#i know its not true but the sudden panic of being the only eyes ill ever look through the only presence ill ever live

[ketavinsky]

can someone tell me a story

[randynova]

Poor Petal, she must have had a panic attack when she found out she was pregnant for the first time.

She was downright terrified.

She broke down crying, screaming into her pillow, refusing to let Doma hold or console her. Surprisingly, he left her alone, letting her deal with her emotions on her own.

The only words he left her was, "Oh, [Name], I'm so happy. Soon, we're going to be parents, my sweet pretty petal!"

[Name] just couldn't understand how this happened. She was careful, so diligent in taking the tea every night. She began racking her mind, trying to make sense of it all, and search for a possibility why this small mistake occurred.

Until she recalled two months prior, where Doma's insatiable hunger for his wife consumed him. Like an animal in heat, he forced himself on her, ignoring her pleas to stop, releasing his fertile seed deep into her womb. Over and over again, he made sure every night she was filled with his cum, having the sole mission to make her bear his children.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma had to travel southward for demon duties and he felt this was the perfect opportunity for you both to get closer. A whole week together, all alone while he was free from his duties, a chance to finally have some quality bonding time without his cult. It was a dream come true.

However, this place was in the middle of nowhere, hardly any villages, let alone stores, around. All the sources you used to protect yourself from Doma were gone, the foods and teas you consumed to prevent a pregnancy out of reach.

The only people around were fellow upper moons, who stayed far away from your husband, especially you.

Thus, you were forced to endure his doting behavior, forced to play his dangerous games, and forced to let him breed you.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

"Pretty petal. So pretty, so beautiful. You're taking me so well, hah," Doma laughs, snapping his hips harshly, thick balls slapping against your skin. You bounced with every thrust, mewling and whimpering, begging him to slow down. It only stirred him on to go faster. "No, no, no, this is the best way to ensure maximum success with fertilizing you. I have to make sure my seed is as deep as possible inside you, my petal!"

The aching between your legs grew, arching your back as an orgasm washes over you once again. Your juices release over his thick cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your velvet walls constrict around him. "Ah! Ah, D-Doma!"

"Mm, hngh! P-petal! Petal! Petal! " Doma whines out, biting his bottom lip, grinning like a madman as the sweet relief of climax fast approaches him. His thrusts turn sloppy and his hips stutter. Quickly, he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty for a few seconds. He grabs your legs, hooking his arms around your knees, and pushes your thighs to your chest, claws digging into your plush skin as he starts to hammer into you. "So-so good! Such a good girl! You'll be such a good mother, sweet petal! Just you wait! I'll make you a mommy, ok? Just- fuck!"

He releases long, thick ropes of cum, painting your womb white with his fertile seed once more. He thrusts weakly, head falling back as he gasps. "Mm, ah-ah, [N-Name]...!" You squeeze your eyes shut, looking to the side, swallowing bitterly as he fills you to the brim, cum leaking out as he slides in and out. It drips onto the bed, staining the pristine, red cotton sheets.

"Oh, petal, please don't look away. I want to see you," Doma croons, pulling out with a shaky breath and looking down at the mess between your legs with a grin. White painted the sheets below like a puddle. He pulls out with a groan. Seeing the way your pussy gushes out his cum, flexing around nothing, it makes him want to take you all over again. He slides two fingers up across your folds, gathering his seed, and pushing it back into your sopping hole with his fingertips. He hums whilsts you whine, rocking your hips at the weird sensation. "Such a pretty sight, you took me so well, petal. I'm so proud of you!"

He's met with silence. Though, it doesn't bother him as he already fulfilled his task for the night. After five long rounds, he believes its enough for the day and he'll repeat the process tomorrow. For now, both of you need rest, we'll, mainly you if you're going to stay awake during the whole ordeal.

You were in a daze as Doma cleaned both you and himself up, changing the sheets into soft clean ones, and covering your body with the blankets, tucking it in.

"Good night, my pretty wife," Doma whispers, taking his spot beside you, his arms slithering around your frame and pulling you close. His chest pressed against your nude back, his legs tangling in yours, and he buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath of your sweet aroma. "I love you..."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Immediately after coming back from your journey, Doma became busy, his schedule packed to the brim with orders from his master. It irritated him, saddened him even, that he would be apart from you for a while.

As much as he loved ravishing your body every night, he had to focus on completing every task with precise accuracy. He doesn't want to disappoint his master after all.

But before he left you alone the first night back, he replaced your assigned follower with a different one. One that reported back to him and carried out his orders, their loyalty to the demon overriding their morals to protect you.

He wasn't stupid. It didn't take long for him to figure out the tea you drank prevented you from becoming pregnant, a huge change to the tea he got to make you fertile. The news did upset him, but he hid the discovery and played along with your little antics. It made him try to come up with a solution, where he disguised the tea you drank to better fit his wishes.

Like an unsuspecting mouse, you walked right into the cat's claws.

Anyone who tried helping you was either eaten by Doma or killed by him in another manner. If the actions of a stupid, disloyal follower was keeping him away from his dream of having a family, the demon won't hesitate to get rid of them. They should know better.

Doma's dreams are his followers' orders.

If he says he dreamt of eating a hundred virgins, his followers should offer him the bountiful feast of meat from a hundred virgins.

If he says he dreamt of growing his cult, his followers should go out and recruit people to join them.

Now, if he says he dreams of a child with his wife, his followers should offer their help and make sure he gets his child.

By god, did they live up to his expectations for once. Everyone - from the ones who prepared your meals to the new members who brought you gifts - made sure every small action built up to the final wish of their leader's plan.

Every food and drink you consumed had been carefully chosen to help make you plump and help the baby grow. Every bath had been filled with excotic herbs to soothe your changing body. Every offering had slowly been gearing towards a human smaller than you. Yet, you never really paid attention to the small differences.

Doma noticed how tired you seem lately, how you complained to the follower assigned to you about the tenderness of your breast and the pain of your abdominal and pelvis area, and even how different you looked, almost glowing.

At first, he didn't put the pieces together. Surely all women were like this, right? Yet, that wasn't the case.

He found himself always wondering why your emotions were easily more unhinged, why you ate the foods he hand-fed you more easily, or why you were napping in the afternoon. Yes, he liked these changes and welcomed them eagerly, believing you were finally warming up to him. But why?

After nearly six weeks, you were worried why your period didn't come. You speculated the stress could have been a prominent factor in causing your late cycle, sometimes occurring in your youth. You seem bloated lately as well, you note, or it could've been weight gain due to the food you have been eating lately. Thus you brushed it off.

It'll come soon, you just know it. Afterall, you're still a human and change is a part of life.

In another area of the temple, a different situation was unfolding. When the trusted follower reported to Doma about your very late menstrual cycle, he clapped with joy like a child being entertained. Of course! How slow can he be?! You finally are carrying his child! The hormonal changes affected how you behaved with him and the sudden weight gain explained it all.

Oh, he just couldn't wait for the day to come!

However...

He had to make sure you did nothing irresponsible to push back his dream.

Doma became more strict and possessive with you. He didn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if you were in the privacy of your room, someone had to be there.

The days where you spent waiting for him in your bedroom were now spent at his side. He forced you to sit on his lap like before, feeding you more than you're used to. Any question concerning his increase of doting behavior was met with a laugh and a kiss to your cheek. "I just love you so much, I want you to be healthy!"

Doma isn't stupid. He knew the moment he mentioned, or even insinuated, you were pregnant, you would break down and possibly affect the baby negatively. He didn't know if you were capable of taking drastic measures of getting rid of it this far along, but he didn't want to find out.

With careful, watchful eyes, Doma made sure everyday you were fed well, that you were always protected, and made sure nothing upset you. He went the extra mile to find medicine and herbs incase you ever fell ill. The demon made sure your attention was always occupied to keep from noticing your changing body.

To say it worked was an understatement.

By the fifth month, you realized despite your growing stomach, you weren't gaining weight anywhere else. Most of your clothes fit like a glove except around your abdomen.

Your heart began to race as you wracked your mind of the events for the past few months.

When was the last time you had gotten your period?

You don't recall changing your sheets every month because you stained it, nor do you recall dealing with the hassle of keeping yourself clean. Come to think of it, you felt at ease these past few months, the usual cramps and cravings you felt no longer bothering you like before.

Ridding yourself of your clothes, slipping your kimono off until you're left in your undergarments of hadajyuban and susuyoke. You undid your sash and revealed your stomach. You're met with the sight of your bulging tummy and tender breasts. Pressing a finger pad to the skin of your stomach, it seemed firm instead of soft and plush. With a shaky breath, you pressed your palms against your stomach and...

Kick. Kick.

You removed your hands immediately, face falling. No...

No. No! No! No!

How didn't you notice it before!?

Your chest fell and rose quickly with every breath you took, hyperventilating as the situation dawned on you. You were pregnant. Actually pregnant with that damn demon's child. A bellowing scream ripped from your throat, the high-pitch intensity resonating like shattering glass throughout the temple.

Doma raced to your bedroom, fearing the worse as he heard his wife scream. He ran into the bedroom, only to be met with your form bawling on the floor, hunched over as sobs wracked your body. Followers tried to console you, yet you ignored them.

Doma approached you carefully and crouched down, but the moment he put a hand on your back, you whipped your head and cracked your hand across his face like a whip. He fell back, catching himself, shock etched into his features. You... You hit him? He paid no mind to the followers who raced to his side, asking him if he was okay. He was more surprised you dared slap him.

The stinging of his cheek didn't hurt , but it caught him off guard. He looked up and leered at you with wide eyes. Yet he clashed with the burning, sorrowful gaze you held.

"Fuck you! Goddamnit, leave me alone, you monster! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!" You screech, standing up and burying your face in your hands. Tears slipped through your fingers and dripped to the floor.

Doma smiled, finally understanding why you were reacting the way you were. He began chuckling, then giggling, and then he broke into a fit of laughter. He stood up and held a hand to his face, looking at you with a crazed, delighted expression on his face. Gleefully, he spoke, "Oh, petal! You finally caught on!"

You shake your head and begin crying louder, turning your back to the demon. "No, no, no...," you whimper.

"We're going to be parents...," Doma croons, taking small, quiet steps towards you. Like before, he tries pulling you close but you brush him off.

"Please... Please, just leave me alone...!"

"Oh, [Name], you'll see. Once our baby is here, you'll love being a mommy. Just like I'll love being a papa...!"

"No... I didn't want this...."

"But I did! I told you for so long...," Doma whispers, uncomfortably close to you. He lets out a breathy laugh. "And now that you're finally with child, I'm going to make sure I see my baby no matter what."

You could only stand in horror, listening to his voice. The panic crawled up your throat, fear taking hold of you as you froze up. With bated breath, you wait for him to leave. But his next words made your heart drop and blood run cold.

"I'm willing to do anything for our child, [Name]. Even if it means I may have to hurt you to guarantee their safe arrival."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma is not submissive and breedable. He is dominant and fertile.

He finally has his wish of having a family with the woman he loves.

And he'll do anything to make it come true.

Even if it means he has to become the monster and hurt you to get it.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗��𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜,

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

[rommahh]

Better

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Buckybarnesxfem!reader

{This is for @metalbuckaroo's challenge. I had this brewing for a minute but college has got in a chokehold. I chose prompt #30 from the given prompt list. I hope y'all like this read. Love, R}

Bucky trailed behind Y/N as she ignored his calls. Her boots clicked loudly in the small hallway as she rushed towards their shared apartment. Her keys shook in her hand, body tense with anxiety and anger.

Bucky reached her at the door, his hands loosely gripping her arms. Y/N shoved the door open, her body snapping away from his. Y/N haphazardly throws her keys in the small bowl that sat on the hallway side table.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“Y/N please, what is going on? Why are you so mad?” Bucky questioned, slamming the door behind him as his own frustrations started to catch up with him.

“I'm going to bed.” Is all she said to him without even meeting his eyes. She was quick to enter her room and lock the door before he could say anymore. Bucky stood behind her door in confusion. His body still tingled with the lasting effects of the shots he took hours prior.

Sitting on your bed, Y/N finally released. Her shoulders dropped, her body hunching over itself as the tears started flowing.

Y/N had been looking for Bucky for what felt like hours. He was her ride back to the apartment and having been at this party for over four hours- she was exhausted. There was a twinge of disappointment that lingered in her caused by Bucky's disappearance. He invited her to this party tonight but quickly left her to her own devices the moment the both of them walked through the frat’s doors.

The house was mainly empty except for the few lingering bodies that were drunkenly wandering around. She climbed up the stairs that lead to a common room on the second floor. Y/N’s cute white go-go boots were tight on your feet, making her wince at every step. Fashion was a moment type thing, not a four hour long excursion.

Y/N heard a group of voices leading from the common room once you reached the top of the stairs. She listened out waiting to see if she could hear Bucky’s voice before walking through the doors of the common room.

“I don't know why you hang out with that girl Bucky.” Her ears perked at his name. Y/N almost walked through the door but she took a step back to listen to what they were saying.

“Yeah, shes fucking weird.” The group laughed. “I mean look at how she dressed tonight. She’s wearing a costume.”

Y/N looked down at her 80’s inspired dress with a frown. She thought she looked cute tonight, Bucky said she looked cute. She couldn't stop blushing after she heard his words.

“She’s a freak barnes. All she does is follow you around. Are you sure you guys aren't dating?” One of the boys asked with a chuckle. No one said her name yet but she knew they were talking about her. She could tell.

“Y/N’s not that bad. She just doesn't have any friends. I don't like her like that, not my type. She's got that weird anxiety thing.” Bucky's voice finally sounded out from the group. Y/N heart hurt hearing his words. Weird anxiety thing?

“Yeah, making her a freak. So you're just friends with her out of pity? Are you at least getting community service hours?” The group laughed again, Bucky's deep laugh standing out to Y/N.

“You have a lot of strength for a man who's not getting any ass from the girl he's keeping company with. Shes weird as fuck but her body is still bangin. Have you ever copped a feel of her tits? I would hang out with the loser if I got to fuck her too.” Someone commented. Y/N felt bile rise in her throat. She could feel a panic attack approaching having heard the sexual comments about her body. She stepped out from around the wall into the common room. All eyes snapped up to her, some eyes widening in shock. Bucky just looked up, not catching on that his roommate may have heard the horrid words said about her.

“I-im ready to go home, Bucky.” She hadn't looked up from where her feet were rooted on the stained wood floors. Bucky slowly wobbled up from his seat. The rest of the guys watching quietly, some snickering at Bucky's submissiveness.

“Here sweets, you're gonna have to drive.” Bucky says handing his keys over to Y/N. Without looking at him, she snatches the keys from his hands and quickly retreats to his car. Bucky stumbles behind her confused by her attitude.

Y/N walked to Bucky’s car, arms covering whatever they could cover on her body. Her mind telling her she was unsafe, her anxiety telling her even worse things.

Bucky eyes burned from the headache he had. He felt physically ill as he woke up from the living room couch. Last night's activities blur in his mind, no clear memories presenting themselves. He sits up to rest his forearms on his knees trying to calm his bubbling stomach.

The first thing he notices as he comes to his senses is the lack of Y/N’s noise. Normally the small apartment would be filled with the sounds of her sunday playlist as she cleans about. He also doesn't smell her extra dark and strong coffee that she only makes for sundays. He doesnt smell her out of the can cinnamon rolls either that she would normally wake him up with on a small tray with said coffee.

He finds it odd that her presence is lacking in the apartment. Standing, he makes his way over to her room knocking on it slightly. He hears shuffling from the other side but no one comes to open the door.

“Hey sweets, everything ok?” He knocks again to gain her attention.

“I-Im fine Bucky, please go away.” She stutters out to Bucky. Bucky is shocked by her statement not used to being pushed away by her.

“Oh ok, just let me know if you need anything.” He says quietly.

Y/N remained the same way over the next few days. She rarely came out of her room when she was in the apartment leaving Bucky on his own. She stopped making him meals out of kindness or filling up his canisters of water for workouts. She stopped baking him treats as midday pick me ups. She didnt wait for him to get out of classes so they could gossip about what was going on on campus. She didnt bother him at all.

Bucky felt uneasy about Y/N’s silence. He was hurt by her sudden disappearance. Hurt that she could just ghost him without any reason. But there was a reason, Bucky just didnt remember.

Y/N sluggishly walked into the apartment after taking an extensive exam in one of her classes. She tried to walk quietly throughout the apartment to not catch the attention of Bucky. She walks softly on her feet close to the opening of the kitchen.

“Hey.” A quiet voice makes Y/N jump in her spot. Her mission of going unnoticed failed. Bucky leans against the kitchen counter that is parallel to the opening of the kitchen. His feet are crossed in front of him, hands holding a cup of tea.

“Hi.” Her tone matches his. She turns her body to face his, hands fidgeting with each other. She slightly moved from foot to foot, a trait that had been acquired out of nerves. Bucky recognized her tic, his heart constricting at the thought that he might have done something to cause it.

“Y/N, please, what's going on?” Bucky can see that she's not wearing one of her normal outfits that are adorned in bright colors and fun patterns. Instead, her body is covered in a boring sweater that hides most of her body. She wears a large pair of jeans underneath, a belt tightly bounding it to her body.

“Nothing Bucky.” She dismisses. Bucky feels his anger peak. A range of emotion he tried to hide away breaching over its point. He missed his best friend beyond belief and all she could give was a few words.

“It's not nothing Y/N!” He snaps slamming his mug of tea on the counter. Y/N flinches at the sound. Her hands start to shake, not out of fear of Bucky but from unwarranted anxiousness. “I've given you your space but its killing me. I miss you Y/N. I dont get what happened?”

Y/N feels her eyes well up with tears.

“You hurt me Bucky.” It was Bucky’s turn to flinch hearing her words. He hurt her?

“I don't know what I did though.” His voice sounded childlike as he whined.

“At the party, you let your friends talk poorly about me. You-you let them call me a freak and-and weird. They made fun of my clothes and said you were hanging out with me out of pity and you just sat there and laughed James!” Her voice rose with every word. Bits and pieces of that night float around in his head. He can slightly remember the conversation but nothing is clearly showing in his head.

