#still need to come up with a name for that version of serenity but good god would it be catastrophic

[elysianslove]

ay yo? lmao haiiiii any chance we can get some haikyuu boys and nicknames they'd call their s/o? a lil deprived of kageyama, so if possible can you pls include him?? i hope you're doing well :)

omg wait i remember seeing this in my inbox and planning on answering it but i ,,, i forgot :( im sorry :( but here it is lovely <3 

HAIKYUU BOYS AND NICKNAMES 

ANGEL ! — 

akaashi; out of all his nicknames for you, this is his favorite!! he just thinks it’s very fitting for you, because you’re nothing short of ethereal for him. loves to say it when he’s first greeting you or as he kisses you gn or!!! when he says thank you :) 

osamu; it slips sometimes with him!! not his go-to but it’s very familiar on his tongue when it comes to you, and that’s very endearing :,) just slips casually when he’s asking you a question like, “angel, do we need milk?”  

daichi; omg he usually adds to it and it ends up being some cheesy stuff like “angel-face” and it makes you all flustered because wtf man :( and he always says it while laughing teasingly too ugh :( 

suna; suna has the cheesiest nicknames for you and you cannot convince me otherwise, and you can never tell if it’s genuine or ironic but,,, it doesn’t matter. he sounds so sweet calling you “angel” so whatever :) 

aran; this man. this man. he says it cause he knows it has you weak. he says it so lovingly, so sweetly, so casually, so suave and relaxed and his voice is so smooth and deep. who wouldn’t be swooning over him??? 

aone; AONE AONE PLS AONE PLEASE. he’d just think it’s such a sweet and kind and soft nickname and he likes the way it sounds when it’s whispered and he thinks nothing is more perfect than nicknaming you angel and he says it all the time like “ok, angel,” and “see you tomorrow, angel,” and, “love you, angel,” and it’s so quiet but so sweet hwbwjsjd 

oikawa; he’s about to be in 90% of these cause he’ll be calling you anything but your name. is it because he wants to be annoying and to get on your nerves? or is it because he genuinely means it? the world will never know. you’re not even sure he himself does. 

DOLL ! — 

matsukawa; are you kidding me this is his. it’s HIS. he sounds so hot saying it and he looks so hot saying it and he’s so charming and it’s so like easy on his tongue. and he has a slight drawl to it too and he always says it with this aura of relaxation and ease it’s so hot. he just. he loves it. he loves you. you love it. the world is a better place. 

atsumu; he thinks he’s way cooler than he is when he says it. you suppose he is pretty hot when he calls you doll but you’re not gonna tell him that!!! it’s not his go-to but you can catch it slipping off his tongue every once in a while. 

kuroo; yesyesyes he loves it. only ever says it when he’s so up close and personal with you like cups your cheeks and hovers his lips against yours like, “heya, doll,” and he’s just so handsome. ugh. 

kageyama; at the start of your relationship, kageyama called you by your name and nothing else!! but then he had like this talk w someone and they asked him what he calls you and he realized like,,, am i supposed to be doing it differently??? spent so long just searching up “cute nicknames for my s/o” and then he found “doll” and was like ok. i’ll try. and he tried!! and it stuck!! plus timeskip kags calling you doll??? that’s so hot bye

oikawa; this might be the only sincere nickname he has for you cause everything else is either to provoke you or to be cringy and annoying. and i’m sure you prefer doll over sweet cheeks and pumpkin pie and cinnamon whatever like you hungry tōru?? anyways he loves loves loves calling you doll cause he thinks it’s such a ? smooth and serene nickname? and his voice always gets deeper and quiet when he says it so!!!! 

SUNSHINE ! — 

hinata; please he is all the sunshine, but he always claims that you’re the true sun in his life. idk hinata would be so lame yet so cute like that :( and he always says it with such a big grin he’s so cute pls :( 

tendō; he’s so cute he’s so cute he’s so cute !!!!! your contact name is “my sunshine” definitely definitely definitely. he is literally in love with you and wants the whole world to know it. he loves screaming it out for everyone to hear but also absolutely adores like hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear as he kisses your cheek, “hey, sunshine.” :(((((

kenma; kenma doesn’t wanna think too hard on the whole nicknames thing but he also does kind of sort of really wants to call you something special and the first thing that pops in his head is sunshine. first time he used it you were Shocked but he was acting nonchalant about it (read: freaking out on the inside) and you were like “ok guess im sunshine now.” and you are his sunshine to this day. 

BABY/BABE ! — 

atsumu; it’s easy and it’s endearing!! he personally loves being called babe but he loves hugging you close to him after a long day and just sighing, “hey, baby,” like. he loves it okay. he thinks it’s perfect cause it fits and cause it’s like kinda traditional yk!! 

bokuto; he loves calling you baby cause he just cannot fathom that you’re his like he loves to always say it!!! and he loves how casual it is too like he can just call you that?? that’s so cool?? 

iwaizumi; again with the traditional but endearing and fitting. he doesn’t have to think too hard on it, but also it still means something and is more than just your name or a shorter version of it. also he sounds so hot calling you baby or babe idk i just know it. 

hanamaki; king of “babe! babe :( babeeee! babee. babe come on! babe! baby :(” you’re 99% sure he’s just provoking you at this point. like say babe one more time. but he actually loves resorting to baby, especially when you’re upset and he wants to be as endearing and kind as he can to you. 

daichi; very traditional too tbh. honestly when you two first started dating it was all he could think of saying without feeling awkward or feeling like he was trying too hard. later on when he started to feel more comfortable and more secure he got more creative. 

nishinoya; he has been waiting for this moment his whole life. the moment he can actually call someone his baby or babe. it’s his favorite and possibly only nickname (aside calling you pretty or gorgeous or handsome) and it will always be. 

MY LOVE ! —

akaashi; definitely definitely definitely calls you “my love” like i am 100% sure of this. akaashi is just so. he’s just so romantic but it’s also so unintentional? he says it because it feels natural and it feels right like you are his love after all, aren’t you? 

sakusa; he’s not one for elaborate nicknames honestly, and he feels like “my love” is the right balance of sweet, kind, fitting, and subtle and serene. it’s not doing too much but it’s also doing more than enough yk? also people that look like they would wear a trench coat/blazer and a turtleneck beneath also look like they would use the term “my love” hence sakusa and akaashi. 

tendō; i am telling you guys he is a simp. the loveliest simp ever. he says it so sweetly too like it genuinely makes your tummy twist and heart backflip when you hear him say it cause you can hear how genuine he is in his words oh my god. 

kita; he just !!! he is just husband material okay!!! he is so endearing and he says it in the softest most genuine voice ever and it’s literally his go to because yes you are his love you’re his entire world!!! he loves you!! he wants you to know it every time he calls out to you!! 

BUNNY/PUPPY ! —

bokuto; ARE YOU KIDDING ME. HE LOVES IT. he. loves it. he just finds it so cute and like. he loves the way he associates it with you now. prefers puppy over bunny but like. he loves both. he adores both. 

matsukawa; calls you bunny all the time. not more than doll, but it’s definitely so common. he won’t use it around others not because it’s embarrassing but more because he kinda wants it to be just a thing between the two of you, honestly. 

kenma; IT SLIPPED ONCE AND HE WAS LIKE. A DEER CAUGHT IN THE HEADLIGHTS. he calls you bunny!! sometimes, not always. when he wants something from you mostly. “pass me the water.” “no.” “bunny please :(” it works like magic every time. 

oikawa; oh my god can you imagine??? he loves it so much because one, he thinks it’s such a cute nickname props to whoever decided let’s use pets as literal pet names, but also two, he thinks nothing describes you or fits you better. you are just his bunny :( his puppy :( he loves you :( 

kageyama; timeskip kageyama calls you puppy. i have nothing more to say.

hinata; timeskip hinata calls you puppy. again, i shall say no more. 

suna; hello !!! he loves to call you bunny and/or puppy. the feel of satisfaction he gets when he calls you that like ,,, he feels like you’re properly his yk? yk.

KITTEN ! — 

kuroo; this one is for him and only him. 

LOVELY ! — (maybe sweetheart too) 

osamu; is there anything more beautiful than a tired osamu snuggling up to yoi and with a deep gravely voice saying, “missed you, lovely,” ? no there is not. it’s his favorite nickname for you, and he uses it all the time!! kisses your forehead as he leaves and tells you, “have a good day, lovely,” and comes back home and says, “hiya, lovely,” and tilts his head when you wanna talk to him about something like, “what’s up lovely?” cause you are his lovely, you’re his loveliest. 

sugawara; i have no other explanation other than i can picture it perfectly. he thinks it’s the best choice of a pet name he’s ever chosen and thought of. and he loves the smile on your face whenever he says it, he thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever <3 

BAE ! —

hanamaki; is it a joke? is it not? both. 

okay im sure i missed so many boys but i can’t think of any rn bc it’s like. hella late :( but i wanted to put something out for you guys!! point is, if i didnt mention a boy and you want to know, send me an ask!! and if i didn’t mention a nickname and you want to know that too? send me an ask well!! ill be happy to answer it <3 

love u all mwah <3 

[krethes]

@wolfstarmicrofic Day Fifteen: breathing room

A direct follow-up to Day Twelve: roar

C/w: blood, injury, discussions on mental health, panic attack, and a reference to past fight(s).

"Mr Lupin, I assume you are here to feed me yet another story about how you fell? Ran into a locked portrait hole? Tripped on the stairs?"

"They're magical stairs, Poppy, they're very tricky."

"In the nearly one thousand years since Hogwarts's founding, I don't recall a single incident of the staircases developing..." She looks down at his thigh where a deep gash bleeds steadily through his bandages. It's resisted his friends' healing charms and even Poppy's, and he's had to keep downing blood replenishing potions that taste like knuts (a joke he cannot even appreciate given the circumstances). "...A broadsword." Her blue eyes narrow for a moment before she sighs, all trace of discipline leaving her face. Poppy Conjures a chair and sits at his bedside. "Remus," she says gently, falling into his given name. "If someone is-"

"-They're not," Remus says quickly, but the disappointment that crinkles her expression sends a pike of shame through him. "I just... Get so angry. They say things. About Lily. About Mary."

"And about you?"

"I'm used to that, it's nothing new, but my friends can't help that they're Muggleborn!"

"Just as you cannot help your lycanthropy, Remus," Poppy reminds him gently. It makes his skin prickle uncomfortably, the way she can just... perceive him. "I'll be speaking to Professor Slug-"

"No!" Remus shouts, then, quieter, "No. Please. It's nothing. Look, it's already starting to mend." It's the faintest knitting together of flesh, so slow the untrained eye would miss it, but his body is healing; it's one of the only "good" things about being a werewolf.

Poppy sighs again and siphons away the well of blood with a wave of her wand. "Fighting is explicitly against the rules. I should tell Professor McGonagall."

Remus gulps and glances at the door where a flash of dark hair peeks through the window. "...But...?"

"But, I won't," she says and raises her hand when he makes to speak, "but only under the condition that you agree to see me for Mind Healing."

Remus flinches, recoiling from the idea that he's gone mad, like a rabid dog. He can see it now: being labelled truly, absolutely, as a dangerous creature, being put down, or worse: being locked in a cell lined with silver or being sent to Azkaban. How did werewolves even do in Azkaban? Were the Dementors susceptible to the virus? Were the other prisoners safe from the beast? Would that full moon finally be his last? Panic grips him, freezes the air in his lungs, and Remus's entire body tenses, a coil tightly wound and ready to spring. The edges of his vision begin to fade and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't- he's going to hurt someone for real or- or-!

"Mr Black!" rings in his ears before darkness takes him.

When he comes to, it's to the familiar, calming scent of Sirius, and tears sting his eyes. Sirius gasps and clutches him close, squeezing him in an embrace that both crushes and comforts him, forces the icy air out and pushes warm love in.

"Mr Black, give him some breathing room, please!" Poppy firmly guides Sirius away, a bit more brusquely than she normally does. As Remus's vision returns, he sees that the door has been blown straight off its hinges, and glittering glass dusts Sirius's hair. Poppy wipes Remus's sweaty brow with a cloth and passes him a potion that tastes like candy floss and immediately sends him to a place of zen serenity.

"Mind Healing, Remus, will be good for you. Muggles call their version 'therapy', but I can help you control your anger, and that panic attack you just had."

"He doesn't need to control his anger!" Sirius growls, already back at Remus's side, their fingers laced together. "He's fine, he's just defending himself!!"

Poppy stills Sirius with a hard look, and Remus swears the room gets ten degrees warmer with the tension. Or maybe that's the guilt creeping through his body. Was punching Snape until his face was swollen and bloody defending himself? One or two would have sufficed. Nausea turns his stomach, but Sirius's hands are cool as they brush his hair from his forehead.

"Remus," Poppy continues as though she hasn't heard Sirius's outburst, "think it over. Or at least consider some form of meditation. Breathing exercises. You're getting stronger as you grow, and, honestly, we ought to have started this much sooner. I won't force you, but do consider it. Fully," she adds with a raised eyebrow Sirius's way.

Remus nods mutely and lets Sirius pet his hair while Poppy looks his leg over again. It's stopped bleeding, mostly, and new skin is growing from the base of the gash. After another hour, Poppy sends him back to Gryffindor Tower, and Sirius pulls him on top of his body as soon as they're in the dorm.

"Moony, don't listen to her, you're-"

"I think I should do it."

"Let someone root around in your head?! Moony, are you-"

"Mad? Quite possibly." His throat feels tight, his mouth sandpaper dry. "She's right. I'm not... it's not a fair fight, if it's physical, and... I'm tired. So tired of being angry. All the fucking time."

Sirius makes a pained, choked-off noise and kisses him sweetly, guiding his emotions to an oasis of safe and home. "Okay then," he whispers against Remus's lips and just holds him. Sirius feels like a ground, directing the lightning of his fury to a single point and diffusing it, all with a kiss. "You should do what's good for you. ...But if that could also include still punching Snivellus—on special occasions only! Oi, ouch!"

Remus flips them and pins Sirius with his elbows, huffing faintly annoyed laughter into his neck. "I love you." Sirius says it more often because he seems to understand that Remus needs to hear it, but the words don't come naturally to Remus. Speaking the words leaves Remus feeling vulnerable, flayed open, raw, but Sirius is always there, a balm to calm the sting.

Remus closes his eyes and breathes to the steady, reliable drum of Sirius's heart. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please… You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[billyrussohaven]

My sweet Emilly

Billy Russo / Reader

Rated: PG (for now)

A/N: So I’m feverish and been feeling like absolute rubbish since getting my 2nd covid shot last Thursday. I can’t sleep and my brain came up with a cute Dad!Billy story. I might do a second part if you guys like it, we shall see!

Credit: @mainlysubmv​

Follow me!

“Just where do you think you’re going dressed like that exactly?” Billy asked his daughter sternly, looking up at her over his glasses. Glasses that he was still getting used to by the way. You kept telling him he looked like a hotter version of Clark Kent but it still seemed to hurt his pride. Billy Russo needing glasses, insane right? What was even more insane was just how much his sweet Emily looked all grown up these days. Her seventeen birthday last month had hit him like a train. He stared at her and let a long sigh out.

Emily reappeared, taking a few steps backwards, tugging down on her green hoodie dress and rolled her shoulder nervously the doorway of the living room. A little nervous gesture she shared with her father that always made you smile.

“It ain’t that bad Billy,” you said looking up from your crochet project on your lap to his daughter’s outfit, your step-daughter.

“It is on the short side but she’s smart and careful, isn’t that right, Millie?” You said, giving her a quick look with a wink.

She grinned back at you before turning to look at her dad.

“It’s still warm out Da…and I have a pair of leggings if it gets colder later,” she said, opening up her backpack and showing him a black pair of leggings, smiling back at him. He snorted at her innocent-like face, he knew better, she was after all his own daughter.

“Fine. No heels. Wear those ridiculously worn-out converse of yours,” he said letting it go and dismissing her with a smirk. She zipped her bag up and ran to give her dad a quick kiss on the cheek. She was out of the room as fast as she entered it.

“Back at midnight! I’ll be with Devin!” Emily said loudly already halfway to the front door.

“11PM!” Billy yelled right as the front door closed with a loud thud. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Wait, who? The fuck’s Devin? Wasn’t it that Jay-” he said with a deep frown turning to look at you.

“Jeremy,” you corrected him going back to your crocheting.

“Jeremy…last week?” He continued giving you a stern look for correcting him that made you chuckle. He rolled his eyes heavenward, taking his glasses off and rubbed his tired face with a groan. You reached to caress his soft hair and smiled. You didn’t comment, you knew he could be a bit overprotective of his Emily sometimes but dads were often that way with their daughters. It reminded you of your own dad and  the shit you did in your youth. It was a wonder he still had some hair left…

*****

Billy woke up abruptly and sat up yawning, looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand next to the still turned on lamp.

1:25AM

He had fallen asleep in bed reading while waiting for Millie to come home. He turned his sleepy face to you sleeping soundly next to him. He smiled gazing at your serene face and caressed the side of your face softly. He heard a loud thud. He frowned and turned around instantly to the door, listening intently. He quietly got out of the bed, tiptoeing to the door, silent as a cat.

“Ow!” a hushed voice said after another loud thud. Billy yanked the bedroom door open and walked face to face with his daughter. His daughter who definitely wasn’t in her pajamas, dressed exactly the same as earlier and who reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

She looked up at her dad glaring at her with disappointment etched all over his face. Her dark brown eyes filled with tears and hurt behind her drunken state. She broke down in sobs and hid her face in her hands. Billy’s heart broke at seeing her cry like that. He was very angry and disappointed at her for coming back home so late and drunk on top of it. He sighed and walked to embrace her tightly as she cried. She held him tightly, her warm tears running down his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“You know better than that, Millie. Walkin’ home drunk instead of calling me or Y/N,” he said softly yet sternly. He cradled her head in his hand and moved to look at her tear stained face. Her chest was racking with sobs and her lower lip was quivering as she looked up at him. He had a feeling she wasn’t crying only because he caught her drunk and way past her 11PM curfew.

“What happened? Talk to me princess,” he asked with a sad frown, brushing her hair back from her face. She broke down into even louder wails and he had to hold part of her weight to help her stay upright.

You put your mid-thigh satin robe on and walked to see what was going on. The light of the bedroom pooled in the darkened hallway as you opened the door wider and you gave Billy a sad smile. The poor thing was so upset and in no state to think clearly. You took a few steps and rubbed her back.

“It’s okay princess, why don’t Y/N help you get ready for bed and we can talk tomorrow,” he said, giving Emily a concerned look. She nodded as he rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. He gave her a kiss on her forehead and let you take her to her bedroom. You grabbed his hand on the way and gave it a squeeze before letting go.

You walked a wobbly and sniffly Emily to her bedroom where she flopped and sat down on the edge of her bed dropping her bag with a loud thud. You walked to her own connecting bathroom from her bedroom and grabbed a small square towel. You ran it under the cool water and wrung it. You took a bottle of tylenol knowing she was gonna need it in the morning and a tall glass of water too.

You walked back to Millie who was undressing and putting on her pajamas. You were somewhat impressed she didn’t fall on her butt taking her leggings off before stepping into her pajamas shorts.

“Here, drink this you’ll feel better,” you said softly, handing her the glass of water. She nodded and drank half of it before putting it down on her nightstand next to the two Tylenol for tomorrow morning. You rubbed the cool wet cloth on her forehead and neck and she sighed before letting another sob out.

“I’m-I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to get home alone so late…Da looked so upset,” she said, hugging you and cried on your shoulder. You hushed her soothingly and rocked her a bit, hugging her back.

“He still loves you, Millie. He’s just disappointed you came home so late and in a very vulnerable state I might add. Now, I’m not gonna scold you, it’s not my place but something could have happened to you baby,” you said brushing her hair back.

“We much rather have you wake us up late to pick you up than having you stumble drunkenly home alone. What happened? I thought you were hanging out with Devin?” You asked, helping her get in bed. She started crying again at the name and you knew right away the poor girl was heartbroken.

“W-we went to this party together a-and it was really fun. Everything was great, we’re great friends and I love when Devin’s around, you know?” She mumbled, looking at you with her father’s dark brown eyes filled with hurt.

“B-but we drank and I-I I thought Devin liked me a lot too and we kissed but-” She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you knew. You sighed and cradled her small frame in your arms.

“She abruptly stepped back, pushing me away a-and calling me names and stuff. S-she left a-and I didn’t have money for a cab because I paid the fare to get there. She was supposed to pay the cab fare back a-and then I didn’t want to call Da and have him angry at me.” She said, wiping her wet face in her pillow. You nodded, brushing her soft hair soothingly.

“Get some good sleep now, we’ll talk more tomorrow, alright? You suggested standing up and tucked her in. She nodded with a sniffle and closed her eyes.

"Thank you Y/N…Nini,” she said softly, watching you walk away to the door. You turned and gave her a warm smile,

“Anytime Millie. Good night sweetheart,” you said before flipping the light switch off and closing her bedroom door.

You tiptoed out of her bedroom and back to your own where Billy was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. He looked up at you, his face conflicted and tired.

“How is she?” He asked standing up to give you a tight embrace. He really appreciated how you were with Emily, the special bond you had developed with her. It made him love you even more as he kissed your head.

“She’s young, in love and broken-hearted I’m afraid,” you said with a long sigh, resting your head on his chest. You gave him a brief summary of what she had told you. You felt a bit guilty at reporting it all back to Billy but he’d probably know sooner or later too.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him when I find him,” he snarled pacing in front of you. He brushed his hair back and thought about the best way to throttle the asshole.

“Devin is a girl, Billy.” You said with a small smile, wondering what his reaction was gonna be.

He stopped pacing abruptly and his eyebrows shot upwards as he looked back at you dumbstruck.

“Oh! Oh,” he said, rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat. You looked back at him with one eyebrow up wondering what was going on in his head at the moment.

“Well, I guess I won’t…punch the brat then,” he said somewhat sheepishly and a bit confused. Not that it mattered to Billy if his little Millie liked guys or girls. It’s just…

“She never really talked about it. She always showed up with  boyfriends before so I guess I just…took it for granted really,” he said with a frown sitting by the bed. After a long silence he looked up at you with a vulnerability that broke your heart to see.

“Am I a bad father for it?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly, he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulder, looking at the picture frame of her on his nightstand.

You took your robe off and stood in front of him between his legs. You cradled the side of his face and tilted it up so he’d look at you.

“No, Billy. It doesn’t make you a bad father, baby,” you brushed a strand of hair away from his eye.

“I guess you two just never really brought it up. I remember when I was seventeen myself, a young woman still in high-school, afraid of being bullied for being any kind of different,” you said with a sigh, remembering how cruel high-school was.

Billy scoffed and sneered at his own memories of it. Lonely guy from the group home with no family or friends beside small pets he’d keep in jars. He smiled warmly with a silent snort remembering how Emily had her own pet snail for a while and how much she took care of the little one.

“She might still be figuring herself out too,” you added with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tomorrow anyway, maybe she’ll want to open up and chat about all of this,” he said, rubbing his tired face with his hands. You kissed him slowly before breaking the kiss and crawling back in bed in your short satin nightie. He groaned looking back at you, suddenly very awake for almost 3AM. He rolled over on the bed and pulled you flat against his body with a sly smirk. You chuckled at the attention he gave you and kissed him languidly with a moan.

“I’m still gonna scold her ass,” he mumbled over your lips, reaching over you and turning off the light.

A/N: Random Fact. My fiancé’s name is Devin. I remembered him telling me he had a girl classmate once in school named Devin. 😋

[genshin-obsessed]

My (f/n) | Zhongli x Reader

Hello! This was originally a collab idea from a friend between like 5 people. The friend who suggested the collab pulled out and idk about others lmao so it might just be me. BUT I COMMITED AND DELIVERED SO! Cuz I’m responsible and amazing💖 anyway. It’s a reincarnation AU! Banner made by 🎭 anon! Thanks to @squeaky-ducky and @solies-scripts for helping me edit this💖

Extra sidenotes: Your previous self’s vision is pyro but you can choose whatever for the reincarnated version even tho it’s not mentioned. Also, Yehara and Lilith are my OCs (yes... more)

Length: 2.1k Summary: Zhongli loves and cherishes you above all else. One day, you’re snatched away from him and the world turns black for him. Yet somehow, a thousand years later, he sees you again.

The bright sun beamed down at the land below, illuminating everything in a golden glow. Zhongli stepped out into the light and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

Days like these were beautiful but they became a blessing all thanks to one person. A smile graced Zhongli’s beautiful features at the thought of them. His hand found its way onto his chest and he felt it steadily beat. He felt an overwhelming sense of serenity and it was all thanks to this person. You.

