#moon would eat you alive without hesitation

[jeidin]

Little Red and The (big bad) Wolf

[angieblogging]

Fight and Forgive.

characters: Spencer Reid, Reader/You

relationship: Spencer Reid/Reader (romantic or/and platonic)

description: Reader is laying alone in bed, tired after fighting with Spencer, soon enough he comes into the room and is their comforter.

other tags: no use of Y/N, gn!reader, established relationship (not specified if it was romantic or platonic.) Anxiety, Anxious and Overthinking Reader

read on ao3!

It was dark and late, it was summer so it took a moment for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine, you could see stars through the window, it was a beautiful night, which you were spending all alone.

Spencer as usual wasn’t back till’ late hours, it was eating you up alive. You couldn’t bear it anymore, you loved him, truly, but all this separation, his recent visit in the hospital…

He called it “risks that come with the job”.

You called it “bullshit”.

Both of you said a lot, that happened each time you held back, silently suffering, feeling as if your feelings, your pain was just not worth it, it’s not like anything could and would change.

You were covered with a fluffy blanket, you had nowhere else to go, really. Spencer didn’t say much, just stayed in the living room, two hours have passed, yet the light still shined through the crack under the door, so he obviously was awake. You simply returned to the bedroom, where you could freely sob, still you tried to be silent, the pillow was wet from the tears however it would dry by the morning, so nothing would look suspicious.

Spencer kept risking his life and the stress of losing him was not something you wanted to go through. You loved him, he loved you, but he also loved his job, his coworkers, sometimes it felt like he loved them more then you. No matter what he said or would do — it couldn’t bring back the time you lost with him, because of the BAU or the sleepless nights when you’re anxiety was horrible, not allowing you to sleep, because he hasn’t returned yet. It was his job, but it had a firm grip on both his and your mental state.

Soon enough you had no tears left to cry, so you laid on the empty, king-sized bed, just spiralling with no intention to stop. Not only you needed to figure out what to tell Spence, you also punished yourself that way, the overthinking mainly resulted in painful headaches, but you just couldn’t stop, I mean this whole fight was your fault anyways…

That’s when your head turned towards the door when you heard it click, he was standing there, his hair messy, letting in the light from the living room, which made you squint your eyes. He moved into the room, switching the lights of the living room off and shutting the door behind himself.

“Hey…” His voice was raspy, he stood over the bed just looking at you, you glanced at him, but chose to focus somewhere else.

You cried and fought, still you could feel the rage and sadness inside of your chest, bubbling up.

“What do you want?” You were straight forward, with no intention to start a conversation, you didn’t want to fight anymore, you couldn’t handle it, you were simply exhausted.

“I- Can we talk…Please?” He hesitated, he knew you too well, well enough to ask, knowing you don’t have the heart to turn him down.

“Spence…Can we do this tomorrow?” You furrowed your brows as he sat on the bed and sighed, that’s when it hit you, he was not going to be here tomorrow. “Oh…” The sound left your mouth as it hit you, like a slap across your face.

“I’m sorry…But it’s…The BAU—“ He didn’t got a chance to finish, you didn’t let him.

“No more of that…” The whine left your mouth as your palms rubbed your face in a poor attempt to stop yourself from bursting out crying. “I’m sick of listening to that, Spencer.” Your voice was stern, you felt so fragile, like anything he says might break you.

He simply nodded as the two of you sat in silence for a moment. You looked at him more carefully now and without a doubt he was doing the same, but only one of you was a profiler.

His eyes were slightly red, his lips chapped and under his eyes you could see eye bags, he obviously wasn’t asleep in awhile.

“Lay down.” You spoke more softly, moving slightly to make him more space. “You need to sleep, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Sleep.” Spencer simply repeated the word and laid down awkwardly next to you. You could blame him, one moment you’re throwing a tantrum and the other you two are back in bed.

He glanced at you, the silence was loud, the only noise came from the streets and the cars passing every now and then. It was your fault, so you initiated contact, your body moved towards him, closing the distance between you two. Soon enough his hands traveled to your waist and your head to the crook of his neck. Both of you said nothing, just kept calm and enjoyed each other’s warmth.

“You know I love you…I do…” He whispered softly, his breath send a shiver down your spine. “I love coming home and seeing your face and I love spending the holidays with you and every other free moment I have…” He continued as his hand slowly rubbed your back.

“I know…I—“ You whispered back gently, holding back tears.

“It’s okay…I understand.” He whispered back and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, before the two of you drifted to sleep.

[amoristt]

a/n: yaaay back with part 2 hehehe. im glad you guys r enjoying it so far! i have big plans for this series

- as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - want to support me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Pt 2

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The hours that followed Ghost leaving you to your own were brutal. It took a few long moments to collect yourself, all tears and trembling hands, but eventually, your legs found the strength to haul your body up to your feet. Your mind replays the last couple minutes on loop tauntingly.

If Ghost hadn't caught you in time, you'd be nothing but a broken egg on the pavement below. Your brain tried to think about what it would have felt like if you had plummeted without haste, but your body reminded you angrily how it felt to hit the wall on your way down. Surely, deep bruises of purple and blue would climb like vines up the side of your frame. Your body would make sure to ache, to remind you of the damage you'd inflicted onto it.

Damaged, but alive.

It feels odd being alive, now. You really had made your choice, fully accepted the gravity of your life cut short. Perhaps it was cowardly. But, ultimately, you knew that it would have been the better outcome between death and eternal imprisonment.

Still, guilt eats away at you. The image of Ghost's eyes through his mask haunts you- that primal fear in those beautiful eyes engraved in the back of your brain. If he hadn't been as fast- if he'd hesitated for even a second, you'd have slipped right through his fingers. You'd have dropped all the way down to the unforgiving concrete and ceased to be right in front of him. It hurts you- the thought of him grieving you like that. Surely he would have hated you for it.

When night came (rather quickly), you took your chance to escape. Wherever point 'A' was, it wasn't so nearby you couldn't scurry down those five flights of stairs and dart into the darkness. You ran from bush to bush, building to building, and even through a knee-deep marsh. You were grateful that this October was warm, but you would be lying to say you appreciated the bugs. Mosquitos ate away at your skin despite your efforts to battle them away.

You'd only been a few miles away from base, so it wasn't long before you were skirting along the trees, staring at the mile-high electric fences surrounding the fort you'd become so familiar with. The base you and Ghost had been staying at was a nice one- with all the fixings and even single-person 'homes'. They were small, one-bedroom trailer-looking flats with all the basic necessities, but compared to the places you'd slept before they may have well as been your own little personal heaven. Warm water and an AC unit-they'd spoiled you and your fellow soldiers. You remember on your first night, cuddled up under the blankets on your very own bed, praying they'd keep you stationed here for the rest of your military days.

But, now, here you were, creeping along the greenery, feeling more foe than friend. From outside, you could see military vehicles parking for the night and soldiers standing guard. Sneaking up on your own base, your own friends, you really did feel like a spy. You linger outside, wondering what to do.

Then it hits you.

And you know exactly where to go.

You disappear back into the trees. It's barely another mile out, but with just the moon overheard to guide you, you struggle to find your way. You pass by trees and boulders of every size, before you enter a small clearing, and tucked all the way to the side is exactly what you were looking for. A dingy half-finished shed engulfed by the canopy of trees and shadows.

And god, there he is, standing there and waiting for you.

In this light, Ghost really does look like he could be a monster. His mask nearly glows. Half covered by murky shadows, dotted by the glowing streaks of the moon passing through the leaves overhead, he stands and waits for you. Like he knew you were coming.

And he was right. Because here you were.

You snap a twig on accident and his body visibly tenses as he searches for the source, but when his eyes find your figure in the darkness it only takes a second for him to realize it's you.

"Been a while since I've been here," you start. He moves to the side as you pass him. The door opens with a dull creak.

"I'm glad we both had the same idea." Ghost grunts.

"You're telling me. I had to ditch my phone and everything, so if you weren't here I'd have no way of contacting you. And y'know what, that's two phones in two months. Talk about bad luck." You sigh.

"Never did find you're old one, hm? Not good, soldier."

"Oh, I'm sure it's lost in the ocean or blown to bits by now."

Ghost scoffs. "Hope so. Get inside."

When you'd first been stationed at his base, boredom often ate away at you until it felt like you'd go crazy. Ghost had been off on his own mission, the few friends you did have at that time never left the base of their own volition. But you, on the other hand, craved exploration. So you found yourself wandering the perimeter around the base, thinking about nothing and everything. That's when you discovered the beat-up old shed. At that time it was nothing more than a caved-in roof, rain-soaked flooring, and a broken window. Over the course of a couple weeks, you began to work to fix it up, glad to have something to focus on during your between-missions time.

When Ghost had returned to base during Christmas, and he realized that you too had no home to return to for the holidays, he began to join you.

Over that Christmas, you both turned it into somewhere you could both go to talk and occasionally share a few drinks. That was when you'd truly bonded with him. That was when he'd finally started letting you in willingly.

Dirt flecks off the frame of the door as you step inside, and it's just as dusty as you remember. Two chairs sit in the center with patchy blankets serving as cushions. An uneven table sits between them, one leg broken half off but supported by water-logged books stacked atop each other.

The moon filters in through the cracked window and paints the brown walls a beautiful blue.

Ghost sits with a grunt, kicking his feet out and sighing. It invites you, calls you in to shut the door behind you and settle beside him. So, you do. The chair creaks underneath your weight and you breathe out the frustrations of the day, gone into the air. For the first time that day, your guard lowers.

You just... breathe.

"What a nightmare this is." You sigh.

Ghost shrugs. "No one knows what 't think. They know something's not right."

A pang of relief visibly flushes through you, cut short when he shakes his head.

"Don't get too excited." He says quietly.

"...And why's that?"

"Graves called in his shadows." Ghost taps his finger against the table, lingering, picking and choosing his next words while you feel anxiety start to bubble within you. When he speaks again, it's forlorn. "He isn't exactly pushing for 'em to bring you in alive."

The weight of your heart dropping could have burst straight through the chair you sat on. It settles into your gut like an awful stone. A dull, pained chuckle escapes you.

"I knew he didn't like me, but damn."

Ghost shakes his head. "He's panicking. Thinks you can tell us where the missiles are."

"Missiles?" You ask, eyebrows raised in concern.

It must have struck him then, that Ghost hadn't yet updated you on the situation arising off-air. And judging by the way he tenses and leans forward in his chair, it must be pretty grim.

"Hassan... He's got our missiles. Three of 'em." As Ghost speaks with newfound hesitation and urgency, you can feel your nerves lighting up with each syllable. "We can't find the damn things. They get out... 'Lot of people will die."

"Jesus Christ." You wipe your palms down your face, eyebrows knit together. "How the hell did he get our missiles?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. 'Pparently there's some messages and photos of you chatting with one of Hassan's men. That you might know a thing or two on where to find 'em."

"I haven't talked to anyone that wasn't our own." You groan. "God, what the fuck. And pictures?"

"From what I heard. They haven't shown 'em to us. Refuse to, actually." Ghost leans back in his chair, eyeing you like he's holding something back. "Like I said, no one knows what to think."

You stare down at your lap. Though you already know the answer, you find yourself asking anyways, with an uneven voice.

"...You trust me, right...?"

"God's sake." He scoffs, and you regret asking at all.

"I just have to be sure. Pictures can be convincing-"

"Pictures none of us have even laid eyes on. You think I'd be here right now if I didn't believe you?"

Guilt eats away at you, eyes downcast. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... I can't wrap my head around why of all people it had to be me."

"We'll find out. Shepherd won't give us hardly any information, and anything he does give us is... vague." Ghost is choosy with his words. "...Shepherd found and turned the evidence in himself, supposedly."

You feel an actual strike of nausea pulse through you.

"There's no way Shepherd would frame me." Though you try to say it with an even tone, your voice exposes your lack of confidence in your General. You suck in a breath when there's no reply. "Ghost..?"

Ghost doesn't answer, but his eyes do flick to yours. A silent, cautious confirmation.

You swallow. Hard.

"But... But what good could come of this? I mean up until now I've been an exemplary soldier. Like, not to brag here, but I graduated at the fucking top of my squad and I damn well aced every test they threw at me."

"I know all this." Ghost chimes. "Everyone knows all of this. I don't know what the big plan is. I don't even know if there is a big plan. I just know something isn't right."

There's a pause, and his eyes soften.

"I know you wouldn't do this."

Tears well at the waterlines of your eyes and you struggle to hold them back. With the military against you, Shadow's snapping at your heels at every chance they could get, and now faced with the chance that your own fucking general would frame you, you're completely unsure of what to do next. Ghost leans over the table and sets a firm hand on your shoulder.

You bite your tears back, refusing to let him witness you cry again. Twice in one day was just too much on your already shattered ego.

"What do I do?" Your voice betrays you, uneven and breaking.

Ghost stands up and sighs. "You aren't doing anything. You're staying here."

"For real?" You frown up at him, pawing at your eyes angrily. The sight of him preparing to leave makes your stomach churn- the thought of being alone in this shed all night slinking into your mind. "I can't just sit here and do nothing-"

"That's exactly what you're gonna do. Get some rest, tonight." Ghost doesn't even give you the chance to argue, already pulling the door open. You gape at him from your chair with wet eyes. You see the way he lingers, see the way he considers stepping back inside, but his resolve remains firm. For just a brief moment, he turns to look at you from outside.

You sit on the chair, bringing your knees up to your chest. Sounds from all directions reach your waiting ears as you take a final glance at him.

"I'll be back in the morning." He offers. The door shuts, and darkness encases you.

Shrouded in pitch black, listening to the sound of his footsteps growing further and further away, you fear tears sting your eyes once more. All alone, you let them slip down your cheeks.

You'd never felt so alone.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I request RoR characters with demon slayer shinobu!reader who (spoiler alert) consumes Wisteria poison in a huge amount to take the Uppermoon 2 Demon down with her when he ate her? Maybe reader asks told the character to help her kill him and told them about the poison in her body and her plan but RoR characters manage to save her before she was eaten by Douma, even though she is heavily injured before proceeding to take revenge for her. Romantic God Side; Poseidon, Hades, Beelzebub and Thor. Romantic Human Side, Lu Bu, Qin Shi Huang, Nikola and Sasaki. Platonic, Odin, Adam and Zeus

-You had spent years researching, looking at any piece of information you could find to deal with this, to deal with the Upper Moon that killed your sister.

-You finally had what you needed, what you wanted, the results you had been looking for, wisteria, incredibly poisonous to demons.

-However, getting it into the demons was another question entirely, coating weapons with it wasn’t enough to kill, only temporarily stun, at least with the stronger demons. Tengen and his wives were able to provide that information for you.

-The only thing that was coming to mind, at least for one specific demon, Douma, the only demon you were truly after, except for maybe Muzan, as you wanted revenge for your sister.

-You knew Douma, you knew how he would react to seeing you, and you knew it would involve your sacrifice to take him out, you knew he was going to eat you.

-You started small, injecting small amounts of wisteria poison into your body, so your body could get used to it without you feeling sick yourself, increasing the dosage over time, fusing your blood with wisteria.

-You told your closest loved one (Lover/Parental Figure) what you had been doing and what you planned on doing, showing them your determination to bring Douma down.

-They knew better than to push back, as they knew you wouldn’t listen, so they stood beside you, supporting this decision, with their own plan in mind, to help you kill Douma so you wouldn’t need to sacrifice yourself.

-The fight against Douma, they were late, rushing to get to you as soon as possible, to prevent your death, they didn’t want to lose you, not like this, not ever.

-He rushed into the room, seeing your broken and batter body on the ground, Douma stalking towards you, a sadistic grin on his face, licking his lips like you were going to be the tastiest treat he ever tasted.

-He never saw the new demon, the new monster, that stood before him, until he was kicked hard in the stomach, blowing him back head over heels.

