#but just imagine saving what you thought was just a helpless creature

[silver-cyn]

A fic for the TGCF discord Valentine prompt - as you wish.

Always In My Heart

Read it here on A03.

Xie Lian loved him. 

The thought still struck Hua Cheng in a way he could never quite put into words. Like a blade aimed at his heart only for a kiss to land on his lips instead.

His expression darkened when he remembered how Xie Lian had come to harm on his birthday last year and suffered literal heart pain over him.

(don’t think about the state preceptor's divination, don’t think about Xie Lian going against all of heaven to save him as a child)

Instead, Hua Cheng remembered: 

“I’m very good at bearing pain. If you’re by my side, I can stand it. If you’re gone…it will be unbearable…”

Before those words, Hua Cheng had been cursing his uselessness all over again to protect his beloved. All his power, all his strength and still he’d been helpless. Just like during the battle with the emperor, just like in the fucking temple…

Breathe San Lang. 

Xie Lian’s comforting words grounded him as they always did even in his absence. Hua Cheng took a deep breath, unclenched his fist, and blinked dispassionately at the crescent moons left on his skin. He shook his hand, and they disappeared as if he’d painted over them anew.

The point was, Xie Lian’s words had solidified like a punch to the gut how much he loved Hua Cheng. It was incredible, unbelievable and more than anything Hua Cheng had ever imagined. Every night he thanked his god for his blessings. One might think he meant their heated moments of intimacy where he worshipped Xie Lian’s body all night long. And while that was true, it also included him actually visiting his god's temple to express his gratitude.

Xie Lian knew him to be sincere, but when he'd heard Hua Cheng's actual prayers and his reasons, his face had lit up with overwhelming affection as he tackled him to the ground in a hug. 

Yet really, how could Hua Cheng not do so knowing he was the most blessed creature on this wretched planet to have the love of his beloved after so many centuries?

Every day was a joy, a blessing, a new discovery, another adventure, another moment in their daily life that he cherished and held close to his dead, unbeating heart.

So yes, Hua Cheng was in the honeymoon phase of his relationship with Xie Lian and probably always would be.

With all that said, was it any wonder that he’d initially missed something was off with his beloved?

Hua Cheng blinked, allowing his silver butterflies to reveal Xie Lian’s spiritual power written into the very threads of his clothing. The simple yet heartfelt prayers glowed briefly white beneath his eyes. 

Keep him safe.

Bring him back to me.

Let no harm befall him.

Sweet. Considerate. Nothing to worry about on its own. In fact, Hua Cheng had done the very same for Xie Lian’s robes. (He remembered Xie Lian laughing at Hua Cheng's atrocious handwriting even as he'd peppered kisses over every inch of his face)

But there was more.

“Good to see you, Your Highness. Hua Chengzhu really pulled through for me in a pinch. He’s a good friend,” Pei Ming slapped Hua Cheng’s shoulder, one hundred percent ignoring Hua Cheng’s glare.

“We’re not friends. I did you a favor. You owe me now. That’s all,” Hua Cheng shrugged off his arm and very intentionally moved to Xie Lian’s side. 

“Isn’t that how all good friendships start?” Pei Ming said with a grin.

Xie Lian smiled with bemusement and a clear question at Hua Cheng.

“Just some boring business with Heavenly officials not competent enough to do their jobs without my help,” Hua Cheng said with a pointed look at Pei Ming. 

“Well, it’s not like I can pretend to be ghost bait myself, can I? I —”

“What did you say?” 

The quick shift in tone was so abrupt, it stopped Pei Ming’s words in their tracks. Hua Cheng had been distracted by Xie Lian’s loveliness and had started thinking of ways to whisk him away early from heavenly business. Yet even he was pulled from his musings at the tone of his voice. 

“Your Highness, it was truly nothing. Just a pesky demon with a particular taste for —”

“Ghosts? And you decided that putting my husband in danger was your best option?”

Pei Ming closed his mouth with an audible click. Xie Lian was completely serious, and the steel in his voice made Pei Ming's fingers spasm. He just barely checked the urge to reach for his sword. 

“Your Highness, your Ghost King’s power is near unsurpassed. There was never any danger,” Pei Ming tried to appease to no avail. 

“Oh? If that’s the case, please use yourself to your full capabilities next time before burdening San Lang with your problems. Is that clear?”

Pei Ming nodded automatically. He looked to Hua Cheng but the Ghost King paid him no mind. His attention was solely focused on Xie Lian.

“It won’t happen again, Your Highness,” Pei Ming said with a quick bow and an even quicker exit.

Once Pei Ming was well out of sight, Hua Cheng pulled Xie Lian closer and whispered in his ear about how beautiful he’d looked telling Pei Ming off and how much Hua Cheng wanted to carry him home right now and…

“San Lang!” Xie Lian blushed and buried his face in his hands.

 

But he hadn’t said no. In fact, he’d swept Hua Cheng off his feet and carried him home after rolling the dice. 

Hua Cheng set the robes aside and wandered thoughtfully around the room. His hands brushed the rumpled red sheets of their bed, picked up the tossed aside scroll and calligraphy brush from the floor.

Xie Lian’s calligraphy stared up at him, beautiful as ever, yet with a distinctly vivid it that sent an unconscious shiver down his spine. The aggressive strokes reminded him of another incident.

“San Lang! Watch out!” Xie Lian dropped in front of Hua Cheng and slammed his fist directly into the demon. The combined strength and spiritual power behind it obliterated the enemy completely leaving no trace of it behind except for its last dying scream.

Hua Cheng stared with one raised eyebrow at Xie Lian who turned to him with worry on his face.

“San Lang, are you okay?" He questioned, taking Hua Cheng’s hand to check it thoroughly. Seeing no injuries there, he glided his hands over his arms, his torso while his eyes inspected lower. 

“Gege, I’m fine,” Hua Cheng tried to reassure him but Xie Lian spun him around to check his backside.

After confirming he actually was all right, Xie Lian finally relaxed.

“Good, I’m glad. Sorry to drop in like that. It was sneaking up on you.”

A blatant lie that Hua Cheng didn’t call him out on, too charmed and awed by Xie Lian effectively ending the demon’s life in one punch.

“Actually gege, I think I have some pain here,” Hua Cheng said. Xie Lian’s eyes briefly flashed with fear, but relief and fond exasperation replaced it when he saw Hua Cheng pointing at his lips.

“Ah, sorry San Lang.  I think I have something that can help,” Xie Lian said. No sooner had the words left his mouth then he slotted their mouths together for a kiss. 

 

It was easy to get lost in their kiss. It was easy to block all the grumbling from his Highness' mouthy servants. Yet, in the quiet of their bedroom now, he recalled that Xie Lian's arms, locked around him with immovable strength and equal tenderness, had trembled just the slightest. 

Something was troubling Xie Lian. 

 

***

Something was troubling Xie Lian.

They had just finished sparring in the spacious armory when suddenly Xie Lian let out a sound of distress. 

“Your Highness, what’s wrong?” Feng Xin asked. He turned to Xie Lian after setting his borrowed weapon aside.

“My necklace. I can’t find it,” Xie Lian patted his neck frantically, face bloodless and eyes wide as his fingers came up empty no matter how often he checked his robes and bandages. 

“The one with the ring on the end? Did you take it off before sparring with us?” Mu Qing asked. His sharp eyes were already searching the room for it.

“No, no. I never take it off,” Xie Lian said. He tossed his weapon carelessly aside to frantically search the nearby area.

“Feng Xin, Mu Qing. Please help me find it. It’s a precious gift from San Lang,” Xie Lian said. 

That guy , Mu Qing thought in annoyance, but seeing Xie Lian so unusually upset gave him pause and the words went no further than his mind.  

Instead, Mu Qing exchanged a look with Feng Xin and they nodded at each other. Feng Xin went to check the display of weapons and Mu Qing the other areas of the room Xie Lian had yet to search.

Time passed and still there was no sign of it.

“Your Highness, let’s rest for a moment before we continue our search,” Feng Xin said, patting Xie Lian’s shoulder.

“No, no, I can’t. I have to find it,” Xie Lian said, not even bothering to look up. 

“We’ve spent nearly an incense time looking for it. I have other business to attend to in a few hours that still need preparation. Look, if your little trinket is in here, it’s not going anywhere. The worst case scenario if you can't find it will be asking Hua Cheng to buy you a new one,” Mu Qing said, crossing his arms. 

“I know it's difficult for you to remember sometimes, but let me remind you there are some things money can’t replace,” Xie Lian said coldly.

As soon as the words were said, he gasped and covered his mouth. Mu Qing visibly flinched and Feng Xin’s shocked gaze flitted between the two.

“Mu Qing, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Xie Lian said, reaching a hand out to his friend. Mu Qing sidestepped him, rolled his shoulders and shrugged it off. 

“Yes you did, but forget it. I’ve said shittier stuff about you before,” Mu Qing said.

“That doesn’t make it okay," Xie Lian said softly. He looked away for a moment, then, turning back to them, he squared his shoulders and gave a small bow.

"Your Highness!" They exclaimed. Feng Xin pulled him up at once, and it was only because he was closer that Mu Qing stopped from doing the same. 

"Please forgive my short temper just now. I truly appreciate the help you provided. My friends, don't trouble yourself anymore over this. If you can, please bear with me a little more, and see yourselves out. I really must find that necklace," Xie Lian said. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, digging his nails into his skin to keep outright panic from overtaking him.

"Xie Lian, what's this really about?" Mu Qing demanded, taking a step closer to him. 

Xie Lian dug his nails deeper into his skin. “I just...I just can’t lose him again.” 

Now that caught Mu Qing’s attention. “What do you mean? Who?”

“San Lang of course. That ring…it’s…”

And both Feng Xin's and Mu Qing’s eyes widened at Xie Lian’s next words.

“How could you be so stupid to lose track of it?” Mu Qing said in disbelief.

"I know. Believe me, I know!"

"Fucking hell! Xie Lian! You need to secure that lock with extra spiritual power. Unbelievable!"

"I said I know, all right! Gods, after everything San Lang and I have been through, how could I --"

“Wait, wait, wait!" Feng Xin interjected.

Both men looked at him.

"Can’t we just ask Crimson Rain to find it? The ring is most likely in this room still. There's no reason he can't find it, right?" Feng Xin pointed out.

“Oh," Xie Lian said, face flushing slightly. He cleared his throat, and his two friends quickly looked away when he scrubbed his eyes and pressed two fingers to his temple.

"San Lang?"

"Why are you saying his name aloud?" Mu Qing grumbled.

"Will you shut up!?!" Feng Xin said, shoving Mu Qing's shoulder. 

***

The ring was found, and Xie Lian’s tension immediately eased once he slipped it around his neck again. He kissed the ring, kissed Hua Cheng, hugged him tightly and then repeated the process all over again much to his friends' dismay. 

Normally Hua Cheng would've basked in delight, but all he felt was concern when he saw Xie Lian's red eyes, pale face and held his trembling body close to his own. 

"Gege, are you --" 

“I'm fine, San Lang! Really!" Xie Lian smiled a far too wide smile at Hua Cheng, eyes closed in near crescent moons. 

"Mu Qing, come with me, please? There’s something I want to get from the kitchen for you before you leave,” Xie Lian said finally releasing Hua Cheng. He stepped over to Mu Qing’s side, not in the least deterred by the look of disgust on Mu Qing’s face.

“What the hell?!? I thought you weren’t mad at me anymore.”

Xie Lian laughed and waved his hands in front of his face.

“I’m not, I’m not. It’s a treat Hua Cheng’s staff made for us today. I think you’ll find it delightful. Take some back for Feng Xin too. Come on.”

Hua Cheng’s eyes followed after the two men. 

“This is because of my ashes?” Hua Cheng asked once the two other men were out of earshot.

Feng Xin nodded awkwardly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck as he filled Hua Cheng in on the details. 

“What's wrong with him?” Feng Xin asked bluntly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with his Highness,” Hua Cheng said, his tone scathing. Feng Xin's face flushed red, but he didn't back down.

“Don’t be stupid. You know what I mean, and you know you’re not the only one who cares about His Highness. We’re worried,” Feng Xin said, slashing his hand in front of him in frustration.

Hua Cheng turned just enough for Feng Xin to see his profile which, with the eyepatch covering his eye, did an effective job of making his expression even more unreadable. 

“I have some speculations,” Hua Cheng said finally. “And no, I won’t share them. It’s none of your business.” 

Feng Xin was about to open his mouth when Hua Cheng continued.

“Unless he calls for you sooner, come back in three days to see him yourself,” Hua Cheng said and then turned to follow after Xie Lian.  Feng Xin's mouth dropped open, but thankfully Hua Cheng didn't look back. This gave Feng Xin privacy to process that Heaven’s most terrifying threat had, of his own accord, invited them back to his home. 

***

In all the centuries that had passed, Xie Lian had never forgotten the smiling white mask belonging to that faithful black clad youth. The one who’d followed him into the depths of despair and death, and dirtied his hands to fulfil Xie Lian's wish for vengeance. 

The one who’d known him even when he hadn't known himself and at Xie Lian’s lowest moment offered kindness in the form of a small, white flower. 

His heart ached to remember how he’d treated such comfort, stomping that fragile flower into the ground and everything it reminded him of at the time. 

And yet that wasn't the worst of it. 

Xie Lian’s heart pounded in his chest at the sight of that hateful calamity gently caressing the side of Wu Ming’s mask. Nausea rumbled in his stomach and clawed at his throat to see those same fingers tilt Wu Ming's neck to the side, exposing the vulnerable flesh to the blade’s edge in a tender promise of violence.

“Please,” Xie Lian begged. “Don’t hurt him.”

He strained with his all his might to break the chains binding his arms and legs, but it was futile. 

“You said it yourself, Your Highness. He’s already dead.”  That half crying, half-smiling mask turned to address Wu Ming. “Isn’t that right?”

Wu Ming nodded.

Xie Lian couldn't deny his words, he could only repeat his plea.

“Don’t hurt him.”

“It’s all right, your Highness." Dear Wu Ming this time. "To die for you is –”

The sound of the blade slicing through flesh sent visceral pain through Xie Lian's body. It was nothing though compared to the deafening wail of his breaking heart.

“You killed him!”

Finally, that madman was within reach. Xie Lian picked him up by the throat, knocking the other’s mask off in the struggle. When finally the other's face was revealed, it wasn't the face of the past emperor…

 

…but his own. 

“No, Your Highness. We killed him!”

Xie Lian woke up with a gasp.

***

Xie Lian was known by many names.

The fallen prince of Xianle.

The laughingstock of the heavens.

The god of misfortune.

Yet tonight, he was only what he ever truly was – a man, painfully human, weeping in the arms of his beloved over a wrath ghost without a name who made the ultimate sacrifice for him. 

It was a day Xie Lian had vowed never to forget, and never had until that youth returned to him a man, and gave him the most precious gift Xie Lian had ever received.

Heart filled with all his love for Hua Cheng, happiness clinging to every part of him at just being in his presence, let alone being allowed to share a life with him...

