#i think their tears were magic or they healed you or something

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ DUMB & POETIC ♡·˚

— [♡] ; you sprouted love like flowers, growing a garden in your mind and watering the petals with every unshed tear. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: hanahaki disease, afab!reader, fluff, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, vulnerable gojo satoru, recovered feelings, love after trauma, reconciliation, slow healing, happy ending, chapter four of four!

wc. 3.2K

↳ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

The beach house had settled into a rhythm. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi had kept the energy alive with beach games, bad jokes, and playful arguments. Even you had begun to relax, finding moments of peace between the tension that still occasionally surfaced between you and Gojo. But for the most part, the trip was turning out to be just what you needed—a break from everything that had happened, a chance to breathe.

It wasn’t until the third day, when the sun was high in the sky and the others were down by the shore, that Gojo’s phone rang. He was lounging on the deck, sipping something cold, when the shrill sound of his ringtone broke the lazy quiet. He glanced at the screen, surprised to see Shoko’s name flash across it.

He raised an eyebrow but answered, casually leaning back in his chair. “Hey, Shoko. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Shoko’s voice came through sharp and annoyed, a tone Gojo didn’t often hear from her. “Are you out of your mind, Gojo?”

Gojo blinked, sitting up straighter at the edge in her voice. “What’s this about?”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Shoko sighed, her frustration palpable even through the phone. “You know what this is about. You dragged them— her —to your beach house? For spring break?”

Gojo frowned, confused. “Yeah, we needed a break. So what?”

“So what? Gojo, are you seriously that oblivious?” Shoko snapped. “Or are you really trying to make her fall in love with you all over again?”

Gojo froze, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “What? No! That’s not—” He trailed off, suddenly unsure. Was that what he was doing? Was that why he’d invited everyone here? Why he’d made sure you came along?

Shoko’s silence on the other end was damning. She let out a frustrated huff before continuing. “Gojo, you might be the strongest sorcerer in the world, but when it comes to this, you’re clueless. Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re putting her in the same position she was in before the surgery.”

Gojo stood up, moving to the edge of the deck, his hand running through his hair. “That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he insisted, though even as he said it, doubt began creeping in. “I just… I wanted to figure things out. With her. With all of this.”

“Figure things out?” Shoko’s voice was laced with disbelief. “You don’t get it, do you? She almost died because of how deeply she loved you. And now, after all that, you’re bringing her here, spending time with her like this… What do you think is going to happen, Gojo? She’ll just magically fall in love with you again? And this time it’ll be fine because you’re paying attention?”

Gojo clenched his jaw, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He hadn’t been trying to manipulate anything—he hadn’t meant for this trip to turn into some kind of emotional trap. But now, hearing Shoko lay it out so plainly, he couldn’t ignore the truth.

Was that what he was doing? Trying to pull you back into his orbit, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you’d fall for him again? He hadn’t even realized it, but now that Shoko had said it out loud, it was impossible to ignore.

“I didn’t…” He trailed off, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Shoko said, her voice softer but still firm. “You’ve never been good at thinking about the emotional fallout, Gojo. And I get it—you’re used to being able to fix things with power or clever words. But this isn’t something you can just fix by inviting her to a beach house.”

Gojo leaned against the railing, staring out at the ocean, his mind racing. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t realized how deeply he was still entangled in everything that had happened between the two of you. But now, with Shoko’s words ringing in his ears, he couldn’t deny the truth. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he had started wanting you to love him again.

He didn’t even know when it had started—maybe it was when he had seen you for the first time after the surgery, standing there with the weight of your love for him gone. Or maybe it was when you had told him, with fear in your voice, that you were afraid of falling for him again. Either way, it was there now, lingering in the back of his mind, in every look, every word.

Shoko’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Look, Gojo… I know you care about her. But you need to be careful. If you really want to help her, if you really care about her, you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about what’s best for her.”

Gojo let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on the railing. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt her, Shoko.”

“I know you weren’t,” Shoko replied, her tone softer now. “But just be honest with yourself, Gojo. Are you really ready to face what happens if she does love you again? Or are you going to make the same mistake and push her away when things get complicated?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away, his mind spinning with everything Shoko had said. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. But now, standing here, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he had been hoping for something. Something he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself until now.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said finally, his voice quieter, more serious than before. “I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“Good,” Shoko replied, her voice gentle but firm. “Because if you do, Gojo… this time, it might be too late to fix.”

They said their goodbyes, but Gojo didn’t move from his spot on the deck. The weight of Shoko’s words hung heavy over him, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to do.

He wasn’t used to this—feeling unsure, feeling vulnerable. He wasn’t used to caring this much about someone. But when it came to you, everything felt different. Messy. Complicated. And now, standing here in the soft light of the evening, he couldn’t help but wonder: What was this? What was he doing?

And more importantly: What did he want?

Because whether he liked it or not, Shoko was right. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to make the same mistake all over again.

And this time, there wouldn’t be a second chance.

Gojo stood there, the ocean stretching endlessly before him, but his mind was elsewhere—caught in the tangled mess of emotions and half-formed thoughts that had been brewing since the moment Shoko’s words hit him. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to questioning himself, to feeling so unsure about what he wanted or what to do next. But now, he couldn’t avoid it.

What do you want, Gojo?

That question had been lingering in the back of his mind for days, ever since this whole beach trip started. He had thought, at first, that it was about giving you a break, giving all of you some time away to reset. But if he was being honest with himself—and maybe for the first time, he really was—this trip had never just been about a vacation. It had been an excuse. An excuse to be near you, to figure out what this thing between you two was. He had wanted to get closer, to understand why you still lingered in his mind, even after the surgery had erased the love you once felt for him.

But now, after Shoko’s call, after that blunt, almost painful clarity she had given him, he couldn’t pretend anymore. It wasn’t about curiosity. It wasn’t about guilt or responsibility, either.

He cared about you. Not just as a student, not just because of what had happened. It was something more. Something deeper that he hadn’t realized until now, until the idea of you falling for him again was no longer a distant possibility but something that could happen. Something that he wanted to happen.

Gojo exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he watched the waves roll in, his thoughts swirling like the tide. He had never been one to care about these kinds of things. Feelings, relationships, love—it had always seemed messy, complicated, something he wasn’t built for. He was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who lived on the edge of power and responsibility, always just a step removed from everyone else.

But with you… it felt different. He wasn’t standing on the edge anymore, wasn’t watching from afar. He was right in the middle of it, tangled up in something that he couldn’t just ignore or brush off.

Shoko had been right. If you fell in love with him again—and he knew it was possible, even probable—it would be different this time. Because now, it wasn’t just about your feelings. It was about his.

He hadn’t noticed it before. He hadn’t wanted to. But now, with the question staring him in the face, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Gojo wanted you.

Not in the simple, surface-level way that he sometimes joked about with others. This wasn’t about charm or attraction, or the way he could so easily draw people in with his confidence and smile. This was deeper. He wanted you in his life, in a way that felt grounding, like maybe for the first time, he wasn’t floating above everything but was anchored to something real.

He wanted to be there, for you and with you—not just as your teacher or some distant figure in the background, but as someone who mattered. Someone who could be a part of your life, not just someone you admired from afar.

And if you fell in love with him again?

He wasn’t going to push you away this time. He wasn’t going to let fear or uncertainty stop him from trying. Because now, he understood that he had been waiting for something like this—for someone like you. Someone who made him feel… human, in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Gojo smiled softly to himself, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him. It wasn’t a grand revelation or some huge, life-altering moment. It was quiet. Simple. But it was real.

He wanted you. And for the first time in his life, Gojo wasn’t afraid of what that meant.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Yuji and Nobara had managed to drag Megumi back to the house, exhausted from the day’s activities, and the house was filled with the usual banter and noise that came from having them around. You had retreated to the kitchen, helping yourself to a glass of water, when you felt his presence behind you.

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice was light, but there was something different in his tone—something more grounded, more focused.

You turned to face him, surprised to find him standing closer than you expected, his usual easy grin absent, replaced by a more serious expression. His eyes, usually hidden behind his blindfold, were uncovered, bright and intense as they met yours.

“Hi,” you replied, suddenly feeling nervous, like there was something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Gojo leaned against the counter, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost tentative. “About everything. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the word us, and you swallowed hard, unsure of where this conversation was going. “What about us?”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “I know things have been complicated,” he began slowly. “And I know I haven’t exactly been great at… dealing with all of this. But I want to be honest with you.”

You stared at him, your pulse quickening. “Honest about what?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he spoke. “About what I want. About what’s been going on in my head since all of this started. And the truth is… I want you around. Not just as one of my students, but… more than that.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Your heart was racing, and you could barely breathe. “More than that?”

Gojo smiled, a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. I’ve realized that… I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to pretend like none of this matters. It does. You matter. And I want to figure it out—whatever this is, whatever it could be—together.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. Gojo—Satoru Gojo—was standing in front of you, telling you that he wanted you, that he wanted to figure out whatever was between you. The fear that had been gnawing at you since the surgery, the uncertainty of what would happen if you let yourself care for him again, all of it seemed to melt away in the face of his quiet sincerity.

For the first time since everything had changed, you felt something new. Something fragile, but real.

Hope.

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “What if I fall for you again?” you asked, your voice trembling but steady.

Gojo stepped closer, his smile widening, his eyes soft but full of that familiar spark. “Then it’s all good.”

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid of what came next.

A few months had passed since that conversation at the beach house, and everything had settled into something new—something real. The fear, the uncertainty that had once weighed heavily between you and Gojo, had slowly faded, replaced by something more stable, more grounded. Life had moved forward, but now, it did so with a quiet ease that you hadn’t expected.

Your relationship with Gojo had evolved, and though it hadn’t been without its bumps and awkward moments, it had become something solid. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic, like you might have once imagined. There were no grand declarations of love, no sweeping romantic gestures. Instead, it was quiet and slow, built on the foundation of friendship, trust, and mutual understanding.

It felt like you had both found your footing, like you were learning how to be in each other’s lives without the fear of repeating the mistakes of the past.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the weather was warm, the sun shining down as you and Gojo walked through the school grounds. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi were off training somewhere, and the two of you had decided to take advantage of the quiet. Gojo had a bag of snacks slung over his shoulder, and you had your hands tucked into your pockets, enjoying the comfortable silence between you.

“What’s the plan for today, sensei?” you asked, giving him a teasing smile. It had become a running joke between you—calling him "sensei" even though the dynamic between you had changed so much over the past few months.

Gojo grinned, his usual playful energy still very much intact. “Oh, you know, the usual. Thought we could go somewhere quiet and you watch me be awesome.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You mean watch you eat snacks and avoid responsibility?”

“Exactly,” Gojo said with a wink, falling into step beside you. “See, you’re catching on.”

The banter between you had always been there, but now it was different. There was a lightness to it that hadn’t existed before. You weren’t constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if Gojo was thinking about the past or the surgery or the complicated feelings that had once consumed both of you. Now, things just… were.

You weren’t in a rush to define the relationship, to label it. The love you had once felt for him had changed—it wasn’t the same overwhelming, suffocating force that had bloomed inside of you like the flowers that had nearly killed you. Instead, it had grown into something healthier, something that didn’t demand all of you but existed alongside you.

And Gojo? He had changed, too. He wasn’t the same distant, untouchable figure he had once been. He still had that easy confidence, that charm that made everyone around him smile, but there was something softer about him now—something more vulnerable. He had let you in, and though it hadn’t been easy for him, he hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t run.

You found a quiet spot under a tree near the edge of the training grounds, and Gojo flopped down onto the grass, pulling a snack out of his bag with a dramatic flourish. You sat beside him, leaning back against the tree and closing your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face.

“So,” Gojo said after a while, his tone more serious than usual. “How’s it going? You know… with everything.”

You opened your eyes, glancing over at him. It wasn’t like Gojo to ask questions like that—he wasn’t one for deep conversations unless they happened naturally, but when he did ask, you knew it mattered.

“It’s going,” you replied honestly, offering him a small smile. “Better than I expected.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Better how?”

You sighed, resting your head back against the tree as you thought about your answer. “I’m not afraid anymore. Of being around you. Of falling for you again.” You turned your head to look at him, and his expression softened. “And I think… I already did.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. He didn’t tense up or act surprised. Instead, he smiled, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “I know.”

It wasn’t a grand moment, but it didn’t need to be. You had fallen for him again, slowly, gradually, and this time it felt right. It felt safe. It wasn’t the kind of love that demanded too much or threatened to swallow you whole. It was something that grew between you, steady and unforced.

And Gojo? He was right there with you.

You hadn’t talked much about what your relationship was in specific terms. You didn’t need to. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to figure it out together. There was no rush, no urgency. Just… time. Time to grow, to understand each other, to learn how to love in a way that wasn’t destructive.

Gojo reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he gave you that easy, lopsided grin you had come to know so well. “I’m not going anywhere, you know,” he said softly. “No matter what happens. We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you. “I know.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves overhead and the distant laughter of the others in the background. It was peaceful, quiet, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe—like you had found something worth holding onto, not because you needed it to survive, but because it made life better.

And that was enough.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass, Gojo shifted beside you, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, we never did figure out what this is,” he said, gesturing between the two of you with a lazy wave of his hand. “Maybe we should give it a name.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Does it need a name?”

He grinned, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the sky. “Nah. I guess not.”

And in that moment, you realized that it didn’t matter what you called it. What mattered was that you were here, together, and that the love between you—whatever form it took—was real.

And that was more than enough.

notes: now everyone says "thank you shoko ieiri"! writing this was so much fun, thank you so much!

tag list: @lily-of-my-dreams @sunnyx07 @3zae-zae3 @sashisuslover @kingshitonly @bvuckleybby @laviefantasie @r0ckst4rjk @minkyungseokie @tw0fvced @f1sheeee @laviefantasie @f1sheeee @spindyl @itsjustnikkixoxo @springsoltice

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[elysiaheaven]

𝗘𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲-𝟮𝟰-(The Fox's Wedding)

TW:Mentions of (cooking borisin) If you think it's actually bad from me. Just a thing Jiaoqiu actually cooks a borisin in his trailer and feeds it to baliu and sushang.

Words:2231

Jiaoqiu held you in his arms, the weight of everything you had shared pulling him into silence for a moment. His hand brushed a tear from your cheek, and despite the horror of your past, he gazed at you with a rare softness in his eyes.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice steady even though you could hear the pain behind it. "I have a plan... something that might work. It's risky, and it could mean my death, but if it works, we can stop Hoolay, and maybe... maybe cure Feixiao." His voice faltered for a moment, but he tightened his grip on you. "I'll do my best to survive... but if I don't... I need to know."

He hesitated, searching your eyes as if they held all the answers to his unspoken fears. "Do you love me?"

Your heart clenched, the question sending a flood of emotion crashing over you. All of the pain, the darkness, the guilt—it didn't matter now. You nodded, leaning in to press your lips against his, the kiss soft but filled with all the emotion you had been holding back.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. "I've loved you for so long. If things were different, if we weren't trapped in this nightmare, I would've married you... lived with you... so normally."

Jiaoqiu's eyes flickered with a mix of relief and something deeper—love, hope, maybe even fear. "If we survive this," he said softly, his voice trembling just slightly, "will you marry me?"

Before you could answer, Mok Tok's loud, grating voice shattered the moment. The creature's enormous hands grabbed hold of the cage, yanking it harshly across the prison floor. The iron bars screeched as the cage rattled, the sharp sound sending a jolt through both of you.

