#they never have eyes or features. just shadows that move in my peripheral vision and sometimes talk.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Why did I get a black cat? When I hallucinate shadow people?? I just felt a slight shift on my bed, look over, and she's just there. A shadow, with a slight gleam of her eye from the street lights outside. Mistakes were made, but she's such a good cat so I'm stuck with her for the next 20-odd years (hopefully)

[ace-or-yuri]

The Surgeon's Lovely Subject

A horror story I wrote for a competition

The surgeon is basically fandom Trafalgar Law

Alice slowly awakens. All she can hear is the soft beeping and whirring of machines. The smell of medical grade disinfectant fills the air and every breath she takes. She slowly opens her eyes to see she's in a dark, dimly lit room. As her blurry vision begins to clear, she realizes that she has been hooked up to all sorts of machines and strapped down to an operating table. Her wrists and ankles are secured with thick leather straps, pinned down limiting her movement. Her clothing nowhere to be seen, replaced by a flimsy blue hospital gown. Alice notices that an IV is inserted into her arm and steadily having some kind of unknown fluid dripping into her veins. "Where am I?" she mutters trying to look around. She hears a soft chuckle from the darkness. "Why, my love, you're in my operating room." A man in blood stained surgical scrubs steps out of the shadows. "The place where I can keep you away from prying eyes. All to myself." He says as he steps into Alice's peripheral vision, standing above her with a sick smile, his eyes flashing in a horrifying mix of pleasure and excitement. "Y-your in-insane," Alice says, her eyes winding in fear and horror. "L-let me go" "My love, it seems like you don't understand." He says looking excited and pleased. "You're not going anywhere darling, you're mine, all mine."Alice starts frantically trying to break free. “l-let me go. I don't be-belong to you, I don't belong to an-anyone" she says her voice full of terror.The surgeon slowly caresses Alice's cheek, a twisted smile continuing to spread across his features "Now, my dear. There's no need for such behaviour. You're only going to hurt yourself and I wouldn't want that. " He says, stepping out of Alice's view and towards a wheeled table filled with surgical tools and supplies. He picks up a syringe filled with a milky white liquid and slowly walks back to Alice with it, his footsteps echoing in the cold dark theater. Alice struggles and flails around, trying to break the leather straps restraining her.

“Help Someone, please help me." She cries in fear and horror. "Please. I don't want to die like this"“My dear… You are not going to die. I won't let you.” The surgeon says walking closer, his steps echoing through the theater. “You're mine forever. I will never let you leave me.”Alice screams in terror as the surgeon injects the liquid into Alice's arm. As she screams she feels herself going limp, slowly getting quieter and more still. "Good." The surgeon says walking back to the table full of tools and rolls it over. "Soon my darling you will pass out and I will be able to begin." He walks back into Alice's view and Alice just watches, unable to move or scream as her vision starts to blur. Is this how she is going to die, Alice thinks so. As everything fades to black, she sees the surgeon picking up a scalpel and feels an excruciating burning sensation on her chest. She passes out, hoping to never wake up.

[thunderousone]

Chapter 20

Summary: It's life or death for Eirene and she begins to lose it to the lightning as she fights Ravi.

TW: depression, profanity, graphic depictions of sex, pain kink, childhood trauma, parental trauma, chronic pain

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Status: Finished work! Chapter 20/23.5

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 🤍

masterlist | read it first on ao3

From her peripheral vision she saw sparks flying with each pounding step down the halls. Any hand on her by any guard Hino had started to use his chains as a makeshift whip, fending off anyone who dared to block Eirene's path as she raced through the corridors. 

The veins pulsed with that guided her through these halls of the manor like the fire guided her to Hino. She approached the large doors and blasted them open, the hinges smoking as they flung open loudly. Lyire lay slumped on the ground in front of her and she screamed, the sound ripping through her throat. Her eyes were clouded with tears but were frantic around the room... Vír.  

He was on his knees in front of a man, black smoke pooling around them that smelled of charcoal and sulfur. Vír's silver gray hair wet with sweat as his head was nodded back, smoke leaving the man before him and entering his nose, mouth, his eyes. Hino must have said something but she didn't hear it. All she heard was the pounding of electricity between her ears, clouding her mind.  

Reaching a hand out she harnessed the lightning's power, like Hino using his chains, crackling it like a whip around the man's throat. He gasped with shock and pleasure. Like father like son. She stormed forward, hand still outstretched. She could see Hino hunched over Lyire, trying to give him aid as best he could. In her electrical grasp Vír was freed from the shadows for a moment as he choked and grasped at his throat, crumpling forward trying to breathe.  

Eirene closed the distance, her hand still outstretched. He had a strong brow line, like Vír. His eyes and hair a much darker gray than his sons. His features more masculine, unforgiving. Luckily Vír took his beauty from his mother. Ravi gasped at the magic at his throat and a smile slipped across his face. Any other man would be on their ass with that kind of hit. He must be used to it. She turned it up a notch, losing her grip on it further. Coughing, Vír attempted to stand behind her.  

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," His voice sounded too much like Vír. It made her deeply uncomfortable. Even as he strained to speak under the weight of her electricity, as she felt it ripping out of her skin and diving into him, he still had that calm and numb way of talking like his son. She tightened her grasp and he choked. He held his hands up in a yielding motion but Eirene did not pull back.  

She maintained her grip, refusing to yield. Something within her chest surged upward, her voice a haunting blend of hers and another... It wasn't entirely her own; it was the magic's voice now, speaking through her. 

"He needed a father," the alien voice in her was loud- too loud to be her own. "She gave every last drop of my lightning to protect him from you. She never loved you- she was never your mate,"  These words did more damage to Ravi than the lightning. His eyes winced with pain and fear at what the element was doing to Eirene. "She was just too scared to say no to you. Too scared of what you might do. And when she knew she was going to have Vír she knew she had to protect him from your wrath at all costs. When she knew she was dying she put every last drop of magic into him, hoping it would shield him. That I would shield him," lightning fell around her in sparks and Eirene could feel her curls rising in the static in the air. "You couldn't see when to stop, couldn't separate yourself from the thunder in your veins. You lost yourself in the storm, a foolish move." One hand holding the lightning whip to his throat, the other weaving strands of lightning into chains, affixing them his wrists as Hino's were on the floor beneath them.  

She felt a warm breeze on her exposed shoulders and knew Lyire was alright, that he was there with her protecting her. Eirene came back into her body for just a moment but she saw every bit of agony and anger and heart ache on Ravi's face and wanted more of it. For her sake, for Vír's sake, and for the lightning's sake.  

The bolts snaked up his arms and pulled him to his knees. She heard Vír behind her say "It's enough, it's okay my love," and as he reached out to touch her shoulder the volts of power rippling off of her sent him on his ass to the ground. Eirene gasped as she blinked her eyes shut, pulling back the power she'd loosed but was having trouble grounding herself. Losing herself in the element. She knew the element would yield to her once Ravi died- but his death wasn't her choice.  

As Ravi's life began to fade in front of her her heart rate began to rise, trying to find some control of her power. These arms were strong, not flinching under her lightning's touch, and they held her firmly, restricting her movement. She blinked and could see Vír on the ground before hre. The lightning finally broke free from her hands and released Ravi. The arms around her didn't burn in her electricty, didn't flinch away from the rippling currents coming off of her.  

"Come back to me," Hino's voice said in her ears.  

She released her lightning in one soft sigh and slumped in Hino's arms.  

[theowritesstuff]

HELLO coming in here to request “is that a drawing of me?” + “i’ve dreamt about this.” w artist!reader and jamie tartt👀

No Notes

Jamie Tartt x gn!reader

A/N: This request kicked my ass, I hope I did it well, and I’m sorry it took so long!

General Taglist: @nptnewr @violetrainbow412-blog

You sighed as you scribbled your notes down. Ted had asked you to jot down notes at training today, saying something about having a fresh pair of eyes on the team. You watched from about 10 rows up on the bleachers as the guys did drills, practiced trick plays, and split up for a practice game.

Ted’s whistle startled you, ringing through the air. He pulled Jamie, much to his dismay, off the pitch. He huffed, then sat down on the first row of the bleachers. He watched everyone else practice, his foot tapping the ground as he anxiously awaited being put back in the game.

You continued writing down everything you saw, until you saw Jamie moving out of the corner of your eye. He turned so that he was straddling the bench. He took his water bottle, and lifted it to his lips. His head tilted back as he drank, causing the sun to cast a warm glow on his features.

Once he was finished drinking his eyes glanced over at you. Yours quickly moved back down to the notebook in front of you. You wrote down a few more notes before sneaking another look at Jamie.

He was still straddling the bench, giving you a nice view of his profile, but was now looking down at his phone. He must’ve snuck it onto the field. Your eyes traveled back to the game, watching the ball go back and forth on the field. It felt never ending.

Both Ted and Beard were watching practice of course. And surely your two pages of notes would be enough to help them, right? Your hand slowly turned to a fresh page in the book.

You started out with drawing some random shapes, a circle here, a line there, it wasn’t until you had an outline that you realized you were drawing a face, and a very specific face at that. You could recognize the lines that made up the strong jawline and cheekbones anywhere.

You started to add more, detailing his impossibly round eyes, his always pouty lips. You were adding shadows to his face when you saw something move in front of you in your peripheral vision. You shut the notebook closed and looked up to see Jamie sitting on the bench in front of you. His knees were up to his chest as he was sitting backwards.

“Got any notes about me?” He asked. His hand reached out to take the notebook from you. You pulled the notebook further from him, holding it firmly against your chest.

“Nope. No notes about you.” You say, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“Well, I am basically the star player.” He smirks and shrugs, earning a small laugh from you. “What did you write about the others? Something about Sam? Dani? Colin?” He reaches for the notebook again.

“Nothing that concerns you.” You stick your chin up at him, looking back at the field.

“Come on.” He says. This time his hand actually brushes against the book.

You pull away, to which he pushes forward. He just keeps reaching for it, completely ignoring your protests. You keep trying to pull further and further back from him, but he just keeps getting closer and closer to taking your notebook.

He lurches forward to grab it, causing you to fall backwards off your bench. You kick his shin as he’s leaning forward, making him fall too.

He’s laughing, his body on top of yours, the notebook sitting between your chest and his.

He looks down at the flustered expression on your face, and he can’t help but say “I’ve dreamt about this.” with a proud grin on his face.

You scoff, and roughly push him off you. You dust yourself off, and when you look back up at him, he’s looking through the notebook.

You watch in horror as his face contorts in confusion. He holds the notebook up facing you.

“Is that a drawing of me?” He asks.

You rack your brain trying to find a reasonable answer as to why you’ve drawn the footballer sitting before you, but you can’t find one.

Your mouth opens and closes, as if you’re trying to say something, but the words won’t come out.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come of as weird. I was just so bored, and you were sitting there, the perfect model-”

“Perfect model?” He smirks.

You can feel warmth spread across your face. Jamie laughs, and turns the drawing back to himself. He takes a few moments to look at it before he speaks up again.

“It’s really good. It looks just like me.” He says with a smile. “Can I have it?”

His question surprises you. You didn’t think he would like that you’d just randomly decided to draw him, much less ask if he could keep it.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” You say.

“Jamie!” Ted calls from the pitch. He waves him over, beckoning him back on the pitch.

Jamie hands the notebook back to you.

“Why don’t you hold onto that for now. I’ll get it from you when we eat lunch together. Today.” He winks at you, then makes his way back down to the field.

If you had known that this is what you would get for drawing Jamie Tartt, you would’ve painted murals of him ages ago.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Car Repair Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 修车之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 13 August 2021 ]

Beneath the blue skies and white clouds, the meandering road stretches towards the mountaintop, and the roar of the engine is incessant.

A light-hearted melody flows slowly within the car. Since we’ve already heard this song many times, Gavin and I find ourselves humming along to the music softly. 

Gavin: Are you tired? I could drive next.

Sitting on the front passenger seat, Gavin turns his head to look at me.

MC: I’m not tired. I’m filled with energy right now~

I shake my head, gripping the steering wheel while my gaze focuses on the front.

Gavin and I had originally planned to go on a vacation in a neighbouring city today. However, sudden changes at work caused my vacation to shrink to half a day...

As such, Gavin suggested that we should change our plans to a drive, and that he’d take me to this mountain route he often drives on.

MC: I’ve already watched you driving down this road a couple of times. I’m more or less familiar with this route.

The corners of my lips curl upwards slightly, feeling the fresh breeze brushing my cheeks, along with the comforting and pleasant sensation it brings.

MC: I can now understand why you like going on a spin here. The feeling of rushing among the mountains feels really carefree.

Hearing this, Gavin’s lips hook into a smile.

Gavin: If you like it, we could come here often next time.

MC: Sure. But I’ll be the one to drive you, okay?

I speak with a teasing tone, and Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: Why not?

While we’re talking and laughing, a strange sound abruptly drifts to our ears. My brows furrow. Gavin also senses the problem.

Gavin: Let’s stop the car.

I nod, bringing the car to the side before stopping.

Gavin walks over to the front of the car, then opens the hood. Bits of sunlight filter through the leaves, casting a mix of light and shadows on his face.

MC: Should I call the insurance company?

Gavin: No need.

Gavin purses his lips slightly, then waves casually.

Gavin: The spark plug just needs to be replaced. This car’s pretty old, and it hasn’t been maintained much. It’s a good time to give it a thorough check.

MC: I see...

I glance at the long mountain road. Even if we were to head down the mountain now, there’s still a great distance between us and the city...

Gavin: It’s fine, there’s no need to worry.

As though seeing through my thoughts, he gives me a smile.

Gavin: There happens to be a shop I’m familiar with nearby. Since we’ve been driving for such a long time, we could head there for a short break too.

Gavin places his warm palm on the top of my head, rubbing it gently.

Gavin: In short, it isn’t a huge problem and we can continue driving. Let’s get in.

-

Halfway up this secluded mountain, Gavin stations the car outside a shop which looks pretty old. After getting off, what enters our vision is a tightly shut roll-up door.

Gavin: The boss might have headed out.

Gavin calls out the boss’ name several times, but doesn’t receive a response. Instead, the sound of barking drifts over.

MC: This is...

Gavin: It belongs to the boss.

Gavin takes out his phone and dials a number. At the same time, he strides towards a flowerpot at the side, retrieving a key from underneath.

Gavin: I’ve told the boss about our situation. He says we could head into the shop to repair the car ourselves.

MC: Ourselves?

I mumble in slight confusion, watching as Gavin lifts the roll-up door.

Before I can get a clear glimpse of the shop’s interior, a figure leaps out.

??: Woof woof!

A brown puppy circles around Gavin excitedly, nuzzling against him affectionately.

Gavin (voice clip here): Long time no see, Bean Bun.

Gavin squats down, patting its head. Then, he points at me.

Gavin: This is Big Sis MC. Say hello to her.

MC: Nice to meet you, Bean Bun~

I bend down. When Bean Bun sees me, the affectionate energy disappears instantly, and it hides behind Gavin timidly.

MC: ...I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu. Why are these dogs only close to you?

I pout, my tone laced with envy. Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: It’s just a little afraid of strangers. Once it familiarises itself with you, it’d naturally stick to you.

Watching as Gavin carries the puppy up with ease, I can’t help but ask curiously.

MC: Do you come here often?

Gavin: I guess so. I often go on drives on the mountain, and got to know the boss here. I’d drop by occasionally to modify cars with him.

Gavin places Bean Bun down, then gives me a slight smile.

Gavin: That’s why I’m more familiar with this puppy.

After saying this, he gets up and drives the car into the shop. I scan my surroundings in curiosity.

All of a sudden, a few photographs on the horizontally striped wall draw my attention-

The photographs feature customers of the shop with their beloved cars. Stepping closer, I find one figure particularly familiar...

MC: !

MC: Gavin, your photo is here too!

Pleasantly surprised, I point at that photograph. The Gavin in the photograph is even more youthful than he is right now. He’s leaning against the car, his amber eyes filled with unruliness.

This isn’t the only photograph. Next to it, there are several photographs of Gavin checking or fixing cars. However, they appear to be candid shots.

There are occasionally photographs of him looking directly into the camera. His brows are always furrowed slightly, reluctance written all over his face.

Thinking of the reasons why he was forced to have such photos taken, I find myself bursting into laughter.

Gavin: Cough...

An unnatural cough drifts to my ears softly. Without realising it, Gavin has come over to stand behind me.

Gavin: I once learnt how to repair cars from this boss.

He follows my line of sight, sweeping a glance at the photographs while explaining.

Gavin: But he’s very strange. He didn’t ask for fees, but just wanted to take some photographs of me to stick on the wall of the shop... he said that his business would be better this way.

Hearing this, the smile on my face grows even wider.

MC: Looks like this boss has pretty good taste. He knows that he can’t let this dashing “model” slip by~ If only I had such photographs of you...

I say this enviously while scrutinising the photographs on the wall. Gavin stares at the photographs of the youthful version of himself, and seems to understand my words differently.

Gavin: “Such” photographs?

MC: Mm!

Gavin: You could take a few photos later.

In a nonchalant manner, Gavin shifts to stand in front of me, and just so happens to block my line of sight.

Gavin: Stop looking. My skills from back then are far different from what they’re like now.

He arches his brows slightly, taking my hand in his.

While looking at the person in front of me, I find myself laughing aloud. A sudden realisation strikes me.

MC: Wait. You mentioned “car repair skills”... So other than motorcycles, you can repair cars too?

My eyes widen in astonishment.

In these photographs, Gavin is always driving a car. Even though I already knew that he can modify and repair motorcycles, I never thought that four-wheeled vehicles were an easy feat for him too.

Probably due to my exaggerated expression and tone, Gavin chuckles.

Gavin: Why are you so surprised? I had an interest in it, so I tried learning a little. It isn’t anything serious. Although cars and motorcycles are two different types of vehicles, the principles behind repairing them are more or less the same.

Gavin says this calmly while retrieving spare parts for the replacement from a cupboard at the side. I support my chin with a hand, eyes focused on him.

MC: You seem to know everything.

Gavin: That’s an exaggeration. It’s just a hobby.

With a faint smile, he walks towards the car while carrying the tools. When he walks past me, he taps on my cap gently.

Gavin: It won’t take long. It’d be fixed really soon. You can sit at the side and take a break for now.

After saying this, Gavin rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his contoured arm as he uses the tools seriously.

I watch on fixedly, realising that I rarely see this version of him. As such, I smile while shaking my head, moving a chair over and sitting down next to him.

MC: I just want to stay here. This is the first time I’m watching you repair a car for real. I want to protect this best observation spot~

Gavin chuckles softly, and doesn’t insist otherwise.

In the next second, something seems to occur to him. He stops in the midst of opening the hood of the car, then casts a glance at me.

MC: Hm? What’s wrong?

The corners of his lips hook upwards slightly, a gentle light overflowing in his eyes.

Gavin: Erm, MC. Could you help me out?

Hearing Gavin’s suggestion, I nod hurriedly.

MC: Of course I can. How can I help?

Gavin tilts his head crookedly and ponders over this.

Gavin: Could you hand me tools?

MC: Only handing you tools...?

Seeing that I’m slightly disappointed in this task which doesn’t require much skill, Gavin smiles as he grabs a clean apron from the rack and ties it on me.

Gavin: It’s inevitable to get grease on you when repairing cars. You’re dressed really nicely today, so don’t get yourself dirty.

The sudden closeness in proximity causes me to soften my breathing. I cooperate by lifting my hands, then sneak a peek at Gavin from my peripheral vision.

His eyes are lowered, and his expression is serious as he ties the ribbon of the apron into a knot. His warm breaths gently brush against my ear.

I blink and nod, my voice turning soft.

MC: Understood. In that case, I’ll be Officer Gavin’s little assistant today~

I say this with anticipation, and very soon grow accustomed to this new role.

While Gavin changes into his work clothes, I purchase two bottles of iced water from a nearby stall. After returning, the both of us take out the necessary spare parts and tools from a work cabinet.

Just as everything is going smoothly, a crisp sound drifts from the side, as though something has fallen to the ground.

Twisting our heads to look, we realise that Bean Bun, who had been drinking water obediently at the side earlier, has moved over to the car, pawing at the tools on the floor.

Gavin: A spare part probably fell underneath the car.

As though punishing it, Gavin rubs Bean Bun’s head. Then, he leans over to look below the car. He supports himself on the body of the car with one hand, attempting to reach for the spare part which rolled underneath the car.

Looking at his tall frame and the amount of effort he’s exerting, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I’ll do it.

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, I squat down, reaching out to feel underneath the car.

Gavin: ...do it slowly.

A large hand is lifted up, carefully protecting my head. 

After feeling around the darkness beneath the car, my fingertips suddenly bump into something icy cold. 

MC: Got it!

Seeing how happy I look, the corners of Gavin’s lips lift into a smile.

Gavin: Looks like having an ‘assistant’ around is much more convenient.

He takes the spare part from my hand.

Gavin: I’ll have to trouble you again later.

MC: Mm, leave it to me!

Gavin removes his cap. After using a hoisting jack to prop the car up, his movements are nimble as he burrows underneath the car.

In the meanwhile, I tidy up the tools that Bean Bun had messed up earlier. Occasionally, the crisp sound of clanking metal can be heard.