You, yourself, were a blessing in this archon’s life. He never thought he would ever feel like this. That he would ever feel love. What was love to archons? They usually loved the lands they resided over. The original archons held love for humanity and guided them.

For Zhongli, love was something of a general term. He loved the sun, the lands… today. But his love for you was something he couldn’t describe. Something the man of wondrous knowledge couldn’t understand.

Zhongli came to realize that love wasn’t something that could be easily explained nor did it need to be. Love gave him overwhelming happiness, so why bother trying to understand every aspect of such a beautiful idea.

The Geo archon walked through the city of Liyue and although he felt great joy, there was also a certain uneasiness. He paused and touched his chest once more as the anxiety grew.

Ultimately, the man ignored it, unable to find the root cause of such dread. He instead opted to find you, so you could settle his nerves a little.

***

“Zhongli!” You beamed once you saw him. He chuckled as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his slim figure.

“You’re rather excited today,” he commented as he hugged back, “what brought on such elation?”

“Hmm, a very pretty man.” You said, cheekily. There it was, that smile of yours washed away any and all discomfort he felt.

“Oh, is that so? I’m quite jealous.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Zhongli chuckled once more as you leaned in and gave him a kiss. The sensation of your soft lips remained on his even after you’d pulled away. “What brings you here today?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together. We could go for a walk, maybe set up a picnic since that’s what you wanted to do last time.”

“Really!? You’ll go on a picnic with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Your radiant smile was contagious as he found himself smiling in return.

“I’ll set it up!! It can be a late night picnic or- oh! Oh! Let’s watch the sunset! Then we can have our picnic. I’ll set up candles!” Your enthusiasm was always something Zhongli loved. It benefited him more than he could admit.

“Alright then. Where?”

“Our spot!” Zhongli teasingly tilted his head making you pout.

“What spot? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! Come on, Zhongli!” Zhongli leaned in and pecked your pouty lips before nodding.

“I do. Then I’ll meet you there?” You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes! Exactly! I’ll have everything set up and I want it to be a surprise.”

Zhongli spent a little more time with you before he left, since you needed to prepare for the date. Only a few minutes after he’d left you, the anxiety returned. He touched his chest once more with furrowed brows. What was this?

***

You smiled as you started to place the items down onto the blanket. You’d been planning this picnic for weeks now and you finally had the chance to do it.

You set the cushions and small table you had brought, placing the candles and wine bottle. The food would remain in the basket to keep it safe from bugs since you had to wait quite a while. Hopefully your pyro vision was enough to keep it warm.

“Hello, are you (y/f/n)?” A soft voice called from behind. You turned around and saw a shy, but beautiful woman with long pink hair. The clothes she wore indicated she clearly wasn’t from here. She fidgeted with her hand, showing she was nervous.

“Um… who’s asking?”

“Ah, sorry! My name is Lilith but you can call me Lily. I was told you knew where I could find a um… Mr. Zhongli?”

Zhongli? Why was she looking for him? Finding her safe enough, you opted to direct her to your boyfriend rather than giving information about yourself.

“Oh, yes I do! He’s back in Liyue but you’ll find him at Wangshen Funeral Parlor.”

“Thank you so much!” But she didn’t leave. A giggle escaped her lips and she met your eyes, giving you a dreadful feeling.

“Y-yes?”

“So he’s not here with you… good.” In the blink of an eye, Lilith was in front of you. She threw you back causing you to fly into a tree. You let out a scream as your weakened body hit the ground. Pain shot through you and you weakly looked up at her.

“Wh-why…”

“Pitiful. You’d think he’d choose someone of his caliber but no. He chose someone weak and pathetic like you. Your pyro vision was wasted on you.” Woah, where did her soft voice and shy demeanor go?

“Zh-Zhongli…” you called out as Lilith picked you up and slammed you into the tree once more.

“Call him all you want. But he won’t get here in time.” Lilith repeatedly slammed you into the tree before a sickening crack was heard.

A weak whimper escaped your bloodied lips as the light faded from your eyes.

“H-help m-me… Zh… Zhong… li…” Lilith caught your limp body and picked you up. A wicked smile played on her lips as she walked to her destination.

***

It had happened all so suddenly. Zhongli was meeting an acquaintance to talk about his work at the funeral parlor when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his chest and back. He just knew.

He threw everything away, apologizing to his friend and practically sprinting to where you two were supposed to meet. There he was met with a grim sight.

The picnic had been set up almost completely, but the large tree behind it was covered in blood. The Geo Archon knew exactly who it belonged to. He finally noticed the letter sitting on the table.

Once he read it, he ran to the nearest Statue of the Seven in hopes of finding you and whoever took you. But it was too late. When he finally reached the statue, his heart shattered.

Your body was on top of the statue, laying across the lap of the stone man. Blood trailed down your arm that hung over the edge and dripped from your finger. Your lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, the final sign of your death.

A large pillar solidified in front of him and he quickly climbed up to get to you. Zhongli’s shaky hand slowly and hesitantly touched yours. Cold. You were so cold. Where was your usual warmth? Where was that dazzling smile that often chased away his sorrows? Where was the light in your eyes? Where was the joy you brought him?

“M-my… (f/n)...” he murmured in a sorrowful tone, “what’s… no. No, this isn’t happening.” He pulled you down and into his arms, wincing at how lifeless you were.

You couldn’t be dead, you couldn’t have left him. He jumped down to the ground with you tightly in his arms. His eyes stung and his vision started to get blurry. Crying? An archon, crying? The tears slowly slid down his pale cheeks. His voice cracked when he spoke up.

“Wake up, my love. Please wake up.” He begged looking down at you. The blood trickled down your mouth, a clear sign you’d been killed recently. Within the hour, actually. “P-please blink… please wake up. Please come back to m-me. I just… I can’t do this without you. I…” what could he say? What could he do?

Zhongli had failed. He’d failed to keep you safe and alive. He’d vowed to always protect you and he vowed to never let you get hurt.

The tears spilled down his cheeks and the pain in his heart grew. He took your face in his free hand and took a good look at his consequence. At his failure.

“Tell m-me this is just s-some cruel joke, w-wake up and tell me this isn’t real. I-it’s just a n-nightmare, right? Right?” Zhongli held you tightly with his head pressed against your chest. Nothing. He heard nothing.

You never blinked, you never looked up at him with that adorable giggle, and you never exclaimed it was a joke.

You really were gone.

***

How many years ago was that now? Almost a thousand? Zhongli had never gotten over your death and how could he? His first and only lover had been ripped away from him and he still hadn’t found the murderer.

There had been a significant change in Zhongli since then. He was much more reserved and defensive but he was also very protective of anyone he came to call a friend. Ever since losing you, he found it hard to love and care for people the same way.

There was a constant emptiness, a loneliness that never left. No matter how many friends surrounded him, he always felt empty. Food and drinks were tasteless and the world lacked color. No smile matched yours, no warmth matched yours, and he never found a pair of dazzling eyes such as yours. And he was sure he’d never see them again… or so he thought.

“Zhongli! Are you coming?” Yehara asked, making the man look toward her.

“Oh, sure. Let’s go.” Zhongli had met Yehara a few years ago and had helped her during a commission. She hadn’t been doing so well and he’d practically saved her. Ever since then, she stuck to him like glue. Although he wasn’t terribly fond of her from the beginning, he grew to like her. Once they were close enough, Zhongli finally opened up about you and your death.

Yehara swore she’d help solve the murder and wouldn’t rest until he knew. Zhongli had grown much closer to her than he anticipated. The relationship gave him complicated feelings, ones he didn't want to even deal with.

At first, he wondered if he had feelings for Yehara or else why did he feel so comfortable with her? Why did he feel so safe? Why did he often find himself seeking her out when he felt alone? He was scared because you were long gone but for him it was just yesterday. Zhongli didn't want to move on, no matter how healthy it was. He only wanted you, nobody else. Not Yehara, not another archon, no one but you.

There were many things he felt with you that he didn’t with Yehara. Her smile didn’t light up his world, her laughter didn’t echo in his ears, her hugs didn’t leave him tingling, and her words never stayed with him for more than a minute.

There were many nights he spent thinking about himself and Yehara. Was he in love with her? It took some time, but he eventually came to the conclusion that didn’t. He hoped she didn’t either.

“Zhongli! Stop dozing off!” Yehara said, making him look down. He chuckled and patted her head, before looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen ag-” Zhongli stopped abruptly, his golden-orange eyes widened. No…

“Oh come on Zhongli, you just said this wouldn’t happen again.” Yehara huffed and followed his gaze. He was looking into a group of people but after a few moments, her red eyes widened as well.

A person, looking EXACTLY like you was smelling some flowers at a stall. You smiled and Zhongli’s heart sped up immediately.

“It’s them… that’s my (f/n)... I know it.” The archon whispered.

“That can’t be… I thought…” Yehara looked at Zhongli only to look back at you. The duo watched as you nodded and purchased the flowers and turned towards them. When your eyes landed on them you froze, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.

“They saw us.” Yehara gasped, bringing Zhongli out of his trance. You did. You were looking directly at him with the same look of shock. Without wasting any more time, you ran towards him and stopped right in front of them. Zhongli’s heart was beating out of his chest and he clenched his hands. Why were you looking at him like that?

“You’re… Zhongli, right? I’m (y/f/n)... I know you from my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Yehara asked and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. You were more beautiful than Zhongli had described. She could see why he was so infatuated.

“I began dreaming about you when I turned 20.” That was an odd coincidence, since you were 20 when he first asked you to be his.

“You… know me?”

“I do. I only know things from dreams and as dreams not memories… but since you’re here in front of me, there has to be some truth to them. So will you tell me more?” A smile of relief appeared on his lips and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for you… my (f/n).”

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking prompts: 22. “When you’re feeling better, I swear, we’ll talk this out.” Qui-Gon& Obi-Wan. You’re writing is so lovely btw!!

Yay, more prompts! And I do love this one. Thank you for choosing it!

CW: this one got rather dark. there are heavy implications of and references to attempted assault of a minor, child death, and other horrors of war.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

They were three days out from Coruscant when the fever made a turn for the worse.

The Jinn/Kenobi team had been deployed to Calzec III to investigate the disappearance of an ambassador, an assignment that had led them down very dark paths into the minds and heart of a planetary society.

A mere two days into their investigation, Obi-Wan had vanished — kidnapped, it was quickly discovered, by the party responsible for the disappearance and murder of the ambassador.

Qui-Gon had assumed that the six days between Obi-Wan’s abduction and his recovery would be the worst of it.

That the growing dread inside him that had gnawed away at his concentration and serenity, the likelihood that he would not reach his apprentice in time, his fears that Obi-Wan was being hurt, would be the most difficult things to handle.

Or even the mingled relief and panic when he had finally found his sixteen-year-old Padawan bound and unconscious in a cellar with a floor half-flooded in dirty water — that after that, they had survived the worst.

He was mistaken.

Obi-Wan was ill when he was pulled out of that cellar. There was no one to trust and nowhere to flee except off-planet, and the the distance between Calzec III and the nearest medically advanced planet was no shorter than simply returning to Coruscant.

So he set a course for Coruscant and settled Obi-Wan in his bunk, stripping off the soiled clothing he had been wearing since his kidnapping and replacing them with a clean set of tunics.

The boy was exhausted, unfocused; his skin was clammy to the touch and he had brief periods where he seemed fully awake and mostly functional.

After the first day of hyperspace travel, they had settled into a routine. Qui-Gon kept to the cockpit, while Obi-Wan kept to his bunk and the fresher, trying to rest and to contain his illness. Qui-Gon knocked periodically on his door, reassuring himself that his apprentice was all right.

And that he was there, because working alone on a hostile planet without knowing anything of his Padawan’s wellbeing aside from being sure that he was in danger had been more of a trial than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

And then, on the third day, he knocked lightly on the door and received no reply.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

He thought he heard an indistinct mumble. Qui-Gon chuckled, imagining the boy emerging from his blankets like an irritated loth-cat, rumpled and annoyed.

Then Obi-Wan screamed.

Qui-Gon’s mind conjured — for a split second — a new version of the image he had pictured in his mind for over a week — his Padawan, attacked in his sleep — drugged — dragged from his bed —

Then he blinked and the image vanished. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and pressed on the entry pad, opening the door. He stepped inside the cramped cabin and was relieved to see the boy securely in his bed, the room completely absent of any impossible intruders. But Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with fever, and he was struggling beneath his blankets, thrashing as if he were actually being attacked.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, shaking his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

The Padawan didn’t seem to register Qui-Gon’s presence at all. He struggled with his bedsheets, small whimpers escaping his lips as he fought.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon said more sharply. “Wake up now!”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and dry heaved, his eyes flying open. His Master dropped to his knees beside the bed, running a hand soothingly up and down the boy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “You were dreaming.”

“C-C—” Obi-Wan choked.

“Shh,” Qui-Gon said again.

“Cerasi—”

Qui-Gon’s heart plummeted. Obi-Wan was not coherent, that was obvious.

The boy had not mentioned that name in over two years.

“Padawan, you must focus,” he said softly. “This is not Melida/Daan. We are on a ship, heading home.”

“Cerasi is…”

…dead…

“…gonna… kill you.” Obi-Wan’s words, and the sheer venom in them, shocked the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan was still struggling, but more slowly now, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing so. His eyes flickered feverishly to the middle distance, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Padawan…” Qui-Gon said slowly.

“Let them go!” Obi-Wan shrieked suddenly. One arm came loose from the blankets and missed striking his Master by inches. “Let them go, they’re too young! Let them go let them go let them go!”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon seized his Padawan by the shoulders.

Bloodshot blue eyes suddenly snapped directly onto Qui-Gon’s face, but instead of calming, Obi-Wan’s panic only increased. “Get off me!” He screamed, twisting, kicking, squirming away. “Don’t… don’t you touch me! Stop, stop, stop!” he was wailing now, utter despair twisting his face beyond recognition. “Please don’t!”

Qui-Gon released his Padawan as if burned. He pulled away sharply, horror rising in him, tasting bile.

I wasn’t — I wouldn’t —

It’s a fever dream —

A memory?

Qui-Gon tasted bile. “No,” he heard himself say aloud. “No.”

Obi-Wan had squirmed away, pressing himself flat against the wall the bed rested against, his body curling inwards — the last defense of the helpless, the frightened. The abused.

“I won’t,” he was saying frantically. “I won’t. Get out. Get out. They’re flying in the morning, they’re flying — Nield said — we tried to take the tank but — we lost too many — no. I tried! I did!”

Obi-Wan fell abruptly silent again, staring vaguely, his breaths coming in uneven little puffs. Sweat glistened on his brow, in his hair.

Qui-Gon wanted desperately to reach out and touch his shoulder, wipe his brow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, terrified of causing another panicked outburst, of hearing —

I don’t know what happened on Melida/Daan.

“Trevor, Meola, Hanta, Chassi, come with me,” Obi-Wan said, still gazing vacantly. His voice, however, was firm. “We need to clear the streets. Gather up the bodies. Any pieces large enough to carry. Leave anything too small.”

I never asked him. I just assumed. He told me about the end of the war and Cerasi’s murder and I never thought to ask for more.

“Hanta?” Obi-Wan said. He coughed. Kept trying to talk even though he could barely breathe. “Hanta? Dammit… she’s gone. Infection. Infection. We’re out of medicine. We’re out. They can’t. I won’t go. They can’t they can’t. Get out.”

Obi-Wan dissolved into jumbled sentences, his eyes fluttering open and shut and open again, his cheeks blazing with fever.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered.

“Cerasi?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan said, and he sounded very small, so uncertain, nothing like the slowly-more-confident but quiet Padawan who had accompanied him last week. “I could. But he’s not. He’s not. He left, he doesn’t — he doesn’t want me.”

Another chill swept through Qui-Gon. He held his breath, waiting for more, not wanting to hear it but needing to know.

“He left me, I’m not meant — he said I wasn’t meant to be — I’m not good enough for it, Cerasi,” Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes fell closed again. He almost seemed to be sleeping. “He was right about… right about me. I’m not. Not. I can ask. He might not… come back. For you. For you he might. He’s good. Not me. Not me.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head onto the bedsheets, his breath sharp and painful in his chest.

I never asked.

“Nield. I will ask. I’ll ask the Jedi I will, I will. I’m not one of them. For you. I’ll ask for you.”

We never talked about it.

“The little ones, Cerasi. I can watch them. I’ll watch them today. My fingers. The man, he broke my fingers in the alleyway. I’ll watch the little ones, little ones. It’s story time, Jilo. Shhh.”

I let everything that happened afterwards consume it. Consume me.

“Qui-Gon doesn’t want me,” Obi-Wan said, so, so softly, his tone perfectly reasonable. Calm. “My fault. I’m not. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them. It’s okay. I want to… I want to go home. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “I want to go home.”

My Padawan.

With utmost care, Qui-Gon rose to his feet, feeling the floor sway beneath him as if he were at sea and not flying through hyperspace.

He went to the fresher and poured a glass of water and dampened a rag, carrying them both back to the beside. He set the glass on a table, and seated himself cautiously on the side of the bed, radiating as much calm as he could, trying to make his presence known through their training bond.

It must have worked, because Obi-Wan did not panic or flinch away from the person sitting beside him. Or perhaps he was simply too tired, delirious to the point of vacancy.

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand and gently pressed the boy back against his pillows, resting the cool cloth against his forehead once he had settled. He kept his hand there for awhile, and gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair with his thumb, watching the boy’s eyelids flicker as he began to doze, to dream.

With his other hand, Qui-Gon gently took one of Obi-Wan’s, holding it gently as if it were fragile, a treasure beyond price.

“Oh, my boy,” he whispered, and was not shocked to taste salt on his lips as he spoke. “Sleep now. When you wake, we will talk, I swear it. We’ll talk about everything. Anything you want.”

Obi-Wan continued to dream.

As he fell deeper into sleep, his fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon’s, and he did not let go.

fin.

[ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress]

BNHA X DP Crossover HCs

After the long wait and finals, here are my ideas for all the quirks/occupations and other concepts I devised for the DP characters in the BNHA universe. This was just for fun and for inspiration towards others interested in this crossover au in general. 

Tagging the people that were looking forward to this post based on the replies: @qoinq-qhost, @floralflowerpower, @tgfangirl4eva @goodfish-bowl, @whitehairglowinggreeneyedcrush and more. 

Anyways, happy reading, folks!

Mr. Lancer

Hero name: Mr. Scholastic

Quirk: Bookworm

Involves his iconic usage of literature titles & quotes for swears to become abilities corresponding to the novel’s contents/themes. Course, he is limited to only books he has read and can quote accurately. Additionally, his voice gets very raspy past two or three quotes as well.

Occupation: Homeroom Teacher for Class 1- A; He’s very dedicated to his new students and teaching the fundamentals of being a pro hero and more! Course, I don’t think his chamomile tea with a wedge of lemon is enough to help him relax from his students (*cough* Danny, Tucker and Poindexter) from their antics at times. 

Danny

Hero name: Phantom 

Quirk: Ghost core (Ok, @coffeecakecafe had the best name for this one gotta give credit here)

Able to do anything a ghost is perceived to do. Go through walls, disappear and fly. This is a one of a kind quirk as it was obtained from Danny’s old quirk being altered by a machine his parents made that would repurpose/alter an individual’s quirk based on their past family members' own metahuman genetics.

Danny is doing his best and trying to understand his new quirk without causing too much attention to himself while doing so but it seems like its been doing the opposite as of late. Thankfully, he won’t be doing it alone with all his classmates around to help him!

Sam

Hero Name: Black Dahlia 

Quirk: Overgrown 

Able to create any plant that she knows the biological makeup and content of in almost any environment. However, it is important for her to drink lots of nutrient rich water and take in enough sun if she plans to create larger versions of these plants.

Tucker

Hero name: Tech Master

Quirk: Tech Core

Located on his chest/heart area is a special energy core capable of powering electronics at a rate faster than anything made-man could ever hope to achieve. As a kid, Tucker would tinker away in his family’s garage on a suit that would harness his power to the fullest extent and lead a new era of support tech in the hero world.

Valerie

Hero name: Red Huntress

Quirk: Electromagnetism (Someone I’ve been trying to find their post on my blog had posted this idea and I fell in love with it ever since)

She’s like Static Shock but with a dash of magenta/ruby lasers she can create through focusing her electromagnetism through her finger tips. She is an expert with her quirk and has the best handle of her quirk than most of her peers. She is the most frequent visitor in the support equipment workshop next to Tucker, Poindexter and Danny. It’s how she built the hoverboard she has in the show that utilizes her electromagnetic abilities for both offensive and defensive maneuvers. (Also, I enjoy the idea that Bullet is Val’s uncle on her mom’s side and is her biggest supporter alongside her dad, Damien Gray).

Jazz 

Quirk: Serenity 

Helps calm individuals and give them a sense of safety/security when they’re around her in a 10 feet radius. Though, anyone out of range cannot be affected by her quirk and she needs to be conscious in order to use it.

She planned on becoming a pro hero but felt her powers were best suited for her dream profession as a psychologist. She has used her quirk a lot when Danny was overwhelmed with his studies prior to UA. Course, a phone call and sibling chat over the phone certainly does the job for Danny now when it comes to preparing material for exams. (Course, its up to you guys to decide)

Dash

Hero name: Rager

Quirk: Strength Magnification

Improves his physique and stamina by a large percentage for a set amount of time. Needs to be careful of how much/long he magnifies his body or else his body will become immensely sore. 

Kwan

Hero name: Rallier 

Quirk: Team Rally (50/50)

Able to duplicate himself 3-4 times while being able to power-up allies’ quirks or stamina with a rally chant to help the team. The more duplicates there are the rally effect multiplies/stacks on the individual but it can lead to dangerous outcomes for their quirk output. 

Kwan is the class representative for 1-A, he’s the best at the job and was more than thrilled to be the one leading his class in more ways than one.  

Paulina

Hero name: Enchantress

Quirk: Charm

If the opponent is flustered by her taunts or flirting, their vision will become altered and start seeing things that are not there. It works better on men than women and the opponent can snap out of it with enough willpower or if they’re not interested in her.

Star

Hero name: Ms. Meteorite

Quirk: Comet

Similar to Gran Torino’s Jet quirk except faster and she can create an explosive impact on where she lands. Similar to a meteorite landing on earth, she also learns to use this as a long distance move by punching fast enough as she descends to create wind pressure punches.

Poindexter

Hero name: Tex (like in Tex Avery; Danny gave him the idea!) 

Quirk: Slapstick

His appearance is black and white just like an old timey cartoon character as well as having the durability and cartoon powers of one. However, his quirk can only work as long as what he does with it is funny in the circumstance it’s used for. Sort of like “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” rules in a sense. 

Sidney is part of Class 1-A just saying, I don’t care, this is Poindexter’s time to shine here to be the coolest/funniest person in the class. Also, Tucker’s most loyal friend/tester for new support items. 

Wes Weston

Hero name: Vigilance

Quirk: Deduction

He is able to deduct people’s identities to flaws/weak points for him to use against them and  exploit against problems. 

Class 1-B Representative and the most annoying/terrifying person that Danny has dealt with in his life. He was able to figure out that Danny’s quirk is not his own or more so that it's not natural and takes every opportunity to state this regardless if anyone is listening or not. 

Amber Mclain

Hero Name: Ember

Quirk: Fiery voice (50/50)

Her quirk uses the vibrations in her sining voice to conduct intense heat waves onto opponents or utilize to rumble the structures around here and even put out the flames from her quirk. Its like a combination of Present Mic and Endevours quirk but it leaves her with a strained or inflamed vocal cords with overuse. 

Third year student or an upcoming rock star that has certainly gain huge popularity after her song “Remember” was a nationwide hit amongst the younger generation. She’s striving to be the top hero while making her next hit to become the 1# song on the listings. 

Dani

Hero name: Phantwo (lol jk; unsure what her name would be)

Quirk: Poltergeist 

Similar to Danny’s quirk “Ghost”, except she has the additional ability to melt herself to a slimy puddle and use her ectoplasmic slime to trap or surprise opponents.

Clockwork

Hero Name: Clockwork

Quirk: Time Keeper

Clockwork’s quirk allows him to stop time for 5 to 15 minutes and be able to rewind it in the same amount of time. It can be one to multiple objects as long as he touches them in order to interact with them.

Principle of UA in this au. He’s quite a reserved man but still manages to visit and congregate with students throughout the school during lunch period. 

Flynn Fenton/Flynn Walker

Hero Name: The Green Knight

Quirk: Mineralization 

His quirk allows him to manipulate the minerals and inorganic materials in the atmosphere to create into crystalized constructs that are almost stronger than diamond. Luckily, the crystals have no value so he doesn’t have to worry about that aspect of his quirk. He does have to worry about his skin becoming dried out as a result of his quirk usage. 