"If you're dying, Jiaoqiu, I'm dying with you!"

Jiaoqiu's eyes locked onto yours, his expression one of determination and pain, as he mouthed the words back to you, silent but clear.

"Not if I can help it."

Some time had passed- Now you were walking...

Jiaoqiu, in his usual calm and measured tone, began speaking, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

"As I mentioned before, I'm a healer, but my art of healing requires the culinary arts to be truly effective."

You glanced at Jiaoqiu, your mind still reeling from everything that had happened. Despite the dire situation, he spoke as though he was preparing for an ordinary conversation, as though the danger outside the bars was something distant, not imminent. You watched him closely, sensing his subtle strategy in the way he carefully picked his words.

Jiaoqiu continued, "The magic of my cauldron... my hot pot, is its ability to make all kinds of medicines into dishes that patients can easily eat. When simmered and cooked together, even the most bitter herbs become a delightful delicacy."

Mok Tok grunted, unimpressed. "Delicacy... but isn't that just one flavor overpowering the others?"

Jiaoqiu smiled, as though the hulking monster's disdain amused him. "Well, you have a point. But let me ask you this: If there's a fussy child who refuses to eat green peppers, what's the best way to make him eat them?"

Mok Tok's eyes glinted with malice as he tilted his head toward Jiaoqiu, clearly not in the mood for games. "Stuff the kid's mouth with the green peppers and cook him alive in a pot."

You stiffened at Mok Tok's words, the barbaric imagery making your stomach churn. Your fists clenched as you tried to hold your emotions in check, knowing that showing any weakness would only embolden your captors.

Just be messed up y/n, you're good at scaring people...

You always have.

Do it, you coward

But Jiaoqiu only chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the grotesque response. "Hahaha! You have quite the sense of humor." He paused, glancing at Mok Tok's massive, imposing figure. "I've heard that you borisin have lost many of your taste buds during your self-modification process. You can't experience complex flavors anymore, can you? Only the saltiness of blood and flesh can truly awaken your appetite."

Mok Tok growled low in his throat, his patience thinning. "It's a shame I don't have any green peppers right now," he sneered. "Otherwise, I'd happily stuff them into your mouth and cook you alive in a pot."

Your heart pounded faster, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on, but Jiaoqiu pressed on, undeterred.

"I'm just kidding," he said lightly, though there was an edge of steel in his voice. "The answer is simple: You chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs. This way, the flavor of the meat overpowers the taste of the peppers, and even a fussy child can enjoy them."

You bit your lip, barely suppressing a sigh. Jiaoqiu's calm demeanor was remarkable, but it also worried you. How long could this charade last before Mok Tok or Hoolay snapped?

Mok Tok's lip curled in annoyance, and his hand flexed dangerously near his weapon. "Can I just boil your tongue in this hot pot already? I know what you're doing. You think you're buying time until someone comes to rescue you."

His breath hot and rancid as he stared down at you and Jiaoqiu.

"You said that Jingliu recently returned to the Luofu, right?" Mok Tok sneered. "Well, she did come back... but unfortunately for you, she committed serious crimes and was escorted to another Xianzhou ship."

Your breath hitched. Jingliu, the one person who might've understood the truth, was no longer within reach. In fact, the news...about her was heartbreaking...

Mok Tok smirked at your reaction, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Do you really think you can delay our departure by provoking Lord Hoolay's desire for revenge with your clever little tongue? We're leaving soon, and no one's coming for you."

You felt a cold shiver run down your spine. The situation was dire, and yet, you couldn't give up. You shifted closer to Jiaoqiu, your voice trembling slightly as you whispered, "Jiaoqiu... what now?"

He glanced at you, his gaze steady despite the danger looming over both of you. "I still have a plan," he murmured softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Just trust me."

The tension continued to simmer between you, Jiaoqiu, and Mok Tok, an idea slithered into your mind—one that sent a wicked chill down your spine. Your lips curled into a twisted smile as you glanced at Mok Tok, who still hovered menacingly outside the cage.

"Do you know," you began in a slow, almost eerie tone, "how to cook a Borisin monster?"

Mok Tok turned his eyes toward you, a mixture of confusion and disgust flashing across his brutish face. He wasn't sure whether to be insulted or intrigued, but he was certainly caught off guard by the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Jiaoqiu, who had been playing the role of the calm negotiator, tensed slightly beside you. He glanced your way, his eyes flickering with concern, but he stayed silent, trusting that you had a plan—or, at the very least, a distraction.

You leaned forward, pressing your face against the bars, your voice dropping to a whisper that dripped with a sinister amusement. "First, you make sure they're still alive. You don't want the flesh to lose its, shall we say, *freshness*."

Mok Tok's eyes narrowed, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. "What are you on about, girl?"

Ignoring his snarl, you continued with a macabre smile. "Next, you skin them—slowly. They need to feel every inch of their fur being peeled away, to make sure their nerves stay active. The screams... the scent of fear... it seasons the meat just right."

Mok Tok stiffened, a disgusted scowl darkening his features. But you weren't done yet. Your voice dropped even lower, more sinister. "Then, you carve out the muscles—each slice precise, but careful not to cut too deep. You don't want to ruin the organs. Oh, and the heart? That's the best part. You let it beat a little longer before you cook it over a low flame... tender and full of life until the very last second."

A twisted giggle escaped your lips as you leaned back slightly, letting the horror of your words sink into the dimly lit air. "I wonder how you'd taste, Mok Tok," you mused, licking your lips theatrically. "Do you think you'd be tough or tender? Would your flesh fall apart, or would it cling to the bone? Leave him alone, you moron."

Mok Tok recoiled, his face twisted in rage and revulsion. "You're a monster," he growled, his fists clenching tight. "What the hell are you?"

The air seemed to thicken with your twisted amusement as you tilted your head, flashing him a smile that was anything but comforting. "One more word from you," you hissed, your voice sharp as glass, "and I'll snap your neck before you can even scream."

Mok Tok's face contorted in a mixture of anger and fear. His hand hovered near his weapon, but he didn't dare make a move. Your gaze was locked onto his, the eerie smile never faltering as you relished in the control you now held over him.

The silence stretched, heavy and thick, until finally, Mok Tok turned away with a snarl, retreating a few steps as if your words had physically pushed him back. His hulking frame trembled with barely contained rage, but he didn't speak.

Jiaoqiu exhaled softly beside you, the tension in the air finally easing as Mok Tok took a step further from the cage. He looked at you, a mixture of awe and apprehension in his eyes.

"That was... something," he murmured under his breath.

You leaned back against the cold bars, your twisted smile fading slightly as the weight of reality settled back in. The darkness that had surfaced inside you retreated, but not entirely. "We're not playing games anymore," you whispered to Jiaoqiu, your voice steady. "If we want to help Feixiao, we need to be as dangerous as they are. But" you clutched your head.... You wanted to cry....acting like this is....

Mok Tok stood before you and Jiaoqiu, his eyes dark and menacing as he spoke, his voice dripping with scorn. "You see, borisin, you may view us as savages who know nothing of the Xianzhou, but we are far more aware than you think. We know about your tracking tricks—like the jade abacus you carry and the cycranes circling in the sky."

Jiaoqiu's eyes narrowed as he considered Mok Tok's words, his hand gripping the bars of the cage tightly. He remained silent, waiting for the right moment to counter.

Mok Tok continued, his gaze shifting between you and Jiaoqiu. "The more hope you hold in your heart, the greater your pain will be when death comes. I wonder if you can maintain your composure when I tear your throat open."

A shadow fell over the room as a new voice cut through the oppressive tension. "His composure is only a temporary effect of the medicine, and it will wear off soon, right?"

The voice belonged to none other than Hoolay. His imposing figure loomed over the scene as he stepped into view, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity.

Mok Tok turned to Hoolay with a mixture of fear and respect. "Lord Hoolay."

Hoolay's gaze swept across the room, a cold smile playing on his lips. "You pathetic foxians. For thousands of years, we were the ones who allowed you to live and granted you civilization. But in the end, you chose to betray us for the 'freedom' promised by the Xianzhou people."

He took a few menacing steps closer, his voice dripping with contempt. "But it's alright. As long as you catch the scent of your masters—borisins—you obediently return to us... no matter how far you run."

You watched Hoolay with a mixture of dread and defiance. Unable to hold back any longer, you took a deep breath and spoke, your voice trembling but resolute. "Run away, you say? Well, I'm not the one who's trying to run away right now."

Hoolay's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to you, his smile widening in cruel amusement. "Ah, the little goddess speaks. How charming."

Jiaoqiu seized the opportunity to sow discord. He looked directly at Hoolay, his tone laced with bitter truth. "Hoolay, have you ever wondered why it took them seven centuries to come to your rescue?"

Mok Tok flinched at Jiaoqiu's words, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He glanced nervously at Hoolay, who had grown silent, his expression unreadable.

Jiaoqiu pressed on, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "The borisin's era has long passed. Did they ever tell you these harsh facts before giving you hope of returning home, Lord Hoolay?"

Hoolay's expression darkened, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do not attempt to sway me with your empty words, Jiaoqiu. The truth of the past is irrelevant. What matters now is the vengeance I will exact upon those who dared defy us."

You could see the tension in Hoolay's stance, the flicker of doubt in his eyes as Jiaoqiu's words began to sink in. Despite your dire situation, a spark of hope flickered within you—a hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the seeds of discord Jiaoqiu was planting could turn the tide in your favor.

Mok Tok shifted uneasily, his eyes darting between Hoolay and Jiaoqiu, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily upon him. The room seemed to hold its breath, the outcome of this tense standoff hanging precariously in the balance.

Hoolay's rage surged once more...

[stonerzelda]

i wish there was a magic spell to conjure memories or see them in more detail rrrrr i remembered these old books i used to read in school library when i was very young but i cant remember the name, only Kind of the books covers and little bits of the storylines but not enough to single anything out

[princessbrunette]

so i know i always say that rafe is strictly a girl dad. well, he is. but sometimes i like to humour myself with the universe where he’s the father to the sweetest little boy ever.

the universe would be ironic like that. rafe foolishly knocked you up when he was 22 — the boy still having alot to learn. he was still walking around with that pistol tucked into his waistband, fighting pogues, mouthing off and going on coke rants. you had been terrified, wondering what kind of a father rafe was going to be — even when he promised time and time again, “i’m — i’m getting my shit together alright? i can, hey — we can do this? okay?” with sweat gathered at his hairline and tears in his eyes. thus, when the universe decided to play the hilarious prank which was having the doctor tell you ‘its a boy!’, your first thought was ‘shit.’

because he was bound to be just like rafe, right?

you had seemingly prophetic visions, a spoiled little brat — just like his father was, thundering around in a brightly coloured ralph lauren polo from the baby range, demanding the teet when he saw fit. a girl would have been fine — you’d seen wheezie grow up around rafe and turn out totally fine (aside from the likely trauma.) but a boy? what did rafe cameron know about raising a boy? was your son next up to become a drug slinging, pogue hating, maniac? (with no offence to rafe of course, you were unfortunately very much in love with him but contrary to popular belief that did not disrupt your common sense.)

rafe was over the moon about you being pregnant with a boy too, which did little to comfort you.

the anxiety subsided the second that baby was out of you, his sticky, slimy little body placed onto your chest with rafe crowding your space — his bravado dropped for a second to reveal a childlike awe. his own baby. you could tell it was only now that things became very real for rafe. his eyes well up, covering his shaky grin with an even shakier hand, saying stuff like “shit, oh uh nah i probably shouldn’t cuss infront of the baby anymore right? yeah… my god, you did it baby. brought me my boy. should be so god damn proud.” he croons as his hands dig affectionately into your sore shoulders, smearing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “ahh, aha — what the hell kinda man am i cryin’ at this huh? shit.” he sniffles as he wipes his eyes but you’re not listening. you’re staring at your perfect boy.

he grows into something perfectly reminiscent of both you and rafe’s features, all whilst smushed into the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. you were aware every parent said that about their child, but no — you were certain. he was pampers commercial level cute. ‘top ten cutest babies’ buzzfeed article level cute. sarah would often hold him to her chest and something would be healed as she’d whisper “i can’t believe you came from my brother.” into his wispy hair. he was a true blessing.

with big doe eyes that took up half his face and an appearance that somehow replicated a baby lamb that had been turned into a human on the basis of a magical spell — you had long forgotten about your worries regarding having a boy.

a few years down the line and not much has changed. your baby boy is three years old, chubby fists clutching his empty plastic lightening mcqueen plate as he toddles out onto the porch where rafe sits spread out opposite barry, sipping on a can of beer in the early evening. your son is distracted by a decorative plant, and the two men pay him no mind as they continue talk.

“but — but that’s the thing, right, barry? i dont do that shit anymore and… and i sure as hell am not looking to start again.”

“man i get that rafe you a father now, all serious and shit but think about the money. you thinkin’ with your husband head and not with your cameron head. your daddy was a piece of shit but he had that business mindset that you gotta adopt, bro.”

rafe’s expression flattens, finishing his can before leaning forward onto his elbows. “well uh, newsflash — i don’t wanna be anything like my dad. now if we’re done here…” rafes attention is caught by the mini him waddling into view, holding his plate infront of him.

“more please?” comes the sweetest voice in the world, blinking up at the man he viewed as his entire universe, much like you at times.

“finished your icecream already huh? where’s your mom?” he cranes round, but doesn’t bother searching much further when he hears the padding of your footsteps.

“aye buddy, you know we was just talkin’ about you.” barry leans forward with a smarmy grin and your son gets shy, lifting his shoulders practically to his ears and looking down, glueing himself to rafes leg.

“conversations done, actually.” rafe reminds him, lifting the boy to sit on his hip as he hoists himself to stand. as he does so, you appear in the doorway to the patio— sundress clad belly swollen with another baby.

“rafe could you bring him in? it’s too hot out there for him without his hat.” you furrow your eyebrows, deciding to ignore barry’s presence all together, which of course doesn’t stop him from conversing.

“shit, i ain’t seen you in a while mama. he got you again? you two stay busy, huh?” rafes oldest ‘friend’ chuckles, gold tooth glinting in the sun light, and like your only child — you shy away, sending rafe a parting glance that said ‘just hurry up and rid of him.’

rafe adjusts the baby boy on his hip, now staring down at barry.

“talk to my girl again n’i’ll bring out the old me alright, you don’t want that. go do somethin’ barry, i don’t care what it is just get off my goddamn property yeah?” rafe drawls tiredly, crushing the can in his hand and dropping it carelessly into the wastebin beside barry before heading inside, your son turning to stare sweetly at the dark haired man over his dads shoulder, offering a sticky, wide fingered salute in parting.

atleast rafe was still his usual charming self, son or not.

[werecreature-addicted]

Imagine an alliance between 2 tribes, the werewolves and the humans, lately there have been many disputes and grudges between the two tribes, so they planned an alliance, a marriage, the daughter of the leader of the humans should marry the leader of the opposing tribe, a young werewolf with the desire to start a beautiful family

He coughs trying to calm his heart as he imagines the great difference in size between the two and the good sex they would have COF COF

You were ready to do whatever it took to keep your people safe, and if marrying the Alpha of the werewolves to keep the peace, so be it. Really this was a good thing, it would double the land your people had access to, double the resources and riches, not to mention werewolves had proven to be formidable adversaries, and they were sure to make invaluable allies. so why were you shaking? why were you so scared? this was clearly the right thing to do for you and the people you served.

