#gripping the fabric of Mcs cloak

[certainstarfishsandwich]

And if I don't get an illustration of Kuras begging, and I mean GROVELING to Mc because Mc is going to walk into an obvious trap set up by his opps I will riot.

[vylosinbound]

Dia x mc who worries alot abt dia leaving them?? Could be smut or fluff or both! I don’t mind!!<33

Hey! Just wanted to let you know I’ve written a short fic that includes everything you mentioned, it blends emotional vulnerability, comfort, and that soft-spicy touch too! I really tried to capture the mood you were looking for. Hope you enjoy it!

Beyond mortality

Diavolo x MC who is afraid that he'll leave them

Characters: Diavolo x Gn!MC

Genre: Angst / Comfort / Slow Intimacy / Soft-Spice

TW: Smut, vulnerability, fear of abandonment

MC has a lingering fear that Diavolo, with all his duties and the weight of his title, will eventually leave them behind. One late night, that fear surfaces… and Diavolo refuses to let it stand.

DIAVOLO

The Devildom was quiet.

For once, the castle, so often a monument of power, felt less like a symbol and more like a sanctuary. It breathed with stillness, cloaked in moonlight and silence, as if the world outside had paused just for the two of you.

Diavolo’s bed was vast, but the warmth between you made it feel small, your bodies loosely tangled beneath soft, heavy blankets. His breath brushed against your skin in slow, rhythmic waves, a quiet melody that might have lulled anyone else to sleep.

But not you.

Sleep hovered just out of reach, like a bird reluctant to land. Your eyes remained open in the dark, searching the ceiling, tracing the shadows on the wall. The quiet had become a mirror, reflecting every fear you’d kept tucked away, whispers of doubt, like vines creeping through the cracks of your mind.

You shifted slightly, just enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. Real. Present. And yet… so impossibly far from your world. You, human and fleeting. He, eternal and divine.

A single thought clung to you, small but sharp: What if one day this all fades? What if I can’t hold onto something so infinite?

You closed your eyes, trying to breathe through it. But the silence made everything louder.

Then, without a word, Diavolo stirred.

As if he had felt the change in your heartbeat. As if even in sleep, some part of him knew when you needed to be reminded you weren’t alone.

His sleepy eyes slowly opened looking at you with concern. “Love?” His voice was thick from sleep, but alert. Gentle. “You’re trembling.”

You closed your eyes. Tried to will it away. The ache. The fear. The sharp little voice whispering that you were just a fleeting chapter in a book that had existed long before you were born.

But your fingers clutched the fabric of his sleep shirt like it was the last thing keeping you anchored to the world. As if loosening your grip meant losing him entirely.

“I…” Your throat felt tight. Dry. You swallowed, forcing the words through the storm rising in your chest. “What happens when this doesn’t last?”

His arms tightened around you, protective, alert. “What do you mean?”

You paused. You weren’t sure you could say it without breaking. But the silence between you was too full, and your heart had grown too heavy.

“I’m human, Diavolo,” you breathed, voice trembling with the truth you’d been burying. “And you’re not just a demon… you’re the demon. Crowned. Chosen. Eternal. And I—” you shook your head, shame prickling under your skin. “I have a ticking clock. I get older. Slower. I’ll wrinkle. I’ll fade.”

You felt the sting of tears welling, hot and unrelenting. “What happens when someone better comes along? Someone who won’t age. Someone who fits your world better than I ever could? Someone who can stand beside you without dragging you down?”

Your voice cracked. “What if one day you wake up, and you realize I was just a phase? A sweet little fantasy while it lasted, before reality calls you back to where you’re meant to be. Without me.”

You couldn’t stop the sob that escaped you then. It wasn’t loud. Just a quiet, raw sound, like something inside you had finally torn open. You pressed your face into his chest, ashamed and aching, your tears soaking into his skin.

“I know I shouldn’t think like this,” you whispered. “But it’s so hard not to. When I look at you, all I can think is, you deserve forever. And I don’t know how to believe I’m enough for that.”

His thumb brushed your cheek with reverence, as though you were made of stardust instead of skin, something rare and celestial he dared not lose. “You don’t understand how deeply you’ve etched yourself into me. There is no 'better.' No replacement. Only you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment. “You saw me. Not as a prince. Not as a ruler. Just… me. And no one else has ever done that.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a second heartbeat. You could feel his magic coiled beneath the surface, not aggressive, not overwhelming, just there, like warmth from a hearth you didn’t realize you’d been cold without.

“I’ve walked through centuries of shadow, MC,” he murmured, lips ghosting the space beneath your eye. “But your love is the first light that made me want to stop walking.”

Your eyes stung. You hadn’t meant to cry, but the tears slipped free anyway, quiet and warm as they slid down your cheeks. He caught one with his thumb, kissed another as it fell. “Don’t you see?” he breathed. “You’re not a fleeting moment. You’re the axis my world turns on.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Your hand found his, fingers weaving together, anchoring you both in the stillness.

And for the first time that night, the fear didn’t scream so loud. It hushed. It softened.

Because even in the silence, he was still there. Steady. Unmoving. Yours.

He leaned up and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not tomorrow. Not in a hundred years. If I could chain time itself just to keep you here with me, I would.”

You felt his magic pulse gently beneath your skin, curling like heat in your stomach.

His lips found your neck next, soft kisses tracing down with reverence. Your breath hitched as his hands slid beneath your shirt, slow, testing, but filled with need. His touch wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t carnal or hungry. It was possessive in the way a soul clings to its match. Every kiss was a vow. Every movement said, you are mine. I’m yours. Don’t doubt it.

You gasped when his fingers brushed lower, circling with deliberate care. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned softly against your skin.

“Look at me,” he whispered against your collarbone, voice rough. “If you’re going to worry about anything... worry about how you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

You laughed, shaky, breathless, broken in the most beautiful way, and something between you shattered and reformed, raw and unspoken. It wasn’t just desire. It was devotion laced with longing, and Diavolo… he was holding on to his control by a thread.

“You’ll be sitting beside me on the throne,” he murmured, voice low and rough with emotion, like a promise etched in stone.

He pulled your shirt over your head with slow reverence, like unwrapping something sacred, and his hands didn’t leave your skin for a second. His breath ghosted down your body, warm and deliberate, igniting every nerve he passed. You could feel his restraint unraveling with each kiss, each flick of his tongue against your skin, as though worshipping every inch of you was his royal duty.

When you arched your hips into his touch, seeking him, craving the friction, he groaned against your inner thigh, a sound that vibrated straight into your core.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, lips brushing so close it stole the air from your lungs. “Let me remind you just how deeply you are wanted… how utterly you belong to me.”

And then, he did.

The rest of the night passed in murmurs and sighs, not rushed, not wild, but slow, heady, and reverent. As though time itself had bent around you both, allowing space for every ache, every desperate breath, every whispered reassurance that you were not just wanted… but irreplaceable.

Diavolo touched you like he was learning worship. His hands mapped every inch of your skin with gentle hunger, memorizing, savoring, anchoring himself in the way your body arched under his. His mouth followed in kind, lips brushing over your neck, your shoulders, your chest, not hurried, but with intention, with fire tempered by devotion.

"You are not temporary," he whispered against the dip of your collarbone, voice low and rough. "You are not replaceable. You are mine."

Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, pulling him closer as your thighs parted for him instinctively. The heat between you bloomed , slow and consuming, your breaths catching with every graze of his palm, every press of his hips, every groan that rumbled from his chest when you moaned his name like it was sacred.

He made love to you with a passion that bordered on desperate, not for pleasure alone, but to prove it, to pour every ounce of love, fear, longing, and possessiveness into you, into every thrust and whispered vow.

“Look at me,” he murmured against your lips as his pace deepened. “Feel how you’ve ruined me. There’s no future, no kingdom, no eternity I want without you in it.”

Your bodies moved together like waves, the rhythm sensual, molten, maddening. Every moment stretched, and yet passed too quickly, pleasure crashing down between gasped confessions and tangled limbs.

And when the release came, slow, drawn out, overwhelming, it shattered something in both of you. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, and he held you through the tremors, your body shaking with more than just pleasure.

You clung to him afterward, skin damp and hearts racing. And still, he didn’t let you go.

He held you, strong arms wrapped around your bare form, his lips brushing soft promises against your temple as your breathing slowed, your eyelids fluttered.

And just before you drifted into sleep, his voice reached you one last time, warm and certain against your hair:

“Mine. For as long as time dares to move forward, so will I, with you.”

He held you through the hush of the early morning light. And long after.

[odileeclipse]

In Eyes I Almost Knew (In the Presence of Truth spin-off?)

(I just want to preface this is like a super old Idea of what I thought would happen of course, I love the amnesia trope but then I scrapped it but if I had stuck with it I wrote a small blurb for it just because I wanted to explore the idea before committing to the bit....I had the time so I polished it from the original. In this version I wanted for MC to walk alone with no friends which is why their friends don't appear but again scrapped it. I would prefer they don't walk the path alone)

It was odd, you thought, how the Faerie Kingdom felt at once completely familiar and utterly foreign. The silver pathways glistened beneath your feet, winding endlessly beneath canopies of strange, luminous flowers whose petals opened gently, glowing like captured moonlight. It was beautiful and utterly frustrating.

Frustrating because you couldn't remember anything.

Well, almost nothing. You remembered names, at least three of them: Chai Latte, warm laughter wrapped in mischief. Hazelnut Biscotti, solid and steady like stone walls. Earl Grey, quietly precise and annoyingly right, always.

But aside from them, your mind remained stubbornly blank. Elder Faerie Cookie had taken great care in cloaking you, hiding you away beneath enchantments that felt heavy and safe at once. He had murmured softly, eyes gentle yet burdened, as he'd draped the fabric over your shoulders.

"Keep your hood up, little one. Your safety depends upon secrecy."

He never elaborated, of course.

So here you were, hood drawn low over your eyes, following Elder Faerie quietly along silver paths. Your feet moved on instinct, careful yet curious, tracing the winding veins of the kingdom. You tried again to pry at your memories, nudging at them like bruises gentle but insistent. Still nothing. You huffed quietly in annoyance.

Just as you were readying yourself to protest Elder Faerie's quiet, mysterious guidance, you rounded a corner and nearly stumbled directly into a group of Cookies already deep in hushed conversation. You stopped abruptly, Elder Faerie’s gentle hand steadying at your back.

“Oh!” the loudest of the group said, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, a candy cane slung confidently over his shoulder. “Hello there!”

You blinked beneath your hood. He seemed friendly enough, if not a bit overly eager. Beside him, a wizard fiddled nervously with his oversized hat, mumbling something about sudden interruptions. A shy Cookie in a strawberry hoodie peeked from behind them, her eyes barely visible beneath the hood’s shadows.

Then, the fourth Cookie turned, and the quiet murmurings ceased entirely.

He wore robes of white and gold that shimmered softly like sunlight caught in honey. A soul jam, gentle and radiant, pulsed at his chest. But what stopped your heart was when he lifted his gaze to meet yours directly eyes gentle, patient, and achingly familiar.

One eye was golden like warm sunlit amber, the other as blue and deep as forgotten oceans.

Something deep within your chest shifted painfully. Your breath caught, lodging somewhere tight and burning in your throat. You didn't know him couldn't possibly know him. You searched your fragmented memory desperately, yet found only smoke and emptiness.

So why did those eyes look like something you’d once cherished, once trusted more than anything in the world?

Your fingers clenched tight at your sides beneath the cloak, as though gripping reality itself. The confusion must have shown, because Elder Faerie stepped forward quietly, his voice soft and low beside your ear.

“Do not fear, young one,” he murmured gently. “The ache you feel…it is not for Pure Vanilla Cookie. Though he may resemble one your heart once held close, it is not he.”

You blinked hard, barely breathing. “I don’t understand,” you whispered back, voice tight with something you couldn’t name. You had no choice but to trust him…Elder Faerie but it felt as though he was hiding the truth. There it was again that dull ache in your memory.

He only squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your heart knows what your mind does not. Let it rest for now.”

You inhaled slowly, deliberately. Fine. Logic dictated arguing was futile. If you couldn’t even recall why these eyes made your heart twist so sharply, there was no point fighting Elder Faerie’s cryptic warnings.

Pure Vanilla Cookie gentle, patient smiled softly, stepping forward. “It is wonderful to finally meet you. Elder Faerie Cookie speaks highly of you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice steady, cordial. “Thank you. Likewise.”

He inclined his head, eyes lingering with subtle curiosity, yet he asked nothing more. He seemed aware, somehow, of the careful lines you both danced around.

You turned slightly toward Elder Faerie again, unable to keep your question buried. “Can I ask...why exactly I need to stay hidden? I mean, is it a ‘dangerous assassin chasing me’ kind of thing, or more like an ‘ancient evil prophecy’ thing?” you asked lightly, using humor as a shield against the uncomfortable ache in your chest.

Elder Faerie Cookie looked briefly surprised then his expression softened slightly. He sighed, fond yet exasperated, and you felt a surge of pride in having cracked his serious demeanor, if only just a little.

“You remain hidden,” he explained carefully, “because who you were once mattered greatly. There are those who might seek you, yes…but not assassins, I assure you.”

You nodded solemnly. “So, an ancient evil prophecy, then.”

From behind Elder Faerie, GingerBrave laughed brightly, and even Pure Vanilla’s lips twitched in amusement.

“You have not changed entirely, it seems,” Elder Faerie murmured softly, shaking his head. But the corners of his mouth curled faintly upward, betraying quiet relief.

You smiled sheepishly beneath your hood, feeling just a little lighter. “Well, memory loss apparently hasn’t erased my impeccable comedic timing, at least.”

Wizard Cookie gave an exaggerated sigh, glancing aside dramatically. “Oh good. Another one who thinks they’re funny.”

Strawberry Cookie muffled a soft giggle behind her sleeve, peeking cautiously from beneath her hood. “I-I thought it was funny...”

“See?” you gestured triumphantly. “Clearly, I’m hilarious.”

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled gently, eyes warm with an unspoken fondness. “Indeed. We are lucky, then, that humor endures even when memories fail.”

Your smile faltered only slightly. He was right. Humor endured your favorite defense against pain you couldn’t yet face.

Your eyes lingered a moment longer on Pure Vanilla’s, still aching softly beneath your ribs. He was beautiful, gentle, kind but Elder Faerie was right. Your heart didn’t ache for him. No, the ache felt older, deeper. Whoever it was that Pure Vanilla reminded you of someone you’d lost and forgotten they still lingered just beyond your reach.

You looked away before the ache could sharpen, forcing a bright grin beneath your hood.

“So,” you began lightly, breaking the tension deliberately, “am I at least allowed snacks while in magical witness protection, or is the whole ‘mysterious-hooded-figure’ thing just for dramatic effect? I’m craving…” your heart ached for a minute. “Pineapples…?” Yeah you love pineapples don’t you?

Pure Vanilla’s smile widened, gentle amusement dancing softly in his mismatched eyes.

Elder Faerie sighed again but this time, openly amused. “You will have whatever you wish. Though if it quiets your humor, perhaps double portions.”

You beamed beneath your cloak, triumphant. “Perfect.”

And as laughter softened the lingering ache in your chest, you thought perhaps just perhaps you might be okay here in the kingdom of silver and secrets, hidden away until memories decided they were ready to return.

At least until then, you had your jokes.

A/N This isn't supposed to really even be angst it's a little confusing to me but I wanted to put it out there. I feel a little conflicted but ultimately when this does happen in canon, it will be a lot different and a lot more fleshed out than this.

[summerstarworks]

Our Divine Fate | Zayne Li/黎深

SUMMARY | As the last disciple of the White Lotus Sect, you meet the enigmatic immortal Li Shen while honoring your fallen master’s final wish. As danger, desire, and destiny intertwine, you both form a deep, romantic bond that leads you through trials of love, loss, and the promise of a shared eternal future.

PAIRINGS |  Zayne Li x MC!Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked 

GENRE | fantasy, smut, romance, xianxia, action, slight angst (??)

CONTENT/WARNINGS |   fantasy au, non-canon reader, immortality, magic, sparring battles, bandits, injuries/wounds, pet names, it's destiny that zayne and reader meets, kissing, unprotected sex, bathtub sex, oral sex, fingering, breast play,  caleb makes a random appearance lol

LENGTH |  11,973 words

TAGLIST |   @applekeu

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Here's to my first LADS fic lol. I hope it turned out okay. I don't think the ending is my best but I hope you still enjoy it nevertheless lol. 💚

The wind whipped through the dense forest, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the bite of an approaching storm. You pressed forward, the heavy pack on your back laden with scrolls and provisions, as the weight of your master’s final wish settled deeper into your bones. The White Lotus Sect was no more, its disciples scattered like leaves in the wind, and its teachings threatened to fade into the annals of history. But you—you—would not let that happen. Not while you still drew breath.

The trail grew steeper, the rocks slippery beneath your boots as you ascended the mountain path. The air grew thinner, colder, and with it came a strange stillness, as if the very world around you was holding its breath. The forest gave way to a clearing, and there, at the edge of the cliff, stood a figure cloaked in white, their back to you. The wind tugged at their robes, the fabric rippling like the surface of a frozen lake.

You hesitated, your hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of your sword. “Who are you?” you called out, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

The figure turned slowly, and for a moment, your breath caught in your throat. His face was sharp, angular, framed by ink-black hair that fell just past his shoulders. His eyes, a piercing shade of hazel-green, seemed to look straight through you, as if they could see the very depths of your soul. A faint smirk played on his lips, and he inclined his head in a slight bow.

“Li Shen,” he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “And you are the last disciple of the White Lotus Sect. I’ve been expecting you.”

Your grip on your sword tightened. “How do you know who I am?”

He chuckled softly, the sound like the distant chime of ice crystals. “The winds carry many secrets, little lotus. Even those you think are buried deep.”

You took a cautious step forward, your eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

Li Shen tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “What do you want? You’ve traveled far, risked much, all for the sake of your master’s final wish. But tell me—what do you seek?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you faltered. What did you seek? Redemption for your fallen sect? The fulfillment of your master’s dying words? Or something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name? Your hand clenched around the hilt of your sword as your resolve hardened, and when you met Li Shen’s gaze, your eyes blazed with a quiet determination.

"I want to ensure my master's teachings don't die with him," you declared. "And if that means putting myself in danger to protect his legacy, so be it. Whatever it takes."

You studied Li Shen's face, expecting him to scoff or laugh. Instead, he simply nodded, his expression unreadable.

"A noble goal, little lotus," he replied, and his voice, though cold, held an almost sad note. "But it's one that won't come easily, I'm afraid."

You shrugged, determined to show no fear. "I expected as much," you said, your jaw set. "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes. Even if I have to fight you right here, right now."

Your voice shook a little, and you willed yourself to sound more confident than you felt. Li Shen merely smiled, the curve of his lips almost gentle.

"That won't be necessary," he replied softly. "For I wish to help you, not hinder you. There are those who seek to destroy the teachings of the White Lotus Sect—do not mistake me for one of them. My allegiance lies with no faction, but rather, with the balance between yin and yang. For when the line is crossed, there is nothing but destruction."

Something flickered in his eyes, a glimpse of some unspeakable, unfathomable sadness, and you were left with the sudden, inexplicable feeling that Li Shen had seen a great many things in his time, many of them horrific beyond measure. "So, you understand then," you began, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I do," he answered with a nod. "And I know you cannot do it alone." His voice was smooth, like the frozen surface of a lake, but you could feel the underlying emotion behind his words, a sense of sorrow, of regret, and the fleeting possibility that there may be more to this encounter than at first apparent.

The wind sighed through the trees, the only sound other than your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Slowly, tentatively, you loosened your hold on your sword, sliding it back into its sheath with an audible click. A spark of something like amusement—or perhaps pride—twinkled in Li Shen's eyes.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "What is it you will require of me?"

Li Shen paused, seemingly considering something, his gaze focused on a point somewhere in the distance.

"Your company?" he offered with the hint of a smile.

You flushed a little at his words, his voice warm in a way it hadn't been before. "Y-yes, of course," you stammered, averting your gaze.

Li Shen nodded. "Good, then it is settled," he said with a flicker of satisfaction. "Come. You must be hungry after your long journey." Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away.

After a brief moment, you followed him, a mixture of wariness and curiosity stirring within you. Despite your unease at his sudden offer, there was something about him—something calm, almost familiar, that put you at ease. Li Shen seemed to glide across the ground, his steps measured, as if he were floating just above the earth. He glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression unreadable as ever, and a spark of mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Struggling, little lotus?" he asked, his voice laced with what almost sounded like laughter. "You don't think I'd make it easy for you, did you?"

"I can keep up," you countered, your words coming out sharper than intended. Li Shen only smirked.

"Prove it."

In an instant, he was gone, a flash of white robes disappearing into the forest ahead. Your heart raced in your chest as you stumbled to your feet, determination flooding your veins. You had come here with a task, one that would test your strength, your willpower, your courage; a path less traveled, fraught with unknown dangers and certain peril, and yet, one that would give you purpose, would prove to yourself, and to the rest of the world, that you were a worthy successor to your fallen sect. A flash of light danced at the edge of your vision, and as the familiar steel of your sword flashed at your side, you set off once more into the unknown, towards the frozen depths of Li Shen's realm, and a challenge unlike any other.

The darkness settled heavily around you, clinging to the branches and trunks of the ancient trees like a shroud. The forest seemed to close in on you as you followed Li Shen, the ancient trail barely more than a path of trampled leaves. Your steps slowed, the heavy pack on your back weighing you down, but you pressed on, determined not to lose sight of the glimpses of white robes ahead of you.

"You live here by yourself, Li Shen?" you asked, partially just to hear the sound of your own voice and not the rhythmic thud of your boots on the dirt.

"Perhaps," he replied, and despite how distant his voice sounded, the reply had an eerily loud ring to it. "Why do you ask, little lotus?"

"Just curious," you answered truthfully. "Besides, doesn't anyone get lonely out here?"

Li Shen hesitated, his pace slowing until he stood motionless in the middle of the path.

"It's been centuries since someone else dared wander this far," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

"You've... been alone for centuries? You?" Your tone was incredulous, bordering on skeptical. After all, Li Shen appeared barely older than you.

He sighed. "You ask a lot of questions. There are some things I can't—no, can't won't speak of," he corrected himself. "Not now."

Your cheeks flushed. "Apologies, Li Shen, I just—"

"The answers you seek will come in due time, little lotus. Patience is the most precious gift." He paused, turning to face you once again. "Trust me."

You shivered at his words. There was something about him, something otherworldly, almost timeless, as if he had been walking this earth for thousands of years. A wry smile tugged at his lips.

"Besides," he added, "I have you to keep me company, now."

There was something in the way he spoke the words, soft but filled with a sort of fondness that made your chest tighten. You knew not the reasons why, but you sensed that there was an opportunity being presented to you. One you would have been a fool to pass up.

"Of course," you replied, attempting to match his tone of sincerity. Li Shen only laughed, a light, breezy sound that rang clear through the forest.

"Come," he said, and began walking once again. You were all too eager to follow him, curious to see what he would lead you to. The forest gave way to a craggy hilltop, and beyond the horizon stretched an expanse of snow-covered landscape.

"Wow," you breathed. A winding river snaked through the valley below, its waters icy and translucent. Mountains loomed overhead, their peaks dusted with snow, and the setting sun cast a brilliant orange glow across the vast landscape. It was breathtaking.

"Welcome to your new home, Y/N," Li Shen said softly.

You stared down at the pile of neatly stacked logs before you, brow creasing in concentration. A frown formed on your lips as you eyed the branches and kindling, mentally calculating the correct amount and arrangement needed for a fire. With a sigh, you crouched, picking up one of the larger branches and placing it on the ground beside you. Li Shen leaned against a nearby tree, a smirk on his lips as he watched your fumbling attempts.

"Struggling, little lotus?" he questioned, his tone laced with amusement. You shot him an irritated glare and picked up another branch.

"What are you doing just standing there, anyway?" you grumbled. "Aren't you going to help me?" 

Li Shen simply chuckled, tilting his head. "You won't be learning if I do it for you. Besides," he added, the hint of a grin teasing the corner of his lips, "this is fun to watch."

You shook your head with a snort of annoyance. "Do you enjoy tormenting me so?"

"Oh, no," he replied lightly. "But I do enjoy watching you attempt to chop down trees and set things on fire."

You tossed a branch aside and snatched up another, brandishing it threateningly at Li Shen. "Say another word, and I'll burn this entire place to the ground!" you exclaimed, eyes narrowing.

