#to feed each other is to seek to be understood. in a way. sharing a meal as sharing part of your soul

[ambrosiagourmet]

"But Glitz what about the food dungeon meshi is about eating how does that-" the focus would still be on our fundamental needs but it would be more about the need for connection. The themes of wanting to know and be known are already there in the original story. Instead of being hungry, the Demon craves, above all else, to be understood. It doesn't eventually eat the dungeon lord, it subsumes them. It has a thousand years of souls mixed up in inside it's being now, and all of them make it bigger, more confusing, and lonelier.

Mithrun didn't lose his desires, but he isn't entirely sure if he's the same person he was before he connected with it. He's not sure how much of himself remains and how much is an amalgam of past dungeon lords, brought into himself while he was lost in the "drift" within the Demon.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Lonely Together ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

LONELY TOGETHER | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  1.8k | CONTENT: disgusting brainrot from the Jackson era Joel pic being released, unhinged delulu take on him being sad and lonely and fixing it with sex as a coping mechanism, just general filth idk what to tell you, he's got a mouth on him, degradation kink?, use of derogatory terms but in a sexy way, my result of "sad horny" on the what kind of horny are you? quiz making a lot of sense in this fic

| SYNOPSIS: Joel is lonely. You're lonely. You decide to be lonely together.

It had started out naturally. Joel Miller’s house was remarkably quiet these days, some fracture in his relationship with his step-daughter Ellie being the catalyst for her departure, and he walked around most of the time looking like a kicked puppy. You were no better and with much less of a valid reason to be such a sad sack. You shared one thing in common above all else: loneliness. You’d both honed in on it, recognizing it in another person but not really knowing what to do with it for yourself let alone somebody else.

That is, until, the root of the loneliness made itself clear. You were desperate to be wanted, and Joel was desperate to be needed. A symbiotic give and take that restored some sense of equilibrium to the world when you gave into the urges and gave into each other.

And maybe you wouldn’t normally be so whiny and so pathetic. Maybe Joel wouldn’t normally speak so harshly and demanding. But you drew it out of each other, a safe place to be the worst versions of yourselves and chase what the mind and body needed to make things feel better if just for a little while.

There was no shame in how you meshed together. No second thoughts or chastisement for any notion of your ego being left completely checked and abandoned at the door or his flying off at the mouth with some manic call to ownership. It’s part of what made this dynamic work so well.

You refused to let yourself feel guilt or embarrassment over how he made you feel and act, and he didn’t kick himself for this rough, insistent version of himself that you brought out. It’s what led to a nearly constant need for each other, saying and being things that never left the walls of his home where you normally met up and often stayed the night.

“I know you’re not muffling those pretty little sounds,” he grunts and jerks your head up from where it’d been buried in the pillows as he slammed into you from behind. “Those are my sounds. They belong to me, and I wanna hear ‘em.”

You choke out some pathetic moan and let him puppet your head with his hand clutched around a fistful of your hair. The impact of his drives intensifies as he seeks out more of his sounds. Between the air being punched from your lungs and the mouth of your cervix being punched by his cockhead, you aren’t entirely sure what sounds you’re making, let alone if they’re enough to feed his demand for them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he husks and grips his free hand around the crease of your thigh to pull you closer to him. 

There were times when he was particularly possessive and desperate, and your body subconsciously pulled away from the intensity of his focus, only to have him drag you back even closer to his whims. You always let him. He never gave you more than you could take, and, when he did, it always ended up being just a touch further than what you understood you could manage. He was always forcing you to learn about yourself like that. You resented and pursued it all the same.

“You know better than to make me chase this sweet little cunt,” he snaps. 

You mewl out some kind of apology, but you both know this is just another part of the dynamic that feeds you both.

He pushes your shoulders down into the mattress, head sideways so he can still hear what he does to you, and jerks your hips back. You’re practically limp as a ragdoll, having gone at this now for the better half of an hour, growing exhausted from being taken to the edge so many times just to have him draw back at the last minute.

He pounds into you, and the wet smack of your smeared arousal sounds with each snap of his hip against you. Your slick is everywhere –  your pussy drooling and begging and crying for release – a sort of debauched canvas he’s made out of you in all the ways he’s bent you and folded you and angled you for his liking. He locks your wrists behind the small of your back and uses the leverage to somehow pound impossibly harder.

You feel like you’re about to push through the mattress in a few thrusts if he keeps up this pace, a mind boggling stamina for someone in his 50s. It felt like at times his need to be needed outweighed your need to feel wanted, but you would never complain about the frenzied fervor it invoked in him.

Just as you’ve accepted your fate of being plowed through the mattress, he’s yanking you flush against his chest and driving you down onto his cock. Your hands fly for an anchoring point, and Joel obliges by wrapping an arm under yours and crossing it against your chest and neck until he’s cradling your throat in his palm. Your hands claw onto his forearm like a port in a storm, and you hold on for dear life.

He grips your throat, just enough for you to respond how he wants: a tiny shiver and a throaty moan.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunts. He’s slamming you down onto his cock now, almost deranged in how he seeks out any and every way to make you come completely undone. “My little fuckhole. Say it.”

“I’m–I’m your little fuckhole,” you choke out around the squeeze of his hand.

“You better mean it, baby. Any hole is mine, ain’t that right?”

As if to prove his point, he slips his thumb into the rim of your ass with ease, all the smeared lubrication of your unfulfilled orgasms making a slippery entrance for him to finger. You gasp and clench around him, around his thumb and his cock, all excitement and nerves and anticipation for where he would take this.

You cry out when he plunges his thumb deeper, maybe a reminder that you hadn’t answered him, and you were expected to always answer him.

“Anything! All of them!” you yelp. The sting of his thumb now steadily pumping in and out of you made you feel all the more dizzy and keen for release.

Apparently pleased with your corroboration, he slips his thumb out and grips onto your hip once more to resume his devastating drives. He presses your head back against his shoulder until your ear is next to his breathy mouth.

“Bet you’d let me wreck you there, too, wouldn’t you? Rip you open on my cock ‘til you were gashed and gaped, huh?” He sounds unhinged and so close to spilling inside you that you can’t help but moan and clench.

He breathes a laugh, all he can manage at this pace, and bites onto your earlobe before letting whatever crazed thought that passes through his pussydrunk brain spill from his lips. “Would wreck that hole, baby. Would have you sent up to the clinic just to see what they could do for it. Tryna hide your face all embarrassed when you gotta tell ‘em it’s all wrecked like that because you’re such a nasty fuckin’ whore for my fat cock. Let me use whatever hole I want just because I can, ain’t that right?”

You don’t question why his frenzied promise of fucking your ass so hard you’d need to go to the clinic makes your orgasm come blazing from out of nowhere up the back of your spine. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts before he’s groaning and filling you with more wet and slip. You collapse together onto the bed and lay limp and panting for what seems like forever as he softens inside you.

You come back to earth when Joel gently nudges you and nuzzles your neck and ear. “You okay?”

It always struck something strange in your chest when he got tender like that, sounding genuinely worried he’d gone too far or been too rough. But, just like always, it was exactly what you needed. What you both needed.

“I’m okay. Felt so good,” you tell him in earnest. He pulls you closer to him and drinks in your praise. He needed this as much as he needed to bury himself inside of you. “Always make me feel so good, Joel.”

He hums a little gravelly acknowledgement and presses a line of soft kisses to your neck. You smile and wiggle your head for him to kiss more of you. It felt unreal in these moments afterward, each time building something strangely sacred and dangerously close to attachment. To companionship. To raw, genuine feelings. To love.

But that hadn’t ever been the point of this, and it felt terrifying to acknowledge. It was easy to say you came to him because he made you feel wanted. It was easy to say he broke you down and built you back up because you gave him that control.

It was decidedly complicated to say you maybe had found more in each other than intended, and neither of you needed complicated. So you deflect. You change the subject. You skirt around the elephant in the room.

“So,” you start and turn over to face him. He hisses as his softening cock slides out of you. You feel his cum dribble out of your cunt, and you want so badly to press your hand down there to keep every bit of him inside you longer.  

He props himself up on his elbow to focus his attention on whatever it is you’re about to say, his fingertip drawing idle lines across your jaw and lips.

“You wanna fuck my ass for the first time, and I’m gonna get reamed so bad I’m gonna need to seek medical attention?” you tease.

He laughs a little at your delivery and at himself for getting so unhinged that he’d babbled about it in the first place. “Nah, baby, just got caught up in the moment. Would never wanna wreck it that bad ‘cause then I wouldn’t be able to fuck it again.”

You snort and grab at his chin. “Wow, not because I would have a wrecked asshole for the rest of my life? You just want it intact enough to fuck as many times as you want?”

He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t that the point of all this? Me fuckin’ you how I want? You gettin’ what you need?”

It sounds false on his lips to the point that even he makes a microexpression of acknowledgement that it might’ve started that way but had morphed into something more – something complicated. But, at least for today, you were going to keep it easy.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you agree with an impish smile. You drag Joel down into a sloppy, lazy kiss.

[diejager]

Hi! I'm not sure if you're still doing/taking requests for the monster!141 au anymore so feel free to just ignore this if you aren't! 😊

But if u are can I request a drabble/headcanon about venom!hunter? I'm curious about the dynamic between them (venom & hunter) and how they got along and worked together (i don't really know how to phrase it🥲) when they first met.

Also how did they first met? How does venom get along with 141? I'm not sure if u already wrote about it.

Venom!reader headcanon

Cw: blood, gore, cannibalism?, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 898

Your meeting with Venom was an accident, a coincidence culminated from horrible events, you weren’t supposed to separate from your squad and he wasn’t supposed to die in the body of an incompatible vessel. It was a moment of shame and disgrace, making the simplest mistake one could do in your positions, but everything had a reason, no? Because you found Venom and he found you, he was your way back and you were his compatible vessel.

It was… difficult at first, sharing one mind and body with someone else took some time. A lot of time. It was a struggle of push and pull, your calm waters and his violent storm. While you preferred to stray from trouble, Venom loved it, actively seeking it out whenever he had control of your body. There was a lot of fighting, internal struggles and bickering back and forth, but you eventually came to an understanding —common ground. 

If he let you live your life - a dangerous one filled with blood and violence, still a young private in the army without any achievements and with big dreams - have monopoly over your body whenever you were off the field, you’d relinquish your key on his cage whenever he was hungry while you were fighting, letting his loose to run his rampage and fill his stomach with the heads of enemies. 

It was a relationship built on mutual respect, you for his determination and him for you strength. You understood one another, so your occasional disagreement grew rarer and rarer. You didn’t fight about feeding him only chocolate because you couldn’t stomach the sight of bitten heads. You didn’t fight about wanting excitement when times were too quiet. You didn’t fight when you wanted a few moments of silence in your mind. And you didn’t fight whenever you felt him poke his head out of your sleeve.

This symbiotic relationship only meant that you;d grow closer to each other, he got to know you on a fundamental level and you got to discover more and more about his past and dreams —he had a few wild ones, but all attainable. You shared your fears, your secrets and your pains, you laughed when he stammered after your promise to protect him, his blubbering words and growls sent your way when he said that he would be the one to do the protecting. His reasoning being that he was bigger, stronger and more dangerous than you and your little explosive weapons. 

It was from then on that he called you Little One, a slip of his tongue while you laughed and kicked your legs at his flustered face, his head reaching from your shoulder to glare at you. He acted like a love sick puppy afterwards, often calling out to you when he was bored, nudging your arm while you worked, wanting pets and kisses, or would shower you with loud and boisterous affection. Though he always proclaimed it to be him providing for you, it wasn’t affection - no - it was him watching over you like a guardian —or so he mumbled. 

He would step in if he deemed a situation too dangerous for your fragile, fleshy body. He’d warn you, let you know where and who was coming for you, be it a sniper from a mile away or a group of armed soldiers sneaking around you. If you couldn’t deal with it in time, Venom would forcefully push his way out of you, covering you in a protective layer of his body, the mass of muscle and sinewy cords building a protective shell. And fortunately, it’s only happened when you were hidden away, the knowledge of Venom’s existence would bring unwanted attention to both you and him, none of which were good. 

You met Venom before your study and test for the rank of combat medic, getting his support and mind to help you through it all, his photogenic memory, his talented hands and strength. It was only after earning you new rank, did Laswell contact you for the position on the Task Force 141 since your record held no sign of hateful acts towards monsters and hybrids, and your high success score. 

You both vowed to keep Venom a secret from anyone, he was off the record in every sense, unknown and a mystery, a variant that you were adamant to keep a secret. Venom didn’t… hate the men, he might’ve had a small dislike for their attraction and affection towards you, he was a possessive and protective symbiote, but seeing how you were a permanent fixture in the TF, he was forced to tolerate them. He would let you know what he heard and sensed from them, small secrets he caught or fun, little pranks that he wanted to do, and occasionally protect them. Only because you cared for them, he’d hate to see you sad and worried, Venom preferred seeing you smile and laugh. 

And following these events, Venom could openly interact with the hybrids, unafraid since it wasn’t a secret anymore. He was a bit reluctant, but slipped from your collar whenever someone mentioned something he liked: chocolate, human meat, you or violence, grinning maniacally and flashing his big, white teeth. Despite his apprehension, Venom was a menace, to them as much as he was with you, and yet you still loved him so much. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-nooraa @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[ao3komorii]

Lonely Regrets (Yone/Reader)

Yone is finally done! Taking a break and then next will be Heartsteel Sett. Hope everyone enjoys :)

----

There was so much blood.

Your parents’ empty eyes stared back at you, limbs twisted unnaturally, bodies broken. Blood like a red lake covered the entire ceremonial chamber, the blood of every member of your village spilled for only you left to see.

“Oh, dear daughter of sorrow,” the twisted black shadow above you purred as it grew only larger, its blurry shape hard for you to make out its form in any detail. “Your soul will be the most delicious.”

So then why were you still alive?

You had watched with wide eyes as the shadow had grown, had overtaken all of the white walls with its deep black, before it had seemed to snap, disappearing and leaving you to your world of red.

You had thought that day would be boring, filled with expectations you had lived your life being ready to meet. Your ascension to official leader-to-be of your village, a position promised to you as the only child of the current leader. Your eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a joyous day for the village, but now the only person that remained of the village was you.

When your parents had told you of a surprise, a deal they had made to ensure the prosperity of the village and the strength of your leadership, you had assumed they had bartered a marriage partner for you, or made a deal with a nearby village. A deal with a demon had been so far out of the realm of possibilities that you never could have thought of it in a million years.

It was clear the demon had not intended to keep to any terms as it rose from the floor, a dark shape of too many teeth and eyes… and took the heads off of half of the village in one cruel swipe. Your parents had been terrified, outraged, but all they heard in response as they screamed their last screams was the demon’s laughter, the last sound they ever heard as they too fell to the ground in pieces.

But why had it left you alive? The demon’s words spoken to you in that room that stunk of blood still haunted you, even ten years later, even now that you knew more about the demonic azakana.

Demons with endless hunger who preferred to slowly feed on a person’s negative emotions before consuming them entirely, and then onto the next victim. Each azakana had its own preference for certain emotions, whether it be rage or despair or loneliness. And as someone who had experienced all three, you had seen and killed more than your fair share of azakana since that day, but you had never found the one that killed your village.

You had been a walking azakana magnet for years before a solution had prowled its way into your life.

You had been staring down a tempting abyss, a cliffside overlooking a pit of thorny spikes so far below, an easy way out that would be so much simpler than continuing your lonely life of pain. Just a few steps, and you would no longer have to carry the mantle of last of your village, no longer have to fight for your life every other week, you would just be nothing.

It was then that you sensed something behind you, turning sharply with your daggers at the ready to see a four-legged jagged shape of darkness with a bone white demonic mask on its face, its hungry eyes focussed in on you.

You had prepared for a fight, but staring at the unmoving azakana, you momentarily wondered if it would be better to just give up, to stop living this life of loneliness and pain and go fully into the dark.

Through your contemplation, the azakana stayed still and silent, and if not for its horrific shape, you could almost have thought it was just a curious animal, but this one was seeking your soul rather than some scraps of food.

You weren’t sure what it was, maybe the silent stare, unknowing of your past, only seeking to fill its belly, that made you open your mouth instead of its flesh with your blades. Nobody understood, nobody would be able to hear your story without sprinting away from you. And nobody would ever hear your story if you died here. With those thoughts in mind, you spoke, quietly regaling the animal-like azakana of your pain, your loss, of every emotion you felt since that day.

You didn’t know how long you had been talking for, just that by the end, you were on the ground, tears soaking your face as you stared at the still-silent azakana through tear-blurred eyes as your words turned fully into sobs.

It was then that the silent azakana moved, slinking towards you like a predator. Your chest felt tight, but not with fear, instead feeling the full weight of all of your bad memories still heavy on your heart, hardly a surprise given how emotionally repressed you had been for so long.

Closing your sore eyes, you expected your death to come, but were instead surprised by the brush of thick fur against your skin, opening your eyes to see the azakana nuzzling its masked face against your side, a deep red glow surrounding its body.

You were stunned, having never seen anything like this with any azakana you had encountered in the past three years. The interaction was almost petlike, if you had a demon for a pet.

You slowly began to notice that the longer you sat there with the azakana’s head in your lap, the lighter the ache in your chest felt. It was as if your feelings were flowing into the beast, but instead of feeling numb and close to death, you just felt… better. Better than you had felt since your village had died.

Many would call it a parasitic relationship, but you preferred to look at it as symbiotic. You occasionally fed him your worst emotions, and you could get through your days unhunted by azakana, instead able to become the hunter yourself.

The azakana was only able to talk as much as an animal could, and you had named him Kosen, after a gentle tiger in your favorite bedtime story that your mother had told you as a child. You could hardly pass through towns with an azakana at your side, so Kosen had been taking to staying in the form of a white tiger and that was how you had lived for the past seven years.

It was easier to be around people now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to settle down in one place, still afraid to develop any relationships only for them to be taken away. You had contacts all over Ionia, but you were the strange woman with the magic daggers and the tiger, not someone anyone could call a close friend, aside from Kosen.

And now, many years after your first azakana encounter, you and Kosen were on the trail of a firey azakana who had left too many charred corpses behind to possibly be a coincidence.

You had finished bathing in the spring you had come across on your way to the next village, redressed and intent on scouting the area for anything edible, Kosen stubbornly remaining in the water, as he always did whenever you found a body of water big enough for him to lounge in.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a real tiger,” you commented with a huff of laughter, Kosen choosing to shake his body and spray you with water in response. “Okay, well you had better be done by the time I get back. We have a lot more walking to do if we want to get to Tevasa by tomorrow.”

Kosen huffed, turning his back to you in his usual show of brattiness; at least he wouldn’t blow his cover if anyone happened to stumble upon the scene, as unlikely as that was this deep in the forest in the middle of nowhere.

You preferred the days of solitude to the days spent in the cities anyways, always worried deep down that every person you met could look inside you and see all the lives that had been lost because of you.

You had overheard the occasional comment about your now-dead village, usually from town gossips. They talked about the massacre of the entire town, their suspected culprits ranging from Noxians to dragons. It was hardly surprising that you had yet to hear someone mention demons as the suspected culprits. After all, azakana were the things of children’s stories, creatures that would come to devour bad children who didn’t listen to their parents, and you and Kosen would continue to do your best to keep it that way.

The pickings in this area were disappointing, as you had expected. It was a good thing Kosen only fed off of other azakana and feelings, as there was definitely not enough game in miles to sustain a real tiger.

With a sigh, you crouched down beside a bush of berries you knew were safe to eat, but were always too sour at this time of year, so it would be an unsatisfying dinner for you, but far from your first. Popping one in your mouth, you winced at the unpleasant taste, almost tempted to just toss them back at the bush, when a sound pierced the air.

You immediately knew it was Kosen, the sheer panic in the cry enough to startle you to your core. You had heard his growls, his roars, but you had never heard him make this sound before, like he was being torn apart.

The sour berries fell from your grasp, left behind and forgotten as you began to sprint back towards the spring, daggers at the ready, having no idea what you were running into but just knowing that Kosen needed you.

You emerged back into the clearing, spotting Kosen, now out of the water, growling ferociously as he continued to lose ground to a strange figure with two glowing swords who seemed determined to take his life.

Without a word, you darted in, blade aimed for the man’s neck with deadly precision. It was quite rare for you to end up in fights with humans, given you travelled with a large tiger, but you wouldn’t allow this man to hurt Kosen, so you struck without mercy. If Kosen’s cry was anything to go off of, then this man was clearly a threat to be taken seriously.

You knew you were silent, your moves practiced over years, but just as your blade was about to cut into him, the man vanished, moving faster than you could see. Frowning, you shifted around, still able to sense the attacker in the trees nearby, unmoving.

Turning your head back, you took in Kosen, who quickly came to your side, looking roughed up, but not grievously wounded. “Are you okay?”

The azakana growled affirmatively, his tail lashing in frenzied strokes behind him as he too attempted to survey the trees for whoever had attacked him.

Whoever he was, they seemed content to simply watch you from the shadows of his hiding spot. You could try to flee, but something about the man didn’t sit well with you, something telling you that he would not hesitate to cut you down if you tried to run. You were in unprecedented territory here, and it unnerved you deeply. Your best shot here would be to confront the man directly.

“Who are you?” you demanded coldly. “This tiger is my companion. Look elsewhere if you intend to hunt game.”

“Your companion is no tiger,” came the man’s reply, his deep voice sounding strangely sad. “And if I had found you any later, you would be prey for its true form.”

His words immediately put you on edge. Besides their direct victims, you had never met anyone who was aware of azakana, much less could recognize one in its disguised state. That couldn’t be what was happening, could it? But how else were you supposed to interpret those words?

“His true form is none of your business,” you spit viciously, eyes darting over the trees, trying to pick out his location. “We are passing through this area in peace. I know no clan has dominion here.”

“A human aiding an azakana?” he sneered in response. “To side against your own kind and feed them to demons… truly despicable.”

His words made you angry, the man clearly feeling free to judge something he knew nothing about.

“You’re quick to judge for someone who won’t even show his face,” you hissed, Kosen snarling in support at your side.

There was a long silence before a shift in the air, and then the man was before you, swords still held at the ready but making no move to attack, which gave you the chance to get a good look at him, his appearance bringing a quiet gasp to your lips.

He wore the shape of a man, his shirtless torso well-muscled, arms and stomach wrapped with bandages despite no injuries being apparent in his movements. His hair was long, longer than you had ever seen on a man, dark hair reaching his lower back. But none of his features caught your attention like his face, one eye hidden under the shadows of the mask he wore, the dramatic shape of the mask that sloped down over his nose putting you on alert immediately, its appearance distinctly azakana in nature.

Your alarm only deepened when you looked to his belt, seeing a variety of masks left behind by dead azakana strung along his belt. He didn’t seem to be an azakana himself, the air missing the usual crackling of energy that denoted the presence of one of the demons, but if not, then what was he?

“You wear the face of an azakana but call me a slave to one?” you spoke harshly, refusing to lower your weapons as you glared at the mysterious man.

“I understand the dangers of azakana better than most,” he spoke, his uncovered eye impossible to see even as he took a step closer. “That demon will bleed villages dry if left alive. I have heard of azakana taking on human guises, but never human shields. I will strike you down regardless if you place yourself in my path.”

So a fight it was then. But you would not allow him to make false statements about Kosen.

“He is an azakana,” you admitted. “But he’s also my friend. And the only thing he bleeds dry is his own kind… and me.”

Your admission seemed to surprise and disgust him in equal measure, his frown an obvious indication of his distaste. “Then it is a parasite.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” you hissed, sheathing your daggers and reaching down to touch Kosen’s head, the faux-tiger nuzzling against your palm. “But Kosen is no danger to anyone who doesn’t attack him first. And I won’t let you kill him just because of what he is.”

“I would call you ignorant, but you recognized my mask,” he admitted somberly. “And yet I find it difficult to take you at your word. It would be safer for Ionia if I were to cut you down here.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust someone like you has Ionia’s best interests at heart?” you pressed, insulted that you and Kosen were being cast as villains you knew you weren’t. “I’m supposed to believe you wear the mask of a monster but aren’t one? Maybe we should be cutting you down for the sake of Ionia.”

Kosen growled beside you, prowling forward to take a protective stance in front of you, fangs bared at the stranger.

The man said nothing in response, the silence stretching out, pricking against your skin. You had no desire to kill this man, not if he wasn’t an azakana, so you would give talking one more try.

“Let us pass, and then you can go and find an actually dangerous azakana to kill,” you insisted. “And we’ll go do the same.”

You knew you weren’t the most eloquent, a life only occasionally interacting with civilization leading to somewhat awkward social skills. But given he started this conversation with swords drawn, he didn’t really seem to be the conversational type either. If you had to fight your way through him, then so be it, because he wasn’t taking Kosen from you.

“You ask me to trust in a demon defying its nature?” he spoke quietly, but his swords did not move.

You didn’t have anything to prove to this strange man, and you were not about to go baring your soul to him just so he would let you live. But at the same time, you wanted to avoid killing him, especially if you shared a common goal, which gave you an idea.

You stepped forward, Kosen staring warily at you, but trusting your judgment. “We’re hunting a fire azakana who we’ve tracked to somewhere around Tevasa. If you don’t believe us, then come with us and see. If you can’t trust my word, then trust my actions. But I won’t let you kill either of us because of your own assumptions.”

The man was silent again, and you chose to act, assuming his silence at least meant he wouldn’t attack you. “Or don’t. But we’re leaving.”

The moment you turned your back, you heard the quiet sound of metal cutting through air as the man sheathed his swords. You didn’t turn, but were secretly relieved that your gamble had not gone as poorly as it could have.

The man easily caught up to you with quiet footsteps, allowing you a closer look at his face.

He was pale, the eye closest to you a deep red, the other covered by his mask, its outline glowing an eerie blue. Beside his open eye was a long-healed scar, crossing from beside his eye to pass through the corner of his lip. You couldn’t decide if he was handsome or not, any beauty in his face equally disturbing given his demonic mask. You knew he wasn’t an azakana, so just what was he?

“So you’re joining us then?” you prompted, looking him in his exposed eye.

He stared solemnly back at you, and you wondered if he knew any other way to be. “Our paths cross… for now.”

“As long as our swords don’t have to,” you remarked, trying to alleviate some of the obvious tension in the air. “Could I at least get your name, if we’re going to be killing azakana together and all?”

A sigh. “…Yone.”

Yone wasn’t much for talking, that much was clear. His footsteps were steady beside yours, but his answers to your attempts at friendly questions were short and evasive. Eventually you gave up, instead choosing to focus your attention on finding a replacement meal for your spilled berries, Kosen eventually tiring of your poor attempt at a search and disappearing briefly, only to come back with a giant flop rabbit clutched in his jaws.

Yone said nothing, merely watching as you paused to set up a quick fire, not really feeling like being poisoned by some undercooked meat, Kosen curling up around the fire, his eyes open and on Yone, as if daring him to try anything.

“Do you want some?” you asked as you rotated the rabbit over the dancing flames.

“No,” Yone answered shortly, and you wondered if maybe he was just being polite.

“I don’t mind,” you pressed with a smile you hoped would reassure him. It felt so awkward to sit here and hog the rabbit all to yourself when you had company. “And Kosen only kills what we eat, so don’t worry.”

“I have never known an azakana to exercise restraint,” Yone commented, clearly still wary of Kosen. “Theirs is a hunger that can only devour.”

“Well he’s been with me for seven years now, and I’m still here,” you protested idly. “I’ve killed enough azakana to know what they’re like, but Kosen isn’t like the rest of them. He saved my life.”

You didn’t feel like elaborating, not to the strange masked man who had told you no more than his name. Though really, it was more likely that habit was kicking in; you had lived for so long with only Kosen to confide in, painful secrets inside you locked closely to your chest. It wasn’t terrible having company who shared your burdens, even as quiet and serious as he was, but you knew that he wouldn’t be around long after he realized that you and Kosen were no threat, so there was little point in getting attached.