“I'm sorry they said that Y/N but you know that's not true. We both know our relationship, I don't know why you're letting them get to you.”

“They talked about my anxiety. You talked about my anxiety!”

“That's it? That's why you're not talking to me?” He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

“You let them sexualize me!” The kitchen filled with an uncomfortable silence. Bucky’s exterior softened.

“What?” His tone was drastically softer than it was earlier.

“You just sat and listened to them as they talked about my body. They talked about my boobs and if youve had sex with me and you said nothing. They said that they would hang with the loser if they could fuck me...How could you let them say that about me?” Y/N whimpered. Her hands cradled her face as she sobbed. Bucky saw the way her chest heaved with each sob, tears forming in his own eyes.

“I didn't know. I wouldn't have let them say those things sober. You have to know that.” He almost fell to his knees pleading for her forgiveness.

“You even said you wouldn't date me. I know its stupid but I thought you liked me back. You told me you loved me. You've taken me out on dates. You've kissed me for goodness sake!”

“I know and I'm sorry. I do like you, I don't know why I said that. I like you so much.” His knees buckled slightly but he held his ground.

“Obviously you dont Bucky. We should just stay away from each other from now on and I won't be renewing my leasing contract at the end of the semester.” She finalizes. Buckys whispers a small no in protest. “You really hurt me, Bucky. I would never let anyone slander you. I respect you too much to allow for someone else to disrespect you.”

With that being said, she gave Bucky one last look over before walking away. Bucky was knocked out of his thoughts at the sound of her door slamming shut and the lock being secured.

Bucky sat on the kitchen floor, the cold tile seeping through his pants to chill his legs. His face adorned with a frown, tears sliding down his warm cheeks. Y/N was his best friend and he ruined it by being a shitty person. He knows he should have defended her, defended their relationship.

Bucky’s rolly chair was his only source of entertainment at his desk in the lobby of the admissions office. Today was a slow day. There were only a few students who came in asking for help finding buildings or looking for the financial aid office. Some high school student came in for tours but his coworkers beat him to doing tours so here he was stuck in the quiet office. He had already stolen a large amount of guest snacks, a cold bottle of tea and a sugar cookie with the school's logo on it.

His chair spinning activities came to a halt when he heard the front door open with a small jingle sounding from it. He took a moment to let the dizziness fade away before he looked up. Bucky felt his breath stop in his throat.

There stood a girl with overalls and a bright colored top. She wore dark green converse, high tops, with frilly socks that peeked from the top. She had large glasses that framed her face perfectly. She was looking around the office, eyes wide with wonder. Her eyes finally met Bucky's, making a large smile appear on her face.

“Hi!” She exclaimed walking up to Bucky’s desk.

“Hey, what can I help you with today?” Bucky asked cooly.

“I just transferred here and I was wondering if you knew where I could apply for on campus jobs?” She placed her hands on top of the counter of Bucky’s desk. He admired her baby blue acrylics that had white flowers on them.

“Oh um, the admissions office is hiring. We do all of the tours for highschool students, or package and mail acceptance letters. Sometimes we plan scholarship events. It's an easy pay type of job. I just sit here and do homework my whole shift.” Bucky answers. “What's your name so I can get my boss to contact you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky quickly scribbled your name on a post it note and stuck it to his laptop as a reminder. “Do you really like this job or are you just trying to pull me in?” She jests with a small smile on her face.

“I mean it's a decent job but im sure with you working here it would make it ten times prettier.” Bucky smirked at the giggle that escaped Y/N. He wasn't normally a flirt but he couldn't help himself with this one.

“Oh really? How many times have you said that line to a girl?” Bucky put a hand to his chest in a fake offense.

“You think too low of me Y/N. I saved that one for the prettiest girl to walk through the door.”

“Hmm, ok. I'll believe it only because my ego needs this boost. Hey, you never told me your name. How am I supposed to write about this encounter in my journal if I don't have your name?”

“My name is James but I prefer if people just call me Bucky. Short for Buchanon, I know it's weird.” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed. He can see her eyes checking out the way his muscles flex underneath his long sleeve shirt. He may have purposefully flexed a little extra for show.

“No, I love it. I dont think ive ever met a Bucky.” She counters. She leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter, her chest pressed against the front of the counter.

“Well I'm glad I'm your first Bucky.” He jokes with a small smile on his face. There was a small moment of silence shared between the two as they just looked at each other. Bucky couldn't help but think about how cute she was as Y/N thought the same thing.

“Oh gosh, I'm probably holding you up from your work.” She snaps out of her little spell rolling her eyes at herself. “I should get going.”

Bucky frowned at the idea of her leave, wanting nothing more than to continue talking to the new girl.

“Right, of course. Maybe I could get your number...so I can notify you about the job.” Bucky proposes. Y/N raises one eyebrow in question, a knowing smile placed on her lips.

“Sure thing bucky.” He hands her a pen and post it for her number. “I wouldn't be opposed to you using this number for things other than work too.” She suggested. She signed her name on the post it note ending it with a small heart.

“I will definitely take you up on that offer. No take backs though when I start sending you random shit.” She giggled, leaning up from her spot. Bucky basked at the sweet sound. He stood up to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“Well Bucky, it was lovely to meet you.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake, he reciprocated the action. Her hands were soft and warm, he thought. She gave him one last smile before walking away.

It was warm outside on the quad as Bucky sat by himself. He sat at the table that would normally be occupied by Y/N and him. Y/N would bring lunch- made by her. Anytime Bucky would try to help her by making lunch she would kick him out of the kitchen. Today, Bucky sat by himself, with no hand made lunch. He had a greasy bag of french fries and a large coke. He planned on eating his sorrows away.

“Hey Bucky!” A voice yelled out to him. Looking up from his fries, Bucky looked towards the sound that broke him out of his fries excursion. Tanner and Logan, his friends from the party, came walking over to him. They both sat down, throwing their lunch onto the table.

“Where's Ms. weirdo?” Tanner asks, mouth full of food. Bucky grimaced at Tanner's manners. He also felt the anger he should have felt on Saturday bloom in his chest.

“She's not weird.” Bucky snapped, fists tightening in his lap. Tanner scoffed, Logan laughing along with him.

“Says you. She is fucking weird. Did you finally get some from her or something? Defending her and shit.” Logan clapped Tanner on his back agreeing with him. “Shit, good for you dude. I would have fucked her a while ago. Probably would have kept her face down so I wouldn't have to see her-”

Before Tanner could finish his sentence, he was thrown from his seat from the powerful punch being landed on his jaw. His feet flew from where he was sitting, landing on his back with a heavy thud.

“Dude what the fuck?” Tanner stood wiping his face from the blood that started to trickle down from his bloody eyebrow. Bucky had never felt anger like this before. His heart was racing, his breathing labored. His cheeks were red and warm, eyebrows turned down.

“No, you don't get to make fun of her and make sexual comments about her.” Bucky snarled. Tanner rolled his eyes, walking closer to Bucky.

“Oh fuck off with that! You didn't defend her this hard on saturday.” Tanner's mistake after his words was shoving Bucky's shoulders back. Bucky reacted quickly by shoving Tanner with even more force.

Tanner threw a punch to Bucky’s jaw, making his head fly back. Bucky tackled Tanner to the ground, throwing punches left and right. Tanner fought back, hands flying landing punches wherever he could land them.

Logan was able to pull Bucky off of Tanner, warning the two that campus police would arrest them if they were caught. Both boys stared at each other fuming. Bucky snatched his trash and his backpack up, the scowl never leaving his face.

“If I ever see you looking or talking to Y/N, I will bash your face in.” Bucky growled.

Y/N felt better today. She found the strength to wear a cute outfit versus the oversized clothes she had been wearing prior out of fear. She didn't want anyone to look at her in any harmful way. She wanted to wear her cute outfits that were sometimes form fitting and short. She liked to wear her cute period pieces that had her own twist on them. She spent many years hating her body and the way she looked. She deserved to feel cute without thinking she is at fault for being sexualized and poorly treated.

She whipped out one of her favorite outfits today, loving the way it fit on her body making her feel confident. Sitting at the front desk of the admissions office, her feet propped up on the desk. Her shift was going by slowly, no one needing assistance this late in the day.

The door burst open making Y/N jump from her seat. She stood up shocked to see Bucky walk in with a huff. He wasn't supposed to work today but here he was. Y/N gasped looking at his cut lip and bruising eye.

“Bucky, what happened?” She maneuvered her way around the desk to stand in front of the beat up boy. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks to examine his injuries. He moved his face away from her tears brimming his eyes.

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry. I should have protected you from them. I should've told them not to speak about you that way. You are more than some eye candy for men to act disgusting towards. You are beautiful and eclectic. You have a brilliant mind that shines brighter than anyone elses on this campus.” He spoke to her softly.

“I don't understand Bucky. What made you have this change of heart? You didn't give two shits about me last weekend.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“I know and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the alcohol but that's no excuse. I love you. I love all of you. You're not weird. You're your own person and I love everything about you. You do so much for me and I feel like shit for not doing the bare minimum for you.” His words stunned her.

“You love me?”

“God, with everything I have. Since the day you walked in here with those overalls. I've spent the past four years loving you.” Bucky whispered. He grabbed her hand, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

“I love you too, Bucky.  I really do and I'm hurt. I don't think the hurt will go away for some time. You let them speak horribly about me. If you loved me like I was your girl, you would have defended me.” She spoke sorrowfully.

“I know, I know. I can't change the fact that I did nothing but I can tell you that I'm sorry. I'm always going to protect you. I did today. Tanner may be sporting a nasty goose egg on his eye because of his dumbass words.” Y/N giggled softly, touching his bruising knuckles.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“I want to go back to normal. I miss you in the mornings and-and during our lunch breaks outside. I miss you.” Bucky stated.

“I miss you too.”

Bucky watched her eyes drop down to his lip, busted and all. He leaned forward slightly hoping she would meet him in the middle. She met him the rest of the way pressing her lips to his. Bucky relished this moment. He relished to be even sharing  moments with the girl he's been in love with since the second he saw her.

“I'm gonna be better, I promise.”

[byunmyeon]

Philophobia

↳ pairing: lee suho x reader

↳ synopsis: in a world where a red string connects soulmates, everyone knows who they belong with. except you, who hasn’t been able to see your string since you were a kid.

↳ warnings: language (like one word), a copious amount of angst and heartbreak

— note: there’s a serious lack of suho fics out there so I decided to write my own. lmk if you guys want me to write a second part!

There was something inexplicably eerie about being the new girl in a school that was twice the size of your old one. Not because it was an unfamiliar setting, nor was it because you were painfully shy and terrible at making friends. It wasn’t even your disparaging insecurities that had you feeling so shook. No, it was something you couldn’t put your finger on, something you couldn’t begin to name. A discomfort you could feel all the way down to your bones.

Your inordinate unease swelled into full blown panic with every step you took toward your new classroom. Somewhere in your unorganized mind, you could hear your mom’s reassuring voice. Everything will be okay. You didn’t know if her words held any truth, but you really, really, really hoped she was right. You were being stupid, honestly. There was nothing to fear, but you couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling from your stature. Despite all the undesirable emotions you felt, your breathing was normal and your heartbeat was steady.

It took you a minute to gather yourself. You could do this.

After a very ineffectual pep talk, you finally got your feet to move. Your eyes were cast down as you entered the classroom. The rowdy classroom went silent once your presence became known. You swallowed the nerves and chanced a glance at your new classmates. The reactions were a mixture of curiosity and disinterest.

When your teacher introduced you to the class, you decided to really look at your new classmates. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, one stuck out. An unnaturally attractive face belonging to an unfamiliar boy. His stare was strange. It was full of an intensity you couldn’t comprehend. You kept staring, in spite of yourself. Fuck. Was it possible for someone to be so attractive?

The clapping of your classmates pulled you back into reality. You were quick to look elsewhere, unable to understand the sudden lurch of your heart.

Suho couldn’t take his eyes off the new girl, more specifically, the string neatly wrapped around her index finger. He watched her carefully. The shy smile she wore was annoyingly adorable, and it made a foreign warmth spread across his chest and along his entire body. The new girl didn’t spare him another glance as she took her seat next to Jugyeong.

Lim Jugyeong.

He wasn’t her soulmate and she wasn’t his, but she was the girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart. That wasn’t about to change because some stranger who he was supposedly meant to be with came into his life with no warning.

Suho looked back to the front of the classroom without looking at the new girl again.

The first time it happened, you wrote it off as fatigue. After all, you had just started middle school and trying to keep up with your new workload as well as your budding social life was exhausting. That day, the color of your string had faded a bit, but it was still visible. By the time you were on your way home it disappeared for a mere second before regaining its color. Days later, it was completely gone.

When your mom first found out you could no longer see your string, she became extremely distraught. It had affected her more than it did you, honestly. She wasted no time in taking you to see countless specialists and psychologists. Anything to keep you from becoming a freak that didn’t know who they were meant to be with. She unknowingly made you feel exactly like that.

Apparently, you were a rare case because every person you went to for help wanted to conduct a study on you and your condition. Fortunately for you, your mom didn’t want you becoming a lab rat and decided to stop seeking out help from strangers. Left with no other option, you went to one person who she believed could help you. An old friend of hers.

He wasn’t a specialist, just a regular doctor who came to the conclusion that a deep, scarring trauma had caused you to no longer see your string. You could remember the heartbreak on your mom’s face because you both knew what that trauma was.

Your mom did her best to help you. Spending more time together and countless hours of therapy did nothing for your condition. Nothing worked. You became convinced that trying to see your string again was futile.

And you were right.

As time went on, you grew used to the unease that had latched itself onto you on that first day. The feeling in your bones settled in like an unwelcome guest who refused to leave. No matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Eventually, you gave up trying.

However, something shifted when you crossed paths with Lee Suho.

You two had been put in the same group for a science lab. His attention had been solely on Lim Jugyeong, but there were times when your eyes would meet. Those milliseconds were just that, but to you they felt like an eternity. He rarely addressed you, but when he did, you could feel the pressure weighing on your bones fade bit by bit. That familiar feeling soon shifted into a more comfortable presence that you yearned to feel forever.

It was subtle, but at some point, Suho’s emotionless face changed. The change would last for no more than a second, but it always did when he looked at you. That change had your entire stature seeping with warmth. You vaguely recognized the feeling as something akin to infatuation.

It scared you.

Of course, the possibility that he might be your soulmate crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed that thought.

Too many times had you gotten in trouble for insisting someone was your soulmate when they really weren’t. Any special bond or feelings that grew between you and someone else couldn’t always be interpreted as the ones between soulmates. You learned that the hard way.

Besides, your soulmate would make it clear to name themselves as such even if you couldn’t see the string.

At least, you hoped they would.

Philophobia.

Before you went into high school, your mom insisted you see one last psychologist with the promise that the one she found was different. Reluctantly, you went to see this woman who diagnosed you with this absurd illness. You felt like it was made up, but your mother was adamant that you did have it.

You knew she only thought that because you had told her you no longer had any interest in finding your soulmate. Her panic was unrivaled after hearing those words come out of your mouth. You wrote off her panic because your disinterest in soulmates was only natural. How could it not when—at the time—it was all your friends could talk about? Talk about being the odd man out.

Okay, and maybe you also weren’t keen on meeting new people because of the fear that they could easily ignore the string you couldn’t see. There was also the fear that if you ever did meet someone you wanted to spend your life with, they could end up not being your soulmate and vice versa.

But those feelings would all fade with time, you were sure.

Hanging out near the back of the school where no one ever went became a regular thing for you. It was the one spot where you didn’t have to worry about your soulmate or anything related to that—a safe place. Until it wasn’t.

“You can’t just ignore the bond you have with her.”

The angry voice was one you vaguely recognized. You peeked around the corner, eyes widening when you saw Han Seojun and Lee Suho in the middle of what appeared to be an argument.

“Why are you bringing that up?” Suho’s eyes narrowed. “Do you still like Jugyeong?”

Seojun’s gaze hardened. “It’s not about that.”

It was wrong to listen on what was clearly meant to be a private conversation, but your feet wouldn’t move. You could see Suho’s anger and irritation from your hiding place, and for some reason seeing him that way made a blistering discomfort latch itself onto your chest.

“You’re being unfair to Jugyeong and Y/N.”

The mention of your name had your insides twisting into an uncomfortable knot. You didn’t understand why or how you had anything to do with the discussion, but you had a feeling the reason wasn’t anything good.

“Just because she’s my soulmate doesn’t mean I owe her anything.”

There was a sharp pain in your chest, one that grew into a searing pain as the seconds ticked by. You might’ve cried out in pain had it not been for the shock that consumed you. In a sudden instant, your vision became blurred with tears as you staggered back. His words were the worst form of torture, like a piece of barbed wire that wrapped itself around your heart.

Your fate was a cruel one, forever bound to someone who refused to acknowledge the bond between you two. Lee Suho was your soulmate, but he didn’t want to be.

It was a cruel reality to have your worst nightmare come to life.

“Is it true?”

Suho raised an eyebrow at you. His gaze didn’t soften like it once did. Now it just remained impassive, almost annoyed. The cold look he was giving you was making you regret even coming to him in the first place.

“Are you really my soulmate?”

“Why are you acting like you don’t know?” Suho’s unaffected stare unsettled you. “You’ve known since the first time we saw each other.”

But you hadn’t known. This entire time you had been driving yourself crazy thinking you were only imagining the connection between you two like you had done countless times after you first lost the sight of your string. Despite wanting to tell him that, you settled for a question.

“What about Jugyeong? Don’t you think she—?”

“Are you going to tell her?” He interrupted you.

You could literally hear your heart crack. Of course that’s all he cared about. He didn’t care whether or not you were hurt and upset, hell, he probably thought you had no interest in your soulmate. But he was wrong, so very wrong.

“Why?” He demanded. “You don’t want me as your soulmate either. You’ve been ignoring the bond, too.”