Flynn is a third year student that loves to check up on his cousin, Danny, any chance he gets bc of the amount of work he does with his internships.

James Walker (or James W. Hausermann)

Hero name: Warden Wraith

Quirk: Plasma Apparatus

His quirk ionizes the electrolytes in the blood system into plasma. His entire body is composed of plasma giving him his skeletal appearance. He can create plasma chains, teleport from point A to B and more as long as he focuses and has enough energy at use. Course, he can have minor to severe dehydration and imbalance in his electrolyte levels from overuse. 

Occupation: CEO of an infrastructure security company/Provisional License Examiner just like Gang Orca.The ghost prison guards become his backup/helpers for the exam phases. (They’re just trained stuntmen with combat or military experience for the occasion).

Also, I like to think Walker has kids in this au who are in the Class 1-A group; they’re not hard to spot they take after their father with their skeletal complexion. 

Skulker

Villain name: Quirk Hunter

Quirk: Tracker

The moment Skulker makes eye contact with his target he will be able to hunt them down and find them anywhere no matter how good they are at covering their tracks. He can lock on to only one target, but he will be able to know their heart beat, quirk, be able to place a tracking/scent line that only he can see and will lead him to his target’s location. It lasts for over a day or a half.

Occupation: Skulker is known for capturing, info-detailing or “retiring” newcomer pros or specific quirk users for his clients that pay him handsomely for their targets, dead or alive. Thanks to Vlad, Danny was strictly intended to be captured alive by Skulker but sometimes he gets too thrilled by the hunt to not have a memento. Trust me, it's more of a dangerous 

Nicolai Technus 

Villain Name: Technus 

Quirk: Technopathy

A genius in his own right, even if he’s a little crazy, with the best ability possible for a man of science and innovation. As long as he knows the makeup and attributes of the machine, Technus is able to completely repurpose or change a machine’s qualities for offensive and defensive qualities. Whenever that be for a mech suit or hacking a high tech system for entry, he’s able to do it as long as he knows what it is and how it functions. An example is repurposing a slot machine into a submachine gun that shoots coins at the target. 

Vlad Masters

Name: Vlad Plasmius

Quirk: Vampire

Can do anything a vampire can supposedly do. However, he was able to manifest an additional aspect of this quirk which is the ability to copy any quirk users ability. Based on the type of blood he ingests decides the amount of time he can use the copied quirk for.

Occupation: CEO of his own hero firm, he is extremely selective with the interns he has that there is a major waitlist to be even consider for Masters Inc. Course, imagine the surprise Danny must of felt when he received an offer from Vlad right off the bat after the Sports festival. 

Bruce Guiles (Bullet)

Hero Name: Bullet 

Quirk: Sphyraena or Chimera Fish

Able to do anything a barracuda can do or the quirk is a 50/50 mutant quirk in which he has both the traits of a barracuda, Chimaeras and a touch of piranha from his parents being of one of these fish species hence Chimera. Bullet can do anything those fish can do overall but he can’t go too long without hydration from water. Water quality and its oxygen content also affect his abilities by a noticeable percentage but he still remains quite formidable as a quirk user.

Occupation: Captain of a coast guard team, he’s a strict military man with an amazing record of saving people from any disasters both on land and sea. Him and Walker are best buddies ever since they went to school together. 

Vortex

Hero Name: Vortex

Quirk: Storm Warning

Vortex can utilize any variation of a natural disaster depending on the environment he’s in. Hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, you name it he can create it for his use. However, despite his amazing control over his quirk it is still possible for him to create these disasters if he lost control or magnify another pre-existing one if he loses focus. 

Occupation: Storm-chaser/Forecaster; His control and knowledge in combating/predicting these natural disasters has led to him to be part of a storm chasing crew and they’re the best in helping disaster prevention teams evacuate citizens as a result.

Petra Eris

Hero name: Pandora

Quirk: Butterfly Effect

Can manipulate or prevent a chaotic event to happen if she was in proximity and present to prevent it to happen. Or even give a little chaos to the opponent to deal with during battle. 

One of the top ten heroes and most beloved heroes in the country. She is the best strategist in any team and has a way to predict any event before they happen given the necessity of it for her quirk to work in her favor. 

Johnny 

Vigilante name: Johnny 13

Quirk: Unlucky

Johnny manifests his bad luck into a shadow that will latch onto opponents and cause unfortunate events to occur more for that individual as a result. However, the shadow cannot exist in complete sunlight; it can only remain if there are already shadows in his general area or it’s nighttime and its effects are strongest at that time obviously.

Occupation: Johnny is the leader of a biker gang or de-facto leader of said biker gang who loves to raise hell and helping folks that need saving whenever he’s around or is up to the task. Kitty tags along with him to help him out of jams and bc she loves him. :3

Kitty

Vigilante name: Kitty

Quirk: Lovesick

Kitty sends a smooch towards her opponent which if it makes contact causes the individual to have nausea or become disoriented for around 10 minutes. It can also have a chance of lasting longer if the individual was sort of infatuated with her regardless of gender. 

Pariah Dark

Villain name: King Pariah

Quirk: Ultimate Adaptation 

Similar to all for one except with the unpredictability for both the user and opponents. Pariah can manifest any type of quirk needed to defeat anyone that stands in his way both one-on-one and in groups. Course, drawbacks are the learning curve to some of the quirks and that multiple adaptions he utilizes at once will destroy his cells in the process. 

Pariah is a former follower of all for one who had unique quirk that All for one augmented to help him succeed if both Shigaraki and Tomura failed in their own conquest for the world. But now Pariah has his own plans to succeed where they failed and become the leader who shapes a new world order with an iron fist. 

Frederick Kingsmen

Villain/vigilante name: Fright Knight

Quirk: Burning Energy Infusion

Able to form/infuse objects with his own burning energy life force that is capable of burning or slicing through any in his sight. The sweat he gives off is what provides the material needed to ignite his unnatural flames despite it causing his body to overheat still. 

Fright Knight is Pariah’s second-in-command with a loyalty to him as strong as his control over his power. Fright Knight has faced many pro-heros as he carried out the smaller phases of Pariah’s plans and most of them barely came close towards defeating or leaving as much as  scratch on the knight. 

Rodolfo Gonzalo  

Hero name: Wulf

Quirk: Werewolf + Portal creation (50/50?)

Can do anything a werewolf can supposedly do; somehow it allows him to create portals with his claws to locations he has marked with them or visited in the past. 

Wulf was abducted on by Pariah’s forces and sent into the Nomu labs for experimentation to force on another quirk and instill complete allegiance to their cause. Course, Wulf broke free as a result of that new additional quirk allowing him to escape their clutches and his previous one helping him survive the endeavor. However, he lost his memories in the process and could only remember his native language, Spanish, and his hero name Wulf. 

Overgrown

Villain/vigilante Name: Overgrown

Quirk: Plant Manipulation

Can manipulate any pre-existing plant matter or create new vegetation if water and soil is present for the process or he understand the biological makeup of the plant in question. 

Occupation: Pro-hero or eco-terrorist who is tired of humanity from abusing the environment from quirk battles to industries using the land for their own benefits and none others.

That’s all I have for now! I hope this was worth the wait, guys. As well as, inspire ideas for your takes with a DP x BNHA Crossover! 

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

Songs mentioned in this chapter (in this order): Now or Never & Wake Up by JaTP | Don't Stop Me Now by Queen | Rude by MAGIC! | Don’t Laugh At Me by Mark Wills | Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing by Tori Kelly | Still Learning by Halsey | Ayo Technology by 50 Cent | My version of My Name Is Luke by Trevor Wilson | Let’s Forget About It by Lisa Loeb | Let's Just Get Naked Lyrics by Joan Osborne | Hey by Pixies

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected. 

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.) 

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you. 

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie. 

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been. 

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly. 

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before. 

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible. 

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there. 

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.” 

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence. 

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky  And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open. 

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?). 

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again. 

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be. 

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?) 

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room. 

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.” 

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.) 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!” 

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.” 

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit. 

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!” 

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej​​ @ifilwtmfc​

[ellitx]

Precious | Xiao x Reader

[Name] waits for the Vigilant Yaksha to come back as he went to meet a certain god.

note: i recommend reading it on AO3 (unedited version; refers Xiao as Xiao) or Quotev (edited; refers Xiao as Alatus) for the feels. tumblr’s text post is kind of weird for me

word count: 6.9k

“Xiao!”

A young feminine voice called out to him, chasing after his figure. His stride stopped, slowly turning his head to the source of the voice. Xiao’s amber optics were greeted by the smiling girl, her [eye color] orbs shining gleefully seeing him.

Since when did my name have a special ring to it only when you said it…?

[Name] walked forward and stood beside him, giving him another one of her bright smiles.

“This is fun!” 

Her vocals echoed in his head as he reminisced the time they strolled near the Yaoguang Shoal, enjoying the serene and gentle breeze of the Liyue region. [Name]’s lips turned upwards as she enjoyed the presence of the Yaksha beside her. Just the mere sight of her soft and gentle laughs and grins made his heart tugged.

And if it made you smile, I’d do something over and over for you.

He reminisced about the time they went stargazing at the rooftop of her house near Dihua Marsh. Watching the umbra skies be splashed with little marks of white dots all around as it gives a source of light in Teyvat. 

When did I start thinking such idiotic things like that?

They enjoyed their time being together, especially [Name], and not even realizing it was already morning. Hours and hours of late-night chatting and time have already passed by in a blink.

  Since when did I…?

 —

 “[Name].” 

The familiar voice of the Yaksha made her turn her head to face Xiao and raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance.

“Eh? I thought you were out.” The female fixed her hold on the basket filled with white sheets that were supposed to be washed until Xiao called for her.

“Yes, but I forgot something to tell you.” Something urgent came up and for her not to worry he had to tell her about it. Sometimes this girl’s worries can come out of hand. He sighed internally at that thought but shook it off seconds later reminding himself of what he was doing here.

“I have to go to the annex.”

Xiao was very straightforward, he need not dawdle on any conversations, he’d rather want it to be forward and straight to the point. 

After letting those words be released from his mouth, [Name] dropped the basket onto the ground and her eyes grew wide and turned glossy. 

“Sorry I have to leave you alone here—“

“Wonderful. It’s wonderful. How lovely!” She cut him off and he was surprised to see how happy she was. It was not something the Anemo-vision holder was expecting. Why was she so happy about it? 

“Huh?”

“It must be something important right? It’s alright, please don’t worry about me!” 

Xiao’s eyes softened and lifted his gloved hand to lightly bump it on her head. His action made her look up at him in curiosity.

“Be good and wait for me to come back.” He said softly.

“I will! See you later!”

The female bid him a farewell and waved her hands at him, watching his figure disappear from the door.

"She’s so happy for you, huh?" Bosacius, another fellow Yaksha, cooed to him.

“Be quiet. Nothing good will come of it anyway.” Xiao scoffed at him as he turned his back.

"So scary~ You’re only kind to [Name], aren’t you?" The adeptus snickered at him.

His hands turned to fists, refraining himself to be ticked off by the teasing voice of his companion. He looked back at you for the last time at the door and saw you picking up the fallen sheets scattered on the ground and placing it back inside the basket. His legs lead him to where the annex will be held and went off on a journey, ignoring the winds mockingly lulling his ears.

It was a bit far from where [Name] lives. He wanted to go back and just stay with her but if he defies an order from a god, surely a consequence will come for him. Xiao gritted his teeth at the thought. A god who merely used him as a puppet for the archon and used his weakness.

How utterly disgusting his god is.

‘You’d better not lash out at your master, you know?’

“Shut the hell up.”

The Vigilant Yaksha’s voice was dark and glared at nothingness. How annoying these spirits are. Playing and annoying the man just for fun, to enjoy the sight of his weakness and see him be aggravated for their pleasure.

Xiao stomped his way to his destination, killing the hilichurls that were blocking his path. He released all his anger to these poor monsters. Fortunately, no one ever bothered him again, and finally reached the top of the cliff to see his master.

The one who’s behind the strings attached to him to see his sufferings, the puppet master— his god.

It already made him sick seeing him. 

“Welcome.” The divinity greeted who was sitting idly at one of the stones, waiting for the man’s arrival.

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked face-to-face.” He smirked at the Yaksha.

His amber optics sharpened and clashed with the god’s black ones. The wind softly danced against them, their clothes ruffling and the leaves flying, though it only made the temperature drop down at the intense aura between the two.

“It’s okay. Come closer, my pitiful monster.”

 —

 [Name]’s gaze was fixated on the streams and lakes, the clear blue water, and bright azure sky made it a good time to do the laundry. She placed the last white clothing on the plastic rod and clipped it to avoid being blown away.

“Xiao should have arrived there by now.” She muttered to herself. “I wonder if they are dining together?” A chuckle escaped from her lips and imagined the immortal and other deities eating together in peace.

“Be good and wait for me to come back.”

The young woman placed her hands together and intertwined her fingers to pray. Hoping the Geo archon will hear her prayer. 

I hope that Xiao will come back at least a little happy.

[Name] closed her eyes, hoping for him to come back to her abode safe and sound.

 —

 “How’s your duty? I suppose you have already killed tons of people, correct?” The god tilted his head to his side, enjoying the sight of the Demon Conqueror’s weakness almost crumbling to pieces in front of him. But Xiao won’t give in, the walls surrounding him are still strong. As if he’ll let the god do what he pleases. 

Just hold it a little longer.

“I’m amazed at how you’ve slaughtered so many. Tell me, did you like it? Were those dreams you’ve devoured— their hopes and dreams— delicious?” The god’s stygian orbs glinted as he fiddled with the stones lying beside him. His grin only widened when Xiao stayed silent and presented his master with a cold glare.

“How’s the bet going? It’s impossible, right? It must be impossible.” He continued to smile in amusement when his puppet’s grimace didn’t falter.

“Now now, don’t look at me like that. That’s how it’s supposed to be… How it’s been from the start. It’s what’s been carved into the wheel of fate for those born with a spirit. Didn’t I teach you that it’s the fate of your lineage?”

The Anemo-vision user’s knuckles turned white. His nails dig deep into his skin and he can feel the blood dripping down. Xiao ignored the pain, it didn’t bother him the slightest but what did was the words that escaped from the lips of the deity.

  “I have nothing to do with that fate! You made me do this! You’re the one who made me do this!”

Xiao grabbed the supreme being’s clothing and clutched it tightly, holding it upwards as if to choke him. 

“Oh? You’re saying it’s my fault? Then let’s make a bet.”

Amber eyes widened at his sudden challenge but his grip didn’t faze. The god’s fringe covered his eyes, not even going to bother to face him.

“If you manage to break the curse in 2 years, I’ll release you and stop being your god. I’ll even let you enjoy the life of freedom. But if you can’t,”

The deity sneered at him, grin outspread on his face enjoying what was about to come for his puppet.

“I’ll lock you up permanently and you won’t ever run away from me.”

Xiao let go of him and stepped back. The upper being stood up, unfazed, and chuckled as he fixed his outfit.

Oh how amusing this was. He loves it, the expression the Yaksha is giving him. The despair in his eyes was so wonderful!

“If you can’t break it, you’ll truly become a monster to everyone.”

 “Looks like I’m going to win the bet after all.” The god picked up the stone and chucked it in the air upwards and the weight of it fell back to his hands.

Xiao clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What? Don’t just assume that. There’s still time. You don’t know that yet.” The volume of his voice increased with each word left from his mouth.

The god suddenly stopped tossing the stone and gripped it tightly.

“Who’s the one who doesn’t get it?”

Before he could speak, the Demon Conqueror was cut off when something hard and rough scraped against his cheek. Xiao felt a stinging pain on his skin and watched the stone that was thrown by the god fell onto the earth.

“Why don’t you get it?” He repeated to him. His gaze was dark and his voice was so quiet that the vanquisher couldn’t almost hear it.

“How come? Did you forget?” The god lifted his own body away from the rock he was sitting on and looked at his puppet with mixed emotions. Anger. Disappointment. Annoyance. Frustration.

He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Why are you so deluded?”

The way he walks was rather crooked and hobbled, he slowly walked to Xiao and he can feel an unsettling aura surrounding the god. 

“Remember. Come on.”

He stopped on his track when he’s finally in front of his follower. 

“Remember that you’re a monster,”

Xiao gulped down the air that was blocking his throat and took a step back.

“And because you’re a monster, everyone is dead.”

Something snapped inside Xiao. His eyes enlarged and his lips quivered. “You’re wro—“

“I’m not wrong.” The god cut him off again.

“No, it wasn’t my fault!” He retaliated to his master loudly. His heart was beating so loudly and sweat was dripping on the side of his head. He opened his hand to summon his polearm but was once again ceased for an umpteenth time when the numen took his wrist to put a stop on summoning his weapon.

“It was your fault. You killed those poor villagers.”

“Stop. Stop! Don’t touch me!” Xiao wriggled his arm but it only tightened a bit more when the deity spoke in a dark tone accompanied by a threatening glare.

“Don’t give me orders.”

His fingers were shaking and only stared at the deity in fear. 

“Those poor villagers. Even though they were just enjoying their peaceful lives, protecting their family, and raising their children, they ended up dying from your hands. And you don’t care about their death, not even mourning once for their death.”

The Yaksha’s lips hung open, he wanted to speak out but no words were coming out. His brows formed a crease between his forehead, fear, and confusion written all over his visage.

The dark aura is surrounding them so fast. It’s so suffocating, he wanted to get out.

He wanted to be released from this god.

‘Xiao, do you know how that poor child felt?’ Whispered the wind.

‘It wasn’t an accident.’ Another told him.

‘It wasn’t a suicide.’

‘Do you know how much grief you have caused to those poor souls?’

‘Do you understand? As a monster, do you understand?’

His gaze was so dull. There was no glimmer or spark in it. It’s as if he’s soulless… He continued to stare at his gloved hands that were splattered with blood. His polearm was lying on the ground, and fresh red liquid continued to drip forming a puddle.

Xiao’s thoughts subsided when he heard the voice of the divinity. 

“You should have died. But sadly you can’t, you’re an immortal after all. Surely, if you didn’t exist, everyone would’ve been happy.” The god’s black eyes glinted under the dusky sky. He stared down at his puppet and tightened his grip on his wrist.

The air is so thick, it’s getting hard to breathe the more the god stays close to Xiao. It’s so suffocating, the atmosphere is too heavy. He wanted to escape from his grasp. He wanted to be free. 

I killed them…

Scenarios of red splatters and cries of pain and agony flashed before him. The screams of the children and adults resonated inside him. Lifeless eyes and cold bodies continued appearing to remind him of what he had done. 

I…

A lifeless body of a young woman.

“Please stop!” Xiao cried desperately either to the god or the spirits. 

“Please… stop…” He begged and fell down on both of his knees. “Please… just stop…” The deity released his hold on his arm and turned his gaze to the birds perching on the branch of a tree. 

“Hey, I’ve been thinking…” The god smiled and knelt down to the vanquisher’s height and offered him another one of his all-knowing smiles Xiao despised so much.

“Is [First Name] [Last Name] the one who’s been encouraging your delusions?” He placed his fingers beneath his chin, feigning that he was lost in thought. 

“She was unperturbed after seeing your true form.” The vision holder looked up at him in panic and shock. “How do you know that?”

The numen’s body raised and let out a huff, glancing once again at the birds. “She’s really amazing. Almost like an angel? The Holy Mother? Or more like…” His voice drifted off and stared at the vulnerable immortal in amusement, letting his lips form into a smirk.

“...a monster?”

Xiao gritted his teeth when he mentioned the female. How dare he call her a monster?! It filled him with rage inside. If anyone talks bad about [Name], he immediately beheads them or kills them in a flash. But this was his god, no matter how much he wanted to do so, they both knew who had the upper hand.

“Really, don’t you think she’s too perfect?” He asked and furrowed his brows together. “Aren’t people who are too perfect actually scary?” 

“A monster who’s too perfect. That’s what [First Name] [Last Name] is.” The god hummed to himself, slightly absorbed to know just who this girl Xiao attached to is.

“People would normally run after seeing you in that form, no doubt.”

  It was raining hard outside and the skies were so gloomy. Xiao’s face was hidden by a blue and teal mask. He dropped down his polearm as it let out a loud thud.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Standing before Xiao was [Name], she looked at him in shock and stayed silent. She could only stare at him, speechless at seeing this form. Black and teal mist were surrounding him. She knew that it was dangerous to get closer but she insisted to stay put. 

She didn’t run away from him.

 Xiao closed his gloved hands and gripped them on his pants.

“How…”

The god curled a brow and faced him, letting out a confused sound.

“How can you say something like that?” The immortal stood up slowly and looked at the deity.

“You don’t know anything. You weren’t there at the time.” His brows furrowed and glowered at the person in front of him. 

“How can you, when you weren’t watching? She wasn’t born a  monster or anything. How can you?” His voice was getting more aggressive and it irked the god. Xiao was enraged at what the divinity was saying as if he was there. As if he saw what happened and claimed that [Name] is a monster.

How disgusting. It made his stomach wrenched in aversion. How dare this god assume everything.

“You…”

  The female hugged his arm, she didn’t care if her clothes were getting dirty or how it was already painted in red. She didn’t care if her clothes were getting wet because of the rain. She didn’t care how muddy her hair was.

She didn’t let go of him.

 “You don’t know how scared she was. How can you say that?!” Xiao’s voice was rough when he screamed those words out. 

   Her hands and voice trembled.

  She was cold. Her face was pale, 

  She was afraid…

  Even just remembering that moment tugged his heart. It hurt him to see how scared [Name] was in seeing it in that form.

“Even so…” Xiao muttered.

“Even so— she didn’t run away from me!” The god groaned and placed his hands on the side of his head to cover his ears. “Shut up.”

“She didn’t run away from me!” He repeated.

Xiao’s god turned away and continued to tell him to shut up. The god was acting childish, he was so stubborn to listen to his puppet. He didn’t want to hear any of it, it annoyed him. But Xiao continued to speak out, his voice getting increasingly louder. It was uncharacteristic of him to raise his voice.

“She… she held my hand!”

He let out a small gasp when a realization struck him. 

   She knew that if she let go of my hand. I would never return.

  The female continued to hold on to him and tears were flowing down on her pale face. Her hold on him was firm, to let him know she would never let go no matter what. She was stubborn even though fear was present on her face.

  [Name] was scared yet she didn’t run.

  “Why… why are you following me like nothing’s the matter?!”

  [Name] was trembling from fear yet she continued to stay.

  “I said stay away!”

  [Name] continued to stay for Xiao. She was afraid she'd never see him again if she let go of his arm.

   That I might never return to anybody.

  No matter how much Xiao pushed her away, she won’t budge. He pushed her again but with more force and it was a success, it sent the female flying to the ground at the strong impact from the immortal. But even so, she stumbled on her way up to reach for him.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you blind?! We both know I’ve done this!”

   She didn’t take up all of my pain.

 He raised his hand and stared at the bracelet dangling on his wrist that was given by the mortal.

   She didn’t fill in all the brokenness.

  Xiao grimaced behind the mask and gripped his hair. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

[Name] crawled her way to the Yaksha slowly.

“I don’t need any of your pity!”

Xiao thought she’ll finally leave him alone when she turned her back away from him and walked away. [Name] glanced at him over her shoulders. It hurts her to see him keep pushing her away. But that doesn’t matter, what matters the most is that Xiao is the one hurting here!

‘I won’t run away!’

She ran up to him at full speed— occasionally stumbling on some branches but still continued to go after him.

When their distance was nearing, she reached out her hand at him and wrapped her slender arms around the vanquisher, and held his head close to her chest. His golden eyes widened at the intimate action and he felt her small hands tugged on his shirt. 

   But those… those weren’t important.

  Tears continued to pour on her visage and so too did the rain. He can hear her sniffing and feel the warm droplets on his shoulder.

“Let’s go home. We have to go…” [Name] pleaded to him.

“Back home!” She lifted her face up and stared at the male with persistence and determination.

Xiao clicked his tongue and pushed her once more. 

“Let go of me.”

“No!”

“Don’t you get it?!”

“No, I don’t get it!”

He grabbed his polearm and swung his arm forward so the human will struggle to grasp a hold of him.

“I said let go of me!”

Her hair was so messy that strands of [hair color] were sticking on her face, she shook her head vigorously and clutched on his shirt tightly.

“Right now, even though I hear your voice, it doesn’t sound like you. You’re in a form I’ve never seen and it scares me.” Her voice cracked and continued sobbing but she held it back. She has to stay strong. Xiao knows that she’s afraid. Her fingers were shaking so much and he could see her shoulders shuddering.

“But… but from now on, I want to understand. Just like when you listen to me when I’m discouraged, from now on I want you to share with me when you are! I want you to tell me when you’re hurting, or scared, or feeling weak, and let me worry about you!