Li Shen shook his head, smiling, his tone maddeningly teasing. "Go ahead," he taunted. "Let's see if you can make good on that threat, shall we?" The flames whooshed to life before your eyes, illuminating Li Shen's face as they cast flickering shadows across the forest floor. His eyes shone like two polished gems, glittering in the darkness as he looked down at you, lips curling into a smile. "Good girl," he murmured, a strange note of pride in his words.

Your heart skipped a beat as he regarded you with a mischievous grin. "Fine then," you sighed. "I'm just glad this ridiculous test of yours is finally over." You rose to your feet, sheathing the blade that hung at your waist. Li Shen's gaze tracked your every movement.

"A test?" he questioned, one eyebrow arched.

"A test of my determination, I suppose," you murmured, folding your arms.

Li Shen smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Always so perceptive, aren't you, little lotus?"

His hand brushed your cheek, featherlight, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. A shiver ran down your spine as his touch left a burning trail, and you struggled to find the words to reply. Before you could speak, Li Shen pulled away, taking a step back, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at his boots.

"Now, go wash the smell of smoke off your clothes, Y/N," he whispered, "you stink."

A snort of laughter burst out of you, and your body tensed with surprise at the unexpected sound. It felt like an eternity had passed since you'd been able to let your guard down enough to laugh. Even in the midst of your trials, his presence brought with it an unspoken reassurance, a reminder that you were not alone, that you had a partner, an ally in this journey you had embarked upon. Something swelled within you at the thought, a longing for connection, for companionship, perhaps for—

"Go, little lotus." Li Shen interrupted your train of thought, his tone gentle but firm. "I'll meet you back here soon."

With that, he turned on his heel, his white robes billowing behind him as he walked away into his house, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Something swirled inside you as you sat by the bank of the stream, washing away the dirt and grime of the past few days. Removing your robes, you sighed and allowed yourself to slip below the surface of the water, feeling the cold current embrace you, a contrast to the heat coursing through your body. The wind whistled in the trees, carrying the promise of a storm, of nature's rage unleashed. You could almost taste the electricity in the air.

As you resurfaced, you took a deep breath, wiping the stray drops of water from your face, and froze. Li Shen was there, sitting with his back to you, a bundle of robes next to him.

You considered retreating before he noticed, but to no avail. It was already too late, Li Shen's words stopping you in your tracks. "I'm not looking. I thought you would like a fresh pair of clothes," he called over his shoulder. His voice held no trace of mockery, only the gentle kindness that characterized him. "I apologize for disturbing you."

He left the pile of clothing on the river bank and made his way into the house, never looking back.

Your fingers slowly closed around the soft linen cloth he left you, shaking away the thoughts whirling in your head and hurriedly finished scrubbing your body. Then, throwing the wet robes to one side, you stood and reached for the dry ones. Li Shen was nowhere to be seen, yet somehow, his scent lingered in the fabric of the robes.

There was no avoiding the fact that this was, unmistakably, his.

Forcing aside the rush of confusion and conflicted emotion his gesture caused in you, you willed your racing heartbeat to slow, the sensation of being close to him enveloping you in warmth and comfort.

Putting him out of your mind, at least for now, you set your jaw in determination, wrapping yourself tightly in his robe before making your way up the hill.

The soft glow of lantern-light spilled across the small clearing where the cottage lay, casting the snowy path in an ethereal radiance. Your footsteps were quiet, cautious as you made your way towards the house.

Inside was dimly lit, and the faint aroma of tea greeted you as you slipped through the door, finding Li Shen kneeling at a low table, two cups already laid out. "Here," he murmured. "I thought this would be fitting."

Taking the steaming cup offered to you, your eyes caught his, his own glittering pools of gold and jade, the likes of which you had never seen. For a moment, it seemed like all time stopped. He shifted closer, the hem of his white robes brushing against yours.

"How do you feel now, after the events of the past few days?" Li Shen asked quietly, taking a sip from the delicate cup.

You paused to gather your thoughts, turning your gaze to the flickering shadows dancing across the floor. A part of you wanted to admit that the simple, honest truth was you felt safe, comfortable, with his presence. "It's just a lot to take in," you sighed. "My whole world is gone now. But if I'm to become what my master expected of me, then I must move forward. For his legacy, and for my own."

A melancholy sadness filled Li Shen's expression, and he smiled sadly. "It will take time, Y/N. There's a reason I live so far from civilization; sometimes a bit of solitude can allow you to better realize things on your own, without outside distractions. A sanctuary, a place to learn and grow and evolve. Without expectations."

He moved closer still, so that only a hair's breadth separated you, a whisper of breath fanning over your skin. "After all," he murmured, "it would be terrible for such a pretty little thing like you to lose yourself to the demands of this world, don't you think? You deserve better than that. You deserve... to bloom."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks and spread through your body, an undeniable warmth flooding your veins, his proximity, his attention, his kindness, a potent brew you had no defense for. Li Shen placed a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you met his gaze once more.

"Promise me, Y/N." His eyes, pools of green and gold, darkened with an intensity that almost had you trembling. "Promise me that you'll always find a way to preserve beauty, even in the midst of suffering. That's the best you can do, and no matter what happens, no matter where fate takes you, I know you'll always find your way back."

Somehow you had come to lean against him without realizing it, his closeness both terrifying and intoxicating. You hesitated a heartbeat too long before finally speaking.

"I promise."

With a soft chuckle, Li Shen ruffled your hair. "Good girl," he murmured.

In the ensuing silence, your heartbeat pounded in your chest. This close, you could see the flecks of jade green and shimmering gold in his irises, the shadows thrown across his angular face by the lantern-light, the slightly parted shape of his lips. He smelled of jasmine tea, incense, and rain.

"It's getting late," Li Shen murmured after a moment. He pulled back slightly, his hand dropping from your chin as he began to rise to his feet. "You should get some rest."

You caught his hand mid-air. "Thank you."

Li Shen glanced down, eyes widening slightly as he turned back to you. "For what?"

"Everything."

You pulled your hand away and scrambled to your feet, suddenly aware of just how much physical contact you had with Li Shen this night. "I, er, mean good night, I'll... see you tomorrow!" Before he had time to reply, you had turned and run back to your room, ignoring the curious looks from him, your heart racing for reasons beyond just the events that had passed.

He watched your retreating form from his vantage point by the window, eyes softening, lips tugging into the smallest of smiles. Li Shen ran his fingers through his ink-black locks and glanced skyward. The clouds overhead obscured the moon and stars, the heavy blanket of snow glittering in the faint light. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so hopeful.

Perhaps there was some truth in what others said. After all, winter did give way to spring, and flowers did always bloom twice as sweet, more beautiful and fragrant after a storm.

And with that, Li Shen sank down onto his bed, stretching his legs and nestled beneath the silky covers, eyelids heavy as he drifted off into a peaceful, restorative sleep, thoughts filled with you.

Morning greeted you with a hint of a warming wind, carrying the promise of a slight thaw. You stretched languorously, rising from bed and opening the shutters to greet the morning sun, which shone bright, even as a faint dusting of snow clung to the branches of nearby trees.

Smiling to yourself, you turned, preparing to step from your room and call Li Shen, only for your throat to close over at the sight that awaited you. He stood not ten feet away, facing away from you, the white cloth draped across his body doing nothing to hide the muscles beneath. You stared in speechless awe at the line of his shoulders, his leanly defined arms, his tapered waist.

The breath left your body, a shiver passing through your skin that wasn't entirely due to the early morning chill.

And just when you thought he couldn't be more painfully exquisite, he turned. His sculpted chest was glistening, the lines of his abdomen even more pronounced, his wet hair dripping down his skin. As he stretched his arms, you felt yourself almost visibly flush, certain Li Shen must notice it.

"You know, watching someone when they think you're not looking isn't very polite," he quipped, though not without amusement.

"I was not watching!" you protested.

"Careful, now," Li Shen warned with a soft chuckle. "Is the little lotus daydreaming about something?" he mused.

At that, heat rushed up your cheeks, embarrassment flushing hot beneath your collar. "I—that's... no." You mumbled, averting your gaze from his face before grabbing your sword and bolting out the door. Li Shen only smiled fondly to himself as he watched you leave, leaning back against the wall with an exasperated huff of breath.

You quickly found yourself outside in the icy courtyard, the frigid breeze hitting you like a slap to the face. The chill wind had no power against your flushed cheeks, the image of Li Shen half-naked playing on loop in your mind's eye. With a snort, you tried in vain to ignore him and his taunting smirk.

"Thinking of me again?" Li Shen chuckled, joining you a few seconds later, and your heart jumped as the corners of his lips twitched, the mirth evident in the teasing gleam in his golden irises. "Focus, little lotus," he tutted, stretching.

"I wasn't..." You trailed off, realizing any attempt to deny it was futile. "Fine," you growled, pulling your sword free with a hiss, the icy blade glinting brightly in the morning light.

He flashed you another knowing grin before walking to his starting position across from you, his outstretched hands ready to freeze the very air itself, or to catch you as you fell. With a shake of your head, you assumed your stance, readying yourself for his inevitable attack. "Are you certain, little lotus?" A jagged piece of ice burst forth, flying straight at you, and you blocked it easily. "You seem distracted," he teased. A dozen more shards flew from the palms of his hands, and you weaved between them.

"Of course, I'm focused!" you retorted, perhaps a bit too sharply, and in response he chuckled.

"Hmm." More ice shards flew at you, and your feet moved seemingly on their own, an innate sense guiding you to evade every one, his movements deliberate, almost theatrical, a taunt and an invitation.

He watched as you gracefully danced around each attempt, your body moving as if by instinct rather than conscious effort, dodging his blows with a finesse that seemed, on the surface, impossibly graceful. Something swirled in his stomach. There was more than just admiration at work here. "Again," he growled, lunging forward, his voice now betraying the emotions brewing inside.

Another wave of attacks rained down upon you, a sudden wave of cool air coursing through his outstretched palms. You stepped and turned to meet each one, ducking and leaping as if you'd already practiced these steps countless times, your hair cascading around you like ribbons of silk. His brows knit together in concentration as his palms sparked, glowing as ice crystallized at their center. With a grunt of effort, he hurled a series of blasts at you, all aimed in rapid succession at different points around the yard.

And with every blast towards you, you would block it, the ice shattering into diamond dust, creating a mist of sparkling refraction with the rising sunlight. Li Shen couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment, a shimmering, otherworldly being, more ethereal than anything his eyes could comprehend, more perfect than anything he could imagine. It made him want to watch you dance like this forever, if possible. To bask in your unearthly radiance. To claim it.

"You've been taught well," he murmured, stepping closer. "Your master has taught you well. It is clear to me that this will be a good partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed incredulously.

"Well, yes." He took another step forward, closing the gap. You found it suddenly hard to breathe, the warmth emanating from him a contrast to the frosty air. "Little Lotus, you're already an accomplished swordswoman, more skilled than many a full-fledged disciple," he whispered. "There's really nothing more I can teach you at this point."

You raised an eyebrow. "Then, why am I here?"

"Do you believe in divine fate? Destiny?" Li Shen breathed.

"Well, sort of," you replied hesitantly, recalling tales of soulmates, fated loves and life-long rivals. "Why?"

He ran his fingers gently through your hair, causing shivers to tingle down your spine, goosebumps erupting all over your body. "Little Lotus," Li Shen murmured, his voice soft and soothing as velvet. "What if it was our destiny to meet? That this encounter was a blessing in disguise, as your destiny is intertwined with mine, forever linked."

You laughed, thinking of a lifetime ahead of you with this gentle giant. The very thought stirred a wave of longing within you, a pull toward the mysterious man whose magic glowed warm and gentle, like the summer sun, or a welcoming fireplace on a winter's day. "Like soulmates?"

A grin tugged the corners of Li Shen's mouth upwards, his golden eyes sparking with amusement. "If you will."

His breath ghosted across your lips, the closeness sending butterflies swirling through your stomach. The urge to kiss him, to taste his skin, his scent of rainwater, incense and jasmine tea flooded your senses. You ached to run your fingers through his ink-black tresses.

"Li Shen," you murmured, not even quite sure what it was you wanted to say. His fingers laced with your own, and a jolt of electricity sparked at his touch.

"Will you follow me, little Lotus?" he asked, his eyes intense.

The words slipped from your lips, low and soft, before you had time to question them.

"Everywhere," you breathed, and all sense left your brain as his lips touched yours.

The wind rustled the trees, snow falling in silent waves, blanketing everything in its purest white. You sighed and closed your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nostrils, enjoying the familiar, comforting scents around you. Winter had finally melted away, spring was here.

"Y/N." The sound of the voice behind you roused you, and you blinked open your eyes, gazing up into the twilight sky. "Come inside, it's getting cold out," Li Shen called, his voice like velvet, caressing the skin, making it prickle. His large, warm, and oh so tender hands brushed against yours, sending little shocks of electricity through your entire body, causing your pulse to race.

Your mind drifted to a recent memory, a blur of kisses and breathy gasps and sweet sighs. You and Li Shen. Everything about him intoxicated and addicted you, in the very best way. Your cheeks heated, and a shy grin spread across your lips, a giddy sensation taking root deep within you.

"Everything alright?" he murmured, his fingertips caressing your cheek, feather-light, setting off sparks dancing inside you once more.

"Uh huh," you mumbled, burying your face into his broad chest, relishing in the familiar scent of rainwater, the smell of incense and tea lingering on his clothes, breathing him in. You closed your eyes again, focusing on the feeling of his fingers combing your hair, relaxing into his touch, the steady, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat against your ear. "Just happy."

"Don't get too comfortable." He teased you, pressing an affectionate kiss atop your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you. "We'll enjoy this peace as much as we can."

"What do you mean?" You gazed up at him, confusion creasing your brow.

His grip tightened, holding you as close as possible, as if he never wanted to let go. "We'll have to leave the mountain soon, little lotus. Remember, you have to fulfill your master's wishes," he told you gently.

You had nearly forgotten your purpose. Li Shen's presence had a habit of rendering everything else in your world irrelevant. The gentle caress of his fingers, the soothing timbre of his voice, the warmth in his golden eyes that never failed to make you feel safe. A sudden sadness gripped your chest. "I'll miss this place," you mumbled against his skin, clinging to him tightly.

"Little Lotus, all things end," Li Shen soothed you. "I will miss this place too. The mountains have always brought me solace, ever since I was a boy," he confessed. He turned his gaze to the glittering stars, a faint twinkle in the cloudless sky. "It would have been nice, don't you think, to spend the rest of our lives here? To grow old in our retreat? Together."

You lifted a hand to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his silky locks. "But we have each other, right? That's what matters," you answered softly.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped his lips. "I suppose, we do," Li Shen smiled, and leaned closer to brush his mouth against yours. The soft touch of his skin sent tingles down your spine, sending shocks to every inch of your body, and your legs trembling. His arms tightened, holding you upright against him.

The air in the cottage was warm, comforting, peaceful. You pulled away briefly, studying Li Shen's face, his golden eyes reflecting a yearning that made your heart leap in excitement. It was at that moment, a feeling of certainty, of clarity washed over you, that all your memories from before paled in comparison to the ones you were now making together, your future with the strange and wonderful Li Shen.

"I don't want to be anywhere without you, Little Lotus," he muttered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. "Let's get you bathed and ready for bed," he said as his fingers brushed your face, stroking your cheek.

"Join me?" you whispered hopefully. You felt the muscles in his chest tense slightly against your touch. He swallowed hard, then nodded silently. Your heart skipped a beat. As your eyes met, there was a flicker of hunger in those bright golden depths, something feral and dark that drew you in.

Slowly, Li Shen got to his feet, pulling you gently towards him and, kissing your forehead. "I will meet you there," he promised. "Go."

With the barest hesitation, you kissed him on the cheek and padded your way to the bath house, where he'd drawn water earlier in the night and where it had remained warm through the hours. You sank into the water, its heat enveloping you, easing the tight knots in your tired muscles. A soft sigh escaped your lips and you closed your eyes, letting the pleasant heat soak into your sore limbs. You let yourself sink deeper into the tub, the water surrounding you as if you had sunk beneath the surface. You didn't move for what seemed to be ages, listening as the distant sounds of nature drifted past.

It wasn't long before footsteps echoed outside, approaching your location, growing steadily louder until a shadow loomed beyond your closed eyelids. You kept your eyes closed, letting the familiar scent of jasmine, incense, and rainwater permeate the steam around you. There was no mistaking it; Li Shen had joined you at last.

The door creaked slightly as he entered, the soft sound filling the air. As the sounds grew closer, you were able to make out the slight swish of his clothing against the floorboards, and the hushed whisper of fabric sliding over skin. Then silence. Your eyes fluttered open, and your heart fluttered with it, skipping a beat in the process.

Your gaze was met by a figure standing before you, completely bare, lithe but toned, tall and slim. His eyes were darkened by the lack of light, the soft moonlight washing him in an ethereal, silver glow. He gave a tiny smile before he sunk down into the steaming waters with a sigh, coming close until his body pressed against yours. 

He drew you close, your back to his chest, cradling you against him like he might break you at any moment. Your head rested comfortably in the nook of his shoulder, his breath tickling against your earlobe. "Is this alright?" he asked, lips hovering a few inches from the sensitive flesh.

"Y-yes." The word tumbled off your tongue almost before you could stop it. His grip around your waist tightened in response and he moved even closer, your naked bodies touching and sinking deep into each others' hold.

He remained silent for several moments, both of you lost in each other's closeness, before he shifted so his chin rested atop your head. He whispered your name so softly and gently it made goose bumps appear upon your skin.

You turned around to meet his gaze, eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight, half-hooded and dark with want, your faces barely inches apart. It was all the invitation that was needed. With a single movement, you brushed your lips over his and tasted them, drawing out a moan from somewhere deep within him.

It felt as if the heavens opened up above, bringing forth an ethereal symphony, music unheard by human ears. You turned around to straddle him, the water splashing against the walls of the tub as you moved. Your knees splayed wide and his palms rose to caress your curves, roaming along your back as his mouth danced upon yours. He pulled you down, sinking you below the steaming surface.

"Are you sure?" he whispered against your parted lips. You moaned in response, giving him the answer you knew he was hoping for. "Good girl," he said, moving you onto him in one swift movement and letting the water flow over both of you.

His large hands held onto the curve of your ass tightly, guiding and lifting your hips. In this position, you could feel every bit of him, all the glorious hardness, pressing and nudging your core. He let you take control as you found the strength to take him, all of him. You felt stretched, full, your walls adjusting to him and him alone.

Slowly you moved, careful not to hurt yourself. Li Shen cupped the back of your neck and pulled you against him as he settled back, tilting your head so his lips pressed to yours. He guided your movement with his hands on your bottom, hips grinding beneath you and making you gasp as you felt your clit brush his base.

With a hand gripping one side of the tub for balance and your palm flat to his chest, you rocked back and forth, meeting him halfway, until all you could feel and hear was his muffled cries and your moans drowned out by the waves. His hands ran down your thighs, pushing you down further and impaling you on his thick shaft.

The water in the tub sloshed dangerously over the sides, pooling on the floor, but neither of you cared. His thrusting intensified until your body shuddered in ecstasy. Stars flashed before your eyes, blinding you momentarily, as the fire within threatened to consume every inch of your flesh. You felt lightheaded, weak, but before your muscles could fail, Li Shen caught you in his arms and steadied your trembling form. You rested your forehead against his and gazed into his hazel irises. They shone brightly as moonlight hit his pupils, burning with passion. He placed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips and released you slowly, easing the last of himself from your trembling body and easing back.

"Shall we retire now, little lotus?" He breathed, wiping a droplet of moisture off your cheek. You nodded weakly, not quite sure if you were capable of words at that moment. He helped you stand and together, you both managed to stumble back into his bedroom and collapse onto the bed, still wet and still trembling slightly. The room smelled fresh, like rainwater and tea, a scent that seemed to linger on everything Li Shen owned.

Your body ached in all the right places and, despite yourself, you sighed contently and let sleep take you, surrounded by him. He pulled you into his arms, his warmth seeping into your skin.

The city was bustling, the streets crowded as you navigated your way through throngs of people. It was market day and everyone had flocked to the shops. Li Shen walked ahead, leading you along as you peered curiously at every stall. Colorful tents had been erected in the main square to keep shoppers out of the rain. Merchants shouted and hawked their wares as shoppers milled about, looking for bargains or items of particular interest to them.

You gazed wide eyed at every object within your field of vision, admiring the fine clothes, exotic trinkets and carved woodworks. There were bins full of nuts and grains, baskets piled high with fresh fruits. People crowded together, murmuring and bickering over prices, jostling one another as they fought to find the best deals. It was chaos in the open air.

Your stomach rumbled noisily, and you frowned.

Li Shen looked over, giving you a sideways glance as if to check on your well-being, and laughed when he realized what was going on. "Hungry, Little Lotus?"

"A little bit," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his own, lacing your fingers between his.

"Hmm." He scanned the marketplace before stopping by a food stall selling pastries stuffed full with meat and vegetables. He held up a few coins, enough for the two of you and some extra. "How does this sound?"

"Perfect," you replied eagerly, taking the offered pastry and digging in happily. Your fingers linked with his again and you leaned into his arm. "Thank you, Li Shen."

"Your wife must love you a lot, young man." An older woman behind the table had been watching you closely. She wore her white hair in a tight bun, a few wrinkles crinkling at her mouth when she smiled. "A handsome man like you? Good-hearted, too? You remind me of my own late husband."

"Oh, well—I..." Li Shen began to stammer in embarrassment, flustered, before turning away from her with a huff. You couldn't help but giggle softly to yourself as he led you away, tugging on his arm playfully. You had finished your pastry and wiped your hands clean on his sleeve before allowing yourself to be dragged away by him. He pretended to scowl, but you could see the amusement written all over his face.

His expression softened immediately once he saw how excited you looked. "You wanted to keep shopping around, didn't you?" he inquired. He brought up a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear before letting go and letting you lead him again. "Which vendor shall we visit next?"

"Umm..." You chewed at your lower lip, contemplating whether or not to say the answer that came to mind instantly. Hesitation crossed your features and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Little lotus," he said, calling out your name in a sing-song tone, teasing you lightly. "Speak up."

"I'd actually like some jewelry," you replied sheepishly.

"Oh?" He grinned as you tugged at him, pulling him towards another section of the marketplace where jewelry and baubles were sold. "Doesn't matter how many rings and baubles I get you, little lotus, your smile and laughter are a treasure all on their own, worth a thousand times more than anything I could ever get my hands on." He murmured in your ear before leaning closer, pressing his lips to yours for the briefest of moments.

"Li Shen," You exhaled sharply, enjoying the feeling of him against you, his breath against your face, and then sighed as he drew away again.

"Your husband must truly cherish you," the merchant selling the trinkets chimed in as she overheard the conversation. She gave a chuckle before continuing. "This would look wonderful on her. It will complement your wife's beauty perfectly," she added while pointing to a pair of jade earrings on display. They were beautiful, vibrant and green, shaped like tear drops with tiny clusters of pink-red jasper suspended from delicate golden threads.

Li Shen paused before looking down at you, his eyes full of warmth and affection, his expression affectionate, his touch tender and loving. "What do you think, Little Lotus?"

You looked up at him, trying hard to hide the blush creeping over your cheeks, unsure of how else to respond. He chuckled softly as you merely nodded and he brought a hand to rest upon your cheek, gazing down into your eyes.

"Good," he decided as he smiled down at you. "We'll take them," he told the old woman. "We'll also buy one of these jade hairpins to match," he said, nodding towards another accessory that sat nearby, decorated with a swirling design reminiscent of bamboo leaves. You studied the beautiful ornament for a moment, admiring its simple elegance, and the fact that it reminded you of Li Shen.

He paid the woman and she handed him the earrings and hairpin. He stowed the earrings away but held up the hairpin, and reached out to carefully slide it into place in your hair. You looked up as Li Shen drew closer, watching carefully. It felt strangely intimate as he threaded it through your locks, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Your heartbeat quickened, pounding loudly inside your head. A smirk graced his lips when he finally moved away again.

"Pretty little lotus," he commented, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, and your whole world seemed brighter, somehow.

After walking around the entire town market square and exploring the rest of the marketplace, the sun was setting, and you returned to the inn where you were staying, your new hair ornament glinting in the dying light as you pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside, a smile on your face.

After having dinner, the both of you sat at the table that was situated in your room as you looked over a map of the region. Li Shen glanced over to see what you had in mind, then quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand.

"According to the map," he announced, studying the piece of parchment spread across the table top, "Our destination lies due north, just past this mountain range." He traced his finger down a straight line drawn on the page, along a long and winding path through mountains. "You want to travel through here, yes?" Li Shen asked, his eyes not lifting from the paper before him. "This isn't going to be easy."

