#while this one carries it like a tumbling shrine

[aslyran]

A moment of respite

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

With A Flap of Wings, Part 5

After another day of discussion, it is decided that the safest option for everyone would be to move their ghost within the fortress walls. By then, all of the residents within the Unclean Realms have learned just who is haunting the tombs up on the ridge, and everyone with any potentially useful knowledge is eager to help bring their lost young master home. 

It takes the rest of the week and two more days of the next to solidify a plan for how to capture him without harming him and prepare a place for him to reside. 

At Nie Leiyun's insistence, her favorite garden is modified to contain a small table shrine with a sturdy wood and stone roof to protect it from rain and snow. Settled against one of the stone walls so that it will be shielded from wind as well, it sits directly behind the pear tree that is the focus of the garden, providing a safe, private place for a wayward ghost to rest.

When Nie Huaisang, having tumbled out of the spirit pouch that carried him there, looks up in a daze to see the tree, Nie Leiyun's heart aches at the expression that blooms on her son's face, and she immediately rushes to hold him as he hunches into himself like a wounded animal and begins to cry silently. 

"It's okay, Sang-er," she whispers as she rocks him and strokes hair that slips through her fingers like smoke. "It's okay. You're home... Everything's fine now, you're home."

—

Nie Jinghe observes all the chaos of the preparation with the sort of detached confusion that only a six-year-old can muster. 

Her mother has told her that they have brought her older brother home. 

Her older brother who never made it into the world like she did. 

She wonders for a while if she should be scared of him… then decides that’s dumb. Even if he is something weird now, even if he is something the picture books say is scary, he is still her brother, isn't he? Besides, all three of her parents and her other brother all agree that he’s to come home, and they wouldn’t let him in the walls if he was really scary.

Her mother comes to her a little while after all the noise and bustle dies down, and Nie Jinghe can tell that she has been crying. But she seems... lighter now. Happier, despite the dried tears. 

If her brother being brought inside the walls can make her mother happier, then Nie Jinghe will be happy to see him too, she resolves. "Is he here?" 

Her mother nods and offers a hand. "Would you like to meet your er-ge?" 

She fidgets with her stuffed cloth bird, debating on whether or not to bring it with her. Normally, when meeting new people, she’s supposed to leave it behind. 

But this isn’t really a new person, is he? He’s her brother. 

And maybe he’ll like birds. 

Maybe he’ll like Huahua.

Clutching the toy tightly, she rushes to take hold of her mother's hand. 

"He-er," her mother says softly as they walk through the halls. "Be gentle, alright? Sang-er is..." 

"Is he sick? Like when he went away?" 

Her mother smiles, but it's a little unsure. "Something like that. He's probably not ready for the kind of hugs you like to give."

Nie Jinghe frowns at the floor as she considers that. "Can... can I hug him like I hug Mingming?" she asks, referring to her favorite among the cats that roam the fortress as resident mousers. 

Her mother's smile gains strength. "I think that would be fine. And... don't be too alarmed when you see him, alright? We aren’t sure yet why he looks so much older than he should be, but he's still Sang-er." 

She doesn't understand what that means until they step outside into her mother's favorite garden and she spots the ghost kneeling silently among the roots of the pear tree. 

Oh.

Meeting a grownup instead of another child makes her hesitate, clinging to her mother's skirts with the arm her bird is tucked into, until he registers their approach and opens his eyes, turning his head to look at them. 

Oh.

"Sang-er, this is Jinghe," her mother says, putting a hand on her head. "Your meimei.”

The tears are back in her mother's voice. "He-er, this is Huaisang. Your er-ge." 

Nie Jinghe doesn't wait for him to react, quickly shuffling forward to thrust her toy bird at him. "And this is Huahua! She's my best friend. My best bird friend, anyway. I have best cat friends and best people friends too. Do you like birds?" 

She knows she's chattering but she doesn't care. That's just the way she's always been; nervously spitting out the things she needs to say as fast as possible once she can get them out at all. 

