#humans are weak and fragile and have such short lives why did they pick these two guys of all people

[irafuwas]

I've also always been perplexed by Briar Valley's glaring lack of updated knowledge about their neighbors. I suspect that maybe the fae's warped perception of time might play a part in the matter.

If we consider that Briar Valley has little to no modern technology despite presumably being a very ancient society, and that several decades could feel as short to them as a day or two does to us, they might not actually even be aware of how much time has passed since they last gathered information on the surrounding human societies, nor the great extent to which these societies have quickly changed in that amount of time. Perhaps they even figure that since everything is still exactly the same in Briar Valley as it has been for lord knows how long, then everything in the outside world must be unchanged, as well.

All just my personal speculation, of course. 🤔

Regarding Sebek’s siblings, it’s not confirmed how old they are, but I feel there’s probably a good-sized age gap between them. He said they helped him reel in fish when he was small and he couldn’t keep hold of the fishing pole, and they would cook up the fish they caught together, so I imagine they would be quite a bit older than he is if they had to do those things for him when he was young. And taken with his comment about Silver being his only acquaintance from his generation, then I agree that he’s probably the little baby sibling and his older brother and sister might’ve been teens or adults when he was young.

Either that, or his comment about Silver being his only acquaintance from his generation actually meant that Silver was his only same-aged friend, and there were other kids around but they weren't friends with him for whatever reason.... 🙁 Sebek and Silver vaguely mention other kids in Lilia's Scary Dress Vignette (Silver says, "Out of the children who watched Lilia's dance that night, I heard there were some amongst them who wet their beds." and Sebek says, "It was so horrifying that children and adults alike were shaking in fear, and they fled home where they awaited, shivering, for that nightmare to end.") and I always felt that meant there were other children around? Either that or they were actually just referring to themselves, but didn't want to admit it (Lilia mentions in one of his voices lines that Sebek and Silver always wet their beds on Halloween night).

And I don’t understand why Peepaw chose to raise Silver in such a secluded environment. Trying to think of explanations for it just makes me even more worried about what we’ll find out in Book 7... I’ve considered that maybe Lilia was concerned about how the other fairies would treat Silver if they went and lived in the town (considering how the fae don’t seem to look kindly on humans as a whole), but Silver always only has such nice things to say about fairies, so I’m not sure they were ever directly mean to him? He extolled their kindness during the Fairy Gala ~if~ event, and he’s never mentioned anything about the faeries in Briar Valley treating him differently because of his heritage. Or maybe Lilia was forced to leave town after he brought back an infant Silver from his last expedition, and the Queen punished him by making him go live on his own at the edges of society. She could have even forbid Silver from attending school with fairy children and forced Lilia to raise him as the child soldier that he is. That would be operating under the theory that Silver is perhaps a long-lost prince from an enemy kingdom, or that he possesses some power that is a threat to the Queen’s family. Idk any explanation I can think of for Silver’s bizarre upbringing isn’t a happy one 😞

Anyways, sorry for rambling on your post. I do hope we get a firmer understanding of the Briar Valley society once Book 7 drops. I would also love if we could get a Briar Valley-centric event one day, like how we’ve had one for Harveston with Epel or Scalding Sands with Jamil and Kalim.

Briar Valley's Education System

"I learned all of this in middle school. Briar Valley is superior even in its educational curriculum."

I haven't been able to get this line from Sebek's Lab SR out of my head for the past day, and now you all get to hear about it.

I. The Students

Sometimes I wonder if the following is a plot hole, a 'lost in translation' effect, or if we're deliberately being fed unreliable information and Ch.7 will finally reveal the missing pieces— but how on earth is there a middle school in Briar Valley if Silver and Sebek were the only two children of their generation?

Perhaps I'm taking the terms 'middle school' and 'generation' too literally, but it doesn't make sense to me when we know that Sebek has siblings, wouldn't they have been considered the same generation as him? (The only other possible explanation I can think of is if his siblings are fae, thus potentially much older, and he was the only child from his mother/human father, but I'm not sure if that's already been disproven— someone correct me if so!)

I guess it's possible that Sebek could have been privately tutored or still attended a 'school'-like setting with a private instructor, but the real point I'm striving towards is that there was a supposed public institution for education, and Lilia deliberately did not send Silver off to attend as we know that Silver was homeschooled— why? Wouldn't he have wanted Silver to engage with children his own age, even if that was only Sebek? Which of course, raises more questions to me in particular about what is the real state of how humans are treated in Briar Valley?

II. 'Superior' Curriculum

This phrasing got a chuckle out of me especially with the current Scalding Sands event. I understand that at every opportunity, Sebek will find a way to extol the virtues of his culture and kingdom, but Briar Valley is actually so far behind in its understanding of the world around them. We know from Malleus' lines in the event and in his card that what he believes to be true about the Scalding Sands is information that is practically decades, if not centuries, old. I'll reiterate from a previous post, but it is astounding to me that Malleus is allowed to represent his country with misinformation that could make him look foolish to other nation representatives— however, that's not his fault, but a byproduct of the fact that Briar Valley is so insular despite having such tensions with their neighboring human nations. One would think that they'd be keeping tabs on what the humans are up to, but it's rather strange that they're not after such bloody history.

So, is their curriculum actually superior if it doesn't even teach the most up to date information about the current events in Twisted Wonderland? I'd hardly say yes, especially when being aware of what's going on around you, particularly for those in leadership positions, is of utmost importance. Again, I just wonder if these views of 'superiority' are ones held mostly by Sebek as he tries to navigate his identity, or are still widely held by the fae population of Briar Valley? Is that why Lilia isolated himself with Silver to educate and train him away from judgmental fae eyes?

There's just a lot of underlying tension I think that can be seen in many of the Diasomnia voice lines that make me wonder what life is truly like in Briar Valley, and if we'll ever get to see it through a human perspective.

[stromuprisahat]

Lucien

Third wheel to Feylin, spends the beginning of ACoMaF trapped between rock and hard place, trying not to stand up to Tamlin, his liege, failing to help Feyre or deal with his own shit.

Chapter 2

Feyre dares to ask for permission to leave the manor.

Chapter 3

She’s not allowed to test her new strengths. If Lucien can run three miles in few minutes, and she’s likely to be able to keep up with him, what’s the point of horses? Two thinks come to mind:

She won’t learn her boundaries, so she’ll stay in her human-ish ones.

A Lady doesn’t run, she’s moved elsewhere, paraded around, then moved back.

Feyre’s afraid to be weak, she thinks she’s damaged beyond repair. People around, pushing her into the role of some fragile flower, won’t help.

Lucien does what he’s ordered, not considering the impact on Feyre. Understandable. Acceptable in a soldier, not her friend.

Another word for “rules, rankings, and order” is repression. Tamlin’s the High Lord, his word is law, there’s no one forcing him to keep Feyre on such a short leash. Only his own fear.

Lucien: Look how bad Tam has it!

Feyre: Yeah, but it makes ~me~ feel like this!

Lucien: Well, you’re wrong...

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” is NOT how you persuade someone they’re safe and free, that’s affirming their fears with a drop of gaslighting.

It’s a thankless job to play a middle man, but Lucien seems to have picked a side. And he’s certainly NOT Feyre’s ally at the moment.

Again, this is just explaining why is Tamlin succumbing to his fears. Why are all those restrictions logical. Who cares about Feyre’s feelings? She obviously has them, because she doesn’t understand Tam’s difficult situation. No matter how irrational he is.

This is straight up offensive. When did Feyre wanna become a passive figure? Just some eye candy on High Lord’s arm?! She abandoned life in comfort to risk her own life to save the whole stupid Prythian, ff’s sake!

In a nutshell- Feyre’s to become a tool, accesory of her husband.

Ianthe has quite a lot of influence over Tamlin. Priestess, who’s been living with them for three months is trusted enough to know the people sufficiently to be able to decide if they can pay. I’m starting to doubt soundness of Tamlin’s judgement, not just his emotional self-control.

Okay, but what’s the point of all this, aside from making Feyre feel uneducated, less, lacking? Even worse- she’s already self-conscious due to her illiteracy, lack of knowledge will be understandably a sore spot.

If Tamlin knows this situation isn’t sustainable, he has a funny way of showing it.

Talk to him? Except Feyre tried to, and she’s told he won’t discuss that with her and leaves the conversation.

How deliberate is the choice of Lucien as Feyre’s guard and middleman between her and Tamlin’s oppressing tendencies? The person, who’s likely to see Tam’s side better? The duty won’t be his main drive, for him it’s personal.

Not to mention Lucien’s damaged enough to think lying in relationship is excusable.

Helping those people was supposed to be Feyre’s way to “learn to live again”. Instead she’s treated as an obstacle of their healing. She gave up everything and got blind worship and rejection in return.

The only way forward Feyre’s allowed to pursue, is completely out of her hands. Tied up in expectations, rules and traditions she cannot break or even only bend.

[viseralantlers]

chrysanthemums (c!dreamXD x reader)

request: “are you afraid to die?” had first person reply pick DreamXD !

warnings: blood, character death

note: enjoy ! testing out what will get more notes long or short form ;p

“Are you afraid to die?” the question had no justification. Maybe he just wanted to understand what made you tick, made all of these people tick. Why they waged fruitless wars and maintained fickle relationships. Were their own advances to guarantee a greater chance of survival or just out of peer curiosity in a deity that they couldn’t possibly understand.

“Isn’t everyone?” they looked up at him then quickly shook their head with a small smile “I guess you aren’t, how can you describe death to someone who has no idea what it could possibly mean.” They absently stretched their arm up towards the sky, spread fingers blocking the harsh sunlight from their squinting eyes. 

“I’ve seen death, my dear” y/n burst out in a small fit of laughter. He didn’t understand how you could laugh at the idea of unmoving corpses, of pain printed into a soul forever still.

“Death is not just that, not just an untimely end. It’s a drive, a fear, a rebirth, and yes, of course, it’s eventually an end, but it’s so much more.” they once again craned their neck to look up at his stoic mask “You can’t understand it just by observing.”

“And have you died, dove?” three lives, a staple rule of the realm, numbers that became ingrained into each person. Where someone with their whole lives ahead of them was reckless and a boy who grew up far too fast must watch his feet for untied shoelaces. 

“I have, I only have one life left X, I guess I just assumed you knew.” maybe he understood parts of death then. The fear associated with oblivion and the loss of a beating heart he didn’t possess. “No need to worry though, I’ve got you! And besides, I have no intention of dying before I can get you to take off that silly mask of yours.” y/n’s voice drifted off then, taken by the sweet summer wind. Taken away by the world that seemed set on hurting those that inhabited it. When death knocked again it would come as a metallic ring. 

------------------------

There were flowers that sprouted like weeds, but no one wanted to call them that for their frail beauty out shown their annoyance. Their fragile petals being taken away when a simple gust of wind picked up. They seemed to swarm Schlatt’s grave and it’s only when DreamXD thought about why did he understand. Know why they all wilted and died once he had pulled Wilbur from the dead. They had symbolized death, and they appeared in the worst place. 

“Did you plant these?” he couldn’t control the way his voice spilled into static, a rumbling of thunder as the words fell like scattered lightning across an open field. 

“No? Aren’t these the same ones around L’manberg?” X scowled as he began to pick the dainty blooms that had barley had time to mature. Some not even progressing past a mere green bud. Y/n watched with confusion as they burned to ash in his gloved hands. 

“Don’t let those grow outside your house, they are a weed, my dove, unseemly.” his voice simmered down from the gruff static returning to the metallic voice that slightly resembled Dream’s. He didn’t want to believe what the world was telling him, that death was close, breathing down his angel’s back. Everyday this looming shadow grew closer and when death finally opened the door he still wasn’t ready, not after months of persistent knocking.

------------------------

Chrysanthemum petals were littered in their hair that spread out upon the dry grass. Wildflowers peaked through where their body did not press down upon the ground, sneaking out between their spread fingers and kissing their paled cheeks. Scarlet was such an unforgiving color, one that reflected the world as a dark mirror spread across the ground. X wasn’t surprised, couldn’t be, wouldn’t be. Was this attachment a weakness, a tie the world must sever, a red string now frayed and burned. 

“y/n?” his voice was unrecognizable, so far from the human he wanted to present as to give them comfort. He only need revive the fragile flower, but how many times will they be swallowed whole again before they are nothing but a vessel. The arrow that had torn through their heart stared through him then. How many favors was he granted, even as a god?

[nepenthendline]

BREAKDOWN - TSUKISHIMA KEI

A/N: i cried writing this multiple times, but here’s some sad tsukki crying, I’m not proof-reading this bc if I do i’ll cry again ty

TW: mentions of depression, breakdowns/panic attacks, a crying tsukki and a crying reader

Can we cancel tonight?

Read the text that lit up your phone from Tsukishima. To be honest you’d been expecting it, but it still sent a pang of worry to your heart. You’d planned to meet up and go for dinner since you hadn’t had much time together due to assignments and classes, not to mention his training, but he had been a little off for a while now so it didn’t surprise you. 

The past week or so he’d been more distant than usual: short responses whenever you spoke to him, rushing home whenever he had to leave the house and you knew he hadn’t been taking the best care of himself due to the dark circles under his eyes. It was like he’d reverted back to the Tsukishima you first met at the start of highschool - detached and guarded. A lot of people just thought he was an ass or that he had a shitty personality, and while that may have been the case at times, you knew why he acted that way. He was protecting himself. It took a while for him to open up to you, but you learned about his struggles, his depression and his worries. Even so, he still tended to bottle his emotions up for as long as possible, but he did improve. Over the years you’d known him you were lucky to watch him bloom; he became more open, more accepting of talking about how he was doing. He’d even come to you first on occasion when he felt himself slipping, and he smiled more. It was a beautiful sight to watch him have fun and be happy for a change, and you couldn’t be more proud. But progress also came with stepbacks, and he wasn’t safe from them. 

What’s on your mind? You replied. You knew what was going on, but if he wanted to tell you himself then that was for the best. The three dots signalled his typing, then disappeared, then reappeared moments later. It was a minute or two before the message came through. 

Don’t feel good 

You stared at your phone for a few seconds, wondering what to do. Part of you wanted to leave him be and see if he could shake this by himself since that’s what he preferred, but you knew this had been going on too long. 

Can I come over? You asked, since the last thing you wanted to do was turn up unannounced and make matters worse. You didn’t expect him to accept your proposal but it was worth a try, so when an ‘ok’ showed up underneath your message you were taken back a little. Things must be bad if he agreed. 

In a rush you grabbed a jacket and your keys, before sliding your shoes on and heading out the door. His apartment wasn’t too far from yours luckily, however even the small journey made your heartbeat thud in your chest. ‘Hang in there’ you thought to yourself like a mantra in your mind, hoping the message would get through to him in some way. 

After climbing various flights of stairs you were faced with his door. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second, before knocking softly and unlocking the door with your copy of the key. It was eerily quiet when you walked in and the only light that filtered through was the street lamps from the road below. Shutting the door behind you, you called out his name but received no reply. You took slow steps through the hallway, peering your head around each corner in aid to find him. His apartment wasn’t particularly messy, although there were some dishes and clothes laying around that usually had no place there. As the living room and kitchen were empty, you made your way over to his bedroom. 

Your knuckles tapped on the wood as your other hand turned the handle to open the door; the room was just as dark as the rest of the apartment, however this shadow contained your boyfriend sat on his bed that lived in the corner of the room. His knees were bent up close to his chest as his arms rested on top of his knees. One hand was fiddling with his bottom lip as he stared emptily at the wall in front. You walked closer, slowly as not to startle him, and sat next to him on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge. 

Even after the bed dipped under the added weight he didn’t once move or look away. His eyes remained locked on the wall and yours stayed firmly on him. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes lacked the usual golden glow they radiated behind his glasses. For a man over 6ft tall and that trained almost every day, he looked so small and fragile curled up like this. You had never once thought of Tsukishima as weak, but there was a dull look of fear that was spread across his face that made him look like a lost, lonely child. 

