#as just another gust of wind. just another sunset

[phasewashere]

i need to write vdm

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast. 

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed. 

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence. 

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home. 

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants. 

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified. 

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts. 

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation. 

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home. 

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice. 

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic. 

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension. 

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you. 

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three. 

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment. 

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord. 

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot. 

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?” 

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place. 

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious. 

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp. 

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat. 

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure. 

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron. 

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent. 

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes. 

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.  

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth. 

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

[musings-of-miss-j]

wings of jade, eyes of amber

a xiao x gn reader fic

notes: enough fluff to fill every mattress on earth, gn reader, strangers to lovers, is it a meet-cute or a meet-awkward? who knows

author's notes: i need everyone to know that i titled this fic 'the newly documented effects of adeptus temptation' in my files and i think im absolutely hilarious for it. again in bafflement about how to write romance. oh and im totally a fake fan i forgot his karmic debt existed and by the time i remembered i was 7k words in so uh. excuse my skill issue

word count: 10179 (everyone pretend to be shocked please)

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

If Xiao had been asked about his plans for that day, he probably would’ve driven whoever had the gall to address him in the first place away with a stony glare. If the question had come from someone of more important status, say, Rex Lapis, he would’ve truthfully answered that his evenings often consisted of loitering on the balcony of Wangshu Inn and staring unseeingly at Liyue’s beautiful scenery, lost in thought. 

He wouldn’t have imagined in any timeline or universe that an angel would topple from the sky onto the wooden floor and startle the wits out of him.

In your defence, how were you supposed to know that the wind currents would be particularly tempestuous that day? Everything else had been perfect; your glider was in top shape, as usual, being one of your prized possessions, the slowly darkening sky was free of birds that may have interfered with your path, stars just barely starting to glimmer amongst the bold streaks of the sunset… 

All in all, a perfect night for gliding, and when you strapped on your wings and leaped off the edge of Wuwang Hill the familiar rush of exhilaration spread through your fingers and toes. The view never failed to amaze you. You revelled in the cool breeze and gentle ambience of the night’s sounds; rustling leaves, a distant bird’s call, and as you flew across Bishui Plains where there were more people you caught snatches of their chatter in the air. Wangshu Inn came into view, and you adjusted your angle to carry out a slow, spiral descent that you’d been working to perfect for the past few days. It seemed like you’d score another perfect landing; the radius of the circle you made was just wide enough to slow you down, you could taste success on the tip of your tongue- 

The gust of wind was sudden and strong, completely throwing you off your path and sending you hurtling down, the wings of your glider snapping and the straps tugging at your arms. Weightlessness lasted only a second before you tumbled down, picking up speed and struggling to readjust the wings against the wind’s resistance, and oh Archons the ground is getting closer shit shit shit-

You landed with a crash on a wooden floor, your legs giving out and causing you to trip blindly forward and collide with something that felt significantly less hard than a wall. A muffled ‘oof’ sound came from above you, and when your ears stopped ringing you opened your eyes and saw the most beautiful golden gaze peering down at you, and registered the feeling of hands on your shoulders. You stammered out an apology, stumbling backwards and unstrapping your glider with shaking hands. 

“I’m so sorry, really, I didn’t mean to crash into you like that, it- it was an accident please forgive me-”

“You fell from the sky,” the stranger interrupted, watching you fold away your slightly battered glider with his arms crossed. You laughed awkwardly, rubbing a sore spot on your neck that would no doubt develop into a bruise later along with a tapestry of bumps across your back and ribs. Not the worst accident you’d ever experienced, but not exactly the best, either.

“Y-yes, I did,” you agreed sheepishly, prodding your jaw. Last time you took a fall from this height, you’d managed to dislocate it. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. “Sorry for bumping into you.”

The stranger huffed, frowning and staring down at you. You were clearly one reckless human, barrelling around in a glider without a single precaution and crash-landing on balconies. Still, Xiao was rather intrigued, though he couldn’t for the life of him decide why. Maybe it was your bravado, or your off-handed attitude, or your mesmerising eyes- 

He shook his head to dispel the thought. 

“You should be more careful.”

“You’re absolutely right, I should,” you agreed with a slight laugh, running a hand through your hair in a mostly futile attempt to tamp down the permanently windswept locks. “Is there any way I can make it up to you for disturbing you? What’s your name?” You asked as an afterthought, tugging off the leather gloves that connected to the wooden joints of your glider. You were met with a long silence and a scrutinising gaze that left you a little flustered from its intensity. You cleared your throat and glanced away. “Not that you’re obligated to introduce yourself, of course, I just-”

“My name is Xiao.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Xiao,” you replied with a brief, relieved grin, bowing your head slightly as you’d seen citizens of Liyue do when greeting one another and reciprocating with your own name. It was a nice name, he thought. He gestured vaguely towards the folded glider in your arms. 

“Is it ruined?”

You glanced down at the tear in the leather and a splintered joint, hiding a wince. 

“Well. Hopefully not, I’ve had worse falls than this…”

“You do this often, then?” He prompted, tilting his head curiously. 

You chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. “Gliding or getting into accidents?”

“The frequency of one implies the other is also a common occurrence.”

“Right you are,” you agreed with a lopsided grin, glad that this strange young man didn’t seem too pressed by the accident you’d caused. “I do glide a lot. And get into accidents equally as often.”

“I’ve never met a human with such a penchant for flying,” he remarked, curious about you and confused at his own interest. He’d never been so willing to hold such a long, relatively useless conversation with a mortal before. You stared at him, perplexed by his wording. Clearly he wasn’t a human himself; everything from his golden eyes to his pointed teeth and unnervingly graceful movements indicated supernaturality, but his confirmation was surprising nonetheless. 

“It’s a more popular sport in Mondstadt,” you conceded. 

“So you’ve been there, too?” He didn’t think you lived in Liyue; years upon years of protecting the land meant he could quite distinctly recognise its people, and you didn’t elicit any familiarity whatsoever. 

“Yes, I have,” you confirmed with a nod. A yell of your name from below snapped you from your thoughtful reverie, and you twisted and leaned over the railing to see who called. Xiao had to restrain himself from yanking you back from the edge; just a natural instinct born from centuries of upholding his contract to protect humans, he reasoned. You peered down below, catching sight of Aether’s golden hair, Paimon waving her tiny hands up at you frantically. 

“Ah, I have to leave,” you said, turning to face Xiao again. “My travelling companions are calling for me. It was nice meeting you!”

He nodded, moving aside to let you pass through the entrance to the inn and watching you bound down the stairs with reckless abandon, leaping across the last flight. He marvelled at your energy even after falling from the sky. 

“Who was that you were talking with?” Paimon demanded the moment you descended the stairs, hovering around your head. Aether took one look at the battered glider in your arms and the bruise purpling on your jaw and figured out what had happened, tugging you along with a sigh. You’d been travelling with him for some time now; since before he entered Mondstadt’s gates and saved the entire nation, and now you’d arrived in Liyue barely a few days ago. Paimon, indignant at being ignored, began to poke your cheeks and tug your hair, demanding a satisfactory answer while Aether dragged the two of you back to camp. 

“His name is Xiao,” you told Paimon. 

“And why were you talking to him?” She pestered.

“I, um… I crash landed into him,” you admitted sheepishly, dodging a child running across the docks. Paimon shrieked with laughter, and even Aether cracked a smile. 

“That’s so embarrassing!” Paimon gasped between fits of giggling, turning somersaults in mid-air above your head. 

“We got here barely a week ago and you already managed to make a scene,” Aether agreed. You huffed indignantly, swatting Paimon away.

“At least I didn’t lose six thousand mora betting on jade,” you shot playfully back. Aether dug his elbow into your ribs. 

“That’s a damn low blow and you know it.”

You took to visiting Wangshu Inn every few days to chat with Verr Goldet and sort through the paperwork you tended to accumulate when accepting odd jobs around the city. That’s how you and Aether got by, for the most part; commissions from the Adventurer’s Guild and strangers in the wild, and the occasional monetary reward from winning a gliding contest or something of the sort. Usually the two of you went your separate ways throughout the day and met up in the evening to review what you’d earned and how you’d spend it, and today was no different; you’d settled on Wangshu Inn’s balcony, cross-legged on the floor with an array of letters in front of you that you were sorting into stacks so you could efficiently deliver them to various corners in Liyue and a textbook about ley lines propped open in your lap. You were an odd case of an Akademiya student; having passed the entrance exam you decided on a whim to take, you became one of the ‘far-flung fledglings’, as the faculty called you; students who learned through their travels and reported findings back to their supervisors every month, named as such to reference the rather lacklustre grades many of them got. Such a degree took several years longer to complete than a traditional one, but you didn’t mind. On the contrary, you wanted to travel as much as possible, and if you just so happened to get a certificate for it too then that was just another added benefit. 

A breeze ruffled your hair and paperwork, sending several pages spiralling off the balcony and down to the ground before you could snatch them back. You stared at the fluttering sheets in dismay, resolving to never sit there again, when Xiao appeared in front of you out of thin air with some paper in his hands. He gave them to you without meeting your eyes. 

“You dropped these.”

You jumped to your feet, accepting them and thanking him profusely. “Oh, Xiao! Thank you ever so much, you saved me a boatload of trouble.”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, crossing his arms. You wondered if you’d disturbed him somehow, given his short replies, and quickly gathered up your things. 

“Thanks anyway,” you repeated with a smile. “I’ll leave now to give you some peace. Verr Goldet said you like to spend some of your time up here…” you trailed off. Xiao glimpsed one of the bruises you’d sustained from your rocky landing on the balcony just above your collarbone, and realised with an odd clarity that he wasn’t particularly eager to see you leave.

“You can stay,” he said shortly. “It makes no difference to me.”

Your smile could’ve replaced the sun, he thought. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s no disturbance.”

“Alright,” you replied cheerfully, resetting your things and plopping back down onto the floor. For a moment you were silent, poring over the documents in front of you until you reached the end of the proposal you’d been editing.

“You’re not a human, are you?” You asked absent-mindedly while shuffling through the paperwork. “...No,” Xiao confirmed after a pause. After a moment of intense deliberation, he sat down across from you. “I am an adeptus.” 

You abandoned your pen, staring at him in surprise. “Oh. Are… are you the Conqueror of Demons, by any chance?”

He stared at your writing on the page. “I am.”

This was the part where he warned you to keep your distance from him, he dimly realised. Now was the time to push you behind the wall that separated humans from his inevitably harmful presence. His tongue felt heavier than any weapon he’d ever wielded.

You hummed thoughtfully, the sound distracting him for a moment, and rummaged through the basket at your side for a handful of berries before pushing it towards him in a silent offering. “I’ve heard the adepti have a contract with Rex Lapis that binds them to Liyue. Is that true?” 

He relaxed slightly at the genuine curiosity in your voice. He’d drive you off later, he reasoned. It’d be easier if your curiosity was sated and you didn’t have any more questions to bother him with.

“What you’ve heard is correct. You don’t hail from Liyue, do you?”

“No,” you said. “It’s my first time visiting. The mountains here are lovely, perfect for gliding.”

“Did your glider recover from the less-than-subpar landing you performed the last time we met?”

“H-hey!” You laughed, caught off-guard by his casual dig. It was supposed to be a harsh rebuke, not that you noticed. “That was a rare moment of shame, okay? It was an easy fix!”

Xiao said nothing, marvelling at how differently you seemed to view the world from him. You all but exuded passion and excitement, as though you were glad to be alive, while Xiao’s every action had become a product of his sense of duty. The concept of doing anything for his own enjoyment was a long-dead one; what pleasure did a sinner like him deserve? Even then, your enthusiasm was… not quite infectious, not to him, but it was almost calming. If there were people out there who had the luxury of delighting in such frivolous activities as gliding then his endless battle to purge the land of evil must have bore fruit; for the idea of having wings being to take joy in the act of flying rather than to gain an advantage over one’s enemies had to be some sort of indication. Still, you were a strange human. A good sort of strange, he thought, unbidden.

You’d fallen almost silent, weaving a soft tune into the symphony of rustling leaves and birdsong as you hummed under your breath. He stared intently at you. Yes; a good sort of strange for sure.

The next few days brought about a similar encounters. After bidding Aether and Paimon goodbye, you headed to the inn, embarrassed  at first when you realised you were hoping to see the strange yet handsome adeptus again. You’d gone around the harbour, Qingce Village and even the mountains of Jueyun Karst in search of a proper house to stay in; you resolutely refused to keep camping outside, especially considering the Rite of Descension was months away and therefore you’d be in Liyue for some time to come. After a long morning of knocking on doors and asking around, you’d accumulated a list of possible residences and their locations; some in the harbour, some in the further villages and even one or two places nestled deep within the mountains. If it were up to you, you would’ve gone to assess the latter option within a heartbeat, but you had to take your traveling companions’ wishes into consideration too. So you unrolled your trusty map on the floor of Wangshu Inn’s balcony, hunched over the aging parchment as you marked out the exact locations. Xiao soundlessly teleported behind you, crouching and leaning over until his chest nearly brushed your back. You were startled out of your skin when you heard him mumble a “what are you doing?”, whirling around to face him and letting out a surprised laugh.

“Xiao, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” you berated, shuffling to the side to give him space to sit next to you. A perplexed expression crossed his face.

“It was not my intention to sneak up at all.”

You raised your eyebrows with a teasing smile. “Is this an adeptus thing?”

He huffed, bristling at your teasing. “Have some respect, mortal.”

His voice wasn’t quite as stern as he would’ve liked, though. He briefly pondered why he wasn’t admonishing you or giving you the cold shoulder for your overly friendly attitude; he repeatedly shunned attempts at friendship in the past and refused offerings from humans. What made you so different? He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

“Well, I’d appreciate some sort of indicator that the Vigilant Yaksha, Conqueror of Demons and adeptus of Liyue found it fit to grace this foolish mortal with his presence,” you replied, bending over the map to straighten one of the corners.

“Fine,” he conceded after a pause. You offered him a zaytun peach from the basket at your side, and he wondered how you got your hands on fresh fruit that wasn’t native to Liyue. “What are these markings?” He asked, gesturing towards your map.

“Well, you see,” you started, reclining back on your palms and giving him your full attention, tucking your pen behind your ear. “I’ve been looking for suitable lodgings for my travel companions and I. We could be here in Liyue for months, maybe even a whole year, since he’s waiting for the Rite of Descension. Usually we just camp outside, but since we’re going to be here for so long I’d rather not spend all my time in a tent, not to mention the fact that Liyue’s countryside isn’t as empty as Mondstadt’s. There’s a lot more monsters out here at night.”

Xiao nodded. Your reluctance to expose yourself to the elements day in and day out fit his knowledge of humans being rather fragile; it made sense that you’d want some shelter.

“Reasonable,” he remarked, taking a bite of the peach.

“Say, Xiao. Would you mind coming with me to a few of these places?” You asked with forced nonchalance.

“Why?” He countered, blunt as ever.

You toyed with your Vision, a sheepish smile pulling up the corners of your lips. “I’m not very familiar with the mountains yet,” you explained hesitantly, avoiding his gaze. “And I know Aether’s busy with commissions… but I’d rather not go alone, I heard there’s lots of monsters in the area,” you finished hurriedly. You already regretted asking. He definitely had better things to do than escort a tourist, for Celestia’s sake, why would you ask that-

“What time would you like to go?”

You looked up at him, your shocked expression quickly morphing into an elated one as you beamed up at him. Xiao wondered why his face felt so hot all of a sudden.

“How about right now?” You suggested, deftly rolling up your map. “If you’re free, of course.”

He nodded, rising from the floor. “Yes, that is suitable.”

“We’ll have to stop by the camp so I can grab my glider, though”- you were abruptly cut off when Xiao lifted you up, one arm hooked around your legs and the other looped around your shoulders. A surprised yelp left your lips, immediately swallowed by the wind as Xiao teleported away from the balcony in a cloud of wispy black and turquoise smoke. You squeezed your eyes shu until you could feel the sun’s warmth again. You’d emerged between the two peaks of Mt Tianheng. After a moment of admiring the view of the harbour below, you realised you’re still very much in Xiao’s arms; with a flustered cough, you disentangled your limbs from his and stumbled into the grassy garden of the cabin.

“This place is nice,” you said, mostly to distract yourself from the situation you’d been in moments prior. “Although it does look rather old…” you added, trailing off as you made your way to the front door, gesturing vaguely for him to follow you. The door squeaked on its hinges and one of the windows was cracked, but the owner had seemed rather eager to get rid of it, hence the ridiculously cheap price he was willing to rent it for. You relayed this absent-mindedly to Xiao, who nodded, peering around the perimeter of the cabin and attempting to see it from a human’s perspective. He wondered what factors you would take into consideration. You stuck your head through the doorway, and immediately reeled back with an alarmed shout; Xiao’s head snapped in your direction, his spear already materialising as he rushed towards you.

You slammed the door shut.

“Forget this one,” you announced, turning to face a very battle-ready Xiao with his spear in hand and the Vision at his wrist glowing faintly. He marched towards the door.

“What is it?”

“A revolting number of spiders,” you replied with a shudder, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him away. He stopped dead, shooting you an incredulous look and ignoring the way you tugged him.

“You shouted loud enough for Morax himself to hear your voice because of a few insects?”

 “Spiders are arachnids, not insects.”  

He let out a disbelieving sigh, finally relenting and letting you drag him away.

“You are all but cowardly, (Name),” His words were sharp, but you took them in stride.

“Why, how dare you!” With an indignant laugh, you let go of his sleeve and shoved him playfully away. He didn’t even falter from your push. Not fair. “And you have the nerve to preach to me about respect!”

Xiao turned his face to hide a tiny smile.

The next house was crossed off the list because the view wasn’t nice enough for your liking. Xiao marvelled at the specificity of your requirements, and then  proclaimed the cottage at the edge of Mingyun Village unfit because he could sense a demonic spirit lurking within.

“A demonic spirit?” You repeated, brows furrowed. He glared at the seemingly innocent cottage, resolving to return and deal with the issue once he finished escorting you.

“Yes. Living here is out of the question, you’ll find yourself with a slit throat before Morax can declare the end of the night.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Alright then, Mingyun Village is a miss,” you said, crossing it off your list. “Hmm… only two more options,” you remarked, folding away your list and looking back up at Xiao.

“Then let’s make haste,” he replied, moving to pick you up and no doubt teleport.

“Why don’t we walk?” You suggested. He paused mid-motion, contemplating the idea.

“Sal Terrae is close enough,” he agreed, then to your surprise, advanced towards you again and went through with scooping you into his grasp. He began walking away from the village and the haunted cottage.

“Xiao, you don’t have to carry me,” you pointed out after a moment of silent, warm-faced embarrassment.

“I thought humans were known for their deplorable stamina,” he said without pausing his stride. “Who’s to say whether you’ll be able to make the trek or collapse from exhaustion halfway through?”

“You’ve got a pretty bad impression of humans in general, don’t you?”

“It’s merely a statement of fact, not an insult.”

You poked his chest. “Hey, it’s not fair of you to be irritated because we can’t keep up with adepti.”

He gently pulled at a strand of your hair in retaliation, an act you were prone to when he was a little more dismissive than the situation called for and one he’d been copying from you as of late. “I’m merely following your pre-established example and complaining even when it’s fruitless.”

You laughed long and hard at that.

“You win this battle of wits,” you said with an exaggerated sigh, draping the back of your hand across your forehead in a gesture of dramatic surrender. “Now put me down.”

“That would significantly reduce our speed.”

“It’s not like I’m slow,” you huffed, poking his chest again to regain his attention. “Besides, it’d prevent you from tiring out too quickly.” Xiao scoffed at that, gripping you a little tighter as he hopped across a lake from one stone to another.

“You insult me by assuming my body would be as weak as a mortal’s,” he replied, wishing he could properly harden his voice and actually sound offended rather than this adopt wretchedly soft tone.

“Well you insult me by assuming I can’t walk on my own two feet!”  

“And just like that, we’ve become sworn enemies,” Xiao deadpanned.

With a half-hearted grumble, you let him carry you the rest of the way. At some point, to annoy him into putting you down, you asked him to lift you a little higher so you can reach the sunsettia you glimpsed in the uppermost branches of a tree. He didn’t even bat an eye, shifting his hands to your waist and lifting you above his head so you could grab the fruit; you were left thoroughly baffled with his patience. At least you had a snack for the way.

You decided that Sal Terrae was lovely, if a little cold due to its proximity from Dragonspine. You hadn’t expected to like the little shack by the waterside as much as you did, but the cool breeze, swaying grass and rippling water made for a charming scene. You could even glimpse the glittering of a crimson agate on the ridge of the nearby mountaintop; no doubt Aether would be kept busy collecting all the ones he’d missed. You spun around in the grassy outcrop, admiring it all.

“It’s a little far from the harbour…” you lamented, planting your hands on your hips as you contemplated the matter. “Maybe I’ll take it for myself, even if Aether isn’t interested,” you remarked. “What do you think, Xiao?”

“I don’t know what circumstances mortals may have to consider when choosing a place of residence.”

You huffed amusedly. “So you have no opinion on the matter whatsoever?”

Xiao had several opinions on the matter. The place was free of monsters, for one, and he’d be able to see the shack from the top of Wangshu Inn and it was close enough for him to visit without having to explain himself.

“It is not unpleasant,” he allowed.

“That’s significant praise coming from you. Hm…” You circled the building, assessing it for any potential flaws. “I’ll talk to the owner,” you decided. “If I can strike a good bargain then I’ll take it.”

Xiao hummed in acknowledgement. “It is a safer place to live than the mountains.”

“Why would I worry about safety when the ever-diligent adeptus Xiao is guarding the lands?” You teased, skipping back to the edge of the lake. He blushed to the tips of his ears, clearing his throat and looking away as you tugged off your shoes to dip your feet into the cool water.

“Foolish mortal. You shouldn’t rely so heavily on my protection.”

You just laughed, unapologetic and unrepentant. Xiao willed himself to be annoyed by your carelessness; he couldn’t. He liked that you thought he was so reliable and strong. He wanted you to think positively of him. Utterly ridiculous.

You loitered on the plains of Sal Terrae for the day, relishing the sunlight and crisp wind from the mountains. Xiao stayed with you, ‘to make sure you didn’t encounter any trouble,’ and you shared berries and apples plucked from around the island with him, chattering absent-mindedly until stars appeared in the sky.

You ended up buying the shack after the owner hastily told you to take it for a price so cheap it was almost theft; he’d seemed nervous and jumpy the day you spoke to him, constantly looking over his shoulder and practically begging you to buy the place. You wondered what had gotten into him as you signed the contract to transfer ownership; Aether had shrugged and more or less stated it didn’t matter as long as you got a bargain, an opinion that Paimon eagerly seconded. Xiao had muttered something unintelligible, looking away and dismissing the topic. Odd.

