#staggered landscape steps

[asksailorponies]

Traditional Landscape

Ideas for a traditional, mid-sized front yard with stone landscaping and summer partial sun.

[savageorchids]

Baltimore Front Yard Natural Stone Pavers

Photo of a mid-sized traditional partial sun front yard stone landscaping in summer.

[pisanefasade]

Natural Stone Pavers - Traditional Landscape Summer landscaping ideas for a medium-sized traditional front yard with partial sun.

[myrthms]

Front Yard in Baltimore An example of a mid-sized traditional partial sun front yard stone landscaping in summer.

[rarasek]

Orange County Midcentury Landscape Ideas for a small, drought-tolerant, full-sun front yard with concrete pavers in the mid-century modern style.

[the-modern-typewriter]

The sands devoured the landscape in every direction, a gaping yawn of yellows and reds. The protagonist's throat scorched dry. The last drops of their water bottle had been drained two hours ago.

They staggered another step forward on the dunes, squeezing their eyes shut against the breeze that somehow did nothing to alleviate the heat. They raised a hand to shield their face.

When they opened their eyes again, the antagonist stood in front of them. They looked as cool as ever, untouched by blistering day or the surprisingly freezing night.

"How is your great escape going?" the antagonist asked. They flicked their fingers, magic summoning a sweet pool of water into the inviting cup of their palm. "Are you ready to come home yet, darling?"

Option A: The protagonist shoved past the mirage, for it had to be a mirage, in silence. "I'm not your darling," they snapped, all the same. And they knew they could never go home again.

Option B: The protagonist's gaze dropped, despite their best efforts, to the tantalizing promise of water. It was all they could do not to drop to their knees there and then. The antagonist's smile shimmered across their face, glinting in their eyes. You can have it," the antagonist said. "If you ask nicely."

Option C: The protagonist's hands shot up, drawing up a protective ward. Their heart hammered. It was impossible that the antagonist was standing there, wasn't it? The citadel was barely in sight anymore. "Oh," the antagonist clicked their tongue. "That badly, huh? Poor thing."

Option D: "How are your desperate attempts to find me going?" the protagonist returned. "Ain't nothing but sand to see." "If you come back now, I won't be angry." The protagonist snorted. "I've got my own anger to contend with, after what you did. What do I care about yours?"

Option E: "Do you really think?" The antagonist stepped closer, holding their watery hand up to the protagonist's lips. "That distance alone would be enough to shatter the connection between us? This is silly. You know I don't like to see you suffer." The protagonist let the antagonist feed them a drop of water. A moment of weakness, perhaps. Or maybe just the familiarity of them, of the bond rattling in their chest. The thirst and the hunger. "Then close your eyes, love," they replied. "Look away and you won't have to."

[she-is-ovarit]

Data spanning from 1995 to 2021 in India revealed a striking gender imbalance in organ transplants, with four men getting organ transplants for every woman. A total of 36,640 transplants took place in this period, out of which 29,000 were for men and 6,945 for women.

This substantial difference is attributed to a complex interplay of economic responsibilities, societal pressures, and deeply ingrained preferences. 

Dr Anil Kumar, director of the government-run National Organ & Tissue Transplant Organisation (NOTTO) highlighted this significant aspect of the organ donation landscape.

While more men contribute as cadaver donors, a staggering 93 per cent of total organ donations in the country come from living donors, he told the Times of India newspaper. This hints at a trend: a majority of living organ donors are women.  Socio-economic factors a driving force for women donors? A study published in the Experimental and Clinical Transplantation Journal in 2021 delved into the intricacies of living organ transplantation in India. The findings showed that 80 per cent of living organ donors are women, predominantly wives or mothers. The socio-economic pressure on women to assume caregiving roles within the family emerges as a primary factor, compelling them to step forward as donors. Men's reluctance in surgery In many cases, men, often the primary breadwinners, hesitate to undergo surgery, contributing to the gender gap in organ recipients. The study highlights that when the recipient is a male breadwinner, family members, especially wives or parents, feel a heightened responsibility to donate organs. Emotional dynamics The emotional dynamics surrounding organ donation are intricate. Women recipients, in particular, may experience guilt when their family members, especially wives or mothers, become donors. This reluctance leads to a scenario where women recipients may find themselves on waiting lists.  Notably, Karnataka has topped the charts in organ donation in the past decade. The number of donations have risen from 102 in 2013 to 765 in the first 10 months of 2023. 

A user on Ovarit added this helpful context:

"Just a little more context to this: men produce male-specific proteins (on the Y chromosome) which often get rejected by women's bodies. Since males have an X chromosome, their bodies recognize proteins from female donors. This makes it more difficult for women to receive male tissue/organs, while still being acceptable candidates for donating to men. Even still, these ratios are very disproportionate".

"As women we absolutely need to be aware of our vulnerability of being used as spare parts in a man's world. Especially when we are being socialized into believing that we need to sacrifice our bodies and lives for others- and society has developed a sense of entitlement to this sacrifice, while downplaying the suffering of women."

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics that feature badass Louis. If you enjoy our rec lists and want them to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Bite | Mature | 10,980 words

Louis is a vampire hunter, and Harry is too happy being his prey.

2) Don't Call Me Angel | Mature | 16,648 words

Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

3) Friendly Neighborhood Spideypool | Explicit | 18,705 words

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not in the mood.” Louis’ got the urge to punch him in the face, but he knows deep down that if anything it’ll just add fuel to Harry's innuendo fire. “You know I only fuck you, not with you. There’s a difference. It’s slight but still there.” He’s joking, but it’s sincere in a way that only Deadpool could make it. It gives Louis a strange mix of emotions, his body doesn’t know whether to fill with butterflies or to knee Deadpool in the balls again for insinuating them fucking.

4) Death Wish | Explicit | 22,067 words

Louis hates vampires, he lives his life trying to kill as many as he can, night after night, year after year. He hates them. Then why the fuck is he kissing one? Again. “I mean it, Harry.” Louis says, into his mouth this time. “You need to get the fuck away from me.”

5) The Games We Play | Explicit | 23,488 words

Louis is a political lobbyist who chose his career over his personal life a long time ago and has never regretted it. Then he met Harry.

6) The Voice Of Range And Ruin | Explicit | 25,470 words

It seemed as if the freshly formed Omega Uprising had always been a step or two ahead of the Commandant and the rest of the reigning Alphanian officials. The idea had been floated that there must be someone working with them from the inside, reporting back to them on the government’s plans so that they could be prepared. That person had yet to be discovered, and the Commandant and his surrounding forces had finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse. Harry understood. He agreed. It needed to come to an end, one way or another.  “Your job is to navigate their landscape and gain entry into their forces. You will pretend to be one of them and gain reliable intel for us. It’s clear that no one else has been capable of doing it, and you at least have some semblance of experience in this field. This has gone on for too long, Harry. Enough is enough.” He made direct eye contact with his son, holding it. “I’m counting on you.” 

7) Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent | Explicit | 28,832 words

Where Harry is leading an army to overthrow the king of Cheshire and Louis is one of the volunteers who joins them along the way.

8) You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness (Can I Be Close to You?) | Explicit | 29,884 words

Busy picturing Harry’s stupid face on the stupid dummy, Louis goes through a series of kicks before returning to a low guard and cycling through punches. Harry’s still talking, gesturing with his hands as he rounds Louis, standing to his back. “You do a few butt-shaping exercises, tighten this up a little bit,” he smacks Louis’ arse and the omega freezes while Harry cheerfully continues, “you could pull this off.” “You know what?” Louis snaps, lifting on his tiptoes to get the leverage so he can wrap his arm around the alpha’s neck, forcing him to bend in half while Louis locks him in a chokehold. “Pull this off,” he snarls. They stagger over a few steps, Louis gritting his teeth as Harry tries to break free. “Is it because Payne hates me?” he complains, voice edging on an annoyed whine, “Or is it, like, an omega thing?” Too late, Louis realizes that Harry has got a grip on his leg and this time as he pulls against Louis’ hold, it loosens, the alpha lifting him in the air before slamming his back into the mat, breaking Louis’ grip completely. Harry kneels on the mat, hovering over him with a sneer, “Don’t kid yourself. Nobody thinks of you that way.”

9) Just Let Me Adore You | Not Rated | 34,913 words

The one where Louis and Harry shouldn't make sense. Where Louis' past and Harry's present intermingle and no one is thinking straight.

10) Not Everything is So Primitive (Oh, but I’m Giving In) | Explicit | 35,809 words

“Okay, hold your bloody horses, I’m coming,” Niall rips open the door, freezing at the sight of Harry, bloody and disgruntled, standing on his doorstep, “What the hell happened to you?” “My husband,” Harry grumbles, pushing past Niall and walking into his entryway, “He tried to kill me,” Harry pauses, turning to Niall and grabbing his shoulders, “He tried to kill me with his fucking car.”

11) Burning Soul | Explicit | 39,513 words

Louis is a rogue Omega wolf, all he wants is a new start. Will he allow himself to fully embrace what awaits him, or will he run again, too damaged by past hurt?

12) Soaked In The Blood Of Angels | Explicit | 40,867 words

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape. Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago. This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

13) No Easy Choice, But You're Mine | Explicit | 45,603 words

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

14) Falling Without Caution | Explicit | 50,350 words

Louis Tomlinson, a wanted criminal, was captured by the FBI after years of chasing. Instead of being locked up in a high-security prison, he was offered a deal. What was supposed to be the end of a decade long chase turned into a morally grey circumstance for Agent Styles.

15) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

16) Men of Steel, Men of Power | Explicit | 58,849 words

“You’ve been watching me,” Styles said. Louis swallowed around nothing. He tried for light. “You’re the newest addition, people are bound to be curious,” he said. “Sure,” said Styles, in a somewhat condescending tone. “I’m not that daft, I do notice the curiosity regarding my clothes. That’s not what you’re doing though, hm?” Styles’ gaze was intense, and Louis could feel it burn on the side of his face, but kept his eyes stubbornly on the coffee cup. “I,” he said, licked his lips. Took a deep breath, tried to look open, confident, dominant. Alpha.

17) Somethin' Bout You | Explicit | 59,855 words

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

18) The Face Of Love's Rage | Explicit | 67,421 words

“What if I tell you,” the princess said slowly, “I can get you five kingdoms and a lover?” Harry’s brows rose. “Only five?” he said mockingly. “And a lover. Don’t forget the lover.” “I have a lover.” “Do you?” the omega tilted her head, smiling, “I think right now, you have a consort, two friends, and a hostage. If you marry Julien, you will lose a friend and gain another hostage. Do you want him as a hostage or as a friend?” Harry’s temper was about to snap and break all hell loose. His hands itched to do something with the wild creature in front of him, with her untamed spirit that seemed to mock his authority and challenge his very presence. Abigail Tomlinson, with all her secrets and sins, defied not only his status, but everyone who dared to get in her way. Always making everyone aware that the only reason she was still there wasn’t because Harry let her, but because she wanted to be. Seven kingdoms, two sinners and one big secret.

19) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80,582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

20) The Rose Of Whitechapel | Mature | 100,182 words

Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended... A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

21) Gloria Regali | Not Rated | 100,985 words

"I am very proud of you," Louis admitted, his eyes displaying his conviction, "you are very brave and ridiculously determined." Harry looked at him, as he shook his head, reaching out to his hand, he held it, "Trust me, it is not enough." "What makes you say that?" "Because if it was, you would have been married to me."

22) The Galaxy's Edge | Explicit | 113,921 words

In which Louis is a bounty hunter with a messed up past. Harry is a prince who just wants to prove himself. Niall and Zayn have too many things to figure out together. And Liam just wants to take care of his family. Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

23) Run Like the Devil | Explicit | 139,152 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry stops pouting, but his frown is still fixed in place. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You know it’s your soul you’re signing away.” He sounds…sad? No, that’s not right, but there’s something. Christ. This is the most incompetent demon Louis’ ever met. If he hadn’t seen the red of his eyes he wouldn’t believe he was a demon at all. How’d he get this job if he isn’t trying to convince Louis to deal? Or is it just another trick? A ploy for sympathy? “I’m sure,” Louis says. “Come over here and kiss me.”

24) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Mature | 212,387 words

In a world where one was either an Alpha or an Omega wolf, Louis found himself in a body that could be neither. Born an Omega without the expected characteristics of one, he felt broken, choosing to live as Alpha a lifestyle as he could. Harboring a serious lack of respect for Alphas and their authority complexes, Louis managed to get himself banished from his home, forced to wander the unforgiving woods for years, facing the elements and fighting enemy rogues each time they arose. Unbeknownst to Louis, in a tribe to the southwest of his home, there lived a dysfunctional Alpha, the orphaned pack leader Harry, who had never felt satisfied enough with anyone to settle down and continue his royal line. Living their lives apart thus far, the both of them assumed that they might be alone forever, making the best of things despite this even though it hurt. Chance, luck, or maybe fate brings Louis to this tribe when he’d least expected to receive kindness and shelter from a stranger, and when he arrives, something in his soul pulls him to Harry like a raging river current. The two don’t get off to a good start, but everyone around them can sense the chemistry—and in time they do too.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - epilogue

read on ao3! (179k words) | previous chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC 

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Chapter warnings: smut

Word count: 6k

Epilogue

Juliet's POV:

Juliet burned down her father’s house. 

It didn’t take long, there was some gas in the basement that Matt dragged up the stairs and the five of them got to work, drowning most surfaces in the thick liquid. Juliet watched as it covered the bookshelves full of religious texts, dampening the words Elijah had used to justify his treatment of her. She locked eyes with Ethan when Joel handed her his lighter, her blood roared in her ears as Juliet silently asked him if this was the right decision, if she was thinking clearly.

They stood at the edge of the property, bags already strapped onto the horses, ready to flee at a moment's notice. Joel had assured her that the flames would die out before they reached any nearing properties, but a part of Juliet hoped that the fire would surround the town, erasing every part of it. 

After a long moment, Ethan had nodded and Juliet flicked the lighter with a surprisingly steady hand. The flame was strong when she threw it towards the house and they watched with stunted breaths as the worn porch steps illuminated in red and orange. The fire was quick to lick up the side of the building, through the door, and into the hall. 

Juliet released a slow, staggered breath when the windows exploded and Joel shielded her body with his own, gripping her shoulders and pushing her towards the horses with sharp, muffled commands in her ear.

Juliet stumbled over her own feet but she struggled to tear her eyes from the flames. Joel boosted her onto the horse they shared before joining her, gripping the reins as he turned the creature in the direction of Ethan, Charlotte, and Matt who had already begun riding down the street, away from the haunted house that was finally being destroyed.

As their horse gained speed, and Juliet’s old home became a speck of red and black in the distance, she imagined that same fire coating her skin, burning away every scar that was birthed in that house, erasing every echo of a scream from her mind, and making room for new memories.

No one emerged from their hiding spots as they rode through town. The people who were left were scared and tired. Juliet had gutted this town of its monsters. 

When they made it through the town’s gate, Juliet’s body finally slumped into Joel’s back as she slid her arms around him. Even through his coat, she could feel the waves of heat pouring off of him, holding the cold at bay. Juliet’s cheek nuzzled into the thick leather of his jacket and she felt him release a heavy sigh. 

She didn’t have to look to know that his mouth had curved into that reluctant smile he used to fight so hard against and Juliet’s eyes fell closed, a feeling of peace flowing through her despite the harsh journey ahead. 

Behind her eyelids, Juliet pictured her father’s house falling apart piece by piece as his empire blackened and burned, crumbling to the ground, and her shoulders relaxed as she tightened her grip on Joel. 

Elijah’s house would never hurt anyone again, she’d made sure of it.  

……………….

With a combination of severe weather, groups of raiders and hoards of infected, the journey back to Jackson took a lot longer than any of them had expected. 

It was mid-February before they returned, arriving at Jackson’s gates worn and malnourished. The snow still stuck to the ground and, from the gates, Juliet could spot some Christmas lights that still hung from the sides of buildings, reminding her of the day they left. 

Tommy was the first to greet them, pulling Joel into a hug that nearly knocked the two of them over. Joel gripped his brother tight, murmuring words that she couldn’t hear as Tommy nodded and slapped him on the back.

Juliet watched politely, smiling as the brothers reunited, yet she couldn’t help but feel that festering reminder of her guilt begin to curl around her stomach, and her eyes darted away, ashamed of her part in their separation. 

When they broke apart, Juliet was surprised to find that Tommy’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her in with a gentle force as his chin rested on her head. 

“Careful,” Joel warned from beside them, his arms crossed as he watched Juliet for any hint of pain or discomfort. 

Juliet felt Tommy’s laugh reverberate through her body as he brushed off his brother’s concern, smiling against the top of her head. She leaned into the hug, her eyes burning as she felt the weight of his worry and accepted the offer of his renewed friendship. 

When they pulled apart, Joel’s feet crunched through the snow to stand behind Juliet and Tommy looked between the two of them with a hint of surprise in his brown eyes, then he shook his head and his mouth broke into a crooked smile.

Juliet looked between the brothers, watching a silent conversation pass between them as her eyebrows furrowed. After a moment, Joel’s hand landed on her shoulder and he nodded at Tommy. 

Something passed over Tommy’s face that she couldn’t quite identify at first, but as Joel’s hand slid around her waist and he turned them in the direction of the town, she realised that there was something resembling acceptance in his expression. 

Juliet brushed it off and focused only on the warm feeling of Joel’s hand as it settled on her waist and the realisation that he didn’t care who saw the evidence of his affection towards her.

………………………… 

No one questioned it when, that evening, Joel packed up Juliet’s stuff from her house and moved it into his. 

She sat on his bed, her legs crossed under her as she watched Joel carefully unpack the small collection of items and clothing she had gathered during her time in Jackson. Neither of them said a word as he pushed his things aside to make room for hers. There was no discussion, no hint of doubt. Joel moved as though his actions were the most natural thing in the world, as though Juliet sitting on his bed watching every motion of his hand was a usual occurrence. 

When he closed the last drawer, he turned to her, straightening his spine and reaching a hand up to rub along his jaw and the scuff of a beard he’d managed to grow on their journey. It reminded her of the days before they reached Jackson, when Juliet would try to imagine what it would feel like to touch his face and not feel like she’d been scorched. 

When his eyes met hers in the low lighting of the room, Juliet struggled to decipher his expression. She shifted under his gaze and her tongue escaped her mouth to wet her dry lips. 

Joel didn’t miss the movement and he began to walk over, with slow, careful steps, almost as though he didn’t want to spook her, like knew how dangerous he was and what might happen if he got too close.

When he stopped, Joel stood with his legs touching the edge of the mattress and his chin tilted down to tower over Juliet’s cross-legged form as she gazed up at him with inquisitive eyes. Even after all this time, Joel’s movements still remained unpredictable and she liked the feeling that sparked over her skin as she attempted to guess what he might do next. There was no fear in waiting, no apprehension that Joel might do something to hurt her, there was just a buzzing anticipation of his touch and a sharp focus in response to his full, undivided attention. 

Juliet’s eyes shuttered closed when his rough palm met her cheek, grazing upwards against her flushed skin until he met her hair. His fingers dug in, scratching her scalp until a soft moan flew from Juliet’s mouth as her chin lifted towards him. 

He groaned in approval, using his other hand to untangle her hair from its braid as the pressure from his touch increased. Juliet forced her eyes open as she felt the heat from his gaze begin to burn her skin. 

Her lips parted as she blinked up at him, a moan caught in her throat as his fingers kneaded into the back of her neck, rubbing away the tension that wrapped around her. 

Joel was doing it on purpose, she decided, when a whimper trembled from her lips and his whole body shuddered in response. He was enjoying the way she came undone under his touch as she demonstrated just how much his towering presence affected her.