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes snapped away from the wall and settled on you for a moment, where he nodded briefly and looked away once more. His breathing sped up from before; his shoulders and chest rising faster and harsher than usual. He was trying so hard to keep things together and you were surprised he even could for this long. 

You shuffled forward on the bed to get closer and lifted one hand to brush away the hair that stuck to his slightly damp forehead. Even in the darkness you saw him swallow hard, his throat shaking in response. You gently slid the glasses off his nose, folding them up and placing them on the bedside table. As you turned back to him your eyes locked with his; they were wide, worried, yet so vacant. Your fingers brushed over his cold cheek before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders pulling him close to you; his head instantly found its way into your warm neck. 

There were few seconds of complete still and silence, until a sob broke out from his throat. His whole body shook as you held him, with one hand combing through his hair in an attempt to soothe him somewhat. The room was filled with strangled breaths and whines as he cried, and your neck was already soaked with salty tears. You rocked your joined bodies back and forth a little, going with the motions of his own tremble, and turned your head slightly to press light kisses to his temple. 

Tsukishima was not a crier, at all, but he was human and there was only so long he could bottle things up for. Even so, you couldn’t help but tear up as well at the sound of his anguish. It was heartbreaking to see him like this since he usually seemed so strong, so self-assured. There wasn’t much you could do for him at this point, but just being there to pick up the pieces as he broke was enough. 

It was a while before he began to come down and the only reason he did was probably from exhaustion. His arms had found their way around your waist as he cried, clinging and tugging at your jacket as if to find support, and yours had not left their tight grip around him once. His breathing was still erratic, but his tears had muted down to occasional sniffles. 

You pulled back a little, enough to see his face, and pulled the edge of your sleeve over your hand to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks. A red hue covered his entire swollen face and his eyes were raw with irritation yet, despite the current event, he still managed to look beautiful. The moisture glimmered in his eyes, but it wasn’t the shine you were used to. You dropped your hold on your sleeve and instead cupped his cheek in your hand. Instantly, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the heat of your skin. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, still hushed as you spoke however he shook his head and sniffled, raising a hand to wipe at the tear that fell from his eye. You nodded slowly in response, looking down to think for a moment. 

“You can get through this, I know you can,” you started as he stared at you with fluttering eyes and pursed lips, “we’ll do it together, ok? We’ve done it before and we can do it again.” He hesitated for a moment then nodded vigorously as a whimper sounded from his mouth. 

“It’s just… it’s so hard,” his voice broke as he spoke, looking away from you towards the wall. You had to swallow away the lump in your throat as it burned with tears brimming in your own eyes; you had to be the strong one for him, he needed you now. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, collecting each tear as it fell and nodded. 

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well. I’ve got you.” He replied with a ‘thank you’, yet the sound was masked by choked breaths. You pulled him close to your body once again, pressing your cheek firmly against the side of his head and dragged a hand up and down his back. “We’ll figure things out tomorrow. We can look into things to help you, but for now let’s focus on your breathing and getting settled, ok?” He nodded once more against your neck, taking a deep breath after you demonstrated. 

It took a few minutes but he got there eventually. You could feel his heartbeat through the hand on his back, and it had slowed to a somewhat regular speed, and his shoulders drooped from their tense hold. You pulled away, telling him that you’d be back in a moment to get some water and headed to the kitchen. 

Not bothering to turn any lights on, you shuffled through the cabinet to get a glass and held it under the running tap. The rippling of the water filled your eyes, and a few tears rolled down your cheeks as you gasped, quickly reaching up to wipe them away. You sat the glass down on the counter and stared up at the ceiling, clenching your eyes shut as you took one deep breath in. You wiggled your hands by your sides as you let out the air in a huff, trying to distract yourself for a moment. With a sniffle, your hands raised to swiftly rub at your face and let out a small, distressed groan. ‘Not now’, you thought as you picked up the glass again, ‘we can do this later.’ 

You took a final deep breath, mustering up the last bit of strength you had and walked back into the bedroom. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but accepted the glass with a hum of a thanks. He took a few sips as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the darkness of the room. The glass was almost empty as he held it in his hands, brushing his thumb over the rim in thought. 

“You’re just as bad as me sometimes, you know that?” He spoke, looking up at you through his wet lashes. Your brows knitted together for a moment, but it wasn’t long before you understood. You let out a weak laugh, wiping your damp cheek with your hand. You saw the tryings of a smile for the first time on his lips. 

“I said we’d do this together, so I’m just getting in the spirit,” you mused as the odd tear fell, and he chuckled somewhat. One had left the bottom of the glass and seeked out yours, taking it in its grasp and squeezing. 

“It’s gonna be ok,” you whispered, although you’re not too sure if it was to him or yourself. He brought your joint hands and pressed a light kiss on the back, letting his lips linger for a second. 

“It’s gonna be ok.”

[retroellie]

could you do an imagine/headcannon where ellie and miller!reader are traveleing to santa barbara and are being really flirty with each other (they always have been but this time its like amped up x100) and on their way back to jackson they confess that they have always loved each other? (happy valentines btw!!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

Summary: Confessing your love to ellie

A/N: Thank you for the request<3 This kinda got a little depressing and i'm sorry but i'm in the mood for angst rn AHSHJ. Anyways sorry for making you wait so long babe :( ily <3

Warnings: Blood and angst

Word count: 1.3K

-Even though this is probably the worst reason to be traveling to Santa Barbara, avenge the death of your father, you two still can't keep your hands to yourselves

-There was something about this time that felt more meaningful than it usually did

-Ellie would always pull bad pick up lines out of her back pocket and make you laugh

-"IS there a mirror in your pants?? Cause I can see myself in them."

-It was just stupid harmless jokes but now it feels more than that

-Ellie had also started touching you more, if that was holding your hand as you guys were running through a hoard of infected or hugging you as you came back from getting food

-You weren't complaining much though, back at home it was so lonely there without ellie

-You and her had been connected at the hip ever since you met, you even went with her to Seattle even if it hurt you so much to remember your dad

-After you guys came back to Jackson after Seattle you both parted ways, it left you heart broken

-Ellie left to go live in a farmhouse by herself and you got up and moved your entire life around

-You were able to go back to Texas and live in your dad's old house there, you fixed it up real nice... wasn't much but the only memory you had of your dad

-That's until Ellie came to you, all the way from Jackson to Texas just so you could help her cause you were the only person that was going through her pain.

-It took about a week to get to Santa Barbara and the entire trip consisted of catching up but also the awkward tension in the air

-It was horrible because ellie kept getting hurt but she kept pushing herself to her limit

-When she was impaled by the tree branch, you tried your best to clean her up and for some reason touching her bare skin made you blush.

-When y'all had finally found Abby there was a good chance you guys could kill her, she was weak and fragile

-You had been busy trying to fight of the damn group you had run into when you could've helped ellie

-When you finally made it to the sea, there she was. Bleeding, bloody and hurt... Just like when you found her in jackson that horrible day when you lost everything

-You ran to her, holding her like she would drift away. You watched as abby made her way into sea

-You didn't even feel like going after her, you didn't want to lose the only other person you had left

-"I couldn't.... Joel..." She could hardly speak

-"I know ellie..." You whispered back, letting some tears escape you

- You helped get her cleaned up that night, staying in a abandoned house just so y'all could rest

-You wrapped her fingers up real well, doing everything in your power not to hurt her

-You could feel her eyes on you, looking at you like you were the only right thing in her life

-She couldn't bear losing you, if you were to have died she wouldn't want to live anymore

-"You know I'm glad you came with me. i really missed you" She spoke, watching as you wiped the blood off her hands

-"I missed you too ellie, i had to get used to you not being there....it felt weird." You admitted

-Ellie's heart fluttered, she was so in love with you in hurt

-"How was texas?" She asked

-"Lonely" You stated, wiping the blood off her hands. "It was just how they left it 25 years ago, everything was left untouched."

-She watched as you spoke, her eyes flipping to your eyes back to your mouth

-"Sarah's room looks exactly like mine back at Jackson '' You chuckled. "It's funny how similar we are yet we've never met."

-Ellie chuckled along with you, watching as your eyes began to water

-She knew you were only hurting yourself living there, holding on to a simple memory of a man who was so much more

-"I wonder if it hurt him to look at me.... if all he saw was sarah"

- Ellie could hear the tears you were holding back, causing ellie to get on your level, hoping down from the chair and on the floor with her

-Ellie took her bloody hand, placing it on your cheek. She wiped away stray tears, smearing your rosey cheeks with blood

-"No." She stated simply. "I bet he saw a woman with so much purpose, he would be so proud of you y/n."

-It was then, right then when you decided you were madly in love with Ellie williams. You always knew but you kept it hidden, but you couldn't keep it to yourself anymore

-You smashed your lips into hers, not caring about the clashing teeth or the surprised gasp coming from her

-It was at this moment you could let go, of everything

-"I have been waiting for this moment for years." She breathed out, giving a huge smile

-"me too..." You admitted, wanting to pull her into another one

-"why didn't you say anything?!?"

-"You tell me!!"

-"I could've been kissing your stupid face this entire time?!?"

-Even after almost getting murdered multiple times today, you guys are still your stupid selves

-Traveling back to jackson felt quick, days gone by like minutes

-This time the trip consisted of everything it used to but more makeout sessions and heated sex... obviously cause it's ellie

-off topic but the first y'all finally have sex omfg, ellie is so shy and awkward with it like seeing your boobies threw her off

-Anyways uhhh moving on

-When y'all finally got back to jackson, you knew you two would have to split back up again. I mean y'all started 2 different lives, you couldn't just leave that all behind.

-Ellie showed you around her house, allowing you to pet the sheep and horses

-It felt nice, better than in texas where you had no one

-it wasn't until you found joel's guitar he made for ellie that you remembered you have to go back to texas... or do you?

-"I now understand what the bill went through... I mean losing someone and then coming home to an empty house." You stated, running your fingers along the strings

-"Minus the crazy paranoid part... right?" She joked, coming up to you to set small kisses to your head

-You chuckled, you didn't want to end up like bill...alone or did you already become him

-The coldness of the house that you knew was once filled with laughter of the two who had once lived there, something you had tried to recreate but only failing

-Walking along the house filled with pictures of the two faces that should be here with you, would Sarah even want you a part of the picture or would she want to be the only child?

-"I want to let him go ellie...' You whispered. "I'm holding onto a life that was never mine....i sleep in his bed for god sake."

-Ellie brought you into a hug, staying silent so you could get it out

-Ellie knew what you were going through, she saw it every time you entered a room.

-Ellie thought about how much she missed you and how much it would hurt her if you left her again

-"You could always stay with me.." She spoke, seeing your futures flash in her head

-She could see you getting up and feeding the animals in only your bra and shorts

-She could see you pregnant with a kid, cooking up dinner for you and her... she isn't quite sure how that works but you can make it happen

-She could see nights spent making love underneath the stars

-She would kill for that life with you

-"Really??" You said, perking up almost immediately

-"Yeah I mean.... i'm beginning to feel like bill as well."

-You both laughed, you both were so fucking ready to settle down and be normal humans for a bit

-"I think I might like that." You smiled, pulling her into a kiss once again

[azritesx3]

First Real Friend - LM & F!Reader

Description: These common white sterile walls just became a bit brighter, thanks to the Devil.

Rating: G

Warnings: None

AN: A request from a friend of a friend! Hope you feel better soon, darling! Hospitals ain't no fun! Hopefully this 'lil Lucifer fic helps you out! PS: Sorry it’s so late!!!

Request: “...something fluffy, like the reader is in the hospital and she basically lives there because of a long term illness...Lucifer comes into her room by mistake once, while looking for Chloe’s room...he looks around and sees personal items in reader’s room and realizes she’s been there for quite a while, alone, her family isn’t great, and to her surprise he starts coming everyday. He brings her little gifts and sneaks in her favorite food, and basically he just makes her feel like someone cares about, but he learns that her own family doesn’t even come to see her.”

AO3 /// Wattpad

-------------------------------

Lucifer strolls through the hospital doors with a large bouquet of various flowers and a confident smile on his face. He feels...good. He's never had a feeling like this before, though he supposes saving a human life would be fairly different than any erratic drug or sex. This is a soul after all, and he's just so used to torturing and using souls.

He strolls down the halls and opens the door he was looking for--

And stops.

He's not in the Detective's room, that's for sure. Her room is a plain old boring hospital room. The room he's currently standing in the doorframe of almost looks like a normal bedroom.

The patient of the room looks up from their position on a large bean bag. She cocks an eyebrow up and marks the page she left on in her book with her finger:

"Wrong room?"

"Uh…" Lucifer is baffled for a quick moment before regaining his composure, "Yes! Terribly sorry!"

The patient smiles and returns to her book, which Lucifer takes as his leave. The next room he opens is the correct one this time. He places his superior flowers with the rest of the others, then sits in the uncomfortable metal chair next to the Detective's bed side.

Lucifer watches the Detective's peaceful sleeping face, thinking back on the short time they spent together. Soon the Detective stirs awake, the two have a short talk, and Lucifer leaves before catching a serious case of IBS at the family scene playing before him. 

Before leaving the hospital he stops for a minute in front of the mysterious patient's room that he intruded upon. He peeks through the slightly open blinds, taking in once more a room that looks more like a well lived in bedroom than a hospital room. He spots the patient now on her bed, sleeping. Peaceful...but…

"Hmm…"

-------------------------------

Three days later

You sit at your mini dining table, eating a hearty breakfast while watching some game show entertainment. Your hospital door opens while in the middle of a bite. You look up and stop chewing at the sight of the same strange man that opened your door by mistake a few days ago.

"Lost again, pal?" You ask after swallowing. Your face has an amused look again like before.

"No. I'm here to see you, in fact." The British man smiles, holding a similar looking bouquet as he had days ago. 

"Um," You're not sure what to think, "Why?"

The man huffs a laugh before strolling into the room, shutting the door behind him, "You've been on my mind for the past couple days, darling. Curiosity catches the Devil."

He places his flowers on top of a small dresser of yours nearest the window, then comes to stand next to you. He holds out his hand and smiles down at you, "Lucifer Morningstar, a pleasure."

You shake his warm hand with a smile of your own and introduce yourself. You motion to the chair across from you and he sits, "So, why is lil old me on your mind Mr. Morningstar?"

"Lucifer is fine, darling." He folds his hands together on your little eating table, "I've never seen a hospital room look like a bedroom before. Makes me think that you've been here for quite a while, and that's such a shame for such a beautiful young woman."

You sigh, like this is some kind of usual nuance for you, "Alright. Just tell me what article you're for and I'll answer your questions."

"Pardon?" Lucifer asks, confused.

"Your article?" You say pointedly, "Or whichever company my adoptive parents are trying to get in the good graces with?" When Lucifer continues to look at you puzzled, you stare at him quizzically, "That...is why you're really here isn't it? No one just decides to talk to some random hospital patient for fun."

"Well, I'm definitely not no one. I'm the Devil. Completely different spectrum."

"Uh huh...ok...totally not weird at all," you say skeptically, "So, why are you here, Lucifer?"

"Like I said before, curiosity. Is that...all right?" 

You stare him in the eyes, and the man looks genuine enough. Weird, but genuine.

"Sure, I guess. Not like I'm doing anything else." 

"Wonderful!" Lucifer's face instantly brightens up, and you can't help but notice his excitement and joy is contagious, "So, tell me about yourself darling, and I'll do the same!"

So, talk and talk you two did. All the way until visiting hours were long since over, and he was here in the morning!

You give him your background, a sad sap of a story. You're an abandoned baby. Left on the doorsteps of an orphanage. No information on your real parents or family. As you grew up the caretakers noticed how often you'd get sick, and how easy it was for you to get hurt. After many tests you're diagnosed with numerous things, causing a very weak immune system and fragile bones. Your caretakers believed no one would take you and you'd be stuck at the home forever. Fortunately for them, a rich couple came by and took pity on you. You thought you'd actually get a family, but that wasn't the case. This couple took you in to further increase their financing in their businesses and lives by using you as a charity. They taught you how to act and talk for the cameras and reporters, and you picked up on it quickly. 