Because… because I want to keep living together. To eat, to chat, and worry… All those things. I want to continue--” She held back her cries and pulled him closer to her chest, scared he’ll vanish if she even let go of him the slightest.

   The most important thing…

  “—to continue to live life with you!”

   Was that she stayed with me…

  [Name]’s eyes glimmered in awe at him when she saw him cooking Almond Tofu inside her house. Amazed and surprised to see him creating that dish. 

   Finding joy in the smallest things…

  She smiled at simple things such as collecting seashells together or the time there was a Qingxin flower stuck on his outfit, unintentionally discovering it was her favorite.

   Being happy and smiling so cheerfully.

  She continued to smile even if she was sick. The time he took care of her, she was living all alone and no one was there to tend her…

   Why? She should think of herself more.

  The female looked over her shoulder when she felt a familiar presence behind her. She stopped her task in drying the clothes and immediately strode to him and greeted Xiao with a welcome home.

   Why? Doesn’t she think she’s getting the short end of the stick?

  It hurt him to see her crying all alone inside her abode after he came back from his duties.

   She thinks that she’s stupid, or there’s nothing good about her.

  The time where [Name] bawled her eyes out in front of him. 

She was so vulnerable. 

So fragile that even the slightest touch might already shatter her to pieces.

‘It’s a waste of time to think about the loss of life or life getting harder.’ Xiao looked back at the time the little boy’s spirit shared a story with him.

‘The traveler never thought about that stuff. Even if other people think that makes her an idiot, I just don’t. That’s all. What about you, Mister Yaksha? What do you think when you close your eyes?’

 He put away his gloved hands from his face and stared at them, lost in his thoughts.

  “Xiao.”

The female called out and turned around, greeting him with another one of her bright smiles whenever he comes back to see her or just visit her after his travels.

“Xiao.”

 Her voice was so sweet. He feels safe whenever he hears [Name]’s voice. So soft. So gentle. So sweet and so calming.

He didn’t know there were beads of liquid trickling down on the side of his face. 

   I love you.

 He wanted to come back home and return to her welcoming arms. To come back and enjoy the sense of comfort. 

   I love you so much…

 His chest hurt from this unknown feeling. He never felt this before in his entire life. It felt weird. What is this? It felt like he was yearning for something.

   …Just as you are…

 Tears continued to fall down his face and this amused the god to see him cry in front of him. Xiao’s hair covered his eyes but the deity can still see how the liquid trickled under the disappearing sun. Now, this was another wonderful sight to enjoy the vulnerable state the Yaksha had.

“Are you crying?” 

Xiao remained quiet and the god asked him once more. 

No response again.

The master snickered and lowered his head to take a good look at his weak state. “Are you mortified?” 

His midnight orbs had a trace of intrigue and mirth. 

“Don’t tell me that you’re in love with [First Name] [Last name].”

The god snickered and placed his hand on his mouth to stifle his laughter when Xiao still remained silent.

“Take a look at that. A monster falls in love with another monster.”

The Yaksha’s pupils dilated and looked up at him in anger.

“What? What’s that look on your face?” The divinity’s eyes flashed to him, dark and warning. It irked him to see this side of his puppet. Before Xiao could react, he felt another piercing sensation on his bruised cheek.

“I’m not the one at fault here! You’re the deluded one!” Another slap came to him again.

“And that woman. She acts so insolently even though she’s a mortal!” 

Xiao caught his wrist before he made contact with his skin again.

“If— if you hate her that much, why did you allow this to happen?! You’re crazy. What are you thinking? What are you—“

His breath hitched when he saw the emotions behind the god’s eyes.

“What are you scheming…” His voice wavered when the thought of [Name] disappearing flashed before him.

“You used her…? Why? I don’t know, but…” He tightened his hold on the numen’s wrist and his glare was colder than ever.

“You dragged her into this mess.”

The god clicked his tongue and huffed at his words.

“You’re always quick to make me the villain, huh? So which is it? Do you love that woman?” He pushed him back but Xiao was quick to regain his balance.

“I—“

“Then you’re the real idiot!” He pointed at him in an accusing manner. As if he was the one who had done all these horrible crimes. 

“Do you think you have the right to fall in love with someone?! Do you think that’s allowed!?” He shouted at him as his face darkened. The threatening aura was back again. 

  ‘I won’t forgive you.’

 “Hey, Xiao,” The deity called to him to get his attention. “Think about it. Who’s the real villain here? Who’s the one who involved her the most?”

The vision holder’s brows creased and looked down with a pained look plastered on his face. 

“It was me.” He mumbled. 

The god hummed and placed a hand on his chin to frame his face. “Though, that woman is also at fault—“

The Yaksha halted his statement. He’ll take the blame. All of it. He doesn’t want another word about [Name] to be spilled from his lips. He hated it. He just talks badly about her and he doesn’t like it.

“I’m… I’m the one who—“

  Her eyes were so gentle…

Her touch was so warm and comforting…

Her smiles were so sweet…

 “I don’t love her…” He bit down on his lip and clenched his fists. Xiao glared at the god menacingly as if to prove he doesn’t have feelings for the mortal.

“I definitely don’t love her. I’ll never… never fall in love with anyone. I’ll never fall in love.”

  No. No more.

I won’t let anyone talk bad about her because of me anymore.

 He wanted to protect that smile so much. He wanted to treasure it so badly. He wanted you to be safe in his arms. He won’t ever let anyone hurt you, he’ll take all the pain. He’ll shoulder it all for you.

He fell down onto his knees, shoulders slumped down. Xiao’s figure was weakening from all that was happening, from all the corrupted thoughts that swarmed his mind. 

“Is that right?”

The god glanced at the other side, disappointed that his claims are wrong about his puppet’s feelings for the mortal. 

“I see. I was jumping to conclusions. That’s right. There’s no way you’d love her. A sensible decision from you, for once.”

He faced the pitiful state of Xiao and closed his eyes. “You’ll never break the curse anyway, so your confinement is certain. Don’t you think that’s for the best?”

The deity neared him and knelt on one knee, continuing to whisper the words that will surely plague his mind.

“I’d feel bad to involve her, or others more than you have already.”

The Yaksha's eyes were dark and lifeless. The whisper of the winds was taunting him along with the god. He wanted to shun them away so badly. He wanted to get out of here now. But it’s no use. The strings are still attached to his master’s fingers and he can’t do anything about it but abide by his orders.

“It’s okay. I’m still here even if the curse still remains within you.” He pets his black and teal hair, but it didn’t give him the comfort unlike what [Name] has. It irked him off, it’s like the god was saying to give up and just live with it.

“I’ll be by your side, so you won’t be alone.”

“You’re just mocking me.”

The god ignored him and continued to brush his hair with his fingers. “I care for you. I actually care for you so much, Xiao.”

He leaned forward and whispered in his ears. 

“Be good for me now and just follow my orders. You’ll be stuck with me forever after all.”

 —

 Splashes of water were gently flowing down the placid and shallow stream. The god feverishly washed his hands as if to remove the dirt that was too stubborn to get rid of. 

“I touched him too much. I feel gross.” His dark orbs were so dull when he stared at his pale hands that touched the Demon Conqueror before he left. 

“He hates [First Name] [Last Name], huh… Is that true?” He asked no one but himself but unbeknownst to him, there was another god sitting on the big rocks as he glanced down to see what the other was doing.

Morax watched his figure retreat in the vast land and gently dropped down to approach his previous location. He stared down at the stream as it mirrored his appearance, his narrow amber eyes and long brown hair that has been accompanied with a fade of gold on the tips. 

His eyes softened and remembered the poor Yaksha.

“It can’t possibly be true.”

 —

  “Do you think you’re allowed to fall in love with someone?!”

  “The one who involved her the most…”

  I know.

  “Surely, if you didn’t exist, everyone would’ve been happy.”

 “I know!” Xiao screamed and covered his ears to get rid of the voice that’s been haunting him after the conversation. The voice of the god won’t stay away, it continues to linger inside his head. 

“I know…”

  I’m always hurting others.

  [Name] held him tightly against her chest, it was so warm and soothing, reassuring him everything’s fine. It felt like a haven for him.

  Why didn’t she run away?

She should’ve stayed away from me.

So why doesn’t she hate me for what I have done?

 He finally arrived at [Name]’s home. It was quiet and peaceful, the birds were chirping and the sounds of cicadas ringing in the environment. It felt like a good time to enjoy some naps. Xiao opened the door and was expecting a greeting from the female, but he heard none. He waited for a moment but it was still silent.

“[Name]?” He called out. He glanced outside to see the white sheets hanging up to be dried. The winds softly fluttered the clothing making it dance along with the air. 

Despite everything, why do I look for her?

  “Xiao.” The said male looked at the archon with his cold eyes.

 The Yaksha’s amber eyes widened and immediately sprinted outside to find [Name].

  “Wait, Xiao.” The adeptus raised his hand to stop him from continuing walking. “Don’t step on the poor flower.”

The male glanced down at the Qingxin flower before his feet. Such a lone flower. Its white petals were so pure, quite amazing it was left untouched as there are no signs of dirt on it.

“Nothing’s going to change by protecting this one tiny flower.” He watched the flower swayed. What a lone and minimal flower, he wanted to crush it. 

“What existence is worth a sacrifice, worth more than another’s life?” Xiao asked Morax as he raised his head and glowered at him. 

“Taking everything from someone and trampling over them.” He continued.

The God of Contract fixed his gaze onto the poor immortal and said, “Even so, you’re still here because you still haven’t given up hope yet. It’s because you know that not every soul in this world has rejected you.”

Xiao gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “What are you talking about? I killed them all, there’s no way someone out there wouldn’t reject me. It’s obvious I did this all!”

“As if there’s someone who would never reject me.”

“There is—“

“There’s no one!”

The Yaksha stepped on the Qingxin in pure spite. The flower being crushed by his foot trampled on the ground and now laying limply on the earth. 

“No one…”

“Even so, even if you don’t have a glimmer of hope now, it will surely come again. However much you resist or trample it, however many times you’re thrown into despair, hope will come again just as many times. Repeatedly, again and again.

It will bloom.”

 Xiao ran as he continued to search for [Name], figuring out where she would be at this kind of time. He hopes she’s safe and uninjured. 

   Forgive me. I understand now. I just pretend I didn’t, but I actually understood.

 He looked all around the area and even climbed up to a tree to get a bigger view and search for the petite figure of the female. 

   I understand that as many in this world reject me, there are just as many people who reach out their hand to me. 

  “Why the long face?” A woman asked him.

   Even though she’ll never come back…

   “Here, take this.” Xiao glanced at the unknown woman who gave him some kind of offering.

    I couldn’t keep it. 

  “She’s my treasure.” He observed the image the woman was holding. A young girl with [hair color] and [eye color] donned in a red and white Hanfu. He grabbed the portrait and took a closer look at the person.

   But she bloomed before me.

 The vision-holder reached the big tree in Dihua Marsh, the place where [Name] tends to take care of the flowers in her free time. 

“I feel like I’ve only caused her sadness.” A broken smile was presented on her face. Xiao can see the obvious melancholia in her eyes.

   She continued to bloom.

  He was standing at the tree’s sturdy branch near the woman’s residence. The window was open and he caught sight of a young girl, her back facing him. She was all alone inside, silently nourishing the meal placed on the wooden table.

   A small… small flower.

 He stopped in his tracks when he saw the familiar [hair color] head, crouching next to the bushes of Silk Flowers near the bridge of the Guili Plains and Dihua Marsh. Her slender fingers fiddled with the crimson corolla. 

   A tiny…

 She plucked the flower from the bush and brushed one of the petals with her index finger. 

   Flower.

 [Name] held the flower close to her and took in the sweet scent. Her eyes softened as they eased her mind and body.

   Precious…

  My precious…

 “[Name]!”

A small gasp flees from your lips and you whip around to see the male you’ve been waiting for standing before you.

“Huh? X-Xiao?” You stood up and faced him properly, still holding on to the Silk Flower in your hands.

“What happened? You’re back so soon.” Her focus went to his bruised cheek and quickly approached him to get a closer look. 

You raised your hand but not touching it so as to not hurt him any further. “Xiao, your cheek…” 

The male obscured the wounded skin with his gloved hand and looked anywhere but her. “Oh, I got into a fight.”

[Name] released a confused sound and her eyes widened, quickly asking if he got into a fight during the annex.

“No, it’s from Hilichurls.” He lied.

“Eh?!” Now that was not what she was expecting. Normally, whenever Hilichurls attack him, he’ll sweep them off in a second. She shook her head to erase the thought and deemed that Xiao can still get some injuries whoever fought him whether it be from Abyss mages or other monsters lurking around the world of Teyvat.

“It’s fine.” The Anemo user assured. “I know you were happy for me, but I’m fine if I’m not summoned.”

He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I don’t really care about it anymore.”

When [Name] gave him an unsure look, he raised a brow at her and bumped her head with his fist playfully. “What? You’re not happy I’m back?”

She flailed her arms around and stumbled on her words when he asked that. “Th-that’s not it! I mean, um… er—“ 

An amused smile was shown on his face as he breathed a sigh. “Don’t take it seriously.”

[Name] airily laughed, her cheeks were tinted with red as she beamed, smiling brightly at him. 

“Welcome back.” 

Her warm welcome greeted Xiao for the umpteenth time. She was smiling at him again, her eyes were so gentle and pure of [eye color]— the shine continued to linger in it whenever she saw him. 

“Welcome back, Xiao.”

His mouth unconsciously curved upwards. “It’s good to be back.”

The Yaksha felt the unknown feeling come back again. He felt his heartstrings being pulled every time she gave that bright smile to him. It was odd, it felt fuzzy inside. His amber eyes stared with her own [eye color] ones, so kind and passionate.

   I love you. I don’t want to take anything else from you.

  I don’t want to trample you ever again. 

 The two walked off and journeyed their way back to their home. [Name] initiated the conversation and Xiao was there to listen to her and enjoy the sound of her pleasant voice entering his ears.

   At some point, I hoped we could always be together somewhere far off…

  ‘I won’t forgive you.’ 

Xiao’s visage was downcasted when those words echoed inside him. 

   …but I won’t hope that anymore.

  “I’d feel bad to involve her more than you have already.”

   I won’t hope that I could make you my own anymore.

  I won’t hope that.

 [Name] continued to play with the Silk Flower as they walked side by side. Xiao took notice of this and gently held her hand with his gloved ones. The action made the female’s cheeks heat up, she didn’t notice he already took the flower from her hold.

   So, please…

 He tucked the plant on the side of her head, adoring how well it complemented her beautiful features. 

   At least be by my side for the time you have left.

 The young woman’s cheeks were still warm, speechless of the Guardian Yaksha’s sudden and unexpected gesture. She noticed how he stared at her with fondness and adoration. Her heart was beating so fast and she looked on the demesne to hide her flushed face from him.

Xiao’s train of thoughts was stopped abruptly when he felt a pull on the clothing hanging on his left arm. 

“W-what would you like to eat for dinner?” [Name] mumbled still not facing him.

He lifted one of his brows at her and said, “Did you forget again that eating is unnecessary for me?”

She flinched when he mentioned that and her blush darkened even more. [Name] fumbled on her words and apologized to him. 

“Almond Tofu.”

She processed what he had said before her eyes sparkled and nodded at him with a grin. “You’ve got it! Time to roll up my sleeves—“

The mortal’s footing slipped and the gravity pushed her down, she closed her eyes waiting for the impact to come but instead, she felt an arm wrapped around her waist. 

“Worry about your footing over your sleeves,” Xiao warned her with an exasperated sigh.

“R-right. Sorry.” She apologized to him with a meek smile. He heaved another sigh but nonetheless smiled at her clumsiness.

“What am I going to do with you?” 

It caught the female off-guard to see the immortal smile but her attention was then focused when he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him to march their way to her house.

   I want to be with you.

 He glanced at her when [Name]’s hold on him clutched back, reciprocating his hold and not going against it. She was smiling to herself, the blush still remained but was eased a while ago. 

   Until we’re separated far apart…

 His gaze softened seeing this side of her. It gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling again.

   …Until the last moment

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years. 

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”  

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

           You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

           A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

--

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.  

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

-

-

-

-

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[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 7

A/N: Honey Bee and Frankie as neighbors? It’s more likely than you think! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You rushed back to your house and practically slammed the door as you dashed inside, making sure it was locked. You didn’t think he would try and come over and do anything, but it was for your own peace of mind. Daisy poked her head in from the outside and gave you a small look of confusion as you just gave her a soft smile, reaching into one of the treat bags on the counter and offering her a treat.

“It’s okay,” you promised her, “I’m just worrying about nothing. Being a silly old worrywart.”

She took the treat gingerly from your hand and went to lie down on her bed near the couch. You leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, trying to gather your thoughts and calm your racing mind. Of all the places in the world you’d moved to, if course you’d moved right next door to your first and former love. It could have been anyone, anything, anywhere, but no - it had too be Francisco Morales. The world was a wicked and wondrous place at the same time. 

You were sure there was something out to get you. You were sure you had been through enough for the last couple of weeks, but apparently you weren’t out of the woods yet.

But it didn’t matter, you quickly decided. It didn’t matter that you had moved to a new place to have Frankie be your neighbor. That’s exactly what it would be - he would be just your neighbor. There was no reason that the two of you couldn’t just simply coexist; you never had to see one another or speak to each other. This would be fine. It would be completely fine. Besides, you were both much older than you had been when you were wild and reckless, surely you were mature enough to move past all of that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

With your mind made up and resolve strong, or so you hoped, you would work on it if you needed, you went to bed and kept repeating to yourself that you were fine. 

When you woke up the following morning, admittedly, after a night of tossing and turning, you went through your normal routine, and got everything ready to go to work, including Daisy. 

As you headed out to your car to load it up, you chanced one quick glance over Frankie’s house, noticing that there was now an older pickup in the driveway. He was home, you realized as your heart skipped a few beats, but that didn’t matter.

“Come on, Miss Daisy,” you opened the door so she could jump in, which she eagerly did with a little graceful little hop.  Slinking into the driver’s seat, you turned on the car without so much as another look at Frankie’s house. This was fine. It was all fine. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next several weeks feel into a quiet, relatively normal routine. By now, Daisy was settled into your home and heart, becoming even friendlier and sweeter with each passing day. Your house had quickly become home, all decked out for Autumn and Halloween, and often filled with the laughter from the few friends, namely Ally and Anna, and the occasional neighbor that you had coming over. You were happier now, you realized, single and more or less alone, than you had been in years. It was a serene feeling that you enjoyed. 

The fact that Frankie was right next door didn’t phase nearly as much as you thought it would. You rarely saw him for more than a second when he was walking in or you were walking out or vice versa. His truck was gone more often than still, and you figured he probably had a demanding job of some sorts.

The only real indication of anything you had from him was when he returned your container that had formerly contained cookies, dropping it off on your front steps, cleaned and with a simple thank you post it on it. 

You had taken it and stored it safely away in your cabinet, tucked in the back. 

Things were utterly...normal. And you were thriving in it. Everything else that you still wanted would fall into place when they needed to.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was a Friday night, nearing Halloween, and you were coming later home later than normal. Your last client had taken up more of your time than expected, not that you minded, you were happy to help, but on top of that you had a few calls you still had to make, and by the time it was all said and done, it was late and dark. 

Daisy was slower in her gait as she got out of the car and headed to the house, eager to be let in and find one of her many beds. 

You were getting ready to come in after here and lock the door when you found yourself glancing next door. Frankie’s truck was in the driveway, but his front steps were covered with various copies of the newspapers, a few packages, and his small mailbox seemed stuff. Odd, you thought to yourself, who wouldn’t get their packages from the front door? Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen him come out or go in a few days...

Something in your gut panged slightly and you turned back to Daisy. Something was off, you couldn’t place it exactly, but you could feel it.

“Stay inside for now,” you told Daisy, “I’ll be back in a little bit. 

A small sound of acquiescence met your ears as you shut the unlocked door and walked over to Frankie’s, treading slowly and quietly. 

Bending down and picking up a few of the newspapers, you could see that they were all from various throughout the week. Dropping them back and moving the packages out of the way, you knocked heavily on his door, “Frankie?”

You stood there and waited for him to answer the door for a few moments, but heard nothing from inside, not a creak or even the lightest of footsteps. Groaning to yourself, you walked to the side of the house, trying to peer in through the kitchen window. You could see a faint light in the house somewhere, casting an almost eerie glow within.

“Shit,” you sighed as you ran to the door, this time pounding on it to get his attention if he was inside, “Frankie! Frankie, it’s me! Open the door!”

But despite your frantic shouts of his name or your noise making, he still didn’t come to the door. Quickly deciding to abandon that plan, you ran to the backyard and tried his back door. This one, through sheer luck or whatever reason was unlocked and you barreled inside,

“Frankie!” you called his name as you walked through his laundry room, eyes scanning over everything as you walked throughout his house. You checked the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, and hallway and didn’t find anything. Just before making it into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks as you came across a picture, one among many hanging on his wall. Your heart felt like it caught in your throat as you reached up and touched it, staring at the eighteen year versions of you and Frankie frozen in time. You were sitting outside, still clad in school uniforms, his arm was around you and you were kissing his cheek, both of you with giant grins on your faces. You’d forgotten about the picture but the memory was still vivid and clear in your mind. It had been a good day. You couldn’t believe that he still had the photograph and more over that it was openly displayed in his house. 

Just as you felt a few warm tears well up in your eyes, you heard a groan from the living room, and snapped back into attention. Walking into the space, you looked around and saw nothing - nothing that was until you looked down and found Frankie lying on the floor next to the couch.

“Frankie,” you dashed over to him and dropped to your knees, shaking him to make sure he was awake and still breathing. You could see his chest rising and falling in a semi steady rhythm and let out a small sigh of relief. You gently grabbed his face in your hands, willing him to open his eyes as you stroked a finger over his cheek, “Frankie. Wake up, Frankie. Come on, bub.”

It took a little more prodding and poking before he slowly, painstakingly so opened his eyes and he found your face. His eyes were bloodshot and they seemed so heavy as he struggled to keep them open. A small smile tugged on his features as he realized you were there.

“Sweet honey bee,” he said so softly that you almost didn’t hear, “am I dead? Or am I dreaming?”

“Frankie,” you said gently, getting worried about his current state, “Frankie, I need you to wake up, okay? It’s me, I’m here...I’ve got you.”

“Look at you,” he said softly, “still as beautiful today as you always were.”

“Frankie,” you decided to ignore what he said, “come on, we’re gonna get up and you’re gonna get into bed. I’m going to get you water, okay? Do you know what happened?”

You didn’t smell alcohol or anything on his breath so you wondered what was going on. 

“I know,” he said as he slowly scooted up and took the hand you offered to help hoist him to his feet, “how did you...I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“Frankie, don’t,” you said softly, pulling him along to what you presumed to be his bedroom, “I wanted to make sure you were okay and you didn’t answer the door.”

“I-I fucked up,” he whispered as he trailed after you and all but collapsed into the bed as soon as he got into the room, “‘m sorry. ‘M sorry for everything.”

“I need you to sit up, bub,” you told him as he slowly complied with your request, “I’m going to get you water, okay? Did you hit your head at all?”

“No,” he answered, “didn’t fall…”

“Oh...kay,” you gave him a curious look, “stay there and I’ll be right back.”

Your first thought was that he had taken a tumble and hit his head, resulting in a concussion, but you didn’t see any evidence to suggest that. He seemed coherent enough...and you didn’t see or smell alcohol to suggest drunkenness. 

Wandering into the kitchen, you rummaged through his cabinets in search of a glass in order to get him a cold cup of water. You weren’t quite sure where to begin to treat him, not being that kind of doctor, but you knew enough to try and make sure he was okay. After you managed to secure a glass and filled it with cold tap water. As you waited for the glass to fill up, you tapped your foot and looked around the counter. The place was clean and simple, nothing extraordinary or too exciting, exactly what you would imagine for what you presumed was a bachelor of your age. 

But as you turned the tap off,  set the glass down to find a rag to wipe it off with since you sloshed the water over the sides. You looked around the counter, spotting one near the sink and reached for it, but stopped when you noticed something next to it. You made a small sound of surprise as you looked at the offending item, picking it up and studying it intently. It was a small, clear plastic baggie, almost completely empty except for the little bits of white powder you could see clinging onto the top. It didn't take more than a moment to put two and two together and realize immediately what it was. A small gasp escaped your lips as you tossed the baggie back onto the counter. Surely this had to be a mistake...it couldn’t be...no. Your Frankie would never - never. But this...this wasn’t your Frankie. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, causing your chest to rise and fall in a rapid stutter. Without thinking, you opened all the drawers in the kitchen, searching for anything more, any further proof of what somehow wasn’t true. Maybe, just maybe, you were wrong. 

