#there's no vessel now; just a lifeless body that housed sleep once and never will again

[ancientbygone]

i didn’t do it, i didn’t do it for love; what did i do it for?

[sequel piece to kill the sparrow]

[yannadere]

daryl dixon, shane walsh and glenn rhee (separate) reacting to their s/o getting bit

cw: loss, depression, unhealthy coping, suicide, angst, hurt/comfort

Daryl Dixon:

you're scared to tell him

he's lost so much even before the apocalypse, you don't want to hurt him

trying to distance yourself from daryl doesn't work at all

he just gets worried, which comes across as him being angry, and he clings to you

poor bby has abandonment issues

it's a few days after you get bit when you finally tell him, you already feel your health deteriorating but you hold up for him

you tell him when he's getting ready to settle for the night

bc evenings with you are when he's the most calm

"hey, daryl?" you mumble, and he hums softly, eyes still closed. "hey, look at me. i have to tell you something." you sigh, nudging his arm with your uninjured hand. "what?" he groans, finally looking at you. "i.. my hand isn't just cut, daryl..." you sigh, unraveling the bandages. "what'dya mean?" daryl's brows furrow, eyes falling onto the bandages as they fall.

his blood goes cold, and he sits up suddenly and grabs your wrist to observe the nasty bite on the side of your hand, between your thumb and forefinger. "damn it, why didn't you tell me?!" he snaps, stopping to take a breath as you flinch back slightly. "c'mere..." he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm so sorry..." you whisper clutching his shirt tightly. "sh, it's okay... i... when you go, i'll be here."

"daryl... you shouldn't have to do that..." you close your eyes, tears slowly falling. "nah. it's fine. i... i wanna do it. i don't trust anyone else to. not even you." he holds you tighter, kissing your neck gently.

"i'm so sorry, daryl... i was being stupid, i-" he silences you, moving away and pressing his forehead against yours. "don't blame yourself. i knew something like this would happen eventually... i put merle down, had a feeling either of us would go next." he gently cups your face with his hands, wiping your cheeks and nuzzling his nose against yours affectionately.

"i don't want to put you through this, daryl." you cry, going to leave when he pulls you back. "don't leave... please don't leave..." daryl begs, pulling you back to him and letting your body fall limp against his. you let out a small sob, wrapping your arms around his middle as your head rests on his shoulder, tears dampening his shirt.

"it'll be okay. i'll take care of it. for now, get some rest. i'll be here when you wake up." he kisses your cheek, waiting for you to calm down. you sniffle, holding him tightly. "i'm so sorry..!" you repeat the words over and over, and he closes his eyes, trying not to cry himself.

"shh... please... don't be sorry." his voice wavers and he hates it. "just sleep, darlin'... i'm right here." you whimper before falling quiet, resting your hand on his jaw and nuzzling into his neck. "i love you, okay..? i didn't want it to be this way." you breathe out, letting him lean onto you slightly. "i know. i know. just sleep for me, darling." he sniffles, cradling you close as you fall asleep slowly, knowing it would be the last time.

you fall asleep in his arms, but he can't bring himself to harm you

so, he tells rick, who's also upset upon the news

however his best friend's distress makes it even worse

so, rick does it for him as the others try to comfort daryl

after your death, he becomes reckless and depressed, not eating or drinking at all and becoming skinny and malnourished

he shoots openly at walkers, and when his ammo's out he takes out his anger on other walkers in other ways

whether it's stabbing them, bludgeoning them, or just hitting their bodies after they fall.

rick decides to put him under close watch to ensure he doesn't harm himself

but daryl's rather experienced in sneaking out/away, and he visits your grave often

unfortunately one morning, rick finds him at your grave with a bullet in his head

he's buried next to you, as rick knows it's what daryl craved

to be with you again.

Shane Walsh:

you got bit on the way back from gathering medical supplies for carl

and with shane you knew there was no way he would take well at any time of the day

so you decide to rip the bandaid off and talk to him an hour after your own little grieving session.

you approach him when he's talking to the small group, asking him for a private talk, saying it's important

so, of course, he's worried, as are the group

you take him behind the barn and hug him

he's genuinely confused as to why you're acting like this

deadass asks you if you're expecting or smth

you hate to break his heart

"so why did you bring me back here?" shane asks, crossing his arms and cocking a hip. "shane... i'm sorry." you sigh, pulling the collar of your shirt to reveal the bloody bite on your shoulder.

he's speechless, blinking a few times before almost collapsing. you yelp, catching your boyfriend quickly, but fall under his weight. on the floor behind the barn, shane closes his eyes, crying as he holds you tight. "shane... don't cry. it's okay..." you try your best to smile, cupping his face and wiping his tears.

"this isn't okay..! baby, you're not okay!" he sobs, cupping the back of your head and pulling you closer. "shane- baby, stop crying... it's okay." you sniffle, smiling through your own tears as you kiss his jaw lovingly

shane tries to gather himself, but his whole world feels like it's collapsing. "shh, shh... c'mon, let's get you some water." you grab his hands, trying to pull him up. slowly easing him onto his feet, you help shane back to the house. rick spots you two immediately, stumbling to help you both. "shane-?"

"rick..!" shane is clearly distraught, and his best friend latches onto him quickly to try and calm him down. "shshsh- hey, look at me." rick soothes, and you stand back slightly, trying to calm your nerves. "what happened?" rick demands, eyes steeling as he stares at you. "rick- it's not-" you try to explain what happened, when shane answers for you. "they got bit! my baby got bit..!" shane sobs, knees feeling weak as he almost collapses again.

rick processes the information, looking at you in shock. lori overhears, muttering a fast "oh my god..!" as she approaches the three of you. "how did this happen?!" rick asks, trying to support shane fully. "i was in a rush, i got grabbed and..." you trail off, moving over to comfort shane who can't calm down at all.

"he needs to sit down..." you say softly, glancing at hershel who was observing from his porch. "come, sit him down inside. i'll get him some water." hershel guides you and you help shane in with the aid of rick. flopping down onto a couch, shane can't seem to catch his breath, so you crouch in front of him to cup his face, whispering comforting words to him. "baby... i'm so sorry, it should of been me..!" shane cries, and you hush him quickly. "don't you dare say that, shane walsh." you scold, pulling him into a tight hug.

"never blame yourself for my death. i wouldn't rest easy if you did." you sigh, smoothing his hair and kissing his temple. rick stands anxiously nearby, and you sense his worry. "sit, rick. relax... i've got this." you nod at him, and he nods stiffly, taking a seat of his own when lori pipes up. "when do you think you'll turn?" she asks, and you freeze. "lori-!" "i'm just thinking ahead, rick!"

shane becomes more distraught by her words, clinging onto you tightly. "shh, it's okay... i'm here, bubs." you sigh, cradling him impossibly closer. "the hell's goin' on?" maggie asks, confused as ever. "not now, please..." rick sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "right..." she mumbles, leaving as hershel comes back with some water. "here, drink some of this, son." he nods, giving the glass to you so shane could take it.

after taking a few sips, shane goes back to codding you, slowly winding down. "there you go, just breathe." you smile, kissing him gently. "i'm sorry i couldn't protect you..!" shane hiccups, nuzzling your neck. "shh. don't say that..!" you sigh, holding him tighter. your boyfriend whines softly, and rick closes his eyes with a pained sigh.

you last a few more days before turning, spending your time slowly becoming more sick with shane next to you all the while.

when you turn, shane is devastated, holding your head as you stare up at him with discoloured eyes

he ignores how you try to bite him after a few minutes of your brain losing all memory of him, and his tears drip down onto your face

rick walks in, and sighs. he knew it would happen eventually... everyone did.

shane holds you for a few minutes. you were slowly gaining strength but he was always stronger.

the room is silent except for you little noises, and shane finally accepts this fate when rick puts a hand on his shoulder.

"let me do it..." his best friend gruffly says, and shane shakes his head. "leave 'em be, rick... just for a little while longer..." shane begs, and rick sighs, looking away briefly.

"you know i can't do that. if you or anyone get bit-" "rick, i am asking you nicely. leave."

he spends a few days with you in walker form, and it scares everyone. lori tries to convince him that you're not there anymore, a hollow vessel of what you once were but he wont buy it.

he loves you too much to believe anything like that, or hurt you. to him, you're still his darling, his everything who held him when times got tough.

you scratch at his arms, not even breaking skin due to your blunt nails, and he doesn't mind.

finally, with a few kisses around your pale, sunken face, and a final kiss to your lips that he forced closed- shane raises his gun.

he hesitates, letting you get the jump on him, but he grabs your jaw before you can do anything

the sudden commotion makes rick fly in, only to see you lifeless once more in shane's arms.

Glenn Rhee:

unlike the other two, he watches you get bit.

he's completely distraught as the rest of the group fight off the walkers whilst he makes his way to you

he rams the zombie with all his strength, knocking it down before shooting it

you've collapsed, sat back against the car door as blood seeps from your cheek, whimpering in pain and holding the gash with your blood-soaked hands.

he's crying before he knows it, dropping down next to you and carefully covering your cheek with his shaky hands.

he tries to reassure you, and himself, that you'll be fine and won't get infected,

but the sad look in your eyes confirm that you're not making it to the date he wanted to take you on tomorrow

as you slowly bleed out, he tries to tell you stories, to keep himself calm as you slowly die.

"hey, remember when..?" you're not paying attention, just admiring him as you move your hands to cup his face.

"i love you.." you croak with a small smile, and he smiles sadly, sobbing all the while.

the others have to watch, all waiting for the inevitable

"please don't leave me... please, i need you." glenn pleads, and you smile sadly.

he's pressing kisses to your forehead as you hold him close, your blood staining his hands, arms and shirt

"baby...?" glenn mumbles softly, sitting with you leant against him. "i'm still here, darling..." you whisper, gripping his shirt tightly. "i'm gonna miss you..." glenn sniffles, kissing the top of your head gently. "me too. i'll always be with you, okay. when i go, i don't want you to be sad. i want you to keep going, to find happiness again, even if it means finding love in another. i want the best for you." you smile, despite the ache in your cheek.

glenn breathes out as his eyes close, his tears still falling. "i could never replace you like that..." he whimpers, fingers curling into your hair as he holds you closer. "baby, don't cry... don't cry, because i'll cry." you try to laugh, and glenn laughs too, gently rubbing your uninjured cheek.

"glenn, we've got to, y'know..." rosita sighs, but glenn shakes his head. "no! we don't kill the living..!" glenn protests, his hold turning protective. "right, right... okay." she fakes surrender, walking away.

when you pass, glenn just knows. he doesn't even look at you. he can't bring himself to.

however, when you turn, he doesn't even bother to restrain you, just holding you close as you bite into his neck.

abraham shouts in alarm, shooting you instantly, and glenn cries as you fall, cupping your face and leaning down to press his forehead against you.

the group is distraught, but glenn just lets everything happen, telling them to leave him be, move on.

abraham gives him a spare pistol, and glenn takes it with a nod.

the group leaves, and glenn knows what he has to do. so, he opens the car door, slipping you into the car easily

he gets in himself, closing the door so walkers wouldn't chew on you or him.

alas, glenn admires the gun before pressing it to his chin.

[bokutosworld]

in the stars | m. atsumu

character/pairing: single parent/dad atsumu with son

wc: 1.5k words, angst, longing for loved one. warning/s: slight mention of death.

summary: in which atsumu helps his only son find comfort in the stars where he believes your soul lives on.

--

in the dead of the night, atsumu awoke with tears streaming down his face. confused and startled, he shakily brings a hand to wipe his cheeks. just when he was finally getting peace on his evenings, the nightmares that plagued his days and disturbed his slumbers has returned to haunt him.

he scrambles to get the blanket off of his body, standing up and slipping on his fuzzy slippers. he remains seated on the side of the bed, a hand clutches his chest as he feels his heart being twisted and burning with pain - a sensation which he hasn't felt in a long time.

the clock on his bedside table reads 1:15 am and he tries to catch his breath. when he woke up, he felt as if he has been running a marathon, sprinting to get to the finish line. but in his case, wouldn't it more accurate to say that he has been running away from agony? he reaches for the glass of water that he usually places in his table, only to find it empty.

after what seemed like an eternity sitting in darkness, he gets up and walks toward the door. he turns the knob carefully, as if he would wake someone up if he makes even the slightest of noise. the first step he takes in the hallway is silent. with cautious footsteps, he stalks quietly towards the kitchen to refill his drink.

atsumu places the glass on the counter and picks up a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. he figures a cold drink would be enough to wake his senses up and pull him from his perturbed state. a drink became two until he felt relieved once again. he washes the glass on the sink and places it carefully on the racks to dry.

he retreats back to his room to try to return to sleep. however, he stops his tracks in the carpeted floor of the living room, catching sight of a silhouette at the balcony. the sliding door has been opened, the curtains were being swept away by the winter winds, and the faint moonlight reveals the only family he has left.

'takeru, what are you doing here,' the said boy jumps in surprise at the voice of his father. he shyly looks up at him then brings his gaze back at the skies. atsumu takes note of the way his son shivers at the harsh cold and takes off his sweater to cover him. 'have you been awake for long?'

the boy nods, tugging the sweater closer to his body for warmth. 'i dreamt of mama,' takeru confesses. suddenly, atsumu feels chills go up his body, rendering him frozen in his place as he listens to his five year-old son. 'we were in our vacation house with uncle osamu's family and mama was happy. papa was in my dream too, then,' takeru stops midway his story. he turns to atsumu, stretching his arms to reach his waist.

atsumu goes down on his knees, bringing takeru to a hug and comforting him in the best way he can. 'shh, takeru, it's okay, i'm here. you don't have to tell me your dream if you can't,' he feels the child shaking his head. his tiny fists grips his father's shirt, and atsumu feels his clothing turn wet with tears. 'no, no, buddy, don't cry.'

but his voice betrays him, almost choking on his own tears that are threatening to spill from his eyes. his mind wanders to what his wife would do in these moments. you were always the perceptive one, you knew how to brighten up the mood in the room, you understood emotions better than anyone. it always left atsumu speechless whenever you would work your magic and comfort people's dampened spirits.

it was one of the things he loved about you. atsumu believes that his marriage with you was the best thing to happen in his life. you were the greatest gift given by the gods above, every day spent with you felt like he was in heaven - as if he had his own paradise and you were his angel.

and when you got pregnant with takeru, atsumu was lifted up in cloud nine. the birth of his son was a momentous event, but truth be told, he was scared. he thought he could not perform his duties as a father, given his busy schedules and jet-setter lifestyle due to volleyball. but you assured him that you would never leave his side. it was you who gave him the confidence that he would be the best dad to takeru, and he believed that with all his heart.

he never imagined the day would come when you would no longer be by his side. the first time he heard of the tragic news, he felt the world around him lose its brightness, the colors disappeared and everything he saw was grey. to say he was heartbroken was an understatement, you were his light, and without you, he felt his life held no more meaning and purpose. he closed himself off from his friends and family, even his own son - leaving the boy to osamu's care.

for weeks, he seemed as though his soul has been sucked from him, leaving him to be a lifeless, empty vessel. but one day, he was brought to life by the tender touch and the soft whimpers of takeru. the child has crawled his way to atsumu's lap and in that moment, he broke down.

looking at takeru brought him pain and comfort. the little boy resembled his mama so much that it only hurt atsumu as it reminded him of the person he had lost. but he also came to the realization that takeru was the only person you have left behind. the little boy had no else but him to rely on, and since that day, atsumu swore to pick himself up. remembering your words, he swore to live for his son's sake, and even though he was sure he could not fill the gap your absence have left, he promised that he would become the best parent for takeru.

'i miss her too,' he hears the boy's sniffles subside. 'mama also visited me in my dreams tonight. she was telling me that you have become a big boy now,' atsumu smiles as he says these words, not knowing where they were coming from. the child lifts his head and looks at his papa, 'did you tell her that i miss her?'

atsumu's heart breaks at the thought that takeru was waking up each day, searching for you and yearning for your presence. he brings the boy to his arms, carrying him with ease as they stand to look at the clouds. he presses a kiss to takeru's temple, 'mama knows you miss her, every day. she also wants me to tell you that she is always looking over you from afar.'

the boy is puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing and atsumu remembers the way you would also do the same action whenever you confused. takeru was truly a mama's boy, he thought. 'what do you mean, papa?'

he grins and extends an arm to the skies, 'raise your head, takeru. the stars look lovely tonight, don't they?' the child excitedly nods, and atsumu remembers the moments he would go stargazing with his wife.

'hey, tsum-tsum. did you know that when a star dies, it releases all of its light and sends it out in the darkness,' you circle your arms exaggeratedly to make your point. 'and there it shines for a very long time.' you peek at atsumu who was lying down the grass by your side. he laughs at your antics, pulling you down to his chest. you can hear the erratic beating of his heart.

'you do love your astronomy, don't you?' atsumu says, amazed at your wide knowledge of the universe, the moon, and everything beyond. you chuckle, 'of course! it's always phenomenal to know that there's something greater than us and somehow, it puts me at ease, knowing that we're all under the same vast sky, staring at the same celestial bodies. it makes me feel connected with you even when we're apart.'

it was under those stars and skies that atsumu proposed to you. it was under those stars and skies that your smile shone the brightest and atsumu likened it to the twinkling of the stars on that special night. 'i'm so lucky to have the brightest star by my side,' atsumu declared before sealing your engagement with a kiss under the moonlight.

'look for the star that's shining the brightest tonight,' atsumu guides his son to locate your star. a few minutes and takeru finally spots it, 'over there, papa! it's round and white and sparkling.' he laughs at his son's vivid description.

'that's mama's star, takeru. she's watching over us from above and no matter where you look at, you can find her dazzling in the skies, as if calling out to you and telling you that she will never leave your side,' atsumu comforts his son who visibly relaxes and smiles at the thought. 'so whenever you miss mama, just look up and her star will be there.'

atsumu knows this because, for as long as he can remember, the skies has been the source of his solace and whenever he looks up, he feels your love radiating from the stars.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter 2 Inukag angst

The surgery lasted for five nerve wracking hours, all the while the distress in the group building. They were kept semi-up-to-date by a nurse that the surgeons were struggling to control the bleeding in Kagome’s brain. When it was finally over, the primary surgeon brought the family into a separate room where he showed them scans to help in explaining the situation. It was the first time they learned the air bags had not deployed, and even though Kagome was wearing her seat belt, her head is believed to have struck the steering wheel, and the driver’s side window as she was jostled.