Juliet watched as his jaw moved and his gaze flickered to the door across the room. Through the haze of his touch, Juliet’s eyes narrowed and she begged her mouth to work, to ask him what he was thinking… but Joel held her tongue in his dark, heavy look and she was stunned into silence.

“Come with me,” he commanded in a low growl, and dropped his hands to curve around her elbows, helping her off the bed with tenderness that warred with the promise of something so brutal and savage in his eyes.

Juliet’s heart pounded as her feet met the cold hardwood floor and she allowed herself to be led across the room to what she now recognised as Joel’s bathroom. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated where this was going until Joel let go of her arm to flick on the light and then reach across the bathtub to turn on the shower.

Juliet’s tense shoulders dropped instantly. The thought of a warm shower had kept her going for the past several weeks, imagining herself standing below the stream and washing off everything that had happened to her. A smile found her lips at Joel’s thoughtfulness. 

“Thanks,” she murmured as she moved over to the tub and turned, waiting for Joel to step out the bathroom as her skin itched to move under the water that was currently creating a cloud of steam between them. 

But he didn’t leave. 

Instead, Joel closed the door and began to move closer, and closer until he had backed her against the tub. Juliet watched him with widening eyes as his hand moved to the top button of her flannel.

“Joel,” she said in a trembling voice. “What are you doing?”

His eyes found hers, and his eyebrows raised in an amused gesture as his finger grazed the button again. Surely he could hear how fast her heart was beating. 

“I’m gonna help you outta these clothes, then we’re gonna get cleaned up,” he explained, before he paused and searched her face as the corner of his mouth twitched up. “That okay?”

Juliet’s skin began to flush. “We?” she repeated.

Amusement danced in Joel’s eyes as he nodded and his fingers continued to play with the button. 

The hot steam coated her skin and Juliet couldn’t help but feel exposed. She’d been with Joel before, but it was too quick and rushed and unexpected for her to feel nervous. But now… he would see all of her and her heart seized at the thought of his eyes trailing along the scars that marked her skin.

Her head turned towards the wall, escaping his attention for a moment as she tried to calm her breathing.

“Hey,” he said, concern entering his tone. “What’s wrong?”

Juliet found his searching gaze and she swallowed at the sight of his confusion. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered, hoping her words would just fade with the hot steam and they wouldn’t actually reach his ears.

“Like what, baby?” he murmured as his palm found her cheek again. He stared down at her as the lines on his forehead grew deeper. 

Juliet huffed out a breath. “Hurt, scarred,” she stopped, shrugging, then lifted her hand, ignoring the dull pain produced from the sudden movement. “Butchered.”

Joel’s eyebrows pulled together, his eyes narrowed and his mouth transformed into a thin line, all amusement gone, as he processed her words. 

Juliet looked away as the flush rose in her cheeks, beneath his careful touch. 

Suddenly Joel pulled away, and Juliet squeezed her eyes shut, worried that her nightmare of Joel’s rejection had come true. But only seconds later, his voice interrupted her spiralling thoughts.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Juliet’s eyes blinked open to find Joel rapidly unbuttoning his own shirt. Her mouth dried as she watched his fingers move, exposing his tanned chest. With each button gone, Juliet’s breaths came faster and faster.

“Joel, what -” 

“Look,” he repeated, releasing the final button and pulling his shirt open as his chest rose and fell in sharp, heavy breaths.

Juliet’s eyes were already tracing his skin, roaming over his shoulders and following the path of hair down his chest, committing every inch of it to memory. After the sudden shock of his exposure faded, Juliet looked closer and noticed the white lines that lightened his flesh, and the circular shapes that sent a blade of fear through her heart. Then, slowly her eyes dropped to the scar low on his stomach that her own fingers had a hand in creating. 

She tore her gaze away before the memory of that day consumed her, when his blood stained her skin and he had begged her to leave him.

When her eyes found his, Joel looked down at Juliet with a vulnerability she had never seen. 

On instinct, she stepped forward and her hand reached out until her fingers met his soft flesh. Joel flinched and sucked in a breath, scanning Juliet’s face as she began to trace the marks on his skin. 

A fierce flame of anger built in her chest as she thought of how these marks were formed, and she realised the pain he must have endured. Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed deeply when she thought about how she hadn’t been there, how she wasn’t able to help him. 

Then, Juliet thought about why he had shown her this, and her breath caught in her throat. 

They were the same. He had survived, just as she had.

This was just another piece of evidence to prove how alike they truly were. Joel’s scars matched hers, how could she be embarrassed by them?

Juliet removed her hand from his skin and, before her nerves could stop her, she reached for the buttons on her own flannel and started to release them. Joel’s breath shuddered out of him when he realised what she was doing and, when her lost finger made it difficult, he replaced her hands with his own as he slowly, carefully removed the shirt from her body, leaving her shivering in just her bra. 

Her flannel fell from his hand, creating a puddle of fabric at their feet. 

“So beautiful,” Joel drawled as his eyes traced her chest.

Juliet felt the sincerity in his words and she glanced down at his hands to distract herself from the heat in his expression. She watched as his hand twitched towards her then stopped suddenly and curled into a fist.

Feeling a sudden sense of confidence at his reaction, Juliet reached around and managed to unhook her bra. For a long moment, she held the cups over her breasts as her heartbeat roared in her ears, then she dared to look up at Joel. 

Juliet’s mouth dropped open. He stared down at her with what looked like anger burning in his gaze and Juliet felt a sudden pulse of fear fire through her as her hands began to tremble. She forgot, sometimes, how dangerous Joel was, and what power he truly held in his body. He could break her if he wanted, she might even let him.

Slowly, her hands dropped and the bra joined her flannel on the bathroom floor. 

Joel moved and Juliet realised how right she was to be frightened of him. His lips met her neck with a force that would have knocked her backwards if his hand hadn’t slid around her naked back, holding her in place. Juliet’s neck was pushed upwards by Joel’s other hand, exposing more of her throat as he feverishly scanned her flesh with his lips, kissing, tasting, tempting her with the edges of his teeth, like they might bite into her neck at any moment. 

Juliet couldn’t keep track of the noises she was making, they were blending in with Joel’s groans and the sound of the water that continued to stream from the showerhead behind them. The steam in the bathroom was becoming unbearable, stealing away any breaths that she could take in between Joel’s attack. 

Soon, his lips moved downwards as his hand cupped her beast, pushing against the flesh until his thumb grazed her hardened nipple and Juliet’s entire body shook with the force of her moan.

She swore she felt Joel’s mouth stretch into a smile against the bottom of her neck as his hand moved to her other breast, grazing her nipple in the same maddening way. Juliet was losing her thoughts, they were floating away and she couldn’t catch them. The only thing that consumed her mind was where Joel’s lips would go next.

Juliet didn’t have to wonder for long. Without any warning, Joel’s thumb was replaced by his mouth as it captured her nipple in the warm heat of his tongue. Juliet felt his groan against her skin and the sound shot a pulse of heat down her entire body. 

Juliet began to writhe against him, her hands reaching out, trying to grab a hold of anything to keep her weakening legs from giving out. Her good hand quickly caught a hold of his jeans and started to scramble to unhook his belt, needing to feel the hardness she felt against her stomach. 

She whimpered in frustration when her efforts failed. Juliet couldn’t concentrate when Joel’s teeth grazed against her skin, sending a shiver of heat straight down her spine.

“Hold on, baby,” he murmured when his mouth left her and his black eyes locked with hers. 

Juliet straightened, gasping for breath as she watched him effortlessly release the hold on his belt, unpop the top button and slowly bring the zipper down. She was pretty sure she stopped breathing when his thumbs tucked under the material and pushed his boxers and jeans down in one single movement, his eyes never leaving hers.

Juliet’s eyes dropped immediately to Joel’s cock. Her mouth dried when she was reminded of its length and size, and she watched it twitch in response to her close attention. 

Her legs squeezed together. Joel didn’t miss the movement. 

Reluctantly, Juliet’s eyes made their way back up to Joel’s face and she saw that vulnerability shine back at her again. Juliet was struck by an overpowering need to touch him, the boiling in her blood was reaching a breaking point, but he was always at least one step ahead of her. His hands were at her trousers before she could inhale another shuddering breath.

“You want this?” he demanded in a low growl.

Juliet nodded without a single ounce of hesitation. Her need for him was wrapping itself around her throat, strangling her, restricting her oxygen.

Her trousers and underwear were on the floor. Juliet’s mind was in a daze. Everything was in slow motion. She watched as Joel bent to unhook her trousers from her ankles then used his position to tuck his arm under her legs and lift her to his chest. 

Juliet gasped but didn’t protest when Joel stepped into the bathtub and settled her down under the heat of the water. 

Her head tilted back in pleasure and a low moan unleashed from her mouth, before it was swallowed by Joel. His lips consumed hers as his hands found her hair, tangling his fist in the soaking wet strands. 

With both of his hands distracted, Juliet reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezing gently. Joel’s lips ripped from hers as his head dropped to her shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered out.

Juliet’s other hand grazed over his hair as she began to move her hand up and down his length until her thumb brushed over his tip and a strangled groan escaped Joel’s throat. 

She could feel the thick dampness forming between her thighs despite being under the stream of the showerhead, and Juliet used her grip on his cock to position him at her clit, pushing her body forward until the head of his cock made contact with the nerves that forced her mouth to open in a silent scream and her head to fall back. 

Joel snarled and broke away, pushing her against the wall of the shower, cradling her head with his hand. 

“You tryin’ to kill me?” he scolded, wiping away the droplets of water that clung to Juliet’s eyelashes in an act so gentle in comparison to the anger that pulsed in his eyes.

Juliet liked the sensation of fear that sparked across her body as she quickly shook her head.

Joel huffed out a frustrated groan as his searing hot gaze followed the path of the water down her body, then his eyes flashes back up to hers. 

His finger began to trace her lips, tempting her to open them, to let him in. Eventually, she caved and Joel’s finger slid into her mouth. On pure instinct, Juliet’s lips wrapped around his finger and she felt his cock twitch against her. 

Surprise darted in Joel’s widened eyes, and he looked down at her mouth. 

“Suck.”

Juliet obeyed immediately, wrapping her lips tighter around his finger. She swore her legs were about to give out as she watched Joel’s eyes fall closed in response. 

When he pulled the finger from her mouth, it was dripping and Joel’s eyes darkened even further before his gaze dipped to where she was clenching with need, and his lips transformed into something between a smile and a snarl before his wet finger found her clit. 

Juliet’s head swung backwards as he began to circle the bundle of nerves, pulling whimpers and moans from her throat. He didn’t let up, not once, Joel was not a man who responded to cries for mercy - he took what he wanted without remorse. 

“Please, Joel,” Juliet cried when he picked up speed.

Instead of an answer, Joel’s lips met her neck again, sucking and tasting her damp skin as his traitorous finger left her clit and sunk deep inside her.

Juliet jumped and writhed against him at the intrusion. It was too much, the heat from the shower, the feeling of his tongue on her neck, his finger moving in and out, over and over, killing her each time.

“Think you can handle more?” he asked in between heavy breaths.

Juliet nodded vigorously, confirming her death wish. 

Joel made a dismissive noise with his tongue and ceased all movement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

Juliet groaned in annoyance. “Yes, I can handle it,” she confirmed in a sharp whine.

Joel breathed a laugh against her neck. “Good girl.”

Juliet was still processing those two words when a second finger sunk inside her, curling to meet a spot she barely knew about. 

“Joel,” she whimpered against his chest, feeling overwhelmed. 

The sound of his name caused Joel to nip at her neck with his teeth and Juliet began moving against his fingers, losing control.

A third finger joined in and Juliet lost it. Her cries echoed in the bathroom as Joel’s name fell from her lips more times than she could ever count. She was getting so close, it was actually painful.

Joel’s lips captured hers, his tongue forcing itself inside, before he made his final attack. 

With three fingers pumping inside her, Joel moved his thumb and grazed it against her clit. Juliet cried out at the sensation, the sound getting lost in his mouth, and then he pressured harder, circling her with an edge of absolute cruelty. 

That did it. 

Juliet came with a scream trapped in her throat and her lip caught between Joel’s teeth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed as he released her lip and her body slumped against him. His hands moved around her back, rubbing her skin, pulling her closer. “Shhhh.” 

When her body stopped shuddering, she pulled away and blinked up at Joel. He was watching her with an expression Juliet had never witnessed before. At first glance, it looked like anger… but she knew better.

Joel was breathing heavily, panting almost, as he stared down at her. A muscle jumped in his jaw and Juliet reached up to press a kiss to it, enjoying the sight of Joel’s surprise.

When her lips left his skin, Juliet’s eyes dropped to his cock, still hard and twitching against her stomach and she swallowed, wanting desperately to know what it would feel like pushing inside her.

Her eyes must have betrayed her thoughts because Joel captured her face with his hands and demanded her attention.

“Not fuckin’ you in a shower either,” he grunted out, referencing that night in the cabin when he was so close to giving in on the decaying couch. 

Frustration and bitter disappointment flooded Juliet. She was sick of waiting, she wanted him, needed to feel him as close to her as possible.

Juliet covered his hand with her own. “Then take me to bed,” she whispered. 

Joel’s eyes widened, and she watched as he considered her proposition, his cock still rock hard against her skin. She ached to reach down and wrap her fingers around him, to make him feel the way she had felt only moments ago. 

Suddenly, Joel’s hands left her face and reached down to the back of her thighs, lifting her up until she was wrapped around his middle. She yelped and buried her face in his neck. 

When she lifted her head, Joel had turned the shower off, grabbed a towel and placed her on the bed. She was soaked and the water from her hair flooded the bed despite the towel underneath her. But the way Joel stood over her, watching her, told her that he couldn’t care less. 

His hand found his cock and began to move up and down his shaft as his eyes trailed over her damp skin, over her breasts, down her stomach…

“I’ll never get tired of lookin’ at you,” he choked out as his body reacted to his quick movements. Juliet was jealous, she wanted to be the one touching him, making him feel that way.

“Come here,” Juliet begged as she slowly dropped her legs open. 

Joel’s eyes immediately fell between her thighs as he began to move his hand faster. 

“Please,” she whined, spreading her legs even wider. 

“Goddammit,” he cursed before he released his cock and climbed onto the bed, moving until he caged her with his body. 

Juliet couldn’t help it, she gripped his face and pulled him towards her, kissing him slowly, exploring his mouth, memorising the taste of him on her tongue. 

“Joel, I need you,” she breathed against his lips. 

He released a strangled groan, and pulled himself back until he captured her gaze as he explored the look in her eyes.

“You sure you want this?” he asked cautiously, his voice deadly serious. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Juliet nodded her head, her heart ached at his words. Joel was always so protective of her, even from himself. She didn’t know how to express to him how badly she wanted this, how he could never hurt her. 

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered. 

Joel froze, his face was stunned as though she had landed a blow on his skin. She hadn’t said those words since that night in Elijah’s house, and from the look on Joel’s face it was as though he thought he imagined it all those weeks ago. 

Finally, he broke out of his trance and he reached down, pushing her thighs further apart before gripping his cock and guiding the head into her tight heat. Juliet gasped, stunned by the feeling of him pushing into her.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he grit his teeth, and Juliet knew that he was waiting for her to adjust before he kept going. She dropped her head back and tilted her chin down in a sharp nod.

Joel released a heavy breath as she took more of him in, enveloping his cock a little at a time until his body began to shake and Juliet pushed her hips forward until he slid into her all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, Juliet,” he ground out, as though he was pained. 

Juliet’s mouth was open in another silent scream as she attempted to adjust to the feeling of him inside her, stretching her, hitting that impossible place inside her. 

After a long moment, Joel pressed his hands against the sides of her hips as he pulled out, then rocked back into her so carefully. 

The whine she released was utterly pornagraphic. 

Joel lost control, she could feel it in the way his hips jerked towards her and his hand left her hip and buried itself in her hair as his lips captured hers, inhaling the moan that was working its way up her throat.

Kissing her harder, Joel pulled out again and pressed into her, experimenting with the sounds she made against his mouth.

“I love you,” he groaned against her lips as he rocked into her again, pulling out, holding himself like some endurance test, then jerking his cock back inside her, over and over again.

Juliet felt tears slipping down her face, mixing on their tongues. She wasn’t sure if it was in response to his words or the feeling of their bodies clashing against each other and the primal growls Joel was releasing every time he pushed back inside her. 

Soon, he picked up the pace and he decided to torture her even more as his thumb reached down to play with her clit, cirling it as his cock pounded against the spongy spot inside her.

Her cries verged on delirious, she was sobbing, screaming, gripping him, clawing at him.

Joel joined in on the delirium as his groans faded into snarled words against her skin that she could barely make out each time he slammed into her. 

“Fuck, baby.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You feel so good.”

“I’ve thought bout’ this too many times.”

“I’m so fuckin’ in love with you.” 

He was going so fast now, Juliet couldn’t breathe.

“Joel,” she gasped out. “I think I'm gonna come again.”

His finger moved quicker, tempting her sanity until she tipped on the edge.

“Do it,” he commanded. “Come for me.” 

White hot brightness exploded behind her eyes as pleasure wracked her body. Somewhere far away Juliet could hear Joel groaning as she tightened around his cock.

“Shit,” he breathed and the pressure on her hip increased as Joel pulled his cock out with a strangled groan. 

“I’m gonna,” he choked out and Juliet stiffened as she felt heat explode over her stomach before Joel dropped his head, coated in sweat, in the space between her neck and shoulder. 

Juliet instantly pushed her fingers into his damp hair, soothing him, whispering to him how good he made her feel. When his breathing slowed, Joel reached up and gingerly captured the wrist of  her butchered hand before pulling it to his mouth and pressing his lips against her palm.

Juliet bit her lip to stop more tears from falling. 

He pulled back until their eyes met, blinking slowly as their breaths found the same rhythm. 

As she watched a wave of emotions ripple in Joel’s eyes, Juliet was struck by a sudden, fierce terror and realisation that, despite how perfect this moment was, it couldn’t last forever.

“I - I can’t ever lose you, Joel,” Juliet confessed as she sliced a hole in her soul and spilled its contents in front of him. 

Joel shook his head as that signature line between his eyebrows deepened, and Juliet wanted to reach between them and run her finger over it, to learn everything that had caused it to form.

“You won’t lose me,” he assured her as he tilted her head towards him and his trembling lips found her forehead. “I’m yours.” 

Juliet wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight, not willing to ever let go. 

…………………

The following year passed quickly.

After a few weeks, the dust settled and Jackson’s community stopped questioning their strange disappearance. The looks thrown at Joel and Juliet when they walked through town, with Joel’s hand on the small of her back, died down after a while. 

When early spring arrived, Joel convinced Tommy to let them back out on patrol, this time as partners. Juliet refused to let Joel go out without her, and vice versa, so it was really the only option. They were most at peace out on patrol; it reminded them of the months they’d travelled across the country, learning each other’s habits, realising they couldn’t be apart. 

They watched each other’s back out in the open, then went home to the same house, and the same bed. Joel learned how to cook, more than just eggs, and made sure that Juliet never went without a meal. He cooked for others too, they invited Ethan and Charlotte over often for dinner, drinks, and board games. Sometimes Matt joined them too, making sure to sit as far away from Joel as possible.

A few months after they returned, Maria had her baby…

Juliet watched Joel become an uncle. She smiled with him as they played with Tommy’s daughter, then held him close at night when the memories grew too heavy for him to carry alone. 