You supposed the fear was natural. you'd spent almost all of your adult life fighting these monsters. almost dying to their sharp claws and vicious teeth. it would probably be a while before you stopped seeing all werewolves as a monolithic enemy. Although, you already knew all werewolves weren't bad. When you were a child you would sneak away into the woods and play with a werewolf pup around your age. Now looking back you cringe thinking about how dangerous that was, no doubt one of you would have been killed if either of you had been caught. Still, he'd been sweet, if one werewolf child could be kind, couldn't they all be?

Your wedding was hardly even a ceremony. Guards on both sides lined the walls of the office, fully armed and tense, ready to strike if something should go wrong. you smiled tensely at your husband-to-be as you signed the paperwork officially making you a married couple, he did not smile back. The marriage license meant almost nothing to him, werewolves sealed their romantic ties in a different way.

Every human in the room goes stiff as the werewolf alpha tilts your head to the side, cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling the collar of your shirt to the side with the other. your heart races and you try to be pliant in his hands, but your mind is flooded with your memories from battle. how many times have you been bitten by a werewolf? how many times had you felt the searing pain of their bear trap-like jaws clamping down on you, crushing your armor, and tearing your skin? he bites you just as you start hyperventilating. You scream. he's killing you, he's going to rip your throat out this was all a trap, you're going to die.

He lets go of you and you collapse, your legs shaking too badly to keep you up, The werewolf pulls you back into your arms, licking at the wound he just left, you struggle, still panicked. "sorry, I know it hurt, humans are so weak," he murmurs still licking at your neck. it does soothe the pain, slowly you start to relax too. you hadn't died, he hadn't betrayed you. you were bound together now, Mated as they called it.

You put yourself together again in time for the celebratory banquette. you were a warrior and a leader, you had to be stronger than this, or at the very least look stronger than this. You stood statuesque next to your new husband at the head of the table, humans and werewolves alike cheered in joy, the war was over, the tribes united. People ate and talked merrily, although no one seemed brave enough to cross the invisible boundary line, werewolves ate with werewolves, humans with humans.

there was a lavish meal set in front of you but you didn't feel up to eating, instead, you examine your reflection in the back of a spoon, despite the wound only being a few hours old it's already scared over looking months old. You knew werewolves had some healing properties, you were surprised this magic could be transferred to humans.

"Does it hurt?" you jump at the rough voice, you'd almost forgotten your husband was right beside you.

"no. I'm just surprised that it doesn't," you admit. he reaches over and lays his clawed hand on top of yours comfortingly.

"I'm sorry it scared you," he says and you feel your face go hot you were embarrassed at your reaction. you knew he was going to bite you as a way to mark your union, you should have been better prepared. you look in his eyes, they're a strange yellow color, it's captivating, even if his expression is stoic his eyes are looking at you kindly. you remember again the werewolf boy you were friends with, and you wonder if he remembers you if he's even still alive. You hoped he was, you hoped you could see him again in this new life.

you blink, realizing you'd gotten lost in thought just staring at him. "I- It's alright I mean. I'll live," you stammer. He squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"Of course, you're so tough a single bite wouldn't be enough to take down my mate," he's teasing you you realize, it makes you smile a little. this wouldn't be so bad after all.

[blacknight1230]

Healing Touches

(Y/n) is suffering from one of the worst migraines they had ever had, but luckily she has two wonderful partners to help her feel better.

poly!Halsin X Reader X Astarion

Everything hurt. Why does everything hurt? That was the first thing you were thinking of when you woke up that morning. The sounds of the birds singing their morning song, the sunlight breaking through the slit in your tent's opening, the reverberating throbbing of your head ... it could only mean one thing. You were suffering from a migraine. You tried to get up to try and find something to help you with your pain, but the slightest movement made a wave of dizziness and nausea to overcome you. Spots danced across your eyes, even when they were closed and your back teeth were even in pain. This is by far the worst migraine you have ever experienced, and you've suffered from quite a lot. This is what I get for not having my medication with me, you thought. Yet another thing you took for granted when you somehow managed to transport yourself from the modern world to the magical and chaotic world of Faerûn. How you did that, you still did not know.

The vertigo you were dealing with made it impossible for you to physically get help. So, you did the only thing possibly in this situation; you used your tadpole to connect with one of your companions. You psychically reached out to one of your nearby companion's tadpole, latching onto the first one your worm felt. You struggled to maintain the connection and formulate proper thoughts to convey your need for help. Before you were able to identify who you were connected with, said connection broke as you lost concentration, your head now pounding even harder. Everything felt numb as blood rushed in your ears and spots danced behind your eyes again.

The opening of your tent flap and sunlight pouring in signalled that someone had entered your informal abode. You sheltered under the layers of your bedroll and hissed at the brightness, not able to see who came to your rescue. "Are you alright, pet? I felt you reach out to me," a sauve cool voice asked. Astarion, you inwardly cooed. The silver haired vampire noticed your aversion to the light, closing the tent flap behind him as he shuffled closer to you. "Darling, please say something," he worried. You peaked an eye over the edge of your bedroll cover, met with the handsome face of your vampiric lover. His usual lustrous saccharine eyes were soft with concern, furrowed brows showing the hidden wrinkles of his forehead. "Migraine," you managed to say, voice coming out raspy and low. The slight movement of your jaw did not help the resounding pain in your back teeth, which in turn made your head worse. "Oh, my sweet little love," he cooed. He reached a hand out and brushed it across the apple of your cheek, the slightest touch of his cold skin providing you with relief. "Let me go get, Halsin. He'll surely know what to do."

"No, stay," you whispered, wanting nothing more than for him to wander his icy hands over your head and neck. Astarion let out a sad chuckled, kneeling over you to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, my love. But I'll be right back, I promise." His icy touch left you as he careful made his way outside without letting any light disturb you.

You laid there, in silence and pain, for who knows how long. Time felt slower as the throbbing continued in your skull. Sleep refused to take you under its wings, and there was no way you could sit up and read a book. When the hulking frame of Halsin appeared in your tent's entrance way, you swore it was a godsend.

"Oh, my heart," the druid cooed when he laid eyes on you. "Halsin," you whimpered out. Tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you wouldn't let him see them cascade down your face. "I've got some natural remedies to help you with your pain, my heart. But first you need to tell me where it hurts?" Halsin softly told you, kneeling down beside you. "Everywhere. It hurts everywhere," you told your hulking lover.

Astarion quietly shuffled himself into the privacy of your tent, situating himself to sit on the blanketed ground facing the other side of Halsin. "Darling, you need to be more specific so Halsin can help you? Can you do that for us?" he coached you, taking his hand to gentle rub away the furrowing of your forehead. You audibly let out a sigh of relief at the coldness of his fingers, losing yourself in his touch. "It looks like she enjoys that, Astarion. I suggest you continue while I prepare the appropriate remedies," Halsin cooed.

You just groaned in pleasure as Astarion's lithe fingers continued to massaged away the stress in your forehead muscles. You felt them relax, and in turn you stopped scrunching your eyes shut as the pain slightly lessened. But the back of your head, right where your spine meets your skull, was still throbbing in pain, so you grabbed Astarion's other hand and brought it to the spot. The vampire spawn seemed to understand what you wanted, slowly but firmly rolling the sore tissue under his pale fingertips. A small gasp was brought to your lips and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears lessened to the point you could now hear Halsin grinding some medical herbs in a mortar and pestle somewhere inside your tent.

Liquid sloshed in a container as Halsin returned to you, having finished what he was doing. "I made you something to help with your migraine. I need you to sit up so you can drink it. Can you do that for me?" he informed. You mumbled out a small yes, struggling to prop yourself up on your elbows. Astarion wrapped an arm around your torso and gently pulled you to lean up against his chest. You placed a chaste kiss on his hand as a thank you. You were able to open your eyes now, though you still squinted due to not being used to the light, still somewhat sensitive to it. But you were able to make out Halsin kneeling beside you with a glass bottle filled with some reddish liquid inside held in his large hand.

"Here you go, my heart. Drink as much as you can," he said as he brought the glass rim up to your lips. You opened your mouth, humming as the first drop of the medicine hit your tongue. Mmm, chamomile, you thought. There was a hit of sweetness to it, as if Halsin added spoon of honey to the mixture., that craffy bear. You hummed in enjoyment at the taste, signalling to Halsin to tilt the bottle some more so you could drink more its contents.

When you almost finished the mixture, Halsin pulled the bottle away. "Not too much, my heart. There will be plenty more for you later," he teased. You mewled as you leaned further into Astarion's chest, eyes starting to feel droopy. Astarion let out a light chuckle at your affections. "I see the herbs are already working. Would you like us to stay with you while you nap, my darling?" he playfully ask. You nodded, looking up into his ruby eyes with a child-like pout on your lips. "Please. I want some cuddles," you pleaded. "Oh, darling, how could we ever say no to a face like that," Astarion cooed, placing two light kisses against your eyelids.

You repositioned yourself so you were laying on your stomach with your head on Astarion's chest. The vampire wrapped his arms around your middle and laid a kiss on your head, before settling himself back onto your sleeping pillow. Your druid partner threw an arm over the both of you as he laid on his side, his muscular chest warming your side while his chin rested lightly on Astarion's white locks. You could feel the tangling of your legs with your partners, a smile making your way to your face. "Sweet dreams, my sweet," Astarion whispered in your ear. "Rest well, my love," Halsin purred, rubbing soothing circles into your back. The scent of your loves and the sound of their rhythmic breathing lulled you back to sleep, the pain that once plagued you moment you woke up long forgotten as you laid within their loving embraces.

[misstycloud]

Platonic. Fae father

Fae father! Who loves you more than anything. He’d trade his immortality and beauty a million times if it meant saving you. It’s worth nothing if he can’t be with you.

Fae father! Who originally wasn’t very interested in you but simply didn’t have the heart to throw you to the wolves like he would if it’d been any other baby- you were his, after all. But as time passed, he found himself more enamoured with you for every second you spent together. Before he knew it, you were an irreplaceable part of his life. He can’t imagine how he managed to live for centuries without you.

Fae father! Who is very protective and while he knows you’re safer inside his territory than you’d ever be anywhere else, there’s still a possibility something could happen you you. He can’t have that happen! What if you accidentally trip on a root and scrape your knee? Sure he can heal you with his magic, but he’d rather spare you the unnecessary pain and tears.

Fae father! Is scared that you’ll leave him eventually. This is especially regarding when you’ll have grown up. He never hid your half-human side(you were bound to find out anyway, considering you didn’t have magic in the same sense as him, and your ears were slightly rounded unlike his purely pointed ones), but he’s beginning to think it was a mistake. His attempt at good parenting could backfire and you would become naturally curious as you got older. Then you would request to leave the safety and familiarity of the forest you grew up in, to go adventure beyond it and come into contact with your human side.

Fae father! Who thought about how horrible that would be. He knew the cruelty of humans. They were greedy beyond imagination and an ugly stain on the world; truly a mistake of creation. He thought about what they could potentially do to you, a wonderful, kind yet naive child. His child. You were part fae and that was obvious- if he had to be honest, he had always been happy you appeared more fae than human, it made him feel more connected to you- the price that you would go for on a market was immense. Fae father nearly faints at what kind of filth could be wanting to get their hands on you.

Fae father! Who wove to protect you at all costs- even lying and misleading you. The only way he saw to do that is to keep you in the forest; your childhood home and his domain.

“Father, what’s beyond the forest? Are there really human towns? The animals tell me they are bustling with life- and there’s so many strange and new things!” You asked your father. You two were in your favourite meadow, you sat up in the lush grass, making a flower crown.

Your father had laid down a while ago and was content with the relaxation the summer weather brought. However, the moment you began talking about humans and your curiosity for the outside world, his eyes snapped open and he, too, sat up.

He gave you a soft smile, “The animals told you that?”

You nodded vigorously. He reminded himself to warn the animals to not tell you about such things, afterwards. If he had to guess, it was most likely that damn squirrel friend of yours that didn’t know when to shut up.

“Well, dear-“ he said, finding the way you were hooked on every word incredibly endearing, “yes, there there are human settlements outside these woods. But I do not want you going anywhere near them, you hear? It’s simply not safe for you.” Your father ended the sentence with booping you on the nose.

“What? What do you mean?” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, “I am older- I have many tricks to defend myself with; you do not.”

Pouting, you crossed your arms and said in defiance, “Why would you have to defend yourself? You’re not fighting, are you?”

You father ran his hand through his long locks with a sigh. “Dear, I am afraid that might not be the case.” You looked at him in confusion. “You see, we- as in magical kind- have not been on good terms with mannkind for centuries- maybe even ever.”

You were silent, pondering over what this meant as your protector watched. Had it not been a serious subject, he would have thought about how cute you look whenever you are thoroughly grumbling over something. He took it upon himself to expand his reasonings while combing through your hair.

“We are rare, beautiful, immortal and have powers they could only dream of.” To prove his point, your father held out a seed in the palm of his hand. He closed it for a second and a green light flashed. Opening his palm again, the little seed quickly grew into a wonderful, fully grown flower in a matter of moments. “See, if they had the means to do this, then a new war would break loose every day. They are greedy and selfish and struggle because of it, while we live away from such mundane troubles.”

“But what about all those amazing things they have invented? I hear they sing and dance just like us. They have families too, just like us. They can’t all be bad!” You protested. If all those things your friends had told you were true, then you needed to know and find a way to see them for yourself.

Your father sighed once more. He appeared to be doing that a lot during your conversation. He grabbed a hold of your hand and squeezed it tight. “I understand your curiosity regarding humans- trust me, I do. I was young once upon a time, as well. You believe that I did not sneak away to peek at the towns myself?”

“You have gone there yourself?”

He nodded to confirm your question. “However, they are far from what your little friends have been tricking you into believing. They are not fun and do not sing nor dance. Like I said, they are selfish and horrible, you best stay away from them.”

“But-“ you tried.

He cut you off immediately. “-No ‘buts’. You stay away from the town, alright? Simply stay here where you’re safe. I won’t tolerate any violation of the rules when it comes to this.” He took notice of your gloomy expression and added, “It’s for your safety, nothing else. Oh, sweetie, I do wish the world was different. However, this is a truth we must face. You do understand, correct?”

Seeing your worrying father’s serious demeanor as he urged you for an answer, you looked down before saying, “Yes, Father. I won’t go into human towns. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

He sighed in relief. “Good child. Remember, I am only looking after you. I’m your father, I know what’s best for you.

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

[inhuman-obey-me]

⚡️Solomon and mc please if you are still doing these.

"What good is this "great power" of mine? Absolutely everything slips through my fingers." - Solomon/MC

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to be safe here in the human realm. Safe with him. 

“Solomon,” your voice is weak as you call out his name, lying in the middle of the room. Blood is seeping through the bandages tightly wrapped around your wounds. Your eyes flicker as you seem to fade in and out of consciousness. 

Shit. That potion didn’t work either. 

“Don’t speak. Don’t move. I’ll get you fixed up.” He does his best to keep his voice calm, swallowing the panic that threatens to take over. No, he needs to focus. He needs to find the right ingredients, he needs to measure precisely, he needs to find the damn spell or potion or whatever it is that will undo the damage that’s laid claim to your body. 

Books go flying off the shelves, circling in a dizzying array around the sorcerer as pages flip rapidly. He had taken you to one of his secret abodes spread throughout the human realm, all stocked with various magical items and artifacts along with numerous grimoires and journals he had collected over centuries. A treasure trove for any occult enthusiast – but currently, an archive of desperation. 

