even gotten to see ever since Levi picked you to be his.

There were large objects throughout the room, but they were covered with white sheets. Curious one that you are, you had to get a look at them. You walked toward one and pulled the sheet off. Dust flied throughout the room and made you cough at the musty smell.

When the dust cleared, you saw that it was a painting.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" You heard Levi from behind you, and instant fear (and some arousal) flowed through you. You stood still, looking at the painting. He sighed. "That's The Santa Lucia de' Magnoli Altarpiece by Domenico Veneziano." You stayed facing the painting. If he was going to ignore you, you were going to ignore him right back.

"The real painting?" You asked, genuinely curious.You had to admit, you were also doing what little you could to tease him at this point.

"Does it matter? Turn around. Right now." He stated. You couldn't help but throw your head back. You tried to hold back a moan, biting your lip. Everything he did was so attractive.

Even his demanding voice could make you get off.

"I said. Turn. The fuck. Around." You slowly turned around to face him, and you could see the fury in his eyes. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. "What did I say when you left the room?" You gulped.

"To come right back." You said.

"That's right." He walked toward you and grabbed you around your neck, pulling you close to him. "If you're that damn curious, I'll show you around. Later." He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and began carrying you back through the secret passage and back to his room. "But right now, you're in big fucking trouble for disobeying me." You couldn't help but smile. Your heart began to race. The last time you made him angry, you couldn't even walk the next day. He had to take care of you. He kicked his door open with his foot, flinging you like a rag doll onto the bed.

"Take your fucking clothes off now, or I'll tear them off." You began to pull your skirt down, attempting to tease him. But he growled at you. "Don't." He gripped your skirt and tore it from your body. His hands gripped at your shirt and tore it open. Since you had planned this, you weren't wearing panties or a bra. Levi huffed at you.

"Were you planning this shit? Are you serious? Trying to piss me off, huh..?" He seemed genuinely angry with you, and you tried to protest and tell him you didn't. But he just smirked as he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance and rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit. "You dirty little fucking whore." He pushed himself inside of you with ease, as you were already soaking wet for him. He wasted no time and quickly pumped in and out of you. His head flung to your neck and he bit into you without a word, sucking the blood from you. You hissed through your teeth. He slowed his thrusts as he drank from you, taking in your taste. You began to feel lightheaded from the blood loss. After a minute or two, he pulled away and pulled out of you.

"Levi.." You suddenly felt so empty without him inside.

"On your hands and knees. Don't make me ask twice." You decided to comply this time, turning over and getting on your hands and knees, close to the edge of the bed. He pushed himself inside of you again, the fabric of his pants slapping against your skin. He kissed your back. "You wanna run from me now? Huh? Want to scare me like that again so I'll fuck you like a whore?" You gasped. "I knew that's what you were doing. I'm not stupid." Tears began running down your cheeks because his pleasure was just too much. He sped up his thrusts suddenly and came inside of you, pumping himself dry. You were breathing heavily, but he wasn't fazed in the least.

Vampire energy and stamina.

You fell to your stomach and he rolled you back over. He kissed you - with some kind of intensity you'd never felt from him before. He let his tongue slowly trace every part of your mouth. He pulled away, looking you in the eyes.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again. Do you understand me?" You nod. "I.. need you, alright?" His voice softened just a bit when he said that. Suddenly you felt an extreme amount of guilt. He was scared that you were trying to run away from him.

"I love you, Levi.. I would never leave you." He didn't smile, he never did, but you could see the relief in his eyes at hearing your words.

"Okay. Now that that's settled, your punishment isn't nearly over yet. Get over there in my coffin. I won't be done with you for some time tonight."

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Domestic Battles

Chapter 17: Two Truths and a Lie

In 1999, when Emma Swan would have been fourteen or fifteen years old, Ingrid Sarah Fisher had been charged with her care in the group home she was running. She'd failed. There was a single note that after Fisher had filed paperwork to adopt the redacted name in question, the teen had run away. The next place the file picked up was with the redacted name filing a petition of her own for emancipation.

It felt like the discovery of a lifetime, something that had been sitting in front of him all this time that he'd never managed to understand, the weight of which was…phenomenal! He'd put together a few years ago that Ingrid might have been brought to town in another way, since he'd given her a loan during the Curse to start that ice cream shop of hers, that was an impossibility of someone truly cursed. But to have proof of it…and that she'd met Emma while she'd been out of Storybrooke…

He didn't know what to do with information like that. He couldn't even fathom where he could begin!

Fortunately for him, it was three in the morning. There was nowhere to begin. Oh, sure he could go rouse "Sarah" from her sleep and demand answers now, but…to what point? He needed to think, he needed to prepare himself, he needed to quiet his mind and think through his options and for that, he needed Belle.

After what he'd learned, it felt anticlimactic to close the file, to leave his office, and slip back into the bed with Belle, to let her curl herself around him on instinct and just close his eyes, but it was for the better. He fell asleep with her at his side and woke predictably a few hours later with a plan in mind, the result, he was confident, of peaceful hours at her side. But before he enacted that plan of his…

"Beautiful Belle…" he whispered, sweeping his fingers along her spine. He'd never get anything done until he roused her, and they went into town. "My darling, Belle, it's morning. I love you my sweet Belle, will you wake up for me? Beautiful Belle-"

"I might just choose to stay asleep if you keep saying such wonderful things," she whispered against his chest. She sounded coherent, but her eyes were still closed. And he knew that if he didn't shake her from this stupor she'd be back to sleep again in no time.

"We've both slept long enough."

Finally, she took a long inhale, her body stretched against him as her gaze went first to the window and then up to him. "It's not the sleep I'm enjoying," she stated before pushing herself up. She kissed him quickly, then managed to make her way from a sitting position to a standing position and disappeared into the bathroom. He wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed that it had taken so little to get her moving.

He licked his wounds by reminding himself that they had years ahead of them to have lazy mornings in bed, but if he mastered the hat, then potentially decades and centuries. Besides, marriage meant that their time together was no longer limited to their bed or the bedroom. Not that it ever had been with them, at least not on purpose, but too often, since her reappearance, that was what it had felt like. They were ships passing in the night, taking what they could of each other while they could. But the idea of being together every morning and every evening without needing a bed…he was looking forward to making that a normal thing.

As she showered and dressed, he started the coffee and fixed her tea. He walked back down the hallway to his office and found the file on Henry that he'd been working through last week, then used magic to send it off to the safe at the store; he had plans for it later. When she was done with the shower, he used it himself and was nearly ready to finish up with some breakfast when Belle stepped in front of the mirror he was using to tie his tie and unfastened the knot he'd just tied.

"Here," she stated, pulling the blue fabric out of his hands. "Try this one."

A black tie. He was already wearing a black shirt and suit; he'd wanted the blue to offset a bit of the villainous attire, but it seemed that she, or, more likely, Lacey, had other ideas. Given that trying not to look the part of the villain was something that he'd done mostly for her, he wasn't going to argue if she wanted him to look the part.

Still, he sighed as he turned up his collar once more. "I'll never understand this fascination women have with dressing me," he commented as he watched her work. He'd meant it to be something of a joke, to harken back to Lacey and other times when she'd made fashion choices for him. But instead of watching a smile spread over her face, he was shocked to watch horror bloom as her fingers froze midway through their job.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I didn't realize…I shouldn't have…I didn't know you minded!"

"Belle," he covered her hands with his own just as she was moving to step away from him. He hadn't realized that she would take it so personally. Frankly, he wasn't even sure why she was taking it so personally until he realized that the idea of one's bodily autonomy would always be important for both of them. She'd hate to think she was like Zelena, taking a choice away from him no matter how small it may seem. And that was why she wasn't like Zelena. She was perfect. "With others, I mind. With you…I figure Lacey gave you many great talents, and I may as well use them to my advantage, no matter how shallow and vain those advantages may seem."

Finally, the smile he'd hoped he'd see all along spread over her face, and she let out a breath of relief as he let go of her hands and tilted his chin up, pushing her to finish the job she'd started. "Well…women can dress you all they like, as far as I'm concerned," she added in a teasing voice. "So long as I'm the only one that gets to undress you."

"Night after night without fail…" he promised with a smile, happy their jovial air had returned. She smiled again before she stood on tip-toe to kiss him, and that was that. Their morning together alone in their house was over. They'd still spend the majority of their time together today, with a few exceptions he was banking on in his head, but being out and about required them to put on their public personas and prepare for visitors he was should we be all too eager to seek out their services and interrupt. Potentially sooner than he would have liked…

He drove by the shop every morning to park the car and on this morning, when he expected to glance over and find it as he'd left it, he instead found people standing outside. Familiar people…mostly…

"Rumple…"

"I see them," he confirmed before Belle could ask. Emma and Hook were waiting with an unfamiliar third person dressed in a blue gown that was far more suitable for an Enchanted Forest kingdom than the state of Maine. He had a hunch as to who it was they'd brought with them, especially given Dove's message the night before, but the moment he and Belle approached and he read the magical signature coming from her, he knew he was right.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle, sister to Anna, and niece to the woman who owned the ice cream parlor. Curious indeed.

"Ms. Swan?" he questioned, turning his gaze on Emma. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He had a hunch, but he'd learned long ago never to do more talking than required.

"It's not a 'what' it's a 'who,'" the Savior answered with a serious expression.

"It's me," Elsa added.

"I'm…I'm sorry. What is this about?" Belle questioned with a shake of the head. He held back his amused smile. His wife did hate riddles. And Emma, it seemed, disliked having her thunder ruined given the stare she was giving her.

"You sure you want to do this in front of her?" Emma asked, looking at him. Subtlety never had been the Savior's forte. But in fairness, it had never been Belle's either.

His wife gave an irritated sigh and pulled her keys out of her bag before walking to the front door of the shop and opening it herself to let everyone in…herself first.

"Did that answer your question, Ms. Swan?" he inquired before Emma and company followed her into the shop. "Now…I'll ask you again, or else I'll have to ask you to leave my shop," he muttered, stepping inside himself. "What can I do for you, Ms. Swan?"

"You've got to be kidding me," she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "What you can do is tell me about her!" she insisted, pointing to Elsa. "You can tell us what you did to her sister!"

Behind him, he felt Belle stiffen at the accusation but didn't worry for a second whether or not she believed them because Belle always believed him first. In this particular case, he was pleased to say that he had nothing to do with Anna. The woman next door, however…

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about-"

"The urn!" Emma growled. "The one from that room in your castle, the one with no windows, no doors…"

"The vault?" Belle questioned. "You know about that?"

Emma nodded. "When we went back in time, he sent us there," Emma explained to Belle, who clearly hadn't been listening to their tale as carefully as he had the night they wed. "Inside there was an urn, it came back with us, she came out of it! Her name is Elsa, and we heard her sister's heartbeat with that staff you gave my father, so I've been up all night trying to figure out where her sister is and the only explanation I can come up with is that you did something to Anna when you trapped her in that urn. So, I want you to tell us why you trapped her and what you did with her sister!"

Oh, he loved a good loophole that allowed him to stay just as honest as Belle wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but…I've never seen her before in my life."

"So, how'd she end up trapped in your urn?" Emma challenged. "Inside your secret little vault of terror?"

An excellent question because he couldn't be sure himself. He could take a guess, but as to what had happened in Arendelle that day leading up to Elsa being in that urn, he couldn't honestly say. Though he'd love to take them both next door to meet the someone he suspected was responsible just to watch their faces.

However…if he honestly hadn't had anything to do with it and they were here instead of next door…

Rock troll magic…he remembered that being present on the day in question. Ingrid had stolen Elsa's memories. Or so he theorized…

"Look, if you really want to know how she wound up there, she's standing right beside you, Miss Swan. Why don't you simply ask her?"

"She did," Elsa replied. "But I can't remember; something happened to my memories."

"Well…" he sighed, "an all too common affliction around these parts…pity."

That, too, was honest. If she'd remembered, he would have loved to watch that family reunion play out, especially with Emma in the room now that he knew what he knew.

"But as you can see many objects fall into my possession," he explained away. "Urns, necklaces, all manner of things, I can't know the history behind all of them."

Another truth. There were several things in this shop that he had no memory of and could provide no history for, that was just part of the Curse. His life in the Enchanted Forest had afforded him the same luxury.

"Only if there's something in it for you, right mate?" Hook snarled in his direction. Also true. And potentially damning. Sometimes, he made trades for random items. Other times, he made trades for ideas, knowing their value, as was the case with Elsa's urn. And he wasn't about to say what he knew about that until he knew what was going on exactly.

"Yeah, well…that may have been true once. But recently my life has been…turned upside-down. I've lost a son…gained a wife…" he turned his gaze on Belle who gave him a sympathetic smile that tugged at his heart. Always on his side…

"So, you might say, I've decided to turn over a new leaf."

Another truth. Every plan he had now starred him as the perfect husband, trying to get the hat to free him from his dagger so he could be that perfect husband for as long as possible. Outside of that hat, he had no intention of involving himself unnecessarily in the Charming Family Drama that followed the Savior.

"Don't forget about my superpower," Emma responded suspiciously. "I'll be able to tell if you're lying."

Unfortunately, no matter how convicted a former professional liar might have been to turn over a new leaf into the truth, there would always be doubts about dishonesty. But fortunately, he had not yet cracked the secret of the hat and the dagger, and he had one surefire way to prove to anyone, even if Emma saw through his loopholed honesty with that superpower of his, that he was telling the truth.

"How about I do you one better?" he offered. "Let's simply have Belle use the dagger on me."