You sat in silence other than Kosen’s gentle purring, only slightly broken-sounding to your ears in his imitation of a tame house pet. You knew better than to think he was doing it to aide his own case, the false tiger knowing that his broken purrs always calmed you down. You had thought you were doing okay, but you must not seem great if Kosen felt the need to wordlessly comfort you.

You picked at your dinner, feeling the intensity of the staring contest you knew was going on between the other two members of your group. Kosen was uninjured, but you knew that he would not relax until Yone was long behind you, and who knew how long it would take for the strange man to be convinced that you were not a threat.

Knowing the tension would be better abated sooner rather than later, you pushed your feet harder than usual, making it most of the way to Tevasa, the journey much quieter than it usually was with just Kosen. Maybe you should’ve just taken the fighting option, at least it wouldn’t be so awkward now if you had… unless Yone killed you, that was.

“So how long have you been hunting azakana?” you asked him, figuring you should at least give it another try despite your rusty conversational skills.

Yone looked up from where he sat polishing his sword, seeming to take a moment to consider your question. “I do not know.”

“It feels like that for me too sometimes,” you admitted, settling back against Kosen’s fur. “I’ve killed so many that I’ve lost count.”

“…I still haven’t decided to spare you, you know,” he reminded you, not unkindly, but as if stating a fact.

Kosen growled from behind you, not taking kindly to his statement, but you just felt strangely calm. Danger was your pastime, you rationalized; it had been ever since the last day your village had been alive. Maybe you were more comfortable around danger than safety now, a sad thought to realize, but you would never be able to go back to the you of ten years ago, no matter how badly you wanted to sometimes.

You slept against Kosen’s warm fur that night, as you usually did. You had no idea if Yone had slept at all, as he was up and gazing out into the distance when you woke up.

You were only a few hours walk from Tevasa now, and with how many victims the azakana you were after had left in its wake, you knew you would need to feed Kosen to get him to full strength for the fight to come. You would just have to hope that Yone wouldn’t react poorly to the feeding.

You placed a hand on Kosen’s head, petting his fur with slow strokes, the tiger immediately sensing your intentions, looking up to meet your eyes.

Yone clearly sensed something was wrong, as he stopped his pacing around to assumedly raise an eyebrow you couldn’t see from under his mask at you.

You met his sharp gaze warily, trying to look reassuring. “I have to feed Kosen. It’s safe, I promise.”

“Holding azakana to promises is foolish,” he replied tersely. “But I have resolved to assess your claims for myself.”

Satisfied that he wasn’t likely to interrupt, you braced yourself for the feeding. You really would have preferred to send Yone away for this part, considering you would now have to bare your most vulnerable thoughts in front of the bloodthirsty stranger, but this was to protect Kosen, so you would do what you had to.

Closing your eyes, your hand stilled on his head, knowing that a physical link helped to more easily transfer your feelings to the feline azakana. Beneath your fingers, you felt Kosen shift to his demonic form, his soft fur turning coarse and hard, which told you that he was ready for you to start.

With your eyes closed, you had no way of knowing how Yone was reacting to the situation, but he seemed to be keeping his feelings to himself, so it wasn’t like a visual aid would help you that much. He hadn’t attacked Kosen though, and you supposed that would be as good of a sign to start as you were going to get.

You let out a long, shaky sigh before beginning.

“I can’t see their faces anymore,” you admitted morosely. “Not while they were alive. I try not to think about them because all I can see is their dead faces, their frozen expressions… all I can smell is their blood. I don’t even remember what the sweet buns mom used to make smell like. All I can smell is blood.”

As you talked, you felt your surroundings fade away, and as always, the tears came quickly.

“I forget their voices, but I still remember their screams,” you sobbed, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks, lost in the darkness under your eyelids, the images from that day coming to your mind’s eye as you talked. “It would all be so much easier if I had died that day too, if I was just nothing. If I didn’t have to live like a ghost, never able to see them again. Never able to ask mom for advice, or get a hug from dad on a bad day. All I have left is the screams.”

The more you spoke, the less you cried, feeling calmer as your sadness was eaten by Kosen, the tears drying as you talked, as they always did. Finally, when you felt truly calm, you stopped, opening your eyes to see Kosen, already shifted back into his disguise, kneading his paws into the ground as he felt new strength flow through him.

Reaching a sleeve up, you wiped off what tears remained on your face, feeling emotion return to you, manifesting as nervousness as you looked over at Yone, only to find his visible eye already on you.

“See?” you spoke, waving a wrist at him. “Still alive.”

“I have never known anyone to be brave enough to keep a leech as a pet,” he replied, voice thoughtful, even though his words told you that he still didn’t understand you.

With a tight smile, you stood up, brushing the dirt from your pants as you tried to stamp down your anger before it got to a level you’d have to feed to Kosen again. What were you were doing, trying vainly to prove yourself to a man that had shown you and Kosen nothing but contempt?

“Without him, I’d be dead,” you spoke at last, shocking yourself with the anger that soaked your words, even as you felt it under your skin. “I would have been eaten by an azakana years ago without him helping to keep my emotions steady. Now we’ll be heading to Tevasa if you’re still so insistent on killing us.”

You turned away, stalking off in the direction of Tevasa, Kosen quickly at your side, letting out a smug huff when he reached your side.

“Sorry,” you apologized to him. “I really should’ve said something much sooner.”

Kosen’s reply was a dismissive grunt, telling you that he wasn’t upset with you. You really didn’t deserve the amount of luck you had that day he had found you. Now you just needed to kill the fire azakana so you could get rid of the pest you had attracted and go back to just being you and Kosen.

Yone was predictably silent, but continued to walk with you, his persistence merely annoying to you now.

Neither of you talked until Tevasa came in sight, the small village bustling with activity.

Tevasa was especially small, housing little more than a hundred people, which would make your job easier. This azakana really should have picked a larger village if it was going to have a hope of hiding its next target. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick out a person emotionally damaged enough to be a tasty meal for a demon with so few people to choose from.

Stopping at the far side of the small bridge that led into the village, you turned to acknowledge Yone at last.

“I’m not sure what your process is,” you said, trying your best to sound patient. “But I like to ask around town to see if anyone has suffered any recent trauma, and then we trail them until Kosen detects the azakana making itself known.”

“I have never thought deeply about my methods,” Yone admitted, one hand drifting to his blood red sword as if he needed something to do as he spoke. “I sense the azakana, and then I kill them, ideally before they claim any lives.”

“Sounds like we can work together just fine then,” you said, Kosen snorting his obvious displeasure. “I think I should handle the talking part though.”

“Fine,” Yone acquiesced easily, removing his hand from his sword and striding ahead of you across the bridge, leaving you and Kosen to catch up with him.

You were an eye-catching group, the villagers’ eyes roving over your party as you entered the village, probably wondering if you were here to cause trouble. While the smaller villages were easier to narrow down victims in, they did tend to be more closed-off in terms of information gathering, your equally closed-off companion not likely to be much of a help in that regard.

You looked around, trying to meet a friendly eye, but most of the villagers averted their gazes from you, clearly afraid of the trouble they thought you posed to them. Maybe this hunt was going to be more difficult than you had thought.

“Kitty!”

Just as you began to despair, a high-pitched voice rang out, turning your head to see a small boy break out of his mother’s grasp and run at Kosen, tiny arms outstretched to the tiger.

You felt Yone tense up immediately, turning to face him and quickly shaking your head once. You hoped he would understand and stand down, but he was still too unpredictable. Maybe it was the insistence in your eyes, but Yone merely averted his gaze from yours, watching as the boy made his way over to the faux tiger, his mother too slow to catch him as he reached his arms up to catch Kosen in a hug around his neck.

There were cries of alarm, fear on the mother’s face as she stumbled her way forward, but the tension in the air turned sharply to stunned silence as Kosen leaned down to nuzzle the boy’s head with a loud purr, ruffling his hair and drawing a giggle from the boy.

The boy grinned happily, petting Kosen’s head, the azakana eagerly accepting the attention, not unlike an overgrown puppy. Soon, there was a group of kids happily playing with Kosen, riding on his back and giving him his highly-coveted chin scratches.

The villagers that looked at you with suspicion and fear now watched the scene with fondness. Having seen this situation play out a thousand times before, you turned to Yone, an exasperated smile on your face.

“He loves attention,” you explained, secretly satisfied by just how puzzled Yone looked as he too looked upon the scene.

Eventually, the mothers called their children back, not wanting them to bother the strangers for too long, and Kosen trotted back over to you, throwing a haughty look and huff Yone’s way, clearly having sensed his earlier tension.

“You’re still a demon,” Yone hissed pridefully, clearly refusing to admit defeat so easily.

Leaving the boys to their petty squabble, you approached the first boy’s mother, who noticed you coming and paused her speech on manners to smile awkwardly at you.

“I apologize for Yuten,” she said, bowing her head politely. “I have told him again and again not to bother visitors.”

“It’s okay,” you dismissed gently, Kosen’s display helping to unravel your tension as well. “Kosen doesn’t get chances to play often, so he just eats up the attention.”

“Kosen…” Yuten muttered in awe, the tiger mewling in response, happily accepting a few more pats from the boy as you talked to his mother.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a question,” you broached gently, hoping your rusty social skills would still do the trick. “We’ve been on the trail of a killer, one who seems to target people who have suffered a tragedy. I was just curious if anything strange has happened in Tevasa lately, if you’ve noticed anyone acting strangely.”

The woman looked concerned, and then perplexed, making you doubt that you were going to get any useful information from her.

“We’re a peaceful village,” she said, clearly wracking her brain as she spoke. “There have been some disappointing harvests for trade this year, but nothing like a murderer. Do you really think we’re in danger?”

She glanced worriedly at her son, who was still distracted by Kosen, the direction of her thoughts plain on her face.

“Children should be safe,” you said, leaving out the reasoning behind your words. Children were too young to have developed emotions deep enough to be appetizing to azakana. “But anyone especially alone or emotionally vulnerable would be at risk.”

“They are more likely to strike when their target is alone,” Yone said, surprising you by speaking up. The woman’s eyes flitted nervously to him, clearly somewhat unnerved by his appearance. “And at night. Keep your children close while we do our work and they will be fine.”

The woman nodded, looking nervous, which you couldn’t blame her for, being given the news that there was a murderer in their midst. Clearly in a hurry to get her son inside, the woman wished you luck, telling you to visit the village leader if you wanted more information. Her son was less than enthused to be pried off of Kosen, but obeyed his mother, who stopped every few paces to have hushed conversation with other adults, who then quickly ushered their own children inside as well. You hated stoking fear everywhere you went, but it was necessary.

“To the leader then?” you asked, looking down the street while keeping the woman’s directions playing on loop in your head.

“If we must,” Yone acquiesced, clearly not used to doing things the talking way.

You followed the main road until you spotted a small building with a sloped blue roof, clearly the building you were looking for based on her description.

“I can talk to him alone, if you two would rather stay out here,” you offered, stopping just before the small walkway that led up to the house.

Your suggestion was as poorly received as you imagined it would be, Yone and Kosen staring at each other with blatant distaste.

Kosen was the first to move, trotting past you to the door before turning to Yone, reaching a paw up to groom himself, a clear challenge in his expression.

Yone stared for a moment before sighing in defeat and walking past you as well. “I will not leave you alone to claim any more victims, azakana.”

Smiling to yourself, you followed them to the door, the boys parting to the side to allow you to knock on the door.

The man that came to the door was older, his white hair in a topknot and deep red robes neat. He eyed you with suspicion, likely wondering about the strange company you kept. You were used to it with Kosen, but it definitely didn’t help your case that Yone looked like anything but a friendly face.

Smiling, you fell back to your well-practiced speech. “Hello. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to discuss a threat in your village. I was hoping to get some information from you to aid in our search.”

“If you’ve any interest in the village coffers, you’re about a day too late,” the man joked, confusing you. You had been accused of swindling before, but that didn’t seem to be the man’s intention.

Clearly noticing your confusion, he gestured behind him “You’re not with him?”

“Him?” you echoed, not really able to see whoever he was referring to.

“Oh, you…” He seemed to come to some realization, taking a quick look around before stepping aside to allow you in.

He looked wary when Kosen followed you in as well, but said nothing, closing the door behind you before speaking, clearly favoring meeting your eyes over Yone and Kosen.

“I had thought you were also sent by the council to help us,” he admitted, looking unsure.

“No, we’re just passing by,” you half-lied. “We’ve been trailing what we think is some sort of creature that preys on the weak and alone, and we were wondering if you knew anyone fitting that description who may be more at risk.”

“I’m not so sure,” he pondered. “We have our outcasts like anyone else, but you should probably talk to the council’s hunter. From what he tells me, there’s a herd of creatures hanging around just waiting to strike. He already killed two of them last night, in fact.”

“Is that so…” you replied, not really knowing what to say to that. There wasn’t a pack of azakana here, was there?

You dismissed the thought as soon as you had it. Azakana didn’t like to share, and the thought of several sharing only a few victims across this part of Ionia was ridiculous. So did that mean that this village was also dealing with a pack of man-eating creatures and a hungry azakana?

“I will fetch him for you,” the leader insisted. “He is our guest while he slays these awful creatures.”

The man then quickly shuffled from the room, leaving you an opportunity to talk to Yone and Kosen.

“He is clearly being lied to,” Yone sneered as soon as the leader was out of earshot.

“Are you sure?” you whispered back, though having your own doubts as well.

“If there is anything else in this village, they are not azakana, and they are none of our concern,” he replied, Kosen letting out a growl of agreement.

You wanted to reply, to insist that while you were here anyways, you could clear out this threat too if it did exist, but you heard two sets of footsteps coming your way and were forced to save the thought for another time.

The man that followed the village leader in was dressed flashily in a bright purple jacket over shiny gray pants, the silver armor sporadically dotting his outfit looking both impractical and illogical for combat. His dark hair was slicked back in a short ponytail, his wrists laden with sparkling silver jewelry.

His eyes were dull with distaste as they roved over your companions before they settled on you and an unsettlingly wide smile appeared on his face.

The man strode towards you, taking hold of your hand before you could stop him, and you were glad you had your gloves on as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Didn’t expect to see such a beautiful woman around here,” he spoke flirtatiously, testing your ability to keep up your already terse smile.

You pulled your hand back as the leader spoke up. “Shusho is here on behalf of Ionia’s magical threats council, to rid us of the threat this pack of creatures pose to us.”

Magical threats council? You had been all over Ionia, but had never heard of the organization this man claimed to be from. He clearly wasn’t Kinkou, given their only interest was balancing spirits with nature. Part of you wanted to just ignore the strangeness of his claims; after all, you didn’t know everything there was to know about Ionia, but Yone’s doubts had settled uncomfortably under your skin.

“You’ll understand, of course, that I cannot share the council’s mandated creature removal fee,” Shusho added with a sly smile that only deepened your suspicions that he was some sort of con man, and hardly the first one you had ever encountered. A quick glance at Yone told you that he had not changed his opinion of the man.

“We don’t need payment,” you replied smoothly, used to this question and refusing to allow their leader to believe that you were the same as Shusho, despite the fact that you knew he believed the man had come to solve a real problem. “I was just hoping to discuss another matter.”

“Oh, the outcasts, was it?” the leader hummed in thought. “I’m not so sure myself. If you’re willing to stay the night, I can ask around and see if I can find you some answers by tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you agreed, uncaring of Yone’s opinion on the matter. If he was still intent on following you and Kosen around, then he would have to just put up with one more day here.

“Excellent,” the leader smiled. “We would be happy to have you as guests in our modest inn. We don’t get as many travellers passing by here as we used to.”

You wanted to be polite and refuse, but you did miss the comforts of a real bed and a bath. “Thank you. We should only need the one night if all goes well.”

“If it’s one night, there’s plenty of room in my bed,” Shusho grinned, Kosen growling warningly behind you in response.

The leader laughed good naturedly, as if the sleazy line had just been a joke. “I will inform our innkeeper. Please let me know if you need anything, both of you. I will do anything to keep our people safe.”

Shusho’s face turned calculated, and you quickly took your leave, deciding to later see if you could talk to the leader alone about the predatory council member. Kosen bared his teeth at the man as you passed, Yone simply following silently until you were outside.

“Honorless,” Yone sneered as soon as you were outside.

You let out a loud sigh. “I’ll try to talk to him later without Shusho around.”

Yone wasn’t quite done, staring at the closed door you had just left. “My time hunting azakana has made me forget the monstrous nature of people.”

“Some people,” you insisted. “I know you’re still deciding about me, but we need to find that azakana before it attacks whoever here is its target.”

“And we will,” he confirmed solemnly. “I can sense a bloodlust about this place. The azakana is undoubtedly biding its time before it strikes.”

“Then we have to find whoever it’s after before it does,” you spoke resolutely. You didn’t have time to wait for everyone to ask around and get back to you; you would have to do it yourself.

Talking to the villagers went much in the same way as it had upon first arrival in the village. You talked to the villagers while Kosen tried his best not to look threatening and Yone stood silently behind you, willfully oblivious of how he was undermining your efforts.

Most people had either said they knew nothing or seemed to throw out a name just to get rid of you, making the endeavor thoroughly frustrating. It wasn’t until you got frustrated enough to ask the children until you got a lead.

“Ehnisa’s mom doesn’t leave her house ever since Ehnisa went away,” a boy shrugged, clearly eager to get back to playing with his friends who were waiting nearby with a ball. “My mom says Ehnisa went to see the gods, but I dunno where that is. Can I go now? It’s my turn to throw next.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve been a big help,” you replied, relief flooding through you at having an actual lead.

After getting directions to the woman’s house, you watched as the boy joined up with his friends to play before turning back to Yone, who you saw was also looking at the boys playing, his eye coming to meet yours as you turned.

For a moment, he had looked almost sad, like watching them playing reminded him of a sad memory. The moment gave you pause, but you certainly weren’t close enough for you to be prying, so you let the moment pass.

“We should probably go find her before it gets dark,” you said, heading off in the direction the boy had said to.

The woman’s house was on the outskirts of the village, which was another bad sign, the area around the home basically deserted. It was a small home, and didn’t look particularly run-down, at least not on the outside, but the strange quiet in the area helped to uphold your belief that you were on the right track.

The three of you made your way to the door, with you taking the lead as usual, knocking firmly on the door.

You could hear some shuffling footsteps from inside the house, but it still took at least a full minute for the door to open up a crack, the silver of space revealing a blue eye on a haggard face.

“Hello,” you greeted, before realizing with dread that you had not gotten her name from the boy, just the name of her daughter, who you had presumed from context was dead. Deciding to press on without mentioning her daughter just yet, you continued. “I was hoping–”

You watched as her eyes darted behind you at your companions, and you reasoned that she was probably scared of Kosen.

You opened your mouth to reassure her, but she was faster, drawing back from the door with fear.

“No,” she gasped shakily. “No men.”

Oh. You hadn’t been expecting that to be her issue with your current company. Looking back, Yone didn’t seem to be bothered by her words, so you tried again, placing a hand on the door.

“Would it be ok if just I came in to talk with you?” you asked gently. “He can wait outside.”

“I… I…” she breathed, eventually nodding.

“Okay,” you replied softly, before turning back to them. “I’ll be fine, but can you two stay out here without fighting?”

“I do not go back on my word,” Yone replied, eyeing Kosen with distaste, the azakana huffing in response, bearing his fangs at Yone.

Well, that was going to have to be good enough for now. Warily eyeing the two one last time, you entered the home behind the woman.

While the exterior of the small house was in a relatively good state, the inside was completely different. It wasn’t dusty, but the air inside had a sour taste to it, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

Whenever this woman had lost her daughter, she must have lost her will to function as well. The house was in horrible disarray, belongings strewn across the floor, leaving barely a walkable path through the filth.

The path led up to a worn gray couch, which is where the woman had retreated to sit in. She had clearly established a routine, as the seat of the couch looked so sunken in that you wondered how often she left it at all. She looked so small and frail, curled up on herself, staring at you with sad, tired eyes.

“Are you… feeling alright?” you asked gently, choosing to stand instead of take a chance on any of the filthy-looking chairs scattered all around the room.

“How I feel doesn’t matter anymore,” she said, voice dry and cracking. “What do you want? Tell me what I can do to be rid of you so everything can be quiet again.”

If she wasn’t the azakana’s target, sitting there drowning in her own emotions, then you would be astounded. This was always the hardest part, getting the victims to accept your help. Just killing the azakana did nothing but delay the inevitable, you knew that much yourself. And it’s not like anyone else had Kosen to constantly rely on to keep their emotions in check, which meant that your job was often quite difficult. Some people could just not be saved from themselves, no matter how hard you tried.

“How long has your daughter been dead?” you asked, figuring you should try and break through her walls if you were going to get anywhere.

“Too long,” she moaned pitifully. “She should be here, and he should be dead. I should be dead.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” you asked, trying your best to catch her downcast eyes. “I know it’s hard and I want to help you.”

It took another twenty minutes for you to convince her to open up, and through many tears, she told you of her husband, her daughter, her happy life… at least until her husband had taken their daughter on his fishing boat, but came back alone, her resulting grief at the loss of their daughter leading to him leaving her. Her whole life had been destroyed in the span of a week, her pain driving her farther away from everything and everyone until she was little more than a living corpse.

You hated yourself for how clinical you had become in these conversations, years and years of most of your social interactions being hearing stories of the worst moments of people’s lives, but it did help you to keep calm as the woman shared her story.

Finally, it was time for you to say your part, never looking forward to this part of the process. The woman wasn’t looking at you now, her sad, tired eyes trained on an empty chair across the room, one you assumed had belonged to her daughter, given the toys scattered around it on the floor.

“I came here because I think you may be the target of a… creature,” you said, not feeling like this woman was in the right state to hear your tale about azakana. “I’m a travelling hunter, and I know one of those creatures is in the area. Have you noticed anything strange lately? Like hearing voices or things moving around you?”

“I… don’t know,” she answered lifelessly. “I hear her voice sometimes, telling me to come to her, but I can’t find her. I think she’s lost.”

“Your daughter isn’t here,” you spoke quietly but firmly. “You can’t listen to anything you hear. We’ll try our best to find it before it attacks, but you are in very real danger.”

The woman didn’t reply immediately, her head slowly lifting to stare into your eyes, the dark black now consuming her eyes startling you.

“Not as much danger as you, sweet daughter of sorrow.”

“I–” you gasped, blinking rapidly and suddenly realizing that the woman was staring at you with concern in her eyes. Her normal-colored eyes…

“I’ll try to remember that,” she spoke quietly, her tone suggesting that she was repeating herself. “It’s just been so lonely…”

But she… no, you dismissed. The strange words you had thought you had heard were definitely a product of your recent poor sleep. How pathetic were you that this woman was worrying about you instead of herself?

“I understand,” you replied, focussing back in on your task. “I can help calm you down for tonight, and we’ll be back tomorrow to take another look if that’s alright. My tiger will stay here tonight to protect you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I…” she mumbled, but looked like she wouldn’t protest. “Why me? Why not just leave me to rot like everyone else has?”

“Grief makes people strange,” you replied, though her situation was so different from your own. You had no community left to distance themselves from you, everyone obliterated in one moment. “I think people will be more receptive if you meet them halfway.”

The woman just blinked, and you decided it was probably time for you to go. She clearly needed time to think, so you would regroup with Yone and Kosen first to see what other information you could find. It would do no good to smother this woman who was barely coping as is, especially with Kosen here to watch over her from outside.

You left the home to find Yone and Kosen waiting outside, spaced thirty feet more apart than they had been when you had left them. Kosen got up from his position laying on the grass as soon as he spotted you, rubbing his head against your thigh and receiving a head pat in response.

Yone was slower, pushing back from the tree he had been leaning back against and walking over, Kosen’s tail curling around you in response in a likely show of pettiness from the azakana.

“It’s very likely her,” you said, cutting to the chase. “Her daughter died and it seems like she’s been a shell of a person ever since, but I didn’t notice any signs of an imminent attack.”

“I can’t sense it here either,” Yone admitted, voice sounding frustrated. “It is not like azakana to wait so long.”

“It shouldn’t be long before it strikes,” you said, looking back at the small home, part of you wondering if it would strike now, if your presence here would provoke it, as had happened in the past, but the house remained quiet and still. “All we can do now is be ready for when it does. I’m going to start by asking around to see if this woman had any friends.”

“Friends do not help you kill an azakana,” Yone stated harshly, his thought process so clearly different from your own.

“I know how to kill an azakana,” you snapped back, reaching a hand down to pet Kosen. “I’m just concerned about her afterwards. She needs friends to check in on her, or this is just going to happen all over again, and next time, she’ll be consumed.”

“You cannot protect anyone forever,” Yone shot back, but without malice in his voice. “Some fates cannot be avoided, merely postponed.”

“Then I’ll do that,” you replied. “That’s what we always do. Give them enough of a push to save themselves.”

Yone’s silent stare told you he likely didn’t see the point of your methods, but that was fine. After this azakana was dead, you could go your separate ways and your methods would again be your own business.

“Kosen, I need you to stay here for tonight,” you told the tiger, who predictably was reluctant, nudging your hand with his head with a huff. “I’ll be fine for one night, but I need you here in case something happens. If her emotions get too loud, I need you to calm her down.”

You could feel Yone’s stare and turned your head to return it. “She’ll be safe. I gave you my word that Kosen doesn’t consume souls.”

“I can hardly expect a beast to resist a juicy cut of meat when it swings before his face,” Yone replied, Kosen growling in offence in response to the accusation.

“Alright,” you acquiesced, shrugging your shoulders. “If you want to keep an eye on him, sure. But I think it would be faster if we all split up.”

Yone stared at Kosen for a long moment, the tiger licking his paw, purposefully paying him no mind. You had never seen Kosen be so petty; he certainly didn’t act like this with you, and it was taking a lot for you to not laugh at the scene in front of you.

“…fine,” Yone agreed at last, breaking eye contact with Kosen.

“Great,” you replied, ignoring Yone’s sour expression. “I’ll try and see if I can convince anyone to come by and see her while you scout around for any demonic presences. I promise we won’t go far if you decide that we can’t be trusted after all.”

Yone said nothing, letting out what you hoped was an amused huff before disappearing.

Once he was gone, you turned to Kosen, who was still relaxing on the grass without a feigned care in the world, your hands on your hips.

“You don’t have to antagonize him,” you said, smiling, though you knew that Kosen was aware that you weren’t mad.

Wishing Kosen good luck, you set off for the town, your best guess as to where to start being a group of mothers you had seen socializing while their children played. The first woman you had talked to wasn’t there, but you set about your task regardless, knowing it would have to be done if the victim-to-be had any chance of a life when you were done here.

You distantly wondered what Yone was doing, as you ran around trying to drum up a social circle for the woman like you were a parent on the first day of school. You weren’t anywhere near as good at sensing the presence of an azakana from afar as Yone and Kosen, but you would be able to feel if there was an altercation, so you suspected based on the nothing you felt that Yone had made little progress.

It came as no small relief to have some breathing room, even if Kosen wasn’t here as well. You hadn’t realized how tense you were with Yone around until you had a break from being around him.

You still had no idea what to think of him, his intentions as shadowed in mystery as the mask on his face.  You hadn’t pressed, and didn’t intend to, but you couldn’t imagine there being a positive explanation for his unusual appearance.

You had garnered some concern for the woman, but nobody you talked to seemed to know her beyond normal pleasantries back when her family had been whole. You could tell people were getting a little tired of your questions, and you were ready to take your little progress and head to the inn when you saw a familiar figure heading your way.

“Have you had any luck?” the mother from this morning asked, this time without her son by her side.

You gave her a reluctant smile. “None yet, unfortunately. But we’re looking around to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

The mother looked uncomfortable, and you thought it might still be because of the killer in their midst until she hesitantly spoke up.

“I… I overheard the others talking about Mika,” she admitted, surprising you. “I haven’t wanted to bother her, so I haven’t gone to see her, but then I thought about what you said earlier and… is Mika in some sort of trouble?”