Yeah, it wasn't the best kind of life. You didn't have a normal family, but at least you were alive. The loneliness sucked at times, but you figured that's a small price to pay for staying alive and having some kind of life. It's not like your rich parents didn't do anything with you. They cared, just...not in the normal sense.

Lucifer gave you his story too. His insane story. God, angels, wars, becoming the Devil. You were starting to think he was some preacher, who just really believed. But you humored him, for he and his stories were incredibly entertaining. And who knows, maybe it was all real.

Suffice to say after that first day together, you two became fast friends and Lucifer became a very frequent visitor. Sneaking in a variety of your favorite things, some...illegal things, and even just sneaking you out for a night on the town.

Your first real friend, and you his.

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[onenerdtwonagas]

((So I got the idea of an au where Orpheus and Uriah meet because the pantheon is still worshipped and occasionally, human tributes are offered. Whether it’s for pleasure or sacrifice is up to the deity in question. Uriah is forced into being his society’s offering. What does the god want with him?))

“Move it.”

Uriah stumbled as he was shoved forward, his wrists bound tightly in front of him. One of the elders pulled him along like a dog on a lead, the other prodding him from behind as the line of offerings to the god moved on. He hadn’t volunteered for this; they’d picked him to avoid sending one of their more ‘valuable’ members of their society.

‘What will it matter to the god?’ they had mused. ‘If a god wants a sacrifice or a plaything, it won’t make a difference whether they’re high born or not. They’ll be glad for a body either way.’

Uriah stared down at the ropes around his wrists, so tight they burned into his skin. He didn’t want to be there. He knew others volunteered for such positions, but he had no grand illusions of a being of higher power being interested in him beyond a ritual or base need, as the elders had surmised. He’d likely be dead by the following morning.

Maybe that was alright. Maybe, after years of endless work and abuse, death would be a peaceful release. Supposing the god didn’t want to make him suffer for it...

“Next.”

Perhaps if he remained calm and obedient, the god would grant him at least a quick and painless passing—

“Next!”

“Pay attention and move, wretch!”

He almost choked as the rope around his throat pulled tight, yanking him forward.

“What offering do you bring to the Night God?”

“A living tribute,” the leading elder answered.

A nymph with ethereally pale skin looked down at him. They seemed to contemplate the young man for a moment before sweeping an arm forward into the temple.

“The god will decide whether to accept your offering or not. Proceed.”

Uriah swallowed thickly as he was moved inside, lined up amongst other living tributes. Some wore ornate robes or jewels. Their skin and hair were pristine. Nobility. They scoffed down at him and turned up their noses, all seemingly assured they would be chosen instead. It didn’t matter much to him; either way, he resigned himself to one form of discomfort or another.

Nymphs lined the sides of the pillared hall, organizing the material offerings already given. Ornate fabrics, pelts of rare animals, jewels, precious metals, heavy tomes and so many other things that Uriah couldn’t identify. His gaze slowly traveled from the nymphs and their duties to the throne on the other end of the hall, and he felt a chill run through him.

There sat the night god, in all his splendor and strength. Orpheus, he was called. His powerful body looked so elegantly poised as he occupied his throne upon the tiered steps, his glistening scales draping over them and seeming endless in their length.

“Your living tributes, my lord,” a nymph announced to him.

The god peered down with his head propped up by one hand, cool, luminous eyes scanning every mortal that was presented before him. He didn’t seem to have a terribly strong interest in any one of them in particular—

The quiet of the hall was disturbed by a short yelp as Uriah was forced forward, stumbling to his knees.

“Kneel before your god, boy!”

“Quiet in the presence of our lord,” one of the god’s servants barked, but Orpheus held up a hand to silence him.

He rose from his throne and descended the stairs, his four clawed hands folded behind his back as he began a closer inspection. Yes, yes, they were all very pretty...but were any of them of any real substance? Was there something more to them than appearances? How many times had he picked a tribute for them to merely be greedy and vain? Too many. Far too many. In truth, he was tired of such offerings, but when people insisted on sending them...

He paused at the end of the line, looking down at a fragile-looking man on his knees and his head hung low. The elders shrank back as he lingered, his eyes flickering to them in a form of silent question.

“H-He was a servant to the scholars of our citadel, my lord,” one of them stammered. “We have no nobles to offer, but we hoped he would please you.”

Orpheus merely blinked at them, his face expressionless. They fidgeted and took another step back. His eyes slid to the ropes on the man’s neck and wrists. It seemed a little much; he wasn’t exactly built to fight, so preventing him from fleeing wouldn’t have been hard. Perhaps the men were simply cruel.

“You.”

Uriah flinched.

“Look at me.”

He trembled slightly, his gaze flickering up before his nerves overcame him and he stared back down at the stone floor. Star-speckled scales came into his field of vision as the end of the god’s tail slid across the floor and curled beneath his chin, lifting his head properly. It slithered up along the side of his face and pushed his hair back and away from his eyes.

“That’s better.”

Uriah winced, suddenly aware of the raw strength this being possessed. He stared up at the god in helpless silence, watching his eyes wander over him. The god’s vision lingered on his bindings once more, and Uriah let his gaze drop in shame.

“...You will do,” the god said quietly. Even so, his voice had a power of its own. As the other tributes began voicing their protest, the god snapped his head in their direction and growled. He glowered at them, eyes piercing.

“Silence. Leave.”

The god turned to his servants.

“I will take no more offerings today. See that the others are sent away.”

Uriah let out the air he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding in his lungs. The god chose him? Out of so many other more beautiful people?

The tail that had held his chin released him and instead curled loosely around the end of the rope tied to his neck. The god beckoned to him with a hand, but did not pull.

“Come with me.”

Uriah stared at him, hesitant. He glanced back over his shoulder as the nymphs ushered out the last of the other mortals. He was alone, left to whatever fate waited for him. The god didn’t speak, but repeated the gesture for Uriah to follow. He couldn’t very well disobey a god.

Uriah remained silent and did his best to avoid stepping too close to Orpheus’s tail as it wound along behind him through the halls of the temple. He tried not to let his mind wander, but that only made him more tense. It was ridiculous; he’d consoled himself with the idea of death not even an hour before. Why was he so afraid it then?

At last, the god led him into a room far away from the reception hall, quiet and unoccupied by any others, not even the god’s nymph servants. Uriah swallowed thickly as he briefly observed what he assumed was Orpheus’s personal chambers. He felt himself shaking as the god gestured to a flat stone near the wall.

“Sit.”

Uriah obeyed. The god watched him for a moment, then approached. He held the loose rope that hung from the man’s neck contemplatively, and then brought a second clawed hand close to his throat.

“W-Wait!”

The god froze and blinked at him, perplexed. Uriah stared up at him pleadingly.

“If... I-If you’re going to kill me, just—just please make it quick,” he stammered. “I-I’m not afraid of dying, but...I d-don’t want it to hurt...”

Orpheus continued to look at him blankly. Dumbfounded, even. The hand that hovered near Uriah’s throat remained still a moment more. It rose and stroked through Uriah’s hair, and down to rest against his cheek. Uriah squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a whimper, and then...

He felt the rope fall away from his throat. The god’s palm dropped from his face. Uriah hesitantly opened his eyes again, looking up at the god uncertainly.

“That’s one. Now, about these...”

Orpheus’s used two hands to cradle Uriah’s, the other pair feeling the knots for weak points. The human barely dared to breathe.

“You...Y-You’re not going to kill me?”

“Of course not. What in heaven’s name gave you that idea? Now hush. Let me get these off of you.”

“I-I don’t under—“

“Unless you fancy the idea of me accidentally cutting your wrist open and you bleeding out, dear one, quiet would be appreciated,” Orpheus sighed dryly. Uriah held his tongue.

The god’s claws deftly cut through the cords, one at a time, until the final binding slipped loose to the floor. Uriah felt relieved to no longer feel them digging into his skin, but the mildly bloody marks weren’t exactly pleasant to look at. Orpheus tutted.

“They had no need to be so cruel to you...”

Uriah inhaled sharply as his wounds were touched and instinctively pulled away, but Orpheus held him in place. He lowered himself and placed a hand over each wrist.

“Shhh. Be still.”

Whatever language he murmured, Uriah didn’t understand it. It flowed like water and whispered like the hissing of a serpent. It was soothing. Lyrical, almost. Orpheus moved his hands and bent his face down towards Uriah’s injuries, uttered several more lilting words, and kissed his skin. Uriah shivered as a chill ran through him, up from his injuries and to his core. The cuts in his wrists sealed themselves shut as both of them watched.

“W-W-What was th-that?” he asked through chattering teeth.

“Magic,” Orpheus answered simply, satisfied with his work and rising. He slid over to a massive pile of cushions and woven blankets, and tossed a few aside before deciding on a weaving made from bright threads and brought it to Uriah, draping it around his shoulders.

“The chill will wear off soon.”

Uriah grasped the edges of the blanket and pulled it tighter around himself as the god situated himself across from him, using his coils for a seat. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Orpheus watched in silence for a few moments.

“Now, what made you think I would kill you, hmm?”

Uriah fiddled with the fibers of the blanket.

“You may speak freely; I won’t harm you.”

“...Well, I-I know that’s w-what some gods want. S-Sacrifices,” he answered, still shivering. “A-And compared to the others, I-I-I’m not really much to...t-to look at, so... F-Figured that was the o-o-only use you’d h-have of me.”

Orpheus cocked his head.

“You sell yourself short. Perhaps I find you aesthetically pleasing. Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“N-N-No, my lord, I-I didn’t mean—“

“Orpheus.”

Uriah looked at him.

“You can call me by name, dear one. I give you permission.”

His smile was kind, and patient. Uriah felt the warmth of the blanket finally beginning to help. Still, he folded his arms around himself and tucked the blanket against him tightly.

“I-I’m just a servant. I n-never had any say.”

“Were you brought by force, then?”

The man nodded.

“I see.”

Orpheus thought in silence. He gazed at the bundled mortal across from him, taking in his freckled skin and red, curled hair, and his vibrant but gentle green eyes. There was a humble sincerity about him that was oddly endearing. He could see himself growing fond of this one, doting on him in ways he wasn’t used to... It had been an awfully long time since he’d had a companion.

“I don’t believe you told me your name, dear one?”

“Uriah.”

“Uriah,” Orpheus repeated, testing it on his tongue. A soft name. A sweet name.

“Well, Uriah, suppose I have an offer for you. I am not in need of sacrifices, but of company. I’ve been alone for some time, now, and as I haven’t found anyone new on my own, I thought that, perhaps, accepting tributes would be one way to do it.”

“Oh. That’s...something.”

Orpheus rose from his coils and knelt in front of him. But even lowered as he was, he still looked directly into Uriah’s face with ease. He placed a hand on the mortal’s knee.

“But I am no tyrant. I will not keep you here if you do not want to be here. Do you have a home you would like me to return you to?”

Uriah grimaced and shook his head.

“No. I was separated from my family some time ago.”

“My condolences.”

“You... You’d really want me here?” Uriah asked, looking at him with doubt. “I’m not sure I can offer you what you want. I-I don’t even know what a being like you would want with someone like me...”

Orpheus turned his hand over.

“Give me your hand, Uriah, so I can make a promise to you.”

Uriah’s hand wriggled free from the blanket and rested in Orpheus’s palm. He placed a second hand over the man’s, stroking the back of his hand with his fingertips.

“I promise that as long as you are here, as long as it pleases you, you will have every comfort. In exchange for your company, I will give you my protection and my affections. I will never harm you; if I touch you and you do not wish to be touched, I will stop. You’ll never need to fear me. I promise, on my honor as a god.”

Warmth rose to Uriah’s cheeks as Orpheus held his hand and stared up at him, soft and serious all at once. He hadn’t ever been offered even a fraction of what this god was giving him. His chest fluttered.

“If... If you really mean that, then... I’ll stay.”

Orpheus smiled and bent his head to kiss Uriah’s hand. The tingling left behind wasn’t the chill of magic, but pleasant warmth. The god rose and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Very well. I will inform my nymphs so they can prepare space for you. You’ll be needing new clothes as well, I can imagine.”

“Th-Thank you.”

His claws combed through Uriah’s hair once more, and he turned to go.

“Umm... O-Orpheus?”

“Yes?”

“I-I-I haven’t, uh, that is... I...haven’t ever been with a...a-a man...before,” Uriah stammered, his face burning. “W-With anyone, a-a-actually...”

The god blinked, and then smiled with a soft chuckle. The end of his tail curled playfully beneath Uriah’s jaw.

“All things in due time, dear one,” he said gently. “Let’s get to know one another first.”

[sayonarasanity]

windmill

this fic is based on the song Windmill by Lor (and I highly recommend you to listen to it while reading especially or later for it is an incredible song)

AO3

summary: Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

  Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

Windmill, are you still afraid of nothing?

Here is the thing about human life, it isn’t everlasting.

But what is? The world and each and everything within it are mundane. The day is doomed with the night, the sun is doomed with the moon, life is doomed with death, men are doomed with gravity. If something starts, then it is fated to end. It is a vicious circle, living that is. Waking up only to sleep again at night. Earning money only to spend it an hour later on a trouser which you thought was necessary but maybe it wasn’t. Cooking for hours and hours just so you can eat it in mere ten minutes because your body needs food so that you can keep on living, living and living.

Like a windmill, turning, turning and turning to the day when there is not even a breeze to swirl you and you are frozen, unspoken and rigid. 

And here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel. 

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

And he fell in love not like jumping to death from a high up building, piercing through the clouds. It wasn’t as quick as that. He fell in love as if he had jumped into a river. It was slow and it hurt during the process of acknowledging it. Like accepting the fact that you were dying. Yet, instead of fighting against it, he welcomed the embrace of the water like he welcomed his mother’s hold. He let the arms wrap around him firmly. Then gradually the snow cold changed to sunny warm and the heavy water he thought that choked him turned into fresh, light air. 

And he fell in love rather quietly, but he fell in love deep. Then his heart started to move and twirl with the wind. 

She was the whirlwind, and he was the windmill. She was wild, sturdy and destructive. When he waited motionless and steady for merely a breeze to touch his vane, she had brought him a storm. 

And he got carried away with it. 

“Why do you keep looking at that thing?” She asks one day when they are in his apartment and he stands in front of one of his shelves in the living room. 

“It’s a windmill,” he explains, taking his eyes away from the scale model of it to focus them on her. 

“I know that,” she says. The shelf is not that high, so she puts her hands on the edge of it and rests her chin on top of her hands. “I wonder if there is a specific meaning behind it.”

“Like what?”

She shrugs and blows, making the vanes of the windmill move slightly. “Like a memory or… a specific reason that only you know, but you don’t want anybody else to learn.”

He raises a brow. “Then why do you ask?”

“I am a curious one, you know,” she smirks. The afternoon sun highlights her eyes and plays with the colour of her short hair which ends just above her shoulders. Some strands of her brown hair shine a sweet red. It is tied slovenly behind with a little hairpin. “And I would like to learn about my boyfriend’s secrets.” 

Right, boyfriend. Apparently, by some miracle or a dice tossed by luck or during a single second in which God or whoever had a tiny pity on him or because of a good-hearted, gentle and humane ancestor of his she had loved him back. 

“There is no secret,” he looks back at the little maquette. There is really no secret behind it. He had made it himself about four or five years ago when he was still at college, studying architecture. It was just that with time it had gained a place more special and a meaning more solid and a presence heavier.

“Is that so?” she asks, raising her brows and smiling lips pressed, playfully. “Rest assured, I won’t get offended if it’s a gift from one of your earlier lovers.” 

“I don’t have earlier lovers,” he deadpans, glaring at her sideways. 

“What is it then?” She straightens and comes closer, dropping her chin on his shoulder. He spares a few seconds just staring at her inquisitive eyes, demanding answers. His heart beats calm, and he hears its pounds and feels its vibrations. Because of her…

Is the wind still your friend?

“I liken it to my heart,” he looks away, already regretting the words that left his mouth out of command.

There is a pause in the air and faint pink on his cheeks. “Oh,” she reacts at last.  