-Poseidon- He stood just before your body, protecting you, hearing your labored breathing, sparing you only the smallest of glances, seeing your eyes were open, but glazed over, you were very weak. As Douma stood he just grinned almost ferally at Poseidon, “Oh~ you look tasty too, God~ I’ve never eaten a god before so let-” Poseidon cut him off, immediately darting forward, “Medusa Alope Demeter!” the barrage of attacks were so fast, so strong, Douma couldn’t keep up, trying to dodge, not realizing Poseidon appeared behind him, immediately lopping his head off, his foot coming down on his head, smashing it to pieces. He turned to you and rushed to your side, his trident falling as he held you carefully, brushing your hair from your face, a sigh of relief on his face, seeing you were alive, but weak, before picking you up to get you medical attention.

-Hades- He didn’t even hesitate to charge at Douma again, giving him no time to recover, “Persephone Titan!” slamming his bident down on Douma, who had an arm immediately cut off, managing to dodge at the last second. Douma leapt back, a grin on his face, looking excited but Hades gave him no time to speak, charging again with another attack. Douma made the mistake of being predictable, dodging again and Hades immediately grabbed him, his hand covering his face before he squeezed, crushing Douma’s face with ease before setting his body on fire. Once he knew Douma was dead, Hades let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, immediately turning, “Y/N!” and rushed to your side. He removed his jacket and wrapped your broken body in it, quickly picking you up to get to the infirmary as quickly as possible. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheek against his chest, feeling safe and content in his arms.

-Beelzebub- Seeing your body, broken and bleeding, he felt such a rage inside of him, a fire welling up inside of him, while still looking calm on the outside, approaching Douma calmly. Douma popped up and his eyes instantly went wide, sensing the power inside Beelzebub, a blush appearing on his face as he gushed, “Oh~ you’re so powerful! Why are you protecting that Hashira? Did you want to eat her yourself?” Beelzebub made it to him, meeting his eyes and instantly he allowed Satan to take control, just this once, willingly, thrusting his deformed arm into Douma’s chest, leaving a gaping hole before swiping outwards, tearing his body apart, before removing Douma’s head from his shoulder, crushing the head in his hand. Once his arm returned to normal, he turned to you, rushing to your side, dropping to his knees to pull you into his arms. You smiled up at him and he couldn’t help but return it before picking you up, “Come, let’s get you patched up and get that poison out of your system.” You nodded, leaning your head against his chest, relaxing in his embrace.

-Thor- You managed to shift, only just slightly, seeing who had arrived and you immediately relaxed, a smile appearing on your lips, seeing Thor walking in. He spared you only one glance, seeing that you were alive, before stalking towards Douma; you knew he would be able to take care of it from here. Thor held Mjolnir tightly, his gauntlets off, the hammer awakened already, as if feeling Thor’s own rage. Your eyes widened as you heard your lover’s voice, “Awakened Thunder Hammer!” you were surprised he broke out his strongest attack right away but didn’t question it as you heard Thor hitting something, making sure Douma was dead before he came to you. His hand on your head was so comforting, brushing your hair from your face before wrapping your body in his cloak, holding you up to him with one arm, “Let’s go home, Y/N.” you nodded softly, a sense of joy filling your heart.

-Lu Bu- He glanced down at you once after kicking Douma, seeing you were alive, but broken and weak, he knew if you were alive right now, you would survive, you weren’t a weakling by any means. Douma immediately tried to charge at Lu Bu, who moved quickly and managed to spear him through the neck, causing blood to spurt everywhere. Douma grinned, “Oh~ you’re strong! You would make a great demon!!” with Douma still on the blade of his spear, Lu Bu lifted him before slamming down, “Sky Eater!” completely splitting in Douma in two, stunning the demon before Lu Bu approached and smashed the two sides of his head, completely annihilating him. You wanted to feel irritated with how easy he was able to defeat Douma, but instead you felt relief, a smile appearing on your lips. Lu Bu had you in his arms quickly, your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he grabbed your sword and his spear and headed out, saying nothing, but the hand on your back was radiating heat, soothing you.

-Qin Shi Huang- Usually jolly and taking things not so seriously, your eyes widened to see the rage on your lover’s face, as he looked down at you, seeing that you were hurt. You looked up to where his eyes were, behind his blindfold and he gave you the smallest nods as Douma managed to stand, “What hit me?” as he turned, your lover was there, his right leg already in motion for his White Tiger Crescent Moon, slamming into Douma’s face, sending him flying back into the wall, causing it to collapse before he went on the attack, not letting up with his barrage of attacks until he kicked Douma’s head clean from his shoulders, decapitating him before stomping down, smashing his head. When he returned to you, pulling you instantly in his arms, you couldn’t help but smile up at him, as he was smiling as well, relief on his face before he picked you up princess style, carrying you to safety.

-Nikola- You were surprised but also not surprised when he came in with his automaton suit on, one he created with Gondul’s help, where she didn’t need to fuse with him. Douma had sparkly eyes, like a child, seeing the robotic suit, “Amazing!!” normally Nikola would be pleased as punch to hear such praise, but see you in such a state, all he felt was rage, anger at the man- no, the demon who did this to you. Douma was eradicated in seconds, which shocked but also annoyed you, as he charged and used both of the Tesla Coils on his hands to unleash a powerful Plasma Pulse Punch Twin attack. As you were in his arms, carrying you out of the area, he beamed down at you, looking like his usual self, “I’ve been working on a counter agent to the poison you’ve injected yourself with, that will help flush it out of you.” You smiled softly, relaxing for what felt like the first time in years, leaning into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

-Kojiro- As much as he wanted to rush to your side, seeing that you were heavily injured, Kojiro knew that Douma needed to be dealt with first, shifting his leg back to prepare for a charge as he lifted his sword. Douma laughed warmly, “Do you really think you can defeat me, old man?” Kojiro’s speed was something Douma wasn’t expecting as he instantly charged, vanishing for only a moment before slicing off both of his arms, then his left leg, sending him tumbling quickly to the ground. Douma was quick to regenerate his limbs, new arms and a new leg shooting out, but in that small moment, Kojiro used it to his advantage, slicing off Douma’s head  from the neck. Douma laughed up at him, “Fool- I can still regenerate something as simple as this!” Kojiro stabbed Douma int eh center of the forehead, a purple liquid dripping down his sword, coating it and instantly Douma gagged, not realizing that Kojiro had coated his blade in wisteria poison. Once Kojiro confirmed he was dead, he immediately ran to your side, pulling you into his arms, “Y/N-Y/N are you okay?” you smiled softly, smelling the wisteria poison, knowing Douma was dead as you managed to lift a hand to cup his cheek, stroking in soft affection which made him laugh before he picked you up, rushing to get you medical attention.

-Odin- He waved his hand and almost instantly a dome covered your body, to not only protect you, but you could feel the pain of some of your wounds lessening, healing you. Douma struggled to his feet, wondering what had hit him before he turned, feeling a presence behind him and was quick to look up to meet the furious eye of Odin, a dark aura surrounding him. He instantly had Douma’s neck between his right hand, squeezing hard, “Your crimes are unforgivable- you put your hands on my daughter.” Douma wanted to laugh at you, to tease you that you had to get your papa to help you. Odin could see the grin and instantly Odin crushed his neck, letting the body fall before stepping on Douma’s head, crushing it under his foot, instantly killing him. Odin sat with you, letting some of your more serious wounds heal up a bit before he moved you. He reached into the dome, not disturbing the healing process, patting your head gently, “You fought well, Y/N. Rest now.” You smiled softly up at him, tears welling in your eyes as you nodded, letting the tears fall in relief.

-Adam- Didn’t even hesitate to charge, not even waiting for Douma to be standing again, delivering a brutal punch, wearing a pair of knuckledusters that were infuse with wisteria poison, a gift that you had given him a year or two ago. He wasted no time, beating Douma down into an unrecognizable bloody pulp, letting his anger get the better of him, seeing you in such a state, wounded and bloody, sent your father figure into a rage you had never seen before. After making sure Douma was dead, he returned to your side, and unlike when he was with Douma, there was nothing but concern on his face now relief. He was happy you were still alive, but you were so injured, carefully picking you up, not minding the blood and was quick to rush out of the area, rushing to the Butterfly House to get you the medical attention you needed.

-Zeus- You smiled up at your adoptive father figure who gave you a peace sign, grinning broadly before his body started to shift, transforming into his Adamas form, which made your eyes widen, you had only seen it once in your life, and it was far more terrifying than any demon you’ve ever faced. You knew the risk with this form, as he could only hold it for a short period of time, but you relaxed, knowing that Douma wouldn’t last very long anyway. Zeus met Douma with a massive punch to the back of his head, caving it in instantly before he went on the attack, landing a ruthless barrage of punches, giving Douma no chance to regenerate until he was nothing but a pulp of blood and guts, making doubly sure he was dead. Zeus carried you out piggy-back style, holding you easily as you hugged him gently, “I’m glad you got here in time, papa.” He chuckled warmly, feeling elation at your praise, “And miss all this fun? Never!” which made you giggle softly.

[lucero-is-here]

The camera turns on, as it slowly focuses on someone sitting neatly in a chair. They are eating some candy, and are wearing a top hat

“Good evening, morning or afternoon ladies, gentlemen and folks! I am your host, Lucero Moone. And it’s headcanon time. Today we have Rockley Rochester as our star guest!”

Requested by:

I’ve seen this man before, and I quite like him. Now let’s get to him!

- pansexual. He doesn’t really care who he dates. As long as they treat him right and support his career and love him, he’s good.

- he talks in third person sometimes. Like: “Rockley is going to commit crimes make more candy!”

- he likes anything that sparkles and shines- he likes sparkly things.

- has an insane amount of strength- he’s really strong. When he formally met Arthur, he grabbed and shook Arthur’s hand so hard Arthur’s hand was probably going to break.

- he cannot eat too much sugar- or else he’s going hyper. If he eats too much candy in a day, he’s not getting any sleep-

- he’s really good with mechanics. Similar to Larry, he’s good with mechanics and clockwork!

- has the attention span of a teaspoon with ten holes drilled into it. Basically cannot pay attention to anything unless he’s super interested in it-

- loves all his family members to death. Whenever he meets any of them, he runs over and hugs them and lifts them up. Two examples: When Bernadine was like…20 and he was like 22, he ran over, hugged her and lifted her up because of how excited he was to see his cousin again. And when he met Arthur a second time, he literally hugged Arthur and lifted him off the floor-

- he pretends he’s a velociraptor. He does the little velociraptor hands and stands on his tip tops and pretends to be one-

- he loves candy a lot. Which is obvious. But he would eat candy for breakfast- and he has a really really big sweet tooth.

- high heels boots. Cause they make him look ✨FABULOUS✨

- his nails are painted with glitter nail polish

- IF YOU’RE DATING HIM- EXPECT REALLY EXPENSIVE GIFTS OR A HELL OF A LOAD OF SWEETS-

- he fights with Larry every now and then.

- messy handwriting, and is fast writer.

- if you (as a friend or more than friends) tell him you like something, he’s buying it without hesitation for you-

- he bought an airship once. He was just supposed to buy eggs- but he remembered to get the eggs so all is good.

Leopold: Don’t. Forget. The. Eggs.

Rockley: buys an airship. Oh and he got the eggs this time

- when he’s super happy, he starts jumping up and down like a rabbit-

- he can play the violin- and he’s really good at it too. Leopold taught him.

- He told Horatio to go fuck himself after learning about the shit Horatio did.

- he can be super super sassy- it scares the hell out of anyone cause he gets really sassy and almost a bit mean.

- went to Justin Lawson’s grave and said: who’s laughing and alive now Lawson.

- dressed up as the mad hatter for halloween once.

This is all I have for this silly man. If I think of more a part 2 will come up. And why do I find him adorable for no reason- he gives me mad hatter vibes for some reason-

[cypressmoons]

cut it with a knife

not really feeling like putting any specific character in here, just needed to get some Thoughts™ off my chest so enjoy some angst/pining/simping <;3 definitely not based on real feelings in the real life about real people or anything

word count: 1,891 (i wrote this in one go at 1am pls forgive mistakes)

she met him almost three years ago now.

initially there was nothing, and suddenly it became everything.

it was a hobby of hers, a favourite pastime to find the best looking boy in her online classes to send to her best friend, and vice versa. perhaps that was one of the few joys of moving online - being able to take pictures of people you found attractive without them ever finding out.

so when the opportunity arose for her to potentially work with him, she didn't hesitate to apply.

it was a good decision, a great one even, as she realized that there was so much more to this position than just getting to talk to him. she fell in love with the position, and devoted her whole heart into making the experience the best it could be.

but something was always tugging at her heart, reminding her of the things she wants but just can't have.

you see, popularity was never a problem for him, but always the biggest struggle for her.

it's not like she really wanted to be the most popular person at school, or the centre of attention, per se. in fact, that's probably the last thing she would want. but to be so helplessly in love with someone, to crave someone who is the opposite of her in every single way - it was eating her alive.

because she knew, she'd never be the person "cool" enough for him. it is as they say, birds of the same feather flock together. she wouldn't change herself for just a stupid crush, this much she knew. stuck between a rock and a hard place, between wanting to just be herself and be his, the days and nights are long and she spent them thinking about him, about the first time they met in person and every conversation they had after.

she'd like to think he craves her, too. with a imagination so wild, she would make up little scenarios in her head when the moon rises and the silence leaves her alone with her thoughts.

what if the reason why he gets up and leaves so fast when we're done a conversation is because he secretly hates me but is just too nice to ever do anything about it?

what if he is only being friendly to pretend? to not hurt my feelings?

or worst of all, what if he simply just hates me? thinks i'm annoying?

what if, what if, what if.

but when the sun shines again and she's out and about, the doubts become hopes.

what if i bump into him right now and he admits that he likes me?

what if he secretly wants to talk to me but just didn't know how to?

and her favourite, pretending the tension between them is so thick that she can cut it with a knife, anytime they're in the same room together.

some of the thoughts seem to good to be true, and she knows she believes the doubts way more than she does the hopes.

perhaps that's where she's wrong. there is simply no way to decide if any of it is true. he hates her, he hates her not. he likes her, he likes her not. faced with these questions, she's about as oblivious as a toddler in an advanced calculus class - and that is to say, completely clueless.

it would be lying if she said she hasn't once dreamed about him. whenever work requires her to see him multiple times a week, she finds herself drifting to thoughts about him more frequently, to the point where he'd even hold her hand in her dreams, the thought of him too deeply engrained in her mind to forget, even in the subconscious state.

dreams all have to end at some point, and so do her little fantasies. when she wakes, she is reminded once again that whatever she is, whoever she is, would never be enough for him.

she tries to console herself by thinking that there's no point in trying to alter what can't be changed, personality, looks or whatever else. but deep down, she wishes to the gods or whatever else is out there, that just being herself would be all that someone needs, even if it's just for this once.

she's never experienced that before, and at this point, she doesn't know if she ever will.

time doesn't stop for anyone, least of which lonely people who wish to savour every moment they have with someone. the days go by and she knows they are nearing their inevitable separation, they'll each go their own way and probably never see each other again, but she doesn't know if she can ever forget him.

the sneaky glances, the not-so-subtle staring, the not clearing the notifications on her phone just because he sent her a message. she loves seeing his name on her lock screen, one not sent to the whole groupchat about some agenda item.

it's been almost three years now. the last time she cared for someone for this long, she was still a teenager too immature to really know herself or her feelings. she does not mind calling that person her first love, because she thinks she was at least a little bit in love with him, if not more. but this is different.

the high school love knew the real her, and accepted her for it. even when she's laughing so much that she's on the verge of tears, or when she obsessed over her favourite boy band, he never once thought her weird. he would poke fun at her, telling her she'd be immortal one day because of how much she laughed, not knowing she laughed extra at his jokes, an innocent attempt at impressing him.

no, this is different. now several years older but perhaps not all that much wiser, she has come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, that this obsession is purely physical attraction. a lust so intense that when she closes her eyes, she pictures him with her. she would have to fight the urge to touch him or hold his hand whenever they are near, a primal attraction not so different from animals in the wild. she knows close to nothing about what he's really like, other than feeling the familiar butterflies every time she so much as thinks about him.