But you came across nothing else in the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of you and causing you to wander into the living room and take a quick look around. Much to your chagrin, there were a few more empty little baggies laying around the living room. In your haste earlier to make sure he was okay you hadn’t noticed any of them. You sighed deeply as you realized he must have been on a several day bender, judging by the state of things. Your heart broke, crying for him that moment. Several of the patients you were currently working with were recovering addicts, dealing with overcoming their own issues. You’d just never thought someone from your own life would be counted among them.

You set everything back down and returned to the kitchen in order to bring him the water. At least he was going to be okay, for now. If he’s suffered from an overdose or something equally as horrible it would have taken hold already. For now, you’d focus on getting him through this - the rest would come later. 

Grabbing the glass you wandered back into his bedroom, finding that he had kicked his shoes off and was staring at the ceiling, struggling to keep his eyes open. You felt bad for him in that moment, but you also wanted to scream and shout at him, to tell him he was a complete fool for doing this.

“Francisco,” you tried to get his attention as his head lulled forward and he watched you thrust the glass at him. He reached out and gently took it, “drink.”

He almost down the glass in one go, making a contented sigh when he was finished. He moved to set the glass down on the bedside table but you grabbed it and shook your head, going to refill it and make him drink more. When you returned with another full glass, he took it wordlessly, drinking it as you hovered near the door.

“You only used to get that tone when you were mad at me,” he commented quietly as he set the glass down and let out a weary sigh. You raised an eyebrow at him as he tugged his outer flannel shirt off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. 

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral and flat.

“Francisco,” he said repeatedly it quietly as you looked at your feet and nodded. He was right...you’d called him Frankie from the start, usually only resorting to his full name when you were annoyed or in a serious mood. You just nodded and shrugged, letting an awkward silence fall between the two of you. 

“Right…” you said after a moment, “well, I’m going to get going. I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you going to be alright if I leave?”

The question held more weight than you could have imagined as the two of you stared silently at each other. Those eyes, those soft, honeyed eyes were the same as the Frankie of your youth, except for the weariness. 

“Yeah…” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, “thanks…”

“No problem…” you turned on your heel to leave, knowing that you couldn’t stay. You shouldn’t stay.

“Why did you come?” 

“Pardon?”

“You came inside...looked for me...why?”

“I dunno,” you answered honestly, giving him a noncommittal shrug, “I just saw all the mail and everything and you didn’t answer the door...I got worried. I just...I had a feeling and just wanted to check. It was the right thing to do.”

“Oh.”

“Even if we aren’t...anything, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you that could have been prevented,” you explained, wishing this was easier, wishing that none of this had ever happened. You never would have thought...of all the people in the world, it would be someone like Frankie, “I found....”

“You know,” he stated simply as you nodded, unable to meet his eyes as you thought about all the empty little baggies. You’d even seen any in person before, and it was a sobering reminder about how it could affect anyone, no matter what their lot in life was. 

“Yeah,” you finally said after a few moments, “I do.”

“It’s not-” he immediately felt the need to explain, feeling like he needed to get you to understand that he wasn’t...he wasn’t like this normally. But wasn’t he? Wasn’t he this what he had resorted on multiple occasions? Where was the line between recreational use and addiction?

“Save it, Francisco,” you held up your hand to silence him, “I don’t need any explanations and you don’t owe me any. We’re not...friends or anything. Don’t worry...just please take care of yourself.”

Not letting him get another word in, you walked out of the room, feeling tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to get this image of Frankie out of your mind. You hated it - hated seeing him like this.

But then again, you also didn’t...you didn’t want to see him again. It was a strange, and almost horrible juxtaposition of feelings. You jammed out of his house, keeping your gaze straight to avoid looking at anything that might cause you to break down in a sobbing mess. You were angry, so angry at him for letting this happen, angry that something in life had caused him to resort to this, angry that life had thrown you in this position. You almost felt bad for leaving him on his own, especially when he probably needed a friend more than anything else, but you also couldn’t stay. He was in a spot to where he was conscious enough to know what was going on and could take care of himself. 

Slowly shutting the door, you finally letting the tears fall down your face as you slowly made your way back to your own house. You hoped, desperately so, that he would never do this again, that he would be okay. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie groaned as he laid back against the pillows and watched you leave. A few tears of anger and frustration rolled down his cheeks as he stared at the space you had occupied. The lightest bits of your perfume hung in the air, sweetly scenting it as he realized it was the same kind you had always worn. That alone was enough to make the tears fall harder as he chided himself for messing everything up. He never, never, wanted you to see him like this; hell, he didn’t want to see himself like. Frankie had been sure he had kicked his little habit, but despite the little voice in his telling him to get rid of it and flush it, he didn’t. He had hung onto it. 

And used it.

Again.

He rolled out of and stripped the rest of his clothes, the ones he’d been wearing for the last few days on his little bender, and tossed them on the floor as he headed to the bathroom and turned on water and let it get as hot as possible. Once he was satisfied that it was scalding, he stepped in and let the steaming water wash all over his tired body. 

Scrubbing at every inch of his body, he didn’t stop until he felt raw and clean, every last bit of his skin cleansed. He washed his hair, chiding his unruly, dark locks as he made sure every single strand was cleansed. 

Frankie was in the shower what seemed like hours before he stepped out, his stomach grumbled with hunger and mouth parched. But before he would allow himself to stop and go into the kitchen, he went into the living room, and picked up all of the trash and remnants of the time he already wanted to forget. He never wanted to do it, never...especially not after seeing the look on your face as you had discovered his little problem. 

The look in your eyes was enough to break his heart all over again. He hoped he would never have to see it again.

If you were even willing to look in his direction again. He couldn’t even believe his luck that some way, somehow you had come into his life again. Not only that but you were right next to door to him. And single. Or so he presumed from your lack of engagement ring and sudden move. But that was a worry for a different time. Not that it was even a worry for him...you had made that very clear when you had told him on several occasions that you never wanted to see him again.

But this - this sudden coming back into each other’s life had to mean something...right? It couldn’t just all be coincidence.

No.

It had to mean something. He knew it had to.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next week passed relatively quietly compared to the little fiasco with Frankie. You made it a point to avoid him and keep your eyes away from anywhere near his house whenever you went outside. You busied yourself with putting up Halloween decorations all around the inside and outside of your house and baking cookies to take to your neighbors. You were stocked up on all different kinds of candy to make sure all of your trick or treaters would be taken care of and had gotten Daisy a little costume. When you had some downtown time at work, you found yourself scrolling online and doing some window shopping when you’d come across the perfect little pirate outfit. You’d bought it instantly and tried it on her the second it came. She wasn’t as thrilled as you, but at least she didn’t fight you. You’d taken a few snaps and posted them to your IG, deciding that if she never wanted to wear it again, at least you’d have the memories. 

You’d thrown together a last minute little costume for yourself, consisting of black leggings and a long sleeved t-shirt, hand painted with a skeletal frame. Admittedly it wasn’t your best costume ever, but it was something and you’d been so busy with work and other things you’d almost completely forgotten about getting something for yourself. It would do for a night of handing out candy and watching scary movies by yourself. You’d even decided to go all out and ordered pizza for yourself (and Daisy of course).

It had started out as a relatively quiet evening, with a few families from coming around, excitedly greeting you and Daisy as they excitedly took the candy you offered them, which were apparently the best in the whole neighborhood according to one little boy dressed as Darth Vader. You’d complimented each and every one them, making sure they knew how great their costumes were. 

One in particular, a little girl with dark, curly hair, soft brown eyes and a shy little smile, dressed as a little bumble bee had won your heart over in less than a second. In the moment it even caused you to envision yourself with a little girl just like her...but you quickly snapped out of that and pulled yourself together as you held out the big bowl for her to pick some candy from. She sweetly thanked you and waved, walking away as she held onto her father’s hand. 

After that it was quiet for some time, and you had a chance to get thoroughly invested in the movie that had started playing on Netflix, some b list horror film from the 80s. You had a piece of pizza about halfway to your mouth when you heard more knocking on your door. You shoved the bite into your mouth as you quickly swallowed it down and stood up to go to the door, straightening your shirt. The knocking became louder and more frantic and you raised an eyebrow at Daisy as you wondered who the mysterious trick or treater could be. 

“Coming,” you called out as you hurried to the door and yanked it open, almost nervous to see what was on the other side. To your surprise, causing your jaw to drop open, you found Frankie leaning against the door frame, his face looking sallow and gaunt, a pathetic little smile tugging on his features when he saw you. His eyes were red and this time you couldn’t tell if it was from crying or the drugs, “Frank...Francisco. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a quiet moment, tension hanging in the air between the two of you. You kept your hand on the knob as you waited for him to explain a little more. He met your eyes and you could see that his lower lip was trembling with the effort trying not to cry, “I’m so sorry.”

“W-what are you sorry for?” you asked as you gnawed on your lower lip and tried not to lose it completely and keep yourself together, “you have nothing to be sorry for, Frankie. It’s...whatever we had is in the past. It’s done with, just like us.”

“I fucked up everything,” he insisted as he tried to straighten up and almost stumbled over his feet. You reached and helped to straighten him up, hands around his waist to keep him steady. This time the tears running down his cheeks were evident, “I’m so sorry for all of it. B-but I-I need help. I’m an idiot…”

You remained silent as you helped inside your house and shut the door, locking it behind you. Daisy watched the two of you curiously as you shook your head at her and led him down to your bedroom, as he softly murmured senseless apologies into your ear. When you reached your room, you practically pushed him onto your bed, looking at him with a confused expression. You were angry, gods you were angry, but you were sad too. Sad that he apparently made it a habit to resorting to this, sad that he felt the need to inflict this upon you too.

“You’re high,” you stated the obvious as he nodded slowly. You ran a hand over your face as you let out a long, deep breath, “Frankie...I…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you looked at him, staring back at you with the most forlorn expression on his face. Tears were welled up in his eyes which threatened to spill over and you could tell he was struggling. You didn’t have it in your heart to get mad or yell at him, despite how much you wanted you.

“Oh Frankie,” you got on your knees in front of him, touching his face and wiping away the tears that had spilled over. He nuzzled slightly into your touch, almost like a cat keening for a good scratch as he made a small sound in his throat. 

You moved your hands to his shoulders and slowly pulled off his jacket, tossing it on the chair in the corner before repeating the action with his shoes. He didn’t argue or try and fit you or anything, sniffling quietly to himself. 

When you were finished, you held up a finger, silently telling him that you would be right back. Walking to the front door, you grabbed the bowls of candy you still had felt and placed them outside, quickly scrolling a note that people could help themselves, and made sure the light was turned on. You gave Daisy a treat and the okay to go into your bedroom and she silently slinked off, no doubt to check on Frankie and give him whatever reassurances he needed. 

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, fanning at your eyes so you didn’t end up crying as well. One of you needed to be strong right now, and it was apparently going to be up to you. The fact that you were still so conflicted with your own feelings for him didn’t change the fact that he needed someone right now. He needed someone to support him and knock some sense into him at the same time. 

You grabbed a big glass and in a repeat of the other day filled it up and treaded back to the bedroom. The sight that met your eyes was enough to make your heart melt and you stopped and watched for a moment. Daisy was standing up, her paws on Frankie’s thighs as she offered him a slew of wet nosed kisses and he just held her lightly, petting her with the gentlest of touches. 

“This is Daisy,” you told him softly as you walked in and sat down next to him, keeping the tiniest of spaces between the two of you, “I adopted her a little bit after I moved in. She’s very sweet...obviously.”

“You always wanted a Pittie,” he said as she calmed down from her initial excitement and laid down on the floor next to you. Your brow narrowed for a moment as you tried to think back on it and then you realized - he was right. It was one of the first things you had told him: you’d always wanted a Pittie or Staffy because they were beautiful and seemed sweet and you wanted to show people that they were amazing dogs. You were incredulous at the fact that he remembered such a small detail, “looks like your wish came true.”

“Y-you remembered…”

“Of course I did,” he quietly said as you just huffed lightly, an almost laugh as you sat there quietly for a moment, reaching down and giving Daisy a gentle touch. He reached for the glass and quickly downed it in one go. 

“Frankie,” his name was soft and gentle off of your lips, causing a shiver to run up his spine at the sound. He hadn’t heard his name like that in a long, long time. There were a million questions and things that you wanted to say, but  none of them seemed important in that moment. Before you could stop yourself, you put your hand on his and gave it a delicate squeeze, “w-what’s going on? This is the second time in three weeks this happened. Are you…”

Your question hung and lingered in the air for a few moments as he sighed and hung his head, his shoulders slumping. Before you knew it, a sob, a heartbreaking sob racked his body and he started to cry quietly. Without thinking about it, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and pulled him into your chest, letting him get it all out. 

“Shhhh,” you whispered softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him as best as you could. His arms snaked around your waist as he held onto you for dear life, almost as if he was afraid that if he let go you would disappear. You held him for a while as he got it all out, mumbling a few incoherent sentences in between his sobs. Eventually your hand went to the back of his head as you dragged it though his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, just like you knew he used to like, “shhh...it’s okay, Frankie. Just let it go. Let it all out.”

It was something that you had discovered your years as a therapist that sometimes it was best to just let the person get it all out and then talk them through it. Even if it took a while, you would let him get it all out first. 

“‘M sorry,” he whispered into the now soaked fabric of your shirt. What was he sorry for? Coming to your doorstep, high and unsure of what he was doing? For getting high and continuously struggling with his addiction? For basically following you to the small coffee shop for weeks to try and get your attention? For breaking off all the plans you had made as lovestruck teenagers to move to California? For going into the military and leaving you hanging on and waiting around for him for almost two years? For what he had just done in his mysterious absence? Perhaps all of it?

“It’s okay Frankie,” you whispered softly, kissing the top of his head gently, “you don’t have to say anything right now. Just let it all out right.”

“I ruined everything,” he insisted, his voice cracking and breaking as he burrowed his face further into your chest, “everything. I should have never left. It should have been us, it was always meant to be us.”

“Don’t do this,” you cooed against the side of his head, trying to maintain your composure, “not right now. Just let it out, okay?”

“You must hate me,” he ignored your pleading as you shook your head. You wanted to, gods knew you did, but you could never. You don’t think you could have ever hated Frankie Morales, even if you tried, “you have every reason to hate me. I’m a horrible person…”

“Frankie,” you said sharply, pulling him away from your chest and forcing him to look at you, “please stop doing this to yourself. It’s not helping you and you don’t deserve all of this negative talk. Right now you just need to let go, and stop beating yourself up for what you can’t change.”

“But-”

“No,” you insisted firmly, “no more talking, okay? Just rest now, please just rest for a little while and try to get out of your…”

“High?”

“Yeah…” you said quietly, “just lay down and sleep now, okay? Just rest...the sheets were washed today so they’re clean.”

“What about you....”

“I’ll take the couch,” you held up a hand before he could say anything else, “it’s fine. Really. Just sleep for now, okay? Everything else can wait.”

“Okay…”

“Okay,” you repeated, turning on the small bedside table lamp and turning off the main light. You looked at Daisy and pointed at the bed, and she understood what you were saying as she jumped up onto the bed and curled up next to Frankie’s form, “we’ll talk tomorrow.”

You reached for the door handle and turned to walk away, to give him some space and privacy. You heard Daisy make a small sound before Frankie sniffled again, “good night, honey bee.”

“Good night, Frankie,” and with you shut the door and walked away feeling more confused and conflicted than ever. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[aminiatureworld]

Give and Take

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Injury

Premise: Everything in the world comes with a price. But should you really bear that burden alone?

In which the reader’s vision harms them.

Author’s Note: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend and I’m here to give you all the fanfic-y goodness I can! I’d like to thank lovely anon for requesting this, I hope I did your prompt justice! 

Writing this reminded me of why I hate Mount Everest. Also I realize I keep connecting Albedo to Dragonspine. Truly living up to his quests. Similarly to past prompts I injected a hospital into Monstadt because, I mean, of course a huge city will have some sort of hospital. I mean I’m sure there’s also a school and a bakery and such but there’s no point in having that as an in game mechanic. 

Version without bulletpoints on Ao3

Albedo

You supposed that you shouldn’t’ve been surprised that a mysterious and indescribable power came with a price. Honestly it wasn’t the vision’s fault that you weren’t the most aware sort of person, that you needed a warning label dropped down from the heavens to accompany the raw elemental energy you’d be handed.

At first you hadn’t really noticed it. I mean sure your hands were a bit tingly, but you’d just been handed a vision! Who would’ve thought you’d have suddenly developed the ability to control Cryo, coating your weapon with it, or simply lifting snowflakes off of your hand? It was a novel experience, and a welcome one at that.

But eventually the reality crept up on you. It was the small things at first. How your hands seemed frightfully cold all of a sudden, the odd purple hue of your fingernails that was now ever present, how you found yourself wearing gloves more and more often. But then came the red spots and the blistering, and you’d come to the sickening realization that this gift you’d been given had turned into a curse.

As the time had passed you’d come to the conclusion that there was nothing to be done about it. The world was made up of give and take, and if you wanted to continue to use your vision – something which had become essential to your life and which you weren’t even sure you could get rid of – you’d simply have to deal with the consequences. You didn’t like to bring attention to it, and though members of your closest circle knew about it you tried to ignore it as much as possible, doing what you can when possible and hiding your perpetually frostbitten hands when not.

And then you’d met Albedo. And if there was one thing you were certain of it was that you were never going to tell Albedo.

Albedo had come into your life unexpectedly, having run into you while searching for ingredients to use in his alchemy. What had started with a pleasant conversation had quickly turned into infatuation, then into love, and suddenly you’d found yourself the happiest you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t feel right to tell him. You knew that Albedo already had his struggles, things that shadowed his face for a moment before he returned to his serene expression. The last thing you wanted to do was to add to those struggles. Especially not about something that simply couldn’t be fixed. You knew he’d run himself ragged looking for a cure, but it was simply the way things were. And in truth you were tired, oh so tired, and it was easier in a way accept your predicament as inevitability rather than try to fight it.

It was a cold day outside, and you silently cursed the Guild for sending you out to deal with some rogue Fatui members in Dragonspine. Already the temperature was near unbearably, adding your issues made it near fatal. Though you’d managed to deal with the Fatui it’d been a long and hard battle, filled less with strategy and more with desperation as you tried to ignore the numbness in your fingers. Your weapon felt clunky in your hand and you felt tears of frustration as you missed over and over again. By the time you’d finished the feeling had spread throughout your body, and you fell over a few times on the way home, legs stiff and unfeeling. You were dreading having to look at them.

You collapsed as soon as you stepped inside, crying out as your blistered arms hit the wooden floor. Bath, you had to get to the bath. Your legs seemed near useless, dragging behind you, feeling like dead weight. As you peeled off your slightly damp clothes the sight that met you caused your heart to shudder, and tears of fear clouded your eyes. Your skin was of a ghastly white complexion, tinged with blue at the back of your knees and near your ankles. Already you could see the heat blisters forming and you wondered whether bathing might even be worthwhile at this point, or whether it could lead to even more tissue death.

You leaned against the wall, suddenly seized with fatigue. Though you knew that you should get up, should keep moving, that sleep could be deadly, you remained as you were. You were just so tired, and so confused. Why? Why did it have to be like this? You never saw Albedo suffering like this, never saw your fellow guild members toil on, day after day, suffering from that which allowed their livelihood. Why did you suffer this way?

You realized it was incredibly useless to stew in it. After all you’d come so far, grown so much. You knew the risks and you continued to act as if there were none. Was it not expected then that you would continue to struggle? Besides it was payment. You shouldn’t expect anything to happen without something else happening, especially in cases such as these. No one would just hand you a wad of money without expectations, why should magic have a different system? Really you just needed to get up, get up and… what were you doing again?

 Right as your grasp on the situation became exceedingly tenuous the door opened.

“Sorry for arriving a bit late my dear, I hope – ”

Whatever Albedo was going to say it was replaced by the sound of something dropping, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath.

“What happened?” Albedo’s voice was sharp, filled with concern and with determination. You shook your head slightly, though even your neck felt as if was cracking with every movement.

“Nothing. I just, I…” you weren’t quite sure how to answer that, your mind felt like it was barely functioning, “…this is normal.”

“It’s certainly not normal.” Albedo dropped down besides you, slinging your arm over his shoulder – something you barely registered. “Who or what in the name of the Seven caused this?”

“Me.” You replied, still trying to focus on what was going on, to mixed up in fear and fatigue to try to spin lies. “I did this. I told you. Normal.”

“You’re being delirious.” By this point Albedo had managed to pick you up. Kicking the door all the way open he barely turned back to close it, instead running through the streets, turning towards the hospital.

“No, it’s true. It’s… my…” you began to push on the brakes but it was too far into the confession for that now “… my vision. This is my vision.” The look that Albedo gave you was pure alarm. Shaking his head he cursed under his breath.

“As soon as you’ve healed we’re talking about this.”

 You didn’t want to think how the whole scenario might’ve turned out in a world without magic. Though the healing was slow going – it took you almost a whole week of hospitalization and half of it in intensive care to finally be considered in the clear. You hadn’t been conscious the whole way, having been through various treatments and surgeries, but when you woke up in your hospital room Albedo was invariably there.

The already reticent alchemist was practically a statue. He said little to you, and what was said were little things, encouraging words, comforting little nothings. There was nothing substantial in his sentences, and you sensed that he was waiting. Whether that was for your recovery or for your confession you weren’t entirely sure.

The day that you were finally released was surprisingly warm, and your hands were slightly sweaty in their mittens. Not that it mattered. It’d been over a week since you’d last used your vision, and you were feeling as good as new. Considering what you’d just gone through that was perhaps unsurprising.

Albedo met you right as you signing the last of some paperwork. A smile was on his face, and he made no attempt to hide his affection, slinging his arm around your waist. You smiled back at him, finally happy to be done with the whole dilemma. Kissing him on the cheek – something which brought about an intense blush on his part – you let out a triumphant “I’m going home.”

“Yes my darling, you are.” Albedo replied.

The walk home turned out to be a bit of a long one. The two of you stopped for lunch, discussing this and that. After a week of practically no conversation you were bursting with random thoughts. The simple act of talking to Albedo felt divine, and you reveled in it. You also kept your hands constantly linked, although you joked that it must be a bit difficult considering your mittens. Albedo simply shook his head.

“I love when our hands are joined, no matter the context.”

Finally you two arrived home. Throwing yourself on the familiar couch you let out a sigh of relief.

“Would you like some tea?” Albedo called out.

“Yes!” You replied, before picking up a book you’d left on the coffee table. You’d missed being surrounded by familiar things.

Albedo placed the tea on the table before sitting next to you. You leaned into his shoulder picking up the tea and blowing on it slightly.

“Darling?”

“Yes?” You replied smiling at him. Albedo’s gaze was that of seemingly perfect happiness, but curiosity lurked behind that, and even more than curiosity was worried.

“I was wondering if you might not tell me more about what you said when I was carrying you to the hospital. About your vision.”

You paused for a moment. Not that you weren’t expecting this, indeed you were surprised Albedo hadn’t brought it up when you were in the hospital; though you appreciated his reticence. You’d decided during your recovery that you might as well tell him. There was no point in hiding it after what had just passed. Not that you truly believed you could.

So you told him, pausing here and there, trying to explain why you’d never told him.

“I mean it’s sort of expected, isn’t it? I was given a vision after all. Surely I must have something taken away, some burden placed on me in return?” You finished.

“Of course not.” Albedo’s tone was slightly brusque, but you sensed nothing behind it. Indeed your partner looked five seconds from passing out himself, his face having taken on a ghastly pallor. He brought his hand up to your cheek and you leaned into his palm, savoring this small moment. “I’m sorry you’ve been suffering this way.” He murmured.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this now.” You replied, voice just as soft. “I didn’t want to burden you with my plight. But I’m also sorry I hid it from you for so long.”

“That’s a bit contradictory my love.” Albedo let out a huff of a laugh. You simply shrugged, knowing that what he said was true. “I wish to help you.” He continued. “You shouldn’t have to continue to suffer like this. Your experience with your vision should be like mine; purely a blessing, without hint of a curse.” He paused, glancing away slightly, expression suddenly thoughtful.

“It’s true, what you say. Most of this world is governed by the laws of exchange. We put in coal and get out diamonds, at the price of intense heat and pressure and work. Energy only converts but it never simply converts to what you want. That is one of the first things one must understand when it comes to alchemy.”

Albedo glanced back at you. Saying nothing he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, before finally pressing his lips to yours, giving you a brief, almost reverent kiss. “But that’s the wonder about magic you see.” He continued. “Magic lives outside these laws, scoffs at all the silly things the natural world must abide by. Magic is utterly self-contained, and with it comes the ability to do miraculous things, all without worrying about what one must give up. So you see, my love, there is no reason you should suffer.”