Nie Huaisang blinks at her, and she tries not to fidget at the emotions that flicker across his face with the speed of shadows in a fire. 

Then he gives her a soft, sad smile and reaches out to pat Hua-er on the head. Something... something... something flutters through her mind… the beating of dozens of pairs of wings in different stages of healing, tended by careful hands. 

He likes birds. 

Remembering her mother's earlier warning, she is careful not to hug too hard when she flings herself into her er-ge’s lap with a squeal of glee.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

The Kitsune and the Ninja [RC9GN AU]

Good timezone, my lovely readers! So- I have a new contribution to the fandom heh; this is kind of tied back to when I did that x Reader thing for Finja, but this can be treated as its own separate work honestly! This obviously follows the original character and not the Reader, but let's get on with it, shall we?

Before I start talking about Finja, I do want to say that some things might change because I am still testing out a feel for Rei Izumi - the original character - and yes, this does include Finja as well! After all, their stories are linked!

As mentioned in previous posts, kitsunes are nine-tailed foxes - trickster spirits within Japanese mythology - which is the being Rei Izumi is. Now, kitsune are split into distinct categories or 'classes', you could say. The first class has the foxes as creatures that appear in traditional folktales- primarily there to teach a lesson about work and play, and of course, are viewed as cunning and only there to cause further mischief. The second class, however, places kitsune as deities and protectors of the magical world where yokai reside

Kitsune have distinct powers, each varying depending on who wields it. For those marked as deities, who have their own shrine, the kitsune are viewed as intelligent, cunning, and proud. They have their own element (primarily focused on fire and ice), as well as a domain they reside over. For Rei, they are- in fact- one of these deities but have also abandoned their duties for the sake of play and fun. Unfortunately, I'm still uncertain what their role as a deity is but they maintain the barrier between the magical world and the mundane one (in other words, Norrisville)

To keep myself from spoiling, I won't go into too much detail but just know: Rei had once been part of a family of kitsune- each with their own distinct abilities, considered sacred... but for reasons unknown, Rei is the last one left and for a while, decided to ignore their responsibilities (as threats likely weren't fully on the rise as they were later) and would instead observe Norrisville- they would perform pranks but a lot of them were fairly harmless

However, as the years went by- Rei grew bored over the same routine and suddenly, without as much of a warning, more monsters began appearing. They heard the rumors of the Sorcerer's power and of an apparent clan - the Norisu - that had challenged him, scouring different lands in an attempt to put an end to his schemes

Rei and Finja didn't actually meet for a while- not until the First Ninja was close to eighteen, quite literally stumbling his way into their shrine. He had somehow gotten lost in the forest, attempting to prove himself in the family, and taken a 'tumble' which led to the kitsune patching him up and offering him a way out but only if he agreed to return. With the deal struck, the teenager went on his way and Rei was left intrigued by the kind of individual he was

He began frequenting a lot, still with the same brash attitude- wanting nothing more than to be seen as just as much of a warrior as the rest of his family. At least, that was the way it had been but of course... on a certain night, everything changed. He had arrived- clothes stained with soot and blood, a haunted look in his eyes- with an offer, to firmly get rid of the Sorcerer once and for all

Rei was astonished by such a demand, but they knew something happened- the scent off of him wreaked of someone who had just gone through the unimaginable, and the duo came up with their own plan to seal away the Sorcerer in a prison of their making. To put an end to the suffering (as not all 'stankings' ended peacefully to say the least-)

Everything that followed could honestly be considered a fever dream as their relationship was never fully the same- between the unresolved trauma Finja carried and them realizing that ultimately, defeating the Sorcerer was far more important, they drifted apart. It wasn't until centuries later that it all changed and things, of course, have a way of mending again

For the most part, Rei's personality is playful, ambitious- they want to have fun and are hoping Finja will one day open up to them again; they hold a cheerful outlook on life, but something to understand about foxes is that they are possessive and they will stop at nothing to protect the First Ninja

Their connection isn't quite set in stone, but just now- a lot is coming for them, so much more than you could expect (and if i am hyperfixating, no i'm not what do you mean /lh)

More will come for them soon!

