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kamaluhkhan · 8 months ago

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WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you.

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter.

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.”

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for.

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do.

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin.

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here.

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her.

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes.

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.”

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head.

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness.

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out.

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin.

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos.

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath.

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too.

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight.

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more.

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?”

of course, she remembers.

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

“we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.”

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones.

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being.

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits.

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper.

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours.

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away.

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?”

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved.

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning.

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek.

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful.

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often.

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.”

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi arcane #arcane #vi #vi league of legends #saf writes #arcane season 2

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mahowaga · 2 months ago

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WHERE THE PLUM BLOSSOMS FALL | N.K. — SERIES MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you were born beneath a crown, nanami was raised beside a blade—two lives shaped in silence, crossing in the hush between breath and bloom.

PAIRING: general!nanami kento x princess!reader CONTAINS: slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, historical au, imperial court shenanigans, period, monarchy dynamics, political intrigue, court politics, non-sexual intimacy, mutual respect, power dynamics, repressed emotions, courtship in silence, loyalty and betrayal TEASER: here WC: 50.7k STATUS: completed WARNINGS: implied violence, depictions of grief and loss, character death, emotional manipulation, dubious morality, sexism

— CHAPTER INDEX

prologue — the years before the garden

act i — the appointment of a shadow

act ii — the weight of names

act iii — the crown ascends

act iv — the armor undone

act v — the garden endures

epilogue — the sound of laughter

A/N: thank you to @gojover for being my biggest, and i mean BIGGEST, fan. her reactions were what drove me to complete this story, and i'm so grateful for her. i hope you adore this series as much as she does. (art by ykRRR23 on X)

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damneddamsy · 3 months ago

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FALLING. RATING Explicit (18+ only) PAIRING Joel Miller x BIPOC OFC (Leela) FORMAT & SETTING Joel's POV & Post-TLOU Jackson AU WORD COUNT PER CHAPTER approx. 12,000+ STATUS Complete

SUMMARY It is said that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. Now, Joel Miller wasn’t looking to be a saint. Trust was a liability. Love, a memory too painful to keep. But if a sinner like him still had some future, and if that future starts with one night—a baby’s relentless cries cracking through his walls and breaking him open—then maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost everything yet. Against all instincts, he steps into that big, white house across his street. Nothing drives Joel to linger, but he does. For the baby at first—nascent Maya, with her bright eyes and fistfuls of Joel’s collar. Then, the strange new mother. What begins as an uneasy coexistence grows into something deeper, which neither of them dares name. Haunted by a narrative she never chose, brilliant but reclusive, Leela’s mind runs into the theoretical—proofs, patterns, chasing solutions to an unsolvable equation—while Joel’s hands are scarred by the practical: protecting, killing, enduring. When that peace becomes fleeting, when a fragile hope in the shape of a mathematical discovery begins to bloom, and the world, as always, threatens to take it away, Joel confronts what it means to fall—not just into the impossible, but into love, into hope, into the fragile rhythms of Leela and Maya’s life, and their quiet home that becomes a rare thing in this decaying tomorrow: a reason to stay. This is a story of healing, found family, and the abnormal, slow math of love—how we factor grief, multiply hope, balance the unknowns, it never adds up but somehow makes perfect sense.

INDEX (might be subject to change as the story progresses.)

part i -> EVENT HORIZON

part ii -> MICROFRACTURE

part iii -> FALSE EQUILIBRIUM

part iv -> MINIMUM VIABLE HOPE

part v -> RECONSTRUCTION ALGORITHM

part vi -> LIMIT APPROACHES GRACE

part vii -> FREEFALL FUNCTION

part viii -> SOFT INFINITY

part ix -> STITCH THEORY

interlude

part x -> DECOHERENCE

part xi -> ZERO CROSSING

part xii -> THEOREM OF BECOMING

part xiii -> HEURISTIC BLOOM

part xiv -> THE FINAL INTEGRATION

epilogue

acknowledgements

FALLING MOODBOARD (a huge bear hug, thank you and shoutout to the incredible @jolapeno !!)

FALLING MOODBOARD (2) (so many kisses and so much love to the talented, sweet @mrsmando !!)

CHARACTER STUDY A deep dive into Joel, Maya, and Leela, answering an ask from one of my sweetheart friends @jodiswiftle who followed along!

AUTHOR'S NOTE Have loads of fun with this masterlist! took me a while to think up a different way to potray these chapters, I'm so glad it came through so great!

TAGS your (ultimate) fix-it fic, The Dad™️ Joel, softest Joel you've ever seen, he is also an old yearner cuntstruck hardass, Joel being down bad for a teeny baby girl, OFC is arabic, OFC being an academic nerd and STEM girlie, the cutest baby (Maya) ever, baby is an actual character, Miller family dynamics, Tommy-Joel-Ellie hooliganisms, life in Jackson town, Ellie being the generally awesome older sister, neighbours-to-lovers trope, found family, slowburn, a lot of math references, lotsa door metaphors, epistolary interlude.

CONTENT WARNINGS eventual smut (the whole kaboodle), big griefs, depression, unbearable angst, violence, gore, blood, alcoholism, substance abuse, post-natal depression, the pains of motherhood, mentions of rape and suicide, childbirth.

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hellinistical · 5 months ago

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Priest! Vampire! Rafayel x Nun! Reader.

synopsis: when a charming new priest is sent to your convent amidst the winter freeze, you're naturally untrusting. unfortunately, he's more knowledgeable of the faith, and you could learn a thing or two, especially if you want to protect yourself from the recent vampire attacks.

trigger warnings: (heavy plot!). minor and major character death, blood, dubious consent, sacrilegious themes (Not Christianity or Catholicism; made up religion but using synonymous terms), gore, porn with plot, fingering (fem. receiving), hand jobs, piv, non-consensual vampire transformation, bodily horror, drinking blood, playing with blood, human consumption, unwilling cannibalism, afab reader- usage of female anatomy (though not descriptive of size/skin markings). fem. reader- she/her used. biting. choking. manipulation. blasphemy. overstimulation. virgin reader. corruption. monster fucking. slight belly bulge, bondage. incorrect use of holy water. wax play. this list may expand and/or altered.

a/n: this piece holds no actual religious scripture or quotes, I just needed those terms as they were synonymous. This is in NO WAY a jab at those faiths nor is it meant to spread hate or harm to them. It is also not an insult to those who practice. I tried to write with care, which yeah may be hypocritical of what I have here, so I apologize. Additionally, thank you to everyone who voted in the poll. While it was originally intended to be a one-shot, I felt it would be better to break it into chunks as this is very plot-heavy. Thank you for your support! Reblogs are highly appreciated.

word count: 42k

taglist playlist

chapter index-

I. L'Inverno

II. Il Ragazzo

III. La Sorella

IV. Il Prete

V. Trasformazione

©hellinistical 2025 do not copy, translate, distribute, plagiarize, or reproduce in any form without permission, and do not share to any media outside of tumblr.

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dilf-docs · 1 month ago

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series masterlist. +18 (minors dni). reposting and/or translating is not allowed.

Reckless choices. Emotional baggage for a lifetime inside suitcases for a week. A ticket to Iceland. Strangers connected by bad luck, heartache and... a little room mishap. Forced to share space and secrets during a one-week stay in the middle of nowhere.

Or,

Two New Yorkers who've never crossed paths in their bustling Manhattan lives find themselves caught in between the ice and that in their blue borrowed hearts.

Chapter Index:

I. Day One: Arrival

II. Day Two: Shared

III. Day Three: Nightlife

IV. Day Four: Waterfall

V. Day Five: Volcanoes

VI. Day Six: Whales and Parks

VII. Day Seven: Departure

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applejusue · 23 days ago

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caitlyn kiramman

Caitlyn is a ghost, a shadow on the wall that couldn't be grasped. A private operative, loyal only to the one who pays the most. She's ruthless, sly, and she doesn't ask questions. You're a rich girl, bathed in soft fur and silver, and someone wants you dead.

◟`# cw: 18+ MDNI assassin!caitlyn, character-driven intimacy, sexual themes, violence, blood, murder, smoking, cursing, vision impairment, slow-burn, angst, stalking, blackmail.