"Wha-No!" Belle shrieked, grabbing at his hands. "No! Rumple, you don't, you don't have to do that-"

"No, no, Ms. Swan wants proof, and I'm happy to cooperate," he stated, staring at Emma. But it was far more for Belle's benefit than her. After their conversation this morning, he knew she wouldn't like being his alibi, not again. But it was necessary. Until he knew if their family had ties to the hat and why it had dropped into his lap, he couldn't afford to be the one left out in the cold.

"Fine," Belle breathed before turning to her bag and pulling the fake dagger free. Given the number of times this had come in useful in the last few days, it wasn't exactly giving him reason to encourage her to hide it. Though given the look that Hook was giving him at her action, they might need to have a talk about being a little more discreet…

Beside him, Belle held the blade firmly in her hands and looked him over. "I command you…Dark One…to tell them the truth."

Apparently, he'd also have to find a way to teach her to ask him more specific questions he could more easily get around so he could only lie by omission. If she'd been holding the real dagger, that command would have been too broad and wouldn't have worked. But as it was, she wasn't holding the real dagger.

"The truth is…just as I said. I had no idea there was someone inside there. I know nothing about Elsa…or her sister."

A lie and two truths to cover it up so that hopefully Emma wouldn't notice. He might have known Elsa was in the urn when he took it, but he didn't know anything about Elsa or her sister, not for sure at least. Speculation and theory were not comparable to knowledge. Not to him.

"But I wish you the best of luck finding her."

And hopefully, he'd have a front-row seat to that reunion.

[daedalusdavinci]

“Wow, someone is in a good mood! You look like you slept five full hours this time!” riddlebat

"Well, someone is in a good mood. You look like you got a full five hours of sleep for- what, the first time in years? It must be."

Bruce could feel the start of a headache pulsing behind his eyes, as he so often did when dealing with the Riddler. He would say he was beginning to regret the decision to allow Edward to assist him on this latest project, but it would be a lie. He had regretted it ever since he'd first asked, nearly a week ago now. "I can take it back," he said, pulling the coffee back out of Edward's reach.

Edward, who had been about to eagerly take it from him, let his hand fall again with a pout. "Perhaps I spoke too soon. You're as testy as ever."

Bruce hummed, carefully perching on the edge of the table so as not to accidentally sit on any of Edward's notes, or cover them with his cape. He recognized several different languages in Edward's handwriting, scribbled across the mess of pages scattered across the desk. It made it more difficult to read his notes, but not at all impossible. He suspected Edward got a kick out of making him decipher them.

"Batman," Edward said, holding out his hand again imploringly. The pout was still in place, as theatrical as ever, but there was a genuine exhaustion underneath it. While Bruce might have slept, it didn't appear as though Edward had at all. The shadows under his eyes were dark, his hair ruffled and quickly coming loose from the product's hold, likely from him running his fingers through it too much. He was wearing the same suit from yesterday, albeit with the jacket and tie missing and the suspenders hanging loose around his waist. He'd rolled his sleeves up past the elbows and unbuttoned a generous amount of the top buttons, so Bruce could see fading bruises and scars on his chest.

Bruce handed him his coffee. Edward didn't bother to hide the way his shoulders sagged in relief. He took a deep drink from the mug, before finally leaning forward over the desk again. He tapped a set of ciphers, written into the margins of a picture printout. "I think I've got something, here."

Bruce sipped from his own mug, waiting for Edward to continue. He always did.

"You remember, of course, our earlier discussion about the possible use of Roman imagery in our mystery thief's clues. However, nothing we were running was bringing anything up. Until..." Edward pushed a different picture toward him, looking smug. "Centuries pass, a kingdom laid claim. Though different in nature, what is the same?"

Bruce studied the picture, picking out the telltale symbols in it. "Apollo shares a name in Greek and Roman mythology. You think it's Greek."

"I know it's Greek. I've already cross-referenced everything without you. In fact, I even know where he's going to strike next." Edward tapped the blueprints in the middle of the table. "And you were sleeping." He scoffed.

"You didn't sleep," Bruce noted.

"There were mysteries to be solved, Batman." Edward leaned back in his chair, offering a small, tired smile over his mug. It was the kind of smile that made Bruce want to do stupid things, like touch his cheek and feel the desperate way he leaned into it, or force him to take a damn nap. "I can sleep later."

Bruce sighed. He pulled Edward's blueprint closer, studying it as he sipped his coffee. "You didn't, by chance, happen to identify our thief?"

Edward scowled. "That mystery is proving a little more elusive."

He hummed. "We'll keep looking. But, with luck, we may not need it. This is good."

Edward preened, lighting up at the praise. Bruce almost regretted saying anything. "I guess we make a pretty good team, partner."

No, Bruce definitely regretted saying anything.

[imagine-darksiders]

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper. 

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...? 

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window. 

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud. 

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom. 

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then... 

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen. 

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation. 

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state. 

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches. 

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister?  Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...” 

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you. 

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?” 

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...” 

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him. 

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so.. 

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.” 

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.” 

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his. 

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close. 

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs. 

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack. 

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last. 

This one is no different. 

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

[fawnandshadows]

25 Days of Elriel — Day 22

Deck the Halls

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k

Azriel watched as Elain hung big boughs of holly on the wall, and strung golden ribbon up between the boughs. Faelights and candles were flickering through the room, and a table had been placed in the center with plates of overflowing baked goods on them.

He had just gotten to the townhouse after Valkyrie training. His body exhausted and worn out, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept, and the House of Wind was so drenched in Nesta and Cassian’s arousal that the air was heavy with it. Azriel thought it likely to actually choke or suffocate from it.

So, he went to the one place he thought would be empty — the townhouse.

Elain had been living comfortably with Rhysand and Feyre. That was where they were planning on celebrating the Solstice, so Azriel had assumed that the townhouse would be empty, but as soon as he winnowed in front of the door he could smell sweet jasmine.  

He took a deep whiff, closing his eyes as the sweetest smell laced his lungs, and exhaled so slowly, not wanting that scent to leave him. What was she doing here? Azriel thought as he pushed the door openly noiselessly. Not that Elain wasn’t welcomed, she and her peaceful presence were always welcomed wherever he was concerned. And as soon as Azriel walked into the living room, he saw Elain on a little step stool decorating the walls with… human decorations.

Fae decorated with local flora, and in the Night Court it was customary to decorate with night-blooming jasmine and sometimes even Illyrian roses. Azriel never understood how it was possible that a culture as brutish as Illyrian could prize and cultivate a flower of such beauty, but he supposed it was one of the few redeeming qualities about his culture.

“Are you going to help,” Her soft voice broke the silence, and Azriel noted the slight hint of humor in her words. “Or are you to be a decoration yourself, shadowsinger?”

Elain looked over her shoulder, a smile of beauty and grace played on her lips, and Azriel tucked away the image of how golden she looked in the flickering light. She looked like the last rays of sunlight fighting off the impending darkness of night.

“That depends,” Azriel said and lifted himself from his perch against the door frame and slowly entered the room. His hands felt awkward at his side, they kept wanting to reach for her, to be placed on the flare of her waist to stop her from falling, or to grip her hips has he kissed her thoroughly and plundered her mouth until she was so completely consumed with him, so that she might begin to understand how much he had been consumed by her. “On if my family decided to change the plans for the Solstice and not tell me.”

“Oh no,” Elain said quickly, her eyes wide as the implication. She gently accepted Azriel’s outstretched hand, her face flushing at the contact, and stepped down from the stool. “This is a secret celebration,” Azriel felt empty when she brought her hand away, and tried not to stare as she wrung her hands together. “I’m planning it for Nuala and Cerridwen. I thought it would be nice to show some appreciation for them, so I baked,” Her hand lifted and motioned to enough food that would fill even Cassian’s never-ending appetite. “And I’m decorating. Do you think they will like it?” She chewed her pink lip nervously. “I know I’m using some human tradition, but I thought it would be fun.”

Azriel felt his heart tighten.

She was so thoughtful.

How many centuries had he known Nuala and Cerridwen? And how many times had he truly shown appreciation for them?

“They’ll love it,” Azriel said and was rewarded as he saw the tension and worry leave Elain’s body. She instantly lightened the room. “I would be honored to help, if you’ll let me.”

Elain gave him an earth-shattering grin.

“I would love your help. They should be here just before nightfall. Please, help yourself to the cookies and the cakes. There are some cinnamon twists,” Elain said with a shy smile. “I know they are your favorite.”

His heart pricked, and he stopped himself from asking what else she knew about him.

He simply nodded his head in thanks and asked her what she wanted him to do.

They worked in companionable, peaceful, joyful silence.

Azriel had never known such enjoyable silence. His mind always turned quiet when she was around, as if she herself was a balm on his mind, body, and soul. Neither of them felt the need to fill the room with chatter, but they knew there was value simply in enjoying each other's company. That true peace thrived when two souls were comfortable with no sound at all as long as they were together.

Occasionally, Azriel would ask a question and Elain would give him gentle direction.

They exchanged shy looks and coy smiles all night. Azriel would watch as she stretched to something out of her reach, and he waited for her to ask him to intercede. It was only when she was breathless with her hair falling into her face that she would turn to him, see his smile of quiet joy, and ask for his help.

Azriel gave it to her every time with no questions or comments.

All too quickly they finished.

The room was bursting with holly and garland and silver and gold beading. The walls were overflowing, and Azriel felt warmth bloomed in his chest as he was the room for what it was — Elain showing her affection and devotion to her friends, and he was honored he got to be apart of it.

He never wanted it to stop.

He would have been content if the rest of his life was just him and Elain decorating this cozy room. His eyes turned towards Elain and he felt his heart and bones melt. Everything inside of him puddled into a pool of warmth and adoration.

Elain was beaming at the room, her hand clasped at her chest, and pride sparkled in her eyes as she took in all of their hard work.

“Beautiful.” She breathed, her eyes absorbing every detail of the room. The lush greens and decadent reds.

“I agree.” Azriel said, his eyes never leaving her face.

Her brown eyes flew to his face, and whatever she read in his expression caused her cheeks to blush and her eyes to flutter and her chest to heave.

“Thank you,” Elain said, her hands falling as she took a step towards him. “I never could have been able to do this without you.”

“Yes, you could.” Azriel stated, he swallowed audibly as she took another step towards him.

“It wouldn’t have been the same. You’re invaluable, Azriel.”

Her voice was soft and airy and Azriel felt the entire world turn fuzzy and distant.

Her fingers wrapped around his and time stopped.

“Elain?” The twin voices of Nuala and Cerridwen cut through the room like smoke.

“I should go,” Azriel said and took a step away from her. Her face fell and his heart cleaved. “I’ll see you soon, Elain.”

A small smile formed on her face as she watched his shadows start to swarm him. She continued to stare at the space he vacated until Nuala and Cerridwen found her.

--

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @jujugirlfrombookstore @courtofjurdan @offtorivendell @swankii-art-teacher @iwishiwasthattree​

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour {PART TWO}

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

taglist: @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic

As morning crept in through the blinds, you opened your eyes. It had been a horrendous night. You’d slept for a couple of hours, if that, all in and every time you woke up, you felt like crying. You opened your eyes to see wonderous colour, everything was so colourful and it shocked you but my god, you wished that your vision was still black and white. If your vision had been black and white everything would’ve been fine and you would be happy. You would’ve given up anything to have black and white vision back. Black and white vision wasn’t so bad, I mean, it always felt like you were trapped inside a 50s sitcom but that was pretty cool! Though now with colour you could easily see what your clothes looked like...

Steve was still sound asleep beside you. His alarm would go off in an hour or so. Carefully, you got out of bed trying not to wake him as you went to wander through Steve’s apartment. You were grateful that Steve’s décor was darker and more muted colours; dark blues and browns (and you knew what colours they all were because during the night, you’d found some YouTube Kids videos telling you all the different types of colour. You liked red and you really liked yellow). You spend a while walking around the apartment and looking out the window, watching the sun come up. Your stomach flips and you feel sick as you see a photo of Steve and Bucky; the same photo that you’d seen so many times before except now it’s in colour and you can see Bucky’s dark eyes and Steve’s bright eyes. Taking a breath, trying to push the nausea away, you wish it had been Steve’s eyes that you saw. You wish Steve’s bright blue eyes had been the first ones you saw in colour.

Your mind refuses to stop picturing Bucky and that first moment of seeing colour crashing over you like a wave. The guilt hits you like a train as you stare at the photo. How could you love Steve Rogers and yet have Bucky Barnes be your soulmate? You needed help; you needed some form of guidance, someone to talk to that wasn’t Bucky Barnes. 

Steve finds you sitting on the couch, staring at the photo of the pair, fifteen minutes later. He pads over to you, realising that you’re in a daydream of sorts, “Sweetheart?” He says softly sitting on the couch beside you.

You tore your eyes from the picture and stared at him, once again the colour of his eyes surprising you. Quickly, you set the photo down and pull him onto the couch, “Steve, I have to tell you something.”

Steve brushes your hair out of your face, frowning in concern. He could tell something was eating away at you, he noticed it last night at the party. He’d hoped it had just been the migraine but now, seeing the fear in your eyes, he wondered if it was something else entirely. He asks if you’re okay, asks what’s wrong and you open your mouth and then shut it. You need to tell him. A relationship shouldn’t have secrets or lies and you had always been honest with Steve. Steve valued honesty and truth among all else, he valued loyalty and yet, here you were, keeping the biggest secret of your life from him.

He repeats the question, “What’s going on?”

You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, “I was just thinking that I’d go see Nat today,” you told him, “She was telling me about her and Bruce yesterday but never got to hear much of the story before my migraine kicked in.” It wasn’t a lie, you were waiting to hear more of Nat and Bruce’s story but that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go and see her. You wanted Nat’s opinion on everything; you wanted her to tell you what you were supposed to do.