Well this conversation was already more helpful than all the other ones you had attempted since leaving Kosen at Mika’s house.

“She might be,” you admitted, hoping she would be able to help as you were running out of options. “Her being so alone puts her at risk. I can only do so much, but as long as she remains this alone, she’ll be at risk of this happening again.”

“I never thought–” She put a hand to her mouth, shocked, and you were relieved that you didn’t have to answer more questions about what these threats were, as the whole azakana thing never went down well with anyone who had never had an experience with one. “What can I do?”

“You just need to talk to her,” you stated simply. “She’s been isolating herself for so long that she can’t see a way out on her own anymore, and I can only do so much. She needs someone who isn’t a stranger to her.”

“I… understand,” she spoke shakily, sadly. “I should have gone to her sooner. Can you tell her that Sumei will come by and–”

You cautioned her to wait until the threat was dealt with to begin visiting Mika again, Sumei reluctantly agreeing, wishing you luck before going home to her son, clearly nervous to be without him in her sight after all that you had told her.

It was early evening by the time you turned back to head to the inn, desperately looking forward to a good meal and a real bed after your long day.

You were so exhausted that you didn’t see the hand coming, your arm seized in a painfully tight grip. Turning sharply, you saw Shusho’s unsettling grinning face, the light reflected from a nearby street lamp alighting his face with a sinister glow.

“What’s your problem?” he demanded, using his harsh grip on your arm to push you against the wall of the store you had been walking by.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied evenly, trying to shake his hold on your arm, but he held fast, pressing in closer.

“Do you know how many women would love to be in your position?” he demanded with narrowed eyes glaring in your direction. “Women throw themselves at me! You should be grateful I even looked at you!”

Was this about earlier…? You felt anger rise in you at his words; you were here trying to save someone’s life and he was more concerned over a bruised ego?

“Don’t you have some innocents to be swindling instead?” you asked, voice cold as you broke his hold on your arm, his grip loosened momentarily from shock. “Please excuse me.”

“You… you bitch!” Shusho shouted at your retreating back, not unlike a spoiled child being denied a treat and throwing a tantrum. “Nobody rejects me ever! You’ll regret treating me like this!”

You kept walking, increasing your pace in an effort to get away from him as fast as possible, a figure leaping down from the shadow of a nearby building to walk beside you.

“If you were watching me, you could’ve helped,” you complained to Yone, who raised an eyebrow at you in return. “Right, not an azakana, so not your problem. Got it.”

“You didn’t need my help,” he replied at last, the two of you walking in the direction of the inn.

Shusho punched the wall of the run-down looking store she had just escaped from. This was all turning out to be one huge disappointment for him.

He was used to leaders tripping over themselves to buy his services, women competing to be the one to warm his bed. This was not how things were supposed to go.

Who did that snobby bitch think she was? Nobody ever turned their nose up at him, looked at him like he was a bug under their shoe.

Shusho made his way into the woods, intent on taking out his rage on the first creature he found, angrily kicking a fallen branch out of his way.

Now that he was truly alone and away from all those village busybodies, Shusho’s smile had long since dropped from his face. The world around him was black, which made a sudden face between the trees stand out, its appearance sending Shusho reeling back into a tree, the bark digging into his back as he stared in horror at the scene before him.

And then it moved closer, and it became clear to Shusho that the face was a mask, a solid white mask with long horns. As it emerged from the shadows, he saw that it was being worn by a figure made of pitch black that was too tall and jagged to possibly be human.

“What are you?” Shusho yelled at the figure, brandishing his weapon with shaking hands.

The mask tilted to the side, as if assessing his question, finally leaning down towards Shusho’s face. “You want that girl to suffer?”

“I…” Shusho breathed, the inhuman cadence the voice possessed chilling his bones as he took a moment to consider its words, her sneering face coming to his mind and replacing his fear with anger.

“Good,” the black thing purrs. “I can help you get her, you know… if you assist me with what I want in return.”

He didn’t care what he had to do, what this creature would ask of him. He had never been insulted like that in his life, and the rage shook him worse than a tornado. He would not just let that woman humiliate him and get away with it.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

The shadow watched the arrogant fool stride back into the village, renewed with purpose. As always with humans, he would only realize the cost of his choices when it was time to pay. But this fool would be ever so useful in obtaining what the shadow had spent so many years biding his time in wait for.

“After so many years, you think yourself free. But you will taste so sweet, delicious daughter of sorrow, like a prized fruit finally come to ripeness…”

You were in for another surprise when you got to the inn.

“We’ve prepared a nice room for you and your husband!” the kindly older woman manning the small inn happily informed you.

“I… uh…” You weren’t really sure what to say to the clearly well-intentioned woman. Part of you was relieved she didn’t seem to find Yone frightening, but did you really look like you could be married to him?

“I’ll leave you both to it!” she said, placing a key down on the counter in front of you before making her way back over to an older man sitting back behind the counter, leaving you standing there stunned.

With a resigned internal sigh, you turned to address Yone, but he spoke first.

“I do not need to sleep,” he spoke curtly. “You can make use of the room for yourself.”

He turned to leave, and you felt something strange zap through you.

“Wait!” Yone stopped walking, and you felt embarrassed at the realization that flooded through you… that you didn’t want him to leave.

You had been fine investigating on your own, but something about the thought of sleeping alone for the first time in seven years froze you to your core. Kosen was always with you, always there if you woke up in the night, terrified that demon from your past had come back for you. Why had you never noticed how truly dependent you were on Kosen for comfort until now?

But it wasn’t like you could ask Yone to trade places with Kosen now. That woman’s life was more important than your comfort, you knew that, but you hated how desperate anxiety was making you reach out to someone who so recently stated he wanted you and Kosen dead. But as much as you hated it, you didn’t want him to leave.

“If you’re… okay with me potentially sneaking out to help Kosen consume this whole town,” you said, staunchly unwilling to disclose your true motivations, even as thinly-veiled as you hoped they weren’t.

Yone finally turned, staring at you for a short moment before the corner of his lip turned up the slightest amount, seeming to see something in your rigid posture.

“I suppose I cannot take this threat of yours lightly,” he replied, making his way back over to you, his voice lacking its usual bite.

Your face felt hot, not having expected that petty threat to actually get any results. Immediately, you became self-conscious; did he know the real reason you wanted him to stay? If he knew, then you knew he would see you as that weak girl you had been so long ago, and you found yourself desperately wanting to avoid that outcome, but not really understanding why. Wasn’t it better if he thought you were weak? Then you would be free of him sooner…

Choosing to move on from the awkward moment as soon as possible, you snatched the key before making your way up the stairs that had to lead to the rooms, easily finding yours at the end of the hall.

The room was fairly simple, a decently-sized bed in one corner and a simple wooden bath in the other, the curtains on the windows looking handmade.

The sound of the door closing behind you had you looking back to Yone, who was currently surveying the bath, the steam gently rising from the water telling you it had very recently been filled.

“You can go first if you want,” you offered half-jokingly. “Unless you don’t need to bathe either.”

You were genuinely unsure if he needed to do much of anything, since he didn’t seem to sleep or eat, making you again wonder exactly what he was. But you hadn’t gotten into your story with him, so it didn’t feel right to pry into his.

Yone continued to stare at the water for a long moment before turning back to you. “I have no need to bathe. It simply… reminds me of an old life.”

Not knowing what to do with that, you let the matter drop. He could keep his secrets if he wanted to, but that didn’t mean you were about to let the hot bath go to waste.

Yone kept politely turned away, producing a worn gray cloth to clean his swords with while you bathed.

It wasn’t that you thought he was interested enough to stare, but you were surprised someone who struck such a fearsome figure would also possess enough manners to give you privacy while you undressed.

There wasn’t a lot of conversation before bed, simply solidifying the plan to check in with Kosen the next morning before taking further steps to draw out the fire azakana if it had still yet to emerge.

Yone had made no move to join you on the bed, at least not by the time you fell asleep, hugging one side of the bed to leave room for him to avoid being rude.

You were sinking into the blood.

Your parents’ empty eyes stared you down, never to see again. You blinked, and their eyes were a pitch black that spread across their faces, dark veins of black encompassing them entirely, their mouths opening too wide, revealing only more black. And from behind them rose a dark, dark shadow, one that you hoped you would never see again, from its mouth coming a terrible rasping voice.

“Sweet daughter of sorrow… soon you will be mine again.”

You woke up with a ragged gasp, heart pounding in your chest, startled to find that you were in your dark room at the inn, and not in the clutches of the azakana who had murdered your parents.

It took you a long time to realize there was a hand on your shoulder, turning with wet eyes to see Yone at your bedside, the room too dark to see his uncovered eye beneath the shadows of his mask.

“You were speaking in your sleep,” he informed you softly as soon as he noticed you realized he was there.

“I… I’m sorry,” was all you could think to say.

You heard Yone sigh softly, sadly. “I haven’t slept in many years. I find the company of my waking thoughts less disquieting than my sleeping torments.”

You wanted to feel embarrassed about being caught waking up from a nightmare like a child, but his words sparked curiosity within you instead.

“You don’t sleep?” you asked, seizing the opportunity to ask about something you had been wondering. “But that’s not… what are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” was his answer. “I am not alive, but this body will not succumb to death.”

“You… died?” Your voice came out as a shaky whisper.

Yone stood up, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, his back now facing you.

“I don’t mean to pry,” you said, wiping your wet eyes on your sleeve as you stared at his back, skin looking as pale as death in the sparse moonlight. “You don’t have to talk about it. I know how much it hurts to relive the past.”

“I won’t offer my words to be consumed by your pet, but it would be wrong not to let you know just what kind of monster you’ve bound your fate to,” he stated solemnly.

You kept quiet, fear all but forgotten as you waited to hear what he had to say.

“When I was alive,” he started, voice sounding tired. “I had a younger brother. He was spirited, strong, but reckless. I tried to teach him responsibility, to show him the right path… but I failed.”

“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, his story clearly leading to some sort of tragedy.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I think he may have finally found his place in the world. I have only seen him once since he killed me.”

“He killed you?” you echoed, shocked.

Yone turned his head back to face you at the volume of your reply, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “My apologies, I’ve never been a good storyteller, and I fear I’m especially out of practice now.”

“But how did that even happen?” you asked, unable to conceive of such a terrible fate.

Yone turned to fully face you, his face returning to the shadow of the room, too dark to see any part of his expression.

“My brother was training under a great swordsmaster when Noxus invaded,” he explained. “He wanted to fight, but he was needed to protect the master. I tried to make him see reason, and thought I had succeeded. But I returned to see the master slain, bearing wounds that only my brother could have created, and my brother had vanished.”

You tried to pinpoint the emotion in his voice, but it all felt so far below the surface, like you were trying to look at the bottom of a deep well.

“It was my duty to go after him, to avenge the death of Master Souma,” Yone spoke. “But more than anything, I wanted to know why. On my honor, I could not let him live, but he was always a better swordsman than I, and I died, without ever knowing why he claimed to not be a murderer that day.”

“You didn’t ask him when you saw him again?” you asked.

Yone shook his head. “It no longer mattered. My brother will find his way, and since I became what I am, I am no longer concerned with the worries that used to plague me as a human.”

That made you think of the one thing he had yet to address. “Then how did you become like this?”

Yone let out a long, sad exhale before answering. “I strayed from the path to the world of spirits, and I was attacked by the azakana that bore this mask. When I killed it, it became part of me, and I woke up back in this world bearing this unnatural visage.”

“I’ve made peace with what I am,” he told you, making you wonder just what kind of face you had been making that he felt the need to say that. “But I need to know what this mask means. I don’t think I’ll be rid of it until I understand why that azakana found me… what part of my soul it sought to consume.”

You felt for him. To be killed by his own brother, and then find himself branded by an azakana’s mask without even knowing what emotion had drawn it to him.

You were sure he must have had lots of complicated feelings about the end to his mortal life, but there was no knowing just what that azakana had been seeking a taste of. Betrayal? Dishonor? It wasn’t hard for you to figure out what emotion of yours drew the azakana back in before Kosen had found you, but it had never mattered to you, not like it seemed to matter to Yone.

His sudden candor made you want to tell him about your own past, feeling now as if he was a kindred spirit rather than a barely-tolerated presence.

“I know you heard some of it when I was feeding Kosen,” you spoke quietly, Yone’s eyes boring into you. “I was dreaming about the azakana that killed everyone in my village but me, back when I was eighteen.”

“An entire village?” Yone sounded unsettled.

You nodded, staring down at the sheets you were clutching and unclutching in your fingers in your nervous state. You had never told anyone but Kosen about your past, and it felt strange to form the words now without him here to ease your pain.

“My parents were the heads of the village, and that day was my leader-to-be ceremony. My parents said they had something special planned. I thought it was maybe going to be a marriage to the son of a nearby village, not… an azakana.”

It was Yone’s turn to stay silent, and you fought through the coming tears and kept going. “I didn’t really know what they were back then, and I still don’t know why my parents would try to make a deal with one. But it came to the ceremony and killed everyone. Everyone but me. I still think of that room every time I smell blood.”

You let out a slow exhale, wiping some stray tears that brimmed your eyes. “As you can guess, my mental state wasn’t so great after that. I lasted three years having to kill every azakana that came after me before I tried to end it all. Kosen found me that day and saved me. Without him, I’d still be a magnet for azakana or, well, dead.”

You thought the silence after would feel uncomfortable, that Yone would be disgusted with you now that he knew your past, how close you had come to giving up on everything, but his silent stare felt surprisingly safe. Comfortable.

A thought wriggled in the back of your mind like a worm. Why did you even care if he was disgusted by you? You hadn’t before…

“I have been on my own for so long, I’ve forgotten what it was like to have trust in others,” Yone remarked. “Even if your ally is… unconventional.”

“Kosen is a great ally,” you insisted with a laugh, Yone’s attempt at being gracious to Kosen raising your spirits. “If you could stop picking fights with him long enough, you’d see that.”

Yone huffed, the sound surprisingly childish coming from him. “Without you to stop me, he would be nothing more than a mask on my belt.”

“Yone!” you chastised him.

“You should sleep,” he insisted kindly. “I will stand watch in place of your tiger tonight.”

When he offered, you realized just how tired you still were, talking with Yone having relieved you of your emotional burdens, almost as if Kosen was here.

“And you’re not going to go attack him the second I fall asleep?” you asked only half-jokingly as you settled back down in bed, staring at Yone’s masked eye, glowing softly blue in the dark.

“Your pet demon will not be harmed by my hand tonight,” he promised, amusement in his voice.

“Good,” you replied, rolling over onto your other side, sleep easily finding you, your dreams calm in the aftermath of the unexpected heart to heart.

You opened your eyes, testing sleep-heavy limbs as you noticed Yone by the window, back facing you. The squeak of the bed as you sat up had him turning to face you, much easier to see his uncovered red eye in the morning light.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, feeling incredibly strange to greet someone other than Kosen in the morning.

As Yone returned your greeting, you thought of Kosen. You had slept through the night, so clearly nothing had happened to the potential victim during the night, but you still didn’t feel right leaving Kosen by himself for any longer.

“We should probably go check on Kosen,” you said, hoping your hair wasn’t too much of a mess as you crawled out of bed, feeling somewhat shy as you went to put on all of your gear.

It was a weird feeling, waking up alone with a man, even if you weren’t sleeping in the same bed. It was embarrassing how romantically stunted you were, never having so much as kissed a boy before your entire village had been wiped out, and it wasn’t like you had much interest since. Nobody could understand the way you lived, and you were very aware of how your strange existence looked to others.

Sparing a quick glance at Yone, you mentally slapped yourself. All he was interested in was determining if you were an azakana enabler or not, not that you thought of him in that way anyways. Your judgment was probably just clouded by the fact that he was the first person you could ever really talk to about azakana. Once the azakana you were hunting was dead, he would be gone, simple as that.

Once you had your things together, you exited the room, Yone just behind you. You were relieved that nobody was in the hallway this early, and you were easily able to make it outside without having to hear any more queries about you and your husband.

You had been walking alongside Yone for a bit before deciding to speak up, though this time at least, the silence didn’t feel so awkward.

“Do you think it’s likely to–”

“I can feel it,” Yone hissed suddenly, tensing up.

“Wait, the azakana?” you asked, startled by the timing.

“We must go,” he insisted, disappearing before your eyes.

You brandished your daggers, darting after him towards the woman’s house, hoping she and Kosen would be okay by the time you got there. You knew that Kosen could hold his own in a fight with another azakana, but you didn’t want to test out just for how long.

As you got closer, a roar pierced the air, quickening your pace and emerging into the middle of a fierce fight.

A bulky figure made of pure fire swiped a clawed hand at Kosen, who leaped back, still strangely in tiger form. Looking to the side, you saw why; a frightened form was curled up against the wall, staring through her fingers at the fight.

Kosen must not have wanted to scare her more, but it was unfortunately hindering him in the fight, an issue that was abundantly clear to you as Kosen was obviously on the defensive.

With a well-aimed slash, Yone joined the fight ahead of you, drawing the azakana’s attention away from Kosen as it was forced to contend with him as well, the silent assassin showing no mercy as expected.

While they battled the azakana, you sheathed your daggers and ran to the woman, helping her stand so you could escort her back inside her house.

“What is… what is that?” she asked, shaking, barely able to stay upright as you moved her along the wall until you got to the front door, pulling it open and ushering her inside.

You had hoped to take care of her issue before she caught sight of it, but the problem was out in the open now, which made continuing to lie a fruitless endeavor.

“It’s an azakana,” you admitted, the woman looking confused and skeptical immediately, which was the usual reaction any time you were forced to admit the truth of your endeavors.

“But, azakana…” She sunk to the floor, looking like she had lost all remaining strength to stand.

You didn’t really want to leave her alone, but you couldn’t stay here while the others fought. If this azakana had consumed as many people as you suspected it had, then it would be much stronger than what you usually contended with, which would mean that they would probably need your help.

“You need to stay here,” you stressed to the woman, who dumbly nodded, still seeming very out of it. You were somewhat concerned, but she would be safe in here for now, especially if you were able to take the azakana out as soon as possible.

With that in mind, you re-emerged outside to a fiery scene. You knew both Yone and Kosen would deny it if you brought it up later, but they were working together rather well, Kosen able to pack more of a punch now that he had shifted into his azakana form. They were covering each other so fluidly that it was almost unbelievable that they had been at each other’s throats since they had met.

The azakana looked like it had been on the defensive since Yone joined the fight, forced to raze nearby trees to try and create obstacles for its determined attackers to repel.

Even amidst all the chaos, it spotted you at the door, letting out a shriek and sending a stream of fire your way, forcing you to have to extinguish the door before you could join in the fight to avoid the house catching on fire with the woman still inside. Really you should have been evacuating her, but you knew that would put her in immediate harms way, not to mention the risk of the town burning to the ground if the azakana were to pursue your attempt to flee with her.

You had never fought a flaming azakana before, making sure to keep your strikes fast to avoid being burned. It seemed you were the most fragile of the group, neither Yone nor Kosen fazed by the burn risk; maybe that should be a given, since neither were fully human like you were.

The azakana was likely furious to have its meal snatched from its clutches, only to then be engaged by three attackers who knew what they were doing, its fury showing in the scorching jets of fire it sent all around you.

As the fight went on, it was abundantly clear to all parties involved that the fight was going to end in the azakana’s death. With a terrible screech, it raised its arms, but you weren’t going to back down, leaping towards the demon, the wind rushing in your ears, leaving you deaf to Kosen’s warning cry.

You heard a shout of your name, and then you were snatched out of the air, your face pressed against a bare chest, arm bandages surprisingly soft against your skin.

You grasped onto Yone’s arm with surprise as he leaped back just in time as a wave of fire overtook the sky, shooting against and over Yone’s back before you could blink. Staring at his face in shock, you didn’t see an ounce of pain in his expression as he stared down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eye moving over you to assess you for injuries.

“Me?” You knew he wasn’t human anymore, but he still just bore the brunt of an inferno against his back. “How are you still standing?”

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he answered. “I’ve survived worse.”

A growl from Kosen had Yone turning around with you still in his arms to see Kosen stalking around a scorched pit, huffing angrily.

Yone set you down and you both approached the shallow pit, the large circle of burnt grass leading to a wide path through the trees, leaving scorched bark and leaves in its wake.

“It ran…” you observed in a stupor.

If the azakana had been killed, there would have been a mask left behind, which was noticeably absent, leading you to the only conclusion available, that the azakana had decided to use its remaining power to drive you back long enough to run with its tail between its legs.

“We need to pursue it,” Yone insisted, staring at the azakana’s trail.

You knew he was right, but you also needed to be the person who thought of the human aspect here, since Yone was clearly lacking in that department.

“I have to check on her first,” you insisted, looking back to see the house thankfully only suffered superficial burn damage. “We can’t just leave her here in this state. I can get Kosen to help calm her down and then take her to her friend’s house and then we can leave.”

Yone didn’t protest, which surprised you. You had expected a comment about enabling your pet to take advantage of vulnerable people, or wasting time by delaying, but he simply nodded, approaching the burnt crater to inspect it further.

You called Kosen to follow you, quickly explaining your plan to the tiger, who was now shifted back into his disguise. Kosen huffed his agreement to the plan, receiving a short head pat in return before you reached up to gently knock on the door as a warning before pulling it open slowly.

“Mika?” you called out softly, finding her curled into a ball on her floor. She looked relieved to see you, but tensed up when Kosen crossed the threshold behind you.

“It’s okay,” you tried to calm her down, Kosen keeping his head low to try and help your efforts. “He’s tame. But I think we should get you somewhere else for now. Your friend Sumei is worried about you.”

“Sumei…” she echoed, slowly sitting up, eyes glassy with tears.

“I’ll take you to her,” you promised. “But first, would you like to pet my tiger? I’ve been told it helps calm people down.”

Kosen let out his version of a meow, which seemed to help reassure her, at least enough for Kosen to approach her, her shaky hand reaching for his side, stroking his fur with more confidence once she heard his happy purr.

“My daughter would have liked to meet you,” she told Kosen, the calmer tone of her voice telling you that Kosen’s usual methods were working.

You stood there for around five minutes observing before helping her gather some things together to take with her before setting off. Yone was nowhere to be seen when you exited the house, and part of you wondered if that was because of her previous uncomfortableness when she had answered the door the first time. You were unsure if you were reading too much into the situation; it felt like your perception of Yone was changing by the minute lately.

You led the fragile woman past the burnt pit, her eyes widening as you walked her by a little faster, heading to where you recalled her friend’s house being.

“Mika, oh my god,” Sumei gasped as soon as she saw the three of you at her door.

“Is it alright if she stays here with you for now?” you asked, meeting her eyes with a look that she understood immediately.

“Of course!” she replied encouragingly. “We’d love to have you stay with us, Mika.”

Sumei went back into her house with the excuse of setting up some bedding, clearly giving you a moment alone with Mika.

“You’ll be safe here,” you promised, having confidence in her friend’s dedication to support her.

“Did you… did you kill it?” she asked meekly.

You had been hoping she wouldn’t ask, but you didn’t want to lie to her when it was her life that had been in danger. “It ran away, so I don’t think it’ll be coming after you again. When I’m done here, we’re going right after it to make sure it doesn’t try to hurt anyone else.”

She nodded, but still seemed bothered. “…did you kill the tall man in black?”

“The what?” you asked, her words prickling uncomfortably against your skin.

“He was watching,” she said quietly, staring downwards. “When the fire one attacked me, he just stood there and watched.”

“I…”

You were speechless, the horrible figure from your last moment of normalcy and your nightmare last night coming to your mind, but it couldn’t be that. She must have seen something else, like a gnarled burnt-up tree or something and thought it was watching her. You were only reading too much into her words because of that stupid nightmare. It was up to you to stay calm, to assuage her fears.

Before you had a chance to say anything else, Sumei returned, sending a warm smile her friend’s way. “I made some tea, so I think we should start there.”

“Oh… alright,” Mika replied to her friend before turning back to speak to you in a whisper. “Please be careful. It was so horribly dark.”

“I will,” you agreed, and though she still looked uneasy, she followed her friend into the house, the door closing behind her and formally ending your time in this village.

You were sure somebody would inform the village leader of what had happened, but you just didn’t have the time, not when you had an azakana to catch before there were more casualties.

Kosen huffed in question, but you brushed off his concerns. “I’m fine. Let’s just find Yone and get on our way.”

You found him back at the pit, standing in one of the burnt trees, looking out into the distance.

“I can see its path heading towards the coast,” he informed you after jumping down from the tree. “It has very likely made its way to the town there.”

You had never been by that part of Ionia before, but given it was on the coast, it had to be some sort of fishing town. You would kill for a chance to rest and recharge, but there would be no time for that, not until the firey azakana was dead.

As the three of you set off down the burnt path, you briefly considered telling Yone about Mika’s strange parting words, dismissing the thought as quickly as you had it; you didn’t want Yone to think you were getting paranoid. And besides, if there was another azakana there, then Yone and Kosen would have sensed it or seen it or… something.

All your dwelling on this was doing was distracting you from your current task. The threat whose trail you were following now was real, unlike any imagined threat in the back of your mind, spurned on by a terrified woman who had been seeing things that weren’t there.

Eventually, the burning trail faded to typical forest scenery, telling you that this had been the point where the azakana had recouped enough strength to return to its realm. But there was no question where it would strike next, given you had spoiled its previous intended meal. A decently-sized fishing town would have no shortage of meals for a starving azakana that was desperate to restore its expended strength, and you intended to be ready when it made its move to cut it down first.

While the forest floor was much less comfortable than a bed, it was always relaxing to go back to your comfort zone after a stay in normal society. As much as you wanted to belong somewhere, you knew that your place was in the shadows, only able to fake enough humanity to slay a beast, save a victim and then retreat back to the safety of your solitude. And that’s exactly how it would be again once this azakana was dead and Yone left you too.

…too?

You were being stupid. He still intended to kill you and Kosen if you took one step out of line, or at least hadn’t asserted anything to the contrary. He wasn’t someone you should want around you to begin with, especially given he had now seen you at your very worst. Parting after the death of this azakana should be a relief to you both.

It took you the better part of two days to reach Solni, as the town welcome sign proclaimed.

Despite your personal reservations, you had found yourself paying more attention to Yone. It probably didn’t help that Yone seemed much more willing to initiate conversation with you now, even though he had rebuffed any of your attempts to get him to eat or sleep. He seemed determined to present himself as inhuman, and you began to wonder if it was a defense mechanism of some kind.

Solni seemed like a typical fishing town, much bigger and more bustling than Tevasa had been. In a town this large, there was no sense in talking to the leader or canvassing door-to-door, the town was just too big for that to be of any help.

“It will be desperate for a meal,” Yone said as you stood on a large hill overlooking the town, looking for anything unusual. “It will attack as soon as it has regained its strength, so we should anticipate an imminent attack once it has isolated a target.”

You nodded, on the same page. “Should we head into town then?”

It was an easy decision to defer to Yone’s experience here, given you had never had an azakana escape you before, which made this situation all the trickier. When and where it would strike would be entirely up to chance, and as the only one in your party who didn’t have a strong supernatural sense for azakana, you were the one at most clear disadvantage.

Yone nodded. “In its desperation, it may not even bother isolating its target before it chooses to strike, and we need to be close when it happens.”

You headed into town with Yone, Kosen not seeming to be as much of a big deal to the people here, which came as a pleasant surprise. Maybe they see lots of unusual trade through their port, you reasoned, the tiger gaining no more than curious glances as you passed by people milling about the streets.

Yone seemed to be attracting much more attention in comparison, though you doubted he was aware of it. You had already noticed several women you passed giggling to their friends as he passed, and more than one comment about his toned chest and arms.

For his part, Yone didn’t even look their way, even when a pair called out to mister handsome with the mask, leading you to wonder if he had even heard them, or if he had assumed they were talking to someone else, given what you had learned of his self-perception. Now that you were a little more relaxed around him, it was hard not to notice the reality of his appearance, as much as it made travelling with him more awkward.