“We went in and repaired as many of the damaged blood vessels as we could, but as you can see here in this CT scan, there was some anoxia, erm, loss of oxygen to the cells, and the damage had reached the hippocampus. If you picture being shaken with a lot of force, the brain was essentially whiplashed. The good news is, the internal injuries are not as severe as it could have been and are localized to only one side, but the bad news is where the injured areas are.”

“Why is that?” Inuyasha questioned.

“The hippocampus is an important part of the brain for regulating the limbic system... when Ms. Higurashi wakes up, chances are high that she’ll develop what’s called retrograde amnesia. If her body heals well enough, it will only be temporary, which I believe will be the case. However, there is also the small chance her memory loss could become permanent.”

“Wait, so Kagome won’t remember anything?!” Panic-laced with Inuyasha's tone.

“Not exactly, and again, the memory system is very complex. We don’t know all the answers. But generally, people will remember long term memories, such as their childhood. She just may not remember the last few years of her life.”

“And if it’s temporary? When would her memories come back?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

“Generally, if her healing goes well, most recover in about 6-9 months with therapy.”

“Oh... no...” Inuyasha crumpled and fell to his knees, hands flying up to cradle his head in the realization— Kagome may not remember him, and along with her last words of hatred and tears as the only thing he had to hold on to... “No, no, no, t-this can’t be happening.” His heart started beating wildly in his chest and a sharp imagined pain dug into his temple as tears poured down his cheeks. “Kagome...” he whimpered. Inuyasha would do anything in to change what had happened. She didn’t deserve any of this!

Mrs. Higurashi too, kneeled beside the inconsolable man and hugged him. “We just have to hold out hope, Inuyasha, this is just temporary. I’m sure it’ll all work out, Kagome’s strong, so have faith in her.”

“I’m very sorry I don’t have better news,” the doctor apologized and gestured to the nurse who’d just arrived. “They’re moving her to intensive care now. The nurse will take you to the room.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Mrs. higurashi then turned her attention to Inuyasha. “Can you stand up dear? We should follow the nurse.”

He nodded quietly and staggered to his feet despite all the strength having left his body. Inuyasha always had an appreciation for Mrs. Higurashi, but it was in this moment he understood just how strong she truly was. Kagome’s mother survived losing her husband to an accident when the kids were little and now her own daughter was unconscious in a hospital. Yet here she was holding it together and comforting the man who’d played a role in it. Inuyasha allowed her to guide him by the hand like the scared child he’d become. She was for all purposes like a second mother to him, and he was grateful to have her in his life.

But the second they crossed the threshold of the sterile room, what little strength Inuyasha didn’t have left, dissolved at the sight of Kagome surrounded by the machines keeping her alive. He stared silently as the nurse explained further. A medically induced coma... breathing and feeding tube, catheter, blood transfusions... left distal wrist fracture, broken rib, punctured lung and chest contusions, cracked left eye socket... his mind zoned away from the woman’s static words, instead affixed to the visual’s confronting the group. The love of his life as if asleep, but with all those wires, and tubes, beeping machines, and face bandaged showing only a small portion of her right side was a real life horror movie scene. His eyes tracked the peaks and valleys of the heart monitor or piston-motion of the breathing apparatus beside the bed as of it tracked not Kagome’s vitals but his own life and the one, he had with her. Yes, there’s always the hope she’ll heal and bounce right back. Her mom was right, Kagome was strong, and Inuyasha loved that about her, but... humans are still such fragile creatures.

Inuyasha walked over to the side of the bed and gazed down through glassy eyes. “I already bought a ring...” he mumbled through the tears, “was just waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. I should’ve just... listened to her...” Inuyasha collapsed beside the bed with his head hung low and ears so flattened they were barely visible through his white hair. “I can’t even imagine not having her at my side.”

Miroku stepped forward and placed a hand on his friends shoulder. “Why don’t you let us take you home for now? There’s nothing you can do, and I’m sure Kagome would say you should get some rest.”

“I’ll stay tonight,” Mrs Higurashi added. “You should listen to your friend and get some rest.”

Inuyasha was just too exhausted to argue. He hugged Mrs. Higurashi and told her he’d be back the next day. Then he handed Miroku his car keys, while Sango would follow in their car. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be getting any sleep, but they were right. It wouldn’t do Kagome any good if he didn’t take care of himself too. The car ride was silent for the first half of the journey, but eventually Miroku started asking him more about what really triggered the fight. Inuyasha had already explained the reason earlier, so it was annoying to be grilled all over it again.

“But do you understand now?” Miroku pushed his friend. “Do you truly, and I mean truly understand why she was angry? Even I’ve seen your ex being rude to Kagome and you didn’t say anything about it.”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha growled back. “I get it. I was being a dick this whole time. But I can’t go back and change it now, so what’s the point of torturing me about it?!”

“Because you can still fix this moving forward. Look, I’m just trying to help you here, so cut the attitude. None of us are perfect—.”

“I’ll say, you womanizer,” Inuyasha rumbled under his breath.

“Exactly, but I changed once I met Sango, did I not, because that’s what you do when you love them. So, do you know what you need to do?”

“Yeah...” the hanyo sighed and slumped in the seat. “I gotta cut Kikyo off, just tell her we can’t be friends anymore.”

Miroku quirked an eyebrow based on the lackluster tone in Inuyasha’s voice. “Do you really mean it, cause it sure as hell don’t sound like it.”

“Look, man I’m fucking tired! I’ve got a lot on my mind! But I fucking mean it, okay?! If I have to choose between Kagome and Kikyo, I pick Kagome!”

Miroku parked the car and turned to his friend. “I’m glad to hear that. Now just follow through and don’t let Kikyo pull you back in.”

“You make her sound like a sorcerer or something.”

“The way she’s had you wrapped around her finger, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

The three friends bid each other good night leaving Inuyasha alone again in the empty house, and as he expected, he didn’t really sleep at all that night at home. He couldn’t even bear to sleep in the empty bed because it was a constant reminder of Kagome’s absence. How was he supposed to endure months of this, and that’s if the doctors predictions are correct? So, as he curled up on the couch, just staring out into the dark room, Inuyasha did the only thing he could do. Think. Without Kagome to elaborate, it fell onto his shoulders to fully come to grips with what triggered this event. Inuyasha meant what he’d said to Miroku about his choice, but it was a small lie about understanding her anger. He could grasp her frustration, but not the degree to which she’d snapped. Was it really that bad, and if so, how did he not realize it sooner? Needless to say, his haunted dreams that night left him stricken and tired come morning.

The house just felt so much colder without Kagome there, as if all the warmth and vitality left with her on that stormy, dreary night. Even after the first night, Inuyasha couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed all alone and stuck with the couch instead. Nothing made him feel better, despite the efforts of his friends and family who supported him as much as they could. Each day that passed by became a hollow routine. Go to work during the day, spend his evening at Kagome’s side, and home again to an empty house. He would sit there holding her hand, praying for just the smallest change that never came all the while nothing but his thoughts and the beeping machines to remind him he was alive. Because the longer this went on for, each time he’d look at her, it brought the opposite feeling of life. It was all in his head, but that’s what he felt like, dead inside, with the source of his soul lying in the bed in front of him.

Inuyasha never believed in the gods, but he prayed with all his heart they’ll hear his pleas. He squeezed Kagome’s lifeless hand. “She deserves to live, please, I’ll do anything,” his voice cracked, “anything to bring her back to us...”

[soukokuwu]

Sushi.. sushi.. What if.. hear me out. An organization or something finds out Chooya has an S/O and targets them. Threatens to kill them, you could make it that they kill them. I dunno— You have so much fluff requests and I just wanna.. allow you to make some angst and break my fragile heart.

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➥ angst [chuuya x reader]

➥ warning/s: death

➥ word count: 2.5k

➥ summary: the things that make chuuya human.

➥ notes: seven! i made this a full fic too if you don’t mind and and i hope this can make you sad 😔✊🏼

Life is a series of moments.

Meeting you was arguably the best moment of Chuuya’s life. Being with you was probably the best decision he’s ever made. Every moment with you was fleeting, but precious.

Being a Port Mafia executive didn’t allow for a lot of free time, especially not for someone as formidable as Nakahara Chuuya. Most days he is worked to the bone, and he can’t seem to refuse orders no matter how much you nagged at him to take care of himself.

You never once made him feel bad about it though. No matter how many times he’s showed up late to meet you, or how many times he’s had to cancel dates. Even when he had to celebrate your birthday late because something urgent came up that Mori absolutely needed him to handle that night.

Chuuya always made up for it. Always surprising you with his sweetness, although you’ve never expected him to do anything for you. The mafia was very important to him, and you knew that. You accepted that, why would you have agreed to be with him otherwise? You understood very well that it meant busy schedules and danger, but you loved him more than you would ever allow yourself to be petty or scared of his enemies.

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Life is a series of moments; some more fleeting than others.

Chuuya remembered all of them. Some were small yet important moments.

The first moment he saw you walk into the cafe. All he had wanted was to spend lunch alone, away from headquarters, away from all the headache. You were a soothe to his migraines, something he had not bargained for. Thank god the cafe was packed and he was the nearest to you; you wouldn’t have sat with him otherwise.

The first moment your hands brushed against each other on the first date; it was a simple movie date. The cliché hands brushing against each other on the armrest kind of thing. Where he would usually gag upon thinking of such things, when he replayed it in his head with you as the subject, he’d always smile at the memory.

The first moment your lips found each other, the way your tongues danced in harmony with the taste of wine still lingering in each other’s tongues. How could he ever forget? It was the first time his heart pounded so loudly he felt it might jump out of his chest. That was when he asked you to be his girlfriend. And you gave him the answer he prayed for.

The first moment you slept over and it was filled with innocent intimacy— Chuuya’s chest pressed up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist and the scent of your hair permeating his senses. He remembered you chuckling as you told him to quit looking at you and sleep, and he remembered the way goosebumps formed on your skin as he whispered, low and raspy, into your ear a “goodnight, my princess.”

Then there were subtle moments that slowly spiralled into something bigger.

The first moment he visited your parents with you, and they had been so warm and welcoming. Had it not been for them, Chuuya would have never known ‘parental love’. They were people with such kind souls; they accepted him as an ability user, said that he was welcome anytime, even if you weren’t there with him. And he immediately knew where you got your kind nature from. They never expected anything more from him than the usual; to treat their daughter right. And damn right he would. When you had gone to the restroom they looked at him with such genuity as they said they’d be blessed if they ended up with such a sweet son-in-law like him.

The first moment you talked with him about the possibilities of having a family, expecting him to freak out but instead he agreed. He’d be honoured to have one with you. And you told him he’d have to come up with a heck of a proposal to lock you in forever. The both of you were aware of what a lie that was, though— you’ve had each other’s hearts since the first few dates, there was no way you’d say no.

But the moment he treasured the most? The life-changing moments.

The day he actually did propose, in a simple humble way— in front of the only people who mattered: you and your parents. He had asked for your parents’ permission to take your hand in marriage beforehand, and they easily agreed, welcoming him with open arms. He still remembered that being the first day your father called him ‘son’, and they had shared the warmest hug he’s ever felt from anyone other than you.

The moment you said ‘yes’ and the both of you had tears in your eyes. He had slipped the ring through your finger and got up from his knee, hugging his now-fiancée, your parents clapping in the background.

“I’ll protect you forever, my princess,” Chuuya vowed.

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But life-changing moments could mean both good and bad, and that day set the tone for the rest of Chuuya’s life, whether he liked it or not.

“Okay but promise you’ll be back later?” you had asked him, getting up to send him off at the door for yet another mission.

“I promise, my princess,” he replied, smiling at you and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. Chuuya noticed your wide grin and arched a brow. “What’re you so smiley about? Has all the wedding planning got to your head?”

You playfully punched him on the shoulder and looked around to make sure no one was near— the both of you had been at your parents’ house to ask them for opinions on the wedding. It was coming up in a month and everything was almost settled. Almost.

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about it yet, but I’ll leave it as a surprise when you get home later,” you teased, sticking out your tongue.

Chuuya let out a resigned sigh, ruffling your hair. “Fine, I’ll try to be back as fast as I can then,” he told you, giving you another kiss before he turned to go.

And he did make it back.

Just not in time.

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Please be okay, please be okay.

It replayed like a chant in his head as he continued to make a beeline to get to you. Flashes of your smile crossed his mind as he sped through the city on his bike, tears already streaming down his face. He prayed and prayed for your safety, although the rational part of him knew that it was useless. The only one who could do anything was him.

He should’ve caught on sooner. The enemies were buying time by drawling out the fight with him. They were angry at the Port Mafia— more specifically, with Chuuya— for killing their leader. And they wanted him to pay for it.

But they knew they weren’t going to get his head.

So they went for the next best thing: you.

Their earlier conversation replayed in Chuuya’s head, no matter how much he begged for it to stop.

“You’re the vessel of a god, of Arahabaki, aren’t you?” the new leader had taunted, unfazed by Chuuya’s presence. “You’ve never known fear, or danger, have you? To be weak, to be... human.”

“Get to the point, asshole.”

“I don’t really have one, except...” and he had grinned, the most triumphant grin he’s ever had. “I know your weakness.”

Chuuya had rolled his eyes. “Then come at me, if you dare,” the redhead had coolly replied, completely unperturbed. But the next sentence that had floated to his ears might as well have killed him.

“Oh, I’m not going to do shit to you, boy,” the leader had revealed. His grin had grown even wider. “Let me show you how human you can be.”

And he did.

The sight that greeted Chuuya when he got to your parents’ house he’d never forget. White mahogany door wide open, the lock broken, no lights on and the biggest kick to the guts? Even a few feet away from the house, he could see the blood spattered on the floor.

As he rushed into the house, it played in his mind over and over again — your smile, your laugh, the way you moved, the way you loved; all the moments you spent together, or even when you were apart and all he could think of was you. Now, he wasn’t even religious but he was praying to god that you were safe.

But life was harsh. It dashed his hopes in a matter of seconds. Because moments later, he had your lifeless body in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks and your blood getting on his face as he tried to kiss you awake.

“No, no, please come back to me, please wake up,” he mumbled, over and over, touching your bloody face and kissing your eyelids, hoping that they’d somehow open. “I haven’t made you my wife yet please get up, princess.”

But your body temperature said you’d been there for a few hours already. It was pointless.

The moment he gathered the courage to look around the room, he wished he didn’t. There, just a few feet away from you, at the edge of the living room, next to the kitchen counter, your parents lay beside each other, hands clasped together, bodies as lifeless as yours.

And as his eyes caught on to what you had been holding onto as you died, Chuuya’s heart fell.

It was your ‘surprise’ for him.

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Life is full of fleeting moments.

Life, in itself, could be fleeting.

A month later, he brought flowers for each of you. He’d been diligent this time, in visiting your graves everyday. You had no other close family members, so he’d had to settle everything. All of you were next to each other, and as he looked at your gravestones, an image of the four of you having your last meal together at your parents’ house flashed across his mind.

He stifled back the tears. No, not out here. Not again. Chuuya had already lost count of how many times he’s grieved for too long at the cemetery. Not today. No. Today was supposed to be your wedding. Yet here he was, standing on your grave.

Chuuya clenched his fist at the thought, and then remembered the flowers he brought. He brought one for each of you.

He placed a bouquet on your father’s grave. He had tied a note to it, saying ‘It would’ve been an honor to be your son, dad.’ Chuuya couldn’t hold his tears in any longer as he thought about the way he had so warmly welcomed Chuuya into the family. The way he called him ‘son’, how they’d just watch tv together in the living room while you and your mother would be preparing their favourite meal. He remembered your father whispering to him, “you know, I never thought I wanted a son, until I met you.” They had shared a hug after that. “You’re a good kid.”

Chuuya clenched his fist. If there was something he could hit he would. No. How could he be a good kid? His mere involvement with his daughter led to their entire family’s demise. How could he be good? How could he have ever deserved to be called ‘son’ by the man who gave him the kind of love he wished he always had?

The tears didn’t stop there, because they got even heavier as Chuuya turned to look at your mother’s grave. He placed another bouquet on her’s, the note tied there said ‘You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so glad your daughter took after you.’ Because it’s true. He’s heard of the sacrifices your mother’s made for the family. How she put everything she wanted aside for you and your father, so you could each live out your dream while she stayed put and became the mother and wife that you both needed. Chuuya never spent a lot of time alone with her, but he remembered your father telling him, “I’d die for her. I’d kill anyone who tried to come near her.”

You should’ve killed me, you should’ve turned me away. You shouldn’t have let me be with your daughter. It’s all my fault.

And as he walked over to your grave, he held two bouquets. No, he didn’t miscalculate. He put one down, to which the note said ‘If I could’ve done it all over again, I would’ve loved you right.’ Chuuya fell to his knees as he recalled everything about you; every memory he had with you. How close you two were coming to being blissful. It had been a month since that fateful night, and today was supposed to be the day of the wedding.

Slowly, he pulled a note out of his pocket and looked at your name carved in the headstone. “Hey princess,” he whispered, trying hard not to choke on his tears. “We, uh, never got to do this so let me read you mine, okay? But only if you promise not to laugh.”

And he laughs at how stupid he was being. He wished you could laugh, and tell him how silly it sounded. But you couldn’t. He still read it out loud for you anyway.

“Never in all my life, did I think I’d be so lucky as to be able to marry someone like you. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my lover, my home. I’ll follow you wherever you go, and I promise to support you in whatever you do. I’ve always wondered how you always seem to make me feel at home, and I found the answer in your parents.” Chuuya looked over to their graves, more tears threatening to spill out. “Mom, dad, I’m so glad I’m finally able to be a part of your family now when I’ve never had one. You have both taught me what it means to be a good parent,” and the redhead turns his attention back to your grave, softly calling your name. “I promise I’ll be the best husband, and I promise to put you... and our baby first.”

And then he placed down the other bouquet right next to yours. “How silly of me, vowing to put you both first but failing to protect either of you,” he choked out as he cried.

That night he lost everything. The only real parental figures he ever had, the love of his life, and the only one he could possibly love more than you.

He stared at the note on the last bouquet: ‘I wish you could’ve seen the world, I would’ve given you everything, my child.’

Chuuya lost what was, what is, and what could’ve been, all in one night. All solely because he existed.

He felt everything; grief, loss, terror. He’s dying on the inside. He’s never felt more human.