Steve nodded his head slowly, “Are you okay, (y/n)? You’ve not seemed quite right since last night at the party.” No, I’m not right at all, Steve! My soulmate is your best friend! How do I tell you that? How am I meant to tell you that without destroying you?

“Yeah, everything’s fine, love,” you smile at him, “The migraine’s away but I barely slept.” He looks at you with that stare, the one where he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth, “Honestly, Steve, I’m okay. I’m absolutely exhausted but I’ll have a cup of coffee and go see Nat and I’ll be fine. Must’ve been the champagne last night, I only had one glass but you know I’m not a big drinker and you know Stark buys the expensive stuff.”

Steve relents with a sigh, he’s unsure but you seem to be talking a little more, “Okay, just remember that I’m here for you if you need me...” He stands up, stretching and you smile as you look at him. He is one fine specimen. He notices you admiring his muscles, “You think these are impressive?” He chuckles, “You should’ve seen me before the serum.”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, and for a few seconds, you forget about everything. Things were just so real and easy with Steve, “I would’ve loved to have met you back then you know.”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re way out of my league right now never mind back then.”

“I’m serious,” you say as you follow him into the kitchen, “Steve, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I would love you in every lifetime and every size or shape. Skinny, pre serum Steve would’ve been just as perfect. The serum changed the way you look but it never changed the way you act or the way you think. That’s all you and what do I always tell you?”

Steve smiles as he makes the coffee, “You love the way I think.” He looks up at you and you smile at him. Everything was always easy with Steve; it always had been, even on that very first day.

The rain poured down, splashing onto the sidewalk. You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you tried to back further into the wall. You’d been waiting outside a café for over thirty minutes waiting for your date to show up. So far, nothing. You’d text and left a voicemail asking if he was on his way but no answer. You huffed as you shook your head, “Bloody men.”

You go to turn and walk away, knowing that you’d been stood up and didn’t want to hang around for nothing, when you almost bump into something or rather someone, “Sorry, I was going to ask if you wanted my umbrella.” He asked with a smile, “But you started cursing out men and honestly, it’s a little intimidating.”

You looked up at him and smiled, well he wasn’t your soulmate but that was okay, you didn’t need colour to know that he was ridiculously good looking,  “Sorry, I, uh, I got stood up so I’ve been standing in the rain for nearly forty minutes. I even went to the effort of putting on a whole new outfit and curling my hair!”

The man sighs, “I’m sorry to hear that, how about I buy you a cup of coffee?” He holds his hands up when you look at him concerned, “I just wanna be nice, that’s all. If you hate me, you never have to see me again.”

You find yourself laughing and shrugging, “Oh, what the hell- sure... I’m (y/n).”

“Steve, Steve Rogers.”

It hits you then. Of course, “You’re Captain America!”

Steve nods, “I hope that’s not an issue?”

You shake your head, “Not at all but... why does someone like you want to go on a date with someone like me? I mean you look like that and I look like...” you look down at your soaked outfit, “a drowned rat.”

His laugh is lovely, you realise as it comes booming out of him, “Someone like me? I look like this now but before the war, I was a scrawny five foot four kid with too many health issues to count and someone like you? You mean someone beautiful with a gorgeous smile?” He opens the café door, “Shall we?”

A cup of coffee with Captain America, you muse in your head as you sit at the table in the small café waiting for him to bring you back your drinks, your mom would have a field day with this one. You shrug your jacket off and hang it over the back of the chair, thankful that your jacket had kept the rain from soaking you straight to the bone.

Steve appeared a minute later, two coffees and two muffins, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted something to eat so I got us muffins.”

“Thanks,” you smile, happily taking a bite out of it. Steve sits down and you suddenly feel rather awkward as he smiles at you. You’re not soulmates. Your vision is still black and white so... what was the point?

Steve seems to read your mind, “We’re not soulmates... It’s okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief and Steve can see you visibly relax.

“Yours is still black and white?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of the coffee, “No, I... I met my soulmate a long time ago.”

“Oh?” you pause and he can see your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“It was during the war we met,” he goes onto explain, “Things couldn’t really go anywhere since I woke up in the twenty first century... She died a couple of years ago.”

Well, shit. “Oh god, Steve, I’m so sorry. That’s... That’s horrible.”

Steve smiles, appreciating your genuine sympathy, “It’s okay,” he shrugs, “besides, I like to think I can make my own destiny; that there’s more than one person in the world that could be a match for me.”

A smile spreads onto your face. He was like a breath of fresh air, the way he spoke about things with such hope... it was inspiring. No wonder he was Captain America; everything America should have been, “I like the way your mind works.” And it’s true. You’d never met anyone who was so hopeful. Everyone you met followed the rules and stuck by them but Steve, despite his past and despite his definite trauma, he remained hopeful for a better future.

He asks about you and your situation, “Still black and white,” you tell him, “I have to send pictures of my outfits to my sister who met her soulmate years ago just to see if the colours go well together.” He laughs, “I’m in no rush to find my soulmate, if I ever find them. I don’t believe too much in it either.”

The pair of you look across the table at one another and smile and it’s an unspoken agreement of ‘are we going to do this?’. Steve takes a sip of coffee, hiding a bashful smile from behind the mug, “You know, I’m real glad your date stood you up.”

His kiss on your temple as he slides your mug of coffee over to you breaks you out of your trance, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m real glad my date stood me up,” you murmur with a smile.

A slow grin spreads on his face, “Yeah, me too...”

Once you’ve eaten breakfast, gotten dressed and ready for the day ahead, you text Nat and ask her if you can come over. She responds right away telling you to come by whenever. You get ready to leave and say bye to Steve, who’s using a laptop looking up something else that Sam told him about.

“I’ll be home soon,” you say, kissing his hair, “Text me if you’re wanting me to pick up anything while I’m out.”

“I love you,” Steve calls as you’re pulling on your sneakers.

A pang of guilt hits you and you take a deep breath, “I love you too, Steve.”

You leave.

The drive to Natasha’s apartment is a short one and it helps that you’re breaking most of the traffic laws to get there. You need to tell someone. Honestly, at this rate, you’ll be having stomach ulcers with the stress. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe this wasn’t such a big deal... Maybe you would tell Nat and she would roll her eyes and tell you that it would be fine, to tell Steve and don’t talk to Bucky again. You hoped that it could be that easy but really... would it be?

Natasha immediately knew something was wrong, “Have you slept?” She asked, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your stressed appearance.

“Couple of hours.”

“What’s going on?”

“Coffee and then we’ll talk.” Nat nods and goes to the kitchen so prepare the coffee. Her apartment is bare but stylish. It’s not very personable but she wasn’t very personable so it makes sense. Nat always told you that she was ready to up and leave if she needed to. You follow her into the kitchen to see her lifting down two blue mugs, “Actually, can I get that red mug that’s on the top shelf?”

Nat nods and reaches up. Then she realises what you just said, “No fucking way.” You sigh, sitting at the kitchen island as she stares at you, throwing question after question at you, “You can see colour? When? How? Who?!”

“Coffee first, please.”

Natasha Romanoff has never moved faster in her life as she makes that cup of coffee and has it sitting in front of you within thirty seconds. She demands to know everything, “When?!”

“Last night at Stark’s party.”

Natasha snaps her fingers, “I knew something wasn’t right! You left so early and didn’t even say goodbye, by the way. Tony said you had a migraine but I thought something was off.”

You nodded, “Yeah, the colour was overwhelming and it gave me a migraine. It’s still pretty overwhelming, to be honest.”

Natasha leaned forwards, elbows propped onto the kitchen counter, “Is it...”

You shake your head, looking at your hands, “No... It’s not Steve.”

She curses under her breath, “Damn... I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that is but... doesn’t mean everything’s doomed. Who is it?”

All of a sudden, you can’t say anything; all you can do is stare at the coffee. Natasha begins to list of names, “Stark? Thor? Galactica man? Fury? Parker-”

“Nat, he’s seventeen!”

She holds up her hands, “Wanda? Strange? Sam? Maria Hill? Oh my god, is it me?” You roll your eyes at her and then she says it, “Bucky?” Your bottom lip trembles and Natasha’s jaw drops, “Bucky?! Bucky Barnes?” A nod is all you can muster, “Holy shit! I knew the universe is fucked but I didn’t realise it’s this fucked!”

“You said it doesn’t mean everything’s doomed, tell me it’s not doomed, Nat.”

“What did Steve say?! Holy shit, I can’t believe that. No wonder you didn’t sleep.” She sees your eyes lower, “You have told him, haven’t you?”

“I tried,” you whisper, “I tried, Nat. I-I couldn’t.” She sighs heavily, “It’s bad, isn’t it? It’s real bad.”

She nods, “Yeah, it’s gonna be bad.” The two of you are silent as you sip at the coffee, trying to figure out what the next move is. It feels good to talk about it with someone; feels much better to share the load with someone who isn’t Bucky.

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say eventually, voice cracking with emotion, “I mean, how do you tell your boyfriend that his best friend is your soulmate?” Nat doesn’t have the answers and you know she doesn’t. She can’t tell you what to do. Bucky couldn’t tell you what to do either. You have to figure it out by yourself.

“Tell me everything.”

So you tell her everything. You tell her about seeing him, about going to get air, about Bucky finding you and having a secret conversation with him, about the migraine and about going home with Steve, “The worst part of it is... Bucky’s eyes were the first pair I saw in colour. How many times have I said to you even if Steve wasn’t my soulmate, how many times have I said I wanted his eyes to be the first ones I look into with colour vision? I feel like I’ve betrayed him.”

Nat’s hand reached out, clasping yours from across the table, “This isn’t your fault. I know that if you had your way, you would’ve seen colour with Steve from that very first glance. If not Steve, you would’ve picked me, obviously.” You laugh slightly, “Steve will understand that you didn’t want or mean for this to happen. His soulmate is someone else as well.”

“But his is dead. My soulmate is another Super Soldier who has a freaking metal arm and used to be an assassin!”

“Don’t knock assassins,” she scolds with a smile, “I’ve seen the way you and Steve are together and I know that you’re the real deal, soulmate or not. You know that too. Your talk with Bucky seems like you two are pretty okay with nothing happening between the pair of you and that’s a good first step.”

“What do I do?”

She squeezed your hand and gave you a small smile, “You know what to do.”

You let out a long breath and nodded slightly, “I have to tell Steve.”

Natasha smiled. She was one of your closest friends, she seemed to understand you pretty well. She understood your anguish and your pain and she would always listen to your problems. Steve was close with Nat for the exact same reasons. She helped and she listened. Natasha had welcomed you practically with open arms (except she hated hugs) when Steve introduced you to her. Straightaway she knew that you two were made for each other, even if the universe didn’t think it. She made a comment that stuck with you to this day,  ‘You both make each other a better person. You share the load and take turns of carrying the burdens. It’s not common that happens.’

To distract you, she updated you on her and Bruce Banner saying that he’d finally asked her out and their date was tonight, “I’m sorry. I know the last thing you want to deal with is my relationship problems,” you apologised as she told you.

“Don’t be silly, I’d rather help you than worry about what I’m meant to say on this date! I’ve not been on a date in years!”

“You’ll be fine,” you laughed, draining the last of your coffee, “You know that the pair of you are soulmates just... no work talk.”

Natasha looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “No work talk? What am I meant to talk about?!”

“I don’t know... the weather?”

The redhead rolled her eyes, “I’m not taking advice from someone who’s dating their soulmate’s best friend.”

“Low blow,” you said laughing. She did always know how to lighten the mood, “You’ll be fine, Nat.” As if on cue, you get a text, “It’s Steve... asking when I’m coming home. Can’t put it off any longer.” Standing, Nat tells you that she’s proud of you.

“It won’t be easy but... it’s the right thing to do.”

In the car ride over, you had rehearsed what you’d say to Steve. You would tell him everything that happened, you’d tell him about Bucky, about the conversation you had with him, about the real reason why you had a migraine and you’d apologise for not telling him as soon as it happened. You were scared but fear isn’t a real excuse to not do the right thing. You hoped that he wouldn’t hate you. You hoped that he would forgive you for not saying something sooner.

As you open Steve’s apartment door, you hear laughter... You frown as you close the door behind you, “Steve?” You call out.

“(y/n), you’re home,” Steve replies, “We’re in here.”

“Who’s we?” You ask, kicking off your shoes and peering around the corner,  “Oh.” You don’t look at the figure sitting next to Steve. You can’t. You’ll lose your composure and everything will be a mess again.

Steve grinned, “Bucky thought he’d stop by, isn’t that great?”

You force a smile, “Amazing! I’m going to go make myself some lunch.” Quickly, you rush into the kitchen, trying to slow your heartrate. What the fuck is he doing here?!

That’s when someone clear their throat from behind you, “I brought the coffee mugs we used back...” Bucky Barnes was the last person you wanted to see right now and now, here he was, standing in your kitchen trying to make conversation with you?! Universe, you and I need to have a good long chat.

“Why are you here?” Your voice is harsher than it should be but you’re annoyed. You’d agreed to only see each other when necessary not randomly! You thought that you’d be able to tell Steve yourself without unwelcome guests such as Bucky.

“Steve said you were out and I thought I’d be okay to see him for a few hours!” Bucky’s just as annoyed apparently not wanting to see you much more than you wanted to see him. He’s annoyed that you’re annoyed. You turn to him, glaring into those blue eyes, “Look, I know you hate me for fucking things up but... I needed to see you.”

“Why?!” You’re whisper shouting at each other and you were so glad that Steve didn’t have super hearing.

“Because I- I can’t stop thinking about you!” He hisses, arms flailing as his eyes bore into your soul, “I never slept because I couldn’t get you out of my head!”