 The rest of the nice was spent peacefully, filled with soft laughter and tender kisses. When you fell asleep – cuddled up against the man you loved the most, limbs entangled here and there – you felt nothing but peace, peace and a great deal of relief. You’d trust in this world that Albedo envisioned, one without continual struggle, without endless suffering. For you knew he adored you as you adored him, and, that being true, even if there wasn’t a way for you to live a calmer, happier life, he’d make it happen.

[eclipsebythedawn]

Smothered Flames & Shadows (Part 1)

Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction ever, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even good but I thought I wanted to share some Gwynriel with you all :) I have a sort of story planned out and this will likely have more parts. I’m pretty sure I will continue this story since I have more stuff planned out (hence the part 1) but right now it’s just some Gwynriel crumbs. Hope you guys will enjoy it and stay safe wherever you are. 

(How are we gonna wait like ten years for the Gwynriel book because I believe in you SJM you MUST MUST give us Gwynriel ??!) 

Ps. This is the updated version, I added a new chunk for Azriel’s reaction. (Updated on 26 April 2021)

Azriel's wings flapped as he patrolled the skies. The dense cloud cover as well as the fading sunlight disguised his presence and he needed minimal effort to remain hidden. His shadows could taste the looming chaos and flitted around him warningly.

Be careful, be careful.

He could hear through their thoughts and saw through their lingering words. All was quiet here, it seemed. He would much rather preferred to be stationed at the ethereally beautiful Dawn Court, their High Lord serene but with an inner strength that was unflappable, instead of... here.

The Autumn Court held no such delights. Yes, the scenery was more than picturesque -- its flora suspended in eternal autumn, the golden-brown leaves swirling leisurely through the air, their russet color so much like a certain male that was mated to a certain girl he could never have.

Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.

Unbidden, his brother's fury-driven words cut into his muddled thoughts. Azriel knew that he was old and cranky and Rhys didn't deserve his anger and resentment after what he went through for all of them, but he was... gods, he was so damn tired.

The first female outside of Mor who had caught his eyes -- of course she had to be denied from him. Cauldron knew that the Mother had never shone its light on him, not that he even deserved to be embraced by Her warmth.

His mind finally allowed him to remember the beautiful brunette always on the back of his mind. Her doe-like eyes, sweet smile and that alluring scent, so pure and innocent and arousing and --

Fuck.

Azriel adjusted himself, his pants stifling and uncomfortable. Shit. He was in deep shit. But he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about how she would taste, how she would look when he made her come.

Rhys's words from the other day, during solstice so many months ago, hadn't helped. Azriel's desperate lust had only grown even more to the point that he was actively avoiding the second Archeron sister so she wouldn't scent his arousal.

For that matter, so his two brothers wouldn't catch him lusting after her especially after the warning he was given.

And she seemed to be avoiding him too.

Azriel made one more round in the skies, the night as chilly and familiar as his own shadows that seemed strangely subdued now. His thoughts continued to stray towards...

Elain.

Beautiful, clean, pure, worthy Elain. He was none of those things, he knew that. Had resigned himself to it after five centuries of futile pining for a female that never returned his desires. He did not blame Mor. Could not blame Mor. He was tainted and she deserved someone better than him.

But when he saw Elain... Their unlikely friendship had gradually turned into something more. It had only continued to develop after Elain was Made High Fae and he became even more attuned to her, constantly sharing the same space. And for the first time since Mor, he wanted. He wanted to have what his two brothers had. It was wrong and it was selfish, but he saw Rhys and Cassian and he wondered --

Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake. Three sisters of blood and three brothers of choice. Two thirds fulfilled, and somewhere deep down inside, he had been uselessly, worthlessly holding onto hope.

He had not dared to whisper it out loud until Rhys caught him just before their kiss. And Rhys reaction had only served to remind him why he was wrong for her. Why Elain deserved someone else.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to throw caution to the wind.

Deciding that all was well and not wanting to remain a second longer, Azriel gathered his shadows and prepared to winnow back to home. He frowned when his shadows flittered over him... disapprovingly?

Yes, that was disapproval. His lips tightened as they swirled around him angrily.

What the hell was wrong with them tonight?

Azriel yanked on his petulant shadows. They continued to ignore him, some even going as far as to ignore him.

He scowled. His shadows were stepping out of line more and more frequently as thought something was bothering him.

Or someone.

He shoved aside the image of tendrils dancing and singing around a certain redhead, her bright teal eyes laughing and --

Azriel forcibly winnowed and dragged his disobeying shadows after him, leaping across the miles between the Autumn Court and home within a single step, resigning himself to a lonely night -- as always.

~~~

The night was alive.

It was a comforting blanket draped over her, Gwyn mused silently.

But she felt dead.

It was going to be one of those nights, then. Those nights when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat only to realize it was just another nightmare. That reality was like a noose tied around her neck, dragging her further down into the pits of Hell where she belonged.

She would never meet Catrin even in death. Because her lovely, beautiful sister who had shone like the brightest star was amongst the stars in the heavens. That single thought was the only thing pushing her forward on the worst of nights.

On nights where flinging herself out of a high balcony on the impossible chance that she would see Catrin again seemed possible. Gwyn had thought that that was before.

Before Nesta, before Emerie, before meeting her Valkyrie sisters whom she knew would and had walked with her through pain and darkness and led her back.

But even after so much training, nothing had changed. She was still the cowardly, timid, broken doll she thought she had left behind.

Gwyn sighed even as sadness and pain, always so much pain, swelled inside her. Logically she knew she wasn't thinking straight. If Nesta or Emerie were here, they would be chiding her for her thoughts, the former sharp but mindful, and the latter firm but gentle. A small smile came onto her faces at all the memories they shared.

The cutting of the ribbon. Winning the obstacle course that served as the Blood Rite Qualifier. And then winning the actual Blood Rite itself while Nesta -- unyielding, unflinching -- held the lines for Gwyn and Emerie to be crowned as Carynthians.

And now, Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. Despite everything she was feeling, Gwyn was happy for her friend.

Her sister by choice.

She knew Nesta deserved Cassian as he did her, and she felt genuine happiness for the pair. It was obvious during the long months of initial, grueling training that there was a spark between the two. An attraction that could not be denied.

She longed to find that love though in truth Gwyn knew she might never be ready for it.

Her point was further proven yesterday when Nesta had invited them during a break in training to her mating ceremony, held in a week's time. Gwyn knew that preparations were already underway and she was as honored and grateful as Emerie to be invited, but still she had hesitated, especially at the list of invited and accepted guests.

It wasn't mortifyingly long since Nesta only wanted close friends and family and Cassian only wanted the High Lord, Rhysand and Azriel, but the guest was filled with important names that made Gwyn nervous just to hear them.

The High Lord and High Lady were enough to make her dizzy. And then there was the High Lord's Second and Third, both formidable females in their own right. Gwyn thought wryly though that Emerie had seemed flustered and even blushed a little when her ears caught on a certain someone's name in the list Nesta had shared.

She was happy for her friend too. Emerie deserved friendship -- and love, if that relationship could blossom. But she knew better than interfere when her own relationships were so precarious.

The Prince of Adriata was coming, along with Mother above, the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion. Nesta's younger sister Elain was on the list as well though Nesta's face had clouded a bit when she read her name out loud. And then there was her mate -- Lucien Vanserra.

The supposedly exiled son of the High Lord of Autumn, who had ties to numerous Courts and was a valuable ally.

It was silly and stupid but amidst this sea of important names, Gwyn had wondered on more than one occasion what she could even do there. She had immediately scolded herself mentally, that she would be attending the ceremony for Nesta and even Cassian, who had become a bit of an older brother figure to her, and she would have Emerie with her.

She knew Emerie would fight anyone who dared to even look at her the wrong way.

But the larger part of Gwyn was scared. So many people would be attending, especially the males. It wasn't as if Helion or Lucien would randomly pounce on her, and that her fear was irrational, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. Couldn't stop thinking about that day where so many males surrounded her, where that hateful Hybern commander had ordered her held down, had pummeled into her as silent tears fell down her face, had laughed in her face and --

Gwyn counted the stars in the sky in time to her quickened breathing. Deep breaths, she told herself. When she couldn't sleep on nights like these she would train until nearly the breaking of dawn. She should get up from her position on the ground.

Probably.

But lying on the cold floor of the training area atop the House of Wind was a refreshing change. After having been coped up in the library for two years, she had finally decided to join Nesta in her morning training sessions with Cassian.

It was quite possibly the best decision she had ever made.

But still... But still, the doubt lingered. It festered. It thrived on her pain and self-hatred, quietly growing on nights like these.

It thrived at the fact that Emerie had accepted the invitation immediately, but Gwyn, worthless, selfish Gwyn had not. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't even congratulate her friend on her special day?

She should really get up. Perhaps train a bit more, instead of lying here wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Then a tiny tendril of shadow-kissed power gently prodded her arm. She startled, turning around and half-getting up.

She already knew who would be standing before her with his usual contemplative silence.

Azriel.

He was before her and she froze for one second. A twinge of fear crept in at his closeness, at the nearness of another male, so suddenly and unpredicted --

Azriel took a step back, saying softly, "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

Gwyn blinked. The shadowsinger was nothing but the epitome of manners and he had likely scented her fear.

"It's fine." And that was true. Her fear had instantly washed away as abruptly as it had arrived upon realizing who was here.

Azriel would never hurt her, Gwyn was sure of that.

She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence that had descended.

"Are you here for something?" She winced slightly at her choice of words. This was his home. She had no right to even utter such a question when she was the outsider.

Before Azriel could reply, another shadow darted out and wrapped itself around her arm before rushing back to its master. Gwyn felt the corners of her lips twitched up as the shadowsinger blinked once, twice in... shock.

"Did you forget your favorite dagger again?" She teased and was rewarded with a faint blush on his cheeks. His lovely and if she dared say, adorable shadows had given her the courage she needed.

To her surprise, he played along. "Have you seen an eighteen-inch dagger anywhere?"

Gwyn burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement.

"May I remind you that it's a dagger you have misplaced -- not a sword?"

"Forgive me if my memory fails sometimes." Was she seeing things or was there a twinkle in his eyes?

"Well, you do seem to forget things rather easily." Oh, she was certain! Amusement ran deep inside his hazel eyes and Gwyn felt breathless for a second, mesmerized by the beautiful male.

Staring into his eyes... She smiled at him, a genuine crinkling of her eyes. He had lifted her mood within seconds of his arrival.

Azriel seemed to freeze for a second, his usual stillness somehow magnifying. Intensifying. His shadows writhed around and she had the odd feeling that he was struggling to control them.

She blinked, and the moment passed.

"Were you training?" Azriel motioned towards her sweaty body. She nodded mutely, still caught up in what had occurred. Was it just her imagination? Looking at the stoic Illyrian standing before her, Gwyn decided she was just too tired, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

"...My help?"

Gwyn snapped out of her thoughts, head jerking up. "What?"

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her obvious inattentiveness and she felt herself blushing. She chided herself mentally.

"Do you require my help?" He repeated the question, that faint amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Wait. Are you asking to train me?" Another eyebrow raise.

"Were you expecting me to teach you the benefits of lying on the cold floor in the middle of the night?" He replied dryly.

Gwyn scowled and immediately stood up.

"Uh-huh. I was expecting you to fling your arms about and start serenading me."

"Is that a demand?" Azriel chuckled quietly. Gwyn thought that might be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard.

"Is that a challenge?" Gwyn shot back, not missing a beat.

The corners of his lips twitched up. Gwyn wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, her competitive streak setting in. She was also excited for this match because truth be told, she had been training everyday in anticipation of wiping the floor with the shadowsinger. It was her secret fantasy.

Not that it would happen anytime still but... Still.

"You can help me with my training. But on one condition."

Azriel contemplated her more seriously before he nodded his head.

"We fight now. Hand-to-hand."

~~~

The night was alive.

And Gwyneth Berdara was the full moon that accompanied it, shining brightly even amidst the darkness. She was so lovely, yet he sensed something pure and burning thriving inside her. His shadows yearned to flit around her, touch her, dance and sing for her. He had to keep them on a tight leash, and they were unhappy.

Little tendrils of darkness swirled around him petulantly. They wanted to go to Gwyn. Would have gone to her without his intervention. One stray thread snuck out and nearly coiled around Gwyn's wrist before he snatched it back in time. He could have sworn his own shadows growled at him. But he had bigger things to focus on.

Like the fact that Gwyn had just challenged Azriel to a duel.

Once again, his shadows had failed to mention that she was here. There was no quick escape that didn't end in awkwardness so he had stayed -- and so far he was... contented. Being around her seemed to have that effect on himself.

She was humming to herself as she stretched, preparing her body before their fight. His shadows buzzed around excitedly, seeming to forget about their earlier disagreement. He supposed there was no question who they were rooting for.

"Ready?" He asked Gwyn. She nodded, then held up a hand.

"Wait." She retied her ponytail, not letting even a single strand of her coppery chestnut obstructing her vision. He admired her competitiveness, her courage and strength in always fighting for the best.

Meeting her by chance here again reminded him of solstice, and his mind wandered to Elain before he slammed down his thoughts.

Focus. He had watched and trained Gwyn enough to know that she was a threat: an emerging dark horse that proved unpredictable and cunning. He also knew she had silently studied his fighting style enough to know more than just a few of his preferred tricks.

They circled each other, neither one of them making the first move.

He had drilled into her what signs to look out for, what feints and what blockings would be an unexpected yet effective counterattack that he was more than a little wary.

Still, he decided to make the first move, which was so out of his usual style that he hoped she would be unprepared. He had the feeling that she already knew he was going to attack first though as she sidestepped him and threw a punch.

Like he was expecting. He grabbed it and pulled her towards him to jilt her balance, but she was already expecting that and swept out her leg, forcing him to move unless he wanted to end up on the ground. The next move he had perfected to mastery.

He pretended to feint left when he was actually aiming for the left. A cheap shot, but he had also taught her that no real fights were clean and honest. She twisted her body but they both knew she wouldn't dodged in time.

At the last moment, his shadows decided to move and --

Capture his fucking hand. They wrapped themselves around him and his eyes widened as he was stopped mid-throw by his own shadows. The scenario would have been laughable if he wasn't in so much disbelief. They had never outright hindered him in any battles before.

He cursed, barely dodging the next kick Gwyn sent his way. They broke apart again and Gwyn asked, "Something wrong?" She glanced towards his wayward shadows and he had a strong feeling she knew.  

He shook his head, glaring at his swirling shadows. They just blinked up at him innocently.

Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Lovely mistress lovely mistress lovely mistress.

He gritted his teeth. Their fancy for Gwyn had reached the point of obsession but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she squinted and then broke into a grin.

"Aha. I thought I saw your little friends earlier." At her words, his shadows flew towards her joyfully, happy to be recognized. Azriel rubbed his neck as his shadows neared Gwyn, knowing that she had to secretly hate them for being so ugly and tainted and unworthy --

Gwyn bent down. What she did next would stay in his memories forever. Holding out an arm, she let his shadows coiled around the entire length, wisps of midnight trailing her as she walked towards Azriel.

His shadows were happier than he had ever known them to be. He could feel their joy with every step she took, sense the way they were telling him to look look look look.

Then Gwyn smiled at him, her teal eyes so clear and large.