Credit goes to @aster-saturn which led me to create this idea!

[herstrayskies]

Matching Crowns

Yatori Week 2021 Day 4 - Moving Forward

Ao3 Link or read below~

Thanks to @asin-ka for being my beta <3

Matching Crowns

It had been four years since Hiyori was in the city inhabited by a wishful thinking God and his ever devoted shinki. She was only there to meet up with her childhood friends seeing that they had to beg her up and down for weeks to come and enjoy a weekend with them. The only thing that held her back was the possibility of running into him. So when she finally broke down and decided to come back home, the memories of her teenage years flooded back in like a tsunami the moment she stepped off that train. The temptation to visit her once favorite shrines tugged at the back of her mind like a fishing rod every time she passed them. The bait was ever so tempting but her pride was stronger.

That is until she heard his voice, smelled her favorite scent. Something that was a mix of cherry blossoms and honey.

-More under the cut-

The bustling of the city wasn’t enough to keep her eyes from finding him in a second. He was passing out business cards on the street to unkind people who passed him by without a hint of attention. But then again, she knew a lot of those people couldn’t see or hear him as he shouted his name into the unending crowd. She wanted to reach out and grab a card out of his hands for the sake of his happiness but she had to remind herself that they hadn’t talked to each other in years. Knowing well that he was the one that vanished from her life.

She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and turned away from her once friend; holding back the need to have her fate twined with his once again.

One Day Later

The bar was packed and Hiyori wasn’t much of a drinker but couldn’t resist her friends' smiling faces and pleading eyes when they asked her to go to their favorite hang out. It was dark and lit by colored ambient light like any other place. A mix of young and old people filled the booths and bar stools. It was loud but what bar wasn’t on a Saturday night? The three friends found an empty table in the middle of all the bustle and patiently waited to be served their first drink.

It wasn’t long before the round of drinks kept coming with each emptied glass. As the liquor started to calm her down, creating a light and bubbly atmosphere, Hiyori began to enjoy herself and forgot all about a certain boyish God.

The group of friends laughed over their high school adventures and talked about the new people they’ve come across in college. The two of them kept bugging her about any potential suitors but she waved them off each time, attempting to make them believe that school was more important to her. Which wasn’t entirely a lie but not entirely true either.  

Hiyori got up out of her seat to use the restroom and swayed her way down the dimly lit hall. She almost ran into a woman leaving the bathroom but was quickly able to avoid her only to tumble into someone close behind. She laughed and apologized without looking back and slipped into the restroom before the door closed. She could have sworn she heard her name whispered through the crack.

When she returned to the main part of the bar, she scouted out the area for her table. It was getting later into the evening which dissipated the huge crowds. What was left were the small groups of friends catching up, couples sharing secrets over drinks, businessmen being shaken awake by the bartenders, and the few regulars sipping their way through their favorite liquor. Eventually, people’s faces began to blur in with one another and the room started to spin. It wasn’t until a lock of dark violet hair passing her by that made her eyes go into focus again.

She really didn’t know he would be there. He wasn’t known to go to bars, not while she knew him. He was more into stealing beer out of her father’s or Daikoku’s fridge.

But the sight of him made the movement of everyone else stop. His name played on her tongue like the strong alcohol she had downed not even ten minutes ago. She wouldn’t let it spill but the temptation was a strong tug on her heart. Its beat sped up with each step she took towards him. It had been three years. Three years of silence and unanswered messages. Three years of desire and grief.

She grabbed onto his wrist without a care in the world and when his heavenly blue eyes met hers she felt that tight bond weaving through her fingertips again. She held on tightly to that feeling and spoke before he could even get a word out.

“I’m Hiyori Iki, and I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me.”