Bean Bun: Woof!

After a moment, I hear a sudden sound.

Turning my head over, I spot Bean Bun wagging its tail, running towards the car.

MC: Wait, Bean Bun!

Worried that it’d disturb Gavin while he’s repairing the car, I attempt to pick it up. However, Bean Bun manages to evade me nimbly again and again.

In the blink of an eye, it slips underneath the car. I hurriedly bend down, looking underneath.

MC: Bean Bun, come here...

My voice abruptly halts, and my line of sight is involuntarily drawn to the image before me-

Gavin is lying on the ground, his gaze focused as he makes replacements to the car.

His head is tilted upwards, revealing his sculpted lower jaw. A droplet of sweat slides off his face, plunging into the collar of his slightly open shirt.

Despite the grease and dirt on Gavin’s face, it does not minimise his dashing spirit at all.

Bean Bun: Woo...

Bean Bun’s bark returns me to my senses. It’s currently lying at the side, looking at Gavin a little pitifully. It’s as though it wants Gavin to play with it.

I wave at Bean Bun, pretending to look stern.

MC: Bean Bun, come here. I’ll give you delicious, delicious food!

Bean Bun: Woo woo...

Gavin: [laughs] It’s okay, he won’t disturb me.

Following the sound and looking over, I realise that Gavin had stopped his work at some point of time, and is currently looking at me with a shining gaze.

My face flushes, and I avert my eyes while using this opportunity to pick Bean Bun up, who is stuck to his side.

MC: Reporting to Officer Gavin - I’ve successfully kept this Little Rascal under control!

My dead seriousness tickles Gavin to laughter. He plays with Bean Bun while it’s in my arms.

Gavin: Mm, not bad. My assistant is indeed competent. 

After this, he continues with the work on hand, just that the smile at the corners of his lips curls at a greater angle than before.

Gavin: MC, stay here and talk to me.

MC: Mm, sure~

I blink, then retrieve a small electronic fan from my bag at the side. I point it towards Gavin, wanting him to feel a little more comfortable. 

Gavin: Come to think of it, do you know why I wanted to learn how to repair cars?

I look at him with curiosity, and Gavin continues.

Gavin: When driving, I’m the first person who can understand the overall situation of the car. To me, fixing the car myself is most convenient. Also, I can make detailed adjustments based on my own preferences. It takes a little more time, but the process is very interesting.

Gavin’s tone is gentle as he speaks, the corners of his lips lifting involuntarily.

Seeing the bright lights in his eyes, I feel a certain part of my heart being stirred.

MC: So that’s the reason why you like modifying and adding new coats of paint to vehicles? I know how that feels.

I nod while chuckling softly.

MC: Whenever I finished my handcrafts in the past, I’d draw all sorts of doodles on them... It was akin to leaving a mark belonging exclusively to me on the things that I liked.

I mumble to myself, not noticing that Gavin has paused in his movements. After a moment, he slides out smoothly from underneath the car.

Warm yellow sunlight lands on Gavin’s face, smoothening his sharp edges.

My heart stirs slightly. Supporting my hands on my kneecaps, I bend over to ask him a question.

MC: Are you done repairing it?

Beneath the mottled light, Gavin lifts his eyes to look at me, arching his brows.

Gavin: Not yet. There’s still the final step. I’ll need your help.

He pulls me over to him. Amid the hot and dry air in the surroundings, Gavin’s scent and the smell of engine oil blend together.

Gavin places a tool in my hand. Together, we screw the spare part I had picked up earlier.

Gavin: Done.

His scorching breaths land on the nape of my neck. I turn my head, watching as a large patch of sunlight spills on Gavin’s back.

Scattered dust floats in the air, reminiscent of mayflies as they land on the car, which has already been covered with a layer of dust.

The person in front of me has a bright and clear smile which is even more dazzling than sunlight. I blink gently, tugging on Gavin’s hand and swinging it to and fro.

MC: Gavin, there’s something else I might be able to help you with.

-

“Splash...”

I retrieve a towel from the pail, leaning over and meticulously wiping the car which has already been rinsed once.

In the next moment, Gavin stands behind me, grabbing my hand.

Gavin: It’s best to start from the roof of the car. That way, we wouldn’t have to wipe and wash it again. Like this.

MC: Mm...

I cooperate, standing on my tiptoes. Due to our difference in height, I find it a little strenuous.

Gavin: [laughs] Let me do it.

While saying this, Gavin takes the towel from my hand.

I nod and turn around. Only then do I realise that we’re only a finger away from each other.

Stray hairs on his forehead sweep against the tip of my nose, and I can see each one of his eyelashes distinctly.

Warmth climbs up my cheeks gradually. Just as I plan to slip out of this tiny space, my wrist is suddenly tugged on. 

MC: A-aren’t you washing the roof of the car...

Lifting my head, I see an imperceptible smile flashing past his eyes.

Gavin: Before washing it, I have to ask for a “reward” from my little assistant.

After saying this, he leans down, cupping a hand against my ear.

Then, he leaves a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hold my breath. The only thing I can feel is my slightly increased heart rate.

-

On this scorching summer afternoon, the whirring fan moves continuously, and the sunlight along the horizon turns from a dazzling gold into a warm yellow.

Without even realising it, we’ve already wiped off all the soap bubbles on the car, and the body of the car is as shiny as the surface of a mirror.

MC: Done! Is Officer Gavin satisfied with this little assistant’s performance?

I turn my head towards Gavin excitedly. When I see the white soap bubbles on his face, I laugh aloud.

Gavin: What is it?

Under Gavin’s confused gaze, I turn the sprinkler to the lowest level, then head over to Gavin.

MC: Don’t move.

I dab some water on my hand, wanting to brush off the soap bubbles on his face.

MC: Gavin, squat down a little.

Gavin: Mm, okay.

Gavin nods in understanding. Following my instructions, he bends down. In an instant, his sculpted face draws close to me.

Beneath the gem-like and dazzling sunlight, the beads of sweat on his skin reflect light, causing me to be slightly engrossed in the sight.

I brush off the soap bubbles on his face gently. A damp yet soft sensation drifts from my fingertips. Gavin’s eyelashes quiver slightly at the touch.

Gavin: ...are you done?

I turn my head, realising that the tips of Gavin’s ears have turned an unnatural red.

MC: ...nope. There’s still a little bit on your nose.

Suppressing my laughter, I continue caressing his outline, deliberately leaning in closer.

Gavin’s breathing seems to become heavier. His eyelashes quiver slightly, before his eyes open right in front of me.

Gavin: [breathing noises] ...

Our breaths mingle with the heat waves of midsummer, and our eyes reflect each other’s faces clearly.

After a short while, Gavin seems to react. His lips move, as though he’s about to say something. However, two crisp barks interrupt him.

Bean Bun: Woof! Woof!

Bean Bun, who has been neglected by us, releases unhappy sounds of protest. It hops up continuously, pawing against Gavin’s leg.

MC: Sorry sorry, we seem to keep forgetting you today.

Lowering my head, I pat Bean Bun’s head.

Gavin: [sighs] ...

As though not wanting my attention to continue getting diverted by the puppy, Gavin suddenly carries me in one swoop, placing me on the car as he looks directly at me.

Gavin: I haven’t answered your question from earlier.

MC: Huh?

Gavin leans in close. I have a clear view of the smile overflowing in his amber eyes...

Gavin: I’m very satisfied with the “little assistant’s” performance today.

The faint scent of sweat and the fragrance of soap meld into my breaths. Only after listening to him do I recall the question which was interrupted earlier.

Despite the smile surfacing on my face, I pretend to be dissatisfied while speaking.

MC: Is that all? Officer Gavin’s assessment seems a little superficial.

Gavin laughs. He lowers his head to nuzzle the tip of my nose while he continues.

Gavin: This is how satisfied I am.

After a long while, he draws away from me slightly. With an upward tilt of his lips, he reaches out to leave white soap bubbles on the tip of my nose.

Gavin: [laughs] ...there you go. Now, the both of us have soap bubbles on our faces.

Watching as the smile deepens on his lips, I’m in a daze for a few seconds. Then, I recall how I had toyed with him earlier.

MC: Gavin, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?

Gavin: Mm, this is a counterattack.

Gavin admits it with ease.

MC: I didn’t expect Officer Gavin to launch such a childish counterattack.

I can’t help but laugh. Gavin looks at me, happy warmth reflecting in his clean and clear eyes.

He lowers his head, leaning his forehead against mine affectionately.

Gavin: MC, what you said earlier was very accurate. When there’s something I like, I’d want to leave my exclusive mark on it.

With his gaze, Gavin traces the contours of my face. Along with the warm breeze, his tender words land in my ears clearly.

Gavin: Which is why, over here...

He tilts my chin upwards gently, his voice softening.

Gavin: Let me leave a mark.

The scent belonging exclusively to Gavin wafts over. A soft sensation seals my lips shut.

MC: Mm...

Without giving me any time to react, Gavin rolls my breaths in between my lips and teeth in an overbearing manner.

The sound of disordered breaths dissipate at my ears. I support myself weakly on Gavin’s arms, feeling as though the temperature of my surroundings is rising.

After an unknown period of time, Gavin releases his hold on me. His arms remain tightly wrapped around my waist.

I pant slightly, allowing my breathing to regain some composure. As though I’m unwilling to admit defeat, I lean over towards him, giving him a light peck on his chin.

MC: ...Gavin, me too.

I stare at Gavin, my fingers caressing his outline before sliding down slowly, stopping at his chest.

MC: On you and your heart... I want to leave even more marks belonging exclusively to me.

The light in Gavin’s eyes stir for a moment. Then, he brushes aside the hairs on my face, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Gavin: MC.

I hear him calling my name.

Gavin: Actually, you already did that since a very long time ago. You did it effortlessly.

Reminiscent of a gust of summer breeze, his voice brushes my heart, filling it with a sweet emotion.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the mingling of our interlaced breaths as they melt into the rapidly increasing temperature of the surroundings...

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle from Officer Gavin!

Gavin: Sure. MC’s private lessons will begin next week.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Can we drive down different routes next time?

Gavin: Sure. Until you have your heart’s content.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Sparky: I’ve fallen out of favour.jpg

Gavin: It’s okay, I’ll coax it when we get back.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

💧 Phone calls: First l Second

💧 Translated comic based on this date: here

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[goddammitstacey]

Here have a queer retelling of Little Red Riding Hood

The forest is magnificent. Giant yew trees reach for the sky, their leaves sending dappled sunlight down toward the moss-covered floor like a parting gift. Even Shiloh can’t deny the majesty of the place, as much as she might have preferred the wood around her a little more dead, with four legs, and holding up a tankard of beer.

But alas, good things apparently come to those who wait. And wait. Shiloh sighs, pulling her pelt more securely around her as she shifts into a warmer patch of sunlight.

“Are you almost finished?” she asks. “It’s nearing dusk, my love.”

The nearest tree is a monster. As thick around as three broad men standing in a circle, arms outstretched, fingertip to fingertip. It hides Shiloh’s wife from view. Just.

When Kae rounds the trunk of the tree, she makes it look a fraction of its years just by virtue of the contrast.

“Almost,” Kae says, broad hands smoothing over the bark like she’s soothing a spooked horse. “The bairn is sick with heart rot, the poor thing. I need to shore her up before it gets worse.”

Shiloh can’t find it in herself to be annoyed. Kae’s described heart rot enough for her to have some sympathy for the poor tree. And it doesn’t hurt that seeing her wife full of care makes a puddle out of her.

“It’s a good thing I enjoy watching you work,” Shiloh says, unable to help her soft smile. “Because it’s all you do.”

Kae looks to her, sharing the smile for a moment before her eyes snap suddenly back to her charge.

Shiloh tenses on instinct. “What?”

Kae’s alert, but not reaching for her axe. Shiloh relaxes her hold on her pelt but keeps it in hand for swift action anyway.

“There’s a girl in the forest,” Kae says. “Small. Alone. The… the trees are agitated.”

“Over a girl?” Shiloh says, confusion reflected in the look Kae sends her. “That’s a new one.”

Kae turns her attention back to her patient. “I’m almost finished here, then we can-”

“I’ll go on ahead,” Shiloh says, stretching her back out as she stands. “I’ve been sitting too long anyway, I’m going to grow moss.”

Kae doesn’t pick up the thread of the joke, looking as agitated as the trees around her must be. “I don’t…”

“I’ll be okay,” Shiloh says, stepping forward to clasp her wife’s hand between hers. “I have my pelt. I’ll even take my wrap-”

“No,” Kae says quickly, stopping Shiloh with a hand on her wrist as she reaches for their pack. “Don’t wear red.”

Shiloh raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said the other night, my love.”

And oh yes, now who’s wearing red? Shiloh grins as she uses her grip to pull Kae within reach, pecking her on one rosey cheek.

“It’s the trees,” Kae says, brushing a strand of Shiloh’s dark hair from her face. “They’re saying, don’t wear red.”

“How judgemental of them,” Shiloh says, but leaves her red wrap safely in their pack anyway.

Tracking the girl isn’t difficult. She smells of hay and woodsmoke, a combination that is as much out of place as her humanity this far into the woods. Shiloh hangs back, employing more caution than she would have otherwise, her wife’s worried frown at the fore of her mind.

The girl is indeed alone. Shiloh closes the distance between them until she can spy the girl’s back through the trees. Her hooded cloak is flapping around her ankles as she walks.

Her hooded red cloak.

Shiloh frowns and ups her pace, circling around the girl on soft feet until she finds a clearing up ahead with a downed tree to serve as a casual perch. The girl comes upon her bare minutes later, startling to a stop despite Shiloh’s deliberate, friendly smile and unassuming posture. Unfortunately there’s little she can do about her state of dress.

The girl can’t be older than seven summers, blonde hair tufting out of her hood as curious eyes look Shiloh over. Shiloh doesn’t blame her. She’s an unusual sight at the best of times.

Finally the girl breaks the silence. “Why are you naked?”

The bluntness of the question stirs a real smile to Shiloh’s features. “I’m not naked,” she says. “I’ve this pelt.”

The girl frowns at Shiloh’s wolf pelt, twisted about her in an approximation of a tunic. “It’s not very big.”

She’s not wrong. But then… Shiloh rises to her feet – carefully,  so as not to spook the girl further. “It doesn’t have to be.”

The little girl watches her like one might watch a particularly interesting snake on one’s path. Cautious. Cautious but curious. Shiloh knows the sort. She sees it in the mirror those mornings Kae lets them hire a real room.

“What are you doing in the woods alone, child?” Shiloh says.

The girl rises to her full height, like she’s being inspected by someone with a badge. “I’m visiting The Grandmother,” she says, practically pronouncing the capital ‘T’.

Strange. Usually the trees warn Kae of any human settlements in the woods they travel. Kae’s parentage and Shiloh’s proclivity for travelling skyclad make chance meetings with humans something to be avoided.

“And where does she live?” Shiloh asks.

The little girl points along the direction she’s been travelling, deeper into the woods. “I’m to follow the sun to her cottage,” she says.

Right. Shiloh hums as she thinks. Kae isn’t far off and almost finished her tree-doctoring by her own admittance. She will catch up when she can. “May I walk with you, child?” Shiloh asks. “I’d feel much better knowing you got there safe, is all.”

After a lengthy pause, the girl nods, which is for the best really. It’s much easier to walk by her side than track her from behind.

The girl’s name is Scarlett.

“That’s an interesting name,” Shiloh says, the red of Scarlett’s cloak growing more vivid in Shiloh’s peripheral vision.

Scarlett shrugs. “Not really. There are lots of girls named Scarlett in the village.”

“Is that right?” Shiloh says, feeling more and more like she has a handful of puzzle pieces but no interlocking edges to fit them together.

They come upon the cottage as the sun kisses the distant mountains, sending the woods into an early dusk. Shiloh’s mildly put out when she notices how perfectly normal the place looks. The gardens are well-tended and the stoop swept. There’s even a cheerful glow warming the windows.

“This looks like the place,” Shiloh says, sweeping the clearing for something to explain the slow drip of dread down her spine.

Scarlett huffs a sigh next to her. She’d taken Shiloh’s hand not long into their walk and her little palm is warm and soft in Shiloh’s own.

“I guess so,” Scarlett says.

“You guess so?” Shiloh says, eye catching on a large shadow moving within the cottage. “You’ve never visited your grandmother before?”

“The Grandmother,” Scarlett corrects her. “And no.”

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but as Shiloh looks down at her, the red of her cloak seeming to glow in the darkness, she can’t help but think the situation is the very furthest from normal they can get.

“Is that visitors I hear?” Comes a voice from within the cottage. Shiloh looks up as the shadow in the cottage window moves toward the door. It gets smaller as it goes which is a funny thing, because Shiloh could swear it’s moving toward the light source…

The shadow is bare steps from the door when Shiloh gives an exaggerated shiver.

“Are you cold?” Scarlett asks.

“Yes,” Shiloh says quickly. “I’m afraid I didn’t think ahead. Might I borrow your cloak, child?”

Scarlett looks torn. “I was told not to-”

“Only for a minute or two,” Shiloh says, over the creak of the door. “I promise.”

“Okay…”

Shiloh whips the cloak from Scarlett’s shoulders and about her own just in time to face the figure in the doorway who-

Is a little, old woman.

Shiloh balks at the sight, eyes warring with every other instinct telling her to run, fight, hide. Shift.

The Grandmother smiles. Her face is like a weathered peach and her hands look frail as spider’s silk. They clasp and unclasp in front of her, the only tell that she too feels the tension that’s fallen on the clearing like a woollen blanket.

“Where are you, my child?” The Grandmother asks, peering across the clearing. “Come closer, I’m afraid my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Scarlett is stepping forward before Shiloh can move to stop her, small hand leaving only a warm imprint on Shiloh’s palm as she lets go.

“Ah, there you are,” The Grandmother says, with a smile warm like home. “I see you now.”

Only she doesn’t. As Scarlett walks toward The Grandmother, the old woman’s eyes, suddenly sharp and shrewd, remain fixed on Shiloh. No, she thinks as she steps forward and the cloak flares out. Her eyes are on the cloak.

Don’t wear red.

“Scarlett,” Shiloh calls, pulling the cloak from her shoulders. The Grandmother’s eyes follow it’s rustle like a hawk as the fabric hits the grass.

Scarlett stops and turns back. And The Grandmother’s shadow starts to grow.

“Scarlett, run!”

Shiloh doesn’t wait for the girl to obey, simply grabs for her pelt, reaches down deep and pulls. Scarlett screams and tumbles backward as Shiloh flies at her which makes leaping the girl an easy feat. She’s only half shifted when she hits The Grandmother’s charge but it’ll do. She’s got her teeth at least.

The Grandmother is easily the breadth of Kae’s yew patient and growing, but her skin, turning green and sickly by the minute, is easy enough to tear through. She bleeds. That’s the important thing.

Anything that bleeds can die, in Shiloh’s experience.

She’s fully shifted by the time The Grandmother hauls her back by her scruff and rakes jagged claws across her furred ribs. Lucky, Shiloh thinks as she hits the ground. She doesn’t think she’d have survived it in her human form.

Shiloh rolls to her feet and snarls. Her mouth tastes of copper and she can feel something sticky on her flank but the fight is a singing, beautiful thing in her blood. She might go down but she’ll give Scarlett enough time to put distance between herself and this… whatever this is.

The Grandmother’s skin seems to boil, lending her silhouette against the rising moon an air of gut-churning horror. Which is nothing to the sight of Scarlett behind the monster, branch raised like a club. Like she’s going to fell the beast with a stick.

Scarlett lets out a warrior’s roar as she brings the branch down and-

Nothing. It breaks on The Grandmother’s writhing back like so much driftwood. Scarlett goes from heroic to trembling in a bare moment and then The Grandmother is turning. Shiloh’s paws dig large grooves in the earth as she launches herself forward – she’s never moved so fast.

The axe moves faster.

Likely because it was hurled by a half-giantess.

The Grandmother’s skull cleaves like a ripe melon and Shiloh uses her forward momentum to barrel Scarlett out of the path of the monster’s falling carcass.

And then, silence.

Shiloh uncurls with a wince to find Scarlett unhurt if a bit squished under her bulk. She wasn’t kidding when she said her pelt needn’t be big. She’s a hulking wolf no matter the size of her talisman.

“Damn you, wife! You’d best not be dead!”

Scarlett’s eyes are round as the moon rising over them, flicking panicked from Shiloh’s less-than-reassuring countenance to the giantess bearing down on them. Shiloh can’t help but snort a laugh as she shifts back to her human form, pulling herself off the child as she goes.

“It’s okay, Scarlett,” she says. “This is my wife, Kae.”

“This is your widow more like!” Kae says, picking Shiloh up with one big hand to set about inspecting her wounds. “Because I’m going to kill you for that fright you just gave me!”

Shiloh endures the inspection, mostly because she’s had a lot of practice. “My love, you’re frightening the child.”

Scarlett seems to take that as a challenge, climbing rapidly to her feet. “I ain’t frightened!”

Shiloh kisses Kae’s palm on its way to pawing at her scalp to check for head wounds and sighs. “Yes, I could see that. What part of ‘run’ didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you were in trouble,” Scarlett says, chin jutting out stubbornly.