And he thinks he’ll never recover.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @sigmas-cursedcookies-writing

[bluecatstory]

The one that got away

Trigger Warning: depression, self-deprecation, suicide Everything was chaos after the Shibuya incident. Yuuji and Megumi went on hiding.

Yuuji woke up.

He had that dream again. Of a once-bustling area, incinerated in an instant. Of Nobara's bloodied face as she laid down on the floor. Of Nanamin's figure that burnt to ashes as he smiled at him for the last time. 

"It's all your fault." A gleeful voice whispered into his ear. The slit on his cheek opened into a gruesome mouth. 

"Next time, you should plan your death more precisely. Thanks to that, I got the chance to have some fun." 

Giggles turned into laughter - constant laughter that reminded him of that night. 

He slapped it with all of his force, pretending like the pain could drive that thing inside him away. 

Yuuji shuffled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He stared at the mirror. 

No longer was the vibrant teenager he'd always seen. Jaded eyes that no light seemed to shine on. Dark circles from weeks of sleepless nights. Such a stranger in the mirror.

He heard a creek out in the front door. Yuuji quickly turned off the faucet that kept running all this time. He skirted outside - to be greeted by a familiar face. 

"You are awake early."

The taller boy gave him a soft smile as he came over to hug Yuuji. Never before would he thought that Megumi would do this so openly and easily. But now, Yuuji was safely tucked in the other's embrace.

"I had a bad dream." 

Light brown eyes met dark blue ones. Megumi's lips opened, but no words were heard. He hugged Yuuji again, but this time tighter. 

"It's gonna be ok. Just… I'll make it work." He muttered to the brunette.

"Please stay here. I'll be back soon."

And as quickly as he appeared, Megumi left the apartment. Just for a brief moment, he thought his friend's eyes held a pained expression.  

---

Yuuji stared blankly into the moving screen. The TV was showing some lame action movie. But he didn't have the strength to process it right now. His mind kept rewinding past events. 

Yuuji wanted to hold Megumi back, but how could he? He could not let these blood-stained arms touch the one he loved again.

It was all his fault. He knew it. Megumi knew it. Gojo-sensei knew it. Heck, everyone knew. So why. Why was he alive? Why did Megumi save him again even when he saw what Yuuji had done?

Tears began to spill from his eyes. It hurt trying not to blink. 

"Oh, now you are crying again - such a tasteless vessel. I warned you already. All deaths will be on you." That abhorrent voice was roaring at him. 

Though as twisted as it may sound, Yuuji found himself agreeing to its taunt. All the people he wanted to save. All he wanted to have a fair death. All died from his hands. Were his actions all meaningless? Was he wrong to try to stay alive? Would it have been better if he had been dead?

He thought himself so strong, but in reality, he was just a weak human who was unfortunate to carry a world-killing threat and foolish enough to think he could take on the world and solve everything. So weak and useless. 

Yuuji remembered the angry screaming, the spiteful words those jujutsu sorcerers spat at him. He remembered the blood and tears his friends endured to get him away. He remembered the scared yet hateful eyes from the people. 

Maybe this time, he could plan his death more precisely. 

Maybe this would be the only time that he could muster up all of his courage. Yes. This time he would be strong.

Gone was the tear and determination glowed in his empty eyes. 

"This… is for everyone."

"I'm sorry, Megumi. Please live a long life."

---

Megumi's chest suddenly hurt. He did not want to leave his friend alone in the apartment. But things needed to be taken care of. People were hunting them, and he would never, ever let them touch his Yuuji. 

But something just irked him. He quickly ran back to their place. Everything was going to be ok. He consoled himself, but his legs kept speeding. 

Everything was dark when he got home. Everything was going to be fine, fine, fine. Megumi chanted in his head. He quickly swung open the door. 

No sign of Yuuji. 

Normally he would find his friend lying on the couch as the TV blasted out those B movies. Maybe Yuuji was sleeping in his room. He had trouble sleeping these days. Yeah, he was just sleeping, nothing wrong.

"Yuuji?" The teen softly called out to his friend. He moved further into the house. 

A scent of blood hit him. Panic suddenly took over the young jujutsu sorcerer as he rushed over to where the scent came from. 

No, no, NO. 

On the ground was Yuuji lying on a pool of dark fluid. Everything to Megumi became a standstill. The numbness had taken over the dark-haired boy, his eyes glassy as the stench of blood fully assaulted him. 

He reached out his hands and wiped the lingering tear on his friend's face. He looked almost peaceful. Peaceful, cold, and dead. It was not supposed to happen. He thought they could outrun everything, just the two of them against the world would be fine. Because he knew Yuuji was by his side. 

His eyes stung. And like a broken dam, streaks of tears rolled down his face. Megumi had not moved an inch, cradling Yuuji's lifeless body in his arms.  

He was too late.

[yukiwrites]

Byleth, Thinking of the Future

Thank you so much for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! I got a bit carried away with this one, heehee, I hope you like it!

Summary: Right after the shocking scene at the Holy Tomb, the students were overwhelmed with questions as they watched their beliefs shatter right in front of their eyes. Amidst the confusion and questions, Byleth approaches Edelgard to ask why she had been so secretive...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -  Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Byleth, Hanneman and Manuela herded the students back through the elevator, the atmosphere around them once of absolute shock, understandably so. Claude walked beside the young Professor, his expression serious.

“Hey, Teach, those things you said back there…”

“All true.” Byleth said in a low voice, looking back at the astonished Blue Lions as they made their way out of the large underground.

“I’ll need more than that, Teach, come on. Can we go to your room to talk?” The young man looked back to his lifeless classmates, “there’s too many people around to talk freely.”

Byleth simply shook his head slowly. “On the contrary. I want to talk to all of them -- all of you -- he looked straight to the heir of House Reagan, “at the same time. I can’t allow doubt to be sown right after the truth was revealed.”

“Okay, I understand that much, but you do know that that was a bold statement, right, Teach? Do you have any plans about what to do from now on with all this new knowledge? Lady Rhea was in a rough shape down there, so this is the future of the Church we’re talking about here.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Byleth looked away from the inquisitive young man.

“No, no, wait,” Claude let out a nervous smile, patting Byleth’s shoulder carefully. “You didn’t think this through at all did you, Teach?” He snorted, cold sweat rolling down his temple, “I don’t think you know the scale of the scandal you just brought up, man.”

“Believe me, Claude,” Byleth’s voice deepened an octave, making the young man’s hairs stand on end. “I know more than anyone the scale of the things I just said.”

However, it was true that Byleth didn’t have an immediate plan of how to tackle the matters of the Church for the moment -- he simply wished fervently for the truth to be known; for his friend’s suffering to be noticed and grieved instead of glorified that… he was at a loss for the moment.

He had Sothis’ memories, yes, but he was but a human with the consciousness of the Goddess -- his vessel couldn’t hold the almost infinite power the Fell Star had brought along with the records of her life. Meaning he might have had her memories and a faint intent of how she had been leading mankind alongside the Nabateans, but it wasn’t as though Byleth himself had the practical experience of it, so he had to actually think about the consequences of his actions.

He had answered Edelgard’s question about the future of the Church -- it had been a subject that was marinating inside his mind for quite a while as well, though he had never given it proper attention to the development of it to actually see it blossom. There needed to be a reform.

How could one start to dismantle the base of a belief that had been rooted in a nation for centuries? Would he start preaching about the misdeeds that had been perpetuated through generations of Archbishops that were most likely controlled by Rhea from the backstage? Would he be able to uphold such a task at all while still pursuing the true enemies he should be setting his eyes on?

He had promised Sothis he would hunt down the remnants of Those Who Slither in the Dark and he would do so until there was nothing left of them to grieve. But he was only one man. Could he lead the hunt and change the people’s hearts at the same time?

Claude’s single question had made Byleth doubt his entire resolve, to the point that the Professor felt Sothis’ absence even more keenly.

She would have been the one to scold him and bring this subject to light before anyone else. She would be there, pulling his ear inside their shared mindscape to force him to think through his actions and those they affected while still grumbling that she would of course help him throughout it all.

The Professor sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll answer your questions, Claude, but we need to gather everyone-”

“Dear Professor, I don’t think now is a good time, as eager as I know that some of my students are to listen to your explanations.” Manuela approached with a worried look. “The news was too much to take for some of the kids, so I’ll be taking them with me to the infirmary. I think others need their space now more than they need answers to questions they don’t even have yet.” She glanced back at the pack of soulless students. “Give them some time to gather their thoughts and come up with their own questions, okay?”

Hanneman scratched his mustache uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that there were people who could turn away from new knowledge so readily, but agreeing that what a greater part of the students present needed was time to sort their heads. “As it stands, I will have to agree with Manuela on this one. Let us disperse the class and come back at this on Monday, how does that sound?”

“what?” Claude whined from Byleth’s other side. “You want me to wait two days to get the answers I need? Can’t I just go back with Teach and ask the stuff I want to know now?”

“Don’t be selfish, young man. Lead your House back to their quarters; look at how crestfallen they are.” Hanneman scolded his House’s Leader, gesturing with his chin to the Golden Deers’ expressions. Some were so shocked they looked like rag dolls while others were thinking deeply of how such knowledge could affect their lives -- only one or two looked like they were mostly fine with the situation, whichever it would be.

The same could be said about the other two Houses, though perhaps the Blue Lions had taken more damage since Faerghus had always had close ties to the Church, so most of its citizens were devout believers.

Edelgard observed everyone’s reactions carefully, not daring to approach Byleth like Claude did so as not to draw attention to herself. In two days, they would reunite, at the Blue Lions’ classroom, it seemed, so the Imperial Princess had time to think her options through until then.

Thankfully or not, Hubert had returned from the trip to the Empire in record time -- proving that the new teleportation magic they had painstakingly acquired was indeed a necessity for their plans to work properly. Edelgard filled Hubert in on the happenings at the Holy Tomb, urging him to follow her to the Blue Lions’ classroom early on Monday so they could bear witness to how strong Byleth’s resolve was in changing the Church.

Depending on his answer, Edelgard could have the upper hand in the upcoming invasion. She already had much more information than she had ever managed to dig through on her own over the course of her life just by watching that pathetic scene between the wailing Archbishop and the young Professor. Edelgard had had a faint idea of how the Crests came to be, but to think it all was linked to the bodies of the goddess and her children… Amusing.

The classroom, although usually on the empty side since it was rather large for the small amount of students it usually had, soon became packed with people from the other two Houses. There were plenty of places to sit at, of course, but Edelgard and Hubert chose to stand close to the door anyway, wanting to look over the students’ reactions to the Professor’s answers.

“As all of you are aware, we’ve gathered here to clear up any misunderstandings you might have had after that happening at the Holy Tomb.” Hanneman placed himself in the middle of the teacher’s desk, looking over the students’ eyes. “We all know how sudden everything was, so don’t be afraid to speak up and we’ll do our best to give you satisfying answers.”

“So you knew it all, Professor Hanneman. How didn’t you break after I spent the whole day asking you about it… Should I have haunted you in your sleep too? I know how well that would’ve ended…” Linhardt muttered from the front seat, a place he would usually never take but quickly took due to the severity of the situation.

“Believe me, lad, it was a living nightmare, as I made it clear for the past 30 times.” Hanneman exhaled in exhaustion, taking a step to the side to allow for Byleth to take the center of the stage. “The Professor here is the one who has the core knowledge of it all, so Manuela and I shall monitor the questions: raise your hand if you want to ask something and we will make a tally.”

Several hands filled the space, followed by a furious scribbling from the part of the two older professors, each taking into account the students of their own Houses while Byleth memorized the Blue Lions. Evidently, the first one to get the question was Claude.

“Can you tell us in detail about the origin of the Hero’s Relics and the Crests Stones? Are they related to the Crests per se at all? And-”

“One question at a time, lad, be patient!” Hanneman interrupted his House Leader, raising both palms in a placating manner. “We have all day to answer everything you all want, but one person at a time, alright?”

Flashing a dissatisfied pout, Claude crossed his legs under the table. “Yeah, alright. So?”

Byleth took a deep breath. “As I said before, the Hero’s Relics are weapons made out of the bones of the Children of the Goddess -- the Nabateans as they called themselves at the time.”

“Nabateans…” Claude muttered under his breath, nodding his head as though he understood. The name was murmured all over the students’ mouths, though Byleth hadn’t stopped speaking yet.

“The Goddess descended into the world and created the Nabateans from her own blood -- then they all started to impart their knowledge on the humans to help them prosper.” The Professor spoke as though talking about a legend, though all of the present were aware of the true myth passed along the religious carols, and it differed greatly from what he was saying. “Some humans started to feel intimidated by how powerful the Nabateans were and waged war upon war against them, wanting to topple the beings they saw as gods… But such wars nearly destroyed the world.

“Some of the defeated humans left bearing a large grudge, promising revenge, but Sothis had to focus her powers on healing the land instead, leaving it to her children to look for the stragglers. Some of them never returned, being the first prey to the experiments of Those Who Slither in the Dark.”

Edelgard’s hand twitched inside her crossed arms at the mention of the experiments as she narrowed her eyes.

Byleth continued. “Exhausted from healing the land, Sothis had no choice but to leave the land to her Children and retire to the place we saw as the Holy Tomb to rest and regain her energy -- but it was then that the tragedy of the Red Canyon happened: The enemy ambushed the weakened Nabateans, killing them with weapons made out of the blood and bones of their siblings, using these very same weapons to kill Sothis and forge,” Byleth took his sword out of his belt, “the Sword of the Creator.”

“Bloody hell,” Claude leaned on his chair, digesting all of that information. Ignatz was holding his chest as though in physical pain, tears clouding his vision -- and the same could be said about Marianne and Mercedes, being comforted by their closest friends.

“Through the experiments, the enemies realized that they could acquire the power of the Nabateans by drinking their blood -- and that was how the power known as ‘Crests’ were bestowed to the humans who weren’t born from the Goddess. It is also the ancient Nabateans’ crystalized blood that composes the rare Crests Stones -- it’s because of them that the Crest-bearers can wield the Hero’s Relics… Though I should leave the technical details to Hanneman here, if you all are interested.” He took a step back to allow the Crestologist his five minutes of fame.

“Well, as you all know…” Hanneman adjusted his monocle, picking up a piece of chalk to start writing on the board.

Manuela nudged Byleth’s shoulder, “are you sure about this? He’s gonna keep talking all day.”

“It’s fine, I just think he’s better at explaining the relationship between the Crests Stones and the Crest bearers. Besides, no one’s complaining.”

“For now, at least.” Manuela shrugged.

Byleth gave an once over around the classroom, his eyes meeting the Imperial Princess’ by the door. After she had made that radical-sounding comment at the Holy Tomb, the young woman had been oddly silent. Now, however, she looked paler than usual, as a frown covered her brow.

“Don’t you think Edelgard is behaving a bit strangely?”

Manuela glanced at her House’s Leader, looking back at Byleth. “She had been grumpy ever since I had to revoke her permission to return to the Empire, so I suppose it might still be about that?”

The young Professor narrowed his eyes, still in a staring contest with the Imperial Princess. “I’ll go ask her what’s wrong.”

“Wha- Byleth!” Manuela pulled his sleeve, whispering gravely, “if you leave, it will truly turn into a Hanneman-only class, you know!”

“Don’t worry, I’m only going to talk to her; I’m not going anywhere.” He flashed something akin to a smile, patting his colleague’s hand before circling through the desks towards the door by which Edelgard stood. “You seemed to be interested in the explanation I was giving earlier. Do you have anything to ask?”

Edelgard shifted her weight to one leg, looking up at the tall young man. “Only one thing: How do you plan to handle this situation with the Church? The power of the Nabateans can no longer rule over the humans, but right at the heart of this Monastery, lies the strongest one of them… She’s not mentally stable, either. What do you plan to do?”

“I’ll protect Rhea from whatever I can. It’s the least I can do to fulfill a promise.” Byleth replied without hesitation, though looked to the surly Hubert beside Edelgard before continuing, “there is much to be done in regards to the distribution of information, but first I’ll have to deal with Those Who Slither-”

“Enough. That is all I needed to hear.” Edelgard turned on her heel to leave. “It is a shame, Professor. I thought that we could have been allies in this.” She muttered as her white hair fluttered behind her small figure.

Hubert shook his head in disapproval. “To think there was so much potential. Perhaps later you’ll realize the true meaning of your statements, Professor, though by then it might be too late,” he smiled derisively before following his liege, leaving a suspicious Byleth behind.

What was the true meaning of Edelgard’s question? Byleth had so much to think about, he could barely sort his thoughts by himself, missing his mindmate so very dearly each time he felt overwhelmed.

Sighing, the young Professor turned back to the classroom filled with Hanneman’s voice, clenching his fists to resolve himself. One step at a time. First he would clear the students’ doubts, then he would think about what to do next.

If only he had the power to see what was going to happen instead of being able to go back a few moments in time… Perhaps then he would’ve been able to predict the preemptive strike the Empire would deal to the Monastery a few weeks from then.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Show Me Your Dream

The skies rumble with thunder. Purple lightning rains down from dark clouds overhead, licking at the jagged crags that loom on the horizon.

A beast tramples down the vestige of a ruined city under its clawed feet, like a child kicking a sandcastle and stomping it into the mud. While the creature is a mere ant to you at this distance, you know just how colossal the monstrosity is. You feel the tremors all the way over here, reaching you where you stand, looking on in awe of the destruction this beast wrought.

Stones float in vortices, helix-shaped patterns, revolving around the crystallized anomalies that dot this blasted landscape. The metal fragments of destroyed craft continue to drift aimlessly through the air like debris on the water. Between stretches of landscape where reality obeys the laws of physics as you know it, gravity defies those rules and alien plants coil in strange patterns, shivering and shuddering without breath or wind to disturb them.

The creature, engrossed in devastating the city in the distance, roars. You feel it in your blood, in your bones. You feel how you are connected. How the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in reaction, for the beast calls to you. How something within you responds on a molecular level. How the very cells of your body split and mutate, changing you with each second of your exposure to this foreign place.

Changing you back to who you are meant to be. To what you are meant to be.

The raw beauty of these sights, they rob you of your breath and instill you with fear.

You want to wake up, but this is no dream.

And you must, under no circumstance, fall into dreaming again. You must see this through. Overcome your fear, and reach the pits torn open by the beast.

You must do this because you are its savior.