…was it any wonder he’d forgotten the day that Wu Ming had died until the day had already passed? Yet some part of him must have remembered and tried to…wanted to…

When Xie Lian's tears eventually dried up, and he'd shared all the words that could be said, Xie Lian sniffled and slumped fully against Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng tucked Xie Lian as close to him as possible and pulled the blankets over them. Xie Lian eventually fell back asleep wrapped in Hua Cheng's unnatural warmth, heart soothed by every whispered declaration of love that fell from his lips.

***

“San Lang, I’ve caused so much trouble these past few days. I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said. The entire day had been spent with Hua Cheng by his side, pampering and spoiling him much to Xie Lian’s pleasure and Hua Cheng’s delight.

Now evening had come, and they were strolling through the outside corridors of Paradise Manor, enjoying the warm lantern lights and rippling sounds of the waters below the pagoda. In the distance, the raucous noise of Ghost City’s residents made for a warm ambiance that did more to make Xie Lian feel at home than the Heavenly officials ever had. 

“Never gege. You were hurting. I’m only sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner,” Hua Cheng responded, kissing the top of Xie Lian’s head. “As for the others: General Pei won’t hold it against you. And didn’t you already make amends with the Sweeping General?”

At Xie Lian’s thoughtful nod, Hua Cheng hugged him close. Once they pulled apart, they continued walking, Xie Lian twining their fingers together.

“San Lang? I have a request,” Xie Lian said breaking the silence once more. 

“Anything," Hua Cheng said without hesitation, pressing a kiss to their joined hands. 

“Hear me out first," Xie Lian said smiling softly. "I want you to carve another statue of us, but this time...I want it to be from our days together as the White Clothed Calamity and Wu Ming.”

Hua Cheng stopped them at his words and turned to face Xie Lian. Hua Cheng tucked a strand of hair behind Xie Lian's ear, his dark eye watching him carefully.

“Gege, I would do anything for you, but I hate to see you hurt. Why do you want to be reminded of the most painful time of your life?" 

Hua Cheng's concern curled around Xie Lian's aching heart like the softest petals embracing a butterfly. 

“There is pain in remembering, yes, and maybe a small part of me wants that," Xie Lian admitted. "I never want to forget the weight of my past actions, and the price paid for them." 

Sensing Hua Cheng's incoming protest, Xie Lian gently placed a finger over his lips 

"But more than that, so so much more than that, are my feelings of gratitude and awe that my most devoted believer never lost faith in me. You never gave up on me, and even saved me,” Xie Lian said and his smile was so sweet and tender it was a wonder Hua Cheng’s dead heart didn’t come back to life.

“You saved yourself, Your Highness, just like I knew you would. You only needed the opportunity to try again,” Hua Cheng embraced him and Xie Lian clung to him.

“And you gave it to me. I don’t ever want to forget that. Please San Lang,” Xie Lian said staring up at Hua Cheng. "Will you help me honor my most devoted believer?"

And really, what else could Hua Cheng say to that except: 

“As you wish.” 

[gt-squirrel]

That tiny lil octopus-mer you saved from being stranded in a tide pool and released back into the ocean? Remember them?

Whelp, flash forward a couple years later, you’re at that same beach you found the lil mer at. One problem though, that lil octopus mer is now the size of a massive kraken, looming over you with a happy look in their eye.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Hi I don’t know the difference between imagine or hcs ; I was wondering can I hear your thoughts on yandere monkey king x reader who’s the white bone lady please ; love to hear your thoughts (sorry if my English isn’t good 💗)

My thoughts, uh?

My thoughts... well, my thoughts are...

Before being the Lady Bone Demon, Reader was a mere, small, iey kind of spirit, like a fairy. She wasn't anything big, just a small creature that lived in the cold, turned to water during the hotter seasons, and waited until the cold came back and snow gave her her true form.

My thought is that she once met a small monkey, an intelligent one, and they became friends. 

Every winter, he liked to pass it with her, playing and learning about the fun and the joy that even winter can bring. And he learned the pain that spring brings and the longing for her return in summer.

Years pass, and he changes. He became a dangerous demon, his name now Sun Wukong, and he had learned a new trick: how to make an ice spirit never wither.

My thoughts are that, at first, you found it quite nice to enjoy the hotter season, the flowers of spring, the fruits of the summer, and the fire-colored leaves of autumn, but as time passed, you wondered how long this thing would last... You miss the waters, your sisters, and your brothers... You would like to go back.

"Back?" He snarls, "Don't you like my gift?! Is this how you treat me?! YOUR KING?!"

But he wasn't your king, and you didn't like his way of acting.

And he didn't like your defiance, so he hurt you badly.

He cured you, using water and ice, but you remembered... and you started to wonder what was happening with him. Since when did he want to control you and keep you close to him? Since when have his eyes become dark? Since when did the small and friendly monkey become the demon that declared to love you like life itself?

You didn't want to give in; you were proud enough to not fall for threats and aggression. No matter any time he hurt you and rebuilt you, you didn't lose a single grain of hope to being free.

So, when the diamond ring came to capture him, you secretly asked for your father, the cold wind of the north, to guide it against him. Your father responded, and not only him.

When the celestials founded you, the ice fairy that the great Sage cherished as his own Queen, they found someone that was overjoyed by his fall and asked nothing but for your freedom!

But the damage was too deep now. He had fed you those damn pills and peaches; now not even the sacred fire could melt you... You felt helpless, near to giving up on your hope...

But the Mother of the West gave you another chance.

"There's a mountain, not far from the gate of the west," she spoke. "Go there and act in my name. Protect people, help them, and act as a guardian. Once your work is done, you'll find your immortality revoked."

History is written by the winners. Your name wasn't about death and bones; it was one about keeping company men in their last moment, helping them pass the threshold, and being there when the Black and White Impermanence came. You were there, guiding children in their home when they were lost, fending them from the dangers of the night. You were there to take away the tears from the face of the young lady.

You saved women that wanted to take away their lives; you were a saint.

Your name was Lady of White Reverance.

But he had to come back, did he? He had to meet your gaze when you kindly offered to help his master by bringing him food and water, remembering then all the years of torture, of imprisonment, and of seclusion by him. And he was fast to attack you, claiming you were a demon that wanted to eat his master. a lie, a dirty lie; he even tried to take you away again, bring you back to Mount Huaguo, promising to finish his journey and come back for you, to his wife. But you refused, and that angered him again.

Only this time, you were strong enough to fend him off.

In the story, he had killed you, but the truth was that you got away, and he is still alive, now searching for you.

[muffinsin]

Cassandra dimitrescu with child reader soon 👀?

Wasn’t sure if you were referring to a post, so I’ll refer to this one, of a child reader being found by the sisters :)! Each part’s separate, Bela’s part can be found here🙌

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

She laughs as she takes off in her swarm, her entire body shaking with excitement, her fingers twitching as her sickle is summoned and grasped tightly

It’s been forever since she has been able to hunt outside!

It’s like the huntress’s senses are overflowing

She feels the wind and sun, the leaves and branches she pushes up against as she swarms past them

The chirps of birds and deer, the stomps of hooves and paws, the growls of bears and wolves retreating at her familiar laughter

Winter and the early spring has been torture to the brunette! How dare the weather deny her the hunt?!

Alas, she is back, having easily convinced Alcina by using the very puppy -eyed look she had practiced every day she spent inside

She wonders; what will today bring?

A deer? Juicy and thick, warm and full of boiling blood that will fill her and her family’s belly?

Tempting. She knows Daniela and Bela do so very much love a good deer…

Alas, she feels like challenging herself again, after having only the help to chase after and terrorise for so long

Speaking of mortals, perhaps she will find yet another foolish villager out in the woods?

Often, one or two hunters don’t quite get the memo, don’t quite understand the danger of the forest when the temperatures rise

They often make for an exciting hunt due to their weapons, and the rare loot they often carry with them make them an interesting catch

She ponders on this for a moment

Perhaps, she will even get lucky and find an outsider! She wonders; will she be able to squeeze information about the outside out of them? Take their precious things and analyse them?

Perhaps, she will get lucky

But a human catch is hardly impressive to her

Dull creatures they are to her, fearful and cocky, stupid and cruel. No more than a roach underneath her shoe

Perhaps a wolf, then?

She thinks this through, for a moment

Yes, what wonderful prey indeed. But..so very cute, too

No wolf would feel her eagerness today, she decides

But perhaps a bear! She lets out a laugh in anticipation. Yes! A bear will do nicely! The largest and most aggressive she can find!

As she races through the trees, thoughts of her prey already fill her head

The blood, the fight, the roars and her laughter. Her mother’s praise upon seeing such a find when Cassandra will bring it home, Bela and Daniela’s barely contained excitement at the gift their sister brought home

She already sees her target; a cave, a nest, when a new sound has her head jerk to the side

A cry, a human one. A child’s cry

Growling a little under her breath, she abandons her position at the cave. Curiosity takes over instead

And so she follows the cries, until she is set perfectly on a tree branch

Below, a child of no more than eight years, perhaps. She has never been good at recognising one’s age, really, and is not exactly around children often

In front of the child is a lycan, imposing in its side, surely a pack leader. Only does it seem to be lacking its pack

She watches for a moment as the beast preys towards the small thing. Certainly, you are helpless

For a moment, she feels a pang of instinct within her. Instinct to save, to look after you

With a frown, she shoves these feelings down. No, she settles on. Such feelings are reserved to her family only

She doesn’t dare imagine what would be if the little, helpless child was her baby sister instead, only younger and defenseless

Certainly, she would have died protecting Daniela even at a young age!

And yet…

Just as she is about to turn around, she notices a scent lingering on you

Her scent

While the rational part of her knows this is only because you must have wandered into her territory while she was stuck inside the castle, she can’t bring herself to care

By the means of her most primal instincts, you are hers

She snarls as she lunges from the tree, her sickle digging instantly into the lycan’s thick head

She laughs in delight at its howls and shrieks, its broken attempts of howling and notifying its lost pack

Attempting to swipe at her, the beast is only met with another painful swipe of the sickle

Cassandra laughs. The silly thing reminds her of the times Daniela and her would sneak out to play with the Lycans!

Even then, they were no match for them

She fights fast and enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement, electricity running through her body

Her flies buzz with excitement by the time the lycan falls at last, its ugly head buried in the ground, it’s fur painted a deep shade of red

When she turns, Cassandra finds the little human hasn’t moved at all

Instead, you have watched her, with little, wide eyes and parted lips

She’s about to speak when you beat her to it

“Mama!”, you shout nearly instantly, a gleeful smile taking over your previously worried face

She gasps in shock as you throw yourself against her, the weight of your little body nothing she can’t handle. She feels you cling to her front, your arms locked around her

Curious, she tilts her head

Who are you?

Again, her mind provides her an easy answer; you are hers. You smell of her

She watches your little head tilt up, your eyes welling with tears, now. You point towards the lycan on the floor, then expectantly raise your arms

She doesn’t quite understand at first. Again, she allows instinct to take over

In a single swoop you are scooped into her arms, your mama’s golden eyes set upon you

“Monster, Mama”, you whisper, and she watches as your eyes trail off to the lycan again

A part of her wants to scoff. Wants to tell you no, child. She is the monster you ought to be scared of

Instead, she stands frozen, even a little awkwardly. She doesn’t quite know what to do with you

“Mama”, you keep whispering quietly, your eyes becoming heavier and heavier. She jumps when a little hand closes around a strand of her hair, but finds; you don’t tug, nor hurt her

You’re a gentle little thing, and trust her entirely, it seems

You watch as she grabs the monster by its scruff and instantly whine again

Cassandra watches and feels as your little body seems to become even smaller in her arms, so that you are curled up against her chest, your face hidden against her dress

She tsks a little and whistles quietly for your attention. A triumphant smile appears on her face when she gets it instantly, one you happily copy

Despite herself, she smiles at the sight

“It’s dead, gone. It can’t hurt us anymore”, she reassures

Before thinking it through, she slams the thing against a nearby rock, as though to show it is truly dead and limp

Instantly, she anticipates the cries of terror and the fear, the thumping of little firsts against her in a desperate attempt to escape. The pleas to leave and let the child live, as so many children have screamed before. She remembers bitterly; she is not meant to take care of a child. She can’t. It is not in her nature, as her brutality shows

But, none of this happens

Instead you giggle happily, your little hand clasping onto the collar of her dress

She can’t help but giggle with you as her prey hangs limply and your little body shakes with laughter

“I think…, I’ll keep you”, she decides

“Mama!”, you cheer only, as though agreeing with her. She smiles at the thought

Perhaps, she is not unfit. She supposes it is to be shown

For a good while you manage to keep your eyes open, eager to look around as she walks and swarms home

She notes, the blood clinging to her skin and clothing doesn’t seem to bother you

And truthfully? She finds you look utterly adorable with your cheek tainted a shade of red after having it pressed against her bloodied cleavage for a good amount of time

It seems, despite the blood, her chest serves you as a good pillow

She smiles when soon your hands, cheek, legs and the little, dirtied brown shirt and pants are all stained red. You truly look like hers, now

Her child, her offspring, her mind supplies, but she decides to ignore such a thought for the time being

For the remaining walk you sleep peacefully, your little body resting calmly against her

She smiles a little at the view, and at your little hands clutching the sickle protectively

You had insisted, you wanted to help your mommy carry something

Her heart swells again, realizing that despite your fear of the Lycans, you have no qualms about blood or weapons, it seems

Perhaps, she is not unfit…

At the castle, you awaken to numerous stares and whispers aimed at you

You cling a little tighter to your mama, who seems to take no notice of them

A child is a rare sight at the castle though, and so more and more whispers follow you, until even Cassandra, who is much used to the staff’s chattiness, has enough

“The next to utter a word gets their tongue cut out!”, she snaps, her lips pulled to an angry sneer, her arms wrapped around you protectively

When looking down at you, she finds you smiling up at her, before your happy smile twists to a frown and a small growl comes from you, aimed at the staff now watching the brunette terrified

You giggle as they all advert their eyes, so quiet not even a breath is heard anymore

Cassandra rolls her eyes at them, and she notices you copy her again. Again, it makes her smile to herself

She will teach you the insignificance of those below you soon enough, but for now allows you to hold your head high, as though it was your little growls that shut them up

When brought to her room, she immediately feels you squirm about and whine, your little legs kicking excitedly and your hands reaching out

She realises, you want to explore, and gently sets you down

All too happily, you scurry off, right towards her bed

She raises her eyebrow as you attempt to climb the high mattress, and laughs when you at last manage and gasp at the softness surrounding you

Cassandra can’t help but realise; you are yet again in her territory, her nest even, her scent sticking to you more than it already has

And you seem aware of it too, as you excitedly babble “Mama” all over again as your bloodied hands hold onto the soft pillows that smell of her

She doesn’t mind the blood, never has, never will

Amused, Cassandra watches you carefully climb down the bed again, oo-ing and giggling at every new find

You seem particularly fond of retrieving things for her and hearing her explain them to you

As such she has explained her dagger, a skull found last winter, and an embarrassingly bright, yellow sweater knitted for her by her younger sister that she thought she had hidden well enough in her closet

She watches you play with the bear head sticking out of the beast turned into her carpet, poking its teeth and fighting it with one of the daggers found in her room

Oddly enough, she finds she enjoys your company, and is more than confident that you share this feeling

When she sits on the bed, you eagerly run to her, your little arms raising as you climb back on her bed and immediately curl against her side

“We should get you cleaned”, she notes, surprising even herself with it

Cleaned? A bath?! Eugh

But still, as she sees the little, bloody and dirty prints you leave, she decides it is likely for the best

You allow her to pick you up again effortlessly, your little fingers wrapping around a strand of her hair carefully

You never pull, but enjoy the feeling of having your mama so close

You watch curiously as she calls a woman in, with blonde hair and green eyes that are wide in horror

In awe, you watch as your mama gives her command after command and the woman doesn’t hesitate for a second to follow them

She runs across the room and disappears into an attached chamber, and again your attention is on your mama only

She smiles down at you and gently takes the dagger held between your and her body, her fingertip sliding along the sharp blade

“I got this one a few centuries back. There was a big, bad man that tried to hurt me, but I won”, she explains proudly

Cassandra watches you as you listen. You hang onto every word she speaks and gasps when she builds plot twists into her story

Perhaps, she can make bedtime stories work

It seems, she isn’t unfit

“Mama”. Her eyes find yours immediately. She watches you raise the dagger to her shoulder, your eyes squinted slightly in concentration

Then, an odd, somewhat comfortable feeling. The dagger pushes against her hair, but you’re by far too inexperienced and too young to work it the way you want to

Upon gazing at your shoulder, she finds what you tried to do

A single hair strand of yours, cut at the shoulder from where the lycan might have swiped at you prior to her arrival

She smiles at you, her fingertips gently closing around yours and the dagger

You watch eagerly as she guides you, taking the strand in one hand and guiding the dagger with the other

It takes a single moment for the brown lock of hair to fall from her shoulder and to your stomach, and you giggle excitedly at it

“Mama! Like, me!”