The you that had first met Yone would be in disbelief now, your previous scorn now turned to curiosity. You refused to put any more thought into your changing feelings, not wanting to be just like those women, pining after a man that would just vanish into the wind the moment his purpose here was achieved.

“Did you sense something?” you asked as Yone stopped to stare down an alleyway. You could sense if an attack was imminent, but detecting the presence of an azakana in hiding wasn’t a skill that a regular human like yourself could ever develop.

Yone stared at the alley for a moment longer before turning to you. “It’s… flickering.”

You frowned, not really sure what he meant by that.

“Do you–”

“I thought I’d see you here,” a voice interrupted, your vision being overtaken by an obnoxious visage that you had hoped not to see again.

Kosen growled as Shusho laid an unwelcome hand on your shoulder.

“Heard you skipped town after you nearly burnt that woman’s house down,” he remarked casually, eyes glinting with undisguised malice. “Those hicks will be out for blood soon, with you filling that woman’s head with nonsense about demons. I’d have put in a good word for you if you hadn’t been such a stuck-up whore back in Tevasa.”

You felt anger flare through you like a knife slash through your back, Kosen’s snarl telling you he had also not appreciated Shusho’s reappearance.

“Better they are forewarned about real danger than swindled by a charlatan sworn to rid them of a threat that does not exist,” Yone spoke up from behind you, the hostility in his voice chilling your anger and replacing it with shock. You hadn’t heard anger like that in his voice since the night you had met him, and even then, he hadn’t sounded quite this deadly.

Shusho’s eyes shot over to Yone in what looked to you like fear, but the look didn’t stay for long before his sneer was directed back your way.

“Sweet,” he said mockingly. “You have your little boyfriend fight all your battles for you now?”

“No,” you denied, unable to keep your anger contained. “If he did, your ass would be on the floor in pieces by now.”

Shusho’s nostrils flared, eyes dark as he glared at you. “You should watch how you treat people. I was going to give you another chance to make it up to me, but now you’ll really deserve everything that’s coming your way.”

And with that, he turned, disappearing into the crowd within seconds, Kosen’s lunge after him stopped by your hand on his fur. He was creepy and off-putting, but Shusho was not worth causing a scene in the marketplace for, not when you had an actual objective you had to accomplish here.

It was only until you drifted to the alley Yone had been looking at before that you realized your social misstep. Awkwardly, you turned to Yone, embarrassed that you had allowed your anger to overtake you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, finding it hard to meet his eye. “I should have corrected him about the… boyfriend thing.”

You winced at how your voice seemed to crack at the word boyfriend, but Yone seemed unphased, shaking his head in response.

“I do not fight humans,” he spoke, voice tight with anger. “But I have never been so tempted to make an exception.”

You laughed, more relieved than you thought you would be that he wasn’t upset with you. “You’d probably have to fight Kosen first for that right.”

Kosen snarled his agreement, fur still standing on end, the azakana looking just as furious as he had during the distasteful interaction with Shusho.

It felt a little strange to be on the receiving end of protectiveness from more than just Kosen, the feeling definitely not unwelcome in this moment. You tried to stamp down the hope you felt rising in your chest at his words; there was no way he had meant anything by them anyways.

You cleared your throat, figuring that you should change the subject, for your own sake. “Should we try–”

Your words cut off as you were assailed from behind by a wave of pressure so strong that you flinched, eyes meeting Yone’s, his exposed eye narrowing at something behind you.

“Fire!” someone shouted, panicked screams ringing out from all around you as you whipped around to survey the scene.

“Evacuate the crowd,” was all Yone said to you before vanishing from your side into the chaos.

What was in front of you now was not a creature made of fire, but rather a wall. You couldn’t tell where the azakana itself was in the mess, frightened people running in all directions as the marketplace was rapidly engulfed by flames.

You wanted to seek out Yone’s form in the flames, but a loud cracking noise made you spring into action instead, noticing the roof over a large section of the market beginning to crack at the seams.

“Kosen!” you shouted, the tiger already steps ahead of you rushing in to help a group of kids out of the path of a stampeding horse.

You dashed in as well, grabbing the horse by the reins, Kosen quickly absorbing enough of its panic to allow you to lead it away form the scene, handing off the reins to the first person you found that looked like they knew what to do with it before sprinting back into the action.

The area was evacuated quickly with you and Kosen’s help, braver people helping by carrying out the injured as Kosen made sure the way was clear.

You knew that Yone was inside that wall of fire, running in at last once everyone was safely out of the area, ignoring shouts from concerned bystanders for you to stop as you leaped through the demonic fire.

You emerged into an arena of fire and heat, walls encircling you making the area not unlike a colosseum, rubble from the broken roof and overturned stalls making the terrain hard to navigate, never mind the heat beating down on you.

There was a slash across your field of vision, a red line visible amidst the smoke and debris, a demonic howl telling you that Yone’s strike had hit its target. It was hard to tell how the fight had been going with how smoky the area was, but the ball of fire that impacted near you told you that the azakana still had a good amount of strength in reserve.

You didn’t waste a moment longer scaling an overturned booth, climbing past scorched vegetables and leaping to join the fight.

It was hard to miss the firey figure swiping blindly with burning claws to try and catch Yone, but clearly failing as you caught sight of Yone going in for another hit.

Yone was holding his own, but the azakana seemed way stronger than it had been back in Tevasa. You quickly fashioned a mask out of a strip of cloth on your belt to keep out enough of the smoke for you to be able to fight before drawing your own daggers and covering Yone’s flank, diving at the demon with a cut that it barely deflected, Yone’s slash to its side hitting harder as a result of your distraction.

“Has it gotten stronger?” you called out to Yone as you jumped to his side.

“Yes,” he confirmed, sounding offput. “I’m not sure how it could have gotten this much stronger on its own. If we don’t kill it here, it has the potential to decimate this town.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but given how aflame the marketplace had become in a matter of minutes, you felt stupid for not realizing until now. Had it already killed people? You hadn’t noticed any bodies in the rubble, but that was the only reasonable explanation for its wildly increased strength.

“Then what do we do?” you asked before the two of you were forced to dive to the side to avoid a falling beam sent your way by the azakana.

Yone smirked. “Kill it quickly.”

And then he was gone again, dashing through the air to land a brutal strike on the demon. With a sigh, you followed, infusing your daggers with magic to protect yourself from the worst of the flames.

What the azakana lacked in finesse, it made up for in power, throwing clumsy bursts of fire that threw you off balance, making it harder to hit. Yone also seemed to be having some trouble, the azakana able to deflect some of his strikes by shifting its flames.

You were given an assist as through the wall of fire leapt a masked figure of black shadow, sinking his teeth and claws into the azakana’s shoulder, their shared nature preventing the fire azakana from making its fire intangible as Kosen savaged it.

“Kosen!” you cried out, relieved that he had joined the fight as well.

His appearance in azakana form told you that the area was clear of anyone that could see him, which meant that you could fight the azakana without worrying about anyone getting hurt.

Kosen seemed to be able to pin the flailing azakana much better than you and Yone could, your attacks landing much easier, the azakana now caught between trying to shake Kosen off and deflect you and Yone’s attacks.

There was a strange panic in the air as the fight dragged on, the air getting hotter as the azakana’s screeches grew more frantic. Its movements got clumsier, making you almost wonder if it was running out of energy at last.

As Yone dashed through the demon, it let out a garbled series of sounds that almost sounded to you like it was speaking, but you had never heard anything like it before. A quick glance at Kosen showed you that he hadn’t reacted to the noises, leading you to think that you were hearing things again.

Kosen snarled, thrashing from side to side and giving you the perfect opening, which you knew you were running out of time to take advantage of.

The azakana only seemed to take notice of you as you were mere feet from its face, too close to do anything to repel you. In tune with Kosen keeping it in place, you sunk your daggers into its face down to the hilt, cracking its mask in half.

There was a burst of sparks beneath its splitting mask, and before you could get a look at the face under the mask, you were snatched out of the air, finding yourself in Yone’s arms again as he dashed backwards, your view of the dying azakana blocked by Yone’s shoulders.

“Yone, what’s–”

“It’s going to combust,” he quickly explained, and you put a hand on his chest in response, using it to lift yourself up to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the bright light expanding outwards from the azakana’s body, a terrible heat seeming to chase you until Yone jumped over an overturned stall and then you were outside the cage of fire and debris, Kosen reverting to his tiger form now that you were out in the open again.

Yone let you down and the three of you turned to watch as the dome of debris exploded upwards and outwards. Raising a hand to protect your face from the shower of splinters raining down on you, you turned to face Yone.

“Sorry I broke the mask,” you said jokingly. “I know you probably wanted it for your collection.”

Yone shook his head. “There is little point in trying to understand that azakana.”

“Is that why you keep their masks?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“This way I can ensure they will not return, if I am watching over them,” he answered. “But the only way to claim their mask is to know their true name.”

“Then… is there a risk of that one coming back?” you asked, horrified thoughts turning to every azakana you had slain over the years. It was routine for you to break their masks when you killed them, but had you been merely postponing the inevitable the whole time?

Yone thought for a moment. “I cannot sense the one we killed, so I think it must have perished. Unfortunately, new azakana are born quite frequently, so the problem is not so easily solved as long as there are emotions to consume.”

You sighed with relief all the same. “I’m just glad all the ones I’ve killed stayed dead.”

Your own words reminded you of your deal, the whole reason you had been with Yone for the past week, but your throat felt constricted all of a sudden, like your mouth didn’t want to form the inevitable words that you knew you had to say. But a deal was a deal, and a large part of you wanted to hear what he thought of you now.

“So…” you spoke up, Yone’s gaze sending pinpricks up and down your arms. “What about now?”

“Now?” he echoed, Kosen huffing as he caught onto your thought process, sidling up to you as he looked haughtily up at Yone.

“Do you still need to kill us to prevent us from taking innocent lives or whatever it was?” you asked, grinning at Yone in anticipation of his answer.

Yone’s quiet laugh gave you hope.

“…no,” he answered, the small smile on his lips sending heat to your face. Was this the first time you had seen him smile like this?

You didn’t want it to end like this. With how fast Yone was when he wanted to be, you knew that you had no chance of ever catching him if he were to vanish right now.

“Um, I…!” You winced, your voice coming out way louder than you had meant it to. Way to sound desperate. “If you have time, I was wondering if you’d like to try living like a human for the night? I have some money saved from some previous jobs. We could have a meal in town and then stay at a nice inn.”

You expected Kosen to revolt against your suggestion, but he was strangely quiet, staring at you with an unsettling knowing in his eyes. Yone, for his part, looked surprised, his visible eye wide, clearly caught off guard by your idea. But, you hoped, not put off.

If he wanted to be rid of you, then you would accept that, but you were really hoping that he would want a little more time together as much as you were realizing you did.

His stunned silence was making you nervous, which led to more frazzled babbling.

“I know you haven’t eaten since, well… but maybe if you tried, there would be something–”

Yone laughed, a real laugh, which shut your mouth instantly. “I would like that.”

It was your turn to be shocked, not expecting Yone to ever agree, too stunned to respond until Kosen nudged you from behind.

“Let’s, uh, go then!” you exclaimed, almost tripping over your own feet before you righted yourself, fast walking your way out of the ruined marketplace as if you could leave your awkwardness behind as well.

“I’ll have to trust your recommendation then,” Yone said, easily catching up to your hasty strides. “Even when I was alive, I can’t say my meals were anything particularly special.”

“Then I’ll find a great place!” you insisted with feigned confidence. You did treat yourself to nice meals occasionally when you found yourself in bigger cities, but you weren’t an expert by any means, just determined for this borrowed time with Yone to not be a waste. “This is a port town, so there should be good seafood somewhere.”

You slipped out of the crowd just as people began to pour into the marketplace to begin salvaging things, providing the perfect cover for you to blend into the crowd unnoticed. You were relieved to be able to escape without notice, not wanting the townspeople’s questions and accolades to cut into your remaining time with Yone.

By early evening, you were settled into a quiet upscale restaurant by the water, just you and Yone, the restaurant less accepting of your demon tiger than the marketplace had been. Kosen had been happy enough to return to the marketplace to survey the damage and offer comfort to anyone who was upset about the incident, which would take care of his dinner for the night as well.

“I ordered a few of their specialties,” you explained after the food had been brought to your table, just the sight mouthwatering after so many meals scrounged together in the woods.

Thinking maybe Yone needed a push, you cut yourself a piece of the center dish, an Ionian carp in xaolan berry sauce, popping it in your mouth and sighing in delight at the flavor.

Yone seemed to reluctantly follow your lead, skillfully plucking a piece of rolled fish with his chopsticks.

You watched in anticipation as he brought the roll to his mouth, before his eye flickered from his food to you, clearly catching you in the act.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, realizing how awkward you were being. “I didn’t mean to stare, I was just…”

You trailed off, unable to think of an excuse that wouldn’t sound stupid, but Yone didn’t seem bothered, smiling knowingly at you before putting the roll in his mouth.

Even his chewing seemed refined, making you wonder how he had grown up. The only thing he had really talked about was his brother, and you weren’t eager to dig up those old wounds again.

“So how is it?” you asked, unable to hold in your excitement.

“It’s good,” he answered simply, reaching out with his chopsticks for another piece. “The taste isn’t similar at all, but still it reminds me of home.”

“Of meals with your family?” you asked, assuming that was a safe enough topic.

“With my mother,” Yone answered. “And later, my brother. Though he could hardly sit still enough for a proper meal.”

“Then did your mother teach you your table manners?” you asked, trying to keep things light.

Yone smiled fondly. “I suppose she did. She always did say I was a model student. I hesitate to wonder what she would think of me now.”

“I think she’d be proud,” you declared, refusing to allow him to sink into gloom.

Yone looked wistful, glancing out the window at the ocean. “One son a killer, another a monster. I can only hope she hasn’t heard either of our fates. It would be easier on her if she thought we were both dead.”

“I get what you mean,” you agreed, idly cutting another piece of fish for yourself as you followed the tone Yone was setting. “I’ve overheard so many theories from people about why my village perished, but I’ve never corrected any of them. I kinda feel like if I tell anyone what really happened, then I won’t be able to mourn my parents anymore. Not if everyone knew what they did.”

“Then mourn them as they were,” Yone said, his gaze strangely calming. “When I think of Yasuo now, it is not always him as he was when he cut me down. I think of the little brother I defended from bullies, the one who always gloated when he won our sparring matches… the part of them you think of is your decision. I have spent so many years dwelling on one poor choice that I cannot judge your parents for theirs.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek before you could stop it, hastily reaching up in a vain effort to keep Yone from noticing. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ruin this.”

“You’re still human,” Yone countered gently. “Emotion is natural.”

You frowned at him; it always rubbed you the wrong way when he excluded himself from humanity.

“I think you’re plenty human,” you insisted strongly. “You haven’t eaten since then, but here you are, eating in a restaurant like all the other humans. Are you sure you’re still some big scary monster lurking in the dark?”

Yone shook his head in clear exasperation, but took your strangely-phrased question seriously.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, staring down at the food spread out between you. “…but you make me not want to be.”

You were still trying to shake off the giddiness you felt from Yone’s mid-dinner admission as you walked down the streets side by side, attempting to scope out a good inn for the night, insistent that Yone also try to sleep after his success eating a meal.

You had been too nervous to ask what he had meant by those words, instead wimping out and turning the conversation back to the food.

You were such a mess of anxiety, knowing at least vaguely what you wanted, but unable to voice it. The more time you spent with Yone, the less you wanted to go your own way, but you had no idea what he wanted. But above all, you just wanted to give him at least one night of being human, no matter how he saw himself.

And as much as he called himself a monster, he had been willing to go along with your idea, the two of you having dinner as if you were average people on an average date. That had to count for something, right? Why was he so desperately clinging to being a monster?

“I have enough money for two rooms,” you suggested, not wanting to come off as too forward while simultaneously hating yourself for being so sensitive about everything to do with Yone now.

“That is not necessary,” he said, catching you off guard with the sly smile on his lips. “After all, you’ve declared your intent that I sleep. How will you ensure I keep to my word if we’re not in the same room?”

Your mind jumped to that night back in Tevasa, where you had jokingly threatened Yone into staying with you that night when you were without Kosen. Was Yone… teasing you?

Heart beating heavily in your chest, you smiled back conspiratorially. “I guess we did make a deal.”

“One room then,” Yone confirmed, turning to enter the inn ahead of you, leaving you to catch up to him.

You easily procured the room, the innkeeper too busy talking to another customer about the explosion at the market to make any husband comments, even Yone’s appearance not enough to catch her eye over the latest gossip, which was a great relief to you.

The inn was relatively deserted for the late evening, most of the patrons likely in their modest pub, if the noise coming from that direction as you passed by was any indication.

Bars were one area where you felt as inhuman as Yone, only having been in them for information gathering, the rowdiness and sheer volume of noise too much for someone like you who spent most of her time camping out in the woods with a tiger. It was a world you doubted you would ever truly know, and you were more than fine with that.

This room was much fancier than the one back in Tevasa, with a large plush bed, a glance into the adjoining bathroom revealing a bath large enough to fit two people comfortably. Scrubbing that observation from your head, you turned back to Yone, who was setting both his swords down onto a table.

“Do you… want to take a bath?” you asked hesitantly. You couldn’t wait to have one yourself after the day you had, the feel of soot and debris clinging to you since you had fought the azakana. But you were determined to let Yone go first, even if it meant you would sit in squalor for just a little longer.

“Alright,” he agreed, reaching up to begin unwinding the bandages on his arms.

The rapidly-revealed muscles of his arms were immediately too much for you, turning your face away to feign interest in a painting of what you thought was supposed to be some sort of one-legged horse. It wasn’t until you heard his lower garments hit the floor that you realized you should have insisted he undress in the bathroom, cursing your brain for its current lack of coherent thought. He had such impeccable manners at dinner, how did he not know not to undress in the same room as a woman? Maybe you would have to take back your comment about his mother being proud of him after all…

“I’ll just, uh, be out here,” you said, trying not to flinch when you heard the sound of Yone’s bare feet on the floor, but you only had to maintain composure until he walked past you and into the bathroom, and then…

“Aren’t you coming?”

You squeaked at the sudden voice at your ear, having to put out a hand against the maybe-horse painting in front of you to keep yourself from falling forward.

“That’s…!” You whipped around in shock before getting one look at his uncovered torso and turning back to face the painting. “You may not have eaten in years, but I know your mom didn’t raise you in a nudist colony!”

You heard Yone laugh behind you. “…I suppose not.”

You couldn’t relax your tense shoulders until he was in the bathroom, the sound of the door closing allowing you to breathe at last.

Staring at the closed door, you weren’t sure what to think. Where had that even come from?

You couldn’t deny that you and Yone had become much more friendly than you used to be, but the… flirting had really come out of nowhere. Even calling it flirting felt wrong, but how else were you supposed to look at it?

Letting out a weary sigh, you set your bag onto a chair, removing your dagger belt from your waist and placing it on the table next to Yone’s swords. Your eyes drifted from your sheathed daggers to rove over Yone’s swords, realizing now just how much they represented him.

You had never asked him, but it was clear that one sword was older, clearly well-cared for in his previous life. It was strange to you that he denied his humanity while still carrying the sword he had in life, but whatever his hang-ups, it was clear the issue was tightly wound inside him.

His other sword was flashy, the blade a vibrant red. Running a finger along the blade, it felt like no metal you had ever felt before. You wanted to know, but at the same time, you felt like the truth of the blade’s origin would be a painful one.

Leaving the strange sword alone, you looked around the room, trying to find something to occupy your time with.

You were fixing a tear on one side of one of your shirts, carefully angled to face away from the bathroom when the door opened again, Yone’s earlier teasing words ringing frustratingly in your head as you heard him redress.

When you were fairly certain he had at least his pants on, you forced yourself to turn and look at him, hoping you didn’t look as frazzled as you felt.

Yone looked frustratingly unbothered, dressed in only his pants, looking almost like a normal man if not for the mask on his face. He seemed to have been waiting for you to look at him, approaching the bed with a curious disposition.

“You sew?” he asked.

“I, uh, yeah,” you replied, nowhere near as eloquently as you wanted to. “You don’t make a lot of money killing monsters nobody knows about, so I try to make my clothes last. Only so much I could do after we encountered an azakana with acid saliva, though.”

You had mentioned the azakana offhandedly, but Yone seemed to latch on, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I have yet to meet any of that variety,” Yone commented. “The azakana I encounter tend to feign human guises to lure their prey in.”

You wondered if that was because of his mask. Were there azakana you were letting slip through your fingers because you couldn’t see through their disguises? You were lucky you had Kosen to help pick up your slack in that area, but you couldn’t help but wonder if any azakana had slipped from your grasp without you knowing.

Switching places with Yone, you enjoyed another hot bath, rivers and lakes never able to compare to how nice it felt to have a real bath. Why did you ever deny yourself the comforts of normal society? You only ever seemed to realize how much you missed for your pursuit of azakana when you were able to have a taste of the normal life.

The water was nearly cold by the time you got out, unwilling to give up until you had no choice. Your mind had been pleasantly relaxed, free of any burdens as you bathed, reality crashing back down on you as you opened the door to see Yone sitting on the bed, right where you had left him.

It was dark enough now that Yone’s figure was streaked with shadow, his left side and exposed eye painted with light from the tall candle that sat on the bedside table. Yone’s swords were still on the table next to your daggers, making you wonder if he had just been sitting there on the bed the whole time you were in the bath.

Yone didn’t wear a lot to begin with, but it was strange to see him in just a pair of tight dark pants, a quick glance to the side revealing his wraps and belted sarong folded in a chair, so he had clearly done something while you had been in the bath.

He had gone along with everything you had asked, but you hadn’t really thought too far ahead to this part, given the room only had one bed. Suddenly nervous, you froze in place; would it be too weird to share a bed with Yone? You weren’t opposed necessarily, but you didn’t want to make Yone uncomfortable, not on what was your last night with him.

“Have you ever shared a room with a woman before?” you asked, trying to sound casual even as your feet were rooted to the spot.

Yone looked curious, but indulged you. “Only my mother, before Yasuo was born. After then, Yasuo was such a handful that I’d never have time to consider such things.”

You laughed. “I get what you mean. My parents were really serious about me learning to be a great leader. Dad caught me talking to a boy when I was supposed to be studying and then yelled at me in front of him… he didn’t try to talk to me again after that.”

Yone sighed. “I know that overprotectiveness well. Sometimes I wondered if Yasuo enjoyed causing trouble for me to rescue him from.”

“I can see why you aren’t eager to visit him again,” you joked, Yone’s smile telling you that you hadn’t offended him, which was a relief.

“I’m just glad he seems to have found his own way,” Yone replied. “Back when I was alive, I would have worried about him being jailed if I wasn’t there to guide his way. I look back now and feel ashamed of how I coddled him.”

“You loved him,” you insisted softly. “I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of.”

“I suppose I did,” he acquiesced, looking down at his lap.

You had meant to help, but it felt like you were just making things worse. It was then that you remembered your original goal, before you had allowed yourself to get distracted.

“Do you… want to try sleeping?” you asked hesitantly, recalling his previous reasoning. “I won’t force you though. I’ve had my own share of nightmares lately.”

“I’d like to try,” he responded, surprising you with his willingness.

Your shock was clearly a little too plain on your face, Yone laughing softly, prompting you to force your face back into a neutral expression.

“Tonight, I want to live like I was still human,” he spoke resolutely. “So I will endeavor to try. I have hope that my nightmares will not reach me here.”

Your need to protest his self-description was strong, but you got the feeling that it would shatter the moment, so you kept those thoughts to yourself. Yone had banished your own nightmares back in Tevasa, and you were determined to return the favor.

You looked from Yone to the bed, a sudden thought coming to mind. “Actually, how is that going to work with your mask? Do you need to sleep sitting up?”

Yone looked amused as he looked down at the pillow, one hand coming up to run along one of the longer spikes on his mask.

“That wasn’t a concern that had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “Are you sure we should be risking the life of this pillow?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I thought you were only concerned about azakana.”

“Maybe my opinion is changing,” he said, and you had to fight against the fluttering beat your heart was sent into.

He was clearly just joking, you needed to stop taking it so seriously. You were ashamed of yourself; the first real male attention you’d received in ten years and your brain can’t stop looking for hidden meanings in everything he says.

“Do you need any help?” you asked as he laid down, hastily correcting yourself when you realized how your words could be interpreted. “I mean, my mom used to sing to me, but I’m not sure you want that. Even Kosen cringes when I try to–”

“My mother used to stroke my hair,” Yone mercifully interrupted. “When I was a child, before Yasuo was born.”

You weren’t sure if Yone realized it or not, but you began to wonder when the last time he had done something for himself was. He lived for his brother, died for his country’s honor, and now killed azakana for the safety of Ionia, still no closer to figuring out the secrets of his mask, the one goal he had mentioned. You were sure Yone had meant the hair stroking as no more than an idle response to what you had said, but you couldn’t help but want to act on the unspoken desire, to grant him the opportunity to be selfish for once.

Yone stiffened as your hand met his hair, but said nothing, which you took as a sign to keep going. Yone seemed to gradually relax under your touch, while you found yourself only getting more flustered by your own actions.

You were just comforting him, you reasoned with yourself, even though your own reasoning rung hollow within your own mind. Would it even be worth trying to convince him to stay? You weren’t sure if you could stand the rejection, so maybe it would be easier to just let him go and go back even if the thought felt incredibly lonely now.

“My mom used to yell at me for sleeping in trees,” you spoke up, deciding that maybe a silly childhood story would help take both of your minds off of things. “I hated how everything I did revolved around eventually being leader, so I started hiding from my parents whenever I had lessons. Eventually they put a bell around my neck like a pet so they could find me.”

“Not a bad idea,” Yone mused, the softness in his voice making you wonder if he was getting sleepy at all. “I doubt a bell would have kept Yasuo out of trouble.”

“It didn’t stop me either,” you admitted, the memory a particularly proud moment of yours. “I used to stuff the bell with cotton. Though I had to keep finding new trees to hide in since my parents would always find me eventually.”

You smiled, remembering another funny little detail about that particular story. “My dad finally had to have one of the council members follow me around at all times. I used to make a game of losing them. Child me thought it was very worth the scolding I’d get from my parents when I came out from hiding.”

Your hand had absentmindedly continued to stroke along Yone’s hair, so caught up in recalling your own memories that you only noticed now just how still Yone had become.

“Yone?” you spoke softly, testing your suspicions.

Was he really asleep? Part of you had thought this was a foolish endeavor – there was no way that someone as uptight as Yone would be able to rest his eyes for even a second, but the proof was undeniable, Yone’s even breaths barely audible in the silent room.

Thinking on it, you didn’t even find him uptight anymore… when did that stop? When you first met him, you couldn’t imagine having a frankly pleasant dinner with him. You had been surprised you could even get him to agree not to kill you and Kosen that first day, and here you were, not wanting to part ways tomorrow…

This was all too much to think about. Your day had clearly been slowly catching up to you as you sat on the bed next to Yone, your eyes suddenly fighting to stay open.

You wanted to stay awake, to savor the peace you felt in this moment, but today had been too long of a day for you to stay awake out of sheer force of will. Reluctantly admitting defeat, you did your best to creep under the blanket without disturbing Yone, staring at his back for the few short moments that it took for you to fall asleep.

You were a mess of nerves as you stepped out of the inn and onto the late morning streets.

It was a miracle that you had woken up before Yone did, because you had nearly had a heart attack when you had woken up with your head lying against his bare chest. It had been such a palpable relief when you looked up to see Yone’s eyes still closed, his arm around your waist telling you that asleep you was clearly not the only one at fault for the predicament.

The fire azakana was dead, and you had nowhere to be in a hurry, so you decided to let Yone sleep in. According to him, he seemed to be due a good sleep-in for years at this point.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Kosen curled up underneath a large tree across the street from the inn. Approaching your feline friend, Kosen sensed you as you approached, treating himself to a nice long stretch before meeting you halfway, the two of you finding a spot out of the way to stop and talk.