“There has to be something here. It’s a complex curse, but it still seems to be human-made, though with some demonic assistance, so,” he speaks his thoughts aloud, talking more to himself than to you, “I just need to find what can neutralize it.” 

Surely he can find it. Solomon has never met a curse that he couldn’t eventually break, faced a foe he couldn’t manipulate, discovered a spell he couldn’t replicate. The air fills with the noise of a sorcerer gone mad – the clinks and clanks of vials and bottles, the continuous flutter of pages turning, the hiss and bubbling of items being thrown together, the scrape of metal against glass, of chalk against wood and the crackle of fire.  

“This one should work.” 

It didn’t.

“Okay, maybe this one.”

Another failure. 

“This one has to be it.”

No.

“Please.” 

Solomon slumps beside you after his latest attempt, his face in his hands and his deep breath turns into an exasperated yet muffled yell. His hands travel up his head, fingers tightly gripping at his hair as a hiss leaves his lips. 

Solomon the Wise. Solomon the Witty Sorcerer. These names and more had plagued him for so long, were ones he at times embraced and gloated over. He had been the most powerful human in existence, continuing to obtain more and more power so that he could show the angels and demons that they couldn’t control him, control humans. It wasn’t without sacrifices, without pain and hardship. He still lost so much.

And now, he was afraid of losing you. 

There was no other choice. He was going to have to call upon the demons for help.

“What good is this great power of mine?” His voice nearly breaks, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. “Absolutely everything slips through my fingers.” 

“Not everything, old man.” 

Solomon jolts up, eyes wide as he looks to you after hearing your shaky voice. 

You let out a low groan, shifting in place before slightly propping yourself up on your elbows. “Come on, you didn’t think I would go down that easily, did you?” You wince. “Have some faith in your apprentice. I’m basically as strong as you.” 

Your name leaves him in a near-sob as he scrambles up and throws his arms around you. “Oh thank the stars, you’re okay.” 

“Ow,” you respond, but sink into his embrace. “I’m not touching a strange statue again for a good while after this.”  

“I’m sorry,” Solomon releases you, checking over your wounds to ensure that you are now healing. “I should have known, I should have stopped you, I should have –” 

“Solomon.” You stop him, brushing some of his wispy locks from his face. “It was an accident. You can’t always be there watching over me. And if it wasn’t for you, I would be in a lot worse shape.” Placing a hand on his cheek, you gaze affectionately into his eyes. “Thank you.”

He swallowed his protests. It was true that you were on a path to quickly overtake him as the most powerful human sorcerer the world had ever known. He was going to have to get used to you getting into dangerous situations, used to you wielding such power and the responsibility that came with it. He was no longer alone in carrying that burden.

With a sigh, Solomon rests his forehead against yours. “Looks like I’m going to have to make a lot more protection charms.” 

[moonselune]

You're dark bg3 stuff is amazing, what do you think about the reader getting sick and them ever over reacting or not reacting

Separate idea: Them dressing up with reader like a doll not a person showing how they think about them.

Okay okay, so I did a mix of injured reader and ill reader, feel free to send in the separate idea as an additional request !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Help (Please don't) !

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For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion, forced memory loss, illness, injury,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Whether out of defiance or out of poor luck, you are in need of healing, how do they react to this?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The injury happened quickly, too quickly for you to react. In the chaos of the skirmish, a blade had sliced across your side, leaving a deep, ragged gash. You had snuck out of the House and landed yourself in some trouble. You knew Minthara would be furious if she found out, so you did the only thing you could think of: you hid it.

Back in your quarters, you bandaged the wound as best as you could, gritting your teeth against the searing pain. You knew it wasn't enough, but you hoped it would hold until the bleeding stopped. You went about your restricted duties, ignoring the throbbing pain in your side. As the day went on, however, the wound worsened, the edges growing inflamed and hot to the touch. You moved stiffly, every step a reminder of the injury you were concealing.

Minthara was perceptive, always watching, always aware. So it was only a matter of time before she noticed.

As you were preparing for bed, she entered your shared room. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the blood seeping through your bandages and staining your clothes. Her expression turned from curiosity to fury in an instant.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Why did you not tell me?”

You tried to straighten up, to look composed, but the pain was too much. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

Minthara crossed the room in a flash, her eyes blazing with anger and something else—something that looked dangerously like panic. She grabbed your arm, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Clearly, you cannot,” she hissed, tearing the bandage away with a swift, angry motion. The sight of the infected wound made her pale. “Why did you hide this from me?”

“I didn’t want your help,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minthara’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something almost tender passing through them. She barked orders to the servants to bring hot water and clean cloths, her hands never leaving your arm.

“Minthara, I’m fine,” you tried again, but she silenced you with a glare that could have melted stone.

“Do not speak,” she commanded, her voice cold and unyielding. “You will only make it worse.”

The servants arrived quickly, setting down the supplies before hastily retreating from the room. Minthara’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as she cleaned the wound, her touch precise despite the anger simmering in her eyes. She applied a healing salve, the warmth of the magic easing the pain slightly.

“Y/N, really, why did you not tell me?” she asked again, her voice quieter now but no less insistent.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t want you to see me as weak.”

“You are mine,” she said quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “Your pain, your wounds—they are my concern. Do not hide anything from me again.”

“I can take care of myself,” you insisted, a weak attempt at retaining some form of independence. “I don’t need you to—”

“Enough,” she interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. “You are not in a position to argue.”

She helped you lie down, her hands lingering on your skin as she pulled the covers over you. You tried to resist, to show that you were still strong, still independent, but the pain and exhaustion were too much. You sank back into the pillows, your body trembling with the effort.

“Rest now,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “You need to heal, and I will ensure that you do.”

She sat by your side, her hand resting lightly on your arm. Her presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the power she held over you. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of safety in her presence. Minthara’s fierce protectiveness was a double-edged sword, but for now, it was a comfort you were willing to accept.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Falling ill in the shadowy sanctum of Shadowheart's temple was an unexpected and grueling ordeal. The illness had come on suddenly, a vicious fever that left you weak and disoriented. Shadowheart, usually composed and stoic, transformed into a flurry of anxious care and vigilant oversight, treating you as if you were a fragile, precious doll.

Her concern was overwhelming. She scarcely left your side, tending to your every need with meticulous care, administering potions and checking your temperature frequently. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, were filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

One evening, feeling a fleeting burst of strength, you decided to leave your bed. The air in the room felt stifling, and you yearned for the cool breeze of the temple gardens. You managed to slip out of bed, your legs trembling with the effort, and slowly made your way towards the door.

You had barely reached the threshold when you heard Shadowheart's voice, sharp and filled with a mixture of relief and anger. "What do you think you are doing out of bed?"

Before you could respond, she was at your side, her grip firm but not painful as she took your arm and began to guide you back to your quarters.

"You need to rest," she scolded, her voice low and intense. "You are far too weak to be wandering around."

As she practically dragged you back to your bed, she continued her lecture. "Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You could have collapsed, or worse! The fever could have spiked again, and I might not have been there in time to help you."

You tried to protest, to explain that you just needed a bit of fresh air, but she cut you off, her eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. "No. You are to stay in bed until you are fully recovered. I cannot lose you. Do you understand?"

Her words were both a command and a plea. You nodded, feeling the weight of her worry and care pressing down on you. As she helped you back into bed, her touch was gentle, but her eyes were filled with a steely resolve. Shadowheart sat beside you, her hand resting on your forehead to check for any signs of fever.

"I am doing this for your own good," she said softly, her voice a mixture of exasperation and tenderness. "You mean too much to me to take any risks with your health."

You sighed, realizing that any resistance would be futile. "I understand," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, she nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "Good. Now rest. I'll be right here if you need anything."

As you lay back, exhaustion overtaking you once more, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Shadowheart's protectiveness was suffocating, yet her care was undeniable. Despite her strictness, there was a deep affection in her actions, a need to keep you safe at all costs.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax, the comfort of her presence soothing the lingering anxiety. Shadowheart remained by your side, her vigilant watch never faltering, determined to see you through this illness and ensure your recovery.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

Gale's realm, an ethereal expanse of arcane wonders and mystical beauty, had become a gilded cage. After days of being chained to his godly throne, you were finally released, left to wander the opulent halls while he attended to some mortal matters. Boredom gnawed at you as you meandered through the labyrinthine corridors, the silence broken only by the distant hum of magical energies.

Your exploration led you to a dimly lit chamber filled with ancient artifacts and relics. Curious, you began to examine them, marveling at the power and history they held. One object, in particular, caught your eye—a small, intricately designed amulet pulsating with a faint, eerie glow. Drawn to its strange allure, you picked it up, feeling a sudden jolt of energy course through you.

Almost immediately, you knew something was wrong. The amulet's energy began to leech into you, draining your power and leaving you feeling weak and disoriented. Panic set in as your vision blurred, your legs giving way beneath you. You collapsed to the floor, the amulet still clutched in your hand, its malevolent power sapping your strength.

As darkness closed in, you heard Gale’s voice, a mixture of shock and fury, echoing through the chamber. You tried to call out to him, but the words died in your throat as unconsciousness claimed you.

When you finally woke, you found yourself in your ethereal bed, the soft, shimmering sheets cool against your skin. Gale was beside you, his expression one of intense concentration and worry as he tended to you with meticulous care. His hands moved with practiced precision, channeling restorative magic into your weakened body.

"You scared me," Gale admitted, his voice a low murmur. "Although you couldn't die, you would have been imprisoned in that cursed object. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You managed a weak smile, the familiar tenderness in his eyes reminding you of the mortal Gale you had once known. It made him more bearable, a fleeting glimpse of the man he used to be.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky. "It’s good to see you care."

He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You are precious to me, more than you know. Losing you would have been unbearable."

For a moment, the godly arrogance faded, replaced by genuine concern and affection. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression hardened once more.

"I never should have let you out of the chains," he said, his tone now cold and commanding. "Clearly, you cannot be trusted on your own."

The warmth you had seen in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating gaze of a god. The fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone, and you realized that the Gale you had once known was buried deep beneath layers of power and control.

You nodded, feeling a pang of sadness. These glimpses of the man he used to be were all you had left, and you would have to savor them whenever they appeared.

As he continued to tend to you, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his magic wash over you. For now, you would accept his care, knowing that the moments of tenderness, however rare, were a precious reminder of the love that had once existed between you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

Finding yourself alone for the first time in weeks, you eagerly seized the opportunity to venture into the city. The palace, with its grandiose rooms and oppressive atmosphere, had begun to feel like a gilded cage. You longed for a taste of freedom, a moment to reconnect with the world outside Astarion's watchful gaze. Disguised in a cloak and moving through the busy streets, you enjoyed the anonymity that the city offered, if only for a short while.

However, the city held dangers you hadn't anticipated. You had barely turned down a quiet alley when a figure emerged from the shadows. A member of the Gur, a survivor of the massacre Astarion had orchestrated, stood before you. His eyes were filled with a burning hatred, and before you could react, he lunged, driving a wooden stake towards you. It was intended for your heart but in your surprise you had managed to twist away, but the stake drove into your leg instead. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and you collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

"You'll pay for what he did," the Gur spat, his voice trembling with rage. "All of you will."

Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to fend him off just enough to escape. Bleeding and limping, you made your way back to the palace, each step a searing agony. When you finally stumbled through the grand doors, you were barely conscious, the loss of blood and pain clouding your vision.

Astarion was immediately at your side, his usual composed demeanor shattered by the sight of you.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and panic.

You could barely speak, each breath a struggle. "Gur… attacked me," you managed to gasp.

Astarion face contorted in fury and quickly scooped you up in his arms and carried you to a nearby chaise. He crouched and inspected the wooden stake.

" Y'know...this wouldn't… be a problem if… if you made me a true vampire… like you promised." You managed to get out, your leg throbbing in agony. Astarion's eyes flashed with anger, and he let out a low, frustrated growl.

"Not this again," he snapped. "I don't have time for your petty complaints."

Before you could argue further, Astarion raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, darkness engulfed you as you lost consciousness.

When you awoke, you were back in the opulent bedroom you shared with Astarion, lying on the soft bed. The stake was gone, and the wound in your leg had been meticulously cleaned and bandaged. Astarion sat beside you, his expression unreadable as he watched you stir.

"You're awake," he said quietly, his tone lacking its usual sharpness. "Good. I was beginning to worry."

You tried to sit up, but Astarion gently pushed you back down. "Don't move. The wound is still healing."

"You knocked me out," you said, the accusation clear in your voice.

Astarion sighed, a flicker of regret crossing his features. "I had to. You were manic, and I needed to get the stake out without causing more damage."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so 'manic' if you kept your promises," you retorted, your voice weak but defiant.

Astarion's eyes darkened, and he looked away. "I will make you a true vampire, but you must trust me. Everything in its time."

You wanted to argue, to demand more, but the exhaustion and pain were overwhelming. Instead, you closed your eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. Astarion's hand rested on yours, a rare gesture of genuine comfort.

"Rest now," he said softly. "You're safe here. I'll ensure nothing like this happens again."

Despite your anger and frustration, you couldn't deny the relief of being back in the palace, away from the dangers of the city. As you drifted back into a fitful sleep, you wondered if you would ever truly be free of Astarion's control or if you were forever destined to be his dark consort, caught in a web of promises and power.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The allure of the forbidden part of the forest was too strong to resist. Despite Halsin’s stern warnings about the dangers lurking within, you couldn't help but venture into its depths, driven by curiosity and a need to prove your independence. The trees grew denser, their branches interwoven like a living labyrinth, and an eerie silence pervaded the air.

You were careful at first, stepping lightly and avoiding any obvious dangers. But your caution wasn't enough. As you pushed past a particularly dense thicket, you felt a sharp sting on your hand. Looking down, you saw a deep scratch from a thorn-covered vine, the flesh around the wound already starting to swell and turn an angry red. Panic set in as the pain intensified, and you knew immediately that the thorn was poisonous.

Reluctant to face Halsin's inevitable scolding, you stumbled back to the grove, clutching your throbbing hand. Desperation drove you to his work area, where you began to tear through his meticulously organized supplies, searching for an antidote or anti-toxin. Herbs and vials clattered to the ground, your movements growing more frantic with each passing second.

"What do you think you're doing?" Halsin's voice, calm but laced with amusement, startled you. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation.

You quickly hid your injured hand behind your back, trying to compose yourself. "Nothing, just… looking for something."

Halsin's eyes narrowed as he took in the mess you'd made. "Is that so? Show me your hand."

You shook your head, backing away slightly. "It's nothing, really."

He sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You can't fool me. Show me your hand, now."

You tried to make a break for it, but Halsin was quicker. With a firm grip, he pulled your hand from behind your back, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the inflamed wound.

"I warned you about that part of the forest," he scolded, his tone a blend of frustration and concern. "Why must you always ignore my advice?"

You winced, both from the pain and his reprimand. "I just… I wanted to see for myself."

Halsin shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he examined the wound. "You're fortunate it wasn't something more deadly."

With practiced ease, he began to mix herbs and apply a salve to your hand, his touch gentle despite his stern expression. The relief was almost immediate, the burning pain subsiding as the antidote took effect.

"You need to be more careful," Halsin lectured, his voice softer now. "I may be able to heal you, but there are some things even I can't fix if you continue to be reckless."

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

He finished bandaging your hand and looked at you, his eyes softening. "Just promise me you'll be more cautious in the future. I don't want to see you hurt."