She smiles widely. Yes, just like her little one

[opheliann-darling]

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Yandere Suguru Geto x female reader.

Synopsis: Blessings form in many shapes; including love.

TW: Objectification, discrimination, Isolation, forced pregnancy.

enjoy.

It is divine to think how hell would be regarded into grotesquely crimson images within the human imagination: Sufferance is too common, wounds as a thorn prick and lasts as a heart's ache, Yet consider this when we think of heaven: purity- innocence of Eden in its prime, everything that sources its beauty and continence from a glass sphere no soul ever stepped on, farthest from the nearest paradise which we -so far- know of. Every now and then, the glass sphere's page of the sky would rain glossy drops, bright in the charm of a moon's haze, kissing earth's soil ever so gently after a long fall through the dark space. The drop; a seed of everything that derives all good in this life, either blooms into flowers, little joys that are worth living for, or even people- lost angels on devil's land.

Suguru believes he has an eye for perfection: the images of others reflect on his irises and pass, be a fragment of a forgotten dream and ghost in a corner within his anamnesis. life ought to be lived as a sort of a sweven, destined to be erased once the reaper sinks in its teeth; Not like you have much of an option as a sorcerer, you just keep fantasizing and drawing rose-colored glasses about a life you know you can't have, sighing when conjuring a dear friend's lineaments, feeling a warmth under an eyelid when a beloved's smile flickers through a faint image of cogitation. a needle of duty had sewed up every passage to his heart; there was no horizon to look up to, except that one of exorcising curses to no end, saving that little part of happiness that was rightfully his to others who already had a fair share of it.

Suguru would burn the candles of thought and wander around a series of scenarios: what would it be like to love? What color is romance and what taste are kisses? There must be a reason why the moon was put on a pedestal of artistry, or a color of blood to abridge all tongues and words of ardor. There had to be a reason why someone was so eager and willing to hand their hearts on a platter to someone else, someone who was looked upon as the apple of eye. It seemed absurd: humans are merely products of vice, planted to sin and harvested to destroy, every letter and word they utter weighs nothing heavier than a lie, So why would such a morbid creature empty the jar of heart on another morbid creature? It is a wounding, shameless lie.

Cease to feel and halt to sense, there was no meaning in draining the amphora of emotion on someone, a one who can't taste curses to know how much of a grace it's devouring. it's pointless to break the glass of heart over a bod that ignores your agony to indulge in its little world of pink lies. He just wishes- Only if, if he slices that part of him that screamed of humanity everyday, the part that made him extend a wing to shield the helpless from their demise… He hated having a heart.

Once during a green summer, one that had a breeze of May and the pink warmth of Valentine's day, The sphere wrapped a blessing in a curse's fabric; a gift so pristine it competed with the glimpses of eternity with a smile and tore the horizon's edge with a kiss, a form of life that its existence on this cursed land was the vilest injustice ever committed towards its chastity. The Angel; now blossoming from the sphere's seed into a human with flesh and blood, nerves and bones, eyes and a beating heart, is left to be stained and tarnished, munched and swallowed by the imperfect- the bad seeds, the swirl of everything evil. a tear of a curse could lace a sea of blessings, and you had to be protected: from the serpents, the devils, the flawed, or anyone else that wasn't him.

"Y'know, Suguru, sometimes when I look through your eyes, I can see you fighting yourself, as if you were your own worst enemy" You started the conversation like this, so casually, with no hint or intention of digging too deep into his psyche.

July, casting blazing rays and nearly melting the shadows outside, while the pair of you decided to remain in class for no obvious purpose. Suguru didn't mind having you around, aware that you weren't going to engage in tittle-tattling, leaving him with the room to think. It's been a long year.

With a strike of sudden concern, and maybe a little suspicion, He directs his whole posture towards you, noticing your relaxed position on the seat beside his. a silence of something that was about to begin stretched before he asked "What do you mean?"

a Winter night smile drew itself on your lips. In a movement of Bonnie Parker leaning on her motorcycle, you faced his confused comportment, rolling your eyes playfully before replying "You thought that no one would notice? That's cute. but I must admit, you're so good at hiding it, even Satoru wasn't able to see it, I'm surprised!" something brightened in your expression, contradicting the words you just said. As if you were Suguru's Anima; you spoke so confidently, insisting on extracting a part you didn't like of him.

And that confidence stirred a certain sentiment within him. something he would see as… vulnerability?

He stared.

Another silence, silence of an absurd play, one that the audience certainly didn't need to absorb the scene.

You continued "Amanai was a human like any other, someone with dreams and hopes, fears and triggers, and a family- and a lot of friends. she lived her life to the fullest… Well, maybe not completely, but at least she had some taste of blessing before her death. people aspire to horizons, living enough to reach it and sometimes not, savoring both sweet and bitter times before kicking the bucket. But that's not what we're talking about here"

His eyes couldn't get any wider, the images played slowly and vividly while the cassette of that memory didn't seem to stop.

"She's a vessel that can be replaced. Lord Tengen wasn't in that need for her anyway. But are we sorcerers any better? no. we're replaceable as well, unless you are Satoru, which we aren't. Yes, we are strong, but still replaceable. The Jujutsu world needs to continue existing or else cursed spirits will blow everything to bits, and of course, we're the only ones who can keep it going and exorcise these creatures."

Your fingers twiddled with your necklace, rolling it slowly as your tongue flowed. "I wanted to go everywhere too, I wanted to have a lot of friends to love without worrying that they'll die at any second. I wanted to wander around and behold flowers and snow without seeing an ugly cursed spirit…"

His tongue wouldn't unwrap, au contraire to his thoughts. his mind moved as fast as forgetfulness would spell, drinking in all of your heart's tears. Perhaps, after all, he wasn't the only one who awakened to a harsh knowledge.

You, are special.

"It's not fair… why should I be the one who gives up on their happiness to save people who know nothing of my sacrifices…"

"I-.." your rant comes to a halt, a veil of guilt slides down your expression.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to remind you of… back then, I talked too mu-"

"No." He interrupts, his usual resting face painted over.

"You can continue, I understand you…" Suguru smiles.

Ever since the curtain on your heart was pulled, you seemed to confide in him more; drifting away from Satoru and Shoko slowly and subtly. He didn't want to think of it, yet these pages of poems and lines of serenades whispered something to him everytime he looked through you. She must be unhappy too, Unhappy people are sensitive to the unhappiness of others¹. and to confess, it balmed a little comfort on his soul to see that misery brought you together. Day by day, both of you would speak for hours, crafting an imaginary horizon where everything was a haven for a winsome world, goodwills falling like spring rain. Night by night, He who becomes the one to count the nights, scripting his nightdreams and rehearsing his hopes to a shadow of you that lingered in the corners, only for every word to blend into space once the daybreak spills through the clouds.

Your voice; it is the voice of his mind now. The shadow of you is melodizing his thoughts and troubles of the heart, lulling his reveries and caroling his visions. The pages of romance flip like petals in the wind: as the silk of your vocal cords tailors the letters with red and pink, he is finally allowed to relish the true colors of so-called love. Yozo² is no longer fool in Suguru's thinking, for wanting to die alongside the one he loved, which Suguru Geto himself now, secretly, hopes to achieve with you.

"Have you ever thought about death?" Green-colored smile, surely wasn't grayed by anything. Suguru just thought, what did you think? Did you want to be with him no matter the place?

The roles have been reversed. now you're the silent one; you were sure that you did talk too much that day, pouring your wounds into him that now they're his wounds. Guilt stinged your heart, only if you remained silent back then.

"Um- yes, I'm already accepting it, we're sorcerers after all…" you struggled to compose a thought he'd like, it came out as what a child attempting wisdom would say. speaking to your friend has become a difficult task lately, you didn't want to lose the thread of thinking you shared together, and he seemed quite pleased to talk to you.

He chuckled.

"Never thought of making it better for yourself at least?"

What…

"I used to think so too. But slowly, I'm finally able to see what I was too blinded to see. Remember when you said that you wanted to have a lot of friends and go everywhere? that's rightful of you to ask- but you can't get it whether you plead for it or not. I'm telling you; I know it very well when I say you can have everything you want if you step up and take control." stated he.

As if looking for any other person who seems to notice that there's something odd, you glanced around. nothing was in sight except the trees and grass of the long forest line.

His face didn't move when he continued "You see, we forgot that we were stronger, smarter and more skilled than the ordinary, say evolution theory: creatures go through a long process of development to become advanced in brain and muscle. some reach the highest stage of development and become a human, while others simply stop in the middle or never start, thus remaining monkeys"

For some reason, you imagined yourself operating on his brain: cleaving the front of his skull with a sharp scalpel, lifting up his scalp in a way a box of chocolates would be opened, unwrapping and milling his brain convolutions, looking through his memory and mind's eye to see when and where these ideas have crossed his mind so you can uproot them- it is your fault, you filled him with so much tangles for a sweetly simple soul as him.

"...And since monkeys can't survive on their own, we were the ones who would acquire and use their talents to establish Jujutsu and save them, doing it out of kindness and altruism, they give us curses and we cure them in response, continually and with no recognition of our merit…"

Something in his eyes twitched; he sounded as if he was letting go of an ancient burden, the Messiah's cross thrown off by his back.

"... You, me, Satoru or anyone who uses Jujutsu is the purest form of life on this earth, we're destined to rule as much as we were to protect, to punish as we were to love. we sorcerers are chosen by the heavens…"

"...Monkeys must die." the corners of his mouth were altered to a frantic excitement, seeming like he'd seen after years of being dim sighted.

It is a blessing to be ignorant.

It started out subtly. Suguru would continue smiling- the line and twist on his face metamorphosed into one you have no knowledge of: it was strange, uncannily simple and eerily sweet, more of looking at a portrait of a goner and less of seeing a friend. His compassion faded, a mock-lively kindness replaced it, by the nature a moonlight would mimic a sunray's warmth. it is not change, nor epiphany; your friend was dying with no hearse set or heart settled- Suguru slept to no awakening so the priest in Gojo-gesa can breathe to every aspect of life.

Eyes that used to behold the blessings in everything are now glaring with violence, gnashing its teeth to whoever and whatever didn't wield any cursed energy. it is visible for you to only see, all of the ink and blood jarred behind his eyes, masked perfectly and contained in a patient smile he wore to his subjects— our subjects darling! he would say, giving you a saddened look, as if his gift of a thousand obedient monkey wasn't enough to thrill you as much as it did to him.

“You know how much I love you, right?” he murmured, holding your hand. your eyes pierced the reflection on the vanity glass: a husband and a wife sharing an intimate moment, scenery of a devoted Genji holding a torn Fujitsubo³ and kissing away all of her distress. you switched your sight towards his hand, the one that stroked yours, the one that had on its ring finger a silver band twirled.

“And I'm willing to offer you everything I have, anything you want” He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, billing and cooing in his words “I just ask for a little smile in return, or a little ‘thank you’ for everything I do to us”

“You're taking advantage of innocent people, Suguru”

He scoffs “Are they really that innocent?! All they do is cause destruction and corruption. you're too kind to even call them people” the last word dropped like a glob of mercury, heavy and tarnishing. he's annoyed for sure that you ruined the romantic mood by mentioning monkeys yet again.

“You're murdering people who came to you for help, Suguru…”

You saw it without looking at it, the flash of rage and loathing, with all its redness and heat a fire had less or more of. you hoped in despair ,maybe there's still the lingering blush of compassion in his heart; the comity of your dear friend Suguru, not the hatred of your husband the monk. His fist flew in front of your face, grabbing your chin and rotating your skull to his penetrating eyes. for a second, a thread was pulled in your chest, cutting your heart with a feeling of fear, was he about to strike you?

“I told you thousands of times… those you cry for so much are. not. people. Do you understand me?!” He pressed on each word, heavy breath fanning your face. you could only look back and try not to recoil under his gaze.

“They ruin our lives, they kill us, they cause suffering and they taint this earth with their filthy emotions… if it wasn't me who gets rid of them and cleans their trash, only heaven knew how much time left for us to live…” he digs his nails into your flesh, gritting his teeth at you “They made you unhappy, they tried to kill me while I was risking my life to save them everyday!” he raised his hands in the air, snarling with full volume. you're sure that Nanako and Mimiko are in another room hearing, and utterly aware of their agreement and devotion to Suguru.

Frantically, he unwrapped his Gojo-gesa and threw it on the floor, shooting you a glare while he freed himself from the sleeves of his haori. his stare kept lining yours, and when he stripped from the white hada-juban, you've seen it, as if at first sight.

“Shouldn't a wife support her husband?! Why do I feel like everything else except for me matters to you?!” He yelled. it is not the first time you see the scar on his chest, in fact, you've seen it too many times that its lines were as familiar as the dimness of your eyelids.

“Whom am I doing this all for?! for us! for our family! they're just like us, they've been belittled and cursed by monkeys and they had their happiness snatched brutally from their hands… all just because they were sorcerers” he calmed, yet not eased judging by how sharp his expression was. He dropped his arms to his side, reaching to cup your face and force you to see his eyes “You were hurt too… you begged me to save you years ago… you do remember the day we sat together in class and talked”

You do remember.

The echo of that hour reverberated through his eyes. in their dark shade, you watched a reflection of yourself, helpless and gray, sew the first threads of his insanity. you wished if life had been a little more cruel and tore off your tongue before you ever got the chance to speak with him.

It's you who chiseled the priest.

He feathered a finger across your cheek, crooning honey “And you remember our dates too, all the kisses and embraces, our wedding and our nights together…” serene as a sea in spring, animating the past into a sweet lull. his eyes smiled to you, cording your heart when continuing “You love me, you love our family, our paradise— and him” His palm spidered to your stomach, stroking the node of flesh “You would never abandon him, would you?”