“Oh I like her,” Kae says, seemingly having satisfied herself that Shiloh isn’t going to keel over dead any time soon.

Shiloh rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”

Silence falls on the three of them once more as their attention turns to the hulking corpse of The Grandmother.

Scarlett breaks it. “They sent me here to get et, didn’t they?”

Shiloh, who was behind the door when the Gods handed out artifice, says, “Yes, my girl, I think they did.”

Scarlett takes this news with the sort of stoicism that’s likely going to require a lot of crying at some point later. “I’d like to not go back,” she says, finally.

Shiloh doesn’t say anything, simply exchanges a long look with her wife. And then she holds out her hand.

One year later, the village drapes another little girl named Scarlett in red and sends her into the woods. Four hours later, she comes back.

FIN

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[minor-solemnity]

hi omg i love you so much!!!! every time i see you post i get so excited!!!!! if requests are still open can you please write over protective tom! i'm a simp for tom x reader when he is super protective over her! thank you😘😘

Eee, thank you! You’re the sweetest omg <3 I really hope you enjoy this! (We all simp for super protective Tom, don’t we? I definitely do)

Tag List: @naps-and-lemons @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey @cakesarecute @mostlynonsense

The Dark Forest

“Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight.

The Forbidden Forest is a strange and remarkable place. From afar, it looks like a solid wall of black that fades into hazy mist regardless of the time of day. You’ve always held a certain fascination with the forest, spending a lot of your free time edging the perimeter and peering in through the thicket, trying to get a glimpse of what lies within. You’d given up Care of Magical Creatures as an elective when you had learnt that Professor Kettleburn had made it quite clear to you that he had no plan to ever lead students inside. It had been one of your favourite things to complain about in fourth year, and your secret hope that you’d one day find an excuse to venture beyond the borders.

You suppose the phrase be careful what you wish for was penned for situations such as the one you find yourself in now.

You trudge along the narrow path, one hand gripping your wand and the other holding onto the wicker basket that Professor Kettleburn had given you to collect the stella syriaca flowers before sending you and Tom off into the forest. The only light source you have is the lumos you’ve cast to guide you through the forest and the pale, white-blue light your wand emits turns the forest into a strange imitation of nature. In this light, at this moment, you can almost convince yourself that the trees and the undergrowth are abstractions of nature, an impressionist’s depiction of what a forest might look like.

This in itself isn’t a problem - you’re not so easily scared that the dark and unfamiliar are frightening in themselves. The problem is that you’re fairly certain that you’re being followed. Not that you’re going to mention this particular concern to Tom. He’s already been dragged out to the Forbidden Forest unnecessarily because of you, you don’t want to annoy him with your paranoid imagination. “Tom, do you have any idea where we are?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and calm. You don’t want him thinking that you’re scared, not when it’s your fault that you’re both in this mess.

“If the directions that Kettleburn gave us are to be trusted, we should be nearly at the clearing,” He responds, and unlike you, he doesn’t sound like he’s pretended not to be scared. He just sounds unbothered by the situation, like this is as normal as a trip to the library or a walk around the lake. He glances down at you and frowns slightly as he takes in your clenched fists and tight expression. In the light of the lumos, his concerned expression turns sinister, strange shadows forming under his eyes and distort his usually beautiful features into something otherworldly and dangerous. When he talks though, his voice is soothing and calm, “Are you alright? I would have thought that you, of all people, would enjoy this particular punishment.” You hum in response, unwilling to voice your current thoughts but unwilling to lie either. Lying never works well with Tom anyway - his talent for spotting lies is as good as his talent for the art itself.

“I’m just sorry that I dragged you into this mess,” You murmur, which isn’t a lie. You are sorry that he’s had to give up his evening to escort you into the forest. “You shouldn’t have to do this just because I was being an idiot.” And the fact that this is essentially all your fault rankles you immensely. The issue is… Well, the issue is that you don’t really have anyone other than yourself to blame. No. No, that’s not entirely true. You can definitely blame the school for your current situation; it’s insane that they would send students out into the Forbidden Forest at night unaided and alone as a punishment. Professor Seprenta’s petty desire to take out her frustrations on her students by sending them into potentially perilous places is nothing to do with you. But the circumstances leading up to your detention?

Well, that’s all you.

You wish you could pass the blame but frustratingly you can’t. You decided all by yourself that it would be a good idea to sneak out after curfew to practise summoning circles. It’s also your fault that you’d (stupidly) chosen an empty classroom that just so happened to be next to Seprenta’s office and had forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d found you, chalk dust up to your elbows, scattering bay leaves, lavender, and mandrake roots in the four corners of the room.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been impressed, and you’re still not entirely sure if it’s because she caught you out after curfew or if it’s because Seprenta has a weird grudge against any magic that doesn’t involve the direct use of a wand. Either way, it hardly matters now. What matters is that you had been landed in detention and Tom is the one who volunteered to watch over you, ostensibly to make sure that you didn’t skive off, but in reality, you know that it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of you venturing off into the forest alone and without protection.

Next to you, Tom stills and grabs your shoulder, using his leverage to turn you in place until you’re face to face. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t take responsibility for my own actions, it’s terribly narcissistic of you.” He says and despite the insulting nature of his words, you find yourself reassured. Tom is… not the best at kind words and sweet nothings, not unless he’s employing them to get what he wants that is. When he’s being honest, he has a tendency towards bluntness that borders on rude. It says a lot about his feelings towards you that he is rarely charming and sycophantic. “If I hadn’t wanted to come with you, I wouldn’t have, so please, save your guilt for when you need it.”

With a small, weak laugh you nod, “I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.” Even in the alien lighting, the small smile that lifts Tom’s lips is pleased and soft and maybe a little surprised. The fact that he so rarely hears honest thanks is more than a little heartbreaking. The pair of you continue forwards, Tom leading the way and you following close behind, ever conscious of the… thing watching from the shadows.

You’d first noticed the thing about twenty or so minutes into your exploration of the forest - a silent shadow, no bigger than a bulldog, that flickered in and out of existence in your peripheral vision. You’d not paid it much attention, to begin with, there were plenty of strange things that lived in the forest, after all, and you’d been confident in your assessment that the professors wouldn’t actually put you in the way of any real harm. That confidence has diminished the further in you’ve gone, even with Tom by your side. Now, when you catch a glimpse of it, the shadow looks bigger - maybe the size of a large sheep and a lot more defined. It melts into the darkness whenever you try to get a better look, but you’re fairly sure that it’s more solid than it had been when you’d first seen it.

You tell yourself you’re being paranoid, that the stories the ghosts like to tell you about what goes on in the forest at night have finally gotten to you, but the longer you walk, the more certain you are that there is something in the shadows. “…Tom? Tom, I think something’s following us.”

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t, darling. You know as well as I do that these woods are alive with more than just birds and trees.” His words are not at all comforting and you find yourself growing annoyed with his flippancy. What you might lack in foresight, you make up for in common sense and your senses are telling you to pay closer attention to the shadows that encroach and creep and linger all around you.

“Tom, I’m being serious. Something is watching us.” He must pick up on the vaguely panicked edge to your words because he stops again and flicks his wand in a complicated motion and a vibrant flame erupts from the tip, floating just above your heads. You give yourself a moment to marvel at his ability before the matter at hand takes precedence and you cast around to try and catch sight of whatever it is that you’ve been seeing. “It was… It was right behind us,” You say, scanning the trees for any sight of the thing. Whatever it is, it’s nowhere to be found. “I swear it was here.”

He hums in response, and when you look at him, you can tell that he’s sceptical. Still, he sends the ball of flame in the direction that you’re pointing and the light seems to reverberate around the dark forest, revealing leaves and branches and thick patches of undergrowth but no moving shadow. Satisfied, he flics his wand again the flame extinguishes. “Keep an eye out - if you think you see something again, tell me.” You nod and bite your lip, pressing a little closer to his side as you continue your trek. You feel like a small child, huddled under your blankets to hide yourself from the darkest shadows in your bedroom. Fear is a funny thing, it’s an almost tangible emotion, prickling the back of your neck and sticking to you like sand on wet skin. Still, you’re almost at the clearing and then all you need to do is pick the flowers and get out.

The stella syriaca flowers only bloom at night, the tiny flowers growing in spherical clusters. Under the glow of your wand, they blossom pearlescent and delicate, like miniature moons rising from the forest floor. You set the basket down and begin to pick the flowers, careful not to crush the petals as Tom watches over you. “You don’t fancy helping?” You call over your shoulder and somewhere above you, Tom breathes out a huff of laughter.

“I hardly see why I should - this is your punishment, is it not?” He counters, wry humour coating his words and you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. Now that you’re in the clearing, you don’t feel so afraid, the knowledge that you’ll soon be out of the forest bolstering your confidence. Silence falls upon you and you get lost in the monotony of plucking the flowers, the repetitive actions lulling you into a daze so much so that you don’t immediately notice the rustling in the trees towards the edge of the clearing or the way that Tom’s posture tenses and his eyes turn to slits.

You startle when his hands brush the top of your head, and you look up at from where you’re kneeling on the ground to see what the problem is. Tom looks… He doesn't look scared, which you think is probably a good thing, but he does look agitated. His expression is shuttered window, no light or levity flickers behind the darks of his eyes, no ironic smile curling his lips. You only ever see this side of him when someone displeases him in a particularly grievous manner and he’s never looked at you with that cold blankness that reminds you of ice storms and black tar. You spare a thought for his enemies because you imagine you’d probably drop down dead in an instant if he were to ever turn this particular expression on you.

When he talks, his voice is tight, “What did you think you saw earlier?”

“A… I don’t really know—” Tom makes a low, irritated sound in the back of his throat and the hand that’s resting on your head tightens slightly. “—It was like a moving shadow out of the corner of my eye. It disappeared whenever I tried to look at it, but I think it was getting bigger the deeper we went.” You can’t keep the nervousness out of your voice as you scan the perimeters of the clearing, trying to get a glimpse of whatever it is that’s got Tom on edge. The darkness of the forest seems to loom and though you can’t see anything, you can feel it watching you, can feel the way it sizes you up the same way your cat sizes up mice in the courtyard before she pounces. You’ve always thought it was cute - the way her eyes would grow large and black and her lithe body would scrunch up before she attacked. You don’t find it cute now, though. Not when you’re the mouse.

Tom hums in response and he almost sounds relieved, though you can’t think of a single reason why. “Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand is rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight. “Stop the lumos, darling.” At your noise of protest, he shoots you a quick smile which you think is supposed to be reassuring but in reality, looks vaguely foreboding. “Trust me.”

“Nox. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oh, yeah, you sound really— Merlin, what the fuck?” The shadows in front of you shift, and something big and black and not really there seems to collect in the near pitch black. Vapours in the air that pool and swirl until they coalesce into a shadowy thing the size of a shire horse. For a moment, it just hangs there, waiting and watching and anticipating.

And then it lunges.

In the grand scheme of things, your life is relatively unimportant. You’re not so narcissistic that you believe that the world will be irrevocably changed or diminished if you were to meet an untimely end - sure, your family and friends would be sad for a while, your cat would wonder why you’re no longer around to give them treats and ear scratches, but nothing would fundamentally change if you were to die. You know all of this and still, you’re staring down the proverbial barrel of a gun and the only thing that’s running through your mind is, Dear Gods, why me?

You realise in this instant that you are not made for combat. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you - you’re pretty good at Defence, but you’ve never enjoyed duelling. In contrast to your frozen reaction, Tom responds immediately. The rigidity of his posture melts into something fluid and instinctive, and he’s stepping in front of you in one smooth motion and slashing his wand through the air in the next. Violet light arches through the darkness and the thing rears back, as though wounded before it pushes forward. You scramble backwards, staring in horror at the thing. In the spell-light, you can see now that its body is made up almost entirely of shadows - living, sentient shadows that join and divide around a curling skeleton. The only thing standing between you and the shadows is Tom, who is in his element, a whirl of controlled energy and deft wand movements. You’ve seen him duel before, but only in the relative safety of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and watching him now, in an environment where he doesn’t need to hold himself back, where every ounce of his focus and skill is directed at a real-life foe inspires awe and wonder and fear inside you.

The thing slinks around the two of you and tendrils of shadow and darkness curl out and whip at Tom’s feet. You think it must realise that of the two you, Tom is the more immediate threat. Tom leaps out of the way and advances, seemingly without fear for care for his own safety and you’re dimly aware that you’re yelling for him to get back and away. He either doesn’t hear you over the sound of his own casting or he doesn’t care - he just keeps moving, ducking neatly out of the way of another tendril as he sends a jet of golden light that splinters and pierces the monster’s shadows. You keep a tight grip on your wand, trying to think of any spell that might do something against an incorporeal monster.

The monster lets out a shriek and you’re not sure if it’s in pain or just angry but Tom is already moving again. He reaches for you blindly, not taking his eyes off the thing that is currently writhing on the forest floor. Before it can get a chance to recover, Tom raises his wand a final time and the bright white light of a lumos encompasses the shadow being burning and blinding until all that remains is a charred husk a skeleton that matches no anatomy of any creature you’re familiar with.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” In contrast to the surety with which he duels, his voice is wrecked, a kind of frantic worry lacing his words. When his hands find yours, his grip is tight to the point of it being painful, as though he’s half-convinced that if he lets go you’ll fade into the shadows along with the monster.

A feeling of warmth and affection surges inside of you, far stronger than the fear that courses through your veins and you grip his hand back, clinging just as tightly to him as he is to you. “I’m fine— Tom, are you okay? I’m sorry for dragging you out here with me,” You say, anger at having gotten him into this mess and anger that the school would harbour some kind of shadow demon in the forest forging your voice into something sharp and hard.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He says and you’d be insulted by the way he brushes you off if it weren’t for the way that his thumb brushes your knuckles as he pulls you closer to his side. You know him well enough to hear the unspoken worry in his words. “This is exactly why I came with you.” You know he’s telling the truth. Since you’ve known him, Tom has always had an uncanny ability to know when you’ll need him, has always been there to help and protect you. Usually, that involves editing your essays and handing out detentions to people who trouble you, but you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s taken his chosen role to heart and would gladly put himself in harm's way if it meant you didn’t have to.

Nestled against him like this, you feel the fear that’s been with you since you first entered the forest fade, leaving behind a tired sort of fondness and relief. He’s still glaring at the place where the thing used to be, still tense and stiff as though he’s waiting for it to rise up and start attacking you both again. Tentatively, you reach up and brush your fingers against his jaw, willing him to turn and look at you, so that you can see for yourself that he’s okay, that he’s still here, with you. After a pause, he grants you your wish and your heart quickens at the ferocity lingering in his eyes. “Thank you,” You breathe and just like that, something shifts in the air around you and the tension leaches out of him.

He leans down and brushes a kiss against your forehead and you wind your arms around his back, one hand splayed firmly against his shoulder blades, the other running through the short dark curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you for being here.” And you’re not just thanking him for tonight, though are you grateful, you’re thanking him for every instance he’s stepped in to look after and protect you.

“I’d never let anything happen to you, you must realise that by now.” He murmurs, and in the hushed silence of the forest, you can hear the unspoken promise clear as you can feel the warmth of his hand in yours.

[buttonbreaker-collectivesigh]

Second Go

Chapter 1

Rating: Teen (for now)

Pairing: Silco x Fem!Reader (Slow Burn)

Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: You own a jewelry/accessories shop in the main part of the Undercity, right down the street from the piercing eye over the Last Drop. One night, you're visited by some familiar faces, it all points you back to him. When you choose to go down memory lane, will the past remind you why you stayed away? Or will it give you a second go at what could have been?

Notes: This is my first time posting any of my fanfic stuff on here. I don't write fanfic often (mostly consume it), but I hope you like it!

The eerie iridescent flicker of Undercity lights, peered through the haze of smog and blinds that you were attempting to force shut in preparation of closing the shop. As you rushed through the last set, mid pull of the metal chain, you stopped to gaze out into the night, capturing the end of another day in your mind.

Tendrils of artificial light splayed out along the cold window panes, fracturing the vision of what laid before you. Fracturing like this city, plagued by poison from greed, and neon lamps. Toxic fumes choked out any ray of real light that could hope to find its way down here.

In the distance, down the lane, a set of tube lamps shined brighter than the rest. A makeshift image, forming a crude display of power. The Eye of Zaun engulfed the smaller sign of the Last Drop in its pupil, dead center, as if to overshadow a memory of what used to be. A remnant of a time that felt so far from reach now.

The Eye never turned off. Its looming presence held high, overlooking this small section of the Undercity. There were more like it, so many more that you had lost count. All strategically placed as a constant reminder of who really owned the Lanes. This particular eye was close by, and every night you felt its gaze.

A shiver ran down your spine. The thought of bright orange embers swimming in a sea of black. A small sigh escaped your lips as you returned to closing the blinds. You shouldn’t miss the sight of it. Every day in Zaun reminded you of why you shouldn’t miss it, but you do.

When you finished with the windows, you moved to the door to flick the sign off, officially closing for the night. However, the moment the lights disappeared, a dark silhouette outside the door came into view, startling you at the sudden appearance. The light had previously blinded you of their presence, but now that you could see them, the figure pointed to you, then to the door knob indicating a desire to be let in.

You could barely make out their features underneath the hood they cloaked themselves beneath, but a distinct scar was visible on their nose poking out from the shade.

“Trevor,” you sighed in recognition. You knew exactly what this would be about. As you opened the door, the hooded figure went to speak, but was shut down with your preemptive answer, “I already told you No.”

A disgruntled sigh. “Please just hear us out.”

“Us?” you questioned, he was the only one stood there.

“Us,” he quietly commanded a presence from the shadows to appear. This second figure, had been lurking by the shop’s alleyway, just outside your peripherals.

You groaned, lifting your hand to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose to feign mild annoyance. “Trevor this is…” you huffed, pausing to process your next actions carefully. Glancing back up to view the both of them, you noted the familiar look of desperation. The silent partner watching you intently, amber eyes pleading.

“Fine. Hurry up. Get inside, the both of you,” you waved your hand, ushering them inside to escape any prying eyes in the dark.

“Thank you, we just need a moment.”

“You always do.”

————————————

Trevor, and his mysterious friend, you soon learned went by the name Lena, had needed more than a moment. Gluttons for disappointment, they were back for another one of their desperate attempts to have you help them in their cause.

They were part of the Firelights, a group who had consistently thwarted the illegal exportation of Shimmer throughout the world. You had venerated them, knowing that their cause was noble, and many had died to make sure others didn’t suffer the same addictions that they had.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t agree to what they had asked of you, each time they paid a visit.

“Do you have any idea how many of us have had to suffer? How many lives have been lost, when all this time, you could have done something to prevent it!” His words cut through you like a dull knife. Searing, unclean pierces, causing jagged loose ends to fray in your mind.

You knew that you had the means to do something. The very thing that they asked, was in your power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t do that to him, and you didn’t have the patience to determine why. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Trevor glared at you, eyebrows furrowed in rage. Lena sat quietly the whole time, looping strands of black hair between their fingers as if bored, listening, gaging your demeanor. Probably judging you as her partner did.

“It’s complicated Trevor. Yes, I could contact him. Yes, I could probably get him alone for you, but I… I just can’t. I won’t,” You corrected, wanting to tell them that the betrayal would utterly destroy you inside. It was something you couldn’t bear to see again, the hurt expression splashed across his face as you once did so many years ago, when it was someone else…

However you spun it, they wouldn’t understand. To them, all they had seen of him was evil, destructive, having a plan for Zaun’s freedom at the expensive of other Zaunites. They had been treated as cannon fodder by their own people.

The Firelights wanted the Eye of Zaun closed for good. Deep down, you knew they were justified in their desire, but you couldn’t be the one to cause his downfall.

“Then countless lives will continue to die at his expense. He wants Zaun’s freedom, yet enslaves them in addiction to power that they’ll never possess.” He got up from the stool you had set out for him to use, and began pacing around the counter angrily, passing by your various wares and trinkets.

You eyed him warily, his aggressive demeanor making you nervous. “That may be so, but he doesn’t force it on them, does he? People use Shimmer because they choose to, just as you once chose to. He didn’t make you waste your life on your fears of being weak,” Trevor flinched at your harsh words, even if they were truths so often overlooked. They chose to use, and you were tired of having to explain yourself every time one of them came around.

“Even so, you can’t deny that he manipulates, and preys on those that have nothing to lose. I believed I had everything to gain with Shimmer,” Trevor’s gaze drifted off to the far side of the room, lost in a daze of horrible memories.

You closed your eyes with a remorseful sigh. “I’m sorry Trevor. I really can’t be one to talk about it. I’ve never used; therefore, I don’t understand the allure. The pull that power has on one with none for so long. But I also know him. I don’t agree with his methods at all, but it has topside considering the Undercity for a change.”

Trevor’s hand slid along the sleek glass counter, stopping over a display of intricate rings. Your eyes softened at the sight, striking a core memory. “Of course you don’t understand what it’s like, you were given all of this,” he gestured to the shop, and your eyes snapped to his in a fiery blaze.

“What did you say?” you questioned through gritted teeth.

“You heard me. Don’t pretend to act like it isn’t true. I know exactly who gave this to you,” he sneered.