Jackson became a home for the both of them. Juliet had a place to fill with the books she collected on patrol, and Joel found a talent in wood carving. He surprised her with little carvings of things only the two of them would understand: like the monkey that sat on their kitchen windowsill, reminding them of Juliet’s shock at the university. And Juliet surprised Joel with a guitar, which he’d been attempting to teach her how to play. Juliet wasn’t very good but she liked the way Joel kissed her when she got a chord right, so she kept the lessons up. 

The nightmares still found Juliet, some worse than others, but she didn’t wake up alone anymore. Joel was there to brush a hand over her hair and kiss her forehead, anchoring her to the present. 

They got married the following year, in August when the grass was green and the sun warmed the air. 

They stood in the field of an old farmhouse that was to be their new home, under a willow tree where wildflowers grazed their legs and snagged at Juliet’s dress. Joel had told her that back before the world ended, weddings were supposed to be officiated, but laws didn’t exist anymore so they just decided to do it themselves, not willing to share any part of the day with others. 

Joel and Juliet exchanged rings at sunset, when the soft shades of orange and pink painted the sky. They whispered promises to each other in the ruins of a world where happy endings didn’t exist anymore, and yet they found one anyway. 

When Joel pushed the ring onto Juliet’s finger, he wasn’t surprised when the heavens opened up and rain descended upon them. Juliet just tipped her head back and laughed, and Joel watched, mesmerised by the sight of her joy. 

They kissed as the light faded, and Joel found that his own eyes burned as he reached to capture the tear that rolled down Juliet’s cheek before the rain stole it from him.

.......................................

@amyispxnk @casa-boiardi @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf @mysaviorjoelmiller @chlojoceycom @joelmillersblog @socialistmary @orcasoul @ashhlsstuff @caitlynsixxx @elli3williams

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 28

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The field was dark, an abyss of blackness swallowing any trace of light. Your heart thundered in your ears. Breath came in ragged, desperate gasps as if you had been fleeing for miles. You clutched a tree for support, the bark’s roughness biting into your fingertips as you bent over, gasping. Your chest seared with pain, each inhale tinged with the metallic taste of blood.

Staggering forward into the field, your legs quivered, each step a monumental effort, your feet sinking heavily into the tall grass. The grass, whispering and swaying in the chilling breeze, brushed against your knees. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, feeling your heart’s wild, erratic beat as you struggled to steady your breath.

The eerie, rustling sound of leaves, like hushed whispers, filled the air around you. Your eyes darted frantically, expecting to see something—anything—lurking in the shadows of the trees encircling you. 

You ventured further into the field, muscles screaming for respite, when a chilling sensation crawled up your spine. Instinctively, you glanced back, and there, in the sinister darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes stared back from the shadows of the trees. The sight sent a jolt of terror surging through you, as if a bird had taken flight in your chest, its wings battering your ribs. You gasped, fear tightening your throat.

Panic gripped you as you forced your legs into a shaky sprint, each step a struggle against the fatigue dragging at your limbs. You dared another glance over your shoulder—the eyes had vanished, replaced by the void, more terrifying than their malevolent glare. Turning back, your blood ran cold as the eyes reappeared across the field, burning with an insatiable hunger.

You froze, heart pounding wildly, your feet slipping out from under you as you crashed backward into the tall grass. The world vanished behind a screen of fluffy stalks, now ominous tendrils obscuring your vision. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed across the field, growing louder, closer, and faster than you thought possible. You clawed at the ground, desperately trying to regain your footing, but before you could rise, a cold grip seized your collar.

The ground fell away as you were yanked violently into the air, your body dangling helplessly. You weighed nothing to this creature, its immense strength holding you suspended. Your breath caught, and you turned, eyes wide with terror, to face your captor.

Its reflection loomed before you, a nightmarish visage—a gaping, cavernous mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth, stretching wider, wider. Massive wings unfurled behind it, casting an ominous shadow that swallowed the field. You saw yourself in the gleaming eyes, a tiny, helpless figure about to be devoured. The monstrous jaws closed in, your scream cut off as you were plunged into the darkness of the beast’s maw.

—

Your eyes flashed open as your final scream tore from your lungs, a raw, desperate sound that scraped painfully against your burning throat. Thrashing wildly, you felt the cool night air kiss your sweat-drenched forehead, your hair plastered to your clammy skin. Your breaths came in short, hoarse gasps. As your vision focused, you saw Azriel perched on the edge of your bed, his eyes wide with concern, his wings pulled tight in behind him.

Azriel’s face softened, etched with a delicate mix of worry and compassion as he leaned closer. You screamed again, your heart racing, your body trembling as you clutched the blankets tighter around you. The monstrous image from your nightmare lingered, making Azriel’s silhouette against the dim room seem almost surreal. 

Azriel lifted his hands slowly, palms facing you in a gesture of peace. His bare chest heaved with deep breaths as he spoke gently, “It’s okay. You’re safe.” He called, as he attempted to fight against the tempest of your fear, though your heart continued to beat furiously, struggling to distinguish between dream and reality.

Maintaining his distance, Azriel’s expression became calmer, though his eyes retained their deep concern. “Y/N, just breathe. It’s me, Azriel. You’re safe,” he murmured softly,

Your breaths began to slow, each inhale still shaky and uneven. Azriel remained motionless, a living statue in his spot, watching you intently. As your head finally dropped forward, he lowered his hands and edged closer to you. Kneeling at the side of the bed, his scarred hands reached up to cradle your face, his eyes searching yours with tender worry as his thumbs traced gentle lines down your cheeks. “Just breathe,” he whispered again, his tone laced with what felt like sugar. 

Taking a few trembling breaths, you felt a modicum of calm returning. “Good. You’re okay. It’s okay,” Azriel reassured, his voice a soft murmur. You placed your hands over his, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed poised to pull back, but your firm grip kept him in place. His hands readjusted, fingers slipping behind your ears for a steadier hold.

You leaned into his touch, your forehead brushing against his. Azriel’s curls mingled with your hair as he gently pressed his forehead to yours, your labored breaths mingling in the shared space. “Just keep breathing,” he reminded you softly.

Your breaths transformed into sobs, the first wretched sound tearing from your throat. Azriel pulled back slightly, eyes wide with concern. “Oh no,” he crooned, his voice thick with empathy. “What’s wrong?”

The weight in your chest seemed to sink to your feet as your sobs grew louder, each one a release of the suffocating anguish. Azriel hesitated, his hands faltering as he sought to comfort you. You pressed harder against his hands, refusing to let go. Azriel, taken aback by your need for his touch, quickly resumed his tender caresses, his forehead returning to rest against yours.

As your sobs wracked your body, Azriel lifted his chin, shifting to rest it on top of your head. You moved, leaning the side of your face against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your ear. Slowly, you slid out of the bed, collapsing onto the floor beside him. Azriel adjusted seamlessly, pulling you into his lap so that you sat nestled within his crossed legs. Your legs curled up, resting on his thigh as he cradled your back, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Another sob escaped you, muffled against his warm skin.

Azriel rocked gently back and forth, his arms encircling you. His earlier questions faded into a soft, comforting silence, replaced by the gentle sway of his embrace. His hand traced soothing patterns across your upper back while the other wrapped securely around your knees, holding you close. Your own hands clenched into fists in your lap.

Azriel’s whispers became a steady murmur, his voice a tender caress amidst the tears. “You’re okay,” he repeated, his breath warm against your temple. He held you through the storm of your sobs, as you shook through remnants of your nightmare. As your sobs subsided into hiccups and your breathing steadied, Azriel continued to rock you gently.

After what felt like hours, Azriel finally shifted slightly to look down at you, as though to check if you were asleep. You peered up at him under your lashes as he smiled lightly. “Hi,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back.

He merely smiled again. “Don’t be. This is part of the healing.”

You turned your face back to his chest, relishing the warmth radiating from him. “I don’t want to heal anymore,” you said weakly, exhaustion allowing some of your deepest thoughts to surface. “I want to feel like I want to live again.”

You felt Azriel’s heart jump momentarily, but all he whispered in response was, “I know. It’s really, really hard.”

Your eyes remained wide open as you asked, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Azriel resumed his gentle rocking. “You didn’t do anything.”

You felt the words spilling out faster than you could contain them. “I was a child, and she just left me. She took me away from everyone and left me alone.”

Azriel squeezed you slightly tighter. “I know.”

“I just wanted someone to love me,” you continued, your voice breaking. “Anyone who would love me. I just wanted someone who would stay.”

“I know,” he whispered back.

“I thought things were going to get better. And then they didn’t. He was cruel to me every single day. And I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take the torment anymore. I thought the only way out was to escape or die. So I chose to escape.”

“You did the right thing,” he murmured.

“Anthea, she died because of me,” you whispered again.

“Y/N, no,” Azriel tried to stop you, but you kept going.

“I don’t know why I felt like I could take him on. My mate was beating me relentlessly and I never fought back, and then all of a sudden I’m brave enough to do it for someone else? And she still died.”

Azriel continued to murmur encouragements to you.

“And then after she died, I went on living like nothing had happened. I just let her die, and I found someone else to love, and then he died. And now I’m going to live my life afraid of the dark,” you squeaked out.

“Y/N,” Azriel started, “I swear to you that this isn’t going to be how you always feel.”

You shrugged lightly. “It’s what the Mother decided I deserved.”

“The Mother is not cruel enough to do that.”

“Then why did this happen? Why was it decided I would be mated to him? Or that Anthea would be allowed to wallow in that camp? Or that Kai would die because of being with me?”

“It isn’t for us to know why the Mother does what she will.”

“So I just have to live knowing my life will always hurt? Or be afraid that even if I get better, it’s going to hurt again?”

Azriel leaned back slightly to look at you, his black curls illuminated blue by the light of the moon as his hazel eyes gazed down at you, laced with pain. “Y/N, if it’s up to me, I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

“No one can promise that.”

Azriel’s face scanned yours. “The world is full of horrible, terrible things, and it’s full of those who want to harm one another. They do it to people who don’t deserve it. They do it for control, for pleasure, for insecurity. And the people it happens to don’t deserve any of it. The poor, little girl who felt left behind didn’t deserve to have a mother who would do that. The young female who fell in love quickly and had a strong urge to fulfill a natural bond doesn’t deserve to be punished by the person she devoted her love to. And the female in front of me now didn’t deserve to watch that same male slaughter someone she cared deeply about. But you don’t deserve to have to witness or feel any of that. And gods, Y/N, when I say that I know what that feels like, to witness terror and anguish and feel like you earned that pain, you aren’t alone in it. But you aren’t going to feel this way forever. And I swear to you, on the Mother, the Cauldron, and whoever is listening, that if for the rest of your life you never experience pain again, it will be too soon. Because you deserve to be happy, to love, and to feel joy without the fear that it’s going to be taken from you. You were dealt a terrible hand, and the world seems like it’s against you, but you have to know that I am your ally in this. I am on your side. And if I could share this burden with you, if I could take even a second of that pain so you could sleep, I would.”

You looked up at him as he finished, blinking slowly as you took him in.

“Why do you do this?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” Azriel asked, his head tilting.

“Why do you care for me like this?” you questioned. “You’ve helped me heal, you’ve let me stay, you’ve convinced your family to help me. And I never did anything for you.” You shook your head in confusion.

Azriel gave you a tight-lipped smile, thinking for a moment. “Because I had never seen anyone more determined to live than you,” he whispered. You didn’t respond, just looking at him. “Everything has been against you, everything has hurt, burned, or scorned you. And yet you fight to live and survive, and never in my centuries of life have I seen someone with a passion to live like yours. You choose to keep surviving and living. And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch you live.” He whispered. And in that moment, something shifted, as though the cement weight in your stomach lifted and then fell back down. But you felt yourself leaning into his chest, your lips parting softly as you felt his warm skin heat your face. Azriel curled into you, his chin pressing into your head as he began rocking again. “I want to see you live,” he whispered once more.

You felt the chill of the wind hit your bare ankles, and you shivered lightly. Azriel, noticing this, shifted his weight forward and was suddenly on his feet as he picked you up, your legs falling over his arms as he lay you down in the bed, pulling up the blankets on you. When you paused him, “Wait,” you said, your hand hitting his wrist. “Can you stay a while?” you asked.

Azriel’s face bloomed slightly as you asked, and he nodded. “Of course.”

You scooted over in the bed slightly, the sheets pulling with you as you pulled back the covers. Azriel lifted one leg tentatively in, the other following behind as he sat with his back against the headboard. You moved in closer as he shimmied down until his neck was craned against the top of the bed. You rested your head on his chest, his heartbeat ringing through your head as you felt its pace quicken slightly. Azriel let his hand fall to your shoulder, drawing lazy circles on the exposed skin as the other rested behind his head. Without thinking, you allowed one leg and arm to drape over him, nearly both extending before finding the other side of him. You stared ahead, across the room as you felt a fog lift slightly, and as you pushed down the guilt that rose in your throat. For this one moment, you chose to let the world feel safe again, one moment, before you might slam that door shut again.

We getting warm and fuzzy: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00

[cuubism]

a time of need

Hob’s having what he’d thought would be an easy Sunday, puttering around the house catching up on chores and rest, when the worst headache he’s ever had splits down the middle of his skull.

It’s worse, even, than the time he’d taken an actual cleaver to the forehead, and woken up two days later still unable to see out of one eye. Hob’s hands shake and he barely manages to make it to the couch before he collapses. He shuts his eyes in agony and—

--then he’s in the Dreaming. So fast, between one blink and the next. And he knows, instinctively, that he was called here, by Dream or by the Dreaming itself. But he’s never been called like that, with a call full of such pain.

He staggers to his feet in the throne room. The sky high overhead, usually a placid field of stars, is swirling with red star matter, like the Dreaming has fallen into the heart of a nebula. It casts a crimson sheen over everything.

Lucienne is hurrying towards him, steps clicking sharply on the marble floor. “Hob? You should not be here. Lord Morpheus has closed off the heart of the Dreaming.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” Hob takes in the deep creases in her expression as she reaches him. “What’s going on?”

“We are under attack.” She squeezes his arm, imploring. “You must go.”

“Under attack? What, Hell?” Hob remembers Dream mentioning it had happened before.

Lucienne shakes her head. “No. I do not know the details.”

A cavernous boom! echoes through the hall, shaking the walls. Lightning streaks across the sky, jagged scars that leave harsh afterimages in Hob’s vision. He pales at the sound. “Is he taking them on – whoever they are – by himself?”

“The dreams and nightmares are helping as best suits this kind of fight. But you must go.”

Hob shakes his head. “No, he called me for a reason. Where is he?”

“Hob—”

“Lucienne. Please.”

She relents, still troubled. “He is outside the palace gates, I know not precisely where. You will be drawn to the nexus of his power, I am sure.”

That’s good enough for Hob. He runs down the palace steps and across the bridge to the gates, reaching them much faster than he thinks should probably be reasonable, but then again he is in the Dreaming. The gates open to let him out, and then clank shut behind him.

The feeling of power is much stronger out here, as if the palace and its grounds had been held in a protective bubble. Lucienne was right about Dream’s power drawing him in; Hob finds him easily, standing at the bank of a river that seems to now be flowing with lava instead of water, and he’s just— just surrounded by… creatures.

Hob can’t define them any better than creatures, they are amorphous and shifting, claws and teeth and legs and wings emerging then disappearing again. He wonders why they haven’t gone to flank the palace, attack from all sides, before realizing that just as Dream’s power has drawn Hob in, it is also drawing the creatures to him. Making him the only target.

He isn’t carrying a weapon or even wearing armor or anything, and Hob’s heart pounds as he runs to him, and—

A creature leaps for Dream’s throat. Dream reaches into the air – into a dream? – his arm disappearing, yanks, and pulls a ribbon of flames straight through the creature’s body, throwing it out across the landscape. Grass scorches, and the other beasts in the fire’s path screech.

Another is leaping at his back, hundreds of teeth appearing from the shrouded mass of it in midair. Hob’s about to shout a warning, but no need. Dream turns, flings open his coat. The creature barrels in and falls into the swirling galaxies in the lining, its shriek cutting off sharply.

More run for him. Dream disappears into a dream, then reappears seconds later, a good twenty meters from where he’d been.

On the edge of a cliff.

A cliff which the beasts that charge for him hurtle off of, a cliff which was definitely not there before, because Dream brought it with him from the dream, mother of God, how is Hob even supposed to help here at all?

Well, fuck it. He’s got to try, doesn’t he?

As soon as he thinks it, there’s a sword in his hand. Dream doesn’t make note of his presence, but he must know Hob’s there, mustn’t he? Dream called him there, though God knows why.

Regardless, the creatures are so focused on Dream that Hob is able to take out two of them with his blade before they even notice he’s there.

They don’t… die, in the way he’d expect. They sort of scream and explode into dust, drifting off in the wind. He hopes they aren’t just going to reform or something.

“You are creatures of warmth,” Hob hears Dream say, across the field, to the rest of the creatures. It seems like there are more, not less, like they’re multiplying. God. “Please enjoy my warmest hospitality.”

A vicious blizzard descends on them. 

Snow whips in wild gusts across the landscape, ice biting Hob’s cheeks. He can’t see Dream very well anymore. He hears a splash and a creature howling, and imagines Dream must have pulled a frozen lake from a dream about ice skating, or perhaps from a nightmare about drowning. 

He makes his way towards Dream, determined to stay by him so he has someone at his back, even if that someone is Hob, whose powers here are meager in comparison to Dream’s.

He finds creatures in the snow and slaughters them, all of his sword work from decades past coming back to him. They come at him with fangs and claws and tails bristling with spines, but Hob isn’t afraid. His desperation to keep Dream safe is far more powerful than that.

Irrational, to want to keep Dream safe in the Dreaming. But he feels it all the same.

“This is my realm,” he hears Dream growl from somewhere in the storm, voice reverberating despite the howling wind. “It bends to my wishes. But you? Let us see how you like the dark.”

And he turns off the sun.

The Dreaming is plunged into absolute, pure darkness the likes of which Hob has never seen. There’s no moon, no stars. Hob blinks and throws his hands out, trying to balance.

And then realizes…

He can see.

Somehow. Not with his eyes, quite. But with some kind of direction at the back of his head, like the Dreaming itself is guiding him. Neat, that. Also quite likely to drive him mad if it lasts for any amount of time.

He follows the direction of Dream’s voice and finally gets close enough to see him again. There are still so many damn creatures, where are they even coming from? They are blundering now, in the dark, but must have other senses for they’re still managing to, eventually, turn for Dream. Hob watches him turn the ground beneath a group of them into quicksand. They scream and flail as they sink.

“Do you not tire?” Dream asks, idly. “Do you not relent? That is disappointing, for I tire. Of gravity, in particular.”

The realm turns upside down.

Hob’s feet stay planted on the grass as his brain spins wildly to reorient itself, but the creatures aren’t so lucky. They go tumbling down – or up? – into the air, screaming. Hob wonders if Dream’s just accidentally done the same to the entire realm, but no— looking behind him, he can see the core of the Dreaming, the palace, all the residences, still oriented the same way. Opposite to them. What in--?

Maintaining two sets of opposing gravities at once seems to be costing Dream. His chest heaves. He flips them back over again, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face. The sun pops back up into the sky, too, which is… Hob decides to interrogate it later and just be grateful for the light.

“Dream!” Hob calls, as soon as his dizziness subsides.

Dream spins to him, seeming startled. “Hob?” 

So then he didn’t realize Hob was there, at least not consciously. By the time Hob reaches his side, the sword has dissolved from his grasp. “Fuck. That was… insane. Are you okay?”

Dream looks at him, brow furrowed. The rushing winter winds die down as their eyes meet, leaving drifts of snow behind. “Why are you here? You should not be here, it is not safe. I have closed off the heart of the Dreaming. How?”

“You… called me?” Hob says. “I think.” 

Dream’s frown deepens. “I do not… recall. Regardless, you must go. The Dreaming is not safe at present.”