I can’t see my string! You nearly yelled. The words were clawing at your throat, eager to be released. But you found yourself unable to tell him the truth.

“My soul chose yours,” you said, close to tears. “And a soul just doesn’t forget that.”

For a moment, one that was so quick you thought you imagined it, Suho looked remorseful. Stupidly, it made you hope that he would accept you and the bond that bounded you together.

“Don’t tell her.” His voice didn’t sound like a plea, but you knew what he was asking you to do was clearly important to him. “I can’t loose her.”

And so, you agreed. Even if it meant that your own heart would be left in tatters.

[elektrantchios]

after the field | f.d

First off thank you so much for sending these in and liking my stuff! it means the world to me <3

Title: after the field 

Pairing: Mr Darcy x reader

Summary: you worry about what will happen when you tell Darcy the news you're expecting

Warning: angst, fluff, mentions pregnancy, maybe swearing and i think that’s it 

Word count; 1.691k 

A/N: thank you so much again for sending the request in! i made it into one because I  think it was the same person and they work really well together. please let me know what you think. has been edited but likely missed something (gotta love dyslexia)

 MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN  

set after the most happy but you don’t need to read it

The worrying you had done over the holidays and Darcy family coming felt like nothing to the worry you were feeling now, your sleeping had gotten even worse, your eating habits went from nothing to everything in sight in minutes.

You were running on borrowed time. With every passing day your clothes got tighter and tighter, making you feel breathless even when you were sat down doing nothing.

You wasn’t even sure Darcy wanted children. Had he mention them? Does he even like children? You couldn’t remember a time when he had mention them.

And if he didn’t want any? What then? He could easy send you away or move away himself. God. Just the thought of being apart from him was torture what would if feel like if it came true.

“y/n” you looked up from the book in your hands to Darcy who stood in the doorway. “you’re still in your nightgown”.

You pulled your blanket higher over your stomach. “I felt a little ill this morning so I’ve had an easy day” you lied smiling.

You smiled at him again, letting the calm he always brought wash over you. “no” you sighed taking his hand in yours. “I just needed one day to relax and I’ll be just fine tomorrow”.

You studied your face before giving in and nodding, “I’ll have a maid bring your dinner up”.

You kept hold of his hand and squeezed it, “you know I love you so much” you sighed.

Worried past over his face but he covered it quickly with a smile. “of course I do” he brought your hand to your lips and kissed your knuckles. “and I love you too more that you know”.

You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight. When you were sure he was gone you dropped the blanket to your lap. Your eyes dropped to the small bump that had started to show. Soon it would be too big to hide. Time was running out.

Over the following days you put more space between you and Darcy, hating yourself for every second. The pain on his face when you turn away from him whenever he reached out of you was horrible and you were the one who caused it. during the night you would sleep facing away from him, curling in on your bump to keep it hidden.

You kept telling yourself this was the only way to keep yourself safe. It was the most selfish you had ever been, but you were told yourself is would be better to wean yourself off him slowly than lose him all in one moment.

After three long days for anxiety you manged to find a dress that would fit well enough so you could get around. With Darcy away in town you felt lighter with your secret.

You were flipping through menus for an upcoming dinner, one hand was resting on your stomach, something you had started to do unknowingly. Normally no one was around meaning you were safe. The normal safety was pulled from you.

You looked over to the doorway seeing a maid glaring at you. you straighten yourself moving your hand to the side. “can I help you Sarah?” you asked. When you first moved in with Darcy you made a point of remembering all the staffs names as a sign of respect but now you used it as a power move.

She squared her shoulders looking down to the floor. “no miss”.

You didn’t say anything more signalling her to move along. She did what she was told and left you alone.

You dropped into the nearest chair and sighed. Dropping your head into your hands a sob left your lips.

Darcy had grown more and more worried about you as the days passed. You hardy ate, you moved around in bed all night and worst of all you hardly looked at him anymore. Everyday he question what he could have done to lose your love like he believed he did.

He was tired from his day in town and the endless meeting with his renters. He was walking  through the doors stopping when he saw you sitting in the library, the sight made his heart feel instantly lighter.

“My pearl” he grinned sitting beside you.

You looked up surprised. “my love I didn’t think you’d be back so soon”.

He saw panic on your face but did his best to push the thought away, instead he took the pages from you and looked through them. “Have you chosen one yet?”.

You exhaled a laugh. “it’s between the ham main or the soup starter. The chicken one is out of the contest, I don’t even know how that ended up in the running”.

“yes, I know” he laughed, “I remember how you wouldn’t touch the chicken at our wedding because you were given one as a gift by a child” he said graining a smile from you.

“she looked so sweet as she gave it to me” you smiled lying back.

You both stayed in silent looking at each other. He closed the space between you pulling you in. you didn’t wait to respond to his kiss, immediately letting him take control, you had missed this, missed him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close against you. His hands wandered down to your waist. You senses came back into motion remembering what you were keeping from him and pulling away.

Breathing hard you could still feel his lips on you. “this is the right place for this” you tried to make your voice was level as possible with the pounding in your chest. nodding silently he fixing his clothes.

“I think we should go with the ham” he said, picking the pages back up.

You chewed your lower lip. “okay” you whispered. You waited from him to say something else, wishing you could undo the last five seconds and go back to kissing him, laughing with him.

“I think I’m going to call it a night”. You lent over quickly and kissed his cheek. “I love you”.

Darcy’s eyes stayed locked forward as you walked away.

He thought he had finally got close to breaking the walls you had built around yourself then they came back stronger than ever.

“sir may I have a word with you” he forced on the door behind him.

“Of course” he nodded to the maid in the doorway. She came closer and stopped when she was in front of him.

“I know this isn’t my place but I can’t keep it to myself, I believe Mrs Darcy is keeping something from you”

Darcy stiffened, “you’re right it isn’t your place. You may go” he said stiffly. Before the maid left the room, he called after, “you will speak nothing of this”.

She gave him a quick nod and left him alone.  

You pasted your room anxiously. That moment in the library was the most normal you had felt in days, just being beside him and joking like any other day.

“Are you hiding something from me?” you jumped at the sudden voice turning to see Darcy.

You laughed crossing your arms. “Of course not, my love why would you think that?”.

He closed the door behind him and came closer to you. “one of the maids came into the library after you left and said you were hiding something”.

You froze looking at him. In the many sleepless nights you had planned and planned all the ways you could tell him the truth, made speech after speech but none of them were even close to this.

You realised you had been silence to long. “what would I be hiding?” you laughed taking his hand. “come to bed. Its late and I’m tired”.

He took his hand from yours and held your cheek, “are you sick? Tell me if you are!” his free hand took yours holding it tighter. “I’ll get you the best doctor there is” he rambled over his words.

“I’m not sick” you said loudly trying to calm him down. “maybe you should sit down” you sighed.

He held you even tighter. “tell me” he pleaded.

You took a deep breath, “I’ve known for some time now and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you but nothing has felt right but it seems I have no choice.” You  took his hand from your cheek and placed in over the small bump. “I’m with child. You’re going to be a father” you smiled hoping to get the same response from him.

His knees buckled sending him falling to the floor. You gasped and fell with him holding his cheeks. “please talk to me. I can’t bear to lose you, please my love” you cried letting the tears fall.

His eyes were locked on your stomach his hand limp at his side. He slowly lifted his hand back to the spot where you had put it. You watch worried as a smiled rose on his lips. “we’re going to have a child” his voice was so soft it made you heart flutter.

You couldn’t speak, you could only nod.  

He shook his head helping you stand. “did you hurt yourself when you fell? Let me help you to bed!” he barely breathed as he spoke.

You laughed batting him away. “I’m fine! I’m better than I have been in a long time”.

You didn’t give him time to speak. You didn’t want to waste any more time away from him so you kissed him. savouring all the feelings at came with it. loving him all the more now you had your own family.

He pulled away and looked at you like he had done a long time ago on a field. “you really have bewitched me body and soul”.

“and I love love love you and never wish to be parted from this day on” you grinned finishing the line for him.

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[robininthelabyrinth]

what if Jiang Cheng is the one in the arranged marriage with Jin Zixuan (maybe an au where birth order matters more than gender?)

ao3

“Well, no one cares what you think!” Jin Zixun shouted, and Jin Zixuan flinched, already knowing that this was going to end in disaster. His older cousin – his father’s favorite of the lot – was mean at the best of times, and when he was angry, he was especially cruel. A kid like Jiang Cheng, barely nine, wouldn’t be able to deal with him. “You’ll never made anything of yourself, anyway; the best thing you’ll ever be is A-Xuan’s wife!”

That was worse, somehow, than Jin Zixuan had thought it would be. Maybe because his name was invoked – maybe because Jiang Cheng looked as though he’d been slapped in the face, his eyes filling with unshed tears, and when his fist found its way to Jin Zixun’s face a moment later, Jin Zixuan thought that it was completely deserved.

Afterwards, when they’d all split off their own ways, he went to find Jiang Cheng.

He didn’t need to, he knew, but – he’d liked Jiang Cheng, at least a little.

He was the same age as Jin Zixuan, a little boy like him, even if he was the second child and not the heir the way Jin Zixuan was. He’d been laughing about something when Jin Zixuan first saw him, something whispered to him by his older sister, a plain girl recognizable only by her Jiang sect colors, but he’d straightened up the second he’d seen them walking into the room, putting on a serious expression, and Jin Zixuan had suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of oh you have to deal with this too that he’d never felt before in his life.

All of his so-called friends thought it was great to be the son of the sect leader, but they didn’t have to go to the terrible parties and stand there being shown off to people all night; they actually complained that they didn’t get to go.

He didn’t think Jiang Cheng would complain like that.

Maybe they could be friends, he thought, hopefully. Real friends, not pretend; friends that stayed together because they liked each other and not because their parents needed a political connection –

And then, less than a shichen after they’d been ushered off to go play together by adults who had better things to be doing, Jin Zixun’d managed to ruin everything. Again.

It didn’t take long to find Jiang Cheng.

They’re in Jinlin Tower, which meant that there weren’t many places Jiang Cheng could go that Jin Zixuan couldn’t find him – not like the Lotus Pier, which was an impassable maze even in the guest quarters that they’d taken special care to try to make nice and orderly for the one time they’d tried unsuccessfully to visit – and it turned out he hadn’t gone all that far, just ducked into a nearby guest room that was tidied up even though no one used it.

Jiang Cheng was curled up next to a window, his whole body looking especially small. He wasn’t even looking out of it, but he still gave off the impression of being on the verge of jumping out, or even just that he’d be blown away by the wind.

He wasn’t actually all that small – maybe a bit short for a nine-year-old, maybe a bit more slender, but his father and mother were both tall and that meant he probably would be, too, given time.

“You shouldn’t listen to Zixun,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng looked at him, red-eyed. “He’s dumb. All he ever does is say mean things, and they’re never true.”

“S’true, though, isn’t it?” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m the one that has to marry in, ‘cause I’m second, not first. I’ve got to leave Lotus Pier, go to Jinlin Tower…”

Marry you. Be the official wife. Smile and bear it and host your parties while you’re off fucking someone else – multiple someones – to get kids for the inheritance. Never have children of my own, but instead be stuck raising your bastards for you…

Jiang Cheng didn’t say any of that, of course, but Jin Zixuan knew.

After all, he’d overheard his mother and her friend – former friend – fighting over it. Madame Yu wanted to break the engagement when it turned out that the girl had come first and the boy second, since her husband was refusing to flip the order and marry Jiang Yanli out instead, and his mother had refused, the lure of the Yunmeng Jiang’s power more potent than their old friendship. 

Caustic words had been said. Words he probably should have been too young to understand, words that maybe Jiang Cheng didn’t get yet, but…well.

His mother had always been very clear about all the things she hated about her life.

And now she was going to force the same life onto someone else.

“I don’t think my parents would agree to let me be the one to marry in,” he said, almost wishing he could. Sure, then he’d have to be the one living his mother’s horrible life, but at least there was something familiar about that type of suffering – he’d spent his whole life hearing about it, after all, hearing about it over and over and over again until it almost felt like he’d lived it himself. 

He thought he could bear up with living that terrible life.

He wasn’t so sure he could bear up with being the one to cause it.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “Why would you want to?” He squinted up at him. “Aren’t you going to tell me that Jinlin Tower is great and I shouldn’t worry because being your wife will be great, too, or something like that?”

“I have no idea if being my wife is great,” Jin Zixuan said blankly, out of lack of anything better to say. He probably should have said something like that. “I’ve never had one before.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and then for some reason they both started sniggering uncontrollably.

“Of course you don’t have a wife, you’re nine,” Jiang Cheng said, giggling. “Even I know that nine year olds don’t have wives! And anyway, if you did, it’d be me, wouldn’t it? It’s not like they’re just, I dunno, handing out practice wives.”

“I wish they’d hand out practice wives,” Jin Zixuan confessed, covering his eyes. “That way I could be sure I wouldn’t…you know…”

“Screw up?”

“Yeah.”

Was Jiang Cheng going to judge him? Should Jin Zixuan have kept that to himself, pretended that everything was under control…?

But Jiang Cheng was nodding. “I wish they made practice everything,” he said emphatically, and Jin Zixuan drooped in relief, coming to sit on the floor next to Jiang Cheng. He wasn’t actually allowed to sit on floors, not even clean ones, but he was also supposed to be hosting Jiang Cheng, so if anyone asked that was going to be his excuse. “It’s so hard to get things right on the first try.”

“No one gets things right on the first try,” Jin Zixuan said.

“Wei Wuxian does,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Who’s he?”

“He’s my shixiong,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s – kind of complicated. His parents were friends with my dad, before they died.”

- well at least I managed to keep my husband from bringing home a bastard!

Right. That kind of complicated.

His mother always told him he had to be the most careful around bastards – that they would be smart and pretend to be nice, try to get him to like them, while in reality they’d be scheming against him in the dark, maybe even try to kill him, so they could get what he had and they didn’t. Jin Zixuan figured the same had to be true for Jiang Cheng, and he felt sorry for him.

“Well, you seem good enough to me,” he said firmly. “When you’re my wife, I’ll treat you right.”

He would, too. He wouldn’t go around with other women, wouldn’t come home smelling of them, wouldn’t rub what he was doing in Jiang Cheng’s face and laugh until Jiang Cheng lost his cool and started throwing things – of course, there was always the question of the inheritance, but maybe when he had to find himself a woman, he could try to find Jiang Cheng a woman of his own, too, someone he liked, and those children could be surnamed Jiang. 

Maybe they could find one they both liked and share.  

“I don’t know what’s so bad about being ‘just’ someone’s wife, anyway,” Jin Zixuan added. “I mean, my mom’s the scariest person I know, except maybe for your mom, and they’re both wives.”

Jiang Cheng grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. Next time that big old bully says anything, I’ll tell him to repeat that where my mom can hear it, see what he does then…uh, no offense about the bully thing. I know he’s your cousin.”

“I don’t like him either,” Jin Zixuan admitted.

“Then you’ve got good taste,” Jiang Cheng said, and Jin Zixuan preened. His first ever compliment from his wife!

“I know we’re only hanging out together because our parents said we had to,” Jin Zixuan said, suddenly feeling brave. “But maybe we could…maybe…”

“Be friends?”

He nodded.

Jiang Cheng thought about it, crinkling his nose as he did. Jin Zixuan waited patiently.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng finally decided. “But only if you help me prank Jin Zixun to get back at him.”

“Deal!” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, then hesitated. “I’ve never pranked anyone before, though…”

“I’ll teach you!” Jiang Cheng scrambled to his feet, then stopped as if struck by a sudden thought. “Do you like dogs?”

“Dogs?” Jin Zixuan repeated blankly. “They’re well enough, I guess…you have three, right?”

He’d seen glimpses of them when he’d visited the Lotus Pier last year, when they were supposed to have first met except Jiang Cheng got sick with a stomach illness right before their visit, throwing up and everything, and Jin Zixuan’s mom had refused to let him anywhere near him.

Jiang Cheng scowled, and suddenly his eyes were welling up with tears again, causing Jin Zixuan to panic again even though he was pretty sure it wasn’t his fault this time. 

“I used to,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “But Wei Wuxian’s scared of dogs, so my father had them sent away. I was just thinking…never mind. It was stupid.”

Jin Zixuan bit his lip. It wasn’t a good sign that Jiang Cheng’s father was already favoring his bastard over his son, not at all, not when fathers had all the power in the cultivation world. Not when even his mother, proud and fierce and famous for cowing his father with thrown pottery and fits of temper, was in the end helpless to stop him – she couldn’t make him stop humiliating her, couldn’t make him stop going out and having all those bastards. She stopped him from bringing them home, but she couldn’t stop him where it mattered, because all he had to do was threaten to make one of them the heir instead of Jin Zixuan.

He wouldn’t, because he needed her maternal family’s support, but he could.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair to his mother, it wasn’t fair to Jin Zixuan, and it wasn’t fair to Jiang Cheng, either. And it especially wasn’t fair that he was already being replaced – and just when Jin Zixuan was starting to feel better about the marriage, too!

The whole arranged marriage deal didn’t seem so bad if it was going to be with Jiang Cheng, who seemed pretty nice. Jin Zixuan didn’t want to have to start all over again with another boy, especially not a bastard.

“If you know where they are, you could send your dogs here to live with me,” Jin Zixuan suggested, feeling suddenly spontaneous in a way he almost never did, and Jiang Cheng turned to him with wide eyes. “That way you’d have a reason to come visit a lot, and your father could see that we were getting along.”

It would remind Sect Leader Jiang that their marriage could be broken by either side at any time, if they were unhappy – show him that they were committed, that they wouldn’t accept inferior goods in Lanling. Maybe it could help convince him to keep Jiang Cheng and his mother instead of swapping them out.

“I was just thinking I could introduce you, but that’s even better!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, looking excited. “You’re serious?”

“Sure,” Jin Zixuan said. He had an entire palace of his own back in Jinlin Tower, full of rooms he never used meant to host as guests all the friends he didn’t have. They could put the dogs in some of those, hire someone to take care of them – feed them, walk them, brush them, whatever needed to be done for dogs. If there was one thing Jinlin Tower didn’t lack, it was servants to do things. “But you have to come visit them. Without bringing Wei Wuxian.”