His laughter rang throughout the bar and into her heart. That was the smile she missed so much.

“Nice to meet you, Iki-san,” he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, “Sorry about that but I’ve never had a girl, save for you, be so bold to flirt with me.”

She felt her face heat up and tried to convince herself that it was only the alcohol, “I’m very upfront about what I want.”

“Only when you’re drunk, right?

“Yes, ah wait,” what was she saying?

“As you should be,” he reached for her hand and pulled it up to his lips, leaving a brushed kiss on her knuckles, “please, call me Yato.”

Slightly annoyed that he knew how to appease her, with her lips quivering of the thought of those lips on hers instead, she smiled and took her hand away. Did he believe that she didn’t remember him or was he playing along?

“Nice to meet you, Yato.”

A blush crept across his face before turning away from her, “to the bar, shall we?”

She followed behind him and nodded towards her friends as she passed by their table. They seemed as shocked as she was that she was getting a drink with some random stranger. She noticed how he hadn’t changed at all, that none of her teenage years was a lie and she really was best friends with a God and his shinki. He asked her what she wanted to drink as they approached the bar. She told him to surprise her. He grinned that conniving grin and turned back to the bartender, ordering each of them a mixed drink she’d never heard of before.

“So what brings you here, Iki-san?” Yato passed her a glass and motioned for her to take a seat.

She shook her head, “call me Hiyori.” They sat down at a secluded booth near the back end of the bar. She watched as he stirred the contents with his finger before licking it clean. She tried her best not to stare but her eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards his lips. She remembered them fleetingly, how soft and desperate they were the night before they last saw each other. She lowered her head, staring at her untouched drink. “I was meeting with my childhood friends. We happened to pass by this bar and decided to get a few drinks.”

Yato took a swig of his drink and grinned slyly, “happened to pass by, huh?”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at his accusatory voice. It’s not like she knew he would be here but she could see how it would seem suspicious. She thought she hid it pretty well, acting like these past few years had wiped her memory clean of any evidence that he was real. She knew better than that, she could never get him off her mind. No matter how many boys glanced her way or tried to catch her after classes ended. She feared getting involved with anyone else would make her memory start to fade. And he was a memory she never wanted to forget.

“Ami and Yama said this is their favorite bar so they invited me to come check it out,” she admitted, taking a hesitant sip of her drink. It was a bit strong but nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Ah, and where are these friends of yours?”

Hiyori turned her head to find her friends sitting at the table she left not too long ago. They happened to both be staring at her, of course. They were always nosey when it came to Hiyori’s boy endeavors. She hesitantly waved at them as they returned more triumphant, attention-grabbing waves. Yama winked while Ami had a thumbs up. God, why were they like this?

She turned around to Yato’s big smile, a bit too overconfident for her liking.

“Looks like they’re cheering you on.”

Hiyori took another nervous sip of her drink, “they like to embarrass me.”

Yato laughed, making her wish more and more that she could just tell him the truth. That she in fact remembered him to the core. That she just wanted to reach across the table, grab the collar of his shirt and bring those idiotic lips to hers. She pushed the feeling deep down to the pit of her stomach.

“So what do you do, Hiyori?”

She set her drink down and continued with her facade, “well I’m studying medicine. My family has their own practice, a hospital actually, and I’ve always wanted to carry on the family trade.”

“Always?”

She stared at the ice slowly melting in her drink, diluting the alcohol. “I think at one point, when I was in high school, I didn’t really know what I wanted.” She noticed the silence between them carried on a little longer than she would have liked. She looked up from her drink and found a curious expression on his face. Almost hurt but uncertain.

“I guess most high school students are like that, huh?”

She couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on his brow, the unspoken words on his lips.

“I guess so,” she was desperate to change the subject, “and you? What do you do.”

He shrugged and finished his drink, “I’m a man of many trades. I do what I can to make a living to support my family.”