A hesitant sort of friendship formed between the two of you; you enjoyed each other’s company and Xiao would listen to you chatter over the basket of fresh fruit you never failed to bring, occasionally contributing to the conversation and silently encouraging you to keep it afloat. You sometimes worried that you were bothering him; he sometimes worried you’d grow tired of his lacklustre responses and stop visiting the inn altogether. Even now, on the odd days you couldn’t stop at the balcony for even a moment, he felt strangely annoyed by your absence. How dare you wriggle into his daily routine and then ruin it by not showing up when you were supposed to? The audacity of humans…

Sometimes you invited him to Sal Terrae. He rarely accepted; that would be too great of an indulgence for an adeptus like him. At least when you were the one coming to see him he could chalk up his tolerance for you to a desire to uphold his contract, nothing more (never mind the fact he’d never given humans the time of day before). On the rare days you did manage to coax him out of Wangshu Inn, you taught him card games and let him win when you discovered just how terrible he was at them, and swam in the cool waters of Sal Terrae while rambling absent-mindedly about whatever happened to be the subject of your thoughts at that time. Xiao secretly liked these instances best; when you completely let your guard down and allowed him a glimpse into the intricacies of your thoughts and your routine. Aether and Paimon teased you relentlessly for spending so much time in his company, while Xiao found himself plagued by similar treatment from Madame Ping and other adepti. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Morax, his master, wouldn’t concern himself with such matters. Meanwhile, the aforementioned Morax chuckled over his interactions with you from Celestia.

You sometimes brought your glider to the inn if it was in need of repairs, other times you appeared with stacks of paperwork in your arms that he’d ridicule (“Incorrigible, mortals’ insistence of writing every damned thing down as if it’ll make a difference when all becomes ash.” You just laughed as you so often did, and the sound dispelled any ideas of cinders and fire, bringing images of an end bathed in sunlight and birdsong instead) and always with an enormous book or two about your studies tucked beneath your arm. You rambled, long-winded and with no clear link between your sentences as you carried out whatever task you’d dragged along with you that day; sorting through  your commissions, writing drafts for your academic papers or polishing the wooden frame of your glider and plucking out any bent feathers. You once gifted him one of the feathers, perfectly straight and intact, and tied it to the jade ring on the sleeve of his left arm.

“A charm for good luck,” you told him with a smile. He wanted to tell you that such things were impossible for a human to procure, that true good fortune could only be in the form of a divine blessing, but he found he didn’t believe his own words enough to speak them aloud.

You wrote a lot of letters, he noticed, envelopes filled to bursting with sheets and sheets of parchment that you explained were the reports required of you by the Akademiya, which you’d send to your mentor with a feather of the latest pattern you’d taken to using. He felt an odd stab of bitterness somewhere in his chest the first time he saw you sealing a feather into an envelope with such care, even as you went on about your genius mentor whose supervision you were lucky to have, considering how they were currently at the other side of the world in Snezhnaya continuing their studies at the Fatui’s Zapolnary Palace. Xiao couldn’t care less about this mysterious teacher who was privy to so much of your praise, though the uncanny sting was easily pacified whenever you’d bring him a platter of the almond tofu he so fancied, or invited him to go on a long, meandering walk through the Liyuen countryside.

Regardless, this teacher of yours found themselves on the receiving end of his ire when you arrived at the inn well into the afternoon rather than late morning as customary for you, and looking a little less lively than usual. Like a flower drooping on a hot day, he found himself thinking as he took in your more-dishevelled-than-normal hair and the dark shadows beneath your eyes. You weren’t making an effort to fill the silence, either, instead methodically and sluggishly working through a stack of paper covered in lines of your handwriting, crossing out sentences and scribbling things in the margins before copying the whole thing onto another sheet.

“You look sickly,” he stated matter-of-factly, watching you frown at something you’d written and vehemently black it out with your pen.

“I feel sickly,” you grumbled back, sticking then pen behind your ear as you skimmed through the index of the book open by your side for a reference you needed. He frowned. Even a simple bout of tiredness could so quickly deteriorate into something life-threatening when it came to humans, and the thought of you, boundless and free, becoming the prisoner of a grave because of some measly ailment didn’t sit right with him.

“Then rest.” It came out as more of a command than a plea, and you sent him a pointed look.

“My mentor’s requesting an article on the elemental anomalies within Dunyu Ruins and how they affected the standard model of a society’s evolution.” You stifled a yawn, stretching your back. “I’ve been working on it all night, if I don’t finish it now I’ll be too worried to sleep.”

He fell silent at that, pondering how to convince you with a frown as your pen scratched away.

“But what if you get sick?”

“From what, Xiao? Studying?”

He grumbled under his breath. “From overexertion, mortal.”

You waved him off with a non-committal sound, and Xiao sat down next to you on the balcony floor, helping himself to bulle fruit from you wicker basket and continuing to deliberate on how best to make you take a break.

In the end he didn’t have to do anything at all; less than an hour into working you dozed off while leaning over a detailed diagram of some ruins. Xiao quickly caught you before your head hit the floor, tentatively holding you upright and expecting you to jolt awake at any moment. When you didn’t, he carefully set you down against the balcony railing, then grabbed you again when your body slumped to the side. At this point he was rather mystified; what did one do with a sleeping human unable to support their own weight? While mulling over the perplexing question, his eyes wandered over your face, upturned and relaxed, a far cry from the usual ear-to-ear grin you so often sported. You were pleasant to look at regardless of your expression, he decided, then shook his head as if to dispel the thought. The motion nudged you slightly off his shoulder, and he froze at your quiet murmur of protest. Maybe a bed would be a more apt resting place, he realised belatedly, and after a moment of intense deliberation lifted you from the floor and carried you awkwardly down the stairs to where Verr Goldet was manning the counter as always. Upon seeing him standing at the landing of the stairs looking so thoroughly confused, holding you so gingerly as though afraid you’d shatter or slip from his grasp, she had to stifle a laugh that would no doubt wake you and cause him to prickle with embarrassment. Still, though, she felt as though at least a little teasing was in order.

“Prince Charming has found himself a sleeping beauty, I see.”

Predictably, Xiao bristled like an irritable cat, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

“Do not mock me, human.”

“Not even a little?” She persisted, then chuckled to herself at his glare, relenting. “The upstairs bedrooms are empty.”

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, the light of the sun well on its way to disappearing beneath the horizon and a jar of just-blooming glaze lilies on the windowsill that looked as though they’d been picked by a rather heavy hand. You blinked up at the ceiling, then rolled out of bed. A quick glance at the window revealed the view from the top of Wangshu Inn you’d come to recognise so easily; put at ease by your familiar surroundings, you made your way towards the door and upon opening it, came face to face with Xiao. His fist had been held aloft, as though about to knock on the door (you taught him that after he almost walked in on you changing) and his look of surprise morphed into one of embarrassment, which then deteriorated into a frown.

“I told you. You needed to rest after all.”

“What happened to ‘good evening’? ‘How are you?’ ‘Did you sleep well?’”

He clicked his tongue in a show of impatience at your teasing, but nonetheless he relaxed and offered you the barest hint of a smile. You swiftly beat down the butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

“Fine. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you confirmed with a grin, patting his shoulder appreciatively as you walked past him. “All thanks to you.”

He said nothing in response, turning to follow you down the stairs.

“Are my things still on the balcony?” You asked him over your shoulder as you leapt down the last flight of stairs and gave him a fraction of a heart attack in the process. He could never seem to get used to your penchant for getting into some form of danger.  “No,” he replied when your safe landing calmed his nerves. “I took them back to your home while you were sleeping.”

You beamed up at him as he descended the stairs, and his heart hammered anew, though for completely different reasons than a few seconds prior.

“You didn’t have to.”

“There’s very little I’m obligated to do.”

“You can just say that you wanted to do something nice for me, you know,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes at that, then conceded: “Alright. I just wanted to.”

“Well, I offer my most sincere thanks to you, oh mighty Alatus,” you replied with a laugh, picking up your glider that he’d left on the table Verr Goldet usually manned. He took your playful jab in silence, watching you with a tiny smile. You paused in the process of tying the glider to your wrist, your face abruptly falling as you remembered the paper you hadn’t finished.

“Damn it,” you muttered to yourself, straightening a few ruffled feathers and experimentally flapping one of the wings. Xiao waited until you’d gone through your usual routine of getting the glider on before addressing the matter he knew was worrying you.

“That… article you’d been so fussed over,” he began as he followed you to the balcony. “I sent it to an acquaintance of mine who’s well-versed in Liyuen history. She was quite impressed by it, and left a few – what did she call them – ‘alternate resources’ for your perusal.”

You paused at the railing of the balcony, no doubt about to launch yourself off it, to shoot him a surprised look, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. The longer you didn’t say anything, the more self-conscious he felt under the weight of your gaze.

“You- Xiao, that’s so sweet!” Your surprise turned into elation, and you bounded over and threw your arms around him. He could withstand blows from deities and immortals, but a hug from you left him a little winded, and it was a long moment before he awkwardly patted your back in reciprocation. You pulled away, your smile now tinged with embarrassment and your cheeks tinged with pink, and cleared your throat.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he all but choked out, avoiding your eyes. Even after you waved goodbye and dove off the edge of the balcony and headfirst into a wind current that carried you up and out of sight, Xiao stood there, red and frozen in place, struggling to get the memory of the way your hair brushed his cheek and the press of your arms around him out of his mind.

He insisted on accompanying you to domains and ruins whenever Aether was unavailable, claiming you’d ‘made yourself his responsibility’ and ‘such are the terms of his contract.’ You were unnerved by his sheer strength at first. It seemed no enemy could best him, and he cleared ruins and domains without breaking a sweat leaving you to solve mechanisms, rootle through treasure chests and search for Geoculi. The day you headed to Lingju Pass to investigate the debilitated structures without telling him, he was livid.

“You could’ve been hurt, you fool,” he snarled, kicking the remains of a mitachurl off his jade spear. You buried the point of your sword into the ground, leaning on its hilt and breathing heavily.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, wiping the sweat off your brow with the hem of your shirt. Xiao scoffed.

“Lies,” he hissed, stalking closer until he towered over you. “Next time you decide to explore a place infested with filth, tell me.”

“Or what, oh mighty Alatus?” You bit out, shooting him a glare. It wasn’t your intention to feed the fire, but Archons, it had been a long day and the last thing you wanted to deal with was his fickle temper. These spats the two of you were so fond of having really could be emotionally laborious at times; his unwavering discipline and your carefree, adventurous outlook were bound to clash every now and then.

“Or I’ll make a point of following you everywhere from the shadows.”

His utter lack of hesitation caught you off guard. You tugged your sword out of the dirt and sheathed it with a sigh. The spike of anger had completely left your body, leaving nothing but the ashes of exhaustion.

“Let’s go back to the inn,” you grumbled, unfolding your glider. “Damn these ruins. Aether can bloody well explore them himself instead of chatting up the perfume lady.”

“No,” he interjected bluntly, grabbing your wrist before you could strap on the glider. “Walk with me. Clearly I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, what with you barrelling into dangerous situations without a second thought.” He didn’t leave you much of a choice, slotting your hand in his and pulling you along. They fit quite nicely together, he thought. Perhaps he should do that more often.

“Why walk when we can fly?” You protested, stumbling after him.

“The complaints of a mortal unconcerned with their own safety mean nothing to me,” he snapped without any real bite. He couldn’t stay angry at you. It puzzled and infuriated him no end; theoretically speaking, everything from your carelessness to your unwaveringly beautiful eyes should get on his nerves, but it never did.

You decided to take the opportunity to tease him. It wasn’t as if you were upset at him, anyway; you took the liberty of dragging him places he had no business visiting all the time. “But you’re concerned with my safety, even if I’m not. Were you worried, Xiao?”

“Yes.”

You blinked. Stumbled.

“O-oh.”

You didn’t say much else until he stopped at a mountaintop dotted with qingxin flowers and motioned stiffly for you to sit down. A gentle breeze blew, ruffling your hair and sending the qingxin swaying back and forth. Too flighty a wind for take-off, but gliding off the mountain would be fun. Quarrel forgotten, you rummaged through the pouch at your hip and procured a lavender melon, offering it to Xiao. He stared at it for a moment before accepting.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the idiotic stunt you pulled today.”

You chuckled, laying back on the grass to admire the sky. “Well, I haven’t forgotten your unnecessarily overbearing attitude, so we’re even.”

He huffed, staring resolutely at the cluster of qingxin to avoid your teasing smile.

“I am upholding a contract. I have reason to behave the way I do.”

“Oh, of course. I forgot about your eternally noble intentions.”

“How can you be so irresponsible?” He demanded, finally looking at you. “Humans are fragile. Breakable. You shouldn’t be so lax when it comes to your own life.”

You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Not this again,” you complained with a bemused smile. “I already told you, if I’m going to die anyway I might as well do it style.” You giggled. “Go out with a bang, y’know?”

“Your reasoning is absurd,” he grumbled, irritated by the idea of you dying at all. Incomprehensible; human mortality was hardly something that he could afford to be shocked by anymore, and yet… “I won’t let you die in some senseless way.” You’d made yourself his problem, as far as he was concerned, and the statement was more of a vow than a chastisement.

“I won’t,” you replied, far too cheerfully for such a morbid topic. “There’s still so much of the world to see, and it’d be a shame to miss it. I’ll be around for a good long while yet.”

 “You’d better be,” he muttered under his breath, watching the slight flutter of your lashes as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and shone into your eyes, lighting them ablaze. He tore his gaze away, chest strangely tight.

The day you arrived at the balcony in a flurry of feathers and enough confidence to overflow a giant’s teacup, announcing that you were going to make it the Qingyun Peak or die trying, Xiao was less than pleased.

“Too dangerous,” he said with a shake of his head, knowing his dismissal wouldn’t be enough to discourage you.

“Aether descends into the Spiral Abyss every month and comes back non-fatal injuries every time, a bit of hiking can’t be that dangerous!” You countered with a grin, knowing that you’d get him to crack eventually and come with you.

“The Traveller isn’t human,” he replied with a pointed look in your direction.

“So I even have an advantage over him!”

Xiao sighed, already half-resigned to accompanying you to the towering mountain range. “Only you would think mortality is an advantage,” he mused, pushing himself off the balcony’s railing and walking towards you. “I don’t suppose I’ll be able to dissuade you in any case.”

Your grin only widened triumphantly. “Nope! Are you coming or not?” 

“I don’t trust you not to come back with a broken leg,” he deadpanned, stopping in front of you and staring you down in a last-ditch effort to convince you to spend your day doing something a little less hazardous. When you didn’t relent, meeting his stare head-on with a victorious twinkle in your eyes, he gave in with a sharp exhale. “Yes, alright, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll come with you.”

You headed out not a moment later, and almost immediately began bickering over the best route to take.

“The Jueyun Karst route is faster.”

“But I want to go through Tianqiu Valley and Nantianmen,” you protested, tracing the road on your map as you walked.

“And waste all that time? Don’t be absurd.”

You shot him a playful grin. “The day is young. What do we lose other than a few hours?”

He levelled you with an unimpressed look, grabbing you by the hood of your cape to steer you around a puddle you’d failed to notice. “Only our limbs, if the Geovishap that lives in the valley is feeling generous.” Recovering from the stumble that came with Xiao’s dragging, you replied with a maddeningly sunny tone, “As if some dragon could be a match for you anyway.”

“So that’s your strategy? Your ulterior motive for bringing me along?” His sternness quickly devolved into reluctant, subtle amusement. “To have me act as a glorified bodyguard?”

“No, of course not!” You cried, clutching your chest in a show of  exaggerated horror and teetering to lean against him as if on the verge of fainting. “You’re so much more than that, Xiao! I need someone with an Anemo vision to activate the wind current mechanisms up in the mountains, too.”

He pushed you off him gently - more gently than you deserved - with a roll of his eyes, your laughter carrying across the plains while he grumbled about “the disrespect of mortals” and “foolish reliance on others’ strength.” It didn’t aggravate him as much as it used to, though. It was nice, being someone you relied on.

In the end, after much squabbling, you and Xiao ended up taking the long, meandering path through Jueyun Karst, on your condition of exploring the Stone Forest as well. You couldn’t even pretend to be miffed that he’d won the argument; each step you took revealed a view of the towering mountains more picturesque than the last, the grassy slopes on either side were scattered with wildflowers and every now and then you caught sight of a white crane circling the sky.

“Look, Xiao! There’s that crane again,” you said, tipping your neck back and shielding your eyes from the sun to watch it cleave through the air with slow, methodical flaps of its wings. Xiao made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, and with his trademark lack of subtlety attempted to drag you onwards.

“Oh my Gods it did a flip,” you declared, completely unconcerned by his strange behaviour even as you stumbled on an uneven patch in the road.

“I’ve seen even you do a flip before. It can’t possibly warrant that much amazement.”

You twisted in his grip to land a punch on his shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘can’t warrant that much amazement’? Are my talents in the flipping mid-air department not good enough for you?”

“Passable at best,” he replied, shooting a strangely apprehensive glance up at the sky. You followed his gaze to the crane still circling above you.

“What, don’t tell me you’re scared of the bird?”

Xiao bristled, looking very much like bird himself, all indignant and puffed-up. “I am not scared of the bird.”

“No?” You grinned, falling back into step beside him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Anything could fool a mortal mind,” he huffed, still smarting from your jokes at his expense.

Slinging a placating arm around his shoulder, you resolutely ignored his immediate protests and pulled him into your side, sending you both stumbling along the road. “Don’t be all grumpy, Xiao,” you cajoled. “It’s alright, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was afraid of dogs for most of my childhood.”

“I’m not- you-” Spluttering indignantly, he wrestled your arm off him.  “For the last time, the damn bird doesn’t scare me!”

“Hey, look! It’s back!” You exclaimed, pointing upwards.

“Where?” He demanded, whipping his head around and quickly realising he’d been played at the sight of an empty, bird-less sky. You dissolved into a fit of laughter, the sound carrying across the mountains and echoing in his head for the rest of the walk.

By the time you’d reached the Statue of the Seven, the heat of the afternoon had firmly established itself, the sun hovering directly in the middle of the sky as though suspended from a thread and casting a layer of warm, golden light over the mountains like silk thrown over a table. The Stone Forest towered around you, their peaks wreathed with clouds and the river below a winding blue ribbon, glinting in the late sunshine from where it weaved throughout the landscape of the valley. Contentment settled in your veins, warm and reassuring, even as a gust of wind swayed you precariously close to the lip of the jade platform and Xiao instinctively seized your arm and dragged you back. You sent him an amused look, pulling him down to sit next to you at the edge.

“Relax,” you told him, bumping his shoulder with yours and letting your legs swing. “I can fly, remember?”

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, with a tone that you’d learnt to distinguish as the doubtful, ‘yeah right’ one. You ignored it, leaning your weight against him and sighing as you took in the view. He grumbled, but made space for you regardless.

“Tell me the story of these mountains,” you said, breaking the silence.

Xiao shifted to raise an eyebrow at you. “Not everything has a story.”

“The epic tales you’re always telling say otherwise,” you replied with a laugh.

“You never cease with your ridiculous demands,” he complained, failing to sound anything other than slightly bemused and just a little fond, his usual curtness softened with the warmth of the afternoon, the tranquillity of the moment. He hoped you didn’t notice. “First I’m a bodyguard, then a wind current activator, and now a storyteller. Make up your mind, you fickle human.”

“You forgot ‘personal jester’.”

That drew a rare laugh out of him, and your chest warmed with the satisfaction of it.

“Disrespectful little mortal.”

“Aloof, haughty, holier-than-thou adeptus,” you countered without missing a beat.

“The adepti of yesteryear would never tolerate such insolence.”

“Lucky for me, you tolerate it just fine,” you remarked with a grin, pushing yourself away from him. Xiao watched you stretch, silhouetted against the sun, rimmed in gold, caught in the world’s embrace as if it, too, knew how precious, how radiant you were. He’s staring, unable to tear his gaze away, unable to stop a pang of envy from twisting his stomach; did the sun’s rays know how fortunate they were to caress you so lovingly, to paint your skin aglow?

Seemingly unaware of his scrutiny, you shield your eyes with your hand, squinting up at a Waypoint just above the two of you.

“I’m going up there,” you announced, shucking your bag and preparing to jump. Resigned to your constant need for adrenaline, Xiao simply looked on as you snapped open the wings of your glider in preparation.

“And then what?” He asked instead of trying to fruitlessly convince you otherwise. He already knew you’d never stop chasing the next thrill, the next most dangerous thing. You flashed him a grin over your shoulder, devilish and laden with  challenge.

“You’ll head over to Mount Aocang and catch me,” you said, as if it were a simple matter, a walk through the park. Xiao felt his heart rate spike.

“You’re going to jump from up there, towards me, and I’m supposed to catch you,” he repeated, deadpan.

“Unless it’s too difficult for you,” you replied with a raise of your eyebrows. He exhaled sharply through his nose. You were going to be the death of him.

It took you a disturbingly short amount of time to scale the enormous rock upon which the Waypoint rested, scrabbling quickly up to the top despite the lack of footholds, graceless yet undeniably efficient. Xiao could see you from his place at the peak of Mount Aocang, a you in miniature, your glider a burst of colour against the sky. He’s jittery, from the apprehension of you being in such a precarious position and the knowledge that you’re both in Cloud Retainer’s territory; the memory of seeing a snow-white crane follow you up the mountain trail only worsened the feeling. And yet, every thought was pushed from his mind as he watched you step towards the edge, waving energetically at him before leaping off with a holler of excitement and a flurry of feathers. Heart in his throat, his eyes tracked your rapid descent, arms tucked in and wings flattened against your sides as you performed what you called a nosedive; he hated it, the way he couldn’t tell whether you were falling deliberately or had simply fallen victim to something as inescapable as gravity, moments away from proving the inevitability of death. But as always, you never did fall without intention, without control; within moments of you disappearing below his line of vision, he heard the swoosh of your glider unfurling and you shot upwards with the suddenness of the air filling your wings, a flock birds taking flight as your shout of delight pierced through the silence. Xiao relaxed despite himself, your joy so unmistakable, so obvious, that he couldn’t help but be put at ease by it. You were back above him, and he could tell you were preparing to descend from the way you angled your body to the side, tucking one of the wings into your side to make wide, lazy turn in his direction, and then you were hurtling towards him, maniacal grin flashing, hair streaming out behind you. Just as quickly as the tension left his muscles, it returned, and he braced himself; when it became clear you’d overshot the landing he took off running until you were directly in front of him, eyes shining and hair wild and mouth pulled into a grin-

You tumbled into him with a whoop, and his arms immediately tightened around you, sending you both spinning with the momentum of the collision though he didn’t fall. Your cheeks stung from the wind, pulse dizzyingly fast as you laughed breathlessly into Xiao’s ear, the sound making him a little giddy and the brush of your feathers tickling his cheeks as you pulled back to look him in the face, stun him with the full force of your delight.

“Did you see that?” You panted, exhilarated, as though he could’ve done anything except watch you raptly in those few minutes.

“I did,” he confirmed instead of saying so, feeling his own lips pull into a smile entirely against his will. You were safe now, no longer subject to the whims of the sky, but his heartbeat still hadn’t calmed in the slightest; if anything, he felt even more agitated than before, finding himself suddenly hyperaware of all the places you were touching, the perfect way you fit against him, the weight of your arms around his neck, the brightness in your eyes, your parted lips as you gasped for breath… What in Teyvat is this feeling?

He murmured your name, helpless, enamoured by your joy.

You blinked up at him. “What’s wrong, Xiao?”

It was the way you said his name that tipped him over the edge; sweetly concerned and whispered like a secret only you were privy to. All of a sudden seeing you, hearing you, touching you wasn’t enough; overwhelmed by the need to find out what you tasted like, Xiao tipped your face upwards and kissed you.