That way, even if this Wei Wuxian person used his bastard tricks to pull the wool over Jiang Cheng’s eyes to make him think that they were friends even as he stole away Jiang Cheng’s birthright in secret - Jin Zixuan’s mother had warned him - there’d still be a way to show how important it was to keep Jiang Cheng as the legitimate son. They might have just met, but it was pretty clear to Jin Zixuan already that Jiang Cheng was way too friendly and nice to know how to properly guard himself – someone would have to do the work for him.

And who else, if not his husband?

“Don’t worry about Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said. “He won’t go anywhere if he thinks there’ll be dogs. You’ll really do it?”

“I’ll talk to my parents,” Jin Zixuan promised – he was only nine, there were limits to what he could actually do – but Jiang Cheng seemed to think that was enough. He smiled at him, and Jin Zixuan smiled back.

Maybe this could work out.

[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.  

[ghoultramp]

golden [hawks x reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: hawks (keigo takami) x f!reader

↳ content: injured/wingless!hawks, hurt, comfort, soft & gentle sex, (some) cunnlingus, (kinda?) cockwarming, emotional, aftercare

↳ words: 4.1k

⇢ summary: the morning after the night before. a follow up to his voice resides.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: this took me far longer than i thought, i shall spare you the gory details of it all, aha! please, i do hope you enjoy ~

It was the gentle morning light filtering into through the blinds that stirred you, rather unwillingly, from the most restful sleep you’d had in a long time—the best sleep you’d both had in a very long time. It was nice to be back in his arms, the one place you felt safest; the only true place you could call home.

You lay curled on your side, his bare chest pressed tightly against your back, his legs tucked as closely to yours as possible. The warmth of his body, and the weight of his arm on your side as it tucked around into your stomach, reassured you that last night wasn’t just some delusion brought on by your fragile state.

You gently rolled over, the arm that he’d tucked beneath the pillow, and under your head, wriggled. His soft, protesting grumbles as he tightened his hold on you made you smile.

He looked so serene with a delicate, sleepy smile across his lips, his eyes closed and his long eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

You lay a hand against his chest, tenderly tracing the scars there; in truth, they covered most of his body. When he winced, you felt the tears start to sting in your eyes. Trying to stop yourself from crying again—so many tears shed already—you buried your face into him. Upon firmly planting your cheek against his skin, you let out a relaxed sigh, allowing his warmth to envelope you. You breathed in deeply, his subtle, earthy scent was soothing. 

He let out a gentle hum, moving the arm he had clamped around you, bringing his hand up to rest on the back of your head. You responded with a purr when you felt his lips brush the top of your head, gifting you with a kiss before firmly pressing his cheek against the same spot.

"I don't wanna move," he complained, his voice was barely a rasp as he strained against his damaged throat and the overnight dehydration.

You pressed your palm harder against his chest when he coughed; his body shook violently against you.

“Sorry,” he croaked, sighing heavily.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself away from him; an involuntary whimper escaped your lips, breaking contact with him now felt inherently wrong. You rolled over and propped yourself up on your elbow.

Keigo watched as you peered over at the bedside

table, shifting onto his back and resting a hand on his chest. He admired the way your ill-fitting shirt hung off your shoulders, the sight of your soft, pale skin made his stomach flutter.

“A-ha!” you called, struggling as you stretched over to reach a glass of water.

He felt a gentle heat in his cheeks when you leaned over, catching a peek of your underwear as your shirt rode up. It took all his strength not to reach out and squeeze the plump flesh of your rear that was on display.

The beaming smile you wore on your face when you turned back to him with the glass was so endearing.

“Here you go,” you sang.

He grimaced as he tried to push himself into a sitting position; he groaned loudly and uncomfortably when he tried to remove his arm from beneath the pillow. You watched as he struggled moving it, eventually conceding by gripping his bicep with his working hand and tugging.

You tried not to laugh as he waved it about, more like a dead weight than an arm.

“Oh god,” he grunted. He let go of his arm and watched as it fell lifelessly to his side, he looked at you, a devilish smirk on your face.

You swore you heard a panicked squeak from him as he batted at it a few times, wincing when the tingling and prickling intensified.

Keigo narrowed his eyes as he received the glass from you. He smacked his lips together loudly, even room temperature water was better than nothing; it was satisfying enough. You scrutinized him as he chugged back the rest of the water and set the glass to rest on the table on his side of the best.

“Stop it,” Keigo narrowed his eyes at you, the smirk on his lips was unmistakable, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. “I know exactly what’s going through that evil little mind of yours.”

You feigned surprise, but not before laughing at his attempt to guard his arm.

“Me?” you gasped. “Evil? Well, I never!”

You wiggled your eyebrows as you brought your hand into view, poised and ready to poke him at any second. He raised his pointed finger in response, lurching toward you.

“Uh oh,” you squeaked.

“Uh oh, is right,” he was smirking as he wiggled his finger playfully at you, hovering around your ribs.

He distracted you with his tormenting finger while he flexed the fist of the arm by his side, he was starting to regain the feeling. His eyes narrowed, watching you intently as you fumbled back on yourself, flailing against his finger; he hadn’t even touched you, but it was the simple threat of being tickled that made you panic. He was relentless.

“Keigo, please,” you squealed, hands grasping at anywhere he might strike as he climbed over you.

You were only fixated on his finger, so when the sudden warmth of his palm embraced your cheek, you melted. Keigo laughed as he relaxed his pointing hand on the pillow next to your head, spreading his palm to hold himself steady.

Gazing up at him, bathed in the golden light of morning, it never failed to astonish you just how beautiful he was; the way he allowed himself to be so vulnerable with you made your heart swell, aside reserved only for you. Timidly, you brushed the tips of your fingers against his skin before tucking a long lock of his sandy hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes when you brushed your thumb along his brow and then stroking his cheek with the back of your hand; his body rose and fell with a soft, inaudible sigh.

His eyes fluttered open, smiling down at you.

“I really have missed you so much,” you told him for the umpteenth time since last night, you had to make sure he knew.

It was all too easy to feel overwhelmed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, watching as the tears brimmed at the edges of your bright eyes.

You pushed your cheek into his hand as his thumb brushed away the first tear that fell.

“I missed you more than anything,” he told you before pressing his lips to the other side of your face, kissing away the tears.

A loud sob blurted out from deep within you; his affectionate, forgiving touch, his comforting words…

“I-I’m sorry,” you wept, watching as he blurred through your tears. You knew it was irrational for this to make you feel panicked and yet you lay there, feeling your chest tighten, your palms

beginning to sweat. Impulsively, Keigo pushed the hair away from your face, shushing softly as he ever so lightly brushed his thumb across your brow, around your temples, back to your brow, and up and down your nose.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, repeating the rotation of soft touches.

He hummed, quite satisfied when you tittered in response to his barrage of kisses to your nose, cheeks, and forehead.

You watched as he raised himself onto his elbows, his bright tawny eyes gazing down at you; your heat was beating uncomfortably hard against your chest. With both hands, you reached out to hold his head between them. Keigo placed a hand on yours as you pulled him into you, your lips colliding impatiently—wildly.

You inhaled sharply, breaking your kiss to rest your clammy forehead against his, feeling his warm hand brush against your hip.

You felt Keigo shudder as he palmed at your hipbone, fingers greedily kneading at your soft skin. With his head still between your hands, you locked eyes with one another.

A surprised rasp came from Keigo when you pressed your lips against his again, harder this time. You whimpered against him until he parted them, tongues frantically darting and dancing with each other.

While Keigo’s left hand was loosely pressed against your face, his fingers entwined in the hair above your ear, his right hand wasn’t quite satisfied now. At first, he only played at the elastic of your underwear, it made you gasp which was greeted by Keigo gently suckling at your bottom lip. Reuniting your lips, he inched his way further and further under your shirt.

His hands may have been damaged—like the rest of his unfortunate body—but feeling the sensation of your warm skin beneath his burned fingers was a blessing. It was his turn to fight back his tears as he mourned the loss of feeling the true softness of your skin again; his grip on your hair instinctively tightened.

It was unexpected, you let out a short yelp; Keigo sniffled.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, lifting his head a little.

“Mm-mm,” you whined, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him back.

It sent a needle-like shiver down your spine when he moaned—low and throaty—when you rolled his bottom lip between your teeth. Keigo shifted, allowing you to widen up your hips and raise your right knee.

He leaned his weight to his left, allowing the hand beneath your shirt to resume its needy exploration. Burying his nose against your neck, he breathed in deeply; the shuddering moan that escaped while he exhaled ignited a flutter within your core. Whimpering, you held him there, arms clamped around his neck.

You didn’t want to open your eyes to see his back, content to lose yourself in the pleasant sensations you felt beneath his touch, more than happy in your ignorance for now. But you did allow your hands to wander, ever so lightly and timidly, across the map of skin that pulled tightly across his back. You felt along the ridges where it raised—the deepest of his scar tissue—where his wings had once been; in truth, he saw them as a mere testament to his shackles.

Your hands came to meet in the middle, the tips of your fingers touching ever so slightly as they brushed over his painfully protruding spine.

Keigo felt you shudder beneath him, the way he was still so attuned to you told him it wasn’t the good kind of shudder that might occur in these situations. He pressed his lips to your beck, laying a tender kiss against your skin.

“I’m free now, Songbird,” he murmured.

His chuckle was kind as he rolled his head to rest on your shoulder; you relaxed your arms, allowing him to move, and allowing you to look at each other.

He saw your big, sad doe eyes and gave you that smile of his that, even if the world was ending, could reassure and console you with ease.

“You don’t have to worry anymore,” he told you, nudging your cheek with his nose, “all that free time? Think of the possibilities.”

You chuckled at that a light chuckle, but it made him smile.

“That’s right,” you agreed, sniffling as you wrapped a hand around his left wrist. You gave a shuddering sigh when your fingers wrapped all the way around.

“C’mon,” he told you, lifting himself up and back into position, “none of that.”

This time, when he pressed his lips to yours, your mouth was open, ready and waiting. You moaned softly as his tongue explored your mouth, the distinct twinge within your lower abdomen vibrated wildly when he moaned in response as the hand he held beneath your shirt came to life.

You whimpered, his fingers inching closer and closer to the plump flesh of your breasts while the ferocity of his kiss increased. You exposed your neck to him, throwing your head back against the pillow. It was delightful, the way the golden light glistened off the sheen of sweat against your porcelain skin.

“I love you,” he purred, his lips pressed to your neck.

Keigo reveled in the way your needy mewls fluttered behind your lips as his thumb ever so lightly brushed over the tip of your erect nipple.

“So much,” he added, signing off with a light peck to your neck.

You watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as he shifted back and up onto his knees, your body quivering as his hand brushed softly against your skin. Keigo’s fingers played idly with the hem or your shirt, his lips twitched against words he didn’t seem about to articulate.

“It’s not like you to be lost for words,” you said, a light giggle in your voice.

Keigo blushed, balling the hem of your shit in his hands. Gently, you placed your hands on top of his, smiling and nodding. You watched as he sheepishly lowered his head, pushing your shirt up and under your breasts; he chuckled when you gasped, hurrying his hands to remove your shirt.

Keigo gazed upon your naked breasts, absentmindedly nibbling at his bottom lip; hypnotized for a moment by their movement under your quivering breaths.

“You truly are breath-taking,” he whispered, lowering himself.

You whimpered as his lips teased your skin; pressing his lips against your hip, peppering his kisses along the exposed flesh above the band of your underwear, and finishing with a kiss and a light nibble on your other hipbone.

You were both breathing rather heavily when he pressed his hand against your abdomen, raising his gaze to meet your eyes.

You whimpered, shifting your hips impatiently now; Keigo chuckled as he traced his finger in a heart-shape against the fabric that concealed your sex. You wanted to curse at him for doing it above your underwear.

“I shouldn’t tease you, but…” he murmured, fiddling with the elastic, “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

You were so sure your cheeks were unable to get any redder or hotter, that is until he told you that; a choked squeak came from your throat.

Keigo pressed a finger down and along your concealed slit, his breath shuddered at the dampness and warmth that you produced. It was a domino effect; his quivering breaths elicited sweet, strained whines from you, only arousing him further, and you in return.

And that’s when you realized…

It wasn’t just pure lust; the need for comfort—for home—was overbearing.

He tucked his fingers beneath the band on either side of your hips and as he pulled your underwear down, you moved your hips. Keigo found it ever so adorable when you looked away from him, rosy cheeks with your sheen of sweat; he thought you were delectable.

He found it so endearing, the way you looked away from him, those rosy cheeks burning brighter and brighter. He gently lifted your legs so you wouldn’t have to move, pulling your underwear down until he held them in his hand.

“Won’t you look at me, Songbird?” he asked as he crept down, you could feel his warm breath against your sensitive sex.

You whimpered when he hooked his arms under your thighs, with his hands on either side of your hips.

“Is this okay?” he asked you, raising his head.

When you looked down at him—looking quite content between your thighs—and nodded, he flashed a grin.

"Don't you look like the cat that got the cream?" you giggled.

He pressed his lips against your sensitive inner thigh, you squirmed. Keigo growled playfully, tightening his hold on your hips; he was so tantalizingly close to your aching cunt, it wasn't fair. He planted another gentle kiss ever closer to that sweet spot but not quite, and another.

"Keigo~" you mewled, trying to coax him to where you wanted him—needed him—by gently grabbing him by the hair.

"Mm-hmm?" he murmured, planting another teasing kiss, this time on your other thigh; you bucked your hips into him, whimpering.

"Please don't tea--"

You didn't have the chance to finish your plea when his warm, wet tongue lapped at your clit; it was a strangled yelp that ended the sentence instead. 

Keigo moaned as your grip on his hair tightened, feeling the vibration against your sensitive nub. Whimpering, you lifted your hips, you were rewarded with a sensually slow lick against your quivering entrance.

It was impossible to hear Keigo’s moans over the volume of your own as his tongue slid in and out; it was agonizing how he was teasing you but, deep down, you enjoyed it.

Of course, you did.

“Please~” you begged, followed by the pathetic little whines that fell from your lips when you failed to buck your hips into him more; he was pinning you with his grip on your hips.

“Please’ what?” he implored before engulfing your already swollen clit in his mouth, creating a vacuum as he suckled.

 You wailed.

“Songbird,” his tone was low—a growl, heady with arousal—against your clit; you weren’t sure how much more you could take before you came there and then.

“P-please,” you were stuttering, pleading with him, “I n-need you, Keigo.” Throwing your head back, you gripped onto him harder when his tongue penetrated you. “I… Keigo! Please, fill me up!”

You yelped when his nails dug into your hips; he was delighted when you wriggled beneath him, his tongue savoring your taste as your walls fluttered at the intrusion. It was more than an addiction, the way his tongue roamed your velvety cunt as he hungrily drank in your sweet juices; it was comparable ambrosia to him.

Keigo raised his head, your cheeks flushed when he licked his lips; your abdomen fluttered wildly when he began to crawl up toward you.

“As you wish,” he whispered before planting a delicate kiss against your forehead.

You were a whimpering mess beneath him, whining and mewling unintelligible sounds while he busied a hand around his already throbbing erection; you felt him butt the head of his cock against your tight hole, a bolt of ecstasy shook your entire body.

He watched your body contort beneath him, smirking at the reaction he was eliciting from you. You bent your knees up, opening up your pelvis. Keigo rubbed the tip of his throbbing hard cock up and down; against your clit, against your entrance, and back again.

He stopped, hovering desperately close against your wetness, your warmth; you gave him a timid nod. You braced yourself, holding your arms around his shoulders and neck. Keigo gently pushed the pre-soaked, engorged head of his cock into you, when you winced, he lowered his body close to yours. You felt his warm chest against your naked breasts.

As he pushed further, he felt your entire body tighten until he filled you, his cock stretching you out nicely around his girth. When your walls clenched down on his cock, Keigo let out a desperate, reflexive moan in your ear; it was a domino effect, the more you tightened, the more he moaned.

With his cock nestled deep within your walls, he gently rocked back and forth against you. Feeling him twitch inside you

“Keigo~” you whined while your hands roamed through his long hair, tugging ever so slightly.

He pressed his damp forehead against yours, both of you trying hard to catch your breath. With your senses heightened, everything—everything—felt that much more intense.

He gently slipped his right forearm under your neck, supporting your shoulders, and his left hand gently stroked at the side of your head; his touch may have been soft but it was also electrifying.

Keigo’s lips collided with yours, a mess of spit and tongues. The pull between the desperation of release and the want to savor this moment was unbearable.

You felt the arms he had beneath you tense as he slowly, slowly rocked backward; he was the one whining as his cock pulled from your warmth. His hitched breaths sent a jolt down your spine and your hips arched involuntarily.

With your impatient thrust, his full length filled you to the brim. A pained cry caught in your throat as you gripped onto him tightly; Keigo whimpered and whined into your neck.

“I-I’m sorry,” you told him breathlessly.

A light chuckle broke through the noises he was making.

“N-no, d-don’t be s-sorry,” he stuttered, burying himself further into your neck, “it’s—” your hips gave another buck and he moaned loudly, he felt your slick, tight walls pulsing around him, “—too intense, I—”

As Keigo slowly began to thrust—in, out—you mirrored his movements, hips swaying in unison.

You lifted your legs, panting as you wrapped them around his waist. Keigo hungrily took to your lips again. Keigo moved his left arm move from your head—the light touch of his fingers as he trailed them down your stomach made your nerve endings flutter—he tucked it behind the small of your back.

You yelped, a tightness began to twist inside you.

Nibbling your lip as he broke the kiss, he lifted his head enough for you to see his eyes, like molten gold beneath his heavy eyelids. Using the placement of his hands, he pulled you into him, carefully as he shifted his weight to the side.

Your eyes widened, understanding a little too late what he was doing. His arms gripped you tightly as he pulled you on top of him. A lengthy, desperate moan erupted from within you while his throbbing cock hit deeper and deeper still; the weight of your body bearing down on him roused something immeasurable within you both.