and most importantly, he doesn't know much about her, either. now, don't be fooled by their lengthy text records. if you really read through them, you won't find a single word unrelated to work, unrelated to the job they share. make small talk with him, you might say. but she doesn't know if she could ever be comfortable enough to say anything else, if she could ever come out from behind the mask that hides her feelings. to her, work is like a curtain that shields her from having to acknowledge anything. it's a little bittersweet, yes, longing for someone so much only to cover it all with boring exchanges about scheduling and agenda planning. but she doesn't know what she would do if the mask ever comes off, if she ever reveals her true self to him-

would he still respond so nicely then?

perhaps he will. perhaps he's always way too nice to say anything mean about anyone.

but she'll become a different person to him. in fact, she's afraid she has already revealed bits and pieces of her emotions.

she doesn't like emotions.

they have always been a burden to her, her sentience like a curse. showing her feelings has rarely gotten her anywhere in the past, but rather the opposite - labels of being too sensitive or not sensitive enough or overthinking too much placed on her from a young age, the anger and outbursts of adults around her making stoicism the safest option.

so she doesn't show them, unless she's comfortable with someone.

or, if she is so overwhelmed with long repressed emotions that tidbits start falling out at unwanted times, and she's noticed it becoming especially prevalent when it comes to being around people she wants to impress.

there was a summer love, an unreciprocated one at that, and she was broken for weeks on end. but the moment she returned to work to see him, the summer love became nothing but a distant memory. the feelings of months past came flooding back to her, and she finds herself unable to get his face out of her mind, a blessing and a curse.

so when she noticed his body language when talking to another girl at the bar, her heart shattered.

it's not really the fact that he's never reacted to her like that, no. it has less to do about him and more about the other girl - and who she is. you see, she's not a complete stranger to her. they've talked and bonded over their shared distain of overachievers in class. and though she sees pieces of herself in the way the other girl looks, it is how she acts that makes her so jealous.

because she can never be her.

because she can never hold herself with such confidence, can never carry herself with such self-assurance and grace and elegance. and of course, she can never talk to him like he's just another random person at school.

even when she jokingly told her best friend that, if she acted like she doesn't give a shit about him, he'd probably find her easier to talk to. it's not hard to see that so many women find him attractive, and maybe that's one of the reasons why he acts so awkward around them, but she's noticed that the other girl treated him like she would her girl best friends.

maybe that's what he needs - someone who doesn't treat him differently just because he is a conventionally good looking person.

she has tried and failed at her mission. every time she so much as nears him, she finds words no longer suffice at their intended meaning. the same words that flow out of her like a steady stream when she's writing no longer translate into coherence the moment they come out of her mouth.

and to be fair, she probably would find it difficult to talk to someone who loses their mind whenever they're around her, too.

no, she wouldn't change herself to make him like her, but it makes her wonder if she'd have a better chance if she wasn't so perpetually anxious and with a self esteem so low that you need to dig a hole in the ground to find it.

when he left the bar with the other girl, she could only watch in jealousy. there's something else there, too - a quiet acceptance that girls like that are what people want, and not whatever she is. she could dye her hair, change her entire wardrobe, or go out everyday instead of hiding in her home, but those superficialities do nothing at disguising the fear she really feels about being perceived by other people.

it might've stemmed from her childhood and the trauma that came with it, but she can no longer justify why she's let them trap her and immobilize her for all this time.

but if anything, she'd still like to imagine maybe finally getting to kiss him one day and telling him all the things she wanted to say. because three years is a bit too long to spend secretly loving someone, and life is too short for this kind of one-sided longing, isn't it?

-

read my other (properly written) works here <3

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Chapter 8

Glass Shards

Warnings: Aftermath of torture/amputation

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Between taking ages to fall asleep and waking up every few hours, Merridy barely found rest that night. When the first light of dawn tinted the sky outside the windows, she gave up trying to sleep and sat up. Her neck was stiff and her back hurt. Neither lying on the floor, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket, nor leaning against the sofa had been very comfortable.

Damien hadn’t stirred all night. It didn’t worry her too much. If the drops were helping, it might very well have been the first time in gods knew how long he was able to get some rest. After all he must have been through, he certainly needed it.

Quietly, to not wake Damien up, Merridy left the room. Perhaps she was lucky and would find something to eat in Cedric’s kitchen. Her success probably depended on how long Yvan had been gone already. 

What she hadn’t expected was for Cedric to be sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of him. She hadn’t heard him come home, so he had probably taken the same door she had knocked on the previous night. Merridy closed the door to the living room behind her, leaving it open a crack so she’d be able to hear Damien, if he was to call for her.

“You’re up early,” Cedric said.

Merridy grumbled something unintelligible as she slumped down on the chair on the opposite side of him. She propped her head in her hands and stared at the table. Scratches and stains, a little cross here, what looked like a crescent moon there. After so many years, she knew them all. 

“You look like shit.”

Merridy sighed. “Thanks.” 

“Breakfast?” Cedric asked.

This time, Merridy’s grumbling sounded a bit more appreciative. Cedric pushed a basket in her direction. Inside were some sandwiches and croissants. Merridy sighed as she bit into one of the croissants. Perhaps Cedric didn’t cook, but he at least knew where to buy the good stuff. 

“Coffee?”

Merridy hesitated. She wasn’t a huge fan, but knowing Cedric, the only alternative would be water. She didn’t feel like water. Before she had finished her nod, Cedric was already up, walking over to the counter. He was limping visibly. It probably meant that he had a bad day, or had been on his feet all night; most likely both. Even his cane was leaning against the counter, and he didn’t often use it in his home.

“I can get it myself,” she offered.

Cedric made a dismissive gesture, without turning around. He fished a cup out of the cupboard, filling it with coffee, adding sugar, stirring it. When he placed the cup in front of her, Merridy closed both her hands around it. The warmth was nice. The smell, too. Too bad the taste never lived up to her expectations.

When she eventually took a sip, she smiled anyway. There was enough sugar in there to classify it as candy.

“How is he?” Cedric asked as soon as he had sat down again.

“Alive.”

“Think he can leave today?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be rid of us in a bit,” Merridy replied a bit sharper than she had intended. She could understand Cedric’s worries. That didn’t change the fact that the memory of his words still sent a shiver down her spine. 

“That’s not…” 

Cedric sighed, stirring his coffee. What for, she didn’t know. She knew he drank it black.

“Look, we have a deal. I can’t say I like it, but it is what it is. I won’t break my word.” He let go of the spoon, looking at her instead. “And you care about him, even though I have no idea why.” 

“He’s scared, and hurt, and lonely.”

“Mhm.” Cedric’s tone was still unwilling, but his expression had softened a bit. If anyone would understand her reasons, then it was him. “And what if he’s a scared, hurt and lonely murderer? What will you do then?”

Merridy looked down at her hands, wrapped around her cup. It didn’t feel as warm anymore. “I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t. But in his condition, he isn’t a threat. He won’t be for a while. By the time he can stand on his own feet again, I should have found out what kind of person he is.”

“Unless you get him another healer,” Cedric pointed out.

“Think we can risk that?” Merridy let go of the cup to rip a piece off the croissant. Instead of eating it, she turned it in her fingers, rolling it into a ball. “I’d like to. He’s… he’d need it.” She shook her head, glancing at the kitchen door. “But it might be too risky. His injuries are obvious, especially if the word of his escape spreads. Even in Dragon’s Reach. Whatever he’s going through now, if they get their hands on him again, it will be worse.”

Cedric was silent for a while, sipping his coffee. “You’re right,” he eventually said. “As much as I’d like to offer you to stay another day, you should get out of here as fast as possible. The guards at the city gates have been doubled, and everyone using the portals is scanned for illusions.”

The worried frown on his face reminded Merridy what was at stake for her; what would happen to her if she was caught, trying to help a traitor escape. She tried not to think about it.

“The only reason they haven’t made it more obvious is that his capture wasn’t known to the public in the first place,” Cedric continued. “They wanted to wait for the queen’s return to put him to trial, and now that she’s back, he’s gone. It would look bad, so there’s a rather good chance they’ll try to keep rumors low.”

“You’re awfully well informed,” Merridy said.

“And I’m lacking an awful lot of sleep,” Cedric replied, raising his cup of coffee as if for a toast.

He did look tired. Despite her disturbing him in the middle of the night, despite his worries about Damien’s trustworthiness, he had done everything to help her. Getting — and paying for — a healer, gathering information, allowing her to stay. Just like he had always been there for her through the years.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice suddenly gone. “For everything.”

“Hey.” Cedric put down the cup, raising his arms. “Come here.”

When she did, he pulled her into a hug. It was familiar and comforting. A few of her tears got lost in the scratchy wool of his well-worn sweater. She was going to miss him so much.

“You’re always welcome here, no matter what,” he said. “Let’s just hope your taste in men has improved over the years.”

Merridy laughed through her tears. “Asshole,” she mumbled.

“Nuisance,” he replied.

When she took a step back, he smiled at her, his gaze warm. He raised a hand, to wipe one last tear off her cheek. “It was a pleasure working with you,” he said.

Merridy could only nod.

“I have to go. I’m meeting a client, and I don’t want to risk them coming here, looking for me.” Cedric got up, grabbing his cane. It didn’t seem like the slowness of his motions was due to his foot. “Farewell. Please take care.”

Merridy nodded again, everything that could be said already said. She watched him leave the kitchen, walking through the living room, leaving the door slightly more open than it had been before. His steps were as quiet as could be.

Then he was gone.

Merridy sat for a while, slowly drinking her already half cold coffee and finishing off her croissant. There was too much sugar at the bottom of her cup, only partially dissolved, turning the last bit of the drink sickeningly sweet. She didn’t finish it, getting up instead to clean both cups and put them away. Her fingers brushed over the wood of the cupboard door, polished by years of use.

This was the closest thing to a home she’d had in a long time. How often had she sat here at this very table, eating Yvan’s scrambled eggs and drinking his hot chocolate. How often had she made plans, sitting with Cedric until deep in the night, discussing the best way to acquire whatever a client of his might have wanted. 

Merridy blinked against the burning in her eyes as she realized that today might be the last time she had sat here. Who knew if she’d ever come back, once she left Caldeia behind. She wouldn’t leave Damien alone until he was fully recovered, she had promised him that much. But after that? Cedric was right; she didn’t know what kind of person Damien was, if she could trust him. 

Peering into the living room, finding Damien still sleeping peacefully, she sighed. First she had to get him out of here. And for that, she had things to prepare.

* * *

The interior of the house was still dim when Merridy woke Damien. Sleepily, he registered the hand on his cheek and the voice calling his name again and again. Blinking, he opened his eyes and saw Merridy standing in front of him. She helped him sit up and handed him a cup of water. He tried to take it, but his hand was shaking too much, so she ended up helping him drink again.

“You’ll have to walk a few steps to the cart. Do you think you can do that?” she asked worriedly.

He wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway. He had somehow managed to get here the day before, so he would manage that, too. He had to.

“Okay. Let’s get you some shoes first. And socks.” She knelt down in front of him, reaching behind her. “They don’t match, but they’re the softest ones I could find.”

She lifted his feet to put a plain green sock on his left one, and a pink one with a white pattern on his right one. A pair of canvas shoes followed, obviously well-worn and a bit too big for him. Once she had tied the shoelaces, Merridy got up.

“All done. Come.” She extended his hand to him, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

With Merridy’s help, Damien managed to get to his feet. She supported him on the way to the back door and then until he reached the cart. Once there, she put his hand on the wood so he could hold onto it and looked around. Damien followed her gaze and saw a lot of crates, barrels and sacks spread out around them. The bed of the cart, however, was still empty except for two blankets lying on top of each other. A dark ox was harnessed in front, waiting patiently and searching for blades of grass in the dust of the backyard. Merridy pushed a couple of boxes of various sizes closer, piling two on top of each other, and jumped onto the bed, from where she held out her hand to Damien.

“It’s going to be a little difficult now, I guess, but we’ll get there.” She smiled encouragingly at him and he made an effort to return it, even if he didn’t feel quite so confident. 

Even the short walk here had taken all his strength. As he lifted his hand to reach for hers, his legs gave way under him. Damien stumbled, managing at the last moment to catch himself and slump onto the stacked boxes instead of falling to the ground.

“Are you hurt?”

Merridy jumped down, then stood in front of him, reaching out, yet not quite touching him. Damien shook his head. Nothing hurt that hadn’t hurt before — which was perhaps a bad way to measure things, but the only one he could think of.

Another thing had come to his attention, though. Easier to ignore while he had been lying still, less so now that he had moved.

“I need to pee,” he mumbled, not looking at her.

“Oh. Right.” She paused, her feet shifting on the sandy ground. “Well, do you think you can do that… here?” 

Damien nodded, still not looking at her. There was no point in pretending he’d be able to walk all the way to the next outhouse, no matter how close it might be.

“I’ll go back inside and make sure there’s nothing I forgot.”

The sound of her footsteps faded and Damien raised his head, leaning against the cart so he had his hand free to untie the laces of his pants. As he relieved himself, he realized that he wouldn’t manage to tie them again. He hated that he couldn’t even do such a small thing on his own. He hated how he almost collapsed after walking two dozen steps. And he hated that the question of how he should manage to get onto that cart made him break out in cold sweat.

He hated it a bit less than lying in his own filth for days, or waiting for his death, though.

After a few minutes, Merridy returned. She said nothing as she tied the laces of Damien’s pants again, then muttered some encouraging words while she steadied him as he got up. Somehow she managed to help him climb over the boxes and onto the cart. Breathing heavily, he settled down on the blanket. His clothes stuck damply to his body and the pain in his shoulder was enough to almost make him scream. Merridy climbed back down and then came into his field of vision with a large, empty crate.

“So��� now comes the less fun part,” she said with an apologetic expression on her face. She turned the box so that he could see a cutout on the front and he had a bad feeling about it.

“You’re really in a pickle, you know that? They’ve doubled the guards. So we’re not taking any chances. I’m going to load the cart full above you, the box will protect your head and shoulder. You can breathe” — she pointed to a rather large hole in the bed of the truck, right next to his head — “through that hole. I imagine it won’t be very comfortable, but anything else is too dangerous. Even that still carries some risk. Think you can do it?”

It wasn’t really a question, he knew that, yet he nodded in agreement.

“And what about you?” he asked hesitantly. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll recognize you?”

With a short laugh, she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know if my escape has been noticed, but I’m going to disguise myself. I just can’t move as well in the disguise as I can without it, so I won’t put it on until I’ve loaded the cart. Ready?”

He nodded again and then stared at the box, which came closer and closer and finally swallowed almost all daylight. Only through the hole in the ground and past the cutout on the front did a little light reach him. He heard footsteps, then felt the first sack land on his legs. Crunching and scraping followed, jarring as boxes were stacked around him, then pressure on his chest. Pain flared in his wounds, and though he clenched his teeth, he couldn’t suppress a groan. Merridy did not seem to have heard it, for she continued to load the cart. Heavier and heavier the load became on him and for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He forced himself to breathe more calmly and stared at the texture of the box, which he could see better now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He was grateful that it wasn’t completely dark.

At some point, the noises stopped and the pressure also remained the same. He waited, breathing against the weight on his chest. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Had she buried him and then left him alone? Just when he was about to panic, he remembered her words about the disguise. Surely she was putting it on. He kept listening and finally thought he heard footsteps. Then a voice, closer than it should be. He realized that Merridy must be kneeling beside the wagon, speaking to him through the hole.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he whispered tonelessly, then a little more confidently, “Yes.” The sooner they got it over with, the better.

“We’ll be safe in a few hours,” he still heard, then footsteps, then nothing. She must have moved away from the hole again. 

Hours! Damien knew the walk through Caldeia and then the wait at the portal would take their time. It didn’t make the idea of having to hold out like this for hours, trapped and barely able to breathe, less terrifying.