"I promise," you said, genuinely contrite.

Halsin gave a small nod, satisfied for the moment, he brought up your injured hand to hiss lips and pressed a kiss to them. "Good. Now, return to our bed, you need rest."

"But I- Halsin!" Halsin, fed up of your combatance carried you over his shoulder, leaving the mess of his work area behind him as he carried you to your bed.

You tried to protest, to wriggle out of his grip but his hold on you was strong. He placed you down on the array of furs and pillows and before you could realise what he was doing he had already wildshaped into his bear form. He pinned your chest with a large paw and quickly settled, not excactly on top of you, but there was no way you would be able to leave. Sleep soon took you ,and you didn't put it past Halsin to have put something in the salve he used to treat your wound to have caused it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This series has been going so well and thank you so much everyone for your continued support! - Seluney xox

[readychilledwine]

Pieces of You - Prologue

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected

Warnings - death, loss of a mate, babies, drug induced sleep

A/N - this one is going to hurt before it feels good, friends. It's gonna hurt a lot. Based on these little pictures I found in a tiktok

Silence had fallen over the house.

There wasn't a single voice whispering, no bells to ring in the celebration of Nyx's birth, no loud pops from corks of champagne echoing in the air. 

Just silence. 

Madja stood in the doorway, a small bundle of what should have been joy wrapped in her arms. Rhys was sat on the steps, shoulders shaking with anger and sadness. 

The Cauldron had refused Nesta's offer. It had instead mocked them, changing Nesta's womb, forcing her to keep the powers that plagued her, and breaking the death bargain. 

It forced him to live while his mate died, promising there were no second chances this time. No magic being to bring her back again. This time was for good. It was forever. Rhysand knew life could be a bitter thing, but he did not expect death to be as cruel. 

“High lord,” Madja approached slowly. “We need to decide how we are feeding Nyx. The babe needs to eat.”

Azriel appeared besides Rhys, kneeling down next to him as he stared off the balcony. “I.. I don't know,” he finally answered. “We hadn't talked about it. She figured she would just be here to do it.” Azriel squeezed Rhysand's shoulder, handing him a vial with blue liquid in it. “We will have to find a wet nurse. Though, I am unsure how you will find one this last minute.”

“Y/n,” Azriel said softly. “She just had a babe, didn't she?” Madja nodded. “Can she just feed them both?”

“it is possible. Y/n does over produce already and has been storing milk. Newborns need to be fed almost hourly, though, shadowsinger. She'd have to have them both here, or Nyx will have to stay with her."

Rhys just shrugged, uncorking the vial and shooting back the contents. “I really don't care about that aspect, Madja. The house is huge, and I'm alone now anyway. What's the point in caring? She can decide." Azriel helped him stand as the sleeping drought started to work and supported his brother into a bedroom. 

He reappeared moments later. “I'll ask her. I know you don't want to burden her.” He reached for Nyx, admiring his perfect face again. “She's a sweet girl, quiet, good listener. She might be good for both of them while he heals.”

Madja just nodded. “Just remember that two grieving widowers will need a village to care for two newborns.”

The small cottage you lived in was quiet. You were leaned against the couch, sitting in the floor with your head laid back. Caring for your daughter alone was a chore, and you knew you should have been sleeping, but something was keeping you awake. 

A gentle knock in the door had you cringing, praying Morwenna wouldn't wake up. You moved to the door quickly, not noticing the shadow whisping around your feet and opening it to a desperate shadowsinger. “Az?” You moved for him to come in, stomach dropping at the sight of the babe in his arms. “Please tell me you being here with that sweet little thing doesn't mean what I think it does.”

Azriel just looked up, tears finally falling. “He hasn't ate yet,” your heart shattered at the unneeded confirmation. “Please, help us.”

You took the Illyrian babe instantly, taking your shirt off without question to offer him food. Azriel's shoulders fell in relief as his little cheeks began to move, a small hand and fingers reaching to your pinky. 

The two of you sat in heavy silence again. Azriel processing what had all happened that day, and you, aching for a male you hardly knew, and mourning the female that had become a close friend. 

You almost laughed at how cruel life could be. To lose your mate before childbirth, and then to lose your friend, the female who held your hand during labor, only a week later.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avajustreads

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl

[bones4thecats]

Hello! If you're still doing requests, could I ask for a angst (or fluff if you think that it works better) of Leona, Vil, Malleus, and/or Lilla (if I could do 4) reacting to Male!Reader having the Unique Magic of a Empathic Healer. This spell would allow the reader to heal any and all wounds inflicted on whom he's trying to healing. However, rather than creating blot to patch up the wounds, they are instead transferred onto the Reader, making it like he was the one that got the wound instead. He is well aware of the dangers and still can't stop himself because he hates people being hurt if he had the power to stop it.

I hope that this was good! Thank you for reading it at least!

M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! UM.

Type of Writing: Request Name: M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! Unique Magic (UM.) Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia, and Lilia Vanrouge Requester: @beawesome04

A/N: This is fairly angsty with fluff at the ending of each, by the way, this is by far one of my best and favorite requests ever received! I loved the prompt and how you described everything! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!!

P.S.: For Lilia's part, I used his General! Self

⚠️ TW: Swearing, mentions of war and harm ⚠️ Spoilers for: Books 2 and 7 ⚠️

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Male! Reader ; Reader Heals Leona From Overblot

🦁 Leona was sorer than he ever has been in his entire life

🦁 Opening his eyes with a massive groan, he could hear the sounds of crying and whimpers while people both yelled and ordered people in different ways, this large amount of sounds made his ears pucker down towards his skull as his eyesight became clearer

🦁 Looking at the sky, Leona noticed that a small amount of liquid dripped onto his face, making him slightly flinch and fully open his eyes, catching the sight of a large cut forming onto his boyfriend’s forehead

🦁 His eyes widened as he lunged upwards and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as he asked you what you were doing

" I- I just wanted you to be okay… " " Y'know what your unique magic does to you, Y/N! I may be okay, but you'd be damaged just as badly, you dumbass! " " It's better me than you. " " No! It was my fault for letting my emotions control me so easily, not yours! "

🦁 Leona furrowed his eyebrows as you began to crack and start crying as he held you closely, then he noticed that you had quite a few bruises and burns from no doubt healing others and him

🦁 As his eyesight began to slosh over with tears of his own, he gripped your tighter, minding where you had injuries. And as he noticed you begin to sob harder, his tail wrapped around your leg protectively

" Leona- I mean, Housewarden? " " What? " " Is he alright? " " He'll be fine… but he might need to heal himself. I’ll take 'em to the nurse. " " You better get fixed up yourself, Leona! " " Yeah, yeah… "

🦁 Looking down at your frail form, Leona sighed internally. What did he, a lazy and arrogant second-born prince, do to deserve your caring and comforting self?

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Male! Reader ; Reader Helps Heal Others From A Poison-Blast

👑 Vil knew that you cared for others, and he also would scold you whenever you would end up in some bad spots because of your care for others. But this was too far

👑 He understood that other students outside of certain dorms, Pomefiore and Diasomnia, weren’t the best when it comes to handling poisons and other dangerous concoctions, but this was officially topping any kind of incident he had ever seen before

👑 A second-year had accidentally splashed something into their cauldron which resulted in a poisonous 'bomb' that had affected multiple of the members in their class

👑 And because you hated seeing people being hurt, you had jumped in and began to help others with the poison by using your unique magic

👑 This healed them, but resulted in the poisoning affecting you instead

👑 Now Vil was staring down as you as you drank multiple poison-antidotes in order for your body to heal more naturally

" What were you thinking, Y/N? " " I’m sorry, Vil. But, I couldn’t just watch as they suffered from such pain. You know what my weaknesses are! "

👑 Sighing and running his hands down your bandage-wrapped arms as he sat down next to you, Vil began to hum a small tune that he had heard over the radio a few days prior

👑 He knew you liked this song, and you smiled gently and grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Vil just looked into your eyes and loosened his stance slightly

" Just- don’t get over your head like this again, please… " " I promise on my collection of photo-albums of us. " " Good answer, Meine Liebe. "

( Meine Liebe = German for "My Love" )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Yuu From Leona’s Overblot

🐉 Malleus was not amused when you jumped into the battle against Leona’s overblot state and began to try healing others, as he knew how dangerous your unique magic was to yourself

🐉 He then began to use his magic to levitate others into the healer’s direction, but he tried to get them away from you

🐉 Unfortunately, you had found the injure-ridden magicless prefect, Yuu Sei, on the ground and you began to use your magic faster than Riddle would be to behead someone for taking his strawberry tart

🐉 He looked around and noticed that Yuu was waking as your once-clean frame was being tattered with bruises and scratches alike all from the human

🐉 When he finally was able to pull you away from everyone else, he began to use his own magic to heal you, his eyebrows furrowed as he silently worked away on each cut, bruise, and injury alike

🐉 Once finished, he looked into your eyes and sighed deeply before embracing you tightly as he burrowed his face into your neck and took in your scent

" Why…? " " Why what, Mal? " " Why risk your own life for a human's? " " You and I both know that Yuu has value. One beyond many of us', they make me want to protect them more than any other mortal, well- besides Sebek and Silver, I suppose. "

🐉 He watched as you began to debate with yourself as your injuries faded away second-by-second. A small smile overtook his features as he hugged you again and you embraced him back

" I love you, my Healing Beauty. " " And I love you, my Darling Prince. "

( Men can be beautiful too. Bite me. )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Him During the Fae v. Human War

🦇 Groaning in pain as he held his side while you hid beside him, Lilia felt the slight amount of blood begin to fall from his midsection. These damned mortals were getting more powerful by the second

🦇 Hopefully the others were doing just as well as before… he cannot afford to lose any more men in this treacherous war

🦇 He turned as he heard you move and roll your uniform’s sleeves up as you pushed your butterfly mask aside and began to chant your small unique spell’s name

" Y/N… what- what are you doing?! You know what that damned spell does to you! " " I don’t care at the moment, Lilia. Your health matters more. " " Bullshit! Y/N, I’ll be fine, just step aside and let me- " " Lilia. As your spouse I will heal you, no matter what. "

🦇 Giving in as you stared at him deadly, Lilia watched as your arms began to glow with many symbols of healing, from ones ranging from those in the burning Savannah to ones in your homeland of Briar Valley

🦇 He then watched as the pain began to fade from his side, but he also noticed how you began to look faint. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling bad

" Love, I'm fine now. The bleeding isn’t as bad as before, it should heal faster… take a break- please. " " Alright… "

🦇 Laying back on the tree, Lilia tore open a satchel that was once thrown aside by one of the previous human soldiers, he ran towards you and began to apply both alcohol to his and yours minor wound that was slightly leaking blood before wrapping them in gauze

" Alright, we should be fine now. Do you feel better, Mango? " " Yeah, thanks Lils. " " No problem, Dearest. "

( Fun facts: Butterflies symbolize rebirth, transformation, and the delicate balance between life and death & Mangos are one of a bat’s favorite fruits )

[toxycodone]

oviposition anon teehee i wanted to elaborate more last night but i was tired as fuck and zooted off the penjamin. but like getting separated from the rest of the party and encountering the slime creacher alone with Laios.... you think he'd tell you what the thing is? im sure he knows alllll about it, like he has a private little list of all the most fuckable monsters and of course the damn oviposition slime is on there. do u think he just dives right in head first, or does he try to create some kind of plausibly deniable situation in battle? youre terrified cause you cant make heads or tails of this creature in order to kill it and arent strong with fire magic but.... why does he look like he's having fun? and is that his clothes getting dissolved in there....? and why is he so hot all helpless suspended in the pink gel (ive just now decided the slime is pink), shuddering with pleasure as each near transparent egg enters his body? if you were to get caught by it without knowing what it is i dont think he'd leave you in there, but when he pulls you out of the goop his raging hard on is impossible to ignore and just BEGS questioning.... maybe you need to go seek out another one? or maybe i need to get writing

LISTEN TO ME. ANON YOU ARE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ONTO SOMETHING. (And I would 100% be down to read something full about this bc oh my god???) and pink slime is the superior color you’re based.

contents: monster fucking, mutual masturbation? if you can call it that?

When you two encounter the slime, Laios is oddly…excited? I mean, he’s always excited to see monsters, but this. Is different. He doesn’t brandish his weapon or look stiff at all when you two encounter it, so you put away yours and you’re like…what the fuck is the deal man??

Laios looks between you and the slime. After a few moments, he casually walks to you.

“Well…um…this slime. They’re usually aggressive, but, you can tell by the color that it’s breeding season. And they’re unusually docile when this occurs…”

So you’re like? Okay. Awesome. No fight required. Let’s get out of here.

But Laios taps his fingers. He looks away a little as he plays with his thumbs.

“You see…it’s docile. But it doesn’t mean we can just leave. Unless we want to find another route. But it’s going to keep going until it eventually finds an adventurer…to use as a host….”

And you’re kinda like um? So do you wanna kill it? Or

And Laios is like “I HAVE AN IDEA. So…the secretions of this slime numb pain and promote healing. If we help this slime out…we can get some of those. It may be useful when Marcille’s out of mana….” Laios then puts his hands on your shoulders and looks at you seriously. “I PROPOSE…we let this slime use us as hosts. And in return, we collect its secretions and save any other unaware adventurer an encounter with it!”

And you’re floored. But once he explains to you, it’s just eggs (they lay them in adventurers to spread their kind to other floors). And it’ll feel *good*. You put your hands on your hips.

“Let me guess. You’ve been waiting for us to encounter this monster, huh….?”

*Cue that iconic Laios blushing panel.*

Anyways, you accept. Laios gives you the rundown from his guide and notes from his journal. First, you have to remove your clothing. The slime will get them soaked and likely tear them to shreds anyways, and if you don’t have a spare you’re screwed. Then, the slime’s secretions will coax you into relaxation. You’ll feel yourself go limp, but it’s not a bad thing. It’ll just make it easier for this whole process—so don’t fight it. Lastly…just enjoy? The slime does all the work and the eggs aren’t dangerous. You’ll pass them in a few days when the incubation period has succeeded (Laios wants to keep one or two to eat, but he doesn’t explicitly say that now).

And so you agree. It seems…oddly fun. Neither of you get time to really do anything sexual while dungeon crawling. And this seems like a good release.

And so you let it happen and it’s fucking MIND BLOWING. The slime’s secretions are absorbed through your skin as it surrounds you, making you feel some weird mix between drunk and high. Your body is limp, but everything you feel is extremely heightened.

The slime teases you all over and gently prods at your holes before slowly opening you up. (if you have a cervix) it’s numbing properties keep it from hurting as it spreads you open and pumps its eggs into your womb/hole. It’s honestly one of the best experiences you’ve had.

It’s like. Some sort of ethereal mutual masturbation experience with Laios, because when you look at him his skin is almost as pink as the slime. His brows are furrowed, eyes shut tight as he moans wantonly, not a care in the world. You can tell when an egg is laid in him bc his face contorts, but then his licks his lips and lets out a shaky moan. There’s already streaks of white in the slime and you’re not sure if it’s just a ton of precum or if he’s already came from the slime.

But you don’t have a lot of time to think about that before you’re shuddering from your own orgasm. It seems the slime coaxes as many as it can from you and Laios—as the more you relax and enjoy the experience the easier it is to continue pumping eggs into your system.

And afterwards, the slime resumes its usual light blue color and withdraws from you two. If you weren’t mistaken…you’d think it was blushing….theres two pink patches left on its “cheeks” as it slithers away, streaks of cum and slick still present in its body.