“You look happy,” you commented, easily noticing how lively he looked. “Lots of people to comfort yesterday?”

Kosen grunted in the affirmative, confirming the obvious.

“Glad you had a decent night too,” you smiled, freezing when Kosen’s ears seemed to prick up at the word too.

“Wait,” you protested, waving your hands in denial as Kosen pinned you with a curious stare. “It’s not like that, we didn’t… ugh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Kosen didn’t deny the accusation, his tail smacking against your side in amusement.

“I thought you were supposed to hate him,” you groaned in embarrassment.

You watched the townsfolk mill about, your hand idly petting Kosen’s back as you finally put voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing you for some time now.

“Kosen… I think I want to ask him to stay with us,” you spoke quietly, voice barely above a whisper, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, even with your company being your oldest friend.

You had expected protest, some form of growling that was meant to serve as Kosen’s version of a hell no, his silence instead unnerving you. Forcing yourself to turn and look at him, it was very apparent why.

When you met his knowing eyes, Kosen nudged your hand with his head, his quiet groan telling you everything you needed to know, years of knowing him aiding your perception.

“…you knew?” you asked softly, Kosen’s nod like a soothing balm to your tortured heart. “Well I wish you had said something sooner. I was ready for you to hate me forever.”

Kosen growled in protest and you shook your head with a laugh. “I know you’d never leave me. But I at least expected you to drag me off to the asylum and leave me there after everything we’ve been through with him.”

You stared at the inn where Yone still slept, feeling a weight lifted from your chest. You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Kosen, his trust in your judgment meaning so much to you.

“…you think he’ll run the other way screaming?” you laughed, Kosen huffing in amusement at your side.

You stayed out idly chatting with Kosen for a while longer until you realized that you should probably see if Yone was awake. He could be pretty unpredictable sometimes, and you didn’t want him to decide to leave before you even had a chance to talk to him.

The walk back to the room was spent overthinking. If he was still asleep, should you wake him up? If he was awake, what would you even say to him? At this point, you weren’t sure which option felt harder to confront as you reached the door, feet barely cooperating with you.

You opened the door slowly, intent on being quiet in case he was still sleeping, which turned out to not matter as you quickly spotted him sitting on the edge of the bed. He had been staring out the window, but turned his head to face you as he heard the door open, though you doubted he hadn’t heard your footsteps leading up to the door.

“How was your sleep?” you asked cautiously, the question feeling strange on your tongue knowing how long it had been since he had slept at all.

“It was strange,” he answered, sounding like he didn’t fully understand either. “There were no nightmares.”

“That’s good,” you replied with a smile, relieved to hear that his first sleep in a long time had not been a failure. “Any sleep without nightmares sounds like a good night to me.”

“A fair point,” he replied, standing up from the bed.

You waited, standing too still, for it to happen. For the inevitable goodbye, for him to disappear now that your agreement had been met, now that your borrowed time had come to an end.

But he didn’t disappear, instead getting out of bed and strapping his swords back to his sides, each movement he made making you wonder if it was the last one you would ever see him make. You were still waiting with dread as he came to a stop before you, looking at you with concern.

Instead of saying anything about your demeanor, he chose to bypass it entirely. “I can sense your pet outside.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied after a brief moment of confusion before realizing that maybe he wanted to say goodbye to Kosen too before leaving. “He’s waiting outside.”

You wanted to say it then, to ask him if he really had to leave, but fear stilled your tongue and you turned instead to lead him out of the room and down to Kosen.

The walk outside was too silent, and you hoped that Yone didn’t find it as stifling as you did. All the words you wanted to say were spoken instead in your mind, hoping that you would have the courage to say them when you got outside.

You exited the hotel, Yone still silent behind you, to see Kosen across the street right where you had left him. The tiger perked up when he saw you, but noticed your emotional state as soon as he was within five feet, his eyes piercing through you knowingly, as if to say you didn’t ask him yet?

You shook your head minutely at Kosen, who huffed at you in playful exasperation. Yone paid the interaction no mind, coming to a stop before the azakana, who turned his head away as if to snub Yone.

Yone laughed at the tiger’s display. “I had hoped a night of feasting on the emotions of innocents would have evened your temper.”

Yone’s taunt worked perfectly, Kosen’s head turning sharply to face him, ears flattening against his head in time with his ruffled warning growl.

You smiled at the scene, the courage to try coming to you at last.

“You sure you don’t want to kill us?” you asked jokingly. “Last chance.”

Yone turned to you, staring silently as if he was giving the question genuine thought, though the lightness in his exposed eye betrayed him.

“You and your pet demon will not be felled by my sword,” he confirmed lightheartedly, which brought a smile to your face, making it easier for you to make an attempt to form the words you had been idly rehearsing in your head all morning.

You could feel Kosen looking at you, likely sensing what was coming. You could only hope this would go well, knowing any thoughts in the other direction right now would make you lose your nerve.

“We make a good team,” you said, trying not to sound as anxious as you felt. You didn’t want to do anything to scare him away, or make him feel like he had to agree to stay. “We don’t have to go our own ways, if you don’t want to. You could stay with us.”

You expected pause, but your heart twinged in your chest when the look of shock, even horror, took over Yone’s features. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, when you were interrupted by a frantic voice behind you.

“Miss!” a young boy called out to you, looking out of breath as he came to a stop before you. “You’re a warrior, right?”

You didn’t want to look away from Yone, terrified that he would vanish the second you did, but something in the boy’s voice put you similarly on edge.

“I am,” you confirmed tensely, much easier than clarifying what you really were. “Is something wrong?”

“The Noxians are coming!” the boy exclaimed, the words tinging your blood icy. “The fishermen saw ships coming and they said to find all the warriors to fight them so everyone else can run away before we die!”

This was just what you didn’t need right now, the boy running off to gather others before you could ask him any further questions.

Kosen let out a soft chuff, which you answered with a nod. This discussion could happen later, after the issue of the Noxians had been handled. “We should go to the harbor and assess the situation.”

You took a few steps towards the direction of the water, noticing immediately that Yone wasn’t following you.

“…Yone?” you prompted, incredibly unnerved by the tension still in his face, his posture stiff. “We need to go, we likely don’t have much time.”

Yone’s eye went hard, all conflict vanishing from his face as if he had come to a decision.

“It does not concern me.”

“What?” You stared at him, not understanding, not until he spoke again.

“War creates more azakana,” he insisted sharply. “I have no time to waste fighting human battles when hundreds of azakana will soon be born.”

You noticed all too clearly that he had said I, not we, his words enraging you all the same.

“I know how azakana are created,” you replied, storming back over to him, his suddenly impassive gaze making you feel like you were talking to a stranger. “But there are people here now who will die if we just leave. Do you care so little about people’s lives?”

“I care about protecting them from threats they will not see coming,” he hissed back.

“There won’t be anything left for the azakana if the Noxians rip them apart first!” you argued, temper flaring. “Are you really so desperate to reject humanity that you would let this whole town die?”

You had been trying to get through to him, but by the fierce look in his eye, you realized you had done the exact opposite. You saw the warning signs on his face, reaching a hand out to him.

“Yone, wait–”

But he was gone, faster than you could ever hope to follow. Your chest was filled with regret immediately, too shocked to even cry.

Kosen nudged your hand with his head, letting out a sympathetic groan that drew your head down to look at him, and then the tears fell.

“Kosen…” you whimpered miserably, reality coming down on you with the force of a boulder. “I’m sorry, I messed up.”

Kosen’s growled reply told you he disagreed, the tiger always your fiercest defender.

You wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and cry into Kosen’s fur, to mourn the loss of your high hopes, to lose yourself in your fresh loneliness and pain, but you knew you couldn’t. Your pain was not the priority, not when so many lives were at stake. So, burying your regret in your chest for now, you turned to Kosen.

“We should probably… the harbor,” you spoke between sobs, hand running along Kosen’s soft fur, the tiger patiently waiting for you to calm yourself down.

It took a few minutes for your breaths to become even again, trying to bolster your own resolve as you looked at Kosen with wet eyes.

“I guess it’s just us again,” you tried to joke, your voice just sounding miserable to your own ears. This wasn’t how you wanted this to go, wishing you could take back your last words to Yone. Maybe things could have worked out if you could have just controlled your temper. “We should… we should go.”

Kosen by your side, you had only taken a few steps again towards the coast when heavy footfalls from behind you drew your attention. Even knowing that Yone’s footsteps had never been loud, you desperately hoped that they were his as you turned, and then suddenly your day got so much worse.

Kosen stepped protectively in front of you as Shusho rushed towards you, the desperation on his face giving you pause.

“The Noxians,” he panted, clearly as out of breath as the kid had been.

“I know,” you replied, guard up, Kosen snarling at your side. “We’re going to the harbor to meet up with the others.”

“You can’t!” he protested, only spiking your ire until he continued. “I saw… a group of them in the forest. I think they intend to strike first, to push the people to their forces on the water!”

“The forest?” you echoed, horrified. How Noxian was it to corner before the slaughter. If that was the case, the people stood little chance with soldiers coming at them from both sides.

“They’re planning to strike immediately,” he insisted, gesturing wildly behind him as if the army would appear at any second. “If we don’t cut them off, nobody here will have a chance!”

You hated how right he was, hated that it wasn’t Yone here in front of you asking for your help. But Yone was gone, and you doubted you would ever see him again. What mattered now was what you could do to help these people before they were slaughtered like cattle. And then you could deal with your own issues.

Mind frustratingly made up, you unsheathed your daggers, preparing for a fight.

“Lead the way.”

You knew Kosen was unhappy; you were too, but neither of you wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t stop the Noxians currently marching through the forest.

You followed Shusho into the woods, the man ahead of you straying from the main path immediately. You hoped for both your sakes that he had any fighting capability at all if you wanted any chance of surviving this. Kosen would be no doubt eating well after all this was over, if the pain threatening to consume you alive as you ran was any indication.

The area Shusho came to a stop in was quiet, too quiet, which set off blaring alarms in your head.

“They were here!” he insisted as you could feel your suspicions rising, at least until he pointed in the direction of a group of trees. “Over there!”

You squinted, a strange black shape just visible past the trees. Given Shusho’s exclamation, you figured your element of surprise had all but fled, so you darted over, dagger raised to strike quickly, only to emerge into a stranger situation than you had expected.

There were no Noxian soldiers in the clearing, no sign that they had been there at all, but the coast was certainly not all clear.

You ignored Kosen’s growl of warning, stepping forward to get a closer look at the swirling black mass that hovered just above the grass.

The large black oval was about the size of a full-length mirror, made of swirling black shapes that looked almost like thick smoke. You resisted the urge to touch the strange shape, overcome by a sense of dread from deep within you. Whatever this was, it was deeply wrong, you knew that much.

“This feels–”

Your words turned into a scream as you were pushed harshly from behind, falling forwards into the horrible dark, which easily accepted you into its welcoming embrace.

You emerged from the portal in an instant to a world of black.

The ground beneath you looked like black glass, so clear that you could see your reflection in it. Looking around in terror, you saw tall spindly trees that looked frighteningly like human forms, their feigned limbs twisted grotesquely. Their figures looked blurry, like you were looking at them through a warped lens, the humanlike trees getting no clearer the closer you walked to them.

Where were you? The wrong feeling you had felt before was crushing you now, and it was taking all your strength to keep standing.

There was no portal in sight, so you had no way out of this place. No Kosen or Shusho either, and you had no way of knowing if you were alone here or not. This place reminded you of your nightmares, unable to keep the terror down as you looked around the never-ending black, unable to find a way out.

You wouldn’t be alone for long. Casual, unhurried steps behind you had you turning to see Shusho, who was strolling towards you like he was on the streets back in Tevasa, not in this world of dark.

“We need to get out of here,” you insisted as you rushed over to him, finding some relief in seeing someone else here, even if that someone was Shusho. “Where is my tiger?”

“Not here,” he answered flippantly, wide smile discontenting amidst all the black. “And don’t worry, I’ll be leaving soon.”

“What are you talking about?” you demanded, fear giving rise to anger at his casual tone.

“You’ll see,” he answered cryptically. “After it gets here.”

“What?” You couldn’t make sense of any of this, but something in his words unnerved you worse than the portal or the creepy trees.

And then there was what felt like a ripple in the air, one that felt so horrible that it sent you to your knees, daggers clattering to the floor in favor of clasping your hands over your ears to try and block out the feelings attacking you.

The ripple vanished as soon as it had come, leaving you feeling breathless and small on the ground as you looked up to see a figure so large that it swallowed the sky, a figure you had thought you would only ever see again in your nightmares.

“No… no…” you gasped, trying to reach for your daggers, but hands shaking too hard to grasp hold of them.

“Sweet daughter of sorrow,” it purred, voice so intense in this place that it shook the ground beneath you. “Surely you did not think you would be spared forever?”

“This can’t be happening right now…” you shuddered, breathing hard as you looked to your side, to where Kosen always was, to see only your reflection in the smooth black ground. You looked like a mess, eyes wide with fear, Shusho’s grinning form looming behind you like a sinister shadow, which drew your attention back to his strange calm.

“What are you doing?” you implored him, eyes still darting around for an escape. “We need to get out of here now. You don’t know what that thing is capable of!”

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, and then something clicked into place in your mind. He was far too casual, too nonchalant in the face of the horrors all around you, for the nightmarish beast in the sky who seemed content to watch the scene before it with a wide, hungry smile.

“What did you do?” you questioned him, voice shaky with anger.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” he answered smugly.

“What did you do?” you repeated furiously, your hands finding grip on your daggers at last, up on your feet in an instant.

“All I did was pay you back for being such a stuck-up bitch,” he retorted haughtily. “I told you you’d regret thinking you were too good for me, and now I’m gonna get what I’m owed.”

“So then all that stuff about the Noxians?” you prompted, needing to confirm your suspicions.

Shusho’s laugh sounded even louder in this quiet, barren world. “Worked even better than I thought. Kid only wanted two gold to run over and cry Noxians. I knew your little boyfriend wouldn’t be one to stick around for any real threats. After that, it was easy to lure you to the portal and push you in.”

“Wait, then there isn’t a Noxian fleet at all?” you gasped, your suspicions not having progressed past the forest yet.

“You catch on slow,” he sniffed. “Good thing I’m not interested in your brains. That’s the deal.”

“Are you insane?” you shouted, keeping one eye on the azakana that had destroyed your life so many years ago. “Whatever it promised you, it lied. Azakana don’t honor their deals or care about anything but themselves!”

“It didn’t promise too much,” Shusho replied haughtily, clearly unconvinced by your words. “It’s sure got a big thing for you, not hard to see why. Our deal was easy, it eats your soul and I get what’s left over minus all the attitude for whatever I want. Win-win.”

You felt sick at the realization. This sick freak made a deal with an azakana just to get to a body that couldn’t say no?

“If you think you’ll be around long enough for that to happen, you’re stupider than I thought,” you seethed, weapons now at the ready.

Shusho actually looked briefly startled by your threat, his eyes darting to the dark shape that was the sky, who seemed to be relishing the scene before it.

“Well what are you waiting for?” he shrieked at the azakana, backing away from you with quick steps.

“She speaks true,” it drawled, coming to loom over both of you, plunging the area into its shadow. “You have brought me my long-awaited meal, but I will not overlook an appetizer. Not when it has walked itself most willingly into my den.”

It was Shusho’s turn to panic now, his face red with anger. “You– we had a deal! Fine, just eat her then, I’m leaving!”

“Where will you go?” the azakana purred. “There is nowhere to run now. It is time for a lesson that you will learn too late.”

You dashed away from Shusho as the shadow descended rapidly, plucking Shusho from the floor as easily as if he weighed nothing. His final scream was short as he was pulled apart from every direction, vanishing into the darkness as if he was never there.

You felt nothing but contempt for the conman; he had gotten what he deserved, but that still left you without a solution for your problem. If the azakana from your childhood went to these lengths to get you here, then you had little chance of making it out of this alive.

Your last thought before its attention turned to you was of Kosen. You were sorry to leave him, and hoped he would be okay after you were gone. But for now, you intended to put up a fight, daunting as it was.

Yone walked silently through the forest, accompanied by only his troubled thoughts.

He had been so close, so desperate to take your offer, to feel like he could be alive again.

But he couldn’t, and the truth of why was plain on his face. Nobody could look at him and see anything but a monster, nobody but you. He didn’t belong to the human world, given he hadn’t been human in many years, he had lost that right after all his failures.

You were so good, so human, and it reminded him of everything he could have been, if he hadn’t turned into what he was. You remained human, even amidst the worst moment of your life, while he had fallen so low that he was unrecognizable. He had become just like the monsters he hunted, and needed to remain far from you. You were beautiful, a ray of light far too bright for his eyes, one that he wouldn’t allow himself to taint. The sight of your frantic expression just before he left had nearly broke him, and again it was because of him, because his fragile control of himself was so fractured when he was around you.

He would disappear back into the darkness, kill azakana from the shadows, and never be so foolish again. To think that he would accuse you of being a monster, when he was the one whose soul was tainted by regrets that he refused to acknowledge. This was his role, he resolved, even as his soul screamed at him to return to you. He would never make a mistake like that again, never pretend to be anything but a monster.

Yone’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a strong azakana presence that was only getting closer. The Noxian invasion had to have begun then, his mind drifting to you almost against his will before he snapped it back to the present. This was familiar, this was his purpose, and with that in mind, he drew his swords, ready to go back to the dull and familiar.

What emerged from the brush stilled his swords. Kosen, in his azakana form, leaped through the brush, Yone’s frustration vanishing as soon as he noticed the tiger’s erratic behavior.

Kosen roared at him, unable to stay still in his panic. His roars sounded like nothing Yone had heard from him before, not even when they had first met. As he stared at the clearly-frantic azakana, Yone realized with an unsettling feeling that you were nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” he asked, unable to shake the horrible feeling that had settled over him.

Kosen didn’t waste a second, roaring furiously before turning around and rocketing back where he had come from. Fear spiking, Yone darted after him without another word, both of them easily able to move through the forest at top speed.

What would he see when they got to wherever Kosen was leading him? Yone knew the azakana cared deeply for you, and so it would likely take a very dire situation for him to leave your side to find help.

Would you be lying in your own blood, cleaved apart by Noxian soldiers, or worse? Yone had a hard time imagining what could be worse, but he desperately hoped you would still be alive by the time he got there.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had left thinking you would be better off without him, so what could have happened in the short time since he had left you?

What Yone found instead of the bloodshed he had expected was a violently swirling portal, the tendrils of black that made up its surface whipping around like they were waves in the midst of a storm.

Kosen’s furor only got more intense as he dashed over to the portal, leaping at it, only to instead leap through it as if it wasn’t there. Turning back to Yone, Kosen yowled desperately, trying to explain what had happened to you.

“She’s in there,” Yone asserted, Kosen growling an agreement.

The confirmation only made his bad feeling grow worse. The portal in front of him was clearly demonic in nature; Yone could feel the waves of power radiating off it as if the azakana that had no doubt created it was standing before him. Wherever you were now, if you had gone through that portal, then your life would clearly be in very immediate danger.

Without a second thought, Yone dashed through the portal… only to move through it instead, just as Kosen had. Trying again, Yone was met with the same result, his failure sparking an unfamiliar wave of panic within him.

Kosen seemed equally as dismayed by his failure, which made Yone wonder just how you had gone through without Kosen. You weren’t risk-averse, but he had also known you not to be foolish. He respected your skill, but you would have to have known that this was a clear danger to you, so then why…?

Regret festered in his mind. Yone had long shied away from regrets; he was no longer who he had been back when he was alive, what right did he have to carry any regrets? Monsters couldn’t regret.

But right now, Yone knew he would regret it for the rest of his existence if he couldn’t get to you right now.

Dashing to the portal once more, Yone entered it this time, unaware of his mask slipping off his face at long last and falling to the ground.

The shadow liked to talk while you fought.

“So naïve,” it chided you, as if you were a misbehaving child. “Untainted by suspicion. Unseeing of coincidences.”

“Speak plainly!” you insisted, dodging a slash from one of its many shadowed arms. You had a feeling that it wasn’t using anywhere near all of its strength, intent on gathering as much of your tortured emotions together as possible before it devoured you, which was something you could work with for now if you ever wanted to see Kosen again.

The azakana was only too happy to indulge your request for information.

“Sweet child of sorrow, I have seen you reach for salvation,” he alliterated, which only served to annoy you more as you severed another arm at the wrist before it could reach you. “I could not allow my long-simmered meal to become tainted with gaiety, so it has become time to bring you back to me.”

“So you promised some rapist a mindless corpse to fuck?” you seethed. Killing Shusho was likely the only good thing this monster would ever do.

“He was quite useful,” the azakana replied, seeming pleased by its own work. “But it took so much more to bring you here to me. Here, where we can finally be together again.”

You grew tired of the demon not just saying what it meant, resolving not to give it what it wanted and instead focusing on hacking as many arms apart as you could, their puppet master still widely grinning down at you with sharp teeth.

“It is no matter to bend weaker brethren to my will,” it bragged, your thoughts immediately turning to the only azakana you had any contact with recently.

“Then you… made it flee?” you asked, needing to know.

“And I made it die,” it responded gleefully, which only pushed your confidence in yourself lower; if this azakana had the power to command others to die, then it was the strongest opponent you had ever faced.

Cruel laughter accompanied your realizations; it was in their nature to sense emotions, so your downswing had been detected immediately. You could not hide anything from the source of your oldest pain, and you both knew it. You had been stupid to believe that you were free, to dismiss your sole survivor status as a coincidence after so many years of being free was exactly what had brought you here.

You didn’t want to die, especially not here in this lonely black world. Shusho’s death had been quick, ultimately meaningless to the shadow that was the sky, but yours has meaning to it. Yours was a prize that it had waited so many years for and you knew there was little chance that the consumption of your soul would be just as drawn out.

You hoped Kosen would be okay without you, back there in the world you had shared with him for so many years. And more than anything else, you wish you had seen this coming.

The azakana reached out to you with so many arms, just like the twisted ones on the trees surrounding you, and this time, you didn’t think you could repel them all.

It was so silent that you heard the shout of your name loud and clear in time with the arms that dotted the sky all being slashed in half at once, the azakana’s resulting shriek telling you that it had actually felt some level of pain from the attack.

The figure that appeared next to you was so familiar in all ways, barring the two red eyes that met yours, wide with desperation.

“Yone…?”

You couldn’t believe it was him, that he was really here. You were so sure that you would die without seeing him again, whether you made it out of here or not.

While you stood in stunned silence, Yone quickly sheathed one sword, reaching out to take hold of your arm. “Are you okay?”

You were still so shocked to see him without a mask that it took you a long moment to gather yourself. He had found you. He had come back for you. The information was almost too much to accept. The tenderness in his eyes and the firmness of his touch made you immediately feel less alone.

“Is Kosen okay?’ you asked, needing to know if Shusho had done anything to your closest friend.

“He found me,” Yone explained. “He was unable to enter the portal. I’m suspecting now that it blocks unwanted azakana from interfering.”

“So he’s okay,” you said, body sagging with relief. You didn’t know what you would have done if something had happened to him.

“Why did you come here alone?” Yone asked, voice less accusing and more concerned.

“I wasn’t alone,” you scoffed. “Shusho lured me into the forest, said the Noxians were planning an ambush and then pushed me into the portal. Turns out it was all lies, Noxus isn’t invading at all. He even paid that kid off to… separate us.”

You felt too uncomfortable to admit that they had been trying to scare Yone off, not wanting him to feel bad, but his face fell all the same.

“…and I played my part,” he admitted bitterly, easily understanding the situation before his expression turned deadly. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” you answered with no shame or guilt. “Trusted an azakana to keep its end of the deal and paid the price.”

“…and his end?” Yone insisted, voice tight with the foresight that he wasn’t going to like whatever the answer was.

“I’ll tell you if we live,” you replied, noticing that the demonic arms were beginning to reforge themselves around you again.

As you stared at the azakana overlooking you both with hunger, you realized you hadn’t explained everything yet, and were rapidly running out of time for the most important part.

“Yone, this is the one from my village,” you spoke gravely, mind flashing back to that scene against your will. “It lured us here using that fire demon. I think it’s been after me for a long time and I’ve just been too stupid to notice. Just… this isn’t your fight if you don’t want it to be. I need you to know that.”

You weren’t entirely sure there was even a way out of here, but you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you didn’t give him an out regardless. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I won’t leave your side again,” he replied, resolve firm as he assessed the situation.

“Okay,” you said, unable to keep the relief off of your face, much to the azakana’s displeasure.

“Sweetest sorrow, you will still end here,” it taunted you from the sky. “I think I will kill him in front of you before I claim you for mine at last.”

“Greater azakana have failed,” Yone hissed back, taking a protective stance in front of you.

You got into a fighting stance as well, unwilling to be an easy meal for the monster that had butchered your family and village. You had to believe you would live, that you could defeat the threat that was all around you. You wanted to leave here with Yone, to see Kosen again, to fight your way back to the world you wanted to return to.

The onslaught was immediate, your burgeoning hope likely souring your taste to the demon who struck out with a thousand arms at once.

He was clearly aiming for Yone, attempting to make good on his threats, but Yone wasn’t easy prey. Yone dashed forward with a sweeping slash, easily destroying dozens of shadowy hands with one swipe of his blade. There was no true wind in this place, but his graceful movements almost looked like he was dancing with the air, the azakana’s attacks ripped up as if they were in the midst of a tornado.

You did your best to cover any areas Yone couldn’t, but you still felt like you weren’t contributing anywhere near equally. Yone fought with a fury you had never seen in him, a desperation that you hoped that you had a hope of matching.

You had no idea how long you had been fighting for. Your stress seemed to warp your sense of time entirely, twisting it into being measured by the next movement you made, unable to think of anything but your survival.

Slowly, you began to feel that you were gaining the upper hand. With every limb you cut down, less and less took its place, but the small victory did not come without consequence.

You couldn’t deny your own condition was worsening, every move you made draining a little more energy from you. As you panted, Yone struck fiercely, ignoring the arms now to lash out at the azakana itself.

You were intent on doing your part, even as your muscles ached and your lungs burned with fatigue. You would not let Yone down.

The azakana had long since lost its composure, screeching out incoherently as each attempt to kill Yone fell apart at the seams.

You saw its last-ditch attempt first, veins of black slithering along the ground, twining together to create a clawed hand, each nail sharpened to a deadly point. From the size alone, you doubted it could be easily broken apart… and it was aimed straight at Yone.

“Yone!” you screamed, but your voice seemed to come out as if you were trapped in a glass box, and as you ran in the direction of the clawed hand, you discovered why.

You reeled back from the wall you couldn’t see, the contact with the now-distorted air like a shock to your system, the pain crushing until you jumped back from it. The azakana had created some sort of invisible box around you as you fought, and now you were cut off from Yone, forced to watch in horror.

You were terrified by your own helplessness, begging Yone to turn back and see what was coming, but he didn’t. Trying to break through the barrier again only brought you more excruciating pain, like you were being stabbed with a thousand needles at once, forcing you to pull back again.

“Watch,” the azakana’s voice whispered in your ear. “Watch as he dies.”

“No!” you screamed, stabbing desperately at the barrier that surrounded you, pinpricks of pain shooting up your arms, but you didn’t stop as you watched the hand slink through the dark towards where Yone confronted the azakana’s masked smile. “Yone, behind you! Yone!”

But he didn’t, locked in combat with the azakana, unaware of anything other than taking it down. The hand would wait no longer, shooting across the sky, intent on piercing through Yone, if the azakana’s continued chanting of watch him die only getting louder all around you was any indication.

Your feet spurned into action, not having even a second to spare. You were ready for the wall this time, sprinting full force at it, agony immediately catching fire along your skin.

Clenching your teeth against the pain, you pushed harder. No pain would be worse than losing Yone right now, and it was that thought that broke your head through the barrier as if you broke through the surface of the ocean.