Tagging: @teamwhump​ @villainsvictim​ @dont-touch-my-soup​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​​

[rainsoughtflowers]

sweet filled dreams, crumpled in my hands

tw/cw - angst, blood, mentions of character death, nightmares.

perhaps it was the constant shift of your body, almost restless, that spurred xiao on to do it.

as an adeptus, xiao didn’t require sleep. in fact, most of his nights were spent up upon the balcony while staring intently at the stars. not only because his duties for the day were over, but also because when the moon arose everyone residing in the wangshu inn retreated to their rooms to sleep, allowing him to finally enjoy some peace of mind without worrying about someone lurking around to interrupt him.

but ever since meeting you, and allowing you into his cursed filled life (despite many protests from him) xiao now spent his nights in your room, seated on the bed beside you. it was quiet, with your window open to allow cool air into the room, and your eyes were closed, body and mind encased by exhaustion and finally sleep.

xiao had been the one to tuck you in, cheeks warm from embarrassment after you had pleaded with him to do so. he would’ve refused if it weren’t for the cute purse of your lips, gentle hands tugging onto his clothes. it was truly embarrassing for someone like him to grow so soft because of some measly human. alas, xiao loved you too much, and so with as much care as he could he pulled the covers over your frail mortal body, a hesitant touch to your hair that spurred him on to continue when you had sighed lightly in content. and finally, when he deemed you fast asleep, the adeptus retreated his palm, muttering softly under his breath.

‘may sweet dreams find you.’

he didn’t sleep, but xiao did close his eyes as he listened to your steady breathing. it was comforting in a way, to know that you were here, alive and well and just within reach. and if he weren’t so afraid he would’ve embraced you, holding you until the sun arose in the east. but xiao was afraid. he feared the things he was capable of. you, such a kind soul, didn’t deserve to live their life with such a cruel monster.

and yet frustratingly so you did. you ignored his requests to leave him alone since the moment the two of you met somewhere near mt. aocang. at first he’d blame it on you. it was your fault for always greeting him with such a kind smile, always bringing him flowers and his favorite food. you were the reason why he had began to feel such a foreign warmth swell inside his chest, burning to the point where it hurt when you weren’t around.

but it was also xiao who stayed, and had been the one to grant you a flower as a token of his feelings.

the adeptus broke out of his thoughts when he felt you stir from beside him, slowly opening his eyes and glancing down to your figure hidden beneath the covers. he would’ve deemed it as you simply moving in your sleep if it weren’t for the soft mumbles escaping your lips, brows scrunched together as you shifted once more.

quickly he could feel that same fear settle inside his heart, along with a need to crumple whatever was making you restless. it was his duty after all, to protect you from the demons inhabiting teyvat as a citizen of liyue. but it was his duty as your lover to protect you from the nightmare you were currently facing.

he sighed, brushing the fallen locks of dark away from his face as he set his lips into a straight line. it had been a while since he had tampered with the mortal mind, he preferred not to since it would leave you not only exhausted but with nothing else to dream of for the rest of the night. however, xiao would much rather eat the contents plaguing your mind then leave you to suffer through it for the rest of the night.

he shifted in his spot, allowing his mask to cover his face. and with a soft and light caress to your cheek, xiao devoured it all.

“i wonder if the flowers will bloom like this again next year.”

you turned your head to the side to look at the adeptus, watching and waiting for his reply to your question. much to your surprise xiao was already staring right back, causing your cheeks to redden. his gaze rested on you for a moment longer before shifting, instead gazing at the petals you had previously been admiring.

“would it make you happy if they did?” he asked, earning a small hum in response from your lips. xiao nodded, before plucking the plant from the soils of the ground. you stared at him, confused as he gazed at it for several seconds before turning towards you, tucking the stem to rest behind your ear.

you laughed lightly at the red covering his cheeks, a small huff leaving his lips as he averted his eyes in embarrassment. he scowled towards the ground, but your smile only widened, reaching your hands up to cup his face.

“thank you for the gift.”

his gaze softened ever so slightly, hesitating before placing his palm over your own, “it’s nothing. i just thought..it’s a waste to let them die here when they have much better purposes in life. that’s all.”

at his words you almost felt like crying, never before having felt such a warmth seep so deep into your skin. the things xiao made you feel..it was hard to comprehend at times. but with moments like these, you were grateful that it was him by your side.

but the tender moment quickly vanished, and instead of xiao’s reddened cheeks signifying his embarrassment they turned pale, all color lost as your hands felt how cold his skin was. no, this wasn’t right. xiao held such a warmth that you’d feel within every touch, even during the harsh winters as the snow fell from the sky. he was the one you’d beg to cuddle with, until finally latching onto his body after he reluctantly agreed.

so why was he so cold right now?

��xiao..?” your voice came out shakier than you intended, hands tightening ever so slightly against his skin. and that’s when you noticed it, the crimson that painted your hands, and trickled down his lips.

a strangled cry forced its way out of your throat as the blood seeped out quicker than before, blemishing both of your clothes. it was sticky and warm, but not the heat that you were searching for. this one burned, blistering your hands as salty tears cascaded down your face, until even the figure of xiao laying limp in your arms began to fade from your vision.

xiao had made a terrible mistake.

he had taken great care in devouring your dream, making sure that the process wouldn’t leave you too drained afterwards. he had allowed the texture similar to almond tofu to fill his mouth, until nothing was left. and once he had finished, he waited for your shifting to cease, until you were nothing but peaceful resting in your bed.

but your restlessness only seemed to grow, confusing the adeptus greatly. normally the bodies of his victims would grow still, having nothing to dream about after being taken by him. the only exception was when he devoured good dreams, which turned into nightmares as to torture the recipient.

when the thought crossed his mind xiao felt his muscles tense, and his prediction was proven correct when your soft mumbles turned into pained whimpering and your face twisted to that of discomfort. and even worse, through the dark he could see the tears streaming down your face.

xiao was quick to shake you awake, fingers gripping your arms as he spoke in rushed words. for once he wasn’t embarrassed about initiating physical contact, his only priority was fixing the problem he had caused.

what had he done?

finally your eyes snapped open, breaths coming in quick as you glanced widely around the room. your brain seemed to still be processing the nightmare, and at the reminder xiao hesitated, before quickly retracting his fingers from your arms, even scooting further away until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

your breathing slowed, until you realized that what you experienced hadn’t been reality. your mind simply conjured up something cruel for you to withstand, perhaps a punishment or a warning. but xiao was here, he was still in your room.

and most importantly, he was still alive.

more tears rushed down your cheeks, relief washing over your body at the thought. your hands gripped the sheets, before loosening and instead wiping the tears from your skin.

xiao however internally panicked, fearing that the tears were because of him. he desperately wanted nothing more than to wipe them away himself, to hold you and whisper that it was okay and that he was sorry.

but xiao felt as if he didn’t deserve to console you, not after putting such a horrid scene into your mind. and with the way your body shook to withstand your crying, he was afraid that just a single touch would break you, would cause you to flinch and shy away from his touch.

xiao was used to people being scared of him. he wouldn’t consider himself a kind person after all, not to mention he was always wearing a scowl on his face despite not meaning to. but if you were to look at him in that way, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it.

the adeptus quickly stood up from your bed, causing you to quiet down your sobs and gaze at him curiously. at the sight of your expression he felt even more guilt grasp around his heart, and he quickly looked away from the sight.

xiao knew from the beginning that a love such as yours he was unworthy of, and love from him would only bring about bad things to your life. his life was cursed from the very beginning, and he knew, that his hands in which you held so gingerly would never erase the misfortune they’ve caused. his karma debt would always remind him of that fact, and the pain he had caused you that night also brought him back to reality.

he didn’t deserve such a thing for all he has done.

xiao swallowed thickly, hating the words that left his throat, “i must leave.”

your eyes widened, fearing the thoughts plaguing your mind. but most of all, you feared of losing him for good. that the dream you had went through really would become a reality. xiao didn’t understand how much he meant to you, despite how you showed it on a daily. his presence was the sole reason you were still alive and were able to live such a happy life.

but xiao was already gone before you could protest for him to stay, leaving nothing more than a subtle breeze that brushed against your skin. you stared blankly for a moment, not even realizing that more tears had rushed down your face until you felt them splatter against the hands that had tightened once more. and finally, you broke, cracked wails between chapped lips.

the black haired male you longed for wasn’t far, his own hands gripping the railing of the balcony at the top of the inn. he hadn’t wanted to, but his heart betrayed him, and he too cried that night. the first time since he had realized his feelings for you. it was silent, empty tears streaming down his face, but it didn’t dull the pain in his chest, and the burn along with it.

it took several days until you were able to find xiao.

his favorite spot was of course the balcony, an area of solace for the dark haired male. but each time you went the adeptus was no where to be seen, not even after a small and timid call of his name from your lips. it reminded you of the early stages of your relationship with the yaksha, far before a friendship had bloomed. only on rare occasions did he appear, and even then only with the bribery of his favorite meal. before it hadn’t bothered you, xiao had every right to be cautious you, a stranger. but now, as his lover, it deepened the pain in your heart, because you knew he was purposely avoiding you.

after he had disappeared you went through every scenario your brain could conjure up for a reason why. why he had disappeared so suddenly. why his face had held so much guilt, and why he had stayed away from you as if he were some disease that would make you ill. but despite your thinking, nothing could explain it, and it only left you wondering even more what you had done wrong.

you sighed for the umpteenth time that week, eyes tired as you entered the inn after a long day of commissions. a lazy wave was your greeting to ver goldett, legs sore and fingers gripping the rail as you climbed up the stairs. long ago the sun had set, leaving the residence quiet for everyone was fast asleep.

well, mostly everyone.

much to your surprise xiao didn’t disappear the moment you stepped out from under the roof, heart beating as he too seemed to have the idea to indulge in the silence of the night. cautiously you moved your body, and either he didn’t hear your quiet footsteps or he simply didn’t care, but either way you took the opportunity to continue on, until you were right behind the male you had grown so fond of.

you couldn’t tell what he was so fixated on, but knowing him he was most likely admiring the several stars painting the sky. you knew it calmed him, and in a way you felt bad ruining such a moment of peace for him. but this was probably the only opportunity you’d get to properly talk to him, and so you cleared the lump in your throat and let your voice be carried by the wind.

���xiao.” you spoke quietly, as well as cautiously as if stepping over broken glass.

his body shifted, and you noticed the way his hands tightened over the railing. he really must not have noticed you here, and before he could disappear once more you gripped the fabric covering his arm, tight enough to not let go.

he glared at you, eyes as sharp as knives, “remove your hands-“

“please xiao. not until you explain to me what happened,” you moved your body so you stood right in front of him, searching his eyes for even a hint of gentleness as you continued, “why did you leave so suddenly?”

the yaksha didnt answer, instead burning desperate holes into the wooden floorboards of the inn. you furrowed your brows, patience running thin the longer his silence stretched on.

you let out a small huff, releasing him from your grip, “if you can’t explain then you have no reason to have left.”

he whipped his head up, amber hues sharpening even more, “you don’t know anything-“

“then tell me!” you wailed, hating how your heart began to betray you and release the salty tears down your cheeks. you just wanted to understand, to better know the man you fell in love with. and with the way his fists tightened and his gaze wavered, you knew he was suffering just as much as you.

he turned, slamming his hands down onto the railing just like his previous position. however, now you noticed the way his hands shook and knuckles turned white, strands of hair falling to curtain his face and expression. xiao let out a shaky breath, and you almost missed the way his voice faltered with his next words, “why aren’t you afraid of me.”

afraid?

your eyes widened at his words, realizing it was a genuine question. you shook your head, voice breaking as you moved so he could see your face clearly, “why would i ever be afraid?”

“you know what i was before i was xiao right?!the things i did to all those people..” he stared at his hands, bright irises darkening as his lips turned down into a deep frown as if ashamed, “i did the same thing to you.”

ah, so that’s what this was all about.

you were well aware of xiao’s past. of his alliance with osial and how he was broken free and renamed after meeting rex lapis. he never went into depth about his time then, and you would never force him to replay those memories just to satisfy curiosity. you did however, understand the general idea and what he was forced to do, and it seemed like you had unknowingly become a victim of those crimes.

and yet, you held no ounce of anger for the yaksha. no hint of regret for asking him to accompany you to your bed that night or any night before that. if anything, your heart was only full of love, and hurt for the way he was sure to be feeling in that moment.

quickly you reached forward, shaking your head once more to show your disagreement, “it’s okay. i forgive you.” your hands reached forward and cupped his cheeks, giving him a small smile in hopes to show your honesty, “i know you didn’t mean it.”

xiao shook his head, eyes flitting down to once more stare at his hands, “no..you cant. i’ll do it again. these hands have destroyed and conquered too much i- i don’t want it to break you too-“.

“these hands have also held mine and lifted me up.” your fingers, gentle as to not scare him glided down to his gloved ones, thumbing over the lines of stitching and the texture of leather. hands that would gently pat your head as a sign of approval. the same ones that pulled the covers over your body when it was far too cold in the night. fingers that brushed across your skin when offering a flower, tucking it behind your ear.

they may be stained with blood, but even blood can be washed away.

“you’re not a monster,” you bring your hands back to his face, gently guiding his head to look at you. and when your own hues met gold, you smiled softly, “you’re xiao, and that’s all that matters.”

menu. pomegranate mousse cake.

[ofherbalisms]

    𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬, 𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴, and far into the thicket of forestry, there is an owl hooting at the moon. Perhaps for its lover, or to feel the breath in its lungs and the force of its voice, or perhaps the owl sings out of pure necessity: I am alive and therefore I must speak. Reuven gazes down at Anu softened down to his core for her, and he wonders if he were an owl, that perhaps this might be easier; simpler. Might he call out into the moonlight for her, lungs full of this winter wind. Might he call out for her to come back to him; to please come back, I miss you so much. The man was trying not to stare, at those chocolate doe-eyes, the perfect slope of her nose, the way her hair pillowed out over her shoulders. Features he once had been so enamored with he would take a moment to compose himself before glancing her way, even when he was just the guy who's kids she watched a for a few hundred dollars. Funny, how both she and money had disappeared, slowly and then all at once. Now, she felt like some dream, standing here in front of him. Some lost relic come back to fruition. They both had been disappearing at the end. He was certain of that now—the grief had been too insurmountable; the circumstances too tumultuous. Like trashing against your lifeguard against the water that threatens to consume you, Reuven had thrashed against Anu until she let him sink back into the ocean. He had had no one to blame but himself for it all, and yet, she tells him he can stay.

    It feels like an invitation, in her roundabout way. Or, perhaps, because he wants it to be an invitation. Either way, he does not move, and instead his heart begins to pound sickeningly against his sternum. His abdomen floods with feathery surprise. He thanks all the stars in the sky for his military training, because he calls on it now to not burst into nervous laughter and rosy cheeks himself. Inside, he feels so strange — like a youth again, learning that his crush wants to sit with him at the lunch table.

    Reuven does not care that Anu is rambling, because the sound of her voice in more than one, or two, or if he was lucky—three, syllables is like the most intoxicating of melodies. He could melt into her. He could listen to her complain all night. In fact, he wants to. He shakes his head in protest at her self depreciation, and murmurs, "No," in tone baritone and certain; quiet and gentle. "No, you're not spoiled for wanting to go home." He pauses, and gaze finds hers, and he hesitates before untethering from this horrid, wretched apprehension. "I miss laying on the couch and watching 24," he offers, and then remembers he should smile. Smiling has felt so foreign to him these past few years. He had gone almost a decade without doing so. Lips tug up and over a defined canine, in some sad but genuine half-grin. "I miss grading papers, and... getting bitched at by my Corporal. Hell, I even miss eating that really shitty hummus you and the kids made." It's a joke that falls from his lips with soft humor, and when his smile relaxes, it leaves the imprint of something happier in his dark and saddened eyes.