And. Of course. In typical Laios fashion, while you two are coming back to your senses, covered in slick and slime and who knows what else. All he can do is look at you with that same dopey lovestruck expression and mumble about how much he loves you.

[loviingpedri]

tasting blondies - mason mount and joe burrow

prompt: noticing a pattern in your love life.

joe b x reader

ex!mason mount x reader

warnings: grammar issues, cursing, arguing

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

sitting on the couch with you boyfriend, joe. you ran your fingers through his short hair.

“i can’t believe you did this.” you laughed as both of you smiled.

“yeah, me either. i decided to change it up for the summer. do something for the new season.” he held you tight, smelling his strong cologne.

“if it’s one thing, you look good. really good.” you clicked your tongue at the emphasis of the word ‘really’.

and that’s when the flashback hit you.

slowly touching his hair, admiring the white chocolate color. at the same time a few years ago, you would be ending a messy situation with a boy with a similar haircut, mason mount.

“is there something wrong?” joe asked you as your expression changed.

“no, nothing is wrong. something just came in mind.”

you love joe, seriously. the memories of june 2023 always come back to haunt you. meeting the famous other footballer, changing your life. you experienced so many things within a month. you were so attached, blinded by love, nothing would’ve seen it coming.

on mason’s summer vacation, he invited you to go to spain with him. of course you accepted, you wanted to see what this relationship could bring to your life.

in the end, it was pain, regret, and heartbreak.

joe was staring at your facial features and talking gently, “you can talk to me.”

“it’s nothing. just some old memories came back. it was never important anyway.” your cleared your throat, desperately wanting to change the topic on the conversation.

“is it about that one guy you told me about? mason mount, right?”

you looked at him, trying to find a good answer.

“yeah, but i don’t wanna think about him. he’s long gone in my life. i’m craving some brownies, what about you?”

laughing at you, “i think it’s funny, the guys sent in the group chat of him when i first showed my hair. they said it was funny how you’re dating another blonde now.”

“i never thought of that.” you laid your back on the coach, really taking in the information of the pattern you just figured out.

“you know, you never told me what happened with him.” you looked at joe, a lump formed in your throat.

————flashbacks————

“are you serious right now, mase?” you pushed him away from you as he was attempting to explain.

“it wasn’t like that!”

“you use that same fucking excuse for everything.”

“i’m not the one who followed someone else on this vacation.” he threw his arms up.

“everything is about you. isn’t it? i went on this vacation because i was in love with you. mase, you can’t be serious right now.”

“nobody told you to catch feelings, alright. i thought we both assumed this wasn’t gonna be serious.” you scoffed at him.

“so you took this as a joke? i am not a joke.”

“holy shit, you’re actually unbelievable. we were never official!”

“to you. you think mind games is funny?”

“i only thought this was a summer fling. i thought you were gonna see other people, like me. i wasn’t gonna stay in chelsea forever and i was sure you weren’t gonna stay.”

tears forming in your eyes. you were in disbelief.

“of course i was gonna stay with you. i was ready to leave everything behind to follow you. i thought we had something.”

“sorry y/n. you thought wrong.”

————flashback ended————

you cleared your throat as you poured white chocolate chips into the batter.

“so yeah, that was my lame ex.” you gave him a warm smile as you shared the most vulnerable part of your life.

“you didn’t deserve that, seriously.” joe stroked your hair as he ate a few chips.

“the past is past. the pain is healed, and i’ve got the best boyfriend ever.”

joe kissed your forehead as the oven beeped after it was done pre-heating.

-

sitting on the couch with freshly baked blondies.

“i think you have some sort of magic on men.” joe said, taking a bite after.

“what?”

“you start dating a guy, then all of a sudden, he goes blonde.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“i’ve never thought of that. i’m just really that powerful then.”

sharing a laugh, you were proud of the person you became. the pain healed, and so did your heart.

because, in the end, your feelings are valid. and you learned a lesson that no matter how much something hurts you, you can find happiness somewhere else, for the better.

[coopersadams]

you hardly notice at all when it starts.

cooper likes to spoil you. not just with things—though there’s plenty of that. he likes to make your life easy. he’s the one that jumps up when you mention something you forgot at the store. he insists on running your errands (“you just relax, honey,” he always croons. “i’ll bring you back something good.”). he’s the one that convinces you that you don’t really need your job at all; he took such good care of you, didn’t he? wouldn’t it be so nice to just stay home?

it’s not until you receive a text from a friend that you realize you haven’t seen anyone other than cooper and the kids in a few weeks; cooper had made such good points, after all. someone should be around when the kids get home from school, and he works such long hours. it’s a relief for them not to be alone. it’s a comfort to be able to cook for them and cooper, to keep the house clean, to take care of everyone like he took care of you.

you bring it up to him while the two of you get ready for bed. side by side, cooper flosses diligently and you rinse off your toothbrush, watching him in the mirror. “i got a text from abby this morning.”

his eyes dart to yours through the glass. “really?” he asks, discarding the floss. “what did she want?”

you shrug. “just checking up, i guess. i think we’re going to go to lunch tomorrow.”

the way he freezes makes you feel as though you’ve said something wrong. “i don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

with a frown, you turn to look at him. “why? it’s only abby.”

only abby. the words roll around in cooper’s head; only abby had never liked him. she had been convinced from the moment they met that he had ill intentions. he hadn’t, of course. not for you. you were, aside from his kids, the only real thing in his life. the one thing keeping him tethered to who he actually was. you made him better. consumed him so much that his other indiscretions had mostly fallen to the wayside (there were, of course, a few stragglers. he is who he is). 

“i just…don’t like it, honey. i have a bad feeling.”

you kiss his chin. “i appreciate your concern,” you smile. “but i’ll be fine.”

you turn to leave the bathroom, but cooper’s arms wrap around you, one around your waist and the other around your chest. “c’mon,” he goads.

“cooper,” you groan. 

“i’ll come home early from work and we can rent a movie. we’ll order dinner...give you a night off.” he’s coaxing you. you’ve heard him do it to the kids a thousand times; you aren’t sure when he started speaking to you that way.

you scoff. “what’s the big deal?”

cooper squeezes you against him, crushingly tight, like he doesn't know his own strength. he nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your collarbone. you let out a frail whimper, unsure whether to lean into his comfort or fight against him. cooper is your safe space, after all. the person who had healed all your ailments since you met. the one who wiped your tears and held you until your problems magically went away.

“i just want to keep you safe, sweetheart. don’t you trust me?”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Heart Sutra ~ Buddha x Goddess! Reader

Gate gate para gate para sam gate bodhi swaha...

"Your pronunciation is getting better, Y/N." King Jataka laid on the grass, underneath a tree, watching the beautiful woman besides him create various models of flower crowns with her magic. "Really? You truly think so?" her charming smile seemed to radiate as bright and warm as the Sun itself. "Yes, I think so. A little more, and you can sing the Heart Sutra perfectly." Jataka found himself smiling also. "Ahh, you are being far too nice, 'Taka." she waved her hand dismissively, returning to her idle work. "Y/N, do you mind if I ask you something?" she hummed, encouraging him to continue. "You are a Goddess. Why have you been staying at my court, disguised as a Bodhisattva?" he asked, deep in thought. Y/N turned her head to look at him properly. "Why, you ask?" Y/N didn't have an immediate answer. "I suppose because it makes me happy." "Does it, really?" he murmured, intrigued. "I think so, yes." she smiled kindly. "Every time I see the smiles of people that I healed, my heart bursts with happiness, and I feel lighter. In this prospect, I suppose that yes, being here, among humans, and aiding them does make me happy." "You are always smiling." Jataka nodded his head, pensive. "You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen." "Jataka." she called out his name, placing the flower down and leaning back on the tree. "What is bothering you?" "Ahaha... Saw right through me, didn't you? No wonder you're a Goddess governing the nature, peace and serenity. Only someone pure and benevolent like yourself could understand my troubled heart." the King spoke softly. "I am nearing the end of my life, and through this, I have come to realise that although I have done my duty well, made my people happy and that my kingdom is flourishing... You see... I feel... Unfulfilled. I feel... Empty. Like there is something missing. I feel... Deep unrest and... Sadness. As though I am nostalgic over something that I have never had... And never will."

"Your reason for sadness is the very reason over which I took a leave of absence from home, up there." Y/N gently wrapped her arms around the King, placing his head on her lap. "There is no creature alive that can feel happiness over being controlled by a higher being. We blame destiny and duty, or even Gods for out sadness... But the truth is, Jataka... We are the masters of our own destiny, and only we have power over our own lives." Y/N looked away with a sarcastic smile. "If only that were entirely true, huh?" "Lavishing in all these material luxuries, being hidden away from any misfortune, I have been ignorant over what it meant to live." the man sighed deeply. "As I watched the starry skies one night, from the balcony, I realised how vast the skies are - And if the skies are endless, then so must the Earth be. I watched birds fly, unhindered by any restraint, and I realised that I was nothing more than a caged falcon, bound by a rope, never allowed to venture too far. Since my birth, I have been told that I must uphold my duties as a prince - As the future King - And I did everything as best as I could, out of filial love and duty for the people I am responsible for." Jataka felt a sense of relief, feeling the Goddess' hand gently caressing his silvery locks. "Do you think I am selfish, Y/N? For wishing for my own happiness, for once?" "No, Jataka. I do not think you are selfish. Truth is..." though Y/N smiled, it was bitter, and a tear escaped down her cheek. "I am just a little upset that you did not realise it until it was too late." a few more tears followed close behind, surprising the young King. "You are such a good man, Jataka. It always pains me, seeing young men and women like you, who have done only good in their life, and are repaid with only misfortune. I hate how unfair life can be, and I hate that I am unable of meddling with diseases that humans cannot conquer yet. If I were to keep every living being alive, forever, than it would only bring calamity and a disbalance of life." Jataka felt a pang of pain in his heart, realising the emotional woman before him cared so much for him and all the people she governed over - Despite all the births, deaths and rebirths that she's witnessed over the course of aeons, for as long as she has been alive - She still couldn't get over the suffering of loss. "But if I make an exception with you, then I would have to make an exception with everyone, as my heart wouldn't allow me to spare one over the other. A cruel fate, out of which I cannot escape. And you, Jataka, are correct, you are no different - A beautiful song bird, trapped in a golden cage, embellished with the most precious jewels, forced to sing the songs of the nobles, yet unable to break free and witness and experience the world in front of your eyes; Unable to spread your wings and feel the air brushing through your feathers."

Y/N felt two gentle hands cradling her face, wiping away her diamond beads of tears which created blooming flowers where they fell on the ground. Jataka smiled, and kissed her forehead. "Having your love means more to me than anything else in the world." he spoke in a soft voice which mellowed the Goddess' heart further into trembling with emotion. "Though I cannot live the life that I wished, nor live eternal in this mortal husk that my body is - I have a single wish, that only you may fulfill. It is the only thing that can bring me a little comfort. Can you promise me something, please?" "Of course. I will do anything." she placed her hands over his own, intertwining their fingers together. "Please, take care of Siddhartha for me. He is still young and naive, still fooled by the luxuries of the palace. He needs you, the same as I do. He is a good man. Please, care for him the same as you did for me." the two locked eyes, and their hearts came to a deep understanding. A vow was formed, for millennia to come. "I will."

Weeks passed by, and though Siddhartha had no clue that Y/N was actually a Goddess, he enjoyed his time spent with her and Jataka. Ever since she appeared at his Kingdom, quite a while ago, he felt that those two were kindred spirits, in ways that few could accomplish, as though they could understand each other simply through looks and smiles. Or maybe that's how mature adults think. One of the two, he wasn't quite sure. Either way, he often teased Jataka about taking her as one of his wives. He always got scolded when he did.

Y/N wasn't the most talkative, but he always appreciated her care for everyone, including him. All her kind words and sweet actions towards people made the young man want to spend more and more time with her.

At some point, he even came over to her, offering flowers - He had the most innocent, boyish grin - He was so adorable, really. Still, for some reason, Y/N only smiled sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and went away. Though he was flustered, he also felt... Rejected? Maybe his intentions weren't obvious enough? He wasn't quite sure - Not to mention, Jataka just laughed, but gave him no answer. Was he teasing him? Ha!

Jataka's time was nearing its end, and for the first time since they've known each other, Siddhartha was met with a confusing confession for his elder brother figure - The validity of his happiness. Was he happy, truly? Was the material world was the soul's fulfillment was? Or perhaps he was too shallow to realise... Or too inexperienced? Jataka said he realised how much he wanted to see the world and... Live. Alas, he couldn't, not only because of his illness, but because of his duties as a King, trapped in the comforting gold of his kingdom.

He panicked, seeing his older brother's bitter smile, looking into the horizon at the setting Sun, and he felt dread, watching the blood dripping down his hand as he continued to cough.

When the country went into deep mourning, he was shocked not to see Y/N anywhere. She must be glued to the coffin, no doubt. Everyone knew she was the closest person Jataka ever had. As Siddhartha rode towards the kingdom, he saw the people sobbing and weeping for their deceased King.

"The life I lived, who did it belong to, in the end?"

"Do you truly think I am a happy person?"

These questions rung through Siddhartha's mind, as soon as he heard that one assumption - "The king must have been truly happy."

But was he, really? Who's to say he was actually happy? The kingdom's prosperity? The people's well-being? No war, nor famine or plague in the lands he was governing?

At once, Siddhartha came to a revelation. He jumped off his horse, and weeping, he started cackling loudly, making people believe his grief drove him to madness.

As expected, as soon as he entered in the temple, he was met with sobbing people, lots of flowers, and a single woman glued to the King's coffin. Yes, Y/N loved flowers, and consequently, so did Jataka - Hence why Siddhartha gathered a whole basket of field flowers and strutted all the way to the coffin, throwing flowers around.

"Siddhartha...?" Y/N's sweet voice called out to him softly as she rose her crying face to look up at him. "You were right. I understand now, and I admit, you were right." he smiled at her. "I won't say it a second time though." "What are you talking about?" Siddhartha moved his gaze to Jataka, and offered a melancholic smile. "Hey, bro. You 'bout ready to go out of here?" with extraordinary strength, Siddhartha picked Y/N and placed her gingerly on his shoulder, as his other hand held Jataka's coffin. He was completely deaf to all the others yelling at him to stop his mad actions. "Piss off. Whatever Gods you're praying at today - My bro Jataka doesn't need their blessings. Because happiness... Comes from within."

Y/N gasped hearing his bold words - And she started crying. She was proud of him. Afternoon came, and the two knelt on the ground, gazing at the beautiful King amongst the flowers, having his coffin lowered onto the river sheen. "You are free, my friend. Now go and find your happiness yourself." they watched him disappear into the horizon, engulfed into the red rays of the beautiful Sun.

For the first time in the many years since they've known each other, Siddhartha witnessed Y/N offering him her undivided attention. As soon as the silhouette of the coffin was visible no more, she threw her arms around his torso and sobbed like a child. Siddharta smiled, moved that someone cared so much for his bro, and he held her smaller form into his embrace. "Why are you crying so much, you little crybaby? Don't you know - Suffering is only a concept bound to the material world. One day, when we enter Samsara, our souls will reunite with Bro's, and we will be friends again, in our next life - Again, and again, until we reach awakening and attain Nirvana." his words sounded so wise, unlike the childish beliefs of yester-year. "It is alright to upset, the wound is still fresh and ablaze. But Y/N - One should find happiness in remembering the beautiful memories guiding your future, rather than mourning the past." "I am so proud of you, Siddhartha." her words were nothing that he expected, and the young man was taken aback. "You are right. Yes, you are entirely right. If only that life was kinder to benevolent souls like yourself and Jataka." she continued vaguely.