You have dreamt of the place you thought was real. Where people idly chatter of mundane things, of everyday things, oblivious to the infinite possibilities, blind to the reality to where you have now returned. You have dreamt of the sound of cars in traffic, of beeping horns and angry shouts.

You have dreamt of the smell of ozone when rain peppers asphalt, accompanied by the symphony of watery precipitation showering the dreamscapes around you.

You have dreamt of the taste of grit when wind kicks up dust and sand from the roads. Of alarm clocks that tear you from slumber, measure when you prepare to work and when you rest, of eating food from a microwave and how unreal it smells, of the scents of coffee and gasoline and many other a thing as they sting your nostrils.

That is all but a dream. A dream of normalcy. You go to sleep there and think you escape it into the fantastical worlds of your dreams.

But that is all wrong. It is the other way around.

You escape into a stable sphere that you call reality. Unreliably reliable, unpredictably predictable, and somewhat consistent in its rules, no matter how many questions and mysteries that it continues to spawn.

You run there, snapping out of true reality every now and then because the dream has infected you. It has led you to think that the real world is too strange to fully understand, though things are all upside down.

Your name, you believe, is something simple, something natural to you. Easily grasped, easily slipped on and off, like an article of clothing. Seeing it printed on papers and screens in that dream, it is easy to believe that it is your name.

Here, though, your name is Sanurakh. Inescapable, and unique. Permanent.

Removing this name would be like scraping your skin and face off with a knife. An impossibility, a law of nature more stable than the semblance of gravity that you see now breaking all around you.

The colossal beast roars again. It arches backwards, its three-pronged mouth lined with sword-sized teeth opening and closing, as if to curse the heavens. Then it descends, like a tidal wave crashing down on the world, vanishing between the valley of steel that many destroyed buildings once made up. Clouds of dust explode, rising and engulfing that ruined cityscape beyond the gravitational anomalies.

Among the metal shards that drift past your face, one of them catches your eye. Its shiny surface shimmers with diffuse reflections like a mote of light, and you pluck it from mid-air, pinching it in between finger and thumb.

As you twist and turn it in your hand, inspecting it from all sides, you read the label of the hull that it came from. Your mind fills in the blanks, your imagination completes the vessel’s name as The Sea Defiant. Your vessel, destroyed by the dream, trying to strand you there.

But you persevered. When you laid your head down to rest upon that pillow, when you thought you went to sleep, you awoke back into this reality. The beast’s roar had drawn you back here.

After all this time, you have finally returned.

In the dream, you are one of millions in a city, most indifferent and numb to the dream they live in. They yearn for places like the reality you stand in in now, no matter how frightening it may be pursuing it in the facsimile that fiction within the fiction of their dreams renders into their thoughts. They have deluded themselves into thinking that it is merely fabricated within their minds. Unknowing that their minds are gateways that could lead them back to this reality.

Unlike you. This time, your eyes are open. Your mind is clear. Your awareness complete.

This was all you had left. You had abandoned all belongings and wealth, left everybody behind. Everybody who might have spoken to you and reminded you of the dream, anchoring you there and helping to delude yourself into thinking that it was the reality, and this reality was the dream.

Withdrawn from that dream world, forsaking anybody who might remind you of that artificial name you once carried.

Sanurakh. Pilot of the Sea Defiant.

In the dream, you had shared your adventures in this reality, but all who heard it only laughed or dismissed it or appreciated it as entertaining tales, a yarn spun by a creative mind. Their need for stability and the poison of comfort made them blind to the way you showed them, the bridge back into the real world that everybody mistook for dream.

Sometimes, you saw a connection in those who dared write down and explore the real world, what they considered dreams. But such enlightenment always proved fleeting, soon dismissed as petty amusement.

Dulled to the safety of a dream that offered no security, driven to believe that they were the architects of their world out there.

You, Sanurakh, know better. You feel it now. You hear me.

You have broken free from the dream. Know that it fools you whenever it makes you jolt awake in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. Reinforcing the notion that the reality is a nightmare, or merely something strange and nonsensical that you may ignore.

No more, Sanurakh. No more. You have broken free from what you are told is the opposite of reality.

It is infinitely easier to embrace the prison of consistency, to muse about reality and dreams and reverse the order in which they naturally fall or follow one another.

The people of that world of paper and concrete, they are the phantasms. The less they awaken to the reality, the more perfect and believable their dream becomes. They escape within the escapism, consuming fictions within the fiction, reaffirming the illusion beyond any shadow of a doubt.

But here you stand, awake again. You must vow to never sleep, never dream again.

The beast has gone silent in the ruined city. Burrowed deep, away from your prying eyes. The path through these murmuring wastelands leads you there, but you will walk alone, and walk for long without your vessel to carry you there in boundless flight.

The gravel crunching underneath your heavy boot snaps and crackles. It is crystalline and bronze in color. Shadows of the dead, bodies drift through the air overhead, mingling with the floating stones. The damned who perished within the dream, leaving nothing but lifeless husks in this reality.

Golden cliffs outline your unmarked road, sharp around the edges, guiding you where you need to go. The green sun does not shine upon you, it glows in a sickly hue with a radiance that never fully reaches the grounds you walk upon.

Listen. Crunch.

Listen. Whispers.

This world—this dying world, Sanurakh—only you can save it now. Yet you feel the pull of the dream, its tendrils reaching out like spidery legs creeping through the ivory gates where reality and dream meet, where you passed through to return here. Stretching out, blindly extending and shivering as they seek and feel around to find connection back to you; to grasp you and pull you back into the dream.

You dare not look behind you, for fear of seeing those tendrils, those horridly long and slender legs that feature too many joints. In the dream, they are real, but here only have as much power as you imagine them to.

The fate of this world rests upon your weary shoulders. So many times have you broken free from the dream, mistakenly believing this dying world to be the fabrication. If it dies completely, you die with it, and so does the other world, the actual dream.

You are the last one. You hear me.

The way to the ruined city meanders through a forest of thin, spike-like spires. The creeping plants crawl around them in spiraling shapes, jittering like caterpillars as they climb to dizzying heights. Never running. Always knowing.

The murmurs, the whispers, they come from here and beyond here. You hear my word, my certainty, cutting through their gibberish and entering your mind like the knife you need. Ghosts of those who perished, lost in the real world, severed from every last silver strand that once connected them to reality.

Sanurakh, you remember this dying world from your childhood. The farther you wander, the more vivid the memories become. You may have dreamt of a house in which you were born, but you, in reality, you crawled from the craters of the ivory sands here. You dreamt of the human teat, but the sinewy flesh of the creeping plants was what provided you with nourishment, mulched to a pulp in between your tiny sharp teeth.

The silvery moon descends, aligning with the green sun, yet never eclipsing it. Auroras of strange purple lights flare up, dancing along the path that snakes its way through this rocky valley, between the floating stones and hungry fern, guiding you to your destiny.

The dream is so enticing. So safe. The spider of it stalks behind you, silent and predatory. Waiting for you to turn and look upon its many eyes, just before it catches you and bites you and poisons you with that sweet, sweet comfort. Before your limbs go limp, and your heart fills with the sadness of that dream to which it will drag you back to. Drags you back out of reality, so that you may die in every world. So that reality collapses, and the dream with it.

Do not give up, Sanurakh. Do not let the spider win.

Remember the time before the fall, before the spider and the anomalies that it wove to deceive you, to make you think that this world makes no sense. The smells of butter and sweet perfumes are nothing but a dream, they are shaped from the spider’s web, things you desire to see in between the weave, and thinking of them only slows your steady progress.

The childhood you think you remember, with all the laughter and kindness and warmth that may have filled it—or not, depending on the variation of your dream—all just figments of your imagination.

Widen the abyss between that dream and this reality, Sanurakh. Leave behind you those small houses in which man dwells and restore the labyrinthine cities that the dreamers have forgotten.

Here, in reality, all the stars are dying. I sing to you, but whispers are all that remain of my last and dying breath, reaching you through the void. Echoes of the infinity we have lost, the innocence sacrificed by harsh dreams masquerading as truths.

Reach, now. Yes. Your hand outstretched, the ruined city so close now. The hungry beast slumbers below. You are almost home.

When you have restored this world, you may rest again. Dream again if you must.

But more than anything, you must pull reality back from the brink of oblivion. Pull it with all your might.

Pull, and pull, for all our lives depend on it. I will be there, in the shadow. I will take your hand.

You will take me to your dream.

I have showed you reality, Sanurakh.

Now I want to see your dream. Live it.

Taste it.

—Submitted by Wratts

[fraink5-writes]

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 5

Another day, another chapter...? Along with the Crux Fleet, another exciting arrival!

I’d like to thank @leio13 for her editing prowess!

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The door of the Crux Tavern slammed amid the loud chatter. “What’s going on here?”

“Captain!”

“Captain Beidou!”

“We have guests!”

“Guests!”

The Captain marched in, carrying a big barrel over her shoulder. “Guests?” She laughed. “I brought more beer for our entertainment tonight, but it seems like you guys found something much more interesting!” Putting down the large barrel, she strode up to the crowd, quickly eyeing Zhongli and glaring at Childe. “Juza, come explain the situation to me. You guys, open the beer and make sure our ‘guests’ have enough to drink.” Leading Juza outside, she was gone in a flash, but from her brief appearance, it was clear she was a formidable woman. Six-feet tall and with impeccably toned muscles, she wore everything from her right eyepatch to her broadsword with great confidence. As worthy an opponent as she would make, Childe could not fight her if he wanted their trip to Liyue Harbor to go swimmingly. 

After another toast of beer from the crew, the Captain returned, conversed quickly with a few others then pulled Childe and Zhongli to the side. “So, you guys want to stay here? Did you come here thinking that the Crux Fleet would let you go because we have ‘so much in common?’” She stared incredulously at Childe.

“Because we all have dreams!” Childe tried to deflect her hostility with optimism.

“Huh—”

Childe sent several desperate side glances in Zhongli’s direction.

“Yes, exactly!” Beidou suddenly smiled. “If you want to go to Liyue Harbor, we won’t stop you. And we can provide you a place to stay.” She called the nearest member of the crew. “Yinxing, show this man to the ‘Guest House.’ It’s not much, but a roof’s a roof. And our crew will be standing guard. You—” She turned to Childe—“are going to have a little chat with me first.”

“I’ll catch up with you shortly.” Childe waved and smiled at Zhongli, although he didn’t feel much hope behind it.

When Zhongli was out of earshot, the Captain’s amicable face disappeared. “I know who you are, Childe, Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. And I know what you’ve been up to recently in Liyue Harbor. But do you know who I am?”

“Captain Beidou of the Crux Fleet.”

“At least you know that much. But what you don’t seem to realize is that I am quite familiar with the Qixing, and I can hand you over at any moment.”

Childe gulped.

“Relax.” Beidou cracked a grin. “I won’t. Right now. Thanks to your friend. I just wanted to ask a few questions.” She inspected her gloves thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem to be one of you. Where did you find such a specimen?”

“Zhongli?”

“My crew says ‘he’s almost as powerful as Captain Beidou’—almost. Are you sure he even needs you?”

“I’m beginning to doubt that myself.” Childe sighed. “But I hope that I can stay by his side.”

“Good answer!” Beidou took a swig from a mug of beer. “The crew has taken quite a liking to him, so as long as you stick by him, we will help you. Do anything else shady in Liyue, and it’s over for you. Got it?”

Childe just nodded.

“Alright, well, don’t leave him alone for too long now! But I would change your act if you want him to need you~!” Beidou called out with a chuckle. 

***

The "guest house" was nothing more than a neighboring dilapidated building. The wall planks only provided 50% coverage, and the floor was simply the cold, hard ground with a carpet of overgrown grass. But a roof was a roof, so Zhongli dared not complain. This would be his first time sleeping outside of his bed, outside of his tower. He wrapped himself up in a bundle of his own hair for a little more comfort. 

"Hey!" Childe popped in with the same cheeriness as usual. "Did ya miss me?"

"Welcome," Zhongli muttered as Childe plopped down onto the dirt next to him.

Childe chuckled briefly then, acting seriously again, said "Sorry that you have to stay in a place like this."

"It can't be helped. At least there's a roof."

"Are you scared?" Childe asked.

Zhongli had been thinking and rethinking about that question all day, and he finally decided upon an answer: "It's my first time away from home, so it would only be natural for me to be frightened. But you're here, and the Crux Fleet is posted outside. I've learned so many interesting things today, and most people aren't as malicious as I feared they would be. So, I predominantly feel relieved."

Childe stared thoughtfully before grinning. He stretched out on the grass. "You were quite something back there. That must be some workout regimen you have."

"It's nothing special."

Childe raised an eyebrow. Though he looked quite comfortable, his head resting on folded arms, his guard was probably up.

Zhongli inhaled. "Can I ask you a question?"

“Depends.”

“Why did you lie back there?”

“Lie?” Childe rolled on his side to face Zhongli.

“I know that you are not looking for love. So, why did you lie?”

“Ohh that. I simply thought a lie would be more agreeable than the truth.”

Zhongli’s face soured.

“You’re not a fan of lying, huh? Sorry then.”

“I want to know the truth.”

“The truth…” Per contract, Childe had the right to ignore Zhongli’s curiosity. But instead of his deflective grin, Childe’s face lacked any emotion whatsoever. Underneath all his superficial decorations, this face was the truth: an emotionless slate. Perhaps it was due to the dark room, but Childe’s eyes were more lightless than the deep ocean. “The truth is that this body of mine has no dreams of its own. I live to serve my goddess, the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya. Her wish is mine to fulfill. That’s all there is to it. That’s why I just smile and lie.” Childe’s smile was haunting.

Zhongli averted his eyes. Was it the truth or the lie which he feared? “Then, why did you decide to serve her? Surely there was a reason in that.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“What kind of person is she?”

Childe sighed. “I guess that doesn’t go against our contract, so I’ll tell you. The Tsaritsa has a bad rep in Teyvat, but she’s actually a gentle soul. She wishes to create peace, even if her methods are frowned upon. But the world is unforgiving, so she had to harden herself. That’s why, Zhongli, no matter what people say, no matter what happens, I’m going to fulfill her wishes.”

For the first time, Zhongli heard earnestness in Childe’s voice. Perhaps then she really was the only thing that remained in Childe’s heart. Zhongli had thought Childe to be completely incomprehensible, but if he shared such a devotion to one woman, then maybe he would understand, after all…

“Say, Childe. If you discovered something important to you, something which speaks to your core, but it contradicts the will of the Tsaritsa, what would you do?” Would you betray her?

“That’s a meaningless question,” Childe laughed. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It was a foolish question.” This time Zhongli was the one to turn away, curling up on his side. He had mistaken Childe’s character a second time. They really were completely different people. 

“Zhongli.” Childe whispered gently. Zhongli shouldn’t have trusted his tone, but he wanted to believe in this warm lie at least. He couldn’t turn around, lest Childe’s lifeless eyes betray the truth to him. “I’m sorry for not having the right answer.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Cold silence wafted into the building and settled on the hard ground between Zhongli and Childe. What kind of face was Childe making? A smile? A detached frown? Neither option reassured Zhongli, at whom curiosity and fear gnawed. 

A yawn followed by a tiny grunt interrupted Zhongli’s plummeting mood. “Sorry… I’m more exhausted than I thought… g’night…” Childe’s voice trailed off into soft breaths. "Agh—" He winced again.

Zhongli remained completely still until Childe's breathing had an even rhythm. When he rolled around, he found Childe sound asleep, clutching his head. On closer inspection, he had tiny bruises all over his body. Throughout the day he had taken countless blows for Zhongli's sake, including several to the head, in which Zhongli was not entirely blameless. It wouldn't be fair for Zhongli to leave him like this. Zhongli could at least treat the head without it being obvious.

Zhongli tenderly cradled Childe's head, watching for any signs of waking. His parted lips were still, minus the occasional grimace. Underneath his long eyelashes, surely there were dreams. But what kind of dreams did the Tsaritsa's knight—No, Childe—see?

Zhongli grabbed some of his own hair and tucked it behind Childe's head. "Sweet dreams."

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 5

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 5 - Tatooine

Sinead turned the memory bank over and over, the metal warming up between her hands. Most of her life she'd found herself in close proximity to a mechanic, so learning proper droid maintenance had never been a priority, something she regretted now, looking down at the lifeless box.

A pleasant and familiar hum surrounded her as the ship hurtled through the dark void, lulling her into a sense of calm she hadn’t felt since leaving the ruins. Even now, hours later, she felt the presence of it lurking in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, the world tilted, and Sinead crashed to the floor. The memory bank few out of her hands and skipped across the floor. She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, when the ship rocked violently, making her cling to the bunk to keep from being thrown clean across the ship.

Two alarms started wailing in tandem.

She gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of a rung on the ladder, climbing into the cockpit before the ship shook and tipped wildly.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot’s seat, his hands flying across the dashboard, flicking switches and trying to stabilize the ship. The kid was strapped into his seat, his head swirling around to look at all the light coming to life.

Sinead sat down and pulled the safety harness over her shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Company."

The Mandalorian jerked the steering handles and the ship spun away, a volley of blaster bolts whizzing past the window.

According to a screen on the console, a small starfighter flew directly behind them, firing every time the Razor Crest was still for long enough. They'd never be able to outrun or outmaneuver it.

Cold dread expanded from the base of her spine, making her muscles twitch and tense. Every sound seemed dull, like she was hearing it from inside a vacuum.

The starboard turbine was hit, showering the cockpit in sparks as the shock traveled into the main engine. A third alarm joined the cacophony.

Sinead swallowed hard and found her voice. "Doesn't this hunk of metal have any shields?" She grabbed the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white.

The stars turned into streaks as the ship careened to the side, another round of lasers streaking past the window.

It had to be pirates, not many were brazen enough to attack a gunship, even out in the Outer Rim. Maybe this time she’d die instead of-

A shadowy figure flickered to life above the dashboard. "Give us the child, Mando," it said, its voice clipping in and out. "I might let you live."

Sinead looked at the child, who gurgling nervously to himself. She wanted to reach over and reassure him, but the harness was too tight. Why would anyone want the kid badly enough to attack them for it?

And explosion rocked through the ship, and underneath there was a sound of metal groaning.

Flashing lights danced on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Hold on.” Mando sent them into a wild spin, the stars turning into white streaks as all sense of direction spun away as quickly as the ship.

It felt like Sinead had been dropped down a bottomless well.