"Your shadows are beautiful."

~~~

"Your shadows are beautiful."

Azriel stood still. His entire body was frozen, and even his heart seemed to cease its beating.

Gwyn took a step back at whatever expression was on his face. What she said... Did she understand that what she said -- no one had ever deigned to voice before?

Did she look at his hideous soul and scarred hands?

Did she see how truly stained he was?

He wanted to believe she did. He had never wanted something more than Gwyn seeing him, truly seeing him be true. But if it were true...

How could his shadows be beautiful?

"I'm -- I'm sorry for stepping out of line." She stuttered out, her eyes wide.

Azriel glanced up sharply, snapped out of his trance. She looked horrified and was stammering out another apology, her pitch high and wobbly.

Shit.

Before he could process what he was saying, words tumbled out of his mouth, aided by the push of an impatient shadow desperate to right all things wrong.

"It is I who should be apologizing." His voice was a soft whisper in the night breeze. Gwyn paused halfway through her long speech and she stood there gaping at him.

"I am sorry, Gwyn." Azriel truly was. He could feel the shame gnawing at him. Yet another mistake. Yet another disappointment. He was a lowly half-breed bastard. His "little friends" curled around his tightening fists anxiously. He could not quite meet her eyes as chagrin dragged him down and whispered,"I should not have reacted the way I did."

He did not know what to expect. The infamous spymaster that was Azriel could never anticipate any of Gwyn's actions. She was an enigma, a mystery that constantly evaded him, the light at the end of the tunnel that shied away from him at every twist and turn.

He saw Gwyn take a deep breath from his peripheral vision and steeled himself. He gathered the remnants of his scattered mask, ready to return to just the High Lord's spymaster.

And then Gwyn spoke.

"I... I do not know your story. I do not know the dark tales that define your past. But I know you. And I know that whatever it is... It does not define you. It does not define the male I see standing before me. It cannot define the male who saved my very life, who --" Here her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully. He did not know why but... He wanted to hug her and show her that her past had never defined her. Not for him, not for Nesta or Emerie and he wanted her to know that it shouldn't for herself.

"Who placed that cloak upon me with such gentle hands." She continued softly, gazing down at his scarred palms. And for the first time in a sea of forever, Azriel did not feel the urge to hide his shadow-kissed hands. Those same shadows began to swirl towards Gwyn and she did not flinch.

She only continued staring at him with those eyes that could see through everything. Did he want them to see through him? Yes.

She sees. And she is not afraid. Azriel's shadows basked them in a cocoon of living darkness.

"I refuse to let your past define you. I do not accept that. So fight. Your story... even if it never comes to me, there is nothing it can tell me that I don't already know. You are brave, thoughtful and so, so kind. You and Cassian trusted me to survive and conquer the Rite as you two had trusted Nesta and Emerie. If not then both of you would have stormed in immediately, and no law could have overruled you. So please... Please believe in me like you did. Just this once, if nothing else." Gwyn finished a little breathlessly and he knew she had rushed through the last part because she was nervous.

But somehow the bit that stuck out to him was her thinking he used to believe in her. He did, but used to? He still did. And he wanted her to know that, more than anything. He wanted Gwyn to know that he had never stop believing in her.

And seeing Gwyn's crestfallen face as each second passed and he still remained silently, he knew she was thinking the worst.

He wanted her smile back. His shadows wanted that too.

But more than anything, they both wanted her to sing again. And looking at her dispirited expression, at that moment even his shadows were unsure whether she would find her voice again.

She had spilled her thoughts to him, and he was standing there like an idiot.

Your words, Azriel. Use your words.

His shadows were begging him to say something. Anything, please please please.

As she turned to leave, he finally found his voice. The voice she unknowingly helped him find.

"Gwyn, I'm sorry -- please wait." She paused, hesitating as her eyes met his. Azriel did not know what to say. He was incapable of saying anything but "sorry", that word so pathetic and useless. Sorry was not enough when Rhys was captured by Amarantha. Sorry was not enough when Feyre was forced to sacrifice herself for their -- for his sake. Sorry was not enough when Elain was taken away by the Cauldron in the middle of the night.

Sorry had never been enough and never would be. Azriel was a stupid, foolish idiot.

"Azriel." Gwyn spoke his name softly. He tore himself away from his useless thoughts and looked at her.

She... did not look upset. She did not look angry, nor sad, nor frustrated. Instead, understanding lay in those warm teal eyes.

"I'm not pushing you to share about yourself. You are not obliged to just because I rambled on about my thoughts." Gwyn's eyes were indeed filled with apology and remorse though she had a small smile.

"You will always be my friend. And I will wait for you, even if the day you want to share about yourself never comes. Because I know you will do the same for me."

Somehow, in that moment when even time seemed to have held its breath, when even the Mother seemed to be watching, Azriel felt something in him shifted. In the distant, he could have sworn a phoenix's song filled his veins, a song of smothered flames and shadows.

"Besides, I think the silent, brooding type fits you better than Cassian's I-wrecked-one-tiny-unimportant-useless-building hotheadedness." Gwyn teased.

The distant calling seemed to grow louder, and Azriel could have sworn --

He could have sworn that a faraway glow beckoned him. And his shadows were more restless than ever, nearly tearing away from their master in their excitement.

So when Gwyn grinned at him, he smiled back.

The stars twinkling overhead seemed to beam back too. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt contented. It was a feeling he had not experienced since... Since solstice. And back then he was with Gwyn, too, he realized abruptly. It was this female before him who had brought him not once, but twice such longed-for peace and quiet.

Gwyn was wrong. It was not his shadows who were beautiful.

It was her.

It was the Valkyrie who had walked beside Death -- and never cowered.

Never feared, never faltered.

Gwyneth Berdara was a secret, lovely beauty.

Sorry for any grammatical errors (or just errors in general) since I’m writing on my own right now. Thanks for reading and stay tune for part 2 <3

Updated comment: Hi guys, so I added a new bit about Azriel’s reaction. I was planning out the whole story so it’s taking a while and I’m sorry about the wait. I’m nearly done with planning things out chapter-by-chapter so part 2 is on its way. Thank you for staying with me 

xoxo

Dawn ~

[kaylans-imagines]

solare

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! cheerleader! reader

solare: an italian word to describe a person who brightens the room, who is warm, good, and cheerful; who also worries about others. 

Synopsis: in which peter benjamin parker finds the personified version of warmth and happiness.

Peter Parker had endured a lot throughout his life. He had lost his uncle, his life for five years, then he came back, and then lost his mentor. It was a wonder to him and everyone else that he found a way to continue pushing through and fighting the fight for good, even if he at times couldn’t exactly figure out just why he was doing an unpaying job. He would push away those thoughts and remind himself that he did it for the little guy, for the underdog, for the people like him before he got bitten. Still, there were days when the darkness would cloud over his mind, and he would spiral into sadness. 

His Aunt May had suggested he go to a counselling group, someplace where he could express himself without fear of judgement or illwishers. Where he could find people he could relate to and for once have people care for him. He had dismissed that idea by claiming he didn’t have the time to do, too occupied in burying himself with his schoolwork, Spider-Man duties, and keeping up his social life. That was the end of that conversation, but he still couldn’t help but yearn for some type of way to release all the negative emotions that weighed heavily on his mind and his heart. 

He had admittedly been distant from his friends and from his Aunt May, but he couldn’t find it in himself to find something to talk about. He was thrust into a world that he didn’t recognise anymore. It had been five years, and in those five years, people had grown up, and things had changed drastically. Much like the person in the mirror, he didn’t recognise his surroundings when he looked around. He could only hope he wouldn’t drown and get stuck in a flood of uncertainties, in this new time without his mentor to guide him. 

He sighed through his nose as he swung around the lit city, back towards the comfort of his own bedsheets. He couldn’t wait to get lost under the sea of blankets and find comfort in the sounds of the bustling city. Spending all of his life in Queens, he grew accustomed to the yelling, the loud honking of horns, and the busy street life that now offered him solace. A haven. A source of relief he wasn’t able to find elsewhere. The confinements of his blankets and the sounds of New York gave him the ease he needed. 

Assuring his aunt that he was back home and alive, he quickly slipped into his bedroom and snuggled under the covers, relieving himself of the tension he carried. His mind fell into a trance of serenity and easiness as it wandered through happy memories he savoured—recollections of his Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and himself at the beach when he was younger. Uncle Ben and him bonding over ice cream while they walked in Central Park—Peter would point out a dog in the distance, Ben would look at it and then his nephew and chuckle, promising that when they get a bigger home, they will get a dog. He reminded himself of when he helped May with the gardening; it wasn’t much gardening, just a few pots on their balcony, but it was peaceful. 

His life was a routine. Every morning, he would wake up at the same time, have a quick breakfast, kiss his aunt goodbye, and the rush towards the train where he would go to school and meet Ned by his locker. The school day would cease, and he would go to decathlon practise until it was over, then make his way towards Delmar’s, which had re-opened in the five years he was blipped, and then complete the leftover homework he needed to do until he had to go on with his Spider-Man duties. It was the same, except for weekends, every day, and he was okay with that. It helped make his life easier—knowing that there were no surprises or changes in his day-to-day life made it easier for him and helped unburden him from the weight he carried with him. 

The day he met Y/N had been a good day. He hadn’t missed his train that morning; Flash wasn’t up to his usual antics, choosing to ignore him and flirt with an uninterested cheerleader, and he had a good feeling about the History exam in his third period. That was until he stepped into his Physics class and was informed of the new seating chart being projected in front of the class. He and Ned had been able to bypass the seating chart for two quarters already, but they both knew their luck would fizzle out and they would have to be separated. Peter hoped he would get seated with someone he knew, so long as it wasn’t Flash. He would take being a stranger's partner over being Flash’s partner any day. Sighing in relief when he didn’t see his name next to Flash’s, he searched for him on the screen. 

Peter Parker and Y/N Y/L/N, table 08.

Peter wasn’t good at making friends. He tried, but he always came off too strong or not strong enough. He was painfully awkward and stumbled over his words. He would also talk about something no one else was interested in and come off as weird and a ‘nerd’. Over time, he was able to be okay with having one friend, and just recently, his newfound group of friends. To force himself to make small talk with a new person made his stomach churn. He wished he could have May’s social skills and welcoming nature. 

Exhaling to relax the nerves building in his stomach, he made his way towards the table with a paper eight taped on it. It might have been the fact that the window was right beside the table or the fact that Peter hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but he swore he saw a glow bouncing perfectly off the silhouette seated on the hard stool closest to the window. She was looking out the window, perfectly content on looking at the garden Midtown had decided to grow during the five years half the population was gone. It was a beautiful garden. 

Shuffling on his feet, he dragged himself to the seat next to the seemingly glowing girl with intentions of sitting down without making noise, not to pull her from her gaze, but the universe had other plans. His toe met the stool’s hard metal, making the girl snap out of her daze and look at Peter with mild surprise. He was fully expecting her to lash out at him, to ask him why he needed to make so much noise, and he was fully ready to apologise. But the questioning never came, and neither did his need to apologise. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and concerned eyes.

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt,” she spoke with a lightness in her tone he had never heard before. New Yorker’s were usually brash and straight to the point; there was no place for airiness or lightness in voices. They didn’t care about anyone else but themselves and their loved ones. To feign importance in the busy city, one had to speak with importance. She was a breath of fresh air to him, like the feeling of the seaspray on his face when he steps into the ocean. Around her, he felt at peace. 

“I-I’m Parker, no,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself, “I’m Peter.” This was the part where people would smile at him with fake sincerity, shake his hand, and make some excuse to leave. He was waiting for her to look at him with judgement and refuse to shake his hand. He wasn’t expecting her to take his hand into hers and shake it with a giggle. 

“Next to meet you, Parker Peter. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced. She drew him in by the way she stared at him, so deeply and with intrigue, and kept him wanting more of her presence in the way she spoke, with confidence but kindness. He was sure this was someone he needed in his life, someone he had to keep around. She was like the sun, and the sky rolled in one, someone he couldn’t help but stare at. 

They shared shy smiles, sneaking glances now and then. Peter couldn’t focus on his teacher’s rambling, too entranced by the body sitting beside him. From the corner of his eye, he could see her scribbling in her notebook, following along with what the teacher was saying. He could see little drawings on the corner of her paper; small hearts, smiley faces, and infinity signs taking up the corner. The sight of the doodles filled his heart with warmth; they were adolescent like and riddled with innocence. They were endearing, just like her. 

The class seemed to drag on, and Peter was barely able to keep up. His mind was in another world; thoughts of protecting the city after homework to what he would have for dinner. A small part was thinking of the pretty girl who doodled on the corners of her papers. She had drawn a small smiley face on his paper at one point and sent him a smile when he looked at her afterwards. She had made a long class, that usually felt like it dragged on, shorter and yearning for more time. If anything, just to sit there and be in her presence. 

The bell signalled the ending of the class, and Peter slowly stood up. He packed his belongings as slowly as he could. He looked to the side; she put her books into her bag - they were all colourful and decorated with glittery and bubble stickers. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She sent him a smile and stood up from her chair, pushing her chair in slowly. 

“Bye, Parker Peter. See you, next class,” she said sweetly with a wave and exited the class, a happy and light bounce to her step. He watched her leave. Her hair bounced and glossed under the school’s fluorescent lights, and her skirt sashayed behind her. He watched as she waved and greeted people before she disappeared from his view. He didn’t stand a chance with the pretty girl in his chemistry class. 

Ned bounded towards him, talking his ear off about what his partner did and how he was so glad he had someone who wouldn’t make him do all the work. Peter, at that moment, felt like a bad friend. He wanted to listen to his best friend, keep a conversation going. But all of him kept him from doing so, instead directing his thoughts towards the popular, bubbly girl who was now surrounded by her loads of friends at her locker. Peter smiled her way, not expecting it to be returned, but to his surprise, she smiled back and raised her hand with a little wave. He took the time to peak into her locker. He could see pictures and magnets lining up the area; permeating the dull grey with life and personality. He also made out the neatly folded cheerleader uniform resting on the top shelf. Of course, he would have to start crushing on an unattainable cheerleader. 

He had no choice but to settle for crushing on her and wanting her from a distance. He figured that simply being an acquaintance to her would be enough. It would be enough. Being in her life would be just fine. It was a sad thought, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t gone through before. The thought made his heart hurt, but that was also coupled with the thoughts he had already harboured—memories of his past, he and his uncle, of Tony. Those kept him up at night and clouded his thinking whenever he swung building to building.

That night was the same; he sat on top of his apartment building, taking in the changing scenery. The lack of stars once brought him comfort, but he found recently that they brought him more pain. Normally, he loved the vastness of the wide space and how little they knew about it. He would let his imagination run wild with possibilities of everything in the unknown. When he was younger, he liked to imagine there were aliens up there, living happily without care. He would divulge in that from time to time, feeding his inner child. He loved the tenacity, the freedom, and the serenity of it all. But the same things made him feel small. It put everything into perspective. It put into perspective how small he was. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was no escape. 

He sat on the edge of the building, taking in all the different personalities the city below him had to offer. Couples cuddled up with one another, walking into their shared homes. Families laughing with one another as they finished their night. Friends walked with one another, whispering in ears and cackling to drown the cars and taxis’ noise. That was the city he loved. The city he grew up in. But that didn’t stop him from wanting an escape. Somewhere far from the city where he could simply sit and think without the distractions. He knew that was wishful thinking, but it didn’t cost a thing to dream.

Choosing to end the night earlier than usual, he stood up from his place and swung forward. Aunt May wouldn’t be home, so dinner wouldn’t be ready until she got there. He considered going to Delmar’s; having one of his sandwiches always made him feel better. Something stopped him, though. Maybe it was the sound of a laugh, one he had heard before, or the familiar satin blue scrunchie that rested on her wrist. He watched her, talking on the phone and laughing and throwing her hands up in the air. He quickly averted his eyes, staring at her for too long was weird even if he was Spider-Man.

That night he slept better than usual. Aunt May had found him asleep on his bed with his arm hanging off the mattress, his body slanted, and his head hanging off to the side with his mouth wide open. While it was an awkward position, she was glad he was sleeping so early in the night. The years had been rough on him, pushing past his limits and stressing him beyond belief. He was overdue for a break, and a long one. But she knew her nephew; he would never take a break. The city of Queens needed him.

While he normally dreaded going to school, not because he had to pay attention, or because it was hard, but because for seven hours, the city of Queens was left defenceless and at mercy. But, this day was different. There was a spring in his step and an easy smile on his face, not even Flash’s taunting got to him. Walking into the chemistry classroom, his eyes roamed the classroom until they landed on his new table. She was already sitting there. Scribbling on her glittery notebook with a blue pen adorned with a fuzzy top. 

Settling down next to her, she sent him a smile, “good morning, Mister Peter,”

He laughed, “Good morning, Miss Y/N,”

Peter was left yearning for more interactions with the gorgeous cheerleader with the fun pens, especially after she gave him a sticker with a golden retriever on it; it was an adorable puppy with its paw out and licking, what he presumed, was glass. She had told him it was because he reminded her of a puppy, most notably a golden retriever puppy. Her words had made him flush and sputter over himself, nearly causing him to injure his hand on the bunsen burner set in front of them. She giggled and gave him another sticker; it was a simple smiley face that he put on his notebook next to the golden retriever. 

She had bitten the bullet one day and invited him to a football game, one against Midtown’s rival school. Peter had been to football games before, having been in marching band, but that was before he was Spider-Man. A high school football game wouldn’t fit in his schedule, but the way she asked him and looked at him with an expectant and hopeful grin had him saying yes. So, he did what any sane person would do, and said yes. She squealed and wrapped her arms around him, taking him but surprise and let go of his neck. She gave him another sticker that day, one with a teddy bear holding a red heart in its centre.

That’s how he found himself sitting in the uncomfortable metal bleachers next to Ned and MJ, who insisted on coming but wasn’t paying attention, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to block out the cold. While Ned was focused on the football game happening before them, and MJ was engrossed in her book, Peter found himself staring at the seemingly glowing cheerleader chanting out cheers and praises. He watched as she threw her pompoms up and waved them around when Midtown presumably made a touchdown and huffed in exasperation when they didn’t.

The final buzzer went off, knocking Peter from his trance. Ned and MJ were getting up from their seats and making their way down the bleachers making Peter scramble to catch up. They waited for him, rather impatiently as Ned was tapping his foot and MJ was patting her book, and he rushed towards them. He stopped when a small body in a blue and gold outfit stood in front of him, a grin on her face and her pompoms resting on her duffle bag. He locked eyes with Ned who gave him a thumbs up and pushed an unimpressed MJ away from the fence. 

“Parker! You came! Did you have fun?” she asked, her words rushed and fast as she could barely contain her excitement. Peter chuckled and nodded his head, wanting nothing more than to hug her. To help her calm down, of course. She took him by surprise, a common theme, by wrapping her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He was glad she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating, but it was in overdrive. He thought that his senses had dialled up to one hundred when he was bitten, but it was nothing compared to how they were at that moment. She had a control over him that he never thought anyone would have. But he was glad it was her and not anyone else.

“What d’ya say Parky? You wanna go on a stroll?” Peter looked down at her and nodded his head. He hadn’t heard a word of what she said, too distracted by her beauty and the way her arms felt around him. She was the warmth on a cold day; hot cocoa under a blanket of snow, and the sunset after a nice day on the beach. She was someone Peter wanted in his life when things got to be too difficult for him to manage, and when he was at his highest because he knew she would only send him to the moon.

He waved goodbye to Ned and MJ, Y/N did too, promising to listen to Ned’s new LEGO purchase the following Monday, and watched as MJ’s car pulled away from the curb. She took his hand into hers and dragged him towards her car. She unlocked it before motioning for him to get in, throwing her bag into the backseat and starting the engine. He couldn’t help but glance around the car. Stickers decorated the dash in front of him; he was sitting in pink seat cover with the letters ‘TPWK’ stitched on it in white, and her steering wheel was decorated with a big sunflower. It was so unapologetically her, and that made Peter smile. 

In the time Y/N drove, Peter texted May and let her know he would be out late. He was met with a ‘good riddance! Stay safe :)’ in response. Peter watched the streetlights pass by as Y/N drove through the city and past city limits. For once in his life, since he was a child, he let himself be free and enjoy the scenery night brought. He was bummed that the city filled the night sky with smog because he really wanted to appreciate the beauty of the stars and the moon. He wanted to see her under the moonlight because he knew without a doubt that she looked even more gorgeous. He had been so distracted by his thoughts, that for once didn’t make him want to hide under a heap of blankets, that he hadn’t noticed she stopped the car. She hadn’t said anything; she just watched him. He was at peace, and that was all she wanted him to be.

Peter opened his eyes and looked ahead. He could see the city in the distance, the lights on in buildings, and with his super hearing, he could hear the city’s faint sounds. She cleared her throat and pointed up, her moon roof was open and exposed the glittering sky above them. He stared at it in awe. He knew they were far from the city, but he hadn’t realised how far, far was until he saw unfamiliar glistening above him. She watched him with soft eyes, smiling at his bafflement and wonder. It didn’t need to be said, but she knew he needed this moment. 

In the months that followed the switching of seats in chemistry class, she noticed things about him. The bags under his eyes that covered his freckles, the tired and subtle yawns, and the rushing of homework that was due the next period. She didn’t know why he was always tired, but something in her told her it was important. The bigger part of her told her that she needed to do something for him, something to distract him and ease his mind. So, she brought him to her spot outside of the city, to do what she did best. She stared at the moon and let her mind run with what it would be like to live in space and reside on the moon.

“You see that pattern up there; I call it the Huntress,” she pointed towards Orion, “stories of the stars are always about men, and the stories about women are always depicted as helpless. It makes me feel better knowing that a woman is the hunter in the stars, even if it is just in my mind.” Peter nodded along. He wanted to hear more. So, she told him her versions on the stars. He let himself get lost in her words, inching closer towards her over the console. She paused her story and motioned up towards the moon roof. He climbed out first and helped her, the two of them settling on top of her car.

She continued her story on the twins, the two of them leaning on one another. Peter felt all his inhibitions and everything holding him back let go and get lost in the night sky. That night he didn’t think of all he lost, of everything he had endured; that night he thought of the sunshine sitting next to him and how he would be okay in the face of peril, so long as he had her by his side. His personal cheerleader. He thought of the way her lips felt on his and the giggle that erupted from her soft lips; about how they tasted like pomegranate. 

In her, he found himself walking on the sun’s rays and being hugged by warmth. For once, he didn’t stare at the sun with anger; instead, he basked in her warmth because the warmth enveloped him. 

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tragic beauty: lupe vélez - an analysis

“I had to play with boys, girls found me too rough.” -  Lupe Vélez  

This is an analysis I’ve wanted to cover for a while for quite a few reasons. Primarily because, in a few ways, I see myself in her and, as such, feel the need to defend her and assert her true legacy: as a pioneer. Which brings me to the main reason I wanted to do this: to correct the scurrilous rumours about her premature death cooked up by a hating ass imbecilic Aquarius whose infamous book doesn’t deserve to be named. So if you want to hear the truth about this lady, read on.

Known as the “Mexican Spitfire”, Latin bombshell Lupe Vélez was (an to an extent, still is) a much-maligned and terribly misunderstood woman. A true Cancer, she was a force of nature and unconsciously antagonized others and made them uncomfortable because of her authenticity to herself and her emotional nature. Born during a storm, she had a naturally stormy personality. She could be hilarious and charismatic one moment, and depressive and vicious the next. Instead of anyone trying to understand her, they just stuck her with the “spicy fiery Latina” stereotype, not knowing or caring what was behind it. The harshness of her life before stardom may explain some of her fearsome, yet fun, personality; she grew up with violent trauma – watching her father kill and almost be killed during the Mexican Revolution. She also is believed to have had undiagnosed bipolar disorder, which would explain her extreme moodiness and outbursts.

One of the first Latina actresses to make an impact in Hollywood, she was subjected to the racist, sexist Hollywood tropes that forever typecasted her—she was called “senorita cyclone,” and the “hot tamale”. The Hollywood press willfully misunderstood Vélez’s sex positivity and consistently portrayed her as a woman who took great pleasure in her body, and indeed, the tempestuous Vélez had numerous affairs, including a particularly torrid one with a young Gary Cooper, and a tumultuous marriage to “Tarzan” star Johnny Weissmuller. But in 1944, at age 36, she found herself pregnant with the child of a little known-actor name Harald Ramond, who would not marry her and this reality made her come undone, and like my other baby Carole Landis, she succumbed to an drug overdose. Her promiscuity, right or wrong, became part of the way her stardom was packaged and promoted. Also, the press naturally compared her to (and pitted her against) Hollywood’s only other female Mexican star—the “high-class” and elegant Dolores Del Rio. The press couldn’t even find sympathy for her even in death and a false story was printed that she drowned in the toilet after vomiting up a spicy Mexican dinner. Her death is parodied and mocked to this day. Again, she’s a true Cancer in the sense that the same imperfections that everyone else has, she is seen as less than human for having them. I hope to help right that wrong by honoring Vélez for being the trailblazer that she is. At any rate, Vélez would seem to be a prototype for contemporary female stars, from Madonna to Rihanna, who have proclaimed their pleasure in their body and their sexual liberation — a pro-sex activist before her time, doomed to suffer the rejection of a more puritanical age.

Lupe Vélez, according to astrotheme, was a Cancer sun and Leo moon. She was born María Guadalupe Villalobos Vélez in San Luis Potosí, Mexico, to young upper-middle class parents. Her father, Jacobo Villalobos Reyes, was a colonel in the military, and her mother, Josefina Vélez, was an opera singer. They also had another son, John and daughter, Annette. The Villalobos family were considered prominent in San Luis Potosí and most of the male family members were college educated. The family was also financially comfortable and lived in a large home with servants. As a young girl Lupe showed an interest in performing, but her father was outraged at his daughter’s “low-class” dreams, and forbade his daughter from being in show business. All that changed during the war. Her family was in a state of upheaval—the Mexican Revolution was happening, her father had been presumed dead in the war and all their money was gone. While most of her family members were too proud to get jobs, a teenage Vélez did just that, supporting the family by working as a saleswoman in a department store. She then finagled an audition with a local theater. However, her father was indded alive and well and soon returned home from the war. Because at that time becoming an artist and coming from a well-to-do family was seen as embarrassing, her father refused to let her use his last name in theater, so she used her mother’s surname.

She proceeded to seek out venues where she could dance the then-popular “shimmy.” In 1925 she was cast in the big stage revues Mexican Rataplan and !No lo tapes! and became a big audience favourite. Her name got around to American stage star Richard Bennett (father of American film stars Constance and Joan Bennett), who was looking for a Mexican cantina singer for his new play. Lupe traveled to Hollywood but was rejected for the part for being too young. While in Hollywood, Lupe met film and stage comedienne Fanny Brice, who took a liking to Lupe because of her sparkling personality. She put in a good word for Lupe to impresario Florenz Ziegfeld (creator of the Ziegfeld’s Follies), who could use Lupe in one of his Broadway musicals. However, MGM producer Harry Rapf heard of Lupe as well, and offered her a screen test. When producer Hal Roach saw the test, he immediately signed her to a contract. Vélez soon made her major film debut in Douglas Fairbanks’ action-romance The Gaucho in 1927. The film was a huge hit and Vélez was an overnight sensation.

Along with her professional life gaining steam, so did her love life. Vélez sought out some of Hollywood’s hottest men, which wasn’t hard for a hot and sexy number like Lupe; men flocked to her like bees to honey. She was romantically linked with Gary Cooper, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, cowboy Tom Mix, “Tarzan” actor Johnny Weissmuller, Errol Flynn, John Gilbert, Henry Wilcoxon, singer Russ Columbo, Randolph Scott, author Erich Maria Remarque (who wrote All Quiet On The Western Front and later married Paulette Goddard), Clayton “Lone Ranger” Moore, director Victor Fleming (director of Gone With The Wind), and boxers Jack Johnson and Jack Dempsey.

One of her first conquests was cowboy star Tom Mix. She also had an with newcomer Clark Gable, who cut off their romance because he was afraid Lupe would run all over town discussing their sexual secrets, which she did. Soon she had a torrid affair with comic genius Charlie Chaplin in 1928. Lupe revitalized Chaplin’s libido after he had gone through a torturous divorce from his wife. Whatever time she had for the many men in her life, that same appreciation didn’t extend to other women and she would frequently battle with the other females with whom she had to work with and would often threaten them; when she was starring in director D.W. Griffith’s Lady of the Pavements, she had to co-star with an actress named Jedda Goudall, whom she hated, and the two had a ferocious cat-fight on the set. When she made her final appearance on Broadway in the Cole Porter musical “You Never Know”, Vélez and fellow cast member Libby Holman feuded viciously. The feud came to a head during a performance where Vélez punched Holman in between curtain calls and gave her a black eye, which pretty much ended the run of the show. Vélez was territorial about the men in her life, she was vicious toward any woman who might be competition for her man or an acting role. She mocked Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Katharine Hepburn and Shirley Temple, and her arch nemesis Dolores Del Dio by doing imitations of them.