“Sounds like your heart is in the right place,” she thought about Yukine and Nora and how well Yato got them accustomed to each other over the course of two years. How they slowly developed into this small, weird-found family. She took another sip, she hoped they were still happy.

“I wouldn’t be who I am without them, without-“

Hiyori raised her brows at him, wondering where his words were leading. He had covered his mouth to stop them from overflowing something not meant for her ears. She took a final long swig of her drink and tilted her head.

“What are they like? You’re family?”

Yato slowly dropped his hand from his mouth, a forced smile playing on his lips. He reached for his drink, “it’s gonna take a couple more of these to talk about my loved ones, Hiyori.”

For some reason that made her blush and she opted out to get up and order them more drinks from the bar. The rational thinking was completely wiped from her mind and she blamed the booze.

2 hours later

Her jaw started to hurt from the laughter and never-ending smile he continued to put on her face. She had missed his quirkiness and outright stupidity but she didn’t truly realize it until it hurt to smile. Over and over again.

He talked about his “kid” and how smart he was, how he studied every day even though he really didn’t need to. He praised his sister for overcoming her fears and guilt. He talked about the scuffles he’d get in with a certain glasses-wearing pervert and his long-haired skanky woman. He laughed about a certain clumsy girl with her rigid but loving partner. He talked about the family he found in them and how much he enjoyed their everyday adventures.

She couldn’t help but notice he never mentioned missing a certain girl who so terribly missed him. She put it to the back of her mind and continued to listen to his heartwarming and idiotic stories. It was as if she never left his side.

The snow was getting heavier as they trudged along the city's edge, walking over a bridge that seemed to be very familiar. He stumbled a bit due to a rock hidden among the blanketed snow or possibly the multiple drinks he downed before they left the bar and her friends behind. Luckily for her, the cold was able to sober her up just enough to keep an attentive eye on her friend.

“Be careful, Yato,” she said as she grabbed his arm to steady his balance. He turned his head and gave his usual silly lopsided grin. Oh, he was definitely drunk.

“Hiyori, you’re very kind, you know that?”

She felt a sudden feeling of dread course through her body. She didn’t feel kind, not at all. Not when she’d been lying to him this whole time. Until she reminded herself that without the lies, she wouldn’t be very kind to him at all. Not when he just up and left-

He slipped and fell to his back; sprawled out in the snow, he started laughing. She crouched next to him and wondered what could ever be so funny. Her eyes traveled to his lips, admiring his smile, brighter than a full moon on a clear night. To his eyes, bright pools of hope, joy, and love.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she reached out to help him back on his drunken feet.

He turned his head to the side to look at her, his blue eyes pleading for something she didn’t quite understand. His hand clasped around hers and he held onto it, making no sign of getting up from the snow-dusted bridge. He slowly brought her hand to his cheek and rested it there. Her hand rushed with heat along with her own cheeks. He chuckled and closed his eyes at her soft touch.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve been in years.”

“Years?” She played along, trying to not let her heart burst out of her chest for feeling the same way. “You just talked about how much you loved your friends and family.”

He slowly blinked at her, “I was a lot happier when my best friend was at my side.”

She tried her hardest not to reveal anything from her expression but she was sure she let a beat of sorrow slip, “What happened with them?”  

“How long are you staying in town?” He asked, dismissing her question.

She smiled softly and shook her head, “I’ll be returning to school tomorrow afternoon.”

His smile faltered for a split second, “Ever so fleeting, Hiyori Iki.”

“As is life.”

He laughed, deep from his chest and his heart, her hand still resting against his warming cheek. He closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the cold, late-night air. “Will we meet again?”

Hiyori felt like a jolt of lightning struck her, she stood up quickly, ripping her hand from his, and began to walk away from the drunken God. Her mind was whirling with never-ending thoughts, his words from so long ago hammering her brain. We shall meet again.  

How horrible of him, she thought. The anger and sadness she felt that day when she realized he had stopped visiting her. Tears tried to break free but her desperate lie kept the mask on her face, hiding so desperately what she didn’t want him to find out.