You cried out, falling against his chest and Keigo’s arms were quick to hold you as close to him as possible. You whimpered, grinding and thrusting with neediness against him. Keigo’s head rolled back against the pillow, an incomprehensible grumbling moan escaping from his lolling mouth.  

The friction against your swollen clit was too much and Keigo groaned beneath you as you clenched around him; his cock convulsing. His hands quickly found purchase at your hips, holding you tightly against him. You both panted loudly between your intimate sounds.

“Ke—“ you were unable to finish his name, crying out when Keigo lifted your hips with his hands.

You panted heavily against his chest. Your body may have become limp, but you allowed him to move you as he wished. In—you whimpered—out—you cried; his bulging head brushing back and forth against your most sensitive spot.

You felt as though tiny neurons were firing off in every which direction as the tension continued to build within you; you felt like you were about to explode. You felt Keigo’s movements waver, his breaths shallow groans. You welcomed the wave of pleasure that was sending you both into a frenzy.

“Songbird~” Keigo groaned, his hips thrusting once, twice, a final time.

You sobbed, you felt electric as the pressure built, and built, and built, until that final thrust. Deep within you, the pressure of his thick, hot cum against your enlarged cervix made your vision speckled with white dots. You felt your muscles finally push against his cock, your own cum releasing at your climax.

No words were remarkable enough to describe just how much you’d missed this, this closeness, the comfort—being as one.

Truly home. Truly safe.

Truly free.

Keigo’s fragrant scent enveloped you when you buried your head into his neck, your body trembling under the weight of your sobs; overawed with this pleasure, overstimulated by his soft touch, still so overly sensitive—it was heaven, pure bliss, but it also made you incredibly emotional.

He hugged you tightly, you felt him gently kiss the top of your head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he told you, his voice sounding so raw, “I gotcha.”

You felt yourself sniffle more, reality had hit you hard and you were suddenly so unsure how to process it. After numbing your pain for months on end, to finally have released in the arms of the one you loved, the wall you’d built finally collapsed. Nothing could take this away from you.

Keigo held onto you with his arm, trying to not move too much, while he grabbed the duvet with his other hand. He did his best at covering you both the best he could, given the circumstances; you were in no rush to remove yourself from his cock, keeping it warm within your slick, velvety pussy. The weight of the duvet added an extra layer of comfort.

He kissed your head again.

“I love you, Songbird,” he breathed, “forever and always.”

“Forever and always,” you repeated, sniffling as euphoric tears flowed freely down your cheek to drop against Keigo’s hot skin.

You lay in each other’s arms, basking in the golden light of the morning, pretty pink shades beginning to take over as the day began anew; as your lives began anew.

[novelconcepts]

Prompt: Dani and Jamie's second time. Or first time post Bly/post "do you want company?" It seems like there'd be interesting emotional ground to cover there: Dani, still Pretty New to This (being with a woman, sure, but also with someone she actually has romantic and sexual feelings for), but also on the heels of a MAJOR trauma. And Jamie, who had every intention of giving this thing time and space to take root between them, but has suddenly had to go all in, all at once. (1/2)

So there's all that baggage, but also, you know, the thirst. Anyway, I think it would be interesting in the hands of someone with your knack for using sex as a vehicle t explore character dynamics/emotions. (2/2)

It’s not planned. Not that the first time was a plan, Jamie thinks. The first time was less a plan, more a tumble--a leap--a decision. You’ve shown me yours, it’s only fair, she’d thought, with the dizzy exhilaration of making a choice you might very well regret come morning. Dani had spent so much time walking through the dark alone, not a hand to grab, not a light to shine. It had only seemed right, for Jamie to meet her halfway. 

And tumble they had--into Dani’s bed, into this thing Jamie hadn’t been looking for, but hadn’t quite been able to look away from, either. They’d fallen onto the mattress, every move fresh and new and exhilarating. Jamie hadn’t done this in years; Dani, not at all. And there had been something to it, something nearly immaculate that Jamie had almost felt unworthy of--the way Dani muffled laughter against her skin, the nervous skid of her voice pressed into Jamie’s neck as she’d stood there in jeans and damp hair. It had been soft, and careful, Dani gently folding her jumper and setting it aside, Jamie stretching every new beat out as long as she could stand until it was clear--more than clear, certain--that Dani was ready for the next. 

It had been lovely, and almost simple, and for all the nerves in the world, it had felt like stepping into the light for the first time.

And then, not a day later, everything changed. Change is good, Jamie knows; organic and expected, even if not exactly predictable. Change is right, Jamie knows; a world without change isn’t natural. Still, she’d thought--hoped, maybe foolishly--that they’d get time before the change swept in. That it would be a gentle shift over months or even years, rather than a sudden assertion of new facts. 

Facts like: there are things in the world neither of them are prepared to handle.

Facts like: those things have grabbed hold of Dani in ways Jamie can’t reach.

Facts like: even now, outside the gravity of the manor and the life they’d begun there, the shadows are darker than she could ever have comprehended.

Truths, every last one, and Jamie has never been one to argue against truth. The world is set by laws and regulations--one season drifts into the next, the weather speaks for itself, no one can stop the spread of roots beneath the earth. These are good things, true things, rational things she has based her adult life around. 

And still, she wishes. Wishes she could have had more time with Dani’s nervous skidding laughter. More time sitting back, her favorite shirt on the floor, watching with amusement as Dani gently folds her own top and sets it aside. More time making it all as easy as she can for Dani to learn. 

Instead, they’re both learning--and it’s not the kind of thing any past relationship can prepare for. Not for the way Dani disappears into her own reflection sometimes, gazing for hours into the passenger mirror as though unable to keep her eyes from searching for something Jamie can’t see. Not for the quiet uncertainty of Dani’s smile, so unlike the bright, hopeful expression she’d worn when Jamie had kissed her that night. They can’t prepare for eyes that change color without warning, for beasts lurking unseen, for a promise made without fully understanding the consequences. 

They can’t prepare. But they can walk into it together. That matters. 

At first, Dani hadn’t seemed to want to touch her. Or hadn’t seemed able to touch her, maybe; she’d hugged herself close, put her hands in her pockets, kept her distance. But, slowly--as they’d made their way through England, as they’d bought plane tickets and planned for adventure across the pond--that had dissolved. Slowly, she’d come back. One day at a time, a little nearer. Brushing Jamie’s hand on the flight over. Her shoulder pressed lightly to Jamie’s in the car rental office. Her body sliding past in a hotel room.

Small touches. Glancing, testing, experimental touches. Nothing big. Nothing like what they’d already uncorked in a bedroom back in Bly. 

The weeks unfold, and every night, Dani curls a little closer. Sometimes, Jamie finds herself unable to sleep at all, with Dani’s head on her chest. Sometimes, it feels so much like playing champion that she feels too small, too fragile, unworthy of the honor. Dani, groaning in her sleep, clutching at Jamie’s shirt like she’s in danger of sliding away, seems not to notice. Dani is fighting her own battles, and she’s doing so without letting Jamie so much as hand her a weapon. 

The weeks unfold, and the air between them seems ever to tighten. Every time Dani catches her eye and holds. Every time Dani takes her hand without looking. Every time Dani stands, swaying, her body leaning forward as she had in a hallway once upon a lifetime ago. 

And still: nothing. Jamie doesn’t push. Jamie can’t bear to see the crease in Dani’s brow, the flinch from an unexpected touch. Dani is not fragile, she is sure; Dani Clayton is still so much stronger than either of them could have imagined, she knows. Still. Still, she can’t be the thing to break any part of Dani open. 

Dani has to come to her. 

And, without plan, without intent, Dani does.

They’ve been on the road for almost a month, two people learning one another without the easy fall-back of sexual intimacy. It is unlike any relationship Jamie’s ever had--though, in fairness, she supposes she figured that out about Dani before she even knew they’d wind up here. Before she could even guess. Dani has always been different. 

In a past life, she would be building the blocks of their future on physical touch. On hands sliding into clothes, on lips tracing and tongues tasting. She understands that much very well--that a person can give so much up without meaning to, can have so many trunks unlocked by simple virtue of getting naked. It’s easy, watching people, learning what they need. Easy, if you’re willing to pay attention. 

But it’s easy, in its own way, learning Dani this way, too. Learning how she leans into uptempo pop-rock, and turns up her nose at twangy folk-country. Learning how she claims not to be hungry, only to steal half the food off of Jamie’s plate. Learning how to read the serious cast of her eyes when she’s thinking, how it’s different from the purse of her lips when she’s about to spiral into panic. It’s easy in every way, as she’d never expected it to be. 

Except for this. Except for the electricity. She can’t for her life find a way to read that--because it’s always there. Always between them, this intangible heat springing up at a moment’s notice. One minute, they’re laughing--Jamie bending to pat a retriever who has bounded across the park to make a new friend, Dani chatting idly with the middle-aged woman apologizing for the dog’s exuberance--and then: 

Then it’s like they’re back there, back at Bly, back in that bedroom. Back with Jamie’s arm looped gently around Dani’s waist, Dani’s hands framing her face, all warm breath and lips not quite touching. That same heat, that same lightning-in-a-bottle irresistibility, punching up between them. 

It’s in every shop, the aisles so slender, they find themselves pressing tight as they inspect wares. In every diner, Dani leaning nearly out of her seat into some unseen gravity Jamie can’t seem to help producing. In every hotel room. 

Every single hotel room.

It’s hers, Jamie thinks, even as her heart pounds and her fingertips seem to go numb with anticipation. It has to be hers. Dani’s choice. Dani’s willingness to, once again, tumble with her into something new. 

It’s hers, even as Dani seems to burn on the other side of a bathroom door Jamie has left cracked open while she showers. Dani’s choice. Dani’s willingness to want this with her, for her own reasons, and not simply because they’ve done it once before.

It’s hers, even as Jamie slides into bed with the quiet uncertainty of yet another night not quite there. Not quite ready. Dani’s choice. Dani’s willingness to set aside the thing she insists is watching her, waiting to pull her under. 

The air seems especially fraught tonight, somehow--she thinks maybe it’s the August of it all, pushing in through the cracks in the windows. August in the American Midwest is hotter than she anticipated, a deeper heat than she’s felt in a long time. There’s a thick quality to the humidity she doesn’t like, and she finds herself wishing for the affectionate chill of autumn. 

Especially now, with Dani stretched out beside her on the sheets. It’s too hot for much; Dani had looked almost apologetic, stepping out of the bathroom in a long t-shirt and underwear. Jamie, who’d spent the previous night tossing and turning in an ill-advised pair of sweatpants, tried to look easy shrugging. 

“S’too bloody hot for anything else, right?”

There had been relief in Dani’s eyes, but slipping between the sheets had felt like stepping into a house without turning on the lights. The air is simply too heavy to be allowed. The bed is simply too small. 

Dani is simply too close and too far at the same time. 

It has to be her, Jamie thinks again, a constant mantra against her own desires. It’s a personal doctrine, a requirement. It has to be--

Dani is breathing in the dark, slow, hitching breaths that sound almost like a nightmare. She’s laying on her side, facing Jamie, two people curled not quite to meeting, and every time Jamie opens her eyes--Dani is gazing back. In the dark, it’s hard to make out the mismatched colors. In the dark, she can almost believe both of those eyes are still blue. 

Dani, breathing deeply. Saying nothing. But one hand, Jamie realizes, is moving. One hand, drifting almost like a dream, resting lightly along Jamie’s hip. 

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t close her eyes. Only shifts, slowly, her legs straightening against the warm rustle of stiff sheets. Dani’s hand remains where it is, a fixed spot in a room which seems suddenly to be adrift. 

Jamie, slowly, raises a hand to match. A light brush of fingers, curling around until Dani exhales and lets her own body inch nearer.

Dani, who seems so far and so impossibly close. 

Has to be, Jamie thinks, the only words coming to mind as the hand on her hip drifts up, slowly sliding along her ribs. Dani’s palm is warm, her fingers trembling, slipping up under the cotton t-shirt. She rests there, halfway up a ribcage which seems suddenly too brittle to hold the crash of Jamie’s heart, waiting. 

Jamie, slowly, matches her. 

This will be, she is sure, as far as it goes. Dani is pushing her own boundaries tonight in ways Jamie hasn’t let herself even think about, but it’s so hot, and the air is so heavy, and there is simply no way--

Dani’s legs, bare and smooth, are brushing her own. She drags in a breath, aware Dani can feel it beneath her hand, and can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed. Not with the way Dani is curling closer, the bed--already so small--shrinking to nearly nothing. 

Dani, who has been close, but hasn’t looked at her quite like this in weeks. Dani, who has been so distracted by her own reflection, by the monster she senses beneath the waves. Dani, who seems now, for the first time since leaving England, to see only her. 

“We don’t have to,” Jamie hears herself breathe. “We don’t--”

Dani makes a noise: maybe a laugh, maybe a bid for silence. Her hand is sliding higher, her fingers tracing the underside of Jamie’s breast with the barest contact. Jamie swallows the next words, her own hand flexing in response. 

Dani is nearly on her pillow, she realizes. Her head lifts slightly, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and there is a moment where Jamie thinks, She’ll run now. She’ll flinch back. She’ll do it again, and it will hurt again, and there’s nothing I can--

Dani is kissing her, and if Jamie had feared a loss here--if Jamie had feared Dani might forget how to do this, or how to want her--there is no point entertaining that fear any longer. Not with Dani’s lips pressing gently once, twice, then harder. Dani, banishing the rest of the distance in a single fluid motion, sliding across the mattress and pressing Jamie down onto her back. 

It is not planned, she can tell--from the heady breath catching in Dani’s chest, from the dark glaze in Dani’s eyes as she gazes down at her. Dani is as surprised as she is, even pressing her body down, her hips rocking against Jamie’s almost accidentally. A flush rises in Dani’s cheeks, her lip pulling between her teeth. 

Jamie nods. Words, she senses, will break the spell--whatever it is Dani needs to do here, to prove to herself here, does not need words. Consent, though. Consent requested and freely given. That much feels right.

Dani presses down to kiss her again, even as Jamie is arching up to meet her, and it isn’t gentle this time. Isn’t easy and slow and stretched carefully out, each beat elongated until crashing hearts can level into something sustainably enthusiastic. This is a month of waiting, a month of electricity, the sweat-slide of muggy August air pressing down around them. This is Dani leaning out of the grip of whatever she most fears and into the desire she’s been fostering since a kiss in a greenhouse. 

This is Dani’s hand’s exploring, her fingers in Jamie’s hair, tracing Jamie’s jawline, pulling Jamie’s shirt up over her head. This is Dani’s mouth at her ear, gasping in surprise when Jamie’s hands close around her hips and jerk her down against one bent thigh. This is Dani rolling to meet her, one hand fumbling beneath her waistband, fingers searching and finding and stroking until Jamie’s breath is a hot spike in her chest. 

It’s the kissing, she thinks, she’s missed most. No one has ever kissed her like Dani does--not like a secret to be hidden away, or a private scorn to look back on later, or even a hot glee no one should ask to understand. Dani kisses like she wants to be here. Dani kisses like she never wants to be anywhere else. Dani kisses her in this hotel, in this bed, with her fingers curling and her hips grinding mercilessly, with exactly the same excitement as in a hallway--in a grove--in a greenhouse. Every time, no matter what Dani Clayton carries, she kisses the same way. 

She believes, in some part of her, that Dani will build those walls again when her hands have finished their pleasing work. That Dani will roll off of her, lay on her back, stare blankly at the ceiling as she waits for her beast to rise up. 

Dani doesn’t. Dani makes soft, urgent noises against her upturned jaw, kissing and sighing as Jamie’s back bows off the mattress, and Jamie has barely found equilibrium again--legs trembling, hands buried in Dani’s hair--when she slides not off, but down. Down the mattress, kicking aside useless sheets, dragging the underwear off Jamie’s hips as she goes.

“You don’t have to,” Jamie begins, but Dani is looking at her around the almost leisurely kisses she trails down a shivering body, just looking at her as her mouth explores still-new territory, and Jamie sees no point in arguing. Not with the way Dani is sliding half off the small bed, her hands insistent and hopeful as they guide Jamie’s legs up over her shoulders. 

No words, Jamie decides again, letting herself sink into Dani’s kiss. Letting herself rock against Dani in slow, easy rhythm, she grips the sheet in one hand and Dani’s hair in the other, guiding her with gentle pressure. Dani hadn’t done this, the first night. Dani had, in fact, spent much of that night on her back, shivering all over with excitement and trepidation and pleasure. Teach me, she’d said in a voice half-shy, half-brazen, and Jamie had complied with the joy of one who knows this kind of education can take a lifetime. 

Teach me, Dani had said then, but now, it seems to be a different instruction. Let me, maybe. Let me learn. Let me want this. 

Far be it from me, Jamie thinks dazedly; her mind may worry about going too far, about pushing Dani out of her comfort zone, but her body is familiar with this ride. Her body is all too delighted to find Dani picking up the signals of what she likes, Dani testing with soft kiss and rough lick to find what works best. 

And maybe now, Jamie thinks with a mind wiped nearly blank, Dani will pull away. Maybe now, Dani will vanish on her without warning. Maybe.

Except, no--Dani is curling against her once more, one thigh draped over Jamie’s hips, moving against her with slow, indulgent thrusts. Her hand curls around Jamie’s shoulder, her breath coming in fast little puffs as she picks up speed, and it’s all Jamie can do not to flip her over and take the wheel. All she can do, to curl her fingers around Dani’s thigh, digging in as Dani presses against her, slides away, presses against her. It does not feel, she recognizes, as though Dani is trying to reach a conclusion of her own. It feels only as though Dani is desperate to feel her, to keep herself present, to make absolutely certain neither of them can forget she is in this bed. 

No chance of that, thinks Jamie, weariness and arousal making the strangest bedfellows. All night, Dani could keep this up--all night, with sweat running down her back, with her lips tracking every inch of Jamie’s skin, drawing her tight and shattering her control. She wouldn’t mind. It’s too hot to sleep, anyway. 