Index PROLOGUE: A NIGHT AT THE OPERA ACT I: ACT II: ACT III:

𓏲 ๋ taglist: comment to be added . . .

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newspider · 1 year ago

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NEWSPIDER IS… a mutuals-only roleplay blog written by tommy (she/her, 21) featuring the amazing spider-man newspaper strips’ version of peter parker from which readers may expect themes of violence ripped from the titles of 90s hero pulps and complicated relationships with humanity or lack thereof ripped from 90s home videos. functioning on vibes that are destroying the local ecosystem by a factor of at least 999.

PETER PARKER OF EARTH-77013 IS… a socially constipated grad student. a subhuman savant stuck in a time loop. a web slinger. a war stopper. a moderately talented celebrity wrestler / window wiper. a massively talented menace to society. a quasi-accidential interquantumdimensional traveler. an existential crisis collector. and he’s finally learning that his actions have consequences.

CARRD. PROMPTS. HEADCANONS.

#iii — INDEX!

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amorisxx · 9 months ago

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Snickerdoodle pt. iii

(Halloween special)

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: The fall fest rolls around. You and Art are part of the parent committee. An unexpected meeting leads to another moment in a parking lot. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, description of panic attack word count: 3.6K a/n: This part gives a bit more context to each of their lives. It doesn't really progress the plot very much, but I enjoyed writing it. previous part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. The house is quiet, free of the frenetic energy that children bring. Kaleb is still at school, and you’d taken the day to finish preparing your baked goods for the fall fest on Friday. The only noise to be heard is the sound of Art panting into your ear.

“Oh…f-fuck… please, please.”

Halfway through decorating the sugar cookies, he’d started pressing kisses to the side of your neck. You had tried shooing him off, but it was to no avail.

That’s how you end up pressed against the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at the hips. One strap is halfway down your arm as Art frantically ruts into you from behind.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans into your neck.

He has one hand holding your hip in place while his other arm pins your back against his chest. In between thrusts, he uses one hand to greedily palm at your breasts.

When you start clenching around him, Art snakes a hand around to your front. He moves his fingers to where his cock is throbbing inside you. He groans at the wetness that has seeped out of you and collected at his base. You moan when he drags his fingers up to rub desperate circles over your slippery clit.

“Want you to cum, ah, need to feel it baby, please,” he pants.

It isn’t long before you’re throwing your head back and squeezing around him.

“Now, will you please let me finish these cookies?” You huff. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come over.”

He snorts. “You said you could use the help.”

“Well that’s when I thought you’d actually be of some help.”

He grins at you with lidded eyes.

The truth is Art did come over to help you, but he also came because watching you bake has become one of his favorite things to do. Since the two of you have started seeing each other more often, he’s started spending time at your place during the weekends when Kaleb has to stay with his dad. Though you don’t admit it, he’s noticed that you tend to bake when you’re worried. Art thinks it must take your mind off of things. It’s as if you go on autopilot. You disappear into the task as everything fades to the background. It reminds Art of what tennis used to feel like.

The baking also reminds him of his grandmother. Before she moved to the nursing home, she would always bake cookies for Art when he was young. He’d know because the sweet aroma would fill his nostrils upon entering the front door.

Sometimes, he was able to watch her bake and take in the entire process. It was calming for him to observe all the various steps and pass her different ingredients. He wondered how she knew the exact amount to add, and she’d tell him it was because of “years and years of practice.” Art quickly grew fond of the idea of building something up from scratch. And he learned that through lots of practice, you could make something really sweet.

So, in a way, you remind Art of his grandmother. He doesn’t tell you that though because he doesn’t think that’s the best thing to say to someone he’s just been balls deep inside. He does tell you, however, that he likes seeing you like this.

You look up at him in between adding orange icing to a cookie. Some of the icing spills onto the counter as you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He gestures around the kitchen. “It’s nice, you know, being able to watch you make something.”

Though you’re looking down at the cookie, he sees the smile splitting your lips open. Art leans forward and swipes the icing from the counter with his index finger before popping it into his mouth. He smiles at you around his finger, and you flush as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Nancy,” you start. “I just finished setting up this entire table. I am not moving all of this again.” You gesture to the spread of homemade cookies, pumpkin shaped cake pops, and pretzel rods dipped and drizzled in orange, black, and purple icing and sprinkles. The cookies themselves were a pain to arrange. You wanted there to be an even number of skull and jack-o’-lantern shaped sugar cookies on each platter. And each cookie needed to be facing forward. You didn’t think you had the patience for some snaggletoothed kid to ask what’s this? And plant their finger right on the cookie only to decide they hate pumpkins and leave it there.

“Okay!” She says defensively. “I just wonder if it’s such a good idea for the sweets table to be so close to the bouncy house. I wouldn’t want the kids to get sick.”

She turns to assess the giant inflated pumpkin. “I’d say they probably need a good 50 feet to walk and let the cookies settle before they start jumping up and down…don’t you think?”

You stare back blankly at the woman. “You just had me move because you said the smell of the petting zoo might ruin appetites.”

“And it could!” She whips her head back around at you, her blonde bob slapping the side of her face. “Those baby goats are cute, but they don’t smell great hon!”

You fold your arms.

“Alright.” Nancy raises a hand with a shake of her bobble head. “We won’t move,” she relents, “but could you maybe just tell each kid to eat their treats at the table, you know just to make sure they stand around for a couple of minutes before running to the bouncy castle?”

You start to tell her that it’ll be hard to control what a bunch of excited, elementary schoolers do after they get some sugar in them, but decide it’s not worth arguing with her. You glance over at her husband, Frank, who has set out his red and black folding chair next to the drink cooler. She’d instructed him to make sure each kid grabbed one drink at a time because “lord knows we’ll be picking up half full juice boxes all night.” Without so much as a glance, he’d mumbled a well versed “yes honey” and sat in his chair, staring into the distance and scratching his chest.

You decide to take a page out of Frank’s book.

“Sure, Nancy.”

Your table proves to be a popular one. You’re not even halfway through the festival, and most of your cake pops are gone, and the sugar cookies are depleting by the minute. You blame Art for being such a distraction that you didn’t think to bake more cookies just in case. Once he’s done with face painting duty, you plan on letting him have it.

You’re counting how many jack-o’-lantern cookies are left on the platters when a voice interrupts you.

“I always did love your baking.”

“Chris? What are you doing here?”

Your ex husband is standing in front of you, hands in his pockets as he smiles down at your spread of goodies.

He makes his way over to your side of the table. “My boy practically begged me to come, so of course I had to show up.”

You turn and purse your lips. “Well I hadn’t heard from you so I assumed you weren’t coming. They took your name off the list at the PTA meeting.”

“Dad!”

You look over to see your son barreling towards his father. He laughs reaching out to haul him up into the air. His little pirate hat goes crooked on his head. “You came!”

“Yeah, man, I told you I would!”

They fall into their own conversation as you help serve treats to some other kids that have wandered to the table. Despite your feelings about Chris, you can’t help but smile at the sound of Kaleb’s giggles. You’re glad that his dad’s presence brings him so much joy. You remember a time when you too felt that unyielding happiness around him. That flutter in your belly and the warmth in your chest that can only be characterized as pure, genuine fondness. God, you were so fond of him.

At the time, you thought you could never experience anything better than that. It’s why you agreed to marry him. And why you also agreed to stopping your birth control. Knowing he wanted to start a family with you made you love him even more, because to have a child with someone is to irrevocably tie yourself to that person. Being loved by Chris was your point of reference for so long.

But that was before.

Before he decided you weren’t enough for him, before he decided to be withholding, before he made you feel unlovable. It turns out that having a child with someone isn’t the symbol of unconditional love that you’d believed it was. Once you had removed the rose tinted glasses, you were able to see that love isn’t something that’s promised to you. Even if someone makes that promise to you, the love itself may not endure. You’re not sure how much control Chris really had when it came to loving you. You’re still figuring out what love entails when you’re not with him.

Now, you just hope that Kaleb will never learn what it’s like to not be loved by his father. That he’ll never have to vie for his affections nor his attention. That he will always feel held by his love and not stifled by it.