"No," you agreed quietly, staring at the rough sketch, before raising your head and letting your gaze drift towards the windows overlooking the city beyond, listening to the faint sounds drifting up from below, voices mingling together. "But I have you by my side now," you said. "So I have nothing to fear."

Li Shen gave a soft laugh at that remark. "Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that our journey ahead of us will be dangerous."

"Nothing we can't handle." You smirked, bumping into him.

His face softened. "You certainly are something, my little lotus," Li Shen murmured affectionately, leaning closer to kiss the tip of your nose and pecking your forehead.

He grabbed hold of you and hoisted you to straddle his lap. He pressed his mouth to yours, and you parted your lips willingly. His tongue tasted sweet, warm, intoxicating, and your bodies moved closer instinctively. As your lips joined once more and your tongues tangled, it was if there was nothing else in this world except the two of you.

"Let's go to bed," Li Shen mumbled in between kisses. He shifted so that your hips ground together, eliciting moans of desire from both your mouths. When he stood up from the chair, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, keeping him close.

Li Shen stumbled slightly from the added weight of you before reaching the foot of the mattress. The two of you collapsed upon the thick bedding, your bodies entwined as your limbs entangled in passionate bliss.

Everything was a blur, and you didn't recall what happened. One moment, you were standing with Li Shen on top of the mountain, the cool breeze tickling your noses, the sun shining brightly upon your shoulders, and the next, you woke up in the snow, soaked and cold, a deep ache in your lungs and throbbing in your temples. Your whole body felt heavy, unresponsive, frozen through.

You forced yourself to sit up, dizziness overtaking your senses as the blood rushed to your head. With great difficulty, you managed to crawl toward Li Shen, whose face remained pale, devoid of warmth and color. No matter how many times you shook him or called out his name, he wouldn't respond.

"Wake up, Li Shen," you whispered, choking back the lump forming in the back of your throat.

You didn't expect those bandits. Not here, not like this. The ambush had been sudden, without warning or any opportunity for evasion, and while your fighting skills were far superior to theirs, it was two against at least a dozen, and those odds left no chance of escape. You were heavily outnumbered and overwhelmed; you knew it.

You watched as they knocked Li Shen unconscious with a blunt object and proceeded to beat him. All you could do was stare helplessly as his body went limp and a river of crimson flowed out from beneath his head. You tried desperately to fight back, to free yourself, but your efforts were fruitless, as your vision darkened.

And now here you are in a ramshackle shed with Li Shen by your side, unconscious, pale as moonlight. The weather outside had turned stormy; lightning flashed across the sky followed shortly thereafter by rolling booms of thunder. Rain pattered hard and heavy against the walls of the structure surrounding you. Wind blew strongly, howling through the gaps where wooden panels had once filled them. You stared blankly at the scene before you, struggling to process everything in your mind. You don't even know where you're being kept captive.

"Li Shen," you mumble, trying to reach him but you couldn't, not with your hands and legs bound tightly together. "Li Shen!" You called out again. Still, he remains motionless. You wiggle uncomfortably against the coarse rope wrapped around your wrists and ankles and try to break free, but it doesn't help. The rope rubs hard and raw, cutting your skin painfully. "Please," you beg. Tears well in your eyes and trickle down your cheeks until you're openly crying.

Your tears blur your vision and cloud over the sight of Li Shen's body. Your head spins round and around until your world swims dizzyingly. You struggle against the bindings until you can't move anymore; you sob harder than you ever thought possible and collapse back against the wall, sliding down till your butt hits the dirt. A deep ache starts up inside your chest, making it difficult to breathe properly. "Li Shen," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Finally, you decide that if this is to be your final moment together, then it's best to make use of every second of it. You scoot forward awkwardly, avoiding rocks and splintered planks scattered haphazardly along the floor, until your knees bump against his still form. "I love you," you murmur, a last desperate hope that maybe he can hear you, but he lays unresponsive. "I... never got the chance..." you admit weakly, blinking through the moisture, feeling warm streaks course down your icy face, "to tell you so."

"I love you so much," you choke out. Your heart pounds furiously and you gasp for air between sobs. "We've only just found each other, yet I cannot imagine life without you by my side, without seeing your smile or feeling you close." You looked towards the heavens, wondering if some greater power was listening. "Why would you let him roam the earth for centuries alone just to tear him from me so soon?" You sobbed hard.

"I had hoped that together we'd spend forever wandering the countryside and laughing ourselves stupid over the smallest thing," you continued, giving voice to the very emotions that tormented your soul. You leaned forward and gently laid your cheek atop his shoulder. "That we'd spend eternity by each other's side and keep each other company till the end." 

"Y/N... little lotus..." his deep voice drifted into your awareness. He coughed, his entire torso lurching violently. A muffled moan came from his mouth, and his eyelids fluttered as he regained consciousness, as he took several short, labored breaths. "You'll...never be rid...of me." He opened his eyes fully and turned his head towards you, revealing a half smile tinged with pain. Blood stained his teeth as it trickled steadily from his forehead and ears. "Don't cry," he soothed. "Please, don't... cry... I will not be leaving you... any time soon..." he trailed off as he coughed once more. His throat sounded rough, raspy, weak.

The mere sound of his voice made fresh tears flow down your cheeks and sting your eyes. You pressed your head into his chest, pressing against the bloodied, tattered clothes, feeling his chest move and expand with every inhale and exhale. You heard his heart beat under the layers of fabric. "Li Shen," you said.

"Little Lotus...my sweet little lotus," Li Shen rasped. "My beloved Y/N. Look at me," he insisted. Your eyes widened. "We'll get out of this. Alive. And soon." 

"How? We're bound and locked in here," you said, voice trembling.

"Did you forget that I've lived for centuries?" he pointed out. "I learned a trick or two during those long years of my immortality."

"Li Shen—" you cut off, unable to finish.

"Take a deep breath," he cooed. "In, out. Just breathe." He paused and smiled reassuringly. "And trust in me." You watched as he closed his eyes in concentration, gathering energy. Moments later, your restraints shattered and fell apart, freeing both of you.

"You could have broken free that whole time?" You gasped.

"Not until now," he explained softly, gingerly wiping away the dried blood caking his mouth, and struggling to sit up straighter. "It requires a tremendous amount of energy, a good portion of which I have already spent today in our battle."

Your gaze darted to his chest, noting the numerous cuts and bruises marring his otherwise perfect features. "I thought I'd lost you," you whispered. Your arms wrapped tight around his waist, holding on for dear life.

"Oh, little lotus," Li Shen cupped your cheek and brushed away your tears with his thumb. "You've come so far and endured so much. I wouldn't dare abandon you now. Besides..." He let himself lean against the wooden wall for support. "There are many beautiful things yet to see in this world, and I'm determined to watch them unfold with you by my side."

"What now, then?" You wondered, looking at him curiously.

"Rest while you can, Little Lotus. Once the night passes, we will be on our way again."

You did exactly as he told. As Li Shen had predicted, a few hours later, the morning light broke and the door to the shed creaked open. You were startled from your sleep and looked towards the entrance. A large figure loomed there, and you froze, afraid to breathe.

"Geezes Li Shen," the man grumbled, "As powerful as you are, I can't believe that I have to come here and save your sorry asses."

You tilted your head quizzically.

"Come on, get out already," the man demanded. You noticed that his clothing was different, much nicer looking, the deep hues of purple and silver reminiscent of the rich traders you've seen passing through the city's outskirts. The cloth had intricate patterns woven throughout. This definitely wasn't one of the bandits who had captured you yesterday.

"It's been a while," Li Shen remarked, voice weary as he slowly stood.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before," the other man shrugged him off and walked out the open door, gesturing with an arm for you to follow. You stumbled out into the open air after him, stumbling in your weakened state, and blinked against the early morning sunshine, your eyes adjusting quickly as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, illuminating the sky. Li Shen came up beside you.

"Little Lotus," he introduced with a sigh, "this is Xia Yizhou, a fellow immortal who traveled alongside me at one point in our lives."

"Nice to meet ya," Yizhou said, hands planted firmly on his hips as he glanced between the two of you. "So who's this now?"

"Her name's Y/N. She's the last of the White Lotus Sect," Li Shen replied, offering no further explanation. "She's also... the person I've sworn my life to."

"So the great Li Shen has finally fallen in love? After hundreds of years?" Yizhou mocked, then grinned.

Li Shen raised a brow in warning. "Be nice."

"Anyway, let's go," he rolled his eyes before turning. "There's not a moment to spare."

"Wait." You glanced about, scanning the surroundings and recognized the familiar landmarks immediately, realizing just where you are. "I recognize this place," you breathed excitedly, pointing in the direction the roadway leads. "This road continues towards the main path which would take us directly to—"

"Shu River," Yizhou interrupted impatiently, folding his arms over his chest. He waited expectantly, tapping his foot repeatedly. When neither you nor Li Shen answered right away, he gave an annoyed huff. "Are you coming or not? The sooner I get you to the nearest town, the sooner I can leave."

"Alright, lead the way," Li Shen sighed, "just stop your endless rambling."

"Fine," Yizhou snapped back, stalking forward, past the abandoned shack and toward the main roadway ahead.

You and Li Shen lingered behind him for a brief time, walking side-by-side through the lush countryside. There was silence at first, neither wanting to talk first, but eventually, you gave up resisting. It was getting to be too much. "I thought I was going to lose you...back there," you muttered quietly.

He didn't say anything but entwine his fingers through yours, squeezing lightly. "No matter what," he vowed, "I'll always be here to keep you safe."

You relaxed instantly upon hearing his declaration and you both kept marching in contentment. As soon as the sun dipped below the mountains to the west, the group finally entered the city gates and started off in the general direction of the Shu River.

The moment you arrived at the nearest town, Yizhou dumped you both at the inn and left as suddenly as he came. He grumbled about how he had saved both your asses and claimed that there wasn't going to be a repeat of such generosity, should another crisis arise.

"See you around," he offered a wave before turning around, calling over his shoulder with a snort.

Li Shen, despite looking exhausted, still managed a smile and raised a hand to acknowledge Yizhou. When the other man disappeared out of sight, he turned to you and enveloped your smaller form in his arms. The warmth of his embrace comforted you, bringing peace to your soul.

The moment passed when Li Shen started to gently guide you in the direction of the inn's building and the two of you crossed its threshold. Inside, the space was lively and bustling with activity. You watched curiously as patrons sat around tables chatting cheerfully, sipping wine and enjoying each other's company.

"How can I help you?" An older woman greeted warmly behind a desk. Her bright, curious eyes flashed from Li Shen to you. She appeared slightly confused about why you're alone at first but quickly recovered and asked with a smile, "Two rooms?"

"Just the one." He produced a handful of gold coins. "My wife and I would like a room and a meal for two."

"Of course," she smiled, taking notice of how fondly Li Shen gazed at you, and accepted payment with gratitude. She gave a wave of her hand, indicating for you to follow her. "This way."

"Thank you kindly," you said, dipping your chin politely before moving toward the room indicated, which happened to be the best one in the building. It was clean, spacious and comfortable, with its own private hot tub and an open fireplace with a warm fire crackling in the center of it.

Upon entering the suite, the servant woman showed you around the various features of the room before offering a bow of departure, promising to bring a hot bath shortly. When the door was closed, Li Shen set his bags aside before gazing at you with gentle, thoughtful eyes.

"You're exhausted," Li Shen said softly.

"And filthy, too," you laughed, running your hands along the length of your cloak. The fabric was covered in mud, twigs and other filth.

"Hey," he brought his fingertips to your chin, lifting your chin up until you were facing him, staring straight into the depths of those honeyed orbs. "You're perfect just as you are, little lotus." Li Shen's expression softened, turning warm and affectionate, reminding you once again just how dearly loved you were. "You're absolutely breathtaking in my eyes." His hand shifted downward until he cupped your cheek in a tender gesture. He stroked your face tenderly with his thumb, his touch feather light against your skin. "The love I hold for you goes deeper than my soul itself."

The emotion swirling within those dark pools tugged fiercely at your heartstrings. Tears glistened in your eyes as you leaned into him and rested your forehead against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his hand resting on top of your head, playing with your locks.

"You know, if there's anyone responsible for my happiness in this world right now," you sniffled, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing tight. "It's you."

"Oh, little lotus," his voice dropped to a whisper.

"After I lost everyone at the Sect...all hope seemed to vanish forever."

"I know," his arms curled around you, returning the affection, enveloping you in warmth.

"The thought of wandering aimlessly without knowing whether I'd see another day terrified me more than death itself."

"I've experienced that same loss countless times in my long existence," his fingers carded gently through your hair, comforting and soothing away your tears. "More than I care to admit."

"I thought I lost you, Li Shen," you admitted quietly. "Those thugs tried to take away the only thing that's given meaning to my existence again. I've never been this scared."

"Don't worry," his embrace tightened briefly, and his lips pressed against your temple reassuringly. "You and I are forever." His palm slid along your jawline, cupping the back of your neck. His fingers twined with yours, bringing them together to press against his beating heart.

"How can you sound so sure?"

"You're on the brink of breakthrough," Li Shen whispered, his eyes shining with pride, admiration, adoration. "You will ascend soon. Immortality will be within reach."

"But what happens if it doesn't work?" you challenged.

"Then I'll be by your side every step along the way as you try again and again." He continued massaging soothing circles into your skin. "Whether it takes another decade or ten millennia." He lifted your hand, pressing soft kisses across each knuckle. "There will come a moment when it works, and it will be so beautiful and powerful that not even the stars can shine any brighter. That time will come for you."

"You really believe so?" you asked quietly, voice wavering with vulnerability.

"I know so," he responded with full conviction, the warmth in his tone giving strength to those words.

Your body relaxed completely at his declaration and you snuggled against him, relishing the feel of his solid weight and familiar scent enveloping your senses, chasing away the lingering doubts from earlier. "Li Shen..." you sighed.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"I'm still dirty."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm."

Li Shen chuckled, brushing some strands of your hair away from your face with gentle fingers, tucking them neatly behind your ear. "We should probably do something about that," his lips found yours, placing tender pecks along the outline before kissing fully. You gasped, mouth parting wider to accommodate his tongue. You tasted him, felt him, and let your bodies mold together perfectly. 

The bath water arrived mere seconds later, forcing the two of you to pull away, though still close enough that you could hear one another's breaths. Your hearts raced erratically, but you stayed focused, not losing yourself completely to the intimacy. After ensuring the tub had been filled to capacity and steaming hot, the servant woman departed with a polite bow.

"Will you share your bath with me?" You blinked in surprise at the offer. His mouth twitched mischievously as he smiled wider. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Washing yourself clean with my bare hands, feeling the suds glide down every curve," his thumb swiped across your bottom lip, stroking downwards to caress the column of your neck, and traced across your collarbone.

"I'd love that," you murmured against him, your mind still dizzy from the intensity of it all. He pulled back and looked into your eyes intently. You licked your lips, suddenly aware of how much you missed being alone with Li Shen like this. "What else is part of this grand scheme of yours?"

His fingers grazed lightly up your bare neck, along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake before settling in the curls of your hair. He gazed intensely into your eyes as they darkened with desire. His pupils widened. "You want details, little lotus, then here," his deep voice dropped an octave, a husky whisper in your ear.

Your breathing quickened. "Yes," you whispered back. "Tell me everything."

His breath fanned across your neck when he spoke again. "I'm going to peel each layer off, bit by bit." His fingertip glided downwards to trace around your collarbone. His breath grew shorter and he swallowed thickly, "I'll take my time caressing every inch, kiss every spot," he paused, licking the shell of your ear and sending a shiver through your body. "I want to make it good."

A low moan escaped your throat and your thighs squeezed tight. "So..." your throat was dry. "Is there anything... more specific?"

His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. "If you mean specific as in detail..." his fingers skimmed lightly up along your forearm, teasing and tickling, leaving goosebumps wherever he went.

"Yes, more specific," you urged impatiently, rubbing your legs together again, seeking friction where none existed.

He brought your wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips there, right above the veins, feeling the strong thud of your heartbeat against them. His nostrils flared, and he swallowed hard before speaking again, "Your soft skin will burn hot beneath my touch." He licked and nibbled the flesh. "I'll lick, nibble, and kiss my way up," he leaned closer to your ear. "Until I find the perfect spot between your breasts."

Your head rolled back, giving him better access, reveling at his closeness, his heat, and the excitement coursing through your veins. You shuddered at the image forming inside your mind and moaned out loud when his palm caressed and cupped one of them.

"Such delicate breasts, and such tempting nipples," he continued. "I cannot wait to run my tongue over and around them... tease and nip until they're painfully hard, begging to be touched. Will you let me do that, little lotus? Will you let me claim every inch of you, thoroughly explore and mark you so that every part of your body knows exactly who you belong to?" His nose brushed against yours, then nudged your cheek as his lips hovered just over yours, just barely touching.

"Li Shen," you gasped, unable to bear the tension in your belly.

"Yes?" His fingers grazed along the curve of your hips and the backs of your legs until you shivered beneath his ministrations and clung to him with everything you had. "Is there something specific you wish I do, little lotus?"

"Mm," you whimpered, overwhelmed by how quickly he worked you up into this state. All he did was whisper a few words. That should not have had such a strong effect on you, but then again, this is Li Shen.

"Say it, my beloved," his tongue laved at your pulse point where your heart fluttered madly beneath his touch. "Say it. I want to hear it."

You blushed at his teasing tone, but refused to be teased anymore. He knows exactly what buttons to push. "P-please," you said between ragged breaths. "I need..."

"Please what?" He prompted when you paused, biting and sucking at your neck.

"Touch me," you whimpered, voice barely above a whisper but firm.

"Let's get you cleaned first."

His fingers traced downwards and undid the last knot of your pants, letting the fabric pool at your ankles. A pleased smile spread across his handsome face while his eyes drank up your naked beauty. Then he lowered himself onto his knees, grasping your leg firmly in place. Your thighs squeezed instinctively when you realized he had no intention of stopping, his breath hot between your folds.

"Li Shen," you called his name weakly and closed your eyes.

"Open your eyes."

Your gaze flickered towards him immediately. Li Shen stared up at you, a slight grin on his mouth. "Keep them on me the whole time," he rasped.

You nodded, heart racing faster.

You could sense his satisfaction when the corners of his lips pulled upward as his hands ran slowly up along your calves and then dipped inside. A cry escaped you, back arching involuntarily at the sensation, toes curling at the soft tickling of his breath upon your inner thigh. "Hush, little lotus," his warm lips trailed, sending shocks through you. "It'll only get better from here." He spoke over the skin.

With another moan, you threaded your fingers through his silky locks, watching him hungrily lick, suck and bite his way to where you throbbed painfully with anticipation. At last, his thumbs dipped into the heat, spreading your swollen lips wide.

His gaze found yours once more. "Have I ever told you, little lotus," he lowered his face and brushed the tip of his nose over your sensitive core, drawing out a shudder from you. "Exactly what you taste like?" He kissed the spot tenderly, then swirled his tongue against it. Your grip tightened in his hair as his tongue penetrated you slowly. The pad of his thumb began to swirl, tantalizing your bud in slow circles and then applying pressure at intervals that made your pulse flutter wildly in time with each movement, causing you to shudder and twitch.

A whimper left your lips, hips jolting. His grip on your legs tightened, preventing you from moving. His mouth curled upwards when he spoke again, "You're absolutely delectable, my little lotus." Li Shen stroked up your inner thighs and took a deep inhale, smelling your arousal. "Better than anything I've ever tasted before. Everything about you," he paused between words to lavish you with attention, "is fucking delicious."

"Please," you whined impatiently, squeezing your eyes shut.

He smirked slightly at the response, before ducking in to swirl his tongue across your clit several times. The sounds escaping your mouth filled the room. Your walls clenched, begging for relief. Li Shen stopped long enough to catch his breath and met your desperate gaze. He gazed downwards, toward the apex of your thighs, and pressed his fingers against your clit, teasing it.

"How badly do you crave release, little lotus?" He asked seductively, locking eyes with yours once more. "How ready are you for me to give it to you? Hm?" His fingers continued to stimulate you slowly. Your head spun.

"S-so ready," you mumbled out hoarsely, nearly crying out when he dragged his fingertips through the folds between your legs. His expression darkened with desire when he pulled them up to show how soaked with moisture they were. "A-always ready for you."

"Such a greedy thing," he growled, sliding two fingers within you. Your insides clenched tightly as they slipped inside easily with only the slightest resistance. He pumped them several times.

"Ah-ahhh, Li Shen," you keened, gripping at his hair tightly. The feel of his mouth, the heat surrounding you and his expert movements were too much to bear. Your core seized up with pleasure.

"Come for me," he whispered. He continued fucking you mercilessly until his fingers disappeared within the heat, his eyes burning intently on yours. His other hand stroked up the curve of your stomach, dragging his thumb across your pert nipples, then dipped under and pinched one sharply. The pressure overwhelmed every inch of your senses; the world fell apart around you.

Your body shuddered uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving nothing untouched in its wake. The cry came straight from the depths of your soul and echoed through the room. His lips covered yours, drowning you in pleasure once more, while his tongue explored every crevice greedily. When the moment ended and the passion faded, Li Shen leaned back, his hand cupping your cheek, staring deeply into your eyes. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. You knew exactly what he was feeling.

His kiss deepened briefly. Then, pulling away gently, he drew you into his arms, cradling you gently. "Let's wash up and go to bed," his voice dropped to a softer tone, nuzzling affectionately into the crook of your neck, dropping kisses up the length.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight after what we've shared."

"Then," he drawled, bringing a finger between your slick folds again and gently swiping back and forth, eliciting a gasp. "I'll keep giving you so many memories that you will never be able to think of anything but me ever again."

With that, he lifted your spent frame effortlessly in his arms and carried you to the bathtub. As he undressed and then submerged himself under the warm, soothing water, you sank your tired limbs into its embrace, savoring the bliss. The worries of the night had all vanished. There were only smiles upon faces and soft kisses on heated lips. The two of you were content in that moment to exist forever within each other's space and arms, heart beating harmoniously together.

All your problems can wait for tomorrow. After all, there is plenty of time ahead for all of it, isn't there?

© summerstarworks - All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Please do no copy, repost, or translate my works. I do NOT allow any of my works to be entered into any form of AI.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

You may choose to ignore this request for it's a bit too angsty. But I was watching Downton Abbey, and without any spoilers, I could see Sebastian being in Tom Branson's shoes.

How do you think Sebastian would deal if MC (as his wife in the future) possibly succumb to childbirth's consequences? I'm sure he would like plently children from her, and seeing as she is an untouchable witch of great power, he couldn't have expected her to pass away from giving birth to their first baby. How do you think he'll manage that? Would he turn to the bottle, or devote himself wholly to fatherhood?

If it's too angsty, then please ignore. But thank you very much for giving us delightful stories. You're a very realistic writer, especially to those who are often unwritten in romance. 🥹

Your Eyes | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Anon, you broke my heart with this. But also I would never ignore such a request because I live for pain.

Words: ~2,500

Tags/TW: Death, Alcohol Use, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Grief, Loss, Hurt/No Comfort

The house is quiet.

Sebastian never noticed how oppressive silence could be until now. It presses against his ears, heavy and suffocating, as he sits at the edge of the bed—the bed you should be lying in, curled against him, breathing softly in your sleep.

Instead, the sheets are cold. The pillows still hold the ghost of your scent, something warm and familiar, but it’s fading by the day. He grips the fabric in his hands, twisting it, as though he could hold onto you through the remnants you left behind. But there’s nothing.

Nothing but the silence.

And then the crying.

It’s faint at first, a mewling sound from the cradle by the window. It grows louder, insistent. The baby wants something—food, comfort, you.

Sebastian exhales sharply through his nose and pushes himself to his feet. His body aches in ways that no spell can fix, not from battle wounds but from grief so deep it seeps into his bones. He makes his way to the cradle, hands unsteady as he leans down and lifts his daughter into his arms.

She’s so small.

Sebastian had imagined these moments differently—he had seen himself holding his daughter beside you, the both of you whispering over her, laughing as she made little fists in the air. He had never imagined doing this alone.

His thumb brushes over the downy softness of her hair. It’s curly and dark, like his. But her eyes…

They are yours.

Big, bright, and full of something that makes his chest ache.

She doesn’t cry when Ominis holds her. She doesn’t cry for Anne. But in Sebastian’s arms, she wails, small lungs pushing out grief he knows she doesn’t understand. Or maybe she does. Maybe she can sense Sebastian's pain and mirrors it the only way she knows how.

“I don’t know what you want,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

He rocks her awkwardly, but it’s no use. She cries harder. He runs a hand down his face, exhausted and helpless.