A sharp exhale through your nostrils, and you snapped grabbing the serrated blade from your belt and bringing it to the edge of his chin. “You know nothing. You’re still just a child in all of this. I earned this place. How dare you ask for my help, then disrespect me when you don’t like the answer.”

You could see that Lena had risen from her seat behind you, cautiously edging closer to the both of you. Eyeing Trevor, you reveled for a moment in his fear filled stare. Discussions with him were always abrasive, and eventful.

Satisfied with his reaction, you continued to glare him down, making sure he took your next words seriously. “Get. Out,” you seethed effectively ending the meeting.

Naturally Trevor didn’t listen, as he went to open his mouth in retaliation, but Lena was quicker. Already close by, she moved to stand directly by his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no point Trevor. We should go before we waste any more time here. They won’t help us. We can find another way, we always do.” Lena spoke softly and direct. Words cutting to the chase, you found yourself nodding in agreement.

“You should listen to your friend, Trevor. I can help in other ways, but I won’t give him to you. I’ve been around long enough to know that there is no clear right way to do things,” you dropped the blade from his neck slowly, giving him ample room to leave. “There is still death for those in your cause as well, the only choice you’ve made is deciding which one you were willing to die for.”

He grimaced at your words, pulling the hood back over his head as he moved for the door, Lena slowly following behind. Then he stopped, turned to look back at you, and spoke, “At least I’ve made a choice.”

Lena’s eyes widened in a flash of panic at you, then quickly at Trevor. She glanced back at you, smiling sheepishly in an attempt to be cordial. “Thank you for hearing us out. If you ever change your mind, I trust you know the signal?” You had underestimated her before, but it was clear to you now that she was the peacemaker. The diplomat that Ekko had sent to make sure Trevor didn’t speak out of turn, or burn bridges that could eventually be used for other things than their intended purpose.

“Yes, thank you Lena,” you smiled back at her, she was doing her best. You continued to smile at her, as you replied directly to Trevor’s remark. “It may look like I haven’t chosen a side, but you’re wrong. I choose to do what I believe is right, even if it means seeing the good in both sides, whether or not they choose to see it themselves.”

“Tcht,” Trevor mocked, motioned for Lena to follow, and pushed his way out the door.

Before Lena disappeared into the thick fog of the Undercity, she peered back at you to make one final poignant comment. “Perhaps you can still talk to him. You said you wanted to help, just not in the way we asked. If you want peace between us, and he trusts you, why not plead our case to him?”

You were stunned at this. Ideas that you had thought of before, but were too scared to attempt, voiced aloud by this quiet, unassuming person. Her face lightened, she knew her words had triggered a chain reaction inside you, and a smug smile appeared on her features. “Just a thought,” she smirked and vanished into the night, leaving you alone to think it over.

————————————

The next day was spent lost in thought, managing your small jewelry and accessories store, while your mind wandered. The Firelight Lena had given you much to think about, and you wondered just how you’d go about seeing him again. It had been so long since the last time you’d spoken. Sometimes you’d see him passing by, enforcers in tow, namely Sevika.

She would be a good place to start, you mused. Sevika was his right hand confidant, and someone you could easily speak to. He trusted her with his life, and she had proven to care about his safety on multiple occasions. If she hadn’t, she’d still have her left arm, and Zaun would have opportunistic scum as its leaders.

The door rang as a couple walked in, excited to search your items for matching anniversary chokers. You pushed your worrying thoughts away, gave your best customer service smile, and mentally prepared to find them the perfect gift, something you never got tired of doing. This was why you were here. This was why you needed to focus on your abilities to shine what little joy you could muster for the people of Zaun.

Briefly, you recalled what Trevor had said the night before. He thought Silco had given this place to you, but it wasn’t true. The people of Zaun had. Just as the Last Drop had been a beacon for weary souls to feel at ease under Vander’s protection, so to was your shop. You were famous for finding the perfect meaningful accessory for each person, based on feeling.

Before you had landed this building for your wares, you had worked a local marketplace as a street vendor. It was the first and only job you could remember having. As a small child, you were taken in by a sweet older lady who raised you in the trade. Frannie was her name, and she was well loved. She raised you, because like many other children in Zaun, you were orphaned.

It was there on the side streets where you had learned how to survive, and do so with a smile. Your vending cart was placed closer to the mining district, as much of the trinkets were created from bits of rock and gems formed there. Each day you’d get to see the workers on their way to the mines, and then on their way out. The worst days, were when not all of the faces you saw going in, would come back. The mines were a dangerous place, and the majority of smog and decay in the Undercity, came from there.

You thought fondly of the two bright young men, who always called each other brothers. However, in your childlike comprehension, you failed to see the resemblance, fixating on the notable differences between their features. That is, until Frannie told you that they weren’t really related, they just had a strong bond. Sometimes they’d stop by to talk with her. You loved it when they did, eyes transfixed to how they carried themselves. Each in their own unique way, completely separate, yet they worked well together.

The big one scared you. He made you feel smaller than you already were. A ferocity in him that made you feel smaller still. However, his companion was a more approachable man. He was slender and lively, with soft blue eyes, and a wildness to him that held ideas and vision. They loved to sweet talk Frannie into helping them out from time to time. Whether that be with food, or buying gems from them on the side, she would do it. You knew then that she loved them too.

Regardless of their near daily visits, you didn’t talk to them much, but you watched. Quietly you’d find yourself observing the slender one, drawn to his presence. They were teenagers then, also orphaned and dumped to work in the mines, as you almost had before Frannie saved you. You wondered if she could have saved them too.

As you aged, so did the boys, and so did your fascination to the smaller one, whose name you’d come to learn quite well. Unfortunately with the time passing, you saw less and less of them. Age furthering reason, their desires pulling them to confront other matters in Zaun. The wildness and ferocity in them, placed at the frontlines and battle strategies, protecting the citizens of the Undercity from the privileged elite above.

Even with war looming in the air, Frannie continued to sell what she could, and you did your best to help, developing empathic skills to connect with customers. Your calm demeanor, and sweet disposition had garnered attention from the usual rough and tumble in the underbelly of the Pilt.

When Frannie died, leaving you with the business, you had received a large sum of coin, you were told was gifted to you by the people of Zaun, to keep it going. Their love for Frannie’s warmth, and wares, gave you enough to set up a legitimate shop in the lanes.

The memory of her softened your features as you cashed out the lovely couple who picked out silver chained chokers, encrusted with gems cut from the mines. One purple, one red, they had picked using their favorite colors.

“Have a nice night ladies, thank you for picking ‘Frannie’s Wares’! Stop by any time if you need to have them cleaned!” You watched them leave, admiring their love. “Another satisfied customer… customers,” you sighed happily correcting yourself.

After a few minutes of silence in the shop, you went to walk around the counter to fix a display of gold plated arm cuffs. You began to arrange them in their proper designs, as the door swung open wildly. The thud of thick boots, and stench of cigar smoke instantly taking up space in your shop.

A small smirk crept along your lips. Even though your back was to the door, you didn’t need to spin around to see who it was. The sickly sweet barrel smell of smoke was enough for you to hazard an accurate guess.

“Sevika,” you stated plainly, standing your ground to continue putting the cuffs in order. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A few more thuds from her boots, and you could see her in your peripherals, looking down at the bracelets through the counter-top. “Heard you’ve been entertaining those bug brats again.”

“Firelights, Sevika.” You could see her flared nostrils, as she pulled the cigar from her mouth to blow out smoke. “And you heard correct. One of your goons spying on my shop again? You should give them a raise.” Your body pivoted to have her in fully view, needing to see her facial expressions.

“Not my goon,” Sevika smirked, lifting the cigar back to her lips. “His,” she took another long drag, eyeing you curiously.

You guessed as much, unsurprised that he was still watching you, constantly gaging your loyalties, even though he had no reason to. “Ya know, if he wants to say hi that bad, he can come himself.”

“You know that’s not why he does it,” Sevika moved to side-eye you.

“No Sevika, I actually don’t know why he does it. I wish someone would enlighten me.” Frustration welled up inside, and you crossed your arms to hold it in. “I’m not a fan of feeling like there are eyes watching me every time I leave this place at night.”

Smoke seeped out of Sevika’s nostrils, as she smudged out the remnants of ash into the darkened opal ash tray on the counter. “Don’t get it twisted. It’s not every night, and let’s just say,” she paused for a moment, cocking one eyebrow while she turned to completely face you. “He likes to protect his investments.”

You mimicked her eyebrow movement. “I don’t owe him anything. Try again.”

A breathy chuckle burst from her chest, and she shook her head, mouth curling up into a sly smile. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass when you want to be.”

In that single moment, the tough demeanor slipped, dropping the silly interrogation act you two would normally play. A giant smile overtook the pretend guarded expression you put up, and you opened your arms to her, ready for the usual gruff embrace. She followed suit, wrapping you roughly into her right arm, while her metal one gently patted you on the back. “It’s good to see you again Sevika. It’s been far too long.”

When the hug ended, you flipped the sign to closed, then gestured her to follow into the back. You had a bottle of Whiskey that wasn’t going to drink itself.

————————————

The small office space you had set up further in back of the shop, was filled with laughter from two old friends exchanging stories of a kind old woman who had cared for you both in different ways. When Frannie needed someone to watch you, and the shop, Sevika was there. You had known her far longer than most had. While she had loyalties to her boss, you were like family. Much of your limited skills in fighting, were taught to you by her.

When the laughter died down, you took a moment to collect yourselves. It was good to reminisce, but you needed to bring the conversation back around to him. While you loved Sevika, you knew the best way to loosen her up was through drinks and memories. Even if she refused to give you a chance to meet with him, you needed to know how he was.

“Look, Sevika…”

“Oh great, still on this?” she rolled her eyes incredulously before taking another swig from the glass in her hand.

“What!? I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You didn’t have to. I already know where this is going. It’s in your voice.”

You held a hand to your chest feigning offense. “What’s in my voice? There’s nothing in my voice? Why would you… why…” you trailed off unable to come up with anything better to lie with.

“Exactly,” she stared back at you, amusement plastered over her flushed face. You had both nearly polished off the full bottle of Whiskey.

Crestfallen, you decided to drop the act, and show your true feelings. “I just, wanted to know how he was. I know you think it’s best for both of us that we don’t talk, but I’m tired of feeling his presence everywhere I go, without actually being in it.”

She put down the glass, then reached under her poncho for another cigar to smoke. Then she brought a gold lighter, taking her time. Sevika was going to drag out her response for as long as she could. “He’s doing okay. It’s the usual business first for him. Jinx keeps him on his toes,” that statement made you smile. Jinx was a handful, but she meant the world to him. A vision of a blue stoned ring popped in your mind. A memory you revisited daily.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way it was. Not completely, mind you, too much has changed for that… I’ve changed,” you mused wistfully. You were not the same doe eyed girl, pining for something that wasn’t meant to be. You weren’t as soft as before, but you were still soft for him. “I just miss the days where I actually knew him, and didn’t feel like forgotten property to be checked on whenever suspicious individuals stopped by,” you exhaled deeply, letting out your thoughts within the breath.

Sevika had the cigar lit by now, contemplating your words as she puffed away. Knocking off a particularly long piece of ash in the tray before she spoke. “The truth?”

You nodded vigorously needing the answer.

“He has too much at stake. Too many plates spinning, on top of managing Jinx, I purposely avoid conversations about you with him.”

“Why?” The confusion on your face tangible, questioning Sevika’s motives.

“Because, people like him, the complex lives they lead, I don’t want you near it. You can pine for the brief moment you had, and he can protect a memory, but you shouldn’t try to cross again,” her eyes averted from yours, almost pained. You knew she had orchestrated your separation in the past, partly because of the hurt you experienced at the path he chose, but mostly because she didn’t want her two worlds colliding and imploding in on her. You understood. No matter how much you hated it, you understood.

“You said he’s protecting me? Is that the real reason he has eyes on this place? It’s not just to make sure I don’t betray him?”

Sevika’s eyes continued to dart back and forth to different objects close to the floor. The aversion to your inquiring gaze said it all.

The both of you sat in silence for a few more minutes before Sevika finished her cigar, lifted herself from the cushioned armchair, and said her goodbyes. Leaving you to think on what you’d always wondered, but never had outwardly confirmed.

The conversation was short, but telling. You didn’t need Sevika to give the okay for an audience with Silco. All you had to do was show up to the Last Drop, tell the bouncer who you were, and that’d be it. Silco had left the ball in your court the whole time, and you wondered how long he would have waited for you to take the first shot.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.

"Hey!" Larry greets you first.

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing.

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance.

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.."

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

[hpalways]

Yaksha’s Destiny || Xiao

DARKNESS was the biggest fear held by fellow Yakshas. This power bestowed upon you and many alike gave an opening to the pitting shadows that raged within your chambers. Some days, it wasn't as bad -- other days... it felt like you were getting ripped apart into shreds, taking in all your willpower to battle against it. It was tempting, to give in and call it quits. Life for a Yaksha wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were always too many demons and not enough heroes. Especially for a weaker one like you, anger and frustration would stem from these battles, only to eat at you later on. 

Today was one of those days. The sky was a stormy sea of clouds, with the Gods crying from the heaven above. Droplets prickled down your bare skin, cold to the touch. While in the mountainside, you had stumbled upon demonic energy, so there was no choice but to finish them off. 

Dodging the monster that lunged at you, you took out your polearm. The hydro vision on your hip gleamed brightly in the setting. Taking a turn, you could feel power surge to your arms. As you were about to jab your weapon into the demon's abdomen, they had ducked in time. Shit. You had underestimated this one.

Its body rammed into you, knocking you off your feet. Air left your system, causing you to groan in pain. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into your arm, you rolled over on one side and jumped back to your feet. Fingers clenching tightly around the metal stick, you pushed your hind legs and tried to stab at it another time. Your speed and reaction time was too slow. Too damn slow. Too damn weak. Gritting your teeth, you began to use up more of Yaksha's power, drinking the exhilarating taste of freedom. It was so addicting... often times, you'd wished it'd never stop. 

A burst of water shrouded from the weapon, circling the demon until it was surrounded. With one, clean fell swoop, you sliced the demon and the energy faded away. The deed was done. 

Falling to your knees, your entire body was shaking. Face contorted and in pain, nails dug into the earth to feel wet mud. Your body would not move -- it could not. Stilling there as if you had just been paralyzed, hungering thoughts plagued your mind... Thoughts you wished weren't yours. Letting out a disgusting whimper, similar to that of a wounded animal, you bit down on your lip, hard. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting the grass in crimson. Tugging at your mask, you stared at it for a moment. A sigh let out. 

That was a close one. Crashing to the ground, your chest heaved up and down in exhaustion. 

A figure suddenly entered your peripheral vision. Climbing up to the ridge of the mountain was Xiao, his dark teal locks blowing along with the harsh winds. Donned in his usual robes, he was as attractive as ever. The first time you stumbled upon him -- one of the famous five -- you nearly forgot to breathe. You had referred to him as Alatus then, starstrucked by such a powerful being. 

You would never not awed by him. The way he held himself would always come to remind you of the big gap in strength between the two of you. Maybe you did establish a relationship with this all-mighty Yaksha, but this inferiority complex was tugging your strings more than you'd like to admit. 

At the same time, he provided you the distraction needed. He kept you grounded, which prevented you from going mad. He was the only one who made you feel human, if that was even possible. 

Golden amber hues landed on you, withholding an unreadable expression. He walked up to your beaten up form and sat down, unbothered by the rain. Struggling to get yourself into a sitting position, you looked out at the view in front. 

"You used up too much of your power again," he murmured. 

"Do you think I don't know that? I had no choice," you sighed. 

His sharp eyes narrowed further. "You were being careless."

"It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it." His anger barely dwindled and the scowl only deepened. "Come on, Xiao. I don't want to talk about my mistakes when I'm with you. Busy as we are, I barely get to see you as of late. Can't we just enjoy our brief time together?"

That got him. His eyes softened at your words and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. Seizing the victory, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling warmth even upon this cold weather. The rain was starting to let down too -- perhaps Xiao was the lucky charm.

"What have you been up to?" you inquired. 

"Demons. Monsters. The usual," he responded. His cheeks tinged with a soft pink all of a sudden. "I... I also got you something."

Your ears perked up at the sound of this. Lifting your head, you watched him in curiosity. He took something out from his robe pockets and slowly opened his palm. Laying there was a blue, glowing object. Shaped as a butterfly, it was gorgeous. You had never seen this kind of butterfly around these parts. He must have traveled far to have found it. 

"It's a crystalfly," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your heart raced at his actions. He was too cute. Before meeting him, you could have never imagined the Vigilant Yaksha to possess such qualities. "I saw it and... thought it would look good in your hair."

"Oh, I love it. Thank you," you whispered breathlessly, touched beyond words. This was exactly what you meant with how Xiao could easily brush your problems away with a smile.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft as petal leaves. He returned the gesture immediately, arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. Digging your fingers into his hair, you kissed with a ferocity that was never present in your fights. This was to release the pain you dealt with today. As long Xiao was here, you were going to be okay. As long as he was by your side, you were going to be okay. This era of demons and gods will end someday, leaving you a happy future with him. 

You tasted him. His lips. His mouth. His entire self. He tasted of mint. He tasted of life. He tasted of iron. The kind of metal tang found in blood. Sighs were exchanged upon each kiss, breathless but the two of you would not let the other go. Your lips trailed down to his jaw, peppering his baby-soft skin with a few nibbles here and there. He let out a gasp. 

Finally you pulled away, giggling at his flustered state for your bold moves. 

The end was nearing. He picked up the crystal fly and reached up to your [h/c] hair. While he gently pinned it down, you could only focus on his swollen lips. He was beautiful... and you loved him so. 

"[Y/N]," he said, interrupting the honey silence of the mountains. "If you are ever in trouble, just call my name and I will come to you. In any circumstance, avoid overusing your power."

This bliss that left you giddy disappeared as quick as it came. All that remained was the harsh, cruel reality. Brows knitted together in offense and you quickly shook your head. "Why would I do that? I'm a Yaksha. What kind of Yaksha seeks help from another? This wounds my pride, Xiao. Is your faith in my skill and strength that low?"

"No. That's not it," he argued, features twisted in desperation. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

"Unbelievable," you merely scoffed, staggering up to stand. "I have to go. I'm sure you do too."

Ignoring his blubbering protests, you jumped down upon ledges until you reached ground level safely. He didn't understand what you had to go through. He never had to face judgement from those who didn't believe in you. Strong enough to battle the demons both externally and internally, Xiao was different from you. But even so... even if his words meant that he only cared for you, it hurt like you had been just stabbed. 

You were willing to prove to him that you could stand on your own feet. He was going to eat his own words. So would the other Yakshas who looked down on you your entire life. If you trained hard enough, surely improvement could be gained. Right? It wasn't as if destiny could determine what you could accomplish already. 

Approaching the forest that was said to contain many strong demons and monsters, you surged ahead, with eyes filled of challenge. 

There, sitting in a nook was a cave, Sensing a suffocating presence, you knew you had hit a jackpot. Sneaking across the grassy lands, you stayed silent. The tall, towering trees were beginning to look a lot more ominous. Tiptoeing to the edge of the cave, you peered in to find the energy unbearably strong. One staggering breath later and you went forward. A roar let out, signaling that it knew of its intruder. Shoulders tensed up and sweat beaded your forehead, but you couldn't stop now. No matter what, you were going to go through with it. 

It was a beast. Fangs gleamed in the darkness, nearly the size of your weapon. Having woken from its slumber, its terrifying eyes landed on you. Claws swiped the air, which you barely avoided in time. Fear had seized you with a hand, choking you until you could barely move. This was a terrible, foolish move. There was no way you could beat such a demon. 

Calling in more power, it filled you up at the core. To waste no time, you delved right into battle, slashing at the monster. It had little to none effect on it. With a lazy swipe of its arm, it slammed you right into the cave's walls, causing you to spit out blood. Pushing yourself up, you tried again, putting in more power to your weapon. Adding hydro to the mix, the weapon hit its arms. It caused the monster to roar in pain, but that only made it more angry. Barreling straight to you, similar but much more frightening than the last demon, it pounced on you, pinning you down to the ground. 

Drool left its mouth, splattering all over on your face. Its claws dug into your side and you let out a piercing scream. You were so fucking sick of this shit. Why was it destined that you had to stay weak? It was so unfair you wished to cry your heart out. 

The last of the powers was used. Pushing the demon's hold on you, you stumbled up and felt thrill run through. It was delicious, but your mind was also beginning to grow hazy. "X-Xiao..." you uttered out. 

The Conqueror of Demons arrived as soon as you called, anxious to apologize for his insensitivity. What he didn't expect to see was a battlefield. A large and strong demon was torn apart to pieces, the iron smell of it so strong, it was gagworthy. Sitting on the pile of bones was you, dark, gruesome scratches decorating your arms and legs. A deep gash was bleeding from your torso and your [e/c] eyes were dimmed; at the same time, they held a crazed look in them. 

His face paled and his body grew cold at the sight. You did the thing he last wanted to happen. Already too far in and consumed by the darkness surrounding your whole life, you were looking at him not with love, but with bloodlust. "I'll kill you, Xiao!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

Climbing down, you tried to run to him. But your footsteps halted and you crashed to the ground. Spazzing out as if you had just been electrocuted by lightning, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly approached you, tears streaming down the side of his face. He kneeled down, cradling your head in his lap. "Don't leave me..." He hit the ground in fury. "Dammit! Why didn't you listen to me!?"