You’re breathing hard as you look at him. He couldn’t sleep because he was too busy thinking of you? “You couldn’t sleep either?” Bucky cocks his head in confusion, “Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw were yours.” You explained and you give a bitter laugh, “Forgive me for being annoyed but I wanted the first colour I saw to be Steve’s eyes, not yours so yeah, I’m a little pissed.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry, princess,” he scoffs, “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have picked you to be my soulmate. Plenty more people better.” The comment stings. You don’t know Bucky at all, all you know is what Steve told you of him but so far, he had made a terrible impression. Though to be fair, you’d said similar things to him so... Immediately, he groans and realises how big of a dick he looks, “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just- It’s-”

“Complicated. I know... I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit of a bitch. I never thought that this would happen. I’m stressed and I feel like I’m going to get a stomach ulcer from the stress.”

Bucky nods, “I’m sorry too... I’m sorry for showing up here too. Steve said you’d be out but I was hoping to see you again. I couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d met you first.”

“Bucky...” Your voice is a warning. A warning to not break over that threshold because once you break it, there’s absolutely no fixing it. It’s a warning that nothing will happen between the two of you. 

He realises and quickly straightens, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just... Just don’t go there,” you say with a nod as you turn around and open the fridge. You pull out some leftovers from your dinner the night before and go to the microwave to reheat it. The pair of you are quiet; the only noise to be heard is the hum of the microwave, “We should tell him,” you say eventually.

Bucky sighs. He too felt terrible for lying to Steve but he thought that hiding it was the easier thing to do, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You nod as the microwave beeps, “We have to tell Steve.”

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, walking into the kitchen and placing some dirty dishes on the counter, “What’s going on? You okay?” Your eyes fleet between Steve who remains happy yet confused and Bucky who won’t stop staring at you with the deep stare. 

Oh, fuck.

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine. Here we are at the final part!

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit and my photos of Murano & Burano)

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

𝕄𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

{…𝕠𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖?}

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy awoke early the next morning, reaching over to his phone on the bedside table and tapping the screen to see what time it was. Seven. Plenty of time to have a shower and make his way down to the breakfast room.

Standing under the stream of hot water, he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. What if she had done another runner? He wouldn’t be able to cope with that. He didn’t think she would have, but…. he just wasn’t 100% sure what she was thinking or feeling right now.

After his full disclosure of what he’d got up to with Madani followed swiftly by his confession of love last night, he felt more optimistic but he could tell she was still conflicted.

He’d just have to do whatever he could today to persuade her to give him another chance.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Making your way into the light and airy breakfast room at just after eight, you couldn’t deny you were pleased to see Billy, sitting up super straight like a well-behaved schoolboy, already at a table.

His face broke into a huge smile when he spotted you, and you could see a large measure of relief wrapped up in it. You knew he would’ve been wondering if you had run out on him again. But no, you’d decided overnight to at least see how things went today on your trip to the Lagoon Islands.

He’d thrown you a curveball by telling you he loved you last night, and while you were relieved to hear that he hadn’t slept with that woman (his anger when you’d pushed him on it had finally convinced you that he hadn’t), you still weren’t exactly happy with what he had admitted to doing. It was still cheating in your book.

Could you ever really trust him again?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy fussed over her like a mother hen when she sat down across from him at the table, jumping up and rushing over to the buffet table, picking out a selection of toast, focaccia, butter, jams and Nutella for her along with a couple of mini pain au chocolat croissants. They were her favourites so he felt quite proud of himself as he laid the plate before her like the spoils of war, before making his way to the coffee machine and creating a cappuccino for her.

“Thank you, Billy - you’re spoiling me,” she said with a small grin. “Your every wish is my command, Princess,” he smiled back, hand covering hers and stroking gently. Now she started properly laughing at him, and he huffed, slightly offended. Once she’d calmed down a bit she said, “Honestly Billy, you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. All I need from you is complete honesty.” Billy tried to look as convincing as he possibly could, “I will be, sweetheart, I promise.”

She took a sip of her cappuccino, and fixed him with an intense stare. “Bearing that in mind, Billy, just what exactly was going through your mind when you were making out with Madani?”

Billy blew out a big breath; he hadn’t seen that coming. “Well… uhh… nothin’ really. I was just doing somethin’ I had to do, and needed to get it over with as quick as possible.” Another sip of coffee, another intense look from her. “Uh-huh. So you didn’t enjoy it then? Is that what you’re saying?”

Billy suddenly felt like he was back on very thin ice. He could feel himself squirming in his seat, and fought to keep still. Madani was, in all truth, a pretty woman.

Fuck.

What should he say in reply to that?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes were drilling into Billy’s, and he looked about as comfortable as someone who’d just found out he’d got a scorpion down his trousers.

His face flushed pink, so you could guess what that meant. He cleared his throat, and then said in a low voice, “Look, she’s not bad lookin’ so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it could’ve been.”

You smirked, not ready to let him off the hook yet, “So you were attracted to her, then. Not sure I’m happy to hear that, Billy.”

“NO! No, I wasn’t. Well.. like I said, she’s not unattractive but I’m not interested in her.”

You picked up your knife and aggressively sliced right through one of croissants. The look on Billy’s face was priceless. No doubt he’d guessed that the croissant was a surrogate for a certain part of his anatomy.

“Sweetheart, they weren’t long or involved kisses… not real ones, not like between you an’ me,” he said in a worried tone, very unlike his usual assertive manner. “Sweetheart, you’re the one I’m in love with. The only one I want to be with.” He was gazing earnestly at you, hand covering yours.

You cut off another piece of croissant and popped it into your mouth.

Billy would have to work a hell of a lot harder than that today if he was going to get you back, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once the vaporetto had moored alongside the jetty you walked on board the boat up the ramp in front of Billy, while the disembarking passengers walked down the other side of it as it swayed from side to side, the boat moving in its own wake. The crew member who’d expertly tied up the boat a few moments ago was still calling out “Palanca, Palanca” as you headed through the covered section to the open area right at the back, sitting down on the bench seat in the stern and turning your face up to the sun.

Billy sat next to you, scooting as close to you as he could, suddenly lunging in for a hungry kiss. Two mothers with children in tow emerged through the doors leading from the salon, and you pushed him away while hastily smiling at the newcomers, saying, “Giorno” to them. Both of them smiled at you, returning your greeting, but then their eyes slid over to Billy and you saw both sets widening as they looked him over. You sighed. Having a hot boyfriend sucked sometimes. And Billy was looking particularly hot today in leather jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans and combat boots.

However, you noticed that Billy’s eyes were glued to you, still gazing at you ever since you’d fended him off. You didn’t think he’d even glanced at the other two women.

OK, Russo - one point on the plus side to you, you conceded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was paying full attention to his girl. He felt slightly triumphant that he’d managed to steal a kiss, and she’d only shoved him away when he’d vaguely heard the salon doors opening behind him.

He was so worried that she still hadn’t made her mind up whether to take him back or not, and he knew that today was his final chance to convince her to do so. Whatever was in his power to do, he’d do, to make that happen. And he wasn’t dumb, that meant not paying any attention whatsoever to any other females in the vicinity. He’d guessed that a couple of women had arrived along with the kids he could hear squealing and laughing just out of his sight line, so he made sure he kept his eyes trained solely on her.

Her lips curved upwards in a small smile as she looked back at him.

Pleased, he thought - ha, think I just scored a point there.

He wondered how many more of those he needed to rack up to finally win his woman back.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

There were no direct vaporetti lines to the Lagoon Islands so you had to firstly go to Fondamente Nove, which was a busy hub for several of the numerous lines. You wanted to visit two of the main islands; Murano - where Venetians had made their famed glass items for centuries - and Burano, an island of fishermen and lacemakers. You were really excited to go there, as the houses were painted in a rainbow of colours. Legend had it that this was so the returning fishermen could spot their own individual houses as they returned home across the lagoon.

You needed to find the ferry stop for Line 12, which luckily Billy spotted just as the two of you were about to walk right past it. There was a vaporetto arriving just as you did and swiping your travel passes, you went aboard and took seats in the salon. This ferry was a slightly different type to the others you’d been on, longer and lower and was soon packed with locals and tourists alike.

It took a little while to arrive at Murano, alighting at the Faro stop. They still produced glassware on Murano but nothing like as much as they had in the past. You and Billy wandered alongside one of the main canals, looking into the windows of all the little glass shops until you came to the entrance of one of the big glass foundries.

They offered tours of the workshop and of course also had a shop, so the two of you paid for the tour and watched in amazement as an old man took a fiery red and yellow blob onto the end of a pole, and blew and turned it until it started to take on the shape of a little vase.

In the store, you browsed along the shelves looking at all the glassware on display, until you suddenly noticed you were alone. Glancing around, you spotted a dark head over in the corner at the cash desk and were heading over there when Billy turned round. His trademark smirk appeared and he hurriedly picked up the little paper carrier bag which was on the counter by its handles and strode towards you.

“See anything you like, sweetheart?”

Smirk getting wider. You eye-rolled and grabbed his arm, noting at the same time that the female sales assistant was still gawping at Billy, even though he now had his back to her. You tugged him towards the door, asking, “What’ve you just bought?” as you went. He shook his head, “Can’t say. It’s a surprise.” You glared at him, “Billy….” but he just kept grinning as you left the store and wouldn’t say anything, even though you nipped at his wrist just below his leather jacket sleeve with your nails.

“Wanna get a coffee?” he suggested, as you resumed your canalside stroll. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, stopping next to the outdoor tables of a small caffé and sitting down, Billy joining you. He slid his hand over yours, “M’glad we’ve got this time together today, sweetheart. Wanna make you understand just how much you mean to me.”

You nodded in acknowledgment before waving at the waiter and ordering two double macchiatos. You carried on, “The main problem I have, Billy, is how I’m ever going to trust you again? You might not think you cheated, but that’s what it is in my book.”

Billy looked over at you, eyes wide, sad …and scared.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had then looked up and thanked the waiter as the coffees were placed in front of you both. He really didn’t know what to say, to be honest. He knew Frank - and no doubt Karen - also thought that it had counted as cheating. But he truly hadn’t. Well…. Cheating Lite, as he’d already designated it in his head. But not proper, down-and-dirty, long-term cheating. It had been a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. He just hadn’t considered the bigger picture. At all. And that had been a big mistake.

He took a sip of his coffee, and cleared his throat before spilling out what had just gone through his head. “Y’know I’m not exactly an expert at relationships, angel. In fact, I’m sure you’ll agree I’m totally shit at them. I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow. Tell me how things need to be. Please don’t give up on us, don’t leave me… please.” Billy was completely and utterly pouring out his heart to her, and he prayed she could see that.

His girl looked at him, some anger and hurt still in her eyes but she managed a shaky breath and looked down into the depths of her coffee cup for a few moments.

Billy held his breath.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes met his again, “But how am I going to trust you again, Billy, tell me that? Every time you say you’re working late, how d’you expect me not to think you’re meeting up with her or someone else?”

Now it was Billy’s turn to look down. The silence stretched out to a few minutes, and you did nothing to break it. Eventually he looked up at you again, “M’tryin’ to think of how I can prove to you that I’ll never, ever, do something like that again - whether it’s work-related or not.”

He reached across and slid his long fingers between yours, holding onto your hand so tightly it felt like he’d never let go.

“Firstly, I give you my word as an ex-Marine that I won’t ever pull a stunt like this again. Secondly, I’ll be the most attentive boyfriend you’ve ever had. In and out of the sack.” You tried to hide a smile, but you knew he’d seen it. “Thirdly, I’ll put a tracker on my phone, and I’ll hack you into my messagin’ and email apps so you’ll have absolute access to my location and comms.” He was smirking back at you by now, he felt this was going pretty well.

“But you’ve got access to burner phones, Billy.”

His smile dimmed, while his brain scrambled to come up with a solution to this inconvenient fact. You saw his eyes light up and the smirk returned, “Easy. I’ll put Frank in sole charge of issuing them and I’ll tell him not to give me any unless it’s absolutely necessary for an op.”

“Could just buy them in Walmart’s,” you dropped into the slight pause after he’d finished speaking. His face fell again, and now you burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, Billy - I get the message. I see that you’re doing your best to be honest and transparent. There’s no need for you to put all that tracking and hacking in place.”

Billy beamed at you.

“I’ll just get Micro to track your ass.”

His mouth dropped open as you spoke.

“And monitor all your calls and texts.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Woah! thought Billy, didn’t think she’d be getting King Nerd involved. That was probably Karen’s idea. Gee, thanks Karen. But he would agree, what else could he do? And he’d offered to track himself, so it didn’t really matter in any case, did it?

“Uhhh…” he stuttered, “….uhh yeah, whatever you like, sweetheart.”

She smiled over at him, a genuine smile. “It’s OK, Billy. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She side-eyed him, “Unless you give me good cause. Like… coming home stinking of another woman’s perfume ever again.”

His hand went over his heart, and he put on his best puppydog eyes. “Angel, I swear on my life - never. Never. Ever. Again.”

She nodded. “Okay, Billy, I’ll take that as you being on oath now, just like when you joined the Marines.” His eyes widened and he nodded fast. “Yeah. I am. I’m on oath.”

He watched as she drained the very last few drops of her coffee. “Okay, Russo! Let’s go,” she said standing up and picking up her bag.

“Yes, ma’am!” He jumped up and saluted, taking his place at her side as they retraced their steps to the Faro stop and their next vaporetto.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d hopped onto the next Line 12 ferry which arrived, and recommenced your onwards journey to Burano. Sitting inside the salon again, the loud chatter around you from the mostly local passengers almost drowned out any conversation you and Billy tried to have. He finally leaned right up against you, snaking his arm round your waist, his lips against your ear.

“Got you a little somethin’, sweetheart.” He handed you the gift bag.