    He reaches out to trail a gentle touch around the silhouette of her shoulder, down to her elbow. Like offering fingertips to moistened nose, asking for permission to fall into her orbit; to encroach upon her personal space; to become her personal space, and drown her in his embrace if only to feel that she is alive, too. To know it for certain, that she has not been some hallucination all this time. "You're not awful," he murmurs, and when she does not back away, reaches out to tug her, gently, closer, into his arms, where he can properly hold her. The moment his arms secure around her, his chest floods with an involuntary sigh, as if finally feeling relief after ages of agony. His face falls into a nestle into her hair. His heart pounds in his abdomen now, and he murmurs into her dark mane. "I'm so sorry."

    It happens before he can even register that he's crying. Suddenly, he is sobbing—sobbing twelve-years' worth of pain and anger and yearning and regret, into her hair, holding her like he'll never let go again. "I'm so sorry," he says again, louder, more desperately. His voice breaks in its croak, but its stronger; purposeful. Reuven can't look at her yet. His tall form is all but consuming her—one arm secured about her shoulders; the other beckoning her in at the torso. He's terrified that when he pulls away, she will be rejecting. That she will finally confirm for him,. after all these years, just how much she truly does despise him. Can he face that now? Is he ready for that stone hard punch to the gut? It's going to kill him when he sees the disdain he expects on her features, as though he was not prepared. Had he not enough time to ready himself for this? Over a years' worth? Now, here it all was, coming to a pinnacle. The man waits for her to push back against him; to push him away, to go storming off and never speak to him again, because he knows that is what he deserves.

her breath nearly gets stuck in her throat, almost forgetting to breath for a moment, when she hears his voice. the familiarity of it all makes her want to cry. it's a reminder of home, of the place she longs for but cannot go back to. how long has it been? she's lost count. only fragments of memories exist, but even then all her happy memories are tainted with the reminder of what was to come. she can't block it out even if she tried. it's like an ink blot, slowly spreading and seeping through the layers even though she tries to clean it up but all it does is make things worse and before she knows it, everything is stained. the closest she's had are the traces from when she's roaming the sanctuary, actively trying to avoid reuven, quickly darting the other way when she hears the familiar voice grow louder in her direction.

maybe part of it was her fault, being far too stubborn to admit defeat and breaking the ice first. bite marks are on her tongue and crescent moons imprinted on the inside of her palms from holding back from what she wanted to say every time she had the chance to make things right again. she was her mother's daughter after all, the first born daughter of all things. holding her tongue was one of the things she had perfected by now for she had been an expert at it from a young age.

she's grateful that one of them doesn't have her mother's ability to withhold the silent treatment for what seems like eternity. it's maybe not how she would have planned it (though anu's not sure what she expected, perhaps an apology, if she could ever form the words to speak them into existence), but it's a start. "you know you don't have to," she paused, "pass through, i mean. i can't stop you from staying. that is if you want to."

it feels like they're in an uncharted territory, neither of them knowing how to navigate this chapter of their relationship. being someone that anu once knew so intimately to virtually a stranger again. she couldn't just pretend there wasn't history there, that he was a stranger whose laugh she could recognise anywhere. "i'm fine, good actually" her answer is curt, tone unnaturally too upbeat even for anu like she's trying to convince herself that everything's fine. out of all the people she could fool though, reuven was not one of them and even before he could get a word in, she sighed, nervous laugher following shortly after.

"i don't know why i just lied. it's almost like a natural instinct. i guess i'm fine physically but i don't know. there's nothing wrong, not really, and god, i feel so stupid even complaining because i know things could be so much worse and they have been before. but i'm just so tired sometimes. i miss home, i miss being able to go outside for a run without looking over my shoulder every 30 seconds, i miss not flinching or getting ready to attack every time i hear a suspicious noise." she's not sure where it came from or what triggered it but once she's started she can't stop. it's word vomit and god, she feels so much better now that it's all out. "i'm an awful, selfish person, i know. there's real problems out there and i'm complaining like some spoilt brat. you can tell me the truth, it's nothing that i've not thought of before." she's grown thicker skin since last time, she thinks she's more prepared to hear the harsh truth than she was before. the years that she'd spent trying to survive by herself had shown her things that she had been shielded away from, things that she had lied to herself about. anu's seen the worst thing she could imagine, there's very little that can hurt her now.

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[carewyncromwell]

Chiara 🤝 Carewyn

requested by @theguythatdraws

Just about everyone in school was worried when Carewyn Cromwell disappeared for a full twenty-four hours after Rowan Khanna’s murder. Considering that Rowan was Carewyn’s best friend, most were worried that the Slytherin Prefect had gotten hurt or worse. And sure enough, when she was found, she was a shadow of her former self -- malnourished, pale, and weak, with a mood so dark and hopeless that she’d been ready to die herself, rather than come up for air. It was only thanks to the ghost of Duncan Ashe finding her and coaxing her out of the closet she’d locked herself in at the top of the Astronomy Tower and into Bill and Charlie Weasley and Ben Copper’s open arms that she was still alive -- but it was still decided by her entire friend circle that she needed time to recover. Carewyn’s close friend Chiara Lobosca, in particular -- who’d taken over all responsibility of the Hospital Wing while Madame Pomfrey was petrified -- had insisted that Carewyn stay there under her supervision for a few weeks, before returning to class.

The first few days in the Hospital Wing, Carewyn had a lot of trouble eating anything. She would accept any food gratefully, but she was hard-pressed to actually eat much at all. Sometimes she’d take a few bites, put it aside “for later,” and then not touch it again. Rather than get frustrated, though, Chiara would patiently take the largely untouched food away, clean out the dishes, and then come back with a potion or two for Carewyn to take instead.

“Drink this,” said the Healer gently. “It’ll help.”

“What is it?” 

“It’s a potion to settle your stomach,” said Chiara. “I mixed it with apple juice and some chopped-up bananas, so that it’d taste a little better.”

Carewyn hesitated. “...Chiara, I’m okay...I don’t feel sick...”

“You may not feel sick, but you are,” Chiara said firmly. Her face remained patient and gentle, even despite her conviction. “...Carewyn, you nearly starved up there, in that closet. You have to build up your strength, and to do that, you need to eat. A potassium deficiency in particular could lead to breathing and heart problems.”

She brought both of her friend’s hands around the glass full of red potion, so as to coax her to hold it. 

“I understand if you can’t drink the whole thing at once,” said Chiara, “but I expect you to drink all of it. And I’m not leaving your side until you do.”

Carewyn’s eyes rested on the flat, reddish liquid inside the glass instead of on Chiara’s face. Chiara released Carewyn’s hands and settled herself down in the chair next to her bed to wait.

“I’m sorry, Chiara,” Carewyn said lowly.

“For what?”

“For causing you so much trouble. The full moon’s coming up, but all you can focus on is taking care of me -- ”

“That’s my choice, Carewyn,” Chiara’s voice had become very severe. 

“Yes,” Carewyn murmured, “but it wouldn’t be your choice, if I didn’t put you in that position in the first place. Make you worry.”

“I’m just glad I can still do something for you at all!” Chiara said, her soft voice betraying the slightest touch of edge. 

Her gray eyes grew darker. 

“...I did worry about you, Carewyn,” she said softly. “When you disappeared like that, without a word, after being quiet for so many days...I worried a lot.”

Carewyn was unable to meet Chiara’s eyes. Chiara moved to adjust her friend’s pillows. 

"Carewyn, you’re my friend. There’s been plenty of times you’ve dropped everything on your plate -- everything with your brother, and the Cursed Vaults, and R -- to be there for me, when I needed you. You helped me after what happened with Pippa, when Ben found out about Lupin -- you sneaked out of your dorm countless times, just to keep me company. You became an Animagus for me.”

Chiara reached out and took hold of Carewyn’s left hand still on the glass of potion. 

“Do you really think I don’t want to be there for you too?” she asked gently.

Carewyn closed her eyes. “No...but...”

She turned her head away, her brows knitting tightly over her eyes.

“...I don’t deserve it.”

Chiara's gray eyes welled up with empathy as she tilted her head to the side.

“I lied to you -- all of you,” Carewyn pressed on. “I tricked you and manipulated you -- shut you out and put on airs -- all in a stupid attempt to try to keep you safe. But...but I can’t keep you safe. I can’t keep anyone safe...not from them. And I should’ve known that, at the time.”

Chiara squeezed Carewyn’s hand in a sign of support. “We all make mistakes. And at least you know now. Learning better’s something we all have to do, now and again. It’s the only way you can start to make things right.”

Carewyn shook her head. “But what I did -- everything I did, I did because I was too proud to admit that I was scared. Scared of losing all of you -- scared of failing everyone...scared of being trapped in R’s web, just like Jacob was. I was so selfish, only thinking of myself...”

“You are the furthest thing from selfish, Carewyn,” Chiara reproached gently. “You were scared for our sake -- for our safety.”

“And what good did that do?” Carewyn said dejectedly. “All I did was let you all down, just like Rakepick did. Because of me, Rowan -- ”

She choked. Her friend’s name was like a vice grip around her throat, squeezing it so tight she was unable to say anything else. 

Chiara’s eyes grew sadder as she let go of Carewyn’s hand and, very gently, brought her arm up and over Carewyn’s shoulders so as to hold her in a sideways hug. Carewyn didn’t fight the embrace, but she kept her face turned away, almost unable to fully accept it. 

“I know it probably won’t matter how much I say it, or how much anyone else might say it,” Chiara whispered, “but what happened to Rowan was not your fault. None of this was your fault. Everything with R and Patricia Rakepick -- it’s not your fault, it’s theirs. They made those terrible choices to threaten people and hurt people -- not you. You did the best you could, trying to help your brother...to help all of us. I’d say you did better than most would’ve, in your shoes.”

Chiara brought her head down sideways onto Carewyn’s shoulder, beside her loosely flowing ginger hair. Carewyn opened her eyes at last, glancing at her friend with moisture rippling along her lower lids.

“I don’t know how you can be so forgiving, Chiara,” she said very quietly.

Chiara smiled gently. “I wondered the same thing, when I first told you that I was a werewolf.”

She adjusted her arm around Carewyn so she could again hug her sideways.

“I don’t care how much you might hate yourself or how unworthy of love you think you are. I know what that’s like...and I know I wouldn’t be the person I am today, if you didn’t help me through it. Now it’s my turn to help you. I’ve heard that’s what friends are supposed to do.”

The shine along the edge of Carewyn’s eyes rippled more brightly still as she smiled. Unable to speak, she instead weakly shifted in bed, her hand crawling up alongside Chiara’s side so that she could hold her back in return, burying her face in Chiara’s white-blond hair so as to obscure the emotion leaking through on her face. 

Thank you, Chiara. Thank you.

Chiara squeezed her in return, rocking her very gently as if she were a little kid. Then she pulled away, brushing some of Carewyn’s ginger hair out of her face with a brighter smile. 

“Don’t forget your potion,” Chiara reminded her. “You still need to drink it.”

Carewyn nodded. With a deep breath, she turned her focus back to the glass and then brought up to her mouth and took a sip. She only got through about a tenth of it before needing to take a respite -- but after taking a few breaths, she drank a little more. This repeated a few more times, before Carewyn finally managed to gulp the entire potion down.

Chiara beamed as she took away the glass. “Do you think you’ll be up to eating anything later? Jae brought by some ginger chicken soup for you earlier -- he said Pitts helped him make it...”

Carewyn smiled slightly. She knew full well Jae didn’t need Pitts’ help with anything in the kitchen. 

“That does sound good.”

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[usmsgutterson]

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities. 

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue. 

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise. 

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.” 

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry. 

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down. 

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it. 

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours. 

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.” 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.” 

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying. 

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.” 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed. 

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!” 

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky. 

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to. 

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive. 

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field. 

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish. 

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance. 

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable. 

O N E Y E A R L A T E R 

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world. 

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.” 

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.” 

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces. 

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya. 

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot. 

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover. 

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.” 

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?” 

“Certainly.”

[katsukikitten]

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, mentions of animal harm, sexual themes, god/fantasy au for BNHAREM this badboi is 8k so enjoy~

The sound of a wind chime echoes across the small field just outside your home. The breeze carries the smell of summer bloomed blossoms and with it the threat of rain as it comes from down the mountain. 

A soft brown creature catches your eye as your mother picks flowers and berries for the festival. 

“Bunbun!” You exclaim, pointing as you tug on your mother’s tattered kimono, she responds with a soft hmm. Her eyes still focused on the wide range of flowers although her vision blurs. 

But at least you weren’t picked for this festival, no it would be many years before you would be in the running. Your mother’s only wish was for you to be unfavorable. Mother is so engrossed that she does not see you slip away, slowly following the bunny into the forest. 

Soon the soft brown creature begins to hop, faster and faster as you giggle running full speed ahead. Not noticing how the trees thicken or how dark eyes seem to peer through the trees, their mawls salivating with unsated hunger. With gnashing teeth they stalk ever closer all the while you rush to catch the creature just for it to jump high into the air. Nose diving straight for the ground, you copy its actions but the bunny is faster than you. Slipping into the burrow with ease as you fall face first into dirt and rocks. 

“O..ow. Momma!” You sniffle, turning around for some much needed motherly love, but instead of your mother hunched over collecting boring things in her basket you are met with a dense forest. The setting sun washes over the trees giving the thick pines and maples a ghoulish red hue.  Suddenly you are hyper aware of the sounds around you, a stick snaps in the brush. Your head turns as if you were a startled deer, eyes wide, heart racing as you strain to hear over the rushing blood in your ears. Dark figures move in the long shadows and haunting laughs echo around you. Beady eyes shine in the darkness causing a small whimper to leave your lips. Acting on instinct you rush to your feet, running through the woods. Briers snatch at your small ankles, leaving angry red lines in their wake, wanting nothing more than to make you a child of the forest.

“MOOOM!” You shout, panting as they force you further into the mountain, you take a quick left when one jumps from the right causing you to trip over a branch falling into a small clearing, faintly you hear the rush of a spring.

Scuffling rouses a sleepy garnet haired man who lounges in a steaming hot spring, that’s sprinkled with fallen petals of mountain flowers. He thinks to dismiss it until a scream cuts through the serenity of the pines. Whatever animal it is, it sounds small and this stirs something in the mountainous man. Sadly this was the circle of life, he reminds himself as he sinks deeper into the burning hot spring. 

“MOMMA HELP PWEESE!!” You scream, trying to get up but this time you are entangled in a briar patch, thorn and vine twisting around your tender skin. It seems the wicked green plant will have its wish. 

All the while the shadows stalk closer, their bright beady eyes blown wide as their jaws unhinge for their meal. They get on their haunches to launch themselves at you until something causes them to freeze. The trees shake around you while the Earth rumbles as if there were a thunder storm beneath the rich dirt. 

“Hello little flower. Are you lost?” You whip your head towards the sound. Lip quivering as you stare up at a tall, built man. But it was his eyes that stood out the most. 

His glistening rubies glow as fading sunlight catches his hair, emphasizing that the strands are a red so deep one could mistake it as black. Your eyes play tricks on you as the air seems charged and yet calm, giving him a surreal aura. He stands tall, half relaxed as one arm is lazily hanging from his dark rose kimono while the rest of his sculpted body is exposed to the slowly cooling air. You weigh your options as best you can before you scramble to your savior. Clinging to his leg as your tears begin to stain his kimono. 

He breathes in deeply and before he can speak the dark figures vanish, melting into the shadows that stretch in the last winking light of the Sun. He crouches down to you, pushing hair past your face. 

“Don’t cry little flower. Here.” A beautiful flower crown appears in his hands. The  white petals with contrasting amethyst stripes down the center seem to have their own shimmering bio-luminescence making it feel other worldly as he places it atop your head. He chooses the dietes flower for its symbolism and rarity, unknowingly sealing your fate. 

“Is that better, little one?” You nod in response, sniffling softly as he scoops you up walking you until he can just see what must be your home through the thick trees. He watches what he assumes your mother to panic, as the village shouts what must be your name. 