He thought he was prepared for fatherhood. He had imagined so many things—watching you sing lullabies to her, taking her on broom rides, teaching her how to duel, how to wield magic. But all of those moments had you in them.

And you were gone.

His vision blurs with unshed tears. The house is filled with reminders of you. Your books still line the shelves. Your cloak still hangs by the door. The cup you used to drink tea from in the morning sits on the kitchen table, untouched since the last time you held it.

Sebastian sighs heavily. His daughter's crying doesn’t stop.

He tries again—shifts her higher against his chest, mimics the way he imagines you'd hold her. He walks the length of the room, murmuring nonsense against the top of her head, but his voice is rough, strained.

She only cries harder.

You should be here. You were supposed to be here.

Sebastian wipes his eyes with his sleeve, jaw tightening as he crosses the cottage with quick, purposeful strides. He doesn’t think as he snatches his cloak from the hook by the door, doesn’t pause as he reaches for the small container of Floo Powder sitting on the mantle. He barely registers the weight of his daughter in his arms as he throws the powder into the fireplace, muttering his destination.

The sensation is dizzying, a whirl of heat and magic, and then suddenly, he is somewhere else.

The house is quiet here, too.

A warm glow flickers from a nearby oil lamp, casting soft light across the wooden floors. The air is thick with the scent of tea—Ominis must have been reading in the sitting room. But it's Anne who he sees first.

She looks tired, as if she hasn’t been sleeping either.

Her gaze flickers from Sebastian’s face to the baby in his arms, and something changes in her expression—something knowing, something unbearably soft.

Sebastian doesn’t speak. He can’t. He just… hands her over.

Anne’s arms come up instinctively, catching the child before she can even protest the shift from one body to another. Anne blinks, lips parting, but Sebastian is already turning away.

“Seb—”

The words die in her throat as he walks past her, through the front door, stepping out into the night without so much as a backward glance.

Sebastian doesn’t know how he gets there.

One moment, he’s walking. The next, he’s pushing open the heavy oak door of a dimly lit tavern in Diagon Alley. The smell of firewhiskey and damp wood greets him, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glasses.

It’s familiar.

You used to come here after work, shaking off long days with a drink and a laugh, your hand slipping into his as you leaned against him at the bar. He can still hear your voice in the echoes of the room, see the ghost of you in the flickering candlelight.

But you aren’t here. You never will be again.

Sebastian moves on instinct, pushing through the small crowd until he reaches the worn wooden bar. He drops onto a stool.

"Firewhiskey," he mutters.

The bartender barely glances at him before pouring a glass. Sebastian grips it tight, fingers pressing into the cool glass before tipping it back in one go. The burn is sharp, curling down his throat and settling in his stomach like lead. It doesn’t help.

Nothing ever does.

He gestures for another. And another.

The world around him dulls, but not enough. The ache in his chest remains, a wound that refuses to close, a ghost that refuses to be exorcised.

His hands shake when he reaches for his drink again.

He thought he had known loss. Thought he had survived the worst of it. Losing his parents. Watching illness nearly destroy Anne. The darkness that nearly swallowed him whole.

But this—this is different. This is something deeper, something crueler.

You were supposed to be invincible.

A force of nature, untouchable in all the ways that mattered. You had walked through fire and come out unscathed, had stood against curses that would have felled lesser witches and barely flinched. You faced every challenge in life with sharp wit and stubborn determination, wielded magic with a grace that left him in awe. You were powerful in a way he never was, strong in ways that humbled him.

Sebastian had seen you duel men twice your size and win. Had watched you cast spells that turned battlefields to rubble, your wand moving so effortlessly it looked like an extension of yourself. You had been relentless in all things—recklessly brave, annoyingly stubborn, always pushing forward, never yielding.

And yet a simple, mortal thing like childbirth had taken you from him.

A natural thing. A thing so ordinary that countless women had survived it before you. Something that shouldn’t have—couldn’t have—been your undoing.

Sebastian grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the memory claws its way back.

It had started fine. He remembers the anticipation, the nervous excitement. The way you squeezed his hand between contractions, whispering words meant to soothe him even as you fought through the pain. He remembers you laughing at something stupid he had said, watching the way your lips curled despite the exhaustion settling over you.

Then the laughter faded, and the blood came.

Too much, too fast. It soaked through the sheets in waves, thick and red, seeping between your thighs like a curse made flesh. The healers had rushed forward, their wands alight, their voices sharp with urgency, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

Sebastian remembers the panic. The way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he clutched at you, as if holding you tighter could somehow keep you tethered to the world.

“Do something,” he had demanded, his voice raw, edged with hysteria. “Fix it.”

They Healers tried. Oh, how they had tried. Spell after spell, potion after potion.

Sebastian had never seen magic fail before. Not like that.

He remembers your fingers curling weakly around his hand, your grip far too light. You had tried to say something, lips parting, voice barely a whisper over the chaos of the room.

He never heard what you said. He had leaned in too late, your name half-formed on his lips before your strength ran out.

Before your fingers slackened. Before your breathing stopped.

The sound that tore from him in that moment was animalistic, feral and barely human—no, no, no—a denial that cracked apart inside his chest, splintering into something irrevocable.

Sebastian lifts the glass again, swallowing it down like it might bury the pain.

But it doesn’t. Because no matter how much he drinks, the truth remains: You’re gone. And there is nothing left of you but a child with your eyes and his grief.

Sebastian lets out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. What kind of father does this? Leaves his newborn daughter behind for a night of drinking, of running from the reality waiting for him at home?

All she would do is cry anyway, he thinks.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder. Sebastian tenses, his grip tightening around the glass.

"Sebastian," a familiar voice says—quiet, steady.

He doesn’t need to turn to know who it is. Ominis. Of course he came. Of course he found him.

Sebastian lets out a slow breath, not quite ready to face the weight of his best friend’s judgment. He doesn’t want to hear the reprimand he knows is coming. He doesn’t want to be told what he already knows—that this isn’t the answer, that drinking himself into oblivion won’t bring you back. But it never comes. Instead, Ominis exhales, slow and measured, and settles on the stool beside him.

“She’s doing well,” he says quietly.

Sebastian stiffens. His throat works, but he doesn’t speak.

“The baby,” Ominis clarifies, voice softer now. “She’s alright. Anne’s got her settled. She’s been fed, changed. Not crying anymore.”

Sebastian closes his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temple.

The baby. Just the baby. Because he refuses to name her.

He had a name. The two of you had picked it together months ago, curled up on the couch with your head on his chest, laughing as you tossed ridiculous options back and forth before settling on something perfect. Something that had felt right.

But now, it just hurts.

The name belongs to a child that should have been born into a happy home, into a life where you still existed, where you were there to hold her, to whisper her name softly in the quiet hours of the night.

And so, Sebastian has not said it. Not once.

He takes another sip of his drink, lets the burn linger in his throat. Ominis doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t reach for the drink, doesn’t judge. He just sits beside him, hands folded in front of him like this is something they do all the time—like he is just another man drinking at a bar with a friend and not the only person standing between Sebastian and complete ruin.

Then, after a long pause—

“She has your scowl, you know.”

Sebastian exhales a short, breathless laugh before he can stop himself. It’s not real humor—it’s worn and exhausted, but it’s something.

Ominis hums. “Anne thinks she looks just like her mother, but I think she’s wrong. It’s your frown, through and through.”

Sebastian shakes his head, staring at the counter, swallowing down whatever rises in his throat. "She does look like her mother, Ominis. She has her eyes. "

Ominis doesn’t argue. He simply nods, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden bar, his unseeing gaze settled somewhere past Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian knows he’s waiting. Waiting for him to speak, to say something, to feel something other than this endless, aching emptiness. But there’s nothing left inside of him to give.

He knocks back the rest of his drink instead.

The burn is sharp, searing its way down his throat, but it doesn’t drown the memory of your face as the light faded from your eyes, doesn’t erase the sound of the healers shouting over each other, the blood—so much blood—pooling beneath you.

Sebastian sets the glass down with a dull thud, rolling it between his hands. The bartender barely looks at him when he orders a refill; no one spares him a second glance. And he wonders, briefly, if that will change when he drinks himself under the table. If someone will care enough to drag him out. Or if they’ll just step over him like he’s nothing at all.

Ominis shifts beside him, exhaling through his nose. “You can’t do this forever.”

Sebastian snorts. “Who says I’m planning to?”

“I do.” Ominis tilts his head slightly. “Because I know you.”

Sebastian scoffs. He wants to argue, to snap something sharp and cruel, to push Ominis away, but the words won’t come, because Ominis does know him. Better than anyone. Better than he knows himself, sometimes.

A long silence stretches between them.

“She needs you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian flinches. His fingers tighten around his glass, but Ominis doesn’t let up.

“You may not be ready,” he continues, voice steady, unshakable. “You may never be ready. But she is here. Your daughter is here. And if you’re not careful, she’ll grow up without either of her parents.”

Sebastian inhales sharply. His pulse thrums in his ears, hot and unsteady.

He has never been good at confronting pain—not really. He spent most of his life running from it, lashing out at the world instead of letting it sink in. But there is no one to fight this time. No one to blame. No curse to break. No enemy to defeat.

Only this. Only the wreckage of what should have been a beautiful, long life with you.

Ominis shifts, standing from his stool.

"You can stay here if you want," he says simply. "Drink yourself into the floor. It won’t change anything." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few Galleons and setting them on the counter with quiet finality—less a payment, more an unspoken apology to the bartender for the trouble— before turning toward the door.

But then, he hesitates. And when he speaks again, his voice is softer. Not a warning, not a plea, just something quiet.

“She’s still waiting for you”

Sebastian swallows. His throat is tight, his chest aching with something sharp and suffocating.

He doesn’t move as Ominis leaves. Doesn’t move for a long time. And when he finally does, when he stands, shoving the untouched glass of firewhiskey aside and pulling on his cloak, the weight in his chest is still there. Still unbearable.

But there is something else, too. Something small. Something fragile.

Something like purpose.

He goes home.

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s ( 18+ )

— ch. 1

➤ s t a r t

Mr. crawling x MC

— h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

“Flesh and shadows”

The first thing I felt was warmth—alien, foreign warmth that didn’t belong to me. My body, fragile and cold, seemed to ache in rebellion against the gentle heat seeping through the thin sheets draped over me. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the eerie gloom of the room.

Where was I?

The ceiling was unfamiliar—a pale, soothing shade of cream, with faint cracks running across it, like veins on old parchment. The last thing I remembered was the tall figure with the bright red umbrella and coat. How strange, I thought, we were indoors…

Then it hit me. I had fallen. Collapsed, more like, my legs buckling under me as dizziness overtook my senses. The white rain coat I’d been wearing, a comforting trademark of mine, was gone. Instead, I was dressed in a delicate white nightgown that barely reached past my upper thighs. Its’ fabric was soft, airy, but as I shifted, I noticed how it clung to my sickly form, revealing the bruises and cuts that painted my skin like a tragic mural.

I sat up gingerly, clutching the sheet closer to me, trying to shake off the disorientation. My throat felt parched, my head a little foggy, but I was alive—though unsure of how or why.

The room was small but cozy, with wooden floors and not a single window that let me see through the outside of the cryptic ghost apartment. The furniture was minimal: a chair, a side table with a glass of water alongside a bowl of human gut, and a faintly flickering lamp.

Where’s mr. crawling?

I reached for the glass of water, the cool surface soothing against my fingers. Taking a cautious sip, I scanned the room again. No red umbrella. No tall figure. Just me.

Just… me? The unusual feeling of having lost something—or someone struck me. Where is he? The man on all fours. He who had stuck by your side the day you gained access in this otherworldly place.

Then the sound of soft footsteps startled me. My grip on the glass tightened as the door creaked open.

There he was.

Not he whom crawled alongside me, but the tall red figure from earlier. His silhouette momentarily obscured by the light streaming in from the hall. The red umbrella was peaked from the doorframe, his presence unmistakable. He wore the same long red cloak that could be spotted from afar, his face partially hidden by the shadows and the red strands of his hair.

“ᖶᖻᘉ(you), ᕼᘿᓰᖇ(awake) ?” their voice was deep, smooth, carrying an air of calm authority.

“You…” I managed to croak in their language, my voice barely above a whisper as a raspy cough escaped from my mouth—unable to form a coherent sentence.

Without moving a muscle, he glitched closer to your laying figure, revealing more of his sinister features. His eyes were round and circle, unnervingly focused, as if they could peer into my sinful soul. Their lips quirked into a faint smile—not quite warm, but not entirely cold, either.

“匚尺(me) 丂山千ᐯ(help) ᖶᖻᘉ(you) .” they said simply, as if that answered everything.

“Help?” I repeated, my brows furrowing as I tilted my head up to face him. “Where? Why am I here? What happened to my coat? And why…” My words trailed off as I gestured vaguely to the nightgown and my battered body.

It all suddenly came to your realization. It’s possible that he had actually come to your rescue when you most needed it, or he’s one lying manipulator and that mr. crawling’s around here somewhere waiting for you to awake from your unfortunate slumber.

Seeing your threatened expression and tense body language, he realized his demeanor had become more uncomforting rather than the opposite after being around you for a moment—which was not part of his intent at all.

“卄ᐯ(afraid) ?” he said softly, his menacing voice adjusting lowly and measured. “ᗪ几(you) 乇乙尺(safe) 千卄Ҝ(here)—“

His words faltered. His head tilted, his sharp features hardening into something colder. His gaze left yours. His eyes had shifted, narrowing, as if sensing a presence that you couldn’t see.

The air grew heavy, the measly warmth of the room rapidly replaced by a biting chill that seeped into your bones. Your skin prickled with an almost instinctive dread. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch and writhe unnaturally, bending towards like living things.

“丂ᗪ尺千(someone) 丨乂几(around) .” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a growl. His body shifted slightly, as if to shield you, his long red cloak flowing like liquid crimson.

You barely had time to process his words before you felt it—a presence behind you.

Something moved.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your breath hitched as an unnatural, wet scraping sound echoed faintly in the room. Slowly, against every ounce of survival instinct screaming at you not to, you turned your head.

And there he was.

His grotesque lanky tall figure loomed in the dim light of the room, impossibly still while tilting his head as a desperate attempt to fit in the claustrophobic room, almost blending with the shadows. His hair cascaded down like an inky waterfall against yours, shrouding most of his face, yet sadly enough to conceal his nonexistent eyes. His pale skin glowed faintly against the darkness, almost too perfect, too smooth, like polished marble. Yet something was wrong—eerily wrong. His smile. It stretched too wide, sharp and cruel, curving downward in a way that sent shivers racing through your spine.

He wasn’t just tall—he seemed elongated, almost stretched, his limbs just slightly too long to be normal. The fabric of his dark attire clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing his unnatural yet pleasing physique.

His anger simmered beneath the surface, a dark, unspoken storm barely contained within the hollow depths of his unspoken mind. The moment he saw you with mr. scarletella—saw how the other man’s glitching crimson presence lingered near you—something inside him twisted. His chest rose and fell with steady, deliberate breaths, but his hands betrayed him—long, ghostly fingers curling into trembling fists, nails biting into his palms like they were trying to keep his fury from spilling out. And yet, his anger wasn’t loud or obvious; it was cold, creeping, and quiet, the kind that made the air feel like it might snap at any second.

The room felt like it had fallen into another dimension, the air heavy with tension so thick it seemed to press against your skin. They stood on opposite sides of the room—mr. scarletella, poised and calm as ever, his eyes glinting like embers in the dim light, and mr. crawling, a shadow that seemed to stretch unnaturally, his figure a dark vortex that swallowed all warmth.

Neither of them spoke a word, but the silence between them was deafening. Their gazes locked, an unspoken battle unfolding in the cold void between them. Scarletella’s crimson glow flickered like a waning candle, his calm demeanor cracking ever so slightly under the weight of crawling’s oppressive presence—his head tilted unnaturally to the side, the piercing frown on his face indicating every pinch of vexation.

Scarletella’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze steady but losing its luster. A faint crimson light sparked at his fingertips, flickering like a final attempt to push back the darkness. “丂乂(you) 乇Ҝ丂ㄩ(upset) ? 丂几尺(jealous), 丨尺ㄥ(maybe) ?”

Crawling’s head snapped forward, his body jerking like a marionette suddenly pulled taut by its strings. His looming figure took a step closer, the sound of his movement a grotesque, wet scraping that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The shadows in the room twisted and churned around him, as though they were alive and feeding off his fury.

“尺ㄚㄥ(leave) , 千匚几乃(now) .” mr. crawling’s silent voice rang with venom, his figure now inches from mr. scarletella. Despite his thin, sickly frame, his presence seemed to tower, to consume, to devour. The crimson glow around scarletella faltered, dimming as crawling leaned closer. “ﾌ几(you) ㄩ ㄖ卩(stay) , 匚ㄚ(me) Ҝㄖㄥ(hurt) . ﾌ几(you) 丂丨几(leave) , 匚ㄚ(me) ㄚ几(not) Ҝㄖㄥ(hurt) .” The corner of his grotesque mouth twitched upward, his grin widening until it threatened to split his face in two. His head tilted even further, the movement unnatural, predatory. A faint, guttural growl escaped him, reverberating in the walls, the air, my very bones.

Is this real life?

It was the first time you had ever seen him like this, standing at his full, unnatural height, his shadowed figure stretching tall enough to make the walls seem smaller, the room closing in around the trio. He had always been careful before—almost gentle, as if tiptoeing around your fear. He used to crawl, his movements deliberate and slow, his eerie smile softened by an odd attempt at kindness. But now, there was nothing restrained about him. He loomed over you, his glowing void-like eyes bearing down, his jagged smile curling wider with a hint of something sinister, something raw and unfiltered. Your heart pounded as you realized he was no longer hiding himself—no longer trying to make you feel safe. This was him, unmasked, no longer pretending to be the harmless, shadowed companion you’d grown used to. It wasn’t just surprising—it was terrifying in a way that left you breathless.

Mr. scarletella’s expression remained unreadable, but I caught the faintest flicker of tension in his clenched jaw, the slightest shift in his footing as though even he could feel the crushing inevitability of Crawling’s dominance. “ . . . ㄚㄩ(you’re) 乃乙ㄩ(becoming) 山ㄖ爪卩(softer) .”

That word… Is it perhaps to belittle mr. crawling?

Mr. scarletella’s crimson glow flickered violently, his form trembling like static on a broken screen. For a moment, his sharp features twisted with frustration, his eyes narrowing as though the very air around him was unraveling. Then, without warning, his entire figure glitched, fragments of him shattering like shards of crimson light breaking into the void. The glow dimmed in an instant, his presence vanishing into the oppressive silence that followed.

Mr. crawling didn’t move to stop him. He didn’t need to. The silent threat in his gaze, the sheer weight of his presence, had already done the work.

Even without the presence of the cryptic crimson, the room grew colder still. Crawling remained where he was, his nonexistent void-like eyes turning to you now. His jagged smile stretched impossibly wide, as though he relished the victory—not over scarletella, but over the fact that you had seen it.

And now, you were alone with him.

“ㄚﾌ几 (okay) ?” He repeated the same question again for the nth time. He crawled faster behind your feet, hearing your exasperated sigh followed by the sound of a palm to your face.

You stopped on your feet for a second. With the overwhelming headache and unstability of your body, you turned on your heel to pacify the crawler. The tired and annoyed expression on your face looked down on the guy’s curious and eager ones—his hair spilled down onto the hardwood floor of the hallways as he awaited for a positive answer.

“Me, okay. No more worry.” You responded in a motherly manner, crouching a bit to reach his height as you petted his head while he leaned closer to your touch—craving more and more of it with each passing moment. “Good?” You added, responding in their native language.

Losing focus for a bit, your hand rested on his head, gently ruffling his cold, sleek hair, his entire frame seemed to stiffen. His jagged grin faltered for the first time, twisting into something uneven and almost bashful, as though he didn’t quite know how to respond. Then, much to your surprise, a strange, silly sound escaped from him—a quiet, stuttering “Hehe… hehehe…”—as his head tilted slightly into your touch, his massive form somehow shrunk in that moment. It was absurdly out of character, and yet, seeing the eerie, imposing figure so flustered under a simple pat made my chest warm with something close to amusement.

You couldn’t help but smile, which ofcourse—grew unnoticed by the guy himself. “几ㄚ(me) 千ㄩ乙丂 (cute) ?” With a quick and stiff movement, he gently grips his long slender fingers around your much smaller wrist. “几ㄩ (you) 卄ㄖ丂几 (smiley) , 几ㄩ(you) 千ㄩ乙丂 (cute) !” he said simply, his jagged smile widening as he leaned just a fraction closer, as if savoring the reaction he knew was coming.

You froze for a moment, your fingers twitching at your sides before a faint pink dusted your cheeks. Without a word, you turned sharply on your heel, your back to him in an attempt to hide your flustered state. But your ears betrayed you—bright red against your hair, a detail mr. crawling didn’t miss. “几ㄩ(you) 千ㄩ乙丂 (cute) ! 几ㄩ(you) 千ㄩ乙丂 (cute) !” he drawled, his grin widening further, his voice teasing. “几ㄩ(you) 乙卄ㄥ(shy) ?”

“Damn you—you lizard, stop it.” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed but unable to mask the flustered tremor in your tone. He chuckled softly, a sound that was strangely warm despite his usual unsettling demeanor, as if your reaction amused him to no end.

Gathering yourself, you cleared your throat and gestured toward a door at the far end of the room—a door neither of you had explored before. “Moving on…” you said quickly, still refusing to look at him directly.

You shook off any unwanted feelings, remembering the main point of your journey. After the anxiety-ridden incident earlier, you weren’t slow enough not to notice the overbearing pain you had to overcome not long after your awakening. The strands of your hair had its’ colors almost entirely washed out, a cold tone of gray and white slowly fading in the roots of your hair until the rest had also been infected. Not only that, but you’ve come to notice the major change in your physique—more so, your skin. After staring at your hands under the faint light, the skin became thin and pale, almost see through and translucent, as if stretched too tightly over your frame. Faint blue and red lines of nerves web beneath the surface, sickly and unsettling, making you feel more fragile than human. Your breath hitches as you trace one with your finger, the sight leaving you both horrified and strangely curious.

The unsettling sight of your sickly, pale skin gnawed at your mind as you moved through the dim halls, your fingers brushing over the faintly visible nerves beneath. You’d hoped it was nothing, a fleeting illness, but the way it seemed to spread, inching further up your arms, told you otherwise. Beside you, mr. crawling followed silently, his elongated frame towering in the faint light. You weren’t sure why he was helping you—if it was pity, curiosity, or something else entirely—but he seemed intent on staying by your side.

“几ㄚ(me) ﾌ丂Ҝㄥ(help) .” he murmured suddenly, his voice low and almost soothing, though his jagged grin remained unsettling. The words were a reassurance, but the emptiness of the unfamiliar corridors only deepened your unease. Every door you opened felt like a step closer to either salvation or something far worse, and yet, with him beside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Somewhere in this labyrinth of shadows, you had to find a cure—before the lines beneath your skin consumed you entirely.

The crawler fell in step behind you, following alongside you like a puppy to its’ master while you both made your way to another new unfamiliar entrance. You reached for the doorknob, determined to shake off the embarrassment, while his gaze remained fixated on you after you checked to see behind your shoulder if he was still there—his grin never fading old.

Please let there be some useful stuff here.

The room was a stroke of luck—rows of shelves lined with medicine bottles, bandages, and dusty supplies that seemed untouched for ages. Relief flooded you as you approached a shelf, your fingers brushing over the labels, reading each one carefully. For a moment, you were lost in concentration, cataloging what might actually help your condition, when something creaked behind you. Turning quickly, you froze, only to see mr. crawling squeezed—hiding into an empty cardboard box on the floor, his long limbs contorted in ways that shouldn’t have been possible, his nonexistent eyes felt like they were peering at you mischievously.

“Boo” he said—rising his head up from the peak of the cardboard box, his high-pitched, silly giggle lighting up his face as if he were the world’s proudest prankster. “尺几ㄩ丂(funny) ?”

Your heart jumped, not from fear but from sheer surprise, though you couldn’t let him know that. Clutching your chest dramatically, you gasped, “You scared me.” His eerie chuckle filled the room, a delighted “Heh he. . .” escaping him as he hid himself once again in the box with uncanny grace. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. It was absurd, really—this monstrous entity behaving like a playful cat.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You returned your focus to the medicines, crouching to check the lower shelves and even the medkits scattered on the floor. After gathering a few promising bottles, you noticed a secluded corner of the room, its dim lighting giving it an air of mystery. A small cabinet caught your eye, and you carefully opened it, squinting to read the faded labels. Each name sounded strange, unfamiliar, and your frustration grew as you hesitated over which to choose.