He cannot move his eyes to her this time, as the silence stretches like a furry, tired cat and it nerves him with each tick-tock he hears from the watch that is hung on the wall. It lasts so long that in the end, he shifts uncomfortably, and Hanji lifts her chin from his shoulder, her eyes, clouded and thoughtful behind her glasses, are focused on the windmill. 

“I see,” she says.

The next day she brings a propeller, almost the same size as the windmill and places it next to it. When she turns it on, the vanes of the scale model twirl slowly. 

Then she looks at Levi who is standing still and astonished. The wind howls in his ears, and his heart beats unsteady because it faces the same storm again. Vicious, wild and free.

And she smiles because she knows.

- 

Levi doesn’t exactly know or rather remember but they end up drunk as hell on one Saturday night. 

They are outside, stumbling together towards the coast road where benches are lined up side by side. The air smells like early summer, with newly blossoming flowers and salt. There is a full moon above the sea, and it reflects argent on the surface of the dark, tranquil water. People walk by every now and then and there are stray dogs and cats around. 

When they somehow manage to sit down on an empty bench, Hanji slips and puts her head on his lap facing the pitch-black sky. She giggles to herself as she watches the stars there are barely visible because of the city lights. “So pretty.”

“Hmm,” he approves, observing her relaxed features, coloured cheeks and the goofy grin on her face. 

“Hey, Hanji,” he rolls out of her tongue. He doesn’t even think or plan on what to say. The following words just stumble their ways out of his mouth. “You are—did you know that I couldn’t drink tea without some honey in it?”

She moves her eyes to his and giggles again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yes, I realized.”

“Oh,” he blinks as if it’s enough to scatter the clouds in his head. But— whatever. It doesn’t matter now. When he has the stars and moon above, the sea ahead and the girl he loves lying on his lap. “Don’t tell anyone. Nobody knows.”

She nods and draws an invisible zip on her mouth. 

“You know why?” He pushes her glasses up her nose. “The reason why I can’t… drink it without honey?”

Hanji lifts her shoulders up. “Because it tastes like piss without it?”

“Yes.” He is a little surprised at her guessing it right. 

“But Levi,” she laughs. “How do you know what piss tastes like?”

“I don’t—I just know.” He closes her mouth with his hand when her laughter keeps interrupting his sentences. “Shut up, idiot. You are ruining the moment.”

To his surprise, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and kisses his palm. He breathes and his stomach moves as if he was in a car and suddenly rode down a hill. She closes her eyes tightly once to indicate that she is listening. 

“Okay,” he goes on. “So, I can’t drink tea without honey because it tastes like piss.” He inhales, despite his drunken haze. He probably won’t even remember—or will he? How drunk is he anyway? Oh, well. Doesn’t matter. 

“That’s… how my life would be.” Miracles happen. While sober he would rather die than utter these words out loud. Maybe it’s a good thing that he is tanked up. Because she deserves to learn. “Without you.”

Her are eyes wide open, and Levi thinks there are galaxies hidden in them. He doesn’t know if there is anything that is infinite or a life that would last forever. Does  forever  even exist? Does the sky have an end or space a beginning? Humans are such incapable creatures. Cannot go back a day before or has no idea what will happen a second later. Hanji is a human being, flesh, bone, blood and a little too much brain, a little too many feelings, and sentiments. And she is not indefinite, at all. But somehow, she makes him feel like she is. 

“Levi,” she says, pulling his hand away from her mouth. Her eyes are still big behind her glasses and her cheeks are even redder than before. “Does this mean you’re going to call me honey from now on?”

And somehow, she manages to annoy him with every goddamn chance she gets.

He frowns and pushes her shoulder, almost making her fall down the bench. She is bursting with laughter in seconds and wraps her arms around his waist to secure herself and buries her face in his abdomen.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he announces coldly.

“You cannot break up with me. We are drunk.”

“I can. I just did.”

“No,” she groans and presses her face deeper in his stomach. 

“Let go, you ungrateful woman.”

“I caaan’t,” she whimpers. “Levi I—” The rest of her words are muffled; he cannot pick up their meaning and form a logical sentence in his mind. 

“What?” He asks, bending his head down.

“I said, I loppffhhhppp…” 

“I don’t understand what you are saying, Hanji.” He puts his hand on her shoulder to push her back. He is convinced at this point that she is not forming legible words, intentionally.

Unexpectedly, she withdraws and puts her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up. Then leans in to rest her head right beside his neck, nuzzling his skin. “We should go back,” she murmurs. “My place is closer.”  

Levi has no idea what time it is when they miraculously manage to enter her house after a taxi drive which felt like years. They take unsteady and clumsy steps inside the house until Levi finds a door of which room, he is unaware of. He only looks for something to lay down on, then catches the sight of a couch with the limited light provided through the half-drawn curtains. He throws himself to it, without even bothering to take his jacket off. He only kicks his shoes out of his feet and tosses until he finds a comfortable position to sleep. 

Hanji gets into the room a few seconds later. Levi watches her with half-lidded eyes and sees that she has a blanket in her hands. He frowns. How the hell had she had enough wits in her head to think of a blanket? But sleep weighs down on him incredibly heavy and so very unusually that he is almost scared to make it run away. He doesn’t have the strength the utter proper words at the moment anyway. 

Hanji lies down on his chest, covering them with the blanket. He automatically wraps his arms around her as she presses her forehead on his neck. She whines. “I hope I don’t throw up during the night.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he mutters. The clean freak inside of him is alarmed and screams with worry and dismay. He has no voice though. Just a wide mouth open in a silent yell and eyes filled with apprehension. 

“Would you break up with me if I did?” Hanji asks, and he feels her smile in her sleepy voice.

A moment of consideration. “No.”

She huffs out a drowsy chuckle. “Levi,” she murmurs and sighs. “I love, love, love you.”

Are you still afraid of something? Is it you who command?

“Idiot,” he says affectionately. The vanes of the windmill twirl ever so rapidly, and he considers how weird it is for his heart to beat, pound and feel for somebody else, for her only. “I love, love, love you too.”

-

The subway moves swift through the night and they are alone inside the compartment at this hour of the day. Levi watches their reflection on the window when Hanji takes a few photos with her phone. Grinning from ear to ear while Levi has a dead, worn-out look rooted deeply in his eyes. Travelling around the city to visit historical places, museums and parks within just one single day was the worst idea he had ever agreed to. He barely had the energy to merely sit.

“Gonna post these on Instagram,” she twitters happily, swinging left and right. 

“Don’t forget to announce my funeral,” Levi murmurs. 

Hanji snorts and locking her phone she puts it back in her pocket. Then she shifts and lies her head on his lap, staring up at him. 

“Why do you always lie on my lap in public places?” He asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs. “I enjoy the view above.”

“Tch.” One corner of his lips quivers and he moves his gaze up, looking at the window across from him again. This time he realizes that there is heavy rain outside, the raindrops tap furiously against the glass. “Shit,” he swears tiredly. “It’s raining.”

She follows his gaze. There isn’t much before they reach their stop. They are going to soak to their goddamn underwears. It had been sunny the whole day. Curse his luck.

“Alas!” she sighs, but she doesn’t sound much concerned. “Levi,” she says then, and when their gazes are locked again, she beams at him. “Would you kiss me under the rain?” 

He blinks down at her first, his heart stammering hard against his ribcage. His eyes examine her features carefully. “Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” she breaths. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Me neither.”

“How do you think it would be?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never done it before.”

Her smile widens to display her straight, white teeth. “We should try it.”

“Maybe.” He watches her lips. They are a sweet shade of pink and they look maddeningly soft. And he wants to taste them so very desperately. 

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to your chastity.”

His gaze travels up to her eyes. “I am sure.”

It is still pouring rain when they leave the subway. Hanji leads them through the streets, with her fingers around his. He licks the rain on his lips and squints to get a better view of her. He smells wet asphalt and trees and earth. The odour of the pine trees is evident despite the rain. The splashing drops bounce on the ground like they are dancing up and down, but they slow down until they stop under a streetlamp. 

“We should do it before the rain ends,” Hanji explains excitedly. As if what they were going to do wasn’t something basically everyone did but a life-changing, world-saving act of heroism. 

Her lips taste like rain and they are warm against his own. When her hands cling to the collars of his jacket, he cups her cheeks and tilts his head. Much to their unfortunate luck, the rain almost ceases, turns into a drizzle that barely had any function of wetting anything. She smiles, but Levi doesn’t pull back for a little longer. Holds her gently, keeps her close. 

Are you still afraid of the wind?

“Let’s dance,” she whispers against his lips. Her breath warm, her taste still on his tongue. 

“There is no song.” And the rain stopped already. 

She wraps an arm around his neck and holds one of his hands. He slides his other arm on her waist keeping up with her movements, while she   rests her forehead on his temple. “We don’t need a song.”

They start to move slowly, following the notes of a song that doesn’t exist. The wind is blowing still, quietly. If he listens carefully, he can hear the pitter patters of the water dropping down from the rooftops, and the soft sounds of the wheels of the cars rolling on the wet ground, a plane taking off, a man coming back from work, his rapid footsteps.  Tap, tap, tap.  And his heart, content like he is lying down on the grass, with breezes caressing his face, ruffling his hair ever so slightly. Watching how quietly the vanes turn on top of a hill.

Oh, windmill.

You’re a place where I can cry.

You’re a place where I can lie.

You’re a place where I can die. 

[rodeo-boots]

Tear me down and Take me Home

Rating: Teen and Up 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Javier Escuella

Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Fantasy, Merman Javier, Hurt/Comfort 

Warnings: mentioned Character Death

[check it out on AO3]

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Arthur was long used to silence, to nights that were deeper and darker than they had any right to be. He's been sailing his whole life, had seen more than most men his age ever would. But he's only believed half the things he's laid eyes on in his time.

This night, the sky was pitch black like he's never seen it before, the moon standing high upon the firmament, hidden by thin and harmless clouds. He used the stars for orientation, alone on his ship as he's been for a long time, abandoned by the people he's once called his family. They had left him, one after the other, had succumbed to illness or madness, had been taken from this life by force or misfortune.

It might be his influence that had tainted them all this time, that had cut so many existences short, and maybe, he was better off living in damnation as he did now.

He didn't mind it. Far from it. Arthur treasured the silence, found solace in the swaying of his ship and the movement of the waves. His entire life he's known nothing else, the ocean the only thing that stuck with him without fail.

Believe it or not, sometimes he left his ship behind, went ashore to stock up on provisions he couldn't obtain in the middle of nowhere, showing his weathered face to people who'd forget it in a heartbeat. He didn't have the luxury to linger, the blood in his veins telling him he needed to go back, itching and aching for the soothing motions of a hull above the bottomless sea.

There was a time he's been terrified of it, though Arthur couldn't remember much of that period. Back when he's been picked up, merely a dirtied and starving kid from the streets. He had despised the ocean then, had asked to return to shore even though Dutch reassured him of his safety, spending the nights crying and wailing because he was scared of what lurked beneath his feet.

Arthur had gone on land not too long ago, walking up the same path he's once known by heart, entering the dingy tavern Dutch and Hosea had frequented most. It had been almost comforting, the stench of the drink and of heavy tobacco smoke, the music filtering into his ears.

He had met a man, gray and scarred and grumpy, little different from himself. The stranger had lots of stories to tell, had nursed a drink in his hand while glancing up at Arthur with his one healthy eye, the other focused on a place up on the ceiling.

"You know the most dangerous of 'em all, boy?" He had asked, well into his tales already, though Arthur hadn't paid too close attention. The man's voice was hardly audible above the overall noise. Arthur had given him a grunt, almost curiously, looking up from the rum in his own hands. "Mermaids." The way he'd voiced it sure made it seem like the man has never met anything more repulsive and despicable in his life. But Arthur knew that his story was nothing but balderdash in the first place.

For some reason, he could remember the conversation still. The words never having left his mind entirely.

Soulless, heartless monsters these are. Luring sailors to the riffs, takin' pleasure in watching 'em crash and drown.

He hadn't bought into it before, his many strange encounters never having involved mythical fairy-tale creatures. The only dangers in the world were man-made. The only monster man himself.

It had been Dutch's philosophy, but Arthur still lived by it. He had never forgotten the things the man had taught him, even if he had left him a long time ago. Even though he'd exchanged his loyalty for gold.

Arthur stepped towards the wheel, glancing up at the stars to make sure he stayed on trail, though where it led him, he wasn't too sure about. There was no place he wanted to be, nothing he really wanted to see, craving the loneliness and emptiness in the middle of the ocean more than anything.

As he slightly changed course, however, an unexpected tune made him slow in his movements. Usually, the nights at sea remained quieter than the days, both fish and seagulls disappearing the moment the sun sunk below the line of the horizon.

It was odd to hear anything other than the rushing of the waves, more so when it sounded like a person was making those mournful sounds.

His legs led him closer to the railing, Arthur squinting his eyes to see through the darkness. He was getting closer to the sound, to the singing, or wailing or crying, words shaped in a language he couldn't understand, in a voice that sounded more like a harp than anything human.

Oh, they're pretty, make no mistake. Angelic, some call 'em. But that only makes them more dangerous.

He couldn't believe his eyes. A sliver of moonlight illuminated a rock within the water, and atop that rock – sat a creature.

Arthur had never bought into the many fairy-tales, into the fiddle-faddle even Hosea had used to like so much. Stories of the many wonders in life had never interested him, the magic of it lost when it came to things he couldn't understand nor grasp. He had experienced his share of suffering, of misery and pain, unwilling to believe that it could co-exist with the likes of fairies, angels, mermaids.

Right now, he wasn't sure if he was waking or sleeping, if maybe he would awaken in a cold sweat minutes from now, staring up at the ceiling of his empty cabin. It had to be his imagination, the loneliness finally getting to him and inducing images that simply weren't there. He had always thought such tales to come of crazed men after all and maybe finally, his own mind was starting to break from the long days and nights he'd been on his own – but the singing... he was sure his brain could never think up anything like it.

The creature was nestled on top of the stone, a naked human torso with two arms, a head upon it's shoulders with long dark hair. It appeared so much like a person, though Arthur had no way to ignore the tail, the shimmering scales that reflected the moonlight in colors he couldn't describe, colors he had no name for.

Silence soon spread over the area. And all Arthur could think about were the reverberations of that ethereal voice.

Why did they stop? He thought, unable to voice his words as his eyes tried to find the creature's – the man's, he had to remind himself. This wasn't some magical being.

"Are you lost?" the stranger didn't open his mouth to speak, the sound of his voice dancing through Arthur's brain.

Is it that obvious? he thought to himself, earning himself a laugh, clear and chiming like a bell, a startled breath escaping his chest. His tongue darted out to lick his cracked lips, dry from the salt-water splashing upwards constantly, from the sun burning down on him day in and out.

"Don't be afraid," the voice was in his head again, Arthur taking a step away from the railing, moving back to the wheel to hold it, to hold something. It had began turning all on it's own before, seemingly bringing him closer to the cliffs. Though he didn't know if it might've been him who's given it that impulse.

They get into your head, and infest it like a disease. They know what you fear, what you need to hear. Believin' a single word they say would be your downfall.

But Arthur was falling already, had been for a long time, yearning for nothing else but a comfortable place to land. "You deserve a break." He heard water splashing and as soon as he turned his head, the creature was gone from it's place – the man nowhere to be seen, Arthur rushing over to the railing almost desperately.

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it, rubbing at his eyes before taking a deep breath. The water glistened innocently under the illumination of the moon.

For years, he's been alone without feeling lonely, has lived on despite the emptiness that had taken over him. He had done well in forgetting Dutch and Hosea, his family, his brothers, his own father and the woman he had once loved. Neither of them had needed him and now, he didn't need them anymore. There was a certain heaviness to his heart, either way, a weight that seemed to pull him down, melancholy overcoming him like never before.

His eyes focused, and the man was back, closer this time. Arthur caught a glimpse of his tail moving beneath the pitch black water, the scales glinting in violet and blue – in many more shades he couldn't decipher.

"What's– your name?" He asked, dumbly, seeing eye to eye with this creature that was more beautiful than any human he's laid eyes on before. His skin was dark, bronze, his eyes deep as the ocean he was living in. He had scars, pain behind the depth of his gaze. Just like Arthur did.