Y/N rose her head to look up at him, a wide smile through her tears. "But, Siddhartha, you see - That truth only applies to mortals. As a Goddess, seeing beautiful souls die so young... Beautiful flowers withering all around you, as the garden you tended with so much love and care dies upon winter... It hurts every time, and no matter how many thousands of years pass, I cannot get over the suffering that loss has on me." Siddharta frowned slightly, confused at her statement. "Goddess, you say? Ha! That's funny." he grinned at her. "You see, I have just come to the realisation that I absolutely despise anything that tries to control my actions. I am a firm believer that we seam the tapestry of our own lives through the choices we make. Now I understand why Bro was so upset last time we met. You knew all this, didn't you, you little minx?" "Of course I did." she huffed lightly. "Siddhartha - Do you hate me for not saving Jataka? Now that you know my identity, you must be very upset that I just let him die." The young man let out an over-dramatic hum, placing his hand to his chin as if to mock thinking, before he popped out a negative answer. At least he retained his childish vitality. "What are you Goddess over, anyway? You healed people. Goddess of Life or what?" "Nature, Peace and Serenity." Siddhartha let out a sound of understanding. "No wonder I and Bro felt so good around you! It's like everything was good around you!" he cackled weirdly. "Must be hard on you, huh?" his theatrical expression turned more gentle and kind. "Having to take care of so many things at once. You know, my wife told me once that she can feel what our child feels. I'm not sure how it works, but it must be similar with you and everything you create right?" Y/N nodded her head, albeit, bewildered at the accurate comparison that he figured out on the spot. "Having to feel the emotion of every living being must be a huge pain in the ass." Y/N giggled in amusement. "I love and care for every living being, Siddhartha. It is like a gardener tending to a flower garden. Every human, every animal, every tree. Everything has life, and their vitality, their energy surges through my veins." she explained, taking a step back. She rose her hands up to take his hair away from his tail, letting it swish with the wind. His hair was so long, that it matches her own. "You dig in the dirt with your own fingers, and you bury the seed of life. Every morning, every afternoon and night, you tend to this seed, and care for it - You water it and fertilize it, protect it from parasites and the harsher weathers. When it comes up from under the first, you see the cutest, littlest sprout, braving to live and grow more. You watch it get bigger, and stronger over the course of many days, until finally, it reaches maturity, and it blossoms into the most beautiful flower." she smiled widely, creating a gorgeous flower crown, which she placed on his head. "But once it reaches maturity, the risk of illness increases. It matures until it grows old. You watch it lose its vibrant colours, the petals fall off one by one, until only a frail stem remains, falling from the faintest breeze, until finally, the roots rot, and the flower is no more." Siddhartha's grim comment about life made Y/N's beautiful gem-like eyes gleam with emotion. "So is life, yes." despite being overwhelmed with emotion, Y/N continued to speak. "Out of all my flowers - Siddhartha, you are my most beautiful lotus flower, and I am most proud of you." the young man blushed in surprised. "Creating humans, creating life - It is the effort of the collective of Gods, not mine alone; But creating, and caring for, is different. I may not be able to look over every living being in this large, large world, but I am most honoured that I was able to meet you and see you grow into such a wise young man."

At once, Siddhartha pulled Y/N into a tight hug, swinging her around enthusiastically. "Awwww, you're the sweetest! You're making me blush!" Y/N was quickly beginning to get dizzy from all the twirling and swinging around from the awfully strong prince. "What did you promise Bro?" "Oh? You knew about that?" Y/N chuckled softly, trying to regain her balance. "I promised that I would take care of you, the same way I did for him." Siddharta grinned widely. "Nope!" Y/N looked at him, a little confused. "I've got a better idea, actually." he brought Y/N at arm's length, his hands placed firmly on her shoulders. "You knew I liked you, didn't you?" Y/N nodded her head. "But a mortal doesn't live long enough, so they can't hang around an immortal, huh?" Y/N's eyes lingered towards the river, before nodding again. "Welp, I've got an idea!" his dazzling smile was more charming than any God. "You see, I want to go on a pilgrimage, all by myself. I want to find myself, and my own happiness. I want to find my purpose. I need to do this alone - Though don't worry, if I am to encounter a like-minded friend, then we will travel together." he spoke. "Will you wait for my return, Y/N? Until I reach my Enlightenment and become an iteration of myself with which I can be proud of?" Y/N smiled dearly at the young man, glowing like the morning Sun. "I will wait for you for as many cycles it takes you to find me again. I hope that, by the time you return, you will have achieved true happiness, and I can see your beautiful smile again. Siddhartha."

The young man smiled brightly before pulling Y/N into a sweet kiss. "Something to look forward to." he gave her a peace sign before walking away. "See ya, Y/N! Laters!" "Have a safe journey, you little troublemaker." Y/N smiled dearly, waving at him. Though life as a God was long and tedious, and relationships were shallow, she felt a pure love like she's never experienced before. Whether she sees the young man again or not, she knew he was going to be just fine.

Since then, Y/N returned to the Gods, continuing her boring life, watching over the nature of Earth from above. Life truly wasn't all that exciting for deities living so long, but once in a while, something big happens - Big enough for the whole foundation of Valhalla to shake to the core.

If a human becoming a demi-God wasn't exceptional enough, considering the bravery and righteousness that Heracles displayed; A man had somehow attained supreme spiritual awakening, and ascended to the title of Buddha the Enlightened, the Wise. A human achieved Godhood.

Siddhartha Gautama

As soon as he saw the Goddess, completely frozen from shock of seeing him in Heavens, he let out a childish squeal and leapt on her, rubbing his cheek on her face as though he's a kitten or something. He told her how much he missed her and what not - Surprise! He even had his own brand of delicious lollipops to share with her! And lots and lots of chocolate too! Oh, and they had so much to catch up!

He told Y/N all about his journey and the people he met, those he guided on their path to achieving happiness, and all the sightseeing he did. Best of all, he reminisced all the awakening he did over the years - And how much he missed her! Haha, a joke - He is always determined to get what he wants, so of course, he was patient. Craving would only bring him suffering, thus the knowledge of knowing the Goddess was there, waiting for him, soothed his worried into a calm peace of mind.

Siddhartha - Now, Buddha - Still felt so giddy, being called by his name. Only Y/N could call him that, of course! No one else had that privilege. The more she spoke his name, the happier he was. Buddha ended up playfully pinning Y/N to the bed, kissing all over her face and tickling her, feeling his heart lighter with every sweet giggle she let. When she couldn't take the tickling anymore, the Goddess wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her chest; She took off his hair tie once again, and the pretty crown-like accessory holding it in a lotus-like style, and she caressed his locks soothingly. "I missed you." three simple words, yet they had the strongest effect on him. He felt compelled to engulf her in his strong arms, cuddling together, two hearts soulbound for an eternity of spiritual happiness.

Many, many years passed, and Buddha and Y/N were inseparable. Gods may argue, and so do humans, but never once did anyone even see them disagree on anything, let alone argue. Was it the endless patience and compassion of the Buddha, or that Y/N was always too kind to say anything that might upset someone, and detested confrontation; She'd rather walk away, or smile, instead of disagreeing with anyone.

That was their biggest similarity, but also, their biggest difference - Buddha was never one to back away from a fight against someone he couldn't stand - In his case, most of the Gods. Ironic, isn't it, he told Y/N so many times; How one can detest the very being they became, with the same strength that they love another just as much. He was a God who hated Gods, yet a God, who loved a Goddess as much as he loved the happiness and freedom he achieved.

"You have to find your own happiness within you." he told her once, watching Y/N dancing around the forest. Everywhere she stepped, flowers grew. "That may be so, Siddhartha - But my happiness increases whenever I see you." she bent to his side, grabbing his wrists and pulling him up to dance with her. Though all kinds of flowers bloomed wherever she stepped, hence why she always walked with no shoes on; Where Buddha stepped, beautiful white lilies grew. Together, they created endless flower gardens, more ethereal than any other God could make.

One would think eternal bliss was in store for them - Alas, one so connected to Nature as Y/N, was bound to suffer greatly, to the hands of the mankind she cherished so much. Buddha often saw how Y/N would try to sneak away into the forests, all alone. Though he hadn't seen her, he could sense her distress, her agony. After the third time that she refused to confide in him, preferring to keep the problem hidden, the newly Awaken God decided to confront her himself.

Instead, once he arrived at the edge of the forest, he found Y/N collapsed on the grass, writhing in pain. Panicked, he fell to his knees, cradling her in his arms, calling out her name; She seemed feverish and weak, but Gods couldn't contract illnesses, could they? Surely, they can't. He held her tight in her embrace, wishering the Heart Sutra in her ear over and over again, until finally, her breathing evened out, and the pain subsided.

"Pfeww, don't scare me like that, gorgeous! You're going to give me a heart attack!" he collapsed on his back dramatically. "Forgive me... I didn't want you to see me like this." Y/N sighed, rolling on the grass next to him. "I did not want you to see me cursing the humanity that I loved so much." "Humanity caused you this pain? What do you mean?" he turned to his side, his blue water lily eyes widening. "Take a look for yourself." she guided him to the edge of the floating forest. "Look there - They are at war. Countless people are dying all at once, the grass is drowning in blood, the animals are perishing." she sighed softly, before pointing to the opposite side. "And there - The deforestation, the excessive hunting - That whole hill is bare of life and decrepit, all so that humans may build and build and build some more." "Ahh, I see, so I was more right than I realised, though to think it would affect you to the point of being physically ill. My poor, poor baby Y/N!" he threw his arms around her, rolling on the grass with her dramatically. There was nothing that he could do to save her from this - It was the course that humanity took for itself, but perhaps there might be a way to somehow detach her, even by a little bit, from her connection with that which was created. Perhaps, that-a-way, the suffering may subside. Until then, however, he can only distract her with his love and playfulness. It was working wonders.

For thousands of years, humanity existed, with the will of the Gods, until that will was no more. Even Aphrodite herself, disgusted with the state of the world, agreed to decimate mankind. Shocked with the outcome, Y/N was the first to step forward and protest. Though she couldn't see Buddha looking at her, she could feel his presence and his lingering gaze. She wanted to fight for the mankind that destroyed her from within. None of the actions of humanity were directly affecting either of the Gods, except for her for the most part. She was the only one with the validity of voting, and if she wanted mankind to continue living, she had every right to vouch for them.

But they didn't care for her opinions - Instead, they laughed, saying her pain will disappear along with the humans, and she can achieve serendipity. How ridiculous. Thankfully, Brunhilde's plan of inducing Ragnarok worked, and thus, the thirteen fights were to take place.

Worried, Y/N quickly rushed out of the conference room, needing some time alone to regain herself. She was panicking and afraid. True, eliminating the humans was bound to relieve her heart of suffering - But at what cost? There were so many good people, innocent people out there, who did nothing wrong. Why should they perish, for the mistakes of others? Like how Adam and Even were cast away from Heaven, due to the disgusting lies and deceit of the Snake, so will billions and billions of other people suffer eternal Doomsday.

It wasn't fair.

A mother doesn't kill their own child for misbehaving. The Gods were being as selfish as always.

"N'aww, sweet-cheeks, don't tell me you're crying again! You know it breaks my heart seeing you like this!" though Buddha wasn't expecting to be pinned to the wall, Y/N's fingers digging deep into his shoulders. "We can't let them die, Siddhartha! We can't! They are innocent!" Y/N cried out, looking into his beautiful eyes. "Please, don't tell me you're on their side! We can't - We can't let them die! But what can we do? We are so few, against so many of them - And they're all so unreasonable and short-sighted." Buddha felt pain in his heart, listening to the distress of her voice, seeing the glimmering of her eyes. "I know! I'll... I'll fight for mankind! I... I've never fought in my life... But I am the Goddess of Peace. To know Peace is to know War; and to know War, is to know Peace. One must protect that which he holds dear. That's right, isn't it?" "Y/N." he called out in a gentle, calm voice. "Please, calm down." "Siddhartha...?" she found herself calling out his name. "You and I - We are soulbound, aren't we? We want the same thing. And you, more than anyone else in this world, know how much I hate being told what to do." he pulled her into a deep kiss. "And I'll be damned before I allow anyone to make you cry." Her distressed look turned into a content smile of relief, and she snuggled into his arms. "I love you so much." those words never failed to make his heart leap with joy.

Once Ragnarok began, Heimdall would call out the champions of the Gods, while Y/N would call the Mankind warriors to come over. It was the least she could do, apart from encouraging each of the fighters.

Mankind had a staggering two consecutive losses, and each time, Y/N took the short pause between matches to weep and regain herself. Staying in the ring for the duration of the fight, she used her magical powers to create a strong shield for the audience, so that none of the match-attacks would mistakenly harm anyone watching.

She felt sad yet emboldened seeing Lu Bu's tragic death, but also, his horse and brothers in arms asking for death, to be reunited in Niflheim with their General. She saw Thor smile for the first time in his life, after having fought with all of his mind against an honorable and strong member of mankind. Likewise, her heart shattered watching Adam's conviction is protecting his children from perdition, the very same she wished.

Thankfully, the great Sasaki was able to slash to death none other than Poseidon himself; Though not the most agreeable person, she still felt sad to see him gone forever. Alas. Y/N hugged the old man, thanking him for his resilience and strength before picking him up and bringing him to the infirmary.

The same happened with Jack the Ripper, a man despised by all mankind and humanity for being the scum of the earth. Y/N knew better - She knew all of their lives. In truth, though she disagreed with his actions, she pitied Jack, the poor man. He truly was a pitiable one. Unlike Poseidon, Heracles was wept by all, Gods and humans alike, whilst Jack got ostracised, ridiculed and insulted, even having stones thrown at him, despite already being injured. That angered Y/N.

"How dare you speak ill of the man who put his life on the line for humanity to keep living?! He has no descendants, he has no family - He fought for humanity, though he had nothing to gain out of it! He got the recognition of Heracles himself, and tied the score against the Gods with his shrewdness and wit - And yet you dare talk down to him? I don't see you in here, facing the wrath of the Gods who want you dead!" Buddha felt himself cackling from the stand, watching the Goddess pick up a grown man like he was a bride and actively healing him with love and care like none other before. What a darling she always was.

Unfortunately, Mankind lost the 5th match, with poor Raiden dying against Shiva, the God of Destruction. Still, the only good thing coming out of all the matches was that Y/N could sense the fighting Gods getting genuine admiration for the strength, selflessness and righteousness of humanity, beginning with Thor calling Lu Bu his friend, Zeus acknowledging Adam's strength in protecting his kin, Sasaki defeating Poseidon himself, Heracles loving humanity and Jack himself, and Shiva admiring Raiden's power.

And thus, the sixth match was to take place. The doors opened, and two rows of seven pink water lilies appeared - The familiar silhouette of Buddha appeared. Y/N looked at his unbothered face, blowing up bubblegum, his weapon lazily swung over his shoulder. He was smirking, winking at Y/N mischievously, reveling in the spotlight before he stepped by the Goddess' side and pulled her over into his side as he got to where the human representative was to stand.