Can you even? He sojourned far in, tethered to you through a wall of flesh with a string stretching inside of him. the memory of his existence would carve lines in both of your bodies even after his birth.

“You're so selfless, that's why I fell for you darling” whispered he, drinking your silence in taste of obedience. Was there any release from the cuffs you wrapped around your own wrists? Suguru wasn't an imprisoner, he just smelted a bracelet you wished to wear, eager to please and in hunger for your praise, while you, in words and smiles, altered his brain to see in dark color.

“Why don't you say you love me?” he coated demand with love, pouring foam on your ears in a whisper.

Your skin felt light underneath, like you could walk out of it as a coat. In times like these, when he gave affection and demanded it back, you could only say one thing, unlike a full colored prism of flirtation he can murmur to you.

“I love you so much, Suguru…” at first, saying it was like uprooting a rotting tooth, but as time passed and your tongue knew the taste of lying, it became like picking a fruit.

He smiled “Good girl…”

His eyes glinted in red “...I love you too…”

[fatalfairies]

DIAVAL!SATORU GOJO X MALEFICENT!READER

a/n: obsessed with maleficent x diaval.

Diaval!Satoru who considers you his saviour,the only one he has,maybe that day if you didn’t spot him getting tormented by an idiotic human,he would’ve lost his life.

Diaval!Satoru who looks at you like you’re the greatest masterpiece that has ever been sculpted while you’re busy watching the flowing river under the moon in the dark forest.

Diaval!Satoru who knows you didn’t save him out of pity,you just needed someone to serve you and took advantage of his helpless situation but to him,you’re still on a pedestal as his saviour and as something much more forbidden that he tries to even not think.

The moment you find out of his forbidden feelings for you,you will inevitably throw him out of your shadow. According to your words,”There is no such thing as true love. Those are mere lies made up by mortals to hurt others for their own advantage.” You’re always right and even if you’re not he will do anything to ensure that you end up being so but for this one instance he hoped you were wrong and maybe he was being selfish but he was helpless for your love.

Diaval!Satoru who gets frustrated when you pretend not to hear his fastening heartbeat around you,his attempts to draw a smile out of you,his undying devotion to you

Diaval!Satoru who doesn’t crave the heat of your body but the warmth of your soul and embrace.

Diaval!Satoru who knows that is was not his mere imagination when he saw that barely noticeable smile on your face as walked away hearing one of his foolish jokes.

Diaval!Satoru who is your shadow,always behind you and ready to engulf anyone who dares to harm you in the flames of his devotion for you

Diaval!Satoru who acts as your wings in the absence of yours,your eyes to watch over things you aren’t able to and..a shoulder to rely on

Diaval!Satoru who watched you gazing at the flying ethereal creatures reminiscing of the old times when you were one of those lucky winged-creatures. And he feels his heart wrench at your silent pain,his only wish to impale the very King who sits on the throne of the mortal lands who is the very reason you believe there is no such thing as love.

Diaval!Satoru who secretly found your love for flowers with sharp thorns and without a fail he collects them from the forbidden parts of the Moors at the cost of his own blood but in comparison your happiness,it is worthless

Diaval!Satoru who watches you secretly taking care of the very newborn child you cursed from the dark. To others your love might seem so twisted but to him,it was far pure than the selfish love of mortals.

Diaval!Satoru who watches you take care of Aurora as your own daughter despite your initial so-called hate for her for being the daughter of the man who has made you what you are now

Diaval!Satoru who sees a side of you he always knew was there when your heart wrenched at the sleeping figure of the very little girl you had once cursed. Fate can be so ironic,as your motherly love was the love being able to wake Aurora from her death-like sleep.

Diaval!Satoru who sees you smile a lot more often as your soar the high skies with him with your marvellous wings returned to you,where they belonged.

Diaval!Satoru who roams the Moors with you freely now that you are no more the Queen of Moors and Aurora is. You are showing him places he had never seen before in the Moors and he is making you feel things you thought you didn’t want to feel anymore.

Subtle touches like almost holding hands,his hands gently brushing on your wings and stroking them,you two falling asleep as he is under embrace of your wings.And Diaval!Satoru hopes this is the beginning and he doesn’t want it to ever end.

You notice how Satoru looks at you and this time you acknowledge it,looking back at him with a sly grin on your features. This is new to him but he’s going to love getting used to it.

Diaval!Satoru who under the setting of the Moors feels claimed by your love,the only thing ever wanted as your shadows under the setting sun unite in a pure,soft kiss and this time that of true love.

[shiorihyugawrites]

Tides of Fate

In a world where powerful creatures known as sirens come to the shores of Paradis, the scouts are thrust into an unexpected alliance—one that is sealed through an ancient and seductive bonding ritual. Each siren has chosen a mate, and through their connection, the scouts are granted extraordinary powers.

As the bonds grow Mikasa’s jealousy threatens to unravel her. But the real danger lies not just in broken hearts, but in the lurking threat of Marley and those who seek to capture the sirens for their gain.

Power, desire, and duty collide, forcing the Scouts to navigate new emotions and alliances in ways they never imagined. Through danger, love, and sacrifice, the tides of fate will decide if their world will rise or fall. (Eren, Levi, Floch, Jean, Armin, Connie, Bertholdt, Reiner x OCs)

Chapter 47: The Final Gambit

Levi moved through the shadows, silent and deadly as he searched for Zeke. The battlefield around him had become a chaotic blur of destruction, but his focus was unwavering. He had one target, one mission: find Zeke and end this nightmare once and for all. His mind raced with strategies, each plan more ruthless than the last. After everything Zeke had done, Levi knew there could be no mercy.

But when he finally spotted Zeke, a wave of fear gripped him like never before.

Zeke stood calmly in his human form, one hand already cut, ready to transform at any second. But it wasn’t Zeke’s poise or the prospect of facing the Beast Titan again that sent ice through Levi’s veins. It was what Zeke held in his other hand—a sight that twisted his gut and nearly shattered his focus.

Aria.

Zeke had her wrists bound tightly behind her back, his grip like a vice around her slender wrists. A gag muffled her cries, and her tear-streaked face twisted in fear and helplessness. Her wide, panicked eyes met Levi’s, and Levi felt something inside him snap. He’d fought countless battles, stared death in the face more times than he could count, but nothing—nothing—had ever terrified him as much as seeing Aria in Zeke’s grasp. She had been kidnapped by a small group of siren hunters who Zeke had ordered to target her and deliver her to him. He knew he would need leverage in order to gain the upper hand over Levi, and Aria was the perfect bait.

Zeke smirked, his gaze flickering to Levi with that familiar, mocking glint. “Oh, Captain,” he drawled, his tone dripping with false innocence. “I was hoping you’d find us. I knew you’d come running if I took something precious from you.”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles went white. The urge to charge forward, to cut Zeke down and rip him apart, pulsed through him with every heartbeat. But he couldn’t afford to be reckless. Not with Aria’s life in the balance. He forced himself to remain calm, despite the fire raging in his chest.

“What’s the matter, Levi?” Zeke taunted, his grip on Aria tightening, making her wince. “You don’t look happy to see me. I thought you’d be pleased to reunite with your precious mate.”

Levi’s gaze flicked to Aria, his heart twisting at the sight of her trembling. Her fear was palpable, her body tense as she struggled against Zeke’s hold, but when her eyes met his, he saw something else—a flicker of trust. Even amidst the terror, she believed in him. She trusted him to save her.

Zeke noticed the look they shared, and he laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “Touching, really,” he sneered. “But let’s be honest, Levi. This is your weakness, isn’t it? You can’t stand to see her like this, and it’s killing you inside.”

Levi’s hands shook, not with fear, but with barely contained rage. His mind raced, evaluating every possible angle, every strategy that would get Aria out of Zeke’s grasp without putting her in more danger. But Zeke was one step ahead, clearly reveling in the power he held over Levi.

“You know, Levi,” Zeke continued, his voice dripping with malice, “you’re so predictable. So easy to manipulate. I knew all I had to do was take this little siren, and you’d come running. You’re nothing but a dog on a leash, controlled by your emotions.”

Levi forced himself to stay still, to keep his expression calm, but the words cut deep. Zeke was playing with him, preying on the one vulnerability Levi had kept hidden from everyone else. Aria had become his anchor, his reason for fighting, and Zeke knew it. The Beast Titan was trying to break him by turning his love into a weapon.

“Let her go, Zeke,” Levi said, his voice low and steady, though every word felt like a struggle. “This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, but she has everything to do with it,” Zeke replied smoothly, tightening his grip on Aria’s wrists, making her whimper. “You see, Levi, you’re strong. I know that firsthand. But strength is useless if it’s tempered by sentimentality. That’s what makes you weak. That’s what makes all of you weak.”

Aria let out a muffled cry, her eyes locking onto Levi’s, silently pleading for help. Levi’s heart pounded as he took a cautious step forward, his entire being focused on Aria, on saving her from this monster.

“Let her go,” Levi repeated, his tone dark and threatening, his glare as sharp as a blade. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And how do you plan to do that, Captain? Because from where I’m standing, I hold all the cards.” He lifted his hand, showing the cut across his palm, the blood pooling and ready to trigger his transformation.

Levi’s mind worked at lightning speed. He was well aware of the danger Zeke posed, especially with the threat of transforming right there, with Aria in such close proximity. But he couldn’t let Zeke win. He couldn’t let this monster take her from him.

“Levi…” Zeke’s voice took on a mocking, almost sympathetic tone. “You’ve lost so much, haven’t you? Your comrades, your friends… Erwin. And now, I’m going to take the last person you care about.” He leaned close to Aria, smirking as she flinched away from him. ���Don’t worry, darling,” he murmured into her ear, loud enough for Levi to hear. “This won’t hurt too much. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see your precious Levi die first.”

Levi’s vision blurred with rage. He took another step forward, his blades drawn, ready to do whatever it took to save her. But then he caught her gaze again. Aria was watching him, her eyes filled with trust, with a silent plea that gave him the clarity he needed. She was terrified, yes, but she believed in him. She was depending on him.

That look grounded him, reminded him of who he was and why he fought. Levi took a deep breath, steeling himself, his focus sharpening. He couldn’t let his anger control him, couldn’t let Zeke’s taunts throw him off balance. He needed to be precise, to keep his mind clear.

Zeke noticed the change in Levi’s expression, and his smirk faltered. “Oh? Regained your composure, have you? Impressive. But it won’t be enough.”

Levi didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed, his stance shifting, prepared to strike. He kept his gaze locked on Zeke, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, waiting for the right moment. He knew Zeke’s tactics, knew how the Beast Titan liked to play mind games. But Levi wasn’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

But as the tense standoff unfolded, his mind raced. Levi’s gaze flickered from Zeke’s cold, calculating eyes to the four siren hunters standing nearby, ready to act on Zeke’s command. He knew the situation was more dire than any he’d faced before. If he made a single wrong move, Zeke would trigger his transformation, and Aria—held in Zeke’s merciless grip—would be incinerated by the Titan’s power before she had a chance to scream.

Levi clenched his fists, his body tense and coiled like a spring ready to snap. But snapping would be the worst thing he could do now. He needed a way to free Aria without triggering Zeke’s Titan form. Every plan he considered, every tactical maneuver that crossed his mind, ended with her getting hurt. He was trapped, cornered like he’d never been before.

The siren hunters surrounded them, waiting. Levi could sense their smugness, the satisfaction that gleamed in their eyes as they watched him grapple with his predicament. They knew they had him. And Zeke knew it too.

Zeke’s smirk widened as he watched Levi’s turmoil. “What’s it going to be, Levi? Surrender, or do I get to watch you lose the only person you have left?”

Levi’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions in check, to drown out Zeke’s words. But every syllable struck a nerve. He’d never considered surrender in his life. Even when he’d faced impossible odds, even when his comrades had fallen one by one, he’d never entertained the idea of giving in. But now… with Aria’s life hanging in the balance, he was actually considering it. The thought made him sick, but he was desperate.

Zeke sensed Levi’s struggle and leaned closer, his lips brushing against Aria’s ear as he whispered something that made her visibly shudder. Levi’s blood boiled at the sight, but he knew that if he lunged forward, Zeke would transform in an instant, and Aria would be gone.

Just as Levi’s resolve began to waver, he saw it—his opening.

Aria, with a look of fierce determination, drew her leg back and drove her knee hard into Zeke’s groin. The movement was swift, unexpected, and devastatingly effective. Zeke’s face twisted in pain, and he staggered back, his grip on Aria momentarily loosening.

“You little—” Zeke’s curse cut off as he clutched at himself, his guard down for the crucial second Levi needed.

Levi moved like lightning, his blade flashing as he struck down the two siren hunters standing between him and Zeke. He slashed through them effortlessly, his focus sharpened to a deadly point. In the next instant, he had Aria in his grasp, pulling her free from Zeke’s hold and shielding her with his body.

“Levi!” Aria gasped, clutching onto him as he drew her close, his eyes flickering with an intensity that was both fierce and reassuring.

“You’re safe,” he muttered, his voice tight. “Stay close.”

But Zeke wasn’t finished. Enraged by the sudden loss of control, he triggered his transformation. A flash of light erupted around him as his body began to shift and expand. Levi waisted no time; he hooked his ODM gear to a nearby ledge, launching himself and Aria out of the explosion’s range. He kept Aria in front of him, using his own body as a shield as they hurtled through the air, narrowly escaping the blast radius.

The searing heat of the transformation’s shockwave washed over them, and Levi grunted as his left knee caught part of the impact. Pain shot through his leg, but he grit his teeth, focusing solely on getting Aria to safety.

They landed on a rooftop overlooking the battlefield, Levi’s injured knee buckling slightly beneath him as he set Aria down. She caught his arm, worry flashing in her eyes as she noticed the way he favored his injured leg.

“Levi, your knee—”

“Forget it,” he interrupted, his voice rough as he glanced back at the towering form of the Beast Titan. The massive figure loomed over the battlefield, its eyes fixed on Levi with an expression of pure, murderous intent. “Stay here. This ends now.”

Aria gripped his hand, her eyes wide with concern. “Levi… don’t do anything reckless.”

He looked down at her, his gaze softening for a brief moment. “I’ll come back,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to trust me.”

Aria’s hand lingered on his arm, and he could feel the silent strength she was offering him. She didn’t protest, didn’t try to argue. She simply nodded, her gaze steady despite the fear in her eyes. “I trust you.”

With a final, lingering glance, Levi turned and limped toward the edge of the roof, his determination hardening into something unbreakable. His knee throbbed with each step, but he forced himself to ignore it, to push through the pain. He couldn’t afford to falter now.

Levi's eyes burned as he locked onto Zeke in his Beast Titan form, a towering monstrosity hurling boulders across the battlefield with ruthless precision. Memories tore through Levi’s mind: Erwin, leading a hopeless charge; the young recruits who had been nothing more than sacrifices; the agony of nearly avenging them only to have it slip through his fingers because of the Cart Titan’s interference. And now, this same monster, the architect of so much pain, had nearly taken Aria from him. His rage boiled over, and he felt a cold, focused determination settle within him, overpowering the pain in his knee.