Consciousness returned but you were on the brink of death. The wound was deep, but so were the demons. It was raining again, so you forced a small smile out. "I'm weak. It's my fate," you whispered. "At least I won't have to suffer through this darkness any longer. It's over. I quit. You won, my demons. I am yours to keep."

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. The rain had turned into a storm, adding fury into the mix. "Please. You can make it through this. Don't leave me yet. It was going to get better. An era with no more demons to haunt us. You said so yourself." 

"That was just a stupid dream."

"Don't fucking say that," he growled, flinching as if he'd just been slapped. You were supposed to be the optimist here. It meant that this death was real... and that you would accept it with open arms. "It's going to happen. So hold on. Let me find someone to save you."

Your head shook and you winced. "We all learned this since young. We'll die if we let our power consume us. It's impossible and you know it."

"Stop," he choked out, lowering his head until his hair covered his broken expression. "Then don't talk. Save your breath."

You ignored his words. "Thank you... for the crystalfly. Does it look pretty on me?" you murmured.

He heaved out a sob and slowly nodded. "I've never seen anyone more beautiful."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"And I'm sorry."

"I am too."

"Protect... the people... like you always do, my sweet, Vigilant Yaksha." Your voice grew more raspy by the second, for the pain was getting unbearable. 

You fluttered your eyes shut and the pain faded. On the other hand, Xiao's pain grew, the scars and trauma there to haunt him, for a life and infinity.

[kayecorral]

Freight Car

Chapter One of the Brown Book Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD (!), swearing

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Summary: Nine years ago, The Winter Soldier murdered your friend in front of you. Nine years later, Bucky Barnes shows up at your door with the hope of making amends.

⭑⭑⭑

⭑⭑

⭑

You wake up on the floor again.

In the crossfade between dreaming to waking, the hardwood is concrete against your cheek. The sweat in your hair is the slick of blood. You fade in and out, and awareness comes back slowly. A siren descends, moving closer and closer, then recedes into the quiet. You don’t know if you imagined it.

You do know that your alarm isn’t blaring. Your ringtone isn’t sounding. The birds chattering and chirping at your window are real. The steady knocking of your heart against your ribs is real. Maybe that’s enough.

You open your eyes. A sliver of light from the parted curtains cuts across the floor. Above it, dust dances in the still air. All is calm. If you had woken up in your bed, this would be a good morning.  

But you didn’t wake up in your bed. So, you peel yourself off the floor and half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom. As you cross the threshold and flick on the light, a face flashes before you. Before your mind can work to discern its features, you slam the door shut and flip the switch. You cry in the dark.

⭑⭑⭑

You call into work again.

You’re tempted to stay where you are—curled in on yourself under the covers—but Dr. Kaplan’s gentle voice prods from inside your skull.  “Trauma changes over time,” it says. “You have to face it as it comes. You’ll feel worse if you put off dealing with it.”

She picks up on the second ring. Judging by the sound of clinking silverware, she’s on her lunch break. You promise to keep this impromptu session short.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time. That’s why it hit me so hard, I think.” You begin. Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t know why. The nightmare is so distant now — just bits of feeling. Your brain is scrubbing away the memory like a mounted defense.

You’re quiet for what feels like minutes, and Dr. Kaplan just waits. She doesn’t pose a question or make a suggestion: in other words, she doesn’t offer an out. She never does. At first, her silence and seemingly unending patience unnerved you. You would later understand the value of having the space to organize your thoughts before speaking them.  

“I thought I was doing better,” you eventually say. “But now, it’s like I’m back where I started.”

“You are not back where you started,” she says. “We haven’t talked about your night terrors in months when we used to talk about them every session. That’s incredible progress. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

You hold the phone away so she can’t hear the tears in your voice. “But what does it mean? ”

“Well,” she pauses. “Have you been thinking about Jean lately?”

“Kind of,” you start to say, then remember Dr. Kaplan’s rule about specifics. “I’ve probably thought about her… twice in the past week. Marie, she, uh, she sent me a Facebook request.”

“Did you accept it?” She asks, with just a hint of amusement.

“I haven’t. I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?” Dr. Kaplan asks. She knows the answer, of course. You haven’t spoken to Marie since the funeral nearly a decade ago. You know she resents you. You saw it in the tightness of her smiles and the way her eyes turned to stone as you stood before Jean’s casket. You’re alive and her sister isn’t. You understand that. What you don’t understand is why she would reach out to you after so many years.

“I’m afraid of what she’ll say,” you admit.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dr. Kaplan says. You shift on the couch. “She knows that. Maybe she’s been thinking about Jean, too.”

“Yeah,” you respond simply. Your head is light from dehydration, and you should probably take a nap at some point.

“I’d recommend you take easy today…”

“But?”

“But next week, I’d like to hear about your Facebook convo.”

You smile. The tears have dried on your face.

⭑⭑⭑

Snippets of dialogue filter through your thoughts. A woman is talking about a missing child, and a detective is asking the “who, what, where”s. It’s an episode you’ve already seen, but it makes for good background noise: the dramatic stings, the fast-talking, the screech of tires as the driver peels off. You don’t know why you gravitate towards crime shows. It might be a bit morbid, but until now, you’ve never thought to mention it to Dr. Kaplan.

You’re almost done with the cake batter. It’s looking a little watery, though. You really should have followed the recipe instead of improvising.

You reach for the flour bag on the counter, and just as you raise it to the mixing bowl, someone knocks at your door. You jolt and the bag slips from your hands. You narrowly dodge as it plummets to the ground. It lands with a  thump and now, your feet and pants and floor are covered in a film of white powder.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

There’s another knock, a bit louder this time.

“Give me — give me just a minute!” You call out, voice frayed.

You step over your mess and towards the door. You notice how slick your hand is on the doorknob, so you wipe your hands on your pants and try again. You forget your ritual of checking and re-checking the peephole. You unlock the door, already anxious at the idea of keeping anyone waiting.

When you finally swing the door open, a tall, dark-haired white guy is staring at the carpeted hallway floor. He’s not looking at you, but you feel exposed in your flimsy tank top and flour-splattered pajama pants.

Meanwhile, his look is carefully nondescript: a leather jacket, a dark shirt, and jeans. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks like someone who doesn’t  want to be seen, but here he is, standing at your door.

Maybe he’s just a neighbor on a reluctant mission to convince you to turn your volume down. Maybe he’s a dealer at the wrong address. Maybe he —

Your stomach drops. The shadows had been obscuring his face, but now that he’s tilting his chin up to look at you… the broadness of his forehead, the color of his hair, his height, all these things pull together. They pull tighter and tighter around your heart, and you realize that you’ve seen this man before. You’ve seen him a thousand times.

Your hand flies up to your neck. Fear hits like a punch to your gut. He looks normal — so normal that you could convince yourself that it’s not him. It’s not him.

But now, his eyes — a startling shade of blue— meet yours. Cold washes over you as every sensation in your body amplifies. You feel small and weak. Your vision starts trembling at the edges. You can’t move — not even to release your breath.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. His voice sounds so different from the one in your memories. It’s not as coarse and low, it’s gentler and higher-pitched. “I just wanna talk.”  

“Talk.” The word escapes you, but you hadn’t meant to speak. Hearing your own voice makes this real.

He clears his throat. “My name is James Barnes, and I’m no longer The Winter Soldier.”

The Winter Soldier. You suppose it doesn’t matter now what that means. If these are your last moments, you’re not going to spend them deciphering code. Instead, you think of your life and all the things you’ve done and all that you haven’t done. In the span of moments, you try to make peace with your death.

“If you’re going to kill me...” you can’t keep your voice from shaking, “do it.”

His eyes widen. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m — ”

“Hydra wants to know what I know. Is that it?” Your mind reels with the new theory.

His eyebrows tick up. “Hydra doesn’t exist anymore,” he says with a measured tone. “Not really.”

You don’t know how to respond to that divulgence. You don’t even know if you can trust it.

“I’m here because you,” he adds your name — your real name, “are part of my efforts to make amends.”

Your thoughts catch on how he knows your name. It’s a small thing, really. He knows where you live, after all. 

“I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions.” He reaches up to scratch his neck. “And if you’re not, ah...” he glances from your face to your body, as if he were just now noticing your state of dress, “comfortable talking here, we can talk somewhere public. I guess what I’m asking is: can I buy you lunch or, uh, dinner? ”

You consider, seriously, that this man may be clinically insane. You have no other rational explanation for his showing up at your door on a Thursday afternoon, let alone his proposition. But you allow yourself to imagine it: you and him, sitting across a table with Jean’s ghost between and behind you. Your stomach turns at the thought.

“You murdered my friend,” you say slowly, “right in front of me.”

He nods. A pained look crosses his face, and that expression spurs your anger. It hadn’t occurred to you earlier that you should call the police. This man is a murderer, and he’s walking free. 

“You shouldn’t even be here — you should be in a prison somewhere!” You choke out as your throat tightens with impending tears.

“I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to kill her!” He says forcefully. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I — ”

“But you did kill her!” You can’t hold them back anymore, and now, you’re crying in front of the man who killed Jean. Humiliation heats your cheeks.

“You did kill her,” you repeat quietly. You turn your watery gaze away.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He says.

In your peripheral, you watch him step closer. When you flinch, he bobs back.

You should step back, shut the door, and call the police. Not that a slab of wood could stop him if he wanted to get to you. You’ve seen his silver arm. You’ve felt the grip of its fingers at the base of your neck. But, maybe you could manage a dial ‘9-1-1’ before —

“Look, I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he interrupts your line of thought and, against your will, you look at him again, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I do want to offer you answers. Maybe it can…” He waves his hand as he searches for what he thinks are the right words. “Maybe it can give you some closure. And then, you’ll never see me again.”

You consider the furrow of his eyebrows. Over the years, you’ve tried reconstructing his face from its missing half. Now that you have the full picture, it makes perfect sense: the upper edges of the mask aligned with the cut of his cheekbones, the thin bridge really did conform to his nose, and the wideness of his jaw was merely accentuated. But his features are such a striking contrast to the severity of that mask and that metal arm. He looks so much leaner than you remember. He looks like a man, not a machine.

“Stay here,” you say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and his brow softens. You shut the door and press your forehead against it.

After a few beats, you rest your hand on the base of your neck and suck in a few deep breaths. It’s a calming technique Dr. Kaplan taught you. But without meaning to, you flex your fingers. Just as your heart was beginning to slow, you’re pulled into the memory of him raising you by the throat. You gasp for air.

That man is behind this door. That man is behind this door.

You race around the couch to snatch your phone off the coffee table. You unlock it with shaking hands and now, your thumb hovers over the number pad.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you press ‘9’.

It’s true. You do want answers. You want to know why he killed her. You want to know about Hydra and his role in it. You want to know why he left you alive.

So you’ll get your answers,  then call the cops.

You pull on some real pants and cover up with a sweatshirt. But at the door, you hesitate to step out again. If you’ve imagined that whole encounter, if it was some vivid manifestation of your survivor’s guilt, then you wouldn’t have to go.

You press your ear against the door, and, as if your doubts had broadcasted through the wood, he coughs. You sigh and grab the doorknob. Your hand isn’t sweaty this time.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, his gaze snaps to you. You meet his eyes without meaning to. There’s no recognizable emotion in them. The creases in his forehead and the furrow in his brow are gone. Now, his face gives nothing away.

“There’s a place about two blocks from here,” you say simply.

He nods and looks to you as if for direction. If he were anyone else, you would start heading for the elevator without further ado, but the thought of Jean’s killer trailing behind you makes your stomach flip.

“I’d prefer you walk ahead,” you utter. His eyebrows raise slightly, but he gives no other visible reaction.

“Alright,” he says.

He moves down the hallway, and you follow. Your eyes stay trained on his back. Aside from your occasional direction, it’s a silent walk.

⭑⭑⭑

Sully’s is a dive, but it’s always busy, and this evening is no exception. The people who frequent this place are the kind of people who get loud after a few drinks and don’t give two shits about you unless you’re bleeding out on the floor. That’s perfect. God forbid anyone overhears your questions about murder and secret organizations.

“You want anything?” He asks after you choose a corner booth and tuck in. His casual tone bothers you, but he keeps his distance, at the very least.

“No,” you deadpan.

He nods and starts for the bar. A few people graze him as he passes, and it’s so crowded that you’ve already lost sight of him.

You place your phone face-up on the sticky, varnished wood table. Absentmindedly, you nudge the pedal base with your foot. You try to hone in on any particular voice, but all you hear is a buzz of conversation. It’s a comfort. It means that you’re not alone and he can’t hurt you here.

“I know you didn’t ask for anything, but…” Fuck. Your knee knocks on the bottom of the table. His voice is so sudden at your side.

He places a water glass in front of you, and you stop yourself before you can say “thanks”. He drops into the chair in front of you, a beer bottle tucked between his gloved palms. Gloves. He’s wearing gloves. You hadn’t noticed until now.

There’s an awkward pause. He watches you intently. Your stomach is churning, but you steadily meet his gaze. You have so many questions. Some of the things he’s said don’t make sense. One thing, in particular, though, is nagging at you.

“Back there, you said you didn’t have a choice,” you say dubiously, “what did you mean?”

He takes a drag of beer and sets the bottle down carefully before he speaks. “They brainwashed me.” He replies bluntly. “Hydra, I mean.”

Brainwashing? It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Aliens exist, as do superheroes and Norse gods and Mad Titans. What was once science-fiction is now very real and devastating.

He gives you a few beats to process, then continues. “For seventy years, I operated as The Winter Soldier.”

“Wait. Seventy years?”

“I just turned 106 in March,” he says with a sardonic smile.

“How is that possible?”

“I was on ice.” He sighs. “They only took me out when they needed me.”

“And Hydra… what happened to them?”

His jaw tightens. It’s the most reaction you’ve gotten so far. “They used to have this saying: cut off one head, two more take its place… Maybe they’ll come back, but right now, they’re gone.”

“So they aren’t after me,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

“If Hydra wanted you out of the way, they wouldn’t’ve sent me.” He grimaces, even as his voice mocks a shrug.

You get it now: you’re not a threat, and you never were.

“But I was a loose end, wasn’t I? Why didn’t you kill me?”

He shakes his head and says, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he finishes off his bottle and shifts his gaze to the table.

After a minute or two, you consider moving on, but something about his expression, both vacant and pensive, implores you to wait. In the interim, you glance from the people knocking shoulders at the bar to the couple in front of you.

“It was that look on your face,” he says, and you find his gaze is fixed on you again. “It was rage. And grief. And that-that grief almost overtook everything else, but I saw it.” He leans towards you, his eyebrows knitting close. “That part of you that… that part of you that wanted me to kill you, too.”

He glances at his hand on the table and releases a shaky breath. “I understood that,” he says. “I know what it’s like.”

Like a clenched fist releasing, the tightness in your chest eases. You understand something else, now, too. This is meant to be an exchange. He wants answers as much as you do, no matter how much pain they carry.

“Do you wanna know what I saw? On your face?” You ask after a few beats. He hesitantly nods. “Nothing. There was nothing,” you say. “You didn’t even look human.  It was like you were an animal. And you were looking at me like I was prey.”

You look away. The intensity of his eyes threatens to pull you into that memory. “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hear him say.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” you say quietly, chancing a glance up.

His face twists into something like shame. If he were a different person, you might try to comfort him. But he’s not a different person. He’s a stranger wearing the face that’s haunted you for nine years.

“So why now?”

“Well, I was…” He mimics a snap with his right hand. “And after that, I… started going to therapy.”

He pulls a small, brown book from his jacket pocket. “My, uh, shrink told me to make a list of people I’ve wronged,” he says as he flips it open to a page in the middle and places it in front of you. “You’re one of the last.”

You find your name third-to-bottom. The ones above are crossed through. He glances from your face to your fingers as they trace his careful scrawl.

“You don’t let people look at this, do you?” You ask.

He half-smiles and shakes his head.

“So why are you letting me?”

“I, uh,” he flexes his hand. “I don’t know. I just… thought I owed it to you.”

You briefly consider asking about the other names, but he doesn’t owe you those. He owes you answers about the life he can’t return. Just as another question bubbles up your throat, a ringtone sounds. You glance at your phone’s black screen, then back to his furrowed brow. He reaches into his back pocket to fish out a flip phone. A  flip phone.  You haven’t seen one in years.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He looks up from the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says as he squeezes out of the booth. He disappears as quickly as before.

⭑⭑⭑

You finally take a sip of water. The sweat of the glass bleeds onto your fingertips, so you wipe your hand off on your pant leg before touching your phone. 6:15, it says, which means you've been sitting on this hard, plastic seat for over forty minutes. He's been gone for about ten of them.

Before you can seriously consider just leaving, his form comes into view.

"I've gotta go, but..." He says as he pulls the brown book out of his pocket again. When he opens it, he tears a small piece from the page corner, then scribbles something with a pen.

He places the piece of paper next to the perspiration ring on the table. Stealing one last glance at you, he turns and leaves for the third and final time.

On it is a phone number and a name:

Bucky

[ghoultramp]

patience [link x reader]

▷       loz

��� pairing: link (botw) x f!reader

↳ content:  fluff, first kiss, cuddles, mutual pining, comfort for inadequacy & self-doubt

↳ words: 2k

⇢ summary: you and link have been traveling and training together for months. with your insecurities baring down on you, you let him know just how bad you feel. 

also available on ao3

⇢ note: i had a lot of fun writing this, i got my start writing with loz fanfiction -- haha! i like to think that gremlin boy botw link is a huge softy, it made me want to write more between link and this particular reader.

With the way the sky was beginning to glow with hues of pinks and oranges, you concluded that you weren’t being dramatic, you really had been here for hours. Your arms were feeling heavy bearing the weight of your sword and you were unsure how much longer your legs would be able to hold you upright.

You tried to steady yourself wholly as you watched the young man in front of you; he seemed calm. He always seemed calm. You tried desperately to ignore the doubt that was creeping in as he circled you.

Your eyes darted from his feet to the ornate sword held between his hands, to his bright, focused eyes and back again, you really were losing focus.

I have to get him this time.

You planted yourself on the heels of your boots, the ground beneath you dry from the day’s heat, and you scouted the gap between you; it was no more than a few feet. You applied effort to ease your uneven breathing, just like he’d taught you, even if it was just to listen to his footfalls. 

You were sure he was smirking as he closed in on you, slowly and deliberately. It was agonizing and you wanted nothing more than to strike.

That’s just what he expects.

His words echoed in your subconscious: patience… you just need more patience.

His sky blue tunic fluttered in your peripheral vision. He was ridiculously quick, he wasn’t holding back now. You exhaled, emptying your lungs of air, before spinning on your right foot. You yelped as your left shin made contact with the butt of his sword as it swung out.

An unfortunate mistake that he’d easily countered and would no doubt reward you with a bruise.

Stumbling backward, you let go of your weapon as you tripped-up over yourself, hoping you might break your fall with your hands. Your fumbling was in vain as you fell on your rear with a soft thud. You stared up in horror, the tip of his sword directly in your line of sight as he stood over you. 

“I’ll never get this right!” you protested, balling up your hand and hitting the ground.

Your cheeks burned bright and hot when he laughed.

“You’re a terrible teacher, Link,” you told him, pouting rather playfully as you folded your arms. “Goddess knows why I asked you for help.”

“What?! Come on!” His eyes widened, mortified at the accusation. “That’s hardly fair.”

You watched as Link took his sword in one hand, sheathing it in the worn scabbard at his side. He reached a slender, weathered hand out for you, motioning with a nod of his head for you to take it.

Appreciatively taking his hand, you let out an uncontrollable groan as you stood up. Even with Link taking some of the strain from you as you eased yourself upright, the sudden weight of your efforts bore you down. Link held you steady, but he was trembling as his hands held onto your biceps tightly.

“Maybe you’re right,” he began. You felt your bottom lip quiver and your eyes sting with the threat of tears. “You’ll never get this right if you continue to push yourself like this.”

Your beaten body deflated with a heavy sigh when Link let go of you. You watched as he knelt down.

“It’s been months,” you murmured, feeling ashamed, “I haven’t--”

“Stop,” he interjected, you were taken aback by his abruptness. You watched as he took your weapon into his hands. “I hear the way you talk about yourself,” Link confessed as he stood with ease, but you heard a sense of sadness in his voice, “about your training and this and that.” 

He presented your weapon to you on two open palms, his arms stretched out. You grasped your sword by the hilt and let it hang rather unenthusiastically at your side.

“You have improved, you just don’t notice it because I’m so hard on you,” he enthused. 

You didn’t have to look at him to hear that he wore a grin on his face, the pride he held for you was almost overwhelming. 

“You have to understand,” he continued as he gently placed his palm on the small of your back, urging you to turn around, it was a gesture he probably thought nothing of but made your heart leap, “I was easy on you when you needed me to be easy on you.” 

You nodded, beginning to understand, but maybe not believe him. 

“But now, well,” he let out a chuckle, “I think you’re starting to give me a run for my rupees.” 

