#on the bright side the blade is nice and sharp and smooth so like.. that's nice. but if i can't cut straight what's the fucking point tbh

[mildmayfoxe]

i asked my siblings for a paper guillotine for christmas and they got me one that LOOKS really beautiful (very nice green stain on the wood) but i just tried it out for the first time and the plastic top edge isn't straight so the paper wobbles around when you align it. hello???? what the fuck???? they spent at least $150 on this (i looked it up and felt bad) and it's not STRAIGHT???? so now i have to decide if i just try to make this one work or if i try to pawn this off on someone else and do what i should have done in the first place and buy one myself

[fili-urzudel]

Hello!! Could you do 14, 15 and 31 with Fili? Romantic or platonic, up to you. Thank you 💜

13. Sitting together

14. Handholding

15. Sharing a blanket (potentially violent)

31. Stargazing

This combination is classic and oh-so-fluffy, and with my favorite Dwarf to boot! I went ahead and added another prompt as well.

Everyone lives AU, because there is no other ending in my mind.

BTW I'm sick :( but I'm going to try to get at least one other prompt request out this week

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Moonrise - Fíli Durin x Reader

The Durin's Day festival was always fun, but it was all the more spectacular in the newly reclaimed Erebor.

"The first autumn equinox since the mountain was reclaimed, can you believe it?" Fíli said with a bright smile, looking with pride at the crisscrossing bridges and vaulted ceilings of the entrance to the mountain. There was still plenty of work to be done, to be sure, but its improvement was impressive regardless.

"And in a couple days, the anniversary of when it was reclaimed," you nodded in agreement. "A few months after that, the anniversary of the first time you walked around by yourself."

"Hush, I'm trying to enjoy this," Fíli gave you a fake scowl, unconsciously probing the scar hidden beneath his tunic.

You changed directions. "Of course, my Prince," you teased. "You look very nice today."

You meant it. His hair was freshly washed, the slightly damp strands frizzing out in the cool morning air. Each bead was carefully placed, a few decorative gold ones added in place of a crown. His tunic was a smooth yet understated silk underneath his leather vest and wool coat. Every detail was precisely placed, the burnt oranges and browns blending seamlessly. He had clearly been seen to with the utmost care. He looked like royalty, even without the royal garb. Most importantly, he was healthy.

His smile softened, his cheeks turning a bit pink under his mustache. "Thank you," he glanced to the ground before looking back up at you. "And you're beautiful as ever."

You blushed deeper than him, unused to compliments. You plucked at the placket of your own wool coat, dyed a deep woad blue. It was your favorite. "Thank you," you said, choosing for once to believe him. "What duties do you have today?"

"None, surprisingly," Fíli breathed. "Thorin's let me have a break, so I can enjoy the first festival in our new home right alongside you." Something about that little word, our, set your heart ablaze. "You want to stick with me?"

"If you'll have me," he smiled again. That smile was impossible to resist.

"Of course I will."

Erebor had been steadily growing over the past year, but that day, it seemed more alive than ever. The market squares were full, overflowing into the wide side streets. Jewelry, blades, shields, ceramics, sculptures--anything made out of earth or in forges were certainly found somewhere in the expansive space. The Ereborian dwarves' tentative friendship with the Men of Dale caused new, less traditional stands to pop up as well: flower stalls, street food vendors featuring fish dishes, and clothing and homeware shops full of bolts of linen. The mountain had only dwarves—and Bilbo—in its halls, a presently rare occurrence, and so you were all free to speak Khuzdul, the sharp sounds ringing pleasantly in your ears.

The two of you strolled as quickly as possible through all the markets had to offer, determined not to miss the afternoon's performances. You exercised exemplary self-restraint, only stopping at one of every five stalls that caught your eye.

"No," became a very popular word as well, what with resisting Fíli's unceasing offers to purchase anything you liked.

"Well, if you will not spend any of your share of the treasure, I must spend some of mine and relieve what must be the terrible, stifling boredom of your living quarters, my friend," he teased, mustache beads swinging from side to side.

"I will have no prince wasting his money on me."

"Oh, it's never a waste if it's you," Fíli told you surely.

There he went again, saying things that made your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. "You're too kind."

Fíli smirked at the way you diverted your gaze. "Well, if I cannot buy you a rug, at least allow me to buy you lunch," he gestured to a permanent restaurant on the corner that was swarmed with dwarrow.

You couldn't help a smile at that. "Hot stew?" You asked, referring to the almost overpoweringly spicy meat-and-potato stew that was a dwarven classic. Benron's was your favorite.

"As hot as you like, of course," He agreed, guiding you forward with a gentle hand on your back.

The stew made your eyes stream in the best way, and you pulled Fíli out of the restaurant scarcely once he was finished eating. "We have to find good seats!" You reasoned as he raised an eyebrow, still wiping his mouth.

"You do realize that Thorin has the best seats, and by extension, we do as well?"

"Right," you said. You had forgotten. Somehow, none of the Durins were royalty in your mind. They were still your traveling companions, dirt poor and looked at as crazy.

"Still, it is sort of nice to take a seat before everyone starts filtering in and it gets too loud," Fíli reassured you. "After you."

The grand presentation began with a song to the mountain. In the ancient tradition, singing was a way to ask the mountain to reveal its secrets, a careful gathering of tones that would uncover its nature.

This song, however, was made more to please the ears of the listener. It was a song of thanks, of hardly believing that this mountain was once again the shelter for her people. You tried your best to control the tears that rose to your eyes.

Fíli leaned over, bumping your shoulder with his. You gave a small smile that he returned, and you could see in his eyes that he was thinking of all that it took to get there.

"We did it," you whispered.

"Yeah, we did."

The opening songs were followed by traditional dances, a speed-forging competition, and a few spars. You cheered on the brothers as they fought each other, with a healthy dose of brotherly teasing. Fíli let his little brother win, or so he told you. The look on Kíli's face was more than worth it. You congratulated him and let them both clean up as you headed to the gates.

The gates were still open, cool air pouring into the mountain as the sun dropped in the sky.

Dale was dimmer than usual—the city was empty. The men were lining the edge of the water with candles. This equinox now also marked the anniversary of the fall of Laketown and many of their loved ones. The dwarves tried their best to be respectful of their vigil.

You leaned against the wall and watched. You hoped they found peace and remembered to enjoy their new lives. Bard, standing at the back of the group, turned around. He caught your eye and nodded.

"Come with me, I think we should see something," Fíli's low whisper startled you from your reverie, and his hand wrapping around yours even more so.

"Where are we going?" You asked, not that it mattered. With his hand in yours, you'd probably follow him anywhere.

He led you on a trek around the front of the mountain, the setting sun turning everything orange and making his hair appear as flames as you went.

Caught in the daze of bliss, it took you a while to notice what was draped over his other arm. "Wait, is that—I told you not to buy that!"

It was the woven blanket you had noticed earlier, the tapestry depicting sunrays falling through a thick forest of firs. "And what if I bought this for myself? I have uses for it."

"Then it's alright, I suppose."

"You can keep it once I'm done with it, though."

"Sly fox."

"Coin pincher."

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" You asked.

Fíli smiled at you. "A certain very large staircase."

You gasped. "Leading to a secret doorway?"

"The very same. I figured, since we were both trying to help Kili, erm, not die, we missed the excitement, and now we can see it for ourselves."

"That's extraordinarily thoughtful of you."

"Eh, I'd say averagely thoughtful at best," Fíli shrugged.

"Perfectly suitable for me," you told him.

"Good."

The achingly long trip up the staircase was rewarded with a very nice sight: another, less decorative blanket spread across the stone, a couple flat pillows, and three lanterns, already lit and ready to face the darkness.

"When did you find time to do this?" You asked Fíli, grinning from ear to ear.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "And help."

"That's where Bofur, Bilbo, and Dori disappeared to," you observed. "I see. Well, it's very sweet of all of you."

"I'm glad you think so," Fíli said, still holding your hand as he guided you to sit on the blanket with him.

The stairs had taken longer than anticipated, so the sun was already almost gone. You quieted as you realized how close the time was. The two of you watched in quiet admiration as the moon rose, bright and perfect, into the sky, before you turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door.

You gasped. "There it is!" The moonrise revealed the shape of a perfectly hidden keyhole. "That is very neat, indeed."

"Mmhm," Fíli agreed. "Beautiful." The keyhole was not what he thought was beautiful. He wasn't actually looking at the door at all, but rather you, and the way the moonlight reflected off every spectacular detail of your face.

He had never known quite when he started to feel this way, only that he didn't in the Blue Mountains, when he barely knew you, and he did now.

You turned your gaze from the keyhole once the wonder had made a comfortable space in your heart, and looked to the stars, all too aware of how close Fíli was.

You read out the constellations to yourself in the comfortable silence, assuming the prince was doing the same. You then heard him shift.

"Lay with me," Fíli offered, and you turned around in record time, cheeks blazing and eyes wide.

"What?"

He was already lying down with his head on one of the pillows. "To watch the stars more comfortably."

"Alright," you said, voice quiet. You scooted down until you could lay your head on the other pillow, before changing your mind. You decided to take a risk and settle your head on his chest instead.

"Is this alright?" You asked immediately. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable in this situation.

"Of course it is," he said softly, his arm raising to hold your waist. "I enjoy being close to you."

It wasn't quite a grand confession, but it was good enough for your heart to begin hammering in your chest. "I enjoy being close to you, too."

[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 2)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Thank you so much for the love on the last post! Any more nice words and i might fall in love with yous ngl. Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The days after the royal feast were dripping with tension, as Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Y/N Hightower found themselves annoyingly entangled in each other's company far more often than either would have liked. This, of course, was all part of Queen Rhaenyra's grand plan—a delicate little game of matchmaking disguised as diplomacy. She had hoped that a few shared walks and awkward conversations might bridge the bloody, betrayal-riddled chasm between their families. But, alas, Rhaenyra had sorely misjudged the depth of their mutual disdain. Every word they exchanged was polite, sure, but underneath the civility, each syllable was laced with the venom of old grudges neither of them could pretend to forget.

Their favoured meeting spot became the Red Keep’s gardens—a lovely place, in theory. It should have offered peace, with its fragrant blooms of roses and jasmine filling the air, but even the most enchanting flowers couldn’t mask the simmering hostility between them. One fine afternoon, under a deceptively serene, bright blue sky, they strolled side by side, their pace deliberate, every step as calculated as the sharp words lingering on their tongues.

Jacaerys had been brooding in silence for most of their walk, clearly troubled, stealing glances at Y/N when he thought she wasn’t looking. She, of course, was the picture of composure, but the tightness in her jaw and the rigid set of her shoulders betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. Eventually, Jacaerys couldn’t keep it in any longer. His voice, low and brimming with resentment, cut through the silence like a blade.

"I wonder," he began, his gaze steady and unflinching, "do you feel any guilt for what your family did? For nearly spilling blood in their attempt to steal my mother’s throne?"

Oh, and there it was—the blow he’d been itching to land, his accusation hanging between them like the sword of Damocles. Y/N’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but she didn’t avert her gaze. No, she was prepared for this—had seen it coming from a mile away, even if it stung just the same.

"I am not my father, Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her tone measured, though the steel in her voice was unmistakable. "And I am not responsible for his choices."

Diplomatic, perhaps, but Jacaerys wasn’t fooled. He heard the defensiveness in her words, a shield hastily raised against the guilt he wanted to drape over her shoulders. He stopped walking, turning to face her fully, brow furrowed as he pressed on.

“Yet here you are, sent in his stead to smooth over the wounds he created. How am I to trust you? How do I know this isn’t just another Hightower plot to weaken my family?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut—raw, accusatory. Y/N’s carefully crafted mask of composure slipped, just for a moment, and anger flashed in her eyes. She had anticipated this confrontation, sure, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to swallow. Even so, her voice remained controlled, though it quivered ever so slightly with emotion.

"I came here for peace, not to reopen old wounds," she shot back, her tone firm but not harsh. "My family’s past is far from clean, I won’t deny that. But I’m not here to repeat those mistakes. This marriage could mend the rift between our houses if you’d stop seeing me as the enemy."

Her words were sincere, yet Jacaerys couldn’t easily brush aside the memories of war, treachery, and all the chaos that followed. The Hightowers had nearly torn his family—and the realm—apart. The pain was still fresh, the betrayal too sharp, too real. His mind flashed back to the darkest days of the conflict, when every move felt like a step closer to the abyss, and the crown was slipping through his mother’s fingers.

He halted again, turning to look at her fully, his voice quieter now but still strained with the weight of his past. "It’s hard to forget that your bloodline tried to destroy mine."

Y/N stopped as well, standing just a few paces away from him. The space between them felt more like a chasm than the mere feet that separated them. But instead of retreating, she stepped closer, surprising him with her boldness. Her eyes were fierce, burning with a fire he hadn’t expected.

“And yet,” she shot back, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, “here I am, ready to forge a new path. Can you say the same, Jacaerys? Or are you content to be forever shackled to the past?"

The intensity of her words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The beautiful garden around them faded into the background, their conflict overshadowing everything else. Jacaerys could feel his heart racing—not just from the argument, but from something deeper. He saw, in that moment, more than just a Hightower standing before him. He saw a woman weighed down by the same burdens he carried—the weight of legacy, the expectations of bloodlines they hadn’t chosen, both trapped in a tangled web of history.

"You talk of forging a new path," he said slowly, his voice softer now, more reflective, "but how can I be sure? How do I know this isn’t another Hightower scheme?"

Y/N’s gaze softened, though the fire in her eyes remained. "You can’t know for certain, Jacaerys. Trust, like peace, has to be built. Brick by brick. Moment by moment. But it has to start somewhere. If we let the past dictate everything, we’ll be trapped in it forever."

Her words struck something deep within him. For the first time, he saw her not as an adversary, but as someone who understood. Someone who, like him, was navigating the treacherous waters of family, legacy, and expectation. There were no guarantees here, no easy solutions. But maybe… just maybe… there was a chance. A small, fragile possibility that they could build something better, together.

“I don’t know if I can forget,” he admitted quietly, vulnerability creeping into his voice. “But maybe… you’re right. We can’t keep living in the past.”

Y/N’s expression softened further, and she nodded. "No, we can’t. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a heavy cloak. The tension hadn’t completely disappeared, but something had shifted—a tentative understanding, perhaps. The beginning of something neither of them fully understood, but couldn’t entirely ignore.

As they resumed their walk through the garden, the hostility between them eased, replaced by something quieter, more uncertain. A possibility, fragile but real, that they might yet carve out a future that was theirs—beyond the legacies and bloodlines that had divided them for so long.

Taglist: @rafslytherin

[violettduchess]

I’d like to request angel Clavis 😇

A/N: here you are anon 💜

Clavis x Reader

WC: ~1k

You are asleep, your head pillowed on his shoulder, one hand resting right above his heart. He dares not move, dares not breathe too heavily for fear of waking you. His golden gaze runs over the line of your cheekbone, the curve of your lips, the softness of your hair. He could stare at you like a student studying a masterpiece and never grow tired, always finding something new to marvel at. 

The orb that floats a few inches off of his nightstand suddenly begins to glow, a pulsing, pure, white light. It’s bright enough that you squint your closed eyes against it, shifting in his arms to shield yourself. With a soft sigh, he pulls himself away from your warmth, pushing himself up with one arm and then reaches for the orb.

“I can go,” you murmur sleepily, sitting up beside him, eyes now open, your hair falling across the bare skin of his shoulder as you rest your chin there lightly. He turns the orb in his hands, examining the image that slowly materializes inside of it. His lips curve in a smile and he turns his head, pressing a feather-soft kiss to your nose. “You will stay right here, my stars above, and keep the bed nice and warm with thoughts of me while I am gone.” Another kiss, this time to your forehead, and he is up, out of bed. You pull the fluffy white covers up to your chin, snuggling back against the pillows. It’s easy to admire him as he stretches, his long, lean silhouette against the morning light. Glancing over his shoulder at you, he grins cheekily. “I am so glad to see my love still enjoys the view after all this time.” 

Your laughter fills his heart with warmth, a river of affection that flows through him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head to the feathery tips of the wings now unfolding in all their glory from his shoulder blades. They open with a whoosh and you sigh like a maiden in the blush of love. Beautiful pale lavender wings, the edges of each feather kissed by gold. They never fail to make your heart ache with their majesty.

He blows you a final kiss and then walks towards the open, arched window, stepping up onto the smooth ledge. There is no hesitation as he leaps out into the celestial white, disappearing from view. Down he soars, through the radiant glow, breaking through to the bright blue of the worldly sky, his eyes sharp as he studies the slowly approaching earth below. Soon the Rhodolite Palace comes into view, small as a child’s toy. He flies down towards it, winding his way through the towers until he reaches the lavish Rose Gardens and spots what he has been summoned for: a little girl of around five with twilight hair that falls in waves down her back and determined eyes narrowed in concentration as she climbs the garden's gazebo, her young limbs trembling with exertion, heart thundering in her small chest.

Clavis lands soundlessly on the gazebo’s tiled roof, head tilted to one side as he watches the child huff and puff as she throws one leg up to finalize her daring feat…..and her tiny fingers lose their grip on the slanted roof. With a shriek, she begins to fall and Clavis is there, darting forward to catch her, cradling her in his arms and then gently depositing her into the springy safety of one of the boxwood hedges below.

“Letizia!” A man comes bounding across the gardens, a man with Clavis’s golden gaze and your silken hair. He rushes to his daughter’s side, gathering her against him for a moment, his eyes closed in relief before he leans back, inspecting her hurriedly, worry blanching his face of color. “Darling…..what on earth were you doing up there?” 

She is shaking but tries to hide it, pushing her lavender hair out of her eyes with a hand still chubby with the last remnants of childhood. “I wanted to show Cyran that I’m as brave as he is!” Clavis watches his son sigh heavily, his hands clasping her narrow shoulders. “Lettie, sweetheart, I’m certain your brother knows how fearless you are. After all, who does he call to take care of all the big spiders, hm?” The young girl giggles, pride turning her cheeks a soft pink. Her father stands, offering her his hand and she takes it. “Come on, let’s go back inside and get you cleaned up before your mother sees the mess you’ve made of your stockings.” They begin walking down the path back towards the palace when the man pauses, looking over his shoulder at the gazebo. Clavis sees himself reflected in his son’s golden eyes. He takes in the gazebo and for a heart-stopping moment, Clavis wonders if he can see him.

“Sweet girl, you must have a guardian angel looking out for you. A fall like that could have ended so much worse.” Letizia turns, her young, innocent eyes landing directly on Clavis. She smiles broadly. “I sure do, Papa.” 

Clavis watches them, his son and his granddaughter, until they have disappeared down the path. His family. His legacy. The continuation of his heart. And then with a powerful flap of his wings, he rises up towards the stark blue sky, through the white haze of clouds, higher and higher until the arched window comes into view. 

You’re there, waiting for him in bed, just as you said you would be. He smiles slowly, his wings folding back down, flat against his back. He slides into the welcoming bed and into your waiting arms, his eyes closing as he scoots down to lay his cheek against your heart.

“And, Clavis? Everything went well?” Your fingers stroke his hair gently. “Crisis averted, dear one. Our son and granddaughter are perfect.” He tilts his head up to look at you, his divine love, his own Paradise, and smiles. “Now tell me how much you missed me while I was off being heroic.” You laugh, a glorious sound to his ears. You need no words to answer him: your reply is a kiss as soft as angel-down. As he sighs your name, tender as a prayer, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close against your heart, a heart full of love as vast as the heavens themselves.

Taglist: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

[scalamore]

Hayeonnim is amazing with character designs pt 2 In the novel, we get a lot of Rupert's description because, well, he's the ML and Lari comments on his appearance a lot. Although he does admittedly have a kinda generic "KR ML appearance" with the side part, he still looks distinct and handsome enough? Idk, I really love his design too.

-- Admittedly, early in Vol 1 Lari is actually pretty annoying with how often she comments on how hot he is. Its so weird. I get it Lari, he's hot. But starting about chapter 30 she stops it so that's good. I still think its weird that she compliments his looks but also shits on his attitude all the time ^^;. ANYWAYS Lari's always compared him to a blade - sharp in both appearance and personality. He has striking blond hair and piercing green eyes, sharp tall nose, and defined jawline. Broad shoulders, well defined muscles, tall, even bulky/muscular. He has a sharp gaze that sends chills when he glares at someone with those dull, glassy eyes. Even his personality is sharp and he's rather quick to anger. Says rude things that stabs others. Interestingly, Lari's description of Rupert changes the more she falls in love with him in Vol 4/5. She comments how his eyes are bright green or dark green/blue and very pretty as if like jewels; his blonde hair looks like strands of gold in the sunlight. His hair and skin is surprisingly soft to the touch. His perpetual frown is always in a smile lately (cuz he's around her haha :3). Even his voice - she never thought about it, but he has a nice milky smooth voice that she finds nice to listen to. She used to think the Emperor in TL1 was a tall, bulky, big scary guy, but now, she thinks his larger frame is reassuring to be around, and she feels protected just by being near him. I just love how Lari, although seeing how objectively hot Rupert is, thinks poorly of him because he was a terrible person to her in TL1, but once she learned about his true self in TL2, her perception of him improved and she became more attracted to his personality and who he is as a person now. this just shows how people change, and she saw the results of his hard work to be a better person :)

[heich0e]

a gentle tap against the metal of the trailer door has you turning towards the unimposing sound.

"oh!" you say, setting down the brush you'd been cleaning as you spot a familiar figure in the doorway. "good morning."

touya dips his head in a little nod of greeting. his voice is sleepy and thick as he rasps out his own little g'mornin back.

he looks around the empty trailer, three seats and stations open in front of him. you follow his gaze as it travels across each available chair, and then back to you.

"where do you want me?"

you tap the back of the seat closest to you. "here's good!"

touya shuffles in, dropping himself into the seat. he's got a coffee in his hand, and you can smell the warm, rich scent wafting up each time he tilts the to-go cup back to take a sip. it's not from a nice cafe like you might expect but rather a simple cup emblazoned with the logo of a convenience store, and even though you're not the one drinking it, you swear you taste the familiar, slightly burnt bitterness of cheap coffee on your tongue.

"just you and i again this morning?" touya asks through a little yawn as you line up some skincare and shaving products at your station in front of him.

"you take the longest, after all," you laugh lightly, glancing at him in the reflection of the mirror. his disarmingly bright eyes meet yours, still slightly lidded with fatigue, and you quickly look away once more.