“Why? Isn’t the fight over?”

“No.” Dream looks out at the horizon. A wave of sickly, mixed colors is growing there, like oil spreading across the sky. “The real fight has yet to begin.”

“What? What about all those creatures?”

“Those were scouts. Hunting dogs.” Dream huffs. “Their masters thought perhaps they would get lucky and catch me unawares, not have to dirty their hands. Foolish. They will pay for it.”

Hob looks around, horrified, as that oil keeps spreading upward from the horizon. With it, a wave of what Hob can only describe as grayscale follows across the landscape. Color leaches out of everything and disappears. Dream watches this, expression tight but measured, following the arc of the spread.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Hob asks.

“Let them expend their energy. Color is immaterial, I will restore it later.” 

“Lure them into complacency?” Hob guesses, faint.

Dream nods. He looks even more dramatic with no warmth to his skin, all stark black and white lines. 

“What are they? The invaders?” Hob asks.

Dream hums. “The closest waking world corollary would be… bacteria. It is a sickness, of sorts. They would infect and devour us.”

Hob means to say something intelligent but what comes out of his mouth is, “Bacteria have hunting dogs?”

“Well, they hardly have teeth of their own,” says Dream. 

Hob shakes his head, as if that could possibly help to clear it. “And you’re going to fight these things on your own?”

“My dreams and nightmares are already helping me by letting me pull from them, so that I do not have to create everything from scratch,” says Dream. He watches as the oil spill completes its transit of the sky. The only color now is the swirling above them. “This is not a fight of physical prowess. You must leave.”

“I can’t die, Dream.”

“I would not see your mind shredded on my behalf.”

“Is that going to happen if the Dreaming doesn’t fall?” 

Dream frowns. “Not… likely. And the Dreaming will not fall. I will not let it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hob says.

Dream sighs. “You are monumentally stubborn.”

“That’s what got me this far in the first place. Can’t stop now.” 

That pulls a tiny smile from Dream. “No. I suppose not.”

A shudder runs through the landscape, vibrating under Hob’s feet. Then another, like the ground itself is shivering. Hob shifts to maintain his balance, as he might once have on the deck of a ship. Dream doesn’t move at all, like the shivers travel right through him.

The air goes hot, then cold, then blazingly hot again, struggling with itself. The snow around them starts to steam. Dream’s jaw clenches, and the temperature drops violently once again, below freezing. Hob’s breath fogs in the air.

Dream is glaring at the horizon. “Stay present,” he tells Hob, in the tone one might use to call, On your guard!

Never bring a sword to a battle of minds, Hob thinks deliriously. His blade hasn’t rematerialized, and it would be useless anyway. Hob himself feels useless, but like hell will he leave Dream’s side.

“How did they even get in?” he asks.

“The boundaries of the Dreaming are porous to permit the passage of dreamers,” says Dream. “Unsavory things sometimes slip in as well.”

“Often?”

Dream’s eyes glint. “Only when enough time has passed that the folly in doing so has been forgotten.”

It’s in moments like this that Hob really thinks about how old Dream is. It’s easier to conceptualize his age in this way, funnily enough. An ancient lord once again protecting his kingdom from invaders is something Hob’s mind can grasp, even if the timescale in this case is absurdly long.

“Going to teach them a lesson, then?”

Dream smiles, slow and predatory; Hob sees in it the nightmare of every prey animal that has ever dashed through a dark forest, fleeing the gleaming of teeth. “Oh, yes.”

He closes his eyes. His fingers flutter at his side, like he’s plucking the strings of an invisible harp. Snow lifts in swirls around them, though there’s no longer any wind. Another shiver runs through the ground.

“What are you going to do?” Hob asks, at a whisper. He doesn’t know why he whispers; it just seems right in the face of the approaching power storm.

“There are known ways to destroy a waking world bacterium,” Dream says. His eyes are still shut, brow furrowed in concentration. “Burn it out, freeze it out. Take away its sustenance. Make the environment unsustainable for it. But bacteria that feasts on dream matter cannot be destroyed by something as simple as temperature; the temperature is, after all, a part of the Dreaming itself. It can gorge itself on the heat and cold as easily as on anything else.” 

“So what will you do, then?” Hob asks.

Dream’s lips quirk up in a smug smile. “I am the Dreaming,” he says, not actually answering the question. “They cannot have me. If they insist on having me, then I will simply not exist at all.”

Before Hob can so much as say wait!, Dream's power screams into being around them more tangibly than Hob’s ever felt it, the air charging up with electricity, the fabric of the realm warbling around them. His ears pop with the pressure change, a whine pitching higher and higher in the atmosphere and making him wince, and Dream’s form fuzzes in and out like TV static.

Dream’s hands rise at his sides like he’s finding his balance in the shifting world around them, or perhaps conducting the dreams in an invisible orchestra. He hums, pleased with whatever he can feel rumbling through his power. Then he presses his hands outward.

Hob… doesn’t know exactly what happens, then. 

It’s like everything blinks out, then back on again, like turning on and off a light switch. It’s so quick his body doesn’t even react until several seconds later, when a tremor of unease shivers up his spine. For it wasn’t like before, when Dream had blacked out the sun – Hob would swear that in that millisecond of darkness he felt nothing, not the ground under his feet, or the air he was breathing, or his own clothes against his skin. He’s not even sure he existed in that moment.

Everything around him is exactly the same, except that those threads of oily color circling the sky have disappeared. Just like that, gone, the bacteria dead, or at least banished, and Hob has no idea what Dream even did.

Everything in the Dreaming looks the exact same--

--except Dream.

Dream looks like he tumbled down a cliff then ran ten kilometers through bramble bushes. His hair is falling in clumps over his forehead, his long coat torn, his forehead prickling with sweat. His nose is bleeding, the red of it shockingly bright as color leeches back into the gray landscape, though he pays it no mind as it trickles over his lips. His hands are shaking where he holds them out, fingers now closed into fists.

“Any of you who have survived,” he snarls, glaring up at the sky, presumably speaking to the remaining bacteria, “carry a message home to your people. Enter my realm again, touch a single one of its inhabitants, and I will personally unmake your entire species. Do not test me.”

Is unmaking a species even in Dream’s power? Hob wouldn’t have thought so, but he wouldn’t care to test that theory right now, were he the species in question.

Dream wavers, then, and Hob just barely manages to lurch forward fast enough to catch him as he falls. He goes to his knees in the snow, and Dream collapses against him, shaking horribly. He coughs, a horrible, wet sound, and blood spatters Hob’s shirt.

Hob’s heart jumps into his throat. “ Dream —” He tries to get him down onto his side, but Dream clenches his hands weakly in Hob’s shirt.

“I will be—” he starts, and is cut off by more coughing, blood dripping from his lips. “Fine, in—” Another spasm of coughing. A tremor shakes violently through him.

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close. “I got you.”

Dream heaves for breath. He feels feverishly hot, now, sweating and shivering. “What the hell did you even do? ” Hob asks, running a hand over his back, a bit frantically.

“I unmade the Dreaming,” Dream says, each word a wheeze, “ripped it back into-- into its original grains of sand. Thus. Expelling the bacteria. Into the void that surrounds us, where it-- cannot survive. And then I put- put the Dreaming back, exactly as it was. It must--” he wipes blood from his mouth with a shaking hand, only succeeding in smearing it all over his cheek-- “must be done in an instant. To avoid causing harm.”

“What?” Hob breathes, a vast understatement for the horror and awe that he feels. “Dream, what?”

“Breaking my ruby gave-- gave me back power I hadn’t-- hadn’t seen in eons.” He coughs once, hard, spitting up more blood onto Hob’s shirt. “Nevertheless, I may be… down here for a while.” 

Hob smoothes a hand over his shivering chest. “It doesn’t seem like it’s avoided causing harm.”

“Causing no- no damage is impossible, but I managed to contain it within-” he wheezes-- “within my- aspect- and not the rest of the Dreaming.” 

“I didn’t even know you could bleed,” Hob says faintly. It’s more disconcerting than feeling the world unravel around him to see Dream shaking and coughing up blood. He’s heard that Dream was weakened when he first escaped his long imprisonment, before he’d recovered his tools, but this is on another level. 

“Usually, I cannot,” says Dream, which doesn’t help at all.

“Alright, let’s get you down, then.” Hob maneuvers Dream to lie on his side on the ground. Dream rests his head in Hob’s lap, eyelids fluttering. Around them, the world seems to waver, and then stabilizes again. 

Dream feels it, too, and says, “Worry not. The realm is stable. It is merely. Reacting to me.”

“My concern’s really you right now, love,” Hob says, running a hand through Dream’s hair. “Though it’s good the place isn’t going to collapse.”

Dream hums at his touch, closing his eyes. His breathing’s evened out, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be getting back up under his own muster anytime soon.

It’s not long before footsteps crunch in the snow behind them, wingbeats by their side. “My lord!”

“Lucienne.” Dream’s voice is a low rumble against Hob’s thigh. “Matthew.”

“Boss!” Matthew lands on the ground beside them, Lucienne reaching them a few moments after. Matthew’s gaze catches on the blood on Hob’s shirt and he says, “You hurt, Hob?”

Hob shakes his head and nods toward Dream. Matthew squawks in alarm, feathers puffing up, and flies up to land on Dream’s shoulder, nudging at his hair with his beak.

“I am fine, Matthew,” Dream says without opening his eyes. It’s somewhat unconvincing considering how hoarse his voice comes out, and the fact that one of his ears is now bleeding.

Hob is… fairly convinced that he will be fine, once he’s rested. Fairly. 

“Just put himself through the ringer, that’s all,” he says, wiping the blood that’s trailing from Dream’s ear away with his sleeve. “We’ll go home, get some food in you, have a nice bath, and get some rest, hm?”

Dream hums in agreement. “Lucienne, how fare the dreams?”

“Everyone is frightened, but safe,” she reports, then adds, sounding fond, “They were a bit confused by the sun going out.”

“Yeah, that was an interesting party trick,” Hob agrees, and Dream chuckles.

It’s still bloody cold out here, post-blizzard. Hob doesn’t trust Dream’s usual I don’t feel temperatures excuse when he’s so drained of power, so ripped apart. 

He gathers Dream up in his arms again, wrapping his coat tighter around him. “Let’s get you in from the cold.” 

“So… we’re just not gonna talk about that moment when we all went to the shadow realm, then,” Matthew caws as Hob gets to his feet, lifting Dream up with him. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Probably not,” Hob tells him, as Dream says, “Hob Gadling, I am capable of walking.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob says with no confidence. “Sure, love. Just indulge me. Consider it some kind of foreplay for later, if it makes you feel better.”

Matthew mutters, “Ick,” but Dream smiles and relents.

“Much later,” Hob warns him. “Mister Coughing-Up-Blood.” 

Dream rolls his eyes, but allows Hob to carry him.

Fortunately, it’s not far – the Dreaming transports them quickly back to the palace, though with less certainty in the movement than usual. “Lucienne,” Dream says as Hob divests him of his long coat and lays him in his bed. He looks like he’s about to try to pop back up, and Hob presses a hand to his shoulder, subtly keeping him down. “Please instruct everyone to let me know immediately if they find anything awry. The realm is cleansed, but I do not like to take chances.”

She inclines her head in understanding, casting a small smile in Hob’s direction, too, for good measure. Presumably for his efforts in keeping Dream lying down.

Matthew lands on Dream’s knee. “Seriously, boss, you good? I don’t know what was going on exactly, but whatever it was felt… not great.”

“I am ‘good,’” Dream confirms. “Some amount of damage is usually sustained in fighting off an illness, is it not?”

“If that’s how you want to put it,” Matthew says.

“I’ll look after him,” Hob reassures them both.

They take their leave then, Matthew giving Hob a little salute with his wing, and then Hob and Dream are alone. Hob slips Dream’s boots off, laying a blanket over him, then sits beside him on the bed, resting a hand on his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks. “You have to let me know if it gets worse, I’m dead serious, Dream.” 

“I’m not certain what weight that carries when you cannot die,” Dream says.

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Try it and find out. Now, still.” 

He finds a damp cloth – thanks, Dreaming – and starts wiping the blood from Dream’s lips, and his hands. 

“I see now why the Dreaming called you here,” Dream muses. “No one else would dare speak to me in this manner.”

“The Dreaming called me?”

“I did not. Not intentionally. I would not have brought you into such a battle.”

“Well, I wasn’t much help anyway,” Hob observes. He tips Dream’s head up and gets him to drink some water, likewise manifested by the Dreaming. “You did all the work with your world-bending powers.”

“Perhaps you are a reward,” Dream suggests as Hob lets him lie back down. He finds Hob’s hand and kisses his fingertips. 

“Oh, yeah? A prize for your heroism?”

Dream tugs on his arm. Hob slips off his own shoes and discards his blood-splattered shirt, and obediently lies down beside him, gathering him in his arms. Dream cuddles up to him, giving a pleased hum, resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. “A comfort.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair and kisses his forehead. He still can't help but worry a bit, after everything he saw Dream do, but it's good to see him feeling more comfortable. “Sweet thing. You were very brave. Clever, too.” 

“You do not have to praise me for performing my function,” Dream grumbles.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Dream mutters again under his breath, but doesn’t move away. Hob squeezes him tighter, and he softens again. 

“Get some rest, now,” Hob tells him.

“You will stay?”

“Course. Think I’ll abandon my king in his time of need?”

Dream hums, evidently pleased.

“But am I going to wake up with a terrible hangover after this?” Hob asks. “Whatever the Dreaming did to summon me felt like getting hit over the head with a pickaxe.”

“Maybe,” Dream says, sounding only the slightest bit chagrined about it. “It had to pull you through the barrier I had constructed.”

He tucks his nose against Hob’s throat, snuggling closer, and Hob just sighs, defeated. “Worth it, to be here for you,” he admits, and feels Dream smile.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | conditioning the flame⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park. A cool mist clung to the ground, swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches.

Opposite you stood Bakugo, his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart.

The previous hour had been relentless. You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods, dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops.

Now, you were sparring, your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks.

A well-placed side-step brought you behind him, and you delivered a sharp kick to his back, sending him staggering forward. He stumbled, catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt. You stood tall, arms crossed, a critical look on your face.

"Faster than last week," you conceded, your voice devoid of praise. "But it's not enough." You crouched low, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead.

Bakugo, leaned into your touch reflexively, exhaustion momentarily eclipsing his usual defiance. He grunted in response, a single, guttural sound that spoke volumes of his determination.

The start of a long summer of grueling training had begun—another step on the path you'd meticulously crafted for him. He was your pawn, yes, but a powerful one nonetheless.

You smirked, the feeling hidden beneath your neutral expression. This relentless drive, this insatiable hunger for power—you had nurtured it, fueled it. He may have thought he was training to become a hero, but you were shaping him into something far more... valuable.

And when the game truly began, you'd be the one pulling the strings.

You rose, pulling back your hand. "Push harder," you murmured, your voice soft but laced with an underlying challenge. "The entrance exam won't wait for you to catch your breath."

A spark ignited in Bakugo's red eyes, mirroring the glint of ambition in your own. He straightened, his stance unwavering despite his fatigue. "I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm.

You chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Pity? This," you gestured around at the desolate landscape bathed in the faint light of dawn, "is opportunity. Seize it. Show them all what you're truly capable of."

The fiery spirit you'd helped cultivate flickered back to life in his eyes. Though his body screamed for rest, his pride wouldn't allow him to yield. "I said. I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm. A vein pulsed in his temple, a testament to his simmering frustration and unwavering resolve.

You weren't surprised by his defiance. In fact, it fueled your hidden agenda. A sly smile played on your lips, hidden beneath your neutral expression. "Suit yourself," you said, your voice flat. "But remember, U.A. won't accept weakness."

With that, you allowed him a few precious seconds of reprieve, letting him savor the fleeting comfort of lying sprawled on the cool grass. Just as he started to sink into a semblance of rest, you clapped your hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the silent woods. "Alright, that's enough rest," you declared, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Before he could protest, you sprang forward with surprising agility and landed crouched on his back. The sudden weight jolted him, and a surprised grunt escaped his lips. He twisted his head to glare at you, but you simply grinned, your eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint.

"Time for push-ups," you announced, your voice laced with a playful challenge. "Fifty, and make them count."

Bakugo's jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He hated the way you manipulated him, the way you pushed him to his limits under the guise of friendly competition. But deep down, a twisted sense of gratitude simmered.

You were the only one who truly understood his relentless drive, the only one who pushed him to become stronger.

With a frustrated groan, he began the push-ups. His muscles screamed in protest, his arms shaking with fatigue. But he wouldn't give in, not in front of you.

One by one, he knocked out the push-ups, his teeth gritted tight in determination.

You counted silently, your gaze fixed on the rippling muscles beneath you. Each push-up was a testament to his strength, his potential. And you, the puppeteer in the shadows, would ensure he reached his full potential—on your terms.

☆

☆

The relentless sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the desolate park in warm hues of orange and red. The air hung heavy with the sounds of exhaustion. Bakugo, sprawled on the grass, gulped down water from his bottle, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, the remnants of your grueling training session clinging to him like a second skin.

Across from him, you leaned casually against a gnarled tree trunk, a stark contrast to his state. A light sheen glistened on your brow, a testament to the exertion, but nowhere near the fatigue gripping Bakugo.

The skills you honed in your past life as Makima, slowly bleeding into this one, granted you an exceptional level of physical prowess. You were a master combatant, adept at hand-to-hand combat without relying on weapons or pawns.

Bakugo watched you from beneath hooded eyelids, his gaze lingering on your profile. An unfamiliar heat bloomed in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

Infatuation.

The word hung heavy in the unspoken space between you, a bizarre notion considering the constant verbal sparring and grueling training sessions you subjected him to. Yet, there you were, somehow occupying every corner of his mind. He frowned, a bewildered scowl twisting his features.

It was illogical, this strange pull towards you.

Unaware of the turmoil brewing within him, you were already strategizing for the upcoming week. Thoughts of new training regimens, targeted exercises, and grueling challenges danced in your mind.

You needed him to be honed to perfection, a weapon waiting to be unleashed on the world.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, plunging the park into twilight, you finally met his gaze. A cold glint flickered in your eyes, a stark contrast to the concern you so often feigned. "Ready for round two tomorrow?" you asked, your voice a low murmur that sent shivers down his spine.

He met your gaze with a defiant snarl, the remnants of his earlier admiration replaced by his usual fiery spirit. "Always," he growled, the words laced with a challenge that masked the strange flutter in his chest.

Standing up, you brushed imaginary dust off your clothes, ready to head home. "Alright then, be here at exactly 5:30 AM sharp," you declared, already turning to leave.

Just as you were about to take a step forward, a hesitant voice stopped you. "Hey," Bakugo mumbled, the word barely audible. He looked away, avoiding eye contact, a rare display of bashfulness from the usually explosive boy.

You paused, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yes?" you called out, turning your head to face him.

He remained stubbornly focused on the ground, kicking at a pebble with a scuffed shoe. Finally, he muttered out, "How come you aren't applying to U.A.? We both know you're more than strong enough to make it."

His words caught you off guard for a moment. A flicker of surprise crossed your features before you quickly schooled your expression. You took in his question, the concern laced beneath the bluster. Was he... worried about you?

A slow smirk played on your lips, a sly glint in your yellow eyes that seemed to catch the dying light of the sun. "Kacchan~" you purred, your voice dripping with a sweetness that sent a shiver down his spine. You sauntered back towards him, each step deliberate and calculated. "Are you asking me to accompany you to the prestigious, U.A. high?"