You feel something poke your hip, jolting you from your thoughts. It’s Kaleb, pressing his plastic pirate’s hook into your side to get your attention. You grab the hook in your hand, reminding him to be mindful of the point. He offers you a sheepish, snaggletoothed smile. “Sorry.”

You sigh and run your hands over his curls before gently tugging his ear. It’s a habitual motion that began when he was a toddler. He could be a little rambunctious, running around the house in nothing but a pull-up to avoid bedtime. When you’d finally catch him, you would ruffle his hair and gently pinch his little ears, calling him a silly monkey. He would erupt into fits of giggles before breaking away again making “ooh-ooh ah-ah” sounds.

Kaleb takes his arm behind his back in an effort to control his hook. “Dad said I can go with him tonight!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Said once this is over we can go have some real fun!”

Chris laughs, patting Kaleb’s shoulder.

“What does that mean? Real fun?” You raise an eyebrow at your ex.

“Oh Christ! I’m just gonna take him to get some ice cream or something,” he says.

“I’m just trying to make sure my son doesn’t pick up any of your…” you look over him from head to toe, “… bad habits.”

He rolls his eyes.

“But yeah, that’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you have the booster seat?”

“Yeah, and it’s the perfect height for him to see the girls at the strip club tonight,” he cracks a smile like it’s the funniest thing ever.

Kaleb catches sight of a classmate and almost knocks his dad over in his haste to run to them. Chris shouts “Be careful!” before glancing over at you and chuckling.

You curl your lip in disgust before turning toward the couple approaching your table and offering them a bright smile. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you as you move to serve them. Once they’ve gone, you turn to him.

“Is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

He chuckles. “How do you know I didn’t want some of your cookies?”

“Okay, well what are you getting?” You ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he runs his thumb over his bottom lip and smirks, “You look really good.”

Your stomach twists.

“I miss you.” He searches your face. “You know that?”

You scoff. “No you don’t,” you say definitively before turning away from him.

You then notice that Art is making his way over to your table. He’s wearing the same black and orange “fall fest committee” shirt that you are, but his figure fills it out much better than you can. His jeans are hanging effortlessly on his hips, and you think that if he hadn’t stuck with tennis all those years, modeling would’ve been a great second option.

Your field of vision gets cut off by your mosquito of an ex husband. You literally swat at him to move away, but he’s still smiling at you.

“Please just get whatever you’re gonna get and leave me alone.”

He reaches for you. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

You yank your arm out of his reach, sending him a warning glare.

He ignores the warning, stepping closer to you to lean down near your ear. “You know every time I come pick up Kaleb, I just think, God, what will it take for me to get those pretty legs open again?”

A loud smack resounds as his head snaps to the side. You’re gritting your teeth. “Fuck you.”

He holds his cheek from where you’ve smacked him, a tiny smirk etched onto his face.

You point your finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you come to me with this shit! You have a fucking fiancée!” Your hands have started to tremble as your anger rises. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?? You don’t get to treat me the way you did then come here saying shit like that!”

You don’t realize that Art has been standing there. He sees your trembling hands and glassy eyes and subtly positions himself between the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re still glaring at your ex as if daring him to say something else.

Like the coward he is, Chris lowers his voice like he’s talking to a rabid animal. He tells you that you need to calm down before turning to Art. “Yeah, man, everything’s fine.” It’s just like him to make it seem like you’re the one who’s unhinged in the company of outsiders.

Thankfully, Art isn’t just some person.

He fully stands between the two of you, blocking you from Chris’ sight. You hear him say, “yeah well it doesn’t seem like it, man.” The muscles in his back are tense and his shoulders are square.

Chris sounds like he’s about to say something, but Art doesn’t let him finish. “I think you should leave her alone.”

You swallow and look down at your shaky hands willing them to be still.

Chris makes a move to step around Art. His jaw is clenched tight. “Respectfully, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Art lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t a request,” he says.

A second or two passes by as the two men stare at each other. Chris squints at Art, throws a glance around at you before stepping back with a laugh. He shakes his head assessing the way Art has planted himself in front of you. His eyes drop to where you’re fisting the end of Art’s t-shirt in an attempt to calm your nerves. He mumbles something about not being surprised but continues his retreat. “I’ll drop Kaleb off Sunday night,” he announces over his shoulder.

Once he’s gone, Art turns to you, rubbing his palms down your arms. “Hey,” he bends down to look you in your eyes. “You’re okay.”

It only makes your lip tremble more, the anger from earlier dissipating as something else takes over. Art tells you he’ll be right back. You bring your arms over your chest as your breathing gets heavier. The ruckus in the air is starting to feel suffocating. Your ears are ringing and you begin to feel tingling in your cheeks.

When Art comes back, he has Nancy’s husband, Frank, in tow. He tells him something, but you can’t hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. You’re gasping for air. You barely pick up Art’s voice saying “come with me.” You let him take your hand and lead you out of the chaos.

The sound of Art’s car door shutting makes you realize that your face has stopped tingling. You blink as your breathing returns to normal and the static-like ringing in your ears fades away. You rub your palms over your fabric covered thighs and take one big breath before exhaling. Something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance to your left. Art is sitting in the driver’s seat, but most of his upper body is facing you. His soft eyes watch you with a patience that makes you want to cry all over again. You reach for him.

Art immediately pulls you to him, letting you settle in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your head.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Baby,” he runs a hand over your back.

“No, it was pathetic. I can’t believe I let him get under my skin like that.”

“It was a panic attack. It’s not your fault,” Art murmurs into your hair. “And that’s exactly why he did that. He wanted to get a reaction out of you. Don’t blame yourself.”

You lift your head up to look at him. You search his face. All you find is sincerity.

You brush your thumb over the skin behind his ear and lean in. Your noses gently bump against one another before you’re pressing your lips to his. It’s soft, slow, and deliberate. Art places his palm flat against the small of your back as he returns the kiss with equal tenderness. Through your lips and your tongue, you try to tell Art everything you aren’t able to say with your voice. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling you the exact same thing back.

When you bring your hips down to roll against him, Art tells you “we don’t have to.” It’s your turn to tell him that you want this.

You move to the backseat. He peppers quick kisses over you every now and then as you both work to get each other’s pants down. It would probably be quicker to simply take them off one at a time, but you two aren’t thinking properly. Your head is swimming from how bad you need him right now. Once you’ve gotten your jeans off, and Art’s are to his knees, he’s sitting back against the black leather, pulling you with him.

You release a small whimper when his wet mouth attaches to your throat. His forehead knocks against your shoulder as you reach your hands under his shirt. “Off. Please.” He lets out a soft grunt as he complies with your request.

Before he can fully toss the committee shirt to the side, you’re running your hands over his chest. You stop at his nipples, letting your thumb roll over the small buds. Despite his attempt to hold it in, Art moans when you lean down and swirl your tongue around his nipple. It makes his cock jump.

You begin to move against his hard member, seeking out the friction of him bumping against your clit. Art gets his tongue back into your mouth as he reaches under your shirt, pinching your nipples. His lips smack against yours as he brings his hands around to your back. He lets them trace down your spine until they meet the band of your underwear.

Art dips both hands into your panties and smoothes his palms over your cheeks. He grips your ass as he guides you to rock against him. You moan into his mouth before you lift your hips to allow him room to pull his underwear down his thighs.

His dick slaps against his abdomen.

Your mouth waters and your stomach clenches in anticipation. You reach for him, and Art lets you take him in your hand, pumping him one, two, three times before he’s greedily grabbing your hips. He promptly hooks his thumb in the seat of your panties. He uses the leverage to pull them to the side, and you guide his tip to rub against your sticky folds. You moan as you drag it upwards to which Art starts rutting his head against your clit.

Without warning, you press Art’s tip to your opening. He hisses when you start to sink down onto him. With him fully buried in your cunt, you let out a sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to his chest. You two share a kiss as he begins shallowly thrusting into you.

After the both of you have finished, Art doesn’t pull out right away. He keeps you there for a moment telling you he just wants to feel you for a little bit more. Naturally, you don’t protest. The two of you sit within the fogged windows of his car in blissful silence as he lazily strokes your back.

Unfortunately, the shrill ringing of your cellphone punctures that silence.

It’s Nancy.

She asks where you’ve disappeared to, then doesn’t let you respond as she tells you that Frank is at your table which is now empty. They’re going to start cleaning up in about 45 minutes.

When you rejoin the festival, you and Art spot your kids and their friends comparing their various prizes and candy. Standing off to the side is Tashi. She sends you a smile when she notices you. Your stomach drops.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: As always, let me know what you think <3 my asks are open!

#happy halloween!#art donaldson x reader #challengers #pta!art x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #snickerdoodle fic #pta!art #dilf!art

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paige1722 · 2 months ago

Text

An Offering | Ch. 5 |

Pairing: Sleep Token x Reader

Summary: Cryptid, inhuman beings have spent their whole lives in Eden serving their deity, Sleep. What happens when one day you show up and no one can figure out why Sleep has delivered you to them? Should you stay with them or will you do whatever it takes to find your way back home?

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, some angst, Gore, injuries, poorly done medical treatment (Please, let me know if I missed any.)

Word Count: 9.1k

masterlist | ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 |

Chapter Five:

You feel yourself relax in his embrace; it’s been a while since so many people treated you so warmly. Therefore, no one can blame you for wanting to bask in this feeling for just a little bit longer, probably longer than is deemed appropriate. Your head tucked in the corner of iv’s neck, his scent invading your nostrils.

Vessel and ii continue walking back inside the cathedral, sensing that you need a moment alone with iii and iv, allowing you three to have a moment together without any distractions. The sounds of their footsteps and soft conversation faded into the distance as they disappeared into the threshold.

You have to force yourself to pull away from iv, not wanting to seem weird or desperate for physical touch in front of everyone. Even though you untangle yourself from him, he remains close to your side, his hand playing idly with the hem of your sleeve.

“I am sorry for running away like I did. Like I told Vessel earlier, I should have listened to you, to begin with,” you mutter shyly, swaying awkwardly, feeling ashamed at your earlier actions.

iii shakes his head urgently, “No, you have nothing to apologize for. We understand how confusing it is to wake up here without any answers.” He runs a hand through his bright red locks, untangling the knots in his hair. “We could be to blame as well, not really telling you much information to begin with. It’s just we were scared too.”

You feel iv’s hand move from playing with your sleeve to wrapping around your wrist, his index finger resting against your pulse, feeling the steady beat of your heart. The warmth of his hand reassures you, as your mind replays the last part of iii’s sentence over again.

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You ask, “Why were you scared, too?”

iii stares at your wrist in iv’s grip, a strange look in his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath before answering, “I can’t tell you, it’s too soon.”

You feel anger igniting under your skin, protests on the tip of your tongue, about to call him out for the hypocrisy of the situation, when he suddenly drops to his knees, resting his hands on your hips, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

Any rebuttal or shouts of anger escape you immediately at the sudden and unexpected actions from the man holding onto you as if you could disappear any second. You watch his shoulders stutter slightly, his hands trembling against your skin.

His mask buried against your stomach, his voice muffled, “Please, you have to trust us. Please, I can’t.” He pulls his head back slightly enough to make eye contact with you, his once-happy eyes filled with tears. “We can’t lose you again.”

Every thought you just had about yelling at them and demanding answers dissolves immediately at the sight before you. A soft whine from beside you from iv causes you to look at him, seeing him with the same distraught expression filling his eyes from beneath his mask. You didn’t think you were running away and disappearing with ii for such a short amount of time would affect them like this so much.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s okay. I trust you all. Please don’t cry.” Seeing the two men like this tears at your heartstrings. You aren't sure how to offer comfort to them, as this outburst was unexpected and not what you thought would happen when you returned.

iii sniffles slightly, nodding his head solemnly, his grip bordering on the point of becoming bruising. Using your free hand, you grab one of his, pulling him back to his feet. You give them a small, hopeful smile as they both stand side by side in front of you.

“I will wait until you are all ready to give me the answers. I trust you. Just promise me that someone will tell me everything soon, with no more secrets or riddles?”

You can see iv nodding out of the corner of your eye as iii answers with a meek, “I promise.” He uses his right hand to make an ‘x’ motion over his chest.

iii turns, leading the way back to the entrance of the cathedral that you were running from a few hours earlier. You wish that your reunion with the two men had been different. Reducing them both to tears and frantically begging for you to trust them left a sour taste in your mouth.

Of course, you trust them, you trust all of them, even though you will admit when you first woke up, you were a little suspicious of them, but to be honest, who wouldn’t be? Everything was pointing toward a cult looking for its next sacrifice! They quickly proved you wrong at every turn, constantly saving you from not only the monsters that lurk here, but also from yourself.

iv tugs on your wrist as you pass through the doorframe, the doors clicking shut behind you. He pulls you towards the opposite hallway you went down for your discussion with Sleep. Everything looked the same as when you left, not that it was really surprising, though the table was now clean of food, only the intricate tablecloth remained.

You have yet to see any signs of Vessel or ii, though a sneaking thought tells you they are wherever iv and iii are leading you. This hallway was much more inviting than the other one; familiar tapestries similar to the ones you remember seeing in iv’s cave lined the walls. The difference between these, though, was that they were more colorful, green and white, both with flowers depicting different weapons in the center.

The sounds of your group's footsteps thudding against the marble floor alert Vessel and ii to your arrival. The door is already open as if awaiting your presence inside. You enter the room behind iii, stepping to the side to take in your new surroundings.

iv let’s go of your sleeve, opting to embrace ii, who sat in the back of the room on a rather comfortable-looking couch, his shadow cast behind him flowing softly swirling in the limelight. iv slides into the open space beside ii, who wraps his arms around the other’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. The two men basking in each other's company, like two lovers who are finally reunited after many years apart.

IV begins signing his hands, becoming a blur of movement as you are still not able to make out completely what he is trying to say. Ii has no problem understanding him as he carries along in conversation with him, whispering his reply softly. Their discussion is too far away for you to make out what is being said, though the fond look in each other's eyes says a thousand words.

Ripping your stare from the two men, not wanting to intrude on their moment together, you take the opportunity to look around the room. Out of all the rooms and places you have been in here, you think this place is your favorite so far. The atmosphere here feels more homely and lived-in than the rest.

The comfortable couch rests against the back wall, and large bookshelves are filled to the brim with old, well-worn texts and scrolls. The bramble covers the outer wood of the shelves and twists along the open spaces in the wall leading to the ceiling, adding a naturalistic video to the room. A table to your left is covered in miscellaneous papers, ink jars, and quills.

Vessel sits in a wooden chair at this table, engrossed in the large scroll unraveled before him. He pauses momentarily to address you, smiling warmly at you, his lips pulled back exposing his sharp canines. The light from the window behind him shrouded him in sunlight, a mesmerizing halo surrounding him.

iii has since joined Vessel at the table, sitting in the seat to the right, kicking up his feet on the edge of the table, earning him an unamused look from the other man. iii leans his slender form back into the seat, reaching back to the bookshelves situated behind him, grabbing a hardcover book that has seen its fair share of wear and tear. iii makes himself comfortable, resting his head against the edge of the bookshelf, opening the book to a marked page, and silently continues reading.

On the right of the door, the decor was different. Instead of the tall bookcases, it was mainly blank, save for four familiar masks encased in glass display cases. Undoubtedly, they were placed with care inside to preserve them from all manner of things.

You tentatively take a few steps closer to the glass cases, just close enough to get a better look but not too close, as you do not want to do anything without permission and accidentally end up doing something wrong. From what you can see, the masks are all similar in nature to each other, along with the one that sits upon Vessel’s face.

As your eyes travel down the line, you notice it seems they become more open and revealing with time. The bottom portion of the mask slowly recedes, allowing the wearer's mouth and jaw to be seen. The final mask greatly mirrors the one Vessel wears currently. The biggest difference, of course, was the red on this one instead of the green and gold shown on the one currently on his face.

You are curious about these masks and their purpose and significance, especially since they are displayed so proudly like fragments of who he used to be, gone but not forgotten. Stepping back slightly, you notice a difference beneath your feet; instead of the cold marble floors, a fluffy woven rug covers the floor. This room feels more and more like the heart of the entire cathedral, the place where everyone comes to talk, laugh, or simply bask in the presence of the others.

Here you are standing in the midst of it, but you don’t feel as if you are invading their privacy or their safe space. Instead, you get the uncanny impression that you’ve been here before. Now that you’re back standing amongst the group, it’s like the final puzzle piece sliding into place.

Everywhere you go and with everyone you meet, you cannot seem to shake that feeling, the deja vu tingling in the back of your mind. But it’s not possible, is it? You think you would recall ever being here before with all the unusual wildlife, plants, gods, and people. Perhaps you are simply reminded of a dream you had or a book you read when you were younger.

“You do not have to stand there. Come join us here.” Vessel's alluring voice beckoned your attention, as he gestured to the open seat at his left.

You shuffle to the awaiting seat, sitting down, placing your hands in your lap. Looking around at the assortment of notes covering the table. Most of it was illegible to you, the runes you have become so accustomed to seeing lining the papers. Others seemed to be music sheets, lyrics, and music notes scattered about aimlessly.

The huge scroll in the middle catches your attention as you recognize the writing, well, more like the fact that you are able to actually understand some of the words written on it.

You turn your head to get a better look at the scroll, trying to decipher what is written, but you have to admit it was a little difficult. The writing was done hastily, as if whoever wrote it was in a hurry. The only thing you can make out are small phrases and words. The most noticeable were the words ‘emergence’ and ‘apparition.’

Vessel, who was watching you closely for any signs of recognition on your face, but seeing none, though he was not surprised, he knew very well that this was always a possibility.

He ran his palm along the scroll, flattening it out more. “I try to study any and all offerings that are found amongst the garden, though some of the knowledge in them remains a mystery.”

“What does this one mean?” You ask, pointing at the scroll.

“For what little I am about to discern, it speaks of warnings but also a rebirth of sorts. My cypher is still incomplete. Therefore, nothing is certain yet.”

You would offer to help him, but since everything is in a different language that you don’t speak or know how to read, you wouldn’t be able to offer much assistance and would probably only end up slowing him down.

You are very curious about it. Undoubtedly, these types of puzzles always interest you. Little clues and hints are hidden away in different pieces, waiting to be solved. They are difficult to understand at first, but once all the pieces fall into place, they unlock something greater.

Vessel rolls his shoulders back uncomfortably, his jaw clenching in slight pain as he grunts softly. Your attention quickly drifts from the papers to his, and concern bubbles for his well-being. iii looks over the top of his book at Vessel, a look of guilt shines in his eyes.

The red-haired man questions, “Is the pain worse today?”

Vessel throws his hand up in a placating motion, sitting up straighter, trying to alleviate the pain shooting through the top of his back. “Yes, I think we will be granted rain again sometime today.”

You look out the window just over your left shoulder, up at the sky, and see nothing but the bright blue sky and sun. There are no clouds in the vicinity, and it surely doesn’t look to you like it will rain today, but then again, you are a weather person.

You heard the old wives' tale growing up that some people can always tell when it is going to rain because old injuries start hurting again. You don’t recall seeing any old scars or injuries on him, so maybe they are hidden.

Lost in thought, you continue peering contently out of the window. You take notice of how it overlooks a massive garden and nursery. One side is filled to the brim with various vegetables and fruits flourishing in the sun, the other covered in various plants and herbs. Eden was certainly a beautiful place, there was not a doubt in your mind about that fact.

It makes the creatures lurking around all the more frightening, making you wonder just what else hides in the darkness, waiting to strike. You’ve seen two different monstrosities, there is no telling how many more there are and what they are truly capable of. You can only hope that you are truly safe here in Vessel’s sanctuary.

Somehow, the dots connect inside your mind, perhaps this has something to do with the vertical lines you recall seeing sewn on the back of his robe. His mentions of pain focused mainly on his back, how everyone else seems deathly scared of the creatures, if not more than you, depicting that they all know exactly what the creatures are truly capable of.

You nervously begin picking at your nails, unsure how to ask the question on the tip of your tongue. Figuring it was probably best to just come out and ask was the best approach, nothing ever comes out of beating around the bush anyway.

“What happened?”

The light murmur of chatter for iv and ii stops in its tracks, all attention now on you and Vessel. Everyone is waiting to see what he will do and how he will react to your question.

You feel his stare behind the many eyeholes in his mask. If you really look close, you can barely make out the outline of his eyes. He heaves a heavy sigh, like he was expecting this conversation to come up sooner or later, but he hoped it would have been later.

“I suppose it is about time you got some answers and learn more about Eden. I will tell you all that I can for now about how this place started to change and where it all went wrong.”

———-—————

When Vessel woke up this morning, an unsettling knot sat in the bottom of his stomach. Ignoring it, he carried on about his day, hoping whatever it was would go away, thinking it was probably just his anxiety playing tricks on him.

Vessel stares at his reflection in the skewed mirror hanging in his room. He takes in the sight before him, a little voice in the back of his head telling him that by the end of the day, the person who stares back at him will no longer be the same as the current face in the mirror. Vessel takes in his appearance carefully, an activity he doesn’t make a habit of.

The full-coverage white mask, with a red line down the middle and a squiggly line intersecting it, covers his face. His eyes trace over the black hood stapled over his head, creating an ominous shadow over his face.

Behind him in the mirror, massive black wings protrude from his back, twitching subtly with unease. He rolls his shoulders back, stretching his wings out behind him, the muscles in his wings and back finally receiving relief at the movement.

Vessel’s covered eyes filter over his wings in the mirror. The soft glow of the candlelight in his room casts an eerie glow upon him. As he stares at his reflection, he is reminded of how Sleep told him upon his creation many moons ago that he was created in the image of an angel.

But the longer he looks at himself, the glass of the mirror slowly distorting his image, the more Vessel thinks that maybe Sleep was playing a joke on him, making him look more like a devil than an angel.

Scoffing, Vessel rips his gaze from the mirror, no longer able to stare upon his features, throwing the old, worn-out black fabric back over the mirror where it belongs.

Small slivers of the mirror can still be seen where parts of the fabric have started to unravel from the seams. He makes a mental note to ask iv about making him another tapestry.

Vessel lets out a muffled sigh from beneath his mask, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the dark thoughts daring to penetrate his psyche once again.

He leaves his room, making a beeline for the front doors of his cathedral, wanting to feel the warmth of the sun on him again. Ever since he was created, he has found great solace in the rays of the sun, seemingly healing all wounds and purging any unwanted feelings and ideas out of his mind.

As he walks through the garden, the gentle, warm breeze rustles the feathers on his back, creating a welcoming tingling feeling. Vessel remembers how it took him some getting used to in the beginning, learning to navigate the new world he is in with huge, powerful wings on his back.

Vessel took great care of his wings, seeing as they were a gift given to him by Sleep. He made sure not to let them drag on the ground behind him, even if it would lessen the immense pain in his back and shoulders at the end of every day.

He will admit it has been a lot easier to clean and manage his wings with the help of the others. Ever since they arrived, everything has felt complete here. Well, almost everything, but with time, Vessel knows that they will eventually join them all as well.

A warm smile finds its way onto his face as his beloved nursery comes into view. Being a fae, Vessel has a strong connection to the nature surrounding him, but there is something about the crops, trees, and flowers that grow here that he feels even more of an attachment to.

All of his plants are thriving, looking more beautiful than ever in the sunlight. This is a sight that Vessel takes great pride in. The food that grows here is what helps keep all of them alive and healthy.

So, he has also become a little protective of this area in return. Large threaded vines of bramble create barriers around the different varieties of life growing here, protecting it all from any unwanted pests looking for a snack.

Laughter and running footsteps can be heard heading his way. Turning around, Vessel sees iii running wildly towards him with a wet and annoyed-looking ii flickering closely behind.

iii sprints behind Vessel, giggling loudly, slightly out of breath, using Vessel as a shield to hide from ii’s wrath. He peeks his head out over Vessel’s shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of the fae’s neck.

Out of instinct, Vessel’s wings naturally wrap slightly around iii’s body, and the soft puffs of air coming from underneath iii’s mask cause chills to go down his winged back.

“Don’t let him hurt me, Vess, I didn’t even do anything to him!” Laughs iii’s pointing a shaky finger at ii.

ii stands in front of the two men, absolutely drenched from head to toe, a small puddle forming at his feet as the water slowly drips down to the ground. ii’s bright blue eyes burn with the promise of revenge, his eyebrows pulled tight underneath his mask.

Vessel senses the rage building within the shorter man’s body. He holds his hands out in a placating manner, trying to lessen the growing tension.

“What happened?” Asks Vessel, his head tilting to the side, thinking this situation reeks of iii trying to play pranks on others again.

ii huffs angrily, folding his arms across his chest. The squelch of the water-filled clothes causes iii to throw his head back in a fit of laughter. His eyes are closed, and one hand is on his stomach, with the other now gripping loosely on Vessel’s shoulder for stability.

Taking the opportunity to strike, ii uses one of his shadows to reach out and wrap itself tightly around iii’s legs, pulling him to the ground. Causing the man to let out a startled yelp at the unexpected movement.

Now lying on his back staring up at an incredibly angry ii, who now has iii completely at his mercy thanks to the flickering tendrils of smoke that are now coiled around his body, not allowing for escape.

“He thought it would be a good idea to ambush me, inside his cave, and push me into the water as a joke. But now it’s my turn,”

A loud, piercing scream caused all three men to cover their ears in pain. Turning to look in the direction the screams came from, they felt fear fill them. There was only one person in the garden from whom the scream could have come.

Without wasting a second, Vessel takes off his wings, spread out flapping powerfully, propelling himself up and out of the tree line. He quickly dodges the hanging branches, breaching the last of the limbs, and soaring high above in the sky.

He looks around trying to see or sense any disturbances in the garden. To his right, near the small sanctuary iv often resides in, Vessel notices smoke rising to the sky a large burst of flames scorching the area. He swears he can feel the heat from here.

Another screams tears through the air this time sounding more painful than the last, Vessel can practically hear iv’s vocal chords straining in protest. Fearing the worst Vessel charges straight for the flames, his mind full of the worst possibilities.

The most terrible of all was that he would be too late to save his companion. The air was whipping against his bare chest painfully, but he ignored it, pushing himself to go faster. His wings were rhythmically flapping, the sound louder than ever before.

The closer he gets, the more unbearable the smoke becomes, filling his lungs and making his eyes water. The smell of burning plants and foliage burns his nose.

Vessel swears he can feel his connection with the garden faltering ever so slightly, the more the massive flames tear through everything, leaving nothing but ash and destruction in its wake. His heart is pounding so loudly, he can hear it in his ears. He refuses to be too late, not again, he can’t lose anyone else.

Amongst the rising smoke and flames, a large blurry figure can be seen towering over a slumped form struggling to crawl away. This version of the creature is something Vessel has only ever seen in his nightmares, stands over a badly injured iv, blood caked around his mouth and throat, soaking into the fabric of his clothes.

Granite stands tall and deformed, looking more different than Vessel has ever seen them before, like pure evil has infected them to their very core. The golden square helmet glimmers in the light of the flames, the amour dripping with blood and gore. He can do it, Vessel thinks to himself. He can make it in time, just a little bit farther, and he can save him.

Vessel can feel the ligaments and joints in his wings protest in pain as he urges himself to go even faster. Just as Granite lifts up his arm, wielding the colossal battle axe above their head, planning to strike down iv, who has not made much progress at trying to get away, instead seems to accept the fate before him and closes his eyes cowering down covering his head with his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

Granite rolls his shoulder back unnaturally before swinging the weapon with all of his might towards iv.

“NO” screeches Vessel from the very depths of his soul, as he dives down to pull iv out of harm's way.

Vessel’s voice catches iv’s attention, he rips his head up just in time to witness Vessel appearing before him, ripping him off of the ground before they both go barreling into a nearby tree, flame-covered leaves and limbs now falling around the two men at the sudden collision.

iv stares wildly at Vessel, his eyes full of disbelief, despite the injury done to his vocal cords and no matter how much pain it caused him, he croaked out to the best of his ability, “What did you do?”

Vessel furrows his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why iv would be questioning why he would save him. Of course, he would save him, no matter what. Vessel will do whatever it takes to help and save all of them.

That’s when Vessel realizes that iv is not looking at him, but rather behind him, when a wave of searching hot pain erupts from Vessel’s back. He crumbles to the ground screaming in agony, he reaches his right hand back to feel where the pain was coming from, but instead of being met with wings, a dark, wet liquid covers his hand.

Blood, he realizes, my blood. When he dove in front of Granite’s swing to save iv, he must have been a bit slower than he thought he was going because his left wing now lies lifeless and bloodied at the feet of the creature who tilts its head curiously.

No matter how hard Vessel tries, he can’t seem to move, the pain is too much for him to bear. Even breathing was beginning to be too much, at this rate, he fears that he will succumb to the darkness soon.

Iv sits frozen in fear and shock at the sight of his strong and powerful leader hurt and bleeding out because of him. He watches as Vessel’s blood pours at an alarming pace out of him and seeps into the ground, disappearing beneath the burnt grass and soil.

Granite throws its head back, grunting, twisting its body in abnormal movements, before stepping forward, crushing Vessel’s lost wings under its heavy boot. Walking towards where both men lay now completely at the mercy of the creature. With every pounding footstep signaling their death like a bell tolls to announce their ascent into the next world.

iv comes to his senses when the creature’s shadow casts over them both, he knows that he can’t scream, not again, it made sure of that nearly ripping out his throat the last time he tried that. All he can do is use his own body as a shield to protect Vessel from the oncoming wrath, just as he had done mere moments before.

Granite seems to sense this, raising up both battle axes and quickly and efficiently using the weapons to pin iv to the base of the tree at his back, the blade cutting deep into his sides. iv is powerless, and not knowing what else to do, he begins to pray to Sleep, begging for salvation.

The creature lets out a horrible grating noise, that iv soon realize that it’s laughing, mocking him as he is unable to do anything against it to protect anymore or anything.

Granite reaches down, grabbing Vessel around the throat, suspending him in the air, as he limply tries to free himself from its grasp, but to no use, he has lost too much blood.

Using his other hand, it coils its fingers around Vessel’s remaining wing on the base where it is connected near his shoulder blade. It starts to rip the wing from Vessel’s body, slowly and painfully.

Vessel screams out in agony, the ground shaking in protest as if nature itself were trying to save him. Bramble starts protruding from the ground, wrapping itself around the creature, trying to stop its onslaught.

But it's no use, Vessel is too weak, his powers are fading, slipping through his fingers the more blood he loses. At least he was able to save his companion from death, maybe it will be satisfied with me and let iv go free, Vessel thinks to himself, hoping that the pain he is experiencing will not await iv in the future.

Sickening pops and sounds of tearing flesh are all iv can seem to focus on, as he is forced to watch as the ligaments, bone, and muscle give away and rip from Vessel’s back.

The sight of blood, sinew, and bone is not something he thinks he will ever forget. He struggles in vain against the weapons keeping him pinned to the tree. Only succeeding in causing the sharp blades to dig further into his skin.

He wishes he could scream out, do anything to save Vessel, but he can’t, not without hurting Vessel further, plus with the state they both are in, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that it would surely result in death for the both of them.

The sounds of tearing flesh stops, as the remaining skin connecting the wing to his back relents, tearing off completely. The pain burning on Vessel’s back is unlike anything he has ever felt before, even the air hitting the exposed wound and torn flesh causes immense flashes of pain.

His teeth are clenched so tightly together that he wouldn’t be surprised if a few teeth are now broken. He can barely keep his eyes open. The darkness is beginning to cloud his vision, everything seems so distant, and the loud whooshing of his heartbeat is all he can hear anymore.

As Vessel succumbs to the darkness pulling him in, his last thought is that is iv and the others' safety, hoping the creature got what it wanted.

Vessel’s head lolls back, his breathing laboured and shallow. Granite drops the discarded wing to the ground, and it hits the blood-covered grass with a sickening thump. It pulls Vessel’s unconscious body closer to its covered head like it were inspecting him. The hand wrapped around Vessel, tightening, but before it can do anything else to harm Vessel iii and ii emerge.

They both froze at the gruesome sight. Seeing their beloved Vessel and iv in such a state sent them into a frenzy. Uncontrollable shadows and tendrils seeped from ii, flailing wildly. Without looking at iii, he growled out through gritted teeth, “Help, iv. I will get Vessel back.”

iii swallows hard, he has never seen ii like this before, but then again, none of them have even been hurt or treated like this before. He immediately takes the opportunity to run towards iv, trying to pry the giant axes out of the tree and free him.

Pure rage shines in ii’s eyes as his body twitches unnaturally, shifting quickly between shadow and his physical form.

Granite’s head turns lazily watching ii’s fast approach. It unceremoniously drops Vessel to the ground, his body hitting the ground harshly, causing the bottom half of his mask to crack, snapping off, revealing the side of his face contorted in agony, sweat dripping down his face, looking pale.

ii rushes forward, wrapping his smokey tendrils around the creature before it has time to react. Its arms are bound tightly to its side, its legs fare no differently, and around its neck and helmet, the tendrils are getting tighter and tighter, unrelenting.

Finally, using all of his strength, iii was able to free iv from his confines. His injured body slumped forward, and he tried vainly to crawl towards Vessel. Quickly, iii takes off his belt, securing it tightly around iv’s middle, trying to create a makeshift tourniquet.

Painful gasps leaving iv’s mouth, his tears falling down his mask, mixing with the dried blood that came from his mouth. Using all his strength iv weakly grabs iii’s shoulder and pushes him towards the spot where Vessel lies in a pool of his own blood and flesh.

iii quickly understood, and seeing as Granite was distracted and immobile at the moment, he took the opportunity to go to Vessel’s side. He carefully lifted him up and into his arms, trying to be mindful of the two huge gaping wounds on his back.

iii placed his shaking hand on Vessel’s throat, trying to find a pulse with bated breath. It was very faint, but it was there nonetheless. He can feel the tears threatening to form, but he can’t cry, not right now.

They all still have to get out of here alive and together. As quickly and carefully as he can, iii lifts Vessel to his chest, picking him up off the ground. He turns as he hears the loud cracking of the armor and metal covering Granite.

The tendrils wrapped tightly around the creature were literally squeezing the life out of it. The metal helmet was slowly dented, caving in at the seams, with strange grunts and wailing echoing inside.

Despite the massive height difference between the two, ii stands in front of the creature, seeming to tower over it, staring into its decrepit soul.

“ii, I can’t carry them both. We have to get out of here! They won’t last much longer, please.” iii shouts over the roar of the flames and all the other chaos happening, hoping ii hears his frantic pleas for help.

ii glances out of the corner of his eye, making eye contact with iii. He looks down at Vessel, snapping him out of his act of revenge. Still keeping the creature in his grasp, ii steps towards iv, wrapping him carefully in his tendrils, lifting him from the ground.

ii nods his head at iii before doing the same to him and Vessel. Once everyone was safe in his hold, he used all his might to propel them away from the creature. His grasp around it releases, and it crumples to the ground, engulfed in flame.

Now, as he carries them all through the garden back to the safety of Vessel’s cathedral, he can hear just how faint Vessel’s breathing really is. iv has already gone limp in his hold due to blood loss, and the adrenaline from the fight is quickly leaving him.

iii tries in vain to stop the blood pouring from Vessel’s back, using the tattered remains of his cloak to put pressure on the wounds to no avail. The blood seems never-ending, the warm metallic liquid quickly soaking through the material and dripping down his painted arms.

At this rate, Vessel is going to bleed out before they get anywhere near the cathedral unless he can figure out some way to help him. It’s up to iii right now. ii’s already done so much for Vessel and iv, fighting off Granite and now carrying them all to safety, while he has done nothing but watch fearfully from the sidelines.

Helplessness courses through him as he stares down at the uncovered half of his companion’s face, watching as the sweat drips down his face. Blood is just a thicker version of water in a weird, twisted way, right? So, maybe he can stop the bleeding.

iii removed the blood-soaked fabric from Vessel’s back, moving him around in his hold, being mindful of the tendrils keeping them both from falling. He places a hand where each wing used to be, the blood oozing between his fingers.

Controlling water is as easy as breathing to me, iii thinks to himself, I can do this. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the water within the blood, hoping that he can get the blood to clot. Within seconds, the amount of blood flowing down his arms lessens significantly. There is still some that leaks through, but nowhere near the amount it was previously.

A relieved sigh leaves iii’s lips, his shoulders dropping, but he knows the battle is far from over. There is still a long road ahead of them to save the two injured, they are not out of the woods just yet. But still, this small victory does give him a small bit of hope where there previously was none.

He wishes that he could do the same to help iv. The makeshift tourniquet did not help all that much, but it was still better than nothing. Plus, it is taking all of his concentration to stop the bleeding on Vessel. He doubts he would be able to do the same to both of them at the same time, not without messing something up.

Seconds feel like hours, the garden feels unending as ii continues flickering in and out of the trees, pushing himself as hard as he can. The guilt of being so late to get to there to help them gnawed heavily at him. Three minutes was all it took, for that damned demon to cause all this damage, ripping the wings off Vessel like it was nothing, crushing iv’s vocal chords almost cutting him in half.

If they had been there even just a minute sooner, he could have saved them from this terrible fate. The cathedral’s stone comes into view, just a little farther, and everything is going to be okay. Everyone is going to be fine.

ii slams the door open, a loud bang echoing throughout the empty room. He rushes over the stone altar frantically, clearing off the offerings on it. Not caring as the food, scrolls, and herbs clatter to the floor. He brings forth Vessel, who is still in iii’s hold, doing his all to keep him alive.

Vessel is laid carefully on the altar, iii keeps his hands pressed firmly to his back, looking up at ii, “Place iv on the table over there, “ he motions with his head to the table they use when dining together, now about to be turned into a medical bed.

Wanting to keep them close together, it stretches out a tendril, wrapping it around the leg of the table, noisily dragging it next to the altar before placing iv’s unconscious form on it.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, I am going to find something to help us!” ii exclaims voice cracking as he is finally able to get a good look at them. He tears his eyes from them before running off towards Vessel’s room, hoping to find anything of use.

There are already two large basins in the main room. They can fill them with water to help clean the wounds, so all he really needs to find is some bandages, medicines, and maybe something to sew up the lesions.

Entering the room, he makes a beeline for the apothecary cabinet situated next to the covered mirror. He desperately starts ransacking the cabinet, throwing open the small drawers, trying to find anything that would help them. He uses his tendrils to help him look as quietly as he possibly can.

In the smaller draw near the top, he found some needle and thread. They were not exactly what you would normally use for medical care, but they did not have many options. He grabbed them and continued looking. He knew Vessel keeps all different sorts of herbs here, so there must be something that can help.

Nearly all of the drawers are opened, and he haphazardly throws them to the ground in his haste, but still nothing, until he rips open a medium-sized drawer near the bottom to see two sealed jars. One is filled with small white flowers labeled Achillea millefolium, and the other has orangish-yellow flowers labeled Calendula.

ii could almost start crying tears of joy at the sight of the two jars, thankful to Vessel for constantly teaching them small facts and tips about the plants he grows in his garden. He picks up the two jars and turns to go back to the main room where iii was still waiting for him.

As he runs out of the room, his arm brushes against the cloth, causing it to slip from atop the mirror, cascading down onto the ground. A strange ripple covers the mirror, but he pays it no mind, hurrying to help save his friends.

“I found these herbs, Vessel mentioned once this one is good for stopping bleeding,” ii exclaims breathlessly, holding up the jar of white flowers before doing the same to the other jar, continuing, “and this is supposed to help promote healing on wounds and reduce inflammation!”

ii stops on the other side of the altar, staring down at iii’s blood-soaked hands, he swallows loudly, putting down the jars.

“I also found some thread and needle.”

Both men stare at each other, unsure of what to do next. Time is of the essence, though, so iii shakes his head, trying to focus on doing whatever is necessary to save Vessel and iv. They are both badly injured, but there is only him and ii. What should they do?

Work on patching up one at a time, no that would take too long and whoever they aren’t working on could get worse, plus iv hasn’t had the luxury of him stopping the bloodloss so he definitely needs to be sewed up then again if they don’t sew up Vessel he will die too. The only option is for him and ii, to each take one and do what we can.

“I will work on Vessel, you help iv.”

ii nods his head, turning and walking to the table iv is on. He uses his tendrils to pull the two large basins over. He places one next to Iii and the other beside him. They still need something to use for bandages. ii pauses, looking around the room before pausing at the large tapestry hanging on the wall.

It will have to do, and iv will just have to understand they had no other choice, he thinks as he rips the tapestry off the wall, using all of his strength to rip it into strips for bandages, enough for both injured parties, and a makeshift washcloth.

One of his tendrils gives some of the strips to iii. He looks down at iv, even with the mask on from the bits of his face that are uncovered is discolored and clammy.

ii carefully removes the tourniquet wrapped tightly around iv’s midsection before doing the same to his torn and bloodied shirt, letting it drop to the floor with a wet squelch to be taken care of later.

Now he was able to clearly see the two large gashes on both sides in the area between iv’s ribs and hips. Luckily, neither cut looks too deep, so he doubts that he needs to sew them up. Cleaning the wounds, putting some medicine on them, and wrapping them should be enough.

He still isn’t sure on how to help with the injuries he sustained to his throat and vocal cords, which is probably something his body will just have to do on its own, and hopefully, with him being a banshee, it will heal in no time at all.

ii grabbed one of the pieces of fabric and dipped it into the water basin, soaking it before using his tendril to hold iv down in place just in case his body starts reacting to him cleaning the wounds. Even through his smoke, he could feel how cold iv’s body had become.

Letting out a deep breath, he brought the rag over the cut, squeezing some of the water out, letting the water wash away some of the blood and any dirt that may have made its way inside.

He continues this several more times, then moves on to carefully wiping everything clean. Once ii feels like the wounds are clean, a tendril collects some of the herbs from both jars while still being mindful to leave enough for Vessel.

He crushes the herbs slightly in his grip, then he begins to pack the wounds as best he can, just like Vessel demonstrated to his many moons ago.

Now that the hard parts are done, all he has left to do is wrap the bandages around his sides to keep the herbs in place, and then he can help iii with Vessel. ii moves to the head of the table, sliding his arms underneath iv’s shoulder, lifting his upper body off the table, and he uses two of his tendrils to securely wrap the bandages.

He lowers iv back down onto the table as he stares down at the masked face, realizing that the mask probably isn’t helping make breathing any easier. So, iv unhooks the mask from around his head and places it beside his head.

ii takes the time to brush some of the hair sticking to iv’s face back. He leans over, grabbing one of the remaining pieces of cloth, dipping it into the cool water just enough to dampen the fabric, and placing it delicately on iv’s forehead.

“You are going to be ok. You both are,” ii whispers, squeezing his shoulder.

Vessel’s agonized screams pierce through the air. iii is desperately trying to hold Vessel still at the waist, attempting to coax him into calming down to no avail.

“It hurts, please,” Vessel cries out, his maskless face flush and contorted in pain, tears and other bodily fluids flowing down his face.

“I know, I am sorry. I’m trying, Vessel. Please stop moving.” iii pleads desperately while trying to keep him from getting up and doing any more damage to himself.

ii rushes over, standing above Vessel’s head, pushing down on his shoulders, noticing how iii had managed to completely sew up one side and was halfway done with the other when he woke up.

If Vessel tore the stitches, it would only end up causing him more pain, so they had to somehow put him back to sleep. Yet, without one of them leaving the room to look for sedatives, there’s nothing they can do.

Vessel’s guttural screams and flailing are getting worse, the sight of it all was beginning to make iii and ii sick to their stomachs.

ii leans down, trying to get closer, in hopes Vessel will be able to hear him over the sounds of his own pained shouts: " Just hold on a little longer. We need to finish seeing you up, please.” His voice wavers with every word.

“What do we do?” iii asks, helplessly looking at ii for the answer.

Glances back at the still open wound, and then to the bloodied needle and thread, ii summons more smoke tendrils using them to hold all Vessel down, halting all of his attempts to break free.

“I’ll hold him down, you finish sewing him up. Then we can put the herbs on the wounds, and maybe that will help with the pain.”

iii nods his head in return, removing his hands from Vessel’s waist, grabbing the needle and thread, his hands shaking tremendously.

He takes a deep breath, willing the tears that threaten to form to go away, he doesn’t need to obscure his vision and make this any harder on himself.

Stealing his hands to the best of his ability iii continues to sew up the remaining portion of the slash. As he ties the last knot, Vessel’s body goes limp against the altar, causing iii’s heart to skip a beat, fearing the worst.

“I think he just passed out again from the pain,” ii whispers, slowly retracting his smoke.

Wordlessly iii grabs the remaining herbs, placing them on top of the stitches as ii holds up Vessel’s upper body, handing some of the bandages to iii to begin wrapping the wound.

They work in silence, the events of the day taking its toll on them both. Tying the wraps into place and lowering Vessel back down onto his stomach, ii moves beside iii and places a hand on his shoulder.

iii jerks at the sudden contact before immediately collapsing into the shorter man's hold, shoving his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around ii’s middle.

iii returns the embrace, placing his arms over iii’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, and gently rubbing his back. Sobbing and labored breathing can be heard from both of them. They can only hope that their efforts will not be in vain and that their companions will make it through this.

——————————————————————

You sit there listening to the heart-wrenching tale, not understanding how Vessel can go through so much and still be so strong. How could anyone or anything do something to intentionally hurt one of them?

iii makes eye contact with you, the horrors he witnessed that day flashing in his mind on repeat, “it took them both over a month before they were out of danger from their injuries. It was a very trying time for all of us.”

Your breath catches in your throat, not being able to imagine how tough and heartbreaking it was to have to sit there and watch two of the people you love most suffering and not knowing if they will even make it to see the sun rising the next day.

“I am so sorry that happened to you all.” You whisper, not really knowing how to respond to such a tragic story, but still wanting to express your concern for them.

Vessel tilts his head to the side, looking over at you, seeing your forlorn face. A small smile is on his lips, and you can practically feel the warm gaze of his eyes on you.

“It is in the past. There’s nothing that can be done about any of it now, except learn from it and continue on.”

You bring your hand up to your temple, rubbing it slightly, astonished how he can be so nonchalant and philosophical about such a traumatic event.

“But…it took your wings?!? You aren’t upset about that?” You asked probably a little more harshly than you meant to.

He lost a huge part of himself, it was gruesomely torn away from him, so how in the world is he able to smile and continue on like it never even happened?

Even with your small outburst, the smile never left his face, “I am more than my wings.” Vessel raises one of his hands and gestures around the room, then places the same hand over yours, his warmth invading your senses.

“Plus, it helps to know that I am not alone. I have all of you that care for me, just as we all care for you.”

You stare down at the hand resting atop of yours, letting his words sink in. They have all been able to withstand all the horrors thrown at them because they had each other to fall back on.

Now they want to include you in the mix as well. You still aren’t sure that you are worthy of their affection and care, but you do know that you want to be with them.

So, it really doesn’t matter if Sleep or the little demons standing on your shoulder constantly whispering and filling your mind with depreciating thoughts tell you how you don’t matter and that you are unwanted by anyone.

Because you have four incredible, otherworldly beings that want you. You just hope you can live up to their expectations of you. You know there is still a lot of progress that you need to make within yourself, yet you are willing to try if it means being able to stay here with them.

There is so much you want to say to Vessel to all of them, really, but you aren’t sure how to say it. Everything is still so unknown to you, and so much still doesn’t make sense about this place and why you're here.

Instead, you look up and glance around the room, making eye contact with iv and ii, who still lounge on the couch in the corner, then with iii, who stares at you with knowing eyes, and then finally with Vessel, who looks at you with a full smile now showing his teeth.

With how they all look at you, you swear it’s like they can practically read your mind.

Vessel pats your hand softly. " There is still so much to tell you, but we have plenty of time for that. Don’t you agree?”

You nod your head in response. Between the storytime revelation and this new conversation, your mind is reeling. Every time he speaks, it is almost like there’s a hidden meaning behind his words, and you just can’t seem to decode it.

iii slaps the table lightly, letting out a loud, exaggerated groan as he rises to his feet and extends his arms above his head.

He places his hands on his hips, staring down at you, his eyes shining with mischievousness. " Well, now. What do you say we have some fun?”

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