You tensed, let out a little noise of surprise. He panicked, already formulating an apology, appalled at himself-

Then you slowly relaxed back into his hold, bringing one hand up to the nape of his neck, and Xiao thought that this was probably what you felt like whenever you flew;  weightless and floaty, everything a blissful haze. He could feel your pulse, fluttering against his hand where it cradled your jaw, and he was painfully certain that this was the slice of heaven, the sliver of ecstasy sinners like him were allowed; more than he deserved but too wonderful to even consider letting go. He could’ve stayed there forever, until the mountains around you flattened and every stream ran dry; even then, when you resurfaced to breathe, the lingering delight and the creeping shyness you shared was just as magnificent. He would’ve slaughtered thousands for the coy little smile on your face, if only you’d asked-

“One is rather shocked by your scandalous display, Conqueror of Demons.”

The bubble shattered.

Startled, you whipped around; impossible though it seemed, the voice came from a crane, an elegant thing of white and blue and a sloping arc of a neck, beautiful and familiar.

“W- what- ”

“Fret not,” the crane continued with a startlingly human-like wave of its wing. “I shall not impart any punishment upon either of you. Despite the rather indecent nature of your offense,” it- she?- added.

You wondered if you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. But stranger yet, Xiao seemed to know her; he bowed his head in a show of deference.

“Yes, Cloud Retainer. You have my thanks.”

The bird nodded, then disappeared with a flap of her wings. You stared at the place where she’d stood, dumbfounded.

“A fellow adeptus,” Xiao told you, still fiercely mortified at being caught. “We… This is her territory. Mount Aocang.”

Understanding dawned on your face. “So that’s why you were so nervous about the bird!” You exclaimed, turning back towards him with a grin. “Because you were planning this the whole trip and you didn’t want to get caught, like a scoundrel-”

“I don’t appreciate your implication,”  he interrupted in what should’ve been a warning tone but instead came off teasing and light-hearted.

Your grin sharpened. “Seems like you do appreciate some other things of mine, though.” Xiao hummed in agreement, pressing a thumb to the corner of your mouth and watching in unabashed fascination as your lips parted under his touch.

“Perhaps I should convey my appreciation once more,” he mused, leaning in closer. “With as much… enthusiasm as I can muster.”

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

[eilorow]

Werebro - Part 1

Aaron packed up his books and walked out of the university’s library. It wasn’t the first time he studied so late in the evening; it was quite common for him, actually. However, as soon as he stepped outside, he shivered due to a sudden gust of cold wind. “Brr, why is it so cold already, it’s only sunset,” he thought. He shot a glance at the dark pink sky. The full moon was already there, a big glowing orb illuminating the horizon in front of him. “I better take the underground tunnels. Guess I’ll look for werewolves another time,” Aaron whispered under his breath, chuckling. It was a recurring joke between him and his roommate.

The university student went back inside the building and made his way down to the tunnels, a slower, but warmer path to the parking lot. Walking through the dusty passageway, he could hear someone’s footsteps ahead. Running into someone at this hour was unexpected, but he wasn’t worried about it; it was probably another student just like him, staying late to prepare for the upcoming exams. Sure enough, as he turned the corner, he saw a small young man walking in front of him. Although they were going in the same direction, Aaron could tell he was carrying a pile of books in his arms. He seemed to be struggling with them, though: for a second, he looked as though he lost balance, then he dropped the heavy books on the floor all around him. The young man cursed under his breath; he seemed stressed, almost panicked, so Aaron went over to help him. The student definitely looked like the type to struggle with heavy objects: his oversized polo shirt failed to hide his skinny arms, and his jeans accentuated his spindly legs. His round face made him look shy, and his embarrassment only made him seem weaker.

“Hey, need some help? Those look heavy,” Aaron said, bending down to collect the books. However, the second he did, the other boy took a step back and started apologizing: “N-no, don’t bother, it’s okay. No, really, leave it, I should be fine.” Even if he said he didn’t want any help, his weak voice betrayed him. Aaron collected all the books into a neat pile, picked them up (they really were heavy) and handed them to the student. Weirdly enough, from up close, he didn’t look so weak; his arms filled his sleeves nicely, and his protruding Adam’s apple jutted out from the collar of his shirt. Standing in front of each other, they were at the same eye level. “Thanks, man,” he said, in a clearer voice than earlier. “No problem, good night!” replied Aaron, happy he could help.

The other student started walking again, faster than before. However, he didn’t make it ten steps before he dropped his books again, letting out a loud scream. Aaron rushed to his side, but something was definitely wrong this time: the other guy was holding his head between his hands, showing a surprisingly toned bicep. His jeans, almost baggy earlier, were tightly wrapped around his legs, and riding up towards his calves. Aaron finally understood what was going on: he was growing. The guy shot him one last look and managed to groan “Get away!” before his body shot upwards: his pecs grew noticeably bigger, popping the first button off his polo, and he grew taller, so that his shirt no longer covered the lower part of his abdomen. The first signs of abs could be seen below it. Aaron just stood there, mesmerized by the transformation unfolding in front of him. The man started fidgeting with his belt buckle, his thickening fingers making it more and more awkward. Finally, he managed to unfasten his belt, letting his pants down and revealing his powerful thighs underneath. His underwear also seemed to be tightening by the second, with a growing pouch at the front and a ballooning ass at the back.

The growing man clenched his fists, showcasing his powerful knuckles. He let out a deep groan as his shoulders broadened and his arms grew even bigger; the second button of his polo popped as his upper arms completely destroyed its sleeves. His chest was pushing outwards, his pecs taking up even more space under his shirt, until it ripped apart, hanging loosely on his lean but muscular frame. Aaron could see his chiseled abs, now fully exposed. As he was staring at them, he heard a loud noise and looked down: the hunk’s feet were slowly ripping through his shoes, laces snapping and seams bursting, letting his socked feet stretch slowly along the ground.

Grunting again, the changing man lifted his powerful legs and stepped out of the remains of his pants and shoes. While he stepped forward, he easily ripped off the remains of his shirt too. With another loud groan, he suddenly slammed both of his arms on the wall, leaning against it for support as the last part of his transformation began. His once round and shy face was reforming, becoming square and handsome. Stubble appeared along his sharpening jawline, and his brows furrowed. As his fingers elongated, palms stretching on the wall, his underwear showed signs of pressure. His dick was hardening and growing at the same time, visibly testing the limits of the piece of cloth. With a final grunt, his transformation came to a stop.

As the man opened his eyes, Aaron could tell he was not the same shy student he just helped with his books. The man turned his head towards him, and as he looked him in the eye, Aaron felt an unsettling feeling take him over. He quickly turned away, looking at the ground as he swiftly made his way towards the parking lot. “Hey man, what’s wrong?” the guy said, in a much, much deeper voice than earlier. “Come on, bro, I just wanna talk.” Aaron was tempted to trust him, to turn around, but he decided he wanted nothing to do with whatever was happening there. However, as he walked forwards, he could hear muffled footsteps behind him: the bro was following him. Aaron quickened his pace, hoping to make it to his car in time.

Entering the underground parking lot, Aaron quickly made his way towards his parking spot. It wasn’t that far away, but with someone following him, it seemed like miles. However, just as he spotted his car a few lots away, he also saw another guy in front of him. “Help!” Aaron shouted, desperate for any help he could get. “Get him away from me!” he continued, waving in the approximate direction of the hunk following him. However, as he got closer, he noticed the man was leaning forward against the wall. Around him, haphazardly scattered on the floor, were a pair of shoes and a pair of socks. Horror struck Aaron as he realized what was happening, just in time to see the man, with a grunt and a loud noise, bend forward and rip his shirt down the back. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks, not knowing where to go, and just stared at the second hunk as he, too, began his transformation. This one was smoother, as if he was used to it. He used his enlarging hands to grab the front of his t-shirt and rip it clean off, showcasing his already huge arms. His legs were filling up what seemed to be loose-fitting jeans, which somehow made his thighs look even bigger. His bare feet stretched along the ground, toes thickening slightly like the rest of his body. The second hunk then turned around to look at Aaron, who seemed to be stuck in place. He gave him a sly smile as his jaw sharpened, gaining handsome features that made it even harder to look away. 

Aaron was lost in the guy’s eyes, experiencing feelings he’d never felt before, resigning to the situation he found himself in. The man’s pecs heaving up and down with every breath, he slowly made his way towards Aaron. Before the guy got to him, however, Aaron felt a warm hand on his neck. He didn’t feel like running away anymore. He turned around, facing the first bro and his penetrating eyes. “Come on, bro,” he said. “You know you want it.” And Aaron did want it. His mouth was agape, staring at the handsome man in front of him. The bro delicately undid Aaron’s belt buckle and let down his pants and underwear, exposing his throbbing cock to the cool air. Aaron, as if he knew exactly what was expected of him, kneeled in front of the man and slowly slid his underwear down. As the hunk’s huge dick sprung out, he simply stared at it, lips inches away from its throbbing tip. As he felt the bro’s hand on his neck again, Aaron hungrily started sucking his cock. “That’s it, bro, keep going,” he vaguely heard him say. As he kept going, he felt the other bro’s dick entering his ass, from the back. Caught between both, he felt more pleasure than ever, as could be seen by the amount of pre that was leaking out of his cock. However, noticing that is what pulled him out of his trance, as he realized what was happening. He quickly spat out the first bro’s dick just as the guy came, cum landing all over the floor and, a little, on his Aaron’s shirt. Aaron also felt the second bro’s cock slide out of his ass, the moans behind him indicating he was also cumming. However, the student quickly managed to slide his underwear and pants back on, wipe off what he could from his shirt, and make his way to his car. As he drove out, he shot a glance at the two bros through his rearview mirror: they seemed to be flirting in some way, feeling each other’s muscles and performing various strange handshakes. Aaron didn’t have more time to analyze their strange behavior, though, and he made his way home as fast as he could.

-----

As soon as he entered his dorm, Aaron took a shower to wash off anything that could still be on him from the two bros. He wondered what could have made him want to have sex with them; it was unlike him to go for random hookups, and with guys? Never. It was weird, though; ever since he came back, he had the weird feeling it wasn’t going to be the last time…

[cuubism]

The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

[baelarys]

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗

cregan stark x reader velaryon

Word count:2277

Warninig:Spontaneous abortion,angust.

You hated this place. Even when wrapped in countless layers and furs, the cold always found a way to seep through to you. It was a cold that not only chilled the bones but also the spirit, reminding you of how foreign you felt in this inhospitable land.

From the start, you had considered this marriage unnecessary. Lord Stark would have supported your mother’s cause without the need to wed you. At least, that’s what you believed. The Starks always honored their promises, or so you had heard in Dragonstone. You arrived in Winterfell with your brother Jacaerys, thinking it would be just another visit. However, that same night, before his return, the plans changed: your marriage to the Lord of the North was sealed, unexpectedly.

Fear consumed you. You didn’t want to marry, and certainly not him. The Lord of Winterfell was as cold as the landscape that surrounded him, distant and reserved. Although you now bore the title of Lady of this house, you knew that to the people of the North, you remained an outsider, someone who neither shared their blood nor their customs. The looks they gave you were not of respect but of mistrust.

You wondered if you could ever come to consider this place your home, but every gust of icy wind that struck the stone towers reminded you that you did not belong to this realm of shadows and ice. The Stark promises of loyalty may have been steadfast, but their hearts were as cold and distant as the winters that ruled these lands.

However, not everything was so bleak. Despite the discomfort of your new surroundings, you were far from the war and the conflicts that divided your family. In Winterfell, the echo of battles and internal struggles was silenced by the vast expanse of snow and mountains. Here, in the solitude of this fortress, you found a strange peace, a temporary respite from the intrigues that had always marked your life.

You walked from the courtyard, leaving behind the cold, gray walls, toward the gates of the fortress. Your feet sank into the snow, soft and frosted, as the wind swirled small flakes around you. In the distance, you spotted the imposing silhouette of your dragon, Sunset. Her wings, a coppery color that contrasted with the cloudy sky, stretched out majestically as she settled on the ground, her enormous body creating a temporary refuge from the cold.

At the sight of Sunset, a familiar warmth enveloped you. The dragon, with her majestic form and scales that seemed to glow like embers in the snow, was the closest thing to a reminder of home in this distant corner of the world. You approached slowly, and she, with a soft rumble, lowered her head toward you, awaiting the touch of your hand. The warmth of her scales against your skin and the hot breath she exhaled as she relaxed immediately comforted you, driving away the cold that had seeped into your bones since your arrival.

Suddenly, the crunch of snow under boots interrupted the peace of the moment, but you didn’t turn around. It wasn’t necessary; you knew only he would dare approach you and the imposing creature that had accompanied you since your youth. You expected him to come closer, but his steps halted as Sunset’s violet eyes fixed on his figure.

“Come closer, boy,” you said with a slight smile, barely tilting your head to glance at him. “She won’t eat you... unless I command her to.” Your words hung in the air, laced with a hint of challenge. You watched Cregan Stark, with his severe expression and indomitable presence, usually accompanied by the sword that rested in its sheath. Today, however, something about him seemed different. His hair, which he always wore tied back, fell loose over his shoulders, giving him a less restrained, more wild appearance, like the North itself.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the dragon’s, cautious but determined. He was not a man easily intimidated, not even by the mythical creature that posed a constant threat to anyone but you. Yet, in that moment, there was more than just respect in his gaze; there was an unspoken understanding of the power you shared with Sunset, a power he could not ignore.

“Do you not trust her?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, as you continued to stroke the dragon, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her scales relax under your hand.

Cregan kept his distance a moment longer before speaking, his deep voice resonating with the gravity of a man accustomed to the dangers of the North but still unable to fully comprehend the bond between rider and dragon. “I trust you,” he finally said, taking a step closer to you, though still with a cautious eye on Sunset. “But any man who approaches a beast like that would be a fool not to do so carefully.”

You smiled at his response, sensing that despite the cold façade Cregan Stark usually displayed, he wasn’t indifferent to you or to what you meant in his life.

“They're asking,” he suddenly blurted out, breaking the silence that surrounded you. His tone was grave, loaded with a tension that needed no further explanation. It took you a moment to realize who he was referring to.

“Oh... they already have Rickon, why do they insist so much on this?” you replied, your voice tinged with bitterness as your fingers continued to stroke the warm scales of Sunset. The simple act of caressing your dragon helped you contain the frustration you felt. “Do they really care that much about having dragon riders?”

Cregan remained silent for a moment before responding, his footsteps crunching in the snow as he slowly approached you. “Rickon is not yours,” he said, his words slow and measured, as if wanting to make sure you fully understood their implications.

You felt a pang in your chest upon hearing those words, though they were not new to you. Rickon, Cregan’s son, had been an important part of your days in Winterfell. Still, you knew that no matter how attached you had become to the boy, he was not your blood, and that fact was impossible to ignore.

“I know,” you responded with a hint of resignation in your voice. “But they think I’m not trying,” you added sincerely, lowering your hand from Sunset’s scales and starting to walk back toward the fortress.

The weight of your words hung in the air, much like the mist that enveloped the towers of Winterfell. With every step, the coldness of the stone and the northern wind seemed to tighten the knot of pain in your chest. The whole process had been painful, more than anyone outside of your situation could understand. You had lost three pregnancies, each one more devastating than the last. Some of those children had never seen the light, born deformed; others had barely survived a few hours, leaving in their departure a void difficult to fill. The bleeding, the unbearable pain, each loss had left an invisible scar that marked both your body and spirit.

Cregan walked a few steps behind you, silent, but his presence was palpable. There were things he could never fully understand, and though you had tried to keep him distant from your pain, you knew you couldn’t hide everything from him.

“They don’t see it,” you continued, stopping at the threshold before entering. “They don’t see how much it hurts. They don’t understand what it’s like to lose… over and over again.”

The cold wind seemed to remain outside as you crossed the door, but the weight in your chest was as present as ever. Cregan, walking beside you, appeared to be carefully considering his next words, as if knowing that any attempt at comfort could break the delicate calm you both shared.

“We could try again,” he suggested, his tone as practical as ever, as both of you entered the intimacy of your room. The fire crackled weakly in the fireplace, barely offering warmth compared to the tide of emotions bubbling within you.

You stopped abruptly, turning your back to him for a moment before facing him again, your eyes locking with his, defiant. “For what? So the next one can die or kill me?” The harshness in your voice surprised even you. It wasn’t just anger you felt; it was the weight of despair, of a constant struggle against something that seemed beyond your control.

Cregan held your gaze, his expression hardened but not unfeeling. “That’s not what I want,” he finally said, his voice low but firm, as if his intention was to pierce through the armor of pain you had built over time. “But I also can’t ignore that the North needs an heir, and everyone’s eyes are on us, waiting…”

“Waiting for me to give them a child,” you finished for him, your words bitter but real. You knew the burden of producing an heir weighed as much on you as it did on him. It wasn’t a matter of desire or affection; it was a political necessity, one that came with impossible responsibilities and expectations.

You turned toward the fireplace, staring at the flames for a moment, trying to find in the fire some kind of answer that wouldn’t come. “I’ve tried, Cregan. I’ve tried to the point of breaking. And each time, the result is the same.” You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it before continuing. “I don’t know if I can take any more.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. Cregan stepped closer to you, his presence firm but respectful. “I’m not asking you to break for them, not even for me. What I’m asking is that we think together, that we don’t make decisions out of fear or desperation.”

His words, though sensible, did not alleviate the weight you carried. But in his tone, you could perceive something more: a willingness not to let that burden crush you alone. Despite the circumstances that had brought you together, despite the emotional distance that sometimes imposed itself between you, there was an attempt, however clumsy, to share that load.

Still, the pain remained yours. And in that moment, you didn't know if you would be able to face another loss, another disappointment.

Cregan, as always, was pragmatic, but in his pragmatism, there was also a sort of acceptance. "If you decide that you don't want to try again, I'll understand," he said, and though his words were calm, there was a resolution in them that you recognized as genuine. "I just want whatever you choose to be because you want it, not because they demand it."

You carefully settled down next to Rickon, the little one absorbed in his game with the wooden figures representing wolves and other creatures of the forest. His tiny hands skillfully moved the animals, making the wolves howl in their own imaginary world. His hair, darker than Cregan's, was a striking contrast to the cold landscape of the North, and although you never knew his mother, you could guess that Rickon must have been the spitting image of her.

You adjusted yourself, resting your hands on your rounded belly. It had been five months since that conversation with Cregan when, after many sleepless nights and doubts, you decided to give the possibility of an heir another chance. This time, without the shadow of fear looming so large, though anxiety still lurked in the darker corners of your mind. Every movement, every sensation, was a reminder of both hope and risks.

The voice of one of your handmaidens pulled you from your thoughts. "My lady," she said softly, approaching with a parchment in hand, the unmistakable seal of House Umber presiding over the paper. You took it carefully, breaking the seal as Rickon continued to play by your side.

You unfolded the parchment, and a small smile appeared on your lips as you recognized Cregan's firm handwriting. He had set off north weeks ago, leading his men to confront the wildling raids that were disturbing the lands of House Umber. Winterfell had been strangely quiet without him. Though the fortress was never empty, his strong, unwavering presence had been missed. With each passing day, you had grown more accustomed to his company, to the silent security he offered.

His words on the parchment were concise, typical of a man like him, yet they contained enough details to assure you that he was well. The issues with the wildlings were being resolved, and while there were still some pockets of resistance, he expected to return soon. He also mentioned how the Umber, despite their stubborn and proud nature, had offered their hospitality, though it was clear he missed the tranquility of Winterfell and, less directly, your presence.

You lingered over the parchment a moment longer, stroking the edge of the paper with one hand while the other rested on your belly, where the life you had feared so much seemed to be developing normally this time.

Rickon, oblivious to everything, lifted one of his figures toward you. "Look, mother," he said, using the title that Cregan had taught him to call you for the past few months. Though it had surprised you at first, you soon realized it was a gesture as natural as it was necessary. Rickon had accepted you as family, and in that moment, as you held his father's letter, you felt that perhaps this cold and distant North could start to feel a little more like home.

You felt so happy to have him back, enjoying his warm hands and the long conversations you shared about your childhoods. The warmth of his presence filled the room, and every moment together felt like a gift after his absence.

As you quietly contemplated the dance of the flames in the fireplace, you felt his hands wrap around you tenderly. Your back rested softly against his chest, where the steady, comforting beat of his heart resonated. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your cheek, an intimacy that enveloped you and made you forget the cold outside.

His hands, now resting on your belly, left gentle caresses, as if he wanted to connect not only with your skin but with the life growing within you. That physical connection transformed into an emotional bond, a reminder of everything you both meant to each other.

Cregan leaned his head closer, whispering soft words that resonated in your heart. "I’ve missed you," he said sincerely, his voice enveloping.

"I’ve missed you too," you admitted, feeling how vulnerability mixed with joy. "Your absence has left a difficult void to fill." The words came from you with an honesty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As the fire continued to illuminate the room, you both shared a moment that seemed to suspend time. In those moments, every caress, every whisper was a step toward building a shared life, one that embraced the hope of a future together, filled with love and the promise of a family that, one day, could become a reality.

[dioll]

TAKE ME ON AN ‘ 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝓊𝑒 𓇼

— bahama 에스파

⊹ ݁ ⋆ — 희승 x reader ・ genre. fluff ・ warnings. lowercase intended , kisses , physical touch ・ wc. 225 ݁𖥔. ENHYPEN 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —

feet sinking into the warm sand, gusts of air breezing against your flowy floral printed skirt with ruffles and dainty jewels, hair blowing with the wind, revealing your seashell necklace, in which heeseung customised uniquely, just for you. your dashing smile gleaming brighter than the sun. how your eyes are more inviting than the sparkling ocean itself. you’re indeed his favourite sight.

as you admire the sunset over the horizon, he hugs your waist, placing soft kisses to your temples.

“sunsets are the most beautiful sights to witness.” you say, as your eyes remain glued to the splendid view right in front of you.

“not when you exist.” he says as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

lifting his head to whisper in your ear, “you make life more beautiful, there’s no need to visit the wonders of the world when i have you right in my arms.” his grip on you is firm as he gently kisses your cheek.

the moonlight dances on your skin, as you turn around to face heeseung. he presses his forehead against yours and leans in for a kiss, flooded with passion.

“i love you, heeseung.” you say as your hands rest on his shoulders.

“i love you the most, my angel y/n” he replies as the evening is sealed with yet another lingering kiss.

🪸・ @cupidhoons @flwrstqr @jwsdoll @copyhanni @cholexc @onlyjjong

[ithinktheyloveme]

Baby, I Fall Inlove Every Summertime

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Sunsets at the beach with Satoru

ᯓ★ Gojo Satoru x g/n reader

ᯓ★ cheesy fluff!!

ᯓ★ wc : 740~

a/n : been rewatching some 2000s romcoms recently, so this is gonna b rly cheesy and ironic hehe enjoy.

A beautiful symphony of waves gently crash into eachother, birds sing into the hazy orange hues of the sky, yet all you can focus on is your stupidly pretty boyfriend. You look down to see the strongest sorcerer, the Gojo Satoru, reduced to a fluffy heep, laying comfortably on your stomach. Most of the beach-goers have already settled, either already gone, or packing up, leaving the scenery feeling perfectly intimate. You peak at the silly manga Gojo's reading and card your hand through his milky white tussle of hair, feeling each soft strand slipping in between your fingers.

"What's wrong, sweets?" He asked while reaching out to your hand, his eyes lighting up with a playful glint. You chuckle at the feeling of his tender touch and continue brushing through his hair, "it's nothing...just wondering how the hell you can get this kind of hair using crusty 3 in 1 shampoo." Gojo abruptly drops his manga and pouts, looking up at you "Heyyy! It's not my fault I'm so perfect and—ouch!" He gasps as a flick lands on his forehead, cutting off his cocky ramblings.