He didn't want to remember the old pirate's words but he couldn't help himself.

Once they got their eyes on you, you've lost. 'Cause they see inside you, and find that weak little soul you keep locked away - and they suck it outta you with one look alone.

How could that be true if the man in front of him was looking at him like this? So honestly, affectionately... like no one else ever had.

"Javier," this time he'd opened his mouth to speak, Arthur's hands clinging tighter to the railing. The man smiled at him, reaching up and out of the water. His fingers were cold where they held onto Arthur's. But they were undeniably human; freezing like the ocean, but without claws or webbing between them.

"Aren't you– afraid of me?" Was what left Arthur's mouth next, his voice in disbelief that a creature as fragile and beautiful would be willing to touch him. His hands had been drenched in too much blood already, had killed and hurt, had broken families apart for his own benefit.

Big brown and bottomless eyes focused on him, and he felt ready to drown within them. "Why would I need to be afraid?" It seemed as though the man couldn't see into his soul after all, unaware of the rottenness within. "You won't hurt me," he continued, certain of that fact, his fingers clasping Arthur's a little tighter.

No, I wouldn't do that, he thought, catching the quirk of Javier's lips at his unspoken words.

Don't think they'd show mercy. All they want is to pull you down into the depths.

But maybe, he didn't deserve mercy in the first place. Since Arthur's purpose in this world was long forgotten, what difference would it make where he was? The presence of this man made him feel safe, warm, at home. And whether he believed in him or not, he couldn't deny that he was right in front of him now. Offering him a way out.

He gazed down at him, the melody from before flooding his ears again, turning his lids heavy and tired. His limbs started to feel like they weren't one with his body, though he still couldn't let go of the railing.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, unsure where the words had come from, the song in his head reawakening the sadness of his mind. "I want–" he wanted to stay with him, with this fairy-tale creature, wanted to fall with him and let go of the pain he's caused before.

Yet again, he didn't need to open his mouth for Javier to understand, his cold hands lifting to hold onto Arthur's face, pulling him down. "I'm not gonna leave." He brought their lips together, and Arthur could feel himself turning lighter, weightless, drifting for a moment until his body broke through the surface of the pitch black water.

Arthur didn't hear the splashing, didn't feel the cold or how his clothes grew soaked. His guns would be useless by the time he resurfaced, but it didn't matter, because he was kissing this man and they were falling together – deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea.

Faintly, he remembered the old sailor again, though his image swam before his eyes.

And no matter what they make you believe, they aren't capable of love. They'll mourn after they've drowned you, but no grief is strong enough to keep them from doin' it again.

[maple-syrup-goblin]

@tarly-the-bitch

(some of you might like the tags up here, sorry

suicide, gore, depression, murder, ect)

Imagine:

You just broke up with your s/o, your heart is in shambles. Just to wake up, you need to lift the weights of your sorrows, regrets, and the deep gap within your soul.

It's a normal, terrible day. The sky is gray, it's been that way ever since they left you. Despite your unwillingness, the drive for food forces your body through your house, out of the door, and to your bike.

You mindlessly ride to a store. Any store will do. As you look to the sky and realize it's getting dark, and you are slpashed with shock when you notice that you've arrived in the next city over.

You push on as the pit in your stomach grows as deep as the pit in your heart. Your eyes fly to a bright sign of a small grocery store on the outskirts of the city. You place your bike on the outside of the shop and enter warily.

You grab whatever your hand seems to be attracted to. You end up grabbing a load of junk with dull, meaningless lables. As you near the counter you peer down to a worried face.

"Um, sir? You don't look too well." her wide eyes stare at you as she says faintly.

"I just biked from the small town over, I'm just tired." you reply, dead as ever.

"Really? That's a long way. If you need a place to stay, I could let you rest at my home." she suggests.

"Ah, thank you very much." you muster a weak sign of gratitude.

"My shift ends soon so, you shouldn't have to wait long!" she states excitedly.

You finish paying and wait on the bench outside. Filling your stomach with some of the garbage you bought, your head becomes a little less foggy. As you wait, the sun sets and your grow cold. Just as you huddle, the girl bursts out like a little bundle of energy.

"Whew! I can't wait to get home!" she exclaims with a wide smile. Just then, in that moment, you see her with clear vision. Her cute sweater, short hair, and smooth skin. Just that sight brings you more joy than you've felt in the past month. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"My car is this way," she states, "but we'll have to leave your bike here for the night. My car is too tiny to fit your bike."

"Oh! That's alright. I'll get it tomorrow." you reply.

As you walk toward her car, she glances at you and questions, "So, what's your name?"

"Oh, I'm y/n. What's yours?" you ask.

"You didn't catch it on my name tag?" she quips with a smirk. Although you feel like that was ment to poke fun at you, a you can feel is joy. "It's Ambrosia, you can call me Am though." she explaines.

You ride in her car for a short while before arriving at a cute house, completely dark from inside to out. The tiny home is beautiful even if you can't see it well in the starlight. As you walk in the door, she turns on the lights to reveal a neat and comfy place of living.

"Sorry, it's a little small. But now that we're here, would you like something to eat?" she asks kindly. Although you ate before you got here, you haven't had any good food for months and you crave to know what her cooking tastes like.

"I'd love something to eat, what do you have?" you speak joyfully.

"Oh it's not that simple! I'll make us a surprise!" she plays. Her positive attitude leaves you trembling with happiness. As she starts to cook, she demands that you stay out of the kitchen so that it remains a surprise.

You look around her home and see few family photos and many little decorative trinkets. The smell from the kitchen lures you to it as she announces that she's done.

"Allright, let's get to eating!" she announces. "Also, I don't have to work tomorrow so... would you like something to drink?"

It's been a while since you've had a meal this luxurious with a nice drink to go with it. "I'd love to." you respond as she pulls out a full bottle of whiskey.

"I don't do this too often so let's celebrate!" she says as she hold the bottle to the sky. The two of you begin to eat and enjoy your time together. Looking into her eyes feels like standing in a cool summer's breeze. You can imagine the sensation of your hand on her cheek.

You continue to eat and drink as your ability to hold back your feelings becomes frail. The slightest drop of romance could melt you and, she takes notice.

"You know, I'm the only one here. You don't have to hide anything." she states drunkenly. You feel as if your soul has become whole again. You no longer feel pain or sorrow. All you can think about is her adorable lips.

The two of you head toward the living room when suddenly, she stumbles. Falling into you arms, she looks up into your eyes. "You just might have to carry me!" she laughs.

You comply, and pick her up. You feel her squishy thighs in your arms and your hand grabs her chest. Holding her in your arms has put things into perspective. Although she's a tad short, her beauty is unmatched in your heart.

You carry her to her bedroom and set her down. Once she regains her balance, she uses all the force in her body to fling off her clothes. Your drunken mind follows suit and you remove what's keeping her from your body.

The mutual excitement brews a love so stong that it lats for hours. She's lucky she doesn't have to work in the morning.

You grasp her arms and lay her to the bed as you pummel her as hard as you can. Her poor little bead makes cries of help as you recklessly destroy her insides. The absolute bliss you feel is more fulfilling than anything you've ever felt.

She gasps as you continue, she looks beet red with pleasure. You begin to slow so this can last a while longer. You use your hands to toy with ever part of her imaginable. Her squishy breasts, tender thighs, and soft cheeks all run past your grasp.

"Please, please, harder!" she demands, "play with me, play with me! I'll be your toy to make you happy!" she cries with tears of bliss. You continue, harder than you have ever before. You grasp her boobs and fondle them with force.

She lets out one last moan of pleasure and holds you tight. "Thank you." she wispers. Your tiredness catches up to you and you fall asleep with your bodies intertwined.

You've slept better than you ever have before. You wake up to the sight of her soft lips and are instantly filled with the pleasure you felt before. Her small body seems so fragile in your grasp. She's so tender, and vulnerable.

Although you were filled with joy, your heart snaps back to how it was tbe morning prior. You stare at her, blankly. As she awakes, her eyes flutter open and her lips form a smile.

"I love you y/n" she barely musters. As she states this, you realize that she was able to fill you with joy she can do it again. You kiss her passionately and feel between her legs.

Her eyes fill with shock at your sudden movements but she can't say no, you've filled her mouth with her tongue. Her fragile body under your control fills you with the feeling of power. A power you've only felt the day before.

You start to rough her up. Using unnecessary amounts of force. She starts to cry but she wanted to be your toy right? Did she lie to you? Just like you s/o did back then. You can't stand liars. You can't stand her.

You trow her to the ground in a fit of rage, as her cries grow. Noting she says matters now, she'll just leave you like your s/o did. She's just like her, a liar and garbage. You top her and bite her throat with the strength of a lion. You claw at her soft skin and tear her insides up with the most massive rage boner any man could hope to amass.

She can't speak anymore, all you hear is muffled screaming and gurgles. You imagine doing this to your s/o and get up. A job like this requires special tools.

You retrieve a knife from the kitchen, her eyes contort into a deep fear. As you plunge the knife between her breasts. You slice her down to her belly and continue with your hands. You reach inside her and pull everything out. All the love, all the joy, you believe it is yours now.

Her eyes fade and her tears stop flowing. You continue to use her as a toy and fill her with your semen. Since there's no chance of a child, you fill her vagina with your semen in the most satisfying way you could have ever conceived.

You keep her face looking pretty, but with her throat destroyed you decide to ruin it a little more. You flip yourself and shove your dick into her throat however, it quickly reaches where you've crushed it. You press on and slip your cock deeper and experience the tightest grip you'll ever feel.

You assault her lower lips with your raging tongue to get a taste of your prey, your toy, you little meatbag of happiness. Rubbing her ass, you finnish in her adorable little mouth. And find yourself calming.

You cleave her head off to keep it as a physical memory of the last time you'll ever feel joy. You cry as you realize you've ruined your toy. What are you saying? Your toy? You realize that you've become a monster.

She's much more deserving of a life than you ever were. And you took that. You walk out of the house with your hand on her scalp. Or what's left of her you monster. You steal her keys and drive home. You monster.

Every time you look at what's left of her. All you can think is, "you monster" and you are. You are a monster, a horrible human being. If that. Your tears flood your vision. You know you'll never be happy again. You are worthless. But you feel what's left of Am isn't.

You arrive home and place her head on your table. Her lifeless eyes stare at you. You pleasure yourself one last time before ending your life just as you ended hers.

You grab a knife from your kitchen. You place the tip to your chest. You take a deep breath and plunge the blade into your heart. Letting your rage guide your hand. "You monster, you are worth nothing" you repeat in your head, "How can anyone love me now? Why would anyone care? S/o doesn't, Am doesn't, your family doesn't."

When you're done, you look just like her. A pile of blood and meat on the floor. The physical pain amounts to nothing compared to the disappointment you feel in yourself.

You feel warm, your sight glows red even with your eyes closed. Where have you found yourself?

[lugialagia]

Painful lesson

Summary : As a punishment for his attack on Midgard, Loki is sent on that same planet to learn how humans lifes are fragile and precious. Tony decides to make him visit patient in a hospital. Loki truly didn’t expect to go out of this with a broken heart.

Pairing : Loki x reader (3rd person)

Words : 2,566

TW! : diseases, leukaemia, death.

This was a big day for Loki. The Prince had been taken to the dungeons right after his arrest on Midgard, and Odin ordered to lock him in a cell while he was thinking of a proper punishment. The King and his other son, Thor, talked together about said punishment and came to an agreement. Loki will be sent to Midgard, stripped of his powers, to make amends for the trouble he caused. To learn how Midgardian’s life was precious.  

He now stood in the Stark Tower while Tony and Thor were talking about him like he wasn’t here. Not that he minded it. Thor was arguing the fact that his brother couldn’t be taken by SHIELD or thrown in a cell. His punishment was to live among humans.  

Tony then had an idea. “You’re gonna pay a visit to patients at the hospital.” Loki shook his head to pulled out of his thoughts now that he was addressed at. “And what shall I do there?” He almost sighed. Tony leant back on the couch, staring at the God in front of him. “I want you to stay with them, talk to them, help them, distract them. I want you to see how life isn’t easy for ‘mortals’.” He quoted. “Some have small injuries, some have biggest that could change their life. And some must live with diseases. You’re gonna learn everything with their own stories.” 

Loki huffed but nodded still. Even if he doesn’t want to, he didn’t have a word to say. Tony led him to his room, where he would stay during his punishment. He didn’t want the God to run around in the city so at least here, he -and Jarvis- could have an eye on him.  

The next day, Jarvis woke Loki up early in the morning. With a groan, he rolled out of the bed and prepared for his first day on Midgard. When he stepped out of the room, Tony was already waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “C’mon Reindeer Games, get a smile on your face for your first day.” Loki rolled his eyes. How could he smile when he didn’t want to be here in the first place?  

Tony led him to one of his cars and drove him to the nearest hospital. Once inside, they got to the third floor where Tony tried to find the head nurse he contacted for this job. They greeted, Loki with a ‘I really don’t want to be here’ look, and the nurse thanked Tony for trusting her. “I’m gonna pick you up at 5’. Be good and don’t cause trouble.” He warned Loki before heading out. Loki grumbled something under his breath and looked at the nurse for more explaination.  

“So, you will go to these rooms.” She said while holding out a piece a paper. “And all you have to do is talk to them or help them if they ask for something. One hour per person.” Loki took the paper and looked at it. There were at least 8 names on it. He sighed and nodded. “Alright...I guess I should start now.” The nurse nodded. “If you need something or have question you can wait in here.” She said while pointing to a door. “I’ll come by eventually.”  

Loki then made his way to the first door. Room B809. He knocked, because he was polite after all, and walked in. There, in the bed, was a man, probably in his mid twenties. He looked up at the door and wasn’t even surprised by Loki's presence. Loki frowned at the lack of expression on the man's face. He expected to be yeld at or simply for him to be afraid.  

The God walked closer and saw the right side of his face was burned out. Whatever caused this made it good. Loki hold out his hand, wanted to be as nice as possible so maybe, just maybe, Stark would end his punishment soon. “I am Loki, but I think you already know me.”  

The man looked at his hand and gave him his left hand instead of his right. “Jonathan. And yes, I do know you.” Loki was confused as to why the mortal was giving him his left hand. Did he already made a mistake? Jonathan saw the confusion in the God's eyes. “I would have liked to give you my other hand but...I don't have any.” He said while pushing down the blanket off his body.  

Loki made a small face of distaste when he saw that he didn’t have anything past his shoulder. “I apologise. I was not aware of this.” Jonathan dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “It’s okay. They told me you should learn everything by yourself.” Loki let out a small ‘oh’ and sat on the chair next to the bed.  

Since he was here to talk with the patients, he asked Jonathan what happened to him. It was the simplest question. The man told him that a grenade exploded not far from him when he was on the battlefield in another country. His arm was ripped off and all his right side was burnt. This man was a warrior. Well, at least for Asgard. If he was Aesir, he would have been treated like one.  

Surprisingly, the talk between the two was easy. Loki tried to not be his usual cold self -just because he wanted to get out of his punishment as fast as possible- but he was feeling strangely good with Jonathan. And the hour went by really quick. Loki stood up and made his way to the door, looking at his list and heading to the next room.  

There, he found an old lady with Alzheimer. He didn’t know any of it, what it was. The name was scribbled on the paper, and it was the only thing added on the list, but it didn’t give him any idea to know what it was. The woman had no idea of who he was and somewhat, he was glad. Loki talked with her and handed her water glasses, changed the channel of the tv, and while they were talking, the lady just kind of forgot what they were talking about and even forgot who he was. Confused, he told his name once again and tried to talk a bit more with her. When he left the room, he rubbed his hand on his face. So she had some kind of memory loss? At least, that’s what he concluded.  

He then moved through the list, visiting other men and women, all suffering from different kind of diseases. Loki even saw a child. He was barely seven and couldn’t walk because of a problem in his spine. The God felt a pang in his heart. How can a small child be striked by such a huge burden? Again, he was a mortal. Asgardians couldn’t suffer from this kind of things. Loki made sure the kid was good. He was gentle and soft, they talked about his favourite things at school, what he liked to do at home. Loki even read a book with him. After an hour, he left the child who was smiling brightly at him, saying that he hopped Loki would come back. And that made him feel something. He smiled at the kid and nodded, promising he would visit him soon again.  