He spit his gum in Heimdall's hand, snatching away his Gjallarhorn. "Excuse me. Testing. Testing." he spoke into the horn. "Uhhh... I'm gonna fight for Mankind. Ya dig?" the whole arena was in ecstasy. Numerous comments were thrown around, denigrating Buddha as he shattered the horn in his grasp. "Piss off." he pointed with his weapon towards Zeus. "Y'all made my girl cry. Screw you. If the Gods aren't going to save mankind, then I will. And if any God gets in my way..." he slammed the butt of the weapon into the ground, his expression now serious and devoid of any joy. "I'll kill 'em."

He truly is the kind not to take orders from anyone. Though Heimdall tried to press on that he can't switch sides, Zeus himself approved anyway. "Are you prepared to make enemies with all of the Gods?" "Dang, you're such a pain!" Buddha scoffed at Odin, pulling Y/N even closer to his side. "Remember what I said before? Whether you're allies or enemies, good or evil, Gods or Humans, none of that matters!" Buddha was glowing brightly with intense confidence. "In all universe, nothing else matters, except me!"

Such a narcissistic comment, added to the intense frustration of the Gods, made Y/N burst into laughter along with him. Two weirdos. "So, who am I fighting?"

The Seven Fortunes stepped into the arena and fused into a single deity. Vaisravana was no more, and instead, one called Zerofuku appeared. The Eight Gods of Fortune were actually a single entity. This Zerofuku guy was a real weirdo, even for their standards, and he confessed his intense wish to slaughter Buddha with all of his might, as he created his sinister weapons which got bigger and bigger the more misfortune he encountered.

Though Y/N didn't know of Zerofuku's past, he knew Buddha. He was able to take the misfortune of the humans into his own body, until he couldn't any more, only to receive discontempt and realise that those he tried to help were in no way less misfortunate than before. Material luxury and sinful indulgences did nothing to appease the soul. Instead, Zerofuku had to witness strings of people following Buddha in his path to Enlightenment. He got jealous, unable to understand his teachings - Yet somehow, no matter how cryptic or enigmatic Zerofuku found Buddha's words, the other people - Including those whom he helped previously - Began following the Awakened One close behind.

The more Zero attacked, the bigger his weapon grew, for Buddha could see the flickers of his soul and evade all the hits before they even happened. He was even taunting the God, intentionally or not, driving him into a mad frenzy. The few attacks that Buddha threw all landed with tremendous effect, earning cheers and applause from the audience.

Though he couldn't see Y/N reaction, Buddha was sure she was a worrying mess - That's her caring nature, after all - Yet seeing Zero's weapon growing as large as the whole arena, and him not moving from his spot, well - He feared she might be fainting on the spot, like a poor damsel in distress. Well, he'll just have to sweep her off her feet and protect her like the chevalier of light that he is!

Y/N knew, in theory, that Buddha's weapon transformed in each of the Six Paths identities depending on his emotions, and with his being a master at controlling his moods, he could form anything at will, more or less, so she wasn't all that surprised when the weapon transformed into a Shield to block the huge weapon. Still, she almost wished she could see all of the Paths.

Next, he used the Spiked Club of Nirvana, trembling to charge in an attack - And so he did, sweeping to the ground and causing lethal damage on the demon's side. The demon's weapon turned into two swords, to which Buddha made his weapon turn into a large halbert, easily countering every one of Zero's attacks. His misfortune was increasing, and his weapon turned into a multitude of hooks acting like snakes - He retaliated with a Vajra, running around and cutting them away to bits.

"Love yourself!" Buddha encouraged the poor demon. "I actually like you quite a lot, Zerofuku." that comment made the misfortunate one start sobbing and staring at the graceful God, shining brighter than the golden Sun. Zero's anger subsided and he finally understood who he really is, and what he wants from life. His weapon disappeared, and Buddha also threw his own to the ground, proposing an outright fist-fight. What a child, Y/N giggled, watching that playful smirk on his face as he intentionally allowed the pitiable demon to strike him back. Y/N could never image ever letting herself feel physical hurt just for fun - Alas, men were weird, and Buddha especially, was one of a kind.

Zerofuku was on the ground, sprawled, with all his misfortune and anger seeping out of his in a cloud. His purple hair turned pure white, and his blissful grin, that childlike innocence and glee were sparkling in his eyes. Buddha, also, was happy to have helped another worthy person achieve spiritual happiness - Until the horns on either side of his skull penetrated deep into his brain, worming their way inside his body. Zerofuku was engulfed by two dragons, one blue and one red. Buddha could do nothing to safe his new friend. Instead, he was forced to watch Zero disappearing, and a true evil appearing in his stead.

The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, Papiyas, was reborn.

Buddha immediately leapt back, afraid for the first time, for there was a creature of pure darkness, whom he couldn't read. He hadn't an inkling of brightness in his soul which he could read. Y/N, like everyone else, was trembling from the sheer malevolence of the demon. Terrifying, Y/N ran in front of Buddha, standing protectively in front of him - She knew, if need be, her defense magic was second to none in Valhalla.

There goes this legend about a terrifying foe from Helheim - Hades told her this story once, dating before he was ruled of the Underworld - That this enemy destroyed half of the realm... Or rather, it was lucky enough that even half of it was left intact, to some degree.

Once Papiyas turned his arm into a weapon, Y/N summoned her polearm into her grasp, parrying the attack. The Gods all gasped - It has been thousands of years since they've seen the Goddess of Peace fight. In truth, it was only during the Titanomachy that she fought - To protect her Peace, one must go to War. It was an irony that she had to accept as a true axioma.

"H-Hey, Y/N, it's not your fight! Two people can't fight for a single side!" she heard Heimdall's shaky voice call out. "To hell with your rules, Heimdall! If this freak doesn't die, we're all screwed!" Y/N growled, struggling to push him back, counter and block all of his strikes that came at the speed of lightning. "If Zeus accepted the intervention of the Valkyries for all the other fights, then for goodness' sake, there's hardly any difference, is there?!" "I SHALL ALLOW IT!" Zeus' amused voice called out from the stands, as Y/N leapt back, just a step in front of Buddha. She was breathing heavily from the effort. "Siddhartha, stand back." her overprotectiveness was taking over her senses. "I will fight with my fullest power." Papiyas glared at the two. "THAT WAS YOU HOLDING BACK?!" Y/N cried out at him. "Gosh... Buddha, come over." quickly, Y/N placed a few flowers in his hair. "This will protect you from harm... I hope." she muttered the last bit, watching as Papiyas was preparing a drill-like strike called the Pandaemonium Cycle. Before she could react, Buddha dragged Y/N behind him, pulling his shield up - But the drill was capable of penetrating through it, gouging his left eye out.

"S...Siddhartha...?!" Y/N started, shuddering in distress at her lover's injury. He protected her, while he got his eye drilled into mush. "Don't worry about me, worry about that monster!" Buddha transformed his weapon into the sword away, engaging in an exchange of slashes that barely left a scar on the demon's neck. Buddha had to make adjustments to his attacks, because of his blindspot. fighting with one eye only as he was gradually being whittled down.

"Judgement." Papiyas smirked, impaling Buddha's foot, urging him to leap back once again. Y/N couldn't believe there were idiot Gods out there, begging for Buddha's death - Idiots. The Demon King pointed out Zerofuku was no more - He ate him - Shocking both Buddha and Y/N. What a monster, they thought, and the Enlightened one was feeling even more angered, enough to curse at him. "I've made up my mind. I'm gonna KILL YOU!" Y/N, nor anyone else, ever saw Buddha's wrath. Hopefully, it will serve him and humanity well. His staff transformed into the Hatred Emotion which created a weapon he's never seen before, the Warscythe of Salakaya, which had a menacing head of a roaring lion on it. "Preposterous." Papiyas spat. "For a piece of trash such as you, to defy a supreme being like me... I will waste no time passing judgement! And nothing could be more pleasant than that!" his laugh roared through the whole arena. "Stick that judgement up your ass, you sick fuck!" the audience gasped with the curse of the Goddess as Buddha attacked first with his blade, before unleashing an infernal fire towards the demon.

Blood spilled to the ground, though Buddha was the most confused of all. He was the one who initiated the attack, and it was his blade that cut away at Papiyas' arm. It was him who was supposed to get impaled by the enemy's weapon - So why the hell was Y/N standing before him like a meat shield, while he was unscathed?! "Y/N...?" his single remaining eye was wide with shock, staring at the blood splattering to the ground, and the soft tremble of her body. "The flower protected you." Y/N smiled weakly. "That is my happiness in life. Caring for those I hold dear to my heart." she giggled softly. "How pathetic. Any last words?" Papiyas grunted menacingly. "The whole world shall freeze over before I allow a pathetic little shit like you hurt my children. You, and all the Gods that oppose us - All who wish for mankind's erasure - I will fucking burn you all to death until there's nothing left of you to commemorate your wretched existence." Y/N smirked, grabbing Papiyas' arm and forcing herself through the weapon, sticking her own blade into his shoulder. That pissed the demon enough to kick her into the God behind her, toppling them to the ground. "Never do that again!" Buddha briefly scolded her. "Sorry, love, but I will do that, for as many times as my body keeps holding me. I am not strong, but I am resilient. It is you who can kill him, not me. If you are alive, we can win this. Together." Buddha got up, glaring angrily at the demon. "You have twice more, Siddhartha. That is my limit. After that, you're on your own. Use my power wisely." Buddha understood the implication well enough without any explanation - If he gets careless again, Y/N will die, protecting him. Similar to the story of the Moon Rabbit, so is she; Whilst the monkey, the fox and the bird gathered fruit, mean and nuts for the traveler to eat, the rabbit, knowing it could only gather some grass, threw itself into the fire for the man to eat him. Moved by the selflessness of the rabbit, the traveler, who was actually Sakra himself, made it so that the fire did not burn the rabbit, and instead, created the moon in its liking, and the fumes that would have burnt it, the fog surrounding it.

Still, Siddhartha did NOT want to see Y/N actually killing herself like that; Though an admirable and selfless act, he did not want to mourn her, the way he did Jataka long ago. He had to win. He MUST win.

"You're weak. Way weaker than Zero." Buddha taunted the Demon King into attacking him, and he parried all of his hits for as long as he could, before getting kicked away again. His continuing of the mocking caused the Demon King such rage, that he managed to find the perfect opening through his attack, impaling him again - Only, it wasn't him, but Y/N, much to Buddha's dismay. "Damn it, Y/N! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he wanted to destroy the last flower in his hair, but he didn't have the strength. "One last chance, Siddhartha. Don't waste it." Y/N felt so weak as she got thrown away to the other side of the arena, rolling to the ground like a used ragdoll. "Y/N!" she heard her lover called out, afraid for her life - But as long as the flower of life was pulsating energy within him, he was reassured she was still alive and continuing to actively heal him.

Buddha continued his plan of mocking the enemy, causing him uncharacteristic fright, to the point that he tore off his arm to create a mighty weapon.

Buddha attacked again, though surprisingly, the blade of his Scythe got cut off and shattered to the ground. "Seriously...?!" he gasped, not having expected his Divine Treasure to break, of all things. He tried to defend with his staff, but that, too, broke, sending him away. He was sent to the ground, crashing down with such force that he couldn't move. "SIDDHARTHA!" Y/N cried, crawling to his side and holding him in her arms. She tried desperately to heal him, but he was unconscious, thus nothing she could do. As Papiyas was menacingly approaching, Y/N used her weapon to hoist herself up, creating a shield to protect the two until he woke up.

Thankfully, Buddha achieved enlightenment once again, and he got up, holding Zerofuku's old weapon. The crown holding his hair together shattered, and his gorgeous hair was shown for all to see. "Thank you, Y/N, Zero. Let's fight together, yes?" Y/N smiled sweetly, seeing him confident once again. "Yeah. Let's." despite her bloodloss, Y/N smiled, preparing her weapon. "Samavadhana Volundr!" Buddha and Zero together created a Divine Weapon that only Buddha could attaint through sublime enlightenment. A gorgeous and strong weapon, containing the strength and feelings of all the Gods of Fortune.

Ready to fight, Buddha kept up perfectly with the Demon King, parrying all of his attacks as strong as never before - And he was grinning, confident and self assured, even managing to inflict massive damage, at the cost of some minor injuries on himself. Still, he had to finish things fast, before either he or Y/N perish. He managed to slash away perfectly at his chest one again, though it wasn't as deep as he'd have liked. The climax was approaching fast. Y/N stepped by his side, holding his hand to transfer the last bit of energy into him, so he could keep going - At this rate, he'd only get more injuries, so at least he must keep his vitality and strength, for as long as it lasts. The one sided exchange of life that only Y/N could gift to another.

No matter how Papiyas continued to attack, Buddha was so fast and accurate that no more hit grazed him. The last ultimate attack of the Demon King - All thought landed, but instead, it was a clone, crumbling in an array of petals. Y/N grinned impishly, pointing behind him, as Buddha was ready to kill the foe.

Just as he turned, the last thing Papiyas saw was Buddha's Godly form, perfect beyond boundaries existent to Godhood, and the sword of light, love and compassion shined bright through the dark arena, slicing down the Demon King in two or three. different parts. It didn't matter that Papiyas tried to attack again, for Y/N slapped his hand away, watching as Niflheim was crumbling him to dust.

Somewhere in the sky, the light of heaven showed the happy soul of Zerofuku and the other Seven Gods of Fortune, ascending to Nirvana - Together, in friendship. Buddha couldn't contain his tears of glee, as he brought Y/N into his side, holding the sword dearly into his grasp. Everyone was chanting Buddha's name as he reveled in his win. The sword disappeared, but a bird that loved Zero sat on it, weeping for the loss of its benefactor.

Barely able to stand up, Buddha used all of his strength to drag Y/N out of the arena - Somehow, he was rather sure she was in a far worse shape than he was, having taken two direct hits like that. Not only that, but the refreshing feeling of the gentle caress that Y/N's energy felt, healing him, was keeping him very much alive and giddy. "You were so cool, Y/N. I didn't know you could do all that." Y/N smiled enigmatically. "They say true strength can be found when protecting that which is dearest to you. The truth is, Siddhartha, that I love you more than anything else is this world. You make me the happiest I've ever been." "Ha! Hear you, all sappy and sweet! Y'know you're gonna make me melt!" he cackled, pulling her into a gentle kiss, afraid of causing her more pain. "Let's get all better and continue rooting for humanity, yes? We've done all we could. The rest is their burden to bear - And I think they've done a pretty damn good job so far, don't you think?" "Hella." when she lost strength in her legs, Buddha immediately reacted, picking her up and cradling her in his arms like a princess. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you did that intentionally." he teased her, kissing her forehead. "If most of my blood was inside of me, and not out in the arena, it would have been intentional." she smirked back at him just as comically.

After getting the much required medical care, they continued watching the matches from the comfort of their chamber, laying on the comfortable, fluffy bed, cuddled in each other's arms. Y/N had tied his hair up again, and instead of his golden crown, she replaced it with one made of flowers. He, in return, caressed her hair until she relaxed completely, singing softly the Heart Sutra for her, for as long as it took for her to achieve a much needed peace.

All things are empty: Nothing is born, nothing dies, Nothing is pure, nothing is stained, Nothing increases and nothing decreases. So, in emptiness, there is no body, No feeling, no thought, No will, no consciousness.

There are no eyes, no ears, No nose, no tongue, No body, no mind. There is no seeing, no hearing, No smelling, no tasting, No touching, no imagining. There is nothing seen, nor heard, Nor smelled, nor tasted, Nor touched, nor imagined.