You blink at him, speechless.

From this angle, you can see the warm glow of the setting sun illuminating his heavenly blue irises in the just the right ways. You think you might get hypnotized if you stare too much.

He suddenly cups your face with his hands, snapping you out of your trance. Gojo's hands are warm on your cheeks, though still wrinkly from your previous beach endeavors. His blown out pupils dialate even more as he inches closer. "You know," he murmurs, "I could get used to this whole 'admiring' thing, since you're always sooooo mean to poor old me." He drags out his syllables like a fussy kitten clawing for your attention.

“Owwww!” he whines, feigning hurt as you land yet another soft flick to his poor forehead. "You're such a freakazoid, Satoruuuuu!" you whine, trying to push him away. His hold on your face doesn't falter, now squishing your cheeks together. "But I'm yooouuuuur freakazoid, baby," he says, mushing your face against his palms. "Sato—" you struggle to utter his name. "Ruuu—". He abruptly stops his devillish ministrations, "Yesssss, baby? he chimes in a sickeningly saccharine tone.

Just as you're about to retort, Gojo leans impossibly closer to you, as if observing every inch of your pretty face. His mischievous grin never faltering, but theres a new formed intimacy in the air. And for a moment, everything around you seems to disappear--just the two of you, sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the faint scent of salty air, and his handsome face perfectly enveloped in a warm orange glow. In his intense eyes, you see pools of celestia, vast and endless. His pale blue irises speckled with silvers of stardust and glimmer, swirling in his eyes. They hold the quiet majesty of the heavens, as though the very essence of the universe were poured into him.

You can feel the comforting weight of his body, along with the intoxicating warmth of his breath on your skin, contrasting the cold gusts of wind. A swelling feeling builds up from inside of you, softly squishing your chest. You divert from his gaze to fight your sudden wave of nervousness.

"Hey, eyes on me, pretty," he coos, his voice low and tender as he softly directs your face towards him. "What? Do I make you nervous or something?". You feel the bubbling warmth in your chest quickly rise to your face, now blushing at his bold advances. His teasing demeaner is still present, but now you see a glint of something else. "Cat got your tongue huh? What is it you were gonna tell me, baby?".

You shift your position to sit up, his head now laying on your plush lap. His words hung in the air, the tension felt ten folds thicker. Your heart was beating out of your chest, following the rhythm of his, as if mending together into one.

And suddenly, without thinking, without hesitation, you kiss him.

You feel his soft lips caress yours as he melts into you. He rests his hand on your face and holds you like porcelain, as if you're the most delicate thing in the world. The feeling in your chest intensifies with every touch, intoxicating you. 

And the world fades into the backround, leaving only you and Gojo.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[sexsylexi]

Better late than never

Wally West x reader

It was very likely for him to forget. Wally West had a lot on his plate – superhero duties, training with the Team, and his never-ending thirst for adventure. But when it came to you, you always came first. You were his anchor, his calm in the midst of chaos. Which is why, when he promised to take you out for your anniversary, he swore he wouldn’t be late. Again.

You waited at the restaurant, dressed in your best. The evening light cast soft shadows through the window, and you tapped your fingers against the table, trying to stay calm. Ten minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and the tiny pinpricks of disappointment began to grow. The server passed by, offering a sympathetic smile that only made things worse. By the time an hour had gone by, you were done.

He was late. Again. Your chest tightened as you gathered your things, leaving a note for the server to send Wally your way when he finally showed up – if he ever did. You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away. You were not going to cry over this. Not again.

Wally felt the wind whip past his ears as he ran, each step pounding with urgency. He was late. He knew he was late. And this time, it wasn’t just a few minutes. He skidded to a stop outside the restaurant, breathless but hopeful. But the moment he stepped inside, his heart sank. You weren’t there.

He looked around frantically, searching for your familiar face, but all he found was an empty chair, an untouched glass of water, and a note left with the server. He grabbed it, barely able to focus on the words:

“Went back to my parents' house. I’m done waiting, Wally.”

The words cut deeper than any villain's blow. He cursed under his breath, blaming the latest mission for keeping him so long, but he knew that was only part of it. He always thought he had more time, that he could make it up to you somehow. But time wasn’t something he could race against forever.

Without another thought, he sped off, heading straight for your parents' house. The flowers he had picked up along the way were still clutched tightly in his hand, a small bouquet of wildflowers – your favorite. He could only hope he wasn’t too late.

---

You sat on the porch of your parents’ house, a cup of tea cooling in your hands as you stared out into the fading sunset. The sound of crickets filled the air, but your mind was elsewhere. You felt a familiar ache in your chest, one that came from loving someone who was always just out of reach.

Your mother had offered kind words, telling you that Wally was a good man and that he loved you, but right now, it didn’t feel like enough. You knew Wally’s heart was in the right place. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to hold on to when you felt like you were always the second choice.

Just as you were about to head inside, a gust of wind blew past you, and there he was – Wally, looking slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, and a hopeful expression in his eyes. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, slightly crushed from his speed but still beautiful.

“Y/N,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “You’re late,” you said simply, not bothering to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“I know, I know,” he pleaded, taking a step closer, “I tried to make it on time, I swear. But there was a mission and–”

“There’s always a mission, Wally!” you interrupted, the frustration boiling over. “There’s always something that keeps you away. And I understand that you’re a hero, I really do, but…when does it end? When do I get to come first?”

His face fell, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But then he knelt down, holding out the flowers with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I don’t know when it ends,” he said quietly, his green eyes filled with regret. “But I know I want you to be the first, always. I’m just…still figuring out how to balance everything.”

You sighed, the anger and hurt still fresh, but the sight of him looking so vulnerable, so earnest, softened you. “It’s not that I don’t understand, Wally. It’s that I’m tired of feeling like I’m always waiting.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And you shouldn’t have to wait. I don’t want you to wait.” He held the flowers out a little further. “I got these for you. I know they’re just flowers, and I know they don’t make up for me being late, but…they’re your favorites.”

You looked at the flowers, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “They’re a little crushed,” you teased.

He laughed, a nervous, relieved sound. “Yeah, well, I was in a bit of a rush.”

You took the flowers from his hand, feeling the soft petals under your fingers. “You always are.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “I promise I’ll do better. I want to do better. Not just for you, but for us.”

You met his eyes, searching for any sign that he didn’t mean it, but all you saw was the boy you had fallen in love with – the boy who always wanted to do the right thing, even when he messed up. And maybe that was enough for now.

“Alright,” you said softly. “But this is your last chance, Wally. I mean it.”

His face broke into a grin, and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. “I promise, Y/N. I won’t let you down.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting out a sigh. “You better not,” you murmured, closing your eyes as the familiar warmth of his arms wrapped around you.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “So, how about we go celebrate our anniversary? I know I’m late, but…better late than never, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his persistence. “Alright, speedster. But this time, no more running off. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

And as you stood there, under the soft glow of the porch light with Wally by your side, you realized that maybe some things were worth waiting for – especially when they came with flowers, a sincere apology, and a boy who was always trying his best to keep up with you.

The evening had cooled as Wally and you walked side by side through your parents' neighbourhood. The wildflowers were tucked safely in your hand, a gentle reminder of the bond you shared with Wally despite his lateness.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, trying to shift the mood back to a more positive note.

Wally’s eyes lit up. “I figured we could go somewhere that’s special to us. Remember that little ice cream parlor we used to go to? The one with the blue roof and the old-fashioned jukebox?”

You smiled at the memory. “Of course. I haven’t been there in ages. Are you sure it’s still open?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said with a grin. “Come on.”

As you walked together, the silence between you was comfortable, not strained. Wally’s hand brushed against yours, and you let him hold it. The familiar warmth of his touch was soothing, and despite the earlier disappointment, you felt a spark of excitement.

The ice cream parlor came into view, its quaint charm still intact. The blue roof was faded but welcoming, and the flickering neon sign promised a scoop of nostalgia. Wally held the door open for you, a gesture that felt both familiar and reassuring.

Inside, the smell of waffle cones and vanilla greeted you like an old friend. The parlor was as you remembered it: cozy booths, a small counter with a glass display filled with colorful flavors, and the jukebox playing softly in the corner.

You slid into a booth, and Wally joined you, slipping into the opposite side with a playful grin. “So, what’s your flavor tonight? I’m thinking of going wild and ordering the triple chocolate chip.”

You laughed. “Sounds about right. I think I’ll go for something more classic—mint chocolate chip.”

Wally waved to the server, who greeted him with a friendly smile. “Two scoops of mint chocolate chip and one of triple chocolate chip, please.”

As the server went to get your order, Wally leaned back in the booth, his eyes locked on yours. “You know, I was thinking. If I’d been on time, I would have taken you to that fancy restaurant downtown. But honestly, this feels right. This is us.”

You looked around the parlor, taking in its nostalgic charm. “It does feel right. Sometimes it’s not about the fancy places but about the simple moments we share.”

Wally’s smile softened. “I’m really sorry I messed up tonight. I never want to take these moments for granted.”

Before you could respond, the server returned with your ice cream. Wally immediately dove into his triple chocolate chip with gusto. You took your first bite of the mint chocolate chip and closed your eyes, savoring the taste.

“I’ve missed this,” you said, looking at Wally. “And not just the ice cream. I’ve missed us.”

He nodded, his expression serious but tender. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on trying to keep up with everything that I forgot to slow down and appreciate what I have. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “We just have to find a balance. I know it’s not easy, but I believe we can make it work.”

Wally’s eyes softened with gratitude. “I’m going to do my best. For us. I promise.”

The rest of the evening passed with lighthearted chatter and laughter. You both indulged in more ice cream than was probably wise, but it didn’t matter. The joy of being together again, of sharing simple pleasures, made everything else fade into the background.

When you finally stepped outside, the night air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly above. Wally walked you back to your parents’ house, his arm around your shoulders, his warmth comforting.

At the doorstep, he paused and took a deep breath, looking at you with an expression of hope and sincerity. “Y/N, I know I’m not perfect. I know I mess up sometimes. But I’m willing to work on it, to be better. Because you’re worth it.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “And you’re worth it too, Wally. We just have to keep reminding each other of that.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips warm and reassuring against yours. “Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

You pulled back, looking up at him with a smile. “Happy anniversary, Wally.”

As you pushed the door open and stepped inside, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The challenges of your relationship were far from over, but for tonight, you allowed yourself to enjoy the peace and happiness that came with simply being together.

[blu-ish]

Seasonal Love💖

PART TWO (read Part One Here ;))

Summary: A couple weeks after Sonic's "Valentines Day" encounter with his rival, he decides it's only fair to teach Shadow about a Mobian Holiday. It's only polite after all...

So why is he suddenly feeling embarrassed about it now?

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Tails busied himself with his gadgets. It wasn't often that he'd get the free time to work on something that wasn't "saving the world" related. Don't get him wrong, he loved a challenge, but some of his personal projects needed some tending too.

Wiping his brow, the kit smiled proudly at his work. All he needed was to fine tune it and--

"Hey bud!" a gush of wind engulfed the room, it was kind of refreshing to the sweaty inventor, who held onto his working goggles as the breeze passed. Smiling at his older brother with a brow.

"What did I say about running into my workshop at mach one?"

"And what did I say about working without the windows open little brother?" Sonic ruffled the fox's head, moving passed him to pull the window open, leaning against the frame to enjoy the fresh air that drifted in.

Tails knew how picky Sonic was about windows, it seemed the only time they were ever closed was during a storm. Before he could reassure his sibling it just slipped his mind, he gasped, running up to the window.

"Is that--?!"

"Sure is! I think it's my best one this season."

Hanging just above his window, was a small charm. Tails always thought they looked similar to wind chimes or suncatchers. Small yellow and orange flowers were weaved between fresh blades of grass, two pine cones at their center. All held by a strings and small twigs. It was beautiful.

"That's today?!" Tails groaned, "I completely forgot! Wait a minute--" he pointed an accusing gloved finger at the hedgehog. "You didn't remind me on purpose so you could beat me this season!"

"and I oop--" Sonic wheezed, weakly covering his face as the younger playfully swatted at him. "Do you like it at least?"

Pulling his older brother into a tight hug, he couldn't stop his tails from wagging, causing another small gust. "I love it, thank you Sonic."

Sonic purred, resting his head on his baby brother's. They stayed like that for a minute before Tails pulled away sighing, a bit defeated.

"How am I supposed to top that?! I've only started collecting for everyone last week!" He really needed to rework his scheduling, especially during holidays.

"You still have the rest of today before the festival dude! Don't sweat it." Sonic reassured him. He knew his brother was right, his inventions could wait, and he wasn't just gonna let Sonic have all the fun. "I still gotta hang the rest of them before tonight, but I can help you with yours if you like."

Tails nodded, he was gonna need all the help he could get. The fox was good with machines, but when it came to arts and crafts, well...

"Only if the "charms king" want's to of course." the fox teased, removing his workshop equipment and running up to his brother who had already zipped over to open the door.

"Indubitably dear brother." Sonic bowed. Shutting the door behind them. The charm swayed in the wind, it's twin pine cones turning ever so slightly.

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Shadow had never seen the town this busy before.

The one day off he had from work, was the day he decided to visit Sunset Heights, a small Mobian town just a quick run--for him at least, from Westopolis. There was the occasional human here and there, but the buildings themselves accommodated the different species height, so they mostly stood outside and chatted with their much smaller companions.

What caught his eye the most, was the amount of.. hanging like objects? Decor? He couldn't really put his finger on how to describe them, but they seemed to hang on every window within his sight. It was, admittedly, a little strange. But he supposed it was a nice change to how the town was a few years prior, when Eggman sent the place to ruin.

Unwilling to reopen those memories, he instead walked a little closer to a local bakery, where a older goat like Mobian woman tended to what seemed to be baskets upon baskets of leaves, grass, flowers, and twigs.

What on Earth is going on?

He hadn't meant to peer inside of the baskets, but his curious nature betrayed him anyways, catching the attention of the shop keeper.

"Are ya interested in my rare wares youngster?" she laughed. Shadow noticed her windows had tons of those same hanging objects, which seemed to be made out of the same kind of material, he blinked as the lady awaited an answer.

"O-oh, I apologize, I was just curious about... the grass." You would think he would be used to public interactions by now, he mentally cringed at himself. Why was he like this...

"Oh your a grass fan huh? Well I got dead grass, some what alive grass, brown, green, yellow--you name it honey."

Before he could ask-- or better yet, try to understand what was happening, he felt a line build up behind him. The goat looked at him expectedly. How did he even get here? He was NOT going to buy grass---

...

He bought 2 bags of grass and a single flower.

Pulling out his phone, he sent pictures of some of the hanging decor that boggled his mind to Rouge. Maybe she would know, she always happened too. He had to admit, some of the designs were rather beautiful, while confusing.

He continued to walk through the town, entering the main plaza, he reached down to grab the particular flower he had purchased in his moment of weakness. He sat down near the fountain to examine it.

Each flower the lady was selling had been pressed and incased in a glass like circle container. Like a keychain, it was held by a single string. The yellow rose shimmered in the sunlight, their tips a deep red. He supposed it was rather stunning, he could find some use for it, maybe.

The agent watched as groups moved from one side of the plaza to the other, moving tables, bags, and tools. He felt a little cramped, so much for finding a place to relax--he wasn't a fan of crowds.

Not wanting to get in the way more than he felt he already has, Shadow hastily walked out of the town, finding solace in the nearby woods.

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Sonic was on a roll today.

After helping Tails with the charms for everyone, he was quickly shooed out of the house. His little brother wanted to surprise him with his charm when it was finished. Sonic offered to take the few the kit was able to get done with him, it was probably one of his favorite parts.

After all, who was a better delivery boy then the fastest thing alive?

He hit all the stops, as many as he could anyways, he couldn't wait to see all the additions during the festival. He wondered if they'd finally serve chilidogs this season?

After quietly hanging some charms at a certain detective agency, along with a quick run passed Vanillas, the blue hedgehog pulled out the last two charms-- littered with small pink flowers and shiny stones, meant for the one and only Amy Rose.

The pink hedgehogs window was wide open, the sweet smell of--what Sonic could tell anyways, was something in the oven, probably for the festival. This was one of Amy's favorite holidays after all.

But before Sonic could hang the charms, Amy was already opening her froNT DOOR-- NO HIS PEFRECT PLAN FOILED.

Quickly hiding the charms behind his back, he hoped they wouldn't get tangled together too much. He smiled as Amy made eye contact with him. Act natural.

"H-Hey Ames! Cooking up something for tonight? Wouldn't happen to be chilidogs would it?" yeah, he was super cool.

Amy rolled her eyes, but played along. "Nope! It's my world famous strawberry short cake, also its baking not "cooking" Sonic."

Sonic groaned, what was she the word police? It should've been chilidogs.. NO ONE BRINGS CHILIDOGS-- before he could continue his mental war over the fact he was getting strawberry short cake AGAIN, Amy gasped. Crap he forgot he was supposed to be hiding the--

"Are those--?!"

"NO AMY SAVE YOURSELF DONT LOOK ITS BAD LUCK S T O P." He stammered, quickly running inside her house to hang them out her window letting out a long sigh of relief. "There we go, I saved your life you owe me now."

Amy snorted, holding her ribs as it quickly turned into a laughing fit. Sonic couldn't help laughing with her. It was nice, it really brought out the kids in them both. She walked back inside to look at them, wiping the tears from her green eyes. "Your a dork, ahh they're beautiful!"

"Thanks! Tails was really hoping you'd think so, I mean, mines a given but--" Amy nudged him playfully, stopping him mid sentence. "Alright we don't need another "Pro Charms" maker speech. You won that competition one time! one!"

"Sounds like something a beginner would say." He smiled smugly, Amy only groaned moving back to grab her bag.

"I was just on my way to hang some charms myself, I just set my cake to cool so I should be able to finish it when I get back." She put her hand on her hip, glaring at the hedgehog knowingly. "and you ARE going to have some young man, it was made with love!"

Sonic put a hand over his chest, "I will endure it for you Ames, always." It wasn't Amy's fault, her cake was always a hit, he was just a hater.

"Sounds good," she chuckled, "oh, and if you wanted someone to bring chilidogs why not just talk to Shadow about it? You didn't stop talking about how good his were for a whole week." Amy smirked, "come to think of it, has he ever been to the festival before? I don't think there are any in Westopolis.. I meant to ask Rouge, maybe they could come this season!"

Something in Sonic snapped, a tight knot built up in his chest.

He forgot about Shadow.

Amy noticed Sonics sudden change in demeanor, puzzled. "Everything okay Soni--?"

"CANT CHAT MY REPUTATIONS ON THE LINE--" and without another word, the blue blur was out the door, the gust of wind following him. Amy blinked, looking back at her cake, which was miraculously still standing and cooled to the perfect tempature.

"Oh come on!"

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Shadow smiled to himself. Now this was much better.

The hybrid sat by a small pond, watching the frogs do their daily business, which he concluded was a lot of croaking.

The sun was beginning to set, just a little, he'd have to report back in the morning. The "joy" was almost overbearing... Taking a breath, he refused to let such a small thing ruin his quiet moment with the frogs. They didn't deserve to hear his grumblings anyways.

Just then, his ear twitched, the agent picked up a slight disturbance in the forest--it could've been easily mistaken to the light rustling of the leaves in the breeze, but his advanced hearing knew better. Standing up, he quickly moved out from the open.

What now?

Suddenly, a flash of blue zoomed passed where he hid behind the greenery. The whirlwind left behind ruffling Shadow's quills, causing his breath to hitch, just a little.

Sonic.

He didn't know when he started to chase him, he also didn't know why he did so... all he knew was that his heart needed to catch up.

He wanted too.

They zoomed around the trees, up the slopes and over mossy boulders. He wasn't sure if the blue hedgehog noticed him yet, but Sonic seemed to pick up speed, dashing under fallen trees and making all sorts of sharp turns.

Almost like he was trying to lose him.

Shadow growled, he was not going to lose.

He was so close, too close, but Sonic still stayed quicker and ever more nimble then the hybrid. They began to occasionally circle one another, again, and again, for no other reason but to glance at the other.

What was Sonic holding?

Sonic's foot got caught under a root, causing whatever dance was going on between the two to be cut abruptly. Shadow saw the item get flung out of his hands. The agent swiftly catching it before it could fall to the ground. He eyed it curiously before--

He couldn't believe it.

Shadow heard a small chuckle coming from the trapped hedgehog, who was working on freeing his foot.

"Ya know, it's bad luck if you see yours before it's hung." He smiled, walking over to the ebony hedgehog as he gently handed it back to him.

"I don't.." Shadow groaned, "understand?" Sonic eyed him curiously.

"I've been seeing those," he pointed to the wind chime like object in Sonic's hand. "all around town, what are they exactly?"

The hero hummed, quickly putting the pieces together at last, snapping his fingers. "Oh! Holy Gaia you really don't know do you?!"

Sonic's face never looked more punchable, but he just grumbled through it. Crossing his arms annoyed by his rivals endless teasing. How was he supposed to--?

Sonic raised his hands a bit with a laugh, careful with the mesh of unfinished weaved flowers and grass.

"Alright, alright, my bad," he and the hybrid started to walk through the woods, a complete one eighty from their previous chase. The noises of the forest slowly humming back to life.

"Amy mentioned you probably didn't know about the festival, but I had no idea you also didn't even know about one of Mobius's oldest traditions."

"Did you happen to forget that I was raised above the planet, not on it." Shadow corrected, "also if I recall, you didn't know what one of my holidays were either." Could this hedgehog be any more scatter brained?

Instead of the utter embarrassment the hybrid was expecting out of the hedgehog. Sonic instead looked right at him with a smile that rivaled all the stars. He attempted to step away, but his legs wouldn't move. They seemed to have a mind of their own today anyways...

"That's right! We made a deal, remember? I'm pulling my "teaching Shadow about a holiday pass" today!" he smirked, pulling the agent along as they jogged around the trees.

Shadow supposed it was, only fair, it's not like he had any plans. Rouge hadn't responded to his text in hours anyways.

"You were running somewhere? Here?"

Sonic nodded, "I have a secret place I like to make charms at." he looked back at the other behind him, "buuut you gotta promise not to tell anyone Shads. It's our secret now~"

Ignoring the wink sent his way, Shadow only nodded, and the duo disappeared into the brush.

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"Hey! Your picking this up quick Shadow! You sure you haven't done this before?"

"Hush, your going to make me lose my place."

There was a meadow, a meadow right in the center of the forest. It looked like something right out of a painting, or one of the nature textbooks Maria would have in her room and stare at for hours, wishing that it was in color.

She would've loved it here.

The hedgehogs sat under a giant willow tree, a flower bed surrounded them with different shades of small flowers. Tall green grass pressed below them under the shade, it took all of Shadows willpower not to stare at the scenery around him, instead it was just as Sonic instructed-- one loop through the next, and tighten, then again.

He finally understood now. These "hanging trinkets" were called, Mobian Suncharms. Through Sonic's crude-ish history lesson, he learned that at the end of every winter, Mobians would weaved together their own Suncharms to give as a gift, a "promise" to friends and family that they would be with them in the spring.

Sonic explained that, when you were done, you were traditionally supposed to hang them right outside said persons window. Without them seeing of course. The person would collect how many SunCharms they'd received at the end of the day, bringing them to a special festival where you would combine them to one big SunCharm, where you would then keep everyone's "promises" in your home until the Charm wilted.