"i'm the problem child," he sighs jokingly, slumping down into his seat. he's still got his puffer coat on--it's barely 5AM, and it's chilly outside since the sun hasn't yet risen over the production lot--and you swallow down a laugh as the collar of his coat bunches up around his cheeks, like a down-filled ruff. 

touya's special effects makeup takes a minimum of four hours to apply--and that's in its most minimal form. if he needs his chest and arms exposed in a scene, it can take upwards of 8 hours to get him ready for set. it means his call times are almost always earlier than his cast mates, and as you're the lead sfx artist on this season's production, it means the two of you often find yourselves alone for the first few hours of the day as you begin the process of turning touya into dabi. 

the first step in the undertaking is shaving. 

touya doesn't have a particularly notable amount of body or facial hair, but the adhesive that affixes his character's prosthetic scars and staples to his skin requires as smooth of a canvas as possible for best performance, so every morning you carefully shave the smooth planes of his cheeks, jaw, and throat (occasionally down to his chest and arms.)

it's a surprisingly intimate, harrowing ordeal, dragging the sharp straight razor across his skin. you pay careful attention not to nick him, knowing it will just make your job harder down the line if you have to treat a wound. you often find yourself holding your breath as you pull the blade softly along his jaw, your eyes watching your every movement raptly.

"don't sweeney todd me," touya murmurs as you hold his chin in your hand. his eyes had been closed as you worked, but they flutter open to peek up at you as his words hang in the air between you. 

you chuckle breathily, redistributing the froth of the shaving cream along one side of his chin with your thumb. his skin is warm and smooth under the slip of the foam. "stop talking, and I won't have a reason to."

next is a simple cleanse to clean off any lingering shaving cream or hair, and to prepare his skin for the skincare you'll press into it to protect it from any negative effects as a result of all the makeup that will follow. you have a hairband that you keep on hand just for touya—half because it's effective, and half because you think he looks sort of cute with his fluffy white hair pushed back from his face like that. it has two little cat ears on either side of the band, and he'd actually giggled the first time he'd seen it, much to your surprise.

(you keep two spares tucked away into the back of your kit, in exactly the same design, just in case anything ever happened to this one.)

then finally, after his skin is sufficiently prepped—soft and dewy with moisturizer that rapidly sinks into his pores—the real work begins.

you keep reference photos on hand—touya's face and body, in full makeup, from every possible angle—affixed to the mirror and spread across the station countertop to make sure you're recreating his character's appearance in exact detail. it's an arduous, painstaking process, that requires a professionally trained eye and meticulous attention to detail. by the end of the application, your hands sometimes ache—your knuckles tender to the touch—and sometimes you need assistants to come in and help put on finishing touches if you're short on time and rushing to get him to set. but you take your job very seriously, and refuse to let him leave your chair anything short of perfect.

"how's it feeling?" you ask, applying a bit of shading onto the prosthetic attached to his neck—raised, textured skin to imitate a burn that you're hand-painting to look more realistic. the familiar smell of liquid latex and alcohol hangs in the air, slowly overtaking the residual smell of the skincare you'd used on his skin.

"awful," touya gripes, though you expect nothing less.

"so, same as always?"

"same as always," he agrees with a little laugh.

you glance at the smartwatch on your wrist, backing away from touya’s personal space and setting your makeup brush down atop your station. “it’s almost eight. a PA should show up with your breakfast soon before I start on your face.”

“wow, is it that late already?” he asks, surprised, sitting up slightly in his seat.

“sick of me yet?” you tease him, wiping some of the reddish purple pigment from the tips of your fingers onto your smock.

he smiles as much as the prosthetic affixed to his neck and chin will allow as the glue sets, and shakes his head.

“nah.”

touya’s breakfast on set is always the same: another cup of coffee (black), a little cup of fruit salad (he eats around the green grapes and yet never asks for the caterer to leave them out), a granola bar which he tucks into his pocket to snack on later even though it will definitely mess up his makeup, and a breakfast sandwich.

“how come you don’t eat the grapes?” you finally ask the question that's been plaguing your mind for the past few weeks, watching as he sets the little plastic cup aside with 8 green grapes still sitting in the bottom.

he chews the piece of strawberry he still has in his mouth, swallows, then speaks.

“they’re gross.”

“they are not,”—you roll your eyes—“they’re delicious.”

touya’s nose crinkles. “they’re squishy and sour and taste like wet raisins.”

“they are wet raisins,” you remind him pointedly. 

touya shoots you a look as if to say exactly.

“oh, let me guess, you also hate tomatoes?” you go on to ask.

he gags dramatically.

“don’t!” you chide him, seeing the way some of the staples lift along his jaw. you surge forward and grab his chin in your hand to still him, tilting his face so you can survey the damage. you click your tongue and dab a bit more adhesive onto the little metal bits and press them into his skin. his eyes watch your face while you work.

“I never took you for a picky eater,” you remark softly as you hold the pressure steady against his cheek.

“don’t you have any foods you don’t like?” he asks you, equally quiet, while you wait for the adhesive to take.

you hum curiously. “not really.”

his turquoise eyes widen. “nothing?”

“i mean,”—you lift your fingers off his face and watch to make sure the staples stay in place—“i don’t really love those really weird, funky cheeses. you know, the ones that look fuzzy?” 

touya shudders—evidently he does know, and he agrees. 

you glance at your watch again. 8:20. it’s time to get back to work.

“down your coffee, we’ve gotta start on your face.”

touya sighs, but doesn't complain, reaching for his half-drained drink obediently.

the face is inarguably the toughest part of touya’s makeup. the camera will be focused there most closely, meaning it’s the most important part to get right. the staples need to be in the exact right place. the adhesive must be applied liberally enough to keep everything in place, but not so thick as to limit touya’s ability to emote.

there’s music playing in the makeup trailer, but its kept relatively low—your own playlist that you have free reign to control until other artists and talent show up to begin their days, and the noise in the space grows too loud for any music to be heard over it anyway. it’s a mix of old favourites and songs you’ve found recently that you’ve been enjoying. touya never complains about the unusual mismatch, hums along softly to the ones that he does recognize, and and you’ve even caught him shazam-ing a song or two a couple of times in your mornings together, which fills you with an unusual feeling of pride.

you’re quiet as you work, completely immersed in the task, and the only sound in the makeup trailer is the playlist in the background, you and touya's alternating breaths, and the sound of your tools as you pick them up and set them down on your station. 

“do you want them?” touya asks you softly, shattering the silence as you hold the fake scar tissue under his left eye, waiting for the glue to set enough to take the pressure of your fingertips away.

you tilt your head to the side as you lean over him, painfully close to his face.

“huh?”

“the grapes,” he says quietly. “do you want them?” 

your breath catches a little in your throat as you watch his eyes flicker unmistakably down to your lips.

your chest feels tight, and you will your fingertips not to tremble.

“maybe later,” you murmur.

“later?” he echoes. but it almost feels like he’s asking about something else entirely.

you hum, not sure you'd be able to form any words even if you tried.

another makeup artist shows up moments later, the metal trailer door creaking open as they enter. she greets the two of you and claims the station at the far end of the trailer, and it's like the bubble of intimacy enveloping the two of you up until that point has been punctured and popped.

you’re a little grateful for the interruption, you can’t help but think.

touya's impossibly soft question of later? echoes in your mind for the rest of the morning.

[wthtorke]

Incandescent (Kofi commission)

Kofi one shot commission by  Insta is day_of_mayhem! 

(I might have gone off on this one lmao Enjoy!)

Incandescent. 

The night had been quiet, the trees softly hustling against one another as the wind blew. First, it was the strange noise.

From your little house in the woods, a sharp noise rattled through your bed, making you jump up in surprise.  Running to the window, you saw what could only be described as a falling star, coming quickly towards your house.

You could barely brace yourself against the windowsill as the star ripped through the clouds, falling far into the woods. Panting and scared, you looked for any signs of it. Any burning trees, smoke, noise coming from the general direction where it fell. You found none. 

From the window, you caught sight of your truck, still parked in the driveway. Grunting to yourself, you made your decision as you grabbed a coat and the wooden axe from the fireplace, running to your car, hoping to find the fallen star before anyone else did.

Gripping the steering wheel hard enough your knuckles turned white, you drove through the path in the forest, stopping when even more strange noises reached your ears.

Stopping your car, you tilted your head slightly, trying to catch it again. Seconds passed before a sudden blast made you jump, looking into the direction a flash of light also happened. Leaving the car, you held the axe close to your chest as you slowly walked towards the noise, breathing quickly as you did.

From the trees behind you, a slick, black ridged tail moved quietly as its owner's drool fell onto the tree branches, slowly stalking towards you. 

'Hssssssss..' 

Eyes widening, you turned around in time to see a black creature jumping from the tree, arms outstretched and claws ready to tear into you. 

Falling to the ground, the creature landed heavily on you, claws grappling your axe handle as you barely had time to process its weight before shiny, sharp fangs closed itself repeatedly before your face. 

You only realized you were screaming when the creature shifted its weight to your chest, cutting your air as it reeled back to strike one final time to kill you.

Closing your eyes in fear, you could only open them again as an animalistic roar reached your ears, and then the crushing weight wasn't there anymore, a screech and a heavy, wooden thud following suit. The creature had been rammed from on top of you, instead hitting the tree it jumped from hard in its back, falling to the ground, briefly shaken. 

You took your chance to get up as well and dart between the trees, out of the creature's way. You only bothered looking for whatever had knocked it out of you when the black creature hissed into another direction, and you realized there was absolutely nothing there. 

Still, under the dim moonlight, the creature leaped into nothingness, surprisingly landing on the thin air, snapping and hissing, swinging its tail around. You watched as it tried to hit something with its piercing tail. With a roar, you jerked back as it seemed to hit its goal, whatever was beneath it started zapping and glowing with failing electrical power, soon revealing what the thing was perched on as it didn't stop its struggles for one second. 

At this point, you had come to the conclusion that they were indeed aliens, and the star was no star but probably a ship that crash landed, even if you had no idea where it was now. The stream of roaring and screaming snapped you out of your thoughts, the massive humanoid alien trying to shake the creature from it’s back as best as it could, while still trying to dodge its deadly tail.

You looked around, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you to do something, anything. Looking at the dark forest behind you, you had no idea if there were other alien serpents around or more alien warriors to help this one. It was when the serpent's tail pierced the warrior's arm and you saw bright green blood explode everywhere that you took action.

Running towards both of them with your axe in hand. 

Your decision was made as the blade of your weapon sunk into the black creature’s back, it’s startled shrill making your ears ring as it’s tail hit you hard in the chest, both making you fly a few feet back and thankfully escape it’s weird fizzing blood that you’d later come to know was pure acid. 

You shook your head as you tried to breathe again, all the air knocked out from your lungs as you landed on your back. Your vision threatened to darken as you sat up, trying to spot where the aliens were.

Slowly your ears started focusing again as did your eyes, permitting you to see that not only was the black serpent not on top of the alien warrior anymore as said warrior was about to jam it’s blades into the serpent’s throat. The most intense occurrence of all your life didn’t last more than 5 minutes it seemed.

Getting up on your wobbly feet, you noticed just about how much blood there was around the ground. You watched as the warrior clutched his side, chest rising and falling as he stared at you, and while he could absolutely kill you if he so wanted, he didn’t.

Not that you were opposed to that, of course.

You felt the adrenaline die down in your blood, the cold air finally making you shiver a bit. You looked at who you supposed was a ‘he’ and back towards the general direction of your car. If his ship had truly crashed, he was stranded. Hurt and stranded.

“Safe,” You said, pointing back where your car was, “Together…?” You questioned, montioning between you and him with your less hurt hand. He took a few moments to analyze the situation before making his decision. He was hurt, more so than he’d like to admit, but less than he’d be if you hadn’t shown up. He nods, slowly, unsure, later following you to the truck, all but hauling himself up the back of the pickup truck. ‘I’ll definitely need to hose that down in the morning.’ You thought as you saw the green blood streaks as you got into the driver's seat.

The drive back was smooth, no longer fueled by raw fear and adrenaline. You felt tired, maybe because of the bruises forming where you got hit or well, the fact that this was more action than you had since….Well, ever. Getting home, you didn’t really know why you snuck him through the garage door, you had no neighbors and no family living with you but somehow it seemed the right thing to do, he was an alien after all.

He seemed to know the concept of showering, at least. He washed all the dirt and grime off of his body and you were more than a little upset at yourself that you didn’t see him take off his mask, only noticing your mistake when he got out of the bathroom and the metal was so clean it was sparkling. 

You watched as he sat in your living room and started patching himself up. While he wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore, the roaring surely gave you chills down your spine as he plunged some kind of needle into his thigh, pumping the syringe’s contents into his system before sewing his wound shut.

You pointed at the couch and told him to make himself at home, as far as that could go, anyway. You passed out as soon as you hit the pillow, your body paying no mind to the huge alien downstairs.

The next morning, he was gone.

 As much as you were expecting it, it still felt...odd. Like some kind of fever dream. Only you knew it happened by the state of your house and garage. If you didn’t know it was an alien, you’d have thought a wild bear had wrecked your house. The floor was muddy, some things were out of place or straight up on the floor while some you couldn’t tell if they were touched at all. 

Sighing, you gathered the broom, mop and trash bags to start your new mission; Cleaning the house. 

Cleaning was usually boring, but this time it just felt restless. Even as your favorite songs played in the background. Of course, no alien could just have a slumber party in some human’s house but still, much had happened yesterday. You wondered when the government’s men were going to burst through your window and shoot a sedative up your arm because you’ve had alien interaction. 

You were cleaning the kitchen cupboards when a reflection that very much wasn't your own caught your attention in the mirror. Squinting a bit, you jumped back when your eyes focused and revealed your guest's reflection, only his position was right behind you. "FUCK-” You turned around quickly, hitting your knee in the process, ”When did you get here?! God-," You started coughing a bit from the sudden intake of air.

You looked back at him when you heard strange noises coming from his helmet, almost like someone was tuning a radio before the words became clear, recordings.

"No-, trails."

You blinked in confusion for a second before realizing what he meant, slight dread setting in your gut at the prospect that an alien could speak, or well, play recordings of english to you. "Trails-, in the forest? Wow..that’s, that’s very nice, actually, hadn’t thought of that,” you thought over your next words, taking in his huge form as you did, “You’re headed home now, I suppose?”

He shook his head, motioning to his still tender wounds from yesterday’s battle against the serpent.

The serpent.

“Oh, Um-, That thing is dead, right?”

He nodded, “Exterminated. Contained.”

Contained.

“Great, great-, well, if you’re not planning to kill me and take over my house, you’re um...very welcome to stay?” You said, a bit unsure.

He nodded, walking over silently towards your garage door, you heard rummaging around, following to see him picking up after a broken vase you didn’t remember was there.

He was a considerate roommate, you could say. Wherever this alien came from, he knew of common sense, or just had a very strict mama as he helped in the chores he could. You suspected he didn’t trust you to clean his trails properly, but you weren’t complaining of free help.

Another thing you could tell is that he learned fast. Very fast. 

He’d been skeptical of you, at first. You’d never catch him sleeping or eating, always the same passive expression of his mask looking back at you. You couldn’t blame him, but even then, it was hard not to speculate what was underneath it. Did he look like Davy Jones? The Shape? He didn’t seem to be aquatic. Maybe a lizard? His skin was mottled like one, at least. 

3 months passed by before you both had that feeling. He’d been here for too long. His wounds were beyond healed, no one had shown up for him, no government, no other aliens, nothing. You’d seen him mess with his wrist gauntlet a few times, seen him test the cloaking device he had, it worked. 

So, why was he still here?

  It was on a similar night that you met him that you mustered the courage to ask.

The stars were bright, as was the moonlight. The breeze was soft, you both sat outside for a bit, looking into the forest. He told you he feared they’d come at night. You guessed he spoke of other humans, the kind that would want to study him alive, in the name of ‘science’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Are you waiting for your people to come get you? Have you sent a signal yet?”

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched a bit, the cold air around you prickling at your skin. “Oh-, well...have they replied?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, “So, I guess they’ll be coming soon, right?”

You waited for another robotic ‘Yes’ to hit your ears, to shatter your fantasy of living a nice life with him, somehow.

“No.”

“No?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him, “Why not?”

He turns to look at you for a second, at least you could assume he was looking at you behind the mask.

With that, he lifted his hands to the object of your speculation during the last 3 months, fingers slowly snapping off tubes that connected it to the rest of his armor with an audible ‘Fzzzzz’.

You held your breath as he hooked his fingers around the mask, snapping it off as well. He hovered the mask for a second before slowly lowering it away from his face.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you took in the sight of him, the spiky crown around his forehead, the mottling, so similar to the rest of his body, going down to his eyes, you lingered there for a moment, taking in how yellow they looked, and how they were staring directly into your own.

You gulped as you kept lowering your gaze, spotting the fangs, the tusks, the strong jaws that could very much clamp around your neck right now, if he so wanted. Everything about him screamed predator before, but now, having the last piece of the puzzle, you could only think of one word to describe him.

Perfect.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when his hand touched yours, so tender, mindful of his talons, yet still enveloping your cold ones in warmth. You looked up at him, fingers slowly squeezing his own, an attempt to show him you weren’t afraid, just stunned.

“Stay.” He said, in a much deeper voice than any he’d ever played for you before. His voice.

You only realized you were crying when the tears caught in between the crinkles of your smile, stopping their journey straight down your face, giving them a shortcut to falling down your chin, to where his other hand was raising up, gently tipping your face up, as he lowered his own, pressing your foreheads together.

“Stay.” You repeated, in a much quieter, shakier voice than his, but with every bit of intention behind it, still smiling as he squeezed your hand again.

Suddenly, the night didn’t feel nearly as cold anymore, nor did it feel as lonely as it once did.

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[viking-raider]

Quarantine: Early Bird *Cotton Candy Goodness*

Summary: After nursing a hamstring injury, Henry gets ready for returning to work on the second season of the Witcher.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 1,276

Rating: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Fluff

Inspiration: A special request from @wondersofdreaming​ and a belated birthday present for her!

Author’s Note: This is from a conversation with @wondersofdreaming​!

Henry moaned as the alarm on his phone went off on the nightstand behind him, announcing it was four thirty am, you softly moan back in a sleepy and unconscious reply.

After several seconds of his alarm screaming its head off, Henry grunted and uncurled himself from around you, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm out in the phone's direction, picking it up and shutting it off, before it woke you. He laid there for a few more minutes, then sat up, shivering since he slept in his birthday suit, as he got out of the warm cocoon you and he had created throughout the night. He leaned over you, brushing his fingers through your hair and kissed your temple, before tucking the toasty blankets in around you, not wanting the wintry chill of the bedroom to disturb and wake you from your beautiful slumber.

Henry made the choice to wake up this early in the mornings, usually to get his work outs in, but recently also for the rehab of his hamstring, before going into work, and this morning was the first time in two weeks since said injury, he would be returning to work. But, just because he made that choice, to be an early bird, didn't mean he wanted to wake you up before the first light of dawn. One of you needed to have the luxury of sleeping the mornings away, and Henry was more than willing to make the sacrifice so it could be you.

He stifled a yawn and another shiver as he turned the heat on in the bedroom, then stepped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him, so the sound of his hot shower coming to life wouldn't bother you either. Showered, Henry stepped out of the steamy bathroom and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from the dresser and put them on, with the bedroom being nice and toasty now, before going back into the bathroom and wiped the fog off the mirror. In the two weeks he'd been recovering from his injury, Henry hadn't bothered shaving and had a good beard growing, but since he was due back on set of the second season of the Witcher, he had to shave it.

Which he didn't mind at all.

Taking out his shaving cream and lathered up his cheeks and jawline, before taking up his razor and leaning slightly over the sink, carefully touching the sharp blades to his skin and concentrating on his task.

You moaned softly and shifted, unconsciously recognizing that the bed wasn't as warm as it had been, and sleepily sought out Henry's furnace-like body, but only found more blankets and an empty pillow. Sighing as you started to wake, you heard the bathroom door open, the sound of the floorboard creaking under Henry's weight as he went into the walk-in closet and him rummaging around for a pair of clean underwear, then his trek back into the bathroom. There was the soft sound of drawers opening in the sink vanity, followed by the soft flow of warm sink water as Henry got his face wet and soaped it up. You hummed, rolling onto your side to face the half open bathroom door, just as Henry squeezed an almond-sized dab of his shaving cream into his fingers, then worked it into a foamy lather on his scruffy cheeks.

You loved watching Henry shave, how his brow creased and he slightly narrowed his eyes as he stared at himself through his reflection in the mirror, so absorbed and focused on the delicate task of applying the razor to the warm and soapy hair of his face, uncovering strips of smooth and sensitive skin beneath it, so practiced and careful. You moaned loudly as the sage and citrus scent of his shaving cream wafted towards you in a fragrant and warm mist, closing your eyes with a happy and pleased smile.

But, your eyes snapped open again, hearing Henry's hiss.

“Fuck.” He snapped, bringing the fingers of his free hand to his cheek as a thin trail of bright, crimson blood trickled down it, dripping off his damp jawline and onto the edge of the counter. “I'm sorry, babe.” He said, looking over at you, the crease between his brows deepening as your eyes met. “I didn't mean to wake you.” He cooed, setting his razor down and tore a square of toilet paper off the roll, and wiped the blood off his cheek and the counter.

“You didn't.” You replied, sitting up. “I didn't mean to make you nick yourself.” You added, frowning at the fresh bead of blood from the cut, just below the apple of his cheekbone.

Henry smiled at you sweetly. “I was the clumsy one.” He told you, getting the blood to stop and picking his razor back up, to finish his task, still having the whole other side of his face to do.

You rested back against your pillow and the headboard as you continued to watch him shave, smiling as he spied you from the corner of his eyes and gave you his adorable attempt at a wink. Once he was finished, Henry washed the remaining shaving cream from his face and applied a bit of after shave, hissing and biting his bottom lip as it burned the cut on his cheek, then turned his attention to you. He crossed the gap between you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and rubbed his nose playfully against yours, before kissing you tenderly on the lips. You moaned into the kiss, his warmth and the scent of his shaving cream and body wash enveloped you in a pleasant bubble.

“Why don't you go back to sleep.” He cooed, pressing his forehead to yours and stared deeply into your eyes. “I'll wake you before I leave for work.” He said, soothing his hands up and down your arms.

“Promise?” You sighed, staring back at him, you were still sleepy.

“Don't I always?” Henry chuckled, kissing you again and moved away from you, so you could lay back down.

Kissing your hair, Henry tucked you back into the blankets and moved away from you, going back into the closet to get dressed, then went downstairs, turning on the coffee maker you sweetly set up for him every night before bed, so his mornings ran smoother and he had one less thing to worry about, when he started his day. He got his morning coffee in and went out for his careful morning jog, feeling the stiffness in his leg, with slight pain, as he started to run, groaning and gritting his teeth through it. An hour later, with the sun peeking over the top of the snowy trees, Henry returned to the house and got his things together, before going back upstairs, tenderly kissing you awake.

“I'm off to the studio, dove.” He whispered against your cheek, when you moaned and blinked up at him. “I'll see you this afternoon, when I get off.” He told you, brushing your hair out of your face. “I love you.” He said, leaning in to kiss you again.

“I love you too, Puppy.” You moaned back in a sleepy voice, turning your head to meet his slightly chilled lips. “Be careful.” You added as he pulled back.