He flinched slightly at the nickname, his face burning a fiery red that rivaled the fading sunset. "Whatever," he scoffed, turning his head away in a vain attempt to hide his blush. "Do what you want, it was just a suggestion."

You stopped right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his flushed skin. You tilted your head, batting your eyelashes at him in a way that would seem innocent to anyone else. But for Bakugo, who knew the depths of your power, it was a blatant display of manipulation.

"Well, truthfully, I wasn't planning on attending UA. Too much work, you know," you drawled, your voice a husky whisper. You trailed a hand up his chest, your touch sending a jolt through him. Reaching his chin, you gently tilted his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze. "But since you're such a good puppy," you continued, your voice smooth as silk, "I guess I can come."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You weren't just considering U.A.—you were doing it for him.

A strange mix of emotions flickered across Bakugo's face: surprise, a hint of something akin to gratitude, and a flicker of... possessiveness? He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out.

The silence stretched for a beat. Bakugo seemed frozen, caught between the flustered blush creeping up his neck and the urge to lash out with a defiant snarl. His mind, usually a whirlwind of explosive pronouncements, seemed to have malfunctioned under your touch and the unexpected turn of events.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a scowl etched its way back onto his face. It was a weak attempt at regaining control, a facade that crumbled under scrutiny. He weakly moved his face away from your hold, the blush reaching the tips of his fiery red ears. "'M not a puppy," he mumbled, the defiance in his voice barely a whisper.

But even through the scowl and the mumbled denial, you could see a flicker of relief dancing in his crimson eyes. The confirmation that you'd attend U.A. with him, a decision you'd framed as a favor to him, seemed to ease a tension you hadn't even realized existed.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound laced with amusement. You knew exactly how to manipulate him, how to exploit his volatile emotions to get what you wanted. But for now, you were content to let him bask in the illusion of control.

"Alright, alright, Katsuki," you said, your voice playful. You reached out and ruffled his hair with a gentle touch, a gesture that would have sent shivers down anyone else's spine. For Bakugo, though, it was a confusing mix of irritation and a strange sense of... comfort?

"We'll head to U.A. together then," you continued, your voice a smooth purr. "Just you, me, and the rest of those wannabe heroes."

☆

☆

The rhythmic scrape of cutlery against ceramic plates filled the air, the only sound breaking the tense silence that had settled over the dinner table. It was a rare night that your father managed to escape the clutches of work and share a meal with the family. Your mother had gone all out, preparing his favorite meatloaf.

Despite her best efforts to spark conversation, the dinner table remained an island of awkwardness. Wino devoured his food in silence, his usual gruff demeanor amplified by fatigue. You picked at your own plate, lost in your thoughts.

The grueling morning workout with Bakugo still left a pleasant ache in your muscles, a stark contrast to the dull ache of boredom gnawing at your soul.

Deciding to take pity on your mother, you cleared your throat. "Hey," you announced, "I decided to I'm going to U.A."

A wave of relief washed over Mei's face, her eyes widening with delight. A bright smile bloomed on her lips, instantly chasing away the gloom that had settled earlier. "Oh, sweetie! That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached across the table to squeeze your hand. "I'm so proud of you!"

Turning to your father, she beamed expectantly. "Wino! Aren't you going to congratulate your daughter?"

Wino, however, remained unmoved. He paused in mid-chew, raising his head from his plate to meet your gaze. For a tense few seconds, your eyes, a startling yellow, locked with his bright green ones. A storm of unspoken emotions crackled in the air.

Finally, Wino spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. "How could I?" he said, his tone flat. "The kid's never shown any interest in being a hero before. What changed now?"

Your mother gasped, a look of hurt flickering across her face. "Wino!" she scolded, launching into a familiar tirade about the importance of encouragement and how negativity could shatter confidence.

You tuned out her rant, already anticipating your father's response. He wasn't lying. You had never harbored any real desire to be a hero.

The hero business, with its constant scrutiny and fickle public opinion, held no appeal. The childhood days of dressing up as heroes were long gone, replaced by the harsh realities of your true nature.

But then you remembered the glint in Bakugo's eyes when you'd mentioned attending U.A. A warmth spread through your chest, a subtle change brought on by your peculiar connection to the explosive boy.

You weren't averse to indulging your "puppy's" wishes from time to time.

Besides, you mused, spearing a piece of meatloaf, who knew? Maybe U.A. would be a welcome distraction, a chance to shake off the boredom that had become a constant companion.

A slow smirk played on your lips. This unexpected turn of events might just prove to be entertaining.

A/N: WHO READY TO GET TO THE MAIN STORYLINE AND COLLECT A HAREM OF SIMPS!?!

[vermilionsun]

After killing another Soulless, Mhin wiped the blood from their blade and hands before taking a deep breath. The sight of its lifeless body on the ground was, more or less, a common occurrence that left them feeling numb to the violence that had become a routine part of their life.

As they looked around the desolate landscape, the darkness that had consumed the creature lingered in the air, swirling around them like a malevolent mist.

Mhin suddenly felt their chest tighten, something blocking their throat. They started violently coughing into their hand, tasting blood. Panic rose within them as they pulled back and saw the crimson spit on their palm.

"No, not now... Please, not now," they muttered.

With trembling hands, Mhin wiped the blood from their mouth, trying to ignore the metallic taste that lingered on their tongue. The surrounding darkness felt suffocating, closing in as if it would swallow them whole.

Desperation clawed at Mhin's chest like sharp talons as they struggled to push back the rising tide of panic. Their eyes darted around, searching for a safe place to go, only to be met with the vast landscape of the desolate wasteland ahead. They had ventured too far from the city.

Each step felt heavy, labored, like wading through quicksand. "I’m fine, I’m fine," they monologued under their breath. Their vision blurred, their pulse quickened, and a wave of nausea swept over them.

They stagger and fall back on their knees.

"Damn it," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Get up."

The sound of their ragged breathing echoed around them. They tried to push themselves up, but their body screamed in protest with each movement.

Their heart sank. "No, no, no, not now."

Then, the shrieks started.

Gasping for breath, they slump to the ground, their breath coming in shallow bursts.

"No, please, no." They cover their ears, trying to block out the screams, but it’s no use.

The screams grow louder and more intense. Fear gripped them tightly, making it hard to think or move.

Their trembling body betrayed them, tears welling up in their eyes.

They can feel the Monster inside, trying to break free.

It whispered dark thoughts, fed on their fear, growing stronger with each passing second. Its claws dug into their mind, blurring reality and twisted illusions.

"No," they mutter desperately. "Hold it back. Hold it back."

Sweat beaded on their forehead, hands shaking as they struggled to focus, pushing back the darkness threatening to take control.

The screams turned deafening. The world spun. Their body trembled violently. Clenching their teeth, they used every ounce of strength to fight back.

It needed out.

I̶f̶ y̶o̶u̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ l̶e̶t̶ m̶e̶ o̶u̶t̶, j̶u̶s̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ a̶ f̶e̶w̶ d̶e̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶f̶u̶l̶ m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶s̶, o̶n̶l̶y̶ f̶o̶r̶ a̶ b̶i̶t̶ w̶h̶i̶l̶e̶ I̶ t̶a̶k̶e̶ o̶v̶e̶r̶, p̶r̶e̶t̶t̶y̶ p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶, l̶e̶t̶ m̶e̶ o̶u̶t̶?̶ I̶ w̶i̶l̶l̶ b̶e̶ g̶o̶o̶d̶, I̶ p̶r̶o̶m̶i̶s̶e̶.

"No… I won’t let you out," they muttered weakly, tears streaming down their face. Their body shuddered as they focused everything on holding the Monster in check.

L̴̛̛̙͉̺̳̟̞̦̈̈͘E̶͍̬̱̪͔̪͐̈́̋̇̆͐͌̆͊̂͌̈́͝Ţ̷̢̛͍̝͓͈͂̅̅̆́͂̀̀͋͑̚ ̸̛̳̞̹̤̰͍̿̉̆̐̓͊͛̚͝M̵̧̨̫͍̜̳̭̘̞̹̗̭̳̫͔̊̑̌̀͐͝͝Ë̷̛͎̀͌̆͒͛͆̔̋͗̓ ̶̬̤̘̱̪̀͑̈́͒̋̀͌̒͒͘͠Ǫ̸̢̧̛̖̥͕̥̲̹͇̇͌̍̿̓̄͌̏͐͌͠͝U��̧̮̯̤͋͊̅̍̐͆̽͊͂̈́̎̕̚̚T̵̩̝̤͕͉̤̜̟̘̝̯̻̓͑͒͑̇͜

They let out a choked sob and closed their eyes. The world spun around them, and they started to lose consciousness.

"No...stop! "

Their eyelids fluttered as darkness crept in, the world slowly fading to black. The last words they uttered were a weak whisper:

"Please don’t..."

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ || Part 2 || Mhin Special Angst Masterlist || Touchstarved Masterlist

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Mutiny

this is based on the song "Mutiny" from Epic! Fitz is Odysseus and Keefe is Eurylochus

"Tell me you didn't know that would happen," Keefe almost begged Fitz, though he could already feel the guilt wafting off of him, almost as thick as the rain pouring down.

"Look me in the eyes, Fitz." Fitz wouldn't look away from the ocean, so Keefe stepped forward. "Tell me you didn't just give up six of our friend's lives, Fitz, please."

Fitz gripped onto the side of the balcony tighter. The feel of guilt almost choked Keefe, but what made him stop was the resolve.

"SAY SOMETHING!" He shouted, hating how his voice cracked. Finally, this seemed to get a reaction from Fitz, who spun around and Keefe got his first real look at him since Scylla. His hair lay stuck to his face, artfully messy in a way Keefe couldn't help but admire; his eyes were darting everywhere, almost wild-looking, but the teal still took Keefe's breath away.

He was always so effortlessly handsome.

"I CAN'T!" Fitz's scream cut through his thoughts and shattered the silence.

Keefe swallowed, and the lump was almost painful. He drew his sword, determined to protect the last few men he had with him.

"Then you have forced my hand." Fitz seemed to pale.

"Keefe..." his voice was quiet, nervous, and his emotions radiated it too. "Lower your weapon." What did Fitz think Keefe would do? He'd willingly let six people die. Keefe couldn't let that happen again.

"You miss Sophie so bad you're willing to kill." Keefe spat out Sophie's name like it was poison-she was a great person, sure, but worth sacrificing people? No. A hot flash of anger erupted from Fitz.

Fitz drew his own sword. "I don't want to fight you! You would do the same if you were in my position."

Keefe adjusted his grip on his weapon, his palms feeling sweaty. "If you want to make all the choices you get to have all of the blame!" He lunged at Fitz, slashing a cut through his clothes.

How am I supposed to trust you now? Keefe thought as hard as he could, wondering if Fitz's telepathy actually didn't work or he was lying.

The captain seemed to flinch, though that might have been from the cut.

Fitz advanced forward. "Keefe, you need to move because you are not getting in my way." With each flash of their swords Keefe could feel himself get more and more lightheaded as Fitz's guilt seemed to melt away, hiding itself into something smaller. Fury and determination grew in its place.

Keefe lunged forward, and in an attempt to block Fitz's sword, he moved forward too far and it cut through his clothes-and, Keefe realized with growing horror, embedded itself in Fitz. Fitz let out a loud, horrible scream, and staggered back.

A huge wave of pain rushed through Keefe's blood and he immediately kneeled next to him.

"No, no no," Keefe muttered, and yelled behind him. "Do any of you know how to clean a wound?"

No one answered, so he yelled at them to find the nearest island. He needed to help Fitz. He was furious at him, but he was still his friend.

He turned around, trying to ignore Fitz's body, and called for all the crew to dock at the nearest island-they were running low on food.

In a few hours, they'd found one, with hundreds of bright red cows dotting the landscape. When they landed, Keefe told everyone to stay on the ship while he scoped it out.

After a few minutes, he'd decided that it seemed generally safe, though he still couldn't find a single human soul that he could ask to give Fitz come help.

Next to him, a cow mooed.

Keefe could feel his stomach growl.

"Where are we?" asked Fitz, and Keefe jumped, hating himself for letting Fitz sneak up on him. Turning around, Keefe saw that Fitz was being supported by two of the crew members, his dark brown hair frizzy across his face and his signature smile a little wobbly.

Keefe wanted to make a comment about how he shouldn't be standing up but kept his mouth shut.

"We're on an island-the first we found." Keefe turned to him, forcing a grin on his face even when he felt the huge amount of pain Fitz was in.

He kind of deserves it, though. A tiny part of his brain reminded him. Because of him, six people are dead.

Fitz pointed to one of the cows, talking to him almost like Keefe hadn't nearly killed him hours before.

"These are Apollo's cows, you see that statues over there?" Keefe could barely hear him, fingering the grip on his sword. How long could one cow feed the crew?

At least a week, and they'd be actually full for the first time in a while.

A wave of panic coursed through his veins, and he snapped his head over to Fitz.

"Please don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing." Fitz told him. "These cows-they're sacred. We can't kill them."

Keefe laughed, a sad, quiet laugh. "Fitz, you know as well as I do that we're never going to make it home."

Fitz shook his head quickly, and placed his hand on his sword again. "You don't know that, Keefe." He stepped back, and Keefe quietly missed the proximity. "This is the home of the sun god, do you know what will happen if we kill his cows?"

He ignored Fitz, and quietly unsheathed his sword. "How much longer do we need to suffer, Fitz?" Taking a step forward, He heard Fitz's panicked voice behind him, asking him to stop.

"How much longer until you decide that we're not important enough to go home? How much longer until you decide that you want to see Sophie so badly that all of us have to die?"

Fitz flinched, and Keefe took the opportunity to kill the cow, and Fitz let out a yell.

"What have you done?" Keefe spun his head around at the terror in Fitz's voice and in his veins. "You've doomed us all, Keefe! The cows were immortal-the sun god's friends! Who do you think he'll send now that you've killed one?" Keefe's blood turned to ice.

Fitz staggared up to the ship, but Keefe quickly scooped him up and sprinted onto the ship.

"Everyone, grab an oar and row as fast as you can!" Fitz roared.

The entire crew did as they were told, with punctuated with shouts of "Faster!" coming from Fitz, until a clap of thunder came and pure terror radiated off of him, his face turning deathly pale.

"We're too late."

[karniss-bg3]

Writing Prompt: seeing the sun again when the shadow curse is lifted? Maybe getting to see the (Spoiler?) fly across the sky? I imagine he’s light sensitive, but is he more in line with running from it or curious enough to watch it happen?

End of Act 2 spoilers.

Kar’niss wandered through the Shadowlands with moon lantern in hand, searching for more of his Queen’s followers. He paused when he noticed something soaring high above the barren tree line, a streak of radiant light that nearly split the sky in two. He squinted in confusion and took several hesitant steps forward to get a better view. Once his eyes adjusted to the sight he saw a flash of white, feathered wings that carried the beautiful figure on the wind, dressed top to toe in regal armor.

“What’s this, Majesty? One of your divine faithful?” Kar’niss hissed.

As the figure soared across the sky, Kar’niss noticed a shift in the air around him. The ground beneath his pointed legs shivered and cracked, lines drawn across the earth to make room for fresh seedlings to sprout. The drider’s face contorted while he staggered away from the new growth, his body turning around to bear witness to the forests steady transformation. Blackened trees groaned and swayed, their natural brown hues bleeding back into the bark like spilled ink over paper. Withered branches sprouted plump, vibrant green leaves that spread down the length bringing the once empty canopy back to life. The scents of death and decay were replaced with bright floral scents which hit Kar’niss’ nose violently, his head jerking back in response to the potent aroma.

“M-My Queen, what is happening? Please, speak to us!”

The dark clouds that had consumed the sky for so long began to part and fade away allowing the first rays of sunlight to kiss the landscape in what felt like an age. The moment his light sensitive eyes were exposed to such brilliance it made him recoil and hiss in anger. He backed up toward a cluster of revitalized trees, using their branches to offer him a form of shade. He clutched the moon lantern close to his breast, his body riddled with anxiety and a touch of fear. His ear twitched when he heard the sound of shadow creatures perishing nearby, their anguished screams enough to put him on high alert. Who was responsible for this? It must’ve been the Absolute, no one else could conquer such a curse in his mind.

Distracted as he was he didn’t catch the beating of wings nearby. His moving about had attracted the attention of the mysterious figure flying above, a stunning aasimar recently freed from captivity. Dame Aylin hovered inches above the ground, sword drawn and sights set on the baffled drider nearby. Kar’niss turned his head and caught sight of her, a lump forming in his throat.

“Majesty? Have you finally come to us?” His voice cracked, gaze focused on what he believed to be his Queen in the flesh.

She frowned at what she deemed a pathetic creature. “I will be your end, abomination.”

Kar’niss sucked in a sharp breath of air as if he’d taken a direct punch to the chest, his body turning to face her. “Wh—What? B-B-But my Queen, why?! We’ve served you faithfully, done all that you’ve asked. Please!”

Dame Aylin didn’t respond, her arm jutting to the side brandishing an intimidating blade of divine make. Her wings beat, carrying her toward the stunned creature with every intent to take his head. She swiped the blade in a fierce arc, the sharp metal cleaving across his chest straight through the chitin. This opened a painful wound and blood spilled free inciting a tormented screech from Kar’niss.

“Augh! Majesty, please! What have we done??” Kar’niss cried out as he tried to back away from the assault, his hand fumbling to reach for his sword.

Dame Aylin saw him reach for the blade and responded with a swift strike, the blades clanging together and with such force that it ripped his weapon from his hand. It spun out of his hand landing in the brush nearby, out of reach. Kar’niss’ lips quivered, his heart pounding in his chest cavity, his thoughts split between the burning slash in his chest and the heartbreak of losing the Absolute’s favor. He tried to retreat to put distance between the violence and himself but he wouldn’t be able to escape a foe as fierce as an aasimar.

She jumped into pursuit, flying over the hurried drider to land right in front of him. She swung once more landing a cut across the side of his face, narrowly missing the target of his neck. He skittered frantically until he backed up into a stone wall, a part of the many ruins peppered across the landscape. He was cornered and even though he could climb the wall he knew escape wasn’t possible. Perhaps he deserved this fate, surely he did something wrong to displease her, this was all his fault.

Kar’niss began to sob as he lowered his body to the ground, cupping his hands over his face in defeat. “Unworthy, we were...unworthy. Please forgive us, Majesty,” he wept.

Dame Aylin hovered above the distraught beast, her eyelids falling half mast, cold and uncaring to his plight. “This will be a mercy,” she began as she raised the sword above her head. “Not what you deserve, but what you shall get.”

He seemed ready to accept his face, terrified as he may have been. Neither heard the fast approach of footsteps, someone running with all of their might toward the confrontation. As Dame Aylin prepared to deliver the final blow someone slid to a stop in front of Kar’niss, their arms opened wide as if to protect him from the strike.

“Aylin, stop!” They cried.

The aasimar squinted but stayed her hand. “Tav, what are you doing? This beast is of the Absolute, he must be eliminated.”

Kar’niss panted, his fingers fanning out across his face to allow him a view of what was happening. He could scarcely believe what he witnessed, still tucked against the foundation of the building so tight it made his abdomen ache.

“He is, that’s true. But like many others he was abused and brainwashed by them. He’s endured endless suffering at the hands of so many. Under the protection of the artifact I think he could have a fighting chance to change. If you kill him then you’re punishing him for being a victim,” Tav explained.

She furrowed her brows beneath her helm, her wings steadily beating to keep her aloft. She’d sigh while lowering her blade, returning it to its sheath. “I do owe you for setting me free. If you wish to vouch for the drider then I will not argue. Just be wary, his mind appears volatile and unpredictable. Do not let your soft heart put you and your companions at risk.”

Tav nodded and lowered their arms. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Aylin.”