"The food, games, and music was kinda added later I guess." Sonic explained, effortlessly weaving around the small green and red flowers in his hand. "Tails and I had ran into a festival when we were younger," he breathed a laugh, "we were so lost, no clue what was going on either."

Shadow hummed, listening as he glanced over to Sonics hands before readjusting his own weavings.

"I didn't really have any interest in it at first, we were just there for the free food mostly, but Tails, he begged me to try. His village had excluded him from it.." Sonic gripped his charm slightly. Shadow noticed and subconsciously leaned a little closer to the blue hedgehog.

"Why?"

Sonic glanced back at Shadow, his face... a little closer than he expected. He cleared his throat, sighing. "ah, well, you probably didn't know but.. his old village was convinced his Tails brought "bad luck" or some crap like that..." Sonic mumbled the last part, Shadow could tell he didn't like talking about it much. So he only nodded.

"I see, a shame, I always thought they were rather unique."

The hero blinked, chuckling a bit, "Man, Tails would freak if you said that to him." The hybrid chuckled back, glad he was able to lift Sonics spirits, just a little.

"Well, I am a bit of a hybrid myself." Shadow concluded.

"Hey so am I," Sonic snorted, referring to what Shadow could only guess was his abnormal speed. "We should start a club."

"Noted."

The silence was comforting, whatever sunlight was left peeping through the trees branches fell onto Sonics cobalt quills. It reminded him of the pond. Not that Shadow was staring-- no.

"The festival is gonna start soon." Sonic's voice broke the stillness, he didn't realize the blue hedgehog could sound that soft before.

Standing up, Sonic dusted himself off, looking down at his rival. "Can I see you there?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it." he smiled, "I'll finish mine and meet you tonight."

"Sounds like a plan." the hero gave him a quick thumbs up, holding Shadow's charm close to his peach chest and zooming away. Shadow supposed he'd get to see the finished product later then. They were running a little short on time, hanging them on the windows was out of the question now.

After a few more minutes, the hedgehog stood up, one arm holding a bundle of SunCharms. While the other, one Sonic helped him with earlier, he hung on the willow tree. It's light blue and yellow flowers perfectly weaved together. A blue stone at it's center.

"I promise, Maria." Through the spring, and for the rest of time.

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The festival was going just as planned, people from all over Mobius seemed to join together under the lights of the Sunset Heights plaza. Sonic waved toward his friends, who were all dressed up for the occasion. They held their individual SunCharms in bundles, some already started trying to find a way to piece them together, laughing and joking all the way. It warmed his heart.

"Sonic!" Tails called, giggling as his brother pulled him up into a hug. "Look how many Charms I got!"

The kit enthusiastically held up what seemed to be hundreds of SunCharms, Sonic could tell the kid was already figuring out a way to fit them together in his little genius brain.

"That's awesome bud! Maybe you could help me with mine next." Sonic held a whole bundle of SunCharms, being the literal hero of Mobius without a literal window FOR SunCharms ended with him being handed all of them at once as soon as he entered the plaza. Tails couldn't help but wheeze.

"Good luck with that Sonic." he winked. Cream and Charmy came running over as well.

"I can take those for you Mr. Sonic! We set up a table for us all near the fountain!" the rabbit smiled, helping Sonic walk over to set the SunCharms down.

"As emperor of Charmy Day, I herby also offer my assistance to you!" Charmy added, flying over to take some as well. Sonic smiled, these kids were awesome.

Vector sighed, "Charmy for the last time it's not Charmy Day." he chuckled, "Wow Sonic, you sure got your hands full there!"

Espio nodded from where he sat near the kids table, Sonic could only guess he self appointed himself as the child watcher as the other adults partied around. "Glad you could make it Sonic, and thank you for your charms."

"Thanks guys, no problem!" after setting his stuff down and finally resting his arms, he started to greet the others. Amy was already handing out slices of her strawberry shortcake. While Charmy had pulled Tails and Cream away to play games. Even Knuckles was here, and he looked like he was being "tormented" by a certain white bat.

"Rouge?" Sonic blinked surprised. "I didn't know you celebrated!"

"She didn't," Knuckles huffed, "But someone has big ears and heard me talking about it, now she won't leave me alone." Knuckles's muzzles was almost as red as his quills. Sonic assumed that was Rouge's doing.

"Heya blue," she took a sip of her drink before gently patting the echidnas head. "He invited me here since I was trying to get answers for a certain someone who didn't know about the holiday."

"Yeah, while you were on my island trying to steal my emerald!"

"Oh relax red, we made a mutual agreement to put aside our differences for tonight." she hummed, taking another sip out of her drink before Knuckles could put in another word.

Sonic never really thought about it, but Rouge was almost always in the city, probably for her whole life. He wondered if she was like Shadow, and was simply unaware of a part of Mobian culture because of it. Like Sonic was with, with.. oh yeah! Valentines Day!

"Well, either way, glad you guys are here! Wouldn't be the same without ya Knuckle head. Your gonna love it Rouge, everything's free tonight!"

"Now that's my kind of holiday!" she laughed, raising her glass to the hedgehog.

Leaving the couple to it, Sonic grabbed a drink, walking around the fountain greeting more people before eyeing a familiar dark hedgehog under the lights.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up." he couldn't help his tail from wagging, or the dumb smile that was probably on his face. Because oh my Gaia did Shadow clean up good.

The end of the winter brought its last chilly breeze, so many people had light coats or sweaters on. But Shadows collared shirt, leather jacket, freshly brushed quills, and eyeliner. Looked... nice. Yes, very nice.

"I said I'd be here." he said, in his, "did you literally forget I just told you" look. Sonic just sighed, "And I'm happy you are, because I get to give you this!" he pulled out a SunCharm from his quills, Shadow stared in awe at the sight.

It looked even better from when he watched Sonic make it under the willow tree. It was embedded with small black stones, the red and green flowers curled around them perfectly. There was even a few pressed flowers on there too, dangling from thin strings. A green rose, and a purple one too. He was definitely keeping those after his charm wilted for, educational purposes.

Shadow gently took the charm from him, holding his carefully to examine each little detail. He hoped his tail wasn't wagging too much...

"T-Thank you, Sonic." he forced out, still infatuated with his gift. Sonic only smiled dumby in response, he wanted to make sure Shadow's first SunCharm was extra special.

"Here..." The hybrid pulled his SunCharm from his own quills, not really watching Sonics expression as he handed it to him. He wasn't expecting much of a response other than a "Thanks Shadow!" or even "Aw for me? You shouldn't have."

But he was met with absolute silence.

In fact, Shadow hadn't even realized until then as well, but the whole plaza was, in fact dead silent.

Heart picking up pace fast. Shadow looked around confused out of his mind, which wouldn't be the first time that day anyways. He shifted his attention to Sonic, and he was going to ask him what the hell was going on but--

Sonic's face was beet red.

"Sonic? What's wrong?" Why was it that every time he tried to celebrate anything it ended up going horrible and utterly wrong in his favor--

"S-Shadow, you gave me a E-Eternal Rose.." Sonic swallowed, gesturing to the Yellow Rose, the one with the red tips. That dangled innocently by a string. Shadow didn't know what else to add on Sonics' SunCharm so he just-- he just added it? What in the world is happening right now.

Shadow bit back a hiss, trying so hard to not let all the eyes scare him away. He was stronger than that, right? Whatever offence he just caused Sonic and all of Mobius apparently could be solved with a simple apology and a swift move to a different continent and--

"It's a declaration of an eternal love, to like your.. uh, l-life partner?" Sonic chuckled awkwardly. Watching as Shadows face twisted from anguish to pure flushed embarrassment.

"I-It's okay! You didn't know! It's not a big deal or anything--" Sonic was stammering, people were whispering. People were watching.

He wasn't strong enough.

He took a hold of the traitorous rose and snapped it from the SunCharm, pulling his chaos emerald before the whole plaza was engulfed into a green light.

"C-CHAOS CONTROL!"

.

.

.

Why couldn't the rose have meant nothing. Absolutely, nothing. He could've been enjoying himself with everyone else, in the back, probably in the corner. But still, nonetheless better than this.

But no, it had to mean something, and that something was the most prominent something of all.

A declaration of love of all things.

He gripped the rose in his hand, unwilling to shatter it, because what good would that do? Why didn't that lady tell him it meant something like that before he went ahead and bought it along with her two bags of grass.

Maybe he should just sleep under this willow tree for the night.

Suddenly, he heard a voice call to him. The last voice he wanted to hear right now...

"Shadow! Dude?! Where did you go!?" Sonic called to him from somewhere within the forest. Shadow knew it was cowardly to hide, it was weak to hide. He would be severely scolded for this behavior back on the Ark.

But he wasn't on the Ark.

And no amount of testing prepared him for this.

Maria's SunCharm seemed to make the most noise, the blue stone he had placed in the middle mere hours earlier made a whistling noise through the cracks around its uneven sides in the breeze. He grumbled at it, begging for it to stop--

"There you are!" Sonic peered under through the long hair like vines that hung from the tree, separating them like curtains.

Shadow yelped, quills sticking up protectively. "L-Leave me be.." he sped walked around the tree, a determined Sonic behind him.

Kicking up his air shoes, Shadow blasted away, the forest blanketing him in darkness from the moon. The blue light that bounced off of the trees following him..

They raced once again, similar to earlier, but instead of it being filled by curiousness, it held the unknown-- something that only filled the hybrid with dread.

He hated it. He hated not knowing, he despised running away, to many complicated emotions... gritting his teeth he swerved around. Face to face with the hedgehog, who wasn't expecting him to stop.

"Shad--"

"Fight me."

Sonic blinked, "What?! Now--?"

But he was already blocking a kick, and it was Shadow's turn to play chase.

They duked it out for what seemed like forever, kicks and punches coming left and right. Swerving under and over trees and rocks. They gave it their all, occasionally circling... just to glance at the other.

Sonic would lose him in the darkness, and Shadow would seemingly reappear from it, tackling him to the ground. The blue hedgehog in return would light up the forest in a dazzling light, chaos energy flowing through him.

They rolled down a hill, gripping the other tightly before they stopped. Breathing heavily, Sonic and Shadow collapsed side by side before looking up into the starry night. The moon greeting them in its pale light.

"S-Shadow?" Sonic panted, looking over at the coughing hedgehog. Who used to rest of his energy to look away.

"I-I'm" Shadow swallowed heavily, "I'm sorry."

Sonic laughed, but it sounded more like a gentle wheeze. "That you lost? I mean you said it not me-- OW!" He hissed, as Shadow elbowed him.

"You know what I meant.."

"Y-yeah.. I know."

They stayed silent for a while longer, the night filled with nothing but their breaths. This time, however, Shadow broke it.

"I didn't know.."

Sonic smiled, "No kidding."

Shadow grumbled, holding his face in his hands remembering the moment. He dragged them down his muzzle before hesitantly looked over to Sonic, who was covered in branches and leaves.

"I had purchased it this morning.. a older woman was selling some I supposed." he recalled, the flower was rather pricey now that he thinks about it.

The hero hummed, "Those flowers are extremely rare, couples usually put them on their SunCharms when their expecting to marry in the spring." he explained, "It's just for good luck or whatnot, the fact she just happen to have one is crazy."

"That would've been nice to know.." The agent looked away, face absolutely flushed.

Sonic sat up, reaching a hand out to help the other up. They sat there for a minute before the blue hedgehog held his hand out again. "May I see it?"

"S-sure.." Shadow handed him the flower that singlehandedly ruined his night. But Sonic looked at it with utter awe.

"It's beautiful."

The hybrid hummed, staring at Sonic for a while as he examined the flora.

"I should've explained the flower color meanings to you man.. I'm so sorry. Guess It just slipped my mind."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've forgotten something." Shadow minorly teased, correcting his gaze away from the hedgehog.

"Har har," Sonic nudged him, coming a little closer to show the flower to Shadow. He smelled like wet grass, or the air before the rain.

"You see the yellow? That could mean multiple things, but usually, it means happiness, or friendship." Shadow nodded along, looking at where Sonics gloved fingers pointed on the glass.

"The red tips signify that friendship becoming, something more," He chuckled, awkwardly, "Like, falling in love, I guess."

Shadow pulled his own legs closer to hug himself, looking away once again, he didn't know why he felt so.. vulnerable. When he let himself become this way around Sonic specifically, it happened over time he supposed.. he didn't care, he just wanted to be.

"I didn't.. mean to embarrass you, on your holiday no less." Shadow cleared his throat. "and I shouldn't have left so suddenly.. that was very rude of me and--"

"Dude," Sonic placed a hand on top of Shadows. "It's okay.. I promise."

He was so close, too close, they ended up resting their foreheads together. Closing their eyes and just sat there. Something inside of him wished it could last forever.

Sonic hummed, breaking the contact, "You never finished your SunCharm by the way.." emerald eyes stared back at him in the night. Shadow couldn't help but stare back.

"What..?"

Pulling out the SunCharm Shadow made for him, he pointed at the broken string with a smile. "Think you could fix it for me?"

Shadow blinked, "But I thought--"

"It doesn't have to mean anything Shads, who cares! It's just a pretty flower," Sonic rolled his eyes, "You made it and I want to keep it, I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks."

There was something about Sonic that had always fascinated Shadow... he supposed he'd never fully understand, and for once, he was fine with that.

He tied the Eternal Rose back in place, the moon reflecting off its surface. Sonic glimmered with a happiness that Shadow momentarily thought rivaled even the flower. He knew somewhere, Sonic was right, that what the flower meant was just a means of symbolism... nothing more.

But he supposed it was true in a sense, Shadow knew he was eternal.. and, as much as he didn't like to admit it--even to himself, he found himself caring, a little too much about this stupid blue hedgehog that just so happened to run right into his life.

And if Sonic saw a promise of anything in that flower, Shadow would keep it, until the end of it all.

Sonic chuckled, glancing toward Shadow, "What? Do I still got dirt on my face?"

The agent grumbled, looking away, "We should head back." He stood up, he had some apologizing to do after all.

"You mean you still wanna go? Even after--"

"It's like you said, it doesn't have to mean anything." Shadow smiled, happy that Sonic smiled with him. Helping Shadow dust himself off and fix his collar. "Happy to hear that Shads." He winked.

They stood there for a moment, before Sonic playfully shoved him to the side. Taking off, "You owe me a dance! And chilidogs, faker!"

Shadow grunted, recentering himself before blasting off after his rival back to Sunset Heights. Maybe the night was full of unsaid promises, and maybe now wasn't the right time, but whatever the two had was special.

That was a promise.

[btsbabe7]

Golden

Word Count: ~250

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x reader

Synopsis: watching the sunset with your best friend within the grassland vivarium.

You sit on the edge of a cliff overlooking crashing waves hundreds of feet below as you gaze out towards the setting sun. It moves slowly over the cascading mountains in the distance, gifting the ripples below and everything else in its wake with a shimmering, golden cast that reflects like diamonds off the surface.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You hum, completely overtaken by the beauty a single room can provide.

A soft palm glides underneath your own and intertwines its fingertips between yours just as a fiery phoenix swoops overhead towards the descending sun. The winds that gust off the bird’s golden wings provide a perfect breeze in the warmth of the evening. It truly feels as if you’re in another place—another world—a dream. It brings a new sense of peace; it’s an inner bliss you never could’ve imagined existing within the walls of the castle you now call home.

“You’re beautiful,” Sebastian breathes and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Breathtaking actually.”

You smile softly, even though you wish you could conceal it. He’s always known just what to say to make you feel more alive no matter how many times you try to deny it.

In your new world where you’d invited him to watch the sunset with you, out the corner of your own eyes, you catch him staring at you as if you’re his. And that too, provides you with another sense of peace. One that only your true love, your best friend, can provide.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

Photo taken by me :)

July 2024

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER ONE

Harlow

Sometimes I feel cursed.

Okay, well, not cursed exactly. But I’ve had my share of challenges in the nineteen years I’ve been on this planet. Well-meaning people—usually adults—have always told me to be thankful for my hardships. It makes you stronger. More capable. Independent.

I wish all that were true. Really, the events that have shaped my life just settle like silt inside me, tainting every thought, every action. Until I’m convinced misfortune has been braided into my DNA.

Generational trauma, isn’t that what they call it?

I dig my toes into the wet sand and look out at the Pacific Ocean. It’s hard to feel cursed here, though. Malibu is a magical place, soaked in sunshine, with a surprising small-town feel. But its best quality is how far it is from Fresno. From home. From the events of last year.

The sharp wind whips through my hair and stings my cheeks. My best friend, Talia, and I wandered down to the beach hours ago after we’d unpacked our boxes and set up our dorm rooms.

Talia called me crazy when I waded into the frigid water, dunking my head under the salty waves like some kind of baptism. Maybe it was a type of cleansing. The ghosts of my past washing away with the tide.

If only forgetting were so easy.

“Hey, look what I found!”

I turn to see Talia walk up to me with something cradled in her palm. It’s a piece of green sea glass. “It was probably a beer bottle or something originally.”

Picking it up, I angle it toward the fading sunlight, looking at it from different angles, admiring its beauty. The power of the ocean is wild—transforming an ordinary beer bottle into something so beautiful. I wonder if it has the power to transform me, too. “What are you going to do with it?”

Talia shrugs. “Turn it into a necklace or something, maybe.”

Another gust of ocean Taliaze whips through me, and my teeth start chattering. “It’s almost sunset. We should head back to the residence hall.”

Exeter University West—one of the West Coast's most prestigious colleges—is right on the beach. When Talia and I applied last year, it was a long shot. A pipe dream. We both have decent grades, but nothing spectacular. So, months later, when we were both accepted, it felt like a miracle. Then when I scored a full scholarship, I finally started to believe my luck was changing.

Exeter is the escape I’ve been desperate for. A fresh start.

I look down the length of the beach and see a huge Victorian mansion perched on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. I noticed it when we first got to campus a couple of days ago. It’s hard to miss. The giant Gothic structure is painted a dark, crimson red with navy blue trim, and ornate woodwork that makes it look out of place on a modern college campus. I was probably here first, though, and the university just encroached gradually until the house and grounds were consumed by the sprawling campus.

It’s a creepy-looking house, though. No lie.

“Our residence hall is right on the other side of that weird house,” I say.

“Okay, let’s go,” Talia says, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m turning into a brine-flavored popsicle.”

The sharp wind continues to cut through us as we walk along the sand, getting dark quickly, and we’re two girls walking alone, so I’m on full alert—glancing behind us, my hand resting on the small stun gun tucked into my front pocket.

But the beach is empty—which is surprising, considering the amount of students on campus. It rained a little earlier, and it’s freezing, so maybe that’s why no one is here. But cold or not, there would still be a couple of people out here, at least, right?

“Slow down,” Talia pouts. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

I pause so she can catch up. “Have you noticed there’s no one else out here? That’s weird, right? I mean, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold.”

“There are people out here,” she says, pointing ahead. I squint, and sure enough, there’s a fire burning about half a mile in the distance, on the beach directly below the creepy house. I don’t know how I missed that, but to be fair, the beach isn’t straight—there’s a shrub-capped berm in the way, and the fire is partially hidden behind that.

“Oh, yeah, huh.”

Talia shakes her head and continues walking. “You are so blind. I keep telling you to go to the eye doctor.”

“I’m not blind.”

“Oh, really?” she says. “So when you walked up to that girl back in high school and started telling her off because you thought she was Veronica?”

I frown, trudging after Talia in the sand. Now it’s me trying to keep up with her. “Okay, but in my defense, they could be twins. I’d like to see the DNA report on those two.”

Talia stops and rolls her eyes at me. “The girl you accosted was three inches shorter than Veronica, and has glasses—which you also need.”

I blow out a breath. “Details. Whatever.”

With a scoff, Talia turns back around and we both keep walking. The beach narrows as we approach the fire, so we have to climb over the berm to get to the other side. It’s rough, and the shrubs are spiny, but we manage to make it down the other side.

“I’m remembering why we didn’t come this way originally,” Talia says. “The sidewalk was a lot easier.”

The sidewalk also dips between several university buildings, and in the dark, there’s no way I’m taking that route. I don’t want to say that, though, so I just shrug. “This way is shorter.”

Talia just pushes out a frustrated breath.

The closer we get to the fire, though, it becomes clear that something is sketchy. There are several people, all wearing robes with hoods, gathered in a half-circle around the fire, facing the ocean, chanting something.

Chanting.

What the…?

I reach out and grab Talia, pulling her back into a crouching position. We had to walk up and over, so we’re somewhat concealed by the random tufts of brush, but not entirely. And we’re only about thirty feet away, but thankfully, I don’t think we’ve been seen.

“Holy shit,” Talia whispers.

I blink rapidly to try and see through the murky twilight. There’s one guy, drenched, and completely naked, cupping his family jewels, shivering in front of the cloaked group.

“What are they doing?” I ask my tone low.

“It could be a frat, but the robes are weird. I think this is the Society of the Burning Crown,” Talia says with a note of awe in her voice.

I swallow. “What is that? Please tell me it’s a chess club or something.”

“Does this look like a chess club?” Talia hisses. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward, but I dig my heels into the sand. “Come on, we need to get closer.”

Closer? Is she insane? “Oh, fuck, no. Whatever this is, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

She manages to drag me several feet forward, but only because fighting her could draw attention to us. So far, we’ve managed to go unnoticed, and I’d like to keep it that way.

We crouch down again, and I try to quiet my breathing. It’s not likely they can hear anything over the roaring ocean, or their weird chanting, but I’m not taking any chances. If I could stop breathing altogether, I would.

Someone from the half-circle approaches the fire. I can’t see their faces, but I’m guessing by the person’s size, and broad shoulders, it’s a guy—and he’s probably the leader. He has a long, metal-looking rod in his hand that he shoves into the fire.

“Okay, we’ve seen enough,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”

Talia just waves me off, her gaze fixed on the odd ritual in front of us. Whatever this is, I get the distinct idea that Talia and I aren’t supposed to be witnessing it. And I would love to honor that.

The chanting continues for a couple of minutes, then Lead Guy approaches Naked Guy and says something to him that I can’t hear. Whatever he says is swallowed by the sound of the roaring ocean.

In response to what was said, Naked Guy nods once, then turns to face the ocean, and falls to his knees. His shoulders curl forward, exposing the length of his spine, and I watch as his thin frame vibrates violently against the cold.

Lead Guy takes another step forward, his hand jutting out like a surgeon silently requesting his scalpel. Someone from the circle removes the rod from the fire and places it in Lead Guy’s outstretched hand.

My breath is held, my gaze cemented to the scene as I watch Lead Guy pull his arm back—almost like he’s doing it in slow motion. Is he going to hit the other guy with that rod? Is this actually happening right in front of me?

As Lead Guy’s arm juts forward, and the tip of the rod makes contact, Naked Guy screams out in pain, the sound echoing off the cliffs surrounding us. He’s being branded. The barbaric act is so shocking and so unexpected, that a scream is ripped from my own throat, and I lurch forward.

“Shit, Harlow!” Talia hisses, pulling me back.

I shove my hand over my mouth to silence the whimper that bubbles up from my throat. It’s too late. They see us. Every hooded figure is turned toward Talia and me, and their leader—God help us—is already crossing the sand, closing the distance between us…

HIS EYES ARE A COLD, Dark Brown. That’s the first thing I notice as the leader of this group stalks toward us, shadows from the moon playing across his masked face, half-hidden under the hood of his robe.

Intensity radiates off this guy, his large body moving with confidence across the sand. When he stops right in front of us, I gulp. He looks like a bouncer, ready to toss us out of a club.