Opening it, you saw a mass of tissue paper inside the bag and took it out. “Careful!” he warned, so you slowly opened up the paper and saw a delicate rose pink heart trinket box sitting at its centre. You lifted its little lid up and then replaced it, delighted with it. Smiling at Billy, you said, “I love it!” into his ear and kissed his cheek. His lips returned to your ear, “See? You have my heart.”

Now you rolled your eyes heavenwards, “I’d stop there if I were you, Russo. Cheesy really doesn’t suit you!” He burst out laughing. “Hey! Give a guy a break. He’s over here layin’ his heart and soul right out in front of you.”

You leant in and kissed him on the lips, before pulling back and saying, “And don’t read too much into that!” But Billy was already grinning happily back at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was happy. His steps were light as he walked beside her from the vaporetto stop along a small street, lined with stalls and shops selling souvenirs and lacework, which eventually led to a square.

She loved the trinket box! he thought, very pleased with himself. The minute he’d seen it he knew that she would, and had decided to buy it on the spot. While he didn’t want her to think he was trying to buy her back, he’d just wanted to make some gesture to show her that he treasured her, the same way she’d treasure the little things she put in it.

He blurted all of this out to her as they strolled along. She stopped walking and looked at him, amazed, “Billy Russo! I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He felt shy suddenly, and he could feel his face heating up. What was happening to him? Is this what love did to you? He didn’t hate it. “It’s how I feel,” he mumbled, looking away from her. He felt her hand on his cheek, “Well, keep that up and maybe, just maybe…”

She turned and started walking again, and Billy hurried to catch up with her. I won’t push it, he thought, I’ll just leave it be while I’m on a winning streak.

There was another street leading off the square which was full of trattorias and caffés, and they chose one of the restaurants to sit outside, the tables rapidly filling as more people from the vaporetto stop arrived.

She’s definitely looking at me more kindly, he thought. Things might just be okay after all.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a delicious lunch of pasta and several glasses of wine, you and Billy started exploring the little canals and streets with their cute colourful houses. They looked so bright and beautiful in the sunlight, and you imagined the fishermen back in the day sailing home and being able to see their own little house from afar.

You reached the waterside, beside a quiet little square with houses all around it and some grass in the middle, clothes on washing lines strung across it, blowing in the breeze. There was no-one else around and suddenly you found yourself pressed up against the wall of one of the houses, Billy’s long fingers on the nape of your neck, his hand on your waist. His dark chocolate eyes were gazing into yours, a soft look in them. But you could also feel something a lot harder pressing into your hip, and you saw desire spark in his eyes.

His mouth was on yours and he kissed you, the sudden passion of which took you by surprise. He pulled back, his forehead touching yours. “I’ve missed your touch so much,” he whispered, “…every minute of every day since you.. since you left me.” You laid your hand on his chest, “I missed you too, Billy - even if I did hate you at the time.” He chuckled, “Do you still hate me?” You looked into those beautiful eyes, “No, I guess I don’t. Although you’re still walking a line, Billy.”

He nodded, “I know. I do know. But promise me you’ll give me another chance?” You smiled at him, pushing yourself away from the wall and him, “Let’s see, shall we?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy tapped on her hotel room door, and gave her a devilish grin as she opened it. He’d made sure to wear a white tank and a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms. He knew she liked him in those.

She was already in her sleepwear - an oversized Anvil T which she’d stolen from him ages ago - and leant against her door, looking back at him, amused. “Why Billy, whatever brings you here?”

He just kept grinning at her and also leant against her doorframe. As if she didn’t know, he thought. She’d had to spend the entire journey back from Burano fending off his hands and mouth.

“Just checkin’ you’re OK, sweetheart. See if there’s anything you need.”

She laughed. “And what could I possibly need, Billy?”

He angled his body so that she couldn’t fail to get a great view of his toned torso and more importantly, the very obvious outline of his erection showing in his joggers. If there was one thing Billy had complete confidence in, it was the effect his body had on women.

“I can think of one or two things, sweetheart.”

He was ecstatic when her hand reached out and grabbed him round the back of his neck, pulling him into her room. “Uhuh… maybe you should show me what those are.”

Billy’s grin got twice as wide.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You gave a huge sigh as Billy pushed inside you, hearing an answering one from him and you ran your hands up into his lush hair. You couldn’t deny it, you had missed him. And his enthusiastic lovemaking.

However you were a little taken aback when he began moving slowly and sensually on you, instead of his usual frenetic pace. He was stroking your hair, placing little kisses all over your face and neck, running his hands over your body, whispering “I love you, love you so much” between his languid thrusts. He slid a hand down and massaged your clit, so well that you climaxed within a few short moments. Not long afterwards, you heard him gasp and he released into you, with a long groan.

The two of you lay in silence, side by side but still entwined. Then Billy leant across and kissed you, softly, slowly, with passion. “I can’t be without you, angel.” The puppydog eyes were out in force again as he gazed at you, “Please. Gimme another chance. I’ll be a better boyfriend, a million times better.”

You continued to look back at him, then gave a quick nod, “Okay. Yes, okay Billy. But one… just one transgression…” His hands went up in supplication, “Understood! Not one transgression will be made.”

“And you make sure to tell that thirsty bitch back in New York that her little dates with you won’t be happening anymore.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Already done.”

He saw her eyebrows rise.

Oh. Oh, she thinks that means I’ve been in touch with her.

“No, sweetheart…. Frankie took care of that for me while I’ve been away.”

She smirked, “Pleased to hear it.”

Billy let out a sigh of relief, he was going to have to be so careful over the next few months. He’d only just got her back! He couldn’t let a stupid, chance remark or two ruin it. He ran his hand over her hair again. “I’m so happy, y’know? M’never going to take you for granted again.” He saw her smile widen in the darkness of the room.

“But, sweetheart, you gotta promise me something too.” She looked at him, puzzled, amused, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. No more runnin’ out on me and flyin’ halfway round the world.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @theshadowkingsqueen @bat-luna-cat @carlywhomever

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[dokifluffs]

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Kenma, Bokuto, Kuroo

Pairings: Kenma X Reader (gender neutral), Bokuto X Reader (gender neutral) ft. Akaashi, Kuroo X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Fantasy!! VAMPIRE HAIKYUU. Flufffyy 

Author’s Note: it is about time i dip myself into my favorite genre: fantasy. i hope you all enjoy! Happy reading~~

Warnings: blood, passing out from loss of blood, kuroo’s is a bit spicy 

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Tendo, Himekawa, Miya Twins

Kenma: 

The bitter cold of winter nipped at your cheeks and nose as you walked through the windy day to Kenma’s house, snow crunching beneath your boots with every step, the wind howling in your ear, your eyes squinting at the piercing wind blowing in your direction

No one else even dared to step outside on this day yet here you were

You clenched to the key to his door firmly in your pocket, mentally preparing yourself as you approached it to open it one swift go

Which you did

You groaned into the seemingly empty house as you stomped off the snow on your boots on a towel in the corner behind the door

You peeled off your layers as the heat around the house slowly embraced you. No lights were on but you could see the flickers of flames burning in the fireplace in the living room yet no one was there

Your skin, mostly your hands and cheeks burned as your body temperature rose back up to it’s normal warmth in the cozy home

The house was quiet and still as if it was sleeping, crackle and popping sounds filling the living room

“Kenma?” You leaned on the stairs, calling upwards, your voice echoing into the sudden wide open space of the staircase

“What?” His sudden soft spoken voice made your head whip to the living room, his face illuminated by his switch, eyes glued on the monitor as he played animal crossing

“W…Were you there the entire time?” You asked so confused, you could’ve sworn it was empty yet here he was sat comfortably in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants

“Mm, maybe, I don’t really remember… What are you doing here?” His voice was soft, soothing with the crackles of the fire, the bright flickers illuminating on his facial features. He didn’t even look up from his game as his thumbs never stopped moving

“It’s feeding time, remember?” You made your way around the other couches and sat to the right of Kenma, the cushion soft and plush, you were able to sink right in beside him

You rolled up your sleeve and offered your right wrist in front of his mouth

He paused momentarily from his game, his dainty hand barely even touching yours as he sunk his teeth into your wrist before returning back into his game

In this position, you rest your chin on his shoulder, watching him play, listening to the sounds of his character, who looked exactly like a cat, run around, catching animals and whatnot to distract yourself from the slight suckling sounds from Kenma as he fed

He was never one to feed much with his small appetite, taking the bare minimum of what he needed, eager to return to his game but it was always a big relief seeing when he was actually feeding, taking more than the last

The two of you were wrapped up in the game, watching as his character went from island to island, making deals, purchasing clothes and shops, trapping his villagers

You played animal crossing too, you just weren’t the best nor did you advance your island that much; it was a slow process but you were fine with it but seeing how Kenma played with what seemed like limitless currency and resources, you couldn’t help but wish your island looked as good as his

Coldness began to slowly creep up your body from your legs to your abdomen and your arms

You shivered, suddenly feeling drained and dizzy

It wasn’t until your consciousness was slipping out of your grasp did you realize kenma had been feeding on your non-stop ever since he bit into you, constantly draining you of your blood as he played

Before a word could get passed your lips, your body fell back to the couch with Kenma not even realizing

“Y/N, I made a character look like you…” His words died off when he turned showing off the character he dressed in clothes you typically wore

His eyes flickered bright red for a brief moment feeling guilt wash over him seeing he made you pass out. “This won’t do,” he tucked his switch carefully into his pocket as he scooped you into his arms

As your mind slowly woke, your eyes opened to the warm light of a lamp illuminating behind you, the shirt kenma wore with his body right beside yours

You woke to the sound of his animal crossing as he continued to play

Your body felt as stiff as a statue as you slowly regained strength after your sleep. Half your body was laid over Kenma’s, one of his arms looped around your shoulders so his hands could hold his switch over your heads

“You’re awake,” he glanced down to you when you shifted your legs, your breathing patter different now that you regained consciousness. “Sorry, I overfed,” he apologized as a little “yahoo” came from his character after finding a rare item dug up on the beach

“It’s fine, are you well fed now?” You rubbed your hand over his chest, letting out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were even holding, melting your warm body with his cool one

“Mmhm, thanks to you,” his lips pulled into a subtle smile

“Look, I made you in my game,” he ran his character to a nicely made house that looked like your bedroom, the character looking exactly like you

“Hmm, so cute,” you hummed, nuzzling your face even closer to his comfy body

He turned his body toward you more, readjusting his hold on his switch so you could watch too. This only made you wish you brought your switch too so you could play with him and visit his island

Before he went back to progressing his island, he gave your character in his game flowers

“An apology gift,” the two of you chuckling under his covers in his warmly lit bedroom

“You are forgiven,” you draped your arm around his thin waist, giving him a light squeeze as a hug as you continued to watch him play for the rest of the evening

The bitter winds continues to blow outside, you were grateful you were no where else than right here with Kenma

Bokuto ft. Akaashi: 

You let everything go and relaxed yourself as you slept in your bed, the curtains shutting out any bit of sunlight that could potentially peek in

The weighted blanket on your body made you sleep deeper, keeping you warmer than ever as your mattress cradled you as you visited the dream world

Your bedroom was filled with the sound of your breaths and e fan blowing through the room but with your unconsciousness, you didn’t even realize or feel anyone else in the room

Especially not Bokuto as he silently stepped toward you

He could feel his stomach dropping and grumbling as his ears filled with the booming sounds of your slowed heart beat in his ears, his fangs poking his plush bottom lip

Your shoulder was bare as you slept, a perfect opening for Bokuto to satisfy the never ending hunger he craved for your blood

Your smell alone was able to enhance his senses tenfold, especially when hungry which was nearly always

Being in your bedroom that was filled with everything you, his vision was tunneled as he set his sights on your shoulder

He knelt down as you slept near the edge of your bed

He brought his finger over your arm, warm with life and blood that your beating heart pumped, the thought of your taste making his mouth already water

Unable to resist it any further, he ignored the conscience voice of Akaashi who told him to wait until you called that you were ready to feed them, mainly Bokuto

His teeth sunk into your skin and lips onto your arm as he sucked, his hand gripping your wrist and the other your bed sheets

Your brows furrowed as you slowly woke to the draining feeling and pinching pain in your arm, your vision blurry as you turned your head over to find Bokuto feeding on you

It was like honey on his tongue and lips, his eyes fluttering shut and rolling back, enraptured by your taste

His gluttonous side came out as he fed, your body waking up and jolting in his grasp as he readjusting his bite

“Ow, b-bokuto,” you tried to push him off of you but it was no use; he was infinitely times stronger than you and especially stronger as he drained you with what felt like your life being sucked out of you

None of your protests worked as he was in his own world, not even hearing your voice or your taps to his body

Your vision blurred as his figure doubled, tripled in your eyes, your breath slowing down as darkness that dotted the corner of your vision was now taking over the entirety of your vision

It felt as if there was a weight on your body that paralyzed you

You could feel your heart beating weakly, your face pressed into a different fabric that wasn’t the bedding of your bed

Blinking your eyes, your vision was suddenly met with Bokuto’s glimmering golden eyes with tints of red as his hands held the edge of the couch, his normal perked up, spiky hair drooping down

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he apologized profusely, an iron muzzle covering his mouth, making him looking like a sad puppy

“It’s okay, you must’ve been hungry, right?” You cupped his face, his skin flawless and cool to the touch, your hold light on his skin as he covered your hand with his

“He was supposed to wait for me, my sincerest apologies, Y/N,” Akaashi spoke up, still pretty annoyed as he sat on the other couch which made sense as to why Bokuto had his muzzle on

Despite being centuries older, Bokuto relied on Akaashi to control his feedings after almost killing you more than he would like to count

His strong grasp cautiously lifted you as you tried to sit up, pulling and holding you close in his embrace, his hand running down your back

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his eyes glistened with sadness and you knew he meant these words. You were his everything and hunger gets the best of everyone

“It’s okay, just wait til I’m ready next time, okay?”