You let out a hearty laugh at the audacity of his claim as you strolled in the direction of your shared camp, you felt the warmth of his palm that was still firmly planted at your back. 

“I’m sure I would, Link,” you responded, overexaggerating the rolling of your eyes.

 Your hands were busy while your eyes focused on something else entirely, hypnotized by the shadows that danced across his features as he tended to the fire. Your eyes slowly inspected each and every detail, from the way his own azure eyes were fixated on the flames, jostling the logs, to the way his dirtied, unruly blond hair framed his face, the way it had unraveled from his ponytail. You watched, utterly entranced as he lifted a hand to his face, somehow graceful as he gently tucked those stray strands behind his pointed, Hylian ear.

Beyond the crackling of flames and the creatures that sang their evening chorus, you heard the unmistakably soft hum of Link’s voice. Your gaze drifted down to his lips where he wore a soft smile tinged with a faint sadness. You felt a heaviness in your chest.

While Link had certainly softened during the long months of traveling and the countless hours of training, you found yourself craving these rare moments of vulnerability from him. You knew there was so much more than he might ever tell you, but it was in these fractures in time that you truly noticed how tragic his kind-hearted eyes were.

You watched as he threw his stick on to the make-shift fire and wipe his hands together on a rag tucked into his belt. You didn’t hear him when he called your name, only startled out of your daydream when he frantically waved an arm at you.

“Are you alright there?” Your cheeks reacted voluntarily to the concern in his voice, feeling them grow warmer by the second you quickly averted your eyes to look at your feet. Your heart fared no better when he quickly jumped to his feet. “I said, are you okay?” 

He took hold of your wrist and shook it up and down. His face suddenly came into view; Link had bent down, awkwardly twisting his neck and torso to look up at you. 

That damned cocky smile of his.

“Or are you just hungry?” he asked, followed by a toothy grin. 

Link’s laugh was so care-free and childlike, even after you swatted his arm, but you felt nothing less than blessed to hear him laugh like that.

“I may take my time,” he reminded you, returning to his seat by the fire, “but I can be sure it’ll taste good.”

You watched as he sat down, patting the ground beside him.

“I’m not so sure about that, Link,” you mumbled, pulling a face at him, “I don’t want to eat Moblin guts again and you can’t make me, either.”

Link chuckled half-heartedly, shaking his head, as you settled down next to him. He watched as you pulled your knees to your chest, as you clutched your arms around your shins and your shoulders heaved with a rather heavy sigh. 

You thought yourself silly for hoping Link might start humming again; you wished for anything that might relax you, relieve you of your burdening inadequacies. You felt the uncomfortable sting of tears, far too exhausted to halt the rampancy of your thoughts, you set your chin in the dip between your knees.

You felt indifferent when Link presented the roasted vegetables and meats in a large serving bowl. Under different circumstances, he might playfully wave it about in front of you, tonight he saw just how upset you were.

You heard him shuffle beside you, afraid that if you moved to look at him your tears might fall, you kept your stare low and ahead of you. A gentle weight fell around your shoulders and you realized that Link had draped a blanket over you; you finally felt a tear fall as he tucked it around you.

Link reacted quickly when you heard you sniffle, his hands placed firmly on your shoulders while he moved his head to look at you. He caught the sight of the wet trails your tears were making as they glistened in the light of the fire. When you saw yet more concern on his face, you wanted to let go and bawl.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was small, trembling.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brows furrowed with genuine incredulity.

“I’ll never be--” you choked on your words as you pushed back your outburst. You appreciated Link’s patience as he waited for you to continue, “I was so foolish to think I could ever be good enough.”

You felt your shoulders shudder beneath his hands as your sobs came freely, you wouldn’t know if he would ever understand just how loaded your statement was. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just about today. There was too much to say, too much you felt, it was crushing and overwhelming.

“Good enough?” his voice was soft as he brought one of his hands close to your face, gently brushing tear-soaked strands of hair behind your ear. “Maybe I was too hard on--”

“It’s not that--” your words escaped your mouth quicker than your brain could process, the immediate regret showed in your wide eyes.

Instead of backing away from you, as you had so expected, you felt Link’s hand brush along your jaw to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You didn’t resist when he gently lifted your face to look at him, your arms relaxed to your sides and you let your knees rest in front of you. 

You watched his eyes as they danced across your features.

“You’ve always been good enough,” he told you, you were barely able to make out his words as he let go of your chin.

You felt yourself relax as his fingers danced across your cheek, up to your eyebrow where he gently brushed at it with his thumb. He caressed your face as he brought his hand back down where he rested his thumb on your bottom lip. 

Your lip quivered, his unexpected, but welcomed touch made you more nervous than you had been in a long time.

“And you’ve always been enough,” he continued, the slightest bit closer to you.

You felt the pull of your instincts as you moved with him, ever so slightly, feeling dizzy as your lips finally met. You felt Link’s thumb gently brush at your tear-sodden cheek, wiping under your eye; his gentle gesture almost made you burst.

Softly taking either side of your face in both his hands, he gently relieved your lips of his. You opened your eyes to meet his face looking as flushed as yours felt but his eyes appeared serious as he looked at you.

“You’ll always be enough,” he meant it.

You felt the tickle of a smile at the corner of your lips just before he pulled you into an awkward hug. He made an unintelligible sound before returning to his original seat in front of the fire, you let the smile beam, rubbing at your now-dry cheeks as he began patting the space in front of him.

Pulling the blanket with you, shuffling as best you could, you curled yourself in between his legs. Link gave a soft chuckle when you lay your head against his broad chest, pulling the blanket into place around the pair of you.

You both sat there, basking in the warm, amber glow of the fire, lost in the pools of each other's eyes. 

Neither of you spoke, neither of you had to.

[riddlecrux]

Historical AU

Day 7 of Elriel Month!

Summary: Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him. Note: This is a snippet of my upcoming multi chapter Medieval AU Elriel fanfic!

There was talk in the town.

A gossip about one particular knight was spreading among ladies like a wildfire, fast and unforgiving. Whenever she went out, for a trip to the market or tailor, the words were often hushed and clipped. As if saying them outright and loud would bring the said person stumbling through the door - unannounced and feared. It was as if a shadow of a knight lived among the elites, constantly watching their lips, ready to strike from the darkest parts of the room. She had thought that gossiping was a rather boring thing to do, especially during the daytime - she much preferred spending her free time gardening and walking through the nearby forest.

The solitude she yearned for was always waiting for her, embracing her in silence and wisps of spring wind. A book under her arm, the hem of her skirt tucked between her fingers as she moved through the green maze with a blush covering her pale skin. It was something completely different from the small, claustrophobic ballrooms filled with perfumed guests and men trying to catch themselves a woman, a wife, a person that they were going to tame. A woman, later barely a doll. Empty shell filled with her husband's desires, placid and neat. Never free, never wild - an object that men love to present as a trophy.

Elain huffed, long steps halting as golden brown tresses slipped from her modest braid - her blue dress wrinkled and dirty, the mud sprinkled even her undergarments as she maneuvered through the forest road. She glanced behind her, a nervous tick, and with a soft frown on her forehead, she leaned against the rough tree. Few flowers slipped from her hand as she closed her eyes, breathing the scent of nature which coaxed her troubled mind.

She knew that the day would come, sooner or later - she prayed that her resolve and kindness would prevent her from marriage without love but naive as she was she knew that it was only a matter of time before her mother chose her a fiancé. Preferably rich one, from a distinguished family with a house close to the city market and church. Those arguments were vain and so ill-matched in Elain's opinion. She didn't care for money; she wanted to be loved. More than anything else she wanted to be chosen because of her personality - not too extravagant, timid, and simple as her father once said. Nesta always had a spark in her, steel that made men tremble before her, a woman made for a king or a duke. Her older sister was always the example of everything Elain wasn't, yet the day before Nesta's arranged marriage it was her older, wiser, dutiful sister that ran away - leaving a letter in which she chose love over duty.

I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. Women are much more than cattle you breed to sell. I part with a heavy heart, not because of my decision but because of the future of my sisters.

Elain had read the letter thousands of times, tracing letters with her fingers - remembering Nesta's coldness and silent form of love. She envied her older sister. If she was more courageous, less soft she would, perhaps, repeat her sister's steps.

Sighing through her parted lips her head hit the tree behind her. I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. She murmured under her breath like a prayer staring at the empty road that led to her little town. Gripping the old book by its edges Elain willed herself to pray. Pray that the man her mother had chosen would not like her. Pray that her resolve would show her the correct way, an answer to her broken promise. Pray that…

Her eyes opened at the sound of horses coming down the road. Glancing behind her cover she saw four riders, all dressed in black robes - all of them being knights. Her grip on the branch tightened as her mouth parted once again at the sight of a very well-known flag that was flowing in the air behind them. Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him.

A knight dressed in black armor, iron spikes coming from his shoulder pads, and even sharper ones adorning his helmet. His gauntlets tightly clenched around his horse’s harness, dark and utterly beautiful. The breastplate was wide and devoid of any ornaments safe for three stars on each side of his armor. On his left side an extraordinary sword. Its majestic hilt covered in small, blue gems which were reflecting sunshine as he moved on the massive, gorgeous stallion. It was her gasp that made him snap his neck in her direction - she quickly scrambled and hid behind the tree wishing that he hadn't seen her. As the sounds of hooves started to ease with their every step, Elain slowly crept from her hiding position. Her heart beating so loud that the bird sitting on one of the branches fled from its resting spot.

The talk of the town - The Scarred Knight, came just in time for the tournament.

*

3 YEARS EARLIER

The summer was hot and stuffy.

Elain shot a quick glance behind her shoulder as she ran through the crowded streets of the town. She could hear Lucien's screams and his brothers’ laughter, however, she didn't stop. Her feet adorned with leather booties moved even faster, as long as she lost the gingers she would be safe. She turned right, stumbled because of the moving wagon, and sprinted towards cathedral alley - people were staggering when she turned in another street, her hair falling from her up-do in waves of molten gold. The freedom in her lungs was addictive. She felt like a bird, freed from its beautiful cage that it was trapped in for its whole life.

Her feet hit the muddy ground as she scanned moving peasants and with a resolution on her delicate features, she whirled around and ran straight towards the training grounds. One step, two steps...

She gasped when she collided with a solid body, her feet getting caught in the lace of her dress, making her fall on her backside with a loud thud. Her forehead was hurting and she could swear that the world around her wavered as she finally decided to glance at the reason for her fall. It was a knight, a tall and very deadly one. His violet eyes scanned her for injuries and with a slow sigh, he presented her a gloved hand.

"My lady," his sensual voice rang in her ears as she gracefully - at least she hoped so, gripped his fingers and stood up. Her beige dress was dirty and ruffled at its edges. Her mother would have scolded her till her calves were raw from the beating. The sight of her so utterly ungracious and dishonorable would shake her so much that Elain would have had to beg her on her knees to stop. Nevertheless, as she looked at her skirt she saw few droplets of blood and with a frown, she deduced that she, in fact, sliced her palm when she tried not to stumble.

Snapping her attention back to the knight in front of her, she slowly bowed and smiled. Her curls created a halo around her heart-shaped face when she finally looked him straight in his eyes. He was tall, well built and had brown skin. It was a beautiful color, she mused trying not to think how handsome he was.

"Sir Knight, pardon my intrusion," she cocked her head as another knight appeared in her peripheral vision. He was even taller and bigger than the one from before. His long hair flew on wisps of wind as he chuckled seeing her state and dirt on her dress. One dark brow rose with a flicker of amusement in his bright eyes.

"It's a rather peculiar sight to behold," he murmured as another wave of deep laughter erupted from his throat. She could feel redness coming up on her cheeks and with a swift movement, she ducked her chin down. Her mother would have simply perished if she saw her right now. What a disgrace for her perfect family.

"Cassian, the lady is hurt," she still didn't dare to look up, and when the newcomer left as quickly as he appeared she stole a small glance in the direction of soft sounds.

On her right, the training grounds were almost empty safe for a knight in black armor, kneeling on the ground. His hands were bare and visible to her eyes - scars, horrible and painful ones adoring his long fingers and gentle palms were a stark contrast to his dark attire. However, what caught her initial attention was the way he was slowly but surely trying to feed a stray kitten that aimlessly wandered here. His kneeling person, sharp against the tiny creature barely visible to the human eye. Two oddities coexisting in that nanosecond of time seemed to stop for her as she devoured the sight of this blindingly pure kindness.

"My lady," she heard the other man from somewhere far away. Her tunnel vision focused on that one person, his act of gentleness amidst the blazing sunlight, and… the way his scarred fingers were trembling while he placed all of his weight on his knees. As if he was scared and ashamed of their appearance, even before that small animal hissing in his direction. "My lady?" Her doe eyes found violet ones and with a soft gasp, she came to her senses.

"Please do forgive me for my ignorance," her voice shook and she hated herself for that. For that slight hint of distress slipping through the cracks of her perfectly molded mask of courtesy. The knight rose a dark brow and with frivolous joy watched her behavior as if he had solved a mysterious puzzle. Deep down in her chest, her heart sang an unknown song that made her spiral even further into herself.

"Azriel!" A sharp command slashed the air as she whipped her head at the source of that loud noise. The violet-eyed knight bowed elegantly as the kneeling man slowly stood up, even taller than previously acquainted knights, and slowly made a way towards them. His armor was loud, yet mesmerizing - she felt her bloodstream tickle, surge as the earth shattered under her legs with the force of warmth and longing she suddenly felt. An intake of breath caught in her lungs made her frozen as foreign yet so well-known hazel eyes stopped on her person. As if she had dreamt about them, as if they were forever imprinted inside her like a burst of thousands of stars. The slits in his helmet allowed her to see his long eyelashes, dark and dangerous, as he inclined his greetings.

"Sir Knight," she breathed out, like a bird singing for its designed mate. The knight's burning gaze left her shaking - as if her soul suddenly came down on earth and wished for a moment of utmost closure.

"The lady is hurt," the shorter one supplied glancing between both of them with a smirk. "Please attend her while I gather supplies," and with a swift nod, he left both of them alone. She supposed that time became only a fraction of surrounding her world when Azriel only stared at her, his scarred hands tucked behind him as if the sight of them might have somehow offended her.

"Sir Knight," her lips parted with a silent echo of yearning. "You have truly beautiful hands," his eyes widened, a golden hue covering his irises as his armor rumpled with the stretch of his muscles.

"It's a far-fetched compliment, my lady, yet I'm declaring my thanks," he blinked as she fought with an overwhelming feeling dancing in her chest. He was so close to her and yet she felt as if he was a whole ocean away. Maybe her soul, the one who often whispered in her ear about soulmates, tricked her and made her a fool. Maybe because of that she wanted to say something, anything that could last - to make him remember her, a wild girl with flowers in her hair.

"It's not," she urged and let herself smile. "For what I have seen, Sir, you are gentle-natured," a gust of wind ruffled her tresses and when she tried to fight with them, scarred digits arrived next to her ear.

"And you, my lady, are indisputably a spring ready to conquer the already fading winter," he whispered urgently. Her heart trembled at his words, it was as if he had spoken to her spirit, to the gaping wound of her hidden longings and dreams. As if he had known her, right now and all these centuries before. The time was crashing into her like waves of that unknown feeling that overcame her, however before she could answer the loud yell of her name startled her like a deer.

"I must," her ragged breathing stopped when she saw red-haired men stumbling onto training grounds. Wide-eyed and breathless she stole the last glance at her starry-eyed soulmate and turned around. Even if all laws of this world told her to stay, screamed at her to turn around to see the universe crashing inside those hazel eyes, she didn't.

She left him there, a tray of sunlight and starlight glittering behind her as he watched her till she became only a speck of dust in the blazing heat.

[cosmicluka]

I Think I Like You

Pairing: Xiao x Reader

Summary: After centuries of being alone, you come in his life and take a grip of Xiao’s heart, despite his protests. His love for you is something he has to come to terms with.

Genre: Fluff, slight angst (happy ending)

Song: I Think I Like You- The Band Camino

Word Count: 2k

All Xiao knew was the blade, the same one he used to protect Liyue from countless evils that humans should never have to face; the same one that brought lives to an end and served to worsen his karmic debt. He had no other aspirations, no hopes or dreams. Those had long since been washed away by the blood of those he had slain. They likely had hopes and dreams of their own. They couldn’t have them, so neither should he. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t.

The yaksha had convinced himself that emotions were something he couldn’t be bothered with. After all, he was simply a weapon. There was no room for a weapon to feel. So he didn’t. The stinging of his heart when he saw couples and groups laughing without a care surely was just disdain for the monotony of their life. Surely, the heaviness that settled over him when he watched people find joy within one another was just his mind’s way of telling him to get back to work. Surely that was all. 

It had been far too long that Xiao had been alone. His brothers and sisters had long since passed, the days bled into months that bled into decades. Before he realized it, hundreds of years had passed by and there he was. Alone. For the longest time, he thought that he was okay with that situation. Secluded, yes. But no one would get hurt because of him. More importantly, he wouldn’t get hurt because of anyone. He hadn’t planned for one tiny, bright detail. 

You. 

Sat on the top balcony of Wangshu Inn, bathed in the dying light of the sun, you were completely focused on bandaging up your forearm, nothing else seemed to exist around you. Your tongue poked from your lips in concentration as you tightened the wrap, the shadows falling over your face doing nothing to hide the slight scrapes that covered your skin. Any other day, Xiao would have left you to tend to your own troubles, disappearing in an instant before you were even aware of his presence. Even he didn’t know what made today different. It must have just been a want to protect you as was in his contract. You were a person of Liyue; it was his job to keep you safe. That’s all it was. Right? 

So he stayed. Silent, but watching your every move. Just to make sure you were okay. Nothing more. He watched as you patted the wrap to ensure that it would stay in its position before stretching your arms upward with your eyes clenched tight. A slight groan passed through your parted lips, leaving Xiao to question whether or not he still had time to leave without being detected. He most certainly wasn’t ready for your eyes to pop open and immediately land on his, a fantastic smile taking over your features. Though it was a strange notion, Xiao had the fleeting thought that the smile might possibly shine greater than the sun. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting! If I didn’t get that done, I might have forgotten to do it all together.” You said with a slight giggle. With his arms crossed over his chest, the yaksha moved his gaze from you to the horizon where the sun had almost fully set. “Forget to address a wound? Tch. You mortals have no sense of preservation.” He saw your mouth open in shock out of his peripheral vision and for a brief moment, he glanced back at you. “I’ll have you know it’s not all mortals!” You argued. “I just am not one of them.”

“Clearly.” He eyed your bandaged wounds with distaste. “Okay, wait. In my defense, this particular one is from a fight that I couldn’t avoid. I was just trying to get some herbs and a hilichurl thought it would be a great idea to get its little buddies and have a ‘beat-the-adventurer’ party. It’s not like I jumped off a cliff this time.” 

“But still… Wait, this time?” Xiao could feel his normal facade dropping rapidly as he stared at you in disbelief. You just giggled in response, not offering any more explanation than that. He didn’t recall the last time he had been this lost for words. He thought about lecturing you about the dangers, but the carefree glint in your eyes told him that all of his words would be a waste of breath. He thought about making you tell him more, but before he could say anything, the joyful voice of Verr Goblet came from behind him. 

“I hate to interrupt this rare moment of chattiness,” She gave Xiao a knowing smile before turning to you. “But your meal is ready! Once you’ve cleaned up, hurry down so you can eat.” 

“I can make almond tofu if you’d-” The lady turned to the yaksha in question just as he disappeared. It was bad enough you had brought out a side of him he thought he had lost years ago just in the matter of a few minutes. But the fact that someone else had seen it too was unacceptable. Hopefully, he would never have to see you again and experience the new, unfamiliar emotion that still lingered deep within his chest. 

-

The next time Xiao saw you was on the top of a mountain where you were basking in the sun that burned bright overhead. The grass around you swayed in the light breeze, your hands were loose by your side. He watched as your chest rose and fell with every breath, finding a strange sense of comfort in the way you appear so peacefully alive. “It’s been a while.” Your soft voice startled him more than he was willing to admit. With your eyes still closed, you patted the ground next to you. 

“Come on. Lay with me. Nature feels exceptionally good today.” The man scoffed at your words, not making any move to get closer. “I can’t be reduced to simply lounging around.” You let out a deep breath at his rejection and cracked one eye open to shoot him a pointed look. “I’m not ‘lounging’. I’m rejuvenating. It might do you some good. Maybe get you to smile once or twice.” 

“Ridiculous,” He muttered, but yet still moved closer to you. He didn’t sit, instead he stood above you, letting his gaze fall on the scenery around him. Birds seemed to dance on the wind, singing songs of joy and flight as everything else seemed to stand still. “How did you know it was me?” Xiao asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t often have someone stare at me so intensely, yet so silently. It’s quite a unique feeling.” 

“I don’t stare.” You snorted at his response. “Sure, you don’t. And I don’t take risks.” He had barely enough time to ponder what you meant by that when he felt your hand grip his and tug him to the ground. Xiao knew he could have stood his ground, but he was surprised when he found himself complying with your demand. “What do you think you’re doing? Have you no respect for the Adepti?” He hated the way his voice came out weaker than he intended. There was no bite in his words, just a reluctant surrender.

“Taking a risk.” He felt the last of his resolve crumble with the light sound of your giggle. “Besides, this is me showing respect for the Adepti.” 

“You’re so strange.” Xiao felt his eyes closing on their own accord, letting himself relish in the feelings around him. Your warm hand still grasping his, the slight sounds of your breathing. You seemed to cover him entirely. He wasn’t too sure how to feel about that at the moment. But just for that moment, Xiao decided he’d indulge himself just a little. He could have a few moments of respite without falling too deep into the whirlwind of negativity. As long as you were there to force him. 

-

Since that day on the mountain, Xiao had made a point to avoid your presence any and everywhere. If he saw you at the inn, he’d be halfway across Liyue before he could take another breath. If he ran into you while you were adventuring, he’d be gone before your next step hit the ground. Your bright essence must’ve been messing with his karmic debt. That’s the only explanation he could come to for the way his heart beat unusually fast with the way you had held his hand for hours. It explained the way everything seemed more dull and diluted when you weren’t near him. It was reason enough for him as to why his entire soul seemed to ache when he had to part from you. 

The logic to his reasoning… well, he had none. But his mind couldn’t churn out any other cause for the way you affected him. You seemed to linger in his mind even after not seeing you for weeks. At first, he was grateful for the distraction from the darkest thoughts in his head, but it was starting to worry him. Every moment he stopped, he could see your mischievous glances, hear your all too loud laughs, feel your comforting warmth. He hated every part of how weak you made him feel when you weren’t even around. 

The sun was just starting to set over the clear sky when Xiao made his way back to the Wangshu Inn, reminding him of the time he first met you. The chair you had sat in that day had been moved elsewhere, but he could still see the furrow of your brow as you concentrated on the wrapping in your hands. He let out a frustrated groan at his own thoughts. How had he ended up like this?

“So you’re saying you haven’t seen him in almost three weeks?” A familiar voice came from inside the inn and Xiao felt a slight rush of relief at the sound. Aether was just a few feet away. If the yaksha could ask anyone for help in this matter, it would be the traveler. With all of the adventures and companions he had found along his journey, it seemed the most likely to Xiao that he would be the perfect one to ask. The man just hoped he wouldn’t be laughed at as he threw away the last bit of pride he had left. But before he could take another step closer, your voice floated through his ears and shook him to the bone. Had he missed the sound of your voice this much the whole time? 

“Yeah. I’m worried about him. I mean, I’ve heard all of the stories about him, but still. I feel like it’s my fault he hasn’t been around. But you must know something, right? Aren’t you and Xiao good friends?” 

“Yep! But he’s always somewhere else. He won’t even come when Paimon calls him.” The pout was evident in Paimon’s voice and almost overshadowed the soft sound Aether made. “I can call him for you. That should ease your worries, right?” 

“There’s no need.” Xiao walked around the corner and saw the three of you sitting at a table with food covering the surface. He tried to ignore the way your face lit up as you stood to greet him. Willing his eyes to fall anywhere but your overjoyed face, he didn’t miss the smug look on Aether’s face. “Oh! Paimon sees what’s going on here.” Like always, Paimon seemed to say what was on Aether’s mind. “Inconceivable. There’s nothing out of the usual.” Xiao spat, the glare he donned not having the usual threat behind it. 

“I have to disagree.” The smile faded from your face and Xiao felt his heart being pulled in a way he’d never felt before. The frown that took over was one he didn’t want to see again. “Even Verr Goblet noticed something was up. I’d say that’s pretty unusual, wouldn’t you?” His eyes finally locked with yours and he saw the determination to pull whatever information you wanted out of him. The part that scared him most was that he would be willing to tell you everything. 

“It’s just because Xiao has a huge crush on y-” “I completely forgot that we’re supposed to go meet Xinyan in Liyue Harbor, so we’ll head out now. Great seeing you both again!” Aether stood from his seat as he interrupted Paimon, walking towards the exit with a grin and a wave. Xiao watched as they left, feeling a chill settling in his core. 

“Is that really why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why you won’t speak to me?” 

“I’m speaking to you now, aren’t I?” 

You let out a sigh as you settled back in your seat, staring at the wood in front of you. Xiao didn’t need prompting this time to take the seat where Aether had been and crossed his arms as heat warmed his cheeks. “I don’t know what a ‘crush’ is, but it doesn’t sound pleasant, so I’m sure it’s not that.” He said, eyes fixed on the wall behind you. “Huh? A crush? It’s not bad at all!” He was relieved to hear the humor back in your voice. Anything less than your usual, happy self was enough to cause worry to sink its claws into his heart. 

“It’s simple. A crush is someone you have feelings for.” He could feel your eyes studying his face as if you were trying to search his soul for the answers. When he didn’t respond, you picked up again. “It’s like having someone you want to have around and share you life with. Someone you want to be your closest friend, but then again, it’s way more than friends.” He heard the hesitancy in your voice and was about to add his own comment when you spoke again, your voice small. “Someone you’d hold close during the night and, you know, maybe… kiss?” 

His eyes snapped to you in shock. Your face was incredibly red and your eyes were glued to your lap. Xiao thought you were going to continue, but you just pressed your lips together to stay quiet. “Is that how you feel?” His voice was equally as quiet as yours, dread filling his chest. What was he supposed to do if you said no? How should he react? Human affairs had never been his strong suit. 

“I take risks.” Your words were a breath, nearly incomprehensible. He could see your muscles tensing up as if you were readying for a fight that you weren’t sure you could win. But nothing could prepare him for the solid resolve in your eyes that nearly took his breath away. “I do feel like that. I do have a crush on you, Xiao.” He stared at you, trying to find any hint of joking in your expression, sure the color of his face matched yours, rivaling the ripest tomato. 

“It’s my fate to suffer the consequences of my past and for weeks, I thought this was a new form of payment for my sins. What I’ve been feeling… I wouldn’t call negative. I think that there was truth spoke earlier. Perhaps these emotions aren’t part of my karmic debt as I thought. Perhaps it might actually be this so-called ‘crush’.” 

He fell silent as he watched your reaction, finding it oddly amusing how your mouth fell agape and tried to formulate words that wouldn’t come out. Eventually, you stopped trying and fell into a silence that was somehow comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Xiao knew he liked seeing you happy and full of joy, but he dared say this shy and flustered state of yours was a close second to his favorite version of you. After what felt like an eternity of sitting together without words, you managed to speak again. “We’re both not used to this relationship thing, are we?” You let out a nervous laugh and Xiao made a small noise of agreement. “If you don’t have anything else to do tonight, do you, maybe, want to go watch the stars? Y’know, as a bit of a celebration.” 

“I suppose so. After all, I do owe you a debt as my absence was the cause of your ill mood.” 

“Forget about all that! I was just worried about you, that’s all.” You huffed and looked away, but he could see the smile that was threatening to slip on your lips. “Come. Let’s go.” He chuckled softly as he stood and moved to the door, leaving you to follow behind. “I’ll make these weeks up to you, I swear it.” He muttered before you got too close. He wouldn’t admit it to you yet, he wouldn’t fully admit it to himself yet. But there was one thought that kept repeating in his head: 

I think I like you, maybe more than I should.

[1a-imagines]

Forget me not

Fairy!Izuku x reader

A/n: It’s here!! The post I've been making every one worry about for the past week, I hope you all enjoy. :) 

This is Day 3 of the Izumonth collab!! You can find the announcement post here. 

If you squint there is angst.

Word count: 5500+ words.

Overview: You've waited years for him to come back, when you find him again; what secrets will you share under the moonlit sky?

Laughter echoed in the open air, the sun peeking up over the horizon signalling the start of morning. Most of the world was asleep, but this back garden was as lively as ever. Little feet raced around the garden with purpose. A child, no older than 10, chased a ball of green light around the grassy terrain.

You jumped over toys, crawled under the slide, hid behind trees and bushes to trick your opponent into a false sense of security. Anything to win this game he had challenged you to.

You stood as still as you could from behind the tree trunk, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Finally, a green glow entered your peripheral vision and you jumped for it.

Your chubby fingers outstretched, both hands clasping around the light as you captured the target.

"Gotcha Izu'!" You laughed, opening your hands as you brought them up to your face. The glow from his wings bounced off your skin, accentuating your cute, childish, features.

The fairy rubbed his head sitting in the middle of your palms, giggling,  "I was going easy on you!"

He flew up, getting level with your face. You hummed in a mocking tone, not believing him. He pressed his lips together, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Well, if that was so easy for you then how about you try catching all of us!" He exclaimed.

More glowing lights emerged from beyond the bushes in your garden. Each one a different colour, red, blue, yellow, white. Only when they got up close could you see the outlines of their bodies. You had expected fairies to be smaller than they were. They were about the size of your palms and according to them, they were still growing. You wonder how they would compare to you when you got older.

You huffed, stomping your foot on the floor with a pout. "Fine! I'll do it! But after we're paying hide and seek, ok? We only have one hour until my family wakes up!"  

Izuku nodded, flying over to his friends with a grin. "I promise! Now come catch us!"

You smiled at the memory. Remembering how that night was filled with laughter and games. Even as a ten year old staying awake all night, you never got sleepy. Whenever the moon was up, you and your friends went out to play. It was the only time they came to visit you. All night you would be awake, laughing, singing and playing with them in your secret garden.

It surprised you, the memory was so vivid in your mind, like it had happened merely a day ago. As time went by, childhood memories started to fade, making them feel more like dreams than reality.

You bent down, your eye peering through the door of the little mushroom house. Just as you had expected, it was empty. You sat back on your knees, letting out a hefty sigh.

The handcrafted house brought back so many childhood memories. Memories that in one way made you happy, and in another way stung your heart like a thousand wasps.

You used to see the fairies everyday, hiding around your garden, in bushes, behind mushrooms. They particularly liked your flower beds and vegetable patches. It was where you often found them sneaking around, as if playing a never ending game of hide and seek.

Eventually, they approach you, and they become your mystical secrets. There was one in particular, your little forest haired fairy. Even before you became friends he would smile and wave at you from behind flowers and leaves.

He was too shy to talk to you at first but with time he made his way to you. His friends soon followed his suit and began talking and playing with you. As much as you adored all of them, there was just something about Izuku that made you feel more attached to him. He came to visit you almost every night, sometimes flying through your bedroom window, where you would read him stories or vise versa, until you fell asleep.

There were so many fond memories he had left you with.

You reached out a hand, caressing the petals of a nearby snowdrop, more memories flashing through your mind.  

They always adored your garden, how it was filled with different flowers and vegetables. In honour of them you continued to upkeep it. Never a day went by that you weren't in your garden, pulling out weeds, watering the colourful array of flowers, tending the vegetable patches. You wished to create the perfect human-made fairy garden in the world, for them to come play and relax, laugh and dance just as you used to in your childhood days. You even went as far as making houses for them, each one filled with miniature furniture you had hand crafted yourself.

You had dedicated so much time to them. Put your heart and soul into everything you made, not a leaf out of place in your perfect garden.

So why haven't they come back? It has been six years and you haven't received so much as a goodbye from them. They just stopped coming to see you.

Your family had always brushed off your claims of fairies visiting the garden as just your childish imagination running wild, but you were much older now. Your obsession was starting to worry them. You mother thought it was nice you had such a big imagination, the rest of them called you crazy and childish.

Despite their words, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that it was all just mere imagination. They were real, you talked to them, you played and danced with them, and you were going to prove them all wrong!

Your beliefs had stood strong for six whole years, but after reciting the same old routine of tending your fairy garden and checking the small mushroom houses, everyday single day. Your beliefs were dwindling.

Where had they gone? The more days that went by, days without signs of your magical friends, days that consisted of you being mocked and ridiculed by your family. You couldn't help but lose a little faith. Fears starting to invade the cracks left in your heart, fears of never seeing them again, fears of them never having existed in the first place.

Despite the ever growing shadow on your face, you continued your weekly routine of cleaning the mushroom houses. Even if they never came back, it would be a waste to let all your hard work catch dust. You couldn't even begin to guess how many hours you had spent on this project.

You grabbed a cloth and unclipped the roof from the walls so you could clean all the nooks and crannies, Beginning with the first house you had ever crafted. It was rounded like a fat mushroom, the roof was a dark green with lighter green polka dots decorating it. It was your favourite design, Made carefully and with a little green haired friend of yours in mind.  

It had taken you months to finish this house alone, your face scrunched up remembering all the cuts, bruises and burns you had gotten in the process. It hadn't been easy, and a few times you almost gave up completely. However, seeing the fairy-sized bed, with small sewn duvets on top of it, an actual working fireplace, a kitchen with running water and a stove. It was all worth it. Who else could say they had tiny, fully functional, homes in their back garden?

You wrapped the cloth around your index finger, it was slightly damp, you used it to clean the floor first. Removing some of the furniture so it would be out of your way.

You picked up the couch, but once it was out of the way you noticed the floor was shining. Not from your careful cleaning but it looked like tiny green glitter had fallen to the ground.

Your heart stopped.

Tiny green glitter? Could it be? You used your finger to poke at the glitter, it clung to your skin and you brought it up to your eyes. How could something so small feel so familiar? They were like tiny green sparkles of hope.

Had he been here recently?

Your head shot up and you looked around for any more signs of life, rummaging through the other houses, the flower beds, the vegetable patches, anything you could think of.

As usual, you didn't find anything, yet you stood, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of not being crazy after all. Maybe they had been coming back and you hadn't noticed!?

You placed all the furniture back and put the roof on top of the house. If he had been coming back, then you had to find him! Just like when you were younger, you were going to play a game of hide and seek, but this time you were serious.

You were going to prove to everyone that you weren't crazy. You were going to prove that fairies are real! Most importantly, you might get to see your old friends again!

That very night you sat, curled up, by the window. The log fire offered a dim glow across the room, you didn’t want the lights to be on, fearing it could dissuade them from coming back. You draped a blanket over your shoulders, watching the mushroom house, your eyes not daring to move away in fear you would miss something.

Your family had tried to talk you out of this, telling you it was unhealthy to be so obsessed over this after you shared your findings over dinner. You still remembered the twisted frowns on their faces, even your mother looked worried for you. You sighed, head dipping down. Maybe they had a point, but after dedicating years to these fairies how could you just give up on them? Especially not now that you had a sign of their existence.

Hours went by, the log fire burning out along your hope, leaving behind nothing but a pile of  blackened ash.

The moon was high into the sky, illuminating your garden. It looked exactly like it used to when you would stay away with the fairies all night. Except now, instead of toys, there were more vegetable patches and flower beds scattering the grass floor. As you looked out at it, ghosted memories flooded back to you. You could almost see your childhood self running around with them again.

You felt your eyes droop. What time was it? You weren't sure, all you could do was battle with your body for the ability to stay awake.

Your head was snug in the crease of your arm, the blanket falling from your shoulder. When the blanket finally fell off and hit your feet, it startled you awake. You gasped, your body jolting up as you slapped yourself awake. How could you almost doze off?! What if you had missed something!? You pulled the blanket back around you and leaned onto the window. The cold glass against your skin made you shiver, but it helped keep you awake.

The moon disappeared above your house, but your garden stayed illuminated by its light. It looked enchanting, like there was a spotlight on your garden and the audience was the universe. Through the beam of light your eyes caught sight of something, you rubbed your eye, wondering if it was just your imagination.

You gasped, diving behind the couch, your eyes the only part of you peeking out behind your cover, like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. A trail of green dust danced in the wind, enticing you to follow it. You shot up from your seat and walked to the back door, as you pulled it open you prayed it wouldn’t creak too loudly and alert your visitor. You bit your lip, creating a gap just big enough for you to slip out of and walked across the garden, the grass tickling at your bare feet.

Your eyes widened, seeing the lights in the house on, you knelt down. Your legs were shaking so you steadied yourself with your hands. The door was shut, you knew this was your only chance to know the truth, to prove you weren’t crazy, and if it really was him, you could finally get some answers as to why he left. your hands were shaking as you were overcome with emotion, you hesitated to move, what if the answers weren’t going to be what you were looking for. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

You sat there, unmoving, knees tucked under your body and the chill of the night air caressing your skin. You could hear the sounds of pot’s clanking from behind the door. Had you any courage you would have peered in already, but your anxieties were holding you back.

After taking a shaky breath and mentally hyping yourself up, you curled your index finger, it hovered above the doors surface as you pushed against an invisible barrier. You closed your eyes and knocked on the door. Everything went silent. The feeling of wanting to slap yourself grew as the seconds ticked by and not a movement was made. The pit of your stomach churned, it felt like you had been sat there for an eternity.

Much to your delight, the door was pulled open and out poked a familiar face. “Izu..” You breathed out, tears pricking at your eyes. You hand flew up to your mouth as you choked back a sob. He hadn’t changed much, he was bigger now, but still only around the size of your palm. His jade curls fell around his face, sticking up in all directions as if he had just rolled out of bed, his rounded eyes filled with inner conflict. The door wasn’t opened fully but you could still see his wings peeking out from behind him, glowing brighter than ever.. Leaves were sewn together to create clothes on his body. A creative yet uncomfortable way to avoid nudity. His eyes were staring up at you like you were a three headed monster, come to end his life. He was frozen in place.

Your lips parted, words threatened to spill from them. You weren’t sure what to say, you had thought about this moment so many times, about what you would say, and yet your mind was blank. As you wrecked your brain to form a sentence a slam brought you from your thoughts. You blinked, the door was shut before you even got to say anything. It felt like a giant slap to your face. After years of imagining the moment you would see your friends again, this was never an outcome you expected. Your hands slipped from your face, trembling in front of you.

You didn’t understand, didn’t he remember you? You still lived in the same house, your looks hadn't changed that much apart from getting taller and your chubby child features melting away, you were practically the same! Maybe he hated you? Maybe that's why he stayed away from you all these years. Thoughts swirled around your head like a whirlpool, your bottom lip quivered, tears rolling down your face.

No matter how much you were hurting, you were insistent on having a conversation with him. You finally had him back, the least he could do was give you some answers. You lifted your hand to knock again, but before your finger could tap on the wood it opened, revealing a much more bashful looking fairy than before. Instead of his usual green glow, he was now glowing pink. How strange...

“Sorry, I panicked.” He chose to look at his feet instead of your face, he couldn’t see. You let out a dry laugh, you tried to relax now he was in front of you again, but you could barely hold back the sobs. “Do you remember me?”

He nodded, his curls bouncing as he did so. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It felt like a dream but you knew it was real. The cold night air on your exposed skin, the sound of his voice as he admitted to panicking; Not even your imagination could be this vivid, he was here, in front of you.

“How could I ever forget you Y/n?” He rubbed his arm, holding himself for comfort. The blanket fell from your shoulders when your body finally relaxed. “You are real.” you breathed, gaze fixed on him.

Your outspoken confirmation had sent yet another slap to your face. You felt like you were being thrown into a frenzy. You swirling thoughts were making you dizzy. They were real, if your family could see him they would finally believe you! All those jokes about you being crazy would be put to an end! You’d be free from ridicule! All you would have to do is take him inside, “I- I have to show you to my family! They think i'm insane! But you’re real! You were all real, and-” You shot up from the ground, stumbling in the process from the erratic movement. “Please! You have to come with me-”

“No!” He panicked and flew up from the stone steps on the mushroom house to be face level with you. It had been so long since you were able to see him up close. “No one can know about us!”

“But-” You wanted to argue but one look in his eyes and you saw how scared he was. You looked down, biting your tongue from saying anything else. His eyes had always reminded you of the forest on a sunny day, peaceful, filled with warmth. So seeing them filled with sorrow had, theoretically, stabbed your heart. “Why did you show yourselves to me then?”

He expected you’d have many questions.. He sighed and slowly fluttered forward so he was closer to your face. It felt like you two were in your own personal bubble, the rest of the world trapped outside of your secret space.

“When we were children, my friends and I found you playing alone in your garden. Our parents never found out about it, we were interested in humans and didn’t see the harm in approaching you. We watched you for weeks, you were always alone but you seemed so nice. We were only going to do it once but, eventually, one day turned into everyday but what we did was stupid and very forbidden by our people. We had to stop before our parents found out if they had, they would have erased your memory using their magic. I didn’t-.. We didn’t want you to forget us.” He corrected, mentally kicking himself for the slip up

You hadn’t caught his slip up, your brain was trying to process the new information. At least you finally had the answers you had been looking for. It finally made sense, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You sat back down on the grass, pulling your legs to your chest. They felt like jelly, and you didn’t trust them to support the rest of your body right now. Izuku flew down with you, hovering just above your legs. He took the break of silence to study your features. You looked a lot more mature now, as he assumed he did to you. You were both only 10 last time he saw you, now it had been about 6 years, a lot had changed yet you were still just as beautiful as he remembered you to be.

You remained silent, did you really have nothing to say to him? Or perhaps you were mad? The look on your face said otherwise, your features were relaxed yet your eyes seemed so distant. As if you were in another world to his. You weren’t sure how to feel, you had more questions now than ever before.

“Did you make these?” He finally found a way to break the silence, he gracefully glided down to the mushroom houses you had hidden amongst the blooming flowers. It was the perfect height for him, which was surprising. It was a beautifully designed house, he noted all the little details you had, each carved design was a pattern of passion. The fact you placed them into your flower beds made it even more perfect, it kept them surrounded by nature and beauty just like fairies loved to be. He wasn’t sure how you were able to know all of this, but it was the perfect fairy home, he really wished he would stay and live here in your garden. Not only for the beautiful environment you had created for them, but to see you everyday, to play and dance just like you used to do.

Your head lifted, a smile gracing your lips. “Yeah, I made them for you guys in case you ever came back.”

Your words struck him through the heart without the intent. He was facing away, his hand placed onto the frame of the door, caressing the hand carved design. He was guilt ridden, he had been for years but seeing this, how you waited for them to come back, it tore him up inside. He knew he should’ve said something before leaving you, he really tried to. His friends convinced him that he should be the one to deliver the message, you two had always had this unspoken bond as children.

However, when the time came, he couldn’t do it. He was nothing more than a coward. The words wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he tried to force them, like there was an invisible force squeezing at his neck, trapping the words in his throat. He didn’t want his last image of you to be a sad one. He didn’t want to have to fly away to the sounds of your cries. The thought crushed him, so he ran away from it, and now he was stuck regretting it for the rest of his life, he knew he couldn’t make up for what he did to you.“You have to leave again don’t you?”

Your voice ripped him from his thoughts, he dared not turn around. The sorrow in your voice was enough to make him wince. Just like the day he had left without warning, his voice failed him. He could barely manage a nod but you caught it. “For good?” Another nod, his head hung low, shoulder trembling. Suddenly feeling grateful for being sat down you hunched over. Your hair covering your eyes as you breathed out. Perhaps you would’ve been better off if this was a dream after all.

Another silence hung between you two, it was painful. The air felt heavy, a pressure weighing down on both of your shoulders that had built up over the last six years. Izuku shook his head, he couldn’t let things end like this. He couldn’t do it to you again. He may not be able to stay but there was something else he could do.

Tear’s silently escaped your eyes, falling onto the grass floor beneath you like sorrowful raindrops. You kept your eyes and mouth shut tight, you didn’t want him to see you crying before he left, but how could you not be upset by such a cruel fate? He had always taken up such a big part of your heart, and now he was telling you he was going to leave and you’d most likely never see each other again.

A pair of smaller hands cupped your cheeks, lifting your face up. Your tears soaked his hands but he didn’t mind. He smiled, rubbing at the wet trails on your cheeks with his forearm. Without a word between you, he flew down and grabbed one of your hands with both of his. He tugged at it and you stood up, allowing him to silently guide you.  He took you out of your back garden and into the forest that resided on the other side of your fence. The thought of going into a forest at night scared you, even with a trusted friend guiding you. The further you strayed from home the darker it got, trees obstructing the moon's light as you stepped into the forest. Izuku's green glow acted as a torch, keeping you safe from darkness.

After 5 minutes of walking in silence, your lips pulled into a frown, “Where are we going?” You finally asked with a bit of hesitance, one of his hands held onto your index finger, pulling you through the maze of trees with expertise. You stumbled and winced as stones and twigs poked at your bare feet like tiny needles. You had to rely on the glowing of your friend and what little of the moon's rays peaked through the trees to light your surroundings.

He didn’t reply to your question, but he didn’t need to. He guided you around a giant oak tree, and once you did your jaw dropped.

Fireflies danced around the open space between the trees, gathering together to create a soft golden glow in the cloud of darkness, like a million little lanterns floating in the sky. Flowers and vines decorated the trees wrapping around like snakes. There were no more stones and twigs for you to worry about as your feet hit the grass. It felt like a soft blanket under your sore feet. It was a grassy stage, the moon hit down on the open area like a spotlight, much like it had back in your garden. There were no overhanging branches that blocked it's path with shadows. It was enchanting, like something right out of a fairy tale.

Subconsciously you stepped forward into the light, your breath knocked out of you. You were so entranced by what you were seeing that you didn’t get to see the way Izuku was staring at you. It was something that you would never be able to see again. The way his lips curled up, eyes sparkling with fondness for you. The moon's light hit you perfectly, giving you a white glow, like an angel. Maybe you were an angel in disguise, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“It’s… amazing.” That was an understatement, but how were you supposed to put this into words? It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He smiled and flew in front of you so he could take in your expression, your lips were parted and slightly curled at the edges. He could see the reflection of dancing fireflies in your doe eyes.

He couldn’t care less about the fireflies behind him. In his eyes, you were way more breathtaking, and to see your smile again after so many years, it made his heart melt.

"There's something else." He brushed past you, making you  finally snap from your trance. He flew over to a particularly large tree, there was a small circular hole in it, showing its hollowed out insides. He disappeared into, and when he came back he carried a vial with a strange blue liquid inside. "I was saving it for something special and I suppose there's nothing more special than being here, with you, right now." He pulled the cork out and drank the strange liquid.

You watched silently as a blue light circled around him soon engulfing him in a blinding light. You turned your head away and closed your away in fear of being permanently blinded. You didn’t know when it would be safe to turn back, so you waited until a hand cupped your face.

A much... larger hand. You opened your eyes, gasping when you saw your fairy was human sized, he was just a touch taller than you. The increase in his size made his features more prominent, you could finally see how handsome he really was. You could admire his freckles, the way his hair brushes against the top of his eyes, you even got a closer look at this leaf clothing. They were skilfully stitched to fit his body, you wondered if he did it himself.

He smiled, watching you lean into his hand, nuzzling into his hold.. "Care to dance?" He asked softly, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek. Such a simple action, yet it held so much love, you felt breathless. Your heart was beating too fast for your lungs to keep up with.

You nodded and stepped forward. His hands placed themselves on your waist as your hands went up to his shoulders. His hands trembled, his touch feather-like, as if he was scared to break you.

The lack of music didn't bother either of you, with the orange glow of the fireflies, the moon's lights shining down on you, and the blissful sounds of nature, it was perfect the way it was. You followed his lead as you swayed back and forth together, this offer to dance had been nothing more than an excuse to hold you close one last time. It didn't matter that neither of you knew how to slow dance, or that you were in your nightgown, barefooted. You were in each other's arms and that was all that mattered.

Before he knew it, your head was resting against his shoulder, a melodic light humming filled his left ear. It sent shivers down his spine, his wings fluttering behind him as you hummed a secret song. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against yours, your hair tickled his nose as he tried to memorise your scent. He wanted this moment to be engraved into his brain forever.

You slow danced for so long, he had lost track of time. Neither of you were willing to let go, it was too hard to do this again. Everything felt so perfect, so tranquil. like you were the only two people in the world.

He finally got the willpower to peek his eye open, the sun's rays peeking over the horizon and disturbing the moon's glow. The stars, that were witness to your dance, were disappearing from the sky. It was time to go, yet you were blissfully unaware of this as you continued to hum into his ear. You hadn’t opened your eyes a single time since you’ve been in his arms, you were too scared to open them and have to face reality.

With every ounce of strength he had in his body his hands trailed up to your shoulders, memorising the feeling of your skin, he hesitantly pushed you away. He held you at arm length, your eyes opening and staring into his.

You looked scared.

He smiled at you, moving forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Close your eyes." He whispered, and without hesitation your eyes fluttered close. Your hand gripped onto his, as a way to make sure he wasn't going to disappear.

He released a shaky breath as he took your hand into both of his. Cupping it protectively. After a few seconds of nothing but shuffling, you felt something being placed into your palm. It was thin and light, you almost peaked an eye open but one hand came up to cover your eyes.

You patiently stood there, not daring to question what he was up to. A few seconds went by before you felt a feather-like kiss being placed onto your lips. You sharply inhaled through your nose. His kiss lingered for a long time, silently telling you he loved you. His hand squeezed yours when you kissed back, eagerly leaning into the affection. Lips moulded together, with no haste to pull away anytime soon.

When his lips reluctantly left yours, the hand covering your eyes didn't move. You smiled, your heart racing at the sweet gesture. His hand fell away, but your eyes remained closed, you felt another kiss be placed on top of your head, his nose bumping against your skin.

“I love you.” He whispered, a quiet confession confined to your shared bubble.

He pulled away, his hand releasing yours. You waited for him to do something else, to tell you to open your eyes now, but there was nothing…You figured he was done and so you opened your eyes. You gasped for breath, placing a hand over your heart. It felt like a knife had stabbed through your chest.

He was gone.

The fireflies had disappeared, the moon had disappeared, and so had your beloved fairy. The only sign that he had really been here was the lingering feeling of his lips on yours, they tingled with leftover electricity.  

Looking down to the gift he had left you, you found a flower, a forget-me-not to be exact.

You swallowed, eyes stinging as pools of tears gathered in the corners. You used your fingers to gently caress the petals. It figures that he would choose to leave you with this of all flowers.

You held it close to your chest, staring up at the newly lit sky, the sun cast orange hues over the forest, it was beautiful, but you couldn’t admire it, too bitter at the star for ruining your night. You wanted to see the moon again, to dance under the stars for hours more,

"As if I could forget you." You let out a breathy laugh, closing your eyes so you could pretend it was still night. "I love you too."

[amxranthiine]

c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. ii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/Her 

 A/N: Welcome to part two! I’ve been working on this part for three days and it was getting a little long, so I saved Weathertop for chapter three. This chapter is 2.7k (or more) words. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Some swearing, alcohol consumption, Nazgûl, the usual. Summary: Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙  Present Time Y/n POV Ale dribbled down my chin as I gulped down what seemed to be my hundredth Pint. In truth, I lost count after my... sixth? Seventh? I needed to drink away my sorrows after the day I had. I received a letter from Gandalf the Grey when the sun was at it’s peak, babbling on about the One Ring, how it was in the hands of a Hobbit named Baggins, and how I needed to make my way to the Prancing Pony in Bree as soon as possible. And, of course, that I needed to keep a look out for the Hobbit in the Prancing Pony, and bring him to Rivendell. What a way to start the day, I had only awoken not an hour prior!

Gods, I needed a drink. After the initial shock of knowing that the One Ring had indeed been found, I, not so happily, packed my few possessions into a warn out bag and went on my merry way.  After leaving Rivendell almost seven decades ago, I had travelled all across Middle Earth, never staying in one place for too long. Though it’s been sixty-seven years since I left my entire life behind (in more than one way), I was still frightened- or was it ashamed? Ashamed. Yes, that was it. I was ashamed of how I left, why I left. Just leaving everything I’ve ever known because I was jealous and heartbroken. Over a guy! Only, he wasn’t just any guy. Yes, he is. I am and have been over him. Are you absolutely positive? No. Exactly.  Fine, I admit! But how could I get over someone I’ve known since I learned how to walk? Not so easily, it seems. Perhaps that was why I was sulking in the Prancing Pony, downing ale after ale, trying to ignore the pure dread of having to see him again. Maybe he won’t be there? Maybe his adventures led him elsewh- My “what if’s” and “maybe’s” were cut short by a large shadow looming over me. Peering up at the owner of said shadow with the mug raised to my lips, I nearly choke at the sight. There he is, the man who has haunted my dreams for sixty-seven years. And, oh Valar, he aged like the finest Mirkwood wine. Sobering up immediately, I quickly placing the mug on the table and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, I greet him with a quiet “Hello?” Though, it sounds more like a question.

He doesn’t greet me in return, much to my pleasure. He just gestures to the seat next to me. “May I?” I numbly nod, though my eyes don’t leave him. Once he is seated, I glance down at my hands and take a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Aragorn?” My tone takes him off guard, it’s cold, hostile. As if I was talking to a stranger, which, in a way, he was. His face holds nothing but shock, with traces of hurt within the grey depths of his eyes. “Business from Gandalf,” Aragorn mumbles as he waves down a waitress. I look at him again, but this time I notice everything that’s changed about him. His hood is up, covering his eyes for all but me. His face is more defined, and there is a trace of stubble along his sharp jaw. He’s buffer, too. His muscles are prominent even under his many layers of clothing. I would be a liar if I said he didn’t look good. However, he also looked... nostalgic. Memories upon memories rushed to the front of my brain as I relived what we used to be.  Oh, Mandos, I think I’m catching feelings. Again. “It’s been a while, Y/n.” I blink, looking away from him with a blush. You foolish woman, Y/n! He most definitely knows you were checking him out.  Clearing my throat, I simply say “Yeah,” and look around for the Hobbit I’m supposed to be watching for. I could his gaze burning into the side of my head, watching my intently.  “You left without saying goodbye,” he mentions with an edge to his tone. I sigh and close my eyes, I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever. Never would be good.  “Didn’t think you’d care.” I said, shrugging. Good going, Y/n. Is that really the only intelligent thing you could come up with in that tiny head of yours? In my peripheral vision I see him tense, and his eyes widen considerably. What did he expect me to say? That I was sorry for leaving all those years ago? That I was so desperately in love with him that the sight of him embracing Arwen Undómiel was too much to bear? No, my pride could never admit that, especially not now. “You didn’t think I would care? Y/n, are you ins-” Aragorn starts with what sounds like a hiss.  I hold my finger up to shush him as four Hobbits walk into the Inn, soaked to the bone. The leader, a tall-ish Hobbit with curly black hair, approaches the bar and I can practically feel the evil radiating off of him in waves. I knew he was the one I was looking out for, he was Baggins.  Aragorn gives me a ‘we will talk about this later’ look, yet still follows my gaze. His body language changes drastically when he spots the small men and I instantly know we were sent here for the same reason. “Gandalf sent us on the same quest, it seems.” I mumble as my eyes follow the Hobbit’s every move. Something was... off about them, ignoring the presence of the Ring. They seemed nervous, as though they were waiting for someone. Baggins, or Underhill, as he was called, looked exhausted. The true weight of the Ring was finally making itself known.  As the four sat down at a table in the middle of the room, my eyes wandered over Underhill’s companions. The blonde next to him was on the bigger side, he had unruly curls as all Hobbits do, and he seemed the to the more cautious one out of his companions. The two across from him carried a carefree and youthful energy, both with almost golden hair.  The blonde one looked around the room with distrust before his eyes landed on Aragorn and I. We were watching them carefully, Aragorn had his pipe in his mouth, and I held my mug snuggly within my fingers. I suppose our watchful gazes set off alarms in the small Hobbit’s head. He elbowed Underhill and whispered something to him, nodding his head towards the two of us. Underhill eyed us, I could see the suspicion and fear growing within him as he took in our appearances. Suddenly, he gestured to Butterbur as he passed by, and over the loudness of the Inn, I barely heard him ask, “The two in the corner, who are they?” Butterbur glanced at us warily before replying, “They’re two of them Rangers; dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What their right names are, I’ve never heard, but round here they’re known as Strider and Randir.” Underhill looked at us again, “Strider and Randir,” he seemed to whisper as he nervously played with something under the table. Time seemed to slow as the younger one of the golden haired Hobbits seemed to yell for all the world to hear, “Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!” Every pair of eyes flew to the young Hobbit, but he seemed oblivious for he kept speaking.  “He’s over there, Frodo Baggins!” He pointed to Underhill, “He’s my second cousin, once removed, on his mother’s side and my third cousin, twice removed on his father’s side... if you follow me.” I sighed deeply and watched as Frodo raced to the golden haired boy, gripping his arm and shouting, “Pippin!” “Steady on, Frodo!” Pippin says, then pushes Frodo away. Frodo stumbled back, losing his balance on one of the many pairs of feet crowded around him. He falls, the Ring flying out of his pocket as gravity takes control. Aragorn and I watch with steady eyes, we could not let anyone near the small, childlike creatures. You never know who may be a spy, waiting, like a jaguar, for the precise moment to pounce. A small hand reaches out to grab the evil jewel, but it just slips through his fingers a moment too late. I wince as Frodo hits the ground, a loud “oomph!” leaving his mouth at impact. Though, my eyes never leave the jewel that seems to be calling my name, tugging at my heartstrings, as it made it’s graceful down a child sized finger.  The owner of said finger was none other than Frodo, and the entire Inn gasped in horror as he vanished from sight. There is complete silence for a moment, and Aragorn and I jolt up, preparing ourselves for the chaos that is to come. And chaos it is. Excited, and slightly horrified, chatter explodes throughout the Prancing Pony. I look to each of the Hobbits once more. The blonde hobbit is as pale as a ghost, looking deathly ill with panic. Pippin, who seemed to realize his folly quickly, sobers up quickly. The unnamed one seems to be a mix of the two, a look of complete and utter bewilderment clear as day on his features. Aragorn and I spot Frodo as he reappears in a dark corner, shaking like a leaf and as pale as the wraiths that hunt him. Hidden in the shadows, we stride over to him, unseen by all in the Inn. The man reaches him first, however, and grabs Frodo by the cloak and drags him up the stairs to a dark room. “You draw far too much attention to yourself.. Mr. Underhill.” Aragorn hisses. I roll my eyes at his actions. “You could have been a little kinder to the poor boy, look at him! He looks like he’s seen Sauron himself.” I point out with a small grin, but it vanishes in a second with the look Frodo gives me. It was wide eyed, portraying the terrifying truth in my words. He had, indeed, seen Sauron himself. Aragorn ignores my statement and draws the attention back to himself as he looms over Frodo. “What do you want?” The quiver in the Hobbit’s voice is prominent when he asks this. Estel turns away for a moment to put out the bright and blazing candles. “A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry.” He replies.  “I carry nothing,” Frodo lies. I watch the situation with interest, though I say nothing. The terror of the Ring was clearly effecting him, and having Aragorn and I practically kidnap him was likely not helping. “Indeed?” The taller man hums. “I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift.” He states as he finally reveals his face and the mess that is his hair. I gape at him as I take in his aged features, this time I really inspect him. His grey eyes, his lips, his hair...  He was seemingly flawless. Stop it, you stupid girl! You have a task at hand! Shaking my head to clear those impeccably true thoughts, I barely hear Frodo whisper, “Who are you?” “Are you frightened?” This time, it was I who spoke, bringing the attention of both males to me. I say those words with a slight edge to my tone, and it could sound like mockery if we weren’t currently in a dire situation.  Frodo looks me dead in the eyes. “Yes,” he says honestly, I almost laugh. “Not nearly frightened enough,” I uttered lowly, and narrowed my eyes. “We know what hunts you.” Aragorn adds, making me grimace. The Nazgûl were nasty, terrible creatures who should have stayed dead and rotting in their tombs. A noise from the corridor bursts our eerie bubble, and the three of us jump towards the door.  In come three determined Hobbits carrying a chair, a candlestick and fists as weapons. I had to admit, their bravery was to be commended. The blonde one bellowed, “Let him go or I’ll have you, Longshanks!” I couldn’t help it, but I burst into laughter, giggles spewing from my mouth as I recounted what just happened. Maybe it was the ale, or maybe the fact that I haven’t spent more than thirty minutes in another persons presence in sixty-seven years, but that comment was the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time. Everyone in the room turned towards me with bewilderment and confusion written all over them, making me laugh even harder. I had tears rolling down my face and my cheeks and stomach hurt from my sudden chortling.  After a few moments, my hysterics died down a bit, demoting themselves to light chuckles every so often. “I- I’m sorry,” I babbled. “Please, go on,” I smiled and waved my hand in a dismissive manner. The five men looked utterly disturbed and puzzled, but it was Aragorn who finally said something, though it was quite dark and ominous. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won’t save you.” He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They are coming.” After that we quickly devised a plan, and quietly made our way to the Hobbits room and stuffed pillows under the sheets to make it look like little people sleeping. Then, we grabbed all of their packs and brought them to Aragorn’s room, and we waited for the inevitable.  It had to have been two hours of silence before a single word was said by any of us. The Hobbits had already gone to bed, snuggled side by side on the large mattress. Aragorn and I sat across from each other by the window, watching for any sign of the dark servants.  I was playing with my dagger, twirling it between my fingers and stabbing it into the wood of the window sill, lost in my many degrading thoughts.  “Why did you leave?” Aragorn finally asked. I looked up to see him watching me intently. I stilled, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he could have said, he asked that? Gracious me, we are supposed to be watching out for the Black Riders, not sharing sob stories!  Trying to think of a semi-intelligent, semi-vague answer, I finally came up with “My heart led me elsewhere.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth. Before he could respond, however, I spot four Nazgûl riding into Bree. “Aragorn,” I call out and point to them as they make their way inside. The air thickens as heavy footsteps come up the stairs. I hold my breath, as does Aragorn, even the Hobbits seemed to stop breathing. Please, Valar, let us go unnoticed. It seems fate was feeling generous, the Ringwraiths strut right into the trap. And they stab. Over and over again, right into the pillows we set up just for them. I wince when I realize that it have very well been the Hobbits in place of those pillows if we hadn’t done something. Suddenly a deadly screech fills the air, followed by three others. No doubt they discovered the trap, and were positively pissed. I listen intently as they fled the Inn, and as they mounted their black steeds and left Bree, I hear multiple identical screams in the distance. My shoulders drop and I instantly breathe a sigh of relief. It worked. Our plan worked.  “What are they?” Frodo’s quiet voice questions from behind me. I look back to see him wide awake and seated on the edge of the bed. “They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.” Aragorn answers grimly. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say any more, I add on to his statement. “They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the one...” I trailed off. Our two voices fill the air in unison as we conclude,  “They will never stop hunting you.” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAGLIST @entishramblings (please tell me using my ask box if you want to be tagged in future chapters)