The last patient on the list and he would be free. Until tomorrow. The God made his way to the door and entered the room. There lied a woman, probably the same age as Jonathan, or maybe a bit older, she smiled softly when the door opened. Loki could tell she was very weak and he wondered what kind of problem she had. He presented himself and she did the same. “Y/N.. It’s nice to see new faces.” Somehow, that drawn a smile on his lips as he sat next to the bed. “So, may I ask why you are here?” He asked gently. Y/N looked at him sadly. “I have leukaemia. I’m going through radiotherapy for now and I’m on the waiting list.” Loki frowned, not knowing what she was talking about at all. Of course, she saw the confusion written on his face and she explained everything.  

After a lot of explaining -because Loki loved to learn new things- they started to talk about lighter subjects. He was feeling very at ease with Y/N, her way to be wasn’t repelling him and that was surprising.   At the end of the hour, Loki needed to go back to Tony, who was waiting for him in front of the hospital. Of course, the genius started to ask questions about his day, if he were good and all of that, but the God didn’t reply, preferring to stay quiet and walk back to his room once they arrived at the tower. The whole evening, he couldn’t help but to think about Y/N even if it was very strange for him to think about someone else than himself or his mother. * * * The next day, Loki grumbled when Tony left him in front of the hospital. But this childish attitude was wiped out when he saw Y/N name on the list among new ones. So it was with a light, barely visible smile, that he started his day.   During the afternoon, Y/N heard a knock on her door and smiled when she saw the ravenette. “Hey Loki, nice to see you back today.” she greeted with a smile. “Pleasure is mine.” he replied as he sat next to her bed. “I wanted to ask you, what kind of magic you can do?” Y/N asked curiously. “Ah, well. A lot of things. Short teleportation, illusion, spells, shields, energy flux, summoning objects...” Loki started to explain. Of course, Y/N was intrigued by all this, her eyes already sparkling with interest. “I want to see!” she exclaimed like a child in front of a magician. This surprised Loki, but he happily complied, glad to finally find someone that was liking his magic abilities.   They spent the whole hour like this, Loki just showing his talent. Every time, Y/N was watching with the same glitter in her eyes and the God liked to watch into her gaze. For once, he had someone that was looking at him, and him alone. It felt good to finally be adored for being himself, for possessing magic. Something that wasn’t well seen on Asgard –at least for men. Because men were supposed to be strong and fight with honor. Magic was considered as a way to cheat, it was supposed to be used only to heal or to grow plants, not to fight in a war.   * * * Days passed and Loki came to see Y/N for the first few days, but then, her name wasn’t on the list anymore. He wanted to pass by and talk for a bit, but he couldn’t, he didn’t have time with his schedule. Then, after a week of not seeing her, he finally saw her name on his list. Suddenly, his day felt less horrible. When he came into Y/N room, he had a smile plastered on his face. But it soon faded away when he saw her face. She definitely didn’t feel any better, it was worse.  

“Hey Loki. I finally get to see you.” Y/N smiled a bit. “I asked the nurse for you because honestly, I miss our talk.” Loki felt a real pang in his heart. She had missed him. Him. No wait, it was their conversation. But it still meant that in was him, right? Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the God sat on the chair next to her bed. “I also miss our talk.” he admitted. “You don’t seem to be better.” he then stated sadly. Y/N sighed and shook a bit her head. “I’ve done a lot of exams and radiotherapy. I’m exhausted and they’re also giving me more medicine.”  

Loki looked at her sadly but Y/N decided to change the mood and ask more question about the God. So they talked the whole hour, both of them almost forgetting Y/N actual state. When Loki left, they felt lighter, just a bit, because they saw each other, but they mostly were sad. Y/N because she wanted Loki to stay, and Loki because Y/N wasn’t feeling better.  

***

The next days were the same, once they got to see each other, the next they wouldn’t. Loki also liked a lot the kid he had seen the first day. He was so demanding and Loki loved to show you new tricks or read to him. But his favorite patient still was Y/N.  

The more the days passed, the more they grew close. They had a lot in common and their conversation were easy, like they knew each other for years. And the more they were close, the more it was hard for Loki to go back to the tower. And Tony could saw it. He could see the change, the sadness in his eyes, even if the God always kept a straight face, but the man never said anything.  

***  

Weeks passed and Y/N health was getting worse. Loki didn’t like this. Didn’t like to see her like this. She had started chemotherapy and it was making her weaker and weaker each time Loki was visiting her. But it was needed to try and erase this leukaemia. He saw her hair falling little by little but Loki still found her beautiful and he reminded her. Even with all this, Y/N still kept smiling, because the ravenette was here with her.   After some more time, Y/N couldn’t even move without it hurting too much. She was terribly weak and the chemotherapy didn’t seem to work well. Still, Loki tried to cheer her up, to be there for her when he could and she was definitely glad for that.  

Until one day, she couldn’t even look at the God. She felt her body giving up the battle. Loki was his usual self, but it was even painful to speak. So she listened to the sound of his voice and let herself relax. “Y/N? Are you still with me?” he asked softly, looking at her with concern. She could only whisper at this point. “Come here.” she demanded. Loki bent over the bed and placed his ear next to her mouth. “I love you.” Y/N murmured. Shocked by her words, Loki froze but the moment after, his lips were on hers, kissing her softly, showing her that her feeling were shared. When he pulled away, she murmured the words back to her...but it was too late. The woman passed during this loving moment. The God didn’t understand at first why she wasn’t reopening her eyes or why she wouldn’t say anything. But then, then he was blank. He held her hand and stared at her beautiful face for the rest of the hour. Until he was ushered out of the room. That day, when Tony came to bring Loki back to the tower, he could see something was off. He didn’t even manage to say the whole question, that Loki was already crying in his arms. Tony whispered that he was sorry and hugged him back. “I have learnt my lesson.” Loki sobbed into his neck.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 4 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous Parts: Masterlist

Summary: Vampire (bite) aftercare, Nandor tries to pretend like he doesn’t want to fuck you, you bond with Guillermo!!, and the gang gets an invitation!

A/N: GUYS! You’re so nice to me with all these comments and asks!! You keep me going! I hope you like this chapter. I didn’t mean for it to be the Guillermo slumber party chapter, but here we are.

Warnings: Reader described as short and plays roller derby, vampire/human relationships, blood drinking, smut (in other chapters), power differential

---

Nandor lays you down on the towels and picks up the tube of antibiotic cream on your nightstand. He wrinkles his nose as he unscrews the cap.

“This ointment is putrid,” he grumbles, but he squirts some out onto his fingers anyways and gently applies it to the wounds on your neck. 

Whatever remaining energy you had following the feeding seems to have bled away with your makeout session because you can barely keep your eyes open now. The antibiotic stings a bit but you’re grateful for the attention and feeling a little light-headed and delirious--which surely accounts for the way you nuzzle your face against Nandor’s forearm as he tends to the wound.

“There, all better,” he proclaims as he places a large band-aid on your neck. He sits there for a moment, fidgeting awkwardly with his cape before abruptly standing. “I will tell Guillermo to bring you some of your electrolyte drink.”

---

“It seems the human wants to do the sex with me,” Nandor leans into the camera conspiratorially. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Humans have always been attracted to my dark power but…”

He grimaces in distaste and shakes his head, “I’ve never seen the appeal. Vampire/Human relationships? I mean...why? They die--either you eat them or they get old and gross…”

Nandor pauses at a muffled question from behind the camera.

He shrugs and knits his brows together, “Why would it be different with this human?”

“[Unintelligible]...out of your way not to kill her…”

“Yes, because of her virgin blood!” Nandor exclaims, enunciating his words condescendingly. “Why would I do the sex with her? Then she wouldn’t taste good anymore. Sex with humans is more trouble than it’s worth. They’re weak...fragile...they have to breathe. Where is the fun?”

Nandor reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses to call out, “Guillermo!”

“Yes, master?” Guillermo pops out of his closet-bedroom and goes to the vampire’s side at once.

“I’ve just fed from the mortal. Bring her the Gatorade beverage and a snack. She’s very weak,” Nandor commands.

“Right away, master,” Guillermo does a little half bow and turns to leave.

Nandor puts out a hand to stop him, “She likes the blue flavor. Make sure you get the right one.”

Guillermo shoots a shocked look directly into the camera. When was the last time Nandor ever recalled a little detail like that about him?

Guillermo scurries away and Nandor rearranges his cape, making ready to leave for the evening. He catches the camera guy staring at him with a knowing smirk.

“What?!”

---

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you murmur after a sip of Gatorade. You have no idea what the proper treatment for blood loss is, but a snack is always nice. Maybe you should start taking iron supplements? 

Guillermo goes to leave but you stop him.

“Will you...stay with me for a little while?” you ask feeling unaccountably timid. “I feel gross and I don’t want to be by myself…”

Guillermo looks like he’s torn but he finally sighs and walks back over to you, perching awkwardly beside you on the bed.

“Sure, I’ll stay for a bit,” he says and you give him a toothy grin.

You turn on your side to face him, snuggling up under the covers and giving yourself some major slumber party vibes. You’re finally going to bond with Guillermo! He’s sitting rigidly up against the headboard and you have to swallow a laugh.

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you try to imbue your sincere gratitude into the words. “And...I’m sorry if you feel like I’m coming between you and Nandor. I don’t mean to…”

Guillermo lets out a long sigh, “It’s not your fault. He’s always been distant with me and I’m just...surprised to see him being so nice to another human.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “I’m still not convinced he isn’t planning on draining me dry one of these nights…”

Guillermo scoffs and shakes his head, “I don’t think so, Smash. I mean...he seems to care about you?”

The thought gives you a secret thrill that you try to ignore. Having feelings for a vampire--that’s pretty much the closest thing to a death wish you can imagine. But you find yourself raising your fingers to your lips and recalling the press of his mouth on yours. You look up to see the sad look on Guillermo’s face and it squeezes your heart.

“Hey… I’m sure Nandor cares about you, too,” you offer. You’re trying to come up with something to say to cheer him up when your brain backtracks and processes his words, “Hey! Did you just call me my derby name!?”

Guillermo blushes adorably and stammers, “Oh--uh, yeah? Is that okay? Or is it only for other skaters to use?”

You can’t help it, he’s such a teddy bear, you reach out and squeeze his arm in a hug.

“No, it’s great! Oh my god, Guillermo, we’re really gonna be friends, aren’t we!?” you gush.

“I guess so…hey, can I ask you something?” Guillermo scoots down the bed so that he’s laying on the pillow next to yours and facing you. Slumber party vibes!

“Shoot,” you reply.

“What’s it like?” he pauses and darts his eyes away from yours before looking back at you. “When he bites you?”

Your lips twist into a crooked smile and your turn your face into the pillow to hide with an embarrassed squeak. The bite and the making out are all jumbled together in your stupid human brain. Was it painful? Sexy? Hot? Horrifying? All of that, yes.

“It’s…” you struggle for words. “Intimate. You’re very close and he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong, you couldn’t struggle away from him if you tried. But you don’t...try. Because his eyes are so dark and intense and...gorgeous and they’re focused just on you. And then he puts his mouth on your neck and for a second it’s like a kiss but then he bites and it hurts. But his lips are still on you and his hands. He puts his hand on your head to support you and you feel kind of...taken care of? While he’s--uh--you know, drinking your blood. You worry that he’ll go too far and forget to stop but then you’re floating and happy and you don’t care anymore if he stops or not. But he does. And his lips are red with your blood but they still look so soft and--and...uh. And, uh, that’s pretty much it.”

Guillermo’s staring at you with his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Have you--did you two--? Smash!”

You’re burning with embarrassment and you stumble over your words, “What? No! We haven’t...well--not much. But--would it be bad if we did?”

In this moment Guillermo looks like nothing so much as a concerned older brother and you want to melt a little. 

“It’s...I don’t know?” he shrugs but his eyes are a little frantic. “Vampires are very, very...sexual beings. And you’re a virgin--which they love for, uh, other reasons but...I’m just a little worried you might be in over your head.”

You sigh and try to suppress your natural instinct to be defensive. You are in over your head. You’re living in a vampire house as a live-in blood donor. 

“So, you and Nandor have never…?” it’s a question you’ve been asking yourself since you first met Guillermo.

He smiles slightly and shakes his head, “No. We’re not--that’s not what our relationship is about. I care about Nandor, of course. And there was a time that I felt more but...I’ve let it go.”

You frown at his answer, “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to cause any drama…”

“Really, Smash. Nandor’s my... friend--even if he has a funny way of showing it most of the time. That’s all.”

Your eyes are feeling heavy and you yawn into your elbow before you answer, “Alright...if you’re sure.”

“But are you sure?” he quips, arching one brow. 

You let out a long sigh and shrug your shoulders.

“Hey...you want me to tell you what’s it like kissing Nandor?”

He giggles and rolls his eyes, “You shouldn’t kiss and tell.”

“What’s the fun in that?!”

---

“Nandor! Hey--come here you big donkey!” Nadja hisses from the upstairs hallway. 

She draws him over to your bedroom doorway and pokes her head inside, “Look at these adorable, baby humans, Nandor!”

You and Guillermo are asleep, curled up like shrimp side-by-side on your bed. Guillermo’s glasses are askew on his face and there’s a pool of drool on your pillow beneath your open mouth.

“Aren’t they precious?” Nadja croons. “I just want to chomp their little limbs right off.”

Nandor’s eyes flick from you to Guillermo and he stays in the doorway long after Nadja drifts back downstairs.

“Sweet dreams, my humans,” he whispers.

---

“Attention, everyone! I have some very exciting news to share this evening,” Nandor stands by the fireplace with Guillermo flanking him on his right brandishing a postcard-sized piece of mail in his hands.

You’re sitting sandwiched between Nadja and Laszlo on the long couch and Colin Robinson is sitting in an armchair with a newspaper folded on his lap. Nadja takes your hand in both of hers and holds it on her lap and you let your head fall on her shoulder. You’ve enjoyed falling into friendship with her even if you’re pretty sure she sometimes thinks of you as some kind of human baby doll to play with. 

“Nadja!” Nandor exclaims with a stamp of his heavy-booted foot. “How many times do I tell you to leave my human alone?”

“Nandor!” you shout in annoyance. “Nadja’s like my vampire mommy. Leave her alone!”

Guillermo’s eyes are wide with anxiety and he flicks his gaze from his Master to Nadja.

“Yes, Nandor. I’m her dear mama,” Nadja taunts and makes a show of baring her fangs and clawing her fingers over your head as if she’s about to bite you. “Chill out, donkey brain.”

Nandor presses his lips together in annoyance. Rather than reply to Nadja he turns on you, “You’re being very disrespectful to me, human. And I’m noting it. It’s being noted!”

Maybe it’s Nadja’s presence that boosts your confidence or maybe it’s the memory of Guillermo telling you you’d be out of your depth with a vampire lover. But you want to prove that you can play on their level. You smile up at Nandor and bat your eyes.

“I guess you’ll have to punish me then…” you say with false innocence. You catch Guillermo’s expression in the corner of your eyes and he looks like he’s having a coronary. 

“Oh, you saucy minx!” Nadja praises.

“Shall I get the cat’o’nine tails from the attic?” Laszlo pipes in.

Nandor looks totally unamused. He narrows his eyes at you with a storm cloud gathering on his brow.

“Enough foolishness! I have an announcement. Guillermo, the letter,” Nandor turns to his Familiar and takes the paper from his hands. “We have been invited…to a vampire rave!”

“Oh, goody!” Nadja claps her hands together.

“Drug blood!” Laszlo cries in exultation. 

Even Colin Robinson perks up.

“What’s a vampire rave?” you ask smiling in curiosity. You’re getting excited just from the others’ enthusiasm.

Laszlo answers, “It’s like a human rave only with vampires. We feed off the humans and get high ourselves. It’s great fun.”