“Yone!”

Your scream rang out through the quiet like a gunshot, Yone turning immediately, spotting the weapon the azakana had intended to end his life with. In a split second as you watched, frozen with pain, Yone moved swiftly out of the way, the demon hand unable to correct course, piercing its own mask through the hooked nose.

You felt the barrier dissolve immediately, falling to your knees as the aftershocks of pain began to ebb and then vanish completely.

It was so quiet. Looking up to the sky, you saw the azakana’s mask crumbling to pieces, the deep black demon no longer there to fill it.

You lost sight of the crumbling demon as your vision was taken up by Yone landing near you, crouching down before you, a hand resting on your cheek.

“You’re alive,” you said, still in shock.

“Because you warned me,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss you.

It was a gentle kiss, one you happily reciprocated, leaning into Yone even as your muscles screamed at you.

Pulling apart, you couldn’t help but smile. “If you still had your mask, I think it would be poking me in the eyes right about now.”

“My–” Yone looked shocked, his deep red eyes wide as he reached up to feel the face that had been hidden from him for so long. “But how…?”

“You said Kosen couldn’t come through the portal,” you said, coming to a realization that made you smile. “Didn’t you say you thought no azakana could enter?”

“I… did,” he confirmed, voice shaking, eyes trained on your face as if you were the one who was recently unmasked.

“Then you’re human, Yone,” you insisted gently, the revelation stunning him into silence. “…does that bother you?”

Yone let out a shaky breath, one that he had probably been holding in for years.

“…no,” he answered at last, leaning forward to rest his head on your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek. “I didn’t care what I had to become as long as I could protect you.”

You reached a hand up, idly petting his hair until you noticed something forming behind him.

“Yone, I think we can go now,” you spoke, eyes on the reward for all your hard work, the shining white portal an inversion of the one you had been shoved into.

Standing up together, you made your way to the portal, your fatigue fading in the face of the way out, walking towards safety with Yone at your side.

It was dark when you both emerged from the portal, your field of vision reduced to black as you were tackled to the ground by a ferociously worried Kosen.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, Kosen rubbing his face all over you, his broken purr loud in your ears.

It took a while for Kosen to let you up as you tried to explain what had happened, the azakana especially happy to hear about what had become of Shusho, if not slightly disappointed that he didn’t get to him first.

You were petting Kosen’s head when you finally noticed Yone behind you, staring down at his hand, which grasped the mask that used to be on his face. It must be strange for him, seeing the demon whose face he had worn for so long in his hands, no longer able to hide his face below its own.

The demon was long dead, but now it would truly hold no power in this world.

Kosen noticed your new focus and nudged your hand, looking at you with knowing eyes.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you it’s not like that?” you whispered, the tiger snorting his answer, which made you smile. “Okay, maybe we kissed. Once. I think he’s staying with us, Kosen.”

Kosen huffed, his eyes clearly reading well, that was obvious. He groaned at you, jerking his head towards Yone while standing up, distancing himself from your fingers and retreating towards a thick brush.

“Wait, Kosen, I–” you tried to protest, but he was gone, and you could swear you could hear his amused huffs in the distance.

Closing your eyes tightly, you took a second to compose yourself. Were you really being the recipient of Kosen’s wingman skills that you had no idea he had even possessed?

Standing up, you made your way over to Yone, who looked up from his mask as you entered his field of vision.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your gaze going down to the mask and then back up to his eyes in silent question.

Yone sighed, allowing the mask to drop from his grip and fall back onto the grass. “I thought I had moved on from my past, let my regrets lie back in that spot where I died… I never thought I would wear regret so plainly on my face.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you said gently, resting a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. “Nobody wants to face the worst moment in their life head on. I know I couldn’t have survived mine again without you. I still can’t believe I’m free.”

“It wouldn’t have had the chance to take you if not for me,” Yone remarked bitterly.

“I don’t care,” you declared, boldly moving to wrap your arms around Yone’s neck, his focus shifting entirely to how close you were, hands ghosting over your waist as if he was unsure whether or not to reciprocate. “I just don’t want you to leave me again, if that’s okay with you.”

“I…” Yone seemed speechless, but then you felt his hands make contact with your waist at last, his touch steady, decisive.

Yone stepped closer to you, the crunch of his old mask underfoot ringing out in the silent forest. You looked down, barely able to see the now-cracked mask before Yone’s speed overtook you and you were pressed against a tree, his mouth on yours.

“Your guard cat has left his post,” Yone mused, pulling back only slightly from the kiss, red eyes alight with an intent that made you flush with anticipation.

You knew you had wanted his body on yours for a while now, unable to pin down the exact moment your feelings had changed while he was looking at you like he wanted you just as badly.

You had never kissed anyone before, only wondered idly what you were missing, but now, you didn’t think you could go on without knowing what it would be like to give yourself to someone entirely. In your pitiful daydreams, no man could ever come close to Yone, his heart as valuable to you as his body. But right now, all of your focus was on his body, pressed closely against you, his eyes on yours seemingly awaiting a response, a confirmation, you realized.

“Please,” you whispered, wanting nothing more right now than to have his lips on yours again.

The single word seemed to do something to Yone, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a shaky exhale. You gave him the moment he clearly needed, the vulnerable expression on his face bringing a smile to your lips. Had he shown this face to anyone else? Even before he died, he seemed to think his own feelings were a burden to others. Seeing him like this now only made you want to push him further, to see more expressions that were for your eyes only. So when his eyes opened again, you pounced, knocking both of you to the ground.

Even as he fell onto his back, you noticed that Yone made sure to cushion your fall with his body, only making you more sure that this was what you had been missing for so many years.

You didn’t let your inexperience bother you, eager kisses pressed to Yone’s neck immediately rewarding you with a deep groan from his lips, his hand coming to anchor itself in your hair.

He looked so good under you, cheeks flushed and dark hair spread out under him, looking like he needed no more than you right now in this moment.

But Yone wanted more than to be stared at, pulling you back down to him, his tongue against yours catching you off guard long enough for him to move you onto your back, your belt off and discarded before you noticed what was happening.

“Back then,” he rasped, pulling your pants and underwear down and off your willing legs, his hand then kneading your thigh, your shirt riding up with your squirming to fully expose your pussy to his hungry eyes. “Back then, in that inn… I didn’t deserve you, but I wanted you.”

Your mind flashed back to that night, to Yone teasing you before his bath… you wished you had known how he really felt back then. For now, you wanted to keep seeing that look on his face aimed in your direction.

“I thought I was dreaming,” you admitted with a breathy laugh as Yone continued to draw circles idly on your thigh. “I’ve never wanted this with anyone but you.”

Your words spurred him into action, and then he was lifting your legs, easing your thighs over his shoulders as his mouth settled between your legs.

You were so sensitive that every brush of his tongue against you felt like a shock to your system. You felt Yone shiver against you as you moaned his name, redoubling his efforts in response, your nails digging into the ground as you tried to keep yourself still, not wanting to offset his tongue by even an inch, Yone finding the perfect angle that even you struggled to find sometimes in an instant.

You had thought he had as little experience as you, but he was eating you out like he had done so a thousand times, your cries of his name turning to babbled gibberish against your will. Nothing you had ever done to yourself could compare to Yone’s determined tongue, his breath coming out in hot pants against your sensitive skin.

“Yone,” you moaned as the pressure began to intensify too fast for you to properly explain, but Yone seemed to understand. “Please, it’s…”

Bracing one arm on your stomach to gently keep you from squirming, Yone barraged your clit with his tongue, again and again in that one spot that you needed so badly. You tried your best in your hazy state to keep your thighs from compressing his head, but Yone embraced it instead, his other hand held tight to one thigh, locking you in place just where he wanted you.

Tears came to your eyes as you finally, finally got there, your orgasm drawn out expertly by the man between your legs who finally pulled back with a satisfied smile, his deep red eyes meeting yours.

As you breathed through the tiny aftershocks of pleasure, one thought came clearly to the front of your mind. You wanted to see what face he would make when it was him on the receiving end. Chest heaving from exertion, you forced yourself up on shaky arms, reaching out for Yone’s belt that still bared the masks of fallen azakana.

Yone let you toss his belt to the side, neither of you paying the demonic death masks any mind. You looked up at Yone’s face as you untied his sarong, his red eyes watching you intently.

Any brief doubts you had of Yone’s interest in you were erased as he discarded his sarong himself, leaning into you as you ran a hand along his very hard cock, the outline clear against his tight pants.

Yone groaned your name in your ear as you continued to stroke him through his pants, the usually-stoic man clearly as desperate as you were.

“I don’t–” he panted, pressing heated kisses against your neck. “I want to be inside you.”

“I want that too,” you admitted heatedly. “Show me what you wanted to do to me in that inn.”

Your words got immediate response from Yone, who had you flat on your back in an instant, his mouth on yours and clothed hips canting into yours.

Reaching a hand between your bodies, you opened your shirt’s front clasps, exposing your bra to the air, Yone drawing back with a sharp inhale, looking entranced by you.

“I dreamed about you that night,” he admitted, rearing back to take his pants off with determined intent. “I woke up and you weren’t there. If you had been there next to me, I don’t think I could’ve resisted you.”

You shivered, again wishing that you had been there, wishing he had told you this then. You clearly had a lot of making up to do.

Sitting up, you took your shirt and bra off, tossing them to join Yone’s clothing in the grass.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, you prompted Yone back to a sitting position, his hands coming to your sides as you climbed into his lap, leaning in to kiss his waiting mouth. Yone responded eagerly, one hand coming to the side of your head, his tongue against yours making your face dizzy with heat.

He was so hard against you, and you were so impatient now, pulling back briefly enough to lift yourself angling Yone’s cock just right before sinking down onto him, the man letting out a low groan of surprise, eyes shutting briefly as he easily bottomed out with how wet you were.

Yone looked wrecked already as he opened his eyes again, his hand stroking your hair as he looked at you in a way you never thought you would ever see.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, his hands going back down to your waist to begin to lift you up and down on his lap, any words you were going to say in response swallowed by his lips, which sought yours every time you came back down.

Your own hands roamed his upper body, along his bandaged arms, feeling his muscles flex as he smoothly maneuvered you, so perceptive to every little noise you made.

Just as you felt your legs giving out on you, you found yourself flat on your back again, Yone above you, hiking your legs up and over his hips. You wordlessly obeyed, mesmerized by the look of him, hair mussed, staring at you with reverence.

And then he was back inside you and you forgot everything but his name, clawing at his body, his arm wrappings coming loose from your frantic fingers.

“You feel so good,” he groaned at your ear, the words going straight to your head, the feeling in your lower stomach doubling instantly.

You needed to make him cum. Finding a second wind with that resolution, you met his thrusts, pulling his hips down into yours with an intensity that seemed to break something in Yone, his body flattening you to the ground, keeping your body tight to his as he pounded into you now, pace frantic.

You couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell Yone just how close you were again as he fucked you into the ground, pressing hot kisses to your mouth, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you came again.

Pushing through your quickly-approaching overstimulation, you rolled your hips up to meet Yone’s, leaning up to meet tongues with him for a few more intense moments before he stilled at last, clutching you to him, passionate kisses turning soft as he rolled you onto your sides, pulling back to press his forehead against yours.

Yone looked almost in disbelief as he brushed a hand against your cheek, smiling softly at you when you leaned into his hand.

“I suppose maybe I am human,” he mused, petting your hair as you cuddled up to him, his heartbeat against your ear only further affirming his words.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me now,” you said slyly, more sure of it now than ever. “Unless you can think up a good excuse to flee into the night.”

You expected him to laugh, but he was quiet for a long moment, so quiet that you pulled back from his chest to look at his face, his mouth set in a frown that gave you pause.

“I won’t leave you again,” he promised, eyes resolute. “I won’t allow my cowardice to nearly take you from me again.”

“You didn’t know,” you replied sternly, unwilling to allow him to sink back into regret. “I think I’ve done quite enough to prove to you that I’m still alive and well.”

You accompanied your words with a clenching of your inner muscles on his half-hard cock, still inside you, the feeling sending Yone’s eyes closing shut with a groan. “…unless you need another demonstration?”

“…please,” Yone’s desperate voice relented immediately, and you were only happy to oblige.

[gideonproductions]

Modest Proposal

I got an email from a distributor. He was asking for scripts that are three minutes long. If your script is accepted, they will then either take the audio you recorded or allow you to record at their space, then they will record an introduction, create an image and release the show.

In return, there's no offer of money. You will then share 50% of the IP of the story with the distributor. There's no mention of who owns the audio, but I'd have to assume the distributor.

This was on a larger list of people and this distributor was respectfully called out for being a predatory IP farmer, and the distributor's response to that was also respectful and curious about what was wrong with the ask, and what a better proposal might be.

(If you feel so compelled, please don't harass or seek out this distributor - I just described the email so I could answer it here.)

Intellectual Property is a really tangly thing. The person who invented the story owns it... but we're all standing on the shoulders of giants and ever since the Medicis, we've all been hoping someone would buy what we make. In the modern capitalistic world, nobody is going to buy anything that they can't sell for more - and that's the rub.

How much more? And who gets to keep it?

If a person creates something and you want to utilize its value, then you either need to allow them to sell it to other people or you have to compensate them. I know this is a very dry way to explain it, but if you want to live on the business side of things then you have to look at the chunks of entertainment as if they are "units that need to be moved".

A writer writes a script. A director crafts that script into a story that can be understood by everyone. Each actor creates a character. Every designer creates the world that the story exists within. So... who owns what?

If you are going to retain ownership of the final product, then your pay-scale should reflect a buy-out of future earnings. If you can't afford a buy-out, then you should negotiate a share of your future earnings.

But let me go back to the emailed proposal I got. The distributor felt that his company's ability to provide an introduction, a "kick-ass image" and distribution was enough to secure 50% ownership of the piece forever. Nobody on the list felt like this was equitable.

A better proposal would be to fund and produce and an entire season of a show - maybe 8-10 25-30 minute episodes - and then share the revenue from ad sales on the feed. If. distributor is willing to do that, then that's a start for a better offer.

Gideon was offered a low-end budget that didn't quite cover the cost of a season of a podcast, then 30% of the ad sales and 33% of the IP when it went to market. The offer they made included huge marquee-name actors, and it was a film company that intended to make it into a movie. After some not very-intense soul-searching, we walked away.

While we don't regret saying no, it's a pretty good deal!!! There was nothing predatory about it and they weren't IP farming, they sought us out and wanted to make *this* show, they weren't just throwing a huge bunch of ideas into the world and waiting to see what would hit.

There's nothing wrong with IP Farming from a business point-of-view. And like any business deal, you have to offer the price you can afford and see if the seller is cool with that. There's no right or wrong here. But the price being offered here isn't, in my opinion, an investment that makes a sale worth it.

[teine-mallaichte]

Happy Friday x3 For Dragon Age Drunk writing, how about: There always needed to be a reason, an excuse for their bodies to touch. From the touch starved list for Fenders? x3 Of course only if you feel like it. Happy writing x3

Not sure why I took this route, but I hate writing dialogue so obviously my brain went "let's write a dialogue heavy scene where the two characters the scene is about dint actually speak. 😑 Ye... I don't know either 😅

So ye, @dadrunkwriting fic of Hawke getting irritated watching two touch-starved idiots dance around each other. Might be an unofficial part of my Campfire Snippets series to be honest.

As the campfire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the clearing, Hawke leaned back against a log, observing the dynamics between Fenris and Anders. He had noticed the subtle shifts in their relationship—moments that spoke volumes in the quiet language of shared glances and hesitant touches, they way Anders especially seemed to find excuses to brush against Fenris, as if seeking reassurance in the brief contact.

It was no secret that Fenris struggled with the physical contact. Hawke could see the tension in his muscles whenever Anders reached out, the reflexive flinch betraying Fenris's discomfort. But something was different, unlike the usual reaction of anger that followed such attempts at intimacy, Fenris's response seemed tempered, almost subdued. It was a subtle nuance that didn't escape Hawke's keen observation. While the anger still simmered beneath the surface, its target had shifted. Instead of directing his ire outward, towards the perceived threat of intrusion, Fenris seemed to turn it inward as if he was annoyed by his own reactions.

Anders, on the other hand, craved touch like a drowning man craved air, seeking solace in the simple brush of fingertips or the warmth of a shared embrace. Hawke understood the ache that drove him—the loneliness, the longing for warmth in a world that had often been cold and unforgiving.

Hawke sighed, watching as the two dance around each other, their movements tentative yet filled with unspoken desire. He knew Varric found entertainment in their silent courtship, but for Hawke, it was starting to wear thin.

"Blondie seems to be getting bolder," Varric remarked.

Hawke nodded, his gaze never leaving the pair by the fire. "It's like he is constantly looking for any excuse," he replied, a hint of concern in his tone as he glanced over to Varric. "Either Anders has either become extremely clumsy or these 'accidents' are less than accidental."

Varric chuckled knowingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He's not exactly being subtle."

Hawke let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "No, he's not," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I keep expecting Fenris to snap."

The drawf shakes his head, "You're not paying enough attention." Varric leaned back against the log, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "It's not just Blondie who's looking for excuses," he added cryptically.

Hawke furrowed his brow, considering Varric's cryptic statement.

As he looked back over at the two, watching carefully, as he noticed something new. Fenris might flinch and pull away from Anders's touch, but there were moments, brief and fleeting, where he didn't. Moments when Fenris leaned into the contact ever so slightly before catching himself and withdrawing. Before looking irritated at himself once more.

Anders allowed his hand to “accidentally” brush against Fenris’s as he reached for a log to feed the fire. The contact was brief, but Hawke saw it—the slightest pause, a hitch in Fenris’s breath, a momentary lapse in his carefully constructed walls.

Varric’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing. “See? It’s a dance they’re both in, whether they admit it or not.”

Hawke couldn’t help but agree. There was a dance of push and pull, a choreography of yearning that both seemed to partake in. "Well I hope the dance reaches a conclusion soon. I can't take this much longer."

[leonbloder]

Learning To Live Fully Alive

Last month, during my stay in Denver, I saw a concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater, one of the most incredible venues in America.

The photo below is from the concert and shows the incredible beauty of this natural amphitheater high above the city in the beautiful Red Rocks Park suburb of Morrison, CO.

The artist I went to see that night was the Avett Brothers, an alt-country duo I have been listening to for years but have never seen live.

The evening weather was perfect for the concert—clear, cool, and marked by a fantastic sunset. And the Avett Brothers were terrific.

I have come to truly appreciate one of the Avett Brothers' recorded songs, but hearing it live took my appreciation to a whole new level. The song "No Hard Feelings" reflects on a life spent seeking peace and unity despite all the challenges that seek to destroy both.

Here are the lyrics that really speak to me:

When my body won't hold me anymore And it finally lets me free Where will I go? Will the trade winds take me south through Georgia grain? Or tropical rain? Or snow from the heavens? Will I join with the ocean blue? Or run into a savior true? And shake hands laughing And walk through the night, straight to the light Holding the love I've known in my life And no hard feelings…

None of us know exactly what happens to us when we die. Any idea we have is pure speculation, or to put it another way, our best guess.

I trust that there is so much more on the other side of the reality we experience in this life, and I also firmly believe that whatever that looks like is beautiful beyond our imagination.

Which is why I love the lyrics of this song so much.

The singer's musings hint at the unknown, but each scenario he imagines of the afterlife is filled with beauty and peace without a hint of regret.

The song actually ends with these words being softly sung over and again:

"I have no enemies."

I love this refrain. It speaks to forgiveness, letting go of hurts, embracing love, and surrendering to the serenity that comes from losing ourselves to find ourselves.

I listened to this song quite a few times during my long hours behind the wheel last month and understood a few things that need to be shared.

The first revelation comes as a question because that's how it came to me as I reflected on all this: "When I come to the end of my life, can I say that I didn't just live, but that I was truly alive?"

This is a question I have been pondering a lot lately, especially while I was traveling alone across the country for the past several weeks.

What does it mean to live fully alive all the time, no matter what we are doing or where we find ourselves? It has much to do with finding peace that frees us from regret and bitterness.

This leads me to the second revelation, which is just as important as the first: Be intentional.

The late Thich Nhat Hanh once wrote:

Every twenty-four-hour day is a tremendous gift to us. So we all should learn to live in a way that makes joy and happiness possible.

For Hanh, this meant beginning each day by being mindful of his breathing, acknowledging each breath, and reminding himself that he was given the gift of a new day and that he had to live in it. In other words, he was intentional about living fully.

I've come to believe that the fulfillment of this intentionality is different for each of us.

For some, it means intentionally spending time outside each day to take in what nature offers through inspiration, peace, and joy. For others, it is spending time with loved ones and friends in life-giving and meaningful ways.

For others, it might mean solitude and silence, reading, writing, and creating art, which feeds the mind, body, and soul.

I suppose, for my part, I tend to want to employ all of these ways of being intentional, but my opponent in making it happen always seems to be time. This leads me to the last revelation: We make time for what's most important.

This can go both ways. If we feel that all of our time is taken up by actions and reactions to busyness, stress, bitterness, anger, conflict, deadlines, and the like, then we have to admit to ourselves those are the things we prioritize over our own peace.

I am shifting my thinking and priorities toward more life-giving ways of being.

I'm learning that when I prioritize living fully in the things that are truly important to me (connection with others, time with my kids, creativity, being in nature, silence, and solitude), all of the demands on my time tend to become much easier to handle.

And all of this leads to a more regret-free, conflict-free, and spiritually-free way to live fully.

May we all find ways to seek the kind of peace that comes from the Spirit to set us free toward becoming the people God longs for us to be.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.

[god-whispers]

mar 27

wake up sleeper

"now the angel who talked with me came back and wakened me, as a man who is wakened out of his sleep." zech 4:1

i watched an interesting video recently.  it was about how the church was asleep, mostly here in the western world but in various areas all over.  if christian persecution hasn't yet touched you, be forewarned, it is fast approaching.  i heard someone describe it as a "satanic sleep" many are in.  that really spoke to my spirit.

the following might help us understand how asleep some are.  it seems there was a young christian woman who had escaped to america from the persecution in iran.  after a while here, amid the complacency and watered-down word, she was wanting to return to her own country and the persecution.  she could see her values and commitment being slowly eaten away and knew the sharp sword of persecution would keep her centered; dependent on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.

i can see the compromise she spoke of myself; alive and flourishing in so many churches.  besides that, we get so caught up in our rules and doctrines.  you have to do this and you have to do that and be sure no woman is speaking or teaching.  it's funny how God is using women in various ways throughout the world.  i keep coming back to this one thing - the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ.  certainly there are some truths christians can't deny and still be christian, but all the rest is awaiting Christ's full disclosure.  for now, we see and know through a glass darkly.

some ministries now are having demands made that they give over their list of donors.  it's not just the leaders they want.  they want you us as well.  the point being; persecution is coming and none will be exempt.  will you be asleep or awake when it comes to your door?  are you prayed up, filled up, committed up and loved up.  that's all that will get us taken up.

i am taken back to a tortured saint of God.  "it was strictly forbidden to preach to other prisoners.  it was understood that whoever was caught doing this received a severe beating.  a number of us decided to pay the price for the privilege of preaching, so we accepted their [the communists'] terms.  it was a deal; we preached and they beat us.  we were happy preaching.  they were happy beating us, so everyone was happy." ― richard wurmbrand, tortured for christ

jim elliot once said (himself being a martyr for Christ), "he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain that which he cannot lose."  no, we can never keep this temporary existence, as sure as we can never lose the grace God so freely offers.

oh that i could ever get you hungry for God.  as ramadan has now commenced, i think of my muslim friends.  many muslims tend to be such god-seeking people, so given to prayer, so god-conscience, but they are looking for God in all the wrong places.  we as christians are the stewards of the true message.  the gospel is the power of God for salvation.  i truly believe that.  i love my friends too much to confess otherwise.  Jesus loves them enough to have me say it, all the while knowing it may alienate some.

i would you would desire Him more than a drowning man gasps for that last breath.  i think of the sons of korah as they penned these words in their never ending quest for more of God.  "as the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, o God." psa 42:1  this is the passion our Lord wants to share with each and everyone but we must pursue it endlessly, relentlessly.  it is the treasure we seek and the ecstasy we desire.  i have always loved the book, "the pursuit of God," by a.w. tozer.  i recommend it to every hungry heart.

there are depths and truths to discover and walk in; glories unimaginable.  a dear friend recently wrote me that they could never go back to the mundane milk now they have tasted the meat.  milk is good.  it serves a purpose.  it gently nourishes a newborn even as a mother bird feeds the hatchlings in her nest.  but, "everyone who partakes only of milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, for he is a babe.  but solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil." heb 5:13-14  we want be good soldiers for Christ and that means growing up; going from baby food to solid.

do you remember the commercial, where's the beef?  they could barely find the meat on their sandwich.  i've got news, all the beef (meatier truths) can only be found in the auspices of God, accessed only through the blood of Jesus and patient pursuit.  if one searches the scriptures diligently, they will find the beef, and finding it, they too will never want to go back to milk again.

[crudelisdrakon]

𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗥 came rebellion ; a people so heightened on the idea that the house of the dragon could fall if placed beneath enough pressure upon its foundations. not only had it been physical acts of striking against the crown, but psychological ones mixed in. it was no secret the animosity between king and queen, considering the dance of dragons had them both at each side’s helm. some saw straight through the veil of peace they attempted to place over the realm’s eyes whilst they bought time to rebuild. one of the most prominent foes being 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝖘𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝 himself. attempts were made at all three of their lives. their boy kidnapped once right in front of them. what killed rhaenyra the most had been the moments where she believed she held her husband’s devotions and loyalties —- &̲ the shepherd would feed off of insecurity. bringing forth gaemon palehair, an eventual direct competitor to her own son’s claim to the throne. having scantily clad girl’s sit and wait in the king’s chambers just to toy with the queen’s mind. anything to cause discourse. to keep the dragons from truly uniting and bringing forth an heir. unfortunately for their enemy, they were resilient, and far too enamoured with one another’s bodies.

maekar had been the binds that held together their crumbling house. unfair burden for such young shoulders, but he had not realized it. how he drew his parents closer together. tore them off of their own isolated islands and merged them into one force. he healed them in ways they did not realize they had needed it. where he could never replace the children lost, he represented them all in some way. assurance to both parents to continue on with their lives ; to rebuild without feeling guilty. where once aegon would have made some snide remark about hoping to not see more bastard children within their future, he now replaced with protective nature over his queen. where once rhaenyra would have been pride - filled and pushed him away, claiming she could take care of herself ; she now leaned in to his touch. seeking his comfort. 𝔯ebellion had whittled down their stubborn nature —- rather than tearing them apart as was the original intent, it truly strengthened them. but not without sacrifice.

eyes shifted towards eldest son. her other pillar she had wished was closer to home. despising how now, without their dragons, it had taken so long to journey to see one another again. a nod of understanding shared between the two. no one truly understood rhaenyra’s paranoia save for the two who had been there through it all. relief sprung forth now that they had set aside their own animosities, for she would always need them both. jace would lead his younger brother inside, hand in hand, and something about such notion made her feel all the more relieved. her beloved boy was in safe hands. they were safe. despite the monsters that resided in the prisons below.

she did not move from his grasp, clung onto him with sense of desperation for comfort. keeping face hidden from those who may be able to witness the royals’ moment of weakness. his voice brought forth a warmth that she needed in such harsh climates, grip upon him tightening. “i would like that.” soft spoken, words shared only between the two. “. . . will you sit with me this year ? fresh air would do you well, and mae.” finally pulling away from him, allowing him to pull her cloak tighter around shivering frame. was it the cold, or her fear, that had her trembling so ?

rhaenyra immediately found solace in changing out of intricate gown and into night gown and robe for the night. settling herself first by the fire, to rid herself of the chill that seeped into bones. on occasion answering inquiry about what sounded better in the letter aegon had drafted to send back home. to ensure their travels back to king’s landing upon the king’s road was just as safe as their travels north. the words of lord bolton still etched into memory. her worries causing her to resort back to old habits. spinning golden band around ring finger whilst pacing about the floor.

winterfell was not like king’s landing —- the floors old and wooden rather than forged of stone. each step resulting in a 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 of old wood. “and what if something happens in this singular night ? that is plenty of ti —- ” spun around to face him, only met with his firm grasp upon her shoulders. guiding her towards their shared bed. not even the comforts of warm furs and the soft mattress could ease her worries. hand rising to fiddle with earring now, gaze slowly lifting to meet his upon his request.

such an old tradition, one started many years ago by her own mother and carried forth through generations of targaryens. including his own children with helaena. ones she continued with aegon and viserys considering her own father could not due to her own selfishness. a tradition she wished to gift to the only daughter she could have had, to tell her stories of her namesake, of all the targaryen queens that came before herself. one they now ensured maekar would have, his only link to siblings far before him that he would never have the chance of meeting.

hands reaching out for him, arms slithering around his waist as she drew him closer. chin resting upon his lower abdomen as she peered up at him. contemplating which story it was she wished to tell. “did he ever tell you ones of our grandmother or grandsire ? he didn’t have many, but my favourite was always of how alyssa would take him up on meleys, before he had a dragon of his own. how it was always one of his greatest memories.” perhaps not the best story to recall, considering a tear rolled down her cheek. small frown appearing. “i am devastated maekar will never have memories such as those with us. . . i worry that the omen of the death of not only the dragons, but some of our family, being on the same day of his birth will always weigh heavily on him. when he is old enough to understand.”

there were many who had desired the fall of house targaryen, since the age of the conquest, all too afraid to act on desires whilst dragons ruled the skies. even after the dying of the dragons, many were still afraid that one day —- an egg would eventually hatch in the underbelly of dragonstone, bringing them forth once again. whilst the targaryen line was lacking, it still remained strong. despite everything, the civil war between each other, the shepherd’s rebellions —- they had became one. two different heads of the dragon, whilst missing the third — many had said, their well crafted small council had been what kept them standing through it all. they had both rooted out treacherous, 𝓥𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘀𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗲 from within.

many had thought, the marriage pact would fail, & for a time —- the rumors had spread that it were true, till upon the start of the small folk’s rebellions, & the slow raise of the shepherd had a new princeling’s awaited birth been announced. they — had managed to bring forth future hope for their house within the first month of the marriage pact between the two heirs. some say, the prince —- was the third head to the dragon, having pushed his parents together with their equal amount of protection over the boy. others had said, it was designed by the gods, & was an eventual resolve. they were meant to be together, as targaryen tradition, but were cursed with constant tragedy due their previous crimes against one another. whatever it may have been —- none could deny the queen, & the king’s trust in one another, after such great sacrifices they both had made. they could understand one another, where others could never. cursed or not, a lesser house.. would not be their downfall, nor would some narcissistic cult.