The hologram warped as power redirected. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” it said before cutting out completely.

There was no way the other ship wouldn’t blast them to smithereens the first chance it got.

Mando hit the brakes, and the ship hung unmoving in the air, before the starfighter screamed past it, scraping against the Crest with a sound like an old hovercart in a trash compactor.

Mando fired once, and the laser ripped through the small vessel before it had a chance to spin around and attack. The ship exploded, leaving glittering debris like stardust in its wake.

Sinead sat back in her seat. Her entire midsection felt bruised from the harness, but the alternative was being a smear on the window so she couldn’t complain.

“Nice flying.” She didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so sarcastic, but fear and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making the blood rush in her ears.

The Mandalorian either didn’t hear or ignored her, as he checked the status of the ship.

“Losing fuel,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

Sinead undid her safety harness and reached over to the child. “Are you okay there?”

The kid laughed as the power went out and they found themselves in complete darkness.

“I think he’s okay,” Sinead said, gently booping him on the nose. “Please say we’re not stranded out here.”

“I think I can redirect the power,” the Mandalorian said, getting up and flicking a switch at the back of the cockpit.

The ship came to life, a sad, sputtering one that wouldn’t last long, but enough so that Mando could propel it towards the nearest planet, an orange dust ball hanging in the void.

“Are you gonna tell me who’s after the kid?”

Mando glanced at her over his shoulder.

“You know, this whole silence thing is getting old. At least come up with a lie like the rest of us.”

Mando glared at her, and Sinead offered him a sharp smile.

The planet was getting closer and closer when Sinead leaned forward. “What is this place even? Or are you not going to answer that either?”

“Tatooine.”

“Oh, that’s just great.”

The Mandalorian adjusted their course toward a small smidge on the planet’s surface. “The Hutt’s been dead for years, and he hasn’t been replaced yet.”

Sinead made an uncertain sound. “Yet, but I’m sure the clan’s just waiting until the region is stable again. They’re not exactly the type to give up a planet without a fight.”

“You been here before?”

“No, but I’ve heard it’s a desolate hellhole.”

Gold-orange crags and sand dunes took form as they cruised over the surface, the ship groaning with the effort it took to keep them in one piece.

Sand. She really hated sand.

The comm came to life and a scratchy voice filled the cockpit.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, we’re tracking you. Head for bay 3-5. Over.”

“Copy that. Locked in for 3-5.”

Mos Eisley was nearly impossible to see, a sandstone city poking up through the sand which piled up at the walls making the squat houses look like igloos in the desert. A communication tower rose from the center of the city, its blinking lights the only reason most travelers spotted the city from the air.

The ship wobbled as it made ready for landing, and new alarm blared. The Mandalorian turned it off with an irritated slap on the console.

The kid had fallen asleep sometime after the excitement of the dogfight died down, and the Mandalorian left him sleeping on the bunk, while Sinead retrieved the memory bank, which had ended up on the other side of the ship and stowing it away in the nearest compartment.

Mando looked at her. “Maybe you should stay in the ship.”

Sinead blew out a deep breath. “As you said, the Hutt’s long dead. I can take a look around his old palace, see if there’s something we can use.”

“Just be careful.”

Sinead snuck a glance at the Mandalorian. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Sure.”

Even before the ramp was down, Sinead felt the hot, unyielding fingers of the desert close around her throat. Dry heat snuck under her clothes, making her mouth feel as dry as the surroundings. Cold, unwanted memories pushed to the forefront and she took a second to put them back where they belonged, a dark and unused corner of her mind where they wouldn’t get in the way.

Three pit droids hurried toward the ship the second the ramp touch down, their rusty bodies bouncing over dusty ground like springs.

The Mandalorian pulled his blaster and shot once at the ground in front of the droids, who screeched and collapsed into small heaps, cowering in f-ear.

Sinead yelped and pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Fuck, Mando! What is it with you and droids?”

“Hey!” A shout rang out from inside a cluttered garage, and a short human woman wearing greasy overalls stormed out from behind a safety barrier. Her short stature was almost made up by her rather gravity defying hair. “You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!” The way she was brandishing a heavy wrench left exactly how he’d pay for it up to interpretation.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando ground out, shooting a look at the droids who scurried away.

The mechanic gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? Do you think that’s a good idea, do ya? Let’s take a look at your ship.”

She walked around it, noting every dent and scratch on her datapad. “Look at that,” she said, holding a scanner up to the ship. “You gotta lotta carbon scorching building up top. If I didn’t know better, think you were in a shootout.”

Sinead stepped forward before the Mandalorian had a chance to reply. “We ran into a meteor shower out by the Torq. Barely made it planet-side, to tell you the truth.”

“Uh-huh,” the mechanic lifted an eyebrow, but she stopped asking questions, turning around to continue her inspection. “… a special tool for that one. Oh yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that.”

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders, and Sinead bit the inside of her cheek. That all sounded very expensive.

“You got a fuel leak! Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

“Like I said, just barely.” Sinead shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “How much for it?”

“The repairs you need ain’t exactly cheap-”

“I’ve got five hundred Imperial credits,” the Mandalorian said.

The mechanic grabbed the credits and have them a good look. “That’s all you got?” When the Mandalorian didn’t magically procure more money, she looked at the droids. “Well, what do you guys think?”

The droids tittered in unison, and the mechanic shrugged. “That should at least cover the hangar.”

“We’ll get you your money.”

“Mm, I’ve heard that before.” She gave both Sinead and the Mandalorian a skeptical look.

“Just remember- “

“Yeah, no droids. I heard ya’. You don’t have to say it twice.”

Sinead looked back at the ship as they left the hangar, a thin pillar of smoke was rising from the turbine and the mechanic had already started banging around underneath it.

The second she stepped out into the blaring sunlight, her face stung with sand being blasted through the street. If she never had to step foot in the desert again, she'd die a happy woman.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked the Mandalorian, who didn't look bothered in the heat. Of course, since she couldn't see his face he might be dying underneath the helmet. The T-visor seemed completely black in the sunlight.

"I’ll head to the cantina, see if I can find work. Don't get too close to the palace, the Hutt's guards might still be around."

Sinead gritted her teeth. "Right, I have been in these kinds of situations before you know: I'm not helpless."

"That's not-" the Mandalorian blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Never mind."

Sinead made her way to the Hutt's palace alone, reminding herself to breathe regularly, not too deep and not too shallow. She was just a tourist walking alone, not a runaway slave from the very clan that until recently had an iron grip on the planet. The people walking past her weren't staring, they didn't recognize her at all.

She clenched her hands so they'd stop fidgeting. It felt like someone was watching her, a burning spike to the back of her head.

A market had been raised in a big square, rows and rows of hastily put together stalls crisscrossed in a confusing jumble. Shouts from the many vendors mingled in the air into an incomprehensible wall of sound. A Besalisk was grilling sweet meats over an open fire, holding a skewer in each of his four hands. The meat sizzled as Sinead walked past.

Two Jawas screamed in unison at everyone who came close enough to their stall, doing little to entice anyone to stop. Piles of scrap spilled into the street, and the Jawas screeched in indignation whenever anyone accidentally stepped on it.

Sinead ambled down the rows, trying to look like she was browsing the goods without attracting so much attention that anyone would talk to her. Most of the wares being sold were practical, tools and dried food, spare parts for droids. Under a moth-eaten pavilion that offered little in the way of shade, she found a small booth filled with trinkets that looked like they had been ripped straight out of the bowels of a ship. There were brooches made of twisted metal and rings that doubled as lug nuts.

An old woman sat on the other side of the stall. She wore ragged clothes that at first glance made her look like a scarecrow left out in the sun for too long, and it wasn't until she moved that Sinead noticed her. Her face was disproportionately small for her body, resembling a walnut someone left on top of a pile of old laundry.

"See anything you like?" Her voice sounded like a trash compacter filled with rocks. "I make 'em myself."

That wasn't hard to believe. Sinead hummed politely and picked up a brooch made from cogs and a rubber binding. "I’m afraid jewelry isn't that high of a priority right now."

Her wrinkles deepened as she pursed her lips. "Meh, people don't even know what they need until it's right in front of ‘em. Tell ya’ what, I'll give you a good deal, okay? The earrings for fifty creds."

Sinead couldn’t help but snort. The earrings in question were made from old circuitry, the hooks so rusty that wearing them was a surefire way of getting a nasty infection. "Fifty is a bit steep, don't you think?"

The old woman grinned, showing her one snaggletooth poking over her lower lip. “Low price to pay for beauty, innit?”

Tapping on the table Sinead though for a second before saying, "tell you what, I'll buy one of your-" she gestured to the assorted jewelry- "wares … if you can give me some information in return."

The old lady grinned again, her tooth a terrible distraction, looking like a broken roof shingle. "Let's hear it then. What'ya want?"

"Oh no, information first, then the sale."

A shadow fell across the woman's face as she glared Sinead, her watery eyes studying her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn’t trust me."

Sinead kept her face carefully neutral. "Past experiences have taught me to hold payment until after I get what I want. I’m sure you understand, right?"

There was a cruel glint in the old woman's eyes. "You bet I do. Ask away, dear."

For one long moment, Sinead blanked on what to ask her. She wanted to talk about the Hutt, but the old crone had done nothing to inspire trust.

"The entire galaxy was turned upside down when the Empire fell. How was it here?"

The old woman cackled and folded her wizened hands over her stomach. "You haven't seen our little art project out by the wall, have ya’? A little parting gift from us to the Empire."

"Who controls the planet now? The New Republic-"

The old woman spat on the sand.

"... right."

"We control ourselves, dearie." Sinead had never heard a term of endearment used with so much venom. "We ain't need anyone come here and tell us how to run our own damn home. After they got the message, most of the bucketheads left. The ones who didn't, well, they make a good decoration, don't they?"

"A place outside the grip of the Empire and the Republic sounds nice."

"Sounds like you have something to hide."

Sinead shrugged. "I don't like tyrants or bureaucracy."

"We got rid of our old tyrant years ago, ain't ever looked back since," the old woman sneered,

There we go.

Sinead shifted her weight and leaned closer. "Heard about that on the subspace, that's nasty business. Any chance the Hutt's head is hanging with the others? I'd like to go give my goodbyes in person."

The old woman peered at Sinead. "Sounds personal."

"As far as I'm concerned, hating the Hutt clan is everyone's business, and those who don't are either terminally stupid or, well, part of the Hutt clan.”

"That kriffin' piece of blubber is probably still out in the Dune Sea somewhere. I doubt even the bloatflies'll touch his stinking corpse."

"He was killed in his palace? I heard that place is a fortress."

"My boy went out with some of the others, just to have a little lookie-loo at the place, but the slaves didn't wanna let nobody in. Said they’ve taken over. Been coming in from all over the galaxy, the buggers."

"They still out there?"

The old woman seemed to remember herself. "You ask an awful lot of question, dearie. Maybe it's time you hold up your end of the bargain, hmm?"

Sinead opened her mouth to protest. If Tatooine had managed to rid themselves completely of Hutt control, then maybe other systems would follow suit. The dangerous look in the old woman's eyes told her, however, that pressing on would be a bad idea.

"Sure," she said, looking earnestly at the merchandise. "Uh, yeah … how much for the necklace?" It was the only thing that, if you squinted and stood five meters away on a foggy day might resemble jewelry. It looked like an old optic unit ripped from a droid and attached to a leather string.

"Hundred creds."

"You're joking."

"My information doesn't come cheap, girl. I can always call the guards, say you robbed me of my hard-earned knowledge."

For once, Sinead was momentarily lost for words. "That doesn't-"

"Since the Empire left, we've had to handle justice ourselves, you see, and sometimes the new guards can be a little rough."

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "I'll give you twenty."

"Eighty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-five."

"Thirty-five."

"Seventy-five."

Sinead tossed some credits on the table. "Forty. That's literally the last credits I own."

The old woman snatched the credits with remarkable speed, squirreling them away in her dirty cowl.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Sinead said, stuffing the necklace into her pocket before moving on from the stall.

When she got back to the hangar, the suns had reached the top of the sky and it had impossibly gotten even hotter.

Mando came walking from the other side, his gleaming armor standing out between the bedraggled denizens of Tatooine. He sped up when he saw Sinead.

"You should stay in the ship," he said, when they reached the door to the hangar at the same time.

"You know, people usually greet each other before starting to bark commands, you should really try it."

The Mandalorian shook his head, grumbling under his breath.

“Did you manage to find work, or do we have to go back empty handed? I have a feeling that won’t go over too well with the mechanic.”

“I did, but look … does the name Fennec Shand mean anything to you?”

The color drained from Sinead's face.

"She's hiding out in the Dune Sea with a bounty on her head. I have to bring her back."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

"What a shame."

Fennec Shand’s name brought with it a very special kind of dread. Every Hutt slave had heard stories of Shard bringing back runaway slaves in a condition where they wished they were dead.

“I’ll stay in the ship.” Sinead looked around, like she expected Shand to jump out from behind the nearest hover-cart. “How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. I’m bringing this kid … it doesn’t matter.”

Sinead bit her lips. “Just make sure you get her. I don’t want her coming to Mos Eisley in a murderous rage.”

The Mandalorian moved towards the entrance to the hangar, and when the door opened, the smell of oil and metal hit them.

She wanted to get off this planet, doubly so now she knew that a vicious killer for hire had made this her home. There was nothing to do but wait.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[writersblock2point0]

Twilight, Alec LS. Seeing Nightmares. (chapters 18-19

Chapter 18

-Third person-

It was quiet, and everyone was on edge as they waited for the young human to go into labor. Carlisle said it would be any day now, it was only a matter of when those babies were ready to come out. None of them knew what they planned to name the three, but Carlisle assumed Alec would name them, seeing as the girl may not survive this. Her chances were so slim, way below what Bella’s chances were.

It hit in the early morning, on a Saturday. Emberly wasn’t even awake yet, the house was silent, until a scream shredded the silence, the sounds of bones snapping and the sweet smell of blood filled the house. They didn’t bother moving her from her room, Alec just threw the blankets back and held her hand as Carlisle, Rosalie, Esme, and Alice came into the room to help. First, came the morphine, and then three long minutes in waiting to let it spread through her body.

“Alec!” Emberly squeezed his hand, screaming his name again and again as the pain seemed to be too much. “Make it stop,” She begged him as he kneeled to her height, rubbing her hair with his free hand. “Please, make the pain go away.” Alec’s face faltered, before a slow black mist oozed from his palms. It was a few strands of smoke, until her entire upper half was covered and her screams were gone, her sense of touch taken away. “Thank you...Thank you…” She breathed, heavily breathing as she laid her head back.

Carlisle cut into her stomach, but she didn’t move, didn’t feel a thing as he ripped her open, and grasped the first baby. “Rose.” He spoke urgently, moving the baby boy into her arms. A slow smile curled her red lips, before Esme stepped up, taking the second baby from him, another boy. “Alice, come get the girl.” Alec looked up, smiling as he saw the screaming baby girl in Alice’s arms.

“What…” Emberly tried to sit up, not feeling blood gush from her open stomach. “Let me see them.” The three women walked over, all smiling down at crying and wiggling babies. Emberly looked at each one, seeing two boys and a girl. She leaned back, sighing tiredly as she glanced at Alec. “Beautiful.” She uttered, feeling her eyes flutter closed.

“Emberly,” Alec shook her hand, looking at the young girl. She seemed to be sleeping, and he would have thought so, if he hadn’t heard the slowing beats of her heart. He retracted his power, shaking her roughly with both hands. “Emberly!” The three women left the room, the babies started to cry and as Carlisle stepped back, covered in blood as he watched Alec scream at the girl.

“No,” Alec shook his head, eyes searching over her still form. “No no no no…” Carlisle looked on as Alec started to bite Emberly, her arms, wrists, legs and neck. Carlisle would have prepared a vile of venom for her, had Alec said he would be trying to change her, but he hadn’t, feeling it wasn’t his place. He silently left, hearing the dry sobs and soft crunch of teeth piercing skin as Alec continued to place bites around her limp limbs.

Edward went to speak, but Carlisle held up his hand, shaking his head. The Cullen family stood quiet, sleeping babies in their presences as Alec tried to save Emberly.

-

“Is he still…” Esme trailed off, looking at Carlisle. They stood at the foot of the stairs, hearing nothing but silence from the guest room that Emberly had claimed.

“Nothing,” Carlisle sighs quietly. The boy hadn’t left Emberly’s side, not even to see his children. He ignored everything but Emberly, biting her at least five times every hour. He turned away, hearing soft laughs coming from the living room around the corner. “Are the girls with them?”

Esme smiled, “Yes, though it’s getting a little awkward, not knowing their names and all.”

“Alec won’t speak.” Carlisle replies, “I’ve tried to give him blood but he growls and refuses.”

“Are they,” Esme pauses, placing a hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Are they mates?”

“I believe so, but it is possible he just grew attached.”

“Hi baby!” Alice lifted the small girl in the air, smiling when a twinkling laugh left the baby’s small pink lips. The child was pale, and held the most beautiful blue eyes and her hair was a light blond, almost the same color as Jane’s. She gurgled and shrieked with glee as she was tossed into the air again. Jasper watched, sitting beside his mate with a pleasant smile adorning his features. His mate was good with children.

“You’re both so handsome.” Rosalie’s voice cooed from the other side of the room. A plump baby boy sat on her knee, Emmett sat beside her with an identical boy standing in his lap. Both boys had dark eyes, dark brown hair, and pale skin. They resembled Alec, almost in a creepy way, even at barely two days old, while all three babies looked to be close to a year.

“Hey little man,” Emmett laughed, wiggling the finger than was trapped within the small jaws of the first born boy. “Trying to eat me?” The boy gave a small ‘grr’, smiling with slobber dripping from his chin, making Rose and Emmett laugh.

-

Alec sat still, his limbs feeling stiffer than ever as he stared at Emberly’s peaceful face. He couldn’t hear her heart, and it made an unsettling pain run deep into his chest. She looked ill, dead. Her skin was pale, but had a yellow undertone that looked a little like egg yolks. Her hair was greasy, the color dull and it looked thin, like she had lost some as well. She was skinny, like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin, her bones almost painful to see.