Talia and I are standing side-by-side, but when he speaks, he looks directly at me. “Leave. Now.” His voice is muffled by the mask, but it's deep and harsh, and sends a shiver of fear down my spine. “Go back the way you came.”

I’m already half-turned, opening my mouth to tell him, “Yup, no problem, we’re already gone,” when Talia grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Hold on,” Talia says, looking over his shoulder at the other robed figures. “What are you guys doing out here?”

The guy’s jaw clenches tightly as he drags his gaze away from me and settles on Talia. Behind the mask, his eyes narrow, and if we needed evidence that we don’t belong here, there it is. Right there. That deadly stare.

“Talia,” I say, practically pleading. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t hear me, or she’s deliberately ignoring me. Either way, she steps up to Lead Guy. “If you don’t want people watching you, then you shouldn’t be doing this—” She waves wildly at the scene in front of us. “–out in public.”

“This is a private beach,” he answers through gritted teeth. “And you aren’t welcome here.”

I grab Talia's elbow firmly and dare a glance at Lead Guy. “We’re leaving.”

I don’t love the idea of taking the sidewalk all the way back to our residence hall, but it’s either that or walk straight through this creepy-ass ritual. Mmm, no thanks. Hard pass.

Talia struggles against me, but I manage to keep my grip. “You can’t tell us what to do!” she practically yells at the guy. “We’re just walking along the beach. You’re the ones doing sketchy shit.”

Oh, damn. He inadvertently triggered Talia's defiance. I’ve known her since middle school, and she’s always been strong-willed, even to her own detriment. Tell her not to jump off the bridge, and she’s going to do it just to prove she can.

Right now, though, my job is to make sure we don’t end up as the topic of a true crime episode.

“Talia,” I say firmly, yanking her in the direction we just came. She digs her heels in, but I manage to move her a little—enough to encourage me to keep pulling. “Let’s leave the nice Jedis alone.”

I hear the stranger grunt as we walk away, and I feel the weight of his gaze pressing on me until Talia and I reach the top of the berm. I release Talia and quickly make my way down the other side of the small hill, then head up the beach, toward the sidewalk. It’s a steep climb, but I make it in record time, Talia trailing behind me.

“Slow down,” she says, annoyed.

I shake my head and pick up my pace. “We shouldn’t have seen that,” I say.

“Oh, who cares, Harlow? They shouldn’t have been out in the open if whatever they’re doing is such a secret.”

I stop abruptly and turn to face her. “The beach is empty.”

I’d noticed that earlier, but I’d assumed it had something to do with the rain. Now, I wonder if people had gotten the memo that something was going down tonight, and had deliberately stayed off the beach.

Lord.

We stumbled onto something we weren’t supposed to see, and I can't help but wonder what the repercussions of that might be. None, I hope. We left, and hopefully, that’s the end of it.

But ever since the incident last year, my mind has been stuck in survival mode. It feels like everything and everyone is a potential threat. So I doubt I’ll stop worrying about this whole thing anytime soon.

It’s taken a mountain of therapy just to get me to this point–willing to leave my hometown and start over somewhere new. And, honestly, if it weren’t for Talia, that never would have happened. In my darkest moments, she was there, guiding me and encouraging me. She’s the one person in my life I can rely on.

But her impulsivity can get her into trouble, and I feel like I’m always trying to rein her in. Even when we were kids, I was saving her from herself. Trying to get her to think before she tumbled right off that proverbial bridge.

“You have to admit, that was amazing!” Talia says, clapping her hands excitedly. “Shit. I never thought we’d get to see something like that.”

I keep walking. The faster we get to the residence hall and off this dark sidewalk, the better. “A guy was getting branded. What’s amazing about that?”

“I’m pretty sure we just witnessed the initiation ceremony for the Society of the Burning Crown.” She’s walking behind me, and I don’t need to see her face to know she has a smile stretched across her face. I can hear it in her voice. “No one gets to see that. Unless you’re a member, obviously.”

I stop and turn around to face her. “That—what we just saw—was super shady. Branding, violence, anything like that is strictly against the university’s policy.”

She looks lost. “Okay, and? What does that have to do with us?”

“Are they going to be worried we’ll tell someone about it?”

Talia snorts. “You’re afraid they’re going to come after us? They aren’t the mafia, Harlow. They don’t give a shit about us.”

Secret societies are like cults in my mind—and cults can do some pretty crazy shit to keep their secrets hidden. I should know—my mom has been in a cult for the last eight years. She joined when I was eleven—just skipped right over to Florida, leaving me to live with my grandmother. That’s the kind of power these types of groups wield.

Talia grabs me. “Harlow, you’ve got to stop worrying so much.” I sigh. “I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

Her expression softens. “I know, but everything is going to be fine. How were we supposed to know, right? We were just—” She motions casually “–walking along the beach.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

But as we walk back to the residence hall, an uneasy feeling gathers in my stomach. The whole idea behind coming to ExU was to blend in. Start over. Stay away from drama. Classes haven’t even started yet, and trouble has already rooted me out.

We get to the building fine—thank God—and I swipe my key card. I’m on the second floor, and Talia is on the third, so we part ways on the second-floor landing.

“See you tomorrow!” Talia calls out, walking up that last set of stairs to her floor. “And stop worrying!”

I just roll my eyes and open the door that leads to my floor. It’s going to be tough to fall asleep tonight—but not because I’m worrying. I know the second I lay my head down to sleep, all I’m going to see in my mind’s eye are a pair of electric brown eyes…

The next morning, I’m barely awake when my roommate, Emily, taps me on the shoulder. “Um, Harlow. Are you awake?”

My eyes are practically sealed shut—how could I be awake? Moaning, I roll over onto my side and face the wall. “No,” I say, pushing my voice through the gravel in my throat.

Last night, just as I predicted, I got zero sleep. As I lay in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, last night’s events were on repeat inside my head.

Was there something I could have done differently? Inside the safety of my thoughts, I’m always braver than I was out there on the sand—and I say something snarky and clever back to Lead Guy. It’s different every time, but he’s always taken aback by my clever response.

I finally fell asleep around five, just as sunlight started bleeding into the night sky.

But my roomie is an early riser—or so she told me yesterday. And that obviously still holds, even though classes don’t officially start for another two days.

“Okay, well, there’s a note or something here for you. I’ll just put it on your nightstand.”

A note?

I wonder if it’s from Talia. Usually, she’d just text me, but if I’m not answering then she might resort to a handwritten note.

The door clicks shut as Emily leaves, and I flip over onto my back, stretching until I feel a pleasant sting spread across my shoulders. Then I blink and pick up my phone. It’s only eight in the morning. My God. Where on earth could Emily possibly be going this early?

Sitting up, I yawn and glance at the note she left on my nightstand. It’s a black envelope with my name scrawled on the back in all caps—not Talia’s swoopy cursive. I open the envelope and pull out a piece of black cardstock. There’s a symbol on the front. It’s a crown, embossed in gold, flames erupting from the tips

.

Oh, shit.

Didn’t Talia say the society we encountered last night was called the Society of the Burning Crown?

I flip the card over.

Preference Ceremony  

Ten O’Clock  

Rush House

Uh.

I immediately text Talia with a photo of the invite, followed by a full screen of question marks.

Talia is in my room within fifteen minutes, sitting on my bed, cross-legged, looking at the invite from every possible angle. “Well, it looks legit,” she says, scratching the gold embossing.

“What’s a Preference Ceremony?” I ask.

Before arriving on campus, Talia did a ton of research about the university—history, culture, clubs, party scene…any information she could get her hands on. Maybe she ran across a website that mentioned it.

“Never heard of it,” she says, tossing the invite onto the bed next to her. She picks up her phone, types something in, then starts scrolling. “There might be something online about it.”

I do my own search on my laptop, but there’s nothing. All I can find on the Burning Crown is general information that’s been posted on a random forum dedicated to secret societies.

“Listen to this,” I say. “The Society of the Burning Crown is a secret society, founded in 1890, on the campus that is known today as Exeter University West. Rush House is the society’s headquarters and sits on the edge of the university’s 124 acres.” I turn my computer, so she can see the photo that’s been inserted between the paragraphs. It’s that creepy Victorian house on the cliff. I pull my computer back and continue reading out loud, “Little is known about the inner workings of the society, but the rumored structure is a larger membership known as the Circle, and a smaller, ruling class, known as the Omen boys. The Omens are the direct descendants of the four founding members.”

Talia scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, thinking. “Hm. Does it say anything about what a Preference Ceremony is?”

“Nope.”

She lifts her hands, slapping them back down on her knees. “Welp, I suppose we’ll just have to find out then!”

I shake my head. “No way.”

Talia frowns at me, her delicate features scrunched up and contorted. She never really looks ugly, though. She has a pert little nose, high cheekbones, and long, dark eyelashes that are 1000% real. The girls in high school always hated her for that.

She shoves her bottom lip out in a pout. “Oh, come on, why not? It’ll be an adventure.”

“Yesterday, that guy was pissed that we’d stumbled on their…whatever that was. Then this morning, they slid an invite under my door?” I press my lips together. “If that’s not weird, then I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe they just want to make amends,” Talia offers. “You said yourself that they might be afraid we’ll tell someone. So maybe this is their way of, I don’t know, smoothing things over.”

I pick up the envelope that the note came in, reading my name over and over, almost as if I stare at it long enough, it’ll give up its author’s secrets. It just makes me more uneasy, though, if anything.

“How do they even know my name? And why just give me an invite?”

My tone is rising, and Talia must sense how tense I’m getting. She knows the year I’ve had, and how desperately I just want to have a normal freshman experience. Quiet. Boring. No drama.

She reaches over and places a hand on my arm. “Harlow, it’s okay. Societies like this have their hand in everything, and if someone steps foot on their campus, they usually know about it. It’s not personal to you.” She shrugs. “And you probably got the invite because you’re closer to the building entrance. Why bother sending two invites when they know we’re together?”

It’s a paper-thin theory and doesn’t even make sense, but I cling to it because believing there’s a deeper meaning would seriously threaten my mental health. And the whole idea behind starting over is not over-analyzing every little thing. Or so my therapist, Dr. Cunningham, says.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re not going.” I snatch the invite up off the bed and rip it in two.

Talia lunges at me, her green eyes wide with horror. “Harlow, what the fuck?” She grabs the two pieces from my hands and tries to fit them back together. “We have to go. No one gets invited to these things. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

I lean back against my pillows. “You know how I feel about cults, Talia. Don’t ask me to do this.”

“It’s not a cult. It’s a secret society. There’s a big difference.”

I push out a sigh. “That’s disputable.”

I know her, though. If Talia wants to do something, she’ll do it, no matter what I say. And I can’t let her go to something like that alone—it’s way too sketchy.

“Maybe they want to apologize for last night? And if we don’t go, then they might see that as an insult.”

I make a face. “Apologize? The guy from last night didn’t look sorry. He looked pissed.”

“Okay, let’s compromise. We’ll go, see what they want, and if there’s anything shady happening, then we’ll leave. Easy. No stress.”

No stress. I practically snort at that. I’m already stressed.

I think about it for a second, then take the invite from her hands, shoving both pieces into the black envelope. “Fine, we’ll go under two conditions.”

“Okay, shoot,” she says, and I can already see she wants to squeal with excitement.

“One: we find out what they want, then leave.” I hold a finger in the air before she can respond. “Two: if they even hint at trying to recruit us, we bail right then and there.” Talia opens her mouth to argue, but I stop her. “Ah! We leave immediately.”

She deflates a little, but I think she knows this is the only way I’ll do it. And the envelope has my name on it, which gives me a little leverage. She could try to go without me, but there’s a chance they’d turn her away at the door.

Talia leans back. “Fine. Deal.”

I nod, satisfied. But deep down, I have a sinking feeling there’s more to all of this than a simple apology. Something much darker…

[oopsitszuli]

"And At Last, I See The Light." -Sanemi Shinazugawa x FEM!Reader.

Authors note: And we're back!! Im so excited to be writing non-work-related content again and I hope this first fic back is an enjoyable one! I love Sanemi and I also love his little detail of having lost his ability to see color and regaining it after the events of the final arc in the manga! So I got to thinking and thought of a scenario where someone else kickstarted his heart once again. Also as always, reposts and likes are GREATLY appreciated!!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of Sanemi's backstory.

Word Count: 3.3k words.

No mentions of skin tone, hair color, or eye color!

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Training was always difficult, whether being a Mizunoto or a Hashira, but in recent weeks it seems the world was working against the demon slayer corps. Relentless training was going into every corps member despite the few results they were seeing. Everyone was on edge on top of the training, for they all had no clue when the next sign of upper moon demons would appear before them. Wake up, eat, train, try to unlock a slayer mark, sleep, and do it all again. That was all life seemed to be. Rather, that’s all life was to Sanemi. 

His day was a constant repeat, with no variation and certainly no thrill. Waking up minutes before another greyscale sunrise, ignoring breakfast in favor of squeezing in a lone training session before dealing with his newest group of bratty teenagers, and ending the day at a meeting with the other Hashira where they all continued to complain about being unable to unlock marks.  ‘How did Kamado do it?’ and ‘Maybe Tanjiro, Mitsuri, and Tokito can help unlock other marks!’ These were the only statements made in those hour-long meetings. And Sanemi would be the first to admit that it made him want to stab his eardrums out. The Kamados had some benevolent god in their corner, and the other two were freakishly powerful despite their smaller statures, yet he was the only one who seemed to notice it. 

The wind Hashira let out a disgruntled sigh as he walked down the cobblestone stairs leading to a lone Soba restaurant only a few miles from his estate. It was one of his favorite places to frequent, though he would never utter that sentiment to another being for as long as he lived. Some people liked eating in the company of others, but it seemed he wasn’t born with the right of a friend to have dinner with. He used to love eating with Masachika or Kanae, but the gods didn’t like seeing someone with the last name Shinazugawa being happy, so they took them away. They took everything away. His friends, his family, and his color were no longer his. Instead, they were playthings for a higher being who took pleasure in seeing him miserable. 

Sanemi stiffened as a crisp gust of wind brushed through his spiky hair, drawing the man from his thoughts with little effort. His eyes raised from the ground as he took in the world around him. Age-old ginkgo and wisteria trees surrounded the Hashira, their leaves swaying softly in the breeze, filling his nose with the sweet scent of the flowers belonging to the trees.  He looked to his left, shielding his eyes as he was met with the light of the current setting sun; Sanemi looked away swiftly. He was sure it was a stunning sunset just by how bright it was. Maybe tonight it would be pink, or orange, maybe even purple. But it didn’t matter; to him, it was all grey. Everything was always grey and grim, and it always would be. Sanemi had accepted that fate from the moment his mother lay limp at his feet. He would never see color again, and he would never know the peace he witnessed others gain so simply. That was his burden, and it was one he carried with no argument. 

“Shinazugawa!” A sudden voice called out from behind him, “Shinazugawa, is that you? What are you doing?” Sanemi didn’t need to turn around to know who that voice belonged to. It was a sweet voice, singsongy and perfectly pitched, and it could only belong to the one person in the demon slayer corps Sanemi had come to slightly tolerate. The flower Hashira, (Y/n) (L/n). He didn’t look over his shoulder as he heard her footsteps bounding towards him, and frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to try and shoo her off. He wondered if it was the part of him that still regretted their first meeting and how he had so brashly proclaimed that she would never take Kanae’s place and that if (L/n) knew what was good for her, she would walk into the woods and disappear forever. He was well aware that he had overstepped his lines, and despite his better judgment, he felt the need to go out of his way and allow her to hang around him. 

‘Stop lying to yourself. Give her more credit, asshole,’ He cursed internally, ‘she fought tooth and nail to try and be around me, even after I treated her so cruelly.’ He still saw everything, the first meeting, the argument, everything. He remembered it like it was yesterday. 

“Who do you think you are, trying to replace her? Kanae is the only Flower Hashira, and she always will be. If you know what’s best, you will walk out now and disappear in the woods for the rest of eternity.” Sanemi bellowed as he glared at the woman standing across the yard from him. Despite his harsh words, she stood tall, unfazed by his outburst and only throwing fuel to the fire of Sanemi’s heart. His glare searched rapidly around him for support as an annoyed groan escaped Uzui. Sanemi didn’t understand. Kanae had only died three months ago, the others should be outraged at this blatant replacement, yet none of them made a move. His attention snapped to Shinobu, who only remained kneeling before the master, not an ounce of negative emotion riddling her young face. 

“I think you misunderstand why I’m here.” The woman began, unmoving despite Sanemi’s glare returning to her. “Kanae was a phenomenal Hashira, and her death hurt everyone-"“Don’t act like you knew her!” Sanemi interrupted, his teeth bared. (Y/n) sighed softly, completely calm despite the raging man across from her. He hated it. She stood so sure, completely unaffected by his words, and worse, she wore a gentle smile. A sympathetic smile, like she knew the pain everyone was going through, and as if she knew he had lost another person he cared about. 

“I didn’t know her, and I won’t claim to have known her. But what I do know is that from everything I’ve heard, she was the epitome of goodness. And I can only attempt to follow in her footsteps as the next Flower Hashira.” (Y/n’s) hand reached for her chest, placing itself atop her heart, “I can only begin to hope I leave a legacy as powerful as hers and that my joining is not seen as a rushed replacement.” Her head lowered as she finished her statement. She was bowing. Not to the master or the other Hashira, but to him. To Sanemi. He took a step back, his eyes widening slightly as he attempted to fend off the shock trying to make itself known. 

“Death sticks with us all, Sanemi, but it also allows us the chance to grow.” Oyakata spoke up from the pavilion he rested on. “And in order for us to stay strong, we must grow. I hope you can come to understand this decision.” Sanemi snapped his attention to the Master. Like always, he stood proudly, his smile riddled with a saccharine sympathy. The wind Hashira couldn’t bring himself to argue against the master. If it were anyone else, he’d have a string of words for them, but it had to be the man Sanemi couldn’t bring himself to argue with. 

“I understand, sir. And I apologize for my outburst.” Sanemi rushed before turning on his heel, dismissing himself from the meeting before the master got another word in. He couldn’t believe it, the audacity of that woman, to stand there where Kanae should be and act as though she knew the pain they were feeling. The pain he was feeling. It was insulting, and Sanemi wanted nothing to do with her, for better or worse. 

She apparently had different plans. 

It was less than two hours before Sanemi noticed her intruding on his training. He held back a laugh of disbelief as she walked by him, drawing her sword and quickly beginning her own training regiment. 

“I don’t want to be around you, and I was here first. So, fuck off.” Sanemi argued as he watched her effortlessly destroy a few training dummies the Kakushi had set up. She only laughed at his statement and swung her sword once more. 

“I don’t care! We have to work together, so get used to it.” She claimed, a satisfied smile dawning on her lips as she noticed the rage bubbling up on Sanemi’s face. With another swing of her sword and another destroyed dummy, she turned on her heel to face him, wearing a wide smile. Sanemi seethed at her blatant disregard for his anger. 

“Who do you think you are?” He asked through gritted teeth, his fists clenched and his sword shaking in his hold. She sheathed her katana swiftly before she slowly dragged her eyes over his figure. Her eyes moved slowly as if she were studying him, easily committing every inch of his body to memory. 

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n), the newest Hashira and a demon slayer who has worked my ass off for years to be here. And who are you, other than your miserable jackass persona?” Her question was so simple, yet so irking. Sanemi tossed his Katana to the side, figuring it best not to have a weapon in his hands while his emotions were being tested. His hands ran through his hair as he stole a deep breath from the world around him. His hands fell to his side, returning to fists as he glared at the still-smiling woman. 

“I’m Sanemi Shinazugawa, the wind Hashira.” He declared proudly. He was the wind Hashira, one of the strongest members of the demon slayer corps and someone people feared, and Sanemi reveled in the idea of her finally backing down and acknowledging his strength. Instead, (Y/n) shook her head softly, her arms crossing over her chest as she did. Sanemi felt his glare deepen as he watched her arms fold over each other. 

“No. I don’t think you are.” Another pass of her eyes over his figure, “I think you’re just an angry man. That’s all you are, Isolated anger.” She decided. Sanemi felt his jaw drop with her statement. He stood frozen in place, staring at the woman. Her eyebrow raised under his unwavering gaze.

“What gives you the right to say something like that to me?" He challenged, his voice shaking with rage. She sighed softly, and finally, her smile faltered. 

“Because I’ve been in the same position, and if you ignore your rage, it will kill you. It seems as though it’s already doing a number on you.” She deducted, slowly walking toward the man. Her stride was sure, unwavering with each step. If anything, it made Sanemi a little unsure, despite his flurry of anger. 

“Oh, shut up.” He barked, attempting to seem more sure of himself than he truly was. 

“No. Shun people all you want. It’s not going to keep you from getting hurt. If anything, it will just make it worse.” She challenged, her finger poking at his scarred chest as she leaned close to him. Their eyes met, and Sanemi felt his breath hitch. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, that was expected, but this close, he saw something more. Swirling behind the expanse of colors unknown to Sanemi, there was hope; he knew it was hope. He had seen that look in his eyes one too many times when looking at reflective surfaces. A yearning for something better, for a future free of demons and a life of peace with the family they had remaining, it was the same hope that was continuously torn away from people like them.  

“You don’t know anything about me.” He brushed off the look, pulling away from her before she continued her way out from the training arena. Sanemi watched as she walked off, his eyes glued to her figure. She stopped, turning over her shoulder with a vibrant smile plastered across her face.

“That’s why I am going to do everything in my power to learn about you. Even if you hate it.” She winked at him, giggling softly before completely disappearing. Sanemi stood frozen in place, disbelief at the interaction snaking through his veins. 

He rolled his eyes before going to retrieve his sword. 

“Shinazugawa!” Her voice cut through his thoughts, forcing his feet to stop as he turned over his shoulder. She joined him at his side seconds later, wearing her favorite smile as she came to a halt. She always wore that same smile, even when she was in the midst of arguments. Sanemi swore he had only seen her smile drop twice, and neither time ended well. The better part of him screamed at him to be concerned; someone who wore a smile that pure had to be masking something, especially in this profession. Yet he couldn’t gather the courage to ask, no matter what he did. He could look man-eating demons in the eyes and laugh… But ask her something personal? Sanemi rather feed himself to upper moon one. 

“Hello, (L/n). What brings you out this way?” He spoke softly, probably too softly, but he would worry about that later. The woman beside him bounced slightly on her toes, excitement radiating off her every inch. His head tilted slightly to the side as she looked around at their surroundings as if she were making sure no one was listening to them. 

“You’re not going to believe this!" she began, “But my newest batch of students for training are all graduating a week early! They’ve absolutely mastered stealth training! One of them was so good at it that he snuck up on me!” Her hands clapped together excitedly. Sanemi gave an approving ‘hmm’ at her information, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips despite his better judgment. Despite their rocky introduction, he had always appreciated how proud she was of everyone around her. Some people were proud to the point of arrogance, but she had always been a perfect mix of awareness and pride. That fact had been a reason for Sanemi’s eventual reconciliation with her. 

“That is great to hear, (L/n). The sooner we get them through training, the more time they have to practice summoning a mark.” He nodded slightly, his arms crossing over his chest a moment later. 

“You know, you don’t have to call me by my last name.” Her head tilted slightly to the side, a smug smirk dawning across her face. “Or have you forgotten my first name? You are quite forgetful.” She teased, earning an eye roll from Sanemi. 