“Okay,” Dani says, her voice half a coiled groan, as she eases a hand down to tease at Jamie once more. “We’re okay. We’re here.”

“We are,” Jamie agrees, turning her head, kissing Dani with what she hopes is all the long, steady promise of a bedroom and an offer to keep company. Whatever that means. For however long Dani wants. “We are absolutely fine.”

For the first time, she’s pretty sure they both believe it.

[ketavinsky]

can someone tell me a story

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 12 - smile

a/n: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this story. Thank you all for the kind comments! ;-; @fishyfish-y​ @writingmi​ @just-some-stars @kawaiitinybunny @juhlydrawsblog​ @cherryvane​ @kaenyas​ @loadingrat​

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ch 11 | dreameater

For a minute or so, you stared at the dragon’s tooth. Reached out to touch it, every scratch and indentation on its smooth surface exactly the same as you remembered. You ran your finger around the blackened, charred ring around it, remembering how you had plunged the tooth into the blazing shield of fire, how the Abyss Mage had screamed. 

You winced at the memory of the past… day? Two days? You weren’t sure how long you had slept, and each time you tried to call upon any memories, your head hurt terribly. 

“Zhongli,” you barely managed to whisper.

As though he had been waiting just outside your room, the door swung open almost immediately. Zhongli strode in, though the relief you felt at his presence was quickly overshadowed by the fear of what you’d done, of how he might punish you for it. “Hansi,” he said, voice carefully composed as always, but you had known him just long enough to pick out a slightly different note of— worry? “You slept for two days.”

“Oh no, I missed work,” you deadpanned, desperate to dredge even the smallest of smiles from Zhongli. Zhongli’s frown didn’t even quaver. The very idea of Zhongli being annoyed at you sent chills down your spine. Just then, a memory came back to you, and suddenly, you were desperate for something else. “OH— work… Xiangling—!” You tried to throw back the covers to stand up, but the sudden movement sent hot and cold chills through your veins and almost sent you retching over the side of the bed.

“When you mentioned Qingxin,” Zhongli said. “I knew at once that she wasn’t bringing you to Cuijie. That girl knows the flora and fauna of Liyue almost better than I.” You remembered his slight unease the morning you left, that odd exchange that you thought nothing more of. 

Of course, Zhongli would have known the whole time; how foolish of you to think you could keep anything from his calculating gaze. 

“But what reason would she have had to lie?” Zhongli continued, “and so, though I did not want to intrude upon your expedition, I paid Jueyun Karst a visit with Chef Mao when you two did not return. We found her halfway up the mountain.” 

“Is she— is she okay now?” You could barely bear to hear the answer, “I need to go and see her.” 

“I don’t believe you’ll be able to go anywhere in your current state,” These were stronger words than you’d ever heard Zhongli utter at you, and it finally snapped you out of your haze of panic. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you noticed his stiff posture, his slightly furrowed brow, and felt a pang of guilt. You had acknowledged that he might worry over your disappearance, but not to such a degree. 

“If it puts you at ease,” Zhongli started, “I visited Xiangling this morning. Dr. Baizhu personally saw to her, and she is well on her way to recovery. She was similarly distraught about you, and she mentioned that you tried to hold off the monster on your own for her sake. Is this true?”

You nodded. 

“Admirable,” Zhongli said, and you noted that his voice had not lost its edge, “if not extremely rash. You could not have known what a powerful artifact the tooth was, though it is partly my fault for not explaining it to you. If I had not shown up when I did—”  

You blurted the first thing you were sure of. “I’m sorry for putting you in danger.”

Zhongli let out an audible breath, and shook his head. When he next spoke, his voice was tinged in disbelief. “To think that after everything, that’s your takeaway from this? What you and Xiangling did was incredibly dangerous. I believe that I’ve made more than clear to you, how dangerous Jueyun Karst is to mortals.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, the guilt rearing its head in the pits of your stomach.. 

Sighing softly, Zhongli held your gaze. “Though, I also miscalculated. Xiangling would have been able to handle no less than a Mitachurl; perhaps even a Lawachurl, but these intelligent creatures — Abyss Mages? It’s quite troubling that they’ve begun to appear in Liyue, so soon after Rex Lapis’ departure.” 

“Did you kill it?” You couldn’t help but ask, though you already knew the answer.

Zhongli fixed his unflinching gaze on you. “Yes.” 

You had already held the evidence of its death in your hands — there was no way the creature had given up the dragon’s tooth without a fight — but still, the truth was like a slap to the face. You had scarcely been able to escape from it with your life, and yet Zhongli... You glanced him up and down. Zhongli didn’t look so much as shaken from the confrontation.

“It was a hazard to Liyue. And it had threatened you,” he added, taking your awe for confusion. “Similar monsters have been growing in rank and number… Even the Adepti are on high guard, it seems, if Mountain— if one of them has started trapping civilians. Though Xiangling can fight, I’m afraid that the situation may be too much for you to handle right now. I would ask that you limit your ventures to Liyue Harbor—” 

You couldn’t stand the heavy tension of the room, couldn’t bear the thought that Zhongli might be angry at you. He had made no move to approach you, standing his usual, respectable distance away from your bedside, but anger— anger always meant someone got hurt, and usually, it was you. 

Quickly, you opened your mouth to swear that yes, yes of course, anything you want, I’ll never leave again, but Zhongli held up his hand to stop you. “Think carefully before making any promises to me. Are you content with staying within the harbor for the rest of your life, Hansi?” 

You hesitated. He was right. Going on ingredient hunts and seeing the beautiful mountains of Liyue had been the time of your life. You wanted to go further, wider. To see every bit that the world had to offer. And more than anything, you wanted to do it— with Zhongli. 

“I will ask you one last time, then,” Zhongli said, “ do you wish to learn how to fight ?” 

You couldn’t help but glance at the drawer where your Vision was, quickly dragging your gaze back to him and hoping he had not noticed. You swallowed. Yes, yes , you did. And what better teacher for your Geo Vision than Zhongli? 

He had just saved your life. The least you could do was trust him with it. 

Before you could respond, you were interrupted by a loud rapping at the front door.

“Just a moment, please,” Zhongli called in response. When he turned back, his expression had softened. “I… may have been too harsh. I hope you can understand that my words are borne only from concern for your well-being. How are you feeling?”

Like you had just been hit over the head with a large wooden pole, but the last thing you wanted to do was worry Zhongli more. “A lot better than two nights ago,” you smiled, hoping  to ease his concern, but it came out a little more like a grimace.

“I see. You had quite a fever last night, so I requested a home visit from Bubu Pharmacy. It looks like they’re finally here. Please wait a moment.” It seemed as though Zhongli was back to his usual self, sweeping out of the room in all his regal valor. You heard him open the front door and greet whomever was there. A doctor? You grimaced at the thought of some strange man touching your body. But for Zhongli’s peace of mind, you would endure. 

Finally, Zhongli returned. You looked around for the doctor— then down. A young girl, whose brow reached around Zhongli’s knees, wobbled in, holding a basket that seemed to weigh more than herself. Under her little hat was tucked a paper talisman; the kind you’d find plastered on the dead. 

“Hello. Qiqi is a zombie,” she said by way of introduction. “Nice to meet you.”

—-

You stared at her, then Zhongli, wondering why he had just let a literal child wander into his house. 

At the bewilderment on your face, Zhongli stepped in to explain. “Qiqi is from Bubu Pharmacy. She is indeed a zombie, though her story is perhaps one better told another time. Rest assured that she is more than qualified to treat any mortal illness. Qiqi, this is whom I was telling you about. I believe she might have a fever—” 

“This room is cold,” Qiqi murmured, siddling closer to your bedside. She dug around in her basket and produced a waterskin. “Good for Qiqi, not good for a fever. Please close the window and fill this with hot water.” 

“Of course,” Zhongli nodded, rushing to comply. After he left, Qiqi merely continued like she had not just ordered Zhongli around in his own house. The way she peered at you was so intent that it made you squirm, and each time she put her hand against your skin, it was so cold that you could barely resist, out of politeness, the urge to jump.

“How did you get sick.” Qiqi asked. For a moment, her voice was so monotone that you hadn’t realized it was a question. You scrambled to answer, cheeks flushing warm. 

“I was… climbing a tall mountain and got caught in the rain.” 

“Hmm,” she said, “not good. Bring an umbrella next time.”

“I will,” you promised quickly, watching as she produced a large wad of paper from her basket — how many things did she have in there? — and began scribbling, just as Zhongli returned with a filled waterskin and a glass of warm water. The warmth of the glass against your skin was heavenly, and you quietly sipped the drink while waiting for Qiqi to finish her writing. 

“Mr. Zhongli,” she said, tugging at his sleeve for his attention. Zhongli all but bent down to meet her at eye level. “Mr. Zhongli’s wife will be okay.”

It was all you could do to keep the water inside your mouth when you choked. 

“Hansi is my friend,” Zhongli corrected, gently.

Qiqi peered up at Zhongli, then at you — wrapped in what were clearly three layers of his clothing — then back at Zhongli. “Mr. Zhongli’s friend will be okay,” she amended, rifling so furiously through her papers that you were worried she would tear the pages. “She must rest for...three days. And eat wet things.” The girl squinted more closely at her notebook. “Hm. No. I meant, drink more fluids,” she amended, going right back to her scribbling. You peeked at it, but couldn’t understand a word she had written — was she drawing a flower? 

Finally, she ripped the page off with surprising gusto and handed it to Zhongli, who had to once again bend down to reach her little hands. “Here is a prescription for huang’lian medicine. For the fever.” The little girl said, thumbing through her pages. “I can also prescribe Windwheel Aster syrup. But Windwheel Asters can only be found in… Mondstadt... It can cost a lot.”

“How much?”

Qiqi went completely still as she thought about it. It was a little unnerving. At last, she reached a conclusion. “One million mora.” 

To your horror, Zhongli nodded. “That is acceptable,” he said. “Please give us three bottles.” You didn’t even know what to begin to say to that — you knew already that he was hopeless when it came to haggling, but three million mora was an unthinkable amount. And more ridiculously, spent on someone like you? Before you could protest, Qiqi shook her head. 

“No. I will not charge Mr. Zhongli so much. Three thousand mora will be fine.”

“Won’t you get into trouble with Dr. Baizhu, my dear Qiqi?” Zhongli asked.

“Hm. I don’t care what Baizhu says,” Qiqi frowned, “Mr. Zhongli has helped me many times.”

“Well then, I will accept your offer of generosity. On behalf of Wangsheng Funeral’s accountants, thank you, Qiqi.”

“I will also prescribe... gu’fen . It will help her wrist recover faster... Oh, no.” Qiqi sighed so heavily her little body shook. “Never mind. We are out of bones.”

“ Gu’fen - powdered bones?” Zhongli asked. “What kind do you need?” 

“Geovishap will work best, although hatchlings will also be okay.”

“Very well,” Zhongli said, heading for the door without a moment’s hesitation. “Please give me a few minutes.” 

“Two will be enough,” Qiqi called after him, barely lifting her gaze from her notebook. 

You heard the front door open and shut. “Did he—” you glanced at Qiqi, then out the window, where the unmistakable silhouette of Zhongli was striding off towards the mountains north of the harbor. You knew what Geovishaps were, Zhongli had told you of their story: descendants of the King of Dragons that had long been sealed beneath the earth by Rex Lapis. “Did Mr. Zhongli just leave to go hunt vishap bones? Is he safe?” 

“Yes. He is strong,” Qiqi stated matter-of-factly. “Mr. Zhongli could not fulfill his contract… for Cocomilk… So Mr. Zhongli helps when Qiqi gather herbs... in Jueyun Karst.”

Cocomilk? Zhongli had… fudged a contract? You wanted to ask her to elaborate, but another tidbit of information caught your attention. It was undeniable, then, that Zhongli could come and go safely within Jueyun Karst. You shuddered as you remembered how overwhelmingly powerful the Adepti had been. How could Zhongli willingly set foot in there, and how can he do so unharmed? A distant memory arose, something about him… karst crawlers… protection? 

Qiqi was tapping on your leg for attention, so you quickly shook yourself free of your ponderings. You could revisit them later. “Sorry. Yes, Qiqi?”

“I  asked,” Qiqi said, “do you need contraceptive medicine? I can prescribe...” 

“ What ?”

“Please do not be alarmed,” Qiqi said calmly, severely misunderstanding your almost-scream. “This is part of life. As a pharmacist of Bubu Pharmacy, I am able to prescribe—” 

“No,” you said quickly, very quickly, “No, we really are just friends.” The word tasted sweet on your tongue. Friend — Zhongli’s friend. 

“Hm, okay,” Qiqi responded, blinking upwards at you with clear magenta eyes, and though there was no inflection in her tone, you could almost hear the incredulity. “Where did you get these injuries?”

You debated lying, but she was looking up at you with such seriousness that you couldn’t find it in yourself to. “Mount Hulao,” you admit with a hint of remorse. “I went there with a friend… we both got badly hurt. It was a bad idea. I don’t remember much, other than that.”

“Baizhu was called to treat Miss Xiangling yesterday. She was your friend?” Qiqi thoughtfully waited for you to nod. “You were… also sealed in the amber? It can cause memory loss. Sweetflower tea will help... with the headaches.” 

You wanted to ask how she knew about the headaches, how she knew about the amber, but the look in her eyes was answer enough. For the adepti to harm such a small child— in the pits of your stomach, you felt such a hot surge of anger that you surprised yourself. Qiqi’s small hands rested on yours, her big, earnest eyes staring right into you. 

“Hmm,” she repeated, “not good. Bring Mr. Zhongli next time.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I will,” you promised once more, jokingly. “Though I’m not sure how I’ll fit all that muscle into my backpack—” You trailed off at the inquisitive look on Qiqi’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just friends,” she commented shortly.

“We are just friends!” you cried, stopping yourself quickly as you heard the front door swing open. A few minutes, just as Zhongli had promised. And slung over his back was a sizable sack, bulging with what you knew were dozens of bones. 

“Two was enough,” Qiqi murmured as Zhongli placed the sack before her. There was no way the girl was lugging that back to the pharmacy , you thought, just as Qiqi carefully lifted it with one hand. By the Archons, what were they feeding the pharmacists at Bubu?

“I thought it would be best to err on the safe side,” Zhongli replied, “please do put any leftovers to good use at the pharmacy. And also,” he said, pulling out a vibrant strand of violetgrass from his coat, “this is for you, my dear Qiqi.” 

Qiqi’s expression did not waver, but you thought that she looked just a little pleased as Zhongli tucked the flowers into her hat. 

“Okay.” Qiqi said, handing Zhongli the last pieces of paper from her notebook. “Please come and collect your prescriptions tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Qiqi,” Zhongli answered, helping to hold the door open as the girl wobbled her way back out as unsteadily as when she came. “Have a good evening.” When he returned to stand by your bedside, you carefully eyed him. There was a smear of dirt on his left sleeve, but otherwise, it looked like he had just returned from a walk at the harbor — not from battle.

“Are you hurt, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked. 

“Hmm?” He blinked, then absently said, “ah. The Geovishaps? Not at all. They are quite easy to combat, once you learn of their weaknesses.” You wondered how many he’d fought; how many things he had killed in his life, that fighting ferocious monsters was barely an ordeal of note for him.

More importantly, he had done it for you. Had been willing to pay three million Mora for your well-being. You found yourself blinking back tears once again; you would not let anyone see you cry.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.” You said, and you hoped that he would understand all that you meant by it.

“Of course, Hansi. Though, before I forget, I do have a question,” he said, reaching into his coat and producing a chunk of Cor Lapis, “when I found you at Mount Hulao, you were gripping this like your life depended on it. Is this what you went there for? Why?”

Oh. The flush in your cheeks burned red hot, and you scrambled for a lie — any lie. Nothing came to mind. Finally, under his scrutinizing gaze, you withered and told him the foolish truth with slumped shoulders: “it was meant to be a gift for you, Mr. Zhongli. It’s probably… it’s probably nothing compared to the one from your friend.” You could barely lift your head to look him in the eye, and you were vaguely aware that you had begun to ramble. “But it’s the only one I could find. I ended up causing you more trouble in the end, I’m sorry.” 

“Goodness,” Zhongli said, his voice thick with emotion for the first time that you’d heard. You glanced at him in surprise, but his face betrayed nothing as always. 

Zhongli held the Cor Lapis up to the light, looking at it carefully. After a terribly long pause, his gaze fell back on you. “This is one of the clearest, most luminous pieces of Lapis I’ve seen in my life. Thank you for going to such lengths to get me this, Hansi.” 

Your relief at his lack of anger and your pride at his praise was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the way your heart fluttered warmly at the bright smile on his face. 

“Though of course, I would have appreciated such a precious gift regardless.” Zhongli continued, walking to the door. “Now, I must ask that you rest for a little while, as per Qiqi’s orders. Will you be alright alone? Please call my name if you need anything at all—”

You were only half-listening. It wasn’t fair, how his smile could wrench the air right out of your lungs.

—-

A memory:

“There it is again, that infamous frown,” the young woman waved her hands, her billowing sleeves whipping about in the howling gales of Qingyun Peak. “Why do you never smile, Morax?” 

“What is there to smile about?” he asked truthfully, because he had long since stopped trying to decipher her odd mannerisms. Below them, underneath the clouds, the war raged on.

“What is there to—?” She exhaled in exaggerated exasperation, throwing her arms out to the wind. “The birds in the trees! The clouds in the sky! It didn’t rain today for the first time in weeks, so we made it all the way up here to watch the sunset! Do none of these things mean anything to you?”

“Yet when night falls, we will once again have to fight.” His fingers twitched around empty space, every moment he wasn’t holding his polearm — at her request — almost painful. He detested being in this form, but it was cold in the mountains, and his adepti form would do little to help him with temperature regulation. “We should return soon. I hear that Osial has been rallying his forces for another attack, and we were barely able to fend off the last one.”

She sighed, and he knew that meant he had disappointed her — though he did not know how. 