The shelves loomed over you, an overwhelming array of medicines, most with faded labels, cryptic names, and dosages in languages you didn’t understand. Each bottle felt like a gamble—some promising relief, others ominously vague. You grabbed one and turned it in your hand: Aculisyn-Therex. Its description claimed to promote “cellular repair,” but the ingredients list was incomprehensible. You frowned and placed it back, reaching for another.

Crouching down, you opened a small, rusted medkit on the floor. Inside were syringes, bandages, and a vial of something that looked alarmingly red, almost like blood. You recoiled slightly, shoving the kit aside and focusing on the next set of shelves. You found another intriguing item: a sealed packet labeled Neurosol: For Nerve Integrity. It struck a chord—the nerves beneath your skin. Could this be it? You hesitated, the words “potential side effects” faintly visible in tiny print, but the rest was smudged.

While you pondered, you noticed an old instruction manual on the counter nearby. Dusting it off, you flipped through its fragile pages, desperate for guidance. The diagrams inside showed strange, almost alien anatomy— maybe another specie of humans, like neanderthals, maybe, resembling human biology. Your hands shook slightly as you set the book down. Was this place even designed for humans?

A faint draft swept through the room, making the low light flicker. Still determined, you moved toward the secluded corner, the dimmest part of the room. There, a tiny cabinet awaited, half-buried under years of neglect. The wood creaked as you opened it, revealing vials with strange glowing liquids and powders with indecipherable names: Stimulyn A+, Cryohealin, Xyntherra. The glow of one vial pulsed faintly in the darkness, a hypnotic green that drew your hand toward it. But before you could grab it, a cold pressure wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into reality.

Two large hands slid over your waist, firm and loose, pulling you back just enough that your lower body brushed against his. The contact was sensual but electric, a flush of heat rushing through you, leaving your breath shallow and uneven. His grip tightened slightly, anchoring you in place as his towering frame pressed closer, his silken hair cascading over your shoulders and brushing against your skin like a whisper as your arched back leaned closer against his. You felt the faintest graze of his chest near your back, feeling his warm puff of breath dissolve on your nape. The unspoken interaction sent a shiver down your spine, while the friction of your hips and his long slender fingers left your pulse racing and your knees threatening to give way. The space between you felt suffocating, every shift, every accidental touch igniting something in the charged silence, his fingers tightening just slightly on your waist as though daring you to move.

Flustered, you turned quickly to face him, but the movement only brought you closer, your chest almost brushing against his. His grin remained, though softer now, as if he enjoyed watching your flustered state. Before you could say anything, a faint noise broke the moment—a metallic squeak, followed by the distinct sound of a cart rolling down the hallway outside.

“D-did you hear that?” you pretended to care, your voice attempting to hide your flustered state as you stepped away, desperate for an escape. Without waiting for his response, you turned toward the door, pretending to focus on the sound, leaving him behind as you desperately tried to calm the heat rising to your cheeks.

Mr. Crawling stood there, still as ever, his hair cascading over where his eyes should be, hiding any hint of confusion. He tilted his head slightly, the ghostly glow of his form making him seem more enigmatic than anything else. The gesture had been so casual to him—an innocent moment of contact that, in his mind, was no different from a gentle pat on the head. He had no understanding of why you’d reacted so strongly, leaving him wondering if he had done something wrong—or if maybe he was just too strange for you to comprehend. His jagged grin remained, though it faltered a little in the quiet.

You stepped into the hallway, the sound of wheels creaking faintly in the distance, pulling your attention. When the cart came into view, slowly rolling toward you. You were befuddled to see someone unexpected.

Mr. chopped?!

“几ㄩ(me) 爪乇尺(need) 乙ㄩ乇ㄖ(help) !” He shifted slightly, his severed head awkward on the cart, his gaze meeting yours as the cart rolled closer to the end of the hallway.

MR. CHOPPED!!

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s ( 18+ )

— ch. 1

➤ e n d

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

A short with Madga, one of the MCs. She was initially meant to be the main character, but now I'm not sure 🤔

She is short, with long back, curly hair. She's immortal 🤫, but she has remained both mentally and physically at 14yrs old, the age she became immortal. She may have been the one to kill the sun 👀 🤫.

She has gone through a lot in the last 500yrs, and this is one of those stories.

Synopsis: A snow storm catches Madga off guard. Quickly seeking shelter, she runs into a group of Suuroo warriors... just before something comes out of the snows to attack them.

Other Posts: Maps Main post

Also on Royal Road: Lost Roads

Title: I Don't Want To Fight

Madga sniffed and wiped her nose for the ninth and ninth time on her wool cloak, wrapped around her like a huge blanket and held by a wooden broach. The moisture from her breath melted and quickly froze again on the fabric surrounding her lower face.

The cold rushed into her lungs and caught her off guard. She coughed and a big cloud of fog puffed into the air.

Her boots crunched across the snow between the trees and brush. Something tugged on her pack and she inhaled and turned, only to see that a thorny bush had snagged on a cord of rope. She breathed out with another cough. She shifted the spear in her arms to free up one hand, and then twisted and carefully lifted the thin, prickly branch with her big mitt. The thorns caught on the mitt but let go after some gentle coaxing.

From somewhere above her the full moon shone through the pine branches here and there, setting the odd flake on the ground to sparkle. Every breath released a puff of fog. When nothing jumped out at her from the dark, silent forest she hugged the spear again and moved on, walking by the light of the moon and stars filtering between the trees.

There was only the sound of her feet and breath, until eventually a rustling caught her ears and she looked up. The lower branches around and above her were quiet, but a wind had begun blowing across the tops of the trees. It hissed through the needles as it grew stronger and stronger.

Finally the branches above her swayed and snow flew between them. Her eyes widened and she searched for shelter.

The wind howled through the forest without a clear voice or direction. The blowing snow thickened until only nearby trees could be seen.

The moon and stars disappeared. The cold nipped around her skin and the flying snow poked at her eyes. She squinted and walked with her hands holding the spear out in front of her. The bushes and branches scrapped against it, but eventually it gave way.

She took a few more careful steps but felt nothing. She shifted her grip on the spear and slowly waved it around, but still she felt nothing.

The little clouds of fog came faster. She turned around and walked with the spear pointed outward again, but after a handful of steps she still hadn’t returned to the forest.

She lowered the spear. She stood silent in the endless whirl of wind and snow, whimpering and hugging the spear tight in her arms. She had made a grave error by walking too close to the open plains.

Her knees trembled. She wanted to fall to the ground but a firm, and not unkindly feeling kept her upright. She shivered as the unruly winds pushed the cold through her clothes. The winds tugged and tore at her hood, flinging it off to reveal the hat and black curls underneath. She fixed it but seconds later it was ripped off again.

She reached up to fix it a second time but froze when something pricked at her ears. She heard it again and focused on the sound, trying to parse it from the howling wind.

An irritated voice shouted and was quickly followed by others. Another one responded. The wind seemed to relax, lightening the veil of snow just enough to reveal a warm light.

The snow rushed in again and the welcoming sight was lost. But she took a breath and headed toward it, hoping she wouldn’t stray in the dark. Strands of wind pushed and pulled at her once or twice but this time it was gentle, as though trying to nudge her in the right direction.

The voices grew and she breathed in relief, but still her heart sped up at their tone of voice.

“We protect people like you from the Tasoragh and angry spirits!” a woman shouted.

An elderly man shot back, “I wouldn’t need protecting if you ceased fighting each other! Then there wouldn’t be angry spirits!”

The others erupted in anger.

“What!”

“Are you really going to leave us in this blizzard!?” one cried.

“It’s your responsibility to house us warriors,” another snarled. The elderly man scowled and stepped back but one of the warriors kept the door open.

Madga slowed to a stop some distance behind them. They didn’t seem to notice. They were blond Suuroo warriors, dressed in thick wool and fur clothes, with long wool cloaks and sturdy fur and leather boots. Spears and packs were strapped to the backs of half of them, and all had small round shields. Strangely there were no horses or a chariot in sight.

She tensed and took a step back when their voices rose again.

Her boot crunched in the snow at the same time a low growl rumbled through the storm. She froze. The warriors went quiet and turned. Their eyes acknowledged her presence, but moved on and quickly searched for the source of the noise.

“What was that?” the elderly man asked, shattering the silence.

Another growl erupted and angry, unnatural red eyes swivelled toward them in the dark. Madga stiffly looked over her shoulder and the snow thinned, giving them all a view of a very large plains lion.

The great cat glared at them. Its pale fur rose high on the back of its neck. Its tail dragged across the snow. The wind brushed the fur on its back, which briefly shifted into unkept, artistic swirls and wedges before reforming into animal fur.

It snarled with sharp teeth. A thick and muscled limb covered in spots took a step toward them.

“In. Now,” one of the women firmly said.

The warriors slowly backed up. The man argued and the cat growled again. The warriors piled into his house, effectively silencing him. Madga slowly turned and backed toward them, watching as the spirit-animal advanced.

Her heart hammered at her ribs, and her breath quickened against her will. The lion matched each step, before slowly lowering into a crouch.

Her mind went blank as her body shouted at her to run. She turned and at the same time someone grabbed her shoulder and effortlessly pulled her into the house.

The woman slammed the door behind them and the lion roared from the other side. A loud, hard thump on the wood followed, and the woman and a man pushed against the door. Two other warriors ran past the elderly man to grab his cot and shove it against the door. Then his cauldron.

“Hey! That’s my bed! And my supper!!”

The lion snarled deep and loud.

“Shut up,” one of the warriors spat at him.

“How-how dare you?!” The old man barely recovered from his shock as he said, “I am your elder.”

“You are,” the man hissed back. “But you’re also agitating the spirit outside!”

“Me?!”

A yowl sliced through the air and everyone stared at the door. A deep growl followed.

“Enough,” said the woman who had pulled Madga to safety. She was tall and thin. Muscles strained against her clothes. “Ready yourselves.”

She removed her pack and cloak, revealing bone daggers attached to her hips and legs.

She took her round shield from her pack, and calmly said, “Since the spirit isn’t giving up we’ll have to defeat it. Otherwise it will be a danger to not only him, but to travellers like her.”

Madga had stepped farther into the rectangular Suuroo-style house. At the mention of her she swallowed and shrunk into herself.

The rest of the warriors began shucking their packs and travelling gear much like their leader had. Soon they were carrying spears, daggers, and shields at the ready. They nodded at the woman with respect, trust, and readiness.

The old man grumbled, “You had better not bring your fight in here.”

The man that had been arguing with him scowled and gestured about the room. “It’s our fight. Do you really think it’ll leave you alone? It nearly knocked down your door.”

Despite his heavy wrinkles the elder straightened and puffed out his thin chest. “And as I said it would have no interest in me if you weren’t here in the first place. If you would cease your squabbling with the Tasoragh-”

The man’s eyes flew wide. “‘Squabbling’!? Centuries of war and the things they’ve pulled you call squabbling!?”

A roar shook the air and the fire itself seemed to flicker. Heavy thumps sounded on the snow-covered roof. After a pause, the faint sound of scratching reached their ears. Both men paled as dust rained down from the ceiling.

The gaze of one of the other women shifted downward to Madga. The woman’s blond hair had been tightly tied in braids around her head. Woven in were painted bone beads and a few ribbons.

“Can you use that?” she asked.

Madga’s terrified gaze left the ceiling and stared in wide-eyed confusion. The woman’s eyes flickered to the spear she hugged in her arms. Madga’s mouth opened in a silent ‘Oh’. She shook her head.

The spirit-lion roared again in frustration.

The woman nodded and stepped closer.

She said, “Then you’re going to learn today, because we might need everyone on hand. I’m Sena.”

Her words squeaked out. “Ma-ma-Madga- but I- I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill it.”

Sena shook her head. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

“And ourselves,” the second man added dryly.

The old man glanced at them but his gaze was curiously focused on Sena.

Sena shook her head ruefully at the other warrior. “Yes, in this case you’re right, Owes, but only this time. Okay, Madga, pack off, please, arms up. That spear is a little long for you but I think we can make it work.”

Madga reluctantly did as she was told under Sena’s expectant gaze. Once again, hand’s trembling, she held the spear with both hands.

“Spread your hands at one end, it’s not a twirly druid’s staff.”

One of the women snorted, temporarily distracted from their strategy meeting.

Madga glanced at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled to Sena and did as she was told.

Sena reached for her left hand and Madga instinctively stepped back.

Sena raised her hands in an apology. “I wanted to place your hands properly. Can I?”

Madga mumbled and nodded. Her muscles relaxed as Sena positioned her right hand at the end of the staff. She quickly walked her through some thrusting maneuvers. Madga’s hands shook at first but to her surprise they slowly relaxed with each move.

A great thump sounded through the house and her hands trembled again. Everyone paused to listen for more sounds through the howling of snow and wind.

A loud bang sounded on the door and Madga jumped. The stew in the cauldron sloshed.

“What about you? Can you fight?” asked the other woman.

The elderly man shook his head.

One of the men quietly swore. “Telling us what to do but you can’t even defend yourself,” he muttered.

The old man’s eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned under his thick white beard. “I don’t need to know how to fight to know that it accomplishes nothing.”

Another yowl set Madga’s teeth on edge. Another bang and she again clutched the spear tight to her chest.

Sena looked at her. “Hold it properly. Hopefully you won’t need to use it but keep the head up just in case.” She turned to her leader. “Oiesuu, what’s the plan?”

Oiesuu nodded once and repeated to her what she and the other warriors had discussed.

While they spoke, Madga’s eyes travelled to the door. A low growl snuck in through the crack between it and the wall. A snowflake drifted in, accompanied by the sound of claws scratching on wood.

She swallowed. She nearly brought the spear close to her chest again but stopped herself. Her right hand anxiously turned the staff. A design had once been carved into it, but the wood was incredibly smooth. The craftwork didn’t catch on her skin as it spun in her left hand. Gnarled branches, or bolts of lightning, ran from one end of the spear to the other. And long, smoothed bone had been affixed to the top as the point. Other than the design, the weapon largely resembled any ordinary spear.

Sena nodded regarding Oiesuu’s plan of action, and the other warriors nodded again. Oiesuu returned it and faced the door. She glanced at Madga and the elder. She waved for them to back away and they followed her instruction. The older man watched, his expression a mix of frustration, fear, and worry. His eyes flashed to Madga as she neared but he said nothing.

With a quick look from Oiesuu, Sena and Owes moved the cauldron as quietly as possible. They went to the cot next, just as a growl came from outside. They paused for a long moment, glancing at each other, before moving it. Oiesuu and the others slid into its place as it was taken away, weapons and shields at the ready. Sena and Owes joined them at the rear.

Madga’s heart trembled in her chest. At some point she had stopped breathing and she forced herself to inhale.

The house was silent except for the crackling fire and the wild winds. Oiesuu gestured and Owes slipped around with quiet steps. He shifted the bone dagger to his other hand and grabbed the door handle. He waited for the order.

Oiesuu nodded and Owes yanked it open.

Outside the lion jerked around, interrupted in its anxious pacing. Its lips twitched up in a snarl.

Step after step, Oiesuu walked out the door, her spear raised in one hand with a small round shield in the other. She didn’t look away as she began to circle her adversary, allowing the others to follower her outside. The lion snarled again, its red eyes twitching from one warrior to the next.

Madga kept well within the house, spear held up in her hands, which were shaking once again.

Snow distorted Oiesuu’s figure as she made it to the opposite side of the lion. Her hood fell down and her braided hair whipped around her in the wind, but she didn’t move to fix it. A few of the other warriors’ hoods were ripped off but their focus too remained on their opponent.

Sena gave a test jab and the lion snarled. It took a step back, but Oiesuu jabbed from the other side and its head whipped around with a growl.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and Madga tensed. She minutely as she realized it was the elder. He slowly neared the door for a better look. Madga bit her lip. Her feet shifted, unsure, but she followed him with the tip of the spear held out in front like Sena had taught her.

The lion’s form shifted. The swirls were tense, jagged. Its tail lashed in agitation and it suddenly leapt for the third woman. She twisted, jabbed, and the lion roared. It shuffled away from her, droplets of blood speckling the white snow. At the same time swirls and wedges floated away from the body to dissipate in the wind.

Its head lowered, body tense for fight or flight. Ears flattened back as the warriors yelled and jabbed at it. It growled, and the noise rumbled through their chests.

The old man shook his head. “Can’t they see its just frightened. Exactly like a cornered animal, and all because of this fighting.” Madga glanced at him, and to her horror he flung out his hand and shouted, “You’re just making the spirit angrier!”

The man he had been arguing with earlier clenched his teeth and his head spun toward him. Owes glanced at them.

“Shut up! Do you really think if we left it alone like this it would-”

The lion yowled as though someone hit it and it lunged for Owes. His eyes flashed in surprise but he held his spear firm. However the lion weaved past it and smacked him with a heavy paw. The claws tore through his clothes and bit into his shoulder. He cried out and blood arched in the air to scatter on the snow and the lion.

Madga stepped back as the fight truly began, as though the attack on Owes had suddenly cut a cord of tension. Shouts and growls intermingled with the howling of the wind and blows were exchanged. Distressed and frozen in helplessness, the elder’s eyes flickered from one fighter to the next.

The lion turned and its eyes landed on them. Madga stepped back again but the elder was still frozen with his hands pressed against the side of the doorway. Blood dripped from the lion’s shoulder and face, and swirls curled up from both wounds.

The spirit-animal tensed and snarled as the man who the elder had argued with shuffled to stand between them. A thin line of blood was soaking through his leggings.

Without looking back, he said, “Get in and shut the door.”

The elder didn’t respond.

“Hey, get moving,” he said louder. The lion growled. Sena jabbed at its flank but it snarled and jumped at her.

The man turned and snarled, “Move!”

The elder seemed to snap out of his frozen state. He blinked. His lips curled. “I-”

The lion shook its head, fog puffing from its nostrils. A low voice moaned through the wind, Stop.

The warriors froze. The two men turned to stare. Madga’s eyes widened.

The spirit’s tail lashed. It spoke without moving its mouth.

It yowled and its head shook again. Stoooooop!

The younger man breathed, “What-?”

STOOOP! It blindly charged and bowled him over before knocking the old man to the side against the door and running into the house. Madga scrambled back, dropping the spear and tripping over her feet to fall on her rear.

The lion ran through the fire and stumbled over the spear that the man had accidentally lodged in its chest. It crashed hard against the opposite wall and cracked the wood, but as the house was partially buried the wall refused to give.

It stopped where it lay. Blood trickled to the floor, and more swirls drifted into the air to fade like smoke.

The warriors returned to the house. Oiesuu helped up the man the lion had ran over, and Sena wrapped the elder’s arm around her shoulder before pulling him to his feet.

The third woman only had a few scratches. She took careful steps toward the spirit-animal with her spear at the ready. Madga held her breath as her spear’s tip neared the body.

The lion shifted. Madga squeaked and the woman jumped back.

Stop… fight…. The moan weakened and turned into a whisper. At the same time its entire body faded into the swirls and wedges and mist before disappearing completely.

There was a brief pause. With no body to keep it upright, the spear fell to the floor with two thunks.

Madga took a breath, not realizing she had held onto it.

Owes groaned from where he leaned against the door frame.

Oiesuu quietly inhaled and turned to the third woman. “Ruucu, lay Owes down. Reeara, are you alright?”

The man straightened and stepped out of her care. He nodded. “Just a few bruises and this cut on my leg. I can look after Owes, but… from what I can see, he’ll need a better healer than me.”

“Do you best. Keep him alive. We can’t leave until the storm passes.”

A scowl twitched on Reeara’s face. “Whenever that’ll be.” He sighed. “Alright, elder, I’ll need-”

“I’ll do it.” The old man straightened and removed his arm from around Sena’s shoulders. She eyed him but he remained firmly on his feet.

He coughed and winced from some pain. He explained, “My father was a bit of a healer.” He travelled to a wooden box. “Once I was older I learned an unfair amount from a druid-healer.”

“What about yourself?” Sena asked as she joined him. She kneeled and opened the box for him.

He grunted. “Thank you. If you could use the lid and bring everything, I’d be grateful,” he muttered. “I’m fine. You’re friend there took most of the damage from the spirit’s charge.”

Reeara snorted. The tips of his long beard caught between his arms as he crossed them but he didn’t bother fixing it. He shifted, keeping some weight off his injured leg. “And who’s fault is that?”

The elder’s eyes flashed at him as he passed on his way to Owes. The anger dimmed when he looked away. “It’s everyone’s fault, if what just happened means what I think it means.”

Reeara paused to look at the place the spirit had been.

“If you can at least wrap your leg I suggest you get a move on,” the elder said.

Reeara scowled but went to his pack.

Madga’s eyes lingered on the cracked wood at the end of the house. The dirt on the other side remained there, frozen and dark.

Her head turned as Sena kneeled in front of her with her spear. “Did you get hurt?”

Madga shook her head.

Sena smiled. “Good.” She held out her spear. Reluctantly, Madga took it and followed Sena to her feet.

Sena’s gaze turned to her black hair. Her smile slowly faded as it lingered there. Madga glanced away, her heart beating too loud.

But Owes groaned and stole Sena’s attention. Madga quietly breathed out.

Ruucu was helping Owes out of the last tunic layering his chest. The blood had already begun hardening with the tunic stuck to it, and removing the shirt tore the sealed blood away. Fresh blood began running down his shoulder and onto the cot. He hissed, his skin already pale from blood loss.

Once the tunic was gone, the elder man kneeled on the floor by Owes with a grunt. He tutted at the state of the man’s shoulder.

“All this fighting, and look where it’s got you,” he muttered. Reeara stopped in wrapping his injury. Wide-eyed, incredulous, he opened his mouth but the man continued, “But I… I suppose I owe you all an, erm, an apology.”

Reeara’s mouth snapped shut.

The elder man cleared his throat. “Now see, I won’t apologize for my stance on the matter, I won’t. But… I see that I’m not entirely correct either. I see now that your type of fighting is also about protecting others, not just attacking an enemy for the sake of it.”

Several expressions flickered over Reeara’s face. He glanced at Ruucu, who shrugged, surprised.

Returning to his injury, Reeara asked, “Well, uh, I guess I’m glad you see it that way…? What’s your name?”

The elder didn’t answer right away. Oiesuu placed a bowl of water next to him. It had been snow that she had melted and boiled next to the fire as he and Reeara spoke. He muttered thanks and dipped a cloth into the warm water. Owes inhaled but otherwise didn’t react as the man began wiping the gashes on his shoulder.

“I am Dseeisret.”

Owes’ eyes flashed up to him. Sena, Ruucu, and Reeara froze. Oiesuu remained still. Madga’s eyes widened. They flickered from one person to the next. She shuffled back.

“What?” Ruucu asked in a tight voice.

Dseeisret continued working. He confirmed, “My mother was Suuroo. My father—the healer—was Tasoragh.” He made a quiet noise, like a sound between a huff and a chuckle. “You can’t tell now, but my hair wasn’t quite as bright as yours. Some called it the colour of dirty straw. Not my favourite description, but I suppose it could have been worse.”

Ruucu said, “You lied to us.”

He didn’t bother looking at her. “I did no such thing. You forced yourselves into my home, the home of a Tasoragh-Suuroo, when I said I didn’t want you here.”

“But-”

“Leave it,” Oiesuu said. Her gaze lingered on the elder. “There is no one here to help him. One Tasoragh isn’t a danger to us.”

Ruucu stared at her like she wanted to protest. Instead she turned her head and glared at the wall.

Oiesuu slowly turned and kicked charcoal and rocks into place, roughly repairing the fire, before sitting next to it. Sena’s gaze travelled over Madga one last time before joining her leader.

Madga swallowed.

Reeara stared down at his leg in thought. He slowly finished wrapping it and cut the cloth with a bone knife. Madga hugged her spear as she watched him return everything to his pack and stand with a wince. He brought the pack by the cot and knelt next to Dseeisret.

The old man raised a brow. Owes’ tired but wide eyes glanced from the potential threat to his fellow warrior. Reeara nodded at him, which seemed to reassure him a little. He relaxed, although his gaze remained on Dseeisret.

“Alright,” Reeara said in a clear voice, nearly in challenge, “Show me what a Tasoragh healer can do.”

Dseeisret smiled from under his long white beard. He cleared his throat. “Well, first….”

Madga looked at the women around the fire. She hesitated.

There was movement out of the corner of her eyes and she gasped and turned. Ruucu paused, looking at her. Madga didn’t say anything, and so Ruucu continued to sit down on the floor. Ruucu turned to the mens’ work, curious but wary as she straightened to get a better look.