“I leave my sword at a meeting one time….” He groaned, earning a soft chuckle from her. Sanemi forced back the ever-growing smile fighting its way onto his face. He hated how effortlessly she could make him smile, and he despised the look she gave him every time she succeeded in drawing a smile onto his face. It wasn’t a smug look nor a look of confusion; it was always one resting on the border of adoration. Although, Sanemi knew he would never let himself believe it. Very few people adored him, and he was sure someone as amazing as (Y/n) would never feel that way about him. 

“You were so distracted that day…I still remember the look on your face when I handed you your katana.” She tapped at her lips as her eyebrow raised, “Makes me wonder what had you so distracted.” She leaned forward, silently prompting Sanemi to share his side of the story. The wind Hashira fought back a chuckle at her prodding. He knew full well why he was so distracted and knew further that he would never dare to utter a word about it in her presence. It was embarrassing to him alone and mortifying to think about others knowing. The wind Hashira, the scariest Hashira the corps had to offer, Sanemi Shinazugawa was distracted by her.  He knew she would always capture his attention with her intricate haori and overall eye-catching demeanor. But in recent weeks, no, in recent months, she had become his favorite distraction. Bad day? Talk to (Y/n). Bored before a mission? Exchange Kasugai crow messages with (Y/n). He truly needed no excuse to talk to her, yet he continued to find them, mainly to save his pride. His eyes flickered down to hers as he formulated another excuse to feed her. 

“The idea of dinner was distracting me.” He lied. She rolled her eyes at his statement, seeing through his fib effortlessly. Sanemi knew he couldn’t keep lying to her, but for something like this, he deemed it better than admitting that he could not shake the woman from his thoughts. 

“Speaking of which…Did you already eat dinner?” She asked, her hands clasping as she looked up at Sanemi. He nodded quickly, attempting to avoid the question of being invited to dinner. He couldn’t allow her to eat dinner with him, not after what happened to everyone who had before. 

“I did, but thank you for asking.” He responded, his sentence fading out quickly. Sanemi turned on his heel, beginning to walk away, only to be followed by (Y/n). She took in their surroundings as they walked. 

“Shame, I was going to invite you over for dinner! I’m thinking of making some hiyashi chuka and maybe some ohagi for dessert.” She looked up at Sanemi, who visibly perked up at the mention of his favorite sweet treat. His hand brushed through his hair as he murmured a soft ‘sounds good’ in response, trying to hide his intrigue. Another sigh from (Y/n), and her head tilted back. 

“You’re so difficult, Sanemi.” She lamented, earning a chuckle from the white-haired man. He looked at her, committing her exasperated expression to memory. His hand found itself atop her head as he rustled her hair, drawing a laugh from her. 

“That’s my specialty.” He said through her fit of giggles. Swiftly she swatted his hands away, stepping in front of him and pointing at his chest. Sanemi stopped short, unmoving under her playful gaze. 

“One day, mark my words, we will have dinner together, and you’ll love it.” She promised, her finger digging into his chest as she poked at him. Sanemi prepared to respond, a witty remark waiting desperately on the tip of his tongue, but when his eyes met hers, the wind Hashira froze. Any word he prepared was immediately gone as he noticed the hues of her face shift slowly. Grey’s were replaced without hesitation, giving way to the stunning shades that made up the appearance of (Y/n) (L/n). He stepped back, unable to process the colors flooding his world. Sanemi’s head snapped up, looking at the flowering trees around them. Grey and white were no more in favor of vibrant purples and greens. The sky was a shade of shimmering orange as the sun set, the remaining blue turning darker by the moment. Sanemi returned his sights to (Y/n’s) eyes. They were stunning. Sparkling and shimmering in the evening light, unblinking as they stared at him. His hands found their place on her arms, holding her gently as he stared at her. 

“Sanemi?” Her eyebrow was raised, and her voice laced with concern. Sanemi attempted to stomp out his excitement to no avail. Years of seeing nothing but white, grey, and black were suddenly thrown out of the window. It didn’t make sense, Sanemi had suffered so much, but in this moment, with her, his life was reignited with a sudden vibrancy he didn’t know he had missed. He didn’t know what to say or do. How do you explain to someone that you just regained the ability to see color after years of being colorblind? The world was silent, full of vibrant colors and an overwhelming peace Sanemi didn’t know was possible. He was at a loss for words, so he said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Have I ever told you that your eyes are striking- no, dazzling… no, that’s not enough.” Sanemi thought for a moment, “You are absolutely captivating.” 

Part 2

[annacory-blog]

Dance or die

I fell in love with another fic by @ulysses000 and then Spotify provided me with a perfect song. I had to draw them to exorcise that image from my head.

As per tradition - below is my attempt in translation. I want to make complete translation so badly (this is probably one third)! I believe this story deserves more attention. But can some kind English speaker confirm it is readable???

Love this fic specially from WoD perspective, it cultivates such delicious feeling of emptiness. And while technically, it has a happy end, you can not get rid of bitter taste of loss. Their requiem is not life, and there no way back. All is gone!

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Music stops abruptly. The dancefloor is silent, mob looks around in bewilderment. All eyes are focused on a flimsy, dirty stage. There, litten by sophites, stands brunette, cladded in a black robe. Calmly she re-adjusts many necklaces and bracelets, adorning her bosom and wrists. She checks microphone, softly tapping it with elegant finger, nonplussed by screeching sound it makes or the yells thrown her way from down the stage. For a while she silently stares in the drunk faces below, until eventually rowdy voices are reduced to quiet, unhappy mumble in the back rows.

-"What would you like to say, before the end of the world?"

-"Go fuck yourself!" - someone yells back from the crowd. Brunette’s smiles softly. Her blue eyes sparkle. This sight will be their last before headless body collapses to the floor.

View from the stage is absolutely terrific. It reminds of a late spring evening in the mansion by the sea. Bodies sway in panic, almost as grass would in a lush fields. Writings on the wall glitter with red as if they were remnants of the sunset caught in clouds. Screams - voices of seagulls. Sweet aroma that spreads across the room reminds of freshly brewed Irish coffee. Eyes locked on the bright fountains. Droplets shimmer in the air with a multitude of colour. Content. Do not argue with Mother. It is a simple rule every kid should know. Because, no matter how kind, gentle and understanding Mother is, she is not all sweets and praises. She also has an iron glove to treat the unruly child. Anyone who dares to confront her will surely drown in their own blood.

-"Now, dance or die."

Music never heard in this walls engulfs space. Stirring voice of the violin is echoed by screams, cello is perfectly complimented by heart-rending howls. Robin is not at all surprised by this harmony of cries and choir chanting. Clocks have just reached zero and this means, time for celebration has finally come. Perfect night to forge a timeless bond between the beloved child and the dear friend. Trafalgar stands on the stage, as if he always was there. Pity no one minds what is happening in the spotlight. He looks tidier than usual, ceremonial. Shirt, tie, three piece suit, shoes - all in various shades of black, all fitted perfectly. His gaze briefly stops on the couple of cadavers lying by the stage, then moves to the brunette.

-"Playing with food, aren’t we?"

-"Tarao, symbolism never was one of your strengths." - She smiles softly and shakes her head, - "Don’t try to grasp, what is beyond you. Just think of it as a cog in the well oiled machine."

Flowers on wreath along the walls move, as if troubled by the gust of wind, candle lights flicker, and blond man appears by Robin’s side. Sanji fiddles with the hem of his suit anxiously, fixes invisible wrinkles on the bouquet wrap. Trafalgar thought he put more than enough efforts to look decent tonight, however he wouldn’t stand a chance if this was a competition. Sanji's clan has been know for this aura of perfection, but even among his kin - he is special. Where the rest emmit light of the full moon, Sanji’s light would blind you as hot summer sun in zenith. He holds ten white roses - stark contract against his black suit. Pale of petals resonates with pale of the skin, highlights the gold of his hair. Trafalgar cannot possibly look away and no disciplines are to blame for this magic. Little smile slips from under his control “this is beautiful” he thinks.

-"Sorry for being late" - blond tuck one long golden lock behind the ear. Eyes drift towards the dance floor, but do not linger there. Woman chuckles softly - so innocent.

-"I was worried you made your escape."

-"Please, don’t ruin the moment" - gaze of his blue eyes seems to be glued to the wooden planks of the stage, then he looks up, eyes meet with Robin’s.

They nod, almost simultaneously, and only after Sanji musters enough of courage to look to the other man. His gaze shamelessly devours all the minute details he can grasp, it is hard to tell, if he desperately tries to avert attention from the bloodbath on the dance floor, or genuinely admires the sight. Trafalgar thinks he would be happy with both reasonings. Laws lips move soundlessly forming few words. Sanji chuckles and replies in the same manner: “you too, idiot”.

-"Ladies and Gentlemen." - maybe a dozen of eyes flicker back in response to sweet, calm voice of the woman. Short break taken from tormenting the flesh, generously soaked with blood and tears. Bodies contort with the fear for their life. - "Tonight, before the Dark Mother’s eyes, souls of two cursed sons of hers will be united. Every kindred present here shall witness the making of endless, mutual death." - her eyes run across the dance floor, reading the mood of the guests. - "the Vinculum should not be broken. Anyone who dares an attempt to weaken the bond will be hunted by The Circle of the Crone," - she looks for a moment into particularly dark corner - "as well as by our brothers and sisters from Ordo Dracul."

Her gaze shifts to the dark haired man, waiting for him to return the attention.

-"Now you can speak your vows."

Trafalgar makes a step forward, reaches to touch cold pale fingers, swallows heavily before he starts to speak.

-"I, Trafalgar D Water Law, hereby take Vinsmoke Sanji into my Requiem forever." - envelops his hand gently and carefully - "I swear before all that is holy and all that is unholy that we, tonight, seal our fates by bonds of dedication and honor. When my partner is hungry, I will bring food." - Sanji chuckles quite and bright - "When my partner sleeps, I will watch and bear witness upon waking." - He squints, eyes slit, as if targeted by bright lamp. - "When my partner is afraid, I will give comfort, and when my partner is wronged, I will have vengeance." - Cool fingers caress back side of the hand. - "This I swear on the blood, and the flame and the spirit."

In his blue eyes flashing light reflects, candles burning twice as bright with the last spoken words. Law squises cold hand, trying to reassure, give comfort, prevent flashes from setting kindred's mind aflame.

-"I, Vinsmoke Sanji, hereby take Trafalgar D Water Law into my Requiem forever." - his voice sweetest thing that ever touched ears, in both life and un-life, - "I swear before all that is holy and all that is unholy that we, tonight, seal our fates by bonds of dedication and honor." - His fleeting touch playfully skims through tan fingers, icy sensation brings sober clarity and bliss of inebriation at the same time. - "When my partner is hungry, I will bring food." - Law’s smile is barely there. - "When my partner sleeps, I will watch and bear witness upon waking. When my partner is afraid, I will give comfort," - he is the most gentle and kindhearted, so much is obvious in every syllable of every word. - "And when my partner is wronged, I will have vengeance. This I swear on the blood, and the flame and the spirit."

Sanji’s hold on the hand gets firmer as he expects another rise of firy glow to radiate the room. Little girl steps forward from behind the stage, she is silent and obedient. So small, seven years at most, her deep chocolate eyes glazed with indifference, strawberry blond hair braided in two pig tales, white gown hugs fragile figure. She stares ahead absently, woman’s hands leading her by shoulders.

-"Time to make the sacrifice." - hand outstretched to pass the ritual knife. Fingers gently support ragged blade.

Trafalgar feels how kindred’s claws pierce his skin. He might have broken few bones, if older wouldn’t strengthen his grip in response. It is heard for Sanji. This is easily seen, his eyes shift frantically, his lips stripped of smile and crooked. Even his touch feels colder than before. He never have taken the life of a sentient being. Even in death Sanji remained pure, his hands and soul unmarred by murder of mortals. Law knows other is hurting, in his eyes this child is seen as a spit image of the older sister. Trafalgar himself lost in the shattered memories for a moment. Girl reminds his late sister, who died too young too long ago. Despite that he knows he will have enough resolve to put this innocent child to rest, as she obediently waits for her own demise.

This is essential part for the completion of the ritual. Sanji knows it. This is not news, but he can’t keep his long dead heart from burning and spasming disgusted by creeping acceptance. He was the one who proposed marriage. He organized most of the celebration. He thought about it many times, about this particular moment he has to take someone’s life, scenario played in his head on repeat. But it is not something you can be prepared for. This is wedding. They are about to enter mutual un-life, their souls are to be bound for the eternal death, forfeiting innocence, killing personification of their past. Together.

His hand is shaking, but Sanji hides it, only grip on the hilt gets stronger. Her face is gentle and soft, with neat childish features, but her eyes are dead already, trapped under Mother’s hypnotic influence. Embroidery on the gown matches hair colour. She looks like a little princess. Sanji forgets to imitate the leaving, his thorax freezes mid inhale, mechanical movement abandoned. He thought he would be able to do it, to confront the past, to kill for the sake of something new, for the sake of future. But this first step is terrifying. All his being is trapped, Staring in the eyes of the Beast, unable to move. Sanji doesn’t want to lose his humanity, he is afraid to slip, to get comfortable with the idea of supremacy over humans, his own strength, his right to take life. Few months in his death, as soon as fog of newly obtained supernatural powers thinned, allowing him to think clearly again, he made a decision to give his all to keep whatever “human” have left in this damned shell of the body. Once he got accustomed with business run by The Circle of the Crone, he found plenty of friends in each and every city morgues and knew without failure when fresh carcasses were delivered to local butcheries. When ritual required freshly drawn blood he used his own vite with no second thought. And now all workarounds are closed, blocked by unmovable boulders. Only one way ahead.

-"We are both dead. It’s not going to get any worse." His whisper is scolding hot against the skin, it reminds to expand lungs, air forced in with fake inhale. Warm palm touches softly, fingers carefully wrap around the hand that holds the hilt, the touch reassures, hand redirected slightly - outward and up.

-"Beheading is better."

For once Sanji is genuinely grateful that Trafalgar never listens and reads his thoughts at any given moment. -"One." He angles cutting edge . -"Two." Skin is burning hot -"Three." Thud. Mortal dread frozen in the eyes of the dead girl.

_________________________

And song that was a catalyst for all the efforts

[rowanrabbit]

There was once a beautiful princess who was engaged to a prince from a faraway land. The match was arranged from their birth, and the princess’s whole young life was spent preparing for the marriage. But when she finally met the prince, only a week before their wedding, she found him intolerably arrogant and cruel.

“I would rather marry the devil,” she said to herself, and that night, a devil appeared at her bedroom window.

He swept into the room on a gust of air and stood there as tall as the ceiling, a great big beast with long sharp claws and teeth, wide leathery wings and a tail that whipped back and forth with feral excitement. He fell to his knees on the floor before her, and took her little hands in his.

“I’ve come to steal you away,” he said.

“To where?” demanded the princess.

He scooped her up in his enormous arms. “To my castle,” he said with his fangs at her ear.

He took her to the open window and launched back into the night, catching the air with his powerful wings and carrying the princess away.

They flew through the night for many miles, until they came to a beautiful palace carved from soft white stone, its spiraling towers gleaming with moonlight against the dark mountains. They went in through a tall tower window and landed in a bedroom decorated with dark wood and soft white silks. The devil laid the princess down on a soft bed, where she fell asleep.

The next morning she woke up alone in the beautiful room, and waited for the devil to come to her, which he did before long.

“How did you know that I wanted you last night?” she asked.

“The devil always comes when he is called,” he replied. “I’ve brought you here to make you my bride, lovely one. Will you accept?”

“I will accept,” said the princess, “but only if you court me according to the customs of my people.”

“Tell me what I must do,” said the devil.

“On the first night,” said the princess, “you must bring me a beautiful jewel.”

“It will be done,” said the devil, but just then, there came the sounds of a commotion outside. They went to the window and saw an army of a hundred men at the castle gates, led by the cruel and arrogant prince.

“He’s come to take you back,” said the devil.

“Don’t let him,” said the princess.

“Yes, my lady,” said the devil. He spread his wide wings and flew down from the tower window to meet the men at the gates. All day long, the princess watched through the window as they did battle. The human men were no match for the devil’s terrible claws and teeth. By sunset he had driven them all away. The princess was glad, but she saw that he’d had no time to collect any jewels for her.

“Where is my jewel?” she asked coyly, when the devil returned to her room.

“Here it is, beautiful one,” said the devil. In his hands was a perfect round orange that he’d plucked from a tree in the garden, with a dark green leaf still attached. He peeled it open in his great claws to reveal the segments of soft flesh, faceted and sparkling like gems. The princess was delighted, and she allowed the devil to feed her the soft sweet slices.

He returned to her the next morning, ready for his second task.

“What next, my lady?” he asked.

“On this second night,” said the princess, “you must serenade me with a beautiful song.”

“It will be done,” said the devil, but just then, there was another great commotion at the castle gates. They went to the window and saw that the prince had returned with an army of a thousand men.

“So many this time…” said the princess.

“I won’t let them take you,” the devil said to her. He leapt out the bedroom window and flew down to face the army of men. All day long, the princess sat at the window and watched the ferocious battle taking place. This time the devil summoned mighty winds full of dust and hale, and jets of fire that shot up out of the earth, and he cut through through shields and armor with fiery swords. By the end of the day, he had driven the army away yet again. The princess was very impressed, but she knew he’d had no time to tune his instruments or practice his songs.

“Where are your instruments?” she asked, when the devil returned to her room.

“Let me take you to them,” he said, and gathered her up in his arms. He leapt out of the window with her—a thing the princess was somehow getting used to—and they flew away from the castle, to a hidden gorge tucked between two mountains, where a little winding brook burbled through a meadow of soft grass spotted with trees.

The devil set the princess down on her feet in the grass.

“I see nothing,” she said.

“You must listen,” said the devil.

She listened, and she noticed that the chuckling babble of the brook was almost like a soft little song, and the crickets hidden in the grass all around were rubbing their legs together like bows on strings, like a tiny little orchestra. And when the wind blew, it whooshed deeply through the walls of the gorge, rustling the leaves of the trees, and every so often an owl hooted too. It was as lovely as music, and they stood together listening for most of the night, until the devil carried her back to the bedroom so she could sleep.

He returned to her the next morning. “What must I do next?” he said.

“This is the final night of our courting,” she said, "and you must prepare a grand feast.”

“It will be done,” said the devil. But they both listened for the telltale sounds of swords and marching feet, and heard them, and going to the window they saw that the prince had arrived at the gates once again, leading an army of ten thousand men.

“Let them take me back,” said the princess, looking over the vast army. "You'll be hurt."

“Don’t be afraid,” said the devil, “for I cannot be felled by mortal men.” He went out through the window and flew to meet the oncoming army. And as he flew he grew, twenty feet tall, fifty feet, one hundred, one thousand feet tall, until he landed on the battlefield with a thunderous crash, towering over the terrified army. Many men turned and fled right then. But the arrogant prince would not be dissuaded, and he led the remaining men against the beast. Their swords and arrows were practically useless, their horses were wild with terror, and their morale drained away like sand through a sieve.

The battle finally ended in the evening. The prince had limped away in secret, defeated for the final time. Many men lay dead, while those still living scattered into the mountains. The devil slowly returned to his original size, lying down in the dirt among the dead, unharmed but exhausted from his great transformation. The princess left the palace and went to him, and took his large clawed hand in hers.

“Forgive me, lovely one,” he said, “for I have prepared no feast for you.”

“No?” asked the princess, looking around. Hundreds of ravens had descended upon the battlefield, already tearing into the fresh corpses, and wolves and lions were emerging from the woods to join them. “I think the feast is already under way,” said the princess, “and the guests are enjoying it very much.”

The devil laughed wickedly at that. “I think you might be a bit of a devil yourself,” he said. They were married on the next evening, and they are still living happily to this day.

[shewolfofvilnius]

Wild Magic: Chapter 1

(oh my gods I actually WROTE SOMETHING)

Read on AO3 Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 Notes: Genre: Romantic Comedy, Magical Adventure, Self-discovery Words: 5100 Pairings: Gale x Lia (main, developing), Rolan x Tav (background, established) Tav is a secondary character, a female tiefling bard. Chapter 1 is mostly PG-13 (w some slight comedic nudity at the end) but will eventually become Mature

Synopsis:

"Rolan always said I put the 'can't' in 'cantrip."

Gale has time off before returning to Blackstaff Academy and has been tasked by Rolan to find the cause of a worsening series of magical oddities and maladies affecting Ramazith's Tower. Mishaps that have only increased by several orders of magnitude after Lia attempted to use a scroll to light a room only to have the scroll backfire (a rare occurrence all its' own).

In the process, it's discovered the cause of the tower's unstable and increasingly...wild...magic is far closer than it appears. In the process, Lia gains both a new dimension in the sibling rivalry with her brother Rolan, a new level of annoyance at puzzles, and yet another new wizard to both frustrate and fascinate her endlessly. She might even (gasp) learn a thing or two about magic along the way. Gale, Rolan, Cal, and Tav certainly hope she will, anyway, for all their sakes.

Full 1st chapter below the break:

A snowy breeze drifted across the Lower City district of Baldur’s Gate. A red-hued tiefling woman stood in contrast against the snowdrifts swirling about her. The cold hadn’t been a surprise, however, the snow had come on suddenly as she had been picking up some supplies she had had delivered to the Elfsong. Certain couriers were…apprehensive…about delivering to the tower, but the Elfsong? No worries.

“There wasn’t a cloud in the sky at sunset – I wasn’t in there that long. Where is all this coming from”.  Lia shivered under her cloak.  “Only a few more blocks to go.  The nerve of Rolan and Tav to just LEAVE for WEEKS like that.  What do Cal and I know about running an entire magical store? I can barely cast Dancing Lights even with a scroll AND that arsehole’s notes – damnable backfires - and Cal’s even worse.  I swear if it wasn’t for Tolna the tower would have burned to the ground two tendays ago.”  

Lia, rather cross but using her desire to enact revenge against her elder brother and his lover, the so called Hero of Baldur’s Gate, provided extra warmth against the snow and cold.  To an outside observer, the gusts of wind even appeared to be in sync to whatever the woman walking by was muttering to herself.

They said they’d be gone a tenday. Two tops. Why has it been a month?!  They were just going to visit that little lakeside near that stupid grove!

Finally arriving at the recently repaired Sorcerous Sundries – and the looming tower overhead that she and her family called home. She’d never admit it, even after a potion or under duress, but she was beginning to…ugh…miss Rolan and Tav.

Fortunately, no such admission would need to be made.  Nearing home, she noticed a flurry of lights and sound coming from the nearby emporium. Half of her suddenly became hopeful that Rolan and Tav had returned; the other half apprehensive at what the activity could be if it’s NOT them. The things they’d all been through since The Descent had made her permanently apprehensive.

Rounding the corner, she could start to feel heat against the presence of the cold and snow.  Further investigation, however, came to a half when Lia carefully rounded the corner, and came face to face…with a mind flayer.

Taking an instinctive step back and reaching for the dagger she’d just obtained from Dammon, Lia assumed a defensive posture.

“Lia.  I remember you.  Please, wait” projected the mind flayer, almost with a hint of…familiarity?!

“Prepare to die, Illithid scum!”

A hint of what could almost be called fear, if mind flayers felt fear, appeared to cross the creature’s face for a moment, before a shout rang across the shop foyer.”

“Lia! STOP! WAIT!”

Making their way through a small but raucous gathering were two all-too-familiar tieflings.  Her insufferable brother, Rolan – and Tav.