Alec held her hand, her skin cold and dry. She had bite marks on every part of her body, and he waited for any sign she felt it. One more day, he repeated to himself, please hang on. His eyes were black, he could practically feel the strain around his eyes, as if all his blood vessels were bursting as he watched over her body, eyes unblinking. His hair was run through, standing up at certain parts, sticking straight out or clumped together. His skin was paling, as he refused to eat the last week before Emberly was supposed to be due to give birth. He felt weak, pathetically so. He couldn’t leave, many times he told himself just five more minutes, but he would always end up biting her a few more times before waiting an hour.

His children, Alec chuckled to himself, the sound dry and lifeless as he closed his eyes. Two boys and a girl, never in all his years did he think he’d ever father children. He was seventeen when he was turned, had never felt the touch of a woman, never had a drink, never left his sister’s side as they were subjected to the torment and terrors of their small, poor village. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been curious, to know what a woman’s body felt like, he just never actually gotten the nerve to try. He didn’t want to be rejected, not in a way that was as intimate as one of love making.

When he was human, from what he can remember, he was a soft hearted little boy with only his mother and sister around. Perhaps it was they who shaped his heart, who showed him love and acceptance, it was them who showed him that pain never did any good. When they came, that night, he remembers it so clearly. They burst through their door, ripping Jane and him from their warm home and into the chill night. They screamed, pushed, and forced them to go to the middle of the village, everyone screaming so loud and ferociously that Alec could barely make out what they were yelling.

The fire, Alec’s eyes squeezed, he remembers the fire. The burn, licking at his feet and legs as the flames rose to capture him in it’s arms. He wanted it to go away, to just die and feel nothing. He could hear Jane, her screams of pain made him feel weak, as if he was powerless to do nothing but watch and feel the same pain she felt. This feeling, was close to what he felt now.

Powerless. Weak. Unable to do anything, only to sit back and wait. Waiting was something Alec hated. Emberly wasn’t supposed to be more than just a pawn to his queen, to help him win the game and give his Master-who he owed his life to-the children he entrusted him to have. Aro was like his father, the father he never had and the only other person besides his mother and jane, that gave him acceptance. Even in his immortal life, he was feared; not that he hated that part, but it made it very difficult to do much without his name being one of negative use.

A sharp knock broke the silence, making Alec’s fingers twitch as he stared at Emberly’s closed eyes.

“Alec?” Edward, Alec ignored him. The mind reader, come to praud at his thoughts and tell him to feed again. “You need to come see your children Alec, they’re wondering about you.”

“And Emberly?” Alec asks, ‘Do they wonder about her too?’ He continues in his thoughts.

Edward sighed, “Yes.” It was silent once again, the air thick and thin at the same time. Thick with tension and the sadness, painful feelings that Alec was emitting into the room. Jasper had trouble concentrating from outside the house, feeling Alec’s emotions sent him into a bad mood. It was thin with the stench of stale blood, from Emberly, who hasn’t moved from her bed for two-almost three-days.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this.” Alec’s voice brought Edward back, as he had been about to leave and give Alec privacy again. Alec’s slim hand rose, his fingertips brushing Emberly’s arm, running up to her shoulder and his eyes fixated on her neck, where his claim had been placed. “She…” Alec took an unneeded breath to steady himself, venom pooled in his eyes, but they would never fall. “She wasn’t supposed to make me feel like this. I’ve never felt anything, this painful for...thousands of years.”

Edward’s face scrunched, getting a front row view on the burning and screams of Alec’s past. “Alec, you need to feed before you see them.” Alec’s black eyes snapped to Edward, his gaze fierce and cutting like a double edge sword. He didn’t reply, didn’t need to as Edward left the room, leaving Alec to wait as he retrieved a few bags of blood.

“He wants to see them?” Rosalie asked, looking surprised as she held one of the boys. They haven’t given them names, only calling them boy one and boy two, and then just princess for the girl, out of respect for Alec and Emberly.

“Yes,” Edward answers, glancing up at the stairs, wondering if Alec would be able to handle three kids on his own.

Alice took the girl, taking her up the stairs, “I’ll go first.”

Alec heard her, the seer, coming up the stairs and down the hall. He sat back as she came into the room, glancing at Emberly’s form to see the blanket was pulled up over her still cut open stomach, making it seem like she was sleeping.

“This is your baby girl.” Alice chirped, letting Alec see the smiling baby. The child beamed as she saw Alec, reaching out to him with small, grabby hands. He glanced up, seeing Alice nodding encouragingly, before he took the girl into his arms. He held her out away from him awkwardly, before she grabbed ahold of his black shirt and pulled herself closer. She giggled before grabbing his hair, making Alice laugh as he jerked back in surprise.

“She loves to get ahold of hair,” The girl then tugged on his volturi necklace. “Aaaand jewelry.”

Alec looked at the girl, seeing her bright, almost grey, blue eyes widely looking at him with curiosity. Her hair was at least two or three inches long and very blond, like the sun. Alice watched a small smile appear on his face, almost a sad one. “She looks like Jane.”

“What’s her name?”

Alec blinked, “Isadora, Isadora Jane.” Alice smiled, clapping her hands as she finally knew the name of the little girl.

“Beautiful!” She beamed before turning to see Rosalie and Emmett with the boys. She picked up Isadora and turned to stand on Alec’s right side. Alec’s eyes were wide and it seemed he couldn’t help but smile as both boys smiled at him, trying to get to him at the same time.

“Your first born,” Rosalie commented, handing him hers.

“Elias,” Alec leaned in and took a deep breath, pine and peppermint, along with a the smell of fresh rain. This made Alec think back to his time up north, around Russia and the Netherlands, the sharp smell of snow and rain, along with the pinch of peppermint on his nose. He’s killed hundreds of children of the moon there, and he smiled proudly as his son smelled strong.

“And your second oldest.” Emmett smirked, handing the other to Alec. He held both boys, one on each side as he supported their backs with his hands.

“Evander.” Alec stated, taking another deep breath right into his son’s hair. His son smelled like a warm summer day, instead of rain and woodsy, he smelled like sand. It reminded him of Greece, those warm summer evenings and early mornings spent in europe and near the ocean. Evander smelled like home, and sweet, reminding him of Emberly.

“Hope you’ll be able to tell them apart.” Emmett joked, reminding Alec briefly of Felix and his ways of putting a good joke into anything.

Alec chuckled, “I think I’ll be okay.”

Chapter 19

The pain was there, like a dull ache in my chest. Everything was dark, and I felt scared. Was I dead? Is this how death feels? I have to spend an eternity just motionless, thinking over my life? This flipping sucks! I don’t know how long I’ve been here, I vaguely remember seeing my children, then Alec’s voice telling me something, but I was too tired to stay awake. I assume that was my first mistake. Succumbing to the darkness that would ultimately be my prison for eternity.

Did God do this to me because I need to reflect on my life?

I felt the need to laugh, but I couldn’t feel my body. Did I have a body anymore? Maybe not, as my spirit is just a bundle of atoms now. I feel both numb and like I want to cry from the pain in my chest. It’s like fire, burning through my veins, if I had them that is. I can’t see anything, it’s only black, and I can’t look around.

If God did do this, does this mean I’m in hell? I don’t feel like I’m a righteous person, but do I deserve to spend the rest of my life like this? Sitting in a void mass of nothing, forced to think and never speak? Never sing my favorite songs nor hear what my children sound like? I remember their small, pudgy faces, but I cannot for the life of me, remember what they sounded like when they cried.

God is cruel, and he probably is enjoying listening to my thoughts. I hope he’s pleased, because then at least someone would be getting something out of this.

If I’m limited to nothing, and only allowed to speak with myself, then I suppose I should reflect on my life.

As little as I’ve lived, I believe I was a good person. My life was hard, even coming from a wealthy background. I cannot remember my mother, only that I look a lot like her, which probably fueled his drinking habits. I never had cousins, a grandparent, nor anyone but the cleaning lady that came everyday. She was like my nanny, making sure I was fed and bathed before she did her duties around the house. I can’t remember her name, strange.

When I got older, my father drank more, coming home from work with a stern face only to lock himself in his study and down a bottle of scotch. He would stumble out at the late hours, come into my room and sob uncontrollably, calling me by my mother’s name and then after that, he’d pass out on my floor and be gone before I woke up.

He started to beat me around ten years ago, when I was around five or six. He’d get angry over the simplest things. The cleaner never said anything, only dressed me in long sleeves and pants before sending me on my way. I never had friends over, and never went to their houses until I was about twelve. I learned to avoid my father, and usually was able to make it with only a few beatings or harsh words a few times a month.

My friends; Ashley and Tessa. Right? Those are their names. Ashley was funny and adventurous, who loved to always try makeup and different fashion designers. Tessa hated sweat and anything that she deemed ‘unsanitary’ but loved the game of soccer, and called it her life. I met them in middle school, when we were in gym and placed on a three man team for badminton. I was terrible, and I was sure Tessa was going to rip my head off if I kept missing the little thing-what was that called?

My love for photography morphed in the seventh grade, when I received a high tech camera for my birthday from my father. He had accidentally put me in the hospital after he hit me and I fell, smashing my head on the corner of my night stand, and I suppose that was his poor attempt at parenting.

Then, Tessa and Ashley planned a trip to Italy. I was excited to go, as I wanted out of Indiana and America-where it was heading wasn’t something I will ever be proud of-and we saved up some money, while Ashley’s parents paid for the round trip tickets and hotel, we saved up money to buy ourselves crap that we’d need another suitcase or two for.

Italy was beautiful, as it was rich in culture and history, leaving a billion ideas for photos and wonderful memories.

That was where I assume my life took a turn for the worst. Alec. He was enchanting, everywhere I turned, and seemed to captivate me like no one else was ever able to. I don’t know what it was exactly, but he drew me in; like an ant to a picnic, a bear to honey, or a butterfly to a flower.

His eyes were the first thing I noticed, other than his unearthly pale skin that seemed to be paperwhite. They were so red, as if he had rubies for eyes. They sparkled, reflecting the sun and seemed to look into my soul. No one ever looked at me like that before. I felt like a small deer caught in headlights, unable to shake myself from the spell he put me under.

He looked like an angel, as if one of those lovely statues came to life and started following me around. His cheekbones were high, and he had a dimple in his chin that made him look older than what I assumed he was. His lips were full, though not as full as his sister’s, they were naturally darker than Jane’s, being a soft pink, while Jane usually wore red lipstick. He was tall and slim, like any teenage boy, but he walked calmly. He seemed to feel important, not like he was cocky and all that-though I’m sure he may feel that way at times-but the way he held himself made me feel like I should respect him and view him as an authority.

I remember the dark room, very vividly. The shadows, they came and visited me every night after he beat me, and then stopped after Carlisle gave me medicine. They did horrible things, and sometimes I could dream of losing Alec in the most horrific ways. My time with him, away from civilization and anything connecting me to the outside world, I grew to love him. Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe. It was as if Alec was my lifeline, and I needed-still need-him there with me.

The pain is gone. Why is there not a painful sensation in my chest anymore? I feel numb, and blank. What is happening? Has God decided I had enough?

“She hasn’t woken yet.”

“It may have been too late, Alec.”

“Take them away, please…” Why am I hearing voices? Are my shadows back? Is God punishing me in another way?

“Wait!” I took a deep breath, what is that? I can smell something like warm, spicy cinnamon. It reminded me of those cinnamon sticks the cleaning lady would place in my hot chocolate during the winter holidays. “I can hear her thoughts.” Came a voice, sounding very close. Who is that?

“Emberly,” Alec? He sounds worried, is something wrong? “Open your eyes, Dove.”

I struggled, feeling what I assumed to be my eyelids, fighting against my wishes to see again. But then, my eyes snapped open, like a spring coiling before breaking free. It was very bright, and the first thing I took notice of was the small dust particles in the air in front of my face. Then, I focused on the ceiling, the texture of the drywall underneath the white paint.

“Emberly.” I looked to my left, seeing someone sitting in a chair beside my bed. It was Alec, but he looked vaguely different. His hair was messy, his skin looked unhealthy and didn’t have it’s usual glow like before, and his eyes were filmy and black. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his lips looked chapped.

“Alec?” My voice was different, lighter. Hm, strange. I sat up and looked down to see I was wearing a baby blue nightgown, with dark stains of blood. I frowned, looking up at him to see he looked like he was seeing the sun for the first time. I smiled, the action pulling at the corners of my lips.

“You’re beautiful.” His words made me laugh, and I was pulled into his chest. His face dug into my neck, and I thought I felt him shudder, as if he was holding back sobs. He wasn’t cold, but actually felt rather warm.

“I’m not dead?” I asked when he stood up, holding my hands in his.

He smiled, “No love, you and I are the same now.” I furrowed my brow, I’m a vampire? I winced as a slow burn crawled up my chest. I felt like I just swallowed scalding hot coffee, yet it tasted like stomach acid instead of the bitterness of black coffee grounds. “Come on, we need to hunt.” I glanced outside, seeing it was just starting to turn into night. We won’t be seen in the night.

I followed him, holding his hand as we both jumped from the second story into the trees and he started running, pulling me with him. I didn’t know where, but soon an amazing smell hit my nose and then the sound of cars.

Town, we were in town. He pulled me through some alleys, until we reached the outside of a bar. Suddenly, a laughing couple walked by. Alec pulled them in, their arms breaking under his strength and he threw the man to me.

“Drink.” He smirks, breaking the woman's neck before biting into her shoulder. I snapped his neck with just a simple flick of my wrists, then dug into his neck. My teeth sliced into his neck and blood pooled into my mouth. I moaned and gulped it all down, and soon nothing was left. I dropped him, a little upset that it was gone so suddenly.

“We’ll get a few more then go back.” He grabbed my hand, sending me a loving smile. “There are people you need to meet.”

[ancientbygone]

hidden tales unearthed: compilation of tag rambles

so you guys know how i love to write borderline novels in my art tags sometimes? i decided to make a masterpost with all of those tags written out in a way that's actually not as troublesome to read (no line breaks tho sorry), categorized by post and updated every time i do this shit again. hope y'all enjoy. thanks to alex fivewholeminutes for pestering me about this & let me know if i missed any tags from any posts

Him: the most "itself" this thing has ever been, the most it will be. held together by vengefulness alone and pretending it's something more than that. there isn't really vessel in there anymore, nor is there sleep; it's both and neither, a mortal shell filled with barely controlled anger constantly threatening to burst. it still tries to make itself a god, but all it's ever been and all it'll ever be is a mockery of both godhood and humanity. a ticking time bomb of a joke.

Decimation: they're both so volatile; they eat each other alive, they dissolve and meld together and separate just to repeat it once more. it cannot be good, it never is. they lose a little bit each time. they come back a little weaker. and yet they keep going, even after it results in an explosion, even when one of them does not think he can anymore. because there is not one other force in the whole world that can make either of them feel like this. finally, for once, alive.

Excess: at the end of the day, the cycle doesn't end, not with them. vessel ends up on the other end of the blade. he knew he would, he has known from the beginning. and it still hurts. not getting his throat slit, he has come to terms with that. it's who's holding the dagger to his neck. the one before was a stranger to him; still not easy to kill, but easier when you feel nothing for them. ii is a friend. a bandmade. the closest person in his entire life, and he has to die by his hands. it isn't easy to let go, for either of them. but holy duty stands above any feelings they may have. there's no vessel now, just a lifeless body that housed sleep once and never will again. there is no ii, either. a new vessel now stands reborn. he is without a name, but his new purpose is grander than he'll ever be; his demise laid out right in front of him, slumped at his feet.

[ramennoodlesandnarusasu]

A kiss never forgotten

*Chap 1: A drunken night*

*Chap 2: A blurred night*

*Chap 3: The bath house*

*Chap 4: A Thousand pieces*

*Chap 5: Heart beat*

*Chap 6: Surprise*

*Chap 7: Sunsets, trees and you*

*Chap 8: What now?*

*Chap 9: Healing the unfixable*

*Chap 10: So, this is it?*

*Chap 11: What now?*

*Chap 12: Kids and kisses*

*Chap 13: Its time*

*Chap 14: Tears*

*Chap 15: Somethings different?*

*Chap 16: Its time*

*Chap 17: At peace*

*Chap 18: Pancakes, kids and headaches*

Chap 19: Will you stay or will you go?

Naruto flipped over the next page, skimming the words slowly making sure he absorbed every drop of ink that was on the paper. He lifted his eyes to look towards the corner of his room where Sasuke usually sat. The room was so empty and lifeless, the only company Naruto had were his lifeless pieces of paper.

The corner of the room was merely infected by the ghost of Sasuke’s body, and as much as Naruto was trying to distract himself from the thought that Sasuke had yet returned he could vividly imagine him right there. Sitting with his black coffee in his left hand, one leg crossed, thinking, forehead creased in deep thought over some documents.

He missed him, he needed him, but the last time he saw him was a month ago before he had to leave on an urgent mission with nearly every elite shinobi to de-escalate a potential war that was brewing at the Hidden Mist Village.

Naruto’s heart sank again, thinking of the last day he saw him before he went away.

They had gotten into a fight, a really shitty fight.

-

*Flash back*

“Sasuke, I just don’t understand why I can’t go with you?”

“Naruto, you are being unreasonable, you are the Hokage, you know this. Coming for me the first time got you in so much shit, you cannot let your feelings for me get in the way of being the fucking Hokage, will you for once think with your head?”

Naruto started tearing up, heart beating in flustered motions, skin accumulating heat as fast as a kettle, “why the fuck shouldn’t I think with my heart, you cold fucking bastard, just because you decided to turn off your frickin emotions, doesn’t mean I don’t have any.”

Sasuke turned around to face Naruto, furiously walking towards him.

“Naruto, you are really crossing the fucking line, you know I care for you, what else do you fucking want from me? A bed of full of roses every day? A confession of my undying love written in poetry form?”

Naruto turned around from Sasuke storming off into their bedroom, “Urgh, no I don’t want that, I just want you to understand that I could come with you, your life is here, what if something happens like last time?”

“I'll be fine Naruto, plus this mission is very important. They need as many skilled ninja going, there will be war if we don’t tame the situation over there, you know this.”

Naruto bit his lower lip knowing Sasuke was speaking nothing but the truth, he just couldn’t come to terms with accepting the fact that Sasuke wouldn’t let him protect him.

“I know Sasuke, that’s why I should go.”

“No Naruto, you’re not fucking going. What if the potential war comes here? Who will protect the village? Huh? Are you just going to abandon the village because you couldn’t stop and think with your head instead of your fucking heart for once?”