“ lo se banned bē zȳhon pardon iksis daor enough, i’ll krenyikhé emagon zȳhon bartos bē iā spike, lo ziry dared ilagontan sesīr tolī bōsa hen iā gaze bē ao” ( if the banned upon his pardon is not enough, i’ll gladly have his head upon a spike, if he dared laid even too long of a gaze upon you ) he had continued, speaking words only she could hear, cheek grazing against her own. rhaenyra could take care of herself, but that did not forgo his protective nature. while, it was a rarity to see him display any kind of affection outside of the royal apartments, but his tight grip on her hand —- & the closeness he offered was commonplace within the same context. she was —- besides their child, the only family he had remaining to him. his mother, long passed when maekar was only two years old.

his own hand had came to rest upon his son’s head, “ we’ve told you not to run like that..” eyes cascading down to untied boots —- a very annoying habit of the young prince, & one elinda had been working tiresomely to fix. many would have been quick to point out aegon had never been the best of father’s before maekar had been born. the role, now suited him better than it ever had before, his nature of losing all his others shaping him & perfecting him into something the little princeling needed. while, the gods has cursed him with that tragedy — they had blessed maekar with parents with a greater ability to raise him. “ perhaps, your brother can act the stories out. ” he added, glancing over to his nephew, long gone were the insults once spited in courtyards — though their natures toward one another were still harsh, however respectful they were to one other.. it were all for the benefit of the queen.

lavenders glanced towards the winter lord, a stiff laugh, “ it doesn’t matter if it pleases me or not, it’s whatever the boy wants.” through, with the prince’s new found love for the night’s watch, & the wall, it wouldn’t surprise him if maekar were to jump at the opportunity to hear of his great-great grandmother’s ventures to the wall. if it were up to maekar, aegon was sure the boy would have taken the black just for a chance beyond the wall. “ how many direwolves does one house need?” he muttered, watching as iron-fang had scampered over to another she-wolf. the talk of winterfell had made rumor, that cregan’s line would be the last to have the beast, the normally wild creatures having been breed much as the targaryen’s dragons once had. iron-fang had failed in this regard, or had the other wolf.. only one pup had been produced. a male. a bad omen to some.

arms wrapped around his sister-wife, boiling down to her brother-husband, no longer the king but someone she confided in about the troubles upon, not the queen’s mind, but rhaenyra’s own. as she had turned into the same sort for him. loyalty, & duty, two things he had turned a noise up at while he was only a prince, now came to be the glue that held them together. “ soon.. it will be finally be autumn once we return,” he whispered, “ & that means, they will start planting your lemon trees once more.. you can attend to them once again.” he had had never cared for the castle gardens, finding them dull & boring, but whatever calmed her mind would be enough. “ come..” he said, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders, “ tis late, & the weather grows colder.” how the starks handled this mess in the dead of winter was beyond the king’s knowing.

within warm chambers, his quill instantly found parchment writing to the hand. “ should reach tyland far before we do — birds fly faster, & it will be a day & a night ahead.” if they were to head back earlier then expected, than they should have their arguments already made in place. tyland would take care of most of the work, sending ravens ahead to the inns closer to king’s landing, while their own would be sent out to the ones closer to winterfell. “ pacing will only make it worse rhaenyra.” he muttered, hearing footsteps against the old wooden floors, “ one more night, & he is being sent back to his fort as we speak. . the men in the dungeon.. are secured.” through the last part, was to reinsure his own insecurity.

existing the oak chair, he came to stop her, guiding her to the bed. “ tell me one of father’s stories, like when we were children —- he always calmed me with them, & you on occasion.” perhaps it would work the same now.

[occassionalfanficwriter]

Heyhey! May I request childe x reader where the reader has been badly abused in the past? As a result she doesn’t mind when childe kidnaps her because childe has never hurt her, and treats her nicely? So since childe has work lmao he leaves a fatui agent to watch his s/o. But since his s/o has such a small appetite she doesn’t eat much. And since the fatui agent has a bad temper, what if he slaps her across the jaw so hard it breaks? So since then she can’t handle leaving childe’s side?Thank you

anon who hurt you? (•ω•`)this childe has yandere undertones but anyways you're welcome and enjoy.

Content warning for everyone else: allusions to domestic violence ,and non-graphic depiction of violence against women.

No Misfortune Without Blessings

Summary: Among the many myths about Tartaglia, few were dedicated to his love life. Even fewer dared to speak of the gentle love between him and his lady but in the soft and hushed whispers of the crowd, all would admit that they painted a pretty picture.

--

There was a boy.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of him. Shy and stuttering but with bright blue eyes that reminds you of the starry sky in the village. You liked him, in the same way you liked the morbid stories and descriptions of the adventurers in the tavern. You liked him too, in the same way you liked the rare flowers that grew in Snezhnayan winter.

And maybe the boy with the starry sky in his eyes and bright red hair liked you too. But it wasn’t something you paid attention to, there were stories and adventures to be had, knowledge to be shared and you decided it was more important.

More important than understanding what everyone your age liked or what accounted for normal. You never did quite understand everyone else in the same way you immediately understood Ajax. It was precisely because of this that you simply didn’t quite fit in, you were just as much of an outcast as Ajax was with his shyness and occasional stutter. You didn’t care for it, you found comfort in the knowledge you’d never be involved in messy affairs of the romantic and platonic kind.

Your world was peaceful.

There was Ajax, the stories from adventurers, and your hidden desire for something more beyond what the small seaside town you call home had to offer.

--

There used to be a boy with bright blue eyes that takes your breath away sometimes. Who had a burning red hair and warm smile that reminded you of the warm sunshine.

You loved to follow him around, notebook in hand filled with scribbles and experiments of different shorts. And Ajax loved you, perhaps, with the way he took you along for adventures on the edges of the woods, in the frozen lake, and taking small commissions from the neighbors.

The two of you had grown taller, childhood fat turning into muscles as your bodies hit puberty. Both of you had changed in so many ways, gone were the days when no one minded the two of you staying out together for a long period of time, without any companion. Whispers followed when the two of you held each other just a bit too long for what was appropriate.

Your world could not simply consist of Ajax and the growing longing you had for what the world had to offer. You didn’t like the change, neither of you two did. But you were much better at pretending than Ajax, so you studied and observed the rest, told this to Ajax and somehow the restrictions on you two became a big game of pretend. You pretended to understand the beauty that others found, pretended to fit in the scale of accepted normalcy.

And then, without you noticing the boy you loved dearly was gone. You stared blankly as you watched his parents cry and search parties used for a boy lost in the woods.

There used to be a boy and you weren’t quite sure what to make of him when he came back to you three months later.

--

You weren’t quite sure when it started, when your world expanded and collapsed until the only things left are the ashes of things you don’t quite recognize. You weren’t quite sure when you stopped yearning for a life of adventure. When you began to settle for whatever it was that was given to you.

Maybe it was when the boy you loved came back with dull blue eyes and a sharp look that told stories only the hardened and veteran adventurers understood. Maybe it was when you could no longer keep up with him, when trouble seeks him out and your parents dragged you away from him.

Maybe it was when one night he sneaks into your room bids you goodbye and makes you realize that the stars in his eyes never left, they were just clouded by something brighter and bigger than whatever it was that Morepesok had to offer.

Maybe it was when you woke up the next day and the boy you loved was taken away into a brighter and bigger place than the small sea-side village.

But that didn’t matter now, not when your whole body hurt and you laid limp on the cold wooden floors of the place that should be home but isn’t. You weren’t quite sure when you accepted this as normal, when the man your parents swore would take care of you became the one who hurt you. You weren’t quite sure when you started to forget all of that you loved dearly.

“...it hurts” you say out loud as tears prick on the edges of your eyes and you simply lay on the floor, ignoring the pain on your ribs, the blood on your mouth and countless other bruises that littered your skin.

You don’t recognize yourself anymore.

And you hate yourself for it.

You think of the boy you loved who had stars in his eyes and the sun in his soul and you yearn for him and what could have been.

--

There was a man with a charming smile and blue eyes, and the mask of the Harbingers. You weren’t quite sure what to think of him when he held your hand gently, and spoke to you about topics you used to love.

You weren’t quite sure what it meant when his eyes grew cold at the bruises on your skin and the whispers that followed you. Maybe you loved him, in the same way you loved Ajax, and the man you lived with. Maybe you loved him in the same way you loved the preserved heart in a jar that used to be yours.

There were a lot of maybes but you were sure that Tartaglia would never hurt you. The day he takes you away felt like a fairy tale, as if the boy you loved came back for you but you knew that Ajax was gone. And Tartaglia was the one who came for you so you stupidly went along with him.

You gave him your everything.

You gave him the tattered pieces of what could have been you, and allowed him to reshape you, until you were stronger than before. You relearned how to be human, how to be yourself, and you loved him for it. You learned how to speak his own love language, stayed by his side and accepted all of him until you weren’t sure where you ended and where he began.

Somehow, you stupidly believed that all of this would remain as it was. Until he had to leave for a long while and you can’t help but feel as if your world would collapse.

“Don’t go” you whispered as you held onto his clothes like a child.

“Don’t leave me” you begged as you shrink your frame and tried to fight the fear of being hated for something like this.

“I’m sorry” Tartaglia tells you, voice soft and gentle as he hugs you tenderly.

You want to cry but you don’t because you had always understood that he was meant for bigger and brighter things. Instead you sank in his chest, you wanted to imprint yourself in him, so that no matter how bright and beautiful the world outside of this home you built was, he’d never forget about you.

“Come back quickly.”

“I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve already begun missing him.

--

You never bothered to get along with Tartaglia’s subordinates. Not when you decided to ignore anything Fatui related since it meant that Tartaglia would never have to worry about you being used against him. You refused to be a burden.

This ignorance meant that despite treating them civilly you had no deep impression on them. It meant that when none of Tartaglia’s trusted aides were available to watch you and take care of whatever your needs were, some new recruit was given to you.

You didn’t care about it much. The new recruits tend to be distant and careful upon knowing who you were to Tartaglia. You didn’t care about what they called you behind your back. What mattered was Tartaglia and his thoughts.

Your heart was too small to include irrelevant matters.

Maybe if you learned how to be human properly, you would have realized the danger you were in. An upstart recruit from a noble lineage coupled with a bad temper would never be suited to your cold and distant attitude. The snark and biting remarks you ignored only added fuel to a fire you weren’t aware of.

You were too busy counting the days until Tartaglia’s return to pay attention to someone you found insignificant.

“You didn’t finish your food again” The recruit complained.

“Feed it to the dogs or whatever” you answered dismissing him with a wave of hand as you drank your water.

No one would care if you ate less than usual. Tartaglia would only ask if anything was wrong and you’d be quick to assure him that it was nothing. You knew that he would overthink and his subordinates would pay for it.

It was best for all parties that his mood remained good. You didn’t want others interfering with your time with him and you were quite sure that after the glamour of sparring with him faded off, his men had no want of being beaten to the ground.

This thought that you believed to be true made you blind. It made you let your guard down when malice was directed at you and you found yourself suddenly on the ground.

The harsh sound of your jaw breaking echoing loudly as you stared blankly on the marble tiles of the dining room. Somehow it felt like you were back in that place, and you could hear shouting and swearing around you.

‘I’m stronger than this’ You thought as you tried to force your body to move.

‘I’m stronger than this!’ You stubbornly insisted as your body remained frozen in the ground.

‘I’M STRONGER THAN THIS!’ You screamed inside your head as you felt like you were drowning again. You couldn’t breathe and you could no longer see anything.

The next thing you saw was Tartaglia on your bedside, asleep and visibly worse for wear. You stood up, opening your mouth only to quickly stop at the dull pain you felt. You could only stare at him with longing. The room was dark and only lit by the moonlight that seeped in through the windows.

You reached out for him, three soft squeezes on his hand as you gingerly kissed his calloused hand. You could tell that he was already awake and you waited for him to open his bright blue eyes that took your breath away.

“I won’t leave you alone anymore” Tartaglia says with sadness in his voice as he cradles you in his lap. You closed your eyes and tapped his lips thrice.

‘I love you’.

--

There was a girl with bright curious eyes that seemed to see through him. Ajax couldn’t keep his stutter out as he shyly introduced himself.

He loved her at first sight.

He loved her more when she took his hand and showed him interesting stuff. Each moment spent with her was an adventure. He loved the spark in her eyes when she talked about the nations beyond Snezhnaya.

He loved her eccentricities and never wanted her to change. But Ajax knew that if he remained as he was, he would never be able to keep her by his side.

The girl he loved yearned for something bigger and brighter than Morepesok and Ajax wanted to give it to her with his own two hands.

There used to be a girl with bright eyes and rarely smiled but could take his breath away when she smiled at him. Who loved all sorts of things without any care, who loved him in the same way she loved the animals they came across.

She was bright and warm and Ajax knew that she was destined for bigger things. That she was meant to explore the world beyond the sea and Ajax wanted to take her away and give her the greatest adventure.

He wanted her world to be made up of him, their adventures, and everything she loved. But the Abyss had no place for gentle dreams and soft loves. So he fought and fought until he realized his dream and set out for something bigger and brighter than him.

‘I want to give her the world’ Ajax whispered in the silence of the night as he fought for his life and then for fun.

He thought of the girl he loved who walked among the stars and he yearned for her. The Abyss had no room for the weak so he hid away what he could and threw away what he couldn’t for the sake of growing strong and paving the way for the girl he loved.

He came back and found solace in the stupid girl that didn’t understand everything yet. He protected her innocence even as she stared at his blood stained hands. He protected her soft and loving heart even as he felt his being torn apart.

He wanted to keep her by his side but he had always been the better fighter. She was better at pretending but she could never bring herself to fight back mercilessly. So he decided to fight for the two of them.

The Fatui was like the Abyss but it could never reach the harshness and brutality of a place seeped in desperation. He hid his heart away, keeping it with the girl he loved who cried for him. He fought his way up the ranks and thought of the girl he loved.

He thought of her as he took missions upon missions, thinking of her soft lips and sweet tears that made him want to take her with him. But he wasn’t strong enough to protect her yet so he leaves her behind, promising to return to her once more.

There used to be a girl who seemed to like she could take the world by storm.

There used to be a boy who loved her secretly and openly.

Now there was a woman whose light was dying, bright eyes dulled and heart trampled upon.

Now there was a man named Tartaglia whose heart burned and raged for those that dared to hurt the woman he loved.

He takes her away, leaves no traces and keeps her far away from the burnt down house that used to be her childhood home. He keeps her by his side and gives her pieces of the world.

Tartaglia with his bloodstained hands gently and lovingly held her in his arms as he dealt with the recruit. It was brutal and inhumane but all of his humanity was meant for the girl he loved and his family.

He gives her the best doctor and waits for her to wake up.

Thrice he made the mistake of leaving her behind.

‘This time, no matter what, I’ll keep you by my side.’

--

Among the myths about Tartaglia few were dedicated to the lady he always took along with him, be it in the battlefield or anywhere else. It was rumored that she was as gentle as Liyue’s glaze lilies, and as deadly as the ruin guards that littered across Teyvat.

But one thing was constant, where Tartaglia goes the lady follows. A warrior and his lady dominating battle fields across Teyvat.

There would be no surprise if one day the entire world fell at their feet.

[zosin-ya]

How about Zoro noticing he's falling in love?

[Ahhh ya feed my thirst for simping, bless ya ♥ I hope you enjoy it!]

Zoro noticing he’s falling in love

- He’s not oblivious like many like to think. Self-reflection happens a lot of time during meditation and he does notice the feelings he harbours for you. His heart starts to beat quicker, he feels all warm and cozy when you smile at him and he is looking fowards to see you every day. You’re the only person on the ship who make him feel that way.

- It started in a steady pace, Zoro is no one to go after love at first sight. Sure he had some interest in you when you meet for the first time, but his feelings delevoped while he got to know you. He noticed you two were on the same page on many topics, which surprised him. Not many people shared his life philosophy. It was harsh and unapologetic, and it seemed like you shared some of those views. Or at least understood where he was coming from.

- One time you two accidentally brushed your hands against each other. A really small geture, yet it threw him off. So badly that he couldn’t empty  his mind when he meditated or trained. His thoughts kept wandering to you, and the soft feeling of your skin against his. Which lead into other thoughts, more intimate and sexual.

- Zoro does tend to get a bit of a sour mood whenever that happens. It messes with his training and his concentration, and as much as he starts to love you, he doesn’t know what to do about it. Confessing seems risky, he wants to be 100% sure before he gets heartbroken. He eventually talks with Franky about it, someone he knew who wouldn’t judge him nor mock him, while also give him advice.

- You won’t notice his feelings towards you at the beginning, he’s hard to approach generally anyway. But after warming up to each other, you will see him seek your company more than usual. He adores just chit chatting with you, mainly because he could talk with you about everything and feel at ease. Whenever you’d ask “How did the training go?” He will tell you honestly, and even vent if frustration hindered him. You’re the only one he does this. 

- Be patient with him, he needs to trust you fully before acting on his feelings. However- may it be intentionally or not- he will give you hints. And if you don’t get those hints, the  other crew mates will point it out to you. Zoro has been the first member to join, and all the others know him well to figure out why Zoro tends to be more around you than any other person. 

[Click here to read more about Zoro!]

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Hi, I’m writing a fanfiction and from your posts on marriage it’s clear that Yue might actually have a lot of choices and agency for marriage specifically but I was wondering how much power does a wife have? I mean this in two ways, how much power does she have in the family and how much would a leader’s wife have in a community? Like, as wife of the chief (or daughter of the chief) would she ever make decisions for the community/lead or is it more an advisor thing or none of the above?

This is exactly my shit omg

So, a lot of people will say that among the Inuit, men dominate. This is not exactly true, and for the Inupiat specifically, it's been said that these preconceptions of men dominating or being seen as inherently superior or more valued are unfounded and based in misunderstandings and stereotypes. Men go out and bring food home to share with the village, but they understood that they would be foolish to think their wives had nothing to do with their success. Who was making their clothes and keeping them warm with mending so they could go out and bring home food? Who gave them a warm meal before? Whose forethought gave them peace of mind enough to sleep? Husbands and wives were interdependent and respected that. It's not a case of "yeah men are more valued, but women do the important work" but rather men and women both acknowledged that they each contributed things of equal importance. A wife wasn't obedient, she served her husband as her husband served her. The dynamic was built on trust and reciprocity.

There's also some stuff to be said about sexuality, because that's a big part in the perception of marriage and gender roles. The long periods of breastfeeding required to nourish children under the age of six years in such a harsh environment acted as a natural contraceptive. This gave women (and especially wives) a bit more wiggle room than there was to be found in cultures where contraceptives were tabooed. Sex wasn't something that had to be kept in a marriage. It wasn't something you were supposed to prioritize, but it wasn't something you had to save either. It was understood that most liked it because it felt good. There was no virginity requirement for marrying, and simply wanting or being curious about it was not considered morally wrong. Extramarital affairs were only looked down upon if there was dishonesty involved. Therefore, the whole concept of a husband's right to his wife? Not a thing among us. If any man wanted to sleep with any woman, she said yes or she said no and not always with words. (A lot of our communication is nonverbal, due to what could be described as a shy demeanor.) If she said no, maybe she'll change her mind, but a no for now is still a no, and the man in question was expected to respect that, and vice versa.

Men were often away tracking, hunting, whaling, doing what it took to bring the food in while women typically kept up the other duties. These were often outside the home in the warmer months, things like food prep and clothing and childcare, in social settings. The husband and father was given special consideration, as his work was more physically demanding, and the wife and mother would keep a store of food specifically for him that neither she nor the children they had would take from. In fact, the planning of food being stored, prepared, and distributed within the household was the wife/mother's responsibility. Such women, even those with arrogant or unthoughtful husbands, being smart with food can save entire villages from starvation. One story where this happens has the woman's husband fall to his knees and kiss her hands, full of both gratitude that she was among them and pride that someone like her chose to marry him.

This sort of power the women had over food manifested even in a young man's rite of passage. The first animal a boy ever successfully hunted was to be gifted to his mother or aunt. This first catch was typically something small like a bird or rabbit that the matriarch in question would make into a soup that could feed the whole family. And though it's true that men brought in the big game, women also provided through trapping, fishing, and bird hunting.

Due to men specializing in work that required long hours of attentive silence away from home, the more social aspects were handled by women. If you were arranged to be married to someone, it was more likely a discussion between your and your betrothed's mothers rather than fathers. This may have been why a young man who had never been married before needed to be deemed ready by his mother or other family member, while a young woman who had never been married before was trusted to know for herself.

So for the record: wives in general

-could have relationships with men who weren't their husbands

-didn't owe their husbands sex just because they were married

-had complete control over food distribution within the household, regardless of who brought it home

-were more involved with social things, like rites of passage and marriage arrangements.

Now when it comes to the Umialik, his wife (or "main wife" as it must be remembered: we were not a strictly monogamous people before the Christians showed up and decided they knew better than us) could lead in his name, but there's something that should be cleared up. The writers decided that it best suited the universe they created and the story they wanted to tell to treat the chief of the Northern Water Tribe as a monarch. This is not reflective of the way an Inupiaq Umialik was treated. While the image one might have based on Chief Arnook is one of higher quality clothes and a big beautiful house and delegating the grunt work to his subordinates, among the Inupiaq, leading the people meant putting more work into it. It was less about power and more about responsibility, and this responsibility was shared with his wife.

Among the Umialik's wife's responsibilities were sewing warm clothes for the whalers (she could recruit women of the village to help her), distributing food at a potlatch, and some important ceremonial roles to do with the whaling season. Like her husband, she was expected to remain chaste just before and during the whaling season. She was also expected to remain in the home while the whalers were away (a sort of pact with the whale, if that makes any sense), and when the whale was brought home, as with any other marine mammal catch, she was the one to pour water down its throat so it wouldn't die thirsty.

An Umialik likely did seek his wife's councel, but that would be true of any husband. Only an idiot would treat his wife like she has nothing of value to offer and a man ought to be humble enough to listen if he wants to marry. The Umialik was the man with the biggest family, likely because they would support his claim and it was hard to defy someone so connected to the village, but another reason could be that, with the largest family, he'd likely be exposed to the most states a person can find themself in, granting him more experience. As mentioned before, women were more in-tune with the social aspects than men usually were, so any wife but especially that of the Umialik would have an important perspective that her husband might not.

As for the Umialik's children in general, primogeniture was not the hard and fast rule among Inupiat as it wass with many cultures we're used to. An Umialik's daughter had no more rights than the average woman and his son had no more rights than the average man. They might find themselves on the receiving end of exceptional kindness to win their father's favor, but there was no guarantee either would inherit

[hpalways]

Commissions || Childe

UNPREDICTABLE people were like magnets to you, somehow always managing to show up. Usually, you would avoid them at any given chance, preventing further interactions from occurring. As an adventurer, you didn't work for the thrill, but rather for the money. That meant that deep inside, you longed for a peaceful life, which was the main reason why there were certain beings that shouldn't exist in your reality. So how did it go oh-so-terrible with Tartaglia?

You first met Tartaglia -- also known as Childe -- in Liyue Harbor when you were at a stall to buy food. You had a few commissions in tail, waiting to be resolved for the day. But first, food was on your mind. It wouldn't do any good to fight hilichurls and whatnot with an empty stomach. As you were about to dig into your trouser's pockets to find any mora, a man stepped up in front of you, blocking the way. Assuming that he was budging you in line, you opened your mouth to protest, but the words faltered to come out when the male whirled around to face you.

Deep, blue eyes stared into your soul, twinkling mischievously... and somehow, you couldn't read into them. Fiery, orange hair accompanied his features, going unexpectedly well with the blue. Smiling at you crookedly, he saluted you with a gloved hand. A red mask was adorned on the side of his head, matching the red details on his overall gray outfit. He was very tall and attractive -- taking you momentarily off guard. 

"I'll pay for your meal. My treat," he easily told you, making a show of flashing the lump of mora in his hands. He even went as far as to swing his arm around your shoulders like the two of you were friends. The warm, close contact nearly caused you to freeze in place, getting flustered all over. What the hell was happening?

"Oh... sure," you uttered, staring blankly at him. Well, there was no use turning him down. The word treat was enough to hook and wheel you in. 

"What's your name?" he inquired in a friendly manner, lugging you along as if you were a ragged doll through the waiting line.

Hesitating to answer for a second, you were beginning to look stupid under his expecting gaze. There was a reason though: you were wary of strangers, having learned that the hard way when you encountered Treasure Hoarders one time. But seeing how amused this man was by your internal debate, you pushed the doubts away and decided to go for it. "I'm [Y/N]. You?"

"Lovely name befitting for a lovely person," he mused, leaving you embarrassed. "I'm Childe."

It was then your turn to order. Letting his arm around you go, he straightened up and nudged you ahead. The warmth evaporated from you and you suddenly wished for his touch again. Horrified by your thoughts, you brushed them away and stepped up to the front, telling the chef your order. 

Once that was done with and the food was received, you sat down at a table outside. Three whole dishes filled of food, you wasted no time to dive into them, the steamy aroma wafting into the air. Mouthful of food, you almost choked when you found the so-called Childe sitting down in front of you. Coughing for a good minute or two, you suffered as he watched you in enjoyment. When you could catch your breath, you averted your gaze to the table. Oh god, you wished you could bury yourself before you could humiliate yourself any further. He shouldn't have followed you here. 