She shifted her gaze between Tav and the cowering drider. “There is much left to do. I shall leave you with your new...ward.” Using her wings she ascended back into the sky, flying off and leaving the pair alone.

After she departed Tav breathed a sigh of relief. They turned to face Kar’niss who was in dire straights, trembling and visibly upset.

“Kar’niss, are you alright? You’re bleeding,” Tav said.

Kar’niss was unresponsive, his fingers curled into his face, his body tightly tucked against the wall. Moisture had collected over his face dripping from his chin, the heavy sound of his shaken breathing audible. Tav scowled and took a careful step closer.

“Let me help you. I promise you’re safe now. I’m sure you’re confused and I will explain everything soon. For now let’s focus on tending to those wounds.”

When Tav came close the drider whimpered and tried to back away although there was no room left to do so. “She...she has abandoned us. We were unworthy, an abomination, imperfect. We are nothing now.”

“You are not nothing. You are my friend, remember? The woman you saw was not the Absolute. She is an aasimar called Dame Aylin. She is on our side, but I realize you may not understand that yet.”

Kar’niss’ upper lip curled, his shaken hands sliding away from his face causing the blood on his cheek to smear. “What? She was not with our Queen?” He paused to let the information process. “Th-Then Majesty has not forsaken us?” Tav bit their lower lip. They knew it was a tender subject to tackle and a path they must tread carefully. They wanted to help Kar’niss and that meant giving in to his delusions, at least until they could form a stronger foothold elsewhere.

“No, She hasn’t forsaken you. Majesty wants you healthy so please, let me tend to you.”

The drider seemed to relax, many of his nerves tamed with the idea that he still had a purpose to serve. He’d issue a single nod to show it was alright to approach and Tav did exactly that. Rooting through their bag they retrieved supplies to tend to him, grabbing a rag and dousing it in water from their canteen. They dabbled it over the wound on his chest, wincing at how deep the cut appeared. They were just grateful Aylin hadn’t done more damage before they arrived.

He exhaled as Tav did their work, taking time to look around the changed woodland. Tall, healthy trees, vibrant flora, thick blades of grass, sparkling streams of water, the area was near unrecognizable now.

“The darkness has faded away, the land transformed. We no longer have need of Majesty’s gift.” He bowed his head, a pang of sorrow hanging in his words. “She no longer has need of us.”

Tav looked up at their forlorn companion, reaching to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Where one purpose ends a new one begins. Stay with me, Kar’niss. I promise you’ll have no shortage of things to do. We need you.”

He blinked quickly after such a statement. He felt something swell within his chest that out classed the throbbing from his injury. He didn’t know what to say, the very idea anyone needed him almost felt surreal to him. His pedipalps curled and gave the faintest wiggle of intrigue, his tongue swiping across his lips to combat the growing dryness.

A new purpose, a new beginning, a speck of hope all for himself? Perhaps dreams can come true.

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER NINE)

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CHAPTER NINE: "Feel your breath course frankly below and see life as a worthy opponent"

Shrine maiden's are young priestesses who work at shinto shrine's. They use to be viewed as shaman's but are more accepted into society.

In daily life they are trained to perform tasks such as sacred cleansings and performing the sacred kagura dance.

Early Miko were important social figures and were associated with the ruling class. One Miko has even stated that they descended from the Goddess Uzume.

Inari shrine's however are the most common despite Inari having no presence in mythology.

The lukewarm breeze brushed against his body, A soft wind that rustled the leaves ever so slightly and left only the faintest of chills on his skin.

The sun was low in the tangerine dusted sky. The atmosphere ablaze in hues of red, Oranges and artic blue's. It was a cool summer evening, One you might sit on the porch to admire the setting sun or go out with friends for a drink.

However that was far from Genya's thoughts. One foot in front of the other as he scaled the steep hill, Steps catching on rocky bumps as he went. Occasionally he had to stop to regain his balance, Careful not to fall down.

He had to get up. From what the locals had told him they had seen the man he was looking for come up here. Genya hoped that their word was true as he wiped his brow of sweat, He prayed that he hadn't moved on.

Genya had been searching for weeks now. He had been to villages and cities, Asked dozens of people and came up empty anyways. The man he was tracking down was fast, Tricky and hard to catch.

Genya even doubted that he was real, Doubts clogging up his mind as he near tripped again on the hillside. Sightings of him were few and far between, Majority were around the Kakushi base going in and out but even when he went there he came up empty.

Maybe he was a myth. An urban legend perhaps, A way to motivate the other slayers to do better. After all, One thousand demons in a year is a staggering and impossible number. He could be fake, But even then that motivated Genya further.

It had only been a good month or two after final selection, In that time he had been to many Hashira and higher ranked slayers looking for advice and help yet none of it ever did assist. So if he was real, He must of been it. If Fujimori was unable to help him, Then no one would.

Genya exhaled, Almost a wheeze as his jog staggered into a stop. He keeled over slightly, Resting his hands on his knees absolutely exhausted. He tried to steady his breathing like he was taught to, In and out like he was trained.

It was only when he looked up that he was graced with the top of the hill. A beautiful sight to behold within the oncoming summer evening. The air was cleaner up here, The breeze just a little bit heavier as it tickled at his skin.

It ran through the grass, The leaves and the ferns as his breath hitched in his throat. It was a beautiful landscape, But that was not what he focused on as his eyes locked onto the shadowed man a few metres away from him.

He was tall, Facing the sun and casting a long shadow within a stagelight of evening glow. He stood at the edge of the hill, His sandles kissing the edge of the cliff as he stared longingly at the sun.

Genya had to squint, Barely making his shadowed figure out.

"Hey..!" He tried to call out, Yet it only came out as a mumble. His vocal chords felt tied in his throat as he gazed upon the man, Watching his loose haori flow gently within the wind. He didn't turn around, So Genya tried again.

"H-Hey..!" It came out louder this time, Loud enough for the man standing at the edge of the cliff to stiffen his shoulders and lazily turn his head around to face him.

As soon as he did, Genya was met with the fated mask resting upon his visage. The eyes akin to the sea gazed at him with the equivalent vastness, Almost if his side-look was enough to pierce through his very soul itself.

Genya's jaw dropped only slightly, His breath taken at the sight. He seemed ethereal, Nigh divine in nature as he looked upon him now. He was real, A god incarnated in the flesh and one that looked at him now with such otherworldly grace.

"Oh, Hey.. Didn't see you there." His voice resonated out, Loud above the midsummer evening breeze. It was boyish, Casual and spoke with a non-chalant charm as his mask's irises looked him up and down.

Genya felt like he was nothing under his scrutiny. His messy half shaven hair and his mid-puberty skin made him feel insignificant like an insect, A sudden urge to tidy himself rose from within Genya's chest.

"You must be the slayer that was following me around for weeks, Right?" [F/N] asked, His voice still held that casual tone as he pointed out Genya's game. Genya himself felt his breath catch in his throat and his face heat up from embarrassment.

"Y-Yes Fujimori-sama, I'm sorry!" Was all he could say as he instantly bowed low in front of him, Arms tightly locked to his side as another bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He had knew Genya was following him for weeks, How? He had no clue.

Genya heard a snort muffled by his mask with a light chuckle to chase it. It made him blush harder, Shame appearing in the red.

"Don't sweat it. I was wondering when you'd show up anyways.." [F/N] remarked. The bottom of his sandals that mingled with the cliff's edge parted, His overcast figure turning around and pacing a few steps towards him.

"So.. You must've been pretty determined if you wanted to find me this bad, It's admirable really but.. Whatever you wanna say, I'd do it now. The nights almost here and I gotta head soon." [F/N] said, Coming to a halt just a few feet away from him, Waiting for his answer.

Genya swallowed the bundle of words choking up his throat, He couldn't take his eyes off the masks as he stared into their patient blue.

"I.. I want you to make me your Tsuguko! I want to learn Soul Breathing- I-If that's okay with you.." Genya exclaimed a little too loudly, Making it up by quickly adding cordiality at the end.

The mask's eyes blinked. [F/N] cocked his head to the side as he stared down at him. It was basically impossible to tell what he was thinking behind it, The best Genya could make out was a hint of contemplation.

Then, [F/N] shrugged.

"..No can do. Sorry." [F/N] replied. Raising a hand to the back of his head to lightly scratch it as he looked down at the boy with a semi-apologetic look.

Genya's frown grew sharper.

"What..?! But why?" Genya argued lightly, Almost like a toddler throwing a tantrum. [F/N] sucked air through his teeth in response.

"Mmm.. I'm sorry. I'm just not good with that sort of stuff. I'm not exactly a life model to follow or give guidance, You know?" [F/N] explained, This time almost fully apologetic as he bowed his head lightly.

Genya looked baffled. He had spent all these weeks searching for him, Looking for miles just to beg [F/N] to take him as his Tsuguko. He had expected a yes, A reward for his hard work yet he was faced with a no. And that's something he just can't take.

"So what? I've been looking for you for ages now, You may not be used to this sort of thing but I promise I'll try my best! You.. You don't even need to do much, I can just take notes if you bring me along with you so.. Please!" Genya bargained once more, Bowing again before him.

He stared down at the ground, Begging whatever god was listening that somehow he swayed his mind. Convinced him that it was a good idea to take him in, This was his last resort.

A sudden snap of fingers brought him back to reality.

"Ahh.. That's where I recognise you from. You're The Wind Hashira's brother, Genya.. Right?" [F/N] said. Fingers positioned in a check before him after snapping, An eccentric quirk as he sounded relieved.

"Y-Yeah.. That's me." Genya confirmed with a nod.

"Then why don't you ask him to take you in as a Tsuguko? Wouldn't that be easier?" [F/N] questioned, A dramatic raise of his lower lid and a tilt to his head as he inquired such.

Genya's fist subconsciously started to curl up.

"It's.. My brother and I aren't getting along right now. It's complicated but.. I can't ask him, He.. He doesn't really like me anymore." Genya admits, Tossing his head and his eyes to the side. Anyway to not meet the other man's gaze.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed, He hummed slightly under his breath. He seemed to taste his words on his tongue, Thinking over and mulling every little detail of it. He shook his head lightly, Then sighed.

"..Alright then. I won't take you in as a Tsuguko, But I can give you some advice at least." [F/N] finalized. A compromise came to and one he was fine with, If not a little hesitant.

Genya looked up at him. The disappointment quelled only a little bit, While it wasn't the prospect of training under him the information that he could turn into advice must of been invaluable. It was better than nothing and better not to push his luck.

"I.. Thank you, Fujimori-sama." Genya mumbled gratefully. [F/N] snorted again.

"Drop the 'sama', Makes me feel old. Fujimori-san is fine with me." [F/N] said. Turning to the side to pace off towards the surrounding forest life and sitting down on a old fallen log, One with festering mushrooms growing from the sides as he sat faced the sun.

"Come on, Sit with me." [F/N] called out to him, Patting the space beside him on the log expectantly as he looked at the boy.

Genya quickly nodded, Hastily moving over to the fallen log and quickly sitting down beside him.

As he sat down, He felt his body tense up at the awkward silence. Stealing a quick gaze towards [F/N] he saw him take in the scenery, Admiring the fungi and the blossoming flowers surrounding them.

He breathed in, The air fresh in his lungs. It made his shoulders relax ever so slightly, Only a little bit as the strangeness of the situation set in.

"So.." [F/N] started. "You mentioned earlier that you wanted to learn Soul Breathing, Right? I'm guessing this means you don't have a breathing style then." [F/N] deducted, His eyes never straying from their surroundings as he spoke.

"Yeah. It's actually part of the reason I wanted to be your Tsuguko in the first place.. I've been to lots of cultivators, Senior slayers and even a Hashira or two.. But no matter how hard I try or train I just can't learn any of the styles." Genya explained, Remembering the events that brought him here.

[F/N] hummed, Taking in the information.

"Really, Even the basic one's like Fire or water?" He queried, Eyes only now taking a glance towards him.

"Yeah.. Fire, Water, Wind and countless others.. I just can't learn any of them." Genya confirmed.

[F/N] nodded, Taking in a deep breath of the ripe air.

"Well breathing styles themselves are a reflection of our strengths and talents. Almost mirrors of ourselves, Really. Each of them has a special strength you need to excel in to learn how to wield them" [F/N] started, His vast knowledge of breathing styles starting to come into play.

"Breathing styles like Stone breathing require excelling in durability. Fire and Water both require hard work and physical fitness. Thunder requires speed, Wind is Swordsmanship. Other styles that descend from them require more such as Love breathing descending from Fire, Both requiring physical fitness and flexibility. The more you descend down the chain, The more difficult it is to master the style." [F/N] explained.

Genya took in the information, Slowly nodding along to every word the man spoke. He tried to register it inside but the onslaught was a lot to handle in his head, But he tried his best to follow it.

"And what about Soul breathing?" Genya asked.

"Soul Breathing requires Mental Strength." [F/N] replied, Now turning to look at him through his porcelain sapphire irises. "Soul Breathing is one of the fundamental basic breathing styles along with the one's I mentioned."

Genya lowered a brow.

"Mental Strength? What does that mean?" He asked. The term was broad, Vague to be precise. It made his lip quirk and his mind fuzz up even more than it was already. [F/N] chuckled lightly.

"It requires a will that rivals the gods themselves. A determination to keep going through any situation, To keep going even though you know every single bone in your body is broken. Stability and a calmness in your soul. Everyday I need to meditate around three hours just to be able to wield it." [F/N] answered.

Genya nodded yet he felt baffled at the training regiment. Three hours, Just for meditation. It sounded insane, It was as well. Genya could barely imagine doing it himself.

"Don't take any offense to this, But you don't seem like you excel in that sort of thing." [F/N] commented, Eyes running him up and down from the tips of his hair to the soles in his shoes.

Genya groaned. Even though he hated to admit it, [F/N] was right.

"Listen.. You are physically fit, You're durable and you're fast. I've seen it over the past few weeks but it's nothing you specialize in, It's not your special skill that can set you apart from the others" [F/N] started, A follow up with purpose to comfort him.

[F/N] leaned in closer. The mask's eyes locking onto Genya's own in a staredown, One that made him feel that same insignificant way he did the first time. Like he was judging him, Looking straight into his soul.

"So, Genya. What do you excel at?" He asked.

The question reverberated in his ears. Genya knew it wasn't meant to be rude or invasive in anyway but he felt like his head was cut open, Like [F/N] was questioning this not to his face but to his very core down to the bottom.

He thought for a moment. Words ringing as he contemplated them over and over. Genya was physically fit, He could take a punch and could run faster than the average person yet it wasn't anything he was particularly great at.

But the skills pushed away in the back of his mind, They weren't something he was proud of and they weren't useful at all. But the prying gaze the man sported made him want to cough them up, Already spilling out.

"Well.. I'm not really good with a sword to be honest. I'm great at hitting targets though, As well as this.. Special kind of talent.." Genya mumbled. Almost regretting his last words as he let them out.

[F/N] hummed.

"Special kind of talent? You want to explain it to me?" [F/N] asked. A sudden undertone of curiosity playing on his tongue. Genya pulled his gaze away from the man, Watching his shoes as he contemplated his words.

"..Well, It's not really something I like to talk about but.. A few years ago I figured out that I could become a demon by eating their own flesh" Genya admitted, Slightly nervous as he looked back up at him. "..It's how I got past final selection in the first place.." He added.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed. His stare made Genya feel more exposed yet it wasn't in the usual scorn he got when he told people. It was surprised, Maybe even a little intrigued.

"I see.. Well I've never heard anything like that before, Can't say I can give any advice on that front." [F/N] remarked, His look finally pulling away from him to longingly look at the sun once more.

"So you do have talents. Like you said you've got your demon eating as well as your skill in hitting targets, However neither of those are able to be turned into a breathing style." [F/N] concluded.

Genya felt himself deflate. He had been wanting to find [F/N] for weeks, Wanting an answer to his incompetence in breathing styles and his lack of skill. [F/N] was suppose to know so much about breathing styles and if he said that he couldn't then that was that.

He needed to become a Hashira, He wanted it so badly it churned in his stomach. A breathing style was a slayers life-blood, If he couldn't learn one then how-

"Ah, Whatever. It's not like a breathing style matters much anyways." [F/N] remarked as he gazed into the sun, Shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal.

Genya's eyes widened, Looking up at him.

"What do you mean..?" He asked slowly, His words were an oddity. A breathing style was all everyone discussed in the corps, Their techniques and their types. Everything about them yet the strongest among them brushed it off like dust on his shoulder.

[F/N]'s eyes shined, Reflecting in the evening light.

"As I said, Our style is a reflection of us. It's not a breathing style that makes us strong, Genya. It's our strengths that make the breathing style. Maybe a breathing style is just not the mirror to reflect your strength so-" [F/N] cut himself off, Shoulders raising along with his eyebrows.

"Ah-! Hold on.." [F/N] muttered as he reached around to somewhere behind the log. Genya watched him rustle about, Muttering 'no' or 'not it' as he heard several things clinking and hitting against each other.

"Aha!" [F/N] called out in triumph as he turned back around and in his hands it was something that made Genya's eyes widen. Held with such 'nonchalantness' was a gun, A shotgun to be precise.

"Where did you get that?!" Genya gawked, Eyes locked onto the sudden weapon he wielded with such causality as he now noticed the open bag sitting behind the log.

"Got it while scavenging a demon's house.. Oyataka-sama has decided docked my pay until I start showing up to the Hashira meetings. Of course being the stubborn bastard that I am, Won't let him win so I've been taking stuff from the demons I slay and selling them in the villages." [F/N] groaned like a child not getting their way, Scratching the back of his head.

"Unfortunately though you can't really sell something like this in a small village so.. I was going to head to Tokyo after this to sell it there but, I suppose you'd get some use out of it." [F/N] said, A smirk appearing on the corners of his porcelain mask.

"Me?!" Genya exclaimed, Taken aback by the sudden proposition as he watched [F/N] push himself up from the log.

"Yeah, You. You said you were good at hitting targets, Right?" [F/N] didn't wait for an answer as he paced forward, Gun in hand as he beckoned Genya to follow him which he did quickly.

[F/N] stopped in front of the cliff, The sun shining bright onto the two of them. Genya watched as [F/N] flipped the gun around, Presenting him with the handle.

"Careful. You know how to use one of these?" [F/N] asked to which Genya nodded. Taking the polished wooden handle with utmost care, He looked it over and examined the metal.

"..Yeah, Only the basics though.." He replied yet was still enthralled with the craftsmanship of the shotgun.

"Great. Now here's what I'm gonna do." [F/N] reached down towards the ground, Stretching out his hand he grasped a handful of pebbles from within the grass and got back up.

"I'm gonna throw these off the cliff, Your job is to shoot them mid-air alright? Let's see if this is your special talent after all." [F/N] said, The smirk playing on his mask widened only a little more as he turned to the cliff.

He tossed Genya a bag full of ammo, To which he nodded gratefully and quickly loaded the gun if with a little difficulty.

"Ready?" [F/N] asked, Holding up a single pebble in his hand.

"Ready." Genya nodded. Raising the gun towards the sun he wiped the sweat and steadied his heartrate, Waiting on baited breath.

In a single toss the pebble was flung high into the cool air. Hurtling like stars through the sky and quickly dipping, Starting to fall into the ground.

BAM!

But in a pull of the trigger and a wince at the backlash, The pebble exploded into chunks in a burst of dust and stone leftover falling to the ground. It was completely destroyed within the second it flew, Split into a million pieces.

Genya's breath hitched, Surprised at his own outcome.

"Nice." [F/N] praised. "But that was just one, Not enough to prove your skill. So, Round two?"

"Right.." He said. Genya nodded then looked back at the sun, Ready for the second round.