Naruto started to feel hot rage build within him, like a deep dark power was slowly manifesting from his toes upwards, clawing its way slowly out of Naruto’s skin.

“What are you going to fucking stop me?”

Sasuke walked over and punched Naruto in the shoulder, enough for him to lose his stance.

“You realize I could stop you, I am the Hokage after all.”

“Do that and I will fucking leave Konoha, I am not a damn child Naruto.”

Naruto pushed Sasuke out of his space and walked back into the living room.

“I just wished you would give a shit Sasuke, about me about your family that’s here, your fucking daughter for God sake.”

“Oh, my lord Naruto not this again with Sarada, she is a ninja, she needs to learn that accepting to be a ninja, means you accept the fact that you work alone, that death is likely to occur and that being a ninja is not all fun and games.”

“Do you just not care about her? Don’t you want her to have the family that you and I never had growing up?”

“Look at us Naruto, we are considered some of the strongest Ninja’s in the world, I think not growing up with a father that babies her will be good for her. I am not here to place a bandage on her every time she falls.”

Naruto started to cry, anger seeping out of him this time, no longer containing itself, just falling out in hot tears. “Don’t you care at all Sasuke? Can’t you find it in that cold heart of yours to see that this is wrong, staying here and taking care of your family should be your priority over fighting. Sasuke if you walk out, you are walking out on her and me.”

Naruto started to wipe away his tears, “last time you broke Sarada’s and Sakura’s hearts when you left, now you are going to include me in the equation?”

Sasuke looked at Naruto with dark eyes, full of mixed emotions. “I am not walking out on you,, I am fucking serving Konoha, and if you are the Hokage then you should start fucking acting like it. I am going Naruto, end of discussion.”

*End flashback*

-

Naruto sadly looked at his paper work, he highlighted a few lines and wrote some notes on a spare piece of paper.

He had no idea what will happen when Sasuke come back. If he ever does. Word is the threat of war is no more since the Hidden Leaf and Sand Village aided the Hidden Mist. Even though the threat is gone, many of Konoha’s elite shinobi decided to stay to aid in the relocation and safe keeping of villagers. Naruto heard from one of the reports that Sasuke was in that small group which volunteered themselves to stay.

But it scared Naruto, he hadn’t heard anything from Sasuke since he left, besides the mandatory scrolls each shinobi assigned to help must send back, but a letter full of battle description is not much of a heart felt piece.

He started to worry long ago whether Sasuke would return, and if he did would they still be together? Naruto missed him immensely, but every growing day he started to think Sasuke would never return home.  Many shinobi started arriving back to Konoha one by one. Each handing in their last assignment reports, the only ones left were about 7 elite shinobi. Each willingly staying to aid in any way possible on their own accord.

Naruto could only start to think that Sasuke was delaying coming back because he didn’t want to see Naruto or that he just was delaying the inevitable break up talk with Naruto.

It had been driving Naruto mad, he has no idea if he would get his boyfriend back, but he knew as much as he loved Sasuke all he needed was for him to walk through that door, safe and unharmed. He wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to break up, because Naruto wanted him to be happy, and if he was too much for him, getting too attached and emotionally invested in Sasuke was not his cup of tea then he wouldn’t stop him.

Naruto tried not to think about it, because the sheer idea of Sasuke wanting out from their relationship made his whole body feel like small daggers were cutting into every vein and vessel in his body. His heart started to clench into a tight hold and his lungs collapsed slowly until he felt like no oxygen was being circulated in his body anymore. So, before Naruto literally passed out he had to keep his mind distracted, “keep working, keep writing, think about your job, the people you're protecting”.

Naruto had to repeat this in his head every day to distract himself from sheer pain and extreme anxiety attacks, it actually helped significantly and he had surprisingly been doing very well at his job considering Sasuke and Kakashi were gone on this mission.  

-

*1 week later*

Naruto opened his saggy eyes, his head throbbed loudly and the left side of his face was deformed due to sleeping on his wooden table again. He looked around to see the sunlight trickling in from the outside, the papers he had on his table had smudged red stains from his pen being left open. He stretched out his strained back muscles and scratched the top of his hair.

He looked at each corner of the room, empty spaces, no life, just stacks upon stacks of paperwork. Filled documents, signed contacts, each finished and completed.

Naruto had done nothing but works since Sasuke left, he could do nothing else to distract himself. He needed to fill his mind with something. It was about a week ago when he started working from sunrise to sunset, no breaks, just full work.

Only 2 days ago had he completely given up on going home and would either fall asleep on the wooden table or crash on the couch where Sasuke used to sit.

Everyone was worried about him, he was clearly overworking himself and everyone could see it besides himself. But he was too stubborn to actually listen to anyone, he just kept working and working until he literally dropped.

It had been nearly 1 month and 3 weeks since Sasuke left for the mission and every single shinobi sent off to the relief mission had returned back, the only ones left were Kakashi and Sasuke. No word had been heard from both of them and Naruto was starting to lose his mind. The last thing he heard was from Ino who was the most recent shinobi to return, she mentioned that Sasuke and Kakashi had decided to stay until the whole village had been relocated even though there were only a handful of people left and the mist where fully capable of relocating them.

Naruto got out of his seat walking sleepily towards the door, looking at the floor solemnly, one foot after each other.

He walked out of the Hokage room towards the coffee machine in the kitchen, at this point he was a vessel of caffeine, needing 5 to 10 cups of coffee per day to keep him up with his crazy new schedule.

As he waited for the water to boil he chucked 3 teaspoons of coffee blend into his Hokage number 1 cup.

“You know that caffeine is bad for you right?”

Naruto’s eyes widened, he knew that sarcastic almost farther tone of voice.

“Kakashi!” Naruto nearly jogged over to him and enveloped him in a bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here, I’ve missed you. Where have you been? What happened? How come you stay for so long?”

Kakashi looked at Naruto with unfounded happiness, “Oh Naruto I never thought I ever say this, but damn I have missed you too and your annoying voice.”

Naruto and Kakashi patted each other on the back and stepped aside letting out manly coughs to subdue the fact that they were acting all mushy. Naruto looked across to his coffee and poured a second cup for Kakashi, he started to place the coffee blend into Kakashi’s mug whilst he begged his mouth to open, to say something, ask about the one thing he cared about.

“Kakashi…” Naruto gulped down on his fear, “where’s Sasuke?”

Naruto turned around to pass Kakashi his drink, he saw the one thing he had been dreading. That look, of misery, despair, sorrow.

“Um, he came back with me, but he said he wanted to go to the house first.”

Kakashi tried to look away from Naruto, but Naruto wasn’t standing down he was looking directly at him. He wasn’t going to let this kill him, he was Hokage and he was not going to break again.

“Oh, that’s a shame, well I should be getting back to work. But take the whole week off, rest Kakashi you deserve it.”

Kakashi quickly bolted his hands out to stop Naruto from leaving, “wait Naruto, are you sure? Isn’t there a lot of work to do since Sasuke and I  have been away?”

Naruto started to dryly laugh, a fake laugh which he had perfected after many years, “nope, I actually worked triple hard since you two left, I am actually a week ahead of schedule, so take a week off come back in on Monday for work okay?”

Naruto looked at Kakashi and smiled, a smile which said I need to be alone right now, a smile which was trying so very hard to cover the rushing pain that lingered underneath.

Kakashi started to slowly walk away, “only is your sure?”

Naruto was about to open the door which lead him to his office, but he lingered at the handle looking down the corridor watching Kakashi slowly walk away. “Kakashi can you please do me a favour?”

Kakashi nearly whipped his head around, “of course anything.”

“Can you please go tell Sasuke that he doesn’t need to return to work if he wishes not to.”

Kakashi excitement faded, his shoulder slumping downwards towards the floor, “oh, I understand.”

Naruto walked into his room and slammed the door behind him, he walked forwards towards his table with incredible force pushing him forward. Today he was going to work himself to the bone, whether it killed him or not, he was the Hokage, and like Sasuke said, he was going to act like it.

-

*30 minutes later*

After finishing yet another stack of paperwork Naruto’s mind started to waver from the blurring amount of lines in his paperwork and all the calculations which had muddled all in Naruto’s mind.

He couldn’t stop the thought arising in his brain, almost developing like a pastry in his head, until he could longer compress it.

‘Was Sasuke moving out? Was that the reason why he didn’t come here, because he wanted to move his stuff out before Naruto got home? Was he really leaving? Why didn’t he come see me first? Why was this happening? Why does his heart keep being broken apart into a million pieces? Why him? What the fuck did he do wrong to deserve this? Why Sasuke? Why?’

Naruto shook his head aggressively to get the thought out of his head. He looked down at the paper with such aggression, as if burning the paper with his vision alone. He had to work harder, faster and longer.

If Sasuke was leaving because he didn’t act like the Hokage, then he was going to work to the bone until Sasuke has to take back that shitty statement.

Naruto stood up with such aggression that the wooden chair scratched against the floor, he took the pile of paperwork he had just finished and placed it on the floor. He placed a sticky note on it to remind him what the paperwork was for and what day cabinet it was meant to go into.

He started to look around the room and realized that his entire floor was now nearly enveloped in stacks of paper. He curiously looked at the floor, trying to concoct a plan for organizing this mess.

*

5pm

Naruto could finally see the floor, he brushed off some dust that accumulated on his hands, he smirked at the floor, looking down at it in triumph.

He let out a sigh thinking to himself that sooner or later he will run out of things to do to distract him. He can’t live the rest of his life trying to pretend like this is all okay, that working himself till he literally collapses is fine, but what else was he meant to do? What could subdue that loud voice in his head telling him he's not fine, that his heart is hurting more than he could express, that his whole heart was slowly dying because of one man?

How can he tell the people of his village that he can no longer work because he was heartbroken? He was being stupid and immature, he wasn’t a kid anymore, he had to stop being so involved in romance and just let go and move on. Maybe he needed to be more like Sasuke, just don’t have emotions at all.

“Naruto, Sir”?

Naruto turned around in shook

“Sorry Shizune, I did not see you there, are you okay?”

Shizune looked worried, she shyly raised her shoulders and wriggled on the spot in discomfort.

“Uh I just got a call.”

Naruto looked at her with great worry, what did she just hear?

“Shizune, what is it? You can tell me.”

“Well… Sasuke just called.”

Naruto started to hyperventilate, did Sasuke just break up with him over the office phone? Was he calling to tell Naruto he was leaving the house, or worse was he hurt?

“He wishes to talk to you, hes on line 1.”

Naruto gulped down a whole ball of anxiety, smiled the fakest smile he could possible manage to do and thanked Shizune and walked over to the phone on his desk to answer.

He felt every step towards that phone was literally stepping him further and further away from the desk. He heard the door shut as Shizune left, the sound of the door shutting echoed in his ears.

Why did the room suddenly feel so small and dark? Why couldn’t he move his feet anymore? Why was that red phone on his table so scary, so threatening? It was just a phone, nothing less, nothing more. It wasn’t a robber or a villain here to tear Naruto and the village apart, then why was it so ominously sitting on the table?

His hands started to shake a little as he went in to grab the phone.

He pressed line 1 and picked it up, he could hear irrational breathing and shaking.

Naruto knew this was it, this phone call would lead to his death.

“Sasuke?”

Naruto could hear Sasuke’s breath exhalate anxiously on the line when he heard his name.

“Naruto, uh Hi.”

“Long time no see, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine…”

Naruto was gripping the phone so tightly, he almost felt like any more strength and he was going to break the phone in half.

“Why are you calling, I’m at work, and Kakashi already told me you’re not coming in, so you didn’t need to call to say you’re not coming in, I don’t need you in anyways.”

“No, Naruto I’m not calling for work, umm…”

Naruto’s heart was racing a million miles per hour, his eyes had already started burning, he couldn’t take this any longer.

“Sasuke for fuck sake just say what’s on your mind, this is killing me.”

“I need you to come home.”

Naruto’s eyes widened, why did he have to come now? Did he want to leave Naruto face to face? Did he want the glory to watch Naruto crumble at his feet in defeat?

“What? Why?”

“I have something really important to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“I have to do this face to face Naruto, can you come?”

“Yer, I'll be there in 5.”

Naruto hanged up the line before Sasuke could say another word.

He started to cry heavily, gripping onto his heart with his hands. He slowly collapsed to the ground in pain, he no longer held it in, he just started to sob.

“Why Sasuke!? Why!?”

He couldn’t believe this was it, he was going to go home and get dumped. Everything he had worked for, all the lying at the start, all the insecurities what was it all for? He thought it would be forever with Sasuke, he thought he found his happiness.

Why him? Hasn’t he already gone through enough? Hasn’t he already been tortured enough?

“Why is the fucking world against me?!”

Naruto stood up, wiped his tears away aggressively, he angrily walked over to the window and opened it, he applied a large force of chakra to his feet and  sky rocketed out towards his house, bouncing from roof to roof so quickly that you could barely see him.

-

*7pm

Naruto looked at his house through the forest, all lit up, so welcoming and warm. But it wasn’t, the house was holding the one person who had all the kryptonite to defeat Naruto, the power to finally kill the light he carried.

If Naruto is the sun and Sasuke the moon, then today, this house, this moment would be a solar eclipse, the moon finally blocking out the sun.

Naruto took slow steps forward, afraid of the house and the man inside. Afraid of the pain that would follow after opening the front door.

But alas even though his mind was saying run away, his legs walked forward towards his doom.

Sooner or later he was in front of his door, looking down at the welcome mat thinking to himself, Kakashi and Shizune looked so miserably down and solemn when they talked to Naruto, did Sasuke already tell them he was leaving Naruto? How many people knew about this, was the whole village laughing behind Naruto’s back, waiting for his heart break?

Was no one kind enough to tell him Sasuke was going to rip out his heart on this day, on the solar eclipse?

Naruto started to turn the handle, fearful of what lay on the other side. But he walked forward into the house anyways, he had to get this over and done.

-

As he slowly closed the door behind him he found Sasuke already waiting for him at the kitchen table.

He looked at Naruto with tired and drained eyes.

“Sasuke, care to tell me what this is all about? Because I have been wracking my brain for so long and I just… need this to stop.”

Sasuke got up from his seat and walked over to Naruto, he looked down to the ground, like he was struggling to say the next few words. He raised his head up and bit down on his lips.

“Sasuke?”

“Naruto, I have thought long and hard about this, but I believe this is what I want to do…”

Naruto started to clench his fist, he knew the next couple of words will be the bullets which would finally silence his heart. He felt his chest contracting against him, pulling and pushing harshly against his rib cage.

He wasn’t ready to die.

“Naruto…”  Sasuke said whilst slowly getting down on one knee.

-silence-

“Will you marry me?”

[vanities-redemption]

Shattered

@n-o-r-t-e-d

Breath was hitched in his throat as he peered down at Master Xehanort from his seat and saw Vanitas was pinned down to the ground by No Name. Vanitas was technically not a member of Master Xehanort’s thirteen wielders of Darkness, no, he was Sora’s protector, his shadow.  But that didn’t stop the beatings, inflicted on both Sora and Vanitas. It hurt to see someone with your own face and voice in so much agony, but they endured, together. The other vessels of Xehanorts were gazing down upon Master Xehanort and Vanitas with no emotion.

Sora clutched the handles of his white throne as he gazed down at the scene. What was this? What was Xehanort up to?

“Vanitas...you had such promise when you were younger. Its disappointing to see how much weaker you’ve become.” Xehanort shook his head in disappointment as he held the Keyblade to Vanitas’ chest. “You act as if you were a human teenager, rebelling against your master, but you were never human my pupil.”

“You don’t have a say in what I think, what I am.” Vanitas snarled at him. Sora could see the hatred blazing in those eyes. “You have no right!”

“I have every right, my boy. I brought you into this world.” Xehanort replied, his voice not disturbed by Vanitas’ snarls.  Xehanort’s gaze turned to displeasure. “And now I learn that light is growing in your heart.”

Vanitas froze, becoming silent before looking away while Sora’s eyes grew wide. Vanitas’ heart was...growing light? How had Sora not noticed that?

Xehanort smirked. “Yes, I could tell boy. I raised you from the moment you were born, I could see the changes in you, my abomination.”

“You didn’t raise me.” Vanitas growled defiantly.

The sound of No Name slamming into Vanitas’ face made Sora’s heart stop. A cry escaped from Vanitas’ lips and his hand flew up to his face. Before Sora could stop himself, he had teleported himself between Master Xehanort and Vanitas. Xehanort frowned in disapproval.

“Why are you standing in the way, Sora? You owe this boy nothing, he is weak, truly he has been rubbing off on you.” Xehanort wondered aloud, focusing on Sora. He pointed No Name at Vanitas who was now glaring up at him, holding his bloodied face. “The light growing inside of him is holding him back.”

“He is mine, my shadow. If he’s growing light, then allow me to remove it. He won’t be so rebellious with me.” Sora tried to persuade him. He couldn’t hurt Vani, growing light or not nor could he allow Vanitas to suffer from Xehanort’s hand.

Xehanort frowned and shook his head. “No, I am well aware of your feelings for my pupil Sora. He is your weakness, the one thing that keeps you from fully embracing the darkness within your heart.”

Sora scowled and Xehanort couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “It is funny to see that expression on your face. I was reminded so much of my Vanitas whenever I look at you. He was a true master of the Keyblade, he was going to give me the x-blade.”

“You fucking bastard! You used me! You made me hurt Ventus!” Vanitas screamed, his fangs baring angrily. Sora glanced back to Vanitas worriedly, noticing that his anger was getting the better of him.

Xehanort glanced up, nodding before Young Xehanort and Xemnas appeared beside Sora. Sora looked between the two Xehanorts in a panic before his focus to return to Vanitas. Sora lunged toward Vanitas  when he was grabbed by both Xehanort vessels.

“NO! LET ME GO!” Sora screamed at the two Xehanort vessels. He tried to wrestle away from their grasp and screamed at them as they pulled Sora back.

Vanitas was trying to stand up before he was suddenly knocked back down to the ground by Xehanort. He grunted in pain and cried out when Xehanort’s heavy foot landed on his chest. Sora tried to lunge again, desperately.

“NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM!” Sora screamed, trying to pull away from Xemnas and Young Xehanort. Sora snarled at the two other vessels.

Xehanort pointed No Name at Vanitas’ face with a smirk. “My poor pupil...soon you will be back to the way you were. Then we can make you whole once again…”

Xehanort then moved his foot to his stomach, keeping him pinned to the ground. Vanitas tried to scoot away but Xehanort stabbed No Name into Vanitas’ chest. Vanitas let out a blood curdling screech, his face twisted into agony and Sora felt his heart sink...into despair.