Madga breathed out. She shifted on her feet before choosing to take a seat at the end of the cot, not sure where else to go until the storm could die down.

Her ears pricked as Reeara whispered, “I’m… you might have been right… about our fighting bothering the spirits.”

“Ah,” Dseeisret’s shoulder twitched upward in a weak shrug. “I’m not a druid, but in my life I’ve seen things like that. I know it affects them. Affects humans too. I hate seeing it altogether.”

“Not sure I can completely agree with you. My cousin was killed by… the Tasoragh.” He glanced at Dseeisret before looking down. “I’m not sure I could ever walk away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve also seen people cut down by Suuroo. I hope I’ll live to see tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” Reeara promised.

Dseeisret nodded his thanks. After a moment, he said, “I accept your apology, by the way. About my being right about the spirits.”

Reeara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Just keep working, elder.”

Dseeisret chuckled quietly.

Madga huddled against the wall, hugging the spear and listening to their voices and their work. Her eyes grew heavy, and though she tried to fight it, eventually she drifted off to sleep.

[dancingbirdie]

Headcanon/Potential Fanfiction Excerpt? Part 2

The second scene my little Sebastian-obsessed brain created.

I have this headcanon where my MC (Diana Ridgegrass - Slytherin she/her) spends 6th year studying abroad at Ilvermorny and returns for her final year at Hogwarts. She and Ominis remained close friends/pen pals. Sebastian has been OVERTLY distant.

Again: not sure if this has reader appeal, but at least it's out of my head.

As she exited the Room, she jumped in surprise. She was not alone in the seventh floor corridor. Across from her, Sebastian sat slouched against the stone wall, attempting to balance his wand on one finger. His long legs were crossed at the ankles. He had the look of someone who’d been waiting a while. 

“What are you doing here?” Diana bristled. After successfully avoiding him for most of the week, she was not in the mood to play the conversational equivalent to Exploding Snap with Sebastian today.

The boy in question lolled his head to the side, observing her with a slight smirk. “I always wondered where you disappeared to during fifth year. Dunno why it never occurred to me to just follow you.” he barked out a laugh. “Must be convenient having the fabled Come-and-Go Room all to yourself.”

“So you refuse to speak to me on friendly terms, but you’ll stalk me around the castle to learn of my whereabouts?”

He gave her a wry smile. “What can I say, I’m an enigma.”

“You are at that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m due to meet Poppy for dinner before our study session.”

She made to pass him but quick as a flash, Sebastian’s hand latched onto the corner of her robe, pulling her to an abrupt halt. She glared at him and attempted to wrench the fabric from his grip, but it remained firmly in his hand.

“I would appreciate it if you would remove your hand from my robe, Sebastian,” she said impatiently. 

“Show me,” he responded, a wicked glint in his eye. 

“Show you what?” she snapped, utterly perplexed.

“The Come-and-Go Room, Diana. I want to see it.”

“Oh you do, do you. Well, apologies but I’m not in the tour guide business today, I’m afraid,” she replied, attempting once again to remove her robe from his grip. “Now, if you’ll so kindly excuse me.” 

“I won’t.” 

She blew out a breath, exasperated. “Come off it, Sebastian. Either have the bloody decency to tell me outright what your grievance is, or bugger off. I don’t –”

“Why should I show you any manner of decency when you decided, after everything that happened to us fifth year, to just bloody sail away and spend the next year in America?” he snarled, finally relinquishing her cloak and rising to his full height.

He was so much taller than her now. A good five inches at least. His shoulders were broader, his jawline defined. He was imposing. Confident in his posture. Handsome, in a devil-may-care sort of way. He was no longer the boyish 16-year-old she had known. 

Diana steeled her resolve. “It was a once in a lifetime learning opportunity, Sebastian. You of all people should understand my desire to gain what knowledge I could from Ilvermony. And if that pursuit could help Anne then–”

“Don’t you fucking dare speak of Anne,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously low. He took a step closer to her. There was barely any space between them. She felt his warm breath dance across her face. “Don’t use her as an excuse.” 

But despite his proximity causing her stomach to flip (in excitement? fear?), Diana was undeterred. She met his glare with equal intensity. “Anne is my friend, and I will speak of her if I wish to. I daresay I’ve earned that right, seeing as I’ve engaged in enough morally grey behavior to help her.”

“You’ve barely scratched the surface,” Sebastian retorted.

Diana scoffed in his face. “I guess you would know then, wouldn’t you? Resident expert on morally grey behavior, Sebastian Sallow.”

It was there but for a brief moment, but she registered the hint of hurt in his eyes. Her words had found their mark. A small, selfish part of her basked in the victory. 

“Someone sharpened their claws while they were away,” he murmured finally, eyes still boring into hers. 

“Indeed. It’s a shame to have to use them on someone who meant so much to me,” came her immediate reply. They had gravitated even closer to one another. Had Sebastian moved, or had she? Their chests were nearly pressed against each other. 

“I meant so much to you…” he turned the words over in his mouth, considering them. “And yet you left. You left me, Diana,” his words a whisper. He raised a hand to carefully, so carefully, brush a wisp of her hair that had fallen from her braided updo. His fingers left a hot trail across her cheek and brow.

In that instant, the energy around them shifted. Diana’s breath caught in her throat. She no longer felt like she was in the midst of an enemy standoff. Now this moment, whatever dance they were doing, was something much headier, more passionate. Her stomach flipped low once again. 

“I never wished for you to see it that way,” she whispered regretfully, tears traitorously stinging her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered shut. 

“And how else should I have seen it? Hmm?” Sebastian murmured. She felt his breath ghost across her face. He hadn’t removed his hand from her hair. 

The moment felt altogether too real and too dreamlike for Diana to maintain her bearings. Over a year had passed between them, and yet he still had the ability to turn her senses upside down, inside out. How many times had she thought of him, imagined how it would feel to be this close? Or closer? Her mind couldn’t stop reeling from the reality of it, right now, in this moment, in this corridor, of all places.

“Diana,” he spoke softly. She realized she hadn’t actually given him a reply. 

[obesericewrites]

Ooo, Arachnophobia, I got one

Mc is walking outside with the Ros and it begins to rain and the Ros know Mc has Ombrophobia (fear of rain) and Mc looks like they are going to pass out.

(Ombrophobia can cause high stress levels and a high heart rate, some people feel better or safer inside, while others are still anxious inside. Severe cases of Ombrophobia can make someone faint or pass out from the stress) <- hope that helps

Also if you could make Dawns reaction or Quad, Thank you for your time My Queen 👑

Interesting, I’ve never heard of ombrophobia. So, thank you for the context, my gremlin! This is going to be a good practice for my new writing style.

As I’m focusing more on chapter one, I’m not posting as much. So, because of that I’m trying to write more in the RO asks! So that everyone has a bit more to read while I work ^^ I look forward to everyone’s feedback on this new style~

M: You honestly didn’t notice. You were to busy shopping with M. Buying them thicker cloaks and some nicer things, ignoring their complaints. When you noticed the clouds hanging over you, it was to late.

The second you feel water touch your head, you whole body becomes tense. Inhaling sharply, you slowly look up. Staring up at the clouds that slowly began to pour down onto your face. You can feel your body begin to shake as you feel like your legs are glued to the ground.

Just as panic begins to set in, your vision becomes black. Blinking, you quickly turn to M. Who was by your side, holding their cloak above you. Pulling you into their grasp, scooping you into their arms. Hunching over your form as they quickly move towards your shop.

They barely give you time to panic before they start making random noises in an attempt to comfort you. They vary from loud rumbles that sound like thunder, to a low; almost purr like sound. When the rain gets heavier. They speed up and begin to talk.

“Almost there. Almost.” They chant under their breath.

As soon as you enter your shop, M places you on your feet and quickly makes worried noises. Hovering over you like a worried hen. As you take a moment to calm yourself, you give them a shaky smile. Your glad they acted so quickly. You have no doubt that if they weren’t there, you would’ve froze.

The two of you spend time together. You waste no time brewing a warm cup of tea for the both of you to share, just taking a moment to collect the liquids warmth. Though, you two aren’t alone for long as Dawn slams open the door with a wicked smile on her mud covered face. Now you have a messy wolf pup to keep you distracted.

S: You shouldn’t have ignored the signs. The scent of rain was strong this morning, along with the sight of the heavy clouds just above the horizon. You just assumed you’d be finished with this by the time it started raining. You were wrong.

S had come with you. Poking and teasing you the entire way towards your shop. They had found you making a large purchase and immediately became suspicious on were you got the money. Like you were the sneaky assassin and not some tailor. Now, they were just bickering with you. “Can’t believe you out of everyone is making a dress for a lords wife!”

You were about to let out a scolding remark, when a drop of rain splattered over the top of your head. You freeze. Stopping in the middle of the street as the grip on the fabrics in your arms tightened. You felt your heart stop the second more water began to scatter all over your body.

You distantly hear a loud and viscous line of curses before your roughly yanked by your hand. You barley have time to squeak in surprise before you are following after S. Your footsteps thundering against the pavement as S races towards the direction of your shop. Just as it come into view, you thrown yourself forward and run.

Wasting no time to shove yourself into the shop, nearly throwing yourself to the floor with the amount of force you use to get through the door. You wouldn’t be surprised if you needed to replace the door.

You take a second to catch yourself up. Breathing heavily, you place the fabrics down and quickly turn back towards S. A thanks dancing on your tongue until you see them….face first on the cobblestone floor. Just laying there. Turns out, the force you used to push yourself forward, pulled the forward as well.

Though they didn’t catch themselves. You can’t help the laughter that crawls up your throat. As soon as the noise escapes you, S is on their feet charging at you. A look of faux anger on their face as they collide with you. You quickly become distracted from the incident as your to busy wrestling with S.

B: You just thought you had more time. The scent of rain along with seeing the heavy clouds in the distance should've been enough. But no, you ignored all those signs and just assumed you'd...have more time.

Your heart dropped to the ground the second you felt a few drops of water hit your scalp. Your mouth going dry as you snap your mouth shut with a loud click of your teeth. Inhaling sharply, you slowly hold out your hand in front of you. Watching it begin to tremble the second your whole hand is covered in water droplets.

The abrupt silence made you realize that you had cut off whatever conversation you had with B. You dully feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly. But all your senses seem to narrow down to your bare skin, as you feel every cold drop of rain against you.

Distantly, you heard B let out a sharp curse before the grip on your shoulder swiftly slid all the way down to your wrist. You barely had enough time to pick your own feet up before you were roughly yanked forward. “Focus on moving your feet!”

You trusted B. This isn’t the first time this had happened to you with them. They practically knew everything like the back of their hand. When your pushed into a small dry space inside a small shop, B is hovering over you for a few seconds. You wasted no time quickly drying yourself off, eyes racing across your own body. Cringing at the sight of your mud covered shoes.

After a moment or two, B comes closer to you. Pushing you deeper into the shop, face aimed outside for a second before turning back towards you. “It’s alright now. Come on, let’s go get something to snack on while we wait for the rain to stop.”

Turns out that shop you are in is Bs bakery. They have plenty of sweets fit for your tastes to help calm you down, along with a hot cup of tea of sweets aren’t your fancy.

Dawn: You should’ve said no. Dawn would’ve understood. You knew she would. But the expression on her face was one of pure innocence and an alarming amount of expectation. So, you caved. You thought that since the clouds where far over the mountains, miles away from your village; you assumed you could make it.

As you reached out to grasp a small shiny rock that you immediately knew Dawn would absolutely adore, you felt water droplets fall onto the nape of your neck. You could feel your entire body shudder as your froze, hand still outstretched towards the small item.

You barely have enough time to sink into the panicking feeling before a sudden presence is in front of you. Dawn. She roughly grasps you by your outstretched hand and yanks you to your feet. “Danger! You smell fearful! Hide! Let’s hide!” She barked, glowering up at the sky. Nearly dragging you, which gives you barley enough time to stumble after her.

In the small of the thicket, there were plenty of trees hiding you from the rain. Dawns rapid zigzagging along with hopping over fallen logs or scattered stones distracted your from the water that was starting to become heavy on your back.

Just as you are sure, that you are going to fall flat on your face and get your teeth caved in. Dawn stops, causing you to nearly trample over her if she didn’t sidestep and shove you on your side. You do, indeed end up face first into the ground. Though luckily, as you slide your tongue over your teeth, none of them are caved in.

You groan as you attempt to sit up. Only to realize your in a hole of a wooden tree. Looking up with wide eyes, you stare up at Dawns beaming face. Her entire body covered in dirt and grass, along with her curly hair damped by the heavy rain. “Hide, hide like little fox! Little foxes hide.” She giggled, joining you swiftly.

Her babbles about small foxes along with her pointing at the wooden carvings inside of the tree was more than enough to keep you distracted from the rain that didn’t even seem to bother getting near the large tree.

By the time the raining ends, you know every foxes name along with their lineage in the forest.

[amistytown]

Power Over Me (Leviathan x GN!MC)

Leviathan x GN!MC as Lord of Shadow and Henry; MC is referred to as Henry but remains gender-neutral. I enjoy the TSL lore in Obey Me and wanted to write a bit for it. I initially had an alternate ending in mind, but I decided to save it for another idea I might write at some point. Tried to keep Levi in character while giving him and the story a slightly different feel since it takes place in a fantasy world. Also listened to Power Over Me by Dermot Kennedy on repeat while I wrote this so chose to title it accordingly. Hopefully, it turned out all right. Trigger warning for mentions of blood and self-deprecating thoughts. Mostly some angst with fluff. As always, sorry for the typos that I may have missed, and thank you to everyone who takes the time to read. I appreciate it!

Lightning illuminates the throne room, the Lord of Shadow watching the rain batter the windows, gaze sullen. A storm rages outside, mirroring the flood of emotion bursting forth to drown him in misery. Though he can only hold himself accountable, allowing his envy to fester and take possession of his heart in a moment of weakness. He regrets the letters he frantically wrote in his jealously, the heated words exchanged between you, and your pain forever engrained into the parchment, the ink smudged by your tears, which now lay in pieces at his feet. He considered to make the journey to you, begging for your forgiveness, but he knows he’s undeserving. Instead, he mourns the loss of your friendship, the loneliness left in its wake burning him from the inside out as he cries into his hands, his tortured sobs lost to the thunder roaring above.

The doors swing open, light spilling in from the hall. He recoils at the intrusion, anger welling and threatening to spill over, his patience worn thin. A growl dies in his throat, eyes widening at the vision before him, so beautiful and precious his entire being aches with longing. Slowly, he takes in the sight of you, engraving every detail into his memory. Your windswept hair and the raindrops trickling down your face, clinging to your lashes and following the curve of your lips as you smile sweetly at him, staggering into his arms.

“Henry,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, daring to embrace you and revel in the feel of your body against his; your skin cool and soft, and your scent rich, intoxicating him. He’s certain he’s not worthy of your compassion, yet he can’t bear to turn you away, selfishly clinging to you and delighting in the fact you lean into him, your arms winding around his waist to pull him closer. My Henry, he thinks, tightening his grip, afraid he’ll lose you again if he’s not careful. “I’m sorry. I’m so so—”

You grow limp, legs buckling under your weight.

Fear engulfs him, heart lurching as he supports you, catching your hand in his. “Henry?” he whimpers, noticing how your chest heaves with each breath, and the way your brows knit in discomfort, a low groan slipping past clenched teeth. “Henry! What’s wrong? Tell me, please.”

“I ran into a bit of trouble on the way here,” you manage, laughing pitifully. “I didn’t realize . . .” Your fingers fumble to unclasp your cloak, and he swallows thickly at way lay beneath. Blood soaks your blouse—a sickening shade of red—the fabric sticking to your back.

“You didn’t realize?” he cries, incredulous. “Henry—”

“I just wanted to see you.” Your voice wavers, head lolling to the side. He calls to you, shaking you by the shoulders, desperate to keep you beside him. However, your eyes close, grief overtaking him when they don’t reopen.

“You’ll be okay,” he reassures, robes billowing around his ankles as he rushes down the corridor, gently cradling you to him. Guilt plagues him, reminding him how pathetic he is, especially for hurting you and putting your life at risk; how could he act so recklessly. You’re the light to his darkness, breathing life into his world, and he can’t accept losing you—his happiness—your love dispelling the shadows that once consumed him. He never knew a truer friend, and he’s positive there’s no one else who could play such an important role—you’re irreplaceable. There’s plenty of time to atone for his sins, tonight he needs to make sure you live to see the morning.

“I’ll take care of you, Henry. I promise.”

Time comes to an agonizing standstill.

The Lord of Shadow remains at your side, hoping and praying you don’t succumb to your wounds. He watches you closely, frequently checking your pulse and finding comfort in the steady beat of your heart while you sleep, looking deceivingly peaceful in his bed. His focus is on you, never straying from his true friend’s wellbeing despite his inner turmoil, which threatens to tear him apart at the seams. You keep him together, and again he’s at your mercy, owing you his life for all you’ve given him—his hero—his Henry. He hurt you, but you came to him and offered him forgiveness, willing to sacrifice yourself to save your friendship. How can you care about him with such ferocity, a brooding reclusive lord who’s unworthy of his title? No matter the days spent apart, you return to him, accepting him into your life without hesitance, and he can’t help welcoming you back with open arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters. “I’m terrible. A worthless—”

“You’re not.”

For an excruciating second, he wonders if he imagined the glorious sound of your voice, and an anguished sob escapes him, tears clouding his vision. You stare up at him, eyes heavy with sleep, and a lazy smile on your lips. He’s dreaming, he reasons, shaking his head in disbelief. Then your hand is in his, familiar and warm; he shivers at your touch.

Gasping, he pulls away. “Y-you . . .”

“Forgive me,” you say, so understanding—so sweet—your kindness unfathomable. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” he stammers, head spinning. “I’m sorry.” Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, fingers quivering as he entwines them with yours. “I’m sorry.” His tears come faster and harder, shamefully hot on his cheeks. He’s unable to articulate how sorry he is or how his very soul painfully throbs at the thought of hurting you—losing you—wishing he could turn back the clock. “For everything.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, too.” Sitting upright, the blanket bunches at your waist, and he can see where the bandages peek out from beneath your shirt, the skin bruised, making him wince. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’m the reason you’re hurt,” he chokes out, averting his gaze. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not your fault.”

You’re wrong, he wants to say; however, he refrains.

“I don’t blame you,” you continue. “Look at me, please?”

He shouldn’t. Surely, he looks foolish, a mere hostage to his emotions. Nevertheless, he spares you a glance, wondering why you regard him so kindly—lovingly even—causing his heart to flutter.

“It’s not your fault.”

Not his fault? His mind tells him differently; it’s a sea of dread and uncertainty that washes over him in waves, dragging him under. The sincerity of your words is difficult to ignore, and, in that instance, he decides to trust you, finally breaking the surface. “Henry,” he murmurs, hugging you to him, arms wrapping around you protectively as if to shield you from the world. His tears wet your hair, body trembling, and you hold him, letting him come undone in your embrace.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, setting him alight. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own.”

“Henry—”

“I know you’re struggling. It’s okay. I’m here.” You rub his back, resting your head on his chest. “I’ll always come when you call.”

“You’re the truest of friends, Henry. I fear I’m not worthy . . .”

“Of course, you are. I’ve never known a truer friend than you, my lord.”

“I can’t help worrying someone will steal you away. It’s selfish of me, I know. Though I feel so inferior in comparison. Sometimes I think you’re better off without me.” When he learned you met with the Lord of Corruption, his insecurities grew, fanning the flames of his envy. Why choose him over his brother? The Lord of Corruption could provide you with more than he can give. The rest of his brothers, too; they could care for you—protect you—unlike him. You’re here with him though, leaving his brother behind at a moment’s notice, and you did come when he called, eager to please. He wants to return the sentiment. “I can’t articulate how important you are to me. I . . . you’re so special, Henry.”

“No. No one compares to you.” Your praise captivates him. “All I ask is for you to trust me. Talk to me so I can help you. I accept you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I love you as you are.”

“Love me?” he breathes.

“Yes, I love you.”

A simple but genuine vow of love. He stills, terrified he’ll faint in your arms as he hides his face, heart racing. The cynical part of him says it’s too good to be true, but he knows better—he knows you. He’s envisioned this moment, and it’s far sweeter than his fantasies, your love a beautiful feeling that sweeps him off his feet.

“Have you slept?”

He sighs, mouth unbearably dry. “No.”

“Come to bed. You should rest.”

“Henry! W-with you?”

“You say that as if it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed,” you tease.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Although he complains, the bed dips beneath his weight as he settles beside you, reaching for your hand. “Is this, okay?”

“It is.” Shifting onto your side, your hand tightens around his, a flicker of pain twisting your features.

He tenses, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right. Better, thanks to you.”

He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the stiffness of your movements, betraying the smile you wear for him.

“Who hurt you?” he asks.

“No one you need to worry about. Not now.”

Unsurprising. You’re his Henry, besting him and his brothers on multiple occasions; anyone who chose to challenge you is a fool. Yet, your blood flowing freely, covering his hands—the ungodly stench—stayed with him. He clearly recalls your lifeless body, and how the color drained from your face, the heaviness of his heart breaking when he believed he lost you twice in one day. You looked so fragile then and do now, trusting him at your most vulnerable. Hatred for the one who dared to harm you runs deep and for himself for not protecting the one he loves.

“I thought I lost you,” he admits, inhaling sharply. “I-I . . .”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” You catch his tears as they fall. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, too.” His declaration is quick and clumsy but true; he’s loved you for so long.

Caging you in his arms, he hovers over you, peering down at you shyly. His body shakes with every beat of his heart, ears ringing, but he admires you, gaze affectionate and a light blush dusting your cheeks. He’s scared. He’s scared of losing you most of all, trying to muster half the courage he knows you possess. “I love you, Henry,” he says softly, clutching your hand, his lifeline. Closing the distance between you, he catches your lips in a tender kiss, the magnificence of it sending a rush of blood to his head. He forgets how to breathe, dizzy on the taste of your love, and collapses next to you, questioning if he died and ascended to the heavens. With you by his side the future is much brighter, and, for once, he looks forward to what it brings.

[symphonicmetal101]

Babysitting in the Devildom

Chapter Six: Beel- Dinner Indifference

"Beel n-"

Solomon had to cast a teleportation spell before he could even finish his sentence. Beel's wings fluttered furiously as he burst through a portal and into Solomons arms instead. He immediatly clamped down on Solomons shoulder and started to chew. Solomon sighed as he watched his cloak get drooled on, big violet eyes watching him back as more of the cloth disappeared into his mouth.

Solomon paused. Should he take Beel to you? You seemed to know what you were doing but you also already had Asmo and portioning out food for the rest of the kids...Beel would be in the presence of food either way. He glanced back down and the chipmunk-cheeked Beel and considered trying to take the cloak out of his mouth.  Buuuuut if Beel cried again it was his fault, again...but he really shouldnt be eating fabric...not that it would ruin his appetite but-

He was running out of time to make a decision as the delivery person made their way back to the door. Beel seemed content eating his cloak for now. Beel would be fine, right? Yeah- its Beel. Solomon tightened his grip just slightly on the baby as he approached the front door again, ready to take the bags.

He should have taken Beel to you.

It was like fighting Taz from Looney Toons as Solomon stumbled about, half eaten cloak and a blur of movement around him as he used small portals to keep the bag of food away from Beel.

Barbatos had walked into the kitchen with Luke, wondering if he could help somehow. You had taken Luke from him and used one hand while also sometimes directing him on how to help you while Asmo followed behind him to make sure each plate "looked pretty". Everything was going really well....until the other bag of food appeared suddenly in your free hand and you heard a demonic screech come from the hallway and a loud buzzing noise which was curiously silenced soon after, though Asmo had given you wide berth after hearing that. You sighed and asked Barb to continue portioning things and to go tell the rest of the kids that if they had to go to the bathroom, the time was now. You held Luke close to you as you ventured just outside the kitchen doors and nearly bumped into Solomon.

".....I can expl-"

"Why is Beel eating your clothes?"

You didnt really want to laugh for fear of waking Luke up, but a wide silly smile bloomed on your face as you watched Beel use both his tiny fists to stuff more of Solomons cloak into his mouth, wide eyes staring at you as he cooed a bit and continued to stuff his face, Solomons cloak almost gone.

Solomon had a combination of exasperation and amusement on his face. "Uh...well I didnt want him to cry or attack the food- o-or you so I.....I fed him my cloak."

"....wHY? Earlier you were summoning food for him- you could have done that again right- or multiplied the food we already have even if he ate the bags worth of food-"

You were still smiling, the whole situation a little ridiculous as Beel finished Solomons cloak and started to sniffle, pouting and making grabby hands to the air for more.