She didn’t hear his steadfast footsteps and almost fell back onto him as he grabbed her wrist. She stopped, her feet almost crossing the line of the wooden bridge. She begged herself to keep on going, to forget this ever happened, forget the stupidity of her own decision of approaching him again tonight. She had let the alcohol get the best of her, after three years of forcing herself to stray from the person she loved most in this world.

But his hand was so warm, wrapped around her wrist, his fingers soft and tender as the night those very same hands caressed the back of her neck, kissing her with all the love he had stored away in his heart. She remembered the way he murmured I love you’s against her lips as she nervously chuckled, repeating it back to him.

“Please don’t go, Hiyori,” he pleaded.

She continued to stare down at her own two feet, wondering if he’d continue to come after her if she pulled away again. He said something under his breath, too low for her to hear and she forced herself to look back at him. His eyes sorrowful and lost, a look of desperation splayed across his face.

“What did you say?” She asked, scared to hear his answer.

“I’ve missed you.”

Four Years Ago

The party had quieted down by evening. Kofuku was passed out drunk under the table while Daikoku took care to clean up the leftover food and drinks without waking her. Yukine and Nora sat on the back porch in lightweight coats, watching the sunset behind the clouds. Hiyori sat at the table looking at her and Kofuku’s unfinished game of Onigiri roulette. She was happy for the small graduation party her friends had thrown for her and even happier that Yato was the one to organize it. After missing her birthday the first time around, he always made sure to never forget it or other important events again.

She reminisced a few hours back when she walked in and everyone cheered “Congratulations'' to her. Food was hot and ready to be eaten, a few graduation gifts in the corner of the room begging to be ripped open. They ate, played games, and re-lived events that had long come and gone.

She smiled as her fingertips brushed against the notebook Yukine had gotten for her. “Don’t Give Up,” was sprawled across the top. He told her that as long as she’d write her class notes in there, she would never fail a test. A blessing from a God’s Guidepost in the form of a lucky charm.

Hiyori looked up at Daikoku as he lifted Kofuku in his arms, staring lovingly at his Goddess before realizing he was being watched. She almost felt jealous, wishing she had someone to look at her like that.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna take the missus to bed, why don’t you go see what Yato is doing?”

She wondered if he could tell she was thinking about him, “where did he go?”

He shrugged, “he probably slunk back to his room after realizing he’s the only one who didn’t get you a present.”

Hiyori laughed, “I don’t need him sulking like he did when he found out about my birthday that first year,” she got up and dusted off her skirt, “guess I’ll go see what he’s up to.”

She watched as he took away Kofuku before heading up the stairs. Odd metallic noises could be heard from the hallway but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She made her way to the top and opened the doorway to his room.

She found him there, sitting at the small desk against the wall, working on something. She quietly made her way over to him, hoping not to alert him, and stopped as she was close enough to peer over his shoulder. She couldn’t see what he was working on.

“So this is where you disappeared to?”

Startled, Yato put his hands over something on the table and looked up at her, “H-hiyori! What are you doing here?”

She laughed, “Well I was wondering where the organizer of my party went and had to come looking,” she tilted her head, “what are you working on?”

He looked back to his hands, “um well, I’m kinda working on,” he paused before looking back to her, “a gift for you.”

“For me?” Her voice hitched up with anticipation, “what is it?”

“Well, it’s not done yet. I meant to finish it up last night but Yukine and I got a job and it was very tiring you know,” he looked at her with desperate eyes, “I got back home, immediately crashed on the floor and didn’t have time so I thought…” he trailed off. She could tell he felt bad for not getting her gift done in time for the party but it made her heart flutter knowing he was making something special for her. She sat down cross-legged and turned her back to his, slightly leaning against him.

“Can I keep you company while you finish it? I promise I won’t look.” She listened as he readjusted his position to uncover her unfinished gift.