Zeke hurled another barrage of rocks, but Levi was already moving, sidestepping and propelling himself forward with his ODM gear, closing the distance with lethal precision. The world narrowed down to the Beast Titan’s hulking form, to Zeke’s malicious grin, and to the roaring chaos around them that only fed Levi's single-minded purpose: Zeke would die today.

Levi ducked and weaved through the flurry of rocks, dodging with deadly precision as he soared closer. The Beast Titan tried to swat him away, but Levi’s agility was beyond anything Zeke could counter. Each time the massive arm swung, Levi slipped through the opening with ruthless efficiency, pushing forward in a series of blindingly fast maneuvers that left the Beast Titan off balance.

As Levi reached his target, his blades flashed, slicing through muscle and sinew with devastating accuracy. The Beast Titan howled in pain, thrashing as Levi carved through its arms and legs, leaving it helpless and unable to fight back. But Levi wasn’t done. His mind was consumed, his rage blinding him to everything but his mission.

“You thought you could get away with it all, didn’t you?” Levi spat, his voice filled with venom as he sliced into the Beast Titan’s side, splitting it open. “After what you did to Erwin… after what you did to Aria!”

Zeke’s face twisted in agony within the Beast Titan as Levi tore through the creature’s body. Each cut was deliberate, each blow a brutal reminder of the lives Zeke had destroyed, the families he had shattered, the pain he had caused. Levi didn’t let up, his movements precise and ruthless as he reduced the Beast Titan to a wreck, limbs flailing uselessly, blood pouring from the massive wounds Levi inflicted with every slash of his blades.

The Beast Titan’s roar was deafening, echoing across the battlefield as Levi slashed his way to the nape. With a swift, final strike, Levi cut through the protective layer of muscle, exposing Zeke’s human form nestled within. Levi’s vision was red as he plunged forward, tearing Zeke from the Titan’s nape and dragging him free of the writhing, disintegrating body. He cut straight through the Titan’s mouth, his blades glinting in the light as he emerged from the other side with Zeke in tow.

They crashed to the ground, and in one fluid motion, Levi drove his blade down, pinning Zeke to the earth. Zeke’s eyes widened with horror as Levi loomed over him, fury etched into every line of his face.

“You’re not getting away this time,” Levi hissed, his voice low and menacing. “No Cart Titan. No reinforcements. It’s over.”

Zeke struggled, but Levi’s grip was iron, his blade pressed firmly against Zeke’s throat. Blood trickled from the shallow cut where the blade met Zeke’s skin, and Levi savored the terror he saw in Zeke’s eyes. Zeke, the man who had shown no mercy, no hesitation in wiping out so many of Levi’s comrades, was now helpless, powerless beneath Levi’s blade.

“You deserve worse than death,” Levi whispered, his voice trembling with restrained fury. “After everything you’ve done… all the lives you’ve taken…”

Zeke swallowed hard, his face pale as he met Levi’s unyielding gaze. “Do you really think killing me will change anything, Levi? Do you think Erwin, or anyone else, would be proud of you for this?”

“Shut up!” Levi’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like his blade. “You don’t get to say his name. You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind excuses.”

Zeke smirked, though there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Coward? You think you’re any better? You think your obsession with revenge makes you righteous?”

Levi pressed the blade harder, silencing him. “This isn’t about revenge. This is justice. For every one of my comrades you slaughtered.”

Zeke’s smirk faded, and for the first time, real fear settled into his eyes. Levi’s gaze was unwavering, his grip steady, and Zeke knew that this time, there would be no escape.

In the distance, Aria watched, her breath caught as she saw Levi’s fierce determination, his relentless pursuit of justice. She’d seen him fight before, but never like this. There was a raw, almost primal energy to him, an intensity that left her in awe. Levi looked like a force of nature, unstoppable, unyielding. And despite the fear that gripped her heart, she felt a surge of pride, knowing that he was fighting not only for his comrades but also for her.

Levi looked down at Zeke, his voice dropping to a whisper. “This is for every life you stole, for every family you destroyed. And this… is for Erwin.”

With one swift motion, Levi raised his blade, ready to deliver the final blow. Zeke’s eyes widened in terror, but he didn’t have time to scream as Levi’s blade descended, his movements quick, precise, and merciless.

Levi stood over Zeke’s lifeless body, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The rage that had fueled him, driving him to this moment, was slowly fading, leaving only exhaustion and the dull, throbbing pain of countless injuries. His hand was still clenched around the hilt of his blade, which was buried deep in the ground beside Zeke, a final punctuation to his long and painful mission. His mind swam, and he could hardly believe it was over.

He’d done it. After all the losses, after Erwin, after everything, Zeke was finally dead. The promise he had made, his commander’s last wish—it was finally fulfilled. Levi could almost picture Erwin standing beside him, nodding approvingly, his calm, reassuring presence a balm for Levi’s worn spirit. He felt a strange pang in his chest, a mix of grief, satisfaction, and relief, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel it all.

But the moment didn’t last. The world around him was spinning, the adrenaline that had numbed his pain and kept him focused finally draining away. A fierce, throbbing ache was spreading through his left knee, a cut on his forehead trickling blood down his face, clouding his vision as he stumbled forward. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to stay upright, to look strong. There was still work to be done, and he couldn’t afford to fall now.

“Levi!” A voice broke through the haze, soft but insistent.

He turned, blinking as he tried to focus. Aria was running toward him, her face etched with worry. Levi forced himself to straighten, gripping his blade for support as he attempted to look as composed as possible.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, voice rough as he brushed away some of the blood trickling down his cheek.

Aria’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered, reaching out to gently touch his arm, her fingers warm against his cold, trembling skin.

He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. She could see right through him, and as much as he wanted to brush her off, he couldn’t ignore the relief that flooded his chest at her presence.

“Aria, it’s not over yet,” he said, swallowing hard. “We still have to free the sirens Marley captured. There’s… still work to be done.”

“Levi,” she whispered, her voice softening, “you’ve done more than enough. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself alone.”

He shook his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not alone, am I?” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “Not with you here.”

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed his arm gently, her presence a balm to his battered soul. He took a deep breath, letting her support him as they turned to face the battlefield, which was finally falling silent. The Marleyan forces, the dreaded siren hunters, were finally defeated.

Across the battlefield, the scouts were regrouping, tending to wounds and checking on each other as the dust settled around them. In the distance, the scouts were surveying the remnants of the enemy forces. Armin, Jean, Connie, and the others moved among the fallen, checking for survivors and ensuring that the battle was indeed over.

Nearby, Porco’s Jaw Titan lay in ruins, his Titan form reduced to a smoldering heap from the relentless onslaught of thunder spears. The scouts had worked together to bring him down, the teamwork they’d honed over years of fighting proving once again to be their greatest strength. Pieck, in her Cart Titan form, was barely clinging to life, trapped beneath rubble and wracked with injuries. A small group of scouts surrounded her, weapons drawn as they waited for her to transform back, her interrogation imminent.

As Levi and Aria looked on, Floch approached with a group of soldiers, relief and exhaustion etched into his face. “Captain!” he called, giving a brisk salute. “We did it. Marley’s forces have surrendered.”

Levi gave a faint nod, though he could feel his strength waning with every second. “Good. Secure their weapons and have the prisoners contained. We need to get every bit of information from them on the location of the captured sirens.”

Floch nodded. “Yes, sir. We’re already questioning the ones we captured. They’ll tell us what we need to know.”

Aria looked up at Levi, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “We’re so close, Levi. We can save them.”

He gave a small nod, feeling her hand warm and steady on his arm, grounding him as he fought through the pain. The thought of those sirens—trapped, forced into bonds they never chose—spurred him forward. He wouldn’t rest until they were free.

Across the battlefield, the other scouts were sharing quiet reunions with their mates. Eren, still catching his breath from the grueling battle, knelt down as Luna approached him, her eyes brimming with relief and pride. She reached out, touching his face, and he leaned into her hand, the tension in his body easing at her touch.

“You did it, Eren,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

He managed a weary smile, pulling her close. “We did it. All of us. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jean was nearby, holding Solara close as he checked her over for any injuries, his relief palpable. Connie was with Caspia, who had been anxiously watching from the sidelines, her face lighting up when she saw him safe and unharmed. Reiner, still shaken but relieved, held Rue in a gentle embrace, resting his forehead against hers as they shared a quiet moment amidst the aftermath of the battle.

Armin stood with Melody, his expression solemn yet hopeful as they exchanged a look filled with unspoken promises. The battles they’d fought, the horrors they’d witnessed—it was all for the chance to build something better together. Floch was nearby, his arms wrapped around Bria, who looked exhausted but unharmed, her gaze unwavering as she looked up at him.

Levi watched them all, feeling a faint warmth stirring in his chest. Despite everything, despite the horrors of war, they had all found something worth fighting for, something worth protecting.

Aria’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and steady. “Levi, you should sit down. Let me take a look at your wounds.”

He shook his head, though he didn’t resist as she guided him to a nearby stone, helping him lower himself down. His leg throbbed, a sharp, pulsing pain radiating from his knee, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to let it show.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though he could see the skepticism in her eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she whispered, her hand gentle as she touched his cheek, wiping away a streak of blood.

For a moment, he allowed himself to lean into her touch, feeling a rare sense of peace settle over him. He reached up, resting his hand over hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he met her gaze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

She smiled, leaning closer, her presence a comforting balm to his frayed nerves. “You don’t have to thank me, Levi. I’m here because I want to be.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words wash over him. The weight of the battle, of all they had fought for, settled over him like a heavy cloak, but with her beside him, he felt lighter somehow, his burden lessened.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the determination in her gaze, a fierce pride that mirrored his own. They had fought, they had bled, and they had won. But their mission wasn’t over yet.

“Let’s finish this,” he said softly, his voice steady as he looked out over the battlefield. “For everyone we’ve lost. For everyone who’s still waiting to be saved.”

Aria nodded, her hand warm and steady in his. “Together.”

The two of them stood, their resolve unwavering as they turned to face the remnants of the Marleyan forces, the captured soldiers and Titans who had once terrorized their people. Their battle was almost over, but their mission—to bring peace, to protect those they loved—was only beginning.

~

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[shadowqueenjude]

A Court of Wolves Chapter 6 for @hrizantemy --> read here or on ao3

Fenrys stared at Nesta as she dragged him into an alcove. It might’ve been suggestive had it not been for the deadly serious expression on Nesta’s face.

“What, exactly, happened here, Fenrys? The Mother just told me about her children, the gods, that they despise you. Why?”

Fenrys did not know who the Mother was, but he assumed she was some kind of godly figure in Nesta’s world. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing himself for Nesta’s anger. “This kingdom- Terrasen- just half a year ago was the center of the Second Valg War. The Valg are creatures of darkness. They can possess other creatures and feed off of them for eternity. They feed off of death and despair- it is their lifeblood. The minor Valg are no problem; it was the Kings- and Queen- that we needed to look out for. The Queen, Maeve, posed as a faerie queen for a thousand years. I even served her, albeit unwillingly, to protect my twin brother.”

“You have a twin?” Nesta asked curiously. Fenrys swallowed thickly. Should he tell her the truth? He hardly knew her still- yet he felt as though Nesta would understand, somehow. So, he whispered the words to her: “Did. He was killed right in front of my eyes- and I could do nothing to save him.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. Fenrys could not read her, and he was immensely curious to know what he was thinking about. A few moments later, Nesta stepped forward and embraced him. It was so unexpected that Fenrys stood stiffly for a while, not returning her hug. Then tentatively, afraid this precious moment would be broken if he was too aggressive, he reached his arm out, wrapping it around Nesta’s waist. He sighed against the top of his head, letting himself feel the pain. Tears bit the corners of his eyes. He’d done so much to protect Connall, yet it had all been in vain…

“My friend…” Nesta said quietly. “She lost her twin too. Killed in front of her just as yours was. And me- I saw my father killed right before my eyes. We didn’t have a great relationship, but…he died trying to help me in the end. And I was helpless.”

Fenrys had not expected Nesta to understand his pain; it was a very unique one. But this lady with so many walls up, with unnamed powers, had gone through far more than anyone could possibly guess upon meeting her. The pride, the evasiveness…it was all a shield. She had been hurt one too many times.

“Who was that man chasing you, Nesta?” Fenrys asked softly. They were still locked in embrace. He didn’t expect her to answer honestly; after all, they barely knew each other, and he seemed very important to her. But Nesta did not give a cryptic answer as she did last time; she answered honestly.

“My mate-or so I thought. My relationship with him…it was nothing like how I imagined a mating bond. I thought-well perhaps it was foolish and naïve to believe such a thing, but I thought…a mating bond was supposed to be soft. Soft and sweet and special. That your mate would drop everything for you. I thought it would be devotion, tender touches. Not…him.” Nesta pulled away from Fenrys, turning her back to him to walk up and down the hall.

“He was…wild. Nothing like the gentlemen I was accustomed to in the human lands. Not even like the faeries my sister had described in the Spring Court. He was massive- even bigger than you. A formidable warrior but could be charming as well- but nothing like the practiced charm of the ton. No, he was dirty, shameless, wicked. I think he was drawn to my innocence- when we met, I was a prim and proper lady who’d never so much as kissed a man, while he had…centuries of experience. My strengths were best suited to a courtroom while he could tear a battlefield apart. But I thought-or at least I felt- that he warmed up to me. That he came to like me for my own charms. That he admired my pride and my bravery. But then, after my father died…everything changed.

I was a mess. I acted as I never had before. I had been forcibly Changed- my body had undergone numerous torments in the Cauldron to change me from human to Fae. And when my father was in trouble I froze. I felt like a failure. I was utterly miserable. I thought, if the Cauldron has already changed me completely, then what need is there for my pride? I am already forever altered.

He didn’t like that, I don’t think. He liked it when I was innocent; he thought he could charm me enough to be won over. But when I started engaging in unhealthy habits to drown out the noise, he grew furious and impatient. He couldn’t stand that I gave others the time of day but not him. His gentleness dissipated. He became impatient. He would have me whatever way he could.

And he did- after I was forced in a house with him, forced to do the ruler of the land’s bidding to stay there.”

Fenrys could feel his blood pressure rising as fury filled his veins. “Did he- “

“No,” Nesta reassured him. “But he might as well have. He took advantage of me when my mind was in a vulnerable state. And I- I was so desperate to be loved. I thought it was love, his utter need for me. But I think- no I know…he doesn’t feel attraction as I do.”

Fenrys angled his head. “How do you mean?”

Nesta met his eyes. “I only feel attraction to those who I care for,” she mumbled.

Fenrys knit his brows in confusion. “But you said you-“

“They were handsome enough, but I wasn’t truly attracted to them,” she explained. “But I needed to feel touch. I needed to be out of my body, even if it was just for…” her voice trailed off.

Fenrys pulled her into a hug again. “Forgive my boldness, my Lady,” he said, “but this man sounds like a first-rate asshole.”

To his surprise and relief, Nesta let out a musical laugh. Fenrys couldn’t help but smile at the sound. She had such a beautiful laugh.

Fenrys stiffened. He sensed a dark, brooding presence nearby- although it was significantly less miserable and insufferable now that he was happily married. Thank god for Elide- that lady was a miracle worker.

“Are you two having sex or something? What is taking so long?” Lorcan demanded. Fenrys rolled his eyes. Thank Mala that Nesta couldn’t understand him.