“Morax,” she breathed, barely audible over the wind. “What will it take to make you smile? Tell me, and I’ll do it. A contract. That’s the only kind of thing you understand, right?”

That, he did. “When the war is over,” he answered. She was leaning precariously over the edge of the cliff, and it brought about some strange, foreign feeling deep in his gut — something different to the wounds and scars he was used to. “And our people are safe from the threat of strife and war.” 

A brief pause. She showed no sign of getting down from where she was standing, and in fact, had gotten on her tiptoes. “You might fall,” he warned. 

“You promise? You promise that once the war is over, you’ll try to smile more?” 

“You have my word,” he swore. He did not understand her intentions even a little, but promises? Those he knew better than life itself. Something so trivial as a smile seemed scarcely worthy of a contract. But it seemed important to her, and so he would honor it. “You should step away from the edge. You might fall,” he repeated.

“Oh, but you’ll catch me, won’t you?” Her pale hair whipped about in the wind, framing a wide, bright grin. There was a twinkle in her eye that he, unfortunately, knew all too well.

“Guizhong, don’t—“ he said, rushing forward, but it was too late. She tipped backwards, disappearing into the clouds below, just as his arms closed around empty wind. Muttering a series of ancient curses he thanked the heavens that Ganyu wasn’t here to hear, he leapt after her. 

The transformation always hurt a little, though after meeting Guizhong (and her incomprehensible insistence that he stay in human form when in front of human children) he changed forms so often that he barely even noticed anymore. He relished the sting as lithic claws, scales and fangs tore their way out of his deplorably soft human flesh— and then, he was free to rip through the clouds and wind. Frightening and powerful, as he should be. 

As he had to be.

It was not hard to locate Guizhong, especially not with the way she’d gleefully screamed all the way down. He angled himself right under her, bracing for the impact, and she landed squarely on his back with an exhilarated squeak. 

“Wasn’t that fun, Morax?” She clambered up towards his head as they tore through the skies. He could feel each of her warm fingers gripping his horns tightly. “No? Still no smile?” 

“What?” He growled. “You could have died.”

“You wouldn’t have let that happen,” she waved it off, “though you did let me hit a few more trees than necessary on the way down, didn’t you?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“Fine,” he could hear the pout in her voice. “When the war ends, I want to see a huuuuge smile from you, alright?”

“I already gave you my word.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Well, that is, if I’m there to see it,” she laughed lightly. “Not everyone is as big and strong and scary as you, Morax.”

There it was again, that feeling — a dull blade that pressed deep into his lungs, his stomach, his heart. Fear? No. The God of War and Contracts did not know fear. 

“Of course you will. We will both be there to see this to its end.” 

—-

At the end of the war, when he finally felt the searing power of the divine settle within him, Morax stood alone. 

Mountains of bodies, bones picked clean by birds and sinew laid to claim by beasts, surrounded him for as far as the eye could see. 

Guizhong was not among them, for she had been killed years and years ago.

He felt his lip curl into — something. It fell a little short of a smile.

—-

Outside of your room, Zhongli leaned his head against the cool wood of the doorframe, and steadied his breathing. Carefully, he placed back into his coat the Cor Lapis that you had gotten him; that you had almost died trying to get him.

How ironic, that even after exactly three thousand, seven hundred and twelve years, two months and eighteen days, he still found himself scrambling to protect someone who seemed to lack all sense of self preservation, and who surprised him to no end. 

Guizhong had not been strong enough to fend off those who sought to claim her life, but you could be — if only you’d show him what you were hiding in the drawers by your bed. He could feel its resonance, each time he entered your room — the Vision he had given you; a reminder of the strength that you could use, to fight back, to protect yourself. 

Guizhong had not been strong enough.

A breath in, a breath out. Zhongli closed his eyes.

He would not make the same mistake again. 

[cloudstrifeandmayhem]

okay so im watching shadow & bone (four episodes in and its SO good omg) but anyway i had some aus ideas so

(if u know nothing about shadow and bones this will be v confusing for u)

clack au

so cloud is shipped to the fold, where zack had already been shipped several months earlier due to him being a better fighter than cloud

they had grown up in the same orphanage. cloud was ostracized due to his pale skin and fair hair and his only friend was tifa until she and her family moved away. a few years later zack came to the orphanage and they werent instant friends. more like cloud refused to trust him and zack wore him down over several months and THEN they were inseparable

but zack finds cloud and then cloud meets the friends hes made, luxiere and kunsel who greet cloud by saying "ah youre the little friend zack keeps talking about"

"little friend, zack?" "what? its true"

cloud meets angeal, zacks kind commanding officer who is NOT impressed by zack getting himself thrown in the brig just to talk to cloud after cloud was thrown in the brig. or from zack stealing food from genesis' tent to give to cloud after he didnt get any.

genesis, by the way, is second in command of the Second Army, a terrifying Inferni and legendary on the battlefield.

sephiroth is the Darkling and the General of the Second Army.

this is au so theres less friction between the first and second army. so of course ags is still a thing. (they need a better ship name other than three letters. sephigengeal? idk)

everything continues all happy and just no plot for a few chapters because i want pointless fluff okay

and then they get a mission to cross the fold. since sephiroth cant cross the fold, he sends genesis and angeal. zack gets picked, cloud doesnt and then cloud pulls some shit and is assigned anyway.

and then some idiot lights a lantern in the fold. the majority of the ship dies. its when a volcra lifts zack that cloud panics and summons the sun.

(i haven't thought further than this but if i do think of something else ill make another post)

but onto

promptis au

honestly i thought it would be so cute to just have Noctis with the Darkling's power and Prompto with the Sun Summoner's power

in this au, nilfheim has managed to artificially make the Fold (thats what Lucis thinks but in reality they have Ardyn Lucis Caelum and hes a dick so)

Lucis Caelums have the Darklings power. They can't banish the dark but they can keep it at bay so basically the wall is still a thing in which they make sure the Dark can't spread.

Ignis is a heartrender. Havent figured Gladio out but I'm leaning towards he's not a Grisha at all and he's like the groups token regular human (but not that much bc its Gladio and hes like supernaturally strong"

Noctis makes friends with Prompto the same way. the roadtrip doesnt happen bc they cant send the crown prince into the Dark with no guarantees he'll survive. the treaty doesnt happen either but the wall does fall. the Dark spreads quickly and a lot of people die

Chocobros are in the Citadel with Regis, Clarus and Cor and Iris basically waiting for death but refusing to admit it. The Dark reaches the room and Regis closes his eyes, holding Noctis.

Prompto, in the middle of a panic attack has this sudden clear thought of "i dont want to die". He doesn't realize that he summons the sun at first. He opens his eyes to the Dark gone (but not fully) and the rooms occupants staring slack jawed at him.

(prompto was never tested to be a grisha bc his parents suck and never took him to get tested)

[snarksandkisses]

What I think about COVID-19 this morning - Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

What I think about COVID-19 this morning

March 5, 2020

 Maybe I'm the closest thing you personally know to an infectious disease epidemiologist. Maybe not--I'm not an expert on this virus by any stretch, but I have general knowledge and training from studying epidemics that is applicable, so here are my thoughts. 

 First and foremost: we are going to see a tremendous increase in the number of US cases of COVID-19 in the next week. This is not because of some new pattern in the spread of the disease, but rather due to a major change in the requirements to be tested. Until yesterday, if you had flulike illness but had not recently traveled to China, Italy, South Korea, or Iran, you could not be tested. This is just the way healthcare works, you get tested if you meet the case definition and the case definition included travel.

 As of yesterday, you can be tested if you are sick and have a doctor's order to be tested. So expect things to feel a lot more panicky all of a sudden. We will see hundreds or thousands of new cases as a result of testing increases.

 Second: is that panic legitimate? Sort of. This is not the zombie apocalypse. The death rate of 30 deaths per 1000 cases is probably a wild overestimate. (The denominator is almost certainly wrong because it is confirmed cases--and we only confirm cases when we test for them). That said, even at 3 per 1000 cases, this would be a big deal. A very big deal. By way of comparison, the death rate for influenza is between 1 and 2 in 1000 cases. So, yeah. Roughly 0x to 30x worse than a huge global flu pandemic? That's a problem.

 Unlike flu, COVID-19 is not *particularly* dangerous for children, so that’s some happy news. It is dangerous for older adults and those with lung conditions, so we need to be extra careful to protect those populations from exposure. 

Also, for millions of Americans, getting any serious illness requiring a hospitalization is a major problem because they can't pay for it. And our health care system is probably going to struggle to keep up with it all. And with China basically closed, our global economy is going to take a huge hit and we'll feel the shockwaves for years. Those are real concerns.

 What can we do? Our focus should be on *slowing down the spread* of this disease so that we have time to get caught up. Here is my advice:

 1. Wash. Your. Hands. Wash them so much.

The current best guess is that coronavirus is transmitted via close contact and surface contamination. A very small study came out yesterday suggesting that the virus causing COVID-19 is *mostly* transmitted via contact with contaminated surfaces.

I have started washing my hands each time I enter a new building and after being in shared spaces (classrooms especially), in addition to the standard practice of washing after using the bathroom and before eating. Soap and water. Hand sanitizer also kills this virus, as does rubbing alcohol (the main ingredient in hand sanitizer).

 There is no need to be obsessive about this. Just wash your hands. A little bit more effort here goes a long way. 

 2. Don’t pick your nose. Or put your fingers in your mouth, on your lips, or in your eyes. Surface contact works like this: you touch something dirty. Maybe it's an elevator button. Virus sticks to your hands. Then you rub your eye. Then you touch your sandwich, and put the sandwich in your mouth. Now there is virus in your eyes and mouth. See?

 You may be thinking, but I don’t pick my nose because I am an adult! An observational study found that people sitting at a desk working touched their eyes, nose, or lips between 3 and 50 times per hour. Perfectly normal grown-ups, not lowlifes like my friends.

 2a. There was one note that came out suggesting that face masks actually promote surface contamination because you're always adjusting them--i.e., touching your face. I don’t know if that’s true. But face masks should not be worn by the public right now, unless you are the person who is sick and you're on your way to or actually at the doctor's office. The mask’s function is to prevent spit from flying out of your mouth and landing on things when you cough or sneeze. It flies out of your mouth and is caught in the mask instead. If you are the person who is sick and not on the way to the doctor, go home. Let the people who really need them have the masks. Like doctors.

 [ETA on 3/6/2020 honestly people I am getting so much push back on the mask recommendation!! The world is running low on masks. If everyone wants a mask so they can feel ok about keeping their Daytona Beach Spring Break plans and then hospitals in India can't buy them anymore, shame on us.]

 Coronavirus does not appear to be airborne in the sense that doesn't remain floating around freely in the air for a long time, like measles does. You are probably not going to breathe it in, unless someone is coughing in front of you. If someone is coughing in your face, feel free to tell them to get their ass home and move 6 feet away from them. (Yeah I know, if you have a toddler, you're screwed.)

 3. Sanitize the objects you and lots of other people touch, especially people outside your family--like door handles, shared keyboards at schools (brrr), salad bar tongs, etc. Best guesses are that the virus can live on surfaces for 2-48 hours, maybe even longer, depending on the surface, temperature, and humidity.

 Many common household cleaning products will kill this virus. However, white vinegar solution does not. You can make your own inexpensive antimicrobial spray by mixing 1 part household bleach to 99 parts cold tap water. Spray this on surfaces and leave for 10-30 minutes. Note: this is bleach. It will ruin your sofa.

 4. "Social distancing." You're going to get so sick of this phrase. This means keeping people apart from one another (preferably 6 feet apart, and sanitizing shared objects). This public health strategy is our next line of defense, and its implementation is what will lead to flights and events cancelled, borders closed, and schools closed.

 For now, you could limit face-to-face meetings, especially large ones. Zoom is an excellent videoconferencing option. If you spend time in shared spaces, see #1. Ask your child's school about their hygiene plan, if they haven't already told you what it is. If I were in charge of a school setting, I'd be hand sanitizing the s*** out of the kids' hands, including in and out of each space, and taking temperatures at the door. I am planning to email our school nurse right after this to ask if they need my volunteer help cleaning surfaces.

 If you can telecommute, do that a little more. If you are someone's boss and they could do their job remotely, encourage them to do that. 

 Avoid large gatherings of people if at all possible, especially if they are in an area with cases OR places that lots of people travel to. If you attend group events and start to feel even a little bit sick within 2 to 14 days, you need to self isolate immediately. Like for a tiny tickle in your throat.

 5. All your travel plans are about to get screwed up. If you are considering booking flights right now, get refundable tickets. ETA: most trip insurance will not cover cancellations due to a pandemic. Look for "cancel for any reason" trip insurance. 

 Considerations for risks related to that trip you’re planning: how bad would it be if you got stuck where you are going for 3 to 6 weeks? How bad would it be to be isolated at home for 2-3 weeks upon your return? Do you have direct contact with people who are over 70 and/or have lung conditions? If those seem really bad to you, rethink your trip, especially if it is to a location where there are confirmed cases. 

 6. If you are sick, stay home. Please! For the love of all that is holy. Stay at home. Your contributions to the world are really just not that important.

 7. There is a good chance some communities will see school cancelled and asked to limit non-essential movement. If someone in your family gets sick your family will almost certainly be isolated for 2-3 weeks (asked to stay at home). You could start stocking up with essentials for that scenario, but don't run out and buy a years' worth of toilet paper. Again, not the apocalypse. 2 weeks' worth of essential items. Refill any prescriptions, check your supply of coffee, kitty litter, and jigsaw puzzles.

 8. I do want to remind everyone that when public health works, the result is the least newsworthy thing ever: nothing happens. If this all fizzles out and you start feeling like ‘Wah, all that fuss for nothing??’ Then send a thank-you note to your local department of public health for a job well done. Fingers crossed for that outcome.

 9. Look, I think there are some positives here. All this handwashing could stop flu season in its tracks! We have an opportunity to reduce our global carbon footprint by telecommuting more, flying less, and understanding where our stuff comes from. We can use this to think about the problems with our healthcare system. We can use this to reflect on our positions of privilege and implicit biases. We can start greeting each other using jazz hands. I'm genuinely excited about those opportunities.

 There is a lot we don't yet know about this virus. It didn't even exist 90 days ago. So stay tuned, it is an evolving situation. The WHO website has a decent FAQ. Free to email or text with questions, and you can forward this to others if you think it's useful.

 May the force be with you. 

 Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

maliajones@gmail.com

 I’m an Assistant Scientist in Health Geography at the Applied Population Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I study social contact of humans, and spatial patterns of infectious disease, among other things. 

   P.S. The number one question I am getting is, did you really write this? Yes. I wrote this. 

 I didn't write it for professional purposes, so I didn't put my work email on it. It was really just meant to be an email to my friends and family in advance of what I expect to be an escalation in the panic level. But it was apparently welcome information and went viral on FB. I've decided not to edit out the swears, even though I wrote this with a much smaller audience in mind. 

 Thanks for checking your facts! Go science! 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Bad End rewrite - Harry concept

-

Harry flipped through a thick old leather bound book, labeled ‘curses and gods’ since he was young he had wondered why his eyes turned red when got angry or his emotions ran high. he wondered why when his eyes turned red an urge to spill blood pushed through his mind. and after confronting his father about it, he finally knew why.

a blood curse, cast on James when he angered one of the fairies on neverland however many years ago, and cursed him. it would be passed down from James to whoever he created, meaning Harriet, Harry, and Cj were all born with the curse.

his father didn't bother telling him the name of the curse, only where he had gotten it from and the type of curse. and after confiding in FG she had told Harry where he might find that type of curse.

in the very book he was flipping through.

“blood curse, blood curse, blood curse-ah” he stopped at a very old and worn down page that had the words ‘Blood curses’ “there we go” he muttered trailing his finger down the pages until he landed on the words ‘red eyes’

he started at the beginning of the paragraph, sighing to himself as he settled in for a few minutes of reading from how much this one curse took up the page.

‘the victim under the curse will suffer from intense feelings of rage and insanity and their eyes will flash red, becoming completely red if they let the rage or madness overcome them. during these bouts the victim will get the urge to hurt and possibly kill depending on the severity, the victim may possibly hear voices, telling the victim to kill among many other things, those who have been under this curse say the voices tell them to spill blood. they say sometimes the voices are angry, sometimes sad, sometimes chaotic, sometimes helpful, but they always want one thing; Blood.’

Harry took a deep breath, well, the only thing that matched him was the red eyes, and the slight madness, even back on the isle since he was a kid he was a little mad, i mean....he did try to get tick tock to bit his hand off then when the croc didn't he tried to cut it off when Uma stopped him. but he did NOT have constant voices in his head telling him to kill...well...other than when he got way to into a fight. he continued to read, pausing as he read the small note at the bottom of the paragraph

‘victims also reported heightened strength, speed, agility, sight, and increased fighting ability's, even if the victim had no know-how of combat prior to fighting’

Harrys mind flashed back to when he fought Davy on the isle, how once Davy had mentioned Uma, Harry felt something snap and red incased his vision, he had done things he didn't know he could do even after he started sparring with (y/n) and Lonnie. he remembered lifting Davy off his feet by just pressing his arm to Davy’s throat, something that he had never really been able to to. 

he trailed his eyes back up, heart stopping as he reached the title of the curse he had found that matched his “symptoms”

-THE CURSE OF THE BLOOD GOD-

his eyes flashed back down to right below the title, swallowing down the pit in his throat as he read the description of the curse.

‘the curse of the blood god, also known as the madness curse. it is unknown if this curse holds a god behind its name and magic, but according to its victims, the blood god is a very real being that demands blood and death for unknown reasons. studies revealed that this curse can be passed through bloodlines’

Harry felt his leg start to bounce with anxiety as he re-read the symptoms paragraph, clenching his jaw as at the bottom right corner of the page was a small note ‘known victims of the blood god curse’

Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself, quickly flipping the page to just get it over with. his blood froze.