And in another split second another flurry of rocks flew up into the air. Several dozen moving through the air like plane trails. Genya's eyes narrowed, His finger playing with the trigger.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Several gunshots went off followed by more rocks exploding mid-air. Dust scattered across the atmosphere as more rocks were tossed, [F/N] not giving him a break for a minute.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Genya kept shooting, One after the other not a single rock spent a single second in the air without being hit. No stray bullet, His eyes locked onto every single pebble thrown like he had a homing system built into his mind.

BAM!

One final shot echoed out into the setting evening night. One final explosion of dust and rock falling away from the impact. Genya was breathing heavily, Looking for the next rock before realising there was no more.

The gun lowered in his hold, Falling to his side.

"Hey.. Nice job. I guess you really are skilled at this after all." [F/N] applauded, Now fully turning his body around to meet Genya. The way he looked at him now was filled with nothing but pride, The way an older brother might look at their younger sibling and one Genya hadn't had in a long time.

Genya showed a small smile through his exterior. Looking at [F/N] now he saw something deep within the god he appeared to be, Through the divine atmosphere surrounding him there was something undeniably human in there. Something warm and benevolent, Something that seemed locked away by his ethereal status.

"Thanks.." Genya muttered. His smile full of appreciation and flattered joy as he looked away. [F/N] raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder.

"You can keep the gun, Alright? You'll need to purchase the rounds yourself but I think that this will be much easier for you than a sword or needing to constantly eat demon meat." [F/N] said, Nodding once before removing his hand.

"Oh, By the way. If you still want to work under a Hashira, I'd go for Himejima Gyomei. Tell him I sent you, Okay?" [F/N] added to which Genya nodded gratefully.

Genya looked down at the gun, Looking from the wooden handle to the steel bound barrel. It was perfectly crafted if not for a scratch or two and it was the first gift anyone had given him in a long time. He chuckled lightly, Wiping away the tears building up in the corners of his eyes.

"Thank you, Fujimori-san but how can I ever repay yo-"

But by the time Genya went to thank him, He was already gone.

His presence disappearing into the sunlight leaving the boy standing stunned on the hill. The wind brushed through the grass and forest life, The serene quiet falling over him once more.

Genya's mouth closed, He nodded slowly as if to accept his current situation. While he hadn't gotten his goal of working under him he came out with something much more valuable, Both in the lesson he learned and the expensive quality of the gun.

He turned, Back facing the sun as he slowly made his way down the hill. Now his goal was to find The Stone Hashira and ask for his help and with the recommendation of Fujimori it felt like everything was falling into place.

Fujimori, The god in human clothing. His faded presence leaving a lasting effect as he went back down, A light and blessed kick in his step now.

He stood unshakeable above everyone else, At least that's what Genya thought anyways.

☆♡☆

[F/N] opened her eyes wide, Skin drenched in cold sweat as she gasped for air.

Shooting up on her futon she sat alert on the mattress. Shoulders raised high as if she was to be attacked, Fingers itching to draw her sword or throw a punch.

Though she calmed down when she was met with the cold darkness of her room. Her hair was a mess, Knotted and greasy from not showering and her nightwear was clammy from the amount of sweat she was secreting.

Her shoulders slumped. This was the first time in who knows how long that she had a dream, It wasn't the empty void of a restless slumber but instead a rekindled memory. An unusual kind of dream and one she had never had before.

It was usually just the blizzard or in recent cases the face-melting dream. This one was actually one she remembered, One that took place only a few months ago. The dream was when Sanemi's younger brother came for advice and she had given it readily.

[F/N] sighed. She recalled at the time how the boy looked at her, The way he thought she stood above the clouds themselves. It was a look that made her groan and feel icky, More than she already did with the dirt on her skin.

[F/N] remembered how much she took for granted the sun on her skin, The warmth of it like a featherlight touch and the embracing light that came upon her. Not to mention the wind as she stood on the cliffs edge, The soft breeze as her sandals near tipped off.

It was such a beautiful evening. It was only until the sky was now only a dark void that she wished she could see the sun once more.

[F/N] wiped her brow full of sweat. She groaned and flipped her legs over the side of the frame and slowly stood up on aching legs. She was glad though, Recently it took a good few hours before she could even dare to get up. The nightmare did have a sliver lining at least.

Her bare feet hit the old wooden floorboards as she pushed herself up. Remembering the events of yesterday [F/N] hummed. Pulling back her pillow she saw the sixteen separate tallies.

[F/N] slowly etched another tally beside the lonely tail to the side, Her uncut nails making it easy to do so. Seventeen sleeps, The information put onto the wall now.

Akaza was now in her corner. He was now available for handing in small items of use and providing information, Of which she already knew what she was going to ask now that she had slept on it.

Whenever he did show up that was. Whether it was Kokushibo or Akaza on shift she had no clue, But as she moved over to the vanity desk and averted her eyes from the mirror she knew that it was only a matter of time until she found out.

Though, She'd need to fix her appearance first. For weeks she had been putting it off, Brushing it away with the excuse of it being no big deal but as she felt the grime on her skin and the knots in her hair she knew she'd need to fix it.

So instead of throwing on another kimono she instead tossed a lotus-patterned one over her shoulder and headed out the room, Going to see if there really was a bathing place here after all.

☆♡☆

The pull of a string, The small drops of water building up into a rushing flood.

The bamboo irrigation pipe was pulled down from the wall, Letting a gush of running water flow down and into the empty pit below.

[F/N] stood on the wooden rim of the square-shaped bath, Her bare feet touching the somewhat dusty birch wood flooring as she watched the already steaming water start to fill up the pit.

Walking over to a small drawer built into the wall she pulled it open. A burst of dust was released making [F/N] cough and wheeze, Wafting away the soot with her hand she peered inside only to be met with an incense set.

It was old and unused for assumedly a long time but that didn't matter to her as she smiled, The incense always being something she enjoyed when she use to take her baths back at the shrine. The cherry lotus always being her favourite scent.

Luckily while wandering around one of the previously unwandered parts of the shrine she had came across the bath houses. And fortunately they were only mildly dusty, Easily cleaned up by the first shower of water she sprayed into it beforehand.

Speaking of the water [F/N] didn't really want to think about where it came from. Hopefully not the ocean outside, But if that was the case then the water would be a slightly murky and translucent liquid and not the clear water that was flooding down into the bath now.

[F/N] was glad at least. Grabbing the two incense sticks she struck one against the matchbox provided. Slightly raising it up to her nose she expected the usual scent of cherry lotus.

But as she inhaled in the only thing she smelt was the delicate bitterness of lotus, There was absolutely no cherry to be found. Instead it was the new yet old smell of fresh water flowers entering her lungs.

A disappointed frown spread across her face. The lack of the sweet aroma mixing with the bitter was an unwelcome sensation, Though the stick had already started turning black she set it back down into the tin with the new smell starting to diffuse amongst the room.

The bath had now raised to a fair level and with the pull of the string once more the irrigation pipe raised back up into the wall, Water going with it as it clicked back into place.

[F/N] didn't take any time to set her foot down on the first step, Water pooling around her ankles as she took another few steps down the stairs until the water reached her midsection.

She winced slightly, The water stinging her injury but it didn't deter her in anyway as it reached her shoulders then her neck. [F/N] was completely submerged now, All except from her head.

[F/N] was left to bask in the warm embrace of the water. It was quiet, The only sounds being the sparks of incense and the sound of water sloshing against each other at any little movement she made. It all left her vulnerable to her thoughts.

Floating in the little lake she made for herself she could only focus on the lotus lilt drifting around the room. The cherry that was missing made it feel so incomplete, [F/N] didn't even know why but as she inhaled it in she could feel an undeniable hole in her heart.

Her plan, She needed to focus on her plan out of here. Luckily she has access to Akaza now so with that in mind she laid down the steps in her mind.

Get the proper information: Akaza was a useful source so she needed to gather information. Where the exit was and perhaps where Kokushibo was storing her mask and sword.

Plan out an escape route and time from there. It was a difficult decision whether to do it while Kokushibo was here in the shrine during the day or while Akaza was here and Kokushibo was out there in the night.

Get the sword and mask. [F/N] didn't think he would've destroyed them or tossed them, They were nigh indestructable and highly valuable so it wouldn't make sense if he did. Afterwards, Step four.

Escape.

It was a four step plan. One that seemed much easier in her head than would be put into practice, Either way once she was finished with her bath she'd need to write it down and hide it in-between her bedframe.

Taking the oil sat on the edge of the bath she popped the seal, [F/N] let the lavender scented liquid pool in her hands and rubbed it between her palms. Raising her hands to her hair she started to massage the oil into her scalp.

Anyways she had somewhat of a plan now. Well, the bare bones of it but she was trying to focus on the positive here.

[F/N] would still need to find a way to deal with Kokushibo, She'd still need to figure out what time would be best to leave or what time it was at all. [F/N] had all the time in the world however, There was barely anything to do here anyways.

[F/N] continued massaging the oil into her previously greasy hair, Feeling the grime washing out of her overgrown and choppy locks into the bath water below. It was somewhat therapeutic, Her nerves had been on edge lately but as her shoulders relaxed she could feel her heartrate slow down with it.

[F/N] tilted her head back, Body now lying on top of the water of which was keeping her afloat. The bathhouse was surprisingly cosy and warm, This was probably the most calm she had felt in weeks.

[F/N] didn't want to remember the last time she took a bath. Last time she had sunk so low into the water, Sunk so low that water started to invade her lungs and leave a lasting effect afterwards.

She moved her palm down to her chest. [F/N] felt the water running down her skin, Pressing it close to her heart. The pain had completely healed now, Probably from the amount of rest she had while unconscious. A silver lining at least.

[F/N] tossed her head to the side as she continued to work the oil into her hair, Running her fingers through the ties and knots built up in it all easily coming loose. She shut her eyes, Focusing of the rhythm of her hands through the strands.

Her body felt like jello in the water, The warmth flooding her system like the pool rushing around her like ocean waves. She leaned her head back, Shoulders slumping as she let all her worries leave her system.

She sighed, Breath exiting her lungs as th-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

[F/N] jolted up from the water.

She took in a sharp gasp of air, Eyes shooting open at the sudden scream of noise hitting at the door. [F/N] raised up from the water, Head snapping towards the door.

"W-Who's there, I'm busy!" [F/N] called out, Suprised from the abrupt intrusion as her eyes looked at the door like a ticking explosive. It was silent, Only for a moment.

"Kokushibo.. Who else would it be?" Kokushibo called back out from behind the door. His voice was muffled yet [F/N] could hear his signature voice from behind it, Topped with the usual cold and indifferent tone.

[F/N] groaned lightly, Rubbing her temples. What could he want? For days since the dinner incident he had been avoiding her and ignoring her in favour of his "No respect or gratitude until you start behaving" rule.

Has he really given up in that rule? What could he want with her now, She hadn't done anything at all except.. Did he find out she had been talking to Akaza?

[F/N] swallowed. For Inari's sake she hoped not, He was her ticket out of here and she couldn't risk losing him. Hoping for the best she opened her mouth to respond.

"F-Figure of speech! What do you want..?" [F/N] muttered out, Resting her hands on the edge of the poolside. She made sure to emphasise the irritation in her voice, The only form of protest she could muster right now.

"Show some respect and adress me in proper honorifics, Girl.. Now are you decent?" Kokushibo hissed in response to her tone. [F/N] gulped in return and shook off the cold sweat.

She sighed.

"..Fine, Kokushibo-sama.. I am not decent." She emphasised again, Feeling a slight uncomforting taste on her tongue as she said it. "May I please ask what you want with me?"

[F/N] heard nothing for a few moments, Her eyes stuck on the door wondering if she had done anything wrong before she heard a deep sigh.

"That'll do.. Once you are done with your bath.. I expect you to get dressed and meet me out in the courtyard.. You are aware of how to get there, Correct?" Kokushibo inquired, His voice still rough but less irritated now.

"Yeah.." [F/N] replied cautiously. He wants to meet? In the courtyard? What could he possibly want that warrants her presence in the courtyard? [F/N] could feel her stomach turn, This couldn't be good.

"Alright then.. Make it quick and do not keep me waiting." Kokushibo ordered. [F/N] listened close as she heard his heavy footsteps trail off down the hallway, Feeling the vibrations through the door. All until she couldn't hear or feel anything of him anymore.

As soon as she knew he was gone, She pushed her head into her palms and groaned. [F/N], Foolish of to think he'd leave her alone. Whatever hope she had left of that was now diminished into water foam.

She shook her head. [F/N] rested her hands upon the rim of the pool, She pushed herself up and hoisted her bare body over the side until she was completely out of the water, Save for the droplets dripping down her skin.

[F/N] got to her feet, Her steps leaving watermarks on the floorboards as she grabbed the towel hanging on the rack and tied it around her body.

Kokushibo, The thought of what he could want reverberated in her mind like a yell in a cavern. [F/N] just hoped to Inari that it wouldn't mean any roadblocks in her path, She hoped it wouldn't affect her escape at all.

☆♡☆

[F/N] walked down the chilling hallways of the shrine. By now her hair was only damp and her skin revitalized from the recent bath, A welcome change from the grime and dirt covering her head to toe.

Her footsteps stopped. In front of her stood the courtyard doors, As she reached a hand out to the knob she could feel the faint brush of heat coming from the other side. Enticing, Yet she kept her hand firmly rested on the doorknob.

She stared at the silver gripped in her hand. Kokushibo was on the other side of this door, The sheer acknowledgement of that made her want to puke. [F/N] didn't want to spend time with him or talk to him in any way but by the tone in his voice she knew it wasn't a debatable option.

[F/N] ran her fingers through her hair and adjusted her lotus-patterned kimono. A beautiful emerald sunset of fabric brushing against her fingertips, It fit perfectly well and suited her figure to the fullest.

Taking a deep breath in she turned the knob.

The door opened with a click, Easily pushed open by [F/N] as the light started to dance on her face making her squint.

She walked in, Closing the door behind her as she walked down the dark hall towards the light. The warmth getting more and more evident as she went, Near tickling on her skin as she finally reached the end.

The warm light finally washed over her entire figure, Her semi-blurry vision met with the towering Hyperion tree flourishing in the centre. It's leaves were as green as always, It's branches producing ripe apples.

It was a welcome sight, Almost enough to steady her nerves as she looked down under the shade of the blossoming leaves. There stood her captor, Standing strong underneath the shadows.

His back was facing her, He stood under the tree with his stance wide and strong. The samurai appearance he sported was on full display now as she noticed his flesh forged sword drawn and placed in front of him, Supporting him.. Not like he needed it, Though.

Kokushibo. As much as she hated him, Loathed him in every way possible [F/N] could not say he wasn't dignified, An honourable man if she didn't know the full extent of who he was and what he was capable of.

Kokushibo cocked his head to the side, Three golden eyes landing on her small figure in the doorframe looking up at him. His expression was emotionless and cold as he turned around to face her in that same position.

"You've arrived.. That took longer than expected.." Kokushibo remarked. His jabbing gaze scrutinizing every little inch of her like a hawk closing in, One that made [F/N] feel nervous.

"..What can I say? This is kind of on short notice..- Kokushibo-sama." She quickly added on the name and honorifics to try and balance out her previous statement. It worked apparently, Evident by his lack of emotional change.

"It doesn't matter.. While you are here you should be ready to come when I call.. If I want you to dress or act a certain way you shall do so.. Do you understand why?" Kokushibo asked, Eyes expecting her to know the answer.

[F/N] bit her tongue, Both in thought and effort not to bite back at him.

"Because.. Because.." She mumbled.

"-Because I am the head of this family as well as your older brother.. You may still be confused but that does not excuse you.. So, Hold your tongue when you are with me.." Kokushibo said slowly, Almost as if he was spelling it out to a toddler.

Hold my tongue? What do you think I'm doing? Either way no matter how much he enraged her she didn't want to send another jab back, Not unless she wanted to invoke his wrath that is.

Kokushibo took a few steps down from where he was standing under the Hyperion. His figure becoming more illuminated as he was only a metre away from her now, Much to her displeasure.

"So.. About the last time we spoke.. Have you thought over my words at all? The coincidences in your nightmares.. Do they make any more sense to you?" He asked. Though his face was stone cold [F/N] could see the dirt in the cracks, He was curious, That much she could tell.

In all honesty it hadn't left her mind. While she hadn't had it at the forefront, No, She had other things to think about. It was always a parasite eating away at the back of her brain, Things she'd lie awake at night mulling over or think about when she chewed on her food.

The coincidence was no longer coincidence, Instead it had turned into correlation. There was no way it was just a match of chance. Everything matched up from the setting to the bleeding wounds it was all up to the tea.

At first it alarmed her, It made her panicked. Her religion believed in energy passing back to the environment, Not reincarnation: A Buddhist belief. It was an existential crisis only put off by her meeting with Akaza, Barely at that.

But as time passed on and as she was left to her thoughts, The more she started to come to terms with her situation.

Reincarnation. Shintoism has always been hand in hand with Buddhism, Things mixed between the two faiths so she supposed that it wouldn't be too out of line that reincarnation was the next step.

Just like she came to terms with her location at the shrine she became more at ease with the reincarnation theory. Not comfortable, Not at all but she was managing.

Even so the chances of her being related to the Uppermoon one then becoming a Hashira to fight him hundreds of years in the future. That was the hardest part to wrap her head around but she had to if she wanted to escape.

So she swallowed it down, Kept it hidden before opening her mouth to speak.

"Well if I am speaking in all honesty, I kind of believe you?" [F/N] stated, A casual remark as if explaining the sky was blue. A remark that made Kokushibo raise a brow.

"But.. Even so.. Even if I was related to you in the past doesn't mean we are now. I.. We're not siblings, I.. I have been reincarnated into a new life. I don't mean to offend you.. Kokushibo-sama, But I'm just not your little sister anymore." [F/N] shrugged her shoulders and if she didn't have her hands slack to her sides in view of him she would've crossed her fingers.

Kokushibo stood there seemingly thinking over her words. His eyebrows lowered once more as he looked down at her and took in a sharp breath of air.

"..It seems like you didn't understand what I said at all.." He concluded, A slight shake of his head and the roll of his middle eyes showed that completely. The absolute delusion made [F/N]'s skin crawl more than it already was.

"No matter.. As has been made clear to you we have all the time in the world for me to help you understand your situation better.." Kokushibo turned away from her, Leaving [F/N] in confusion.

"Is.. Is that all? Can I go?" [F/N] asked slowly, Testing the waters as she watched him march back over to the Hyperion tree with curious eyes.

"No.. I didn't just bring you out here for a catch up.. I called you out here because I want to see your swordsmanship.." Kokushibo replied. He reached over to somewhere behind the Hyperion tree, Reaching his toned arm out he grabbed and raised a wooden practice sword.

[F/N]'s lips parted, Seemingly breathless at the sight of the sword. Out of all the things she expected to be doing today it wasn't showing off her lack of swordsmanship to her captor.

"But.. But didn't you see enough back at the shrine, You know.. When you fought me?" [F/N] asked, Mouth wide and agape as she gawked at the sword. Kokushibo took a few more steps towards her, The wooden sword held in both his hands.

"Yes.. However I want to see it more up close.. Without the use of my own breathing technique. I want to examine your skill.. Your form and your footwork.. From what I did see back at your shrine it was some of the best I have met." Kokushibo said.

It was an unusual compliment coming from him, Mostly due to the stark contrast in the way he said it. Walking forward a few more steps Kokushibo presented her with the practice sword.

[F/N]'s arms reached out, Her fingers shaking as she grasped the bamboo fibre handle of the sword and took it into her hands. The cool timber resting within her palms as she surveyed the woodwork.