“I was just explaining to Nesta what happened here,” Fenrys replied. Not the entire truth, but not exactly a lie, either.

“What, were you giving her the epic version?” Lorcan grumbled. “A few sentences ought to have sufficed.”

“Grumpy as always, Lord Lorcan Lochan,” Fenrys teased. Lorcan rolled his eyes, but Fenrys could tell he wasn’t angry. He wore that ridiculous name with pride because it meant that the whole world would know that he’s Elide’s husband.

“Always so perky, Moonie,” Lorcan countered. He turned to Nesta, who met his eyes without fear. To Fenrys’s utter shock, Lorcan smiled at her. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Lorcan only fucking smiled at his wife; Nesta must be really fucking special.

“She has death magic, like me,” Lorcan observed. “I’ve never met another one with magic like mine. It’s not exactly the same, but…similar. And she is very powerful. But she needs to learn to control her magic properly before it destroys her. I can feel the curtain of death clouding around her already.”

Fenrys bit his lip anxiously at that. He translated it to Nesta, who smacked her forehead. “Everyone was so anxious to put a sword in my hands, yet never taught me to control my innate powers,” Nesta murmured. Fenrys clenched his fists at that. It seemed that Nesta had left a very very horrible environment. Thank Mala he had brought her here.

“Are you willing to train with Lorcan?” Fenrys enquired. “He’s the best choice, since he has similar magic, but I can try to teach you if you’d rather not with the grumpy bastard.”

Lorcan glared daggers at Fenrys, but Nesta only smirked. “I imagine he’s not so grumpy with his wife.” Fenrys grinned wickedly, translating the words to Lorcan, whose skin flushed with color. “How did she know?” Lorcan asked quietly.

Fenrys snorted. “You’re not exactly subtle, Lo-lo. You make heart eyes at Elide every time she’s in the same room as you.”

Nesta laughed again at that. It was so beautiful that Fenrys just wanted to take that sound and preserve it in a disc to replay over and over again. He could never get tired of it.

Lorcan harrumphed. “We start training tomorrow, Nesta,” Lorcan said before thundering out of the room.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Naga Warlord’s Virgin Mate by Robin O’Connor

Serpents of Serant #3

Alien romances were not something I once thought I would ever gravitate to but…they are definitely a fun way to escape…especially when the male alien is a hunk and a half, a bit gruff, strong, protective, and knows almost immediately who his fated mate is and that he will do anything to be with and keep her safe. I love slipping into the stories and thinking about the “what ifs” of what is improbable but perhaps feasible…maybe?

Having read this author’s debut novel in the Gladiators of the Vagabond series was just the beginning of my journey with her. Her imagination is fertile and must be filled with characters that have been clamoring to have their stories shared. I hated to say goodbye to the gladiators but am loving this series set on the planet Serant that is populated with Naga clans. Naga are serpents from the waist down but have upper bodies similar to humans and they are compatible with humans. This is is a bonus that is quickly realized once the aliens realize their mate has arrived.

In this book we read the story of Krashe, warlord of the Bitter Storm Clan, meeting human Naomi. Their chemistry is almost immediate. Naomi was introduced in a previous book, saved, lost, captured, and eventually meets Krashe near the beginning of this book. She has upper body mobility with lower body paralysis due to a spinal injury that happened on earth. Krashe and Naomi don’t have an easy time. Krashe’s clan is against them, they end up running, hiding, fighting, and finding something that might help Naomi become more mobile. Naomi meets and befriends a  tiny creature that resembles a dragon but is more the size of a house pet that becomes their sidekick and is named Kiwi. I love the growing clan built of humans and aliens and look forward to the next book in this series.

Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

Captured by a warlord, seduction is my only chance. Can I capture the heart of the beast? Naomi Stranded on an alien planet sucks, but it’s worse when you can’t even walk. I’m a sitting duck, and when scary Naga capture me, there’s only so much I can do. That doesn’t mean I won’t go down without a fight. When their Warlord personally comes to interrogate me, I’m ready for him. Maybe he’s the one who’s not ready for me. Krashe I was not ready for the captive I meant to interrogate. This tiny, pale, scaleless creature is supposed to be my mate? But I can’t deny the attraction, I can’t deny the feelings brewing in me for the brave, fierce female with the sassy mouth. She might be small and helpless, but she does not cower, she does not fear me, and she never backs down. For a female like that, I might just be tempted to give up my Clan, my Queen, and my warring ways. For a female like that, I might even reach for the technology that could help her walk again. This is a standalone novel, and book three in the Serpents of Serant Series. This steamy sci-fi monster romance features one Naga Warlord, a disabled, sassy virgin, and a steamy HEA.

[storylocke]

Alolan Dusk 7

[Burnet listens carefully as Roark tells her about his encounter with the terrible Beast. They'd heard him talk about it before, but he always had a sort of fondness for the excitement and danger they were able to overcome. Rescuing Lillie, which turned into rescuing Lusamine, then rescuing Nebby. Each time with higher and higher stakes until the worlds were saved. No wonder he became the strongest, most dependable Trainer in the region! But this time, the recount holds a different tone. Just Roark, without the rest of the children there to chime in, and a deep sadness as the tale paved the way to tragedy. Burnet had always worried about him before, but how it must have broken him to be so helpless after being the one to fix everything for so long. He was there with Hau the day of the attack, and had never been able to say what happened to anyone. Had Necrozma some sort of power to make people forget? Or had Roark's mind shut out the memory of it? Burnet was brought out of these passing fancies and came back to the conversation with surprise at Roark's new addition to the tale.]

Roark:

When I was on my way to the Pokemon League, I found Necrozma again all crumpled up in a crater where I guess it had landed. The poor thing was so broken. So, I… I took it in, and tried to nurse it back to health.

Burnet:

You mean it came back to Alola? As early as that? [She had heard of such massive creatures living in the void, entire worlds or cities where these interdimensional beings had become gods of their homeland, and to think there was one right in their own backyard all this time!] Why didn't you tell anyone? 

Roark:

I didn't want it to land in the wrong hands. 'Cause, like, I know it belonged in Ultra Megalopolis, but the reason it's so broken in the first place is because the people there tied it down and used it for a power source. I couldn't send it back to a life like that... And I thought, well, the Aether Foundation probably knows the most about it, so they could take care of it! ...But Lusamine started this whole mess because she said it needed to be destroyed. [Shifts uneasily] I thought if I gave it to them when it's so weak, they might actually do it this time. [Sinks down] After all this, I almost wish we had… [His voice breaks as he mentally scolds himself. What a terrible thing to say!] It's not really a bad Beast though. At first, it was doing okay. Maybe even happy with me as it got better and stronger. It's just, Necrozma is in so much pain. So. Much. Pain. Once the energy it had gathered from our time with the Voices had started to run out, I didn't know what to do. I thought I could take it to another world, or ask the URS, but… I guess Necrozma had other plans.

[Roark sinks even further, almost ashamed at his naivety as he had to tell her. Someone has to finally hear the truth.] 

Roark:

I went to treat it one day, but it was gone. I wasn't sure when, or why, but I hoped that maybe it had gotten better and it didn't need me anymore. [Scoffs] But even in the best circumstances, I knew we were in trouble if it was gone. At first my biggest worry was that it might try to go after Lillie. Or worse, with its power over the Ultra Wormholes, those Rainbow Rocket guys would be back. But… I never imagined Necrozma was capable of stuff like this… I thought it was my friend… [Slams a fist on the cushion next to him in frustration.] I feel so stupid! 

Burnet:

You're not stupid. It just sounds like you were overwhelmed by something so much bigger than you. Or any of us. I can't believe you've been holding onto this all this time when-

Roark:

What could I say?! Knowing what happened doesn't change anything! It can't fix the Shadows! It won't make Mallow or Lana or Kukui magically reappear! It won't bring my mom back! And then I'd have everyone mad at ME when I can't do anything! [Bitterly as he gets up from the couch and goes to the window, glaring out at the city below.] If I ever see that monster again, I'll… I'll… [He grips the window sill, his body shaking as he closes his eyes. He takes off his glasses and tries to wipe at them with the palm of his hand. Hearing voices is nothing new, but the pounding pressure inside his head is enough to make him pass out.] Guys… please. Not right now…

“Stay back. You’ve upset him enough.”

Burnet:

[Had gotten up to comfort him, but the new voice suddenly catches her off guard. She stops to look around for where it had come from.] Roark? Did you hear that? [The young man doesn’t move, giving her the impression it had all been in her head.] 

[There comes a twisted sort of scream from below and Burnet's heart skips a beat to think of the Shadows being so close. Given their aggressive nature, she could only imagine a pair of them had met on the empty streets. Roark still hasn't stirred.]

Burnet:

Roark…? [Goes over to him and takes him by the shoulders. He had every reason to be upset, especially in the last few days, but talk like that always seemed to draw trouble. Tries to sound more upbeat to persuade him.] Hey. Maybe we can come back after we help with the evacuation, hm? Could take a while, but you know Lillie and Gladion really need our help right now. And once we all get together in person, maybe we can come up with a plan for finding Necrozma- 

Roark:

[Softly] More fools and their "plans"...

Burnet:

Huh? [She lets go of him, shaken by the suddenly darkened tone but she's also curious what's holding his attention so much outside. A closer look into the night and she can see a man on the street, his walk slightly crouched as though on the prowl for a fight. She feels she knows that stance, she recognized that distant holler.] I-it can't be… Is that Kukui? 

[Stepping into the light of the street lamp below, it's unmistakable. His hair disheveled and his coat somewhat tattered, but it's him. Kukui stares pointedly up at the pair in the window with hollow eyes and lets out a war cry to pierce the otherwise stillness.]

Roark:

[With a bit of a hiss] Not for long. [He looks back at her and feigns to correct himself with his normal tone] Not anymore. I’ll take care of him. Go to your room and lock the door. 

Burnet:

But you-!

Roark:

No coincidence he’s here. Such strong bonds, he must have come for you. Now go. [*Burnet stares at Roark  as his eyes seem to sparkle like gems behind his black thick rimmed glasses. She gives a frightened nod at the command, feeling she should listen, and doesn’t bother to question or even move before she watches him disappear from the room with unusual speed.*]

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And with that, we're officially caught up to the prologue! This is where the original story ended, and I was just ready to be done with it, but with a bit of encouragement (and having already gone through the ENTIRETY of RUM due to writing the transcript for it) I really wanted to flesh out the connections between the two and cleaned up my original work. Anyone who read my previously uploaded chapters for The Light may have picked up on a few patterns to where this is going.

Archive

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, FANDANIEL ( HERMES ). 🌗

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: kaye age: 24 pronouns: they / them ooc contact: ofelpis @ tumblr other characters in xc: angel devil, lelouch vi britannia

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: fandaniel ( hermes ) age: 43 ( physically ) pronouns: he / him series: final fantasy xiv canon point: just pre-sundering app triggers: apocalyptic scenarios, death, religious horror, memory loss, brief discussion of identity loss, discussion of symptoms of depression including mention of suicidal ideation, animal harm/death, discussion of euthanization, discussion of suicide

personality: stiff, withdrawn, antisocial. hermes is a brilliant man with a humble demeanor, gentle beyond words and more than a bit subdued. while not the easiest to get along with, he takes his work very seriously and can often be found out in the field, working alongside others not as their superior, but rather just another coworker. he holds a deep curiosity for the world, and takes great enjoyment from observing wildlife and learning to understand their mannerisms. each of his actions are completed with love and exactness, and he strives to make sure that his charges are as comfortable as can be. many are inspired by his diligence.

… his people-handling skills, however, can use some practice. hermes is amicable enough in conversation, but hardly cares for prolonging small talk or discussing topics that aren’t part of his work. oftentimes he can seem distant when talking with others, thoughtful about something he’ll seldom elaborate on compared to reassuring them that he’s fine. the truth is that while he is a deeply passionate individual, his faith in the world around him is incredibly fragile, if not nonexistent entirely. hermes does not fit in. hermes has never fit in. having grown used to getting strange looks for expressing his doubts about society, he has instead turned inwards and stews in his misery, thinking that there is no one else in the world that could ever understand him. if the world is perfect, and it cannot accept flaws, then he hardly finds himself in the position to remain in it.

ah, but that isn’t a big deal. he is helpless in the cycle, and this is a new world entirely. maybe he’ll never need to talk about it.

something your muse struggles with: mercy. not in the sense that he’s a heartless fiend or anything, but rather he has too much of it. the thought of hurting living beings, especially those that don’t choose to be in their circumstances, twists his heart so much that he could break apart.

your muse’s greatest strength: his compassion for nature. everything hermes does is done in order to respect nature and give it the best chance to thrive. this applies to all of nature. there is no creature or thing that is undeserving of love in his eyes, no matter their flaws.

history / background:

chief overseer of elpis, you will witness the world as it is still within its egg. creation will be at your fingertips, and you will ensure that this place that we have crafted with our own hands will remain the paradise that we yearn it to be.

hermes accepts this, for it is what his predecessor asked of him. he takes to it like a fish takes to water, managing the remote community with limitless devotion and a quiet kindness. the people in the fields whisper:

that hermes is so strange! did you hear? he denied the order to cancel that awful concept. he’s been trying to fix it for ages now. why go through the trouble?

that hermes transformed again to help in creating a gust for those creatures in zephyros! isn’t that so indecent?! i can’t imagine doing that myself for a bunch of tiny little creatures!

hermes stayed up all night trying to get those melanion to sleep. i hear they almost bit his hand off! i don’t know where he gets the patience for it…

hermes saved the new researcher from being gobbled up by a gurangatch! i’ve never seen someone run so fast– how brave of him! it makes you wonder if he has any regard for his own life!

how funny, how people can gossip so much about him when he’s just doing his job. it almost makes him want to scream, actually– what makes him so important compared to the creatures that they had all been charged to look after and protect? he can’t imagine how anyone has the heart to allow these creatures to come to harm, let alone kill them.

what makes a creature imperfect? what makes an ancient perfect? how is one better than the other? how does one have control over the other? was it truly their duty? to look down on the world and play the role of judge, jury, and executioner? it hardly seems fair.

he speaks his mind, sometimes. to fellow researches that have praised him to high heavens about his concepts, to those who have seen him everyday and surely must have understood his heart. there must be someone out there that thinks the same as him. that the way that they’ve been going about everything is wrong.

ah… no… to return to the star is beautiful, is it not? to have your aether go back to etheirys, to become the fuel for the world! you don’t think so?

ah, well… everyone has told me that this is just how it is, so i’d rather not go through the trouble of thinking differently… our lives are too comfortable to change things.

they’re just animals, aren’t they? as their creators, we need to make sure that they behave. if you don’t understand that, then why are you here?

you’re not meant to be here.

you’re not meant to be here.

you’re not meant to be here–

hermes spends many sleepless nights sitting at the edge of elpis, staring out at the stars beyond. it is very quiet. the wind blows through the leaves, tousling his hair as he perches on a stone, flowers staining themselves deep violet in his presence.

everyone’s elpis flowers… are white as snow. they truly don’t find any problem with living in the way that they have. it is bliss. it is ignorance. it is blindness that comes from staring directly at the sun for their whole lives. hermes feels like he is cloaked in shadow, ichor that sticks to his skin and stains him black. it makes him sick to his stomach.