-known victims of the blood god curse-

the Queen of Hearts

Shan Yu

Red Skull

Wade Wilson

Harry stared at the name below ‘Wade Wilson’, feeling as if his whole world had shattered

 Captain James Hook

there were a good handful of names but Harry ignored them, he just sat in his chair, staring down at the words that he had hoped weren't true. the blood god curse...he was cursed, actually fucking cursed with something that would probably drive him fucking crazy! voices, bouts of rage and insanity, the almost constant urge to kill.

what-what if he hurt- 

Harry fumbled through the blood god curse page, relief washing over him as he found one of the final notes of the curse.

-studies reveal that victims of the curse, instead of the theory that they would hurt or possibly kill their loved ones, would instead would be pushed to protect and care for them. the victims seem to only attack those who hurt them or their loved ones, or people of whom they don't know that well. the victims revealed that around their loved ones the voices, instead of asking for blood, seemed to either quiet down, become silent, or yell praise and love at the loved one. and when the loved one was threatened, the voices yelled to protect and scream for the blood of the one threatening. it should be noted that it has been very rare for victims to become insane from this curse, as long as its taken care of properly, the victim can live an almost normal life-

Harry let out the biggest sigh of relief he had ever let out, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face, that meant he wouldn't hurt (y/n) or anyone else he cared about, instead it seemed this curse would only help him protect them if anything happened.

‘blood’

Harry froze, quickly sitting up and looking around the seemingly empty library “whose there!?” Harry called out, panic filling his voice

‘kill’ ‘blood’ ‘we want blood’ ‘do it do it’ ‘kill’ ‘blood for the blood god’ ‘stab something’

Harry covered his ears and snapped his eyes shut, tears burning in his eyes as he realized what was happening, the voices, just like the book said, asking for blood. why, why now?! why him?! after 19 years of nothing but his eyes flashing and bouts of mania all of a sudden, NOW, he hears the voices?! 

‘blood’ ‘blood’ ‘blood’ ‘blood for the blood god’ ‘do it do it’ ‘kill’ ‘stab’ ‘*crying*’ ‘*laughter*’

Harry stood abruptly and grabbed the curse book, slamming it shut and running to FGs office, she had to have an answer for this she just had to!

‘kill’ ‘blood’ ‘destroy’ ‘blood’ ‘we want blood’ ‘burn everything to the ground’ ‘destroy’ ‘blood’ ‘we demand blood’ ‘blood for the blood god’

-

*art i did a while back*

yep...the boi is cursed...along with Harriet and CJ but ill explain them in a sec. so Harrys curse was inspired by technoblades “voices” in the dream smp aka his chat that were made canon and canonically speak to him during the “story” and he is the only one able to “hear” them. it was also inspired by the madness curse he has in a “sea three go Auradon instead of C4 au fic”  

the song i linked at the top also helped inspire me to write this concept fic clip

okay so for a bit of “what happens after this fic clip” Harry goes to FG and confirms what curse he has and tells her about the voices, and asks her why they just suddenly decided to appear. and that's when FG tells Harry that the curse doesn't have its full effect until the victim knows they are cursed, and they also have to know exactly what curse they have. “its an odd rule i know but it only happens with this particular curse” she says. then she tells Harry that he can tell Harriet and CJ about the curse but there's a chance he'll risk the voices coming for them as well. 

but yeah i just wanted to...sprinkle a bit more angst in this au hehe.

anyways once again inspired by the dream smp and @disneyfan50​ “true defender” fic~!!!

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams II

Characters: Diluc, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,273

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. The history nerd really came out this time around.  

Diluc

You knew that holding onto the past too much was a dangerous game to play. Yet you continued to chase it, desperately looking for something that might finally bridge your present self to the person you’d left behind.

You’d been mostly upfront to Diluc about this obsession of yours. Knowing that your partner also lost his family, it was easier in some ways to grasp onto this shared loss, and to use it as a way to continue on. Not that Diluc ever pushed you to forget your past, as other might have done. Instead he tried to help you, using his not inconsiderable connections to attempt to find as such land that matched the vague descriptions you could give. Though you knew the quest was most likely no more than a wild goose, you greatly appreciated his attempt to help.

However you knew that even someone as kind and understanding as Diluc would never be able to condone something like this.

You rubbed your arms, feeling every inch of the cold musty ruins around you. You’d heard that a sizeable group of Abyss members were gathering here and figured that these figures who boasted of civilizations long gone might be valuable pieces of information. Though sneaking into a gathering of the upper members of the Abyss was perhaps not the smartest thing you’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now however. Ducking into a corner you slowed your breathing, hoping that no one would care to look at the nook in which you were now curled up.

Listening to the slow creaking of the domain you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as the air grew charged with magic. The room around you suddenly grew completely silent, as if even the walls were aware of something important. Not daring to sneak a peak at what was happening you closed your eyes, willing your senses to focus on your ears.

“My brethren, I’m glad to see you.”

Opening your eyes wide you gathered your control, willing yourself to not immediately turn around. The voice was familiar, its cadence smooth and soothing, polished as marble. It struck something within you, some deep hidden memory that you’d long ago forgotten. Now that memory struggled to the surface of your mind, the sketch of a long ago time.

“I know that our plans are continuing smoothly. Soon we will able to Khaenri’ah, and topple those who so callously left it to smolder, having lit the flame themselves. We will one more emerge into the world, no longer required to hide our faces.”

The words passed through you, intangible as air. What were they talking about? Nothing was making sense, not one word was something you could interpret. And yet the voice seemed almost an explanation in itself. If you knew who was talking then you’d find out the answers, or at least some of them. Vraning your head ever so slightly you looked up, jerking back slightly in shock as you found amber eyes staring right at you.

The person who was talking was immensely familiar, everything about them echoed with a long gone familiarity. Looking out of place amidst the rank and file members of the Abyss he exuded a cold sort of confidence, a determination to see his words realized. Staring at him you noticed the emblem which embellished the scarf he wore around his neck, a golden eagle which seemed to move with the fabric. A part of you was tempted to run, but you found yourself frozen, trying desperately to process the figure which danced before your eyes.

The young man said nothing, gaze shifting as he calmly began to speak again, though you couldn’t hear his words over the pounding of your heart. When his gaze once more passed yours he grinned an understanding sort of grin. It was as if you two were cohorts in some sort of pranks of scheme, rather than complete strangers who stood on opposites ends of an invisible struggle. The gesture confused you, and you found yourself sinking back to the ground. Putting your head in your arms you took a few deep breaths. You would figure out what was going on. It was alright, there was a logical explanation for this. Perhaps he just wanted to finish up this odd gathering before turning his minions upon you.

And yet the order to attack never came. After what must’ve been at least an hour the young man declared the gathering over. The air filled with the familiar mark of waypointing, and soon the ruin was once more deadly quiet. Straightening your back you studied the wall opposite of you, sure that you were dreaming a confusing sort of dream.

“You can come out now.”

You jumped, freezing as you wondered what to do. You thought that you were alone, yet he remained. Was this the moment, had you truly just been tricked.

“You don’t have to be so afraid.” Laughter drifted to your ears. “I promise the rest are gone.”

Slowly turning around you peered over the broken wall once more. True to the young man’s word there was no one left, only the two of you.  Standing up slowly you summoned your sword, still not trusting the person in front of you.

“What is it?”

“That’s the last thing I expect you to ask.” The young man was smirking now. “Surely there are more important things.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You wound me! Have you truly forgotten the face of your family.”

The words felt jagged, almost accusatory. You stiffened, face twisting into a scowl as you moved your sword slightly forward.

“You’re a liar.”

“I assure you I’m not! Why, I cannot believe you truly have forgotten so much. Is it just me, or have we all been banished from your thoughts?”

Reaching into his pocket he threw something at you. Catching it you stared at the egg, mind full of half-incredulous questions. The egg was evidently a work of ambition and love, its outer shell the color of the night. Diamonds crept up the sides of the egg, embedded into gold that shone even in the dark of your current place. There were four portraits embedded into the sides, studded with diamonds and crowned with stars that seemed so bright and silverly you were almost afraid to run your fingers over them. Something that seemed to be monograms sat underneath the portraits, but the script evaded your understanding.

Shifting your gaze to the portraits you found an even greater surprise. The person staring back at you, a small smile on her face, was you – though you couldn’t recognize the complex dress in which you’d been painted. The portrait was such a good likeness it took your breath away, the miniscule brush strokes truly the work of a master painter. Rotating the egg slowly you recognized the young man in front of you as the next model. Sporting what could only be some sort of military uniform, small medals of red and blue lined up on top of a blue sash, he seemed to be joking with the artist, his cocky smile offset by the stark lighting of his eyes. Next was a woman, somewhat who could only be this boy’s mother. He face was set in a straight line, her expression one of regal aloofness, as if she was thinking of something very far away. She was wearing the same sort of dress as you, though hers was much more complex in nature. The clothing screamed importance, as if to confirm the expression on her face. Lastly you found yourself looking at the portrait of someone who was presumably the boy’s father. Surprisingly under dressed her wore the same uniform as the boy, the only distinction being the number of medals. No crown sat on his head, no sign of any particular regal bearing shone in the portrait; instead there was a tiredness about him, a cloud which betrayed the fact that he was ultimately quite unworthy of remembrance.

“Do you remember now?”

You looked up wildly, denial fighting with realization as you shook your head. This wasn’t remembering; remembering was something else entirely. Remembering wasn’t the feel of the world sinking around you, remembering wasn’t losing faith in the world around you.

“Are you telling me that this means nothing to you?” Accusation flooded the boy’s speech as he glared at you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I, I don’t trust this.”

“Always the same sister.” The boy’s tone was mocking now. “You always were the suspicious one, and as unambitious as our poor father once was.”

“Was?”

“He’s changed his tune quite a bit. He had too, of course. How could anyone stay so weak after surviving what we survived?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about death. Or as close to it as one can get I suppose. You should know this, you were there when they stormed the place, when they took us away. You were there when we were ordered to the basement.”

A flash of memory danced in your vision, speeding up your breath as you were overtaken by sudden panic. Swaying slightly you screwed your eyes shut, letting out a cry of frustration when the memory only grew stronger. You were dancing for a moment, spinning around with the boy in front of you as a distant melody drifted upon the air. Then you were inside an unfamiliar place, the new space so claustrophobic it squeezed the air out of you, the windows, having been painted over, offered no reprise. Then it was midnight and you were shuffling outside. The stars seemed so distant; they’d stared cold and unfeeling down as you shuffled behind a familiar figure, entering a door which seemed so familiar.

You leaned against the stone wall, trying to find some sort of reprieve in the cold damp of it. Forcing your eyes open you stared once more at the strange boy in front of you. His expression was one of ill-concealed triumph, mixed with barely suppressed rage.

“Do you see now? Do you see what they did to us? A wonder any of us escaped at all, then again I suppose those wretched idiots had no sense of magic. They were after all a bunch of thugs.”

“Where… where was that place?” You heaved slightly, feeling as if the ground was floating underneath you.

“Somewhere long destroyed. No point in thinking of it now. There is only this world after all. This world and the destruction that seized it as well. Only this one can be saved.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Khaenri’ah! The city struck down by the gods who could contemplate no power except their own! Their people suffered the fate of ours, should they not get the revenge we will never be allowed?”

“You’re mad.”

“Am I? Or are you just the same coward as always?” The boy shook his head. Pointing to the egg in your hand he back away. “You can keep it. Think of it as a memento, a way to contact me. If you ever wish to see right, well, I’ll be waiting.”

And then he was gone, so fast it was as if he’d never existed, as if he’d suddenly turned to dust. Sinking to the ground you pushed scalding air into your lungs, watching helplessly as your vision spotted around you. What had you done, oh gods what had you done?

The return trip to the Winery was an excruciating one. At first panic had been your only sensation, as you half stumbled, half crawled your way out of the Abyss’ lair, stopping every few minutes to lay down as to not pass out. The moment you got into the open air you made your way towards the nearest stream, waterlogging yourself in your hurry to pour icy water down your throat. Collapsed on the back you stared up at the sky. It was still night, which meant Diluc was probably guarding Mondstadt. You prayed to Barbatos that he wouldn’t notice your absence, for how could you deal with your shame? You’d been so foolish. How could you have ever expected things to turn out well? Now you were simply paying the price for your arrogance.

Finally lifting yourself up from your position you stumbled the rest of the way to the Winery, careful to keep your mind blank, afraid of what might happen if you let panic once more set in. Tears pricked in your eyes as familiar vines appeared within your sight, and you could’ve cried for joy upon opening the sturdy oaken door and crossing the threshold of the place you’d learned to call home. Creeping upstairs, hoping desperately that you hadn’t managed to wake any of the other residents, you breathed a sigh of relief when you entered the familiar bedroom which you’d grown to call you own. Sinking down onto the coverlet you let out a soft sigh, finally letting tears fall as you drifted off to sleep.

 -------

Yet your dreams refused to offer you any sort of reprieve. Finding yourself in a darkened hall you silently passed a variety of rooms, their imposing grandeur a familiar one. Someone seemed to be whispering a song in your ear, though when you turned to see who it was no one appeared.

“How can I desert you, how to tell you why.”

Reaching a room even grandeur than the rest you stared at the chairs that sat on dais on the opposite side from where you entered. They shimmered as if a mirage, and when you went to approach them two figures seemed to appear out of thin air. The man and the woman that were painted into the egg gazed at you with sad eyes, each saying nothing as you continued to make your way towards them.

“Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.”

“Who are you?” You called out to them. The woman turned her head, as if ashamed of your lapse of memory. The man stood up slowly, arms reaching towards you slightly. Hurrying your pace you moved to meet him, spurred on by some unrecognized emotion.

“Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all.”

You as you reached the man he vanished, red ash falling softly to the ground in his wake. Gasping in horror you watched as the woman did the same. Suddenly the dream began to crumble, burning itself away to reveal nothing but black. Dropping you into an eternal night you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll bless my homeland ‘til I die.”

You bolted up, mind struggling to place where you were. Looking around you, your eyes were met with the familiar comforts of your home. A soft light drifting through the crack in the curtains, the foretelling of the dawn.

Besides you Diluc stirred. Sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes in a gesture which made your heart squeeze, he glanced at you through sleep eyes.

“Is there something wrong, my love?”

You meant to say no, to assure him that you’d just had a strange dream. Yet the softness of his voice was contrasted so with the venom of the young man and the silence of the people who seemed to have been your family that you found yourself cracking. The sobs were soft at first, but soon you found yourself wailing, not caring how your hoarse voice pierced through the quiet of the Winery.

“My love?”

Diluc immediately wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you continued to sob into his chest, staining his nightshirt with tears as you cried out all the tears you could possibly contain. You felt like the world around you was shattering, like nothing was real anymore. You felt as if all you had held to was suddenly gone, and nothing remained but searing contempt.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Diluc carded his fingers through your hair, whispering soft words of comfort as your sobs diminished. Finally you felt completely spent, and as you relaxed in his arms you felt a sudden surge of tiredness, washing over you and calling you once more to the perilous depths of sleep.

“May I ask you what’s wrong?”

You fought your fatigue, disconnecting yourself slightly as to look Diluc in the face. Could you tell him what had occurred? Could you lay bare your weakness, your shame, your guilt? A part of you recoiled at the idea. And yet, as you stared at Diluc you found yourself recounting what happened, shaky breaths accompanying your soft confession. Lowering your gaze you spoke of your night, grateful that Diluc never let his arms leave you.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Lifting your gaze you found Diluc’s eyes raw, his expression one of surprising honesty.

“I was selfish, and I didn’t expect the consequences of my action. All I could think of was the past, of getting back what I’d once had.”

“And is that not a natural thing?” Diluc took a deep breath, hold on you tightening slightly. “If I could not remember what had happened to my father – if I woke up one day in an  unfamiliar place with nothing but a sense of loss – I would go to the ends of the world to find what I’d lost. There is no crime in wanting your loved ones home, even when you cannot recognize them.”

“And yet it seems the only survivor has turned into a monster.”

“Does that make your past love for him any less? Do the bonds of family immediately cut the moment our loved ones turn rotten?”

You thought back to the young man in the ruins, to his mockery and his impatience. You hated him, you hated what he was doing. And yet you missed him, you somehow missed him so much. Turnign towards the nightstand you opened the small drawer. Pulling out the egg you’d been given you examined it in the dim light. How beautiful it was, how different from the image that had been put in front of you.

“Do you wish to forget what you have remembered?” Diluc’s voice was filled with nothing but kindness.

“No.” Even if it embarrassed you to say, you knew it was the truth.

“Then don’t forget it.”

You smiled, placing the egg once more in your drawer. Though it had only been a few words, though this terrible night hadn’t been erased from your memory, you somehow found yourself much lighter. Turning to Diluc you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you.”

Diluc said nothing, merely leaning down to kiss you as well. Cushioned in the familiar sanctuary of his arms you allowed the darkness of your encounter to drift from your mind.

 -----

Drifting off to sleep you found yourself once more in a corridor, face to face with the man who was once your father. You stared at him, wondering if he would disappear again.

“Are you truly happy as you are now?”

“Yes.” Somehow you knew it was the truth.

“I see,” the man nodded, a slight smile flashing across his face, “then we shall keep you no longer.”

Leaning over he kissed you softly on the forehead. Next to him now stood the woman who was one your mother. Smiling now, a smile which utterly transformed her melancholy aura, she wrapped you in a hug.

“Do not forget us.” She whispered.

Even as the words were spoken you knew that you never could.

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

The egg that I used this time around is a reference to Faberge eggs. The tradition having been started by Alexander III giving an egg every Easter to Empress Maria Feodorovna, the tradition was continued by Nicholas the second - who gave an egg to his wife and his mother every year. Each egg is a masterpiece of innovation and creativity and is breathtaking in its aesthetic and in the mechanic of hiding its “surprise”. The two eggs I used as reference were the Alexander Palace Egg (1908) and the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896).

The song that I referenced this time around was “Stay I Pray You” from the Anastasia musical. Highly recommend.

The parents are based off of Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. I do not have time to go into them because we will be here for 300 years. The dresses I mentioned are traditional Russian court gowns. An image will be linked in the reblog.