Solomon paused before a goofy smile spread across his face as he summoned a popsicle to give to Beel. "I. Dont. Know." He laughed a bit before smiling fondly at you. "This is why you're the one in charge." He started to walk past you into the kitchen, but not before a quick kiss was planted on your temple and a small smirk at your expression was given to you. You gave yourself a moment before joining him and Barb, and a slightly startled looking Asmo.

".....can I have a posicle before dinner too?"

Asmo looked up at Solomon, pleading who just shrugged. "Thats not up to me." He looked at you and smirked a bit. *Motherfucker*

Asmo gasped and skipped his way to you, big, pleading amber eyes as he batted his eyelashes. "May I have a posicle before dinner too please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

It was too much. From the way he asked politely, to the way he said popsicle, to his little pose and big ole eyes-

You looked around the table of happy faces as all the kids destroyed popsicles that Solomon had summoned for them, all save for Beel, Barb, Diavolo, and Lucifer untouched food in front of them.

"POPSICLES FOR DINNNNNERRRRR!"

"They said we still have to eat our food if we want to have dessert tomorrow."

"But I'm not hungry anymore..."

"....I guess I can try to eat some food but Im full from the popsicle..."

"LOOKIT IM PUTTING MY FRIES IN MY ICE CREAM!  But I aint havin the green stuff, thats yucky."

"You're yucky Mammon."

"HEY-"

"My father would NEVER let me do this!! Thank you MC!!!!"

A chorus of thank yous came from all of the kids, luckily before another fight. You sighed softly and forced a small smile as you said "youre welcome". You figured they wouldnt eat their food if they had popsicles. The bigger kids had eaten their food, and Beel had no problem eating his portion and Belphies who....oh. Belphie was sleeping in his mashed potatoes. You glanced around the table again, noting all the sticky faces and hands and...bodies in Satan and Luke's case. Solomon looked exhausted as he summoned another piece of food for Beel. Asmo was trying so hard to eat some more of his food but only ate a few more bites and looked a little upset. Mammon had eaten his fries, at least.

".....if youre full, give your food to Beel. Dont make yourself eat anymore, its ok. I just need to talk to Sol for a minute, ok?" You smiled as you walked to take Belphie out of his highchair and gestured to Solomon to put Beel in. He was a little confused but did so as you wiped some of the potatoes off Belphies face.

Levi spoke up very quietly. "Can we still have dessert tomorrow if we didnt finish our food for dinner?" The sound of plates being pushed towards Beel paused as the kids all looked at you, waiting for an answer.

".....it depends on how well you eat your breakfast tomorrow.." you smiled as the kids thanked you again as you asked Barb and Lucifer to make sure Beel didnt eat the actual plates as you took Solomon and Belphie into the kitchen.

"How are you feeling...you look exhausted.." geniune concern on your face once you had Solomon basically alone. His face twisted slightly and he sighed. "I had hoped the rejuevenating spell I casted would re-energize me more than it did...why? Are you worried?~" he smirked slightly, though it fell just short of smug. You rolled your eyes a bit and ruffled is hair, your turn to smirk as his face turned light pink and started to protest, pouting when you stopped, though you werent sure if it was because you stopped or because you ruffled his hair in the first place. You stopped his protesting by asking your next question, also avoiding answering his question. "Do you have enough energy to clean all of them or am I going to bathe them in an actual bath..."

"....I? It should be we..."

"Well if you're tired you should rest...I'll need your help tomorrow too..."

"I can sleep after the baths..."

"But if we're doing the baths then I need you to cast one last spell to keep the water in the tubs..."

"So I'll sleep after that spell...maybe..."

You gave him a withering look before sighing, though appreciative of his stubborness....for once. You smiled a bit.

"Alright then. Bath time. Especially for the babies. The bigger ones can probably just shower.... Belphie, Luke and Satan need baths the most. Beel made sure his food ended up *in* his mouth....the others..." you chuckled as you peeked back into the dining room, seeing only Barbatos' face clean, and Lucifer and Asmo both fussing over the little mess they had on themselves, Lucifer using Asmos mirror, and Asmo following Lucifers every action to get clean. You brought your attention back to the sleeping Belphie in your arms.

"....do you think he'll stay asleep for bath time?"

"Its Belphie. He could sleep through anything."

"Dont jinx it." You sighed softly and looked out at the kids again, some playing tag, others just watching. Satan continued to mash his food onto the platter in front of him, Luke giggling and copying in glee. Solomon tapped your shoulder to get your attention again.

"Are you ok? The bags under ypur eyes could hold all my potions-"

"Shut up- maybe if a certain sorceror had been more careful I wouldnt be as tired....not to mention the popsicle before dinner was a bad mov-" you were interrupted by Barb lightly tapping your arm.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I was just wondering if you want me to wash the dishes or just leave them in water in the sink....or if you have a dishwasher..." you were a little surprised when you turned and saw him carrying all the dishes from the table, and Lucifer behind him with garbage. Simeon was wiping down the table with a cloth, but gave the younger ones in high chairs some room. Diavolo was trying to talk to Lucifer, who just kinda kept nodding and saying "oh thats cool" before looking at you almost desperately. His look brought you back to your senses as you nodded at Barb.

"Just in the sink with water is fine, thank you Barbatos. Thank you for cleaning up Lucifer, Simeon. It makes a huge difference to me."

Barb and Simeon beamed, and Lucifer managed a small smile before shooting Diavolo a dirty look, but the other boy didnt notice, too busy rambling on about how this was so much better than home for the upteenth time. Ypu ruffled Lucifers hair as he walked by, and noted Diavolo's slight stumble in words as he eyed you a bit, but rushed past to go talk to Barb, glancing back at you, almost pleading, though your attention was divided again as you felt Levi hug you and snuggle into your side wordlessly. You patted his head softly and turned back to Solomon.

"I'll answer that question later. For now lets clean up. Then bath time."

Levi squeezed you a bit and beamed. "I love bath time!! I can do it myself! I promise, I can! I can!"

Though Levi couldnt see it, Mammon was mocking him from behind. You gave him a bit of a "look" before the hem of your shirt was being tugged at and you were met with those same amber eyes that had persuaded you into giving everyone treats for dinner. "I love bath time too! Me too! But you have to watch me. I make great bubble hair dos! A-and guess what? In the water, it might look like I have legs, but really Im a mermaid!"

"And Im a sea dragon!!" Levi cried out, still wanting your attention. "And Asmo, you're not really a mermaid-"

"Am too!"

"Are no-"

"Everyone can be who or whatever they want to be, in the water or otherwise. Fooooor example, I'm actually a sheep, see I go baaaaa" you smiled softly, and winked at Levi before turning to Asmo again who was practically dancing at your side, bursting to ask you a question. "Whats the prettiest animal you like mc?!!!"

"....whats your favourite sea animal mc?"

"Whats the coolest animal mc! No wait- whats your favourite animal?!"

"Yeah, whats your favourite animal?!"

"Oi, I asked em first!"

"Guys its ok, you can all be my or your favourite animal. Theres more than one of each." You chuckled, listing off animals as more questions were asked, meowing at Satan as you handed Belphie to Sol and took him out of his chair, who happily meowed back as you lead your noisy little zoo to the communal bathroom.

Masterlist

[sugarandspice-games]

Lucifer comforts an abused MC with a PTSD flashback

Wooo! Our first ever imagine! This one ended up being really long, so I’m sorry about that. If anyone else would like to request one, please read here!

[TW: PTSD, depression, allusions and mentions to past emotional and physical abuse plus quotes from abusers]

The week was... rough, to say the least. The blustering cold of winter started to encroach on the crisp air of fall, which meant that midterm exams were creeping closer. The lessons, which you had once found fun, started to get tiring since it was an endless slog of reviewing for the big test coming up.

Furthermore... you missed everyone. The brothers, Solomon, Simeon, Luke... Lucifer. It seemed that, because everyone was either studying (or preparing for the post-exam party) nobody had any time for you. You were lonely and depressed.

So, even though you wanted to do well on the test, your heart just wasn’t in your studies. It got to the point where you spent more and more time alone in your room, sleeping until you couldn’t sleep anymore. You even started zoning out during classes, which resulted in one or two teachers snapping at you. Some students also remarked that you were useless, as the only human student with no magic... a lot of them gossipped that you were only there because Lucifer liked you, which got back to him.

Eventually, enough was enough. The rumors compounded upon his worry, and he decided it was time to pay you a visit in your room on Saturday night.

You didn’t have any classes that day, so you were laying in your bed, scrolling on your phone, when you heard the knock at your door. It sounded... rather harsh compared to the usual rapping on your door, so you tensed. Something was wrong.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open. Lucifer stood in the doorway, his eyebrows knit together in a stern expression, and he sighed.

“Sit up.”

You groaned, pushing yourself away from the comforting warmth of your mattress, the heat tempting you to flop back down... but you managed, the blankets falling off of your shoulders.

“We need to have a serious discussion about your... lack of effort.”

Your heart and your eyes burned at his words, your face going pale. Luckily, your cheeks still felt dry, but you trembled as you spoke.

“I’m... sorry. I know I haven’t been trying as hard as I could have.” You fall silent, not able to say much more.

“Then why aren’t you making more of an effort?” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Really, MC. I don’t want you to be unprepared for your midterms, but it seems that I’m alone in that desire. You’ve barely left your room or touched your textbooks. You should study in the library instead of your room if you get distracted by the urge to sleep. I already have enough trouble trying to get my brothers to pay attention. I don’t want to have to worry about you as well.”

“I’m...”

“I don’t want you to apologize again, I want you to work harder. I’m very disappointed in you.”

You were already zoning out again, but that final comment was the nail in your coffin. Your grip on reality finally snapping as your eyes lost focus, your mind drifted off to a dark place from your past, and before you could understand what was happening, you could no longer sense Lucifer or your current surroundings, only the cruel words from others you loathed to remember-- the ones you couldn’t help but remember:

“You’re such a useless, clumsy moron! This is why nobody wants to be around you!”

“I wish you would just die.”

“Why can’t you pay attention to anything? Is your brain broken or something? Nobody likes broken people.”

“You disgust me. You make me want to hit you. Do you want that?! Do you want me to hurt you?!”

But the worst echoed in your head over, and over, and over again.

“I’m disappointed in you. I can’t believe I made the mistake of thinking you were better than that.”

Your lip trembled as you finally managed to speak, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“P-please... st...stop...”

Lucifer rambled for awhile, mostly giving you advice on how you could improve in your studies, but he finally paused when he heard you whimper. He came closer, but you didn’t react to his towering presence. Your eyes looked wild and unfocused, and he cleared his throat.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear what you said.”

You didn’t respond, still caught up in the painful memories.

“MC? Are you paying attention?”

Still nothing. And that’s when he saw it-- your skin losing its normal healthy hue, looking slightly grey and your quivering fingertips digging into your biceps.

“Oh... what have I done?”

Lucifer’s mind screamed at him to do something, anything, berated him for being so harsh to you. He knew you had a history with abuse before you came to the Devildom; he took you to one of the counselors at RAD when you experienced a similar flashback before. What he failed to notice was how on-edge you had been the whole week.

And oh, he could understand. The harsh environment that his ‘Father’ provided him, the pressure to be heaven’s perfect angel... he had experienced similar, though not quite the same. But he often fell back into old habits, pressuring everyone else to be perfect as well so that they wouldn’t be punished, even if there was no risk of that here.

Finally making himself focus on the situation at hand, he tried to remember what humans needed to ground themselves. Since you couldn’t see or hear him, he’d need something you could touch, or possibly smell. He took his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over yours, placing some of the soft, velvety fabric over your fingers and letting the fur collar tickle your cheek. The spicy scent from his cologne drifted over your nose, and you could feel the comforting, warm weight against you.

You blinked. And for a second that seemed to last an hour, you stared blankly ahead, finally getting a grasp of your surroundings before your gaze drifted down to Lucifer, who knelt at your bedside. His hand clasped around your thigh to steady you in case you were dizzy.

“I...” you began, but he cut you off.

“Please, do not apologize,” he said, “I am the one who is sorry. I was the one who was not paying attention... to you, or anything else. I was... worried that you would fail, and irrational as it may be to fear that, I was afraid you would get hurt if you did. I should not have been so harsh.”

Your eyes finally filled with tears, and you sobbed. Lucifer pushed himself onto your bed, holding you tightly in his arms.

“I-I just... I was doing the best I could, but I can’t focus and I-I... everyone is too busy, and I can’t talk to anyone! A-a-and then you said you were disappointed... Do you hate me?” you cried, clinging to him and soaking his shirt with tears and snot.

He ignored the mess and gently stroked your hair, cuddling you against him.

“Of course I don’t hate you, and I’ll tell you that as many times as you need to hear it. I could never hate someone that I love, no... someone I adore so much. My heart belongs to you, as yours does to me.” He placed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, trying to stifle his own tears. He had really hurt you, hadn’t he? And yet, you were the one worrying if he hated you... “I am sorry. I love you so much. I will try to spend more time with you if you are lonely, and perhaps I can help you if you cannot focus on your studies. We could review together, if you would like.”

You nod, too teary and shaky to form words as you snuggle against him. You both stay like that for a long time, tangled around each other in your bed, before you spent the rest of the night in his room, listening to music together and relaxing while he stroked and kissed you.

Tomorrow, he would help you get caught up on your studies, but tonight, he cared about nothing but showing you how much he loved you, even if people in your life before you came to the Devildom failed to do so.

[thefallendivine]

Everly: Lost and Found

As I have already written the scenes where the MC and the Guardian companion met, I saw it fit to finally post the introductory shorts for the Guardians. This is for the first one.

WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead. If you want to keep your surprise about the Guardians for when the game releases in the distant future, then scroll past this post. 

--

Rain and an abandoned road: a depressing combination for a teamster.  Made worse by the slow pace of the pair of arcane oxen that pulls on the train of carts— ychen bannog, the Giants call them. They are a large, hairy, and long-horned bovine with a boulder-like hump between its shoulders that is magically bred to be a food source for the Giantkind of Rhal Vahald. As their meat is too tough for the tastes of other races, they instead use the ychen bannog as draft animals for their formidable strength and ability to traverse both dry and wet terrain.

Hitting bumps along the trail that cuts through a field of reed, the chains that secure the interlinked carts rattle as the cages teeter on top of the wheeled wood rafts. Along with the downpour and the occasional whimpers from the children gagged and hog-tied inside the canvased cages, they are the only tether the carter, Riegel, has to reality. Driving through the Secret Road is otherwise monotonous when the visibility is too poor that it truly shrouds its “secrets”.

People who use the road and the vast field embraced by its rain and mist know to look but never to tell, as legends proven true in the past hold a tight grip in the minds of those who hear them. Clandestine dealings, forbidden meetings, escapees in hiding, disposal of high profile bodies or unwanted children, all of these are common in the Secret Road. For slave traders, it is the perfect road to move their goods; it keeps their business afloat and away from attention during transport. It is a blessing. And it is a gold mine.

And today, Riegel has struck a vein.

From his elevated seat, Riegel can see a child in a black and white dress walking ahead, going in the same direction as his wagon train. He perks up, surprised at the quality of the girl’s attire. Whether lost or abandoned, there is no reason not to add such a find in the pile.

Tugging at the reins, Riegel halts the huge beasts of burden ways away from the child. A couple of snorts and a few clip-clops of hooves later, he is signaling to his co-workers in the carts to keep the children quiet before proceeding to approach the little girl, who has now turned around in apparent notice of the conspicuous large beasts, sleepy brown eyes watching as Riegel plants a practiced smile on his lips. Supplying a smooth wave of the hand, he calls out loudly to be heard in the rain yet friendly to match the expression he adopted.

“Hey, little girl, where did you come from?” Riegel proceeds to look around, a show of confusion despite having none. “What are you doing in the middle of the road? In the rain?”

The girl does not reply.

Riegel takes of his cloak before squatting down, encircling his arms to put the damp fabric around the girl. “Here,” he says, pulling the hood over her light blonde head. “I can take you home if you want.”

Still no reply.

Such a thing is not unusual when it comes to children who have been thrust into such misfortune. Uncontrollable sobs and fear usually keep them from even uttering something remotely discernible. The girl is overcome by neither, yet she does not speak.

Stranger still for Riegel is that the girl has not a trace of any kind of reaction on her face. Much like a doll, both physically and emotionally.

All alone up until now, in the dark, in the cold, and the young child is unafraid. Faced with a stranger brought by large beasts and she does not even bat an eye.

A sudden shudder creeps up his back but Riegel brushes it off as nothing more than a bodily reaction to exposure.

“Do you see my wagons?” Riegel asks, jerking his head back, at which the girl’s eyes finally moves to look. “It’s much warmer over there. Come on.”

His hand presented in invitation, Riegel gives the girl the chance to come amicably. For any bruise on such a fair skin will diminish the value that Riegel sees in her.

After what feels like a long wait under the heavy rain, the girl’s gaze trains back on Riegel’s. Her hand lifts slowly, the man's smile growing wider as it inches closer to his.

But her small hand moves higher, past Riegel’s laid out hand and stopping right in front of his face. The last thing he sees is the two overlapping squares on her palm before the scenery before him changes.

Riegel sees a house on a backdrop of a sweeping pasture. He stares up at the windmill that stands tall beside the Pasturian-style cabin. The door opens, and out comes a girl of eight twin moons.

It’s her birthday today.

There is an excited smile that lights up her face as she runs up to Riegel and screams out, “Dad!”

Stooping down, Riegel catches the child and spins her around as he does, legs swinging in the air as her giggles warms his chest. Riegel ends his welcome with an embrace, clutching the girl close to him. “Wow! I was gone for a day and you’ve grown this much? My little girl’s not so little anymore.”

Stretching her arms up, she replies proudly, “Yup! I’m a grown up!”

Riegel laughs, eyes shifting ahead to his approaching wife. A serious look on her face as she looks past him; to someone behind him.

Riegel turns to find three men, familiar ones. People he has worked with in the past.

“It’s time, Riegel,” the one ahead of the trio says. “Hand the girl over.”

“What?” Riegel asks, searching the faces in front of him. “What do you mean hand her over?”

The men do not reply, but their expressions tell everything Riegel needs to know about their intentions. He looks to his wife. “Take her inside,” he tells her as he hands over his daughter.

However, instead of doing what he asked her to, Riegel’s wife walks towards the men and gives their daughter willingly.

“What are you doing?!” Riegel lunges forward, but the other two men grab hold of his arms before pinning him to the ground. “Let me— Get your filthy hands off her! Give her back!”

Riegel’s frantic sputtering is matched by his daughter’s crying, confused and afraid of what is happening. The man who holds her looks down on Riegel with pity. “She doesn’t belong to you, Riegel.”

“She’s my daughter! She—“

Riegel freezes.

She’s my daughter. But… what’s her name?

Riegel’s eyes turn manic, disgusted at himself for forgetting his daughter’s name. He forces himself to remember, the times he calls to her to do some light chores, when he first started teaching her how to say her name, or the day she was born. But there is nothing there.

Riegel looks up, only to find the people who surrounded him to be all faceless. The men, his wife, and even his daughter.

But before Riegel can question what he is seeing, the gaps in his memory start to rebuild themselves, like pieces affixing into a broken puzzle to create a big picture, one that depicts his entire life.

From his time as a boy, when he met his wife, and when they had their daughter.

Just then, Riegel finally remembers her name.

He speaks it hurriedly.

It is certain that Riegel said the name.

However, Everly does not linger long to find out what the imaginary mortal girl is called. Despite her life of eternity, she does not have the time to waste on falsities. Even if in the fantasies she crafted, the karmic punishment of the trapped individual's hallucinatory future is quite satisfying to watch.

Everly looks back at Riegel, the slaver’s head is enclosed in her cube of illusions, one that contains a whole world and a whole life she concocted for him. There were a few complications, but in the end, Everly managed to use her Rune well.

She looks up ahead, to the other insects who feed on blooming flowers. It does not hurt to get a few practices in, the road will keep her secret. After all, Everly has a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, plenty of lost time to make up for, as the Goddess of Vision and Creation.

[writer-ish]

hopeful hearts, part two

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Brooke Spiers)

Word Count: 3,750 

Rating: E (NSFW 18+)

Summary:  During the Gala, Ethan and Brooke sneak off for a more private encounter. 

This is a more detailed version of the office scene in Chapter 17, from Ethan’s POV.

PART ONE HERE. 

once again, special thanks to: @openheartthot for providing the script that started this all ♥️

Dr. Ethan Ramsey doesn’t care.

It’s a point of pride for him. He does his job - and he does it damn well - but that chip that most people have, the one that makes them ache and burn and torment themselves over the thoughts and feelings of others—no.

That he does not have.

Which is why he finds himself unable to explain—unable to reconcile with his own perceptions of himself, why the woman beside him in this moment makes him ache and burn and torment himself, day in and day out. Why the only thing he finds himself caring about is her thoughts. Her feelings.

Why the feel of her hand in his, gripping him tightly, the trust that’s imbued in that simple gesture as they walk recklessly through the corridors of the quiet hospital, is enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.

Ethan Ramsey finds himself realizing that, for someone who had never cared, this seems to matter a whole lot.

His heart pounds a steady rhythm as they swiftly and silently approach the doors of his office. He lets them both in and then closes the door resoundly behind him.

“Here we are,” he says, hearing the gruffness in his tone and unable to utter the words any differently. “Alone at last.”

She looks up at him and, once again, breathing seems out of reach. It’s a feeling in his chest—one that he can’t explain away with logic or reason, the two tenets with which he’s structured his life.

“Any idea what we could get up to with such a rare moment of privacy?” She’s disarmingly contradictory—provocative and bashful, sincere and flirtatious. Every contradiction stirs his blood in unprecedented ways. He wants her, needs her—not just now, but always.

“I have a few,” he murmurs in response to her question, stepping forward and linking his fingers with hers, drawing her hands around his torso before leaning forward and touching her lips with his.

The kiss is softer, less performative than the one he’d given her downstairs. This one doesn’t need to prove a point to anyone other than himself. And the point he’s trying to prove is how necessary it is for him to be kissing her at this moment.

Pulling away, he takes in the sight of her. The gleaming auburn curls tumbling over her shoulders, the red dress that seized him by the chest the moment he saw her in it—she incapacitated him with her beauty. 

He’d seen her at six in the morning and eleven at night (oftentimes in the same day). He’d seen her rested and exhausted. With makeup and without. He’d seen her—

He wills away the image that appears in his mind’s eye. The one of her that’s always a little blurred around the edges — as though he’s looking at her through a transparent barrier; since, of course, that’s exactly what he’d had to do. It’s the image of her unwell. Scared. 

His heart thumps painfully as the fear returns again, an old, familiar feeling now, like a cloak that shadows his mind. The moments that he thought were numbered. Panic, the likes of which he’d never before experienced—

No. He won’t think of that now.

He forces his tone to be casual, but the depths of his emotion still seem to break through.

“I looked around and it's definitive. You were the most stunning woman in that room tonight.” The statement pales in comparison to the way he truly feels.

She dimples, pleased by his compliment even as she tries not to show it, and his heart soars.

“Are you trying to flatter me, Dr. Ramsey?” she teases.

All pretence of casualness is gone as he responds, his voice husky and low: “Is it still flattery if it's an understatement?”

Her cheeks redden and suddenly she’s even more of a vision, the rosiness of her face contrasting the colour of her hair and the hue of her dress in the most incredibly charming way.

She reaches up to caress his cheek softly and he feels himself lean slightly into her touch, unable to resist the allure of her body making contact with his.

“I’m glad you did that just now. Kissed me.” He sees her vulnerability and knows that he’s at the root of it—his damned fears and pride and sense of propriety and justice all being part of what almost ruined this for him. For them.

His public declaration - that she was his and, even more importantly, he was hers - was something they’d both needed more than either of them had realized.

“Trust me, Brooke.” He leans forward, whispering the next words. “I’m just getting started.”

Their lips meet and Ethan feels a hunger in his very soul; like he could devour her whole. A frenzied heat runs through him, his entire body thrumming with the anticipation of what’s to come. Now, now, now, are the only words his pounding heart speaks as he guides her to the first available surface: his desk.

Ethan is not a man prone to fantasy.

Even in previous relationships - more like arrangements - he’d always maintained a level-headed foundation to every encounter. The exchanges were simple at their core: the satisfaction of a mutual need. An itch to be scratched. And, once they were over, he barely gave them further consideration.

But Ethan Ramsey would be a stone-cold liar if he’d ever said that he hadn’t had a recurring, relentless daydream - and occasional night dream - of taking Dr. Brooke Spiers on top of this very desk in a multitude of imaginative, creative, and depraved ways.