"I'm surprised you bought three whole dishes for yourself," he pointed out, taking delight in teasing you. 

You scowled and looked at him, the shameful emotion fading away. "Are you insinuating something?" you asked, squinting at him. He rose his brows in surprise, quickly shaking his head to explain he meant no harm. Sighing, you decided to go all out then. If he already knew your name, what difference would it make to share a few more things about yourself? Besides, this was Liyue Harbor we're talking about; no one was that desperate to seek out trouble so publicly. "I'm an adventurer and I also do commissions. Fighting takes up a lot of my energy, so only one meal wouldn't suffice."

Something swirled in his eyes -- unknown and still just as unreadable. However, you paid no mind to it, too absorbed by the food and the conversation to notice. Maybe this was where it went wrong. "An adventurer?" he echoed, his voice breathless. His ears seemingly perked up and he leaned forward in his seat, anxious to hear more. "What would you say if I tagged along with you today?"

It was shocking to hear that, but eventually, you accepted his self-invitation and brought him along to the locations. Setting off by foot, the two of continued onward with full bellies and enough energy to last several hours. The land stretched for miles and miles, scaping the grounds of hills, mountains, rivers, and meadows. Hogs ran through the trees and birds soared in the skies. Monsters rolled around in the dust, waiting to ambush anybody in the way. The sun beating down upon your backs and the weather a little too warm for liking, it was a difficult trek, but nothing close to impossible for an adventurer.

The fighting began when the destination to a pack of hilichurls appeared on sight. Unsheathing your blade, you immediately attacked them, continuously slashing away until they were entirely cleaned up. Breathing heavily with sweat beading your forehead, you did all the dirty work as Childe inspected from the side, his eye following your every move.

It wasn't easy though. You struggled at some areas, sometimes missing them or getting slightly injured by their own weapons. It was sloppy and flawed, for you were not a skilled swordsman, born without the talent and money. Anyway, it didn't matter much; as long as you did the job, that was what mattered. 

The next one took place near the mountains. Insuring that a wagon would be delivered somewhere safely, you had to fend off more monsters, circling around the large transport tirelessly to prevent any damage. While you were doing so, the orange haired male lounged on top of the-said wagon, relaxed and watching the battle beneath him. 

Afterwards, it was of simple commissions, with no sword involved. On the last one and feeding ducks for a little kid you accidentally offended, you let out a yawn, ready to go home and sleep everything off. Your partner for the day was also there, crouching down beside the lake's bank, tossing the wheat to the little creatures. Turning his head to the side, he gave you a small smile. Unlike you, he was widely awake and full of energy -- you expected that much, considering he didn't do anything to help you. 

"I enjoyed traveling around with you today, [Y/N]," he said, straightening himself up until he returned to being taller than you. 

Minus the part where he was completely useless to you, you couldn't help but admit that it was enjoyable to have him him around. His cheery persona helped to distract you from your dislike with the job, filling the silence with easy discussion about basically anything. "It was fun... I suppose," you responded, letting out yet another yawn. 

"You know, you could've asked me help. It would've been less straining for you," he pointed out.

You swerved your head at the mention of this, flabbergasted with your mouth hung open like a gaping fish. "You can fight?!" You shot up from where you sat, stepping up to a half-laughing, half-scared Childe. He nodded slowly and you rubbed your eyes harshly, curses running through your head. "And you didn't think to tell me that until now?"

He shrugged, drinking in your angered expression. No ounce of remorse shown in his features, he was pleased to get a rise out of you. Goddammit, this guy was going to be the death of you. "You never asked."

Not replying to him, you faced the other way and crossed your arms, brooding like a kid after a tantrum. 

"Aw, don't be mad at me," he cooed, petting your [h/c] head endearingly. "Hey, are you thinking of improving your swordsmanship?"

Originally planning to give him the silent treatment, you could barely even hold on to the promise for a minute. His question intrigued you and you began to wonder why he was asking you something like that. "No, not really," you answered. 

"Why not?"

"It's not necessary. My level is adequate for the commissions I take on. It's not like I'm striving to be anything legendary... that's just asking for a death sentence."

His forehead furrowed and a darkened gaze was aimed at you. He seemed to want to say a lot of things, yet couldn't find the words to them. Was he... mad at you for some unknown reason? Almost expecting a big lecture from him, you were shocked to hear what he said instead. "You have potential though."

That was where you parted from Tartaglia that young evening, but by no means was that the last time you were to see him. 

You would run into him at Liyue Harbor, in Mondstadt, or sometimes in your travels as an adventurer. Each time you would welcome him warmly, always glad to have his company. He was seriously growing on you, become a friend that distracted you from the hardships of the cold reality. He brightened the atmosphere wherever he went, always the charismatic type, wooing anyone with a tip of a smile. 

Of course, you knew he was a Harbringer; he never made a show of hiding it, so you were acknowledged of this pretty much immediately. Hearing the gossip and rumors of the Fatui, you understood that the organization was hella sketchy, but it didn't shine a bad light on Childe at all. You wanted to put your hopes in him, to give him the benefit of doubt. He was helpful so far and your life was peaceful with him around -- which was the one thing you wished for. 

Or maybe it was because you had fallen for him already. 

At least for the first month or so, everything passed through wonderfully. The two of you were like partners in crime, back to back and supportive of the other. The amount times you would stroll through the meadows and just talk to the man was becoming countless. It began to be something you were looking forward to: to have the time to get to know him even better, from his family to the simplest of facts about him. 

It was too good to be true. As the saying goes, nothing lasts forever. 

You should have never lowered your guard down. Not when you were found laying on the grimy grounds of a domain, beaten and bloodied. Not when the man you supposedly loved was towering in front of you, his deep blue eyes glowering in lust for violence. Not when your peaceful life was shattered to pieces. Childe couldn't control it any longer that day. He wanted to battle you out, to cause chaos and havoc. Why? You didn't understand... he was your friend. This wasn't what friends do. Nonetheless, he was serious about this declaration. 

He spat at the ground, annoyed you didn't put up a greater fight. Not at all worried about your wounds, he paced around the chamber, pulling at his messy locks. "Didn't I say you had potential?! You should've tried harder."

You soon lost consciousness, too exhausted and pained to do anything else. The next time you awoken, you were in Mondstadt, getting healed by Barbara. Tartaglia was no where to be seen, as he ran off earlier without telling anyone of his whereabouts. That was the last time you saw him for a while...

Everything that happened was the past, occurring a few months ago. And here you were, in the present, back to the same life you had before meeting Childe. You still disliked the same things, whether that'd be fighting, unpredictable people, or your job. Day after day, you worked to gain money for a living, hating every moment of it. It was so normal that sometimes you wondered if you may have imagined the certain Fatui man up.

Walking through the mountainous parts of Liyue, you were on a hunt for resources. Hoping to stumble upon a mine and get done with the work as soon as possible, it was unfortunate that the weather hated you.

Droplets fell from the sky and the clouds darkened the world. Rain thrummed against the earth, soaking your clothes within a few minutes. They stuck to your skin, turning uncomfortable and cold. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you quickened your pace, desperate to find shelter for the time being. Shit, shit, shit. You hated the life of an adventurer so much--

Too blurry to watch where you were going, you hit a hard surface in front of you. Rather than a hard surface, it was actually a person. Squinting and wiping the droplets from your eyes, you cringed when you saw who it was. It was the one and only Childe, looking the same as always.

Wet orange locks somehow making him more attractive than he already was, he was as soaked as you were. The clothes defined his body and you frantically stopped yourself staring at it any further. 

"[Y/N]," he breathed out, looking unsure. The sound of his voice snapped you back to life and fury filled the pits of your stomach. Seething in spot, the hands at your sides clenched tightly. He had taken your trust and ruined it -- he was nothing but a fucking bastard. 

He took a few steps forward, growing nearer, his blue beautiful hues full of regret. You hated that he dared show himself up, wearing that damn look as if you would ever forgive him. Pulling your hand back without thinking, you laid it across his cheek, harsh at the contact. He touched his red cheek in awe, lowering his head in shame. 

"I deserved that," he whispered, smiling at you sadly.

"You do," you muttered. 

Despite how angry you were at him, there was this twisted desire to kiss him. Feelings were confusing, always making a situation more complicated than it should be. 

Leaning forward, you locked lips with his. His body had stiffened in bewilderment, but he soon returned the kiss, wrapping his steady arms around yourself. Digging your fingers into his hair, you sighed in between breaths and listened to your racing heart. He tasted like salt and the soil beneath you. He was the definition of unpredictable, but you couldn't get enough of him. He brought destruction in the paths he walked on and had the continuous yearning for war. He was everything you were not and you hated him for it. 

His lips trailed away from your own, peppering kisses on your jawline, causing you to gulp. He was swallowing you whole, taking in everything about you to memorize. His touch was intoxicating, the finger tips leaving a mark on your tender skin. "Let's never see each other again after this," you told him. He didn't respond as he continued to bruise your neck. "I hate you, Childe. I fucking hate you, you bastard."

Tears welled out of your eyes, mixing together with the tears from the gods, unable to be distinguished. 

He lifted his head and gave you one last long kiss. Your insides were this close to bursting, butterflies fluttering horrendously like a beast within you. Soft lashes flitted and he stared at you with understanding. He was going to listen to your wish; he would never show himself up again. 

[wizkiddx]

a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint. 

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs. 

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit. 

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her. 

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie. 

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both. 

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger. 

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder. 

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow. 

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.” 

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night. 

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama. 

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing. 

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk. 

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned,  now worrying that something had happened. 

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you. 

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child. 

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant. 

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you. 

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest. 

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course. 

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him. 

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is. 

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?” 

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself. 

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ). 

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks. 

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your  heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too. 

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work. 

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland. 

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright. 

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’. 

“Come on lets get you both to bed.” 

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two . 

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive. 

And that was more than fine by you.  

[localgenius]

Her Favourite Story

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! It’s wild to think about people liking what I’m writing, but it makes me very happy! So all the love to all of you guys!

A story about the domestic life Spencer longs for when the team is away on cases, aka more fluff - this time featuring a small baby Reid. I’ve done so that this story sort of exists in the same universe as ‘To Love’, but they don’t really have anything to do with each other.

tw: mentions of dead children (regarding a case)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3.5k)

The staircase had seemed to have become miles longer over the duration of the past eight months. The creaking wood gave way under his feet as he shuffled to the side to avoid running into a man that he recognized to be living a floor above him.

His satchel was bouncing heavily against his side as he hurried up the seemingly endless amounts of steps. The many files were weighing him down, keeping him from reaching the end goal in the desired time.

His jacket was hanging loosely around his shoulders, keeping him warm from the winter cold that had managed to creep into the hallway from the constant revolving door and the small cracks that lathered the building.

His eyes were still droopy from the mediocre nap he had gotten on the plane ride home from the latest case.

A family annihilator had been tormenting a small suburban town outside of Detroit, and while cases regarding children had always been a bit tougher, this one had hit closer to home than he’d originally anticipated.

There had been something about watching young children lying dead in a basement, a brother and sister together in their last moments, that had him craving the sweet serenity that filled apartment 24 in the old apartment complex.

It had been over a year ago since the team had had to handle a case like this, and for the first time, he finally understood; he understood the melancholy look in Hotch’s eyes when they briefed before flying off, he understood the silent tears JJ shed on the plane home. He finally got it.

The landing had never been a sweeter sight than right then. His feet were practically bouncing on the last few steps before hurrying to stick the key in the lock.

A warmth, that could never be replaced by a jacket, greeted him as soon as he stepped through the threshold. The late afternoon sun was shining through the windows, making tiny specks of dust swirling around visible, feeding the numerous plants on the windowsill and making her look even more ethereal than usual.

He didn’t even know that that was possible. But really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Everything about her had surprised him from the day they first met.

Her gentle voice was talking in a low mumble, probably telling one of the many stories she had memorized over the last eight months. She had argued that she refused to be put on the side-line when it came to story time, simply because he had an eidetic memory.

She simply wouldn’t have it.

So, she had spent months lying on the couch, simply reading and memorizing all the books that JJ and Penelope had brought over.

And it had finally paid off.

Because, more often than not, Spencer would find his wife walking around the apartment, murmuring sweet fairytales, fables or research articles while staring down at a big pair of eyes that matched her own to a tee.

At the sound of the door gently being pushed shut, her attention was dragged away from the big eyes, to see a pair of brown staring at her with the utmost adoration.

“Look who’s here!” she whispered down to the sweet boy in her arms, “Is it daddy?”

She turned her body towards Spencer, slowly moving her way graciously around the couch, down to the front entrance.

“Is daddy home?” she giggled down at the baby, a big smile on her face when the baby provided gurgles of joy from the familiar word.

“Oh yes,” Spencer groaned, quickly pulling his satchel off of his shoulder and messily hanging his jacket on the coat rack, before moving to meet his loves halfway. “Daddy's home.”

When the baby finally got a proper look at him, a joyous shriek left the spit covered lips and arms were already reaching out in the open air.

“Hi bug, hi,” Spencer smiled when he finally got to get the sweet baby in his arms, letting the small being thaw up any coldness that had possessed his body over the past few days.

Big eyes and an even bigger smile were looking up at him, while arms were reaching up to touch his face.

“Hi daddy,” she smiled at him, letting one of her hands fall to the back of the baby, while the other came to tangle in the curls in the back of his head, dragging his lips down to meet hers in a gentle kiss.

“Hi mummy,” he smiled down at her, and let himself bask in the harmonious moment. A baby that was happily mumbling to himself in his arms and his wife at his side, with a gentle hand running through his messy curls.

“Good flight?” she asked softly, while rubbing the hand on their sons back up and down.

“Mediocre at best,” Spencer responded while entertaining the small baby in his arms. His eyes were big and enamoured while he was watching his daddy pull funny faces crossing his eyes. “What story were you telling him?”

“Just a little love story,” his wife happily told him, leaving his side with a quick kiss to his cheek, and a final kiss to the baby’s fine hair.

“Mummy told you a love story, huh?” Spencer mumbled down to the baby, moving to follow his wife through the apartment to the kitchen. “Mummy has always had a fondness for those hasn’t she?”

“Oh yes she has,” he heard his wife say from where she was standing with her head in the fridge. “They are the best stories to tell.”

“That can be discussed,” Spencer mumbled down to the baby, happily accepting the slap to the back of his head as he moved to sit down at one of the kitchen chairs. The baby was still looking at him with big eyes, a smile revealing the growing teeth. “What story was it this time?”

“My favourite,” she said as she was moving around behind him.  “A tale about a boy and a girl that loved each other very much.”

A small smile started to break out on Spencer’s face. He knew this story all too well. He knew the ins and the outs. The plot twists and the cliff-hangers. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly as he looked back at her over his shoulder.

She was moving around, digging through cabinets to get pots and pans out on the stove. “Hm,” she hummed in agreement.

“Would you mind sharing it with the group?”

She laughed softly, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He sat so innocently in the wooden chair – one they had been talking about donating because he insisted that it was the source of his frequent back pain – with their innocent baby resting on his chest, and big brown eyes nearly on the verge of begging.

“It’s a tale as old as time really,” she started, while moving around to start chopping up vegetables from the fridge. “There was this girl, who was so tired of being alone and was just waiting for a boy that was willing to spare an ounce of love on her.”

While she was telling the story, Spencer couldn’t help himself from falling in love with her all over again. The light green sweater falling loosely around her shoulders, her favourite pair of jeans, mismatched socks and glasses perched on the tip of the nose completed the look of a new mum.

He had foolishly thought that she couldn’t ever be prettier than she was on their wedding day, but for once he was happy to be proven wrong, when she had laid in the hospital bed with their new-born resting tenderly on her chest. And from every day since then, she had a special glow around her.

The mummy glow, as he liked to call it. Everything about her radiated love, it had from the very first time they met, but it seemed to only have grown from the moment she had brought their son into the world.

“And when she was ready to give up, an angel in disguise came by and said that she knew a boy that was so willing to give out the love he had inside of him. She only had to go out and have dinner with him, and the girl could see so for herself,” she was mindlessly talking as she was cutting up an onion, taking occasional breaks to look up to the ceiling to avoid crying too much.

“So, she put on her prettiest dress, and went to the restaurant the angel had told her about. And in there was the boy. The boy who was more than willing to love her, and the girl was so happy. Because she finally had the love she had always dreamed about.”

Spencer was gently rocking the baby in his arms; the gentle hum of his mother’s voice lulling him into a light slumber.

“And about a year and a half later,” she continued before being interrupted by a soft mumbling.

“One year, six months and 14 days.”

“Right,” she turned around from the cutting board, “sorry. And a year, six months and 14 days later the boy asked the girl to marry him. And the girl was so happy.” Spencer could hear the smile in her voice, his own mind going back to the evening, where they both ended up with tears in their eyes, and a ring sitting in its rightful place after weeks hidden away.

“And then the boy and girl got married, and all of their friends and family were there to celebrate with them. And the girl had never felt so much love for a person in her entire life,” she continued softly, remembrance seeking out of every word passing her lips.

Spencer moved to get up, making sure the baby was securely pressed to his chest as he made his way over to the kitchen counter she was standing by.

“That was of course until the girl found out that she was pregnant.”

She glanced at her two loves, both eagerly listening to the story.

“Nine months later the girl gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy in the world. And in that moment the girl realized that nothing could ever top the love she had for her beautiful baby. And so, the girl, who once was so sad and lonely, suddenly had a husband whom she loved dearly, and a small baby boy that she loved more than life itself.”

When she finished the story, she leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss to the top of the baby’s head, before leaning up and giving her husband one.

“That’s a very good story,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Thank you,” she laughed as they pulled apart, her focus going back to the vegetables. “It’s one of my absolute favourites.”

-

Light snowflakes were dancing around outside of the window, the yellow light from the streetlamps highlighting them like ballerinas on a stage.

The chill had seeped its way into the small room, making goosebumps rise on the back of his neck, yet the cold was the furthest thing on his mind.

At the forefront was the small baby, who was sleeping peacefully in the wooden crib. His small onesie covered chest was moving up and down with the deep breaths, helping to calm Spencer’s mind.

The nightlight was shining from its place on the bookcase, that was already overflowing despite only having been used for eight months.

Small coos left the baby, and the small arms moved to stretch over his head, before resting back again in a peaceful sleeping position. The small tongue came to stick out past his lips, something she said always reminded her of his father.

Spencer let a small smile tug on his lips, before he moved up from the chair, lingering by the crib for just a small moment, soaking up all the love he felt from the small baby.

Before he could move away from the crib, he heard the wooden door creek open, and before he knew it, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, taking a firm grip on the dark blue cardigan he was wearing.

“Tough case?” she mumbled against his shoulder, letting her lips rest there and giving the spot an occasional kiss or two.

Spencer moved to interlock their fingers, and letting their arms wrap tightly around him, letting the security of her arms prevent him from falling apart.

“Yeah,” he whispered, tears already burning in the corner of his eyes.

He felt her lean her head against his shoulder, hearing her taking a deep breath in before she started talking again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer let out a deep breath before shaking his head.

“Spence,” she whispered, slowly removing her arms from his, helping him turn around to face him.

His brown eyes were glistening with unshed tears, yet they seemed as lovely as ever in the light of the streetlamps, the nightlight and the glowing moon. His nose was scrunching up in a way she knew meant that he was fighting to not let the stream of tears fall.

“We made a deal,” she whispered to him, moving closer so they stood chest to chest, hands interlocked by their sides. “When Noah was born, we made a deal, that you wouldn’t keep all of this in anymore.”

Spencer lifted his eyes to the ceiling when he felt the tears make their escape, choosing to focus on the glow-in-the-dark stars that lithered the ceiling instead of the concerned eyes of his wife.

“Spencer,” she said a bit more sternly, tugging on their locked hands to draw his attention back to her.

“It was kids,” he finally mumbled, closing his eyes and let his head fall to rest against hers. “Just small kids.”

She let go of his hands in order to wrap her arms around his shoulders, hoping to help him stay together for just a little longer. Hoping to make him feel okay for just a little longer.

One of her hands buried itself in the tangle of curls, while the other was rubbing soothing patterns on his shoulder blades – the same way she did to their son when he was upset.

“One of them was called Noah,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing her tightly around her waist. “He just looked so much like him it was scary, and we couldn’t save him.” Tears were falling freely now, a lump clogging his throat. “I couldn’t save him.”

“Oh, Spence,” she mumbled softly, tightening her arms around him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s just,” he started as he slowly pulled away, only to drag her into his side as he looked down at the sleeping baby, “we haven’t had a case revolving kids since he was born. And then I saw him; he looked like he was sleeping. And all I could think about was our Noah; our Noah that falls asleep to your stories and that giggles every time I do a magic trick.”

He could feel her eyes on him, while his were solely focused on the sleeping baby.

“And I got to thinking,” he started, savouring the feeling of his wife pressing herself closer to his side, “what if, at one point, I can’t save him? What if I can’t save you?”

“Hey now,” Y/N reached up and directed his line of sight to her, ensuring that his mind wouldn’t drift away to a dark place, like it had a tendency to do. “That’s never going to happen, okay? You’re his daddy okay? And he knows that his daddy always will protect him.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and sniffled, tuning his ears into the sound of deep breaths coming from his son, and the gentle soothing voice of his wife.

“It’s just,” he started to mumble, afraid to let her open the door to the deepest darkest corner of his mind, “sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it.”

With his eyes till squeezed shut, he let himself go in the feeling of her rubbing her soft fingers up and down his cheeks. The smell of her perfume and baby shampoo filled his nose, making the deep, scary corner of his mind seem further and further away.

“What do you mean,” she inquired softly, letting her head fall to the crook of his neck.

“I see so much evil every day, and sometimes it's hard to shut it out when I get home. And I’m gone for days at a time, sometimes not home for weeks. And I guess it was fine when it was just me. But then you came along,” he leaned down and let his lips ghost over her ear, while whispering his confessions to her. “You came, and suddenly it was harder leaving, but you’ve always insisted that you were fine with me leaving.”

“Because I am,” she whispered into his neck, slowly starting to rock them from side to side.

“I know,” he mumbled sweetly, “And then Noah came along, and now I’m terrified that I’ll miss everything. That I’ll miss watching him grow up, because I was too busy chasing down monsters, and that it’ll only drag me further away from you – from him.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck, and gently grasped the sides of his face, before leaning up to give him a slow, deep kiss.

They just stood like that for a while, a boy and a girl, so in love with each other that nothing else really seemed to matter.

“Spencer Reid,” she mumbled against his lips, refusing to even let the space of an atom come between them. “You are the best man I’ve ever known. You are the best husband and the best dad that I could ever wish for for our son.”

His eyes remained closed, but more tears started to trail down his cheeks again, only to be kissed away by a pair of soft lips.

“You’re his hero,” she told him softly. “Even though he’s not old enough to know what a hero is,” they laughed softly as she spoke, “he cries every time you leave, and gets excited every time you come back home. And I swear, that no matter what bedtime fairy tales I tell him, nothing will ever beat the plethora of stories I can tell him about his daddy.”

They pulled apart, and she dragged him over to stand by the side of the wooden crib, soft breaths filling the silence.

“This is why what you do is worth it,” she said, letting her hand rub up and down his back, as he let one of his big hands gently smooth over the frail hairs on his little head. “Every day, when you and that amazing team of yours chase down monsters, you make the world a little bit brighter. A little bit safer for our Noah to grow up in.

“You show him what it means to be good, to fight for what you believe in. And if that means that you have to travel a lot, then so be it. Because the passion you have for saving other people, for helping those in need is what made me fall in love with you. And that will never change.”

One of her hands went down and squeezed the tiny onesie covered foot that was flailing around in his dreams.

“But if you decide to leave it behind, to find something else to do, then I support you. Always. And so will he,” she giggled the last part, releasing the tiny foot to wrap both of her arms around Spencer’s midsection.

“I love you,” he mumbled down to her, his nose nuzzling into the crown of her head.

“I love you too,” she smiled up at him, but was quick to turn her attention to the crib when a soft cry was released. “And you,” she said, her mummy voice immediately being activated, “I love you so very much.”

She let her arms fall from his waist in order to pick Noah up, his cries immediately subsiding by the comfort of his mother’s arms.

“Why are we crying, huh?” she whispered softly, letting her lips brush against the soft temple, as Noah slowly relaxed into her chest. “Mummy’s here, Daddy’s here, Noah’s here,” she said as she started to rock him back and forth. “You wanna go to daddy?”

Spencer happily accepted the small baby into his arms, letting his nose bury in Noah’s hair, welcoming the smell of innocence that filled him.

“Daddy’s right here,” he mumbled, bouncing the baby up and down slowly, just the way he knows help him fall back into a slumber.

“Do you want to take him to bed?” Y/N asked, looking at both of her boys with the uttermost love in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes never leaving the small baby that was slowly, but surely, falling back to sleep.

“Then let’s go to sleep daddy,” she said, turning the nightlight off, and starting to guide them out of the door and down the hallway to their bedroom. “I have an inkling that sleep will do you some good.”

[likewiley]

you remember every horrifying detail; a picturescape across your mind that you receive no reprieve from– [do you seek it? or is it a telling of all you have done, all you have yet to do? a punishment from a god that you do not believe in; both belonging in the heavens and the void spread out around you].   in a way, javi’s return had gave you an unfound sense of hope of something else being out there—  a survival just out of reach, at a cost you were unsure of but not too eager to find out.  his silence was deafening; of what could be shared in the unspoken was that of fear, a terrible chill that could set itself in your bones and carry its way out of winter and into spring.  some things will never be answered, too horrific to put a name to in the face of what you are facing going forward.  you do not let yourself think about another mouth to feed, how the days seem to bleed into each other so that you do not know how much longer for the ground to thaw; or if unsung rescue is just on the horizon.  in the before, you liked statistics; ramble off the likelihood of xyz, comment on doomed hopes.   here, you couldn’t.  whilst odds have never landed on your side in the past, they only worsened with each passing day, the glimmer of hope in the first days that followed long diminished, snuffed out with the very snow underfeet. 

it’s a solemn nod that follows the reading of javi’s comment, a feeling that you could not quite pinpoint inside of your chest but one that you understood nonetheless.    “did–”   you pause, unusual for you to get your tongue caught up amidst your words, but you were careful.  a first of communication, you note the first page to be used, previous entries still with shauna’s familiar scrawl.  you swallow a lump that had grown in your throat,  eyes darting to the ground as if lack of sight would stop your questioning.    “did you want to be found?”

> @likewiley — ‘don't you wish you'd never come back, sometimes?’

the whites of his eyes—like snow against bark—widen a mite at the supposition; there is wonder that accompanies every step the woods bestows, a feeling of borrowed time that nips at the very tips of his fingers, cold and unfriendly. it feels something like a living death, the carrying on after expiration; you had died, you had been grieved, so how was it that you remained? [javi did not remember eating, did not remember sleeping, did not recall a minute of it all. one moment there, another moment gone, and the following he was alive again, as though the woods itself had breathed into him a second wind. walking flesh.] javi stares at maeve a moment more, passing silent secrets between the vast space they shared, as though she could fathom the words etched behind the windows of his skull, his lips sealed as though by some unseen force. his silence was a glimpse into something too terrible to recount, his haunted stare that went too long unblinking spoke volumes of a fearful something else that resided within the woods alongside them. whatever it was, it took no name nor shape, but it dwelled within the air, the trees, the fresh layer of snow the youngest boy was much too afraid to disturb, as though it could be awoken by the smallest of motions and reap its revenge upon them.

javi nods, once, slow and deliberate, as though careful to keep the thought between them. he takes shauna's given notepad—the one he had neglected to use thus far for the lack of having anything to say—and scratches another that continued to plague him. that feeling like sleepwalking, of having one foot in the grave, of no longer recognising your body as your own but instead a stranger's. javi sums it up in one short line; sometimes i don't think i did.