“I promise.” Henry chuckled, pausing in the doorway for a moment, watching you as you pulled his pillow to your face and fell back to sleep, then set off for work.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Wade, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1304 Pairing: Male Gillman/Fishman x GN Reader

For @momolady​ who inspires me every day.

xxx

You gasped, and the pressure of water filling your lungs burned. Your eyes stung, your mind screamed, and your heart battered against your ribs like a caged animal fighting to escape. You had been swimming one moment and beneath the waves the next, and you’d only been able to hold your breath for so long before your body demanded that you inhale. Your vision blurred and shifted, blue turning into green turning into grey and finally into black. This was how you would die, you realised, and despaired.

An instant later, you spew seawater onto the sand.

Your lungs feel like someone’s taken a cheese grater to their linings, and you’re pretty sure that it’s more than just seawater that comes out of your mouth, but you’re too exhausted and disoriented to look at anything too closely. You roll onto your back and blink up at where the sky should be, only to get an eyeful of a strange, alien face above you. It’s covered in blue-green scales and lacks a discernible nose, with wide fins on either side instead of any hair on the top of the head. Bright pink eyes with an abalone sheen stare unblinkingly at you, almond-shaped and bigger than any you’ve ever seen. As you watch, thin membranes flicker sideways over them and then retract, effectively blinking without closing.

You scream.

He screams.

You both scramble back and away from one another. You just about manage to hear, “Watch out!” before your head hits something solid, making your vision swim and your limbs spasm. When you next come to, you’re on your side again and the creature is crouching in a tide pool nearby, arms around his knees and eyes on your face. “Your parents are looking for you,” he announces without preamble, revealing needle-sharp teeth when he speaks.

“Wh-Who are you?” you ask, shivering in both fear and physical shock.

The creature whistles and clicks, gurgles and growls. “But you can’t pronounce that,” he says, voice gravelly with amusement as he grins.

You scowl at him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re all scraped up and your swimsuit is torn; your mother will be upset, to be sure. “Well, why don’t you have another name?” you demand, offense taking over your fear. “One people can pronounce!”

His grin widens, eyes thinning into coral-peach slits. “Give me one.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a name,” he challenges, splashing his webbed fingers through the water around him and scooping up a tiny crab by the pincer. “If you give me a name including ‘fin’, I’ll drown you.”

“What kind of deal is that?” you snipe back, anger flaring. “Why would you save me just to drown me?”

“It was a joke. Situational irony. Ever heard of that?”

“I’m twelve,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the creature. “Just for that, I’m calling you Wade.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“That’s fair.”

As you watch, Wade flings the little crab into his mouth and bites down with a wet crunch that makes you shudder, stomach flopping like a caught fish. “Ew.”

“Don’t like crab?”

“Not when it’s alive.”

“But it’s fresh,” Wade points out, bemused. “Are humans scavengers?”

“What? No! We cook our food.”

“‘Cook’?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how to proceed. “We… put stuff on it and cook it with heat.”

Wade stirs, straightening up with a smile. “Like fire?”

He must not see fire very often, you figure, so you can’t help but smile back at him. “Like fire. We use gas and set it on fire to cook with, but we don’t usually put food right in the fire unless we’re camping.”

“‘Camping’? How else do you cook?”

This leads to a long and meandering discussion of how humans consume food, and you find that you eventually gain enough confidence around Wade to join him at the edge of the tide pool, dipping your feet into the sun-warmed water and brushing your toes against the webbing between his. You learn that he isn’t but a year or two older than you, “give or take a few lunar cycles”, and that he’s being educated in politics and human customs in the event that their kind are discovered. Naturally, this led to a curiosity of humans, so he spends most of his time off dangerously near the coast.

“You’re lucky I was nearby when the rip took you,” he says with a huff, poking at you with a thick, clawed finger. “You would have gotten waterlogged and washed up bloated on the shore if I hadn’t been.”

“That’s gross!” you whine, swatting his finger away with a pout. “Don’t say that!”

“It’s true! Humans get all pale and squishy when they die underwater. That would have been you, too, if it weren’t for me.” Wade preens, but you roll your eyes, toeing at a little starfish you can see beneath the water.

“Have you seen many dead humans, then?”

“Only when their ships sink in our territories. It’s my job to swim into the smaller spaces and retrieve what artifacts I can.”

“You mean you rob their graves?”

“Call me an archaeologist,” Wade replies with a shrug, waving away your concern. “At the very least, we try not to disturb the bodies, which is more than can be said for humans among themselves, or so I hear.”

You blush, angry and embarrassed. He has a point. “What kind of artifacts do you recover?” you eventually find yourself asking, curious despite your pique.

“Anything written is prized,” says Wade, “but only if they’re waterproof or in watertight containers. We take what won’t be missed and leave things like ship manifests and other logs. Aside from that, metal blades and utensils. They tarnish easily, so we keep them clean by buffing them with sand to maintain their shine. After that, anything mechanical that will work regardless of the circumstances, and then fabrics and anything that can be repurposed underwater.”

“That’s… actually pretty cool,” you admit, enthralled.

“Maybe I’ll show you one of our storehouses one day,” Wade replies, eyes creasing as he grins at your expense. “When you can swim, I mean.”

“I can swim!” you snap, getting miffed all over again before your mind registers the use of the word ‘someday’. “Wait. You mean I’ll see you again?”

“Of course,” Wade sniffs, two tiny nostrils on his face flaring. “I saved your life. You have to be my friend now.”

“Oh, is that how that works?” you grumble, crossing your arms again. “Some friend you are. All you’ve done is make fun of me.”

Wade blinks back at you, startled. “Do humans not make fun of the people they like?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “My mom says that boys shouldn’t do that because they’re just being shit-heads. If you like somebody, you have to be nice to them.”

Wade makes a thoughtful noise, almost a gurgle. “I’ll have to study more human sociology. You can help me.”

“Me?”

“You’re a human. I study humans. I can learn a lot about you.”

“But I only got a 48 in my last social studies test!”

Wade laughs, a cackle that makes him toss his head back and flare the fins on the side of his face. “Then we’ll learn together—you about me, and me about you!”

“Deal,” you tell him, sure that you would only get this opportunity once in your short little lifetime. You hold out your hand and Wade blinks at it, but the sound of someone calling your name in the distance spurs him into reaching out and shaking it. His scales are warm to the touch, smooth and soft against your fingers, and you find yourself grinning back at him. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” Wade echoes, and laughs again.

[wannaholdhandswithfictionalmen]

(My) Sanctuary;

A/n: First Ever Fic for Genshin Impact Fandom. A fic no one asked for but the idea was living in my head rent free, so what's a girl to do except play more Genshin Impact and work on this fic. (Listened to Sanctuary & Don't think twice by Hikaru Utada while writing this -- hence my inspired and very unoriginal title for this fic because I am horrible at thinking of titles.) 

Genre: Mostly Fluff really, a pinch or two of Angst.

Warning: Implied underage drinking. Brief description of Violence. Of age drinking. 

Summary: Childhood friends with history. Unspoken feelings. Mutual pining. Circumstances and life have forced you and Diluc on different paths, but you always return to Mondstadt and Diluc always makes time for you.

Word count: 3,128

The busy streets of Mondstadt. How long had it been this time? The absence of your presence from these cobblestone paths; four, five? No. Six months. Commissions to fight greater, fierce foes across Teyvat demanded your blades and lightning. Not that it mattered much how far or long you ventured from your former home. There was only one person who meant a great deal, important even if you could not sort through all the emotions attached to him in your own heart or even dare to give voice to those emotions.

Diluc Ragnvindr. 

And despite the inner twisted, festering turmoil (of your own making) cradled in your heart for Mondstadt, Favonius Knights, The Fatui 'diplomats'. Diluc was always a reason to return. 

In fact you aren't at all surprised when you stop by Good Hunter, offering up a handful of Mora for a meal. Sitting down at a table, closing your eyes. You took in a deep breath, the air here felt different to you. Thanks to the Anemo god, Barbatos. You swear it truly is the sense, embodiment of freedom that fills your lungs and soothes you even if for a few seconds. 

A savory blend of mushrooms, chicken and noodles is your lunch for the day. After thirty minutes have passed since your arrival in Mondstadt. And Diluc is sliding into the chair across from your own, elbows on the table, arms folded. Crimson eyes silently taking in the features of you. 

"Hm. You're slacking. That's ten minutes later than before, what took your little informants so long to whisper in your ear word of me being back?" You don't even spare a look at him, taking another bite, chewing a mouthful as you wait for his reply. 

"I do have a winery to run and the protection of Mondstadt to ensure, I can't not always come rushing away for personal affairs." Diluc holds a evident edge of underlying frustration in his smooth voice. 

Your own gaze trails up and over him, taking in the exasperation and exhaustion that furrows the brow of his otherwise stoic expression-- you want to ask when he last got a full night's rest? If he was still doing his lone warrior, Darknight Hero routine? If he was as stubborn as ever shouldering the burden of his fervor desire to defend and protect. Oh, how you worry, worry and worry the weight of it all on your tongue, tightening your throat-- who takes care of you? Who stands by your side? Who defends you? Who protects you? Who lov-

Once upon a time it had been you but a vortex of mourning, sorrow, rage swallowed up your old life. Until you wanted nothing more than to never see the walls of Mondstadt ever again. One day leaving it all behind. Time was a cruel mistress, one day swiftly grew to years. The first time you returned from what would become regular disappearances--adventures. 

Damage had been done. Diluc was the one who reached out to savage your friendship and you had welcomed the chance to have him back in your life even if it would never be anything more. 

"Should I be honored that the gentleman Ragnvindr can even grace me with his company?" It's a hollow jest as you pick at your half eaten plate of food. 

"No," His dismissal of the notion is soft yet firm. "Just Diluc, a friend, who is glad to see you well again." It's never his straight-forward or blunt nature that catches you off guard, it's when the subtle but clear sincerity creeps to the surface. Open, unwavering in his honesty.  

You huff, looking down feigning disinterest yet the twitch of your lips is undeniable. Warmth, simple, gentle curls in your chest. Happiness. Flickering embers outside of the stone walls of your heart that would make Rex Lapis proud. Diluc had always been able to slip past your defenses, so easily lingering in your thoughts, in your heart. Whether he was aware of it or not. 

"I suppose I am glad to see you too. Saved me a few bottles of my favorite wine?" You ask glancing up to catch his watchful gaze, biting your bottom lip as a wide smile threatened to spread on your face. Dulic's sudden raised eyebrow says it all-- do you really need to ask? 

"Four pristine bottles of aged mixed sunsettia, valberry wine." Prideful is subtle and delicate in his voice as if Diluc would ever forget your favorite wine. Funny enough to think about how even as the unspoken king of the winery industry, he doesn't enjoy alcohol himself. Still keeping a stock of your favorite in his manor. 

"You never let me pay you and we can't really share a few glasses together, so," you hum, slowly wired up with nervous yet excited anticipation as you reach down into the bag hanging off your shoulder. Shifting through the items and materials you carried with you for cooking and crafting you find it! Grabbing a slender jug of a bottle, wrapped in cloth. Swiftly placed on the table in front of Diluc. "I brought something for you." 

It's not like grape juice is such a hard find or something Diluc could not afford himself with his abundance of wealth but you had commissioned a famous brewer to make a special blend of grapes and other berries to create a rich and sweet juice. With your own Mora to spare after a few jobs, and you had a feeling your wandering would lead back to Mondstadt. 

Diluc is steady, slow with peeling back the cloth to stare at the deep, dark purple liquid filling the glass bottle. Uncorking the bottle, Diluc takes a whiff, closing his eyes, the smile that graces his face. It's everything and so much more. "It smells delicious. Thank you, I can't wait to taste it." 

"Then we should begin our walk to the manor? I can hear my wine calling me." You leave a few Mora coins as a tip, standing up, Diluc presses the cork back into the bottle and hands it back to you for safe keeping. 

"Alright," Diluc nods, following, matching your stride with ease. "Adelinde was asking about you the other day, you know she always makes sure your room is tidy, spotless in fact." 

Stupid. How one little phrase has your stomach full of crystal flies like you are a teenager all over again. And the mention of the kind maid who still fusses over Diluc and you on occasion makes you happy. It is a nice reprieve from nights of solitude, you are content to travel alone but loneliness is a creature that waits, and waits until the right moment to sink its claws and fangs into you on the road. 

The walk from Mondstadt isn't far but you aren't expecting a fully pleasant and peaceful walk with Diluc. Outside of the gates of the city and a few minutes down the dirt road, the sight of Hilichurls is predictable. 

Small pack of fighters, five Hilichurls carrying clubs and one hulking Mitachurl with a shield. This should be fun. 

"Make sure to show me how playing the part of the nighttime hero has kept your skills sharp!" You yell with a laugh, grinning as you summon your sword, forged of dragon bone, jagged, fierce blade. Rushing forward you dodge past the throw Pyro slimes. 

You let yourself run a little wild, your Electro vision surge through you, bolts of lightning crash down on the charging Hilichurls. Shocking and stunning the monsters for a moment, that's all you need to unleash a flurry of fast slashes.

A loud, enraged howl, crashing stomps approach from your back. Anyone else would need to worry or doubt--you don't. The familiar roar and rumble of flames fills the air, the scorning heat of it nipping behind you. Diluc doesn't even let that Mitcahurl so much as graze you, his grunts and shouts clash with its growl and howls as his flame imbued blade breaks and burns through the beast's wooden shield. Leaving ashes flying in the air and the heavy smell of smoke and fire. 

You electrify the Hilichurls, slowing, paralyzing the small beasts until they are left vulnerable and weak against you. The perfect targets. You cleave one's head off, stab straight through the mask of another, impale the chest of another. Delivering killing blows with precision and force. Wiping them out, you turn in time to see the beauty of Diluc. 

Rapid, graceful, relentless, ferocity embraced in unyielding flames. The towering giant Hilichurl is left staggering, stumbling under the strikes of Diluc's claymore left all too unprotected without its shield to hide behind. Diluc turns up the heat quite literally, the soaring, blazing phoenix that emerged from his own vision and will, his flames destroy the Mitcahurl, wiping out its pitiful existence effortlessly. 

Diluc shakes a bit of lingering flames and smoke off the steel of his blade with a sweeping slash at the air, standing among darkened, black grass, a gust of wind sways his hair and he looks over his shoulder. It is surely a moment deserving of immortalizing in portrait, his bright red hair blowing in the wind, holding his greatsword in one hand, sunlight giving him an ethereal glow, gazing at you. 

Giving a slow applause, you whistle and laugh. "Flashy as ever, Diluc." 

"The pyro element leaves little room for anything else. Still it's efficient and powerful," Diluc turns to face you, letting go of the hilt of his sword as it vanishes, unneeded outside of battle. "However, it's not something you could critique me on, when anyone for miles could see your lightning." 

"Fair enough." 

Besides a few stray slimes, the rest of your walk is undisturbed, reaching the winery as nightfall, the sun dipping below the horizon. 

"(Name) it is good to see you well." Adelinde smiles upon seeing you as Diluc opens the front door and holds it open for you to walk in first. She hugs you, it's hard not to melt into her tight cradle. 

"Have you been eating well? Sleeping accordingly? Not just naps. Taking breaks in between all your monster hunting?" Her lovingly stern questions always feel comforting in a way that is odd to describe and felt deeply. 

"I am still standing, Adelinde, fully rested and my stomach is full at the moment." 

"You would do well to keep it as such." Adelinde levels you with a motherly look of if you do not take care of yourself, I will which should be hard to make look threatening but the older woman handles it with years of expertise. She has worried over guests, Diluc, Kaeya, you for many, many years in the pact and many to come you are certain. 

"Adelinde, please have the bottles of sunsettia, valberry wine brought up, we-" 

"One step ahead of you, Master Diluc. Hillie and Moco brought them up a short while ago, I hope you two enjoy your time together." Adelinde leaves the manor, you aren't sure what work needs to be done on the grounds, you know for a fact Adeline specifically tries to do outside chores during daylight hours. It's an obvious tell for someone who knows her, she is ensuring you and Diluc remain alone for now. An avid supporter of your friendship you suppose. 

Diluc barely gets to call out a 'thank you!' as she is shutting the door. 

You stroll across the room, not much has changed at all. Your destination is the furniture set by the fireplace, the small, round table paired with two cushioned chairs. Pulling out the bottle of juice to place on the table top next to the bottles of wine, to cups awaiting you both. 

Pouring your first cup, you are eager, excited to taste the almost sickeningly sweet flavor of the wine. It never seems to taste the same from any other winery or brewery or even in the company of others. 

Moments of comfortable quiet drift by as you slowly, steadily sip and savory the wine. 

When Diluc takes the first taste of your gift and his low moan of approval as he swallows. Oh. You could listen to that again and again. All husky, raspy delight that sends shivers down your spine. It feels good to bring any kind of bliss to Diluc, even the simplest kind by providing him a drink he loves. 

You get the mutual feeling of being watched as you drink, sighing and smiling at the taste, the feeling of nostalgia creeps up on you. 

"I remember the first time I tasted this wine. We were barely teenagers sneaking down into the cellar. I badly wanted to try the wine everyone in Mondstadt wouldn't shut up about," you recall it interrupting yourself with short, full breaths of levity. Far too amused by the memory to contain your laughter. "I- I asked. No- begged you to come down with me while your father was gone, saying I'd bring Kaeya instead if you didn't come, bluffing and you got as red as a flaming flower, grabbed my hand and pulled me all the way to the cellar and downstairs." 

Diluc huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "You knew how to push my buttons too well, half of the stuff I let you talk me into was completely foolish." Staring into the lit fire as he listened to you. 

"Just half?"

"Fine. All of the escapades I let you drag me along on were absurd." 

"Your welcome as I recall you had a lot of fun." 

"At the risk of a lot of trouble, you tested the lengths of even my father's generous patience." Diluc shook his head, the fondness in expression was plain as day. 

"Oh, remember the night after getting my gliding license, I dared you to join me on top of the cathedral to see which of us could get farther across the city, and you landed in a bush!" Several glasses of wine, one empty bottle of the tart and sweet berry alcohol and you felt even more relaxed, comfortable in the company of Diluc. 

"I, at the very least, remained dry. You were the one who crash-landed right into the fountain." Diluc smirked, sharp, sly as he chuckled, lightly tugging and adjusting the fabric of his gloves. Idle gestures as his cup stays on the table after a few sips. 

"I would rate my dive undoubtedly ten out of ten." By the Archons, it had been a miracle you both escaped from the knights of Favonius night patrol with the commotion you made, wet leather boots on stone top made you slip a few times in your dash to escape discovery. Diluc had kept a firm grip on your arm, tugging you back up and refusing to leave you behind. 

Then you remember, hiding away, pressed chest to chest, the chill of your soaked clothes clinging to you, the rise and fall of heavy, labored breaths. How close Diluc had been, that smokey, fiery scent that having pyro vision gifted him along with faint aroma of fruit thanks to the orchard of the dawn winery, he worked with his father on occasion. If you had just tilted your head up, leaned in--

"I know Kaeya was always jealous. I could talk you into anything but you refused his antics left and right." 

"It's different. I actually like you and spending time with you." Diluc's deadpan response pulls a ugly snort-laugh from you. His relationship with Kaeya is an odd one but you know deep down he cares for his brother even if things aren't exactly civil between them. 

"I feel so special." 

"As you should, I don't like people." His sarcasm, that is half-joke, half-truth keeps you laughing. 

The first wave of tiredness hits you, letting out an involuntary yawn. Your travels, the trek and fight from earlier catch up with you. Combined with the consumption of alcohol. 

"I think the wine is getting to me, I feel a little sleepy." You finish off your glass with one gulp, smooth like silk down your throat, the lack of burn makes it far too easy to want to empty all the bottles. Four. You'd certainly regret that in the morning. 

"I noticed." Diluc gets up first, three steps towards you, he is holding out his hand to you. 

"I can walk myself, I am not that drunk." You protest his offer while reaching out and taking his hand, entwining your fingers without a second thought. Diluc gives your hand a squeeze, his slender fingers lightly caressing the back of your hand. He guides you upstairs to your room as if you don't know the way by heart as if your room would ever change. 

"You would never ask for help yourself and you did break a vase the last time, even the smallest bit of intoxication seems to make you clumsier." Diluc gives his clear and absolutely unfair opinion. It happened one time!

It is really not necessary either to open the door for you, letting go of your hand only to press the large, warm palm of his hand against your back. Nor does Diluc need to kneel before you as you sit on the edge of the bed, unfastening your boots, removing your satchel and placing your belongings on the bedside table. 

"It is hilarious to hear you of all people, calling me out of not asking for help. Mister Darknight." 

Dliuc 'tsks' at the mention of his beloved hero name. "I am aware, that can be a little hypocritical." 

"A little?" 

"(Name)," Diluc speaks your name so tenderly, softly, as if the word itself is precious. "I simply want to help you, to car-" He clears his throat cutting off that train of thought. Pausing for seconds of silence pass, crimson eyes staring into your own. "If there was anyone I would accept help from it would be you." 

That is dangerously close to an admission of something else. And all every moment of the past, all the maybe(s), what-ifs, almost(s) flash through your mind. You could take the leap or let this become another memory to turn over and over in your head, wondering, wanting, yearning. 

"Get some rest." Diluc walks over to the door, standing in the open threshold of the room, hand gripping the door knob. 

"Diluc, wait" It's barely a whisper, so hushed and subdued. So low, he doesn't hear it and when Diluc looks over his shoulder, the short-lived courage in you has diminished and you can't bring yourself to voice all the longing, desire, love trapped in your heart. 

"Goodnight, Diluc."

"Goodnight, (Name)." 

[vicious-vixxxen]

Ugh. I’ll I’ve been able to think about for days is Kirishima.

Pro Hero Red Riot is always on the move. Always busy. Saving people, doing interviews, kissing babies, the whole nine yards.

When you and Kiri started dating fresh out of UA you knew what you were signing up for. Being part of the hero support course yourself, never afforded you much grandeur or fame, but that was okay. You were trusted with one of, if not the most important part of a hero’s identity- their suit. You were more than happy to tinker away at revisions, or sketching new styles for up and comers, than being out on the field.

You were the only one in the support class, even above Power Loader himself, who Kirishima took his costume and ideas to. You’d made the very first alterations to his hero costume when he first arrived at UA, after the USJ attack. From then on it was sort of a wonderfully professional relationship. As professional as someone like Kiri could be- all large toothy grins, bad jokes, and hands on communications. /Very/ hands on. Kirishima never thought twice about leaning over your shoulder to watch you sketch up the inner workings of other suits, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, always warm and sweet, like all he consumed was candy.

Or sitting next to you, thighs and sides flush as you grew frustrated over his helmet design. He’d snicker and lay one large hand over your own- because by his third year he was already towering over half the staff, let alone the students- to drag your pencil in a different direction, voice soft and secret, just for you.

You never spoke outside of the support class really, especially as the years progressed. Kiri was class 1A after all, and as your own talents started to blossom, the busier you were kept as well. Being consulted to help pros with their designs in just your second year.

But you treasured the hours after school you got to spend with Kirishima. He’d never struck you as particularly male leaning, so while you’d entertain the idea sometimes, in the privacy of your dorm room, of being Kirishima’s boyfriend, you didn’t allow it to mess up the relationship you’d built with the other boy. You chalked it up to your first real crush, and, having always been an overtly rational individual, knew you’d work through it sooner or later. Unwilling to entertain the idea of not even being friends with Kiri. Cuz being his friend would always be better than nothing at all.

But imagine your surprise, the day after graduation, when he arrived at your doorstep. Flowers and chocolates in hand, and a thick envelope nearly bursting at the seams, filled with letters he’d been writing to you over the course of your high school careers.

Apparently, Kirishima hadn’t wanted to trouble you with his feelings when you two were so focused on school, and absorbing as much as you could, and for good reason. But now, he’d stated so clearly- the hesitance behind his wavering grin made your chest tight- you were both adults, out in the world, and if you’d have him, he’d love to take you out.

The rest was sort of history.

Three years later, still going strong.

Though Red Riots newest ranking- from his wavering 7-8, all the way up to 4, had meant an influx in work the last 3 weeks. Kirishima been all over Japan, helping out on various reconnaissance missions, interviews of the rising hero variety, and just generally being kept busy by his agency.

Kiri popped in ever few days, when he could. A quick dinner and cuddle till he had to leave again. A nice long Skype session as he was flown to a new mission, if you were lucky. But the two of you always made things work. You loved each other too much to even entertain the idea of your professional loved interfering to the point of no return, in your personal lives.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, but it did mean it was a manageable. Especially when the two of you tried so hard.

And your combined hard work paid off. Kirishima had been praised internationally, after a mission he was brought in for in Europe went fantastically. The Japanese Hero Commission splashing Red Riot on the front page of anything that consisted of pages, honestly. And awarding him privately with paid time off.

Paid. Time. Off.

That had been yesterday, Friday evening. You’d both returned home late, and despite how tired you both were, it didn’t stop you from fully christening some new sheets you’d bought, before passing out together.

The christening of which you recalled as you sat, sprawled out on the sofa in the living room- one leg thrown back over the back of the sofa, the other extended out towards the opposite end. A book in hand in front of you, free arm cradled behind your head. Trying to focus on the pages, as the bright, early morning sun splashed across them.

Which was hard, when all you could focus on was the blossoming bruises on your inner thighs, and pleasant ache in your ass, and the sting of the bite on your neck whenever you turned your neck even a fraction.

The night previous had been rushed, all teeth, and gnawing, and clawing, and racing towards the end together. It was wonderful, and you’d always loved the aftermath Kirishima would leave on your body. Ever the closet possessor he was.

He’d never been much of an early riser, so it was another two or so hours of trying and failing to read for you, before the familiar sounds of large, lumbering footsteps could be heard slowly making their way downstairs. You smiled, cheeks flushing, despite the many years you’d known the man, as you caught a glimpse of his wild, shoulder length red hair first. Soft at the tips, wild at the root. Kirishima yawned, ducking below the entryway into the living room, and just barely catching you staring, before you lifted your book higher to block his view of your face.

You could practically hear the grin behind his chuckling, as he stalked towards you with more purpose now. His legs in view under your book, and his hair a plum of red above the top as he crouched at the edge of the sofa. Two large hands cupping each of your feet- teasing your toes briefly, snickering at how you giggled behind your book.

Kirishima’s eyes raked over you slowly- noting what seemed to him, as miles of gorgeous, unblemished skin, ready to be marked up. Clad in just a pair of briefs you’d thrown on before coming downstairs, almost every inch of you was bare to your husband. Kirishima drinking it in slowly, as he crawled above you on the sofa. Hardening just one fingertip, and tracing it from your ankle, all the way up to your inner thigh, as he towered over you on the sofa finally. The prick of sharpness on the soft flesh of your thigh causing a hitch in your breath. Which you held, until Kiri’s finger turned smooth once more, and he took a handful of the meatiest part of your thigh into his hand, and /squeezed/.

((NSFW warning ahead, I can’t help myself so continue reading at your own risk ;3))

“Ei-Chan,” you breathed out finally, setting your book down on the floor beside you. Bright red eyes meeting yours, as one of your hands found it’s way into Kirishima’s thick locks, the other wrapping around his broad back, palm settled just between the mans shoulder blades.

“Marked you up good last night, huh pebble?” Kirishima snickered, and you huffed. Faux annoyed as you smacked the mans back, tensing once more as Kiri’s fingers danced along the bruises and bite marks littering your thigh. Tapping each one gently, causing you to flinch with pleasure each time, before he moved to your other thigh. Doing the same, as he dipped his face down into the crook of your neck, and just breathed.

The shaky sigh he let out afterwards was victory enough for you, you reasoned, as even the mans strong shoulders shook as he breathed you in.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Kirishima nodded quickly, nosing along your neck, huffing like a puppy as he went.

“I missed you too,” you reminded him, biting into the mans shoulder gently, as the hand on his back drifted down to Kirishima’s ass, and you shook it jokingly. Feeling the weight of the mans cheek jiggle in your palm, laughing despite yourself as Kiri growled at you.

“Don’t tease me, dude,” Kiri mock cried, pulling back to give you a pout, as the hand on your inner thigh drifted center again, where, unprompted, Kirishima cupped your cock through your underwear. Smirk tugging at his bitten lips- bad habit he’d always had, you’d long since stopped trying to get him to fix it- as he ground his palm against you, almost too rough, and you groaned. Eyes fluttering shit, lip between your own teeth as he bucked up, shifting your hips just right to grind your quickly stiffening cock against Kirishima’s hand.

“So eager,” Kirishima mused, balking suddenly as you moved your hand cupping his ass, into his boxers- palming at his cheek briefly, before two fingers delved into the hot cleft of his bubble butt, brushing just briefly against the tight pucker of his hole, causing the larger man to twitch, and fall flat against you. Tense for all of two seconds, before he propped his ass back up, and wiggled against your fingers.

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed, head tilted back, long enough for Kirishima to latch onto your Adam’s apple, and suck hungrily as he continued to stroke you through your underwear. Lasting all of two seconds, before shredding through them with a finger, and taking your cock in his hand.

“Those were my best Calvins, jackass,” you huffed, brushing Kiri’s hair back out of his eyes as he leaned up- holding your gaze as he let a long string of spit fall from his Mouth- letting it drip down the side of your cock, before he slicked you up, and began stroking you in earnest. Hot, and wet, calloused palm perfectly rough, and you were putty.

Mewling and fucking into Kiri’s fist with quiet, breathy ‘Ei-Chan’s’ rolling off your tongue. Clinging to enough sense, barely, to bring two fingers up to your mouth to wet, before shoving them back down and into Kiri’s ass, teasing his hole briefly, before sinking your middle finger to the hilt in his hole- both of you moaning out, Kiri at the intrusion, and you at the spasming heat of his tight hole, like a vice on your finger as you fucked the man on it slowly.

You both shifted, Kirishima up on his knees, bringing you into his lap to stroke the two of you together, constantly spitting down on your lengths, hot and filthy, to keep you wet, as the larger man began to pant into your face. Morning breath be damned, you finally, /finally/, kissed him. Reaching between the two of you to cup Kirishima’s heavy ball sac as you did, kneading them gently, and tugging on them whenever Kirishima began to breath a little too heavily.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you so much, so so much, love- love- ah, fuck- love,” Kirishima whined, vulnerable in a way no one else would ever get to see him as you took over for him- needing both hands to stroke both he and yours impressive lengths, Kiri’s hands at your back holding you up in his lap- his arms shook with the force it took, especially as he neared his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Ei,” you whispered against a Kirishima’s lips, eating up his whimpered pleas as they ghosted your lips. “Come on, big guy, cum. Cum all over me, Ei, Mark me up. I wanna feel it, on my cock. Come on.” And that was all it took. With a loud shout, Kirishima’s grip on you tightened, and he hun he’d over your shoulder, quiet all of the sudden, before making a sound like he’d been punched in the gut as he began to cum. Cock thickening up, before pump after pump of thick, hot cum burst from the top of it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight long ropes of cum shooting out all over your chest, and combined cocks, before slowing to a dribble every time Kirishima’s cock throbbed.

You overworked him though, his softening cock, and your own hard length making the filthiest squelching noises as you continued to overstimulate your husband- his cries into your shoulder sending you over the edge, as you leaned against his shoulder, and came undone yourself. Adding to the sticky, hot mess in your laps, before the both of you went quiet. Just the deep, heavy sighs as you caught your breath together filling your the surrounding space.

“My dick feels like it’s gonna fall off,” Kiri muttered finally, leaning you both back into the sofa- making a mental note to get it deep cleaned, as he snuggled you deep into the cushions- his spit wet hands skimming your sides, before they slid beneath you , and he settled comfortably on top. Careful of his weight, always too conscious of crushing you- unless you asked for it, that was, he thiight idly. Fondly.

“We’ve got the next eight days all to ourselves, so I’d maybe see if he can hold out till at least then. Though I’d accept an early leave- no earlier than Thursday, I suppose, if he can’t keep up,” you drawled, wiping your cum covered hands on your stomach as best you could, before wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s waist, and closing your eyes.

“Eight days,” Kirishima echoed, kissing your closed eyes, closing his own as he did so, and shifting to lay more comfortably, face in your neck as he felt sleep threatening to take him once again.

“Eight days,” you parroted back again, snickering, and yawning. Ignoring the tacky cum that was going to dry all crusty and gross between the two of you, in favor of hooking a leg around Kiri’s, and allowing sleep to take you.

But not before whispering one last “I love you” between the two of you, Kirishima mumbling contentedly back at you before falling back asleep as well.

[amintyworld]

The Return - Dream SMP 12 Years AU

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to another introduction to a AU idea I had with a lotta fluff and angst. May write more with this AU because I have a lot of ideas for it. Hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any questions about this AU at all, my ask box is always open, I'd love to talk about this.

By the way, for the enderman text I used this translator that my friend @griffintail uses in her work as well. It was really helpful and you guys should totally check out her work on her blog, she's awesome. - Minty

Summary: 12 years after the Bench Trio, Wilbur, Sam and Sapnap kill Dream for good and burn the revive book, the masked man returns on a plan for revenge.

TW: Blood/gore, kidnapping, torture, attempted murder, murder, implied character death, running away, denial, cursing, sympathetic dream? (He's a ghost). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!) (Also, shippers get off my lawn please and thank you.)

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Michael’s eyes narrowed as someone, a stranger he couldn’t recognize slowly approached the house. That bright green hoodie and weird mask made his instincts flare, sensing danger. He jumped down, getting out his sword as he slowly walked to greet the intruder. His Dads and Uncle Technoblade trained him well enough that a plan was already forming in his head, going over the stock he had on him in his mind, prepared for whatever the stranger was planning to do.

A golden ax hung from the masked man’s back, a smile peeking out from under that smooth porcelain-like surface that the zombie piglin couldn’t tell if it was friendly or sinister. Finally, they were about five feet apart, facing each other. Michael pulled the cloak around him slightly more as a cold wind blew through the field. “Who are you? What are you doing on Snowchester Property?”

The man just stared at him, looking at him up and down.

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Michael, right?” The masked man walked toward him casually. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Not another step!” Michael shouted, pointing his enchanted netherite sword threateningly at the stranger, who looked almost amused at this action, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How do you know my name?!”

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you? We’re family.”

“...family?”

“Not by blood, of course. I’m more like... a friend. A family friend. Your parents and I were very close back in the day, I just came by for a visit.”

“A visit…? If you’re so close with my parents how come you haven’t visited before?”

“You know how adventuring can be - it takes up a lot of time, you know.” The masked man smiled and made Michael’s gut churn uncomfortably. “I’ve heard so much about you, Michael.” The stranger kept walking towards the teenager, his hands up casually. “It’s been so long, we should really spend some time and catch up-”

“NO! No. Stay… stay right there. Don’t… don’t you dare fucking move, you got that?!” The man stopped around three feet away from him now. “Now you either tell me your name or I’m putting this blade through your teeth.”

The man sighed. “Pity. I was really hoping to get to talk with you peacefully, Michael. You seem like a nice kid.”

“What?”

Quickly and flawlessly, the masked intruder pulled out his ax and Michael quickly readied his sword, ready for a fight. What he didn’t expect was for the intruder to get some air and run up the wall of the mansion, landing down the blow with a lot more force than the zombie piglin expected, and he dug his hooves into the snow, somehow keeping himself from getting knocked over completely. Using all of his strength he pushed the intruder off, scrambling for a strength potion as the man tackled him to the ground. “Nuh-uh, that’s cheating.” Michael was quick to grab his sword and defend, moving to strike against his neck. The masked man moved to dodge, the black string of his mask getting nicked by Michael’s blade, making it begin to fall to start to reveal blonde hair and cold green eyes that were somewhat familiar to Michael, though he couldn’t figure out from where. As he hesitated, the man’s eyes flared with anger. Within seconds he’d pulled Michael’s arm against his back toward his shoulder blade, making the piglin feel like his arm was going to snap. He grunted in pain, reaching to grab his sword that got knocked into the snow when he felt the press of an ax against his neck, enough pressure to feel the sharpness of the blade. The zombie piglin could hear his heartbeat in his ears, swallowing his fear.

“I’m Dream, though I think you already know who I am.” Dream huffed against the piglin’s desperate struggle, the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins from a victory. Of course, Michael knew the stories - his Dads and Uncle Tommy defeated that psychopath 12 years ago. They killed him, how the fuck was he alive?! The blade pressed harder against Michael’s neck as it began to draw a bit of blood. “Stop struggling.” Dream relished how much he’d missed all this, how much he’d missed being in control. “You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

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

Ranboo hauled his basket of carrots and potatoes beside him as he reached down to grab some of the new harvests. A snowstorm was coming in soon, and they needed to stock up for the coming colder months. Their farms grew so big that a few of them set up shop in front of the old decommissioned prison, Pandora’s Box. Twelve years ago Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had faced that prison head-on, fighting their old allies turned foes, death at nearly every turn they took. They succeeded with a little help, burying the body a little outside of the prison walls and never looking back. The three of them faced many more trials after that, growing close as years passed and the server became peaceful as it used to be back in the beginning. The children grew up, their parents giving them the world and more, protecting them from harm, and making sure they had better than their parents ever did. Now, throwing another bright orange carrot in his basket, Ranboo couldn’t help but smile across the way at his husband, teetering up the ladder in a straw sun hat, gathering honey from their bee farm. He’d gifted the ladder a few years prior - “A little short help for my shortie”. Tubbo threatened a villain arc at the note, making everyone around the table laugh as Ranboo walked over to embrace him, his chin resting on Tubbo’s head gently as the shorter had crossed his arms with a huff. Ranboo’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

He felt happy.

FoolishG whispered to you: Ranboo he’s back.

You whisper to FoolishG: What do you mean?

You whisper to FoolishG: Who?

FoolishG whispered to you: He’s going after you first.

FoolishG whispered to you: Is Michael with you?

You whisper to FoolishG: No.

You whisper to FoolishG: You didn’t answer my question, Foolish.

FoolishG whispered to you: Michael’s in danger, you need to get to him now.

FoolishG whispered to you: Dream’s alive, Ranboo.

You whisper to FoolishG: If this is some kind of joke this isn’t funny.

You whisper to FoolishG: This isn’t funny

You whisper to FoolishG: You know how he messed with me, stop it

You whisper to FoolishG: Don’t joke about that, Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish answer me

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish?

Ranboo dropped his messenger in fear as the reality of the situation began to set in, his breaths beginning to panic. No, no no no no… they killed him. They killed him, they got rid of him for good. He’s supposed to be dead, he’s supposed to be gone-!

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at him with concern as he packed up the jars of honey from their bee farm. Ranboo’s silence did not help his unease. “Ranboo, what’s wrong?”

FoolishG whispered to you: Hurry, Ranboo. I don’t know how long he’ll last.

Tubbo was kneeling in front of him now, grounding him with his hands on his husband’s shoulders. “Breathe. Breathe, Ranboo. Deep breaths, you’ve got it…”

As Ranboo tried in vain to even his breaths, he held Tubbo’s hand in fear. “Dream’s back... He’s...he… he’s alive and he has Michael.”

“What?” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but we burned the revive book. We killed him, I saw his body-!”

“Michael… fuck, he has Michael…” Ranboo cursed on his breath. “This is all my fault, I should’ve known-!”

“No. None of that. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Tubbo dismissed, getting up and holding his hand out toward the enderman. “We’ve killed him before, we’ll just kill him again, right? We’ll save Michael and put a stop to this for good.” As Tubbo helped Ranboo back to his feet, he moved under a tree to place the purple glowing black box that greeted the two like an old friend. An enderchest. They hadn’t needed to use it for so long. They hadn’t needed what was inside. Tubbo pulled out a familiar enchanted sword that used to plague Ranboo’s dreams. His sword. The goat hybrid took off his straw hat and with one last glance placed it inside the enderchest, his eyes focused and thinking. He felt the new weight of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weapon again. “It’ll work this time. It has to.”

“It will.” Ranboo echoed.

Will it?

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, looking somber, numb. When they finally killed Dream they thought it would be the last time, the last war to fight. All three of them strived and hoped for peace, for all of it to be over, to get their own happy endings. He moved to the side, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got to warn Tommy.”

As Ranboo grabbed his own enchanted sword and his old armor from the chest, he couldn’t help but wonder, a single thought that nagged him and wouldn’t seem to leave his mind, making his stomach sink to the floor in dread…

...What if they never killed him in the first place?

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

Phil closed his eyes as he sat in his chair, feeling something wrong, off in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. The room around him is silent but Phil can feel the world yelling for him, screaming for him. It’s trying to tell him something. Phil’s been alive for a long time. He’s seen the earth burst with new life, and slaughtered bodies fall to the floor, smelling nothing but the cold press of death. He’s seen it, heard it, felt it so many times it was a familiar, somewhat comforting feeling for him. It was calming, it was constant, it was natural.

So why did it…?

Phil’s eyes opened slowly, looking out the window in thought as Technoblade walked in from the snowstorm outside, a chill running through the cabin. The piglin dropped his bag of loot on the floor and began to shoulder off his snow gear to hang by the fire to dry. As Techno walked past him, moving in front of the fire to undo his braids, damp from the snow.

“Techno, something’s happening.”

“Heh?” The piglin’s ears perked up from the break in the somewhat comfortable silence they usually shared. “What… what do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong. It feels… unnatural.” Phil said, closing his eyes briefly again to focus on the feeling. “Did you see anything off while you were out?”

“Not really, the snow’s coming down so hard you can barely see a thing out there.” The piglin shrugged, the concern on his friend’s face only making a pit form in his stomach he tried to ignore. “...what’s wrong?”

“Something’s moving… breathing… it shouldn’t be.”

“Zombies, maybe?” Techno suggested. “I did see a few while I was out.”

“Maybe.” Phil agreed. “Part of me feels like something’s off, something dangerous. Like when you… you were almost…” Phil sighed. “I guess I’m just worrying over nothing again.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing - you have good instincts, Phil.”

“Battle instincts. Instincts I don’t need anymore. And here I thought you’d have a harder time adjusting to all this.” Phil scoffed.

“A lot’s been changing. With everything that happened, I don’t blame you for being a little tense, Phil. I am too.” Technoblade admitted. “Just to be safe, we can double-check when the storm passes, that way we won’t get any interference with the communicators.”

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled, moving to sit next to his friend by the fireplace. “Thanks, Techno.”

Technoblade scoffed, his mouth breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t mention it.” The piglin ran his hands through his hair, going through a few knots before grabbing a brush. Taking a deep breath to calm the knots in his stomach, Phil moved to set the kettle on the furnace, grabbing a match to light it.

Miles away from the icy tundra, Foolish walked through the Temple of the Undying, a small teenager in their arms. He was silent as he marched, tears going down his cheeks full of emotion the god held back. His arm gently cradled the child’s head close to his chest. His heart weighed heavy with guilt, words and memories echoing in his mind of failure, of how he failed his son.

Foolish could feel presences, he could feel others watching from the shadows and corners. Every single statue and totem memorial against the wall seemed to have their gazes fixed on him as if waiting for what the god would do next. For once, Foolish didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t even told anyone the news yet. How could he? His son was dead and it was all his fault. All because he wasn’t careful. Dream was back, he was standing there next to his son and for once he couldn’t control his anger, his panic. He tried to strike him down, but…

He still remembered every detail, how Dream had just… smiled. He wasn’t afraid. He was staring down a god, and he wasn’t afraid. Somehow, he was always one step ahead.

Lightening still sparked and clung to Foolish Jr.’s body. Foolish couldn’t help but think about how much pain he must’ve been in, how much pain he must’ve put him through. He fell to his knees in the center of the temple, gently laying his son on the floor, the beacon lighting him in a bright glow. His hands shaking, Foolish brushed a bit of hair out of Junior’s eyes, bowing his head toward the ground.

“I’m sorry…” His soft whispers echoed through the temple. “I’m so so sorry, Ra forgive me for what I’ve done…” Tears dripped down to the floor. “My little totemling…” Foolish’s eyes snapped toward the walls as the totem statue’s eyes began to softly glow, bathing the two in green light. The totem god’s eyes still wet with tears as he looked into the green eyes, a silent question on his mind. Whispers filled his ears that he couldn’t quite decipher. Suddenly, he felt it.

A pinprick in the middle of his chest, expanding throughout his body, the pain pulsing like a heartbeat. His breath hitched as drowsiness overtook him, making him feel dizzy. An essence was being slowly pulled from his body, glowing like some kind of enchantment on a weapon. Sweat built on Foolish’s brow as he struggled to keep his breaths even. Then… a stinging slice across his middle left him in a silent scream. His hand slowly reached up toward his chest, his eyes widening when he found it covered in crimson. The pain was overwhelming - it felt as if his body was torn apart and stitched back together in a matter of seconds. He scrambled to grab a health potion, downing it all and wincing at the terrible aftertaste but thankfully finally getting some relief. His eyes focused on the essence as it hung up into the air above the two, and slowly was lowered, expanding around Foolish Junior’s body.

As the green light faded, Foolish heard faint chanting, looking around for where it was coming from, trying desperately to piece together what was happening. Before Foolish had time to figure out exactly what the chanting was saying, the body shooting upwards from the ground, gasping for breath quickly grabbed his attention.

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

Michael didn’t know how long it was. How many hours had passed since he’d been tied to the chair? He didn’t even know if it was night or day. He sat in the middle of his parent’s bedroom, feet and hands tied expertly - he was completely and utterly trapped. With every time he struggled and strained against the bonds they cut against his skin and irritated it enough to make them bleed, almost training the piglin to try to stay as still as possible, to avoid any pain.

Dream stalked around the bedroom like a thief, searching through the closet and drawers for something or other. He’d pick up a potion, a diamond, even an ingot or two, holding them up toward the light as if to inspect them before dropping them in his bag. His gaze fell upon a picture of the family from their beach vacation a few years ago - Ranboo fell asleep with a seagull perched on his stomach. Michael remembered how much he and his father had tried to hold back their laughter enough for a selfie, only for Ranboo to wake up and scare the seagull away halfway through taking the picture. They looked so happy together.

Dream seemed unfazed by the photo, almost studying it in a sense. The gaze seemed oddly calculated, making the teen feel uneasy.

“Michael you’re a good kid, you know.” Michael’s glare bore into Dream’s mask as sticky drips of crimson spilled over his hands. “You always want to do the right thing, want to protect everyone. You shouldn’t have to be the one to fight your parent’s battles, should you?”

Michael remained silent.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael. I really don’t. Despite what your parents might have told you, I’m not a monster. It brings me no satisfaction to bring you pain. After all, you’ve done nothing to me.”

“So?”

“So I’m giving you some free advice - take the easy way out, for both of us. All you need to do is tell me where that armor is hidden, and I’ll let you go.”

“Bullshit.” Michael spat. “I know that’s not what you want, my parents told me more than that you’re just some scary monster. You’re a power hungry lunatic.”

A smile spread across Dream’s face at Michael’s words. “A lunatic, huh?”

“You manipulated Uncle Wilbur, you tortured Uncle Tommy… you betrayed my father all because you want power! You want control over people, freeing me would have you lose the only shred of control you have left on this server, so why would you?”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Dream said casually, rolling up his sleeves. “So smart…” He reached into his bag, grabbing a pair of shears that looked worn. There were initials on the leather cover that Michael couldn’t strain his eyes to see. Dream uncovered the shears, walking over toward the piglin and resting an arm on the teenager’s right side, trapping him.

Something churned in the piglin’s stomach. “What… what are you…?”

“Tell me, smart kid, do you know what it feels like to die? To feel nothing but neverending agony? To choke on your own blood as you beg for relief and warmth only to find yourself becoming colder and colder, not being able to move or even scream?”

Michael couldn’t help the fear that traveled up his spine. “I…I-”

“I wonder… would you like to find out?” The sharp end of the scissors was quickly set near the bottom of the piglin’s neck. It freaked Michael out - how calm Dream was about it all, how serious he sounded. Was he really going to kill him? The question sent his mind racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt like a trapped sheep in a wolf’s grasp. He wanted to run but he couldn’t.

“I...I just-”

“Do you know what canon lives are, Michael?” Dream asked smoothly, as if he was telling the teenager about the terrible weather. The words seemed familiar to the piglin but for some reason he was so stressed it was hard to remember anything specific. His parents never really talked about it much and usually tried to avoid the topic.

Michael thickly swallowed, acutely aware of the sharp blade against his skin. “No… no I don’t think-”

Of all the things he expected to happen in his situation, he certainly didn’t expect for the masked man to go into a small laughing fit over his answer. Michael struggled to find what exactly was funny, and a small pit of rage began to boil in his stomach, temporarily distracting the zombie piglin from the fear that the green blob seemed to pull out of him. So what if he didn’t know what those are?! Why does he care?! “Oh, I knew they couldn’t have told you everything…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“You see Michael, when someone dies they use up a canon life and respawn, until… well… they can’t anymore. Everyone has three, but a few have been used up over the years, at least when I was around.” Michael could see the beginnings of a smirk poke out from underneath Dream’s mask. “You’ve never respawned, have you?! All three lives, no deaths… oh, this could be fun…”

What… what the fuck was he suggesting?!

“Your choice - Tell me where the armor is now, or I’m going to kill you.”

The zombie piglin nervously looked around for any kind of out, something to stall. He couldn’t give up the location - Dad told him explicitly that he couldn’t reveal the location to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Tubbo held Michael’s hands firmly in his own. “It’s evil, Michael. It used to belong to a very bad person, and he hurt a lot of people. We have to contain that evil here, for everyone’s sake. If this got into the wrong hands…” His father trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Tubbo looked up at his son proudly, moving to cup his cheek with his hand fondly. “I know you won’t. You’re old enough and you’ve trained enough, you’ve earned my trust.”

He couldn’t let his father down, but…

“Five… four… three…” Dream huffed, getting impatient.

“You… you can’t just-!”

“Wrong answer.”

Michael’s memory was fuzzy after that - maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe it because he didn’t want to remember. He remembered… he remembered how his body trembled as Dream swiftly stabbed him in the chest with the shears, he remembered the tears going down his face as Dream tried to wedge the weapon deeper in the wound. And the pain… the pain was indescribable. Of course Michael had gotten hurt before - but arrows and zombie bites and broken bones could never compare to this, not by a long shot. Words left his lips so freely that he forgot exactly what he said, but when Dream twisted the scissors he whimpered.

He was mad at himself for crying and losing himself in front of his tormentor - he was giving him exactly what he wanted! Why did he just cry so easily?! Why was he being so… so weak?! He didn’t know exactly how or when the chair he was tied to flipped over, but he did remember shouting that seemed distant. He hit his head when he fell, adding to the throbbing dizziness in his skull. The pain hurt so much he wanted it to stop, please just let it stop...

He hadn’t even noticed the masked green blob left the room until a pair of dark purple eyes stared at him from the doorway. He felt himself tremble as the figure moved closer, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch whatever that thing wanted to do to him next. After a tense moment of silence the piglin felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and his body relaxed into the touch, the familiar hum radiating throughout the stranger’s chest that always helped calm him. A hand reached up to scratch at his ears fondly, and Michael worked up the courage to open his eyes.

Two purple glowing eyes looked down at him, smiling and purring. The hair, the clothes… “Dad…?” Michael weakly croaked. The purple-eyed Ranboo smiled at him as he fondly patted his head. A loud noise erupted from his mouth, making Michael tense up in fear.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬.”

Upon seeing Michael’s distress, purple-eyed Ranboo quickly went back to sending calming purrs, holding his son’s head in his hands. Michael was so confused - what was that noise? More importantly, was his Dad okay? Ranboo’s hands drifted above the zombie piglin’s chest wound, a slight noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. He grit his teeth through the pain as he struggled to speak. “Dad, look, you… you gotta listen - Dream’s here, he’s gonna be back any second…”

The Ranboo-not-Ranboo’s head whipped toward the doorway at a loud crash, his grip increasing on the teenager slightly. Had his Dad even heard him? More strange noise erupted from his mouth, only increasing Michael’s concern. What was going on?

“⎅⏃⋏☌⟒⍀.”

Before Michael could ask what exactly that meant, with a ‘vwoop’ the purple-eyed Ranboo disappeared. Though Michael missed the warm comfort for his pulsing pain, part of him was glad. That means his Dad must’ve heard him, he was gonna warn the others and Dream wouldn’t hurt him, that was all that mattered. The other part felt like he was six years old again trapped in his own personal nightmare, begging for his father to come back and save him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Static began to fill his ears as a slow deep sleepiness began to take over. Tears pricked at the edges of Michael’s eyes, the pulsing, burning pain becoming too much.

Just let me rest...

The door slammed open. A scream echoed.

“MICHAEL!”

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

Foolish had never seen his son so scared in his entire life. He shot up, grasping for some kind of lifeline, and Foolish didn’t hesitate to pull him close. “Dad…”

“Shh, it’s okay little totemling. Dad’s right here.” His heart felt full as he hugged his son tightly, afraid that if he let go it would all just be a dream. His son, his son was alive and breathing, his son was right here in his arms, he was okay, it was all okay-! Wet tears slipped down his face before he had the time to notice them. The totem god’s gaze shifted up towards the totem statue. The statue glared down at him, expressionless, as if nothing else needed to be said.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

“There was… there were shadows everywhere,” Junior sobbed. “It was cold and so, so scary and I didn’t know where you were, and-!”

“I’m right here, Foolish. I’m right here. It…” Foolish hesitated. How could he explain this to him? How could he tell his son that he failed him? How could he face his son and tell him the truth, that his own father had killed him? Maybe some things were better left unsaid, some truths untold. Foolish couldn’t tell you whether he avoided it to spare his son’s emotions or his own, simply that he found that he just couldn’t. “It was all just a bad dream, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to respawn.”

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he’d tell him the truth later, but he couldn’t face it right now. He just couldn’t. Either way, what did it matter? He got a second chance, and this time he wasn’t going to mess up. Not again.

“Wait, where’s Dream?”

Foolish couldn’t help but tense hearing those words. “...What?”

“Where’s Dream? He just came back, I can’t leave him. He’s probably somewhere scared and alone, he probably thinks I died! I’m his only friend, I gotta-!” Junior shifted, moving to get out of his father’s grip.

“Foolish. Foolish, no.” The totem god said firmly. “Dream’s dangerous. He’s done horrible things, he’s hurt so many people back when he was alive, and I won’t have you be next.” Not again.

“But… but it’s been so long, maybe he’s changed! Maybe…”

“Foolish.”

“When Wilbur came back he changed, he became a good guy again! Dream’s been dead longer than him, he’s my friend he can’t… he’s not…”

“Dream used you against me when you stepped in front to protect him. Maybe his ghost was different, but… but he’s not a ghost anymore.”

Junior pulled away from his father’s embrace. “No, no that’s not true! You were the first one to attack him, he was just standing there, Dad! He just came back, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you assumed he did. You attacked for no reason.”

“Foolish you don’t understand, the things Dream’s done-”

“He’s been dead for 12 years, Dad! 12 years, and you don’t think he’s changed?! I thought you always believed in second chances, that everyone deserves a chance to do the right thing.” Junior stated. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“He’s killed countless people in cold blood-”

“Haven’t you?!”

Foolish’s face fell as he looked over his hands. Static filled his ears as his mind remembered every single detail, and for a moment he swore he could feel the warm, thick blood coating his hands. No, no no no… not now… He quickly clenched his hands tightly into fists, closing his eyes, trying to block it out before it flooded back, before…

He felt arms around his neck, a warm embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-!”

As the feeling slowly faded, he opened his eyes, finding his son’s face red and puffy from crying. He mustered a small smile, both their anger long forgotten. “Hey, hey it’s okay… I told you I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“You were… you were turning into the… I’m so sorry…” Junior’s voice was soft and quiet.

“You don’t need to be, it’s not your fault…” Foolish reassured. “You’re right. You’re right, I’ve… I’ve done horrible things too. I just don’t want him to hurt you. I want to protect you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Junior yawned, and Foolish smiled warmly.

“Come, my little totemling. You look tired.” Foolish said, scooping up the young teenager in his arms and walking toward his son’s room. Junior tiredly smiled.

“I love you, Dad.”

Foolish leaned down and gave his son a small forehead kiss. “I love you too, Foolish. No matter what.”

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

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…” Tubbo mumbled, his hands shaking as he rushed over to his son, noticing the large gash in his chest. He fumbled for his bag, desperately trying to find a potion of harming.

Regen, healing, strength, swiftness…

“Fuck.” Tubbo cursed under his breath, throwing aside his satchel and rushing over toward the drawers, pulling them open, throwing things to the ground in reckless abandon. What happened to the potions?! They always had extra, then extra for the extra! He and Ranboo were always prepared, they knew how hard harming potions were to make, so where was it?!

A loud crash ripped through the halls as Enderwalk Ranboo crashed through the wooden wall of the room, wooden splinters flying everywhere. Enderwalk huffed as he staggered trying to get to his feet, letting out a loud hiss as Dream walked through the new hole in the wall, his sword out, red staining his green hoodie. He looked over the scene, catching his breath.

“Oh, you guys wanted to pull one over on me, huh?! Throw the enderman freak on me, grab Michael and leave?”

Tubbo moved to be closer to Michael, pulling out his own sword protectively as Enderwalk moved in front of both, ignoring his own slashes and blood dripping to the floor. Enderwalk Ranboo screeched, almost daring the masked man to come toward his family. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on Dream, looking him over. “Yeah, something like that. Great plan, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Dream let out a small cough, smirking. “Actually it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’d disagree, since we have Michael, and from the looks of it, you don’t have your precious armor.”

“Oh Tubbo, all these years and you’ve learned nothing… I always have other plans.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you-?”

“Looking for this?” Dream smiled, holding up a glimmering potion of harming. Enderwalk was ready to pounce, looking over at Tubbo who stood up, sword raised. “Nuh-uh-uh. Try to take it from me and I’ll smash it on the floor. All of them.” Dream moved to open the flap of his bag slightly to reveal more potions of harming. Tubbo’s face fell - all the extras, everything…

Enderwalk looked back at Tubbo, head tilted in confusion as Tubbo signaled for him to stand down. Tubbo took a deep breath - he hated this. He hated that once again, he hadn’t thought everything through, he hated that once again he failed, and most of all he hated that fact that as of this moment, his son’s life was in that green psycho's hands. Enderwalk turned to hold Michael close once again, nuzzling him and getting worried and sad when he didn’t respond. “What do you want for it?”

“You know what I want.” Dream said coldly. “I’d hurry if I were you, or it’ll be Michael’s first cannon life.”

Tubbo promised himself he wouldn’t ever subject his son to that kind of pain, that he’d protect him no matter what. He let out a defeated sigh. “Second portrait on the left in the entryway. It’s behind the painting.” Tubbo held out his hand. “Now give me the potion.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo… never change. Once an idiot, always an idiot, isn’t it?” Dream tossed the potion bottle over, which Tubbo quickly caught as the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Tubbo quickly rushed over toward his son, putting the potion bottle to his lips. They didn’t have much time.

Of course, it wouldn’t heal much, but it certainly was better than nothing. He looked over toward Enderwalk, gears turning in his head trying to make sure he spoke clearly enough to be understood. “⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀, ☌⟒⏁ ⏚⏃⋏⎅⏃☌⟒⌇.”

Enderwalk nodded, rushing over toward the drawers, grabbing some bandages and handing them over to Tubbo, who set down the empty potion bottle. Enderwalk looked down at Michael as Tubbo worked, focused. “⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⏃⌇⌰⟒⟒⌿. ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬?”

“⌿⏃⟟⋏ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⏁⍜⍜ ⋔⎍☊⊑. ⌿⍜⏁⟟⍜⋏ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅.”

Enderwalk reached to scratch and pat behind Michael’s ears. Tubbo tightened the bandages as Michael stirred. “...Dad…?”

“Michael, thank gods you’re alright!” Tubbo moved to hug his son, Enderwalk joining in, purring happily at the reunion.

“What… what happened? Where’s Dream?”

No time. “Busy. Michael, can you move..?”

Michael shifted to sit, feeling sore, tired. Small pulses of pain still wracked his body that he ignored. He moved his leg slightly, testing the waters. “I… I think so…?”

“Good. Okay.” Tubbo got up, holding out his hand and helping his son stand on shaky hooves. “I need you to run. Run toward Uncle Tommy’s.”

“Wait, what? N-no, I’m not leaving you!”

“This isn’t a choice, Michael. You have to go. Now. Before he comes back.”

“But-”

Tubbo’s hands gently squeezed his son’s. “No matter what you hear or what happens, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re at Uncle Tommy’s and you’re safe, okay?”

“But what about you and Dad? What about Dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve held our own this long. We’ll meet you at Uncle Tommy’s soon, but you have to get there and get safe, okay? Don’t look back, just get there. You can do that for me, right?” Tubbo’s forehead gently bonked Michael’s. “Remember the time we got caught in the forest just as the sun was coming down?”

“Yeah. I was so scared I couldn’t move. It was my first time out at night.”

“Remember, I took your hand like this…” Tubbo slowly rubbed circles into the back of Michael’s palm. “And told you that you didn’t have to be scared, that I was gonna be right there with you. All the scary monsters, you didn’t need to be afraid because as long as you kept running, nothing could get you.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I-”

“Yes you can. I know you can, Michael. Run as fast as your hooves can carry you, I know you can do it. I know you can be brave.” Tubbo encouraged. “Get there, your father and I will be right behind you. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬! ⍙⊑⊬ ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⌇⏃⎅?”

Enderwalk nuzzled with Michael as a few tears spilled down the piglin’s cheeks, and he laughed, smiling. “I love you too, Dad!”

Quickly, giving his parents one last look, Michael dashed into the hallway, heading toward the balcony and jumping down into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran through the trees toward the icy tundra. Tubbo wiped away his tears as he looked over toward his purple-eyed husband.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬...?”

Tubbo cupped Enderwalk’s cheek as the enderman snuggled into the embrace. “⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ☌⍜⟟⋏☌ ⏁⍜ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒.”

Enderwalk looked into Tubbo’s eyes and nodded in understanding. He moved to hold Tubbo’s face in his hands as Tubbo stilled, confused for a moment before Enderwalk pulled him down to the floor in a tight hug. Surprised at first, Tubbo returned the gesture. A loud crash erupted from below the two, followed by loud angry yells that sent shivers up Enderwalk’s spine and made him tense up.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

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

“The flowers are really pretty today.” Ghostie smiled as he kneeled down in the daisy flower field, callused and rough hands moving to gently caress a flower.

“Yeah, spring’s coming.” Junior smiled, sitting down next to his friend.

“Spring…?”

“You… wait a minute, you’ve never seen spring before?!”

The ghost considered his friend's words for a moment, searching his own memory. “No, I… I don’t think I remember spring.” He smiled excitedly, a childlike curiosity in his eyes. “What’s it like?”

Junior settled down next to his friend, moving to pluck a flower. “Well, it’s warm, like… like hot chocolate, and flowers come back… it’s like the entire world comes alive again.” As Junior spoke, Ghostie pushed his green hood back and looked up towards the bright blue sky, noticing a small butterfly float past. His heart felt light, it was perfectly warm and bright, and something about everything around him made a smile appear on his face. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Foolish Junior smiled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small piece of different colors of braided thread - a lime green and two different shades of blue with a small white shell at the bottom. He held it out to Ghostie. “Now we’re officially best friends!”

“What is it…?” Ghostie asked, staring down at the foreign object laid in his palm.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Junior beamed, pulling out a similar yellow with the same two shades of blue. When his ghost friend didn’t respond or understand when he pointed it out, just staring up at him confused, he moved to explain. “You wear it on your wrist to show that we’re friends. See? It matches mine.” The twelve year old held up his own bracelet to show his ghost friend.

“Were… were we not friends before…?”

“Of course we were, Ghostie!” Foolish Junior exclaimed. “You’re my best ghost friend in the world, after all.” He reassured his friend. “I just wanted to make it for you because I thought you’d like it. Tubbo was telling me this story the other day about these special compasses, and… and I wanted to make sure that even if we’re not always together, we’ll still have a part of each other, you know?”

“It’s pretty. Like the flowers.” Ghostie smiled. “I love it.”

“Here, let me show you how to put it on…”

Foolish Junior heard talking just beyond his room as he packed, hearing his Uncle Eret downstairs. For a second, his mind wandered to what they could possibly be talking about. After all, it was just a simple respawn. He wasn’t that hurt, Ghostie got brought back… everything was perfect! Everything was supposed to be absolutely perfect.

So why wasn’t it? The whispers and hushed tones, the way his father looked at him, clung to him in a vice grip… it wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He knew his father wasn’t right about Ghostie, or… or was he Dream now…? Dream. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t fit him as well as ‘Ghostie’ did. The name felt so foreign on his tongue. But, if that’s what his friend wanted…

The teenager stilled as his gaze settled on the abandoned green and blue friendship bracelet left on his nightstand. He remembered how Ghostie held it with the utmost care when he handed it to him to take - “Make sure to give it back once the ritual’s all done. I don’t wanna get it dirty.” Junior remembered so clearly how Ghostie looked at him when he wasn’t transparent anymore.he called out for him with a smile, and his best friend simply turned around without saying a single word, looking around the forest.

After a moment of hesitation, he slid on Ghostie’s bracelet next to his own. He’ll give it back, he’ll reunite with Ghostie and introduce him to everyone and they’d understand. Then, they’d finally get to go swimming together like they always wanted to. They’d be together again.

All he had to do was find him.

You whisper to Dream: Meet me by the flower field tonight once the sun goes down. Be safe. We’ve gotta talk.

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

As his husband held his head in agony, Tubbo was quick to steady him, resting his head against his shoulder. He gently held him, adapting as he shifted every now and then. Worried thoughts filled Tubbo's head as he couldn’t help but think of the worst - it had after all been years since Ranboo had forced himself to go into that state. He was the one who pushed him, all for his plan, his 'big' plan. Eventually, Tubbo found the voice to speak. “You there, Boo?”

“I... forgot how dizzying it is…” Ranboo let out a pained chuckle against his husband’s shoulder. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” Tubbo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he softly laughed. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Michael okay?”

“Dream roughed him up a little badly,” Tubbo sniffed, moving his hand up to wipe away his tears. “I patched him up, gave him a potion and sent him on his way toward Tommy’s.”

“That’s good.” Ranboo moved to sit up fully, holding Tubbo’s hand in his to comfort him. His smile never left his face. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Well, Dream always told us what would happen if we crossed him.” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo. “Do you wanna come with me and find out?”

The enderman smirked playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you tricked the poor thing…?”

“I do learn from the best.” Tubbo smiled. The door slammed open once more to reveal a very angry and pissed off Dream. Slowly, he walked over toward the couple, a golden axe drawn.

“Tubbo.” He growled.

"Dream." Tubbo smiled. "Did you find the armor?" A pair of netherite boots fell to the floor with a 'clang', the noise like thunder in the silent tense room.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“What, don't you like the boots?”

Dream pounced, tackling Tubbo to the ground and slowly pushing the axe blade up toward Tubbo’s neck. “Start talking you little shit.”

“Did you honestly think we’d hide all your precious armor and weapons in one spot?! Do you think after twelve years we’d still be that stupid?!” With Tubbo’s words, Dream looked like he was slapped, anger only building and rising the more he thought it over, the more he realized his mistake.

A mistake. He didn't make mistakes.

“We’ve buried them and hid the locations all around the SMP, just in case someone like you ever showed up again and tried to take us down.” Tubbo explained. “Good luck on finding the others, going through everyone on the SMP, digging through all that dirt… not to mention that as we speak Michael’s running to warn the others about you.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trapped.”

He didn't make mistakes. He didn't get trapped. He was always smarter, always faster, always in control. Why wasn't he in control?!

“Checkmate, Dream.” Tubbo spat.

The words sparked a flame within Dream’s stomach, igniting his anger and destructive spirit. Choked breathing filled the room as Dream wrapped his hands around Tubbo’s throat and squeezed. How dare he… HOW DARE HE TRICK HIM?! He saw red as he slammed Tubbo’s head back down against the wooden floor, staining it crimson. Ranboo yelled and screamed in the background until Tubbo was still as a stone, unconscious.

“Get away from him!” Ranboo yelled, grabbing his sword and moving to strike. A quick slash of Dream’s yellow axe sent him to the floor as well. Struggling to keep awake, Ranboo crawled, each movement feeling like fire as it combined with his older injuries, his blood dripping to the floor. Dream watched Ranboo a moment, relishing in his struggle, the blood bringing him a deep satisfaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to walk over toward the enderman, his golden axe dripping with blood.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you guys to be so sharp after all these years… but you’re still making the same mistakes.” Dream said with an oddly calm and cold tone. “You three always underestimate me. You underestimated me then, and you’re still doing it now to make yourselves feel better, to feel like you’ve won. But you haven’t.” Dream kneeled down in front of the enderman, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face to look at his. “I’m going to win eventually. After all, I waited a hundred and forty-four years to get out of that hell hole you three put me in. If you think a small slip up is all it takes to stop me and the plans I have…" The last thing that rang in Ranboo's head before he passed out was Dream's crazed laughter.

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

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you'd like to be added or removed):

@bonesposts

(Also, I believe @yellowhearthero wanted some protective enderboo, so here you go! :D)

[angelisverba]

ambrosia

in which y/n hopes to find a loving new home, and faeking!h has a lot of love to give. 

word count: 12k-

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: descriptions of a sheep birth (for all the queasy readers, it’s brief)

author’s notes: this was made possible by @moonchildstyles wonder work “athens” (had it not been for that and her I would not have been inspired to write this, and it wouldn’t have come until months from now). i love u linds <333

Y/n woke to the sound of cooing doves startling near her ears,  and the warm feel of sunlight on her bare skin accompanied with a wet snout prodding at her elbow. 

Eyelashes fluttering open, the girl could see beams of sun streaming in through the arching window, motes littering the light that splayed over the stone floors and on the bed where she lay. The branches extending from the tree in the corner of the room had blossomed into a dainty pink flower that oozed a calming scent throughout, and the calming trickle of the stream surrounding the castle soothed her greatly, stroking her eardrums in a therapeutic caressed that stretched all the way down to her thighs, dissolving the sore knots that had formed there from her long walks in the forest. 

She could work with three days, especially if they all started this way. In a dreamy, etheral morning daze that was sure to carry on through the rest of the day.

Beside her was Angus, squealing excitedly now that she rose up from her position, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. 

“Good morning, Angus,” she cooed at the animal, giggling when he sniffed playfully at her chin. He plopped himself on his hind legs, and lifted his chin up to the sky so y/n could see the rolled up parchment that had been strapped on his neck with a thin, flowery vine. “What’s this?” She asked him, and he only tapped her with his hoof. “This is for me?”

The pig only squealed in response and, y/n gently stroked his warm back before untucking the paper from its place, and breaking the vine with her finger-nail so it wasn’t wrapped uncomfortably around his neck. It fell on the bed, and Angus happily bent to eat it. 

She unrolled the paper, and was stunned by the intricate cursive that was embedded into the rich material. Swooping lines of dark ink taking the shape of old-fashioned script. Y/n could imagine that whoever had written it had sat with a cork-topped pot of ink, and a long, sharp quill. 

It read, 

My lady, I’ll be awaiting your presence in the Courts. Agnus will lead the way.

A small giggle bubbled on her tongue and the king’s formal language. She hadn’t quite realized the different timelines their universes’ lived on. Not to mention, it was also a reminder of the ruling government. Harry was a king, and to have him waiting on her was a… very pleasurable feeling. 

Angus nibbled on her thigh again, impatiently urging her as they had somewhere to be. 

“Alright, I’m going! You don’t have to bite me.” Y/n patted the pig’s head once more, and hopped out of the bed, the soft material of her dress feeling like cool water against her skin. Now standing in the morning light, the shape of her calves could be seen through the material, the soft curves of her hips and swell of her breasts a hidden image; teasing in the most innocent way possible.

Agnus leads her out, his head turning to make sure that she was still following him. He led her down the same path the king took her when he showed her to her room, and even though she had seen it all already, the novelty of such a grand castle still hadn’t worn off. The brightness of the new day showered the stone walls with an enchanting gleam. Flowers had blossomed in the cracks, and tendrils of swirling leaves twisted through the arched windows. 

Harry hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night. 

He was overcome with a strange feeling of… deja vu. Even that didn’t begin to cover what he was experiencing. The moment that his eyes had landed on the female mortal that had so foolishly begged for entrance into the Faerie realm, the intense torment of loneliness he had endured for eons had just...sated, almost... relaxing with a sigh of relief. Something inside of him had… shifted. It was something that could only be compared to the righteousness that came with the correct alignment of stars; the balance of nature restored. 

One would think that he’d sleep like a baby because everything that had once felt so wrong was now feeling so right, but no. Not Harry. Harry was amazed and confused and… tentative. All of the many overwhelming emotions barreling in on his immortal body made it impossible to sleep. Instead, he did what he always did when he could not sleep.

He went to the library. 

From dusk till dawn Harry worked himself in the library, sifting through the eons of information that had accumulated to see if he could find anything that explained what in the worlds he was feeling. What had happened. Why a mortal girl had so easily, so pleasantly, been granted access to the fae realm. Why the wings of the newly hatched butterflies had fluttered and gained flight solely for the reason of covering her modesty. Why there was a sudden drop of… warmth* in the people that were known to be so cold. 

Alas, the king found nothing in the volumes he searched through that night. If* there was an answer, he wouldn’t find it that night. Not with the amount there was to search through. His search would simply have to continue after-

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” said y/n. 

His back was turned to her, as he was knelt over a bush of forget-me-nots. “Ah, didn’t I say you were to call me something else?” 

He was dressed in similar robes as the ones from yesterday, except that they were in a lilac shade, and the sleeves cascaded all the way down to his wrists, ending with a white trim. Although his look was more roman god-esque, y/n felt a very 70’s roller rink chic-ness to it. 

“Oh!” Her lips formed a surprised ‘o’, “right. Sorry, Harry.” He then stood up and turned to face her, a soft smile playing on his lips. A cinnamon curl swirled between his eyebrows. 

“That’s right. Good morning to you as well, my lady.” He folded a hand over his abdomen, and bent over in a bow. A king, bowing to her. 

Before she even had time to fluster over his unnecessary actions, he was barreled into by Angus, who had trotted off somewhere to eat his breakfast after leaving her in the tall arch that led to the gardens. 

“And hello to you as well, old friend,” Harry chuckled, and happily scratched behind the pig’s ears, crinkled forming at the corners of his eyes from all the smiling. Y/n noticed that he has a very, very* nice smile and his eyes looked a little less lonely when he allowed himself to grin. Angus snorted happily in his arms, nipping underneath his chin with the same tenderness that he’d used to wake y/n that morning. “Thank you so much for getting our guest to me this morning, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast?” Angus seemed through reply with excessive squirming and licks to his friend’s face. 

Y/n giggled at the interaction. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” She asked him, smiling warmly. 

“I would surely hope so. Raised him since he was a little piglet, and he’s been my loyal companion since.” He placed a tender kiss on the furry animal’s head. “Angus, my friend, I do believe that is enough love for this morning, do you agree? I have to show our guest around.” With a final scratch, Harry placed Angus on the floor, and clapped his hands together. “Shall we?”

“I would love to.”

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

They walked away from the castle and deeper into the gardens. Rows of thornless flowers on an endless field of soft grass that was a similar shade of the king’s irises. In the near distance, a river flowed and curved in a circle around the castle, separating the grounds where the people dwelled from Harry’s residence. Y/n found it odd for the king to live in isolation from his people, and she wondered if perhaps there might be conflict in the seemingly peaceful community. 

Side by side, they strolled in silence, Harry stopping every once in a while when his guest became intrigued by the constantly blooming flowers. He wanted her to take everything in at her own pace, and in that moment, silence seemed appropriate. Between the two of them, no interaction, no conversation, was present- because it was not needed. A comfortable, warm quiet atmosphere disrupted only by the soft swish of her dress and his robes against the blades of grass, the distant trickle of water, and the leisurely chirp of birds in the trees that littered the grounds. 

Eventually, they reached the halfway distance from the river and the castle grounds, where a single stone bench resided amongst a circle of sunflowers that were taller than Harry.  

Y/n gasped, “Those sunflowers are so tall!” She ran to the bench and climbed it so both her feet were planted on the smooth surface instead of her bum. 

Harry was still standing just a few steps behind the circle, hands behind his back as he watched her gawk with an amused smile on his taffy lips. He didn’t tell her that he grew those sunflowers, and tended them without the use of his fae powers, to create a private circle where he came to talk to the moon on the nights where he was most lonely. Sometimes, he would close off the open ends- then using his powers- like curtains, so none of the animals or fae people could watch him as silent tears of anguish slipped from his eyes like liquid silver. 

It was indeed, amusing, that she found joy in something that was used in acts of sadness. 

“I’ve never seen such tall sunflowers before,” she whispered, an awestruck look on her face. “They’re amazing.”

The sunflowers grew an inch at her praise, their heads tilting in her direction, like she was the sun. Their leaves stretched out to tickle her cheeks, and she giggled and squirmed at their actions. She didn’t question that it went against all laws of nature, how everything now had a touch of magic. She didn’t know that the flowers had a special connection with their birthgiver, their planter, and shared the same feelings he did. She didn’t know that they reacted because Harry saw her as his own personal source of light, as his happiness. 

Hells, the king himself didn’t know. But, the bond between the planter and his plants ran deep, and they knew the secrets that ran deep in his heart for they were nature, and Harry and y/n were natural.

“Thank you,” He mused, “I planted them myself. Though, they will grow a mighty ego at your praise.” 

Y/n giggled once more, and the leaves retreated back into the circle, and the sunflowers resumed their previous position. “I love it here,” she said to him. She was careful with her words, and her tone remained soft, dreamy. She didn’t know the king that well yet, and although he looked like the absolute gentleman, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and test him. 

Harry sensed this, sensed her slight fear, and walked into the circle of sunflowers. He took a seat next to where she stood, and patted the place besides the hem of her robes, signaling for her to sit with him. “Take a seat besides me, m’lady,” he murmured.

Y/n pouted like a child at his formal words, and placed a hand on his shoulder as she sat herself down. She didn’t notice the way he straightened. “If I can’t say Your Majesty, then you can’t call me that, either.” 

No one beyond his mother and the water wraiths he sometimes took to bed had taken the liberty to touch him the way she did. A casual gesture, very nonchalant, and it held no underlying motive to it. She didn’t want to get into bed with him with provoking touches, and she didn’t want to get into a king’s good graces with friendly gestures either. She simply wanted to get down and not topple over. 

“Do you not like the term?” He wants to caress the side of her face, brush that single strand of hair off of her shoulder so it lays on her back. Everything and anything tender, and it is strange. Instead, he settled for placing his hands in his lap. Awkwardly. He was all around rigid and tense. 

Y/n, however, does not see to notice this, and she bumps her shoulder against his playfully. “Do you not like when I call you Your Majesty?”

All too quickly, he said, “No, I do not.”

The light air around her goes stale, and she goes stiff like him, too. A crimson shade blooms on her neck. “Oh… well… I just… didn’t want you to call me something formal if I couldn’t call you something formal.” That’s what she gets for trying to play with a king. 

“Very well. Then I shall not repeat it.” He cleared his throat. “I digress. Love, the fae realm is not what it seems.”

She tilted her head, confused. Harry continued, “Every living being residing in these lands will attempt to trick you into turning your life over to them, and my-”

“Harry, are you trying to change my mind?”

“No. I am simply trying to warn you of the dangers you will have to face every day if you decide to live here.” He was scared for her, and anxious over… something that he couldn’t put a finger on yet. The thought of her in danger roused an emotion in him that he could not name. 

“I know the dangers. Frankly, I would rather face them than going back…” There is a moment of hesitation. She is unsure what to name where she came from. It certainly was not home. 

“Was the human realm really so terrible to you?” Harry asked. He himself had only been there once, during a time when a woman by the name of Stevie Nicks had accidentally summoned him during a wiccan ritual. Had it been any other creature, Harry imagined it might have been much worse. But the woman was young, beautiful and kind. She offered Harry hospitality and apologized profusely for her mistake. She had a lovely voice, too. 

“Yes. And I really do not want to go back. When I said that by going back I would die, I meant it. Whether it’s the world that gets to me or…”

“Or what?” The king swallowed. He had a feeling that he knew what she was getting at, and the thought of her doing such a thing...

“Or my own hand.” She stared down at the dewy blades of grass, kicking up her feet so her toes slid from underneath the draping white fabric of her dress. 

Silence and nature yelled. Harry was at a loss for words at her admission. Could she possibly be in so much pain? Would she bring that fate onto herself? He was heartbroken that y/n- who had been nothing but smiles and admiration- could do something so dark and evil to an energy he saw as bright and innocent. He couldn’t- wouldn’t let her do that, whether she went back to the human realm or not. 

“I promise you, you will not meet such an end, dearest y/n.” And if there was one thing the Fae honoured, it was a promise; a bargain. 

Y/n only smiled at him sadly, as if she was merely humoring his attempts at keeping her from herself. Though, she admired the way he was so sure of himself, how he was so quickly willing to help her. It was remarkable how she had found friends in such little time; Angus and Harry. 

“Now,” he clapped his hands together rather abruptly, startling her and causing her to jolt upright from her sad slump. “Let’s bring an end to this somber talk, yes? How about I start showing you around, rather than just sit here?” 

“I’d like that.” She said. “Where will you take me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up and extended his hand to her; an open palm, an invitation. The sunflowers around them shivered and grew another inch when she finally took his hand, and new stems shrouded from the dirt when the two shared a look. It was almost like… like an entire universe bloomed when their irises locked together, a supernova exploding in their chests in unity.

Neither of them reacted with more than a happy exhale. 

Harry led them out the other end of the sunflower ring, directly towards the river and all the while they still held hands. For Harry, it was the most intimate kind of touch he has ever experienced in the centuries that he’s been alive. He’s never had a serious platonic or non-platonic relationship with anyone other than… well, no one. The male and female beings he often took to bed to experience warmth never gave back the pleasure he offered; never stayed the night, and never caressed him back; never reciprocated the… love. It was highly embarrassing that no one respected him enough to even pretend to care or reflect his emotions in the most intimate setting, but that’s just the way it was (not to mention the fact that Harry started bedding others at the ripe age of one hundred because he wanted to learn how to be an adept lover, and the creatures that would be closely titles 'prostitutes’ in the human realm taught him well. For their own pleasure.)

For y/n, it was the most intimate kind of touch she had ever received from anyone of the opposite since ever. She’d been a neglected child, and the boys at school never felt she was adequate enough for their standards. Sure, there had been catcalls in the streets or in the bars she frequented, but those weren’t the kind of affections she wanted to give back. 

It was safe to say that the experience was electrifying for the both of them. Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a giddy school girl that had just received her first love note in her locker, and Harry wondered what kind of magic this human girl could possibly have that made tingles spread from where their palms connected all the way to his shoulder blade. Maybe, she was throwing a glamour over herself so that she appeared more beautiful than she looked, and was practicing wiccan love spells like that Nicks girl a few decades back… no. Who was he kidding. She was an innocent human girl. A beautiful human girl who had no idea of the effect she had on his ethereal existence. 

The closer they got to the river the taller the grass became and the easier it was to see the creatures that lived within it. A swan and her ducklings meandered down the stream, tadpoles and sparkling fish swam in the crystalline water. On the other side of the moving water, deer, rabbits, and squirrels scurried amongst the various shrubs and trees. It was like something out of a fairy tale book, but even then that comparison was weak. 

She slowed her steps as they reached the edge of the bank, just before her toes dipped into the water because… well, they weren’t prepared to go into the water. Harry seemed to have other plans; he only tugged her further, and did not pause like she did. 

His feet, however, did not dip into the water because the grass and dirt extended beneath their feet, lurching forward in an arch over the water to create a bridge for them to walk across. 

Astonished, she gasped, “Did you do that?” She held onto the large hand that was warm against hers and relied on it to guide her because she was too busy looking down at the bridge. 

“No, I didn’t. The ground did that itself,” he said. And it was true. The ground and nature loved him, and the amount of his magic he spent on it was minimal. 

Y/n was too surprised to say anything else. The bridge dispersed once they stepped back onto firm ground, and y/n let Harry lead their stroll on the other side. She realized that they were now in the non-isolated part of the Fae realm, which meant that any creature could pounce at them like how she experienced when she first arrived. That made her nervous. 

“The ground is- oh, hello!” 

She was about to make a comment regarding the earth’s self awareness, but something nipped at the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s. Looking down, she sees a lamb licking and sniffing at the tips of her fingers. It was shaky on its legs, and it’s nose was a tiny pink triangle on the snow white wool of its face. The lamb jumped back when she opened her palm towards the sky so it could continue smelling. 

“It is not very nice to bite our guests, lovie.” Still holding onto her hand, he crouched down to meet the lamb and reached out to caress it’s back. “Where is your mother, little one?” 

“It’s not scared of you,” y/n noted. In fact, the lamb leaned into his touch, and similar to the upturning of Angus’ mouth, this lamb’s own lips seemed to smile. 

He shaked his head, “no, I would think not since I aided her mother during her delivery,” he gently squeezed her hand in reassurance that her actions weren’t harmful. “However, they are naturally skittish creatures.” 

The lamb’s mother skips out from behind a brush, preening for her kid to come back from any danger she might be in, until she notices that the only danger is Harry, and really he isn’t any danger. So, she quiets and scurries to his side to receive tender caresses. 

“Well, hello,” he said to her. “It’s been a long time since I have last come to see you, isn’t it? I have brought someone to meet the rest of you today,” the sheep bleated, “Oh she is no harm, I assure you.”

They seemed to understand each other, almost like they were having a conversation. It was intriguing, “You understand her?”

“Yes. As Fae King I am given certain abilities upon crowning day. One of those being the understating of all languages, and this includes all living creatures.” 

“I see.” A shiver runs through her when his thumb strokes the back of her hand. Her toes curl in the glass. It was an intimate touch.

Harry licks his bottom lick. “Would you like to meet the rest of them?”

She’s assuming that he meant the rest of the lambs and sheeps, but the sun-lit glitter of green in his eyes hypnotized her. He was a drink of spring on the last winter night. “I’d love to.” 

The mother then licked at the ear of her kid, and they trotted off into the same bush. Y/n could see that there was an archway in the brush, and through this they disappeared, even though there was no tunnel following beyond the opening. Like a portal. 

“You’ll have to crawl through m’l- love,” his eyes bounce from hers to their hands, and almost as if it saddens him to do so, he lets go of her hand. “After you.” 

She bends down and follows after the creatures through the tunneled arch. It’s a tight fit, but her size made it manageable. Harry had it worse.

His height and broad shoulders made it uncomfortable for him to get through; he nearly had to get on his forearms so his forehead didn’t smear all over the greenery. The lilac of his robes made it hard for him to move, but if he dragged them- and that meant grass stains on his knees- he could get by just as fast. Y/n, too, was experiencing the same issue but she had paused momentarily to tie to fabric in a knot above her thighs, and Harry… well, Harry was trying really hard not to look because he knew it’d be disrespectful. 

The passage twisted and turned, and it was unclear where they were going because the turns were sharp. The only thing visible ahead was the curved wall of greenery beyond the quaint trotting of the sheep and her child. Eventually, they turned one last time and a series of ‘baa’s greeted them behind a circle of opening light. 

Behind her, Harry chuckled. The heat of his breath spanned across her ankles and the soles of her feet like a blanket. She had not realized he was that close to her. 

Y/n and Harry hadn’t been in the tunnel for more than two minutes, but it was amusing to see him arch his back in a stretch and pointless try and wipe away at the dirt and grass stain on the lilac fabric covering his knees. 

Instantly he was surrounded by a flurry of white clouds that bleated and licked at him. 

“Oh my. Hello- Ladies, please! Ow, Ruby we talked about tha- okay okay,” He was protesting, sure, but he was also laughing. It was the widest Y/n had seen him smile. He was… happy.

There was an sense of home and right to the picture he presented. A gleeful king surrounded by creatures that adored him (there was no doubt why the way they licked at him, and the Angus-like smiles on their faces as they looked up at him). Harry was not isolated here. 

Here. Wherever this here was. 

It was different from the Fae realm. The ground was softer than the dirt that occupied the space between her toes before, and it was a lighter shade of green. The color of Harry’s eyes when the sunlight cut through the iris from the side. It sloped up and down like the valleys of the Fae village, but there were no homes, and it centered around a heart shaped pool of crystalline water. The sky was the closest thing to strange- out all things, this is what y/n found strange- about it all. It was a cotton candy pink color; a solid shade that didn’t suggest a fading of the sun even though there was a white spherical object in the 5’oclock position. 

They- Harry, y/n, and the few lambs that had come to greet him- stood atop one of the crests around the heart-shaped pool. 

“Welcome to the Land of Nurture.” He said, breaking her out of her dream. He held the tiniest- tinier than the one that had nipped at her palm- of the lambs she had seen yet in his arms, and it was asleep. “This is where the woodland creatures come to birth and nurture their young. I spend quite a lot of time here, helping with the births.” 

At the sound of Harry’s voice and it not being directed towards them in praise, the lambs turn to see what- or who is the object of his attention. Many of them are curious to greet the human woman, but a few stick to his side, rubbing back into his loving hands. 

Through that magical bond, Harry caught onto an unusual request. The sheep, they wanted… they wanted y/n to oversee a birth. The ‘midwife’ of the lands spoke to him,

Harry, we’ve never had a woman here before. Let her femininity bless a birth? One will birth tonight, and her hands as much as yours are needed. 

“H-harry?” Harry looks up from the wise sheep at his feet to the anxious voice that calls him name. 

The lambs at y/n’s feet had gotten a hold of the cotton at the hem of her dress with their mouths, and were tugging her, leading her to a place that she didn’t know. The fact that they were leading her away to some unknown destination wasn’t what made her nervous, no. What made her nervous was the fact that they were leading her away and Harry wasn’t with her. She was unprotected. 

She had taken a few steps with the pull of animals. “Harry?”

He was at her side in seconds, the fluffy creatures parting like the sea to allow him to get closer to y/n. “They want to take you to the birthing grounds. There is a lamb that will go into labor soon, and the rest wish for you to be there during the birth. They say they would like your… blessing.”

The lambs, like the sunflowers, knew more than the Fae King did about his feelings. 

Her jaw drops in surprise and her eyebrows furrow. “Wha- me? But what can I do?”  At her hesitation, the lambs still and wait, looking up at their king for his jurisdiction.

The lamb in Harry’s arms nuzzles into the crook of his elbow, and he saddens at the fact that he cannot take y/n’s hand without waking him up (it was the son of one of the feistiest sheep). “Your presence is all they require.” They lock eyes, and immediately her unease is dissolved. There was Harry, and with Harry everything felt… right. He smiles softly at her, his features melting because he felt it, too. 

Remembering that he had a job to do, he looks back down at the awaiting creatures, and says, “Let’s be gentle, yeah, lovies? We’re not going anywhere,” he cooed. 

A chorus of bleats responded, and the babes let go of y/n’s cotton dress. They trot away, their tails flicking and heads turning back to make sure they’re being followed by Harry and his guest, who looks around, amazed at the change of scenery. Slowly, the rosy tone of the sky was melting into a serene shade of red, and the white orb of light was dimming, it’s positions growing smaller, like a light slowly going out. 

“Is that the sun?” She asked. 

Harry laughed, “No. It acts more like a heating lamp, and it fades away to replicate the night, so the animals huddle together for warmth until it… turns back on again. The color of the sky is connected towards menstruation and placenta; blood, a symbol of females and fertility.”

“That’s a beautiful meaning,” she mumbled. The ground on which the lambs walked on was so fresh and healthy-looking, a bright shade of green, that almost looked artificial. “So, is this another… realm?” 

He had to bite on his lip to keep from shouting endearments at her. She was smart, bright, curious, and Harry loved the way that she was right on track, a few steps behind, but she understood. “I suppose you could call it that. Although, it is more like a pocket in the Fae realm, a singular realm on itself entirely. It is a space where mother’s can come to have their children safely. This pocket belongs to the sheep. There are others for other animals, and even one for the Fae.”

“Do… Do other Fae come here?”

He shook his head. “No. No, they are not trusted.” Even he, at first try, was not trusted. It took him three days of sitting underneath a large oak tree, watching and letting the sheep sniff him, in order to let him pet them. Another two months for them to let him through. Why Harry wanted to become a part of their society, Harry himself could not tell you, but in reality, he yearned for their tenderness. He watched the way the animals loved each other, and deep down, he wanted their affection, too, because it wasn't something he was getting from his people. 

“And they trust you?” They were beginning to descend the hill, when two large rectangular rocks spaced about ten-feet away from each other sprouted from the ground without so much as a rumble. The animals thought nothing of this, and walked right through the space between the rocks, the image of the grassy land rippling as if a drop of water had just hit a pond’s surface. Another portal.

Y/n is only slightly fazed, and the halt in her step lasts a second. If Harry is going through it, then she would, too.

“Yes. It took me months to get them to trust me, but I would do it all over again for their company.” 

Their company? Harry was a king and he was looking for company among animals? 

“Prepare for warmth when we pass those stones,” he said, “The cave replicates the coziness of a womb to make it easier for a newborn to transition to the world.” At this point the lamb in his arms stirred and began to bleat in his arms, to which Harry shushed quietly and patted to silence. 

Y/n subtly crept closer to Harry, the head of the lamb that laid on the bend of his elbow brushed against her arm. Walking between the stone walls was similar to the time she walked through the portal; the similar consuming sensation, only it was accompanied by immense heat, almost suffocating. Not the type that made you sweat, but the kind that put you to sleep. A blanket of warmth, just like he had described. A dull, but concentrated, heat rolled over her skin like a fitted membrane. It was comforting and hazy.

Upon first walking in she was more focused on the feeling than her surroundings. She shut her eyes and took a waking breather before opening them and noticing that, again, just like Harry said, they were in a cave. The walls were a vein-y, papery texture- like when you shine a flashlight through a chicken’s egg and can see the embryo in a shadowy red silhouette. Lambs were sleeping in curled piles on top of each other so they looked like tufts of cotton clouds. There was a crackling fire in the middle of the large cavern that added to the source of heat, and the brightness of the papery walls suggested that there was a light source coming from the outside. 

A nervous ‘baa’ called out to Harry. In the far corner there was an isolated circle of space where a sheep lay on her side, her legs stiff in pain. The only ram present was next to her, nudging his horns against her womb (not in aggression, but in concern). He must’ve been her mate.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re almost there,” Harry cooed. He put down the lamb he held in his arms into the pile of nestled clouds. “Go, on. Keep pushing, you can do it.” He’s quick to kneel at the sheep’s side, and rub down her belly in encouraging strokes. The female gives another strangled cry when Harry looks up at a horrified y/n. “Come, my dear. It’s all right.” He said, summoning her with an outstretched hand. 

“I know I’m supposed to be helping, b-but it really looks like she’s in pain,” her voice is wobbly, and she’s fidgety, not knowing what to do with herself. It’s a relief when Harry offers physical touch, almost like he knew that it put out whatever fire of anxiety burned in her heart. She took his hand and knelt besides him. 

He nodded. “She is experiencing labor, and with that comes the pain.” The sheep’s lower half contracted, and her legs stiffened, a pained bleat escaping her. “Being a mother is not an easy task, from the start.” With a soothing hand, Harry patted her belly softly. A sheen of sweat settled on his forehead, his eyes darting, assessing the animal’s pain. 

“What can I do to help?” Her hand grew sweaty in Harry’s grip, and she was worried that he would grow repulsed and let go, but he only squeezed reassuringly. There was a moment of silence, even the mother sheep took a break from labor pains and took deep breaths. 

“Nothing, yet. Your presence itself is calming. If there are issues during the labor, then we step in. Otherwise, we are only to oversee and let nature take its course.” 

Y/n nodded, and that was it for speaking until the sheep began to cry out again. Harry didn’t say anything either. He was too busy trying to comfort, trying to soothe, not at all surprised or disconcerted by the scene playing before him. She wasn’t disgusted or repulsed, but definitely in shock, having never seen such life-altering events. 

“Will she be in pain much longer?” She squeaked out. The ram besides the sheep was growing restless, huffing through his nose and stomping his hoof. The mother’s legs curled forward again, and something- the lamb or the placenta- became visible. 

“Your baby is almost here, love, keep going- not much longer. She is a brave being. Her last birth did not even last a three hours, but this one seems to be going by quick. Her time between contract- oh, I know it hurts, c’mon, keep pushing,” Harry looked up at y/n and smiled, “Her time between contractions is short.”

Y/n bobbed her jumbled head. It was safe to say that the girl was very confused. Confused and shocked, and at a loss because she knew absolutely nothing about what to do in this situation. So, she sat still with her hand in Harry’s and stayed quiet, listening to Harry murmur to the mammal in labor.  For how long she sat there, who knew, but everything past her ankles lost feeling, and the back of her neck grew damp. Although Harry told her that the mother sheep would be fierce through this experience, she was slightly hopeless in the fact that she couldn't further help the animal. Her mate- the sheep’s- was too. 

It wasn’t until there was the sound of water spilling, and the thump of something hitting the floor accompanied by several rounds of excited bleats from not just the ram, but the surrounding animals as well. They were celebrating the birth of-

“Look at you, you did it!” Harry joined in on their celebration, and y/n- still very… still very out of it- looked up to catch the most breathtaking expression on his face. Awestruck, amazed, bewildered, did not even begin to cover what was playing out on his features. There were crinkles on the edges of his gleaming, green eyes, and a breathless smile on his lips. He was so absorbed in the act of new life, that he didn’t notice the extra attention he was receiving from the person sitting next to him. Her expression nearly mirrored his, captivated by the complete consumption of himself he allowed. It was not hard to tell that every bit of his soul was consumed by what’s playing out. 

Harry extended his unoccupied hand towards the yelping baby lamb, a golden drop of light appearing on his palm and it floated towards the damp head of the newborn, spreading all over it’s- the lamb hadn’t been sexed yet- body like a sheet. The mother stopped her licking to allow this to happen. 

“What- what is that?” y/n asked. She knew that whatever was happening was not a bad thing because the source was Harry himself, but she wanted to know. 

He looked at her then, the bewilderment and drop of his guard slowly disappearing. “It is my gift. A drop of good luck.” The glow of the fire licked his jaw a warm shade.

“A gift?” Again, she was at a loss. 

“Yes.” He said it like it was obvious, and she became slightly embarrassed. Should she have.. brought something to this? She didn’t have anything to give, but still. “As a token of my gratitude.”

Gratitude… gratitude…

Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she thought of the one way she could give.

Y/n got up from her knees and leaned across Harry’s bent thighs, reaching out to smooth over damp ears (much to Harry’s loss, this mean that she had to let go of his hand). The lamb arched into her touch, and she pressed forward to kiss the place where the golden drop made contact on it’s head. 

Harry watched this, amazed that his guest had taken such initiative, and flustered because in the process, the white cotton fabric of the cloth that he had so tenderly manifested around her body had crawled up the skin of her thighs. Resting just below the curve of her bum, on top of tempting skin that Harry wished- gods, he wished they could reach that mutual understanding, that mutual agreement that didn’t require hesitation on his part if he wanted to caress her. Or, even though they were present in front of only delicate and graceful creatures, adjust her clothing to protect her modesty. What was wrong with him?

“Aren’t you a cutie?” She cooed. After a few more pats, she leaned back with a content sigh, using Harry’s thigh to push herself upright. “I’ve given my gift as well.”

“He’ll never forget it.”

“He? He’s a he?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, he is his father’s first male descendant, and the future leader of the herd.” 

“Does he have a name?” 

“No. The sheep do not identify themselves in that sort of way. The call out to their souls.” He said. The ram walked in to harry, and bowed his head without aggression. A thank you. Harry did the same, and touched his forehead onto the ram’s horns. 

Y/n realized that it wasn’t a thank you. It was a...a moment of communication. What went on, what occurred, that was unknown to her. But the gesture between leader to leader was clear.

Harry’s knuckles supported his weight, and his biceps flexed as he leaned forward. Chocolate curls flopped over morrocan sand horns. It was a touching view. 

When the ram retreated, Harry looked on in silence at the budding family for a moment before he said, “I believe that now is the time we must go.” 

Y/n nodded. “Okay,” she said. Harry stood up, and again he offered her his hand. He did not let go when she stood up on her two feet and was steady, and neither did she. The two were content to hold the other’s hand as they sidestepped sleeping piles of sheep and lambs to eventually reach the egg-shell wall. The king knew the stop which to walk through, and led them right through.

Outside, the light had dimmed noticeably, and the sky was a deep, blood-red. 

“Is it nighttime?” asked y/n.

“For the lambs, yes. In my realm,” a smile quirked on his lips, “no.”

Y/n looked for the shrub tunnel at the top of the hill which they came through, but it was gone. The only thing visible in their ascend to the crest was the grass clearing in harsh contrast with the bloody sky. All of the sheep were gone into the cave, and an eerie silence misted across the grounds. Not even the lapping of the heart-shaped pool; the water was still. 

“Where’s the portal?” she said. 

Amused at her labeling for the entryway, Harry chuckled quietly. “It is not a portal, love. Merely a door that chooses to show itself only sometimes. Besides, I have other means of travel.” He pulled her close from an ounce of courage that had rooted in his ribcage. A strong arm around her waist; iron security. 

Y/n let out a surprised yelp, and stabilized herself with a hand on his bicep. To a human it would look like they were getting ready to dance. With their faces millimeters apart, she wanted nothing but for him to kiss her. Hold her like he was already doing, and never let her go. He was absolutely delicious. From how close she was to him- her front lining up with his side- she could see the pointed tips of his ears for the first time. The one characteristic that set him apart from being human. 

She was unable to help it. The urge to touch was too strong. In fact, there was a lot she wanted to touch so technically she was holding off on a lot. He was looking at her as she slid her hand up his bicep, leaving goosebumps behind, and delicately reached out a single finger towards the tip of his ear. 

Harry held his breath, a scalding heat trailing the path her skin left. In that moment, when every inch of his celestial self was hyper focused on her, he was convinced that there was more to the situation than he was aware of. It simply was not possible that she held no magic in her arsenal, and that she was not possessing him. 

“I’d never seen these before.” Her voice was a whisper, because she knew that it would crack under extreme stress if she tried to speak at a normal level. Being that close to him, touching him, and the way that he looked at her… it made her weak in the knees. 

“Do you like them?” Harry’s tone of voice imitated hers, his chin dipped. The tip of his nose ghosted over her forehead. His breath smelled like mint leaves. 

A shiver raked down y/n’s spine at the same pace that his breath smoked over her face. She nodded. She did like them. Very much. 

“Good.” He nodded his head, as if convincing himself that she did like them. His voice dropped again, and the only reason why she could hear what he was saying was because they were standing so close to one another. “Close your eyes for me, darling.”

 This was it. He’s going to kiss me, she thought to herself. Her eyes fluttered closed upon his instruction, and her head tipped back just the slightest bit. Taught, likes the strings on a violin is what she was, waiting to be plucked and played by Harry and his fingers.

But… that kiss never came. 

Y/n’s lips parted and her body came to rest completely onto Harry’s side, but she never felt her lips on his. Instead, the ground disappeared beneath her feet and her hair lifted from her back. She kept her eyes closed, waiting, until-

“You can open them now,” he said. He watched y/n’s eyebrows furrow, and her lips dip downwards. Her dissatisfaction was clear on her face, and even though she knew exactly what she yearned for because it was the exact same thing that he wished for as well, he didn’t make any advances. Instead, he took his thumb and smoothed over the center of her eyebrows to make the wrinkles go away.  “Don’t look so distraught, beloved. Come, come, open your eyes.”

Embarrassment, anger, sadness, disappointment, all wrapped up in one and presented to her in a box with a pretty red bow; deception. She really thought that he was going to kiss her. 

Dejected, y/n opened her eyes and immediately turned to look towards the side to avoid meeting his gaze. She wasn’t sure she wanted to attempt to read further into the situation and receive incorrect signals. They were back in the ring of tall sunflowers, besides the stone bench, though this time their petals were closed as if they were still budding blossoms, arching high towards the glittering stars in the night sky.  

She stepped away from him, and for a moment they stood there awkwardly. Y/n toed the ground, and Harry stood still. The only thing moving on his figure was the soft lilac ripples in the wind. Eons of life had taught him how to be still at times of boredom. 

He cleared his throat, and tried to strike a conversation again. “Time travels differently in the Land of Nurture, which is why I was unsure to say whether it was nightfall here.” He cleared his throat once more, “I suppose that-”

“I’m tired.” A cricket chirped somewhere in the grass. Y/n had no remorse for interrupting him. She needed to remove herself from the situation. Sleep on it, maybe. 

Had she been looking at him, she would’ve immediately kicked herself for cursing the fallen look on his face. “Of course. I’ll walk you back inside.” 

The night call of nature serenaded their stale parade through the garden. And through the halls of the castle. The bottom of her feet grew cold for the first time in the entirety of her visit in the Fae realm. When he stopped at the arch of her doorway, y/n wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers, but she knew it would be rude to bolt for a bed the king provided for her while he was standing right there, no matter her feelings. 

“I would… uhm,” he swallowed, and the harsh rasp of his voice diminished. “I would sleep soundly if I knew that you were going to bed with fresh clothing. I know that you cannot eat, and there are no bathing quarters in this room, so let me… uhm,” a pink tint blossoms on the apples of his cheeks. “Will you allow me to provide new clothes for you?”

Y/n was stunned. There was underlying symbolism to his request, this she knew. How, despite everything he was willing to make sure that she was comfortable. How he cared for a stranger he could obliterate with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to. 

He was getting flustered. His hands were behind his back, but by the way that his biceps moved it was clear that he was nervously fiddling his fingers. “I’ll take you somewhere to wash up tomorrow, but for now, clean clothes is the best I can-” 

“I’d like that,” she nodded slowly, sucking her lips into her mouth. It was her turn to feel awkward, as she stood there silently with her eyes bouncing from his, to the floor, to him, to the ceiling, to him... and he did the same.

“Stand on the pedestal for me?” He asked. 

“Okay.” She moved further into the room, and climbed up to the step. The coldness of her skin was eradicated by a heat eminating from the wood. It made her shoulders sag and her eyes shut in pleasure. It was a good feeling. 

Y/n didn’t question whether Harry would bare her naked by stripping her at the first go, but a tickling feeling of lace wrapping around and underneath her breasts told her that he would place pretty little underthings before manifesting new fabric onto her body. She was staring down at the floor, flustered because it felt as if his fingers were the one’s dressing her. 

And she was right. Soon after the feeling of feathers on her skin stopped, the white milkmaid’s dress with grass stains vanished into thin air, leaving her only in lacy pink underwear that so delicately wrapped around the curves of her breasts and the swell of her mound. They were just barely transparent, and the swirl of her areolas were a ghosting tease underneath the material. 

In a brief second, she realized she was exposed to Harry, and her head snapped up to meet his. A strange, lonely king that was looking at her- a human in a land of immortals- expectantly. “Would you like something different?”

Dazedly, she shook her head, “no. These are pretty.”

Harry’s mouth went dry, but he kept his eyes on hers. He wouldn’t look down. Not yet. He dressed her in a dress that was in similar fashion to the one before. Light, airy, and loose on her body, and in a light blue shade. The straps were thin strings on her shoulders, and pooled on the floor so her feet disappeared.

Y/n stepped down from the stump, her feet on the cold floor again. “I am most appreciative,” she whispered. Her eyes nervously dropped from his again, and he sighed in defeat.

Harry shook his head. “You can say, thank you, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

“Thank you. They’ve lovely.” A yawn ate up the last bit of her sentence.

“You should rest. We have a short walk tomorrow.” He started to walk back out the doorway, but stopped just before he turned the corner. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

She went to sleep that night thinking of the warmth that emitted from his hand against her palm, of the way his lips curled into a smile, of the way that he allowed himself to become so wholly absorbed by what was going on around him. The sticky feeling of embarrassment tried to snake in on the picture she was trying to paint to lull herself to sleep, but y/n pushed it away. 

She went to sleep that night thinking of the Fae king. 

The area where her feet lay at the end of the bed was particularly warm all through the night. 

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

The next morning was equally as glorious as the one from before, only that this time her stomach and foul mood stained the innocent sunbeams that casted across her sheets. 

After nearly a day and a half of not eating, her stomach was beginning to ache. During times when money was tight, y/n wouldn’t eat and drink only water. This was similar to that, but… she had no water. She couldn’t eat or drink because Harry wouldn’t let her. If it was up to her, she would’ve helped herself to a full course meal at breakfast because she loved food, but alas, the king wouldn’t budge. 

Angus was there again, with another note. He smelled like corn. It read,

Good morning, beloved. I will be waiting with the sunflowers for you when you are ready. 

Beloved. Y/n smiled down at the piece of paper, the swirls of ink on paper enticing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Never having ever experienced it herself, she heard of the exhilarating feeling that came with the drop of a roller coaster. The tightening of her abdomen was strikingly the same to the description of what that felt like. 

Angus tentatively poked her thigh with his hoof, and the reminder of his presence, y/n dropped the note and scooped the animal into her arms. He squealed and wriggled with happiness. 

“Why hello, handsome. It’s been a while since I last saw you,” She pressed kisses behind his ears, and when she lifted her mouth, Angus rested his head on her shoulder. “Where’d you run off to, hmm?”  

He snorted and lifted his head, his back legs shifting on her thighs and pressing into her skin. It hurt, but she didn’t have it in her heart to say anything. “Should we go see the king now?” 

Another squeal. 

“Yeah, I think so, too. Let’s go.” Y/n set him down on the floor and placed her feet down next to him. The warmth of her soles and the cold floor was a contrast that made her hiss and lift her feet up momentarily. The piglet stopped to look back at her as if concerned, and y/n smiled. “It’s just a little cold, Angus.”

He bobbed his head, understanding, and waiting for her to get back on her feet to continue walking. The cerulean blue of her dress swished around her ankles as she followed him out and through the castle. Vines and flowers bloomed and sprouted as they passed, bees and butterflies fluttered in through the flowers. 

The curtain of foxgloves parted as she approached and she was momentarily blinded by the morning sunlight. After her eyes cleared, she could see the walkway through the garden, and in a short distance, the opening of the tall circle of sunflowers that encased a bench, where a pale yellow figure sat. It was Harry, and y/n was frozen in place when she spotted him. 

The movement caught Harry’s eyes, and he stood from the bench. Both of them watched each other, frozen in their spots like they were scared movement would blow the other away. Y/n’s lips parted and her chest twisted, the flowers around Harry shivered. 

Angus, bless his soul, bumped his head, annoyed, on y/n’s calf as if to say ‘what are you waiting for? go talk to him!’

“Alright, geez,” she said, rolling her eyes at her friend before she started walking towards Harry. He waited for her at the edge of a stone bench, and toyed with the edge of what he was wearing; a veil-like material over his chest the color of wine, and a snow-white pair of flared pants. The most non-greek outfit of his that y/n has seen. Though his shirt was still extravagant and elegant, flowing bell-caps that reached the middle of his thighs, and an open, unbuttoned collar with ruffles around his neck that exposed his smooth, taught chest. 

“Hello,” she said once she reached him. Up close she could see that there was a wreath of stained purple leaves and fuschia colored flowers with white bulbs in the middle. To her, they were just flowers. Harry knew they were horny goat weeds. He had no control over them, and they usually reflected his mood. At a certain point of his adolescence, his elders noticed that he had a knack for herbs and gardening. It was part of his magick, part of who he was and what he felt. 

One careful look at the draping white cloth of his pants, and she’d see the tenting fabric at his crotch. He was having trouble… containing his thoughts late at night. “Good morning,” his words cut off in a way that suggested there was more to come after, but nothing did.  He shot a quick glance down at Angus, who had plopped down besides his feet. 

The sunflowers around them tilted towards y/n as she dug her toes into the grass and watched Harry, blushing and trying her hardest to hold back a cheesy smile that wanted to spread on her face from just seeing him.

“Are we going swimming today?” She whispered. Whatever tenderness had settled over them, she didn’t want to disturb it with a loud voice. 

Harry understood this, but chose to poke fun at her anyways, “Why are you whispering, darling?” He was whispering, too. Angus watched, his head turning back and forth like it was a tennis match.

She couldn’t hold the smile back anymore, and the blush spread to a warmth on her ears. “I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Yes, we will go swimming today. Angus will be joining us. I believe he may have been a fish in a past life, he loves the water so much.”  He placed a kiss on the creature’s head, and nodded his head towards the river. 

Y/n laughed, and began walking with Harry, the sunflowers following her way out of the ring, and then tilting back up towards the sun when she was out of reach. They moved in silence, their strides in sync so they looked like one. 

“How did you meet him?” She threw out a question just to hear him speak.

He tilted his head to the side to see her, the ruffles of his collar tickling his chin. “Who? Angus?” 

“Mhm.” She hummed. 

“Well,” he sighed, “It was on a rainy spring day, about three years ago, I reckon. Maybe more, this fella does not like to age. He was a victim of a foul trick, and lost his mother.” Angus whined, and Harry covered his ear so he couldn’t listen, the other side of his head pressed against Harry’s chest. “To what extent ‘lost’ goes, it is knowledge I am not privy to.” He removed his hand, and Angus looked up at him. “ But he found me, and we have been friends since. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s lucky that you found each other,” she said, smiling sadly.

“Will you be leaving any friends if you decide to stay?” His interest was heavy in his question, as was the hope that maybe she might stay. That maybe they might reach that mutual understanding. 

Y/n shook her head slowly, “No, I wasn’t much of a social butterfly, and not many people take the time to get to know me. And I think you mean when.” They were beginning to reach the bank, the sound of flowing water louder as they got closer. 

“I- I don’t understand,” his eyebrows furrowed, “were they mean to you?” Right before they dipped into water, Harry wrapped an arm around her bicep to gently redirect her so that they walked alongside the stream. In his arms, Angus was looking to be sleeping. 

“When I was in school, yes. I guess that I just didn’t fit in, because everyone else turned against me, and sometimes girls would make fun of me. Once I got older, I was the outcast at work. And I didn’t go out much because I didn’t, you know, have any friends to hang out with,” she said. 

“What?” Y/n looks over at him, surprised at his outburst. His brows are deeply furrowed and his voice is heavy with hurt. “You did nothing to them and they decided to be foul over nothing? That is completely unfair.’

 Y/n shook her head. “It’s alrigh-”

“No, it is not alright, and it is not fine!” He was getting agitated, and Agnus was waking up. A vein on his neck protruded from his neck. He was shaking his head as he spoke, his distaste showing through his rigid body language; the curls that were pushed back with the flowers in his head fell out with his movements, framing his face in a chaotic way. “It should not have to be this way. It’s the same reason why my* kingdom is in ruins. I just do not understand why-”

With a comforting hand on his bicep, y/n stopped him in his tracks. “Harry, it’s okay. There’s nothing we can do about it now. That’s why-”

She stepped in front of him so that she could place her other hand on his biceps, holding him. When she came into clear view of his eyesight, Harry tilted his head to Angus, who had settled back in the crook of his arm when he noticed that y/n took initiative to comfort him. His pink lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyelashes fluttering every time he blinked. Blinked back tears. 

“I’m sorry. I know that that feels like.” He sniffled and y/n cupped his cheek with her hand, swiping away the first tear that fell. Her heart cracked in two at the wavering of his voice. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“I do, too,” Her own voice was watery. She was always the one to cry when she saw someone else do so as well, “but if it wasn’t that way, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have met you.” 

His gaze lifted at her words, and a weepy frown found its way onto his lips, “as much as I want you to stay, I fear the troubles you might face. The people here do not listen to me, and their treacherous ways are not something that I endorse.” 

Her hand dropped again, to his bicep, and she tilted her head to the side playfully, like she was thinking. “I’ll stick by your side, and-”

He smirked. “I stick by yours, yes.” He took a hand out from underneath Agnus, and bopped her on the nose. “But, that is only after the three days.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, and stepped away to take her place besides him. “Again with the three days? Why are you so hung up on them?”

He shrugged, proud and smug. “I stick by my word, honeybaby.” 

Y/n’s jaw dropped, and her eyes shut for a moment, “H-honeybaby?” Harry’s lips puckered like he was taking joy in her flustered state. He waited for her hands to unclench. A bird chirped in the distance.

He licked his bottom lip, “Do you like it?”

Y/n brushed it off, and cleared her throat. “Come on, I wanna go swimming,” She tried to tug on his delicate sleeve, but he wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her close, looking down at her with fierce domination. Y/n’s eyes widened and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She was, what you could say, intimidated.

He tutted his tongue, his head cocking, “You didn’t answer me, honeybaby. Did you like the name, or no? I wouldn’t want to displease you by calling you something you don’t like.” Y/n shut her eyes, her left foot hooking around her right ankle so she could press her thigh together where a heat was building up. “So, I’ll ask you again, do you like the name, honeybaby?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, opened her eyes, and nodded. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she was frozen. He was a different person then, his eyes a darker shade of green, the smile on his lips borderline malicious with all the subliminal filth it held. “Yes, I like it.” The tent in his crotch was more noticeable then, and if he shifted his hips forward just a hair, the tip of his dick would’ve brushed her silk covering her stomach. He almost shivered at the thought. 

In a blink, he was back to the ‘regular’ Harry she knew. Bright and cheerful. “Come along now, honeybaby, we’re almost there.” An inconspicuous brush down the front of his pants fixed his dilemma. 

They walked for a few more minutes, following the river up-stream, curving around the back of the castle where it trailed off into the horizon, leaving a strip of land wide enough for five people to walk through in between the river that went, and the river that came. A loop; a fence, around Harry’s castle. Down this strip they went, encased by water and a canopy of willow trees, until they came across a fork in the river. Stepping stones rose just above the water level to their right, leading to a lake-like retention of water. A pool, if you will. 

Harry slowed just before the rocks, and y/n got close enough that the first was a step away, “is this it?” She asked. 

He nodded, and set down Angus, who shook off the last of his sleep and hopped through the rocks. Y/n followed after him and jumped right into the sparkling pool of blue water, the same color of her dress; a crystalline aquamarine. She did not care if her clothes got wet, or if she had to walk back to the castle with wet clothes. The distraction was what she needed. 

It felt good, a nice cleanse from the two days of travel and sleeping in dirt, and yesterday, when sweat from the warmth of the Land of Nurture collected and dried on her skin. A heavenly feeling. She hated going to the pool at recreational centers because she hated the smell of bleach, and she didn’t have the guts to go out into the lake by herself. y/n had learned how to swim when she was little, and this? This felt like a rebirth.

When she resurfaced, she pushed her dripping wet hair back and cheered. “Come into the water, Harry!” He was sitting on one of the stepping stones, only his feet and an inch of his pants dipping into the water. “It feels so good!” He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Come in! It’s not even cold!” It wasn’t, it was actually warm. 

She pleaded once more, and he finally gave in. He said, “oh alright,” and jumped into the water, a swift and graceful dive she only ever saw on TV, in the olympics.

He dove deep, just where the water got murky- though it wasn’t even that, the water just got too, too blue*- enough that she couldn’t see him. 

“Harry? Harry, where did you go?” She fumbled around the water, looking around her circle of space for his lithe body. “Harry, it’s not funn- AH!” Her kicking foot brushed against something sleek that moved away, and she shrieked. 

Harry came up in a splash besides her, shaking his wet hair in his face. “Here!” 

Y/n shrieked again, her fright so big that she swallowed a gulp of water and lost her equilibrium, her head dipping underneath the water. Immediately, Harry lunged to grab her by the waist so her head was above water. She coughed up the water that was in his lungs, and breathed raggedly. “Woah, woah, honeybaby,” Harry stroked her hair back, “tt’s alright, I’ve got you. It’s just me, ‘was-” He was breathless, “‘was playing.”

He watched her as her breathing returned to normal. Her hands were gripping his biceps fiercely, and her legs had somehow wrapped around his waist.

When she felt him clear his throat, her eyes focused on his, and her breath hitched. The look in his eyes, the stroke of heathen… it was there again. Though his lips were curled upwards, and he was watching her carefully to make sure that she was okay, there was a sliver of space from control and loss of it. 

Y/n felt it. She felt it every time his legs moved, kicking to make sure they both stayed afloat.

“Can I ask you something?” She was quivering with anticipation in his arms. Although she had faced rejection just the day before, the warmth she felt in that moment was enough for her courage to build up again. 

“Anything, my darling,” he rasped. The octave of her voice rumbled down her spine. My darling.

“Will you… will you kiss me?”

   *                                                *              *

                                                 *                                **

The third and final part has already been completed, I just wanted a clean break between the two :) It’ll be posted after a mafia!h blurb. 

[passable-talent]

no one requested this one either but I know of at least 2 people ( @haydens-moles @iscariot-rising ) who will be happy it exists

still male reader x sam monroe (life as a house) 

part one here

The house was quiet by the time your sister and mom got home from wherever they were. They’d somehow missed Sam’s truck parked on the street, so didn’t know anything was unusual. Colleen, though, did notice an open beer sitting on the counter, and quickly Alyssa realized she needed to save you from a punishment by making sure you were awake and functioning by the time your mother decided to yell at you. 

So, being your sister, she threw open the door at six am and launched one of the couch pillows at your head. 

You groaned wordlessly, rolling over to look at her in the doorway. Sam, beside you, had a bit more coherent reaction, pushing himself up to his elbows after removing the pillow from his face. 

“What the fuck?” He said, and you saw it happen as Alyssa made eye contact with him, and figured out the implications of him, laying in your bed. With you. Both of you shirtless.

“Oh my god!” She shouted, and you finally had enough mental function to grab the pillow from Sam’s chest and hurl it at her, knocking her from her stupor. She took a step back and, apparently respecting your privacy all the sudden, closed the door. 

“What a nice wake-up call,” Sam said, earning him an amused exhale.

“That means mom’s gonna yell at me about something,” you said, your voice bounced just a bit by the mattress when he dropped from his elbows onto his back. 

“Is it me?” 

“Nah,” you said, a smirk pulling at your lips as you turned your head to look at him. “She’s used to her kids sleeping with you.” He didn’t seem to like that, though, and swiped his pillow out from under his head to smack it into your face. You laughed behind it, pulling it down toward your chest to look at him overtop of it. It was hard to believe that twenty four hours ago, you still couldn’t stand the sight of him. Now, you couldn’t stop staring. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words soft, accompanying the way you rolled onto your stomach and brought one hand to his face. He’d fallen asleep with his piercings in. “For trying to hit you.” The contented smile that was already on his face grew just a bit, into fondness, and you tracked as his gaze slipped over you, your collarbones, your lips, your hair.

“It’s okay,” he said, his right hand tracing over your knuckles on his face, and his left snaking under the sheets to find your lower back. “I did sleep with your sister.” With a little laugh, you dropped your forehead to his chest.

“Someday, we’re gonna have to stop talking about that.” You felt his fingers card into your hair, and you were content to stay there for, roughly, the next three years, but a knock at the door ruined your plans. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what kind of gay shit is going on behind this door,” Alyssa said through the wood, “but mom’s seriously going to be pissed with you when she gets up.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you shouted, lifting your head with a roll of your eyes. “I’m coming, relax.” For once, you didn’t throw the sheets open, as that would’ve exposed Sam to the cold air of the rest of the room, but instead slid out from under them. You tried to ignore him watching you while you got dressed, but the slight nervousness that it gave you definitely meant that you didn’t spend time picking out an outfit. 

You opened the door, surprised to find Alyssa right on the other side of it, leaning against the bannister, a smile on her face. 

“Piss off,” you said with a smile, not really meaning the words, closing your door behind you and brushing her off to get into the bathroom. She followed you, though, so it was probably good you didn’t actually have to piss. She watched you brush your teeth for a minute in silence. 

“Got something to say?” you asked around the toothbrush, but you knew why she was there. 

“You better tell me everything.” You rolled your eyes at yourself in the mirror, spitting out the toothpaste, deciding to torture her, just like she had you. 

“I mean, what’s there to tell?” You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get out the knots. 

“The beer on the counter and two hickies I can see just over the collar of that shirt tell me differently.” Panic coursed through you.

“I never got rid of the beer!” You said, whirling to face her. 

“Yeah, which is why mom is pissed.” 

“Shit,” you said, cursing yourself for being so damn stupid. 

“Well, I don’t think she’s going to be super angry,” Alyssa said, following you down the stairs as you ran your knuckles through your palm, the morning chill in the house freezing your fingers already. “It’s Christmas break, and we’re in college. I don’t think she wants to be mad at us.” 

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting yelled at.”

“She might not yell at you while Sam’s here,” Alyssa suggested, and your gaze snapped to hers. 

“He’s not allowed to leave,” you declared, playing up the drama. The two of you were a lethal combination when you decided to fuck around together.

“Well, you’d better get on that,” she said, and you turned tail to bound up the stairs. Somehow, he didn’t hear you coming, and was halfway into pulling up his jeans when you entered, and it shocked him so much that he almost fell. You laughed, closing the door, and plunged the room back into the darkness of a blacked-out window. 

“Ayssa’s a pain in my ass,” you said, spitting out the first thing you could think of. You heard him laugh, god, what a wonderful sound, and as your eyes adjusted to the low light you could barely make out as he walked to you, trapping you against the door, kissing you. A welcome surprise. 

You brought your hands up, feeling first his ribcage, then around to his shoulder blades. He hadn’t yet put on a shirt, so you got to feel his smooth skin again, feel the muscles underneath, run your middle finger down his spine. 

He’d leaned forward to bring his lips to yours, his left hand on the back of your head, the other pressed to your chest, keeping you against the wall like you had to him the night before. 

You’d think, after spending the night with him, you’d be used to it. You’d be adjusted to feeling him touch you, feeling his hands in your hair, his knee nudging yours. You’d think you’d be familiar with the sounds he makes, whether he means to or not. You’d think that you’d be acclimated to feeling his breath move across your skin.

Nope. 

Every time he held you, it was new. Every grip into the fabric of your shirt was something you’d never felt before, every pass of his lips over yours was fresh. You could get lost here- against your door, your freezing fingers soaking up the warmth from his skin.

“Breakfast soon, (Y/N),” Colleen said outside your door, and you broke the kiss to respond, but you didn’t have the breath. Luckily, she just moved on, and you could thump your head back against the door. Now that your eyes had adjusted, you could just look at him, his hair so spikey, eyeliner smudged. You could bet that you’d find it all over your pillow. 

“Hey,” he breathed, and you laughed, pushing forward to give him a quick kiss, and how could you not, when his lips felt like that.

“Hi,” you whispered, a bright smile gracing your face. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours, his fingers just resting on your ribcage, your palms overlapping his shoulder blades. You could only let it rest for thirty more seconds before you nudged him away. 

“Put a shirt on,” you said, “before you come downstairs.” 

You were lucky the cold air kept the blush from your face as you faced your mother. 

It was a cereal type of morning, Colleen hadn’t known she had a guest. It seemed like she was about to lay into you when Sam came down, pulling his sleeve over his thumb to rub sleep-dust from his eye. 

“Oh, Sam!” Colleen said, rushing to get a glass of orange juice for him. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Yeah, he slept over,” you said, not thinking anything of the explanation.

“Well,” Colleen said, “I’m glad you two are finally getting along again.” Alyssa started to laugh through her spoonful, for which reason she received a sharp kick under the table. 

“So, Sam,” Colleen said, “We didn’t plan on doing much today, but you’re welcome to hang around anyway.” 

“No, I’d better be getting home. I promised my mom I’d take my brothers to the movies today.” 

“Oo, can I come?” Alyssa asked, leaning forward to see him past you. 

“I don’t know, I already told (Y/N) he could come, and it’s gonna start getting cramped in the truck.” You didn’t know anything about being invited to a movie, but, hey. You wouldn’t say no.

“That’s fine,” Alyssa said with a smile, “I can ride in the bed.” 

“No,” Colleen said, but she knew that her daughter was joking. “If it’s that much a problem, Alyssa can drive you all in my car. If that’s alright with Robin.”

“I’ll ask when I get home,” Sam said, a smile on his face.

He left a few minutes later, waiting until your mother wasn’t looking before pulling you into one more kiss. You watched him go, leaning on the door frame, arms crossed over your chest. Once he’d gotten the truck started, you looked over at the house, the house that had changed the whole neighborhood’s lives. Like usual, you felt that niggling guilt between your collarbones that you hadn’t been there for him, when his dad died. 

“Close the door, loverboy, you’re letting in the cold,” Alyssa said, and you rolled your eyes, doing as she asked. She stood from where she’d been at the couch, and you saw it as she prepared to do- something? You could just see her energy rising. 

And she gave you a playful, but still forceful, shove to the shoulder.

“You finally got him!” she said, and you laughed, holding your shoulder as though she’d wounded you. 

“Yeah!” you laughed. She’d known about your crush on him the entire time you’d had it, she’d known about his crush on you that really kicked in over summer break. She’d kept her fingers away from it, but she really wanted to push you two together. That didn’t mean she had to be nice, though. She was your sister, after all. 

“Hey, just remember-” she said, smirking, “I had him first.” You laughed, turning to the stairs, making it to the first landing before turning to her with a bit of drama added to the spin.

“Yeah, but who’s more likely to keep him?” She held up her middle finger, and before you turned, you gave her your signature ‘fuck you, too’, which was a middle finger that you laid over your tongue. She always caught the subtext, whenever you whipped it out.

“Yuck!” 

-🦌 Roe

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day eighteen: children fight their parents wars

CW: death, murder, fire??, burns/burning, swearing

fic under the cut

“Unbelievable,” Lin muttered under her breath, fixing her gaze on the wooden table that the group was seated at.

She, alongside Kya, Tenzin, Bumi, and Su, had been trying to reason with Firelord Izumi for the past hour. This year was the year that marked a hundred and sixty years of war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world. They all knew it wasn’t their war to fight, it wasn’t even their parents’, and yet Izumi seemed set on keeping up the needless destruction.

“Unbelievable? Well, I’m right here, and so are you, so I don’t see how any of this could be unbelievable,” Izumi smiled at Lin from across the table, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

Lin fought the urge to yell at her right then, instead pushing her chair out and leaving the room. She tended to get the most angry about the war out of their group, her father’s insolence fueling her further with every passing day. She still couldn’t believe he’d come back after all those years, trying to enlist her in the army her mother fought desperately against, simply because he heard that she could firebend.

She stormed down the hall, blood boiling as she walked. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she shoved through the courtyard doors, and she let out a shout of frustration as soon as she was outside. She punched her fist at the sky, a ball of bright white flame shooting upwards and dissipating mid-air. She watched as it streaked across the grey sky, huffing when it disappeared and looking down at the garden she stood in. It seemed too nice for a family so set on hurting people, which only made her angrier.

She wandered down the path lined with cherry blossoms trying to calm herself down. She hated Izumi for all the awful things she’d done to people all over the world, but particularly her family and friends in Gaoling when she’d taken the entire city as a labour camp, stripping titles and stealing everything from her grandparents and every other major family in the city.

Just as she was starting to diffuse her anger, she heard someone come up behind her.

“Your friends are looking for you, troublemaker,” Izumi said in an irritatingly smooth, calm voice.

Lin spun on her heel and glared at Izumi, barely stopping herself from spitting on her.

“You really are the angry one, aren’t you?” Izumi took a step forward and created a tiny flame on the end of her finger, twirling it in small circles.

Lin watched the flame for a second before twitching her finger and putting it out.

“I’m leaving,” She huffed, brushing past Izumi and marching towards the door to get back inside.

“Don’t go,” Izumi called, causing Lin to stop in her tracks.

“Don’t you want to have a little,” She paused and sent a small burst of fire past Lin’s ear.

“Fun?” She finished as Lin turned back to look at her, digging her nails into her palms.

“Are you challenging me to an Agni Kai?” She asked incredulously.

“Only if you think you’re up to it, sugar,” Izumi smiled wickedly at Lin, knowing a taunt like that would piss her off more than anything.

“You’re on,” Lin snarled.

“Wonderful,” Izumi’s smile widened and she sauntered towards Lin, reaching forwards to straighten Lin’s collar.

Lin narrowed her eyes and pulled away from Izumi, clearing the path to the door before following her inside. Izumi led her down several long hallways before they came to another outdoor space, this one with a stone floor and no plant life anywhere. Izumi walked across the empty space, twirling lightly when she was a reasonable distance from Lin. She cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence as Lin stalked a large circle around her.

“How could you,” Lin said in a low voice.

“How could you hurt all those people?!” She shouted, sending a bright flash of lightning at Izumi.

Izumi reached one arm forward and caught the lighting, redirecting it right back at Lin. Lin inhaled sharply and rolled to avoid the strike, swinging her leg out and bending a white flame at Izumi’s leg. Izumi stepped calmly out of the way, a wide grin on her face.

“You still sure you’re up for this?” She teased, dodging two balls of bright flame that Lin punched at her head.

“You hurt my family, my friends,” Lin shouted, continuing her barrage on the Firelord.

“You’ve forced so many people into military service, and countless others into labour camps,” She continued, high-kicking a flame at Izumi’s head.

Izumi ducked the blow and stepped closer to Lin, opening her palm just in front of Lin’s stomach. Lin yelped and jumped back, pressing a hand to her scorched shirt. She growled and launched herself at Izumi again, punching fireball after fireball at her with no relent. Izumi continued to duck and dodge her blows, weaving her way across the open ground and making their fight seem almost like a dance.

Lin was panting when she finally got Izumi with her back to a wall. Izumi put her hands up in mock defeat, smirking at Lin’s dishevelled appearance and heavy breathing.

“Take it easy there, troublemaker,” She hummed, pushing herself off the wall so that she stood mere centimetres from Lin’s face.

Lin let out a feral yell and brought large white flames to her hands, shoving Izumi back against the wall. She was just about ready to make Izumi regret ever challenging her, when she heard a voice from behind her.

“Lin, what are you doing?!” Kya shouted at the top of her lungs.

Lin turned to see Kya standing halfway across the field, her eyes wide in horror. The fire at Lin’s hands dulled, turning back to yellow, then orange. Izumi took her momentary distraction to slip away from the wall, positioning herself to Lin’s right.

“I’m sorry she has to watch this,” She said wickedly, barely giving Lin time to react before creating a fire at Lin’s feet, quickly growing it so there was no way for her to get out. Her screams were muffled by the roar of the fire, but dissolved after only a moment.

Kya let out a loud cry and Izumi looked in her direction, smiling darkly at the waterbender. Izumi stayed where she stood until she was sure there was nothing left of Lin, only then letting the raging fire die. Kya had been frozen in place until their other friends found them there, rushing towards her.

“Where’s Lin?” Izumi heard Bumi ask.

“She just- she-,” Kya stuttered before her shock turned to pure rage.

“That bitch just killed her,” Kya hissed before running full speed at Izumi.

She pulled the water from her waterskin and turned it into a hundred icy daggers, sending them all shooting at Izumi with a raw yell. Izumi created a wall of fire in front of her, melting the daggers before sending a spiral of orange heat towards Kya. Kya was knocked back by the blow, but her companions weren’t far behind her.

Tenzin sent a gust of wind at Izumi, causing her to lose her balance for a split second. It was enough that with Su shifting the ground below her just slightly, she fell backwards. Bumi stepped around a now standing Kya, drawing his sword and extending it towards Izumi, pressing the tip against her throat. Izumi drew in a sharp breath and glared up at the four.

“You’ll only make things worse,” She seethed.

“My father would never forgive you,” She put her hand on the blade, beginning to heat it with her bending.

“The war will never end,” The blade was starting to glow beneath her grasp when Bumi noticed.

He pulled it swiftly back towards him, cutting her hand badly in the process. She grit her teeth against the searing pain in her palm, closing her eyes for a moment.

“You killed her,” Kya said, shoving past her brother to stand over Izumi.

“You. Killed. My. Lin,” Kya stared intently at Izumi as she stretched her hands out in front of her.

Izumi let a cry escape her throat as Kya lifted her off the ground, suspending her in midair. A tear slipped from Kya’s eye as she twisted Izumi’s limbs grotesquely. She felt as it dripped from her chin and rushed through the air towards the cold stone below their feet. As soon as it hit the floor, she clenched her fists to stop Izumi’s heart.