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “I also bought you some of the candy you like,” he pulled out the little baggy from his pocket at Akaashi’s advice when he first arrived as the younger one treated your bite, cleaning your unconscious person

Bokuto fed you the candies one by one as you remained sitting in his lap, your head resting on his shoulder to regain your strength, a blanket draped over your laps

Glancing up to Bokuto, you could see the dejected look in his eyes

Without a word, you reached your arms around Bokuto’s head, unclasping the leather straps that held the muzzle around his face

“Y/N-“ Akaashi spoke up, sitting up from his seat

“He won’t hurt me,” you reached to the buckle hidden by his hair

“No, he’s right, leave it,” Bokuto took a hold of your hand, bringing them back to your lap

His non-beating heart ached as he remembered the hard pain on the back of his head when Akaashi pulled him off of you like a feral beast, the color drained from your skin, your body cold, nearly matching his own

He could still hear the faint sound of your heart beating as Akaashi pinned him down, how weak and slow it beat in your chest

You shook off his grasp and reached back behind his head, unclasping it and removing it, tossing it to the end of the couch

“You didn’t mean to, don’t feel like you’re some kind of monster when you’re not,” you leaned into Bokuto’s body, doing your best to wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his collar

He wrapped his arms around your body and squeezed you but never enough to ever hurt you

“You never have or will be a monster, Ko,” you leaned up pressing a kiss to his neck and cheek repeatedly

“Never,” you mumbled into his ear as he leaned back onto the couch, laying with you on top, never wanting to let you go as he took in your scent but the hunger never came

Not when he got to hold you and have you exist in this lifetime with him after seeing so many come and go

You were the one he never wanted to see go

Kuroo:

You shook off your raincoat and boots as you stepped through the door, closing it behind you, powerful winds outside which made it seem like all the trees were going to fall over

Before you could even speak, Your back was suddenly met with the door you just closed

Kuroo’s lips moved with yours, his head leaned down to taste your tongue with his, one hand propped above his head on the door, the other holding your jaw, tilting your head up

He kept his leg in between yours

“Time for me to eat, kitten,” Kuroo’s eyes glinted a bright red as he pulled out of the kiss, your lips already swollen from his rough force

With his thumb, he turned your head away, pulling down the collar of your shirt a bit more so he could latch his fangs into your skin

The way you tasted made his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure, humming as he suckled, not wasting a single bit

You let out high pitched whines at the piercing feeling, your hands gripping onto his wrists, trying to shake him off a bit but he was too strong

You weren’t going anywhere, especially when he had been starving for the past couple weeks. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t make it last week to your normal feeding day

But Kuroo was desperate. Everything, all his senses and needs and urges were heightened and now you were stuck here

Your blood coating his tastebuds was like liquid gold to him, he wanted to taste everything

He pulled back, seeing the way your blood dripped out, exciting him even more as he pointed his tongue, trailing the blood up until he lapped his teeth marks in your neck

He pulled your shirt more, stretching the collar to reveal your shoulder. He sunk his teeth once again into your body, the hunger he had been feeling for the past weeks slowly disappearing

You whimpered into his hear as he fed, hearing nothing but the way he suckled on your blood

But he couldn’t even hear you- all he could do was taste so he wasn’t aware at all of how excited he was making you feel, subconsciously rubbing his knee in between your legs

With a loud crack of thunder and a beat of your heart in your ears, you could feel the room beginning to spin all around you

As you raised your hand, it seemed to be moving in slow motion

“K-Kuroo…” your voice was unstable, your body growing weaker and weaker with the way he fed, the taste and his hunger mixing to make him lose his sense

“I’m gonna… pass… out,” your voice died out, your body growing limp in his hold without him noticing

He fed on you, naturally holding your body up, not even realizing your current state until he could feel a subtle sticky coldness pressing to his cheek

Pulling away, to his horror, your neck slowly bled out, the collar of your shirt soaking it all up. He was too enraptured with your taste to even notice this as well as your unconscious state

He lifted you off your feet in a swift motion and carried you upstairs immediately

Your head began to squeeze as your mind slowly woke again, your body feeling a strange combination of temperatures- cool in front but warm everywhere else

“Are you awake, baby?” You blinked your vision out of fogginess as his voice echoed a little in the bathroom all around

He held you close, arms looped around your body loosely, your chest to his, head rested on his shoulder, your own legs resting around his sides surprisingly comfortably

It took you a moment to figure out where you were but you felt so drained, you accepted everything

The hot water of the bath felt warm around you, not too hot as you expected with Kuroo’s cold blooded body holding you close

Everything felt so pleasant- the light tapping sounds of the rain bouncing off the skylight in the big bathroom, his touch as he held you close, your bare bodies so exposed to each other and so vulnerable but you never felt safer and more at home than right now with Kuroo

“What happened?” You asked groggily, eyes heavy, drawing lines down his shoulder as he rubbed his hand down your back

“I may have fed from you too much,” he rubbed the back of his neck before returning to your back. “Blood got onto your clothes so after I treated you, I threw them in the hamper but it was also on your body so I figured we could take a bath together.”

Kuroo, being immortal, always felt cold. Specifically, the temperature never really bothered him but feeling how warm your body was against his, he felt like a kitten beneath a heated kotatsu. However, right now, this wasn’t the case; he felt a cold shover run down his spine at the guilt that percolated inside his body

You were mortal, you always felt warm to him but he felt his non-beating heart drop when he felt how cold your body was, limp in his hold

He never wanted to experience that ever again

You didn’t even realize the gauzes he had applied to your neck and shoulder over his bite marks until he mentioned it

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” He secured his arms tight around your body, squeezing you impossibly closer to his body. “Forgive me?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed as his words went through one ear and slowly out the other. “I’m so tired,” you yawned, melting his body with your hot breath on his neck

“Then let’s get you out and dressed. I’ll bring you to bed, hm?” He moved his head back until it bumped into the wall, his gaze falling upon you with your cheek squished into his shoulder

“Mmhm,” you repeated to which Kuroo just chuckled, standing up as water dripped off your bodies, holding you like you were a koala bear latched onto him

He dried off your body as you struggled to stay awake, dressing you in his closed before he did as he said

He lifted you off your feet and brought you to his bed, staying right by your side until you woke. “I love you,” he kissed your forehead, heart swelling when your hand grasped at his shirt even as you slept

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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[luminois]

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐰: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭), 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢).

𝟒𝟓𝟏𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐩.𝐬.: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ･:*✧ 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

the needle poked the pad of your finger, making you squeak as droplets of blood fell on the scarf you’d been sewing, patching it up out of kindness. the wool was now stained with red.

“shit,” you hissed through gritted teeth, throwing the unfinished piece in the corner of the small room before sucking on the bleeding finger.

the curse had slipped from your lips easily, and you’d done nothing to stop it. you’d discovered it made pain more bearable in a way you couldn’t explain, and your heart didn’t feel heavy because of it. sentences that sounded centuries old resonated in your mind, warning you about your teeth falling off upon speaking such unkind words. you chuckled bitterly, letting your head fall back until it touched the wall. how could you have fallen for such childlike threats? the archangels must have been sure you were nothing but a fool, and at the time they’d been right.

you’d believed their lies, listened to them preaching of saving poor innocent souls from an evil bigger than them, an evil that they couldn’t have understood. but humans knew about sin more than you could have, kept in the dark and fed distorted versions of the truth like you had been.

the truth, the real unadulterated truth, was that the world wasn’t as simple as they wanted you to believe. sometimes war was necessary, it was liberation and revolution, and more often than not peace wasn’t enough. sometimes the only way to do good was to use despicable means, and that was because life isn’t fair. they’d taught you who your enemy was without mentioning the infinite amount of shades of grey existing between the light and the dark, showing you an idealized version of the world. now reality had knocked the air out of your lungs and you were left unarmed, gasping on your own.

in the dark of your room, the metallic taste of blood met your tongue and you were reminded of crimson eyes and searing skin. you smiled at the irony of it all. the only one who had been honest with you, who hadn’t lied to smooth out the edges, who had deemed you strong enough to handle the truth, was your supposed enemy.

in a way, hyunjin had ruined your entire existence. you didn’t have a purpose anymore, you were lost and confused and unable to do your job without thinking of how hypocritical it was, to pretend to know what was best for others without having ever experienced pain yourself. he’d shattered the pink glasses perched on your nose and made you see how diverse the world truly was.

most importantly, hyunjin hadn’t left you alone. you hadn’t ever noticed how fucked up it was that the highest sent their angels all alone to wander through a world they barely knew, without any help or guidance, until hyunjin had refused to leave you by yourself. he had held you and dried your tears, hushed you softly and forced himself to tell you about how sometimes life was also bright and full of wonder. you could tell he’d been struggling to find examples, his handsome face contorted by furrowed eyebrows, but you’d believed him anyways. how could you not?

hyunjin had followed you when you’d wanted to close the bakery and lay down in the shade of your room, only a small window letting the sunshine in. your sheets still held his scent, from the way he’d held you until you’d fallen asleep. you had woken up alone, but wrapped in a sweater too big to be your own.

your eyes traveled to the small desk on the opposite side of the room, where the sweater was placed on a chair. you looked at it for a long second and then got up from your bed, swiftly slipping on your shoes before crossing the space in quick strides. the soft material fell on your smaller figure disgracefully, and you adjusted it until it was hiding the cotton shorts you slept in. you made yourself smaller as you stepped out of the building, wrapping your arms around yourself. earth had become too cold now that you’d gotten used to a demon’s heat.

you wandered through the deserted streets without a destination. some shops had started to open up again, but you’d done nothing more than help clean up the streets, so it wasn’t anything you could be proud of. the town still wasn’t close to being considered a welcoming place but you figured things were just going to work out on their own. your services had never really been needed. you wondered if you’d ever had any other role besides providing temporary relief.

loud noises and shouts had just grasped your attention after turning a corner when a young, disheveled woman ran towards you. you recognized her instantly as the gentle young woman who had helped you revive the unkept communal garden weeks prior. her cheeks were crossed by tears, and the shirt she was wearing had been teared up and was now pathetically hanging off of her figure. she took your hands in a bruising grip, and the panic you saw in her eyes made you tremble.

her voice was broken by sobs and fear, but you managed to make out a sentence between her confused mumbling. “he’s going to kill him, you have to do something!”

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” you said, putting aside your confusion to try and calm the poor woman down. “breathe with me, please.”

she gulped and nodded feverishly, her ragged breaths slowing down as she followed yours, her eyes locked on you as if you were her last lifeline. when she was finally able to talk without difficulty, you asked her to explain what had happened.

“i was walking home, the sun was still out so i thought it was safe, but then a man,” she stammered out, having to take a deep breath before continuing. “he grabbed me and i screamed but he put his hand over my mouth and tried to…”

a sob made her voice break and you hushed her gently, rubbing your hands with hers comfortingly. her next words made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“if it hadn’t been for that boy… oh, i don’t know what could’ve happened.”

“a boy?” you asked.

the woman nodded, her eyes widening with restlessness. “yes! people say they’ve seen you two together, that’s why i came searching for you. he saved me, but now i think he’s going to kill that man, you have to do something!”

she pulled at your hands and repeated her words while you tried to take a decision. could letting that monster die mean that justice would’ve been made? it wasn’t hyunjin’s place to be the judge of his actions, but what if he was none other than the executioner chosen by the highest? your internal conflict was reflected in the furrow of your eyebrows. what was right, and what wasn’t? mere days prior you would’ve answered that question without hesitation, but now things were different. you were different.

at last, you nodded wordlessly and let the woman guide you towards the rowdy noises of the fight. a small crowd had gathered, people shouting and enjoying the display of violence, as if it were a show made purposefully for their entertainment. you had to jostle your way to the front of the circle, elbowing people left and right until you had a clear view.

hyunjin sat on the man’s midriff, keeping him down with his body weight and a hand around his neck. he was holding his throat so tight his knuckles had turned white and the man’s lips were starting to become blue. his other hand was balled in a fist, relentlessly hitting the man’s already destroyed face. his nose was broken and he was bleeding from multiple spots, his blood staining hyunjin’s hands and the concrete below them.

that was hyunjin’s truest form. a demon with his black hair falling over his eyes and sticking to his nape, sweat running down the sides of his face and neck as he bit his lips and breathed hard through his nose from the exertion. his eyes burned with wrath and his inked arms displayed all of his strength. once again, you weren’t scared of him even if you knew you should have been.

he wasn’t taking out the violence nested inside of him on an innocent victim. he was punishing someone that was more monstrous and revolting that hyunjin himself could’ve ever been, and you weren’t sure about wanting to stop him. but a murder wasn’t something you could just walk away from. the people witnessing the scene weren’t going to call the police over an aggression, but if someone died something would have to be done, and you found yourself terrified at the idea of losing hyunjin in such a way. he would have gone back to hell to escape and you weren’t ready to be left alone, without him.

hands tried to hold you back but you pushed them away and stepped inside the circle, calling hyunjin’s name. his fist stopped midair and he turned to look at you, his shoulders raising and dropping as he regained his breath. “angel?”

his eyes followed as you got close to him and grabbed his arm resolutely, making his grip around the man’s throat loosen up. you didn’t seem scared like he thought, but you’d always been full of surprises. he let himself be pulled on his feet, and a smirk curved his lips when you stepped on the unconscious man’s genitals hard enough to make him wail in pain, before leading hyunjin away from the crowd.