there has to be… something better. something more than this miserable excuse of a paradise that everyone here insists etheirys is. something far beyond this star surely knows how to heal the ache in his heart. as he glances down to the blooms beside him, swaying amethysts in the breeze, he gets an idea.

in the endless blue that extends beyond elpis, he would find his answer. he would travel the whole universe, if need be. he just needed to make a messenger.

no matter what, he would make it so.

powers / abilities:

aether manipulation – a healing ability? a hurting ability? aether can be whatever the user desires to use it for. hermes’ abilities all involve manipulation of aether in some form, however for this specific power, i’ll state that this allows him to hit enemies with unaspected aether or, if needed, can impart aether to people in order to enhance their own abilities/heal from wounds.

wind-aspected magic – hermes has power over the winds, and can use them offensively or defensively depending on his needs. gusts as large as a small typhoon can be summoned under his command, along with gentle breezes that tickle the cheeks. one of his particular talents is being able to crystallize the wind itself into large panes of greenish-glass, which can be pushed and manipulated at will.

concept creation – hermes is able to manipulate aether in order to make living beings. he has a particular expertise with flying specimens, and has a liking for birds. that said, he can make other creatures as well. for xara cosmia’s sake, i’ll impose the following limits to his creative abilities:

3 small creatures a day ( such as sparrows )

2 medium creatures a day ( such as dogs/cats )

1 large creature a day ( such as big cats/horses )

transformation – hermes can change into an aerial form in order to further enhance his magical prowess. this form is a cloaked figure with a two long trails of feathers down his chest, along with wings so numerous that they’re difficult to count. always airborne, and capable of flying quickly for long distances. this form is quite large ( around 20 feet, i’ll say ) and incredibly strong. can carry people and other things easily, if needed. unfortunately, transformation is incredibly discouraged in ancient culture, so he very rarely does so.

inherent abilities:

affinity with animals – i don’t think this is necessarily a magical ability, but hermes, having spent so much time around animals, typically understands their intentions and can communicate with them in his own way. very creature savvy.

items / weapons:

caduceus staff – a herald’s wand that allows hermes to channel his magic and also communicate directly with his constructs. can be summoned and dismissed at will so long as he has the sufficient aether. would make for a good hiking cane.

ancient mask – a white mask with silver accents that covers the top half of his face. it has a sharp beak like part that sits on his nose.

convocation mask – red and scary looking. he kind of hates it.

starting ability: concept creation starting item: ancient mask extra:

behold! the first being in the world with depression!

he’s like 6’7” ( 200 cm )... my lanky tall weird bird dad

i also think he’s vegan. because of course he is

even if being an ancient sucks at least he has the ultimate executive dysfunction outfit ( huge snuggie )

i’ve been rotating this guy for almost two full years in my head but it was surprisingly hard to write an app for him. he’s just so sad. please understand

discord id: ofhermetica.

password: (through tears) i can fix him

[inkdheart17]

Vegebul angst:

It was that look of his that had her frowning. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He looked like the lonesome prince he was. There was no trace of his usual arrogance and abrasive personality. It was just him. Stripped bare as rare, heartbreaking tears managed to stream down his cheeks.

That look of his had her wanting to pull him into her arms. She wanted to reassure him that not all was lost, that he still had her and their son, and that even their friends were still with them, but she was prideful as well. Many fights had come from their clashing personalities, but none so heartbreaking than the one they were in now. She had long ago decided to forgive him for his actions while possessed by the dead sorcerer, but she found it was easier said than done.

Try as she might, she was never able to understand why the possession happened. Her childhood friend had told her it was a lost battle, and then warned her that her husband was definitely a victim, but his actions under that 'M' on his forehead were far too familiar. It was him, back in his prime, back when they first met. The merciless conquerer that never hesitated to have it reason blood. The insatiable warrior with a thirst to prove his strength. The offended prince that had to put a stray "low rank warrior" in his place. Her husband had gone back to his days as a monster, and she found it hard to believe that there was not some part of him that was happy about it. Glad to have found his heritage again, which he had complained was erased due to his prolonged exposure to humans. To her.

She had changed him. She knew she had. The main reason she even dared to invite the genocidal prince to live in her home was due to her confidence in being able to change him, but she failed to keep in mind what that would do to him. She imagined that losing yourself, even to love, was terrifying when you were the sole survivor of your race.

Sure, he had a brother and hey childhood friend had been uncovered to be like her husband, but neither of them had grown up in the same conditions. She had no way of knowing what her husband's brother had gone through, but she knew her childhood friend, at least, had grown up like a human. Perhaps the other prince had grown up to be like the inhabitants of the planet he was sent to. Perhaps he was a kind man. A stark contrast to her husband.

Her thoughts stopped as she found herself caught. Her husband wide-eyed as he noticed that someone had witnessed his vulnerable side. It was strange to see him line a deer in headlights. Much more akin to those he used to hunt rather than the hunter get used to be. She wished to believe only she had that effect on him. Who else did he tolerate, after all? No one. Just her, and was that not just the damnedest thing? He was all alone again, because she found it hard to believe he was a victim.

The prince resumed his stride. Briskly moving past her. Careful not to touch. She found it ironic. She was the one who was angry, betrayed, and confused, but it was he who kept away. He never dared to approach her after he was freed from the sorcerer's control. Perhaps if he had not taken such drastic measures to kill the creature he helped free, perhaps then he might have had more courage to face her. To talk about what he experienced, but he had. He had gone as far as erasing his own existence in a brilliant light in order to right his mistakes, and he had failed. Brought back only because of a miracle secret only to them. Them and their friends, and now a few more enemies as well. A miracle she found herself habitually collecting after having to revive her first dead friends.

Her husband was a victim. The prideful, arrogant man that knew he belonged in a throne, now a helpless victim. It was such a fall from grace. She wondered if it was denial, then, that kept her from believing the truth. Her husband was a strong man, after all. Along with her childhood friend, the man had saved her home countless times. Had professed his adoration for her a million times more behind closed doors. A secret veneration he refused to share with anyone else. She was his, and he was hers, and he would be damned if he allowed anyone else into what they had.

So, it was painful to think of such a man as a victim. Her pillar, her protection, her love. She had dreamt of a prince of her own as a child, but she had never been prepared for what that entailed. She figured a prince would let her live a pampered life where she never had to lift a finger. Surrounded by luxuries and all the strawberries she could ever wish for, but she was wrong. Her price came with no throne, and his cape was red not because of expensive silk, but because of endless bloodshed, and he was always close to leaving her. She had to work hard to keep up with him. Invent new gadgets that would help them win the day, but in the end he still left her side. Was that it, then? Was she angry at herself for failing to protect him?

No, how could she expect to do so? She was only human. Not some warrior alien race genetically coded for war. Even so, she was a fighter. Not like he was, but she knew even hell would be unable to separate them if she so desired. They had survived so much together, after all, and she had put in quite the amount of effort to keep up.

She knew what she had to do next.

The bedroom door creaked as she poked her head in. Not surprised to find it empty. No matter. What she had planned required a bit of alone time. Though, she still glanced down out the window. Watching the empty space that once held the unstable training room her husband had repeatedly collapsed onto himself. She remembered how terrified she had been the first time. How her desperation to prove he was still with her led them down an irreversible path. How it had sparked their dependence on each other, and later on their love.

She sighed as she finished preparing herself to talk with him. His lack of communication skills was something she was already accustomed to thanks to her childhood friend. Still, it never hurt to take extra precautions with her husband since all their arguments escalated to shouting matches. She took in a breath of courage and made her way to the much more stable gravity room.

As expected, the door was locked. Indicating that her husband was inside with the gravity set to a critical level. She chewed on her lip again. Should she just leave him be? In a honesty, she had no idea how to deal with the situation. He had to hate her, right? She had ignored him for so long. Ignored the hurt and guilt that plagued him. Had the roles been reversed, she would have left him. That depressing thought was enough to move her hand and press the intercom.

"Vegeta."

There was silence. She waited for a few minutes, but no response came. Resigned, she turned to leave. Only for the door to unlock. It never opened, but that was just like him. She found herself smiling softly as she walked in.

Standing a few feet in front of the door was her husband. Usually he would either stand with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyed she was interrupting his training, or he was quick to shut the door behind her. Hungry lips claiming hers as he all but devoured her whole. Neither of those reactions greeted her this time. Instead, he stood before her breathing heavy. Body exhausted no doubt by the intense workout he had just been torturing himself with. He was punishing himself again.

Before she could do anything about it, a single sound fell from his lips: "Bulma."

Her name. It sounded so delicate and fragile on his trembling voice, and yet it sounded like it was the one thing that was keeping him together.

Like a reenactment of their beginning, Bulma found herself running over to catch her prince. Cradling his head on her lap as his body gave into the gravity she knew was far too weak to truly keep him down. The only difference now being the soft sobs she had never heard before.

It was heartbreaking to see her love like this. A sobbing mess that clung to her like a child. Repeating apologies like a mantra. He was careful not to hurt her, but his grip on her hand was unbreakable. He wanted her with him. Wanted to make sure she stayed.

Bulma gave her husband a saddened smile. "I'm here, Vegeta."

And she was. For the first time since he released hell on Earth, she was there with him. Brushing his hair with her hands as she consoled him. Listening to his pain and loving him all the same.

[blzzrdstryr]

Signed in blood

Yandere!Zhongli x Yaksha!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2541

CW: Yandere themes, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy power dynamics

Long before Liyue’s borders had been established and the harbor bloomed into the prosperous city that it is today, the Geo Lord, Rex Lapis gathered all lesser deities and spirits dwelling in the current nation’s territory and concluded a contract with most of them, ensuring the protection of his country and people. Some of them signed a contract out of fear before archon’s power, some did it for mutual benefit and some out of gratitude and deep reverence. You are in the latter category, a simple forest spirit that was saved from the distorted monsters left after the archon war by his grace and power alone.

It was a simple day when you felt an enormously malicious energy surrounding your green abode, and soon they showed up, killing intent and will of dead archons seeping out of them. You were fast and agile enough to dodge creatures' hits, which couldn't be said about the others. Your fellow spirits and animals with whom you were sharing this forest soon fell victim to the perpetrators' attacks. Dark energy entered and desecrated the lands, poisoned the waters and even possessed the bodies of your old friends.

You were running away, fatigue finally catching up to you, despite the inhuman nature and you soon fell to the ground. There were a myriad of thoughts and feelings reeling inside of you - grief for your now dead friends and home, anger at the monsters and most importantly frustration with yourself. You aren’t human, not a single part of you is, so why were you so weak and helpless, unable to do anything as you left your loved ones for slaughter and massacre?

Guilt and shame washed over you, as you allowed tears to burst free - you were bad, you were disgusting for not doing anything, not helping anyone. Monstrous roars and growls got closer, a promise and a threat of what will happen to you. You closed your eyes, accepting the imminent end and bracing for the upcoming pain. And then the most unexpected thing happened - the earth underneath you vibrated, tremors knocking the beasts off their feet, as a tall basalt pillar rose from the ground.

Soon the stranger appeared, ending the monsters in one swift and elegant slash of his spear. He donned an otherwise simple white attire adorned with golden threads, with a long ponytail showing from the hood, but the most eye-catching details were piercing amber eyes and the glowing patterns all over his body of the same colour. You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched your unexpected savior - he was beyond handsome, possessing the kind of beauty that would have mortals blushing and stuttering.

He then looked around, finally noticing your sprawled form. “Are you all right?”he asked, his tranquil and calm voice tinted by the shadow of concern and lending his hand. “I am”, you sputtered out and took an outstretched limb, feeling infinitely clumsy and ugly, face heating up from embarrassment. “That is good”, his voice despite still possessing the same serenity took a warmer tone.

As you learned later, you were saved by one of the seven remaining archons, a lord of geo. Filled with shame for your dishonorable escape and gratitude for your unforeseen salvation you signed the tightest contract with Rex Lapis - a blood written pact.

Unlike the contracts mortals establish, a contract between two immortal beings lacks the parchment or ink or a signature, they use magic and techniques that echo directly into their soul, preventing even the possibility of the terms' violation. Blood written pact binds to the vital essences of one, an ancient magic flaring up once the contractor intends to break the agreement, stopping and warning them of what's to come once they do breach it.

Your blood sizzled and boiled as you pledged your life to Liyue, magic singing in your veins and resonating with your soul - Rex Lapis saw the potential in you to be a great warrior and designated you to serve him as one of the yakshas, so you obeyed, training your body and spirit to withstand the endless calamities you no doubt will have to face. One day, after a grueling training you almost gave up, but forced yourself past your limits. I must redeem myself and repay Rex Lapis, you thought, gritting your teeth and taking a battle stance again, and then a miracle happened: a blue glowing orb materialized in the air - a vision bestowed by the hydro archon.

Sometimes you still reminisce about this moment and recite the oath you gave back then - I pledge my life to the protection of the Liyue nation and the will of Geo Archon, Rex Lapis for all the centuries to come.

Soon, you ended your training and started to protect Liyue just like other four adeptis all of whom were also saved by the Geo Lord. For centuries you five defended the nation as it bloomed and grew into something that you couldn't even imagine. And even after centuries of slaughter as your karmic debt started to slowly eat you from inside, slowly, but surely devouring your sanity by the smallest pieces you always found strength to move forward by recalling your first meeting with Rex Lapis, reverence before your God and guilt before the dead driving you further and further.

With time a dull, yet constant pain made its way into your bones. Sometimes it would make your eyes fill with unshed tears, sometimes wake you up in those rare times you slept without nightmares, sometimes it made your hands tremble, almost dropping the weapon in the middle of the battle. You couldn’t suppress and endure it like Xiao does, letting out a pained whimper here and there, yet you still upheld your duty to the Liyue. It almost felt like routine, until two awful events happened: the death and defection.

The fear and hatred of all those who fell victims to your weapons were slowly seeping in your minds, driving you mad with bloodlust. It all happened so quickly: you were watching out for other demons as Bonanus and Pervases were patching up Alatus after the intense battle, while Bosacius looked at the other front, weapons ready, and then Bonanus lashed out, aiming for Xiao's neck. The anemo yaksha quickly darted to the side, but the weapon still grazed the copper bird's neck, his blood forming a quickly growing pool underneath. You had to put the bloodlusted yaksha yourself, something inside of you breaking as you did so - it was one thing to stand against hordes of demons and monsters and it was another to kill your friend.

You couldn’t talk or look into the eyes of the other two after that, despising yourself for yet another failure - first your forest, then your friends, you were helpless to save anyone. And then Bosacius left, you had no idea where he vanished, but these two events prompted Rex Lapis to visit both you and Xiao, as yakshas shrinked in numbers from five to two in less than a week.

You kneel before the Geo archon when you notice his tall figure between the ancient trees - unlike Xiao, you prefer to live in the woods, the familiarity of nature reminiscent of a home you once lost. Your Lord ushers you to stand up, his face solemn and grim.

“[First]”, he starts, exhaustion evident in each syllable: "For centuries you protected my Harbor, and despite turbulent times passing you still uphold your duty. I find that admirable".