“You’ll have to walk the rest of the way okay little flower?” He sets you down gently before you give a big nod. Cold bare feet crunching the leaves against the forest floor. 

You come into the clearing of your home, the sea of yellows, pinks and reds winking in the stark light of the moon. 

“Momma…” You call softly, the world stops turning on its axis before she rushes to you, pulling you into her arms before her eyes are filled with overflowing fear. Fat droplets leave her long lashes as she snatches the crown away, but it is too late. It has been seen by all. 

“Oh she is favored by the Gods.” Someone comments. 

“If she grows into anything like her mother she will be the best choice to appease the Mountain God!" 

"Let us mark this day and the family name so we may remember 16 years from now." 

They continue to gossip as your mother squeezes you tight enough that it hurts. Her mind racing as she carries you inside, she tucks you in without a word of a scolding. Coaxing you to drink some lavender tea that pulls you into a deep sleep beneath the symphony of crickets and the like.

You do not hear your mother return and if you do, you guess she is doing her nightly routine. Fluffing your blankets and making sure your futon is warm enough but what you weren’t expecting was the cold bite of a blade pressing into the flesh above your left eyebrow.  

"Mom…Momma’s sorry baby.” She chokes on her sobs as she pulls the cool metal hard and deep, crying so loud she can barely hear your scream.  

But that was how long ago? Almost two decades? You toss a rock into your reflection, distorting your marred face as your childhood flashes before your eyes. 

You remember there was shouting, lots of shouting of how you are now “unfavorable” “dishonorable” “an abomination” the next day and from then it’s a blur of insults and isolation. Nothing but the wind in your hair, the creaking of the trees and a dream of glistening rubies kept you alive, desperate to return to the last time you were happy. Although you were unsure of who you saw in the mountain that fated night, a part of you could guess. It had to be the Spirit of the Mountain, Kirishima. Because who else actually looked like the painted scrolls that littered the village and shrines? In your opinion they had his image all wrong. 

He does not scowl or wear a grimace, no his smile is sharp toothed and bright. You sigh, wondering if you will ever bump into him again. 

An inhuman scream tears through the serenity of the babbling brook causing a chill to run through your spine. If you had to guess it was most likely a fox or wolf finally catching up to its meal. 

“They must eat too…” You murmur to yourself, drawing your knees to your chest. The wind rustles the leaves overhead giving you sharp visions of beady black eyes from the past. 

“Don’t let it get away!” A shout from your left before the animal comes scurrying through the brush, running smack into your lap. It is a small fox, its tail missing and in its wake a crude weeping cut. Your vision blurs red as you take off your top layer of kimono, wrapping the poor thing in the brown fabric. 

The culprits come into view, the village elder’s son holds the tail while his favorite goon holds the knife. Red falls to the Earth in nauseating droplets. 

“Well well well, looks like we found something else we can carve up huh?” The goon asks with a smile, “Just keep quiet freak." 

The elder’s son is hesitant, something odd grows in his eyes and chest. Suddenly the tail feels a lot heavier than what it was moments ago, especially so under the weight of your single gaze. Your left eye although clouded over seems to stare straight into his soul. Can you see the desperation he has? Worst yet can you see how tainted he is? 

"Oi Kenji” The goon nudges him, clearly only hanging around the future heir for his influence and with it a hope of immunity to terrorize as he pleases. 

The motion brings him back to the present while a plan begins to form in his head. Would anyone believe the dishonorable, disowned freak over him? Could he do things to you that no matter how loud you screamed the truth it would fall on deaf ears? 

His cruel smile is an answer in of itself as he takes a step towards you, it wouldn’t be hard to make you his. You take a step back, mindful of the sun’s position and your surroundings. They both creep nearer as you hold the shaking animal to you, you turn on your heel rushing through the woods. They were fast and well trained however no one knew these woods like you did. 

It was as if you knew of every fallen leaf or broken branch as you rushed through the deep green leaves. Dodging low branches that they hit face first, holes they tripped in and even a dead deer carcass that you bound in a single leap. You hear a crash and one of them gag as your feet urge you forward, looking over your shoulder. 

That is until your run into something so solid you fall right onto your ass, the small animal gives a whimper on your lap. 

“I could have sworn…” The sound of rushing water swallows up the rest of your thought as you look up to what you’ve run into. Wholly expecting a tree stood a man, with deep garnet hair and a sharp toothed smile. Immediately your blood turns cold, the air about him seeming other worldly as the forest quiets and slows in his presence. 

“Ah, are you alright?” He asks, extending his hand to you, gingerly you take it. His calloused hand is warm and strong as he lifts you to your feet, ruby eyes staring at the bundle in your hand.

“May I?” Hesitantly you pass the bundle, he frowns at its contents before setting the small fox on the ground, waving his fingers to heal its wound. The fox looks at the healer, seemingly giving him a small bow before rushing back into the safety of the brush. 

“The fox told me what you did. Thank you.” His smile is blinding and dazzling. He offers you a single white flower, the amethyst stripe up the middle causes your stomach to tighten.

“Do you always give out good fortune?” You ask quietly, turning the wild iris over in your hand. He laughs, if he recognizes you he does not show it but you are sure this is the man who gave you an abundance of “good fortune” years ago. Your scar burns from the thought. Your mother did tell you stories of the Gods playing cruel jokes. 

But was Kirishima truly a maleficent God? 

You bit your lower lip. A warm hand cups your chin, a soft smile on his face as he turns your left side to you. 

“Do I know you dear heart?” His voice is soft, eyes half mast almost lazily gazing upon your features. You tuck the iris in your ear and it seems to jog his memory. 

“Little flower!” His voice becomes larger, sharper, as his thumb swipes over the deep fissure on your cheek “What happened?!" 

His touch is comforting but not enough you wish to relive the trauma again. 

"I wish not to speak about it.” Your eyes catch the position of the sun. Gently you step from his soft grip.

“I must return home for dinner before I cause my mother to worry.” You bow formally, presenting the flower “Thank you Kamisama but I cannot accept your blessing." 

You stand like that long enough your back begins to hurt causing a deep fear to flow through your veins.

Was he angry that you dared to reject him? 

Your feet burn with the urge to run but you dismiss it, finally his large fingers grasps at the small stem holding the rarity in his hands. Eyes roving over you, you peek up to check his gaze and while he looks level headed to you, you decide to leave before you find out if he isn’t. 

He stares after you, eyes curious and yet not surprised as to how he could have forgotten about someone as remarkable as you. 

But how could he remember? 

You are nothing more than a mere mortal and you were a child at that. A blip, a hazy day dream even, in his infinite lifetime. 

So what interest would he have in a life so fleeting that should he rouse from a nap he would be meeting your great grandchildren who could remember nothing more about you than your name? 

And yet when he looked at you now, as a full grown woman, something bloomed in his chest. Your scar adding to your mystic beauty, especially after what the fox had told him.  

His ruby eyes return to the flower as he ponders over your question in his head. 

A week or so passes, as you’re sure to avoid the Mountain God. Still fearing he may be angered by your rejection. 

But you cannot stay from the depths of the forest long. Staring down at your reflection in the water you sigh, running your hand through the cool water debating if you will bathe in one of the many hot springs tonight. A scurrying in the bush pulls your attention to the here and now. Muscles rigid as you worry it will be an encounter with the heir and his goon, shimmering orange rushes from the brush easing your mind. 

"Ah hello friend!” You call and the fox stops in its tracks, task or hunt at hand long forgotten, “Did His healing power work?" 

You cannot help the glee in your voice as you see your friendly fox sit near your feet, it swishes its tail and just like that another seems to appear. Wagging like an opposing pendulum beside the other. 

"You have two tails now, oh” You give a sly smile, “Are you here to steal my liver?" 

The kitsune chuckles at your joke, his little laugh echoing in the clearing. The haunting sound brings an odd comfort to you as he tilts his head as if someone is whispering to him. He gives a small nod before approaching, setting something in your lap that his black lips were not holding before. 

A note of sorts and the flower he attempted to offer you earlier. The note reads in glowing golden red hue,

"Let’s start over again. Tea by the blue moon wild flowers at midnight.”

You sigh deeply, placing the card and flower deep in your tattered kimono with the thought of not showing up.  Why would a God want tea with you? You who wears a scarred face and milky white eye. You give the kitsune a soft pat before standing, brushing the dirt from your deep brown kimono. 

You spend the rest of the day as you told your mother you would, picking flowers to both practice arranging and drying for the upcoming festival. There were only a few weeks left and you had done zero practicing as you has promised. Your mother claimed this would help earn your keep with the village but you were sure that was more for her peace of mind than the truth. 

With your basket heavy with the finest of flowers you head towards home, careful to avoid the path you last saw the God on.

And anytime you had thought you caught wind of his intoxicating smell of soft musk, pine and the biting threat of snow you turned on your heel as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, ignoring the gemstone gaze that bore into your back. 

After a small dinner with your mother and hours of twisting flower streams to make crowns of, you finally get the chance to lie down to sleep. 

But sleep doesn’t come, instead you’re wide awake as the moon leaks in the through the small cracks in the walls. Dust dancing on the low light as you sigh as if you were in love. 

Deep, unsatisfied and often. 

The invitation burns in the folds of your kimono and suddenly you are filled with action. Gently you rise, fumbling with your hair as best you can before you mumble curses to yourself. Placing a practice crown on your head and rouging your lips with the remnants of berries before you set out into the darkness. 

Your feet seem to guide you on your own as you weave through the trees. Fireflies lazily floating in the air as crickets scream their symphonies at your feet. Finally you come across the mostly hidden spot.

Hesitantly you step into the clearing, blue moon flowers glitter in the light of the quarter moon as if sprinkled with stardust. Their silver sheen invites you in further as a wind sweeps through the patch. Your eyes rove over as you look for the Mountain God. When your search comes up empty you feel your heart free fall into your stomach. Heated foolishness creeps into your throat and cheeks. 

Why would a God invite a mortal? 

Blinking away hurt tears you turn briskly, stopping yourself from running from the clearing incase he is watching for the sake of his cruel joke. 

That is until a deep voice rings out, vibrating the very bones in your body with a comforting hum.

“Little flower, Are we not having tea?” His tone is innocent and when you turn around with half a mind to fuss you see it. A beautiful hand woven rug that holds a low tea table, atop the dark wood sits finary. Foods, desserts and tea ware that would make the emperor jade green with envy. 

“This is…” You whisper but he reaches his hand towards you, gently guiding you to a plush cushion, his strong hand wrapped steadfast around yours. He waits until you are seated comfortably before he sits close to you. 

Almost too close, his shoulder could easily brush against yours in movement and it does as it takes you an eon to realize what exactly he is doing. 

Preparing the tea. Immediately your stomach flips as shaking hands fumble to stop him, grabbing onto his large hands with a fervor unmatched. A quizzical look before a sly smirk paints his handsome features. 

“A..a..a God should not be serving a m..mortal tea.” You trip over your words feeling self conscious as your palms feel is if they are sweating. Shame radiates through your chest as if a hot rod were shoved through your heart. 

“Then let us not be a God and a mortal.” He smiles, lips curving upward gently as his shining teeth glint in the low light. You should be scared, frightened that you may have insulted him or worse yet earned the infamous Wrath of the Mountain God. 

But you aren’t, if anything you’re on the complete opposite of the spectrum as the breeze shifts his scent closer to you. The forest alive at night, the sharp smell of snow mingling with the gentle fragrance of bloomed flowers. 

Suddenly you feel dizzy and his next words do not help. 

“Let us be more.” Again you feel the comforting hum in your chest, you decide now is a good time to let go of his hands. 

He sets the tea before you, again you are faced with a pitiful reflection. You blow on the green liquid disrupting the steam and with it your image. It is quiet save the sounds of late night summer although it is not uncomfortable silence that passes over the hours between the two of you. It is easy as the two of you sip your tea and for a moment you think you’ve forgotten the sin you’re committing by forgetting who he really is. Occasionally the two of you would share a laugh, his shoulder brushing against yours before he comes closer, close enough your forearms touch as they rest against the table. His skin feels warm and smooth like a rock baking in the sun, his smile dazzling as his face seems to get closer. His finger hooks into your palm, lazily tracing the lines as if they were an old and familiar map. 

“Why do you love the mountain forest so much?” His voice is so close you feel breath fan your cheek. Butterflies take rapid flight in your stomach. 

Was it that obvious? I guess it would be with how much of your life you spent within these thick trees. 

“There is so much to love in this place of solace. Every new clearing brings something of wonder. A waterfall, a field of flowers, a hot spring to soak your aching bones. Even just a small fawn grazing on the seeds the trees and flowers offer is more beauty than I can imagine." 

His fingers stop, leaving an odd tingling sensation causing your nerves to stand on edge. Attempting to reach towards the soft touch once more. Kirishima looks to the moon and how it begins to set. 

"Another day little flower.” He whispers, voice honeyed yet sharp as you find yourself standing on the edge of the woods, staring at your small home. You turn in a full circle and see no sign of the God causing your heart to grow heavy. Gripping at your chest as you make your way back towards your home, you thought maybe he didn’t like your answer. Maybe he read your honesty as a poor attempt of flattery. 

What you don’t know is that he liked your answer a little too much.  

It isn’t long before you find yourself in the same patch of flowers at a questionable hour sitting beside Kamisama himself. You swallow thickly, nails biting into your palm as again he pours your tea. 

Is this right? Would your mother approve?

You were sure she wouldn’t, and not from your lack of manners but seeing the very man she so feared and having tea with him nonetheless.

“Something troubling you my blossom?” Flustered over his familiarity you stammer out a response.

“Just…just thinking.” You offer a shy smile as he returns a wolfish grin, you do not know that he can hear just how fast your heart is beating. 

“Hmmm.” The hum rumbles in your own chest and large bottle flies take flight in your stomach. He brushes some hair out of your face so he can better see it. He smiles softly. 

“I’ve been curious about why you are collecting so many flowers lately.” Rigid beneath his touch you fear you have angered him but it won’t be long before you realize just how infatuated he is with you. 

“A festival for you Kirishima, Kamisama of the Mountain.” He lets his fingers play and twist in your hair. You try not to look away. 

“You’ll be the guest of honor then?” His fingers brush down your heated cheeks. 

Despite the intimacy of both his touch and proximity you give a loud laugh. Eyes looking at a blurred green version of yourself in your cup. 

“No, I’m sure I could never be favored.” At least not by the villagers. 

But you seemed to be favored by the Gods. You swallow thickly, of all the talk and importance of the festivals your mother never let you attend, so you are unsure what happens. 

While you’re left home alone you could hear the loud beats of the drum, their feet hitting against the stone of the square and their joyous singing. 

Sometimes you think you hear a scream. 

But you cannot reflect on it long as a pair of soft lips press against your cheek. Then when you do not move they graze along your jawline before finding their way to your pulse. You give a small gasp and when he gives a small suck you a raspy moan.  He growls against your throat, a sudden heat grows between your legs and you swallow desire whole. 

He feels how tense you have become and eases up from your throat. Guiding you by your chin so you may face him before he steals away your first kiss. 

Not that you would have given it to anyone else. 

The next month is a game of cat and mouse. Both of you eagerly seeking the other out, yet making it seem as if it were a mere accidently. All the while a now three tailed fox smiles knowingly.  It’s a blur of tea, mountain top views over valleys, and deep passionate kissing. 

But this last encounter truly was by pure chance for both parties. 

The pungent smell of sulfur tickles your nose, although this is the least offending spring. Its water a lovely milky blue that you’ve decorated with a few left over flowers heads. You sigh as you sink deeper into the borderline scalding water being sure to soak your aching hands and feet. 

You’re thankful that the rushing water settles here in this cluster of rocks despite the small current that carries it away just a few feet down. A sigh leaves your body, eyes lingering to the light of the full moon before they flutter close. Your guard completely down as you know no one is going to be wandering around these woods. 

It is the night of the festival after all. 