“Uh, okay, but we all remember what happened the last time you guys drank drug blood,” Guillermo’s warns.

“Oh, shut up, Guillermo!,” Nandor flicks his wrist at him. “It would have been fine if you were a little more careful.”

Guillermo looks like he’s about to make a retort but Nandor talks over him, “It’s tomorrow night at an abandoned Circuit City across town! We’re all going to have a great time! Except...for you.”

Nandor looks down his nose at you and you whine, “Me!? Why can’t I go?”

Nadja joins your cause, “Nandor, why can’t we take the little human with us? She will be fine. If any vampire tries to attack her she will do the hip-check on them.”

“You’ve disrespected me in front of the other roommates!” Nandor admonishes. “This is the consequence. You can’t come. You’re not invited.”

You stand, walking up to Nandor and poking your finger in his chest as you proclaim, “You’re being very mean to me. And I’m noting it!”

You storm out before he can respond. You hear Laszlo’s voice as you jog up the stairs.

“Are you going to let her get away with that kind of behavior!?”

Nandor holds out his hands helplessly, “She’s gone! She’s gotten away with it!”

---

“Human!” Nadja hisses a whisper as she creeps into your bedroom later that night. “Human! Wake up!”

You roll over in bed to find her looming above you. You can see her wickedly sharp fangs to full affect and you gulp down the instinct to shriek.

“Nadja?” your voice comes out full of gravel.

“Don’t worry my little roller warrior. I’m taking you to the vampire rave tomorrow! We can’t let that stupid piece of snake ruin our fun!”

---

A/N: Is my Nadja crush showing???

Tags-- let me know if you’d like to be added to the tags!

@festering-queen​ @glitterportrait​ @kandomeresbitch​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​

[ramblingkat]

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke

Prompt: Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured

I blame the UraIchi server. On general principle

Head aching, ears ringing, and an aching throb that spread across his back. The body lying twisted in a most uncomfortable position, having been thrown across a room. Kisuke knew the signs of an explosion. A part of his mind was trying to pick apart what could have caused the explosion this time. The rest was trying to process the world around him. How long had he been out, and was anything on fire? 

Something was laying on him, and he shifted to push off something heavy. It felt wooden, and Kisuke thought it might be part of the table. He needed to invest in lighter furniture. Then he registered that something was digging painfully into his chest. That was a potential danger, and he forced an eye open to see what it was. That hurt as well, dust making his eye itch as he tried to focus on….

Ichigo. 

That sudden recollection that Ichigo had been in his lab with him made him bolt upright, ignoring the way it made him ache, a flash of pain stealing his breath for a moment. He had flung himself at the other when he realized that his experiment was about to go up. Ichigo, in his fragile, -human- body. Gigai were designed to be tougher than regular human forms, even if they were modeled off them. If the explosion made Kisuke ache….

Ignoring his own pains, he checked on Ichigo, who was breathing, which was a relief. That was one thing off Kisuke’s nightmare list gone. The other stirred a bit as Kisuke checked his pulse, finding it there, steady and slow.

Closing his eyes in relief, Kisuke started the rest of his checks. No real damage to the ribs and he smiled at Ichigo as his partner opened dazed eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice rough, then turned to cough against his shoulder. There was too much dust in the air. It was making it hard to breathe. 

“Wha’ hap’n,” Ichigo slurred, looking up at Kisuke with eyes that were more dazed than he liked. Kisuke ran gentle hands through Ichigo’s hair so he could check the skull. A million horrible possibilities were flashing through his mind, and he rather hated his brain at moments like this. The wall had stopped their momentum, and neither of them was light. He couldn’t focus enough to properly do any diagnostic kaido, but he was pretty sure that nasty knot he just found was the result of Ichigo hitting the wall first. 

His chest felt tight at the idea, and he coughed again. That sent his back muscles into a spasm and pain shot through them. His back burned, but he didn’t feel the telltale sensation of blood, so Kisuke ignored it for now. 

He ran his fingers down the back of Ichigo’s neck. “Can you feel your hands and legs?” he asked, panting lightly as he tried to get a good look at Ichigo’s eyes. They seemed like the pupils were equal. But it was hard to tell when Ichigo kept looking around, not focusing on Kisuke. That distraction he didn’t like either. He was used to Ichigo being focused. 

After a moment, Ichigo seemed to register the question and nodded, fingers wiggling as he did. “What happened?” he asked again, words much clearer this time. The sense of relief nearly staggered Kisuke. He was light-headed from it and had to put a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over from the sensation. 

“Explosion,” he said, coughing again as his chest protesting the talking. It was getting harder to breathe. He should get Ichigo out of here as soon as he confirmed that his spine was fine. Who knew what chemicals were lingering. “Dust in the air, be careful.” 

Ichigo’s eyes finally seemed to snap into focus, fixing on Kisuke. He shifted, moved to sit up, but Kisuke put a hand on his chest. “Hold still,” he said, words short as he tried to catch his breath from the last fit of coughing. Ichigo ignored him, still trying to move. 

“Kisuke, are you okay?”

That was a silly question. He had been the one to wake up first. If they should be concerned about anyone, it was the person who had been unconscious longer. “I’m fine. Just….” He trailed off into another fit of coughing, pain spiking through him again. 

One particularly violent cough sent his vision white, and then everything sliding sideways into a hazy grey. 

He could hear Ichigo talking, but it was as if from a distance, and Kisuke was trying hard to focus on breathing. It hurt, and he couldn’t think clear enough on why that was. All he could do was focus on that. After a few moments, he felt something prodding at where his back ached the most, and that got a flare of pain so strong that his brain retreated more from it. 

***

Ichigo knew that hanging out with Kisuke in a lab was a dangerous proposition. Though, usually, it was more in the line of “does touching this feel weird” sort of dangerous than explosion dangerous. But Tessai and Ururu were at a movie they’d been excited about and had dragged Jinta along with them. So it was the chance to have some nice quiet time with Kisuke. Ichigo liked the others, but they could pop up at the most...inconvenient times. 

Ichigo was happy that Yoruichi didn’t live here as well. He’d never get the chance to have sex with Kisuke if she did. That troll would make a game out of interrupting.

Explosions were now his least favorite interruption. He’d been watching with interest when Kisuke had jerked, then twisted and flung himself at Ichigo. Then the world had gone up in a flash of weird violet flames and he had seen half the table come at them before he had made contact with the wall.

Kisuke was looking grey when Ichigo had opened his eyes. It was really hard to focus, thoughts scattered and not wanting to come together. But he knew that grey was not the right color for Kisuke. Not that sort of grey.

His brain wondered when Kisuke had gotten bluish lipstick, and that was a horrible color for him. A random thought, but he knew it was important as well. That was what had snapped him back into focus, yanked all his wandering thoughts into line.

Then Kisuke had started to cough, face going pale under the grey. He gasped for air, slumping sideways.

Ichigo moved, bolting up and ignoring the way that made his head swim. He knew that sensation and dismissed it. A light concussion, but that was all. Yes, he knew he shouldn’t dismiss that, but Kisuke was struggling to breathe. 

“Kisuke,” he said, trying to get the other to wake up. He was looking the other for injuries, but when the other sagged, he focused on making sure the other kept breathing. He was, even if it was in short little gasps, and then Ichigo had called a professional. This was far outside his abilities, and it hurt to think.

Digging his phone out, Ichigo hit a number he rarely touched. 

“Dad,” he said, interrupting Isshin’s boisterous greeting. “Kisuke’s hurt.”

***

A hand in his. 

That was the first awareness that came back to him. Kisuke could feel the fingers laced with his. A familiar hand and he wondered why Ichigo was holding his hand like that. The grip was tight, and he could feel the agitation in the other’s reiatsu. 

He was on his stomach, and he could feel the warmth of kaido against his back. “Stay still,” came a familiar voice, and Kisuke blinked as he realized that Isshin was healing him. Hadn’t seen the other use kaido before, though he knew that Isshin had probably been trained. “You are both idiots.”

Ah, serious Isshin. It must have been quite serious damage. How had Kisuke missed that?

He opened his eyes and glanced up to meet Ichigo’s scowl. Ah, yes. That was how. 

Taking a breath to ask, he was cut off before he could start. “Don’t talk,” came the next order, even as Kisuke opened his mouth to ask how Ichigo was. “Ichigo is fine, other than you giving him a heart attack. I dealt with his concussion already. And now I’m fixing your ribs after I already fixed the punctured lung they gave you.”

He sounded annoyed, and Kisuke wondered just had nasty it had been to drive Isshin so far out of his normal behavior pattern. It usually took quite serious injuries to get that particular tone from him. 

The hand holding his squeezed, and he looked at Ichigo and smiled. He got a weak smiled back, and then Isshin sat back. 

“You need to take it easy it a few days,” he said. “Your reiatsu will finish the healing, and you just need some time to recover.” Isshin sounded annoyed. “Maybe have less explosions around my son.”

“Dad,” Ichigo muttered, rolling his eyes, helping Kisuke sit up. Though he didn’t move away from Kisuke until the older man took a few deeper breaths. Then Kisuke reached up to run his fingers gently though Ichigo’s hair. He didn’t feel the knot on Ichigo’s head anymore and that made him feel better. 

“Ah, Kurosaki-san, you’ve been spending time with Ishida-san,” Kisuke said, carefully as his chest ached. “You sound just like him.”

Isshin huffed at him. Then he stood. “I’m going, as I don’t need to see what Ichigo does next,” he said, sounding cheerful as he ignored Ichigo’s mortified “DAD!” “But I’m sure it’s going to involve looking you over. Seriously, don’t make me come back to help heal you again.”

Kisuke smiled at him. “Kurosaki-san. Get out of our home.”

There was a snort from Isshin, but he did leave, and Ichigo grumbled faintly. He curled forward and rested his head against Kisuke’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to me again,” Ichigo said softly, winding his arms around Kisuke and clung to him. Kisuke was still taking careful breaths, but he did return the hug. 

They could move in a bit. Right now, he just hugged Ichigo close and enjoyed the fact they were both still alive.

[songzhong]

How does a God fall in love ?

Although he was given many titles which would put him in people’s mind above mortals, the man known as Rex Lapis was still a man. Before he was called such a name. Before he was called Morax. As he ascended the mountains of Liyue with his dearest friend at his side, he was called Zhongli. And certain plains were proof of that. And, above all else, he was a man.

Zhongli’s knowledge of mortals’ emotions is mostly learned. Analytical, as he has a hard time relating to them. This, however, doesn’t mean that he himself cannot live those emotions, although in the way of an adepti. This conflict, this aspect of him that is out-of-touch, is simply due to the gap between adepti and human perception... a bridge Zhongli is more than willing to cross, for he yearns to finally live for himself the life she wanted to protect, and kept singing of their beauty and fragile nature.

Ch―no, Ajax, was never seen, initially, for Zhongli, as more than Tartaglia Childe. Not that he didn’t know about the young harbinger―part of his good relationship with the Tsaritsa was the polite yet open communication between the two of them, and their mutual understanding of one another. Zhongli was quick to know about the young man who would be coming to Liyue, and the praise she’d speak of him.

A brash young adult, who smelled of the depths of Khaenri’ah he hadn’t felt since 500 years ago, hiding his weaknesses behind oozing charisma and cunning choice of words. A talented warrior and capable leader, easily misunderstood by how tightly compartmentalize the aspects of him were.

Zhongli was always one to be professional before anything else. And any show of friendliness Childe showed was taken as simply a quirk of his personality, as the man was quite expressive, never dared to be too serious in his conversations. This was only his attitude towards work, or so the archon thought. The truth was, despite having an acceptable diplomatic relationship with the Tsaritsa, the Northern Bank was abusing the people of Liyue with their loans, and the Tsaritsa wished to raise hell as Zhongli could only protect his home per their contract. The weight behind their affiliation, to the consultant, didn’t give any place for anything more than two men who understood one another’s position and obligations, even if they were to clash.

There was no place for anything personal.

Or so Zhongli thought. Never did Zhongli expect the year they had spent together to have meant so much more to Childe, as he expressed through his anger and frustration after the discovery that the consul was, in fact, the Geo archon. ... Childe didn’t only surprise him by his raw skills and versatility, despite being a handful, now he was surprising him with what looked like... genuine feelings ? It felt impossible for Zhongli. How could their silent agreement be more if... nothing had been said about it ? He was so confused, and his surprise kept being refreshed over and over again as he pondered upon it. If Childe truly thought they were friends, without the arm’s length distance of their profession... how could he handle such tension between the two of them and not fall apart ? Once more... this young man kept breaking his expectations apart, doing as he pleased... the Tsaritsa may have not said how much of a handful he would be.

The two of them continued to spend time together. Even Zhongli’s subsequent crushing of a whole rebel faction of the treasure hoarders didn’t phase him, much less the bloodbath of their fighting. Even as Childe showed something akin to despair and ecstasy, the archon only saw a child throwing a tantrum, irrational emotions which were only on the short term, as this rascal could never start to think about the long term of most matters, their consequences. It looked like that, whenever he could, he would do as he pleased. What got under Zhongli’s skin the most... is that he knew that this young man brimming with potential could do so much, had the absolute intelligence and abilities to do so much... and yet, his emotions would take over, and his impatience and brashness would mostly guide his decisions. Truly, the very definition of trouble. 

The archon’s opinion wouldn’t change, although by his learned knowledge on emotions, he wouldn’t be insensitive, and consider Childe’s feelings as being partly genuine―validate them, support him and do his best to bring out the best outcome. They did spend a significant amount of time together, and shared certain personal details on one another, atop of their mutual respect―such diplomatic friendship held their own weight in mora.

And Zhongli was willing to humor the thought of it. Have some bits of friendly rapports here and there, as men. Part of showing his dragon form to Childe was alongside this line of thought. To let the young man indulge, see where he would take it. And, constantly so, test if those feelings Childe claimed to have for him were real.

But have him be a true friend ? The way he did his old companions ? The traveler ? There was no place for anything personal.

... or so he thought.

He didn’t expect a kiss at all. Because of what it meant. What it would mean for someone of Childe’s age, position and situation. Kissing was intimate, romantic, meaningful. And given the harbinger’s inexperience, Zhongli didn’t see him as one to play around with others in this aspect―on the contrary, it added even more to the surprise because the man looked more like the type to be looking for a sparring partner than a romantic one.

He was deciding between respecting Childe’s desires and reply in kind of his own or gently push him back and remind him of their positions, but before the consultant who normally could make a decision so easily in any situation could remotely pick, the younger was gone. And Zhongli was only left with a thousand questions, towards both this person and himself.

Thinking that Childe was leaving as the only explanation for such rash behavior was stupid. Blinded by his own confusion, and yet his mortal heart couldn’t find anything else, clouding his rational thoughts. If he was able to shed any tears, he might have upon learning that Childe was not leaving Liyue for good. The flood of relief had been like one he hadn’t felt since he had witnessed how Liyue could handle itself without him. But it was Zhongli we were talking about. He didn’t dare show the extent of his feelings, and would only process them on his own. During and after the confrontation.

And just like that, for days and days afterwards, there was only one person in his thoughts.

Maybe Childe didn’t mean any feelings towards him, but the evidence kept piling up against it. Before he knew it, the archon’s heart was trapped, feeling the emotions he hypothesized were in the harbinger, and no sight of him was remotely the same. It didn’t help how, since their bloodied duel after he had given away his gnosis, the two of them had grown noticeably closer. The lack of the usual distance between them was enough to have the consultant suddenly unsure of anything, constantly questioning what he or Childe was remotely feeling.

And the way he felt at the eventuality that this man’s loyalty fell onto a future of violence and death, atop of Liyue being the place he didn’t belong to never left him since that day. The words of 5th Harbinger still echoing in Zhongli’s mind at such a time :

“One can trust him, but one ought not get too attached. He has unusual tastes when it comes to combat ― the encounters he craves the most being those that bring him closest to his own demise.”

Those words kept stacking again and again on this rainy day where in the midst of adrenaline, he was so angered at him, and the way this young man kissed him like one would to someone they wanted to spend a significant amount of their lives with.