Lia’s concern was immediate.  “Do you MIND telling me what that thing is doing here, you two? Last time I saw a mind flayer, they were sweeping up corpses and using water scrolls across half the lower city! I can still occasionally see specks of silver in the cracks of tile.” Lia was NOT allowing THAT thing to harm any of her friends, her family.

“Bloody hells, Lia, that’s Karlach. Giant tiefling barbarian? One horn? Persistently on fire? Tav TOLD US the sacrifice she made to save the city. Put that weapon DOWN.”

Fear and the worst case momentarily crossed her mind. Could they have been enthralled?  She’d once heard Tav speak of the suggestive power mind flayers, of their ally known as “The Emperor”.   Tav HAD said that Karlach had become a mind flayer…”

Sheathing her dagger but keeping a defensive staff, Lia looked towards the mind flayer before her. Her gaze slowly softened, and she exhaled.  “It’s good to see you, soldier.  Sorry about the cold welcome.”

“It is fine, soldier. You are not the first person I have encountered who has had that reaction. It is not ideal, but eventually, you learn to adapt. I am so glad that Tav found you all after our fight against the Elder Brain.”

As Lia looked over the mind flayer before her, a voice boomed across the room. “Apologies for the confusion, dear sister” perked up Rolan.  Rolan, for a moment, considered teasing his sister about the weather, but decided that such levity could wait until tomorrow.

“Several of them all arrived together at the Emerald Grove, where I’ve been deep in consultation with the druids there for the past few days.  I must say they seemed far more amenable to my presence this time. The new Archdruid, Francesca, has made a stark difference towards climate of the grove.”

“Oh of course now that you’re the bleedin’ Archmage of Baldur’s Gate suddenly they have time for a tiefling” spat back a still embittered Lia, remembering many of those same druids had been all too keen to cast her, her family, and their friends and traveling companions out to face sudden death just months earlier.   Lia sighed; this was an argument for another time. 

“Speaking of climate, dear sister, I don’t recall there being any forecasts from the seers indicating snow. Curious, we didn’t even encounter any prior to arriving in the city.”

Glancing towards the window, Lia looked at intently at the flakes against the glass.  “Beats me. Went to go pick up some things I had shipped to the Elfsong, and the flurries started almost as soon as I walked out the door.”

The elder tiefling, seizing the opportunity to tease his sister, could not resist. A smug grin crept across his face. “Clearly, Baldur’s Gate is merely responding to your chilly disposition, sister.”

Letting out a glare and a low growl, Lia growled towards her brother, before snapping back. “If it was your personality out there, Baldur’s Gate would be a desert in a tenday.”

A chuckle escaped the tiefling wizard’s face.  “I missed you too, sister.”

The warm moment was broken up by a shout from a younger tiefling in a silvery flowing robe. “Tav!”

Lia ran towards her future sister-in-law with a warm embrace.  The tiefling bard had become family in recent months, though she still questioned Tav’s taste in gentlemen. Her brother? Seriously? Did she suffer head trauma while fighting The Absolute?”

“I still wish the three of you had been able to come to the party” shouted back Tav. The conversation crossed back to Lia - “From the looks of it, you brought the party back to us!”

The two women looked around the room. High Harper Jaheira!  The legendary ranger, Minsc! Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard!  She’d already come face to…face? with the now-Illithid Karlach.  She could swear she also saw a cat she didn’t recognize skulking off in the corner, although she would swear it had…wings? Did she have too much sherry earlier that evening?

“Lia? Lia? Anyone home?” Tav looked at Lia with concern.

“It’s good to see so many of these faces again.  Wouldn’t have anything we have without you and your friends.  I’m just a little overwhelmed, wasn’t expecting a party.  I’ll be back. Just gonna drop these off in the kitchen!  Missed you!”

Making a hasty exit towards the top of the storefront, she stepped into the rightmost portal at the top of the stairs. One of Rolan’s first actions had been to reconfigure the four portals in the storefront for tower access – and to ward against unauthorized entry by the use of small keystones attached to a pendant. To access the privacy of the tower, one would either need to be granted access, or be a skilled enough mage to essentially function as a magical locksmith. 

The tower’s magic had been…on edge? Lately?  The keystones had largely kept the portal system stable, but without Rolan present to maintain the magic, several weird issues had arrived. Randomly locked doors.  Rooms that would extinguish all their lights when she walked in.  Two days after Rolan and Tav had left, Lia recalled, she had tried to use a scroll to illuminate a room.  While she didn’t trust Rolan’s assessment of the ease of using it, even Cal had noted the simplicity by which the scrolls worked. 

Except instead she’d nearly been electrocuted by the damnable thing. The lights in the room lit up, sure, but so did she. She spent the better part of an hour physically illuminated, as though her own skin were a light source.  Glitches had been growing more and more common since then, although Cal SWORE that they only seemed to occur when Lia was there.  Except the locks, which seemed to have a mind of their own.

Rolan had also been quick to note that no, the ‘Knock’ spell she’d seen him use to unlock the storefront once shortly after they’d moved in – after they’d been locked out – would not open the portals.  Knowing that no one save her brothers and Tav held keystones, Lia figured she could retreat to the kitchen, regain her composure with a few moments of privacy.

As the warm glow of the kitchen portal enveloped her, a few minutes away to regroup would be perf—

Hopes of a moment or two of solitude were quickly dashed. A tall human man clad in the most ornate purple mage’s robes she ever seen sat seated at a table, glass of wine and some sort of book before him.  She remembered – this was another of Tav’s friends. Gale, that was his name. Ugh, not another wizard.

“Oh, a thousand pardons. I wasn’t aware anyone would be venturing up here. Hello! I’m Gale Dekarios, Professor of Illusory Magic at Blackstaff Academy”

The man stood to greet Lia, extending a hand outward.

“Friend of Tav’s, right? Considering this is my home, this is our kitchen, and my brother indicated that the portals were locked, I’d REALLY love an explanation as to why you’re in here.” She was clearly unimpressed at the wizard stood before her, annoyance and contempt gradually simmering warmer.

“A thousand pardons, my dear…Lia, I believe. Rolan’s sister!”

The sound of a clawed hand tapping the countertop impatiently echoed around the room.  “Yes, I know who I am.  Why are you up here? And don’t call me ‘my dear’”

“Apologies again, I meant no ill will or intent” hastily sputtered the wizard. “Your brother had indicated an issue with the tower’s lock mechanisms and asked if I might be so keen as to take a look. That’s primarily abjuration, however…. you don’t share your brother’s inclination towards the arcane, do you?” asked Gale.

“Can’t say I do.  Tried, a couple of times. Rolan said I put the ‘can’t’ in ‘cantrip’.”

Resisting the majority of a hearty laugh at the wordplay, Gale still couldn’t help a small chuckle.”

“I know we’ve been having issues with locks malfunctioning, traps going off, ever since we moved in.  It’s why the portals are tied to these things”, noted Lia, showing the pendant that normally allowed them access. 

“It’s a clever mechanism, but long term the root cause needs addressing.”

“Okay, but, why the wine and the book?”

“When I entered this room 20 minutes ago, that door -” Gale pointed towards the larder entry

“The larder locked itself AGAIN!?”

“A simple ‘Knock’ spell was easily dispelled, so right now I’m observing. And for me, I’ve found a good glass of wine and some quality literature helps pass the time. Say, now that you’ve entered the room, I wonder…” The wizard’s voice trailed off, as he raised his hand to begin manipulating the Weave, quietly muttering several things Lia couldn’t quite understand under her breath.

The door to the larder swung open. 

“Aha. You’re entering via the portal appears to have triggered the next sequence in which doors are locked.”

“But why would the portal from the shop to the kitchen – OH!” Lia’s face lit up. “I saw something like this once!  It was…”

“Please, do continue, anything could be of import or significance” responded Gale, with kindness.

Looking the wizard directly in the eyes – and after shaking loose a stray thought – Lia continued. “There was this game thing that I saw once in Elturel when we were kids. You’d push a button, but when you did all the buttons around it flipped over. You had to be real careful and try to set them off in a specific order, and flip them around a few times, but eventually if you did it right, you’d get them all pushed in!”

“The wards on the doors are tied to the same magic as the portals. The portals are forced open with the keystones, but whenever you use them, it’s flipping over other locks.” Lia’s face sunk.  She might not have been a magic user, but she’d spent hours playing that game in frustration. “It means we’re going to have to set off all the locks, we’re gonna have to see which ones cause other ones to change, and it’s going to be a long night.”

“Indeed, long month more like.  Fortunately, we’ve just hit a break period at Blackstaff and I’m CERTAIN that this magical lock system would be of great note to researchers, it truly IS a marvel.”

“If you say so.”.  Lia’s frustration was palpable. The locks had been malfunctioning for weeks, and now it turns out the only way to solve it was going to involve diligence, studious observation, and the services of another wizard. 

“Apologies if this is a sensitive topic, but as I’ve been tasked to help, there IS a matter I’d like to go back to.  Neither you nor your younger brother…. Cal, I believe…have any magical aptitude whatsoever? It’s quite unusual for a family to have a spellcaster as talented as your brother while…”

Lia exhaled. She knew where this was going, might as well get it out of the way.

“Rolan’s adopted. We do not EVER make a thing out of it in this house, Rolan is our brother, but he was adopted. Hence why he’s ‘Master’ of an entire wizard’s tower, and Cal and I…run the shop, and mostly try to not get ourselves blown up.”

“Ah.  I see.  Well…” The wizard’s voiced trailed off. The conversation had stretched on now for some time, and Lia had nearly resigned herself to wanting to rejoin the party (whatever the risk to the damnable locks) when Gale’s thought finally made its’ way to his mouth.  “Has Rolan ever, you know, shown any interest in teaching the two of you?”

“He’s managed to get Cal to a point where he can use a scroll without it backfiring or causing us to need to evacuate the shop.  Whenever he tries with me, it ends…explosively.  I tried to use a scroll for LIGHT and managed to set an entire bookshelf ON FIRE”.

It was an unpleasant memory. She’d found her brother an insufferably smug teacher.  It’d all always come so easily to Rolan. Lia’d rather just have her wits and a good sharp blade.”

“When I first met Tav, if she attempted to use her instrument as a focus, she could perform minor spells, but on her own had zero capacity to cast – in fact, it would frequently result in a backfire of wild magic not unlike what you’ve just described with the bookcases.  From what I recall, you generally prefer a bow or blade to magic, however, if you’d at least like to be able to use a scroll, I believe I can help. It may even make dealing with the locks simpler.”

“Learn magic? From you? Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t. Seriously, I have tried. Hells, I have actually, proper tried.  Rolan tries to be supportive, but…he looks so angry when I try, and it backfires like that.  It wastes scrolls, and knowing his sister is SO magically inept, I just…I don’t need more proof that I can’t do this stuff.”

Lia turned towards the portals

“Tell you what – I’m not above a friendly bit of wagering, and truly, I believe this will help all parties involve.  Tomorrow morning, I’ll be at the door of the shop an hour before you’re posted to open.  This is zero risk, all reward. You don’t even have to step out into the cold.  Since you’ve said that even scrolls cause backfires, let’s start there. If I can get you to cast one scroll – something relatively harmless like Dancing Lights – without a backfire, then you get rewarded.  I, uh, I know things. About Tav. And your brother. You could tease them both mercilessly. “

“Tempting, Wizard. But how do you know things I don’t about Rolan?”

“Wizards are notorious gossips, and your brother has rapidly developed quite the reputation.  Mostly positive, I hasten to add. But replete with a story or two that could certainly cause him minor embarrassment.”

“So, wait, I get to figure out this magic thing enough not to blow up the tower with a single scroll, I get juicy gossip about those two, and I don’t even have to leave the house…. really, wizard, what ARE you getting from this.”

Looking directly into the woman’s black and orange eyes, Gale simply grinned. “My dear, there is no greater joy than to be able to show someone who believed that they are incapable of something that they indeed possess the capability.  So many in this world would be capable of so much more if they were only of the belief that they could.  I believe you can do this.”

Lia let out a small, toothy grin.  He believed in her? Even over six months after that brain had nearly destroyed the city, Tav’s friends were continually a surprise.

“Also, I MUST admit…”

Oh, there’s always a ‘but’ or an ‘also’, Lia thought to herself.

“In all my years, I have only rarely known the use of scrolls to produce the kind of wild magic surges and backfires that you’ve described. If something IS impairing your ability to manipulate the weave in any manner, including a common scroll, that’s something worth investigating.”

Her defensiveness rose once more. She was no one’s laboratory experiment or object of pity.

“Look. I have a theory – and I RUSH to emphasize, it is only a theory – I think whatever is going on with the locks and the wards and your ”backfires” as it were are somehow related. Why and how? That is what I’d like to get to the bottom of.  If I can help a charming young lady gain some skill in the arcane arts along the way?  I would consider that a win-win situation.”

Sorry, charming? Was he?  Damnation, he was at least ten years older than her.  And a wizard.  No, no, work past it Lia. Okay, say something, this is getting awkward.

“Fine, one hour before opening. Wait – where are the rest of you staying tonight?  In the tower?”

“We were able to send ahead and rent out our old suite in the Elfsong.  There’s fewer of us now, and it’s only a few streets away.”.

Alfira and Lakrissa had mentioned this suite.  Absolutely palatial.  Alan Alyth had offered them the entire upper floor suite of the tavern during their battles against the brain.

“Snow’s piling up. If you don’t head back soon, you might be stuck the rest of the night.”

“Ah yes.  Still, I could certainly picture worse environs to be trapped in for a night.”. 

A slightly uncomfortable quiet began to hang over the room, broken only by occasional howls of wind and snow pelting the windows.

“Party’s downstairs. If you’re through ‘observing the locks’, let’s rejoin everyone else.  And you, I’ll see you promptly at six.”

Gale rose and began to head towards the portal with Lia. Once more, the warm glow began to envelop them, then, suddenly, a loud POP and a chilly breeze. 

Snow? Wait, they were outside? Why did she have a headache?

“Lia, I must admit, I did not anticipate this particular development.”

Looking around, the situation quickly became clear. 

“We’re on the bleedin’ balcony of the tower!?!” let out a shocked Lia. The pair had at least landed on firm ground, but near the uppermost floor of Ramazith’s tower, and most importantly, outdoors. 

“Right, let’s look for a door or window.”

The pair searched around, and eventually Lia found an opening to a window to the library inside.  Escaping the frigid gusts of the outdoors, Gale raised his hand, planning to illuminate the lighting inside the library.

“In for a penny, in for a pound.  Lia, do me a favor, watch me, carefully repeat every motion I make, and repeat every sound I make. Clear?”

Doing an imitation of Gale, the tiefling retorted back “Watch me, carefully repeat every motion I make, and repeat every sound I make. Clear?”

Letting loose a louder laugh this time, Gale began the process of casting Light.  Lia, relaxed in spite of their situation after the joke, following along closely. Word for word, motion for motion, she had proven a fantastic mimic for the wizard from Waterdeep.

At least in terms of her attempts to copy Gale.  The results…diverged.  Gale’s attempt effortlessly resulted in the illumination of a nearby brazier.  As did Lia’s.  “Gale! Oh, my gods, I….” Before she could complete the thought, an itch began to spread through every cell of her being. An itch that became a tickle.  Laughing, Lia suddenly found herself as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.”

“Uh, Lia…”

The levity of the moment was replaced by a different form of levity as Lia found herself nearly a meter off the ground – and rising.  Leaping, Gale managed to grab her by the hand and pull her towards him. 

Equally parts amused and concerned, Lia fleetingly found herself noting the wizard’s surprisingly firm grip.   For a bookworm, he has surprisingly strong hands here.

With her attention firmly focused on Gale, she noticed his casting once more. A glow rapidly enveloped them both – and she found herself beginning to return to the ground, slowly and gently.

Suddenly, a feeling of static and a pop of light. Gravity took hold once more, and the tiefling woman came crashing down upon the human wizard, landing atop him on the ground.

Realizing she had Gale pinned to the ground, she allowed her brain a moment, then rolled off, a sly grin mixed with intense confusion. 

“WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS WAS THAT?! Gale, not that I dont appreciate the soft landing but what happened? I did your little magic thing, it even looked like it worked, then suddenly I’m airborne.  What’s going on?”

Gale attempted to regain his composure, his mind lingering perhaps just a moment too long at having just had Lia atop him.

“Lia, excluding Rolan, does your family have ANY history of magic use whatsoever?”.

“Honestly, a lot of our folks died when we were young.  Why? I already told you, I’m not a mage. Rolan and I aren’t even related.”

“I’m aware that Rolan isn’t strictly your biological sibling. However, what I just witnessed is crystal clear, Lia.  Would you like the good news, the bad news, the worst news, or what’s behind door #4?”

“Out with it, wizard!” glared Lia, albeit slightly playfully. 

“What do you know of magic users known as ‘sorcerers’?”

“I’ve heard Rolan say things. Honestly, I think he was a little jealous. They’re the ones that are just born with magic, right? No studying or…. wait, what are you saying?”  Lia’s confused statement, however, was betrayed by a knowing look upon her face.

“There exists a category of sorcerers known as ‘Wild Magic’ sorcerers. The source of their magic tends to be the most unpredictable. Sometimes it’s by pure happenstance of birth.  Others it’s by unintentional magic exposure. Some have gained their talents by interactions with demons, or with the fey.  Still others went to their deaths believing that their powers had simply been a trick of the Gods.”

“Out with it.”

“Lia, what I’ve witnessed now twice in just the last half hour with you is indisputable. Those are the tell-tale wild magic surges of a sorcerer.  Why it started with scrolls, I’m not sure – perhaps it’s particularly volatile magic, perhaps there was some sort of ward on one of the scrolls that you tried to use that caused its’ magic to backflow into you. But ONLY a wild magic sorcerer could have caused what you just experienced when you attempted to light that brazier.   You’re a sorcerer, Lia.”

The intense emotion of the situation brought forth a familiar tingle. Her eyes shot open with alarm.

“Control it, Lia.  With study, you can learn to master these – “

Gale’s words were all too late. Another flash and crackle of electricity filled the room, along with a light layer of smoke. 

“Lia, answer me please, are you okay?”

As the smoke cleared, the first things visible were a pile of clothes of the ground.

Eyes opening wide, Gale could only let out a shocked “Uh oh.” as he prepared a sending spell and tried to think of what counterspell would be proper for this.

---

Downstairs, the magical lights of the shop flickered for a third time.  Grand Duke Wyll was the first person to notice “Look, everyone, the snow’s stopped.”

“Finally. The weather seers hadn’t said anything about snow” noted Rolan, interrupted by the large man (and mighty hamster) near him. “Clearly, they did not seer this coming” chuckled Minsc. 

“Hey, has anyone seen Lia? She took a bundle to the kitchen an hour ago, and she’s not back yet.  Kitchen portal’s not working either!” shouted Cal across the room. 

“The magic in this tower HAS been rather…eccentric, dating back to even before we’d left.  I had asked Gale to look at it.”  Rolan looked concerned towards Tav. 

Suddenly, Tav heard a familiar ping near the back of her head.  A sending spell?  From Gale.

“Tav. Come quickly to the library.  Bring Rolan. It’s Lia. Portals acting weird. Wild magic”

The hero of Baldur’s Gate wasted no time, grabbing her betrothed and heading towards the library portal. “It’s Gale, he’s with Lia.  They’re in the library, and it sounds like trouble.” 

“Why would my sister be in the library? Why would she be in the library with Gale? He’d only gone to the kit- “

Remembering that Lia had taken the now non-functional kitchen portal herself, they exchanged a confused glance.

“Gale said something else.  Said that the portals are weird and indicated “wild magic.”. 

“That is most certainly bizarre, my love.  How would the wild magic of a sorcerer affect the portal system?  What does it have to do with Gale and Lia?”

“No clue.  Wyll, Jaheira,“ Tav yelled across the room, “Rolan and I are going to the library. Something’s not right. If we’re not back or you don’t get a sending spell from me in fifteen minutes, get Cal’s keystone and come directly to the library. Portals are acting weird, though, so be prepared for anything. Keystone works for up to two people.”

Wyll nodded, almost eager at the chance for some semblance of actual adventure. Minsc appeared slightly saddened to not be invited to whatever was about to go to down town.  The others continued to focus amongst themselves?

“Ready, my love?” asked Rolan to Tav

“Ready”

The glow of the portal engulfed them quickly.  Aside from a slight draft, and a marginally smoky smell, moments later, they found themselves in the library. Gale’s hand was aglow and raised over his head.  In front of Gale stood a pile of clothes and a medium sized sheep, bleating in a vague panic.

“Gale what is-“

“QUIET. NOW.” shot back the wizard, grateful at their presence but annoyed at the interruption.

A curious pairing of scents, lilies and root vegetables, began to waft over the room. Rolan quickly found himself wondering Why in all the nine hells is Gale reversing a poly…OH. OH NO

A bright flash and more smoke engulfed the room.  Before Gale – and at a distance Tav and Rolan – once more stood Lia, now in the unfortunately compromised position of being “on all fours” and, embarrassingly, naked as the day she was born.

“Oh, oh thank the Gods, thank you Gale.  That was…I am getting rid of ALL of the wool in my wardrobe tomorrow.” Gale rapidly averted his gaze as a passing thought tried to remain in his mind. Rolan looked ready to fire a spell of Blight in his direction.

As Tav went over towards Lia in order to help her future sister-in-law with her outfit and to offer comfort, Rolan angrily grabbed Gale, pulling him towards an alcove on the site. 

“Gale Dekarios. Explain, now! WHY WAS MY SISTER A SHEEP? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

“Rolan, I promise, you and Tav will get a full recap in the morning.  What we both need now is to find someplace to rest, and safely.  Lia is safe, Rolan, she – “ “SHEEP. GALE, WHY WAS MY SISTER A SHEEP. WHY WAS MY SISTER NUDE AND IN THE LIBRARY WITH YOU?”

“Brother I’m fine.” Yelled Lia across the room.

“I just don’t understand WHAT IS…”

What had been an anger and confusion filled stream of consciousness set of reactions slowly gave way to Rolan’s more analytical nature.

Sheep.  Magical backfires. The angry sending spell I got from Tolna.

Rolan’s jaw started to hang open as his pupils opened so wide his eyes began to form an eclipse.

“You can’t possibly…no…she’s nor.”

With an almost giggle, a now re-clothed Lia make her way over towards her brother and Gale.  “Looks like you’re not the only mage in the family now, brother”

“Oh gods, she’s not.”

“Rolan, as senior instructor of Illusion at Blackstaff Academy, it is my solemn duty to inform you that your sister, Lia, is in fact a sorcerer. Potentially one of some moderate degree of power, if albeit near-zero control without the proper tutelage”. 

“Rolan, this is great. ANOTHER mage in the family!” noted Tav, excitedly.  Her music had provided Tav herself with a conduit to the Weave, while Rolan’s skills as a wizard were known.  Now, here was Lia – and she was manifesting magic?!  The possibilities for taunting Rolan are delightful now.

Sharing a glance at each other then towards Rolan and Gale, Lia and Tav began to laugh.

“Damnation.” grimaced Rolan.  “Still, if you can learn some measure of control”, began Rolan with a mix of pride and hesitation, “If you can learn some manner of control, perhaps you may yet accomplish great things.”

“I had offered your sister a magic lesson in the morning. I would actually still like to follow through with that, if it’s alright with you Lia?”

“You know what?” Lia glanced at the two wizards with a mix of curiosity, playfulness, and perhaps just a pinch of spite?  “I’d like that. I think I could learn a lot from you, Gale Dekarios.”

This time the glances were shared between Rolan and Tav.  Uh oh.