And no one was sure as hell gonna be out looking for you.  

Not even Kamisama as you were sure he would oversee the festival, it was held in his name was it not? 

Sleep threatens to pull you beneath its veil so much so you do not hear the footsteps that approach.  

He steps closer to the spot of his favorite spring and when he sees your head titling back onto the rocks, a fine blush blooms on his cheeks. 

“My little hana?” His voice is soft yet concerned, startling you. The water splashes around as you turn to face him. 

If you were flustered before you’re beyond that now. He has his back to you as he gives your privacy, face slightly turned but his eyes are not overlooking his shoulder. Your eyes widen as they take in His beauty. His hair tied up in a messy bun, winking blacks and deep reds beneath the moonlight. His broad shoulders exposed, eyes trailing down his sculpted back to see his bare buttocks. Strong, thick legs holding up this God of a man.  

Well he was a God wasn’t he? 

“Are you alright, lovely blossom? I didn’t know you’d be here I can come ba…" 

"No. No no!” You interrupt, “I…" 

It’s silent for a moment, lust moves your lips. 

"I wouldn’t mind the company.” Your voice is barely heard over the swirling, rushing water. 

But the smirk on his soft lips tells you that he had heard you.  And he will never forget the invitation. 

He turns to join you, your eyes following down the trail of his abs to his pointed V, you do not allow your eyes to travel further south and force them to his face. His glowing eyes bright, two shining rubies lighting up the night. He sinks into the water across from you, letting his arms spread and rest on the rocks. 

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sinking into the water as you realize just how exposed you are.  The weight of his gaze is doing something to you. 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, the heat of the spring makes you a bit dizzy and you’re beginning to wonder if it is his merlot eyes that have you on cloud nine. 

That have you so bold. Bold enough you float yourself beside him, right into the crook of his arm. He gently slides it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“How was your day my sweet?” His voice is soothing but you’d rather not recount your day or the number of flowers you set just right. 

“Boring. Yours Kirishima?” He smiles as you use his name.

“Same.” He places a chaste kiss to your damp hair line. It leaves you wanting more. 

“A..again please?” He goes to kiss your forehead again but you tilt your face upward. He smiles, putting his hand at the nape of your neck. Leaning in impossibly slow holding your gaze. His look makes you impossibly higher and then his kisses your lips.

It is soft, it is slow, but each movement of his lips become more feverish, more bold. Like a cracked dam after a rain far too heavy, it is going to burst. 

And it does. 

Your mouth openes to him and he slides his tongue between your teeth, swirling and tasting your earthly, mortal form. You moan into the kiss, giving him more entrance, your hands clawing at his hair, his back while his hands follow your curves. Running up and down your sides, pinching at your nipples turning you into putty in his hands.  You do not resist, you would never deny him and you’re sure he would never take. 

He does nothing more than light exploring, commiting your skin to memory. You let out another moan, this one louder than before enticing his primal needs. As his tongue slides over yours his hand snakes to your lower back, pulling you into his lap.  

You feel his harden asset resting close to your throbbing sex. 

Would…would it be okay to bed a God? For a mortal to be touched by hands that can create and destroy in a matter of nanoseconds? 

Suddenly you feel too hot, too flustered, too high as the world spins rapidly on its axis. You push back, gasping for air and immediately his lust is replaced with concern. He sees tears forming in your eyes, signs of some internal battle. 

It reminds him of when he pours you a cup of tea but tenfold. He looks up at you, one hand traces down your spine before his other wipes away your tears. 

“Blossom for me when you’re ready not when I want you, my little flower.” His voice is soft, reassuring, causing you to cry more. His fingers gently trace your scar, follow your spine, and continue to wipe away your tears when needed. 

You nod helplessly, removing yourself from his irresistible lap, he pulls you to cuddle. A soft kiss to your hairline. The moon begins to climb higher in the sky and although your mother will not be home for some time, you still need to beat her home. Maybe he can read minds as he says. 

“Let’s meet later tonight? Our usual time after your mother has returned home?” You nod against his chest, slowly stand. He supports your weight as he holds onto your hand as you ease out of the comforting water. 

You look for your brown kimono but with every second you cannot find it panic seizes your bones. 

“M…my kimono. I…I can’t find it!” You realize you may have misplaced it or worse yet placed it too close to the water. 

Oh Kami did it get washed away? 

“Flower, love. It is fine. I can help.” He snaps his fingers and you’re adorning the most stunning kimono you’ve ever seen. More so than what any painting of any God and Goddess meeting you’ve ever seen.  You twirl in the ombre kimono. It starts out black, like a moonless night at the top before lightening until it is put glowing starlight at your ankles. 

“Its gorgeous. But it is too much." 

"Nothing is too much for you.” He stands, a kimono appears on his body as well, ombre again, black at his shoulders until it is blood red at his ankles. The bottom reminds you of the first time you had seen him when you were little. When he saved your life, a halo of setting sun emphasizing his status. 

“We will meet again?"  You nod and he cannot bring himself to say he is going to the annual meeting of the Gods because if he did, with you wearing this star woven kimono, he would whisk you away with him. 

"Until we meet again." 

With the sound of the window fluttering through the trees you find yourself on the fringes of the woods, just outside your home. 

Gingerly you step into the field of flowers, slowly walking towards your house as you relive the time you most felt alive. 

His lips, his hands, his body pressed against yours.

So caught up in your daydream, in your promise of later tonight, you do not see the eyes lying in wait. 

Those prying eyes take note of your kimono and how it shimmers and shines with an otherworldly glow as you slip into your home. 

It isn’t long before you hear a string of screaming and see a set of lights coming your way, close enough you can make out silhouettes and what the woman is screaming.

"SHE IS UNFAVORED! LOOK AT HER SCAR SHE IS TAINTED BEAUTY!” You realize quickly that is the wails of your mother. 

Frantically you try to strip yourself of your kimono but a large hand strips away the door. Your faces are illuminated from the soft glow by your ankles making it clear to see a set of hard steely eyes with hurt but never regret as they should. 

“Just like I said. A blessed kimono.” Kenji’s voice is as hard as his eyes as his father peers in, he smiles with delight.

“We are surely saved from the drought now. Kenji bring her to the festival." 

"No.” Your voice is small, a foreboding dread feeds your panic as your mother cries, restrained by Kenji’s goons. You step back but he lunges for you, squeezing you so tightly you cannot breath. 

The walk to the center seems like ages as you kick and scream, crying out for Kirishima. 

“Yes call for our God. He will be happy to receive his gift, time is running out.” The elder speaks. You elbow Kenji square in the face, everyone panics as you begin to run. Kenji catches you again.  The moon hands high over head, perfectly in the middle of the sky. 

“There is no time left. Let’s do it now!” Kenji’s goon from before shouts, sending the crowd into a boisterous agreement. 

Kenji withdraws his knife, both of your struggling for power. He leans in close, nose touching yours as the smell of copper and ash cling to his skin. 

“You should have just stayed in your place ugly. Should’ve let me have my way.” He slices at you and for a second time a blade marrs your skin. 

He is supposed to make this quick for you, one quick motion against your throat. Instead he lets the blade sink deeper, carve harder until his is splatter in your life’s nectar. Only you and your mother cry out. The rest of them pray and sing. 

Kenji picks you up and tosses you into the brush of the woods. 

“Have her now Kamisama and bless us with rain!” He speaks as if he is the current elder. Grey eyes cold as they look down at you.  They retreat to their usual planned activities, dragging your lost mother with them to drink to their heart’s content. To make her watch what an honor it was for her child to have been chosen. 

It hurts, Kami it hurts as you drag yourself through the woods. Briars tangle around your quickly growing limp limbs as you pull yourself deeper. 

“Kiri…Kirishima!” Your once loud screams turn into hardly more than whispers. But that shouldn’t matter. He should still hear you shouldn’t he? 

Was this not his domain? He can hear every rustling leaf, every snap of a twig, surely he could hear the pained cries of his lover.

No, no you shouldn’t call yourself that, you were not his lover, you were just favored by him. 

And isn’t that always what you wanted? To be desired? Loved? 

This was a festival for Kirishima himself so why did you think any different? 

And why do you still call out his name? 

Your vision blurs in purplish blues and blacks as you fade in and out, a soft sweet scent is tainted with stinging copper. You cough and more dark liquid sputters from your lips. 

It reminds you of his eyes. 

Kitsune comes into the clearing helping frantically. But you smile as you notice his fourth tail. 

“At least I will not die alone…” You breathe as the fox attempts to lick at your wounds, “Why, why is he so cruel?" 

Fat tears fall down your cheeks and the fox panics further. He opens his mouth, his voice comes out gravely and close to a growl without the animosity.

"Master does not know of this, master would never allow this!” He laps at your blood in a desperate attempt to heal you with what little grace he has been bestowed. 

But it doesn’t matter as your world fades to black. 

Kirishima steps through the portal near the top of the mountain to be met with a horrid sight, not realizing it could be worse than that. Kitsune’s normal Auburn fur is tainted a sticky black substance, Kirishima gets a closer look causing his blood to run cold. 

He appears in the field of flowers, following the trail you left as a wispy form of you stands through your drained body. 

“No.” Quiet before deafening loud, birds and animals flee away from him, “NO!" 

The shades circle the clearing, too afraid to enter but too hungry to leave. 

Kirishima shakily grabs onto your glowing hands, tears fall down your cheeks. 

"I…I…” Tears prick his eyes, rage washes over his features, “Who?" 

Your spirit cannot speak as you are still tethered to your fast cooling body. He follows the direction of your eyes, music and laughing become louder further angering him. A thought occurs to him, he reaches for the small golden chain that is at your spiritual ankle connecting you to your real body, he could keep you here, he could….but before he can break your life’s chain a mist of black appears. 

"You know you cannot do that.” From within the mist comes a man with the head of a raven or a tengu, Kirishima is not sure. All he knows is that he loathes to see Death come too close to the things he loves. 

“But.." 

"Look around you Kirishima-kun. You’ve tried countless times to keep mortals before and what becomes of them? Shades, unwavering, thoughtless hungry shades as I’ve told you. Their spirits are so far corrupted they could never return to the cycle.” Death speaks the truth but it does not stop the anguish that sweeps through his body. 

He cannot allow it just yet. He watches as your golden chain is unhooked, you walk backwards, keeping your eyes on your God as Death guides you. 

“Until we meet again.” It is a whisper on the wind, a rustle in the leaves, a huff of a nearby fawn and babbling of the hot spring. He nods, eyes glued to you as you fade away into the black mist. 

He breathes deeply as he picks you up, cradling your cold body to his hard chest. He walks gingerly with you as if he feared he would wake you, he only had on destination in mind. It does not take long before he is walking towards the center of the small town, houses darkened as the square is full of life. The smell of wine and food waft the cool air. 

This only fuels his intentions. 

He stands on the fringe of the crowd and it only takes a blink or two before the roaring party dies to deafening silence. People falling to their knees, their foreheads pressed into the bloodied bricks. 

“K..Kamisama Kirishima, had we known you would grace…" 

"SILENCE!” His voice shakes the very foundations of the homes, the shingles clinking in the wind. The trees quiver in his presence as the Earth seems to roar beneath his feet. His eyes are hard and dark like raw diamonds as he looks over their merriment shredding them with his gaze alone. The moon above suddenly glows red as if washed over with your blood, illuminating him in an ominous tone. The hue paints the village in eerie light as it fully bares witness to the wrath of the mountain God.  

“Is this how you honor me?” A rhetorical question as he wonders how long this had been going on, the shades most likely and happily, eating the remains before Kirishima could have ever found out. He shakes, unable to reign in his rage. 

“Look at her.” Three words, three words has well over fifty people shivering. Eyes barely coming up to look at the limp woman in his hands, skin already graying. Both eyes now clouded over and lips stained a peculiar red. Their eyes shift to the God they worship, the one they had been giving their most beautiful women too. 

He holds eye contact with each and every one of them for a moment, staring into their black souls with a malice that could maim. He spies your mother, his lip snarls as he thinks of your scar. 

He begins to wonder if this is why she had done it. He finds the elder, the one who wears the fine kimono. One of the few garments that is not tattered, dirtied or sullied red. He grinds his teeth. 

“May you never forget this moment in all of your reincarnations. May you never forget her face and may you always feel an inkling of what I’ve felt.” The people weep, not for their own lives but from the feeling of the God’s heart overflowing in them despite him never shedding a tear. They do not ask forgiveness. 

They cannot ask for forgiveness. Just as he sealed your fate all those years ago, he is sealing theirs now. With a stomp of his foot the Earth rumbles, slowly opening up into a jagged mawl. People scream as they reach for one another, grasping onto nothing. Only your mother waits for death silently. Her own tears streaming down her face as she etches into her last moments the sight of her failure. Of you taken from the world too soon. 

The village is swallowed whole and now that it is over, he is still unhappy. The void in his cheat is far deeper than the Earthy chasm before him. He cries out in anguish pulling you impossibly closer. A fissure runs through the ground, deep and fast through the next village and the one after that.

In a loud puff of smoke a man appears beside the mountain God, he pulls down his black hood and his hair shines gold in the moonlight. His eyes like molten lava gleam with destructive glee. The Earth threatens to crumble beneath the new God’s feet, the dark chasm glows a bright hot red in his presence. 

“No one ever strikes your ire.” His voice is dark yet excited, “And never enough to summon me. Need some pointers from the God of Destruction himself shitty hair?”

“Bakugou, I…” The mountainous man’s voice cracks, causing his friend’s brow to furrow. Bakugou takes in the sight of you withered in hands through ghastly means. Of the decimation and the level of it. Reaching over to another village and possibly the next two. This level of destruction would get the Mountain God into a lot of trouble but it was evident he did not care. Bakugou gives his back to the sight and finally speaks, lying a warm hand on his friend’s broad shoulder.

“If anyone asks, I destroyed the villages.” Molten eyes watch tears fall onto you and the ground beneath his friend’s feet. The golden haired man sighs, gently taking you from the arms of his friend who tries to desperately hold on to what is left of you. 

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” A rare comfort from his companion, he takes your small frame and turns. He is going to gently lie you in the cooling Earth. A destruction God destroys in order for something new to be created. He plans to give his only friend a blessed grave for you so he can visit until, what Bakugou hopes but heavily doubts, Kirishima forgets. 

“W..wait. wait. She needs…” His voice shatters as with shaking fingers he creates the very thing he had intended for you to have. Good fortune in the shape of deities or wild irises, circling one another to be a stunning crown. Instead of white they glow gold as he sets it atop your crown. Kirishima squeezes your limp hand a final time before letting you go. Bakugou breathes deeply as he works, pulling the ground back together with sheer force as the lava recedes. He does so until the two shelves barely meet, a rich bed of soil lies before his feet. Gently he lies you in the bed of dirt. 

“Ashes to ashes.” Your body ignites from within, glowing in a golden flame until there is nothing left but dust on the wind and the golden flower crown. Bakugou pulls the dirt over your remains.

Kirishima falls to his knees, pressing his hand into the Earth, fearful he will forget a mortal like you, a mere blip in his infinite lifetime. The ground beneath him bursts and blooms in great color. All deep reds, golden yellows and blinding whites for miles. 

“I will always love you my little flower." 

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The summer breeze feels warm as it rouses the scent of rain and the sound of chimes. You close your eyes and day dream of something long forgotten, of stories retold from an old book of legend you never read. Nervousness thrums through your veins as you stand beside your ash blonde friend, patiently waiting for the third party to arrive. The impatient man growls beside you as he spots someone he recognizes behind you. 

"Oi shitty hair hurry up! Iris and I have been waiting here all damn morning!” Bakugou shouts, using your hero name. You turn to see your new patrol partner for future missions. The sun illuminates behind him, almost giving him a heavenly glow and you realize that there is something odd about the man who approaches you. His long flowing garnet hair is unruly in the wind, shining a red so deep in hue you first mistake it for black. His smile is sharp toothed and easy, causing a swarm of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. With your heart hammering out of your chest you cannot shake the feeling that something seems off about him. It is both other worldly and familiar, you feel as if his name sits on the tip of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as his glowing ruby eyes drink you in.  He sees a faint mark traveling through your left eye as if it were a fading scar, maybe it was something you could not shake from a past long forgotten. His heart hammers in his chest as he speaks, your reaction to his next words will tell him what he needs to know. 