"So.. Do you want me to do a few stances or..?" She trailed off, Waiting for him to finish the sentence for her as he took a few strides back from her.

He didn't respond, Not vocally as he only drew his own blade from it's biological hilt. The fleshy muscle of what should've been metal pulsated like it was alive, Wretched eyes sticking out to stare at her small form below her.

"No.. Instead I want you to face against me.. A one on one fight without the use of my own breathing style." He announced and as the last letter left his mouth her eyes shot open wide like saucers.

"W-What?! But I'm still injured, I can't fight you!" [F/N] exclaimed, Words babbling out on instinct as she gawked at the living blade. Disgust and repulsion revering on her tongue as she spoke. Kokushibo hummed.

"Not in a proper fight.. No.. Which is why I am promising to be gentle with you.. Nothing that might strain or impede your injury's near full recovery.." Kokushibo said, Eyeing her up and down with a glint in his eye.

Almost as if he knew something.

[F/N] gulped, Eyeline drifting away from his.

Kokushibo didn't hesitate to hold his blade to the side, A casual stance and a basic one at that. His entire demeanour radiated danger and his voice spoke forward.

"Lets begin.." He stated. "To start us off.. Your only task is to land a hit on me. Nothing more, Nothing less.." Kokushibo said. An open task as she looked at him, Unsure and nervous while she raised the wooden blade in her own stance.

[F/N] didn't move an inch however. A cold sweat running down her brow as she bit her lip, Her mind seemed to race a thousand miles per hour yet her feet stood fixed onto the smooth ground of the courtyard.

"Well..? Are you going to make your move.. Or would you prefer it if I do mine first?" His words a suggestion yet a threat was held in the undertones, Dark and inferring.

It was also everything [F/N] needed to steel her nerves and put a single foot in front of the other, Until her slow march became a faltered run. Her practice sword drawn to her side as [F/N] charged at him.

tap, Tap, TAP, TAP!

Her footsteps grew louder, Her knees bended as she launched herself up into the air with her sword swinging.

Kokushibo raised his own in turn, Drawing it back and launching it forward with both swords creating rushing winds by their sheer force.

CLASH!

The bamboo sword collided with the flesh of his own sword. Bits of splinter burst out from the impact yet it wasn't enough to shatter her sword.

[F/N] gritted her teeth. Still in the air she drew her sword back once more, Eyes locked onto his open neck as she swung it down harder, Quicker and with more burning desire to slice open his jugular.

CLASH! SLASH! THUMP! SLASH!

Her sword hit against his over and over with a sudden rage brought up in her. Kokushibo on the other hand didn't break a sweat, Effortlessly stepping to the side and lazily raising his sword to perfectly block every little one of her attacks.

Her steps were light as her sword danced in the air. Her technique wasn't usual. Kokushibo noted her fighting style was similar to that of a Shrine-maidens dance, Graceful and coordinated yet had a touch of ferality and desperation in every sway of the bamboo.

"Hmph.. Try and steady your footwork there, You are missing several turns you should be making.." Kokushibo commented as he watched her featherlight steps on the ground, One's that seemed perfect to her. Hair catching in her face as she went.

"I-I'm doing my footwork fine! Maybe if you give me the mask and sword I'd give you a proper demonstration!" [F/N] replied yet she never strayed from his neck. Sword swinging and hurtling down hard only to be blocked yet again by his fleshy blade.

"..No, They've been confiscated for your own good.. You're not getting them back" Kokushibo replied as he swayed his blade, Confirming that her items were not destroyed.

His own movements were absolutely flawless as he blocked another one of her attacks. Even though [F/N] wasn't as good at her swordsmanship in her normal form this was just ridiculous, She could still do a good few moves yet he kept dodging and weaving around her.

Maybe it was the anger that was putting her off, The way his dry lips turned into a small smile as he fought with her made her enraged. It was the way both the eyes on his face and the ones on his sword shone with enjoyment.

[F/N] hurled in the air, Tossing and turning until her body landed a few metres away from him. Low, Crouched and out of breath as she looked up at his untouchable form through the mess of her hair.

"Hm.. Already tired? I expected more of you.. Little one.." Kokushibo said with his flat voice yet the taunt perceived by [F/N] didn't go unnoticed.

"I've been asleep for weeks.. I'm injured and I'm doing this in these blocky sandals.. What more do you want from me?" She panted, Gesturing to her maiden sandals she wore. Body burning from the smallest exercise she's had in ages.

It didn't make sense to her either. If he wanted to see her technique then he should of waited until she was fully healed from the cut on her abdomen, Why did he want to do this? He wasn't even putting any effort in so.. Why?

"I want to see your breathing style.. What was it.. Soul breathing?" Kokushibo remembered, Spare hand pointing up beside him in recollection. "Hm, Yes.. Why don't you attempt to use your breathing style? ..It was rather impressive the last time I saw it.."

[F/N] pressed a hand to the dirt ground, Pushing herself up with effort as she stumbled a bit.

Her eyes dragged themselves up to him, A look of disbelief and raw defeat permeating through them as she tried to steady her breathing. As his proposition rang in her mind, So did the sunset, So did the breeze on her skin and the ledge of the cliff.

"I can't use my breathing style.. I.. I just can't.." She sighed, Shaking her head as the grip on her bamboo sword loosened. Fingers leaving the hilt as it skittered to the ground with a light thud.

Kokushibo's eyes narrowed.

"Why? Your lungs seem fine.." Kokushibo said, Eyes running down her chest to examine her lungs with transparent world. To him they were fine, Not a scratch or tear to be seen in the organ.

"..I need to be in a good headspace to use Soul Breathing.. I can't just wake up and use it I need to meditate or- or read a book-! Or- Something.." [F/N] sighed. She was slouched over as she turned away.

"..Where are you going?" Kokushibo called out. His voice was no longer commanding nor was it entirely void of feeling, She could make out the genuine confusion. One which she mutually shared when she heard it.

"I'm gonna go read a book.. Or meditate.. I dunno.." [F/N] mumbled as she dragged her feet out of the courtyard and down the shadowing hallway. She didn't even look back as she pushed the door open lazily.

But as she stepped into the hallway she could see the dark shadow stretched, Hiding the pooling light from the opened door. [F/N] sighed softly, Cocking her head to the side.

"Yes.. Kokushibo-sama?" She mumbled as courteously as she could. Looking up at his towering figure with an exhausted if not semi-nervous gaze.

Kokushibo in turn didn't say much. The shadow casted over him made his expression murky and unseen by the girl in front of him, [F/N] waited on baited breath for what he wanted now. What more he could want after destroying her illusion of semi-competency in the one thing she could do?

He sighed, Breath almost visible as it escaped his mouth.

"..You are not going walk away easily next time.. The reason I brought you out to oppose me is to teach you dignity while in my presence.. You practice a dignified art while you realise the dynamic in place.." Was all Kokushibo said. Cold and commandant as if she was nothing under his thumb, An insect under the shoe.

[F/N] expected to feel the nervous chill run down her back, The quirk of her lip or her cowering form but instead she responded with.. Nothing..

It was weird, Strange to no end and distracting her from the man in front of her. [F/N]'s brows knitted together as she mulled over it. Was it because she was use to it by now?

Before looking back up at him with a defeated acknowledgement.

"..Understood, Kokushibo-sama." [F/N] replied. Bowing down in a show of faux respect though not thought out. It was just a natural response at this point as she raised her back to its original posture.

Kokushibo looked down into her eyes, Watching and listening the obedient demeanour she handed to him. It was one he had been going after for a long time, Yet it was one that felt like rocks in his intestines.

"[F/N].. Come here.." He commanded and he promptly watched her take a few steps forward, All until she was only one foot apart and he could feel her body heat radiate off of her skin.

Kokushibo reached into the side of his kimono, Searching through the inner pockets of the beehive patterned lavender he pulled out a small trinket looking thing and held it in-between his clawed hands.

[F/N] squinted to look at it through the shadows. Though her eyes softened once she realised what it was.

"I will keep coming to collect you.. From now on this will become a regular part of your schedule.. Though during our fight and our passing in the hallways.. I couldn't help but notice your hair, It's rather.. Overgrown.." Kokushibo said.

His hand reached out. The thing he held in his fingers was a hairclip, A beautiful sapphiric jewel in the shape of a lotus flower. One with gold trimmings and plated pearl ribbons flowing down from it. It looked expensive, Near precious luxury.

Kokushibo's clawed hand took her overgrown and choppy locks into his hands, [F/N] only flinched a bit. Though his expression was cold and harsh his touch was gentle as he took the clip and set it down into her hair.

Finally the overgrown mess of her hair was out of her face. [F/N] stood there confused and frozen in place as she raised a hand to examine the clip. Her fingertips brushed the lukewarm lotus jewel, Feeling so alien in her grasp.

"There.. Be grateful for this.. As soon as you start to get back to your old self the luxuries like this one will be more.. Abundant.." Kokushibo spoke. His arm finally pulling back to his side.

[F/N]'s vision was locked onto her shoes. Her fingers still dancing on the lotus as if trying to test if it was real, The action confounded her to no degree as she shook her head.

"No.. What did th-"

But as soon as she looked back up his shadow was gone, His aura dissipating into the drafty air in the hallway. [F/N]'s eyes widened at the sudden disappearance, Head looking back and forth to find him with futile results.

Once he was gone however, She stood there silently. Contemplating her situation.

[F/N] felt a spark start to flicker in her stomach, A small lighter clicking over and over again. It sizzled and hissed, It started to burn and scorch her insides. It was another feeling she recognised well yet welcomed like an early morning guest.

It was anger, It was frustration. He had called her out to the courtyard only to spar with her, Hit her to the ground and show her exactly why she was incompetent in the ways she was already painfully aware.

Afterwards he tried to quell the situation with a promise of the situation repeating and a tiny little hairpin. Did he expect to buy her old self with promises of riches and luxury? The one she had only one, Maybe two dreams of.

It was ridiculous but she was glad. At least she had some anger left in her, The rest of it turned into defeated compliance. [F/N] still held onto that sense of self, Grasping at it for dear life.

Either way, A neuron clicked in her mind.

[F/N] could no longer feel Kokushibo's presence lurking around in the shrine, Nowhere near her anyways. This most likely meant that he left entirely, Therefore Akaza should be arriving anytime now.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. Finally, It was time to put step one into action. Her plan of getting out of here will now commence.

☆♡☆

The floorboards creaked, Depressing under Akaza's firm march. Finally, Kokushibo had left. It took him long enough, Long enough for Akaza to get his fill on human meat and search for the blue spider lily.

Of course as usual he came up empty handed leaving a bitter aftertaste to swallow down the flesh.

The breeze ran past him as he walked down the winding docks. The labyrinth of spiderweb architecture stretched on forever as he neared the shrine in the distance, Towering above everything below it.

Just like he did every night he made his way, The building in the distance getting closer and closer until he could make out the walls of wooden window shutters. Akaza made out the rocky red tiles and the Hyperion tree bursting out from the top, Leaves in bloom as he stepped onto the main deck.

Though the dandelion hues of his eyes focused on the artistry of the shrine before his irises now homed in on a different target, One sat under the shade, Sitting slumped on the porch as she leaned up against the banister.

"Hey.. Took you long enough.." [F/N] yawned as she watched Akaza approach. She stretched her arms up into the air before using the banister to pull herself to her feet.

"You've been waiting for me?" Akaza questioned as his eyes narrowed in on her tired form. He looked over her, Seeing the bottom of her lotus-woven kimono pattered in dirt.

"Yep.. Maybe for like, An hour or so?" [F/N] pondered "I dunno.. It's just been a while" She concluded, Shrugging her shoulders as she began to trail down the porch steps to meet him.

Akaza 'tched.

"Why? Wait.. No, Scratch that.. You're here about the deal, You want something" Akaza realised as she came to a halt in front of him, Only a few metres away she nodded lazily.

"Bingo, Right on the money.. Wouldn't be here talking to you otherwise." [F/N] said as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Yeah alright then.." Akaza looked her up and down. "So what do you want?"

"Well I have a few things, You know.. Information and maybe a few materials depending on the former. It's really not much so.. First of all-" [F/N] cut herself off once she noticed the expression on Akaza's face.

"Hey! Are you even listening? Can't just ask what I want and proceed to ignore me." [F/N] chided as she seen Akaza's gaze far off and looking away from her. He seemed to be focusing on something behind her, Making her turn.

[F/N] snapped her head round and followed his line of sight up to the top of the shrine. At first all she could see was the infinite nothingness and the temple surrounding it, But as [F/N] narrowed her eyes to focus she could see a flash of black and blue darting around.

"What the.." [F/N] didn't get to finish her sentence as she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and yank her in the opposite direction. Her body near fell forward as she was dragged by the wrist inside the temple at quick speeds.

"We can't speak here." Was all Akaza said as he started to march off at a quick pace.

"Get off-! What the hell is wrong with you?" [F/N] yelped as Akaza dragged her along. She noticed the alarmed expression on his face and the scowl that chased it, He didn't respond to her he pulled her down the hallway.

After a few minutes of what seemed to be searching he yanked open a shoji door. He wasted no time on pulling her inside and shutting it, Only then did he let go of her wrist to let her back away from him.

"Why'd you do that.. Ugh, Thought you didn't hurt women.." [F/N] muttered angrily as she rubbed her sore wrist, The skin aching as she tended to it.

They seemed to be standing in an empty room of the shrine. The only thing inside was a few vanities and the floors layered with a tatami mat. It was cold and dark like the rest of the shrine yet it was quiet, The usual sounds of the ocean or the settling of the shrine's structure was gone.

The entire room seemed to be soundproof, Either due to the material of the walls and door or the thickness of it. Akaza seemed to have chosen well, Most likely sensing it as he stood there agitated.

"We couldn't speak there.. Otherwise we would've got caught doing this.." Akaza replied, Pinching his temples which were already pushed together by his knitted brows. [F/N] noticed his high risen shoulders and felt the aura coming off of him.

Akaza hoped that he had thrown Kaigaku off his trail after spotting him prowling around on the rooftops. He hoped that it would buy the two of them time to get their dealings over with.

"Why? Don't tell me Kokushibo is here.." [F/N] pleaded, Her heart dropping in her chest at the mere thought that they would get caught in the middle of their trade.

Akaza shook his head.

"Hell no.. We'd already be dead if that's the case." Akaza said. [F/N] sighed in response, Her drumming heart slowing to a slow beat as she nodded.

"Right.. Then who is?" She asked, To which Akaza responded with a scowl as he recalled.

"Upper six.. The bastard works under Kokushibo as a student similar to how Demon Slayers- If you know what they are, Train their own.. Turns out he's been following you for weeks on Upper one's orders." Akaza reveals.

[F/N]'s jaw dropped. Her mouth left agape as she gawked at him, The information a complete surprise to her. How did I not notice him? The thought ran through her head at lightning speed, She was usually able to pinpoint a location from someone's aura but this time she was left in the dark.

"Let me get this straight.. So Upper six has been following me around for weeks, I haven't noticed him at all and now your telling me he's Kokushibo's what? Tsuguko?" Though the weight of the situation started to sit in, [F/N] couldn't help but feel baffled.

This was an issue. If he was watching her, Tracking her every movement and following her around her possibility of escape or doing stuff unseen dwindled to a thread.

Akaza raised a brow.

"Tsuguko.. How do you know that word?" Akaza questions. His suspicions raised with his guard once she spoke of the term used near exclusively by the slayers.

[F/N] huffed.

"Akaza.. I'm a Hashira." [F/N] responded, Almost as if it was obvious.

"What?!" Akaza exclaimed. His eyes widening and his eyebrows raising to their peak height as he glared at her with a newfound scorn. He looked her up and down, Her body structure to the way she carried herself. A Hashira, Impossible.

"I know I don't look the cut, Akaza, Trust me I know.. But I just happen to be one, Okay?" [F/N] explained, Dragging her eyes away from him.

She seemed to be taking this whole thing like it was nothing yet the revelation shocked the demon she spoke to like a bolt of lightning.

"Can we just get back to the deal? I don't want to get into this and we said we wouldn't get personal" [F/N] reminded, Exasperated.

Akaza looked at her once more, Up and down a final time before he nodded.

"..Fine.. Alright.." He conceded though the look glimmering under the darkness of the room still stuck out like the speck of a star within a night sky, Staring at her, Questioning her motives.

"Good. So as I was saying I do have a few questions.." [F/N] said. Starting to pace around the empty room, Her footsteps were light as she spoke.

"One, How the hell do you get out of here in the first place?" [F/N] asked, Raising her hands and looking at Akaza expectantly.

He sighed.

"I travel through several cracks or separations in the water. We're in what we call the Infinity castle and the layout outside of this section is wide and cavernous.. If you try to escape through those ways the drop would kill you.." Akaza explained, Several hand motions backing him up as he did.

[F/N] hummed, Taking in his words as her mind started to wander.

"And that's it? There's no more exits?" [F/N] mumbled to herself.

"Correct. Even if your weak little human body was able to stay intact after the fall, You'd need to deal with finding the exit door, Which is one of thousands in the entire castle and controlled entirely by the biwa demon." Akaza replied.

[F/N] bit her lip and her face scrunched up. While she hadn't seen the outside of this sector, The way Akaza described it seemed like it was a fortress. A labyrinth more complex than the one she was in right now.

"Great.. Just great.." [F/N] said, Her hands raising to her head and carding through her hair in annoyance. Her hands however were blocked by her lotus hairpin, Still freshly placed into the side of her head.

"There isn't any other escape, I haven't searched because I never needed to." He shrugged.

"Alright then.. How about the looping affect around the shrine?" [F/N] asked, Hands raised to her hips.

"Hm?" Akaza questioned to which [F/N] huffed.

"..Everytime I try to run away through the docks I end up coming back to the other side of the shrine. Is this a natural affect or does this have something to do with this 'Biwa demon' character?" She asked.

Akaza hummed.

"Don't know.. Probably is the Biwa Demon but I can't be sure. I've never had that sort of issue however.." He said, Folding his arms over his chest.

[F/N] shook her head. So far her questioning had gotten her nowhere.

There was no viable escape from what he said. If she tried to escape through the 'cracks' in the water or whatever he said, [F/N] would instantly be killed from the drop.

And The Infinity Castle, Though she had brushed off the weight of the name before it now seemed much more.. Well, Infinite. Thousands of doors he described, Thousands of doors that could be her exit as well as her failure.

"Right.. You know what? Take me to the so called cracks in the water. I want to see them for myself and make an opinion on my own." [F/N] concluded, Raising her head and eyeline to match Akaza's own.

He 'tched.

"As I said. It won't do any good for you. It's impossible to escape that way with the things you have right now." Akaza emphasised his words more clearly, Spelling it out to her with an edge like a knife.

"I don't care, I'd like to see it and if you want Kokushibo's head you'll do it." [F/N] said with the same tone he did, Taking a few steps towards him and getting up in his face like she usually did. Akaza responded in his usual kind, The scrunch up of his nose and a twitch of his eye.

"Watch your tone.. If you were a man I would've already killed you and wear your guts as trophies" Akaza hissed. His teeth were bared as if to lunge at her yet he held back.

[F/N] chuckled. A cold and emotionless sound reverberating in her throat.

"You say that like I'd be opposed to it." She responded with a malicious smile, One that made Akaza's eyebrows lower in confusion. She shook her head once before backing away from him, Folding her arms over her kimono and looking at him.

"So? Are you gonna take me there or not?" [F/N] asked, Now staring at him with a more confident and controlled look as she tilted her head.

Akaza groaned at her insistence. His shoulders going slack in annoyance as he looked back with a scowl.

"Sure, Whatever. But once you see it you'll find out how hopeless it is."

Next Chapter