But those were only suppositions, why did he kept pondering on it ? How could this person smile and cherish so much yet be so careless about their own safety ? ... how could a single mortal be so full of love for so many things, so many people, and yet have such strength as to not be scared of their own mortality ? It didn’t make sense...

... why was this dread towards this type of selfless, yet individualistically driven by their own wants person so incredibly familiar ? The same ideal to take over the world and reshape it, with this incredible force of will fueling from the ones they cared for most ?

Zhongli’s fingers stopped fiddling with the puzzle in his hand, hovering above his hand as he still tried to open it, the dumbbell softly glowing from his geo manipulations, the scent of glaze lilies still subtly emanating from it after all these years, even as this particular kind had been gone for millennia.

... what would her wisdom tell him to do ? He knew the answer... and, somehow, for a man who didn’t hold any grudge, he hated it. Because, in the horizon, the same pain was to come. And yet, with it, the potential of the happiest he could ever be.

Would he ever have the chance to show this mortal what he would have done if he hadn’t walked away while he was too struck with doubt to follow the very mortal doctrines of the heart he had told himself to follow ?

And people said he was a wise man. When he couldn’t even express properly to someone he had fallen for them.

[an-annyeoing-writer]

Chanyeøl x Reader: homini lupus.

Word count: ~3,2 k

Genre: dark, supernatural

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and injury

I’m actually thinking of writing this for some other members. There are some minor events that weren’t explained and I’d like to refer to them in other fics. We’ll see!

Homo homini lupus est.

You didn’t know how long you spent in the same position. Your back ached, you were cold, and the migraine wouldn’t leave you in the last few hours at least, ever since you lost the remaining willingness to move. You tried to walk around the small space at least once in a while to keep your body warmer, and yourself – saner. But it didn’t work, and you felt hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. 

The space was small, but you knew it wasn’t meant to be a prison; more like a pantry, considering shelves along the walls, although empty. 

Sometimes, you heard noises. People walked right behind the locked door, ignoring that you sat there in complete darkness, starving, unable to cry for help any longer. You wished someone would come here just to keep you company, or at least tell you what was going on. But no one did – you were kept here like an animal hunted down, caught and then kept alive until it’d be needed dead. Although it’d at least be given water and food to stay healthy until its time came, and you didn’t have even that much. 

You thought you’d pass out when the doorknob moved slightly; you couldn’t see it, but you heard the faint noise and your face snapped up.

“Let me out” you whispered; your throat was dry, your voice hoarse, as if it didn’t belong to you at all. But you stumbled to your feet, pushing forward and falling against the door next moment, slamming your weak fists against the wood even as the noises on the other side dulled out. You cried out incoherently.

And suddenly, something slammed against the door from the other side, making you jump back. You shook, barely standing on your own feet, as the lock was removed on the other side and the door opened, letting in light that blinded you in an instant.

“Why can’t you just keep quiet?” the voice spoke even before you saw the man in front of you clearly.

“I-I heard a sound…” you whimpered.

“I just tripped, don’t think too much. God, can’t you even be quiet for a second?” You kept quiet, though; you waited for your eyes to adjust, and finally, you made out the silhouette in front of you, a man with one hand still on the doorknob and the other holding onto his side. You didn’t see the exact colors yet, but there was a darker stain on the side of his face, one you confused with a shadow at first, but as you soon realized, wasn’t one. 

“Are you hurt?” you whispered.

He snorted. 

“Still stronger than you, no doubt. Stay where you fucking are.”

“I-I can help” you offered.

“I don’t think so, you can barely stand.” He moved to close the door back and, almost instantly, let out a groan, leaning against the door frame for support. You didn’t hesitate before reaching to him; anything to get out of here, no matter how dangerous the world outside could be with him around. 

His immediate reaction was to push you away and you landed on the cold ground, miraculously not letting out a pained sound. 

He stared at you for a short moment, as if rethinking his previous statement.

“Follow me. Don’t slack off. If you can stand up, that is.”

You didn’t know if you could. But the will to get out of this small space turned out way stronger than all the aches and fear gathered in your fragile body. So you ran after him, trying to remember at least some of the passing surroundings, but in the end, able only to walk behind the man who captured you, hoping that he won’t pass out in the middle of the hall – mainly because if anyone was to find you two like this, your explanations would be quite unreliable without his testimony.

Although maybe, just maybe, it’d give you a chance to escape? 

Probably only if no one else was in the house; you wondered how big the building was, but it seemed cozy, closer to a summer house than a mansion, so it shouldn’t be too big. You didn’t change the floor, but you saw some stairs in the distance. You moved into a cozy bedroom and the man motioned you to wait in the middle, walking to the door in the corner, which, as you saw from your perspective, was a bathroom. He came back soon with a small box – first aid kit. 

He threw the box at you, and you barely managed to grab it; at least these few minutes of stretching your bones helped a little with your migraine, and you didn’t feel as dead as before. In fact, literally the opposite – you felt a rush of adrenaline that urged you to move as the man sat on his bed and exhaled heavily. You looked at him more closely. Although he was holding his side earlier, there was no visible injures there. Maybe some bruises under the jacket, you thought.

The only one was on his face. Blood poured from under his closed eyelid, and it was a scary sight. There was a cut over the bridge of his nose too, but it didn’t look half as threatening. 

The man looked at you with his one, dark eye.

“What happened to you?” you asked. He must have calmed down by now, because he didn’t yell anymore, his posture didn’t look half as intimidating as before. He didn’t say a word as you moved a chair to sit next to the bed and open the first aid kit. You didn’t know, what to do. Shouldn’t he wash his face first?

“I was robbed” he announced.

“What kind of robbery leaves wounds like this?” you huffed.

“It wasn’t a robbery. I was stolen from” he clarified, although, in fact, it didn’t clarify much.

“What do you mean? What did they take?”

“Can’t you tell?” His one eye bored into you as the two of you stared at each other for a few moments.

“Oh.” Who’d do something like this… And what for? 

The man seemed amused.

“They’d gladly take you, too, if they knew you’re here.”

“Who?” 

You completely forgot about what you were here for, simply listening to him, first aid kit left on the mattress. 

“People who don’t like what we are.” This reply didn’t explain much. The man huffed. “You don’t need to know the details.”

“You just said they’re after me, too. Who are they? I need to know more.” You were focused on getting the information out of him. It was not an easy task, you had a feeling you were unlucky enough to meet the stubborn one. 

“It’s none of your business.” 

You huffed with annoyance, picking up a bandage roll from the box and throwing it at him. You stood up and started pacing around the room. As if your head wasn’t already overwhelmed, you had even more questions than before. Nothing had been cleared out, nothing at all. 

“Then why do you keep me here? It sounds like you couldn’t care less about my well-being, then why bother?”

“Don’t be mistaken” the man spoke louder. “I couldn’t care less about you, but I don’t want them getting any stronger. I won’t let them put their hands on you until they’re all dead.”

“How many is all, then?”

“Seven” he answered without hesitation. “Six of which I’m going to kill.”

“And the one?”

“If I kill him, I die, too.” The grin on his face made it clear that he was sincerely amused with making you even more confused than you already were. 

“I don’t understand” you admitted.

“You don’t need to. Just stay where you are, could you?” he shrugged. From the box, he took out some pills and took two, but it didn’t seem like he’d do anything about his eye. 

“What about your…?” you hesitated, briefly pointing at his head.

He shrugged.

“I’ll get a new one, no big deal.”

Just who was he? You had way too many questions. Your fear dissolved a little, especially after finding out he was not as hostile as he seemed at first; interest appeared instead. 

He looked up at you with his one eye and scrunched his nose. 

“You’re useless here. Go back to the pantry.”

You glanced at him, not too happy with the perspective.

“Can I use the bathroom at least?”

He shrugged.

“Do what you want. You’ll die if you try to get out, so in your own favor, don’t.” 

“What do you mean?”

“We’re two hundreds miles from the nearest town, and it’s the middle of winter. We’re not gonna kill you, but it doesn’t mean we’re gonna care if you die. If you go, you’ll freeze to death or starve before they find you. So we won’t care.”

“That’s cruel.”

“Maybe. But we have enough of our own problems to worry about.”

“Can I get food?”

“Do what you want.”

So you did. Maybe it’d earn you a bit more chance to get information out of others who were here. Or maybe it’d just make it a bit more bearable, if you could live normally at least. 

You came to a conclusion that there’s nothing more humanizing than a warm shower.

* * *

You slept on the sofa in the living room of the house. It was a spacious building, as you discovered. A few rooms were locked and no one ever entered them – one of the men shared that they belonged to those who passed away. It scared you to realize that death was not something uncommon to them, but you didn’t dare to ask more questions; these rooms were unavailable to you either way, so you stayed in the living room, a place the inhabitants came to only on those rare evenings when all of them were here. Usually, only one or two were in the house to begin with and they busied themselves in their own rooms. There was six of them. And the one who stayed at home the most was Chanyeøl, with his head wrapped in bandages; he didn’t recover yet so he didn’t go out much. You wondered where they all went in the first place – if it was true and the closest town was hundreds of miles away, where were they going all the time?

Once, it became quite obvious. Sehůn came back home with a dead deer over his shoulder; the animal had no wounds so you worried, what if it was poisoned? Would it be safe to eat it? But the others didn’t question it, just prepared it, and that was the first time in a while you ate something warm and fresh. They didn’t really care that you took some, nor that you sat among them while eating. They never paid you much attention at all, but you didn’t mind – it allowed you to see them at ease, not so scary anymore, just a group of people, maybe not friends, but surely not enemies either, more of associates, living under the same roof. 

You saw them come back home tired and dirty, you saw them laugh at stupid jokes while looking as if they just took a bloodbath, you saw them complain about injures that were simply “annoying”, never “life-threatening” or even “dangerous”. 

And one day, you saw Baëkhyun sit next to Chanyeøl and gently take the bandage off his head.

“It looks good” he spoke. “Creepy as hell, though.”

“You should have gotten me a better one. Seriously.”

“I thought this one would suit you more. We can dig out the other one and exchange so that they match.” The sentence was probably the creepiest thing you’ve ever heard, but the man’s smile made it clear he was simply joking, in his own, twisted way that Chanyeøl seemed to reciprocate, because his lips curled into a grin too. 

They heard you shuffle in the door’s entry and both turned their heads towards you.

Chanyeøl’s bright blue eye stared at you with more intensity than the other, dark one you already knew. 

Baëkhyun was right. It was creepy as hell.

* * *

“Aren’t you getting too comfortable?” 

Chanyeøl sat by the kitchen table, elbow on the glass surface and chin resting on his palm; he seemed bored, so he watched you do the dishes after dinner. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, not even glancing back at him. 

“I could put you back in the pantry at any time and none of the guys would stand up for you. I could even kill you and they wouldn’t care. Why do you do this, then?”

“Do what?” You didn’t seem too bothered with his words. You started to get used to his threats. 

“Act like you live here.”

“Do I not?”

“You’re a hostage.”

“Thanks for letting me know” you replied sarcastically. 

You made barely one step before his hand was on your neck, pushing your face against the fridge. His grip was firm, but you didn’t dare to struggle, trying to ignore the way your entrails twisted in fear. You were starting to get used to it, you just needed more time. That’s what you told yourself. He wouldn’t kill you – you repeated it in your thoughts. He wouldn’t kill you, he doesn’t hate you. You’re useful, somehow.

“You seriously think that it’ll change anything?” He leaned down and let his voice turn quieter – the words he was about to speak were not for anyone else to hear. “There’s seven of them. If I kill the one, I die too. What, do you think, will happen, if I kill the others?”

The words started to sink in. All the domesticity and familiarity suddenly turned poisonous. Not even associates, you thought. Just means to reach his own goal. Did the others know? Should you warn them? Or were they all thinking the same way, working together only for now? Was this how the others passed away? Were they also not useful enough for their life to be more valuable than the death of those who were against them?

“B-but there’s only six of you” you noticed. Your voice quivered.

You felt his breath on your neck, his grip didn’t loosen.

“Do you want to know who’s the seventh? Do you, really?” 

Your body shook in fear, and you realized that you should have started fearing him much sooner than you allowed yourself to.

A smirk.

A push, forcing you onto your knees.

And then, silence. He was gone. 

You had to get out of here.

* * *

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Chën stared at you, amused. It was early spring already, the temperature wasn’t that bad. You picked up the warmest clothes you found, took food and everything else you considered useful. Chën stood in the door’s entry as you walked into the yard; he was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, not wearing anything special, yet not looking half as cold as you already were upon feeling the weather for the first time in ages.

“Chanyeøl said I can go if I want.”

“You’ll die.”

“Or survive.”

“Doubtful.”

“Worth the risk.”

“Is it?”

“I will either live or survive. If I stay here, I will only die.”

“Better later than sooner, though” he shrugged. 

But you didn’t feel convinced. You made your mind, you knew anything would be better than staying here. You didn’t ask for any of this. Were “the others” really even worse than what you had here? You doubted. Especially now, knowing what was their purpose.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” The angry voice startled you, it was the first thing that made you hesitate, but it’s not like you had much time to reconsider.

A hand wrapped around your hair, pulling you backwards and you landed on the  snow with a shriek, the bag falling off your shoulder. 

Chanyeøl stood over you, his face twisted in anger.

“You think that’s funny?” he spat at you; you didn’t think it was, but Chën’s laughter resonated in the distance. 

“Y-you said…”

“Get the fuck up.”

He seemingly resisted the urge to kick your side to hurry you as you scrambled to your feet, head low in fear. 

Chanyeøl stared at you coldly. 

“Get back inside. Now!” he growled. 

You passed by him without a word. Your body shook in fear and cold; maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave, after all? Just how far you’d make it anyway? You were so weak. 

Suddenly, a small, weird sound resonated right behind your back, followed by a groan. You turned around rapidly. 

There was an arrow in Chanyeøl’s shoulder, all the way through, its sharp head glistening with red, sticking out of his back. 

The man stumbled backwards and you jumped away in fear before tearing your gaze away to look in the direction the arrow must have come from. 

There was a man holding a bow in his hand. You knew his face. You’ve meet him before.

But you didn’t. It wasn’t the same person, the look in his eyes was not the mocking glimmer you’ve seen in Sehůn’s. Who was he?

Who were the other five men gathered around?

Two dark eyes of Chanyeøl’s nemesis stared at him coldly, and Chanyeøl glared back with hate you’ve never seen in anyone else before.

“Move away from her” the other Suhø spoke. 

Chanyeøl snorted, pushing himself off the ground. Before you could react, his arm wrapped around your neck as he pulled your body against his chest, a human shield. The arrow in his shoulder didn’t seem to bother him half as much as it bothered you.

“Or what?” he dared.

Someone pushed through the crowd of men; a smaller silhouette that stood behind them until now, with her arms crossed on her chest and an unreadable look on her face. 

Yøu. 

Your breath hitched at you stared at hër in complete shock. Shë stared back, also curious, maybe not that confused, seemingly knowing what awaited hër here, but also surprised – it’s not really a situation one can prepare for too well. You couldn’t help comparing herself to hër. Shë seemed prepared, with hër hair not as messy as yours that weren’t treated with a haircut in ages, lipstick on hër lips, a color that suited hër so well, which should suit you too, even though you’ve never considered it before. 

You didn’t have too long to think about it. 

Chanyeøl pushed you forward, as if instantly giving up your own self; as if, in fact, you didn’t matter to begin with. Just means to his own success, as you realized. What did it matter?  He wanted to kill both of you, anyway. Why did he want hër here so much?

The both of you passed by each other, still too shocked to exchange even a word of greeting. 

You couldn’t see anything, your eyes wouldn’t focus enough to keep you aware of where were you going. You thought you’re gonna stumble and fall, but a pair of hands was suddenly on your shoulders, grounding you, a motion so gentle and protective you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes. You missed it. You missed the warmth.

The other Chanyeøl studied your face intently.

“Are you alright?” he asked and you forced yourself to nod slightly, although your legs felt like a jelly. He pursed his lips. “You can rest. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

Please, reblog if you enjoyed! It’s not much, but it’d help me a lot!