——— ･:*✧ ———

hyunjin’s place was anonymous, nothing could suggest that there was someone living in it, except for the bed. you observed the sheets in disarray and then looked up to the headboard. the dark wood was chipped, little pieces of it had come off and the wall behind it was worn out, as if the headboard had hit it repeatedly until the paint had started to break. you looked back at hyunjin as he closed the door behind him and the confused look on your face made him chuckle. he raised his eyebrows and you felt your cheeks starting to burn, so you turned away to not let him see. sex, of course.

“i know you’re blushing, angel, no need to hide,” hyunjin said, walking closer until you felt his breath hit your neck. “you look pretty when you’re shy.”

you sucked in a breath as you felt the ghost of his hands on your hips, before he moved to the side and went to sit on his bed. he groaned as he did so and you remembered the task at hand.

“i need towels, and painkillers.”

“there’s towels in the bathroom and i don’t fucking need painkillers, i’m a demon.”

“you’re human right now,” you reminded him as you opened the door to the small bathroom.

“humans are stupid and weak, their bodies are useless,” you heard him say as you ran a couple towels under the sink. “well, except for one thing.”

you turned the water off and walked back to him, gasping as hyunjin took off his shirt. the dark material had hid it well, but now you could clearly see the blood spilling from his ribs.

“is that a fucking stab wound?!” you shouted as you dropped the towels on the bed and kneeled in front of him to look at the injury.

“he barely scratched me, that’s just- wait,” he said, his smile getting bigger as he realized what you’d said. “did you just say fucking?”

you ignored hyunjin’s words and pressed a towel over the injury to stop the bleeding, until he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“it’s just a cut, angel, i moved away before he could seriously hurt me or that woman,” he reassured you, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you sighed in relief and leaned into his touch, your skin getting stained by the blood on his hands, unaware of the turmoil building in hyunjin’s chest.

you, his pretty angel kneeling between his legs, caring for his injuries and saying the bad words you’d picked up from him after kicking a man in the balls. forgotten feelings were filling his stomach and making his cold heart beat faster than anything else could, faster than any random fuck or any fist fight. hyunjin had always known you were different, the weirdest angel he’d ever met, and it made you unbelievably beautiful in his eyes. you made him want to be gentle, to make you happy, and it made him want to ruin what was left of your angelic innocence, too. but he could never hurt you, so, for the first time in his centenarian existence, he was going to be soft, just for you.

“is this my sweater?” he asked, running his finger along its neckline.

you nodded, picking up a towel to clean your bloodstained cheek before doing the same with his hands. “you left it at my place.”

“it looks better on you,” hyunjin said, smiling as he saw you bite back a smile of your own.

once his hands were as clean as you could manage and the cut on his ribs had stopped bleeding, you searched for other wounds. the only one you could see was the little cut on his nose bridge, and you figured the man had gotten in a punch before getting his face destroyed. you reached up to clean it but hyunjin’s hands were on your waist before you could do anything.

“get up from the floor, angel,” he said. his voice was almost a whisper as he lifted you up without needing your help.

you sat on his lap with your legs on either side of him, the closeness making your head spin. you watched your hand tremble as you moved his hair away from his face, hyunjin’s hands caressing your back. he now had to look up at you and he felt all of his smugness wash away, his lips parted as he took in every small detail. perfect, from the last hair on your precious head to the tips of your toes. how could you be so perfect for him?

you felt shy under his gaze, the softness in his eyes unknown to you both. “hyunjin?”

“i want to kiss you so bad,” he said. his voice was low and you shivered, your hands tightening where they were placed on his shoulders while his traveled up your back until he was holding the back of your head, fingers carded through your hair. “do you want me to, angel?”

you did, and you didn’t need to think about it. this wasn’t a demon trying to corrupt an angel. it was you and hyunjin, uncaring of the laws of the universe saying you should hate each other, in love. because you could feel it, the earth-shattering love growing between you, could’ve even touched it had you been in your angelic form. the only physical manifestation of it you had right there was your gasping heart and the emotion in hyunjin’s eyes, and it was enough.

hyunjin’s lips swallowed your inexperienced ones, pulling whimpers from you as he bit and licked and overwhelmed you with new sensations. his hands roamed down your body and pulled you impossibly closer. he sucked harshly on your bottom lip and then left a trail of wet kissed down your neck as you gasped for hair, hugging his neck tightly. he bit and sucked on the sensitive skin, and you felt his smirk when he found a spot that made you yelp. angry red now adorned your throat, and the demon looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction before kissing you again.

his hands disappeared under your sweater and hyunjin leaned back to look at you with a glint in his red irises. “what were you thinking when you left your house like this, angel?”

your cheeks burned red as you remembered the cotton shorts you’d been wearing the entire time. they were a flimsy, baby blue material, barely covering your bum while you slept, and the same went for the matching top you were sporting as well. one of your hands flew to cover your mouth as hyunjin’s slender fingers reached your left nipple, toying with the hardened bud while his eyes never left your face. he grabbed your wrist and uncovered your mouth, drinking in your flustered expression. under you, the tent in his pants was now poking your thigh unashamedly.

“were you thinking of me, mmh? going out half naked and covering up with my sweater, such a bad girl.”

hyunjin grabbed the hem of the sweater to pull it off and you swiftly raised your arms to help him, impatient to have his lips back on yours. addictive was one word to describe the way he kissed you, and suddenly you wanted to find out what else he could do to make you feel this way. the fastest way to do so was pushing his buttons, and you’d spent enough time around him to know just what to say.

the sweater hit the floor and you cupped hyunjin’s face. “i’m not a bad girl, i’m your little angel.”

his hands on your thighs slipped under your shorts to grab your butt cheeks, hard. “you are?”

he raised a challenging eyebrow at you before leaning in and mouthing at your covered breasts. you moaned as he sucked on it and then moved up, kissing your collarbones while moving your top’s strap down your shoulder.

“i am,” you stuttered out, “i thought of you so much these days, i even t-touched myself while thinking about you, hyunnie.”

you felt him smile against your skin and come up to kiss you properly, now hugging your waist. you melted at the way his tongue danced with yours, a weight lifted from your shoulders. you’d sinned because of him and you didn’t regret it, knowing he liked it made you feel proud.

“did you like it, angel? did it make you feel good?”

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “it felt a little good but… weird? i don’t think i did it properly.”

hyunjin laughed, and the burning feeling he was laughing at you had your cheeks going red in embarrassment. “my pretty girl can’t even touch herself properly, mmh? that’s alright, i’m gonna teach you how to do it.”

you squealed as he picked you up and let you fall on the soft mattress, your hair spread around you like a halo. his shirtless form hovered over you like a vision as he took off your shorts and pried your shaking legs open. he smirked at the wet patch on your panties before subtly dragging his knuckles over it, making you gasp and tremble.

“look at you, so wet and sensitive for me already.”

hyunjin laid next to you on his side, propped up on his elbow so he could see all of you. you looked up at him with wide eyes and his smile turned soft. “give me your hand, angel.”

he took your right hand in his and led it down your body, from your useless top to your bare stomach to where you needed it the most. you came in contact with the damp spot on your panties and pouted at the uncomfortable feeling, raising your hips to kick them off and they joined the little pile of clothes gathered on the floor.

“close your eyes,” hyunjin said, guiding your hand between your legs, “and think about me.”

you complied, and the first touch made you gasp. your free hand flied to grasp any part of hyunjin you could reach, ending up scratching at his chest as images of him flooded your mind. he whispered instructions in your ear, and a new wave of arousal gushed out of you as he pressed your middle finger on a hard nub. you screamed, your toes curling up at the pleasure.

“feels good, mmh?” he said, making you draw circles around that heavenly spot. you nodded, unable to think straight, but it wasn’t enough. “words, baby.”

“it f-feels good.”

“that’s where you wanna touch when you’re by yourself, but you’re with me right now.”

you opened your eyes and looked up at him, confused by his words. hyunjin chuckled and kissed your temple, endeared, and brought your hand lower. the burning sting of both yours and hyunjin’s fingers pushing into you made you cry out and hide your face in his neck. he hushed you softly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving pecks on your clammy forehead, letting you get used to the stretch.

“it hurts,” you whined, tears threatening to slide down your cherub cheeks.

“i know, angel, but it’s going to hurt even more later if we don’t do this now,” he reassured you. “be my good girl and tell me when it gets better.”

a minute passed until you finally started to relax, and from then on it felt incredible. countless of your moans and whines, muffled against hyunjin’s skin, filled the room as he added a finger and then another one. your tears started to fall when you found that first spot again, pressing against it while hyunjin stretched you open. it felt like your pleasure was building up, your sounds progressively getting louder as you trashed around on the mattress, and then it was over.

hyunjin’s long fingers slipped out and he grabbed your wrist to keep your hand away. his lips drowned your complaints as he hugged you close, your bodies sweaty and burning up against each other.

“why?” you whined, letting your damp cheek rest against this chest. hyunjin’s heart was beating fast and strong, his big hands stroking your back reassuringly.

“i can give you something better, angel,” he said, sitting up before helping you out of your top.

“better than that?” you asked in disbelief, now laying completely naked in the middle of the bed under hyunjin’s hungry gaze. he laughed at you again and your thighs rubbed against each other, instinctively trying to create some friction.

“you have no idea how good i can make you feel, that’s not even half of it, baby.”

you watched mesmerized as hyunjin took off his pants, the clinking of his belt as it fell on the floor making you shudder. every time you saw him you thought he couldn’t get more gorgeous, and he proved you wrong every time. your half-lidded eyes got drunk off how perfect the demon looked standing there, arrogant in the way he touched himself, a moving work of art. his gaze licked down your own body as if it were an actual touch, and you smiled at how beautiful it made you feel.

your legs went willingly when hyunjin’s hands grabbed your thighs gently and made a space for himself between them, but they started to shake when you felt him prod at your core. his fingers had hurt before, you were afraid of the pain you were about to experience.

“angel, look at me,” hyunjin said, smiling softly at the way you were holding your hands close to you in an attempt to reassure yourself. he leaned down to kiss your lips, your noses bumping together and making you giggle. “don’t be scared, it passes quickly and then it feels good.”

“really?”

“you know i don’t lie to you.”

you felt the pain as he was kissing you again, swallowing your cries and pecking away your tears. hyunjin waited for you to relax under him, something he’d never done for anybody else, and held you close as you left marks on his back.

“breathe, baby,” he said, caressing down your sides. “tell me when you’re ready.”

true to hyunjin’s words, it didn’t take long for the tension and hurt to melt away, your flesh going lax as you sighed in relief. he settled deeply inside of you, the sting from the stretch still present but you found it strangely pleasurable, and you hugged his neck before whispering. “you can move.”

“that’s my good girl.”

the demon’s eyes sparkled red and then he set a pace that was brutal, eliciting screams and noises you’d never heard yourself make before, hyunjin’s own moans quickly joining yours. your fingers got tangled in his hair, now wet with the same sweat that was falling on your skin in droplets, his skin absolutely searing.

you wrapped your legs around his waist and your eyes rolled in the back of your head when he changed the angle, finding just the right spot. a string of words barely resembling hyunjin’s name left your throat as he wrapped an hand around it, pressing just enough to make you lightheaded.

“you’re perfect, angel,” he said, his voice low and breathy as he panted. he took your hand in his and brought it to your stomach. “you’re doing so well, you did this, my good girl. right here, feel how well you’re taking me.”

you looked down between the two of you, still gasping for air when you felt it, him moving under your skin, and something loosened. a shudder washed over you and your hands tightened around hyunjin’s neck, both keeping him close and pushing him away as you screamed.

hyunjin only slowed down for a minute, barely letting you catch your breath before picking up the pace again. you whined as the feeling got so intense it started to hurt but he only hushed you down, singing your praises and sweetly torturing you at the same time. you had to endure the same high times and times again before hyunjin started to lose his rhythm, and then you felt warmth flooding you and his body fell on you, covering you completely as his muscles trembled violently.

kisses smothered your wet cheeks, when did you start to cry again? your mind was hazy with exhaustion and still high on the most intense and sublime sensations you’d ever experienced. you noticed how dark the room had gotten and wondered just how much time had passed, but you didn’t really care. every bone in your body ached and hyunjin was still inside of you, contributing to the uncomfortable feeling of laying on a bed dirty with your own blood and sweat. but that was the best place on earth, where the heavy smell of sex met the heavenly scent of your lover.

you stroked hyunjin’s dark hair and he turned to look at you, eyes full of wonder. “how were you the best?”

“the best?” you repeated dumbfounded, your voice scratchy from all the screaming. “you’ve been with people far more used to it than me, i’m sure of it, hyunnie. it’s impossible i did better than them.”

“none of them lives up to you, i’m ruined for everyone else now.”

“you’re ruined?” you said, “what am i, then?”

hyunjin smiled. “you’re my little angel.”

do you want to read more?

banner by @blueprint-han

taglist: @sleepylixie @bobateastay @orphic-chan @aliceu @softieyn @riel-precious @witchylixie @tulipsandfire @anskiie @tpwkjerii @blackkacchan @fournia @parachuuuus @inlovewithasa @skzshortcake @lmxral @peachy-maia @iwanttobangchan @virgothicc @joy-salem @chans-baby-girl

[ithehellisbucky]

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

~

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

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Prompt List

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Marvel:

[luna-paradoxz]

How to take care of a tired Qilin.

Summary - When Ganyu is super tired she turns into a small, fluffy and super cute qilin and obviously it is up to Xiao to take care of her. 

A/N - You can ready it on FF.net and Ao3. You can support me on Ko-fi or commission me.

Ganyu normally is stable, she can easily control and regulate her forms but there are times when she can't. Today she was tired, very tired, work after the rite of parting had taken a toll on her and when she had finally decided to take rest her body had decided she needs proper rest.

Xiao finds a sleeping qilin under the canopy of trees in Jeyuen Krast where he had come to take care of some work. The small size, the beautiful cold blue fur had given up who the qilin was. He sighed as he shook his head, she had worked herself up to half-death again.

Xiao jumped up to the cliffs and collected the Qingxin flowers that had bloomed there. It took him only 20 mins before he jumped back to where she was and made way to her sleeping form. It has been ages since he has last seen her transform. He sits beside her and carefully starts stroking her very soft fur. She moves then snuggles under his hand and goes back to sleep. For an hour they stay like that, in peace as he enjoys slowly stroking her head and listening to her make small sounds of approval in her sleep.

An hour later her clear pink eyes open and she yawned cutely. She tried to stretch but that was when she noticed a weird thing, her hands were well, not where she expected and felt too small. She blinked her eyes, looked down in surprise, the ground was far too close, her skin was too hot and when she moved her hands she could feel the fur. She took a deep breath and when she looked up, Xiao - who had stopped stroking her fur - stared back at her. His golden eyes met hers and she noticed how big he looked to her right now. She looked down and asked the question she already knew the answer to.

"I turned into my illuminated beast form didn't I?" She sighs as she asks.

He nodded, "You were already changed when I came here." He then crosses his hands, "You should have been careful, you know considering how vulnerable you can be in this form?"

She tries to pout but her mouth is small so it doesn't quite come out the same way still he gets it as he watches her huff cutely "I didn't think I would turn here so suddenly or I would not have come to forests today." She says while looking away and he silently agrees with the voice that says, she is super cute.

He sighs though and instead states "Well today there is some disturbance here, I have cleared it for now but you should go back to the harbour." Ganyu nods, close her eyes and utters the words to change back but when she opens her eyes she is still in her qilin form. With puppy eyes, she looks up to Xiao who shakes his head.

"I have told you when the mind is troubled or tired your body will reflect that." He is scolding her but his voice is kind. She looks down, her little form shaking as she looked like she was going to cry. He looks away feeling a little guilty so he sighs, puts away the issue for now and instead gently picks her up and puts her on his shoulder but that surprises her and she desperately clings to his clothes as she sighs in relief and turns to him pouting.

He explains, "Come on, I will take you to Cloud Retainer, you can take proper rest there." She smiles as she thanks him, he nods at her and asks her to hold him properly. He crunches down and jumps while keeping a gentle hand on her so she doesn't fall off. They jump through the cliffs as he finally reaches the Adeptus abode and stops in front of the long-forgotten stone table. He puts her down on the table where once three sat and took up to call the Adeptus out but no answer was given back to him. He calls out again and then sighs, Ganyu's face falls.

"Looks like she is out." He states the obvious and turns to her while crossing his hands, "What do you want to do now?"

She lets out another cute sigh and takes the forests in, near abode most monsters won't come but who knows how long it will take for Cloud Retainer to come back, at times she would just disappear to try her hand on her new inventions and with no sense of time, she would return days or months later. Surely, she will eventually come back but still, she might as well starve here with no food. She looks up to him, and gives him puppy eyes as she says,

"I can't go back to the harbour, can we head back to your place?" The 'no' was screaming in him but Xiao was not the kind of person who would just leave her here to starve, so, with great conflict (not really), he gave a conflicted sigh and picked her up again and put her on his shoulder. He makes sure she is stable before he moves again. It takes a bit longer but he jumps them down and finally reaches the Washung inn. He heads straight into his room and puts her down on his bed.

She smiles at him, "I am sorry Xiao for the trouble and thank you for helping me."

He silently rolled his eyes and says "I am not going to leave you alone in the wild while you are so weak." She winces but thanks him nonetheless, he sits down near her.

"What do you want to do now?" She looks around to his almost dark room, only lit by a single candle, it was filled with basic furniture and his weapons, nothing more.

She knew that was Xiao's style, she looks up to him and says "I have no work with me so I really have nothing to do right now." He looks down and puts a hand on her head and pushes her gently into the bed.

"Go to sleep, you need that." She looks panicked, not used to resting so much but Xiao glares at her as he lifts his hand and all but commands, "This all happened because you didn't rest, you need to take rest while you can." She whimpers as she nods and with that curls around and lays down, she still stares at him with an eye open and he sighs. He forcefully ignores the screams in his mind about how cute she is and says "I have more work to do so I am leaving, don't leave the room until I am back." He pats her once before he gets up and makes sure the door is closed and goes out and heads to Guili plains to slay more demons. She falls into sleep soon after he leaves as the salty smell of Dihua Marsh fills the room and the chirps of birds just outside. She feels nostalgic for the old centuries and falls into sleep.

He comes back silently as he walks in with airy steps and looks into the darkness to see the qilin sleeping soundly. She was breathing lightly, her mouth open with small snores that he did find cute even if he will never say it out loud. Just like before she was sound asleep so he decided to leave her and headed upstairs to the roof. He sat there below the tree as he looked over Dihua Marsh and took in the wind, he closes his eyes and rests against the bark, slowly examining his wounds today. They were not bad, just a few scratches and bruises so he was sure they will heal up in no time. He watches the clouds drift apart, the silence and the time passing doesn't matter to him. As an Adeptus, he was used to having time pass by him and it did until he came to attention when a certain qilin entered the roof. She looked up to the moon before she looked around trying to find him, it was late in the night so no humans had yet encountered her. As he got up to jump down, a certain manager came in. Ver Goldet came up to the roof, obviously surprised as she took the little Adeptus in, she crouched down and Xiao jumped down in front of them. She looked up and imminently bowed.

"Oh, Xiao-sama I was just checking what was this little animal was doing." She explained, she knew he didn't like it when they encroached on his space.

He turns to the qilin and says "It is ok don't worry she is with me."

The manager was surprised and bowed to the Qilin, she obviously still didn't recognize the secretary and says "Oh, my apologies enlightened Adeptus I didn't mean any rudeness." Ganyu tried to smile as she nods and shakes her head.

"It is quite ok Ver Goldet, and can you get the dinner sent to us in my room?" She nods and takes their order before taking her leave. He turns to her and asks her what she is doing here.

"I noticed you were back so I wanted to check in on you." She looks all over his body, "Are you ok Xiao?" She didn't note any wounds on him. He shakes his head and then turns to the roof and looks at her with an eyebrow raise asking her if she wants to stay here. She nods and he helps her get up the tree barks and they both isolate themselves and get comfortable against the branches. She rubs against the tree and smiles peacefully, the tree feels so alive and healthy.

She then turns out to the marsh and smiled, how beautiful the scene was. Xiao waited for her to fall asleep again, but she had slept quite a lot so she stayed up and stared at the marsh. The past came in flashes as she remembered the past 6 centuries, the war and the people they lost over the years. She remembered the gentle goddess and the Yakshas that lost their lives in a horrible but prideful way. She remembered the adepti that gave their life away for Rex lapis and his building region and the worst thing she remembered was every single day the blood that was spilled by her hands, the blood that still covered her. She turned to Xiao who still suffered because of the war and yet he always seems to take pride in his duties. She wonders how he forgets the blood, the nightmares filled with screams of their victims, she wondered how he forgave his past.

She bites her inner cheek gently as she shakes her head to forget such thoughts. Xiao has lost many people, everyone he got close to has left him, the karma binds him and makes him suffer to this day, she truly can't believe her suffering is more than his. She has it far easier than him she knew. She must stay strong though after all she too was Rex lapis's Adeptus, one of the guardians of Liyue.

She apologises to him silently to think lower of his sufferings before she too let her thoughts go in the wind, they watch the clouds pass until they are called for dinner by the inn lady. She jumps down gracefully and walks alongside him as they walk back to his room and thank her for the dinner. They settle on his simple table as she takes in the small bowl that looks like a cat dish, she pouts as he smirks. She looks up to him and huffs as he chuckles slightly.

"You are the same size as Wei."

She pouts cutely, using all her face muscles and says "You know better than anybody how big Qilins are."

He smirks remembering her illuminated form better than anybody "Well this is the treatment you get when one doesn't take care of oneself."

She whimpers as she agrees with his words. His scolding though was a small jab and he chuckled as he saw her whimpering, Ganyu was far too accepting when people criticized or scolded her, "I have learned my lesson, Xiao." She says as she pouts at him and he gives her a nod while looking away, she was far too cute for her own good.

He eats his almond tofu as she finished her vegetarian albone and he does note it is quite a small portion from what she eats normally, so he lets her finish and then calls out to her and pats a spot on his lap, she jumps and settles down and looks up to him as he half-smiles and scoops little of his almond tofu and offers to her. She looks surprised as she confirms if it's ok, he nods and she slowly nibbles on it. He makes her eat more before he gives her a pat and finishes his own meal.

"You feel better now?" She nods.

She smiles at him, "Thank you for sharing your food, Xiao." He nods and she jumps down as he gets up and puts their plates out as she decides to walk around his room and take it all in. It's the first time she has been inside, after all, it will also probably be the last time too. Everyone knows well Xiao doesn't like anyone in his personal space. She can smell better in this form so she takes in his musky smell, and blushes bright red not that anyone will notice considering her fluffy fur. As she jumps on his storages, he comes back and folds his hands and stares at her with flat eyes.

"What are you investigating Ganyu?" She huffs as she glares at him.

"I was just looking around a bit. I was not poking my nose anywhere."

He gives her another look before he sits down on his bed and picks up his lance and starts cleaning it. She comes near him and settles beside him, as she watches his practised elegant moves as he cleans up his jade lance, they sit there peacefully until he turns and says, "Did you bring your bow?" She nods but since she can't turn back she can't call it out right now. He sighs and instead continues with his lances. The process is calming and she nestles herself on his side as she continues watching his hands. They are quite skilled she notes and blushes when her imagination goes a bit far. She shakes her head in the silence and gets back to watching him. As the calm envelopes her she slowly drifts to slumber without even realising.

He looks down as he finishes his jade lance and sighs, she was asleep again, he wonders truly how long it has been since she has last gotten decent sleep. He slowly pats her head and she unconscious snuggles into it and it makes him slightly blush, his heart once again acting up. It was truly weird feelings, these human emotions that didn't belong to him. He takes away his hand and continues his work, as usual, the Yaksha doesn't sleep but his body does relax as she sleeps at his side. It feels natural, he muses as he works for his hands, it feels so natural to have her on his side. It has been so long since he has spent a whole day with her. It all felt so natural and relaxing and his head has been calm and his pain subdued. This is not the first time he has realised the effect she has on him, they have been fighting by each other side for centuries but this is the first he can fully bathe in that peaceful feeling without having to worry about anything else. He acknowledges the fact that Ganyu was special to him whether he liked it or not she had made herself special to him and now all he can do is to choose whether to act upon the fact or not. He looks down at her, the choice is easy but really hard to make at the same time. He is not a being that deserves happiness and yet it seems destiny doesn't want to play fair to him. Still, he smiles a little, they have time, they always had time so he can make his own choice. He hopes she will wait for him.

The hours pass and as the clock turns 5, a body suddenly appears beside him, snuggling against his shoulder. He does blush as Ganyu, now in her human form decides to still keep snuggling, her hands wound up holding the edges of his shirt as her head naturally fits in the creek of his neck and her body snuggles right up to his shoulder. He takes a deep breath and banishes all the evil thoughts, it was wrong of him to think of Ganyu like that but just like voices they just make themselves heard, his voices laughing maniacally and calling him a beast. He knows that and he should probably detach her, but she looks too comfortable for him to do that and he rationalises she will probably return to work once she is up so he should let her take her rest as much as she can. She already works so hard and as her mentor, the least he can do is make sure she is taking proper rest. So we that reasoning, he lets her nap while taking stolen glances at her and then chiding at himself to act so immorally. It was unbecoming of an Adeptus to act on such basic human desires but he can't hide the heat filling inside him as she keeps snoring on his arm.

His happy times (he will refuse that vehemently) ends when half an hour later Ganyu wakes up and jumps two feet back when she realises the situation. He sighs and schools himself back to his blank look as she blushes wildly and starts apologising. It makes him hurt that she thinks he is some kind of short-fused man, he won't get mad at her for nodding off on him. He doesn't say that as he puts a heavy hand on her head and makes her look up, their eyes meet and all he says.

"Stop apologising."

She nods and he lets her go. He gets up, stretches his muscles, putting away his lances he turns towards her, she definitely looks well-rested. Her skin colour has returned and her muscles don't seem as tense as before. He nods at her and asks her when she is leaving.

"I will probably get breakfast and then head back to the harbour." She bows when he gets up, "Thank you Xiao for letting me stay and rest. I probably would have gotten more tired if I stayed out there."

He sighs and crosses his hands, "Just remember to take rest Ganyu. You work too hard." She sighs in defeat as she nods, "Those humans won't fall apart if you take rest for one day." She nods, as usual he is brash when giving advice, well she is someone who likes that part of him so she can't really say anything. She smiles at him, thanks him and takes her leave. He won't ever admit that he will miss her for the next week while working.

She walks into the Liyue harbour, well-rested and well-fed. The sea breeze greets her morning as the merchants start the day and ships start docking for the day, some greet her and others are too focused to do so. She greets them back and as she walks to Liyue harbour, she stops near the dock area and looks out at the sea, the sea hasn't changed but the city has changed quite a lot. A lot of things have changed in these centuries but some things do remain unchanged she muses as she remembers Xiao, he has remained the same and yet she knows he has changed too, he after all smiled again. She can remember the last time he smiled, it was in the field of glaze lilies beside the gods and Yakshas, their little family back then. Now, she knows he doesn't smile any more but yesterday he had and she hopes she had played a little part in it. She knows these feelings will remain unchanged no matter the centuries and one day she will act upon them, change will come and she can choose to embrace it.

Well, not now though, she knows they can take their time. They have always had plenty of time.