“Hello my little flower, it seems we meet again.”

[pastelsandpining]

Whumptober Day 1

all trussed up and still nowhere to go

“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2 

warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation

____________________

Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.

But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?

Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.

The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.

It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.

So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of. 

And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.

For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours. 

Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.

Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.

He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick. 

A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily. 

But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.

“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”

Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain. 

“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”

Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.

“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”

She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.

There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.

He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.

He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.

But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.

“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”

His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat. 

“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”

Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.

Calamity Ganon was obeying her.

____________________

masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

[thatsgay-writes]

Catra x twin!sister reader where reader travels in alot of planets to find her sister and when she landed on etheria she explored the whispering woods and found melog, with their help she found glimmer and she led her to her castle and she finally met her sister. Catra wasn't pleased about it thinking that her family abounded her she just pushes reader away and goes to her room. Reader stays and went to deal with catra. They talked (mostly arguing) and in the end catra and reader hugs and they became very dear friends.

(I'm basically making you a nicer version of Catra with super girl powers (which you don't use in the story) and Lena Luthor as your wife because why not. I am also putting everyone in their early to late 20s... I also forgot to add Melog :( sorry.)

"Space log, day... 2000?" You mumble as you speak into the recorder on your ship. "It's been... 4 years since my son was born. 8 years since my people finally fully integrated with the civilization of our sister planet. 10 years since I renounced my royal title. 12 years since I met the love of my life. 16 years since my home world was destroyed by the Horde and my parents were killed. And... 24 years since I have last seen my baby sister." You breath out, having lost hope after so many years of things going wrong. "Lena and Madden have stayed on the planet Oa while I explore this last planet. It appeared almost 2 years ago and was the last place the Horde had ever been. Who or whatever is on the planet must be powerful." "This... This will be the final planet I explore. I have no hope of seeing my sister again." God you were so tired of the disappointment you felt every time you couldn't find your sister. "Happy 26th birthday." You mumble out as you get closer to the new planet. "End log."

---

"This is spaceship Kr 97. Requesting permission to land. I repeat requesting permission to land." You spoke into your radio, hoping to hear anything back. Maybe this planet didn't have the technology yet for radios? "If anyone can hear me. My name is Y/n and I come in peace. I will be landing my ship on your planet and will wait 2 days before exploring on my own." You say into your radio before putting it back where it had been hanging and controlling your ship into the planets atmosphere. It was a little bit of a bumpy landing but you landed your ship just fine on the outskirts of what seemed to be a forest. You set a 48 hour alarm on your phone. You weren't sure how the people or creatures of the planet told time, so you just stuck with what you knew. It had kept you alive so far anyways.

"Alrighty." You say to yourself as you step off of your ship. You take a deep breath as you feel the yellow sun power you up. "48 hours, let's get to work."

---

You spent the next two days cleaning up in and around your spaceship, setting up a camp, and watching how the forest worked so you knew what you could eat and what you couldn't. You had been sitting on the ground relaxing when you hear your timer go off. You click the loud noise off and stand up, grabbing the bag you had prepared. While learning the forest, you had seen some villages that seemingly lead towards somewhere and you had decided that the best course of action was to hop from village to village to see if their was a kingdom or something of that nature that you could get into contact with. You just hoped everyone was nice and that this wouldn't be a hard planet to navigate.

---

The first town you enter seems to be a farming village. You can tell because you had to walk through fields and saw, what you assume, were the livestock on the planet. You stood behind some trees for a while as you assessed how the villagers acted. You watched as kids ran around playing with their friends, shopkeepers and homeowners leaving their windows open in the nice weather, clearly not scared of being robbed. You decide that it's safe enough to enter and you have your powers to back you up incase things go wrong. It was weird because the planet had 3 moons and only 1 sun, usually planets had the suns out number moons but it was enough. You fix your cloak over your ears and tuck them back so they wouldn't be noticeable or a defining characteristic if things went sideways.

You walk slowly through the village, having expected to get some attention from your large black robe. And you do get some curious looks but it's mainly all friendly smiles. You are almost halfway through the village, aiming to enter one of the shops and ask around, when a something hits your leg. You look down and see a ball a few inches in front of your foot. You pick it up, making sure to retract your claws, and hold it out to the toddler who was staring at you and his ball. "Here you go." You say to him as you hold the ball out and shake it a little so his attention goes to it. He waddles up to you and takes the ball from you. He stares at it for a few seconds before making motions with his hands, wanting you to hold him.

Without hesitating, you pick him up and hold him close to your chest. "Where is your mother, kitten?" You ask him as he reaches up to play with your ear that were still under your hood. "Kitty!" He squeals as he knocks the hood off your head and you hear an audible gasp from behind you. "Oh my gosh, Catra I am so sorry! We didn't think you were visiting till next week. We would have prepared a feast for you and the rest of the princesses." You turn around and see an elderly looking man, who's eyes widen at the sight of you. "Have you gotten taller and cut your hair again?" He asks confused. You give him a small smile, "I'm sorry but I'm not this Catra you speak of. Are you saying there is someone similar looking to me on your planet?" You ask and the man gives you a weird look when you call it his planet but slowly nods his head. You feel hope for the first time in years and eagerly ask the man if you could stay near the town till she came next week. He gave you a bit of a weird look, not sure who you were now and unsure of your intentions, even though your reaction was positive. "Sure."

---

After returning the toddler to his mother, you basically sprinted back to your ship in excitement. "Lena! Lena!" You shout happily into the radio on your ship. Time is a little different on the planet as the sun was just starting to set but it would already be completely dark on Oa. But by your clock it was only 9, so Lena and Madden should still be awake. "Y/n?" You hear your name crackle through the radio and a smile appears on your face. "Lena you'll never believe it! There is someone on this planet that supposedly looks just like me and vice versa!" You say into the radio, feeling like a kid on Nova day. "I think it's her... I hope its her." You say as you image seeing your sister again for the first time in 24 years. "I'm so happy for you y/n! We will start making preparations to join you soon." You bite your lip in thought. "Maybe you should wait... I just wouldn't want to overwhelm her, you know?" You can almost hear Lena nodding on the other end of the phone. "That makes sense, we'll plan to leave by the end of the week if everything goes well."

"Geez I love you so much." You mumble with a wide grin. "And Madden too. Is he still up?" "No he fell asleep a few minutes before you radioed, he spent all day playing." "Oh well, tell him I love him and I'll radio back in the morning." "Okay, bye." "Bye."

---

"We need to be very careful about this." Glimmer says as she and the best friend squad enter the village who sent a letter the day before about someone who looked like Catra in their village. "We already knew that there were other people out there but as we already know not all of them are friendly." Catra walks next to Adora, numbly nodding along. Could this be it? Could she finally learn where she came from? Everyone else in the Horde had been born into it and Adora had come through a portal but no one really knew where Catra was from. "Are you okay?" Adora asked as she squeezed Catra's hand, nervous at how silent her girlfriend was. Catra just mutely nods back.

---

"This planet is simply marvelous!" The group hears you laugh out after being greeted by the village leader. "They look almost just like you Catra." Bow comments as they watch your tall figure move around as you play with the kids of the village and let them climb all over you. "Y/n!" You hear someone call your name and turn to see the village leader standing with a group of people and... Catra. They watch as you freeze and let your mouth fall open in shock. You set the kids down and encourage them to go play together. You walk towards the group with a smile. You go down the line of friends shaking their hands and introducing yourself, ignoring their looks of surprise, before finally reaching Catra. "Wow..." You breathe out in absolute awe. You can feel your eyes get misty the longer you stare at her. "You look so much like mom." You say with a watery laugh that completely sets Catra off.

"Who are you?" She asks as she pushes her finger into your chest making you take a step back. "What? Catra, I'm your sibling. I thought the similarities would make that clear." She glares at you and you can feel the whole village watching the interaction. "Just because we look similar doesn't mean anything." You move quickly and grab her right hand and hold it up next to your left one, both birthmarks showing.

You watch as Catra freezes. Her face and body come to a complete stop as her eyes flicker between the identical birthmarks and your face. "I know you must have questions and I do too. But I have spent the last 8 years going all across the galaxy looking for you and right now all I want is a hug... Please?" You get out as you let go of Catra's hand only for her to push you away one last time and storm into a temporary tent that had been set up for the best friend squad.

You take a second to take a breath before following after her. "I wouldn't follow after her, she needs time to cool down." A blonde, Adora, said to you as she placed a hand on your should to stop you. "I've dealt with people with anger issues before." You say as you brush her hand off. "I know how to handle this." You say and walk towards the tent again, not giving anyone a chance to stop you.

---

"You can't hide away in here sister." You say as you enter the tent, dodging a pillow that was thrown at your head. "Don't call me that." She mumbled angrily. "And why not, you are my sister are you not? I mean everyone saw the birth mark." Catra stands up angrily. "If you were my sister, you would have spent longer than 8 years looking for me! And how can you even compare me to this "mom" that I know absolutely nothing about!? Where are they anyways, huh? Where's great old mom and dad that I have spent the last 25 years not knowing about!" She unloads onto you and your feel your heartbreak at how disheveled she looked. You shouldn't have assumed everything would be smiles and laughs when the two of you first met.

"26." "Huh?" "You're... We're 26. Our birthday was 2 days ago." "So I don't even know my own birthday!" Catra explodes. "Get out." She says suddenly and quietly. "What?" "I said get out." She repeats and you shake your head at her. "I'm not leaving." You watch as Catra's hair stand up. "I am giving you one last warning, get out now or I will do something I might not regret." You cross your arms and stare her down. "I have spent the last 8 years planet hopping with my family looking for you. I. Am. Not. Leaving."

Catra jumps at you suddenly, attempting to scratch, hit, kick, do anything to make you leave the tent. Instead of doing what she wanted, you just wrapped her in a tight hug and sat on the ground. You stay like that for a while, her trying to hold back sobs and angry tears before finally letting go and you just rubbing circles on her back to try and calm her down. "Why?" Is all she says after almost an hour of being in that position. "Why what?" "Why now?" You let out a sad sigh at her question. "Mom and Dad are dead, killed by the Horde Prime and his followers when I was 10." You can feel Catra flinch at how blunt you were and the fact that she had worked for the Horde only a few years ago. "You had already been missing for 8 years at that point, multiple search teams being sent out but none could find you." You squeeze Catra tighter as you feel yourself relive all the grief that you carried for the past 16 years.

"I managed to get most of our people off the planet and to our sister planet before the Horde completely destroyed everything. Got everyone situated on that planet, met the love of my life, renounced my claim to any throne, and finally I started looking for you." It's silent for a few minutes as Catra absorbed everything you said. "So..." You asked as you wiped your tears off your face. "What about you?"

You and Catra spent the rest of the night and next day sharing stories about your childhood and how differently but similar the two of you had grown up. You even got to tease her about Adora and the fact that you were, technically, her older sister by 2 minutes. You were also very excited when you got to show Catra around the ship you had taken to get to Etheria.

---

"So I am guessing everything went well?" Lena asked over the radio after you finally called her about coming to Etheria. "It was a little rocky at the beginning but we smoothed things over... She's great Lena, you guys are gonna love each other." You say with a giant smile on your face as you look at Catra who was relaxing in the copilot seat next to you.

[stiltonbasket]

This might be a bit vague for a prompt, but I would die for anything with parents!LWJ & WWX in the Qin Su verse or with Sizhui in that verse in general

After everything settles down, Wei Wuxian spends most of his time in the rabbit field with A-Yuan. The little clearing in the bamboo forest is always still and peaceful, with nothing to remind him of the chaos going on in the world beyond the Cloud Recesses--and best of all, his son is here with him, alive and well and grown up into a young man while Wei Wuxian wasn’t looking.

“But Xian-gege,” A-Yuan protests, while Wei Wuxian puts a drowsy rabbit into his lap. “You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t leave me at all!”

“I didn’t look for you before I left,” Wei Wuxian sighs, leaning back into the soft grass. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I just sat down and thought for a moment. I should have known that Wen Qing would never have taken you along to Lanling, she loved you like you were her own--but I ran out and left you alone, and if Lan Zhan hadn’t come for you...”

Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes. That particular if does not bear thinking about, and the only thing worse than reliving the moment of his shijie’s death would have been coming back to life in a world where A-Yuan had died of hunger and thirst because Wei Wuxian never bothered to search for him before journeying to Koi Tower.

He doubts that he could have lived in such a world, even for Lan Zhan’s sake.

“I love your fuqin dearly, you know,” he murmurs, watching the clouds drift by overhead. “I’ve loved him since I was eighteen, when I first met him, even if I didn’t know it back then. But I’ve never loved him for anything more than I love him for bringing you back, and raising you, and claiming you for his own. To me he is Hanguang-jun for that, above all other things.”

Sizhui’s eyes mist over. “Xian-gege.”

“Who are you calling Xian-gege in such a voice, ah? You’re not two years old anymore!” Wei Wuxian scolds, trying not to cry onto the rabbit clutched in his arms. “If you are, then you can still eat my spicy radish stew without complaining, right? I’ll go and make some for you right now.”

“Senior, no! Fuqin would be so disappointed!” A-Yuan cries. “You’re not supposed to strain yourself, bofu said so! And he’s a doctor, so you should listen to him!”

“Brother-in-law can’t tell me what to do. And spice is good for you, so I’m going to feed you some.”

His son leans over and grabs his thigh, and his hands--much larger than the hands of the baby Wen Yuan from their days in Yiling, but still much smaller than Jingyi’s, or Jin Ling’s, and even Wei Wuxian’s hands in this new, borrowed body--they cling just like they used to when A-Yuan was a child, and Wei Wuxian’s heart gives a treacherous quiver before he gathers A-Yuan up into his arms and kisses the top of his head.

“You’re a good child,” he says, trying not to cry. “You’re the best child that Lan Zhan and I could have ever asked for, and I would have had the world turned against me and my heart broken a thousand times over, for you.”

“You can’t keep saying that,” Sizhui says solemly, patting the new curve under Wei Wuxian’s blue robes. “My didi is the best child, too. My A-Niang grew him for me.”

Wei Wuxian throws his head back and bursts into laughter. “A-Yuan! You still remember?”

“I remember crying while you drew talismans, and asking for a baby brother,” his son tells him. “I never thought you would give me one like this, though.”

“It might be a girl,” Wei Wuxian reminds him. “Xichen-ge wasn’t able to tell. I have more yin energy in me than most women do, so he said that the little one would probably be a little Lan-guniang instead of another xiao-gongzi.”

Sizhui smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m sure the baby will be a boy,” he insists. “I had a dream about him.”

This is news to Wei Wuxian, since he always believed that such dreams only ever come to the parents of an unborn child. “Oh?”

“I was in the jishi scolding him,” Sizhui recalls. “He stole some of your talismans, actually. I think he was trying to stuff them down his shirt.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat. “What did he look like?”

“Like he couldn’t wait to get into trouble,” his son replies, with his lips twitching upward at the corners. “His ribbon was crooked, and he had moon-cake crumbs on his cheeks, and his hands were so black with ink and soil that I could barely see his nails. He was beautiful.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then--

“I think his name in the dream was Lan Yu,” Sizhui says quietly. “Yu for rain, and his courtesy name was Xiaohui.”

Suddenly, the light breeze in the clearing seems to fall silent, as if the trees themselves were spellbound by the name; and as for Wei Wuxian, he finds himself repeating Lan Yu, Lan Yu, Lan Yu, like the forgotten refrain to a lullaby sung in his childhood long ago.

“Sizhui and Xiaohui,” he whispers, holding both of his children close as he squeezes A-Yuan even tighter. “Perfect.”