And now, now at the cusp of this almost two-year fantasy coming to life, it feels as though something inside of him has truly, finally been unleashed.

Keeping his lips crushed to hers, Ethan cups Brooke’s round bottom, squeezing appreciatively before dragging his hands down the sequined fabric of her thighs until he can gain enough purchase to do what he really wants: lifting her effortlessly, he defers all her weight to one arm while using the other sweep every goddamn thing off his usually-meticulous desk. Pens and paper trays clatter to the floor as Ethan lays Brook gently across the desk, with a precise calmness he doesn’t truly feel.

She lets out a disbelieving laugh as she pulls away slightly, hands carding through his hair. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she breathes against his lips, joy and unrestrained pleasure in her tone.

“Whatever it is,” he replies, pressing his lips to hers briefly before continuing, “I think it’s long overdue.”

“True.” She shimmies her way further up the desk, before reaching for him. “Which is why you shouldn’t keep me waiting.” Grabbing his collar, she drags him on top of her, lips colliding once more in a frenzy of taste and touch. He feels her lithe fingers give his hair a sharp tug and he groans against her mouth.

“Brooke.” He’s panting now, unable to get his heart rate under control. “I need you.” 

Leaning in once more to take her again, he’s surprised when she leans away, pressing a finger to his lips. The expression on her face stops him and he finds himself stumbling back a step as she pushes him gently and climbs off the desk.

She moves a few feet away and looks at him coyly, one eyebrow and the corner of her mouth hitched slightly upwards.

“Brooke…” She’s killing him. Does she know she’s killing him?

Probably.

“Shh…” she admonishes, lightly. “Just watch.”

Slowly she turns and Ethan drinks in every curve - from the dip in her waist to her well-rounded bottom. Reaching up, her slender fingers snag the gold zipper resting at her nape and she slowly tugs it down.

Ethan swears he can hear every excruciating millisecond of that zipper’s descent, even over the thundering pulse in his ears, as he watches it go down… down… exposing the creamy white skin of her perfect back, inch by inch.

It stops just below the small of her back, right above the cleft of her bottom, two familiar dimples taunting him. The opening of her dress has gaped over her shoulders and she looks at him one last time over her shoulder, her smile luminescent, before letting the garment fall to the floor in its entirety. Turning back around, she strikes a coy pose, one hand flipped up and the other on her cocked hip, as if to say “Well?”

He takes in her pink-tipped breasts, the perfect size for the palm of his hand. The indented waist that he can span if he so chooses. The swell of her hips, hugged in black lace. Her shapely legs, long for her height.

And the heels. That she’s still wearing.

He almost swallows his tongue.

Well, indeed.

Ethan reaches her in a single stride and pulls her towards him, cupping the nape of her neck as his lips reach hers with a soft reverence. He can feel the heat of her naked body against his, warm and electric, and he steps back only for a second to tear his own clothes off, barely considering the buttons that will need to be re-buttoned, or the obscenely expensive suit jacket that probably shouldn’t be left in a heap on the floor.

All that matters, all he can consider, is his all-consuming need to feel her body against his, unimpeded by clothing.

He tilts her jaw so that she’s looking up at him. He can’t help but be pleased to see that her breathing is irregular, too, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her nipples poking sharply into his chest. When she’s this close, he can see the flecks of green in her hazel eyes. The light smattering of freckles not entirely hidden behind her concealer.

God, he loves her.

The words come to him, unbidden yet familiar. A truth he has known for much longer than he cares to admit. He hasn’t told her yet, not really. But he hopes he’s shown her in all the ways that he’s let her in - into places no one has ever reached - and in all the ways he’s tried to care for her, to protect her, to nurture her and to guide her. And soon—

Soon, the words will come, as well.

For now, he settles for speaking another truth: “You’re so beautiful, it sometimes takes my breath away.”

It’s how he’s always felt around her; like the air has gotten a little lighter. His lungs a little shallower. He sees her and the visceral response of his body to hers feels like a sucker punch.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

Her eyes spark, a light glistening that foretells the chance of tears. They cause the irises to grow brighter, greener.

“Don’t tell me,” she says finally, swallowing hard. “Show me.”

With pleasure, he thinks, navigating her towards the desk again.

As if reading his mind, she’s already halfway there, boosting herself up and pulling him with her. She scoots back again along the smooth surface and he follows her; a predator, his lovely prey trapped between his arms.

“I mean,” she says blithely, her hair fanning around her like a crimson halo, “you did such a good job cleaning it up.”

He bites back a grin at her teasing tone and dips forward to nip at her throat.

“I was hoping you’d notice,” he murmurs against her skin.

She turns her head, guiding his face to hers, and kisses him fiercely on the lips. He responds in kind, tasting and licking at the sweet fullness of her mouth.

Keeping his lips on hers and one hand braced on the desk, he glides his other hand down her smooth skin until his fingers reach the lace of her panties. Teasingly, he plays with the little bow at the front, running his fingers lower, overtop the lace-covered mound, teasing the dampness he finds below.

She moans against his lips and he brings his hand back up, tucking it under the material, touching her skin, finding the slick heat underneath it all.

Biting back a groan, he dips his middle finger down lower, finding the wet give of her body and bringing some of that essence back to the tiny nub at the top of her entrance. Rubbing in slow, deliberate circles, he pulls back to watch her face.

Her head is thrashing lightly as she moans quietly at his touch.

“Someone’s...eager…” she pants, arching against the shiny, cool mahogany, her nipples peaked and straining towards the sky.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months, Brooke,” he says, unable to resist the allure of those pink nipples, beckoning for his touch. His mouth latches onto one and he runs his tongue around the dusky areola before grazing his teeth over the distended tip. She whimpers and bucks under his hand, growing wetter at each moment that passes.

“The chance to be with you without hiding from anyone,” he continues, moving to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment, his middle finger still working her in an agonizingly slow caress.

“Now that it’s here—” He shifts the finger back down to the entrance of her body, filling her with it, unable to help the groan that escapes him as he feels her clench around him.

“—I can hardly help myself,” he ends in a strangled groan. His desperation reaches a fever pitch. All he wants is for her to feel good, to shatter around him, to be brought to the brink and over the edge because of him—

“Show me what you want.” His voice sounds hoarse, pleading, even to his own ears. “What I can do to make you feel good.”

“How about,” she breathes, a slight sheen over her heated skin, “you use—” She breaks off, blushing slightly, before persevering. “How about you use your mouth instead? I’m enjoying your dexterity but—”

She breaks off with an awkward laugh, eyes going skyward as if she can’t believe her own gall. Her face is almost the same colour as her hair and if he wasn’t so worked up he would laugh, too.

“Say no more.”

He takes his time in kissing his way down her body, marking every pale freckle and scar he finds along the way. He moves over her stomach and she giggles breathlessly at the tickle of his stubble. Further down he goes, before finally he’s kissing her over the lace of her panties, breathing in the familiar scent of the most intimate part of her. Reaching up, he pulls the underwear down and off, sending them flying in the same general direction as his clothes’ heap.

He stares down at her for a beat, pink and red and perfect all over, her pale skin marred in places by the scratch of his beard, the rosy nipples beckoning him still, the neat tuft of dark auburn curls between her legs, her trembling thighs and shaky intakes of breath. Her Titian beauty strikes him once more and it’s all he can do, not to prostrate himself between her gorgeous thighs and worship at the altar of those private curls and glistening petals.

Instead, he approaches her with what he hopes is a shred of dignity, tucking his face between her legs and kissing the part of her that he covets the most. Savouring the intimate and familiar taste of her; the taste of coming home.

He feels her fingers thread through his hair, tugging almost sharply as her hips lift underneath his chin, but he’s too immersed in his task to notice. He runs his tongue over her in a measured rhythm, slipping a hand down once more to join in his ministrations, inserting one finger and then two, as she opens easily for him.

“Ohhh.” Her loud moan from above his head is nearly his undoing and he presses a hand against himself, hard, to stay his own desires for the moment.

“I love tasting you,” he murmurs against her, crooking his fingers slightly as he presses deeper inside her.

“I love the way you do it,” she pants in response. He can feel her unravelling, can feel it in the liquid heat surrounding his hands and mouth, can feel it in the increasingly erratic movement of her body beneath his.

“I want you so badly, Brooke,” he groans and, against the vibrations of his confession, she shatters.

She lets out a shout and he holds her in place as her body trembles, gooseflesh rising under his hands and on his cheek where it rests on her thigh. His own body feels shaky, tremulous, as he waits for her to come down.

“I want you to have me, Ethan,” she says finally, her voice hoarse and low. “Now.”

He almost weeps with relief.

“I was hoping you would say that. I honestly wasn’t sure I could hold off any longer—” His gratitude gets caught in his throat as she tremulously slides off of the desk and looks at him, almost bashfully, but with that familiar coyness that he’s grown to love.

She cups his face in her hands and their eyes meet, her greenish-hazel with his electric blue.  

“Then don't.”

And then she turns and leans forward, forearms on his desk, ass propped up in front of him, those sky-high heels bringing her to the perfect level for—for—

Ethan feels the air depart his lungs in full force, his knees almost giving way underneath him. He looks at her bottom blankly, before searching her face. She’s smiling at him softly, those damn perfect teeth biting that damn bottom lip, a face perfectly designed to be the death of him. She inclines her chin slightly, as if to say: Are we doing this?

It’s all the permission he needs as he takes himself in hand and positions himself at the entrance of her body. Pushing back slightly, she accepts him immediately and easily, her back arching to take him further, deeper, as her palms flatten against the desk.

The moment he’s fully seated within her, she gasps, and that slight intake in breath is enough to almost make him come on the spot. Her gasp settles into a quiet moan as they find an easy rhythm, bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity.

“Ethan,” she says breathlessly, her fingertips pressing into the mahogany. “Harder.”

Thank Christ.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he admits in a strangled tone as he feels the wholehearted pleasure of their union overwhelm him, body and soul. Never before has he felt such a connection beyond the physical. When she grasps him inside her, when he feels the clutch of her body, intimately connected to his, it’s an emotion beyond reasoning.

A hefty admission, for someone who’d structured his whole life around reason and reason alone.

But now, “reasonable” is a far cry from how he feels as he moves his hands over her body, tracing the arch of her spine, the curve of her waist, before settling there, thumbs almost touching across the span of her back as he rocks into her, his pleasure building by the second.

He groans loudly, unable to control himself. “You feel incredible, Brooke.”

She whimpers in response and he quickly checks her face to ensure she’s alright. All he sees is her flushed cheek pressed to the desk, her full lips parted in a soft, perpetual moan, the imprint of her heated palms leaving streaks on the dark, shining wood as she drags her hands to the edge of the desk and holds on tight.

His vision whites out and it’s all the warning he can give her—

“Brooke… I’m—”

“Yes, Ethan—!”

The force building inside of him erupts in a blinding flash of undulating pleasure, skyrocketing through every extremity of his body.

Brooke’s own cries echo through the empty office as he feels her body rhythmically clenching his oversensitized flesh. A wave of exhausted, satiated rapture threatens to overtake him as he braces his hands on the desk, his bare chest meeting her bare back. Once he’s certain his legs can hold him, his arms shift into an embrace, wrapping around her torso and gathering her cooling body against him.

He holds her tightly against him for a beat, before lifting her up effortlessly. Her head lolls against his shoulder as he carries her to the couch in his office. He sits first, shifting her weight in his lap, and then he lays back, bringing her back with him. As she settles herself into his chest, he finds himself kissing her hair over and over again, the feeling of total adoration threatening to spill from his chest.

They stay like that, wrapped around one another, for a moment or two when he hears her mumble something indiscernible against his shoulder. Stroking her hair back from her face, he tilts his chin down to look at her.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, wondering if his own gaze reflects the same heavy-lidded contentment that he sees in her eyes.

“I said, ‘do we have to go back’?” she repeats, her voice still a replete murmur.

He chuckles softly, kissing her head again. Go back. He knows that she’s referring to the Gala, to their friends and colleagues gathered on the first floor of the decorated hospital. But in Ethan’s mind, it’s a more involved and complicated question than that.

No, they’re not going back.

They won’t be going back to the way things were.

To secrecy and shame, to denial and frustration.

They also won’t be going back to the job they knew, in the ways that they’ve known it. Before touching his lips to hers in that public display he’d performed down there, he’d known exactly which direction the Diagnostics Team would be headed in and what that meant for him, for her, and for the nature of her relationship.

It had been a long time since Ethan had felt anything resembling superiority over Brooke and now, they would both truly be at the same level, in every way that mattered.

He smiles softly as he rubs his cheek against the top of her head, listening to her even breaths.

There still isn’t much that Dr Ethan Ramsey cares about.

But there is one thing.

And he wraps his arms around it even tighter.  

[kamilah-is-queen]

Egypt and It's Assasin

This is somewhat a multi-chapter fic, where Kamilah goes back to Egypt in her dreams where she falls for an assassin out for blood.

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Assassin)

Tagging: @ayushixo, @olivegh7, @helpconfusedpersonhere, @fundamentalromantic, @kamilahtopme

The unbearable blaze of the sun, the wind fluttering through cloths, the distant sound of the drums and sistrums, the hollers of the market men and bazaar goers, it was home.

A place she could never forget. Her dreams took her back to the place she’d once called home, a place that was only visible in her sleep. It would beckon her closer, persuading her with an illusion that she would believe to be true. Her mind illustrated the wooden stalls on each side of the sand-filled path, middle-aged men with textiles and fruits on display as they called to innocent civilians.

The pyramids of the future great pharaohs stood with blocks at the bases, awaiting for the day that would prove them worthy of claiming a being withholding such immense power, power that shaped the face of the Egyptian world. Their bricks glistened in the sunlight, the edges of the limestone, rough and harsh under her hand as the commotion of hammers and chisels worked away at the fascinating element.

Workers were ordered here and there, hurriedly pushing past the woman with handcrafted tools in their grasp as they moved to another brick. ”I’m afraid you must leave. This is no place for a woman of such authority like yourself.” The harsh voice’s sound came from behind her, a man who wore a scarf around his neck with a predatory gaze. ”I am merely inspecting the work of my brothers, Ahmed. Is such a crime?”

”You shouldn't be here, unless your body desires to be worked like a dog. For long hours on the day with minimal rest as the sun’s glance watches over you.”

His face was merely like a rock, expressionless before his eyes cast over her torso, resting on the deep plunge from her neck to her chest. The elegant material lifted in the wind, the white cloth shining in his face before she lifted his chin with her firm grasp. ”I suggest you keep those dirty eyes from preying on innocent women, unless you'd like to have your tongue cut off.” Their gazes met, her firm one battling for dominance as his eyes remained dark with desire.

”Who do you think you are Kamilah? You're nothing compared to your cousin Cleopatra.” Her grip tightened, the muscles in her jaw contracting as her free hand slid the dagger out from it's resting place around her hip. The fine tip of the knife edged into his shirt, pricking at his stomach before she spoke again. ”I would like to remind you as to who you are talking to. I am Kamilah Sayeed, the warrior, and leader who reigns beside Cleopatra. And it's needless to say that you should be wise in what comes out of that filthy mouth of yours.”

Without another word, she withdrew her blade and positioned it around her hips, striding away from the man who stood speechless. ’Filthy mutt.’ Her words were a mere whisper, not wanting to waste her breath on such folk.

Her mind wandered to the far corners of her imagination, the fear in her surging as she recalled the events of the previous night. ’A cloaked figure took out our men’....’200 dead’...’The battle has swayed it's favoring.’

The thoughts secluded her attention, unaware of the woman standing before her. ’How many people would join me in the next battle? Who of those has lost faith in my cousin's cause?’

One step..two steps..

”Forgive me, I was-”

The footprints in the sand we're repeated, as she stepped back to perceive the woman clearly. The black fabric stood out against her gleaming, tan skin. The cloth wrapped around her shoulders and face, leaving simply her glistening eyes to be revealed. The glistening color in her irises, the bright hazel shade bringing Kamilah's breath to short pants while they kept gazing at one another. With another gust of wind, the textile revealed the rest of her face to Kamilah who was admiring the woman in close proximity. Their hair was practically identical, elegant brown locks subsiding below her shoulders.

The woman’s brows creased together, her hands swiftly pushing Kamilah against the rigid frame of a nearby stall. ”For what reason are you staring?” The scent of lavender wafted through Kamilah’s nose, a similar scent to her own. ”Your beauty intoxicated me.”

Earning a small smirk, the woman proceeded to inch nearer until the warmth of her breath on the warrior’s neck sent a shiver through Kamilah’s body. ”Your beauty is one to be admired oh wonderful warrior.”

Kamilah caught the stares of intrigued civilians, her eyes turning back to the deserted area in front of her. The wind picked up it’s movement, flecks of sand sweeping into her eyes as they surveyed the market.

An elderly woman in the nearby stall called out to her, a pitiful look creasing onto her wrinkled face. ”I've heard talks of an assassin my child… dressed in black, with a resemblance close to the people of this nation. But she is not one of us. She’s out to hunt us. And so I warn you… no one is to be trusted in times of such despair.”

Could she be the mysterious figure?...

[marmolady]

Pride

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending).  Surrounded by a barrier of friends, Varyyn joins Diego as they march in their very first Pride parade.

Word Count: 1588

Tagging:   @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,  @greengroove

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Cloaked in a dark hood, at odds with the popping attire of near everyone around him, Varyyn was wide-eyed with fascination as he stepped out of the Northbridge train station, Diego at his side. The streets were awash with colour, hues that were draped over countless flags, banners, even the skin of revelers.

Diego grasped his husband’s hand tightly. He was awash with emotion; anxiety at having Varyyn surrounded by so many people, but more than that, a feeling of belonging that he’d craved for as long as he could remember.

“This is it, Varyyn,” he uttered hoarsely. “Happy Pride!”

“I am always proud to be with you, my love.”

Taylor was grinning like an idiot-- for her, too, this was a first, as it was for Estela with whom her fingers were entwined. “We’ve got this, Diego, the rest of us should be enough of a barrier to stop anyone from looking at you two too closely.”

Giving his best friend a warm smile, Diego nodded. That he’d been touched to have ten friends putting themselves out there to give him the kind of Pride experience he’d wistfully imagined was an understatement. They had his back. “Yeah, we got this.”

He looked around. Friends surrounded him on all sides, dressed in their colours or else proudly wearing ‘ally’ pins. To think he’d felt so alone before--

“Hey!” Craig exclaimed, “If anyone gets to close to our V-Dog, I can pull off a killer diversion. I’ve been practising my moves for weeks…”

“It’s been fucking torture to watch,” Zahra said. “But, yeah, your dancing will scare anyone off, I’ll give you that.”

As they marched on with the parade, the smile on Estela’s face just grew broader. She’d never had a chance to do anything like this in San Trobida, and probably she’d have steered clear of all the fuss anyway. Since returning from La Huerta, her sexuality, the identity that came with it, meant a whole lot more. On La Huerta, no one gave a damn, and she hadn’t bothered herself with labels. Today,though, her wrist was adorned with a pink, yellow and blue bracelet.

“I didn’t know you identified as pansexual?” Quinn queried warmly. When they’d discussed these things previously, Estela had always been vague-- which had always been accepted without hesitation; but it seemed something had changed.

Estela nodded. “I didn’t think I wanted a label, but then I thought… words have power. They can make you visible. I like who I am, how I love; a lot of people where I’m from struggle with that because for so long they had to hide. Visibility is important.”

“That’s my wife! Fighting the good fight and making the world less shit, one PDA at a time.” Taylor jumped to give Estela an enormous smooch, delighting in the happy squirm she caused.

“So, uh,” Estela tried to continue, whilst her love continued to pepper her face and neck with kisses, “basically, I just… find some people attractive. And I don’t think it would have mattered if Taylor was a guy or a girl or both or neither. She’s my person. It was a weird feeling, like something deep inside me knew.”

“Aw, ‘Stel!” Taylor gushed. “As for me? Basically, I’m gay as the day is long. Useless Lesbian: Alien Edition.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Zahra scoffed. “You’re a walking fucking stereotype. If there were U-Hauls on La Huerta, maybe you wouldn’t have even needed to get hitched after what… how many weeks? Three? Four?”

Diego was quick to swoop to his friend’s defence. “Hey! La Huerta rules apply! Way too much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff to untangle.”

Quinn smiled warmly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to one of these events, nor even the third or fourth, but to be surrounded by the friends who’d become her family made for a very different experience. She was not alone, dodging pitying whispers while she tried to embrace a side of herself that was so much more than ‘the dying girl’. And now, she had Michelle.

“Life can be over so fast; if you care for someone, there’s no shame in putting yourself out there and showing it.” She gave Michelle’s hand a squeeze, and they exchanged an affectionate glance. “Being trapped at the end of the world can do a lot to put things in perspective. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m living without regrets. Who I am is who I am; and that includes the pieces I wished I could hide from.”

Grace looked to her friend with admiration. “That’s very brave, Quinn. Sometimes accepting yourself can be the hardest thing.” Especially when the people you love can’t look at the true you and do the same. “Honestly, you’ve helped me a lot.”

Walking beside Diego, Varyyn was beginning to see why they called it ‘Pride’; he could feel it emanating from his husband, creating a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. And the smile on Diego’s face? Varyyn was sure he’d not ever seen anything quite so beautiful. Though careful not to peer to far out from his hood, he took the time to look over each of the different coloured flags and ask about each one. A young woman jogged past, wearing a cape of black, grey, white and purple-- the same design that was plastered across Raj’s shirt.

“Raj,” he queried, “ I believe Diego told me about your colours. It is for… ‘ace’? For no romantic partners?”

“You got it! Basically, I get all the love I need from my bros. I never really felt like anything was missing, you know?”

“I understand. It’s not something my people have a word for, though I know several friends who have always felt the way you do,” he said, thoughtfully. “So much of this we don’t have words for; we just… be. I appreciate your sharing with me. And I am very grateful to be one of your bros.”

The whole experience was vastly different to anything that could exist among the Vaanti. Sexuality and gender was of so little consequence; there had never been much weight put on words and labels, there were no expectations that it be necessary. By the generally agreed upon human terms, Varyyn supposed he might call himself ‘pansexual’ as Estela did. The rainbow flag, though, was his favourite. In it he saw the jubilation of making it through a storm to something beautiful. Appropriate it was, that it meant so much to Diego, as he stepped out unafraid and loved. Varyyn looked at Diego, his husband, the love of his life; surrounded by a wall of friends, laughing on Taylor’s shoulder. He was truly radiant.

Varyyn put a hand on Raj’s shoulder. “Could I ask a great favour of you?”

“A personal favour for the elyyshar of the Vaanti? I think I can swing that….”

Taylor was chuckling as she ruffled her best friend’s hair. “So, how is it? Everything you dreamed of-- if you’d even dreamed you’d have the Knights’ bi legend Sean Gayle as part of your pride posse?”

“Pretty sure Past Diego would think you’d hit your head too hard if you’d tried to tell him this was coming. I mean, the time travel, the monsters, my best friend being some sort of knockoff ET, are unbelievable enough, but these kind of squad goals…? I…” Suddenly, he found himself choking up. If it was a life-altering adventure, he’d got it. What was left at the end of it was something that could never be truly grasped by outsiders, some bond, sacred even, that had helped him find his own strength. As he struggled to come to grips with the tatters that remained of his family life, it was that strength that would keep him afloat, and that bond that would see his heart start to heal. “I… didn’t think this feeling was possible for me.”

And Taylor hugged him tight. “You’d better get used to it, because you’re stuck with us. You deserve this. Just for being you… and also for being the world’s best wingman. The best thing that ever happened to me happened because you helped me believe in taking a leap. Diego Soto, I will never not owe you one,” she laughed.”So, for my next trick, I will pass you off to someone who wants his arms around you even more than I do. You’re welcome.

With a wink, Taylor spun Diego into Varyyn’s waiting arms, which draped an enormous rainbow flag around the two of them.

“My love,” Varyyn crooned,  “you bring my world more beauty than I believed possible. You showed me hope and light in my darkest hour. Diego, you are my rainbow.”

Cloaked in a fluttering of multicoloured fabric, they kissed, long and tender; the pounding of music and marching, the chants of ‘Variego!’ fading far into the background, beyond their own private euphoric celebration.

Varyyn came away slowly, his expression warm as he stared into a look of fierce affection. How could he ever have dreamed what had been held in store for him, when this lion-hearted storyteller was beyond anything Vaanu had yet shown him. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his beloved Diego set his heart, once again, all aflutter, dancing like the rainbow flag around their heads. “And I love you.”He quirked an eyebrow. “Best Pride ever?”

Diego gave a short laugh and pecked a kiss to his love’s gentle lips. “Best Pride ever.”