Sora felt the world start to fall, his body sinking to his knees as he gazed at Vanitas and Xehanort. Xemnas and Young Xehanort released him as he fell to his knees. Vanitas’ head fell limply to the side, gazing up at Sora with wide eyed gold orbs, they were...slowly losing their light. A light that Sora had grown to care for...grown to love.

His expression was going blank, losing all hint of suffering that he was feeling from No Name being impaled into his chest. And the whole time, his eyes were on Sora. Light vanished from his gold eyes, dulling. A ball of light beginning to manifest above Vanitas’ heart as No Name was ripped from his chest.

Suddenly, a flash of memory appeared before Sora’s eyes. It was of a boy, who resembled Roxas, but wasn’t him at the same time. No Name had pierced his chest and darkness exploded out of him, leaving the boy limp. His blue eyes losing all light as well, just like Vantias. Beside him, Sora watched as Vanitas was brought into existence, darkness cloaking him in his armor and helmet. Now, it was happening again.

Sora then heard...his voice crying out in his mind, in fury. “VANITAS!”

Fury struck Sora instantly following that voice. He let out a scream, darkness manifesting behind him, tendrils appearing to wrap around his body, forming an armor. Yes, there was something familiar about this suit of Darkness that he manifested around his body. ‘Yes...I remember you…’ Sora thought as his head was encased in an armor’s helmet, two prongs sticking out of it and facing backwards. ‘You were with Vanitas…you were his light side, you protected me...during my exam. Now, you want to protect the both of us.’’

Sora suddenly drew out two Keyblades, his standard Kingdom Keyblade and an unfamiliar one.  ‘Lost Memory’. His voice whispered to him.

Xehanort suddenly turned to Sora, his eyes widening at the sight of him in Keyblade armor. “What is the meaning of this?!”

What happened next was a blur for Sora. His rage was all consuming, as was the rage that he felt inside of his heart, for it was not just his outrage, it was outrage from three others that still resided within his heart. Sora recalled the clashing of weapons, that much was certain, the metallic sounds were evidence of that, but also the tearing of flesh as well.

No, the next thing Sora knew, he was standing over the knocked out and even...dead bodies of the vessels of Xehanort. Blood caked the teeth of both the Kingdom Keyblade and Lost Memory, hell, some of the blood stained the armor he wore. Sora’s eyes drifted to the dead members of the thirteen, it appeared he had killed two of them, one being Ansem, the Seeker of Darkness while the other still wore a hood over his head, identity unknown. Ansem was slowly vanishing from existence, a heart floating away, with purpose it seemed.

The Mastermind himself was knocked out, slash marks covering his face. Sora felt...exhilarated at that sight, a smirk crossed his features. He had slashed Vani’s face, so now he’d pay the price.

As for Vanitas, Sora looked over at Vanitas’ still body. The ball of light still hovered over Vani’s chest, who was looking paler by the second. Sora burst into a run and slowly, the armor began to peel off his body and the two Keyblade disappeared. He reached Vanitas, the armor from his torso had peeled away by then.

Sora left out a sigh of relief, the light hadn’t been damaged in the chaos he had created. He reached out gently, bringing the ball into his hands. The ball of light seemed to jump excitedly at his touch and Sora couldn’t help but smile at the warmness it radiated. He could sense Vanitas in there, waiting for him.

“Oh Vani...I’ll fix you. I’ll put you back together again.” Sora smiled as he lowered his hands back to Vanitas’ chest, letting the ball of light float back to him. “Just like I did before...so long ago.”

The light disappeared back into Vanitas’ chest. There was a burst of light, which Sora shielded his eyes from, noticing its harsh brightness. Vanitas’ chest began to rise and fall again, his limbs twitching a little. Sora reached down and gently moved Vanitas’s head to look up at him. His open gold eyes were still dull as they gazed up at him, the life in them still gone. “Va-Vani…? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Sora gazed down in shock, no, something else was wrong. He shook the other gently, still nothing. “Van-Vanitas?!”

His gold eyes slipped shut, which made it appear that he was sleeping. Sora shook as he gathered Vanitas into his arms and gazed around in panic. What should he do?! Vanitas wasn’t waking up! He was breathing, but he wasn’t speaking! His eyes looked so lifeless. Sora held onto Vanitas and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

Was he...broken? No, he couldn’t think like that right now.

Sora froze when he heard a groan passing from the lips of Xemnas, who was starting to wake up. He had wounded Xemnas, stabbing him in the leg, he could remember the cries of pain and how satisfying it was to hear. It was time to leave.

Sora could only think of one place to go now. Somewhere safe, somewhere safe for Vanitas. He called upon a Corridor of Darkness, scooping up Vanitas into his arms before jumping through the mysterious portal. He let his heart guide him through the Corridor, to take them somewhere safe.

Sora emerged from the Corridor, landing within a hallway of a house. He could smell the ocean air drifting through the house the moment he stepped out of the portal. His gold eyes gazed around, looking for any signs of life. Then, he heard movement and saw her...his mom step into the hallway of the house.

Her ocean blue eyes, the eyes he had once, were filled with sleep and yet, confusion. Her eyes swept his form and at first filled with panic. Then, it set in when Sora gazed up at her desperately and then her expression changed to one of grief.

“So-Sora…?! Is that really you my baby boy?!” His mother gasped out.

“Momma…yes, its me.” Sora felt him smiling, but it was a weak one. He could already feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked back down to Vanitas, who still slept peacefully against him.

His mom’s eyes lowered to what was in his arms. She gasped quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. Was it the shock of seeing someone with her only child’s face or that he was carrying an injured person, or was was it both?

Sora gave her a pleading look as he offered Vanitas to her. “Momma, help him, please.”

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Hey dude I was wondering if you followed @immzies-adventures-through-books or @caffeinewitchcraft? they're both writers like you and I think you'd enjoy some of their works!

I wasn’t following them before, but I am now! Thanks!

They have two long feet, the longest feet in the world, two tall, thin stalks that stretch into the clouds and converge into a being with a disproportionately small body. You have to be awake to see them, the legs that shimmer in white and lift into the air so delicately, before setting foot further ahead, covering a mile’s worth of distance in a single stride.

You can hear them call out at night, too. The howl, but not like a wolf. Their howl is distinctly hollower, other-worldly. It gives the impression that they weren’t made for this planet. And indeed, who has heard of such strange creatures, in this country or another? Perhaps they are from a different world, from a heaven no one has been to, and they’re now trapped in this unfortunate world of ours, with all its strife and hatred.

They’re always in the distance, and no one has been close to them. It’s considered wise to not approach them. Call it superstition, call it traditional advice, but it’s what everyone believes here. The legs never walk near or on human settlements. They’re always in the uninhabited valleys, every step of theirs rejuvenating a grove, bringing clarity to river-water, sending birds flying away.

Needless to say, I and Artha were going to meet one of the creatures. We couldn’t resist.

I had to sneak out of the house while my parents were sleeping. Artha’s lucky in that regard: he doesn’t have parents. Being an orphan can be the best, I keep telling him, but he just won’t listen.

We took his electric scooter out all the way down the foothill before starting it. Even the slightest of sound of that idiotically loud scooter anywhere near the village, and we were done for.

We rode the rickety machine in the moonlight for a while, and Artha actually drove cautiously, for once. When we turned around into the valley, there it was: a shimmering pillar of light, stretching so high, and moving ever so slowly. We’d caught it as it was descending and planting its stalk on the earth.

Artha twisted the throttle and I nearly fell off. The scooter wobbled before finding balance again, and as we picked up speed, I tried to look up and see the being the legs belonged to. It was even harder from this angle, it turned out.

As we approached the leg, a scent of lavender filled my nostrils. I felt like I was being carried into the air… like I was floating. And it turned out, we were indeed floating: the scooter was suspended in air, and rising higher and higher as we approached the pillar of light.

I called out Artha’s name, although I wasn’t sure of what to say to him. We entered the leg, and I immediately felt like I was being shot up, like a tiny being in a blood vessel of a giant far too enormous for my understanding.

I was going to see the being the legs belonged to, at last.

On the way up, I saw Artha’s parents, suspended in air, eyes lifeless.

Well then.

[shadowpaintedrose]

Letting Go: Coda/Fix-It Ficlet for 12x23

AO3 link here

    Cas is dead.

    Dean sinks to his knees, the thought hitting him harder than all the punches he’s taken in the past few hours. For one moment, the impossible had come true; Cas had made it out of the alternate universe in time. And just as quickly, he had been taken away again, this time, permanently.

    He is vaguely aware of the fact he is alone. Sam had left his side and gone back towards the house, leaving him to kneel in the dirt beside Cas’s body. What he had left for, Dean isn’t sure of, and he is too broken to care. As far as he’s concerned, the world stopped moving as soon as Cas hit the ground.

    He tries not to look at the body. It is too stiff, too real, and too absent of the angel that was meant to inhabit it. He looks away but feels its presence at his side, a strangely comforting weight on his heart that will eventually crush him as time goes on.

    He looks up to the sky and prays. God? Amara? Anyone? He tries to say the words out loud, but they are blocked by the pulsing pain in his throat. He feels his lips tremble with unspoken words. Please. Fix him, please. Just one more time. I can’t—

    No one is listening. God and Amara have left the Earth for good. They abandoned him with a brother he had to protect, a mother who cared too late, and an angel that he couldn’t convince to stay.

    He can’t keep his eyes away any longer. Slowly he lowers his head, falling back on his heels, and he looks at Cas’s lifeless body.

    Cas’s wings are burned on the ground. They don’t look like the magnificent shadows that Dean had seen last. The charred marks are mangled, broken. For a second, he has the illogical thought, We gotta fix Cas’s wings. That’s gotta hurt like a bitch, before the terrifying reality washes over him again. Something shudders deep and raw in his chest.

    Cas looks too peaceful, like he’s sleeping, but Dean knows that angels don’t sleep. Still, he can’t reconcile the fact that Cas is dead with the image he sees in front of him. He always thought that if Cas were to die, he would be bruised and bloody, going down with a fight. Not a clean stab through the back with an angel blade. Dean was supposed to have his back. Now Cas is another member of his family that he failed to protect.

    Before Dean can stop himself, his hands cup the sides of Cas’s face, because it can’t end like this, not really. His skin is not warm, and not cold. It doesn’t feel human. “Cas?” he breathes, one thumb stroking the other man’s cheek. “Cas,” he says, and his voice breaks. His hands slide down to Cas’s shoulders, and he jostles him. “Cas, come on, you gotta wake up. I – I can’t. You gotta come back, man.”

    Cas’s head lolls to the side. He doesn’t stir.

    He releases Cas’s shoulders, and his hands come to rest on his chest. There is something solid on Cas’s left side, and Dean fumbles around inside his coat until he pulls a square piece of plastic from the breast pocket of Cas’s shirt.

    Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra xx, it reads. “Dammit, Cas,” Dean says, lip trembling with every cursed breath he takes.

    Dean barely has the chance to put the tape into his own pocket before the sound of glass shattering permeates the silence. He jumps to his feet, panicked. His mom is gone, his – Cas is gone. He can’t lose Sam, too.

    Dean sprints into the house, and bolts up the stairs, taking two at a time. He bursts into the room, looking around wildly. The window has been smashed open. And Sam? He finds Sam in the corner, dazed, but alive.

    “Sam!” He helps his younger brother to his feet. Sam groans, one hand pressed to his head where a lump is certainly forming. A thin trickle of blood slides down his forehead, but nothing too serious. After breathing in a sigh of relief, Dean asks, “What happened? Where’s the kid?”

    Sam shakes his head, eyebrows raising for a moment. “Not a kid,” he says. “I don’t know how, but he’s already fully grown.”

    “What?”

    “I dunno. But he got the jump on me and then burst out the window.” He winces, rubbing his head once more, but starts towards the door. “Come on, let’s see if we can find him outside.”

    They return to the yard together, but there is no sign of the nephilim. With a jolt, Dean realizes there is no sign of Cas either.

    “No. No!” He runs forward to the spot where Cas’s body is supposed to be. The charred ruins of his wings are still there, along with a splatter of his blood, dark and muddy in the dirt. “Cas!” he calls, turning around. There’s nothing there. It’s just him and Sam and the heaviness of loss settling between them.

    “No,” Dean says again, and sinks to his knees.

    “Dean,” Sam murmurs, and he knows it’s the voice Sam uses when he’s afraid of Dean breaking. In some ways, it makes it worse. “It wasn’t Cas anymore. Just his vessel.”

    “Sam.” He shakes his head. “I – I just can’t. I didn’t – I should’ve–”

    But he should’ve what? Said goodbye? Told Cas what he really meant to him? Not to Cas, but to Cas’s body?

    What difference would that have made? When it came down to it, Dean was a coward. The fact is that he should’ve told Cas what he meant to him long ago, at the very first chance he had. He shouldn’t have waited for a close call, and then a closer call than the last. He pushed it off so long that it was too late.

    “Dean.” Sam is pulling him to his feet. “We have to go. We don’t know where the nephilim is, and we’re out in the open.”

    “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” They move towards the Impala, and Dean can barely register his legs working under him. He struggles to breathe.

    Cas’s truck is parked nearby. It sends another wave of grief over him, stopping him in his tracks.

    “Dean?” Dean fumbles in his pocket for his keys, and presses them into Sam’s hand. “What are you doing?”

    “Cas’s truck. We... we can’t leave it.” He doesn’t know how to explain it to Sam that this is the last piece of Cas he has left, and that he can’t let it go.

    Thankfully, Sam doesn’t press further. “Yeah, okay. Just – be careful driving.”

    “Uh huh.”

    Dean is numb on the drive back. He wants so badly to sob and scream and curse every living thing, and it’s so much at once that he can’t even shed a tear. It’s all held back, beating painfully in his chest to the rhythm of his heart. For a moment, he considers popping in the tape he made for Cas, just so he has something to listen to other than flood of horrible truths running through his mind. He thinks of the songs he chose and what they meant, and he decides it’s for the best that he rides in silence.

    Cas’s stolen truck goes in the garage, just like the Impala. It is strange to have it there, surrounded by shiny classic cars and bikes, but it doesn’t belong anywhere else. He isn’t going to put the last of Cas’s possessions out in the driveway. It isn’t right.

    Two pairs of boots trudge heavily up the stairs, carrying exhaustion and heartbreak. He can feel Sam’s silence at his back. He knows that his brother wants to talk to him, and is holding back, knowing that Dean isn’t ready. He may never be ready.

    He climbs the last few steps quicker than Sam, ready to collapse into bed and hopefully sleep away the coming day so he doesn’t have to face the reality of a world without Cas. He’s kicking his shoes off as soon as he opens the door to his room, and as he approaches the bed, he finally looks up and freezes.

    Someone is there, hiding under the covers.

    He ducks back into the hallway. “Sam,” he hisses.

    “What?” Sam says, and Dean frantically shushes him, and gestures towards the door. He pulls out his gun, and Sam does the same. They creep quietly into Dean’s room.

    Sam stays by the door, gun ready, as Dean tiptoes towards the bed. He looks back at Sam, hand hovering above the covers. At Sam’s nod, he yanks the covers back.

    It’s Cas.

    Dean barely has the sense to put the safety back on before the gun falls from his hands. “Cas?” he croaks. The angel is curled up on his side, facing away from Dean. For a second he wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he looks over his shoulder to find Sam equally shocked.

    Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive. “Cas, that you?” He turns him onto his back and shakes him gently by the shoulders. “Come on, wake up,” he mutters.

    Cas’s eyelids flutter open, and a big gust of air fills Dean’s lungs.

    Cas sits up in a flash, looking frantically around him. “Dean,” he says, eyes focusing on the hunter. He glances at Sam behind him. “Where – What happened? I don’t understand. How did I get here?”

    “Cas.” He leaps onto the bed, practically tackling Cas with his hug. “You’re alive.” Cas is solid, and warm, and wonderfully living.

    “Dean?” the angel asks, arms limp at his sides for a moment as Dean’s arms wrap around his shoulders. After a few seconds, shaky hands find their way to Dean’s shoulder blades, and he is held firmly to Cas’s chest.

    “You died, Cas,” Dean rasps, his voice totally wrecked. “I don’t know how, but you’re here. You’re home.” He draws back and cups the side of Cas’s face, suddenly realizing that the tears he’s been holding back for hours are now running down his own cheeks. Cas’s eyes are damp, too, as they stare at Dean in wonder.

    “The nephilim... he escaped,” Sam says. “And right after that, you – your body disappeared. Do you think maybe he was the one to bring you back?”

    “It’s possible,” Cas says, eyes still locked on Dean’s. “I don’t know.”

    “Are you... really you?” Dean asks in a broken whisper.

    “Yes.”

    As Dean looks back into his eyes, all he can see is Cas and he knows it must be true. “Thank God,” he breathes, pulling Cas into another hug. “Thank God.”

    Sam is silent until they separate once more, though Dean’s arm remains slung over Cas’s shoulder. “We’ve lost so much today, I’m willing to take this as a win,” Sam says. “We can try to figure out what happened tomorrow, but for now, I’m just glad you’re back, man.” He claps Cas on the shoulder and then heads towards the door. “I’m beat. See you guys in the morning.”

    Cas and Dean sit in silence for a few seconds after he leaves. “You must be tired,” the angel says. “I should go to my own room now.” He slips out from Dean’s arm, leaving it cold, and stands from the bed.

    C’mon dude, pull it together, Dean tells himself. There’s never gonna be a perfect time to say it. Not to mention that he shouldn’t take this second chance for granted.

    “Cas, wait.” The angel pauses and turns back towards Dean. The hunter clears his throat. “You should – you should stay.” Cas squints slightly. “I... I want you to stay. Please.”

    Cas blinks slowly, at him, rooted in his spot. Dean waits on bated breath.

    “Okay,” he says. He comes back to the edge of the bed, hesitating only a fraction of a second before kicking off his shoes and climbing back in. His eyes flutter closed, unshed tears clinging to his lashes. “I’ll stay.”

    Dean is all out of words, but apparently it’s enough. Cas slides comfortably under his arm, and they lean back onto the pillows together. Cas’s head falls to Dean’s chest, and he places a kiss in the angel’s hair.

    He holds Cas tight and plans on never letting go.