When she was cast in the film The Wolf Song in 1929, she met Gary Cooper and immediately started what would be her first widely publicized romance. Theirs was a one-sidedly volatile relationship; he would often appear in public with scratches and bruises. One time, she attacked him with a knife during a fight. He needed stitches. By the end of their time as a couple, Copper had lost 45 pounds and was physically exhausted.  He was ordered by the studio to take a vacation. As he boarded a train, Vélez shot at Cooper but missed. Lupe soon moved on to other men; she had a thing for fighters. In addition to having a brief fling with boxer Jack Dempsey, she conducted a flagrant, but secret, affair with the black boxer Jack Johnson. In those days, blacks and whites almost never conducted sexual affairs out in the open. She met Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weissmuller at the hotel where she was staying that was owned by film star Marion Davies. One problem: Weissmuller was already married. But no matter, he dumped his wife for Lupe and married her October 8, 1933 in Las Vegas. Theirs was not a happy, serene marriage, and they constantly battled, with Lupe filing for divorce several times in 1934 and changing her mind each time. Weissmuller’s patience was so strained he dumped a plate of salad on her head at Ciro’s nightclub. Finally, in 1938 she filed a petition that was finalized in 1939.

After having many hit pictures with MGM, they unceremoniously dropped her. The excuse was that the studios were no longer going to make Spanish versions of their films and there was no longer a need for Latin actresses. Vélez returned to Mexico in 1938 to star in her first Spanish-language film. Arriving in Mexico City, she was greeted by 10,000 fans. The film La Zandunga, was a critical and financial success and Vélez was slated to appear in four more Mexican films, but instead, she returned to Los Angeles. She soon went to RKO Studios and starred in the B-movie The Girl From Mexico. Despite its lowly status, the picture became a tremendous hit with audiences. RKO rushed her into another film, this time called Mexican Spitfire, playing an emotionally volatile singer named Carmelita. The 1940 film became another smash for Lupe. The Spitfire series of eight slapstick comedy films rejuvenated Lupe’s sagging career.  In late 1941, she had an affair with writer Erich Maria Remarque whose wife, actress Luise Rainer later wrote that Remarque told her “with the greatest of glee” that he found Vélez’s volatility hot.

At this same time Lupe took on another lover in the form of a French 27-year-old bit actor named Harald Ramond. He was a strong and controlling man who knew how to tame Lupe. After she discovered that she was three months pregnant, she announced her engagement to Ramond without his knowledge or consent. When he learned of her pregnancy, he refused to marry her. Deeply hurt and stunned, she felt backed into a corner; she knew her career would be ruined in Hollywood if word got out she was pregnant and unmarried. It just wasn’t done in those days. And despite her wildness, Lupe was a devout Catholic, so abortion was out of the question. She could see only one way out: suicide. On December 18, 1944, at the age of 36, Vélez swallowed 70 Seconal pills, she lay down on her pink satin pillow on her over-sized Hollywood bed and arranged herself like a movie star, with her hands folded across her chest and went into an eternal sleep. Dramatic to the end, Lupe went out of this world in glamorous style. She left a suicide note addressed to Harald, which read:

“To Harald, May God forgive you and forgive me too, but I prefer to take my life away and our baby’s before I bring him with shame or killing him. How could you, Harald, fake such a great love for me and our baby when all the time you didn’t want us?  I see no other way out for me so goodbye and good luck to you, Love Lupe.”

THAT is the truth. But the bottom line is: how she lived her life as well as the circumstances around her death are all irrelevant at the end of the day. What matters is the loss of a great multi-talented, pioneering Mexican star and a legacy unrealized and stunted by a world that wasn’t ready for her.

Next, I’ll talk about the most famous of her paramours, the yin to her yang, a perfect example of the special chemistry that Taureans and Cancers share, the strong, silent hero of the silver screen: Taurus Gary Cooper.

Stats

birthdate: July 18, 1908

major planets:

Sun: Cancer

Moon: Leo

Rising: Gemini

Mercury: Cancer

Venus: Leo

Mars: Pisces

Midheaven: Pisces

Jupiter: Virgo

Saturn: Aries

Uranus: Capricorn

Neptune: Cancer

Pluto: Gemini

Overall personality snapshot: She may have seemed at times to be a shy, vulnerable, romantic individual who only wanted to please, but underneath she had a voracious appetite for adoration and respect, and would not stop until she got it. Without a doubt, she had a very warm feeling for others, and domestic security with plenty of happy togetherness is high on her list of priorities. When it came to cooperation with others, however, she had her limits because she was profoundly individualistic and, albeit in a charming manner, she insisted on doing things her way. Ultimately the most important thing for her was believing in herself and being true to her standards and aspirations. Most of all, she needed to fulfill her creative potential, which was like an intimate companion with whom she shared her life. You nurture it, protect it, and then you show it off, and whatever walk of life you are in, you tend to be a fine performer.

This gave her a lot of self-respect and a touch of vanity as well, and her emotional sensitivity combined with her underlying imperiousness tended to impress others and made them take her seriously. She was a devoted member of her flock, and she zealously and jealously protected and promoted whomever she was devoted to. When it came to developing her own talents, however, she seemed to know that she had to pull away in order to grow into her greatest self. Others may have thought she was a bit of a show-off but that was not the case: she simply had a deep sense of the importance of her own creative talents, and she felt only half alive if she did not honour them. Although she was pretty sensitive to criticism or rebuffs, she was just as committed to honesty and personal integrity; and despite her vanity, she eventually learned to laugh at herself.

She had a very good memory and found it easy to learn subjects that interested her. She was very kind and thoughtful towards others. Her imagination was very keen, but if it got carried away, she may have experienced irrational fears. Even though she may have tried to maintain a scientific and objective outlook, her mind was actually dominated by her emotions. When it came to careers, she may have felt initially vague or confused about what she really wanted to do. She was eventually forced to give up her career of choice by events out of her control (as was evidenced by the tides turning from the “Mexican spitfire” female ideal due to the changing of the times). There was probably some element of self-sacrifice involved somewhere in her choice of career (the element of sacrifice being that she had to sacrifice her child, and ultimately her life, in relation to her reputation as an unwed mother as well as her unborn child’s reputation as an illegitimate child). She had good technical and scientific ability due to her, at times almost fanatical, attention to detail. She was also fastidious when it came to matters of health, diet and appearance. She was not afraid of work and was very resourceful and capable. She also worked well in a team. She became very annoyed if somebody else questioned the way that she operated. Her energy levels were somewhat inhibited, her self-confidence reduced, and her ambitions restricted through fear of failure. Times of strength and weakness alternated within her. Even though her decision-making ability could be ineffectual through over-caution, she often seemed to be placed in situations where a quick decision was needed. When she succeeded, it was mainly through her own efforts. She also showed a tendency towards wanting to start at the top, wanting to avoid the hard work that gets you there.

She belonged to a generation with a rational and logical attitude to life. There was a conflict between tradition and convention, and the experimental and unconventional. As an individual, she had to learn to strike a balance between the erratic and the conventional. As a member of this generation, she had the ability to come up with original ideas which could be of practical value. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. She was part of an emotionally sensitive generation that was extremely conscious of the domestic environment and the atmosphere surrounding her home place and home country. In fact, she could be quite nostalgic about her homeland, religion and traditions, often seeing them in a romantic light. She felt a degree of escapism from everyday reality, and was very sensitive to the moods of those around her. Bow embodied all of these Cancer Neptunian ideals. As a Gemini Plutonian, she was mentally restless and willing to examine and change old doctrines, ideas and ways of thinking. As a member of this generation, she showed an enormous amount of mental vitality, originality and perception. Traditional customs and taboos were examined and rejected for newer and more original ways of doing things. As opportunities with education expanded, she questioned more and learned more. As a member of this generation, having more than one occupation at a time would not have been unusual to her.

Love/sex life: It wasn’t easy to be passionate and emotionally explosive and also hold on to her dignity, but this was what she wanted to accomplish. She tried to conceal the pulsating softness of her sexual nature behind a façade of control and bluster. She thought that her display of strength and jolly self-confidence would hide her vulnerability and her susceptibility to virtually any sexual diversion. Of course, no one was really buying this cover up. They saw the luscious edges of her erotic hunger peeking through her disguise. That’s why they were all so anxious to be around her. The biggest problem in her sex life was how to deal with change. She loved it and she hated it. She loved following the lead of her feelings and surrendering herself to the moment. Too much consistency, even loving consistency, was apt to leave her bored and dissatisfied. But she also saw change as a threat to her sense of control and to the emotional security that she valued so highly. Because of this duality in her thinking, her reaction to changes in her sex life was abrupt, contradictory, and (horror of horrors) a little undignified.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Libra

Vertex: Scorpio

Fortune: Gemini

East Point: Gemini

Her North Node in Gemini dictated that she needed to prevent her idealism from influencing her thoughts to such a high degree. She needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving her thought processes. Her Lilith in Libra was definitely working overtime here. Relationships somehow caused her to err, and her partner choices caused much suffering.   She expressed herself through others. As a lover, she was aggressive, yet co-dependent. As a mistress, she was not above trying to cause a divorce, which she did with Johnny Weissmuller and she ultimately became fatally despondent when she found herself pregnant with a bit actor's baby. She used her good looks as a weapon to help her get ahead in the movie industry. Also, Lilith in Libra strangely enough, manifested itself as a sort of lighter female Capricorn archetype, and she pulled herself up by the bootstraps in a rather glamorous way, going to work after her father left the family unit. As such, she exhibited graceful gumption right until the very end. Her Vertex in Scorpio, 5th house dictated that she had a desire or continual need for feeling irresistible and irreplaceable on all levels of intimacy, whether spiritual, intellectual, emotional, or physical. From the fires of hell to the heights of heaven, the  further and deeper the range of interaction she could experience with another the more fulfilling. She had a childlike orientation, in all of its manifestations, toward relationships on an internal level. That implicit trust, or perhaps naivete, that was instilled in our  childhood persisted far into maturity. The concomitant explosions and  occasional tantrums when these constructs are violated also accompany  this position. She had a need for fun, creativity, and excitement in a  committed relationship, no matter how many years it has endured. She often had deep fears, typical of children, of abandonment, as well as a need for universal acceptance, no matter how she acted, which she needed her partner to respect and nurture, rather than rebuke, especially in adulthood. Her Part of Fortune in Gemini and Part of Spirit in Sagittarius dictated that her destiny lay in travel, education and communication. She was able to overcome enemies by her words and by her writing. Happiness and fulfillment came from being able to express herself fully. Her soul’s purpose lay in seeking truth, justice and fairness. She felt spiritual connections and saw the spark of the divine when she studied, broadened her mind through new philosophies, or looked for inspiration outside the home. East Point in Gemini dictated that she was often insatiably curious and loved to collect little bits of (what seemed to be useless) information and trivia. Her interests were quite varied, and she may have been somewhat scattered. Sometimes her curiosity could appear cold and callous as her level of objectivity was potentially high. There was usually an openness to learning in any situation.      

elemental dominance:

water

fire

She had high sensitivity and elevation through feelings. Her heart and  her emotions were her driving forces, and she couldn’t do anything on earth if she didn’t feel a strong effective charge. She  needed to love in order to understand, and to feel in order to take action, which caused a certain vulnerability which she should (and often did) fight against. She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do  this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was  bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others  to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.    

modality dominance:

mutable

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.                    

house dominants:

2nd

3rd

1st

The material side of life  including money and finances, income and expenditure, and worldly goods was emphasized in her life. Also the areas of innate resources, such as her self-worth, feelings and emotions were paramount in her life. What she considered her personal security and what she desired was also paramount. Short journeys, traveling within her own country were themes  throughout her life; her immediate environment, and relationships with her siblings, neighbours and friends were of importance. The way her mental processes operated, as well as the manner and style in which she communicated was emphasized in her life. As such, much was revealed about her schooling and childhood and adolescence. Her personality, disposition and temperament is highlighted in her life. The manner in which she expressed herself and the way she approached other people is also highlighted. The way she approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how she set about her life’s goals. The general state of her health is also shown, as well as her early childhood experiences defining the rest of her life.  

planet dominants:

Neptune

Mercury

Sun

She was of a contemplative nature, particularly receptive to ambiances, places, and people. She gladly cultivated the art of letting go, and allowed the natural unfolding of events to construct her world. She followed her inspirations, for better or for worse. She was intellectual, mentally quick, and had excellent verbal acuity. She dealt in terms of logic and reasoning. It was likely that she was left-brained. She was restless, craved movement, newness, and the bright hope of undiscovered terrains. She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life.

sign dominants:

Cancer

Gemini

Leo

At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that she could call  her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless she was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was  perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that expanded her community. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely her stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. She was, at her best, optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious.      

Read more about her under the cut.

Lupe Velez was born on July 18, 1908, in San Luis Potosi, Mexico, as Maria Guadalupe Villalobos Velez. She was sent to Texas at the age of 13 to live in a convent. She later admitted that she wasn't much of a student because she was so rambunctious. She had planned to become a champion roller skater, but that would change. Life was hard for her family, and Lupe returned to Mexico to help them out financially. She worked as a salesgirl for a department store for the princely sum of $4 a week. Every week she would turn most of her salary over to her mother, but she kept a little for herself so she could take dancing lessons. With her mature shape and grand personality, she thought she could make a try at show business, which she figured was a lot more glamorous than dancing or working as a salesclerk. In 1924 Lupe started her show business career on the Mexican stage and wowed audiences with her natural beauty and talent. By 1927 she had emigrated to Hollywood, where she was discovered by Hal Roach, who cast her in a comedy with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Douglas Fairbanks then cast her in his feature film The Gaucho (1927) with himself and wife Mary Pickford. Lupe played dramatic roles for five years before she switched to comedy. In 1933 she played the lead role of Pepper in Hot Pepper (1933). This film showcased her comedic talents and helped her to show the world her vital personality. She was delightful. In 1934 Lupe appeared in three fine comedies: Strictly Dynamite (1934), Palooka (1934) and Laughing Boy (1934). By now her popularity was such that a series of "Mexican Spitfire" films were written around her. She portrayed Carmelita Lindsay in Mexican Spitfire (1940), Mexican Spitfire Out West (1940), The Mexican Spitfire's Baby (1941) and Mexican Spitfire's Blessed Event (1943), among others. Audiences loved her in these madcap adventures, but it seemed at times that she was better known for her stormy love affairs. She married one of her lovers, Johnny Weissmuller, but the marriage only lasted five years and was filled with battles. Lupe certainly did live up to her nickname. She had a failed romance with Gary Cooper, who never wanted to wed her. By 1943 her career was waning. She went to Mexico in the hopes of jump-starting her career. She gained her best reviews yet in the Mexican version of Naná (1944). Bolstered by the success of that movie, Lupe returned to the US, where she starred in her final film as Pepita Zorita, Ladies' Day (1943). There were to be no others. On December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance, with a part-time actor named Harald Maresch, and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal. She was only 36 years old. (x)

[wolvesandpetals]

Playing House: Part 2: Loki x Sylvie Fanfiction (Rated: T, Humor/Romance).

Part 1 here. Masterlist of Sylki fanfictions here. This chapter mostly fills in the gaps and acts as a backstory, providing some answers. Sylki hijinks in next chapter!

---

Sylvie wakes up the next morning with the sunrays lighting up the room through the windows. It's so different from the life she has always known- hiding in the shadows, endlessly on the run.

She has spent her entire life waking up in unfamiliar places. Yet, this feels different. This feels familiar, almost mundane. Even though some unknown dangerous entity has trapped them here, it feels... safe.

[[MORE]]

And she swears it has nothing to do with the fact that his arm is wrapped around her waist, and how it makes her feel protected. Nothing at all.

This is what her dreams were made of- a home, a person to wake up next to every day, a sense of serenity instead of the ever present death and despair. And now she has it all.

She shifts a little, earning groans of protest from him, and it makes her smile. The warmth radiating from his body makes her long to stay like this forever. Slowly and reluctantly, she pulls his arm off her body and places it on his chest, her smile widening as she watches him sleep. "Loki?"

He groans. "Please, mother. Can you awaken Thor first?"

She touches his shoulder gently. "Loki, it's morning."

"No, mother, princes do not wake up so early", he mumbles in his sleep.

She just cannot bring herself to force him awake. Not when he looks so happy.

---

His morning starts at 10 am. He picks up the newspaper that the delivery boy left on the porch. Apparently, it's 2021, there's a new president, and a new iPhone, whatever that is.

She makes breakfast. It's just milk and cereals, but it's the first meal they have both had at a kitchen table with someone akin to a loved one in a long, long time, and it feels good.

He picks up his phone, hoping to learn how to properly operate it, and goes through his contacts list. There are a lot of people that he does not remember meeting, mixed with people that he never wishes to meet again, but one name in particular makes him pause. "Thor's number is programmed in my phone."

Sylvie looks up in confusion, clueless why this is significant. "Alright?"

"I didn't know he even had a number." Loki explains. Maybe it's recent? Maybe that is the reason he did not know, and it's not because they have been at odds lately?

"Maybe it's not Thor?" Sylvie suggests. It is a different reality, after all. Everything may be just an illusion.

Loki takes in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do. There is only one way to find out.

---

There are exactly four rings before he hears the familiar voice on the other side of the line. "Hello, brother."

"Hello, brother." He clears his throat, trying to push down the emotions swelling in his chest. In reality, he last saw Thor the day he was captured by the TVA. Yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Thor answers. There's noisy chatter in the background, like a restaurant or a bar, and what sounds like old 60s music. "How are you?"

"I am well too." Loki lies. "It is so good to speak to you. Umm, how are the Avengers?"

There's a brief pause on the other end. "The Avengers? You are enquiring about my friends? Are you not going to ask about mother and father?"

Loki forgets how to breathe. "M-mother and father?"

"Yes?" Loki can picture Thor rolling his eyes as he speaks. "Our mother and father? The people who have loved and adored us our entire lives? Rings a bell?"

The last time Loki met his parents, they were furious and disappointed with him for his betrayal of Asgard. Then New York happened, and he is sure those emotions were heightened.

The rest of it, he has only watched on the projector screen at the TVA and not experienced himself, but he heard his parents express how much he means to them, right before watching them die. After spending the last few months angry at them, and craving power that makes him superior to Thor, he realised in that one moment that none of it mattered. All he wanted was the life he once knew, the life back at Asgard, the one he can never return to.

It's a truly cunning being that has trapped him in a reality where these cruel events may not have happened. Trap a man in hell, and he will burn it to the ground, trying to find his way out. Trap him in his heaven, and he is forever imprisoned. This is an eternal prison indeed, because why would he ever want to leave?

"Mother and father?" Loki repeats, still in disbelief, and a little optimistic. "They are not dead?"

"What kind of sick question is that, brother?" There's the familiar irritation in Thor's voice. "Why would you even ask that?"

"I'm... I'm sorry. I just feel a little... disoriented."

"Is everything alright with you?" Thor pauses, hesitating before he asks the next question. "Are you having marital troubles? Is Sylvie alright?"

"You know Sylvie?"

"Of course I know your wife." There's genuine concern now. "You are scaring me, brother. Is this a trick?"

"No, no." Loki shakes his head for emphasis, even though Thor cannot see it. "Not a trick, brother. I am just happy to hear your voice."

The line goes dead. There's a flash of thunder, a loud bang in the backyard, and then a thunderous voice. "Loki?"

Loki rushes to the backyard. Sylvie follows him, ready to fight the intruder, if necessary. She finds a blonde man in 60s clothes, wielding the hammer that she knows too well.

Sylvie goes pale. She hasn't seen her brother in ages, and this isn't her brother. She has never met this man, never played with him, never turned him into a toad, and definitely never missed him. Yet, her heart aches at the sight of this stranger who is another version of him.

"Oh, hi, Sylvie." Thor smiles warmly at her, before it turns apologetic. He tugs at an ear. "Sorry about your flowerpots." He glances at the mess he has made- again- vowing to land on the street next time. He spots Loki standing in the background and gives him a slight nod. "Brother."

"Brother." Loki takes a step forward, resisting the urge to rush to his brother and embrace him tightly. Not long back, they were on opposite sides of the battle. All he wanted back then was to be equal to Thor.

All he wants now is to be brothers again.

"Thor?" Sylvie says his name carefully, like it's a word that can break this spell. "Is that really you?"

Thor feels the panic coming back. "Alright, what is the matter with you two? Are you on drugs?"

"Me? Drugs?" Loki scoffs indignantly. "You are the one who looks like you just spent a week at Woodstock."

Thor takes a brief moment to glance down at his outfit- courtesy of StarJerk- before returning his undivided attention to the couple that is acting extremely strange.

"Prove that you are not on drugs." He places the hammer on the ground, next to Loki's feet. "Here."

"You want me to lift Mjojonir?" Loki stares in confusion. "Are you insulting me?"

"You can't lift it, can you?"

His irritation grows. "Of course I can't lift it. I've never been able to lift it."

"Loki... You... We've... Do you not remember the time we..." Thor stares at him, dumbfounded. "Do you really not remember that you too can wield Mjojonir?" Then another thought occurs to him, one which seems more likely. "Wait, is this another elaborate scheme of yours to steal Mjojonir?"

Sylvie takes in a deep breath, pushing down all the complicated emotions that have found their way into the spotlight since she met the mirror image of her brother. Right now, she is trapped in a reality that is not of her choosing, by an entity that is not known to her, and she cannot allow herself to get lost in the illusion. The man in front of her is merely an opportunity, one which she has to seize. "Alright, then. Come in already, brother." She tilts her head towards the door, gesturing at the brothers to come inside.

"Brother?" Loki mumbles under his breath.

Sylvie shrugs. "Well, he is your brother, and I am your wife, right?"

---

Thor walks through the kitchen and into the living room like he knows the place extremely well. He sits down on the couch- in the spot that Loki already considers his own spot, Loki notes with annoyance - and examines a cushion. "I see you replaced these after the mishap with the gun."

Loki and Sylvie exchange a look. They have no idea what he is talking about, but if they know themselves at all, they were definitely the ones responsible for the incident.

"Here, have a drink." Sylvie offers him a coffee mug filled with whiskey on the rocks. When Thor reaches for it, she covers his hand with hers.

Loki feels that ever familiar feeling that he has felt anytime something he wanted has gone to Thor instead. It's not like Sylvie is his actual wife, and he has any right to be jealous. But the mere sight of Sylvie's hand covering Thor's is a source of extreme irritation for him. "What are you doing?"

Sylvie places the finger of her free hand on her lips, asking him to be quiet. She returns her attention to Thor. There's a flash of green, travelling from her hand, to Thor's, and rising up his arm, to his heart. "Oh, the gun. That was something. Remember the day we met?"

Loki finally realizes what is happening. "Are you enchanting my brother?" He whispers.

Sylvie rolls her eyes, whispering back at him. "Obviously."

"You can't enchant my brother!" He hisses. "He's my brother!"

"And you've done worse to him." She points out. "We need to know what he knows."

Loki sighs, finally giving in semi-reluctantly.

"You know how we met." Thor answers, confused, and oblivious to the conversation between his brother and his wife.

"I know. But let's reminisce." Sylvie keeps her tone calm and cheerful. "Tell me about the good old times."

"It wasn't good." Thor reminds her. "You broke Jane's telescope."

"Right. Good ol' Jane." She fakes a laugh, before turning to Loki. "Jane?"

"The human he's dating." He supplies.

"Human?"

He gives her a sad nod.

"And what is my name, my full name?"

"Sylvie Lushton, from Broxton, Oklahoma. You took my brother's name only to escape the internet fame under yours. Clever." It is clear from the way he speaks that he thinks highly of her.

Loki and Sylvie exchange another look. A few days back, this is when he would have asked about Mjojonir, what the deal is with him apparently being able to wield it. But now, he can think of only one thing, because there is only one thing that actually matters. "Ask him about my parents."

"And your parents? Where are they now?"

"At New Asgard, of course." Thor tells her like it's obvious. "The same place they were the last time you visited."

Sylvie lets go of his hands abruptly. The thought that she probably has a set of parents at Oklahoma, and a version of Odin and Frigga at New Asgard is too overwhelming. She leans back against the sofa, trying to catch her breath.

Thor blinks, trying to adjust to the fact that he is back at Sylvie and Loki's living room instead of his bed chamber at Asgard. "Did you just-?" Realizing what happened, he stares at Sylvie in shock. "All the years, and you have never once tried to enchant me, not even when Loki begged you. You have always been a loyal friend to me." His voice grows resolute, like that of a man on a mission. "Tell me this instant what is going on with you two. I demand answers."

"I'm sorry." Sylvie tells him sincerely. She knows now that this man is not the one responsible for the illusion. His memories are real, at least to him. He is not a danger to them

Loki smiles sadly. "You wouldn't believe us even if we told you."

Thor crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back against the cushions, making it clear that he is not going anywhere until he is satisfied. "I travel through space with a talking racoon and a grunting hormonal tree. Try me."

"Okay. We are from a different reality. Two different realities actually." Loki begins his Loki lesson. "I was supposed to be immortalized in the hearts of Asgardians after meeting a heroic end in glorious battle with Thanos. Sylvie was taken from Asgard when she was merely a child. There is this evil organization called the TVA. Time variance authority. We weren't supposed to exist, yet we existed. So these pathetic, low-life bureaucrats arrested us. We were trying to find the man in charge. We were so close. Then we found ourselves here abruptly."

Thor just stares at them, utterly confused.

"You're rubbish at this." Sylvie comments, before taking over the storytelling duty. "Loki and I are not who you think we are. We are from a different reality. Your memories are not real to us. They never happened to us. I have never met you. And we are most definitely not married."

"Ouch." Loki places a heart over his chest to express his hurt. Sylvie grins at him.

Thor tries his best to process this wild tale. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that my brother, my only brother-"

"Adopted." Loki interrupts with the quip. He can't stop himself.

"- My annoying brother", Thor continues, "is supposed to be dead? And you? You're from Asgard?"

"I'm him, actually." Sylve explains. "Well, not him, another version of him, the superior one. I'm Sylvie Laufeydottir." She half smiles at Thor.

Thor stares at Sylvie, then at Loki, then back at Sylvie again. "Are you sure you're not under the influence of any narcotics?"

"Yes!" Loki reaffirms, more exasperated by the minute.

"Are you sure I'm not under the influence of any narcotics?" Thor wonders.

"Not really." Loki admits.

"But I assure you, what we are saying is the truth." Sylvie looks him in the eyes, hoping he can see the honesty in hers. "This life, this house, we have only known it for a day."

Thor is quiet for a long while. When he speaks again, his voice is more sympathetic, and less skeptical. "Would you like to know more? About your past, I mean? The one I know?"

"Of course." Sylvie answers immediately. Part of it is to gather information so that they can decide how to get out.

There's another part of her that really wants to know what a happy life looks like for her. She can't resist the temptation to sneak a peak down the rabbit hole.

Thor takes a sip from the mug. The ice has melted by now, but the drink is cold enough. Taking in a deep breath, he begins. "I met you six years back at London. You were filming something for YouTube, and you accidentally broke Jane's telescope. You were gracious enough to offer to buy her a new one. But she wanted nothing to do with you." He adds, as an afterthought, to lessen the blow. "It's nothing personal, Jane just doesn't really like influencers. You gave me your number, in case she changed her mind."

"A while later, Loki stole my jacket. Well, borrowed, in his words, but I haven't seen it since that day, so you be the judge. Where is it, by the way?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Isn't it clear that I do not know?"

"Right." Thor nods. All of this is still bizzare to him, but he's willing to be open to the possibility. "Anyways, Loki found the little card with your number in the pocket, and he called you up. You hung up on him within a minute. That's your version of the story, anyway. Loki swears you talked to him before you hung up."

"And then my brother, ever so proud of himself, took that personally. He called you back to tell you off." He puts on his best Loki imitation. "I'm Loki, the prince of Asgard, the God of mischief, and you must treat me with respect, or I will use my hairgel to slick your hair back too. Bla bla bla." He grins when he notices Loki glaring at him, and his grin grows wider at the next part. He looks at Sylvie with a smile that conveys how proud he is of her. "You hung up on him again."

"He Googled you up and showed up at your doorstep the next week, ready to turn your clothes into snakes and show you your place. But the moment you opened the door, my brother was putty in your hands. Seriously, he wouldn't shut up about you for weeks."

"Instead of snakes, he gave you flowers. He serenaded you, actually. What was the song, brother? When she sleeps- no, wait." Thor hums the tune, trying to remember the words. "That's it! When she sings, she sings come home." He laughs, like he always does when he imagines Loki acting like a lovestruck fool. "I can't believe you didn't get a restraining order on him. He kept sending you flowers every day. Until you finally decided to go out with him. You guys hit it off right away. Your parents liked him. I don't know why." This earns him another glare from Loki and results in another grin. "Our parents liked you. It was all surprisingly easy."

"Loki proposed during the Convergence. He was so nervous about it. It was fun to watch him squirm."

"You had a June wedding. You moved here after a few months. And you've been happily married since."

It's almost impossible for either of them to imagine a world where they have sworn to spend eternity with another person.

But it's not impossible at all, not anymore, not when they have found each other. Sylvie tries not to dwell on this for long.

Another thought occupies her instead. If she is not an Asgardian princess in this reality... "How do I have my powers?"

Thor shrugs. "How does anyone have their powers? How do the Avengers have their powers?"

They still do not know who did this, but now they have an idea about what was done to them.

If he's being honest with himself, a reality where he and Sylvie both exist together, where his parents are alive, and Thor doesn't hate him, is not the worst thing in the world. It is almost like a scene from his dreams, depicting his heart's desires.

"Thank you." Sylvie sincerely tells Thor. "Now we need to find a way out."