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head, unable to receive such high praise from your God, you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, acknowledgement of your hard work, and even constant pain or the death and disappearance of your colleagues became less serious of the issue for a mere moment.

"I am not worthy of such praise, my lord, I am only doing my job, fulfilling the contract", you deflect, looking at him again. Archon's eyes crease a little and a small frown appears as you say "contract", yet he quickly wills his face into an impassive mask.

"I suppose I made a mistake when I asked you to be my yaksha back then, I have misjudged your worth ", he continues, voice becoming distant and strangely tense, as he reminisces about the days long past, amber eyes looking both at and through you.

"My lord, I…", you start and then stumble over the words, unsure what to say next. Is this his way of telling you that you're bad at your job? You cast your head down, eyes lowered in shame, hands that spilled adeptus' blood trembling and burning. "I am deeply sorry for letting you down in that way, I will do my best to redeem myself from now on” .

A warm hand touches your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting manner. His palm is warm and firm, comforting in its steadiness like a tall cliff standing proudly against the raging tides, indestructible and reliable.

"You have no reason to apologize for this. Something like this would inevitably happen sooner or later, you have no fault in the events that occured. I suppose karmic debt would drive one of you insane eventually".

He sounds calming, reassuring, like a parent soothing a child. You still don’t lift your head to meet his gaze - you’re too guilty and unworthy to do that. There are no words you can speak now, not when you have been so thoroughly destroyed by your lord’s kindness - how can he look at you and see someone innocent?

“No, I meant that all those centuries ago, when I first met you I didn’t discern the gem hidden in the crude ore” he adopts reminiscent tone again, his hand now moving on your shoulder in slow and steady rhythm: “I knew I wanted you to be by my side, I didn’t know who I wanted you to be though. I needed time to understand my own feelings and the way I viewed you, and then I needed some more time to accept those sentiments”.

“What sentiments, my lord?”, you ask, finally looking up to him, brows slightly frowned in confusion and curiosity - it’s rare to see the Geo archon talk about his inner workings so openly, as he usually prefers to keep a cordial distance or masterfully redirects the conversation into a completely different direction.

“Over the years, as you protected my nation and my people, I finally understood it”, his hand shifts from your shoulder and now he cups your own two palms in a firm yet gentle hold: “I cherish you, [First]”.

The sudden declaration leaves you stunned and speechless for a good minute: you look at your god with wide eyes, mouth opening several times like a fish out of water. A myriad of thoughts and feelings go through you: confusion, disbelief, inferiority.

“I… That is very sudden for me to… learn about your affections”, you finally utter, forgetting to add respectful “my lord” at the end. Your voice comes off as small and hesitant as you say so. Rex Lapis doesn’t seem to mind your confusion as he takes a second to collect his own thoughts.

“The yaksha title I have burdened you with takes a toll both on your mind and your body. I severely miscalculated, so I want to redeem this mistake”, he sounds regretful now, one hand moving to caress and cup your face. You go stiff, still overwhelmed by the whole conversation. “I can free you from your contract if you decide to become my life companion”.

“But, my lord, it’s so sudden I can’t just..”

“Hush, I won’t pressure you into an intimate relationship right away. No, we will wait and learn about each other and once you will be comfortable enough to let me enter your life and your heart we will marry, uniting our fates with a contract that shall never end”.

You lower your head again, but this time in contemplation instead of guilt and shame. What do you feel for Rex Lapis? Admiration - he is a powerful deity, capable enough to flatten mountains and raise new ones with a single slash of his spear. Gratitude - he was the one that saved you and sheltered you, until you grew strong enough, he gave you a reason to live when you had none. Respect - he is a capable leader, smart enough to build a foundation and guide people of the most magnificent nation in Teyvat.

You feel no love for him, not the kind of love he wants anyway. You know about his patience and how affections sometimes take years to finally mature and bloom, but the thought of spending decades, maybe even centuries in hopes that one day you will reciprocate is nauseating to you.

How do you feel about it? A part of you wants it - it’s an easy way out to get rid of the pain, of the fear and bloodshed, of the death that clings to you at every waking moment. You remember how you spend most of your nights sleepless, drowsiness leaving you the same second you dream of blood and carnage and massacre. You remember your whole body throbbing and burning on especially bad days, when even Remedium Tertiorum can’t do its job. You remember crying and gasping for air after the weight of the slaughtered gets too heavy for you to handle.

You almost say yes, out of these reasons alone, but you stop yourself - you think of Xiao, of how lonely he will become once you leave. You think of heartfelt smiles that mortals gift you with on those rare occasions you have to save them. You think of the slaughtered spirits before whom you still have to atone to.

“I am sorry, my lord” You look him straight in the eyes, bracing yourself for the words you are about to say: “I can’t match your feelings, nor can I accept your offer, not now at least”.

Amber eyes lose their warmth in the instance, the comforting aura he was exuding earlier replaced by the weird tension between you two. Looking at this image, you suddenly remember how ruthless Rex Lapis can be on the battlefield as for a fraction of the second he looks at you as you’re an enemy.

A horrible pain shoots right through your body, and your short scream follows. You fall on the floor, gasping for air, deaf and blind from the overwhelming pain. Geo archon quickly takes your form, carrying you to your sleeping place, as you try your best to breathe and not cry.

“It must be a blood pact acting up, the magic must have taken your refusal as disobedience to the contract”, he says once the agony lightens, enough for you to focus on the conversation, “you did pledge your life to my will”.

You try to half sit on your elbow, to look him in the eyes and say something other than the pained groans and whimpers, as his next words instill a sense of quiet dread in you:

“I hope you will rethink and take back your words out of your own volition, [First]. I would hate to order you to”.

[phantom-17]

Recently I've been coming across more and more posts which say different, but unite in one, the following: Sebastian is a perverted amoral beast that makes Ciel a torturer, greedy and heartless proud fellow in order to make his soul a delicious treat, lost in sorrow and sins and dark as darkness itself can only be. But I have certain thoughts that allow me to say that I'm not quite agreeable with this point of view. And let me explain why.

Actually, this might really be true. There's no denying that Sebastian leads Ciel's soul deeper in sin, even Yana had claimed something similar to that statement during one of her old interviews. BUT I see in Seb's purposes and aims something more specific than just his starvation issues: even though he says that he has genuine interest in Ciel's soul only, I believe that deep inside he feels what Ciel feels, he shows his empathy during random facial expressions that aren't even suitable for a devil - a creature with no sense of loyalty and love. There are MYRIADS of tiny catch phrases of Seb that can proof that he doesn't make Ciel a bad person, but silently follows his orders. Attention, his OWN orders. It's well-known that Ciel imagines himself (and he truly is) as a magnificent gamer. He, and only he is responsible for the actions that take place in his fate, just because Sebastian never does something that wasn't a particular order, and every time he somehow deviates from Ciel's plans a little, he gets reprimanded. Have you ever seen a single time Sebastian seduced Ciel to kill someone? Moreover, Ciel is quite an adequate and mature person for his years, even when Sebastian at the very beginning of their contract suggests a simpler way of a game and rushes out of the table to kill everyone who had ever hurt him, Ciel stops him and says that there's no need to kill everyone who, in his subjective opinion, might be involved in Phantomhive fall. See the difference? Ciel isn't becoming a brainless killer with Seb. He sees his own goals over Sebastian's methods of acting and keeps being a Human even despite he had come through hellish experience.

MOREOVER

Sebastian isn't just a weapon in Ciel's hands. He's his patron and mentor. Sebastian, not someone else had taught him sciences and art, Sebastian, not someone else had enough patience to teach him manners, horse riding and hunt. Sebastian helped him to gain back his manor and title, to get rid of inconfidence and believe that he isn't a helpless tiny worm that's good for nothing. Thanks to Sebastian Ciel had become at least somehow socialised and made his dream of creating a toy factory true.

There also wasn't a single case when Sebastian gave Ciel a piece of advice or made a remark that turned out to be bad for him. He teaches Ciel how to behave properly, he broadens his knowledge, moreover, he always trains his wit and inner powers by purposely putting him in those peculiar situations when Seb can't help! Look at these pages and cuts:

You see? Sebastian teaches him wisdom. He understands that Ciel's highly convinced that Sebastian will come and save him whatever happens. He sees that Ciel is still a bit non-independent, because there was no one who could teach him to be so. So SEBASTIAN does it himself to make Ciel understand that it isn't the world whirling around him, but he is the one who's whirling in its incomprehensible, tangled algorithms.

That's why I'm strictly persuaded that Sebastian is definitely something more than just a future taster of Ciel's soul. He's a person that leads this tiny fragile creature through his hard burden-like life. The gloomy shelter to hide, a prudent adviser, anyone, but not a straight foe for him. Yes, one may say that Sebastian does this all just because it's mentioned in their contract - to protect, to obey and so on. But, you must concede that despite this, Sebastian invests much more in the performance of his duties than he really ought to, and makes Ciel's life a part of his own one.

And I really want to believe, that even though this story can't have a happy ending, it would end up with happiness and peace in Ciel's soul, who'd finally reach his goal and close that cursed circle of endless challenges, grieves and losts that fell to his lot.

UPD: browsing through the last pages of Book of Murder ark I noticed one more thing that is controvercial to the statement that Sebastian doesn't care about Ciel.

This doesn't even need any comments, I think :)))))))♥

[corduroyserpent]

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @monroeknoxwrites 💖💖💖 and i will also be doing a little more than 3 lines because i can’t help myself asdfghjkl

where sighing lovers dream [Hua Cheng/Xie Lian | 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 / Tiān Guān Cì Fú | E rated | 16.2k]

“I have dreamt of kissing you countless times,” Hua Cheng whispered. The crackle of flames nearly overpowered his voice. “But not once did I ever imagine your lips were this soft.” He swallowed, eye trained on Xie Lian’s mouth. “And so skilled.”

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Xie Lian laughed, his cheeks dusted pink. Seeing his beloved’s eye go dark, Xie Lian hastily added – “With you! I have only ever kissed San Lang. Which I know must be confusing to hear but just trust me.”

in pursuit of warmth [Tianlang-jun & Zhuzhi-lang | 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System | M rated | 7.4k]

Zhuzhi-lang knows what it is to be angry. And to be helpless, unable to do anything about the feelings that twist his stomach into knots.

But he is no longer a wretched thing, slithering in the dark. A creature trapped in Bailu Forest, desperately taking sips from a hidden lake that burns with celestial light.

He and Junshang are free.

i’ll remember this time [Jiang Cheng/Nie Huaisang | 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 / Módào Zǔshī | M rated | 10.1k]

Nie Huaisang had fallen asleep during the monotonous recitation of the rules, sometime between ‘sitting improperly is prohibited’ and ‘do not indulge in debauchery’ by Jiang Cheng’s best guess. His head laid on the desk, dark hair spilled down his cheeks and pooled over his book of notes. It was more of a series of intimate drawings than anything learned from the daily lectures but Jiang Cheng saw at least one notation from yesterday’s class between a sketch of two men kissing passionately, so he decided to be generous.

catch the fickle wind [Wen Ning/Zhuzhi-lang | 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System & 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 / Módào Zǔshī | T rated | 5.4k]

“All right, all right. Such a filial nephew to bring this many gifts back for me. I wonder what you’ll pull out of your sleeves next, a secret friend or lover perhaps?”

An image of Wen Ning bowing, of dark veins and dead skin and an uneven smile, comes unbidden to Zhuzhi-lang’s mind. He shakes his thoughts free with no small amount of effort.

as below, so above [Hua Cheng/Xie Lian | 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 / Tiān Guān Cì Fú | E rated | 11.1k]

Hua Cheng falls back into his oft sung prayer, tilting his head towards an unforgiving sky: wait for me, wait for me, wait for me.

And then he issues a challenge to thirty-five gods. Those pathetic excuses for divinity whose faces Hua Cheng has made sure to sear into the corner of his mind that holds wretched things. He’s painted them too. Over and over.

They have since been scraped from the walls of his cave to become blank faces sitting atop the formless idea of bodies. He cannot let them stay. The only disgusting visage that belongs there is himself.

When I Was Older [Hua Cheng/Xie Lian | 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 / Tiān Guān Cì Fú | E rated | 67.5k]

“Don’t run off.” Feng Xin clenched his jaw, eyes trained seriously on Xie Lian. “We can do this together but Your Highness, I’m begging you, don’t fuck off to fight him alone. I can’t live through that again.”

Xie Lian’s blood ran cold.

Of course Feng Xin would worry about that. Xie Lian had been missing for two months after all.

In Shadow of the Sun [Gongyi Xiao/Zhuzhi-lang | 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System | T rated | 4.7k]

“I got second place,” Gongyi Xiao frowns. “That’s never happened before… but I feel it’s wrong to complain since the person who came in first has since perished. I’ll get over it, it’s not a big deal.” His mouth purses in a way that clearly indicates the opposite. He then rushes to add, “My issues, I mean, not his death!”

Zhuzhi-lang refrains from commenting, mostly because his tongue can’t form human speech. And only partly because he’s distracted by the radiance Gongyi Xiao exudes even in the shade, even bogged down by sorrow. This young man is somehow bright. His intangible glow is vibrant, impossible to ignore and yet…it causes no pain.

you kiss your snake with that mouth? [Shen Qingqiu/Zhuzhi-lang | 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System | E rated | 3.1k]

“Ah” —Zhuzhi-lang grasps Shen Qingqiu’s waist— “Master Shen, you…”

“Are you sensitive here too?”

“Mn.” Zhuzhi-lang’s pupils have dilated, expanding from thin black slits into a near roundness. His grip tightens. Shen Qingqiu can feel the bite of sharp nails through the fabric. “Is…is Master Shen also sensitive?” One of his hands slides beneath to splay against Shen Qingqiu’s stomach; it’s warmer than expected. “Can this one touch?”

i shine only with the light you gave me [Tianlang-jun & Zhuzhi-lang | 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System | T rated | currently 26.6k]

Tianlang-jun doesn’t realize he’s awake at first.

Awareness of his body sets in slowly—the feel of his spine against the bed frame, the familiar ever-present ache of his healing meridians, a crick in his neck from the improper way he had fallen asleep.

Then Su Xiyan. Her voice, almost forgotten. The deep black of her hair and her favorite set of robes and her eyes. How she smiles like she knows she shouldn’t give in to the temptation. How her hand has a little scar along the palm where she cut herself the first time she picked up a blade. He wants to see her again; he wants to feel the calluses on her fingers and listen to her talk. He wants, he wants, he wants.

resilient flower; ascending flame (and other things that can survive burning) [Hua Cheng/Xie Lian | 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 / Tiān Guān Cì Fú | T rated | currently 19.9k]

“How can I not worry? What if your wound gets infected or—”

“I’m already dead.” It’s a simple fact and San Lang says it as such. Like he’s commenting on the weather. But those words throw Xie Lian back into another time, another place where something similar was said. He swallows, not quite sure where he is for a very brief moment. Ruoye nudges its way down his arm to curl around his thumb. Xie Lian rubs the soft edge of his weapon with the pad of his index finger.

“Being dead,” he says quietly, “doesn’t mean you can’t be in pain.”

and i’ll tag @livingmeatloaf and @luukeskywalker ALSO ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO IT SORRY I’M BEING LAZY ABOUT TAGGING BUT THIS POST IS LONG ASDFGHJK

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR