#she combs their hair and they hold hands when walking through a dark forest

[charalol]

Playing in stars and time again and thinking about Mira and Siffrin going on post game adventures is making me mentally ill.

[lizablee]

Done Enough (Critical Role Fanfic) Chapter 3

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. AO3

Fearne wandered under the light of Ruidus. 

The soft, reddish glow concealed the dust clinging to the robes of the Ruby Vanguard. Tattered and bloodied, the disguise still hung loosely over her shoulders. There was no need for it now. She shook it off, letting it fall, and ground it into the dust with her hooves.

Her path took her to a stream, gently revealed by moonlight and the murmur of running water. The reddish glow did nothing to illuminate the black water. Fearne closed her eyes and imagined motes of light drifting across the clearing. I should have asked them to teach me that spell . When she opened her eyes, a flame floated in her hand.

Fearne kicked a pile of sticks together and placed the flame down. It consumed the kindling voraciously. Something about her presence always made fires hungrier. “Settle down,” she scolded, dumping an armful of branches onto the flames. The fire got to work burning as she got to work undressing.

The red robes had offered little protection for Fearne’s flowing skirts from damage and dust. With each roll of ribbon and fold of fabric she removed, a small cloud of red sand drifted away or was efficiently beaten out by her practiced hands. Soon, every spare branch in the clearing was draped in drifting fabric. Fearne reveled in the freedom of standing bare in the forest. Her feral instinct to run naked through the woods was crushed beneath her exhaustion. If she had felt she could sleep, she might have curled up by the fire instead. But a ghost had been following her, and she had to deal with it first.

Her flaming form from earlier in the day had left her both exhausted and overheated. Every living thing she curated on her person had burned away in her titan form. The sweet scent of deadly blossoms was replaced by a strange, almost chemical smell of fire and something metallic. The cold night air on her bare skin was a balm.

Fearne stretched her legs over the smooth, tumbled pebbles and reached beneath her hair to withdraw a bone-carved comb, sharp and strong as the day Nana had given it to her. She sank the tines into her fur and began to brush, watching dust, debris, and shed hair drift into darkness.

She drifted.

When she returned, the comb was passing smoothly from her thighs to her hooves in one motion. She gave herself one more satisfying brush before starting on her backside, tail, and the soft patches of fur on her elbows and shoulders. It was at her ears that the comb caught in the tangled mats of her hair. With a huff, she yanked it free.

Fearne rifled through a hanging fold of fabric until she found a tiny, cloudy bottle. She walked to the waterline, her hooves sinking slightly into the stones. She took a small breath and stepped into the icy water.

The spark of Rau'shan hummed within Fearne, dispelling the bitter cold. She sighed and sank beneath the water, bubbles cascading from her hair and crawling up her horns. She stared into the black water until she couldn’t bear to hold her breath any longer and burst through the surface with a gasp.

It was so quiet.

Fearne dumped the contents of the cloudy bottle over her head and tossed it into the current. She hummed as she watched it sink. It gleamed softly against the creekbed, the only point of light in the inky darkness.

The smell of coconut oil drifted from Fearne as she carded her fingers through her hair. Her comb passed easily through the top layer, curated to fall in gentle seafoam waves over her ears, her horns, and her shoulders, cascading down to the small of her back. Fearne swept it up into a high bun and gingerly touched the hair underneath. It was a tangle of mats, burnt flowers, stolen trinkets, blood, and debris. Fearne shuddered as she teased it, feeling the tug on her scalp. I should have sorted this out a long time ago.

She massaged the oil into her hair, feeling even that gentle touch beginning to loosen something.

She remembered braiding FCG’s cables and wondering whether they felt it, or whether it was like when Nana braided her hair.

Teasing her fingers through, she started to pull the hair out into web-like sheets, glistening with oil. The burnt remains of an oleander dissolved beneath her touch.

She remembered asking FCG how old they were. She remembered how eager they were to hug her when they realised she wanted it.

She started to run the comb through, starting at the tips of the tangle. It caught immediately, bringing a tear to her eye. She tried again, and again, gently tugging at the tangles. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, they fell away.

She remembered seeing FRIDA and FCG holding hands and nearly threw the comb into the stream.

“FUCK!” she cursed. Her voice carried in the silence.

Fearne breathed heavily, sucking her breath in through her teeth. She yanked at the knots again, feeling them slip. The comb threatened to graze her scalp.

She remembered bringing FCG along to their date with Pretty so they could see what it was like.

She remembered a baffled FCG standing next to her delighted Nana after planning their scavenger hunt.

She remembered watching FCG sleep, dragging her claws gently over the blades of grass on the front of their chest and smelling the stale ale from when she used them as a canteen.

She remembered FCG’s eyes turning red and then white as they rushed Otohan—remembered their little look back, their hint of a smile, before they—

Fearne yanked her comb, and the last of the knots tore away. “Ow,” she whispered into the darkness. Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “That hurt,” she muttered.

The comb passed through her oiled hair with little resistance now. She sank into the water again, letting her hair flow around her, feeling it reach out with the current. She could almost drift away if she untethered herself from the creekbed. But it wouldn’t do to wander too far from her friends.

She looked to the dark sky and tried to imagine something good, something better than a friend disintegrating in a crackle of light right before her eyes.

The clouds were shifting and flowing. Catha’s halo brightened their borders as she began to emerge. Ruidus, stubbornly tethered to Exandria, was suddenly fighting a brighter light.

“I’m sorry, FCG,” Fearne whispered. “I tried to bring you back, but I think I left a lot of you up there.”

The low rumble of flowing water was the only response.

Fearne lifted herself out of the water and watched the moonlight begin to illuminate the world. The forest started to take shape—flowers bloomed around her, now soft white. The water glittered as it flowed. Ripples cascaded around Fearne as she waded to shore.

Her inner fire flared, and her soaked fur fluffed up and dried instantly. Droplets on her skin evaporated. Her hair steamed. She dressed with renewed purpose, eager to return to her friends and hear voices other than her own.

The clearing was almost as bright as day by the time she tied the last ribbon in her hair. Catha put her sister moon to shame. Fearne took a final look at the clearing and peered into the shallow water.

Thousands of tiny pieces of metal glittered back at her—fragments of gold, silver, and blue, trailing from the shore to the depths where the current washed away every trace of red dust. Every piece she picked from her fur, every shard tangled in her hair, now rested among the pebbles.

Fearne channelled a breath of druidic magic into an oleander and set it down in the stream. It floated gently above the glittering shrapnel. “I still carry you with me,” Fearne admitted. “Must have missed a piece somewhere.”

Between her fingers, she twirled a tiny gold shard, twisted into a curl, and tucked it into her hair.

[yukisocial]

“I wanted her to care for me..too”

Angst? Feeling neglected, IS neglected? Basically Spider has a burning hatred towards lil mothy [yn],, norm feeling sorry for him,, you have alone time with Neytiri !!! [yn] only communicate through sign language or just weird hand jester from the game,, I didn’t re-watch Avatar:twow since December when it start came out— [yn] feeling afraid of him!! But don’t worry he doesn’t hurt us in anyway,, I got this idea from tiktok well not the idea more of the audio— there was a tiktok video where Rotxo talks to spider about his hatred to him and how Kiri loves him more then he..

From a far Spider was helping Norm outside the Laboratory,, holding a box that scans the plants.

But he’s eyes were on something afar from them,, norm who was scanning the plants asked Spider to move a couple feet back but spider didn’t move an inch.

He looked to spider seeing him distracted by something or someone? He glazed his eyes to where he was looking at.

To see Neytiri sitting on a rock with [yn],, she was holding [yn] in her lap,, saying words in her language— then watching [yn] make a hand jester to Neytiri,, they watched as she combed her hand those they’re white hair.

Norm looked back to spider,, spider wear a distant face,, the machine in his hands were shaking not because of the weight,, because of the way he hated the way [yn] got better care from Neytiri then him..

Norm got the machine from his grasp and sat it on the grass next to him and asked,, “I think I got it from here spider” spider nodded then turned and walking off with his arms crossed.

Norm watched him leave them his ear twitched,, he turned to see neytiri giggle at [yn] who’s now combining they’re hand though the end of Neytiri’s tail before she flicked it out of their grasp.

[yn] made grabbing hands jesters,, norm sighed and shook his head before getting back to the plants.

—

Later

Before the eclipse,, spider was located near the edge close to the ikrans he watched over the edge with a now calm face,, that’s when [yn] came waddling over to him with a bowl kind of half their size but they worked with it.

Spider heard their feet patter,, his calm looked turned to a annoyed look,, as they got closer he heard a honk sound from them,, announcing their presence.

He turned to them with his head on his hand,, his body was hunched over with his arm on his leg [yn] lifted their arms with the bowl with their eyes wrinkled like they were smiling from behind that mask.

He faked smiled and took the bowl but instead of eating what’s inside he placed next to him on the opposite side of him.

Before looking away from them,, thinking that’s it before he felt the fabric from their cloak breeze a bit on his lower back,, he looked next to him again they seem to let themselves down next to him.

[yn] looked out to the forest beneath them,, they kicked their legs softly over the edge.

Spider gripped his blonde locks,, trying to keep himself calm— but he just can’t knowing [yn] could be a prefect addition to the Sully family.

Tears started to foam on his eyes,, he huff before hunching fully with both hands on his head,, [yn] was startled by this but tried to help by placing their hand on his arm.

He again “tried” to stop the tears from falling but failed as his softly sobbed,, he soon thought if he continued crying [yn] could leave him alone but [yn] didn’t once move an inch away from him.

—

Seconds later

He wiped the leftover tears before ceiling down his masks then looked at [yn] who’s staring at him with a concerned look? //I don’t know how to put it in sentence because you can only see their eyes//.

He sighed in embarrassment before looking away from them.

“You seem to fit in with the family..” he asked while peak to them,, they titled their head but nodded,, the eclipse came over them leaving them in the dark with a bit of light behind them both.

He hummed before asked again,, “she looks likes she really cares about you, does she?” [yn] made a sound of confusion.

“Neytiri, she cares for you like her own..” he voice cracked before saying this time in a more even cracked voice,, “I wanted her to look at me..”

He made his hands in fists and went on “but—“ his eyes had tears again “—she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you” now his fists were shaking quite a bit,, [yn] looked at him before looking down to their own hands on their lap.

“And your..” he was despise of them before sighing [yn] seems to shake in their place.

They were scared? No they were afraid of him,, he then looking at his hands,, closing his eyes and saying “..stupid white hair” he then stood from the edge and walked off.

Leaving [yn] stare at him with a shiver down their spine,, they looked at the bowl before now looking off the edge with a blank like face behind the mask,, shivering from the cold or from fear..

How long it took to make: 6 hours

[star-named-riddle]

Day 7 - Wildfire

(It's still the 7th somewhere, I swear) This one is hot off the press, and long, and sort of smells like lemon

Bellatrix stood waiting at the door. She did not knock, there was no need. The Dark Lord would recognise her mind at his door.

The lock clicked, and the door became ajar. She pressed her palm against it and pushed it, bowing her head while keeping her eyes up.

Lord Voldemort tossed her the Muggle newspaper the moment she walked inside his study. She caught it, her eyes immediately drawn to the front page.

‘WILDFIRE ROARS ON’

Bellatrix laughed. So this was what the sudden summon was about.

“When I showed you how to control Fiendfyre, you rotten creature, that was not the point of it,” Lord Voldemort said, gesturing towards the newspaper, his voice slow and low but clearly touched by pride. “Read that article for me, Bella, and explain yourself.”

The Dark Lord did not bother to offer her a seat. Instead, he rose from his place at the desk and made his way to the tall windows that overlooked the gardens and the estate beyond them. He stood by them, looking very tall and very still, bathed in the light of the warm summer day.

Bella admired his profile. His thick but greying hair combed back from his face and temples. The scar that now crossed his right eye and paled its colour hidden from sight, yet present in her mind. The skin on the left side of his neck was marred, pulled tight and dented, as if it had been burnt badly.

Lord Voldemort turned his face to her, sharply. His eyes shone red in between blinks, going back to their dark brown colour the moment Bellatrix focused on them.

She was happily married to Rodolphus. She loved her husband, and they fit together seamlessly in all things. And yet… there was something here.

There had always been something, right from the beginning. Something neither her or her master had ever acted upon, except for that one time. He had always used her obvious attraction to him against her when in training. It had been a way to distract her at first, later becoming a way to test her.

“Do I have to tell you again?” His tone alone was a warning, a tug on the unseen leash he kept on her.

Bellatrix jolted out of her reveries, unfolding the newspaper and holding it straight in her hands.

“No, my lord,” she said, lowering her eyes minutely. She cleared her throat and read the title aloud, moving on to the text below it immediately.

‘The freak wildfire that started on July 29th burns on through Swinley Forest. The fire, which started at night three days ago, has consumed over 2000 acres of land. There are three active fronts, the largest being just over 3km. On stage, there are about 100 firefighters, with some 25 fire engines, being aided by two airtankers. The flames show no sign of slowing down, and the wind expected over the next few days will probably aggravate the matter. Canada has offered to reinforce the firefighting crews with two more airtankers, expected tomorrow.

The fire broke out late on the 29th. The first call came in at 9 o’clock in the evening, mentioning a roaring fireball at the heart of the forest. No clues have been found as to what started the fire, which was quickly dubbed a freak accident by locals. Several people claim the fire seemed to move willingly at first, quickly advancing through the forest. A second ball of fire was seen 20 minutes later. The first firefighters on scene described a front of over a mile, unnatural in its shape and expected course. An investigation has been launched.’

Bellatrix meant to flip to page 10, where there would be more information, but was cut short.

“That’s quite enough, Bella. Now, tell me how you did all that, and what, in Merlin’s name, came over you that made Fiendfyre in a forest seem reasonable.”

Bellatrix looked up, fighting a smile. Her master did not sound displeased. He was somewhat amused by it all if his tone was to be believed.

“I was chasing two wizards, my lord. Aurors. I stayed close to the most valuable one, but I could not let the other one escape.”

“Did I send you alone on that mission, Bella?”

“No, my lord. You sent me with my husband,” she answered, gulping at the memory of a delightfully naked evening with Rodolphus being interrupted by the burning of their Dark Marks. “And with my brother-in-law.”

“And you ended up alone?”

“There was a third wizard when we found the Aurors. They split, and so did we. I had Charlotte Corbin, Rodolphus had Caradoc Dearborn, and Rabastan took the third one.”

“Who was he?”

“One of the Prewett brothers, my lord. Gideon, he thinks.”

Lord Voldemort hummed. He had already punished Rabastan for his failure to capture his target. Bellatrix had tended to his wounds the next day, once she was done sorting her husband.

“And how come you ended up alone in Swinley Forest chasing two Aurors?”

“Caradoc injured Rodolphus, badly. He Apparated to the forest right after Corbin and I did. It must have been their plan once they lost us.”

“Corbin didn’t lose you…”

“She tried, my lord. She quickly realised she would not best me in combat, so she tried running. I managed to throw one of my daggers at her, and I followed her Apparition by following it.”

“Hm-mmm. And the Fiendfyre?”

“Caradoc was too dangerous to be allowed to survive. Corbin had filled him in on her case. He knew far too much, and he had to stop him from getting back to the Order with more information. Charlotte was already injured, and we needed more information from her, so I decided to capture her and kill him immediately. I couldn’t risk losing Corbin, not with all she knows.”

“And Fiendfyre was better than a quick Killing Curse.”

“He could have dodge it, my lord. He had before. The Fiendfyre would chase him, and keep him from focusing enough to Apparate somewhere else,” she said, a wicked smile on her lips as she thought back to the terror in the Auror’s eyes as the flames erupted from her wand.

“Show me,” he ordered, approaching her.

Bellatrix went back to the beginning in her memories, and waited as her master joined her in her mind. They both saw everything happen, following along. Lord Voldemort chuckled as the cursed flames jumped and galloped after Caradoc Dearborn while Bellatrix rendered Charlotte Crobin unconscious and Apparated away. She had left the witch locked in a barren room at Castle Lestrange, and then waited in the hall as both Lestrange brothers Apparated home for her to mend.

Lord Voldemort emerged from her memories then, not caring to dwell on the extent of the injuries to her husband and brother-in-law. She let her own memory dissipate, and opened her eyes to find her master looming over her.

She gulped. Her hands held on tighter to the newspaper, which crumpled and crackled beneath her fingers.

He was close, standing tall above her, his eyes inscrutable.

Her mouth had gone dry thinking of that one time he had kissed her before, in the Spring, and all of the things she had thought about ever since that day. She could feel her heart racing, the drum of her pulse silencing all other sounds.

Lord Voldemort looked down, watching his most loyal servant as she tried to control her breathing. He had liked that kiss. He had thought often about that kiss, and kissing her again, and had found himself lost in thoughts of doing other things to her. Things that made him harden and woke him up at night when his dreams went unchecked.

He perused her thoughts again, and what he found there destroyed his resolve to hold himself back. All he wanted was to kiss his Bella.

His brain had all of half a second to consider when he had become so possessive of her. But she was his. His pupil, his servant, his witch. His Bella sounded just fine in his mind, and from what he had seen in hers, she’d have no qualms about it either.

He nearly ripped the newspaper from her hands, tossing it aside. The sheets spread out, drifting apart as they fell to the floor. His right hand moved to cup the back of her head, tilting her mouth further up, and his left hand wrapped itself around her right wrist, making her step forward.

He kissed her, firmly planting his lips on hers. He wrapped his arms around her, possessively, and pulled her closer. Having not been given leave to touch his face, Bellatrix pressed her hands against his chest, wrapping her fingers in his robes, pulling herself up. She hummed into the kiss. And when she gasped for air, his tongue licked her lips, and robbed her of breath the next instant.

Like wildfire, their desire burned through their bodies, spreading, unstoppable.

Also on AO3

[forlorn-crows]

request from my sweet friend @enragedtiefling to give us a lil break from the smut

some cumulus/mountain fluff to warm the heart xx

“Hey ‘Lus,” Mountain says cheerily, spotting her across the common room. “Whatcha up to?”

Cumulus looks up from the kitchen table where her nail supplies are scattered. “Just finishing up my nails; wanna see?” She smiles, holding her completed right hand out to him and waggling her fingers.

“Sure,” he says smoothly, setting his book down on the couch before walking over to her. He cradles her small hand in his palm, careful to avoid the shiny lacquer on her claws. She’s manicured them to a short almond shape and coated them with glittery, dark blue polish. Her ring finger is painted in a pearlescent white, dotted with dark blue four-pointed stars.

“Very nice, ‘Lus. They suit you well,” Mountain compliments. Cumulus trills; her smile lights up her entire face, an expression the earth ghoul never gets tired of.

“Thanks Mounty!” The ghoulette takes her hand back, resuming the clear coat on her left. “You gonna be in here for a little bit?”

“Yeah, reading. Why?”

Cumulus holds up a bottle of forest green polish. “I could do your horns, if you want?”

Mountain’s heart warms at that. “Sure; but nothing too flashy this time, okay?”

She laughs, remembering the bubblegum pink she snuck on the tips last time. “Subtle. Got it.”

“Don’t rush yours.” Mountain tousles her curls affectionately and moves to the seating area. He grabs one of the larger pillows and plops onto the rug so Cumulus can sit comfortably behind him. He dives back into his book, barely registering the ghoulette when she floats over half a chapter later.

Cumulus lightly combs through his hair, arranging it into three sections. Admittedly, Mountain enjoys her playing with his hair more than the act of painting his horns. But he enjoys her company all the same, her soft hands caressing his scalp as she moved his head this way and that, braiding his hair into three plaits and joining them at the nape of his neck.

She gestures to the lacquer selection placed on the coffee table next to him. “Are those colors okay?” Mountain looks at the little glass bottles, a grouping of muted greens: forest, emerald, and a minty sea-foam. A perfect earthy trio.

“Perfect, ‘Lusy,” he says softly. He tips his head back into her lap, smiling as she leans down to place a small kiss on his forehead. “Do you want me to read to you?”

Cumulus chirps in interest, ears perking up. “Would you? Oh, but you’d have to start over, you’re so far already.” Her face falls slightly.

“I don’t mind.” Her face lights up again, completely radiant. Mountain can’t help but beam back. Cumulus sits in quiet concentration as she listens to Mountain’s smooth baritone describe some far-off fantasy world, painting his horns in swirls of green. Once she’s moved away from the base of his horns, the earth ghoul wills little four-leaf clovers to grow and encircle them, because he knows they’re her favorite.

[silas-png]

Shadow of the Blessed

Hi, guys. So I wrote this little story for fun because I wanted to start writing the stuff for my ocs. So here's a little story about a gay bird and an even gayer plant lord coupled with small angst and very bad writing. im very sorry its kinda bad lol

also this is originally an English project so that’s cool shout out to my English teacher

tags: slight angst, small gore at some points, really bad writing, kinda rushed

word count: 4534

-----

It was the first time Peter had ever seen something so terrifying. He had woken up from his sleep in the middle of the night to see himself in his room. At least, it looked like him, but everything was so much darker. It was just a silhouette, but Peter could tell something was wrong. Darkness spread from the figure like an abhorrent bacteria, sticking to everything as if it were glue, and causing so much fear in Peter that he could swear he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stick upwards. Yet, as quickly as it came, the figure vanished, leaving Peter with lingering paralysis. He simply stared at where the figure was for what felt like hours.

The next morning, Peter waited until the light was sifting through his curtains to get up. When he walked past the spot that the figure was in the previous night, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He walked out of his room with a scowl as he saw his younger brother. He disliked his brother; he was too adept at everything for Peter’s taste. It made him jealous, furious, and contemptuous. He passed the rest of his family silently as he quickly grabbed breakfast while going outside to eat. When he was outside on the house’s porch, he ate. The air was cold as a chilling knife against his skin, but it reminded him that he was safe.

Peter looked to the forest below the mountain. From what he could see it looked mostly normal. Mostly. Creeping up behind the largest tree; an old oak that had been rumored to be there for a couple hundred years-- a rumor that Peter didn’t believe-- was a growing shadow. He walked off the porch onto the cold rock, silently thanking himself that he was wearing socks, and slowly walked to the edge of the mountain. He would’ve gotten a closer look-- until a certain voice cut in. 

“What’cha lookin’ at, Petey-Bird?” The voice was mocking and overconfident. Peter sighed in anger and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. He turned his head with an even bigger scowl to see none other than Anwir, a member of a nearby village on a close mountain; as well as a personal annoyance to Peter. Anwir was known for being a cocky know-it-all who didn’t let anyone else get any glory. Peter hated him with a passion. Anwir was followed by the village elder of his village and Peter's village. Anwir’s village elder only stared off, but the elder that Peter was familiar with spoke gruffly. 

“Darkness approaches,” He said, gently combing through his beard with one hand; the other was holding a cane in front of himself. The other elder nodded curtly, putting her hands behind her back. Peter glanced back at the forest, losing himself to thought. Surely they can’t be serious, right? He thought, a thousand other thoughts running through his mind simultaneously. Anwir chimed in with the same irritating hum; “I can go to check it out!” Peter shot him a glare, now pulled out of his thoughts from the words. 

“That won’t be necessary, Anwir,” The female elder murmured, her voice brisk. “We’ll wait to check it out,” She added, looking at the other elder. He nodded.

“Come with me, Anwir. There is much to talk about,” The female elder murmured, already starting to walk off. Anwir followed, smiling. The remaining elder turned to Peter, who had a very discontent expression and had put a hand on his hip, clearly distrusting of the second elder. 

“You go check it out,” The male elder murmured, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet. His squinting eyes were now looking at the looming shadow. Peter’s discontent expression tightened. 

“Really?” He asked, his voice holding a surprised and sarcastic edge to it. He moved his hand from his hip to hover aimlessly. “You’re serious?” He asked.

“I never trusted Glaudusa,” The elder replied.

“Neither did I.” Peter glanced backward at Glaudusa and Anwir walking to their homeland. The second mountain was around the corner of the growing shelf of clouds. A storm would hit soon. “You know I can’t go, right?” Peter asked.

“You have to. You’re the only one who knows, and the only one I trust, at that,” The elder said, haste filling his voice. Peter’s lips pursed. I’m not the one to do that. He thought. I don’t like this at all. 

“I can’t do that,” Peter said. If I refuse he won’t make me go, right? Peter thought. However, his refusal and denial were cut short by the elders’ reply.

“Unfortunately, Peter, it has to be you,” He says as he steps towards the cliff. His cane makes a clicking sound as it hits the rock below. Peter’s lip curls upwards in discontent as he stares off at the forest. He sighs, then murmurs, “Fine,”

“You cannot tell anyone,” The elder said. Peter nods and says, “Yeah, yeah, I know,” 

The elder pauses, then holds out a small shortsword. “It’s dangerous to trek this journey alone. Take this,”

Peter waits until the afternoon to set out. No one sent him off. He chose to go out without a word. He told his mother he was being sent to collect supplies for the village elder and then left. He got down the mountain quickly by gliding with the wind as his guide. He reached the forest within a few minutes of walking once he got down. He lifted a tree branch over his head after he made it to the dense forest. “This is going to be a long day,” He muttered, stepping over a tree root.

After a couple of hours of trekking through the forest, Peter finally came to the center point. The giant oak was at least ten feet in diameter and twenty feet tall. Peter felt tiny compared to the behemoth of a tree. Heaven almighty… He thought, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

“Your people don’t usually appear this far into my forest,” A voice called out. It was very calm and soothed Peter’s small bud of anxiety. Peter turned around. Behind him stood a very, very tall man. The second thing Peter noticed was his eyes; an alluring shade of pale green. Peter was almost star-struck. He didn’t expect someone to live out here. It was a no-mans land.

“Well, we thought it was, like, deserted,” Peter said, unusually stumbling over words. He coughed and hit himself in the heart to calm himself. The taller man chuckled lightly. It sounded almost melodic.

“Well, it is not,” He said. His eyes lit up. “I almost forgot--” He held his hand out. “-- I’m Pax,” The man said, waiting for Peter to introduce himself.

“I’m, uh, Peter,” He said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He took Pax’s hand and shook it. Pax’s skin was warm and comforting. Peter had to force himself to let go. 

“Okay, this is nice and all, but I seriously need to get back to what I was doing--” 

“Ah, right. Looking for the answer to the darkness spreading through the forest, yes?” Pax cut in.

“How-- How did you know that?” Peter responded, doing a double take. Is this guy psychic? He thought.

“I figured your people would send someone down sometime soon. I can feel the darkness spreading,” Pax replied, shrugging. “You should stay at my place for the night.” Pax gestured to the sky, which was growing darker by the minute. “It gets dangerous here at night now. You don’t know what lurks in the shadows,”

Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the last comment. He felt the same feeling of fear and anxiety from when the figure of himself appeared before him. He shivered, feeling a breath of sharp, cold air on his back. His wings shook slightly, attempting to shake off the cold. Pax noticed, and asked, “You have seen it as well?”

“What?” Peter asked, trying to control his voice. He didn’t know that other people saw them as well. “That shadow thing?” He asked. Pax nodded.

Then Pax started walking towards the tree. Peter suddenly didn’t want to be alone and followed him, jogging to catch up with Pax’s strides. 

“They’ve been following me around for the past couple of days,” Pax explained as he walked. He walked to the large oak and then opened a hidden door. Inside was a small shaft with a ladder in it. Pax climbed the ladder, Peter following suit. When the two reached the top, it was a spacious area that looked like a small cabin. The ‘windows’ were the holes in the branches of the tree, shaped in small circles. It was a lush area, with multiple ‘potted plants’ formed from the wood and branches with leaves. There was a bed, a small bookshelf, and a small counter-- probably a makeshift kitchen. 

“And we’ll be safe… in this tree?” Peter asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. Pax chuckles in response and nods. 

“The door is hidden well. They don’t know that someone lives up here. Think about it; did you know I lived here?” He asks. Peter thinks.

“No,” He says.

* * *

The next morning, Peter woke up tired. Pax was already awake and sat on the floor attempting to map something out. When he noticed Peter being awake, he motioned Peter to join him. “I’m trying to map out where to find the darkness,” He said.

Peter blinked very slowly before saying, “What time is it?”

“It’s ten a.m.,” Pax replied.

Peter only groaned in response. He got out of his makeshift bed-- a blanket and pillow-- and stretched. His wings outstretched completely and he knocked over a book. 

“Sorry,” He murmured, walking over to pick it up. Then he walked over to Pax and stood behind where he was sitting. A map of the woods was on the ground, with a shaded area labeled as the shadow. It had taken up a third of the forest and seemed to only be expanding, as Pax drew where it had seeped to. He suddenly rolled it up and said, “We should get going.” He stood up.

Peter backed up a step and a half. He stared at Pax to see what he was doing. Pax opened a cabinet and took out leather armor. He put it on quickly and then looked at Peter. “You have some, right?” He asked.

“It’s in my bag,” Peter said, gesturing to the pouch on the floor next to his makeshift bed. He walked over, grabbed the bag, opened it, and took out some thin leather armor. He put his own on carefully, then looked at Pax, who was already walking to the trapdoor and opening it. He gestured for Peter to go first. Peter obliged and climbed downwards. He opened the door at the bottom to see Anwir standing outside. Peter cursed to himself quietly and looked up to see Pax coming down the ladder. He whispered, “Hey, there’s another guy here,”

Pax looked down and replied, “We should greet him--” “--No. Not. He is a liar, an eyesore, and an overconfident ogre,” Peter cut in, whisper-yelling furiously. 

Unfortunately for Peter, Anwir heard the string of insults and walked over to the open door. “Petey-bird, you didn’t tell me that you would be here!” He chimed an excited hum in his voice. Peter grimaces and grabs the bridge of his nose; contrastingly, Pax emerges from the door and holds out his hand. “Hello,” He greeted. Anwir responded in kind; shaking Pax’s hand.

“You must be the forest spirit!” He said excitedly. “I’ve heard so much about you-- all good things, don’t worry,” He added.

“Really?” Pax asked. Peter nudged Pax and muttered, “We’ve gotta get going,”

“Oh-- yes, we do. Are you heading to the darkness as well? We could go as a group-- the more the merrier!” Pax spoke softly, kindly. Anwir nodded. 

“Yes, I am!” Anwir responded. Peter facepalmed.

* * *

The three set off soon enough, and within a couple of hours, they reached the base of the darkness. It was attached to everything like a sticky mold, growing by a few centimeters every few minutes. It was black-- as one would expect-- but had a blue hue. Whatever the substance was, it was gross. Anwir touched a leaf that was engulfed in it, and it exploded like a pimple; a pus-like substance splattered all over him. 

Peter’s upper lip curled upwards in pure disgust as he stepped backward. His wings folded inward. Pax tried not to look disgusted but failed; he looked like he just saw a pile of feces on the ground. 

They trekked through the sticky swamp for several minutes before Anwir started to complain. “This stuff is… odd,” He said, trying not to be rude. Peter nodded, and Pax silently agreed. A low hum started to grow in the background. It sounded like a low growl. The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up. Anxiety crept into his bones as he suddenly felt very, very cold. He looked backward. Standing there was the shadow he saw. He started to back away. It caused Pax and Anwir to turn around. Pax instinctively yelled, “Run!”

The group started to sprint away, Peter the fastest. He would rather be flying, but there wasn’t enough space in the dampened forest. He ran as fast as he could, adrenaline and instincts completely taking over his body. When he reached a clearing in the forest, he calmed down. It was sundown by now, and Pax emerged from the forest a moment later. Anwir… didn’t. Peter couldn’t care less and instead focused on Pax.

“That was… scary,” Pax murmured, looking shaken. Peter walked closer to him, subconsciously begging for the soothing aura Pax had before. But it was gone.

Suddenly, the clearing started to get more sparse. The edge of the clearing started to become more dense, and soon enough both Pax and Peter were locked in. The pus-like darkness crept through the small cracks and crevices, circling the two. Then it started to move faster and faster until it manifested itself into an amalgamation of both Peter and Pax. Peter’s face was massed below Pax’s and was contorted into an expression of horror; his mouth wide open and almost falling off of its’ hinges. A spider crept out of the mouth, also made of the substance. 

Peter backed away in terror, his back suddenly hitting the wall. His breathing started to get quicker as the image ingrained itself into his brain. Pax gulped audibly but drew out a small dagger and clutched it tightly, determined to try and destroy whatever the amalgamation was. The creature's flesh pulsated as if it were alive, pumping something through its visible veins to keep it alive. It took a step closer, goop seeping into the ground with every step. It was disgusting to see, and Pax’s hand trembled. Peter looked around for something, anything to save the two of them. His hand traced the wall until he came across an engraving on the wall. He turned around to look at it. It looked like some sort of puzzle. Peter tried to look at the entire thing to solve it, but he couldn’t make out what exactly it was.

It looked like an incomplete image of something; almost like a jigsaw puzzle, but it was made out of different shapes. Triangles, circles, octogons, polygons, and rectangles confused him. He looked behind himself. The creature was focused on Pax, and Peter didn’t dare make a sound. He did not want to know what that thing would do to him if it saw him.

Peter started moving pieces around to try and complete the image. After a few minutes, it started to look like a mosaic. A few seconds later, the walls started to disperse. The creature slowly sunk into the ground, merging with the existing darkness like melting snow. 

A moment later, Anwir emerged from the forest, smiling giddily.

“What happened here?” He asked, his voice somehow more annoying than before. 

“We got trapped--”

“--Yeah, I’m not sure what happened,” Peter interrupted. He started walking across the clearing to the other side of the forest, a glare in his eyes. 

“That… was a strange encounter,” Pax murmured, his voice low. He stared at Peter in concern. Peter just kept walking, his strides much faster and longer than before. Before long, the group was back in the darkness-engulfed woods. 

After a few minutes of walking, the group found a fork in the path they were on. Anwir started to go to the far right, but Pax and Peter stopped. Peter just glared, but Pax spoke.

“Hey, we should stay as a group,” He called, staring at Anwir. Anwir turned around momentarily before calling, “But the heart of the darkness is this way!” 

Peter and Pax exchanged glances. They both looked skeptical of Anwir.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Peter muttered. “Let’s all split up. The paths have to reconnect somewhere,” He suggested. Pax nodded. Anwir turned around and kept walking away.

“Splitting up it is,” Pax muttered, walking to the middle path, leaving Peter to the far left. 

Peter walked down the path. He didn’t trust the choice to split up, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. It seemed like a logical and perfectly acceptable choice at the time. At first, it was pretty normal for what the past several hours had been. Then it started to get chilly. He shivered, but it only got colder. Before long, his teeth were chattering, his entire body trembling, and fear starting to creep into his bones. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was nearby to help. But no one was there. He was alone.

He started to feel the same as he did when the figure appeared before him. Anxiety crept up his spine, making the hairs on his back stand up. His breathing started to become irregular, and he looked behind himself. Standing there was the figure.

Suddenly, it was directly in front of him. Staring at him. It had a suffocating aura; as if he was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people. It terrified him. A deep, gravelly voice came from the figure, but its mouth never moved. It only hung open.

“You… Fear comes from you. Delicious fear,” It said, leaning in closer to Peter. Its jaw hung open, loose on its hinges. It looked like it was about to fall off. Peter’s expression contorts into pure terror, and he stumbles backward. His breathing escalates gradually. He tries his best to push the fear down into his stomach but fails. It makes its way to his throat, which is worse than before. 

Peter just stares back at the thing, trying his best to keep his fear down and stop himself from screaming. The creature grabs Peter's shoulders and pulls him in closer. 

“Your fear will make for a dessert worthy of the gods’,” It rumbles, its voice filled with malice. Peter’s eyes widen, and he reaches for the shortsword on his belt. His hand trembles as he tries to get to it without drawing attention to himself. The creature doesn’t notice it; for now.

Peter reaches for the sword and grabs it, pulling it out with all of his might and then slashing through the creature while trying to remove its hands from his shoulders. The creature's top half falls to the ground with a quiet thud. 

Peter stares at it while heaving. He silently calms himself down then says, “What are you made of?” He’s seemingly talking to no one, but the creature responds.

“Your negative emotions, dear friend. I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,” It reverberates, the sound of a low, earth-shaking thrum. It makes Peters's heart shudder. Yet, as quickly as the creature was alive, its life faded. The jaw fell off of the head, and the body started to melt into the ground like viscous oil. Peter gawked at it for a moment before remembering his objective; get to the heart of the shadow and kill it. 

Peter continued down the path, the scene replaying a thousand times over in his head. He kept thinking about that one comment. ‘I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,’. It made Peter almost sick to the stomach. Did he have that many? He never thought about it much; jealousy, sadness, anger, and a million others. He never lingered on them for too long, just pushing them down. He realized that he had to stop doing that. He sighed, the idea of letting out his emotions making him want to vomit. 

Peter looked at a plant in disgust as he let the idea roll around in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to let his emotions out. But the idea was one that he needed to implement. He was a very emotionally unavailable person, and people often didn’t talk to him because of that fact. He had to do better. For himself; and everyone around him.

As he walked, he took a deep breath. He walked silently for a few minutes before stopping. His hand touched his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Peter stood there in pure shock for a moment before just letting it happen. He continued walking while letting the tears fall freely. Before long he made it to the heart of the darkness. Pax was already there, talking with someone.

The someone in question was an angel. He didn’t have wings on his back but had a small pair on his face that covered his eyes. His halo was a mix of different stars all in a ring on the back of his head; they illuminated his face softly. His hair was white and wavy, reaching his back. Behind the man was a large, pulsating heart. It had strings of viscous pus-like substance attached to it and flowing into the ground. They looked like veins and arteries. The heart fed the substance into the veins. 

“You must understand; I do not mean to infringe upon your land, dear spirit,” The angel said, his voice soothing and calm. Pax looked like he was holding himself back.

“But you are. You are killing the life of this forest and you are hurting the land that we stand on,” Pax said, his voice urgent and attempting to be persuasive. The angel was having nothing of it.

“I need the life force of your forest to survive, Guardian. You do not understand.” The angel took a step closer. He was somehow taller than Pax. He looked down in disgust. 

“You Guardians are all so cocky,” The angel spits, venom in his tone. The angel notices Peter and scowls, growling, “And who are you?” 

He pauses. Then, he says; “You’re the other one. I’ve seen you before.” He thinks for a moment.“We could do great things together, you know,” He says.

Peter steps back. He rejects the hand and looks at the angel skeptically. “Woah, there. Before I go making life-altering blood pacts, how about you introduce yourself?” He says.

“Ah, of course. I am Antiphilli; God’s Shadow,” He said, smiling a little bit. Pax’s eyes widened. 

“You’re the one I was warned about,” He blurted, staring at Antiphilli in shock. “You’ve been cast out; that’s why you feed off of the darkness,” He explains.

Antiphilli’s disgust shifts into contempt. “Well, when you have nothing else to live off of, honey, you get creative,” He says, mockingly using the pet name. He walks closer to Pax. “I was cast out because I saw through the lies of the system, and those above me didn’t like that,” He explains.

Pax leans forward, discontent slipping into his gaze. “True, but you were cast out for a reason. You were a danger to the people; so you were arrested. Then you broke out,” He says.

Peter watches the whole conversation play out, insult after insult strung in both directions. It almost looked scripted; as if someone wrote it with care and love.

Anwir suddenly emerged from the brush. “I’ve found you guys!” He yells, smiling happily. He rushes over to Pax, then… to Antiphilli. He stands beside the angel with pride, and the two have a hushed conversation as Antiphilli backs away from Pax. Pax looks at Peter, tilting his head briefly to motion to leave. Caught up in the conversation, the Antiphilli and Anwir don’t notice Pax and Peter backing out. But before they’ve completely gone, Peter takes his shortsword and throws it like a javelin at the giant heart. It hits it directly in the center, and then he bolts. He and Pax run for what seems like miles, their feet trudging through the muck hastily.

Antiphilli notices their absence and screams. It’s a blood-curdling, earth-shattering sound, and hurts Peter and Pax’s ears. It echoes through the forest. Peter covers his ears, falling to the ground, and Pax’s face contorts in pain with the sound. It screeches in the two’s ears, and when it’s over their ears continue to ring. Peter felt like he had just died and come back; his head throbbed, pain seeping through his skull.

* * *

Peter and Pax returned to the oak tree a day later. Peter was completely drained of energy, barely able to make it up the ladder. When he does make it up, he collapses onto the floor; Pax catches him with gentle arms. “I didn’t realize that you would be this tired,” He murmured, his voice slightly raspy and words slurred. He carried Peter to his bed, setting him down gently before lying down himself to sleep. It takes him some time, but he falls asleep.

The next morning, Peter sets off to return the news of the darkness to his village elder. The elder takes the news well and Peter can finally actually rest. He returns to his home, retreating to his room after grabbing a snack. He stays in his room all day long, completely isolated. He shivers a couple of times because of thought about the figure from days ago. Eventually, he falls asleep at around nine P.M.

His sleep is interrupted by a loud explosion nearby. He jolts awake and looks out of his window, panic rising in his body. His eyes are wide as he stares at a gigantic plume of smoke coming from the nearby village below the mountain. A blinding light follows the explosion, causing Peter to look away. He rushes outside after regaining his vision to find the whole village in a panic. More concerned with the forest, Pax, and the other village, he rushes to the edge of the mountain closest to the cliff above the nearby village. What he sees is agonizing; the village is in flames, multiple houses are burnt and several currently burning. The people are running around in a panic but most are trying to find loved ones. Peter watches in horror, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

----

so thats it; uhh i might write more but idk we'll see. this is kind of a prologue to my main story and i might post that here but idk

peter and pax have a long way to go and antiphilli needs more character development lol

please let me know if you guys want silly stories or head cannons about them because I’d be really happy to do that. There’s so many more of my characters that I want to share to you guys via writing and I’m so eager to :D

[luxmaeastra]

Magnus turned away from the celebrations, draining his third glass. He looked to the balcony. Lumas stood laughing holding one of the raw siphon stones. He focused magic on it, hold threads flaring bright.

He beamed at the soldiers.

"Go find your mates!"

The cheers were defining. Magnus moved through the barracks, turning to the outside. He was with others, he didn't hear them though.

He found her with her squad mates. She turned to him, those pretty eyes drinking him in. She held her hand up, the gold thread tangling through them.

"What are you waiting for Coloniel?"

------

Rhain turned from Magnus and Pazley, looking to the forest, soldiers had gone. This was going to turn dark very quickly.

He was glad most of the females on base were mated though.

The Changeling war prisoners weren't.

The cheers went louder, laughter hiding the screams, the beginnings of their begging.

He turned away, walking to where Sebastian, Natalia and Oraya sat. Oraya turned to Rhain raising an eyebrow at him.

"What were all those cheers? Someone win at the drunk games?"

"One of the Daglan manifested Mating Bonds."

Sebastian winced and laid his head back down on Natalia's lap.

"Well that's one way to celebrate."

Natalia's fingers combed through Sebastian's hair as he lay his head in her lap, her focus on anything but the sounds around them. She didn't need them burned into her memory, the knowledge of the twisted ways this all ended.

"It's not so much of a celebration." She commented with a sigh. "But its the price of war sadly..."

She barely looked up when Sarai appeared, bottle in hand as she sat herself among the group. "I thought we could do with something." Her eyes rose, looking in the direction of the noise.

"Viren joining us?" Natalia asked.

"He'll join us in a bit, he is talking to his brother." And she did not want to recount the argument she had with her sister concerning what was happening, in connection to Lumas's actions.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Felicity

A/n: So. I finally got the energy to write up a quick, original short story and I wanted to post it with the potential for peer review. Enjoy? Send feedback maybe? Thank you. :0)

Word Count: 1038

Genre: Short Story/Thriller

TWs: I don't want to spoil the twist but it's only fair that I put in big bold letters that THIS PIECE CONTAINS THEMES OF NECROPHILIA, as well as death in general, denial, and mentions of food.

They buried Felicity today. I don’t know why they went through all the trouble of a funeral when she’s been sitting at home, perfectly fine, all afternoon. A waste of a gorgeous white coffin, I’d say. Her parents wanted me to give a eulogy, but what could I possibly detail when the love of my life simply wasn’t dead?

 I stayed until it was too awkward to remain. When I retired to my car, I was prevented from leaving by a knock on the window. My brother, Doyle, on the other side of the glass.

“Hey. How’re you holding up?”

I shrug, shifting in the leather-coated driver’s seat. “I’m fine,” I answer plainly.

He nods solemnly. “I’ll come by and check up on you later, alright?”

“Oh. Alright.” I nod back. “I’ll see you then.” He studies me with untraceable eyes before patting the edge of the car door with an air of finality and walking off. I roll the window back up and back out of the parking lot of Saint Cassidy Cemetery. It’s a nice cemetery. I wouldn’t mind being buried there myself. But Felicity isn’t dead and neither am I.

It’s one in the afternoon by the time I get home. The funeral had started at ten. With the swiftness of sparrows, I exit my car and enter the safety and familiarity of my Victorian home. I inhale the woody interior as I float over the threshold, through the entryway, and up the stairs.

“Felicity, I’m home!” I call and enter our room. She sits, beautiful, like a restored oil painting, by the window. She smiles at me, in her layered white dress, dotted with tiny periwinkle flowers. I take her face in my hands and kiss her forehead. Finally, I can shed these cloths of false mourning and simply be as I am, in love, with Felicity.

I put the black suit and tie away and slip into a grey flannel and jeans. Felicity and I go downstairs. I make lunch and coffee for us. We talk as if her family hadn’t just pulled the wool over the world’s eyes and told them she had died. What of? Hell if I knew. Hell if I understood the entire rigamarole at all. Why go to such lengths for someone who still walked among us? Why mourn for someone who is not gone? There was no inheritance in the will. Of course there wasn’t. Felicity was here, sitting across from me in our sunny kitchen, eating fettuccine alfredo with that smile on her face.

After lunch, we played Sequence and checkers, games she always could best me at. I won two Sequence games in the two hours we spent playing.

“I think my brother is coming by later,” I told her casually. “I wonder if he really believes everything that’s happened. I hope not. I hope he’s just playing along for appearances. Whatever that means.”

I cleaned up the board games. “Can you believe that they’ve taken it this far, Felicity?”

We go into the living room to watch TV, but even the news is mentioning her “death.” I change the channel and it’s another news station. I change it again, a commercial break. I mute it and check the TV guide. I put on one of Felicity’s favourite movies and get up to make popcorn.

By the time it’s over, Felicity asks me to help her take a bath. I gladly oblige. I adore her more than life itself. I run my hands over her bare skin, cold even in the warm, soapy water that surrounds her. I am so gentle with her. I pour water over her dark auburn hair, her waves turning to a straight and narrow forest. I adore her. She is so still in the tub and my hands are so steady against her. I cannot help but kiss her.

I dress her in a striped dress when she’s dry, and I comb through her long hair and hum for her. She is like a mannequin in the malls downtown, her face a forever smile, just for me. When I bring her downstairs, it’s time to prepare dinner. Just as I’m about to put a pot on the stove, the doorbell rings.

“Must be Doyle,” I smile at Felicity and go to answer it. It is.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re smiling…” Doyle comments, brow furrowed as I let him in. “Making dinner?”

“Venison stew.”

“It smells good. And something hearty should keep you grounded. I’m sorry about Felicity. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

We remain in the entryway as we speak. “Frankly, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Doyle.”

His expression is increasingly concerned by those nine little words.

“Malcolm?”

“It’s an act, isn’t it? Surely you don’t think Felicity is actually dead.” I keep my expression bright. “But I can’t wrap my head around why her parents seem to think so.”

“Malcolm, Felicity is dead.”

“Then who’s sitting at my dinner table? Who’ve I spent all day with? Who did I bathe not an hour ago?” I think I have him cornered as he rushes into the dining room. I follow and hear a strangled gasp.

“Why?”

“Why what, Doyle? Why did Mister and Mrs. Fenrow lie to us, our family, and the rest of their peers?” I laughed lightly. “Beats me.”

He turns on me with a rage I’ve never seen, gripping my shoulders tightly. “When did you take her from the morgue?”

My eyes widen at the accusation. “What are you talking about??? You sound insane!”

He shoves me. “Insane?! Me, insane? Malcolm,” he forces me to look at her, “that is a corpse sitting at your dinner table, that is Felicity’s corpse! I’m calling the police.”

I see fear in Felicity’s face and all I can think to do, once Doyle has left the room to use the house phone, is to take her and run. Scooping her into my arms and ignoring the idea of another romantic dinner with her, I make a break for my car. I don’t stop, even as I hear Doyle yelling at me. I’m gone before he can catch me. Felicity is alive. I am sane.

[arizona2004]

Safe Haven

Requested: yes

Cazriel x reader

word count: 3914

My face was pressed into the mud; I couldn’t even scream anymore. Three males held me down so I could barely move, but I was too tired from fighting so hard to struggle anyways. I was about to give up when the tip of a blade grazed my wing, and I remembered what I was fighting for. They were trying to clip my wings. I fought against the hold the males had on me to no avail. The fourth male brought his knife down, tearing it into my left wing. And not just once, not twice, but three long wounds. Then onto my right-wing. I tried holding back the tears, but it did me no good. I sobbed into the ground as not only my wings were taken from me, but the freedom and joy they stood for. 

When the knife was pulled from my wing, I thought it was done, but the male picked up mud and smothered it in the open wounds. They burned, everything burned, and it was getting blurry. I was going to pass out, I realized. “No one is to touch her, no one is to clean her wounds, no one is to heal her,” the voice of the camp leader rang out behind me before he walked away, and I fell into unconsciousness. 

I awoke a few times the next day, but when I did, it was to burning pain at my back and pitying eyes in all the females that walked by. I noticed I was no longer where I had been, pushed off to the edges of the camp, no longer in their way. So I turned my head away and looked at the forest to my left, falling asleep once more. 

It was the next time that I woke, that I was not alone. I felt someone crouching to my right, and as I turned to look at him, another person crouched to my left. I whipped my head to the left to find Azriel. Staring at me with pain and grief behind his eyes. “It- it’s gonna be okay,” I heard from my right. Cassian. I turned to him to see the same look in his eyes and tears. He’s crying. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll fix this,” he murmured, pushing my hair back from my face.

I turn my face away, looking toward Azriel, but he’s not there. That’s when I hear the shouting. I look back to Cassian and passed him to the camp. I can’t see the women and children. There are only men; they’re being pushed inside a blue-force field? Yes. All of the men are being rounded up and forced into a prison, and there is Azriel: collecting them and pushing them all inside. I look back to Cassian and notice beneath the sorrow in his eyes is anger. He combs a hand soothingly through my hair, “We’ll take you to Madja. She can heal you,” he says, voice cracking. That’s when I notice the bandages on my back and the fact that I am not in as much pain as before. Whatever infection was settling in has been slowed by magic. 

He continues soothing me until Azriel calls, “Cassian, they’re all here.”

“I’ll be right back,” he places a kiss atop my head and stands, walking toward Azriel. I watch in a haze as my males, my lovers, question all the men. Anywho are young, innocent, or remorseful are released. There aren't many.

They decipher who the males at the core of hurting me were. The camp leader and the ones that held me down. They were pulled aside one by one, and I had to close my eyes while Cassian and Azriel took turns hurting them. Through it all, I listen to them fighting, to their yells, and their pleas. 

“We didn’t know she was your lover,” some of them screamed.

In the end, I’d turned my head away from the scene. I am no stranger to blood and gore, and I would never be angry with Cassian and Azriel for what they are doing, but I do not revel in watching those males dying. The camp leader is the last of them to die. He spits out cruel and disgusting words at all three of us, and I try not to listen. I’m not sure which of them does it, but his words are suddenly cut off as his head is cut from his neck.

Cassian returns to me first. He pulls the make-shift bandages from my wings, inspecting the wounds beneath, “Az, we need to get her to Madja. We couldn't have cleaned the wounds well enough, and she’s still losing blood,” he said over his shoulder. Seconds later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and we were spinning through space.

The room we landed in was clean. The floors and walls were pristine white and blue, and everything looked very orderly. Nothing was out of place or messy. A few people were in the large room, and their attention was immediately drawn to us as Azriel winnowed us in. Whatever place this was, it had many doors leading out of it and many healers- I realize as several of the males and females come to inspect my wings. Faintly I hear Azriel speaking to an older female. She must have ordered me moved because soon, Cassian is carrying me through one of those many doors and into a room with nothing more than a bed and a couple of chairs in it.

Then, I must have fallen asleep again because I woke up hours later, remembering very little after being brought to this healing den. I’m lying flat on my stomach, facing Cassian asleep in a chair to my left. Slowly I blink my eyes awake and turn my head. Azriel is seated on my other side with his head in his hands. When I try to speak, only a quiet groan escapes my throat. Azriel sits up suddenly and before he can mask it I make note of the guilt and pain behind his eyes. Cassian also jolts up behind me and moves to Azriel’s side of the bed. He’s far less skilled at hiding his emotions; they’re always written all over his face.

I want to speak, but the words won’t come. As if knowing my question, though, Azriel says, “she couldn’t save them,” Cassian turns his face down, away from me, and Azriel avoids my eyes too, as he continues, “She tried. Several healers did, but they couldn’t save your wings. The infection was too great. You’re lucky to be alive.”

A choked sob leaves me as everything crashes in. My wings have been clipped. I’ll never fly again. I turn my face into my pillow, dry sobbing into it, while Cassian sits on the edge of the bed. I feel his hand hover over my back, but he pulls back, deciding not to touch me. 

I feel like I can’t breathe as I heave into the pillow and wish the entire world would just disappear. I know Cassian is saying something, but I don’t hear his words. Azriel hasn’t said anything else, but I can feel his eyes on me and the guilt in them. 

After some time, I fall asleep again. 

*

Before I even open my eyes, I know it's not a nightmare as I had hoped. My wings ache with burning pain. “You’re due to take another tonic for the pain soon. I can go get it,” Azriel says from behind me. He must have sensed my pain. When I open my eyes to look at him, he is not who I see. Slouched forward in a chair, head lying on the bed, is Cassian. One of his hands is brushing against mine, and I move it closer, wanting more contact. I look slightly behind me at Azriel and tell him with my eyes that I would like that. 

He’s gone for only a moment before he returns. I barely had the chance to blink, and he was already back. Walking over to my left side, where Cassian sleeps, Azriel helps pour the bitter liquid down my throat and gets water to ease that too. 

My hand rests on top of Cassians; I briefly look before returning to Azriel. “He must be exhausted to not have woken up yet,” I say.

Azriel looks down at him and puts his hand to Cassian's head, gently running his fingers through the dark curls, “He wouldn’t sleep. Drank so much coffee he couldn’t even dose off; he didn’t want to. Eventually, I knocked him out.”

I raise my eyebrows in shock, but Azriel just smirks slightly looking back to me, “I didn’t hit him or anything. I asked Rhys to go into his mind and put him to sleep for a while,” the moment ends then, the smile leaving his face, “I didn’t want him getting hurt too.”

He blames himself. I know he does. He always does, though I wish he wouldn’t, “It wasn’t your fault, Az,” I murmur, closing my eyes. I can feel him staring at my wings, which have already started to ease as the tonic sets in.

“If we had come to see you sooner, this wouldn’t have happened. Madja said there was nothing we could have done about the infection, even soon after they did it, but if I had been there a day earlier, then we could have stopped it from happening at all,” the words rush out of him angrily at first. He sounds like he’s speaking more to himself than me. Then his voice cracks on the last few words, and I open my eyes to see tears welling up in his eyes.

I look at him for a moment longer and say, “come lay with me,” a confused look crosses his face, “this wasn’t your fault Azriel, now please come hold me.” He didn’t miss a beat. Crossing to the other side of the bed, he laid down on the edge, gently maneuvering himself to only touch me where there was no chance of making contact with my wings. 

His right arm slithered under my head, resting his hand on the other side of my body. My right hand felt numb beneath my body, but I pulled it up to brush it with his. He grabbed my hand in his, and so I fell asleep, knowing I held both of my males close to me.

*

My dream started as a memory. It was the first time I had met my males; crouching next to the creak outside of camp, I sharpened a rusty old knife with a rock. I had been wishing I had a good knife, but that would be too risky to steal, and any protection was better than none. I didn’t hear the figure to my left, and when a branch snapped behind me, I knew I only heard it because that male wanted me to. 

Dropping the knife, I quickly stood, turning to greet the male. It had been Cassian. Jokingly he said, “You couldn't hurt a fly with that knife. You really need a lesson in weaponry, don’t you?”

I shouldn't have gotten angry, but I did anyway, “I know about weapons,” I snapped, “but not all of us are privileged enough to have pretty little knives like you,” That's when I became aware of the figure to the side. He laughed deeply, and I was sure he must be laughing at me. I would be punished severely for this.

My attention snapped back to the first male as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, “but you really shouldn’t use that dagger. I’ll get you a better one.”

“Here. She can have this one,” the other male spoke, pulling out a dagger. It is plain and silver with a simple, twisted image of shadows carved onto the surface, leading to the black hilt, “I’ve had it for ages but never really use it,” He detached a sheath from his belt and slipped the dagger in before handing it to me. I looked into his eyes a moment longer before turning away, blushing.

“What do you need a weapon for anyways?” Cassian asked.

I shrug slightly, “protection.”

“From?”

“Everyone,” I say, tucking the dagger under my skirts. I probably should keep it closer being alone with two males, but for whatever reason, I did not feel threatened by them. The memory faded away as another appeared. Only days after I had first met the two Illyrians, the high lord’s most trusted friends, and advisers, they appeared in my camp again. Not for business with the Camp leader, however. I felt them stalking me as I walked through the wood,  when I was carefully distanced from the camp, they showed themselves- Cassian with a grin spreading across his face, and Azriel with a carefully blank expression, but curious eyes nonetheless. That was when things began. When I started falling in love with them.

These meetings continued for months. We met inside a small cave just outside the camp. It was glamoured now from anyone's eyes but ours. My little safe haven. It had been where I was running when I realized they intended to clip my wings. I wasn’t fast enough, though. 

Now the dreams were turning, twisting into something more terrifying. Darkness rushed toward me as I fell into the next scene. I tried screaming and fighting as hands grabbed me in the dark, but I just kept falling. My whole body burned, and a shiver ran down my spine as I was thrown into the waking world.

*

The warm heat of a body pressed at my right ran through me as I blinked my eyes open. It was Azriel, I realized now. He brushed his fingers gently down my spine, soothing me, “It was just a bad dream,” he murmured against my hair, pressing a kiss to my head. 

On my other side, I felt Cassian squeeze my hand. He was awake now, holding my hand tightly as he laid his head closer to mine. Feeling them beside me was already enough to relieve my aches and ease my mind. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Cassian whispered between us, just loud enough for Azriel to hear. I shook my head in answer, closing my eyes tightly in an attempt to fall back asleep. 

I couldn’t, though. So I just lay there with my males on either side of me, trying to pretend we were still in that little cave, and nothing had gone wrong. I still had my wings. 

*

Days have passed now. Most of them were filled with me laying in bed with one or both of my males holding me. Other times though, they involved tears streaming down my face and screams tearing out of my throat. Cassian and Azriel were always there, rocking me through it and reminding me of what I still had, though it felt like I’d lost everything. 

Occasionally I’d wake to arguing. I heard the high lord scolding Azriel and Cassian about their actions after the first day, but he didn’t sound seriously angry. Mostly I heard the whispered arguments between Azriel and Cassian about me. My treatment, my pain, how best to help me. I hated that they were arguing. It happened less and less as I recovered, but I still hated it.

Neither male was here now though, it was a rare occurrence. I had told both males the other was staying with me and told him he should go eat. I needed the alone time, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Rather than stay in bed, I stood on numb legs and hobbled over to the bath. It has been too long since I’ve bathed. How Cassian and Azriel managed to be near me without wanting to vomit at the stench was beyond me. 

Kneeling on the ground, I held my hand under the water as it rushed out. When the water was ready and smelling of lavender, I submerged myself to the waist. Slowly I let my wings touch the water as I lowered myself further. When I was finally in the water entirely, I relaxed and leaned my head back before slipping down lower to wet my hair.��

When I was still under the water, finally relaxed, I breathed out slowly. Everything was peaceful until a pair of large hands gripped my upper arms and pulled me from the water. My eyes shot open, and I fought the male until I noticed it was Azriel, “Stop!” I yelled at him, “What on earth are you doing?” I shouted. I shot a glance to Cassian, standing in the doorway. He looked upset, and Az was definitely angry.

“What are you doing?” he replied with a growl. I tried pulling my arms away from him. He loosened his grip, but only enough to no longer hurt. I still couldn’t get away.

“I was bathing,” I glared at him, “I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed.”

“Bullshit,” he said

“Az…” Cassian spoke.

“You’re not allowed to kill yourself! I won’t let you,” Azriel shouted.

What, I thought, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I say calmly, looking straight into his eyes, “I just wanted a bath.” Suddenly a wave of guilt hit me because I’d made them think that. Azriel must have believed me because he released my arms and took a step back.

I pulled my arms up to cross my chest and looked away from them. Cassian pulled Azriel out of the bathroom, but neither of them closed the door. I returned to the bath but was no longer relaxed. I decided to quickly clean up and return to bed. The room was nearly silent except for the short whispered argument between the males. When I stepped into the room to dress, they both studiously looked away from me and one another. I dressed quickly and laid in bed, falling asleep before either of them could try and talk to me. 

After weeks had passed, I was sitting and walking again. Most of the pain had gone, now only phantom pains and sore scars remained. I was barely able to move my wings, and Madja said with some physical therapy, I would regain much of the movement but never enough to fly again. 

Cassian sat with me now, massaging my back. Things had gotten better. I’ve tried imagining life without my wings, and as long as I remember that I’ll always have my batboys, things aren't so bad. “Do you wanna go for a fly,” Cassian whispered. 

“I can’t,” I said, tears welling up as I imagined I could.

Cassian pulled me up, “come on,” he said, pulling me by the wrist. He walked us up to the roof and stood behind me. Pulling my hips to him, he said, “stand on my feet.” I looked at him confused, “just do it.” So I did. I stood on his feet, and he wrapped his arms under mine and across my chest. “Try to keep your legs straight against mine,” he whispered against my ear, “if you need to hook your ankles around mine, do that.” Then we were taking off into the air, flying straight up. It wasn’t the same as flying myself, but it was relaxing nonetheless. We flew straight for the house of wind and hovered there for a moment. I was going to ask why we weren’t moving, but then Azriel walked out onto the balcony and shot toward us. 

We spent hours in the sky. We even developed signals so Cassian would fly however I wanted. Glide left or right. Sharp turns. Down, up, backflip, frontflip. I felt like a kid again as I tumbled through the sky with the two most important people in my life.

When finally we were too exhausted to continue, we landed at a restaurant in the city. Azriel went in first, apparently having made reservations. As I followed-Cassian's hand in mine-we were led across the room between tables until we reached a curtained wall in the back. The males both grinned at me as our host pulled back the curtain, revealing a beautiful candle-lit scene. A beautiful private area just for us.

The evening was perfect. We ate dinner and laughed and just enjoyed each other. The room reminded me of our cave: chilly, small, and with colorful pillows and blankets littering the floor. It didn’t take long after finishing our meals for the three of us to end up in the mess of fabric. I have no idea how long we laid there. They just held me whispering beautiful things into my ears and an occasional obscenity from Cassian. They always knew what I needed. 

My back was pressed to Cassian as he carefully wrapped his arms around me, avoiding my wings. I’m almost positive he’s asleep, and even in sleep, his grip is like iron. I couldn’t possibly move. Azriel, in front of me, combed the hair out of my face. “You’re gonna be okay, ya know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I know it doesn’t always feel like it, and you wanna give up sometimes, but you can’t. Please don’t ever leave us. We’re gonna be okay,” a tear slid down his cheek as he whispered these words to me.

“I promise,” I whispered back, pressing my forehead to his, “I promise.”

*

The next day I was released from the healers’ den, but it didn’t matter; Cassian and Azriel still never left my side. I didn’t mind, though. As soon as we left, they dragged me down endless streets of houses. I had no idea where we were going until I saw the large manor seated beside the Sidra, to our right. It must be the high lord and lady's house. We didn’t turn to it, though. Instead, I was led left, that’s when I noticed the smaller house, seated directly across from the manor. It was smaller, but not small. Beautiful ivy ran across the brick it was built of. It was supposed to look old but was certainly brand new. A short white fence ran along the yard. Cassian opened a little gate motioning for me to continue up the path. Inside, the house was stunning and appeared brand new. A curved staircase wrapped around behind us, and a chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

“What is this,” I asked quietly, not wanting my voice to echo.

“A house,” Cassian answered simply, “how about a tour?”

“Whose house?” I asked.

“Ours, of course,” Azriel replied. “We figured the house of wind was out of the question since you wouldn’t very easily be able to get in and out. And the beds in the River house are just big enough for two Illyrians. Not three.”

“So we bought this place. For the three of us,” Cassian finished, biting his lip nervously. 

“You bought me a house,” I asked incredulously.

“Us. We bought us a house,” Cassian replied.

This would take some getting used to. Them doting on me all the time; always near. It wouldn’t be difficult, I imagined.

“You can decorate it however you’d like,” Azriel spoke.

“Even if I want to paint all the walls pink and hang orange curtains from all the windows,” I smirked. He cringed slightly, and Cassian laughed, holding out his hand, offering the tour again.

[dashofmonsters]

The Long Road pt. 3

Male Naga (cis) x Female Reader (cis)

It had been several minutes since Silas left with the griffin. You had tidied up the camp and hid whatever evidence you could of the injured beast being there.

You can still hear the voices in the distant calling out to one another, their continued search made you nervous but as long as they weren't going anywhere near the river it was fine. Everything will be fine.

George waddles around the fire pit you dug yesterday, waiting for dry logs and sticks to snack on. You look around for whatever you can and start piling it into the pit. When you comb through a bush on the other end of the site a hand grabs you and tries to yank you through. When you yelp it lets you go and you hear a crash on the other side.

"What it the world..."

You tiptoe around the bush and see a very rough looking older man. Splats of dried blood stained his shirt and ruffled feathers of various sizes stuck out of his hair and beard. He give you a mean stare with his one good eye then he spits.

"What's a little thing like yous doin' around these parts?" he ask as he stands back up.

For a second you think your nerves are going to surface up and take over, but you remain calm if not a bit annoyed. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm camping nearby."

You glare back at him trying to imitate your father whenever he has to deal with unreasonable merfolk.

"Camping nearby huh?" he mutters.

The bag of powder that Silas had given you sits waiting in your pocket and you almost go for it until a young orc walks up behind him.

"Leon! Wha are ye' doin' talkin' to this lass? Kat says she found tracks near the path to Decker's cliff. Get ye' ass movin' ol man!" the orc growls as he grabs the old man by the back of his shirt and starts to haul him off.

You wait as you watch them leave and finally let out a sigh of relief when they're out of view. It was a short interaction but you felt drained. You held your own against a stranger for the first time since you left home and although you're proud of yourself, you feel absolutely exhausted.

Dragging yourself back to camp you see that George has a nice little fire going so you decide to boil up some tea to help calm yourself. You put a kettle of water on and see the stuff you had picked out for breakfast on one of the logs you use to sit on. You start to wonder if Silas had eaten anything or if he's still looking after the griffin. You want to make up some oatmeal and take it down to him but you have to trust that he'll come back to you after he's hidden the poor creature.

When the water finishes boiling and you finally are able to sit down and enjoy your tea George starts to shuffle around and squeaks nervously. He's never done this before but you've heard that salamanders are very territorial. You look around for another salamander but instead a large catlike beast breaks through the bushes and trees on the other side of the camp. You stay perfectly still as it winds its way in, sauntering behind you as it sniffs the air. A woman's voice is heard overhead as two familiar gruff and tough voices follow.

"Over hear, Talga's picked up on something!" the woman yells as she cuts her way into you camp.

You give her an indignant look as she struts in as if she owns the forest. She looks around at the setup, the tent, and the fire and then finally back to you.

A look of utter disbelief crosses her face as she nearly stumbles back on her heels.

"It can't be..." you hear whisper.

She snaps her fingers and the large cat quickly goes to her side.

"It's been years and yet you still look the same Silver." she cackles, her face growing dark with rage.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else." you comment.

"No! I know it's you Silver! You sly bitch! You think you can waltz back into my forest after all this time and take what little of my life I have left?" the woman goes for her sword but the old man from before stops her just before she draws.

"Get a hold of yerself Kat! That there lass can't be Silver, if she was she'd know about me missin' eye! That and she di'nt try to kill me on sight." he points.

Kat calms herself, runs a hand through her thick red curls and straightens back up.

"Sorry 'bout that lass. Ol Silver was her greatest enemy back in the day. She was as wild as the wolves are and twice as mean. Damn near took both me eyes back then too with one swipe!" Leon motions his hands as if he's holding a heavy blade and slices right through the air.

The young orc behind him shrugs, obviously too young to remember or even have seen this Silver.

"She was a fiend who took everything that I had ever worked for!" Kat spits.

You feel a bit sorry for them although you remind yourself that these are poachers and outlaws. Whoever this Silver was, she probably did the right thing...probably.

"I hate to be rude, but my morning has been one big mess and I'm just trying to have breakfast." you groan.

The three of them look at each other and Kat shakes her head.

"Fine yeah, I just have quick question." she says.

She's going to ask about the griffin, you think.

Kat walks forward with Talga and plops herself on a log. "Mind if we join you?"

It wasn't the question you were expecting but it's much better. You nod your head and the other two come over and take a seat. You have plenty of oats, berries and nuts to serve everyone and then some. Leon continues his tellings of the Silver person and Kat chimes in ever so often to correct him. The young orc who finally introduces himself as Bralgar helps you and gathers more wood for George. He seems especially intrigued in the chubby little salamander as he feeds him sticks and Kat looks at him adoringly. You start to wonder why nice people like them are poacher or even if they are, but Leon gives that away when he starts going off about Silver again.

"Dammit Leon!" Kat slaps him across the head. You do your best to pretend you didn't hear anything and you're pretty sure everyone buys it since you're so focused on getting breakfast ready.

"Ehem... Any hoot, so yeah that's how I got this here scar on me belly! See!" Leon lifts up his shirt to reveal a very large and grotesque scar.

Kat slaps him upside the head again and tells him to stop being so damn gross.

Bralgar rolls his eyes as if he's an embarrassed teen forced to put up with his parents fighting in front of company.

"They do this a lot..." he whispers as he nods his head at them.

You give him a nervous grin and stir in some cinnamon that he had handed you.

Your stomach churns and you feel a bit dizzy as you start to over think about how Kat will sick that large cat on you if they find out you know where the griffin went. They've been especially cordial to you except for Kat's earlier outburst that still has you wondering just who this Silver was that you looked like.

"Uh Ms. Kat-"

"Just Kat." She corrects you.

"Kat then, just who in the world was this Silver person?" you ask.

She gives you a bit of a tired look then smiles. "She was my greatest enemy but worst of all she was my best friend and my sister. Half actually but that didn't matter. Our mother was a human as was her late father. My old man's an elf. Momma was head over heels in love with Papa and he did right by her, Rina and myself. One day he got a letter from his home country and he had to go back, said it was really important..."

Kat stops and holds a hand to her mouth and steadies herself for any on coming tears. You didn't think that anyone could hold a grudge this long much less over family but it seems like this matter ran deep.

"Papa left the next morning, saying he'd be right back. We waited months and almost a year before folks from his country came to our door asking for him. Momma told them that he left to go back and that she hadn't heard anything since, dreading every day that he might not return. The elves sent out some special hounds to sniff him out and it didn't take long for them to find his mangled rotten corpse near a griffin's nest!"

Leon stands up and goes to Kat's side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as tears start to roll down her cheek.

"A law just passed back then that killing griffins was to be illegal since the king's crest has the damned beast on it." Leon continues for her.

"I was at a loss, we all were. Momma went dark for days, barely spoke to either of us. Rina had to step up and take care of us. She fed us, cleaned the house and even got a job and she was barely a teen. Years she spent taking care of us, but little did she know that I spent years training."

"Training for what?" you ask, fully invested in her story.

"Training to kill the damned beast that slaughtered my father! I remember those cowards and how they just let the beast go as they dragged his corpse away. I remember watching its nest almost every day, watching and waiting for the day I could get my revenge."

You almost forget about the oatmeal as she was going on until Bralgar taps you on the shoulder and points down at the pot. He shakes his head and takes it off the fire for you as you go and grab some plates and bowls.

Kat calms down quite a bit after you hand her a bowl of oats topped with berries and honey. They all wait for you to sit down before they start to dig in.

"I've chased after that griffin for over thirty years now if you can believe it. Rina was more than upset that I was willing to put myself in that sort of danger but I wasn't about to let her stop me. I ran away from home and started living in the forest. I met Leon here a few months after..."

She looks over at him and he gives a lazy smile.

"I found this little lass near the ruins. Damn near gave me a heart attack too! We both had been tracking the beasty for similar reasons at this point. It took her papa and my sweet Lidia. We teamed up shortly after."

Bralgar looks at them with tears in his eyes. This must be the first time he's hearing this.

"Years later Rina finds us and asks me to come home and put this all behind. I couldn't do it and just couldn't. She leaves but she comes back with several others. They called her Silver and I didn't know why until she came at us with dancing blades leaving behind a swift trail of silver. The others she had with her took down most of the band we had gathered who were also hunting this griffin. We lost so many that day." She looks at her oats, stirring the berries in aimlessly.

"I'm.. I'm so sorry I didn't know things were that bad..." guilt and fear mingled in your stomach as bile rose up unpleasantly.

"She went from my dear big sister Erinna to the cold hearted killer Silver." she spits.

You drop your bowl and run over to the bushes, unable to hold back anymore. Kat rushes over to you and apologizes if her story upset you. You try and play it off saying that you haven't been feeling well for a couple days so it's no big deal.

After you settle back down everyone goes quiet and finishes their oats. Kat sits next to you and pats your back still concerned about you getting sick.

"I'll be fine it's just that my stomach's been upset lately and it doesn't help that the temperature keeps changing." you give her a weak grin and chug some water.

Kat purses her lips and gives you another once over as if she still couldn't believe that you weren't he sister.

"It is strange though..." you start, trying to break the ice that had chilled your camp.

"My late mother's name is Erinna so it sort of unnerved me to hear that."

Kat remained quiet as if she was waiting for you to say more. Leon moved in a bit closer and Bralgar kept to where he was but he was obviously intent on wanting to hear more as well.

"She passed away giving birth to me so I don't know much about her except that I look exactly like her. My father and older siblings really don't talk about her either." you continue.

"I see, I'm sorry for your loss." Kat replies.

"Don't be. I never knew her, so I never knew to miss her." you set your half eaten oats down and toss another stick to George.

Bralgar gives you a sympathetic look and nods his head.

"I understand that." he groans. "Lost my folks when I was real young. Leon and Kat here found me near the ruins when they were tracking the beast."

Kat and Leon smile as they remember that time long ago and start to laugh.

"You were just fumblin' around you were. And Kat took one look at you and that's when you became our boy." Leon grins. Bralgar snorts and scratches the back of his head.

You feel a bit more relaxed now that the conversation is going elsewhere but you still feel unnerved about your mother and Kat's sister sharing the same name. You wanted to ask just to put the whole thing to rest and just know that they're not connected but you're also afraid to find out that they might be.

"Hey weird question but I just got to ask... what's your last name?" Kat asks you.

"It's Silvius." you reply.

Kat shoots right up and looks like she's been stabbed. Leon rushes over to catch her as she sways. She starts to cackle and cry as she sits back down.

"Of fucking course it is!" she howls. "And let me guess, your old man's name is Zale huh? Oh this is just fucking lovely!"

You skootch away but Bralgar catches you and shakes his head. He seems to understand the situation and tries to calm you down. You watch as Kat continues to cry and come undone. Leon holds her and Talga nudges up against her. Your heart was aching for her although you were terrified.

"She's really gone huh?" Leon mutters.

You close your eyes and try to imagine what it like to cry over someone who wronged you like your mother did to Kat...to your aunt... Your thoughts lead somewhere dark but are happily interrupted by a familiar voice.

"I see we have guests..." Silas notes, looking completely exhausted and worn.

Kat and Leon look up for a moment only to scoff back in disgust.

"Another look a-like! I take it you're Valen's boy?" Leon hisses.

Silas looks at you with concern and confusion. You point to an open log next to you and tell him to take a seat and you start filling him in. His expressions shift and settle into something akin to betrayal.

"I-I don't even know what to say about all this. I had no idea." he runs his hand through his hair and grabs the ends of it as if to hold onto something real.

Leon gives Kat another pat on the back and moves to the middle of the camp. "There's no use mullin' over the past. Wrongs have been done and lives have been lost. You two have nothin' to do with what your folks did and we won't put that on ya."

"But... we did hide the griffin..." you confess.

Kat rushes over to you and grabs you by your shoulders. "Where is it! Where did you put that beast!"

Silas taps her back and shakes his head. "It's by the river but you won't find it alive."

Her face goes pale as she loosens her grip and she starts to sway back. You twist your arms and stand up to help her balance.

"It's dead?" she whispers. "What am I going to do now?"

Bralgar walks over and takes Kat from you and holds her in his arms, hugging her like she needs it.

You couldn't imagine how lost she feels knowing that the creature she's been hunting for so long is dead and she couldn't even get her revenge. Leon on the other hand looks oddly at peace with a weary smile on his face.

Silas squeezes your hand and brings you back down to sit.

"I'm so sorry I left you here alone." he whispers, his silver eyes are dried and red around the edges.

"It's fine. I'm fine." you squeeze his hand back and smile.

You note how messy he looks and leave to go get something to clean him up with and a brush and tie. He protests as you try to leave but you just swat his hand away. When you return you see that Leon had made Silas a bowl of oats and berries to which he was downing with gusto.

You toss the towel over Silas' head and start to dry him off and wipe some mud off of him. You want to ask about what happened by the river but that was something you'd save for later. He shudders a bit as you brush out his hair and tie it back into a knot. He finally relaxes a bit more once you're sitting next to him again and he takes your hand.

"Better?" you ask him.

He nods his head and then rests it on your shoulder. "Much much better."

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

Several hours pass and your guests remain. You offer your tent to Kat since she looks absolutely exhausted by all the news and she happily takes you up on it. Leon and Bralgar go off to the river to see the griffin and possibly bury it.

Silas helps you pick up and organize the campsite as you start on a very late lunch. Neither of you spoke much after he got back even though there's a lot to say.

It wasn't till you start peeling some potatoes that you feel the need to break the ice. "What a day it's been huh?"

Stupid way to start off, you think.

When he doesn't reply you decide to keep going.

"Found out I have an aunt I didn't know about. My late step grandfather was mauled by a griffin. My mom is well...you know... Anyway what a day and it's not even over!" you chuckle as you toss the diced up potatoes in a pot.

He still doesn't say anything.

"It's funny you know, papa didn't say anything about her and I'm starting to see why. He doesn't want me to know all the things she's done or what he even did! Do Peter and Roslyn know? Am I the only one in my family who doesn't know?" your hands start to shake and you set your knife down.

Silas finally looks your way but remains silent.

"I finally get to travel and get away from home and live my life but now I feel like I just want to run back to Melmar..." you trail off as you bury your face in your hands.

The silence between you stings but it doesn't hurt as bad as waiting for a gentle touch or hug when you need it. Anytime in the last week he had hugged you when you cried or looked like you needed it. And right now you really needed one. But after several minutes of waiting you realized that you weren't going to get one.

You look over at Silas who was still chopping and peeling vegetable as if he hadn't been paying you any mind. He felt cold and far away and you didn't know what to say or do so you decide to get up and gather more sticks. As you're leaving the campsite you find that your leg is caught on something and look down. It was the end of Silas' tail and when you look over at him he's acting as if nothing was going on.

"Silas I need to go get some more fire wood." you note.

"Then go." he replies flatly.

"I will once you let go of me." you say rather harshly.

Silas pauses and realizes that his tail had curled around your ankle but he doesn't move it. Instead he gives you this look that's mixed with anger and frustration. You attempt to free yourself from his tail but he just squeezes you harder.

"Silas!" you yell at him.

"Do you know how worried I was?" he growls.

You flinch and take a step back as he stands and comes your way.

"I was a fucking mess the entire time wondering if you'd be ok. I could hardly focus on keeping the damn thing alive and when it died I didn't even feel bad, I just wanted to come back here to see if you were alright." his clawed hands dig into your arms as he grabs onto you.

"And I was alright. I'm still alright." you say, squirming against his grip.

"Are you?" he spits.

Something about the way he said that lights a fire in you that you haven't felt in a long time and it pissed you off.

"I am and I will be! Do you think I'm incapable of handling myself around other people just because I have a hard time talking to strangers? I'm not a child for gods sake!" you hiss.

His tail loosens, surprised by your outburst and rage.

"I'm not some defenseless maiden in distress. I mean I grew up on a fishing boat and on the docks, trust me I've dealt with some things you would not believe!" you explain to him and although it seems like he's listening he's still not letting you go.

You try and twist your way out of his arms but he just holds you tighter until you try to pry yourself away and slip with him following after. He catches your head with his tail and pins you to the ground, holding by the wrists.

"That's not the point!" he scowls, his smooth pale skin growing red hot. "I know you can take care of yourself its just..." He lowers his head against the crook of your neck and nearly collapses on top of you.

His hands are shaking and when he lets go of your wrists you wrap your arms around him. He mutters a few things that you can't hear and when you ask him to repeat it he turns his head and his beautiful silvery eyes stare deeply at you. "What are you doing to me?"

You felt like you of all people should be asking that and not him.

"What are you talking about I'm not doing anything" you comment.

Silas rolls his eyes and sits up. He pinches the bridge of his nose and has this frustrated look on his face again.

"Can you please tell me what's going on with you?" you ask.

He lets out a long winded sigh, "I really don't want to say or-"

"Or what? It'll make things weird? Make things awkward between us? Take a good look at the current situation, tell me what's not weird about this! Tel-"

You stop when you see the anger on his face. It's unfamiliar and terrifying and when he reaches for your face you flinch for the first time at his touch, but he doesn't hurt you. He's gentle and more so than he's ever been. You hadn't realized until now how tense you've been but the second he touched you like this, you seem to melt. You hold his hand against your face like you've been craving his touch and you watch as his goes back to a more relaxed expression.

"Please Silas just tell me what's wrong." you whisper, still holding onto him.

"You're not going to let this go are you?" he asks.

"No." you reply.

He pinches your cheek and finally smiles at you, "Ok, but only once our guests are gone. Can you at least wait till then?"

You nod your head and kiss the palm of his hand. He twitches and tries to pry his hand from yours but you refuse to let go.

"My dear didn't you say you had to go and collect fire wood?" he asks with a croak in his voice.

"Yes." you say, still not letting go. It was your turn to be stubborn you decided.

After a couple minutes pass and you still don't let him go, Silas decides to take matters into his own hands by scooping you up and tickling your side. You try to kick yourself off of him but he holds onto you tightly.

"I surrender!" you howl and he lets you go.

You straighten yourself back up and fix your hair which you're pretty sure is a mess by now. Silas gives your cheek another pinch and you stick your tongue out at him. He laughs, a genuine laugh for the first time today.

"I like you when you're like this." you say.

Silas looks away from you but you follow him to meet his gaze.

"I like it when you're happy like this. It hurts to see you when you go dark." you take his hands in yours and give them a squeeze.

He quickly wiggles his hands away from you and inches back a little bit. "I-I see..."

He's about to say something else when Leon and Bralgar return.

"Kat still sleepin'?" Leon asks.

You look back over at the tent and shrug your shoulders. You had completely forgot about her and them up until now and you hope that Kat didn't wake up at any point when you and Silas were 'talking'.

Leon gives you and Silas a strange and knowing glare before he walks over to the tent with a 'uh huh'. Bralgar gives your companion another once over before giving you warm grin. Silas quickly closes the gap between you and him after the young orc walks away.

"How much longer are we going to let them stay here?" he whispers to you.

You swat at him and pinch his cheek like he's been doing to you, "Don't be rude they just got here. After all I thought you were going to wait to tell me a certain something after they leave."

Silas sighs, "At this rate I might have to tell you sooner."

You raise a brow but you don't press any further since you've had enough drama for one day.

"Ha yous two look like an ol marry couple ramblin 'bout somethin." Leon snorts as he walks back over.

Neither of you say anything which makes Leon go into a fit of laughter that Bralgar feels the need to apologize for.

You can't say you disagree but you certainly won't admit that he's probably right. Silas on the other hand had decided to go back to prepping vegetables just to get away from the old man.

This is better, you think. More laughter, more people, and more safety. You've been a wreck all day and now that it's nearly over you feel as if you're finally getting to unwind. Bralgar says that he needs to go get their gear so they can set up their tents here and he'll be back before sundown. Leon decides to go look for something more filling and said he'll be back around the same time. You and Silas finish getting a pot of vegetable soup ready when Leon returns early with some wild birds. The guys prep the fowl as you go back into the tent to get your bag of spices.

Kat is sitting up with Talga's head in her lap. She looks up at you and smiles, "You really do look a lot like Rina."

Hearing her say that stings in a way it never has before, "I know, I hear it a lot."

"I'd imagine. But you'd be happy to know that you're nothing like her." She adds.

She was right, it oddly did make you feel better, but just a tad.

"Rina was always so loud and demanding! 'Kat do this!' or 'Kat don't do that!' Oh and she was so active first thing in the morning!" Kat continues on.

You snort, "Sounds like my older sister Roslyn."

Kat melts when she hears the name. "That was our momma. She named her after our momma." she coos.

"I never knew. By the way whatever happened to her? Your mother I mean." you ask.

"Your grandmother-" she pauses after correcting you.

"Your mother moved her to a town north of this forest where she's been staying with her cousin's family. Town is called Gilli if you ever go up that way." Kat looks off in what you can only imagine is the northern side of the tent.

"Maybe I will." you smile.

"That'd be nice if you did. Valen's boy will be going with you?" she asks.

"Silas? Yeah but we're only traveling together for a year. After that I don't know what he plans on doing." you reply.

Kat gives you a sly grin with a suspicious look on her face.

"What?" you squeak.

"Oh nothing, just that he seems to be awfully sweet to you. I don't think he'd up and leave you when the year is up." Kat continues to grin which makes you squirm with frustration.

"We're not like that ok! We've only known each other for a little over a week that's nothing to go off of!" you feel your face grow hotter and hotter as this goes on.

Kat just keeps laughing and you wonder if she actually did hear you and Silas talking. You quickly grab the spices and run out of the tent with her still cackling in the background. The guys give you a look and Leon and Bralgar just roll their eyes knowingly.

The late lunch turns into an early dinner. George enjoyed the constant attention that everyone was giving him as well as the sticks. When Kat finally emerged from the tent with Talga dinner had finished cooking and everyone was happy to sit down and enjoy a hot meal. Silas and Bralgar sat on either side of you and Kat and Leon just sort of giggled at that. You really didn't think anything of it until she gave you another sly grin and sort of pointed out the situation by swinging her spoon pointedly at the men on either side of you. You try to ignore it by paying more attention to your food than the company.

After dinner ends Leon breaks out a cittern and begins to play masterfully to your surprise. Bralgar whispers to you that Leon and his late wife were once a part of a traveling band of bards and the cittern was her instrument.

As the music goes on Kat rushes over to you and pulls you to your feet.

"Bralgar get your drum out, I'm going to have a dance with my niece tonight!" she hoots.

The young orc complies and Kat sweeps you to the middle of the camp where the both of you twirl around the fire. The song is fast paced and one you recognize as a shanty your father would sing. Picking up on the tune Silas joins in and you nearly trip over your own two feet when you hear his voice. His singing is just as soft and smooth as when he speaks but it's also more deeper and rich than you'd imagine.

As the song went on you notice how every time you turn Silas is staring right at you, his eyes following you with care and precisions. You felt weighed under his silver gaze and part of you wants so bad to peel away from the dance and do something about it. You remember when he asked 'what are you doing to me?' and now you almost want to ask the same thing.

When the song finally stops and you're very thankful that it does, Kat and you plop back down onto your logs. Silas hands you some water and you drink it right down. "That surprised me," you huff, still catching your breath.

"What that your newly found aunt wanted to dance with you?" he chuckles.

"Yes and no. What I was talking about was the fact that you can sing." you say.

Silas' eyes widen for a moment and then he looks away from you, clearing his throat. He mutters something that you can't hear then turns back around.

"It's uh something I picked up from when I tried adventuring. Long story short, the bard in our group got us a job but forgot to mention that we'd be performing. He had one week to teach me to sing and memorize a song..." his face twists as he remembers the incident.

"Was it that bad?" you ask, now invested in the story.

"Bad is an understatement. The tavern we performed in was packed with thieves and cut throats that night. Someone shot an arrow at us, got up on stage and smashed Luctux's lute and I nearly got dragged off by my tail! The worst part was we didn't even get a single second to perform!" he hisses.

You hear Kat and Leon laugh and you look over and see Bralgar trying not to follow suit. Silas shrugs and looks over to the hammock he set up after preparing dinner.

"Tired?" you ask, feeling more than ready for bed yourself.

He nods his head and you look to your guests. Kat gets up first followed by Talga. "I don't know about you boys but I am exhausted." She stretches and gives Leon and gestures to Leon and Bralgar to head to their tents.

"I'm still quite awa-"

Leon clears his throat very loudly and squints to the young orc. Bralgar sighs and heads over to his tent. After a few minutes you and Silas begin to clean up, occasionally tossing food scraps to George. You try and say something to him a couple times but you can't think of anything right to say. Once the area is cleaned up enough you start heading to the tent and Silas to his hammock. Inside the tent by yourself it felt impossibly large and too spacious. You try and get comfortable using a bag as a pillow and doubling up on the blankets. You toss a few times before you sit up completely frustrated.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter. You've gotten so used to sleeping next to Silas that now it's almost impossible to fall asleep without him. You decide to grab one of the books your papa had packed in hopes that skimming through it will help put you to sleep. As you open it up you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel something wrap around you ankle. Hand over your heart you look down and see the very end of Silas' tail coiled around your leg. You can't help but to giggle a little when he tugs on you a little bit. Sticking your head out of the tent you see Silas' arms hanging out of the hammock while George is curled up on him keeping him warm. With his tail still curled around you, you stumble out of the tent and find him staring up at the sky.

"Can't sleep?" you ask. Silas rolls his head over and you notice that his eyes look terribly dry as if he hasn't shut them once all day. He looks so exhausted and worn out. You reach out and unknot his hair, brushing it with your fingers hoping it will help him relax a bit. His eyes close as he leans into your touch. "You're terrible." he whispers loud enough for you to hear. You chuckle a bit thinking the same thing. "I know and so are you." You run your fingers through his hair and lightly massage his scalp. He lets out a low moan and his tail loosens around you as if he's melting. "Is this alright?" you press right behind his ears. Silas brings one of his arms up to the mid of your back and pulls you in closer. "It's more than alright my dear." His voice is gravelly and thick and when he pulls you in even further you feel your head go light and you're almost dizzy from how loud your heart is pounding. You stumble forward a little bit as he wraps his arm around you and you catch yourself on George. The salamander glares at you sleepily and rolls over and settles on Silas' side.

"Could you not sleep either?" he asks. You shake your head and his arm tightens around you. "I tried counting branches and leaves but it just ended up annoying me." He gives you a lazy smirk as he turns onto his side. "How about you, did you try anything?"

"I was going to try and read but you scared the daylights out of me." you place your hand over your heart as you feign being shocked.

"I scared you?" he laughs.

You lift your leg that has his tail wrapped around it and Silas instantly covers his mouth, clearly hiding his grin. "I did not mean to scare you I promise."

You raise a brow and pinch his side. "Then what were you trying to do?"

Silas unwraps his arm and brings his hand up to your face. His hand is cold to the touch so you place both of yours over it. "Were you still cold?" you ask.

His hand twitches against your cheek, "No, I just-" he pauses, his eyes darting around as if he's looking for the answer. You're pretty sure you know what was bothering him, since it was bothering you as well. You slide his hand over and press a kiss to the palm, "I think I got too used to using your tail as a pillow."

Silas releases your leg from his tail and quickly curls it around your waist, swiftly lifting you off the ground and carefully lowering you into his arms. He pulls you in close and lays your head against his chest. "This is much better..." Silas yawns. You had to agree, even without the blankets this is much much better than sleeping alone in that huge tent.

"Do you think you can sleep now?" you ask, yawning in turn.

Silas sits up a bit, balancing himself as he leans down and kisses your forehead. "Yes my dear, I think- No, I know I'll be able to sleep now."

You smile as you settle back down and snuggle up against him. You feel yourself drift off with ease, his heartbeat a calm lull.

"Goodnight Silas..."you whisper as sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight my dear...I-"

< Previous-pt.2 pt.4> Artwork of Silas

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Epilogue)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3498 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: This is it 🥺🥺 I’m so sad we’re at the end but I couldn’t be happier by all of your reactions, even when things weren’t at their best I loved hearing your screams. Now we can all cry together as we say goodbye. Thank you so much for reading their story. Btw I started a Patreon for those who would like to support me. 

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 25 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Breath fogs the window as you stare out of it, a grey haze has rolled over the city, the sky a sunless landscape of thick clouds and cold winds. It snowed the other day and what remains on the streets has become soot covered or murky slush. It’s nicer to stare at the white dusting on the branches of the trees below, taking in the soft peace of the afternoon.

The world has grown quieter over the past few weeks, your world at least. You can’t say the same for the hoards of people in Times Square, packed like sardines as they count down the hours for the ball to drop.

Graduation was behind you. Nearly two weeks ago you finally crossed that stage to receive your diploma. Technically the real one was still coming in the mail but it’s the symbolism that counted. All of your friends cheered as your name was called, tears of joy and relief welling up in your eyes as you did it– you finally did it!

Wanda hugged you tight afterwards, both of you letting your tears fall. She adjusted your graduation cap, decorated with a lightning bolt for Pietro. It was the first thing you did when you received your garments, to make sure a part of him was with you on such an important day. You left her arms for Peggy and Steve’s, then Sam, Natasha and Clint and then there was Bucky.

He grabbed his crutches, lifting himself up from the chair though you didn’t make him walk. A few steps closed the gap between you and you held him, your arms securing around him as a precaution as he balanced on one leg.

His smile was so beautiful as he murmured, “I’m so proud of you,” holding his gaze before you kissed tenderly, humming against his lips.

You’ve been dating ever since that day in the hospital and life couldn’t be better, especially since you and Bucky laid out some terms. From now on you would always be honest with each other, never holding back your feelings. You were a team who loved and respected each other to talk and more importantly listen.

Bucky managed well on crutches but there were still things he couldn’t do, taking for granted days he could have gone outside for a walk. Sure he had muscles, but his arms were killing him, especially on the days he had to go to the doctor for a checkup. He started physical therapy too, to keep up with strength and flexibility for the rest of his body.

It was exhausting but you were there to help him almost every step of the way. Showering was a pain though Bucky insisted on some independence, wrapping up his cast as he sat on a cold plastic chair that extended over the tub. It made him feel like he had aged 80 years but he got over it.

You did what you could to help him heal but the greatest comfort Bucky found was when you were cuddling together. He cherished those moments the most, when you held him, resting your head against his chest, or when his head was in your lap as he stretched across his couch, your fingers lazily combing through his hair.

It was the quiet moments together, crossing the threshold of intimacy in new ways. This was the slowest Bucky has ever gone since he was in middle school, swallowing a nervous gulp before asking if it was okay to hold a girl’s hand.

Life after had been a blur; his guard up, women in and out, no chance to settle, in and out, no connection, faces blend together, names are nothing more than letters on his phone for a good time, in and out. It was all noise, a constant buzzing in his head until you came into his life.

You’ve opened Bucky’s ears and the noise became sweet music. You’ve opened his heart, the melody it sings is a love song and he’s soaring. He doesn’t waste time on regrets, instead he spends each and every day getting to know you and love you in new ways.  

You celebrated Thanksgiving together, with his parents coming to your apartment so Bucky didn’t have to travel. George brought most of the food over, it wasn’t barbecue but it was just as delicious. And this year you had the time to bake a pumpkin pie.

Your days were spent working at The September Foundation up until graduation. Elena hired you for Metro-General and you start there on the first Monday of the new year. Ideally, you’d like to still volunteer when you can and knowing Tony it’s something he fully supported. Things couldn’t be better.

“Doll, are you ready?”

Bucky’s voice pulled you away from the window and you climb off his bed and into his waiting arms. The basketball shorts he wears reveals his skinny left leg, paler than the other thanks to the dry flakiness he’s still working on remedying. He was in a cast for almost three months and just got it off a few days ago. You went with him, holding his hand as he beared weight on his weak muscle after so long.

He just finished the strengthening exercises he was supposed to do every day and now he needed to shower. You both did actually since tonight was Natasha and Clint’s annual New Year’s Eve party. You pull your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind you and Bucky follows you to the bathroom. He can shower without his seat now but it doesn’t mean he didn’t want help and you happily obliged. The water ran cold by the time you actually finished and you really didn’t mind at all. Now that Bucky’s cast was off you were looking forward to getting even more physical again.

Though you showered at his place you finished getting ready at yours since you could. Living next door to your boyfriend was obviously convenient. You were able to be together and still have the space you needed. For now it worked though you can see yourself moving in together. A smile stretches across your face when you think of it, Bucky playing his music, no walls in between, a far cry from how things began.

You open your closet to find a dress that would work for the theme of this year’s party which they claimed was winter except they asked all their guests to wear either red or green. You bit your tongue, thinking that sounded more Christmas than winter but you didn’t argue, it wasn’t your party. You pulled out a crimson colored dress that had a beautiful lace overlay. The back was sheer and though it was a little short you felt it was seasonally appropriate with its long sleeves. You finished your hair and makeup, finishing off with gold chandelier earrings and peep-toe heels.

A rhythmic knock rapped at your door and you knew it was Bucky. Opening the door your jaw dropped. Maybe it was the fact that you had mostly seen him in shorts and sweatpants over the last three months, and not that he didn’t make those look good, but the outfit he was wearing now looked incredible. He looked sharp in a juniper green suit with a soft tartan design, a brighter green patterned tie stood out against his light shirt. His shoes were dark brown with a hint of mahogany that reflected in the light and even though he looked amazing you were surprised he didn’t opt for sneakers to be more comfortable with his leg.

“Fuck, you look beautiful,” he spoke first, biting his lip as he looked at you up and down.

He shaved since you left him and your hands went to cup the smooth skin of his cheek. “Not more beautiful than you.”

You pressed your lips to Bucky’s, deepening the kiss with your tongue which was probably a bad idea since it only increased your urge to rip Bucky’s suit off and take him right there. You forced yourself back from him, walking towards your couch to grab your bag.

Bucky followed you as quickly as he could considering walking still felt a little strange. His arms went around your waist pulling you closer to him as his lips began to kiss your cheek, trailing down your neck. You hummed in delight, exhaling stuttered breaths, almost losing yourself to his touch before you pulled yourself out of it.

“We can’t,” you stressed, reluctantly. “We’re gonna be late, come on.”

He sighed acceptingly, waiting for you to unplug your phone and grab your keys. Just before you were ready to leave his arms wrapped around your waist one more time and Bucky spoke before you could say anything.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The swell of your heart reached your lips as you gazed into Bucky’s eyes repeating the same words you’ve known and felt for so long. After another sweet kiss you locked up your place to take the long trip up one flight.

Clint greeted you at the door, his arms pulling you and Bucky into warm welcoming hugs. Unlike his guests, Clint was dressed in a white suit jacket, with black pants and a matching bow tie. He welcomed you into the apartment that was not filled with as many people as you expected.

There were familiar faces in your friends, including Sam who was able to take off this year. Right away Bucky teased him about his red suit calling him Elmo.

“Yeah whatever Kermit. And what about this one?” Sam teased, pointing at Steve. “That’s all you had?”

Steve blushed pink, feeling insecure about his outfit choice, a cozy forest green cable-knit sweater. “Like I’m supposed to have a fruit punch suit in my closet?”

“It’s cranberry and I look good,” Sam declared, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket.

You let the boys continue to have fun as you said hello to Wanda and Peggy, both looking beautiful in their dresses. “Where’s Natasha?”

They shook their heads. “Haven’t seen her,” Wanda said, heading towards their marble island to grab a drink.

It was decorated with a row of mason jars, each filled a quarter of the way with coarse sugar mimicking crystal snow, with a candle in every other one and a chunk of bright red cranberries and sprays of cedar leaves sticking out of the others.

“But we just got here, so I dunno,” she finished.

You were looking around for familiar guests, surely the partners of her law firm would be coming again. An older woman sat on the couch talking to another unfamiliar face, the back of their heads glowing thanks to the curtain of twinkle lights that decorated the large walls of the living room. In the corner was their Christmas tree, a tall spruce decorated with frosted pine cone garland, matte red ornaments and thick burlap ribbon.

Clint brushed passed you, kneeling in front of the older woman who looked curiously familiar. Nervous energy was pouring off of him, from the way he kept chewing his nails to the constant tremble of his leg. He smiled as he passed you again standing near the door. With Natasha still not in sight you decided to do a little digging, by way of introducing yourself.

You walked over to the woman Clint had been speaking to, standing in front of her and the two people she was mid-conversation with. The man was big, his Santa-like belly was testing the buttons of his red shirt as it stretched across the material. His eyebrows were bushy and his brown hair was long in the front, looking a little messy as if it had been brushed through with only his fingers. He had a long beard that matched the color of his hair though it had a lot more grey in it.

The woman was beautiful. The emerald top she wore brought out the green flecks of her hazel eyes and her red lips drew you right into her beautiful smile. Her dark hair was braided with a crown, the rest of the locks falling onto her shoulders.

You caught their attention, extending your hand with a smile as you introduced yourself. The older woman spoke first, her voice as soft as a songbird as she told you her name, Edith, followed by the fact that she was Clint’s mother. Well, that explains it. You see the similarities now, the glasses she wore didn’t hide the fact that they shared the same eyes. Even her mouth was the same, thin lips that grew into the same beaming smile.

“I’m Melina,” the beautiful woman said with a Russian accent. “This is Alexei.” She pointed to the man who smiled at you. His grip was strong as he took your hand in his meaty paw. “We’re like family to Natalia,” he grinned proudly.

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” you said, sitting beside them to talk all while in the back of your mind your brain was working to put together why they were here. Sure it’s a holiday but family members have never come to Clint and Natasha’s for New Years before. In fact, Natasha doesn’t even have family. The only “family” you knew of would have to come from Russia to–

Holy shit.

You find an acceptable way out of the conversation, rushing over to Bucky and pulling him away from his conversation. Your hands are jittering with excited energy, eyes as wide as your mouth is open.

“Bucky, don’t you see what this is?!”

He looks confused for a moment before his attention is diverted. Bucky looks past you to another unfamiliar person that walked in. It’s a man with brown skin dressed in all black. A dark goatee framed his face and the straps of an eye patch secure comfortably around his hairless head. Though Bucky tried not to stare he couldn’t help but notice the veining of scars stretching out across his temple and cheek. He stands tall and silent with his arms clasped behind his back waiting.

Clint cleared his throat, a nervous smile settling on his face. “Now that everyone’s here I’d like to welcome you to… our wedding.”

Gasps of surprise fill the room with everyone rushing up towards Clint as he tries to field questions, hoping no one was truly mad at the abrupt announcement. “I knew it,” you whispered under your breath, gently slapping at Bucky’s arm.

The man in black walked towards the front of the living room, clearly the officiate who asked everyone to get settled as they were about to begin. Clint knocked once on his bedroom door, before taking his place beside the man who introduced himself as Nick.

A young woman with blonde hair slipped out of the door. She nodded to him, cracking a hint of a smile before she settled next to Melina. A moment later everyone’s eyes were drawn to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open again.

Natasha stepped out looking like a dream, in a floor length shimmering ivory gown that showed off her well sculpted shoulders with its high halter neckline, embellished with beautiful beading. She clutched a delicate bouquet of white roses and winter greens with cranberry sprigs woven throughout. Natasha walked up to Clint without fanfare, just the audible sighs of those around her admiring the back of her dress, dazzling and tasteful cut outs that showed off more of her toned body. The fabric cinched above the small of her back, a small train sweeping around her feet.

She handed her bouquet off to the blonde girl, her “sister” you presumed, remembering an old conversation with Clint. Brushing back a loose tendril from her face, Natasha smiled widely as she stared at Clint, bringing her hands forward to connect with his.

Nick began speaking and you took out your phone to capture a quick picture as the impromptu ceremony began. Bucky’s hand found yours, lacing your fingers together as you watched your friends exchange their vows.

Clint’s hands communicated his words in sync as he spoke them. “Natasha, what more can I say to the person that knows me better than I know myself. Because of you the sun shines a little brighter each day, flowers have a sweeter fragrance and my heart is filled with treasured memories. Even the not so great ones like that time in Budapest that I know we remember very differently.”

A chuckle simmers amongst the small crowd and Natasha dips her head down to laugh.

“Because of you my heart found a home, and like my stomach, it will never be empty...” Clint smiled, taking Natasha’s hands in his. “...because it will always be filled with your love, a love that I promise you I will never let go.”

Natasha sniffs, brushing aside a tear as she gathers her thoughts. “Clint, you’ve given me a second chance in life, you’ve shown me what friendship and love truly mean. I promise to trust and respect you and give you the best of myself. I promise to always fight for you, never against you, to be by your side through whatever life brings. I promise to make sure we always have snacks in the house and to clean up all the stains from your shirts when you drop food on them.”

Clint’s shoulders shrugged with acceptance as he chuckled under his breath, “It happens a lot.”

“Yes it does,” Natasha repeated, smiling wider. She exhaled a deep breath before continuing. “I promise to love you through the good times and bad and to choose our love every single day. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I'm the luckiest person on Earth to be able to call you mine.”

You felt Bucky press a kiss to your temple, leaning his head against you as the ceremony continued. When it was time Alexei dug into his pocket, pulling out the rings. With Nick’s concluding words Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck, and his held her waist; their love sealed with a kiss as everyone cheered in celebration.

They pulled back from each other, Clint resting his forehead against Natasha’s. He brought his hand up, bending his middle and ring finger into his palm. Natasha did the same, their fingertips touching as they signed “I love you” before turning to face their friends and family.

Edith was the first to hug the newly married couple who made their way through everyone until they got to you. Bucky and Clint hugged as he congratulated them. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can.” Natasha laughed, pressing her cheek to Bucky’s as they hugged. She moved to you and you wrapped your arms around her tightly. “We’ve been planning this wedding for so long it was never going to happen unless we did it this way.”

“It was perfect,” you said, pulling back from your hug with a huge smile. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both.”

As the night went on you formally met Yelena, the blonde who Natasha grew up with, and learned about her exciting work. You were in similar fields as she worked to free people of human trafficking, mostly young girls that were to be indoctrinated into radical terrorist groups for forced marriage or even espionage.

Her work was more hands-on as she physically raided underground bunkers or warehouses. It made you feel like you weren’t doing enough even though you knew that wasn’t true. All the years spent working towards your goal reaffirmed that, and in just a few days you’ll officially move into your office in Metro-General, across from Elena’s as you begin doing what you’ve always wanted to do, help people.

You’re lost in a comfortable stare as you look at the Christmas tree, realizing the countdown to midnight had begun.

Ten! Nine! Eight! ...

You turn around, looking for Bucky in the small room that was crowded with everyone standing so close together, huddled around the TV that showed the view from Times Square.

Seven! Six ...

The shimmering ball was descending and you were alone until….

Five! Four! ...

“Hey neighbor…” A voice called and you spun around relieved. Bucky smiled, bringing you close into his arms.

Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

He leaned in, his lips hovering above yours, pausing as you spoke above the roar of cheers. “Have I ever told you how happy I am that you moved in here?” you purred.

“Every day. It’s like music to my ears.”

Bucky smiled tenderly, sealing the small gap between you, kissing you softly as he poured all the love from his heart out and into yours. Your hearts beat to the rhythm of your own symphony, a song that had a rocky beginning of notes that stretched high and low, but now it was a steady ballad you would continue to create together with your love.

[homelander-rp-blog]

He goes through the washing routine like it’s just a normal thing between them, keeping her up and steady when he washes her hair, they both are exhausted and had enough for a day and he can feel how her body turns limp in his arms, he’s gentle with her while washing her hair, her beautiful, long hair clean and steps out of the tub first to aid her, drying her slowly, careful not to drag the fabric too harsh on her body and keeps his eyes respectfully up, the least she needs right now is feeling embarrassed under his gaze, he wants her to lean on him at this time of need, ‘I got you, everything will be fine’ is spoken soundlessly between them, their eyes meet for few seconds during and John tries to put all the words he can’t say through his look, his hold firm and confident on her hand as he guides her back to the bedroom, letting her sit on the edge of the mattress as he roams in the drawers for a brush and a hairclip or a hair tie to do her hair, making Eris feel better, everything for her. He sits on his knees behind her when he brushes that long hair, being careful with the little knots, trying not to pull too hard when the comb sticks through the dark strands, he hums an old song to himself while he works, it comes on instinct, something that his mother used to do with him when he was a young kid, back then when they were an actual family and John was still loved by his daddy.. It doesn’t take much for him to finish with her hair, putting the brush away, he pulls on his sleeping shirt and pajamas before returning back to bed, sitting by her side. He reaches over to hold her hand without saying something, they lay on the bed and not saying anything, she keeps his hand close to her face and he likes the feeling of her breath brushing on his skin, the feeling of her leg moving against his. A little reminder that she’s still there by his side and won’t leave him again, this way is the best way to fall asleep and soon, John allows the darkness to take him slowly, his eyelids weighting down and the last thing he sees is her face. He’s looking for someone, something, in the darkness. John can’t see her- it. Yeah.. it must be it, he’s looking for something here.. he’s a little boy and is back in their old ranch, playing near the river passing behind their house, his mother is baking pie again, he can smell the sweet strawberry and sugar smell from here. He’s running through the tall grass, so tall they reach his small knees and there! He sees a dark figure there between the trees, he shouts for it but the darkness doesn’t turn around, continues the stroll in the forest. Is it crying? But why? John walks closer and notices it’s a woman. Clad in black dress and her hair falling over her shoulders, her skin too pale like a corpse- “ma’am??” little John calls for her but she keeps crying “are you hurt? My mom can help you! Are you okay?” he asks and reaches out to her but once his hand touches hers, there are flames everywhere, the woman screams so loud John has to cover his ears, it’s deafening, the boy pleads her to stop but when she looks at him, instead of eyes she has two flaring orbs, frowning down at him “IT WAS YOUR FAULT!!” and surges toward him, he breaks into sobs, oh.. he does know the woman’s name, his lips wobbling when he tries to say it “E-Eris! Please! I- I’m.. I’m..” ‘I’m sorry’ is breaking in his throat and he’s back in his adult body at the time the woman sinks her long claws in his chest, instead of blood it’s some gooey black liquid that oozes out of him, he spits once and it’s all strange liquid again but he isn’t- he can’t find himself angry at her- at the woman, who’s crying herself, too. “it’s- it’s okay..” he reaches up to her face but a wave of weakness takes him. The ground devouring him in.. in.. in.. and the woman is still crying, the flames burning his skin.. John startles awake from the nightmare “Eris..” and looks over to check on the girl.

John isn't going to hurt me, he needs me, his protector. That is what Eris had to keep thinking, it's what made it acceptable to lean into him, to be cradled and held, to be taken care of. A barrier of underwear and she was sober.. entirely sober, what a shock that'd be to anyone, that she let him over anyone else, see her flesh.. she let him see her vulnerable. See, when Eris stood in a room she took up so much of it's energy, she had presence.. it was almost shocking, how light her body when she created and caused chaos in her steps. Funny, how dainty hell embodied seemed right now.

There are moments that she stands there, him hugging her and it's like her hands, her arms, don't quite know... what to do. She's used to being wanted, groped and grabbed but... she isn't used to having arms that so sweetly, want to hold her. Slowly and tentatively her arms moved to close around Johns middle, and her head resting into his chest. Eris expected to hate it, to find it suffocating in some way and instead.. she found that she could've remained just like that, the water being cold was a comfort to her, after all she had endured.

She listened, her eyes looked.. well for once they weren't endlessly black, they were a soft hazelnut, a kind of brown that seemed smooth, a melted bowl of chocolate, the nature of a forest. Eris leaned back, tilting her head so John could get at her hair easier, now this, she enjoyed, it felt easy to let his fingers rake through her hair. Her bright, bold, hair. For a moment she even seemed to wear a little smile, tugging the corners of her lips. Bubbles lathered up and then rinsed away, before conditioner made her locks look smooth. John isn't going to hurt me. He'd never hurt me. She thought it again. Once she was clean and calmed, it all stopped feeling insufferable, her wounds stopped weeping after she'd dried off with a towel and John's help. Eris kept hold of his arm she whole time, from getting out of that bath to now, where she sat on the bed, one of his shirts on, hanging from her shoulder as it always did and Eris was.. openly letting him brush and tie back her hair. It didn't change that Eris was still wounded, she was weak and she was so very tired, sos he pat the space beside her, the side he slept and waited with an expectant gaze, for him to lay.

When she came she'd slept by the window, night by night... Eris got closer. Before she'd disappeared, she'd slept on the bed, at the far edge, like she couldn't be close enough to reach for, to touch but now.. now she reached across, she took his hand and she brought it up near her mouth so that John would feel her breathing. The warmth of her breath on the back of his hand. Was this okay? she wondered, one leg moved so it was against his, a reminder more to herself that he was there and for him that, his demon, was home. Periodically her breath would itch, a tiny whine would give away the discomfort when she moved but Eris, was home and she didn't know how to tell him that she had missed him.

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap part 2

part 1

Robbe stands in front of the mirror, eyes critical as he assesses the forest green shirt, plucking at the collar that’s digging uncomfortably into his neck. It’s not like the shirt is ugly; the problem is that it’s not and that it looks a bit too formal. But then again, Robbe wouldn’t know for sure since he’s never been on a real date before. He’s feeling a bit helpless in that area, to be honest.

He has a half a mind to text the boys and ask for advice, but just as the thought passes his brain he scoffs because it’s just silly; the only thing he would gain from doing that would be merciless teasing for weeks on end. Thanks, but no thanks.

Sighing, he glances in the direction of the hall, debating with himself whether asking for Zoe’s opinion is the right option here, but deep down he knows that otherwise, he’s gonna be standing i front of that mirror agonizing over his appearance for the next twenty minutes if someone doesn’t talk some sense into him.

The way Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise when he enters her room lets him know that yes, he is overdressed. 

“Too much?” He scrunches up his face, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, I mean... you look really nice, but, um, maybe go for a t-shirt instead?” Zoe suggests, looking almost apologetic. Robbe hovers in the threshold, still not totally convinced.

“Yeah?” 

“You clearly feel uncomfortable in that, plus he’s not taking you to an expensive restaurant or something so I think you should just go for chill,” she pauses, trying to remember something. “That pink t-shirt you have? You look really cute in it! You should wear that.”

“I don’t wanna look cute, Zoe, I wanna look hot,” Robbe blurts out, pink blooming on his cheeks when Zoe coos at him in that annoying way she always does and he immediately covers his face. “Stop.”

She giggles at his embarrassment, patting his arm consolingly as she pretends to give him a once over. “You do look hot, no matter what shirt you’re wearing.”

“Yuck, that sounds weird coming from you.” Robbe fake-gags and gets a smack on his chest. “I’m outta here, thanks.” Before he manages to close the door, Zoe catches his arm and shoots him a comforting smile.

“And calm down. He’s already into you, he won’t care what you’re wearing, Robbe.”

It’s easier said than done. Ever since he woke up, he’s been a giddy, anxious, yet excited mess, butterflies flying rampant in his stomach, fingers drumming absent-mindedly on the nearest surface, and he’s-

Well.

He’s been kinda freaking out.

Somehow (he has no idea how), he managed to keep his cool during that faithful afternoon a week ago when a boy came up to him with a dumb YouTube challenge, he’d even call himself flirty and bold. 

He’s not so sure he’ll be able to provide a repeat performance tonight. Not with that particular charming smile directed at him, almost making him whimper because no one should have the right to be that handsome. At the time, the infatuation was laced with disappointment and anger so Robbe guesses that’s what helped him keep his cool.

Only to melt into a pile of goo minutes later when Sander’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment over what popped on his phone screen.

Bambie eyes

Robbe smiles at the memory, trying to keep it small and not look like a psychopath that’s grinning to himself for no reason. It proves to be difficult though, those damn butterflies not easing out when an image of Sander combing his fingers through his longish bleached strands pops into his mind, uninvited, but oh so welcome if Robbe’s being honest.

Back in his bedroom, he fishes out the pink t-shirt from the drawer, sending a thank you to the past Robbe who finally did his laundry last Wednesday. His comfort level is up immediately after he takes the green shirt off and pulls the pink one over his head; the material doesn’t dig in anywhere, and it’s just... him. He doesn’t feel like a clown anymore. 

A quick look at his watch and he curses under his breath. If he doesn’t want to be late, he needs to leave in five minutes tops. It’s probably better this way since it means less time for freaking out. Once he sprays a bit of cologne on his clothes and grabs his wallet, he gives himself one last look in the mirror, fingers attempting to tame his curls at least a little, but it proves to be a lost cause. As usual. His hair just has a mind of its own. He doesn’t let himself obsess too much about it though, and as he closes the door behind the flatshare his mind wanders to two weekends ago, the corners of his lips twitching on their own.

  “You look like an angel with those curls. I should get you a halo or s’mthing.”

He’s in his personal space all of a sudden and as Sander’s breath grazes his face, Robbe’s own breath stutters, but the freakout has no time to breakthrough on his features because Sander’s eyes swivel up, glazed with alcohol as he tugs gently at one of the brown strands.

“I really like ‘em, you know? They’re so... silky. And pretty.” A lightbulb goes on in his head, his lips widening in a smile. “You’re so pretty.”

 Drunken confessions never really seemed particularly sweet to him, but with Sander gazing at him like he hung the moon and the stars, his jaw slightly open as if in wonder, it was difficult for Robbe to feel anything else than fondness, heart fluttering in his chest, so enamoured with the boy with white hair that it would have blushed if it could.

That white hair and green eyes have been the main stars of his dreams ever since.

Okay. That’s not entirely true. There were glimpses before that. After all, Sander had been the first thing he noticed at the Academie. But at the time, he had only been his looks to Robbe, golden skin and intriguing smirks, face scattered with moles and legs for days. 

And lips. Lips that looked soft like a rose petal.

He had dreamed about those lips a lot then.

He still can’t believe his brain holds the memory of kissing them with his own. 

Again. Peak boldness for him.

And yet, he’s so nervous now, walking fast-paced to the nearest tram stop, praying his chaotic energy won’t make him look like an idiot once he’s faced with Sander again. His only saving grace, the only reason the full on freakout seems to be kept at bay is the reminder that even though Sander is way out of his league, he’s also a bit of a dork, and that honestly makes Robbe feel better. 

He’s a hot dork though.

But a dork nonetheless.

Deep down Robbe hopes he’s gonna become his dork. 

The city passes behind the window in a whirlwind of colors, creating the perfect background for him to get lost in his thoughts, daydreaming to the sounds of the playlist crafted specifically for him, courtesy of Sander. As Bowie sings about absolute beginners, a notification ping pulls him back from his musings, lips smiling on their own when he sees Sander posted a photo.

And what a photo it is, fuck.

A part of his face, edges smudged with shadows leaving only his eye in focus, dark eyebrow curtained a little with wet bleached strands, everything in black and white aesthetics because Sander rarely does colors, Robbe came to find out. 

  With eyes completely open

But nervous all the same

 He wonders if the lyrics relate to their date or it’s just his wishful thinking.

Quick fingers like the photo and then take a screenshot of his own Spotify to send it to him. Robbe doesn’t have to wait long for the reply, a string of “🤯” blowing up his phone followed by “I’m so proud 🤧”, which again confirms that Sander is, indeed, a dork. 

Robbe shoots him a “😂” and scrolls up a bit to check the address again.

 Robbe: I watched the video

Robbe: It was cool 😎 

Sander: Oh yeah? 

Robbe: But somebody cut me out of it 🤔🙄 

Sander: I told them to, it was too personal 😌 

Robbe: Oh 🙃 

Sander: + You're too pretty for our dumb videos 🤷🏼‍♂️ 

Robbe: 🙈 stop 

Sander: You are 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: You're making me blush 🙊 

Sander: Well good, you're cute when your cheeks are all pink 😏 

Robbe: 🤪 

Sander: But you're always cute so 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: Okay stop haha 

Sander: 😎 

Robbe: Thank you tho 😊 

Sander: You're welcome x

Sander: Now go to sleep, I need you to be rested for tomorrow! 

Robbe: Tell me where we're going 🥺 

Sander: Nope 

Robbe: Please 🥺 

Sander: Nope 😌 

Robbe: How should I know you're not gonna kidnap me or sth 🤔 

Sander: Robin! I would never! 😟😟 

Robbe: Robin? 

Sander: Yeah

Sander: You like it? :) 

Robbe: I think so :)

Sander: Good 😌

Sander: Oranje Street, that's all you need to know 

Sander: Goodnight Bambi Robin 🦌😏 

Robbe: Shdjskahaggfdsk 🙈🙈 

Sander: Hehe

Sander: 😚 

Robbe: 😊

 The Robin part pulls another involuntary grin out of him again, the jitters in his stomach intensifying, but now they’re more anticipatory than nervous. He checks his hair in his selfie camera, running a hand through it to mess it up a little just when his stop comes. 

The neighborhood is busy with the Friday rush and he has trouble finding white hair in the crowd from where he’s leaning on the lantern. Swaying awkwardly he keeps looking around, feeling his stress levels raising with each second and telling himself to get a fucking grip. 

“Hey, Robin.”

His poor heart just can’t catch a break today. 

Jumping a foot above the ground before swiveling around to smack Sander’s chest, the first thing he sees is his toothy grin, face smug at almost giving Robbe a heart attack.

“Asshole.” His grumble is all for show, the corners of his mouth pulling up when Sander presses a soft hello kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna scare you.” He could win awards for least sincere apologies ever, but Robbe would lie to himself if he said he didn’t find his playfulness attractive. Also, he’s still trying to get his heartbeat under control that has less to do with actual scare and more with the warm breath grazing his ear and the fanthom feel of lips on his cheek.

“Sure you didn’t.”

Sander chuckles at his deadpan face that lets him know Robbe knows he’s full of shit. Raising his arms in capitulation, he says another sorry before giving him a not so subtle once over, his features softening.

“You look really pretty.” 

His voice sounds uncharacteristically shy, Robbe notices, and he keeps biting his lip nervously. This sudden shyness looks exceptionally endearing on him.

Eyeing his t-shirt critically, he cocks his brow at Sander, hand scratching his head in a self-conscious move. “Thank you. It’s nothing special though.”

“Then I guess it’s just you,” Sander replies, shrugging matter-of-factly, and keeps giving him that charming smile that weakens Robbe’s knees. 

But he still rolls his eyes on him, snorting as he mutters “smooth” to which Sander pretends to hold his chest dramatically, swearing it’s not a line and that he’s being honest.

“Okay, okay, let’s say I believe you,” Robbe gives in after being defeated with a strong case of puppy eyes. “Now come on, tell me where we’re going.”

The faux-serious expression on Sander’s face melts into a full of promise smirk. “Prepare to be mind blown!”

And then he takes off, firing a wink over his shoulder at Robbe who’s gaping at him, flabbergasted. This mixture of confidence and shyness taking turns emanating from Sander has a peculiar effect on him, making him follow the boy without another question. He’s intrigued, curious to find out what’s underneath this cockiness that Robbe has a feeling is all for show, a cover up, but for what he has no clue. 

They fall into an easy conversation on the way to their destination, interrupted with a string of Robbe’s guesses as to what that destination is and Sander shooting him down everytime, his smile getting fonder with each pout directed at him. So far it’s been way less awkward than Robbe feared, familiar almost, safe, melting away the anxious lump in his stomach. The good-natured teasing reminding Robbe of his relationship with Zoe or Milan, only the furtive yet lingering glances they keep shooting at each other when they think the other is not looking the sign of this being more than just a friendly hangout.

“Any plans for the Eenvoud sequel?” They’re crossing the street when Sander asks the question, tongue in cheek, which makes Robbe scowl in disdain. Even though internally he’s pleased Sander went and looked him up online. He was less pleased with the teasing that ensued a few days ago.

  Sander: I had no idea 

Robbe: ? 

Sander: That I'm going on a date with a star 

Robbe: 😂 what 

Sander: Music star 😏

Sander: Or should I say

Sander: Dance star 🤔 

Robbe: Oh fuck 

Sander: You're v e r y talented Robbe IJzermans 

Robbe: Shut uuuuuup 

Sander: 😂 

Robbe: You weren't supposed to see that 😭 

Sander: Why not? You're so cute in it 😌 

Robbe: 🙈

Robbe: Please don't hold it against me 

Sander: Never :) 

Robbe: You're gonna hold it against me aren’t u 

Sander: A bit :D 

Robbe: 🥺 

Sander: But in a loving way! 

Robbe: Guess I have to now go and find blackmail material on your channel 😌 

Sander: As if you hadn't already 😏 

Omg you're so full of yourself 🙄 

Sander: 😛 

Robbe: Should I be expecting hoards of fans throwing themselves at you when we're out? 

Sander: Haha no

Sander: Maybe a few ;) 

Robbe: Great, now I'm even more nervous :( 

Sander: Why are you nervous? 🥺

Sander: Are you nervous about our date?  

Robbe: Well um 

Robbe: A bit? 

Sander: I'm nervous too

Sander: But that's because I wanted to go out with you since I saw you on campus the first day

Robbe: I wanted that too

Sander: Oh 😌

Robbe: Yeah :)

 “Fuck off,” he barks out a laugh, shoving him without much force once they’re back on the sidewalk. Sander pretends to be offended with the attack, huffing and shaking his head, but then bumps him with his hip all the same, smug when Robbe splutters in indignance in turn.

“Keep this up and I’m gonna rethink my forgiveness.” Robbe’s tone is lofty, even if his eyes scream he’s just teasing, an attempt to rile Sander up. 

The boy’s eyes widen comically, hand flying to his chest. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Robin.” 

There’s that nickname again, making his breath catch again, and the only response he can manage now is a flirty smile, or at least something that is supposed to look like it. 

The afternoon heat subsides on their way to Sander’s mysterious place, but Robbe’s still glad he left that green long-sleeved shirt at home when they slow down and Sander turns to him with an expectant look.

“Carnival?”

“I didn’t remember you giving me your number, but I did remember your preaching about cotton candy being the superior junk food,” Sander rushes with an explanation like he feels his choice needs a proper justification. “And it just so happened that a carnival came to Antwerp this weekend. I thought it was a sign?” He scratches his nose, his stance a little unsure as he awaits Robbe’s reaction.

His eyes grow bigger with each passing second until Robbe beams at him and tells him how much he likes the idea. Sander lets out a loud phew, face relieved when they enter the area. The place is packed, but that’s okay because Robbe loves the vibe and how close Sander keeps walking next to him because of it. The loud music is not the best for talking, but they soon find other things to do, marching from booth to booth, getting drinks and trying out silly games, the teasing competitiveness quickly coming out. Sander really wants to win a plushie for him, but he fails spectacularly, his sulking remedied only by a kiss on his cheek. 

Robbe eats his weight in cotton candy, childlike joy on his face while Sander watches amused and keeps calling him cute. The Ferris Wheel was supposed to be their next stop, but when it turns out it's out of service, Sander shoots him a desperate look, apologizing for this lame outcome like it's his fault. But Robbe is having so much fun he barely cares they lost their chance at a kiss on the top, knows the night's still young and they'll get their chance somewhere else.

They try out a few other things, laughing and having a great time together before Sander gets weirdly quiet.

"Do you, um, do you think we can go sit down for a bit? To talk?" Sander keeps avoiding his eyes as he asks, but Robbe doesn't miss the flicker of vulnerability in his face, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. He's a bit taken aback at this gear change, but Sander's clearly bothered with something and he wants to be there for him so he just hums and follows him to the bench outside.

"There's something you need to know."

Robbe steals himself for the worst, muscles tensing as he holds his breath.

“I’m bipolar,” Sander finally blurts out, and Robbe’s heart breaks for the insecurity in his eyes, eyes that are now darting all over his own face, trying to be furtive, yet clearly assessing his reaction. “I just-, I want to be straight with you from the get go cause I feel like this may be going somewhere and I don’t want to lie, or, omit anything.” He pauses, frowning a little as he looks down, and something awfully similar to a broken heart shadows his features. “I don’t ever want to keep it a secret anymore.”

Robbe doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, but Sander misinterprets the silence.

“It’s, um, it’s okay if you don’t wanna get involved with me now or something, I get it, I’m a lot to handle.” Scratching his head awkwardly, his lips morph into a wistful smile, and Robbe knows he needs to put a stop to these thoughts.

“Hey,” he starts softly, waiting until Sander’s ready to direct his eyes back on him. When he does, he shoots a smile at him of his own, but there’s nothing wistful about it. If it matches what he feels, Robbe’s quite sure it’s close to adoration, actually. “Thank you for telling me.” Sander takes a deep breath, sitting straight as if he’s preparing for a rejection. “My mom has schizophrenia, you know?”

Green eyes blink up at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Robbe lets his smile widen. “And she’s an amazing mom. She just-, struggles sometimes, and there are days that are really shit days. But I can’t imagine her not being here. Because she’s amazing. And I love her. With or without a mental illness.” He presses his thigh against Sander’s, trying to ease his nervousness as he continues. “I still want to give us a shot. Cause, um, I think that, um, well, you’re really hot, I mean cool, I meant cool, well...” Why does he have to be so awkward? He peaks at Sander after his unfortunate little slip and feels his cheeks flush under his small grin. 

“You think I’m hot?”

Robbe whines in protest because now Sander’s just being a little shit, torturing him even though he knows exactly what his stammering means. 

He hides his face in his hands. “Obviously, since I’m on a date with you, smartass.” 

“It’s always nice to hear.” Sander nudges their shoulders and it makes Robbe look up, just in time for a wink. “Especially from a cutie like you.” He holds his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, and as Robbe gets drowned in his green eyes, distracted, Sander lifts his hand to push a few locks away from his forehead. The brief contact of his fingertips with Robbe’s skin is enough to raise goosebumps on his skin, and he really hopes Sander didn’t notice, that he doesn’t know how gone he is for him already.

He already mourns the lack of contact when Sander pulls away, something akin to shyness on his face now as he’s fiddling with his fingers, and it’s comforting to see he’s not the only one around here being affected.

It’s what gives him the guts to do what he does next, without second-guessing himself again into a spiral. He gets up off the bench and takes Sander’s hand in his own, their fingers tangling right away like it’s their second nature, and nods in the direction of the sidewalk.

“Come on, I’ll show you my favorite spot around here.”

The initial surprise at Robbe’s bold move is quickly replaced with a beaming smile as Sander squeezes his hand gently and gets up too, laughing when Robbe bumps their shoulders teasingly because hey, he’s still a teenage boy and sometimes likes to act like it. Also, he needs to do something to distract himself from the fact that he’s holding Sander’s hand. The fact he can feel a thumb softly grazing his knuckles, almost absent-mindedly, does not help. He'd think their playfulness and cheek kisses would make it all easier for him, and yet here he is.

He’s feeling carefree and drunk on his feelings and this evening and Sander’s smile and when they get close to the spot, Robbe sets his hand free and jogs over to the small ice cream booth, turning around to do a small “taa-daa!” with a big grin. Sander’s laugh at his shenanigans is music to his ears and he loves how the previous frown is now officially gone from his face, features softening instead, eyes twinkling as he calls Robbe a dork, entwining their hands anew the second he’s in his close proximity. Robbe scoots even closer, like an invisible magnet is pulling them together, getting lost in his presence, the smell of his aftershave that carries notes of citrus and something woodsy, masculine, combined with the intoxicating scent of Sander’s leather jacket. The air changes around them, gets charged with tension, Sander’s face changes too, green eyes darting to Robbe’s lips that get dry under attention, and he licks them subconsciously. Just when Tiana Major9’s voice coming from the booth speaker sings when they collide, it’s a beautiful disaster, their faces tilt towards each other, Sander’s hand reaching up as if to cup Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe barely contains his whine when a loud crash from the booth ruins the moment, catching the same frustration on Sander’s face in the corner of his eye. The loaded silence is buzzing in his ears, nerves picking up and he feels awkward again, not sure whether he should just go for it or wait for a better moment. 

Sander’s chuckle brings him back from his overthinking, smiles crookedly down at him. “Come on, you gotta tell me your favorite flavor.”

His tone is light like the almost-kiss didn’t happen, but the subtle pink at the high of his cheeks gives him away. It looks like the world’s most exquisite blush, blended perfectly with the shade of his skin that has already been painted light golden with the early summer sun rays. It distracts him for a moment, his gaze stuck as his eyes wander slowly from one mole to another, lingering on his lips that are just as inviting as they were a few seconds ago, tempting Robbe to make that move, but then he feels Sander taking his hand again, this time interlacing their fingers and pulling him out of his trance.

Robbe is a vanilla guy and he can see the joke at the hip of Sander’s tongue, but thankfully, the boy refrains from the comment, the huge eyeroll he receives probably stopping him in his tracks, and he only gnaws on his lip, trying to keep the laughter in. He goes for mango, which yuck. Sander doesn’t appreciate his reaction, and they easily slip in the previous banter, ending with him smearing a bit of the ice cream on Robbe’s cheek, lips sucked in as he giggles quietly at his scandalized face.

“You’re such a fucker!” He immediately gets him back for that and they’re close to full on ice cream fight until Sander yells truce, hands protecting his face from the onslaught of Robbe’s sticky hands. Robbe smiles triumphantly at his capitulation, and goes back to licking away at what’s left of his treat.

“It kinda fits you.”

They’ve been strolling along the river for a while now, the full moon shining its light on the side of Sander’s face, making his hair look icy white.

“What?

“The mango flavor.”

Sander furrows his brows in question, waiting for an explanation. Robbe shrugs a little, eyes tracing the soft ripples on the water as he tries to find the right words.

“Mangos have a hard peel, but have a soft inside.”

“Sooo, you’re saying I’m… mushy?” Sander wrinkles his nose at his words and it’s a truly adorable sight.

“No, I’m saying you can seem, um, intimidating and unapproachable, unattainable.” His eyebrows furrow more with each adjective. “But once you get to the inside, so once someone gets to know you, you’re none of these things,” Robbe pauses, swaying their joined hands a little as he peeks at Sander’s face. “You’re nice and sweet and stuff. Even with your edgy black and white aesthetics,” he adds as the second-thought, grinning when he gets a deadpan look in return. It quickly morphs into something softer, beautifully confirming Robbe’s words.

“Okay, let’s say I’m a mango man. In that case, you’re a cutie pie,” Sander says matter-of-factly, always needing to have the last word, and Robbe can only laugh helplessly, trying not to combust under his intense glance. “Also, my black and white aesthetics are amazing, by the way.”

Robbe doesn't dare to argue with that, and he also agrees with the statement so he admits as much, making Sander very pleased. 

They walk way into late hours of the evening, huddling closer together with each passing hour in search of warmth against the coldness of the night, or at least that serves as the main excuse. Sander has him bursting in fits of giggles sharing crazy stories from his shopping assistant job and Robbe finds himself opening up about his videotaping passion, a little shy when knowing about Sander's photography skills, but the boy's eyes shine bright when Robbe mentions it, and he's so attentive and interested in everything he has to say on the topic, of the small details he geeks out about that it makes fuzzy feelings swim rampant in his stomach; it's the kind of attention he's been unknowingly yearning for, and here it is, served on a golden plate and in a package so beautiful it makes him swoon.

And he also walks him home, acting all gentlemanly and offering his jacket when the shivers shake Robbe's body a bit. What a catch.

“So, um,” Sander starts as they reach the front door of Robbe’s apartment building, his face mostly covered in shadows cast by the street lanterns. “Kiss or slap?”

The answer to the question is obvious for both of them, but Robbe can’t stop himself from teasing him a bit, scrunching up his face in a deep thought, eyebrows frowned, making Sander scoff impatiently, which is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

Still, he needs to push him a bit more. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I should probably go with the slap for that ice cream incident.” Sander plays along, heaving a regretful sigh, before turning those pretty eyes on him, lips in a pout and hands put together in a praying motion.

“A kiss?” Bottom lip juts out and he’s just too cute for words, Robbe dropping his facade immediately, not stopping his beaming smile anymore.

He also can't fucking wait any longer.

“Okay, I gue-”

Soft lips crash into his, not letting him finish the sentence, Robbe’s clumsiness almost making him topple over, but Sander’s there to catch him, sure hands squeezing his hips and sending small shocks through his body. He rests his hand on the back of Sander’s neck, giving in to the need to bury his fingers in that messy blond hair, and he tugs, just a little, but it’s enough for Sander to sigh into his mouth and pull him closer. Robbe loves the reaction, whimpers quietly as he parts his lips just right for Sander’s tongue to slip inside, to tease at the soft skin inside of Robbe’s bottom lip. It’s all over after that, the kiss morphing from something soft and sweet to tongues sliding together, teeth clinking almost painfully in their desperation, the kiss tasting of mango ice cream and cotton candy, and it’s the best Robbe has ever tasted.

It’s better than he imagined, Sander’s hands caressing his sides as he slows down the kiss so sweet and tender, it pulls at every single one of his heartstrings. He can’t believe he has this wonder of a boy in his arms, kissing him so good, making him dizzy.

The kiss stops eventually, but they stay put, as close as before, the tips of their noses grazing against each other, warm breaths and fluttering lashes, fingernails scratching at the skin that’s covered in goosebumps.

“I have to go,” Robbe murmurs between the miniscule space between them, giggling quietly at the immediate frown his words cause.

“Nooooo.” Sander hides his face in his flushed neck, pressing a kiss there too because why not. “I need more kisses.”

And who is Robbe to tell him no, he goes willingly when Sander lifts his chin up for another one, his mouth a little puffy now. He lets him have it, not that it’s any hardship; he’d stay here all night, just lazily sliding their lips together in a never ending dance.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Sander asks when they break apart. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You know, he’s very important to me, has been in my life for years so his opinion kinda matters a lot.”

His words take Robbe aback, but he tries not to show his discomfort, even though Sander must have felt how tense his body went. He doesn’t seem to find it weird, his face still smiling as he keeps talking about this he that’s apparently so important.

“I hope he’ll like you. He’s perfect, you know?” Actually, Robbe does not know and he’s getting kinda annoyed. He’s pretty sure waxing lyrical about someone else on a date is a faux pas. “I mean, except for leaving fur on anything he touches.”

What.

Robbe’s eyes swivel up to look at him, the corners of Sander’s lips twitching and his face a picture perfect of impishness. He groans in protest, smacking his chest because Sander did it on purpose to pull a reaction out of him and it’s not fair, damn it. He crosses his arms which proves difficult to do when there are still hands firmly holding his hips, keeping him close.

Sander rests their forehead together, swaying them a little to put a smile on Robbe’s grumpy face. “He’s a Norwegian Forest breed and his name is Major Tom.”

And this time it’s Robbe who has a hard time to keep his giggle in because oh my god, what a nerd.

“I wonder where that came from,” he ponders in a voice as serious as he can manage, but Sander sees right through him, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“It’s the bestest name ever, I’ll have you know.”

He gets shut up with another kiss, last one, the sweetest out of all of them. Then, Robbe steps out of his embrace, not trusting himself to end this when Sander's hands are touching any part of his body, and tells him a quiet goodnight, backing into the front door with Sander's soft sleep well ringing in his ears and a huge smile threatening to spread on his face.

Sander: May your dreams be filled with cotton candy 🍬🍭

It only takes a minute for his phone to ping.

And maybe some mangos too 🥭

Robbe: Just need one 😘

White-haired mangos 😘

Goodnight ❤️

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 25

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 24

Next Chapter: Chapter 26

Uncle Jem had brought several of the Carstairs family’s old notebooks, and the past week they’d spend studying them to see if there was anything interesting. They’d rescued Grace, but no one had been able to find Tatiana since, nor did they know what they were up against exactly and if they could defeat it. Cordelia believed cortana could kill it, but walking in with no plan would just get them all killed.

Thomas felt like they were running out of time. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he felt tired lately, much more than usual. For Alastair that was normal, he guessed, Alastair was always tired and therefore Thomas had no reason to complain. Still, it was odd and sudden. Then he’d gotten a bit of a headache, and right now he struggled to finish his lunch, which was already much smaller than what he usually ate. He’d eaten much less than he usually did the past days, truth to be told. He just didn’t have the same appetite. He was feeling a little chilly too, but guessed he should just put on a cardigan.

‘Are you alright, Tommy?’ his mother asked. ‘You’ve been eating so little lately.’

‘Just nervous, that’s all,’ Thomas said.

The thing was, Thomas didn’t usually eat less when he was nervous. If anything he ate more, he’d always been a stress eater. Instead he figured he was coming down with something. Someone else might just have said, ‘I think I’m getting sick, I’m going to rest a bit’, but after a childhood of frequent illness and worrying parents Thomas couldn’t get the words over his lips. He’d make sure to rest a bit more, he told himself. But he didn’t want to worry anymore, and he especially didn’t want his parents to start taking care of him like they used to when he was young.

Instead, he returned his attention to Alastair, who had long finished eating and gone outside to read. A ray of sunlight fell on his cheek, illuminating his warm golden brown skin. His eyes were fixated in a journal so old it looked like it might fall apart any moment. Not in Alastair’s careful hands though. He was holding the journal with meticulous care, so no damage would come to it. With his free hand, he pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, but it was not yet long enough to stay there so it fell back in front of his face. Back in school, Alastair would slick his hair back with hair gel, always perfectly in order, not a hair out of place. Thomas, who usually took a comb through his hair and left it at that, had wondered where he found the time. Now it was falling in soft wavy locks over his face. At school Thomas would never have guessed Alastair’s hair was wavy, but it was loose now and Thomas had grown to love gently running his fingers through it. He’d always loved Alastair’s dark hair, he thought. Alastair had shown him a picture from when he’d dyed it blonde, and although that looked alright, Thomas thought his dark hair was much more beautiful.

‘Anything interesting?’ Thomas asked, sitting down on the bench next to Alastair.

A gnome came up to his feet. Thomas and his mother had been feeding them to gain their trust, and not long since the gnomes had learnt that Thomas meant a chance for food. He guessed there were still plenty of cookies he didn’t feel like eating at the moment anyway, but he also wasn’t motivated to go into the kitchen and get anything. Thomas guessed resisting that adorable smile was good practice for when he got pets.

‘Nothing yet,’ Alastair said. ‘But I think I’m getting to the part that described that witch. It might give us some clues about what else Lucie can do.’

‘Have you discussed with Cordelia where you’ll live after the summer?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair had confided in him that even if his mother managed to get back the house and could go and live there, he was considering moving in with uncle Jem for the time being. His father’s house held too many bad memories, and Thomas could understand it would not be good for his recovery to live there again. Alastair had not yet made a decision, but Thomas thought it might be good for him.

‘She has not yet decided what she’ll do,’ Alastair said. ‘She is a bit young to live without her mother after all. Besides, with our mother pregnant it would be better to have someone with her. If she doesn’t get the house back, I presume she would stay with Risa and with me gone there might be enough space for Cordelia as well. But I’m almost nineteen, I figured it might be time to move out. Even if I’m moving in with another relative instead of getting my own place.’

‘That’s just practical, living on your own would be expensive. Besides, Jem won’t be another parent, will he? So you’ll still get to practice your adulting skills in a relatively safe environment. Does Jem live far away from your mother?’

‘Completely different part of London, but still in the city,’ Alastair said. ‘Easy to travel to university from there. It’s a big house, so I’ll really have my own space and get to take care of myself, with Jem still there in case I can’t. I’ve lived there until I was about six. When I was still happy, there are no bad memories tied up to that place. I thought maybe I could be happy again there.’

‘Where does Jem live exactly?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair gently put the notebook away, closing it carefully and putting it down in his lap. He took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, showing him a screen of google maps with a marker where Jem lived.

‘Oh, that’s not far from where my parents live,’ Thomas said. ‘Only a few stops with the metro. We live close to the station.’

‘I didn’t realize. Well, that’s convenient. Makes it easy to have sleep overs or go out together if we don’t live too far away.’

‘Precisely,’ Thomas said. ‘Would you like to go for a walk when you’re finished here? A short one, I am a little tired. But I’d like some fresh air.’

Alastair carefully bound up his notebook and put it on the table inside with the others, before coming with him.

‘It’s safer to bring Lucie,’ Alastair said. ‘In case we get trapped in between again.’

Alastair had a point, although Thomas would like some time alone with him. He was so busy at work all the time, ever since Jem had arrived he was preoccupied with the journals. Thomas missed their walks.

‘Alright, we’ll walk to uncle Will and aunt Tessa and ask her and Cordelia to come. I’m curious if uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily are coming this way too. Jem said they were struggling to find a babysitter.’

‘Right, for little Alexander,’ Alastair said.

‘And Christopher,’ Thomas added. ‘My other cousin. He’s almost seven now.’

‘What’s he like?’ Alastair asked.

‘Different from Alexander, that’s for sure,’ Thomas said. ‘Alexander is a menace. Sweet, but fierce and hyperactive and if you don’t watch him for two seconds he’s swinging from the curtains somewhere. Christopher… he’s not as wild. He’s curious and is obsessed with science. He likes to do simple experiments, and we sometimes have to keep him from setting things on fire. I’m not sure he realizes “Don’t try this at home” applies to him as well. Fortunately, putting on a science show on tv usually keeps him from blowing anything up. Usually, my sisters and I babysit them when necessary, but he also adores uncle Henry, who is an inventor.’

It occurred to Thomas that Henry was Charles’ father. Sometimes children did not resemble their parents, he guessed. It had been a bit of a shock for everyone to learn that Charles had been Alastair’s former lover. Even if not everyone knew how awful he’d been to Alastair, they all had pieced together how much older Charles was. His father most of all had been horrified, since he’d known Charles since he was a baby. Thomas suspected he’d go confront Charles himself if Alastair hadn’t asked him not to. He knew Alastair was still ashamed of his past relationship and was still trying to make sense of it all. Thomas was glad he’d found trust in him and his parents, even if Thomas suspected Alastair still kept the worst of it to himself. Who could blame him? He wasn’t sure if Alastair finally believed his parents cared about him now, but at least he seemed to trust them which was a big step for Alastair. His mother had told him about her past and how she’d gotten her scar in an attempt to let him know he could talk about it and she understood.

‘As a child I had a phase where I liked science too,’ Alastair said. ‘I think I often had phases like that with different interests. When Cordelia and I were very young, we both loved architecture and played with all sorts of building toys and legos together. I also really liked math for a while. Then the animals from the forests in Devon. I lived there for a while in a small village. I think that’s when I grew a bit obsessed with hedgehogs.’

‘Christopher has been obsessed with science for some time now,’ Thomas said. ‘But we’ll see how it goes and what he’ll like in the future. He’s being assessed for autism and ADHD. He’s a sweet kid, but he struggles socially. Not a lot of friends unfortunately. I honestly think he prefers my company over his peers.’

‘I know what that’s like,’ Alastair said. ‘To be the child with the weird interests and never fit in with other children.’

‘You lived in Devon for a while. What was it like there?’

‘The scenery was amazing. The forests there are beautiful. The people… not so much, I prefer London.’

‘I lived in the countryside for a couple of years too when I was little, for my health. I think where I lived the people were nicer, more involved than in the city.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Not when you’re foreign and your mother wears a roosari. The people in Devon are mostly white. I don’t think Father really considered that when he moved us there, it was mostly about him. They might be kind if you’re part of their group, but they’re hostile to outsiders. Fortunately, we moved back after a couple of years.’

‘Ah, of course,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He felt stupid for not considering that earlier.

‘Well, people are racist everywhere. But at least in London there are more people of color and people are at least used to the idea that not everyone’s white.’ My mother still gets dirty stares and comments for her roosari, but she’s not the only one who covers her hair. So while in Devon, I much preferred to spend my time in the woods looking for hedgehogs than with other people. I guess I still do.’

Thomas felt a bit numb in his head, shivering even if it wasn’t cold at all. Perhaps going for a walk wasn’t the best idea, but he wanted to spend some time outside just the same. He should have brought something warm to wear, was all. He wasn’t really sick, it was just not as warm as he’d expected. But Alastair wasn’t shivering at all, he seemed to enjoy the sun on his skin. Thomas did too but it didn’t bring him any warmth.

‘You need to go back for a cardigan?’ Alastair asked. ‘There are goosebumps all over your arms.’

‘Oh. No, I’ll be fine.’

Thomas felt faint in the head and by the time they made it to the Herondale’s house, his vision became a little blurry and he collapsed against the door. He was awfully nauseous yet didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. Alastair noticed his sudden movement and his reflexes were quick. He tried to catch him.

‘Why are you so goddamn heavy, Tom,’ he groaned, trying and failing to stop both of them from crashing into the door.

Leaning against Alastair and the door, Thomas pushed himself upright again, blinking a couple of times until he felt he could stand on his own feet again. Alastair’s soft fingers went from his cheek to his forehead, and Thomas immediately recognized what he was doing. It was the same thing his parents and sisters had done his entire childhood. If they didn’t have a thermometer at hand, they’d feel his forehead, his neck, and determine if he was allowed to go anywhere. Alastair was going to determine he was sick and then all that was left was for everyone to tuck him into bed and start taking care of him. Thomas had hoped to avoid that.

‘You’re burning up,’ Alastair said. ‘You should not be going outside, much less for a walk. Come, we’re here anyway, I’m sure you could use the couch.’

Alastair led him inside, one arm around his waist and the other in his hand, and packed him in blankets on the couch, fetching a thermometer and some paracetamol.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas said, trying to piece together words through the headache and light headedness.

‘Just let me get this,’ Alastair said, pushing the thermometer into Thomas’ ear.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas repeated.

’38,6,’ Alastair said. ‘Tom, you have a serious fever. Why didn’t you say anything? I’ll make you some tea, just relax.’

‘Alastair!’ Thomas yelled, startling the boy.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Please don’t. I can make my own tea, I can take my own temperature,’ Thomas said, trying to calm his breath. ‘I hate it when people take care of me. I told you about my sickness as a child. I don’t want things to be like that again, I don’t want to be taken care of. So please, don’t. Just let me do it.’

Alastair sat down next to him. ‘You were about to walk into the woods with a fever. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.’

‘Yes. I am stubborn. I didn’t realize it would be so bad. But please, let me make these mistakes by myself. I don’t want to be treated like a sick child again.’ Thomas paused, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He didn’t realize this would make him so emotional. ‘I always loved that about you, how you believed I could take anything. How you didn’t treat me as if I was fragile because I was small and used to get sick.’

Alastair sighed. ‘I was an ass to you, Tom. It had nothing to do with respect, or thinking you’re strong.’

‘I know, and it did hurt sometimes. But I loved that you believed I could take it. I knew you didn’t mean any of the things you said, and with me, it was always a bit more light hearted, teasing perhaps.

But you never forced me to go to bed and rest when I did not want it. Matthew grew up around me being sick all the time, and I think he learnt from a young age that I was fragile and to be taken care of. James too. But I never wanted that. I’ll rest, I promise. But I’ll make my own tea, alright?’

‘I’m sorry, Tom. You can make your own tea. Make some for me as well?’

Alastair settled onto the couch while Thomas went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, still wrapped in a blanket. He was too cold to go without it. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Thomas realized Alastair did have a point, he could barely stand upright. Still, he was determined to at least do this. If he wanted anything later, he could always ask Alastair. He picked out a selection of tea bags for Alastair and put in a herbal teabag for his own. Thomas didn’t believe herbal tea cured sickness, but it was worth a shot.

He settled back on the couch, wrapped the blankets back around himself and took two paracetamol, hoping that would at least lower the fever.

‘I really can’t believe you think of my being rude to you as something positive,’ Alastair said. ‘I made fun of your height all the time.’

Thomas shrugged from underneath the blanket. ‘I never minded when you called me pipsqueak or wee little Thomas, or, I don’t know, you had plenty to say.’

Alastair raised an eyebrow. ‘You certainly took your revenge.’

Thomas tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, blankets around him. Alastair did have a point with the paracetamol, and Thomas took two. Hopefully they’d lower his fever.

‘Perhaps I’ll start calling you pipsqueak,’ Thomas said. ‘The name suits you much better now.’

Alastair made an undignified sound. ‘I’m not that short.’

‘You’re plenty shorter than me,’ Thomas said. ‘I always kind of liked it, pipsqueak. It sounded sweet even if you meant it to be hurtful. Sometimes I feel like you never really did a good job at being mean anyway.’

‘I never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said, ‘and I did have a bit of a weak spot for you then. I can be even worse than what you’ve seen, but I save that for bigots.’

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s cheek. ‘I always thought you were holding back on being mean, even if you could still be quite vicious. But pipsqueak is mine now.’

Alastair looked mortified. ‘I guess I can’t stop you, can I?’

Thomas lay down on the couch, head on a pillow. Why were all these blankets so small? His feet were still cold and he’d have to find a solution for that. Really, blankets should be made for tall people. Nobody short would complain about having a bit of leftover blanket.

‘It’s concerning, that you’re getting sick after all these years,’ Alastair said softly.

‘It’s nothing,’ Thomas said. ‘Everyone gets a fever every once in a while.’

‘I haven’t had a fever in years. Colds, at times, but rarely a fever,’ Alastair said.

‘You don’t get the flu?’ Thomas asked.

‘Not that I remember,’ Alastair said. ‘But I figured that’s just the age, as a child I would get the occasional fever like all children do, and I imagine I’ll get them again when I’m older.’

Thomas had gotten the flu a couple of time over the past years. Never anything serious or with abnormal frequency, but it had sent the entire family into a panic whenever it happened.

‘Please don’t tell my parents,’ Thomas said. ‘That I’m sick, I mean.’

‘How did you plan to keep it from them?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, I was hoping I’d be better by the next morning,’ Thomas said. ‘I could sleep over here and then when I’m better pretend nothing happened.’

Alastair was skeptical. ‘I really don’t think you’ll feel better that soon, even if it is a normal flu.’

Lucie and Cordelia entered the room through the garden door, Cordelia turning her sword back into the familiar necklace. ���Those are a lot of blankets,’ Lucie pointed out. She was right, and Thomas moved them around a bit so at least the biggest blanket would cover his feet, reaching up to his waist.

‘We wanted to revisit the ruins,’ Cordelia said. ‘See if there’s anything else that can give us information on Tatiana or the thief of souls. I was wondering if you would be coming.’

‘Thomas is sick,’ Alastair said.

‘Don’t stay behind on my behalf,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘You sure? I would gladly stay here with you.’

‘I think I’m going to get some sleep anyway,’ Thomas said. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. Go, I’ll still be here when you get back.’

‘Get well soon,’ Lucie said, putting her arms around him briefly. ‘You know how the tv works in case you want to watch a movie.’

‘I’ll be alright, Lu. Good luck with your mission.’

Thomas wanted to believe he had just caught the flu. Bad luck, nothing more. But perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he wouldn’t get better. Perhaps this meant they were running out of time.

[starryasmo]

Cottagecore MC x The Undateables (Pt. II)

The demon brothers weren’t the only people who had become attached to you during your stay in the Devildom.

The first person besides the brothers who had taken a liking to you was none other than Lord Diavolo himself. Upon seeing you in all of your timid and soft glory, with the scent of light perfume and tea leaves trailing after you and the illusion of roses blooming under your skin from how pink your cute cheeks were, he’d immediately decided that he liked you, chuckling and commenting on how there couldn’t possibly a human cuter than you upon your arrival to the Devildom. You had flushed at this, ducking your head down, doll lashes obscuring your sweet eyes, panicked and flustered and unsure how to respond.

However, after your initial awkwardness around Diavolo, you realized that he was absolutely marvelous as a companion and a friend.

Diavolo was a kindred spirit to you, in a sense — the woodland animals (if you could call them that) of the Devildom seemed to flock to him like he was a cartoon princess, and he was as sweet, gentle, and caring as an angel would be. However, you had noticed that he wasn’t very in touch with nature; seldom did he ever go outside for any reason other than getting from place to place, and the only person besides you who ventured into the castle gardens was Barbatos, the stoic butler. He had felt no need to explore nature, and that did confuse you a bit and make it harder for you to communicate with him, but you dismissed it, as you did with everyone who didn’t really like to be in touch with nature as much as you did.

But one day, when you were spending time lounging in the gardens with a good book and a warm cup of lavender tea, you were pleasantly surprised to see him walk through the ornate door. He’d walked over to you, his nervous demeanor and fidgety fingers an accursed opposition to his status as the future ruler of the Devildom. However, you had sat up, dusted the crumbs of your strawberry thumbprint cookies off of your flowy skirt, and invited him to sit with you, your gentle and sweet smile an invitation that he simply couldn’t refuse. When you had asked him why he was in the gardens, he confessed with an air of nervousness that he’d been looking for you, simply because your demeanor and your aura was one that he felt immense comfort and relaxation in. You had felt flattered at this, of course, but you laughed lightly at his wording. You explained to him that the soothing feeling he had around you was one that came when one was especially connected to nature. Nature was something that served as a bridge between man and the world, and your extraordinary connection to it had enchanted your energies and made you somewhat of a docile force of nature. In order to feel this more often, even when you weren’t around, you explained calmly as you offered him a few of your cookies, he should form a deeper connection with nature.

You had taken his hand in your smaller one to take him up to your cottage in the human world, the calluses on his hands reminding you of the sun baked river pebbles you had collected and stored in a mason jar on your shelf, and he’d been glancing around like an excited puppy upon your arrival into the forest, pointing out the moss climbing up the tall trunks of your friends, the trees, and the vibrant color of your sisters, the wildflowers. He’d been generous in talking about how beautiful your brothers and sisters, the mushrooms and the flowers, were, and you could feel them all blushing under his immense praise. You yourself couldn’t stop your smile as you took him to your cottage. After spending some time in the sunlit kitchen, you baking while he talked about how lovely the forest was, you two left the cottage and made your way down a winding cobblestone path that you seemed to know like the back of your hand, making way to a stretching meadow covered in wildflowers and lush grass. Trees arched overhead, filtering a crystal blue sky. You two chewed on the huge warm croissants you’d made not five minutes ago, hands intertwined as you strolled through the meadow. The bumblebees and ladybugs seemed to notice your presence and buzzed over to you, and he had let out a small exclamation of delight when one landed on your nose briefly, as if giving you a small kiss. He’d leaned over and given you a kiss where the ladybug had landed, right on the tip of your nose, and said that he’d read that ladybugs granted good luck, so maybe he could enhance that. You had flushed a pale pink and laughed lightly, amused. You two had strolled together for a while, basking in each other’s presence and just being in the moment, before he was summoned back for an urgent last minute student council meeting. He, albeit reluctantly, had finished the last of his croissant and beckoned you to follow him into the portal that Barbatos had summoned, promising to do this again with you sometime. You, with your saccharine smile and understanding eyes, had nodded and told him that you would hold him to it. Nowadays, you would leave a few croissants at his doorstep in a hand woven wicker basket with a purple ribbon on the handle, a letter attached to the basket with a thin string, and he would always write you a thank you letter, accompanied by a gift that he saw you eyeing in the store windows at the human world market that you frequented. He remembered that you much preferred letters to texting, much to your silent but sweet delight, and he was more than willing to write to you whenever the mood struck.

Barbatos had found himself rather amused at your delicate presence, your enchanting yet gentle aura reminding him of a fragile fairy flitting about, sleeping among the grasses and lounging in seashells, combing your hair. However, one day, you had managed to startle him slightly when you asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the human world. You explained that before you had been sent down to the Devildom, there was a tea garden that you would visit often, hidden away from most and becoming a haven for any traveler lucky enough to stumble upon it. Sometimes, the nymphs hailing from the twisting stream a few strides away from your cottage would walk in, all giggles and breezy laughs as they snacked on biscuits and rosepetal honey, their silky gowns dripping water across the floor. Other days, you would walk in to find the ram-horned general that guarded the fairy queen’s throne chewing on cute heart shaped jam cookies, dressed in his full suit of armor, or the white hare with five leverets around her, always dressed in a lacy blouse and two blue bows, chewing on her macarons with a wistful grace as she spoke gently about her children. Sometimes, you would start a conversation with the stern old man with skin like the bark of a tree who ordered a glass of wine and lemon bars every time, or the butterfly winged flower dwellers would pull you over to share gossip. You enjoyed the company you found there, and you wanted to share the joy and domesticity you felt with Barbatos, who seemed too cold and pent up to truly feel known, seen, loved. So when you walked with him through the portal and down the silver path only revealed under the luminous moonlight, you found your fingers intertwining with his as you walked, talking idly about your experience in the Devildom. He didn’t react much to the small action, but the white cat with piercing blue eyes who you fed a handful of blueberries one time whispers to you from a tree branch above, saying that Barbatos is enjoying himself. You smile at the feline’s words and squeeze Barbatos’ hand as you make your way into the tea garden. You take a seat by the window, pulling out his seat for him as you smile softly. The owner, a witch with feathers in her hair and a strange likeness to the portrait of a grand dame from the 1700s that nobody really questions and a necklace that dangles with a family jewel that she doesn’t speak of, approaches your table with her kind smile and her wooden tray already holding your usual order; a slice of strawberry rose cake enchanted with the sweet sugary dust that the pixies left behind as their wings shedded, and a glass of a light sparkling drink that shimmered a faint purple and tasted like springtime. One look at Barbatos, and she seemed to know exactly what he wanted. She soon arrived back to your table with a matcha latte in a dark cyan mug with a pawprint pattern and a slice of her signature cinnamon pie. He had thanked her politely, and she had huffed and told him to relax a bit more with a motherly smile before turning to serve others, long black robes floating off the ground slightly as she walked. After you two had finished your food and left, he admitted that he’d enjoyed spending time with you, and that he’d take you here again soon, if only to both see your gentle smile and to honor the promise he’d made to the small frog that held a tiny guitar and sat on the windowsill who he’d become acquainted with.

Spending time with those living in Purgatory Hall turned out to be quite an experience. They had naturally been drawn in by your gentle angel-like appearance, but when they found out you had a sweet personality and a shimmering smile to match, they were quick to show you welcome and adoration.

Solomon was fond of you, mostly because of the magic you harbored within you. You were a mysterious entity, a being whose magical abilities seemed far too powerful for someone as docile and innocent as you, but his little theory was quickly disproven once he voiced it to you and you spoke angrily to him about how you were not some tame little porcelain doll before you dumped your basket of baguettes on his head out of anger and stomped away with a huff, fingers holding up the flowy skirts of your favorite sundress with a vice grip. You later apologized for your actions, and he dismissed it with an air of nonchalance, although the crumbs in his hair and the wrinkles on your skirt were proof that he shouldn’t call you innocent or docile, even if he still harbored those thoughts somewhere in his head. After the incident, you two had proven to be rather good friends, showing off magic to each other during free periods. He would show you runes and spells that he could perform, and you would watch in awe as he covered a room in sparkling lights or turned someone’s figure into a marigold orange or a baby pink. You seemed to like the sparkly and showy spells more, but anytime he performed his spells outdoors, you would let out a yelp and quickly check on the plants and soil nearby to see if they were harmed by the magical properties of his spells. He would always assure you that no, his spells couldn’t harm the nature of any of the three realms unless he willed it to, but you were still anxious about it, always fretting over the fallen leaves and the grassy fields that he demonstrated on. In return, you showed him how to enchant your baked goods and items that you collected. You had been given a jar of honey and a porcelain teacup as an inheritance from the last fairy queen, who tragically passed on “under strange circumstances”, and a lone wizard no older than you who had drank by himself in the corner during the wake of the fairy queen’s funeral showed you how to enchant it, as well as a few other spells. When you had asked him why, he said that he was going to pass soon of an unknown heretic condition, and that he might as well give up his knowledge to another person who seemed so gentle and beautiful. After speaking with him some more, you had made yourself tea after the funeral and added the rich wildflower-infused honey to it, and when you had drank from the gold-rimmed teacup decorated with birds and blossoms, your singing had become sweet and enchanting, able to cause beasts to fall into deep slumbers and flowers to bloom all around you, the tides rising and falling at your command. When you had sang for him one time, it was in the forest while you two were looking for herbs with magical properties — he was looking for the bark of a blackthorn tree and shining willow for a potion he hadn’t tried yet while you searched for juniper berries and ginseng roots to enchant your pastries. He was enamored with your voice, and although the magical properties that had graced your chords had no effect on him, he was still charmed by your song and softly asked for an encore, which you did with flushed cheeks. All in all, you were lovely company to him, and he liked being around you, if only to hear your gentle voice again.

Simeon enjoyed the moments he got to spend with you. Like you, he was more in touch with nature than technology, but you often found yourself showing him how to fix the simpler functions on his D.D.D, such as the caps lock or the brightness or the volume. You two would often travel to the human world to frolic in the golden fields near your cottage, or you would spend time on the roof of said cottage with him, writing flowery poetry to read to the moon from the cottage window. You both were good at writing, but you could hone in on the littlest details about a person or a setting, while he tended to focus more on prose and plot. Solomon had joked that you and him should write a book together someday and that it would sell for eons across the three realms, unaware of the fact that you two absolutely loved writing together under the speckling moonlight. While he could whisper his words to his delicate gold-trim paper and charm it to write whatever he said in fine print, you preferred writing on your worn parchment with a fluffy white quill pen. He would take the opportunity of his free hands to place one atop your hand that wasn’t writing, and you would halt your writing briefly before continuing with flushed cheeks that were clear as day under the moon’s sweet smile. He would always chuckle at you before turning his face back to admiring the radiant celestial being in the sky, but whenever you paused to glance up at him, enthralled by his otherworldly beauty, he would turn back to you as if he could see you without looking at you, and he would give you a little wink. Often, the night would end in you two quietly reading to each other and the moon, voices soft and gentle as you curled up in his arms, skin brushing against each other every now and then, causing a slight shiver to run up your spine and arms, to which he would chuckle lightly. Sometimes, if you two arrived early, you would spend the time picking berries and fruits with him in the forest, and you would snack on them while you wrote. The juices of the sweet foods would stain the parchment most of the time, and they would imprint a sweet scent into the papers. Other times, if you were lucky enough to get to the human realm even earlier, you would take the berries and fruits that had been collected, and you would bake biscuits and tarts with him, sharing them with him and having him feed pieces of them to you on the cozy porch of your cottage while you wrote. Your voice was a heavenly idyllic thing that he treasured, wanted to pluck a piece of and keep in a little glass box, just to have a small piece of you wherever he went. You were someone he adored dearly, and he wanted to be the cause of that innocuous twinkle in your eye, wanted to be the catalyst of that gentle smile you wore like a second skin, always brightening the world around you, natural and beautiful and serene as could be. Or perhaps you wore it as a cloak, a mask to conceal your inner turmoils and sufferings, your deepest pains and fears. Oh, how it pained him to see your broken expression when people mercilessly killed off acres and acres of the forests for their own selfish gain, or when someone pushed you away in disgust and told you that you were nothing more than a horrid blot on the imperfect world. You looked so broken when you cried, and it was a heart wrenching sight that only fueled his want, his desperate need to take your cherubic cheeks in his slender hands, to kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head and hold you gently, sweetly to his chest, to whisper soft reassurances to you and be your pillar of support. No amount of eloquently woven words could express how much you meant to him, and he was willing to wipe away all of your tears and kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head until his lips went numb if it meant that he saw that broken expression one moment less.

Luke absolutely adored you. You were so cute and sweet, and you smelled like sunshine and flowers, and not only did you never call him ‘Fido’ or ‘chihuahua’, but you actually stood up to the brothers and told them (albeit rather gently) to stop when they compared him to a dog or they barked at him in that stupid condescending tone! He was one hundred percent certain that you were an angel of some sort, and he would do anything to keep your sweet and pure presence around him. He would latch onto your side possessively when you two walked together between classes, holding your index and middle finger with his hand while he sent out the most intimidating glare he could muster to any demon who dared to so much as look at you funny, as opposed to the sweet smile you would offer to anyone who locked eyes with you for more than a second. You supposed that, given his appearance, his “most intimidating glare” wasn’t very intimidating — the demons he narrowed his eyes at probably saw his glare and his refusal to leave your side as him hiding behind you, glancing and staring warily at the demons in fear. You were too nice and sweet to be hanging around “those scummy, horrifying, lowest of the low demons”, according to him, and he was dead set on keeping you from being “corrupted and brought down to be tormented more by those selfish creatures”. You would simply laugh your kind and airy laugh before squeezing his hand gently as best you could and reassuring him that you could protect yourself, but you would always fall back on a powerful angel like Luke, to which he preened at the praise and declared that he would always protect you. He was always in awe of you, from your ethereal deity-like appearance of gentle smiles and long flowy dresses and the scent of honey and perfection, to your connection to nature and the way the rocks and the spindly trees seemed to be your brothers, the moon your mother and the wildflowers and rushing stream your sisters, no matter the realm. You were like an otherworldly spirit of the woods, and your grandiose stories and elegant tales of the fairy queen with huge pearlescent wings and her beautiful kingdom always made him visualize you as the sweet and loving fairy queen. One thing he would always put away time for was baking with you. Once he learned that you could bake since you were a child, he was quick to drag you to Purgatory Hall, pulling you into the kitchen and begging you to bake something with him. You had laughed, light and breezy, and calmed him down with a few reassuring head pats before looking through the kitchen cabinets to see if you could find any ingredients that you were familiar with. You found the necessities after a while and nodded for him to join you, his arms full of Celestial Realm ingredients that Simeon had brought down for him. You two baked together, chattering amongst yourselves animatedly as you filled the kitchen with a sweet scent that you’d never smelled before. You were more than happy to talk to him about anything his little heart desired to ramble on about, from his duties as an angel to his favorite treats to bake. You had ended up making your famous ‘night sky’ blueberry and lemon pie that animals from all over the forest would flock to your cottage to have a piece of, as well as glazed lavender honey cookies, complete with a small mason jar of your favorite jam when you were a child, the strawberry and lemon ‘Aphrodite’s Love Jam’. He, in turn, had made what was called Moon Rabbit Cookies in the Celestial Realm, which were dolloped with a shimmery cream and dusted with a pearlescent sugar-like substance that seemed to glow under the lighting of the kitchen lamps, along with the Selcouth Cakes that he’d perfected only recently. They seemed to shift from peachy orange to baby pink to a myriad of other colors, and he explained that the flavors were unknown and depended solely on the consumer’s energies and ethereal aura. When you had tried the small mug-sized cakes, the taste of mint and steeped mountain snow had cooled your tongue and relieved you of the drops

of perspiration that had formed on your forehead during the baking session. Another bite had the taste of strawberries and brown buttercream melting in your mouth and causing you to let out a soft him of nostalgia. He’d tried your cookies with a small spoon of jam and had exclaimed in delight, mouth still full, and immediately swallowed his bite and yelled for Simeon and Solomon to get into the kitchen and try your baking. They’d all joined you, and you all had had fun spending time together and snacking on baked goods, but only you caught the small beaming smile that Luke shot you, and only he saw the sweet and gentle smile that you had returned it with, the faintest trace of pomegranate juice on the corner of his mouth. That moment was when he’d sworn to be your one and only Guardian Angel, here and thus.

You had somehow managed to worm your way into the hearts of not only seven of some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, but you had also managed to befriend the future ruler of hell, his butler, two angels, and an all powerful sorcerer king with over seventy two demons at his beck and call. You enjoyed their company, naive and sweet and oblivious to the way they would glare harshly at anybody who looked at you wrong or tried to touch you in any way that seemed unfriendly. No, you would go on about your day with a sweet idyllic smile, unaware of the trails of blood your protectors left behind you.

It was almost ironic — the most destructive catalyst in the Devildom wore a long flowy summerdress and a kind smile wherever they went.

You truly were something else.

[babymilkawa]

our promise

bakugou katsuki

gn!reader :)

angst, fluff if you squint

word count; 1390

the promised neverland au

readers please listen to this as you read

chapter 2 <-

Life was perfect. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Every morning you’d wake everyone up, help set up for breakfast, clean up, then finish your remaining chores. Once those were done, you had the whole day to yourselves. You often played tag with the younger kids in the forest, chasing them around until you were tired. Your resting spot was often in the comfort of the shade formed by the big tree. Away from the scorching sun, you would nestle your head in his lap while he read. Then he’d comb his fingers through your hair and hum his lullaby.

This seemed to be your favorite part of the day. The two of you would often sit in a comfortable silence while the cool breeze ruffled the pages of his book. The lullaby he hummed was always stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

One day you asked him, “Katsu, where did you hear that from?”

He glanced away from his book and smiled down at you. “I just know it.”

The two of you had been attached to the hip since you were born, growing up into best friends over the years. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about one another. You always felt that you were extremely lucky to have someone like him by your side. Even though there was always that dreading feeling deep under, you tried to ignore it. The feeling, no, the fact that he would leave you soon and find his own family. 

Katsuki ranked first out of everyone and you ranked second in the exams. Mother had always told you that families wanted the smart ones, so study hard. So even though you and Katsuki were the same age, you knew he’d be the first to leave. 

One day, when you had exhausted yourself from playing tag with the other kids, you walked over to your usual spot only to find Katsuki absent. 

“y/n!”

You turned to see mother calling you. She waved you over and you obeyed, greeting her with a hug. 

“Mother have you seen Katsu?”

She looked down at you and smiled, “He’s not feeling well.”

“oh,” a shadow of a pout appeared on your disappointed face. You were about to thank her and run off again when your mother pulled you with her and walked back into the house. 

“Why are we going back in?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” the signature smile came again. 

She brought you into the dining room and poured you your favorite drink. 

“y/n, a family has chosen you.”

You looked at her in shock. 

“Me? W-why? I thought Katsuki would leave first,” you stood up from your chair. 

“I can see why you’d think that, but they see potential in you,” Mother replied. You didn’t know what to feel. You’d finally be able to see outside, meet new people. But at the same time it meant leave your family here, and Katsuki. 

Mother tilted her head at you. “Do you not want to go?”

You hesitated, “N-no, I do...”

“We’ll tell the others during lunch,” and with that she stood up and left. 

You were still standing, contemplating on what to do. Should you tell Katsuki? Would he be upset? You knew that he was the first person who should receive this news, however. So you set out to search for him.

After a couple minutes, you found him sitting on the ladder in the library. It was dark and quiet here, a small candle illuminated for Katsuki to read. The atmosphere seemed to be the complete opposite to outside where each child was laughing and playing with one another.  

You sat down beside him and swallowed hard. “K-katsu, there’s something-”

“I know,” he interrupted.

Huh? He knew already?

“Wh-” 

He sighed and shut his book. Katsuki turned to face you and you had never seen him look so serious. He grabbed you by the shoulders and told you that he had saw Mother’s calendar. Your name had been written on the 31st. 

“Listen, y/n there’s something I need to tell you. I don’t think you’re going to take it well.”

Nervous, you nodded for him to continue.

Then Katsuki proceeded to tell you a story. A story about how demons roamed the earth and why you were all there in the first place. To be farmed as food. Livestock. That’s all you were. You kept quiet while he was speaking but inside, you were experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, betrayal. Everything you knew in life had been stripped of you. 

When he was done he looked at you and noticed your figure shaking. The blonde grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. Your sobs echoed the room and your fists clenched on your best friend’s shirt. Then a thought occurred to you.

“How long have you known about this?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“S-since f- Never mind that, do you understand what’s going to happen?”

You nodded, slowly. 

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki said, “There's nothing we can do. We can’t escape this. We have a month y/n, let’s make the best of it.”

You sniffled and he bent down to wipe your nose. You noticed how he said “we.” You were grateful that he didn’t make it sound like you only had a month to live. Even though that was the reality you had to face. But you wouldn’t be alone. Your departure would affect everyone here. Everyone saw you as their older sibling. The thought of everyone’s reactions during lunch later made you sniffle a little more. 

The nights passed and insomnia took over you. You and Katsuki had beds next to each other but ever since that day, you moved them until they were touching. Every night, Katsuki would hold you and hum his lullaby. He was afraid himself, but he knew he couldn’t show that to you. Katsuki had always tried his hardest so he would be the first to leave. He studied and read so he would get the highest scores. He didn’t think he’d be able to see you go before him. Which he admits, was a little selfish. So why had the schedule changed? 

You stirred in his arms, interrupting Katsuki’s thoughts. He continued to cradle your head and hummed his melody. He wanted so bad to protect you. You were so precious to him and he hated that he was defenseless against the horrors of the outside. Katsuki didn’t want to imagine what you would feel when you were facing death in the face. He shut his eyes tight, pulling you impossibly closer. All he knew was that he would never be the same again after you leave. 

Soon, the day had arrived. Before that, Katsuki had contemplated whether or not to distance himself from you to make your departure easier. But he decided against it. You needed him and he had to be there. If not, the blonde knew that he’d be full of regret. 

You packed your suitcase and waited by the front door. All the children rushed over to you and showered you with tears, cries of congratulations, and hugs. They would miss you, they said. Write us letters, they sobbed. You agreed and hugged them all back but inside, a heavy weight had settled in your heart. You hated these empty promises you were giving. Finally, Katsuki was the last to come up to you. You gave him the tightest hug while shedding a few tears yourself. 

Your mind scanned over the memories you made here one last time. How Katsuki would read his book out loud to you sometimes. How he’d join you and the others in tag if he was feeling it. How you’d found secret hiding spots in the forest that no one else knew about. Katsuki was the warmth that you’ve known for your whole life. 

Before you pulled away, Katsuki whispered in your ear. You could hear his voice trembling, too. A few wet spots trickled on your neck and you pulled away to wipe the tears off his eyes. 

He held his pinky out to you and you linked yours with his.

“Promise,” you both said. 

Giving a quick kiss on his forehead, you picked up your bag and said goodbye.

a/n: there will be a part 2 so please look forward to it!

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