“That would be nice,” he admitted. He started working away again, his back shifting against hers once in a while. It was warm, he felt warm. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on top.

“Thank you for the party, Yato. I had a lot of fun.”

“O-of course. You graduated High School! It only happens once in life you know.”

She laughed, “I do have to say though, I can’t believe you left me to play Onigiri Roulette alone with Kofuku.”

“I’ve played way too many times, I don’t need a mouth full of toothpaste again, no thanks.”

Hiyori straightened up and turned just enough to see the side of his smiling face, “still, I expected you to be there but you crawled away without even a word.”

He bit his lip, his eye-catching hers, “I’m sorry,  I just really wanted to give you this.”

Hiyori ever so casually placed her chin on his shoulder, their faces mere inches apart, “this gift must be extra special then.” Without realizing it she took in his calming and sweet scent. How she wished it was her own.

His face flushed and he turned away from her eyes, “y-you promised you wouldn’t look.”

She peeled away and readjusted herself, pressing her back into his once again, “sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

He mumbled something under his breath but continued to work. The silence pressed on and anticipation slowly scratched at her heart.

“Have you heard back from any colleges yet?”

Her heart sank with the deep weight of a folded-up letter in her skirt pocket. She had planned on telling him. She really did. But every day it seemed harder and harder. Being accepted to a prestigious medicine school that was hours away from her best friend was a hard pill to swallow. She had no idea when she’d find the time to visit him and she didn’t want him to forget his duties, put them on the sideline for her. With him on the way to becoming a God of Fortune, she couldn’t let him give that up for her. He also had his responsibility to be there for Yukine more than her. She could never deny that. Not after everything that they had been through.

She just had to tell him, grab the letter out of her pocket and show him the good news-

“Not yet, but I’m pretty positive I’ll get into the place I want,” she hated lying.

“Definitely! You’re so smart, I know you’ll do great.”

She smiled at his compliment. She kind of knew it herself but hearing it from the person you like is a completely different story.

“Okay, It’s all done,” his voice was chipper, “Hiyori, close your eyes, please.”

She did. She felt him shift behind her, felt the brush of his knees against her lower back as he knelt down behind her. Then, ever so cautiously, his hands collected her long hair to move over her right shoulder. His fingertips brushed against the nape of her neck and a small shiver ran through her back, more aware of his fleeting touch. She felt nothing for a few breaths until something light and small tapped the center of her upper chest. Instinctively she moved her hand to check it out but Yato’s own hand caught hers before she could.

“Not yet, just one more second,” he released her hand and she put it back into her lap while he went back to work. She tried her best to keep her mind off his timid and floating touches but every nerve in her body wanted to focus solely on where his hands were.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he said as his hands disappeared from her senses, “Congrats on graduating, Hiyori.”

When she opened her eyes and looked down at the golden necklace hanging from her neck she almost gasped. She picked up the charm between two fingers and admired the handiwork made by the hands of a god. By her friend, Yato.

It was a crown, small and golden. One that matched his own. May our fates intertwine engraved neatly on the back. She fought the tears building up behind her eyes as she turned on him. His face was flushed, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.

“I love it.” She said, still holding onto the small crown in her hand.

“I’m glad. I hope you don’t think it’s weird I just thought-“ he stopped as she rested her hand on his chest, her fingertips brushing against the crown embroidered on his tracksuit.

She smiled, earnestly as ever, “we match.” She kept her eyes level with the crown, too shy to make eye contact, too embarrassed to see what kind of expression he would make next.

To her surprise, he reached for the very hand placed on his chest and rested it on top of hers. She felt his heartbeat start to pick up a fast and steady tempo. What was this feeling that pulsated under her palm? What was his heart trying to say? Surely he didn’t feel the same...

She hesitantly looked up and met his burning eyes. Her own heart started to fluctuate as she noticed the heavy blush across his cheeks and at the tip of his ears.

Oh.

“Does it make you happy that it matches?”

“Y-yeah. It’s like I always have a part of you with me,” she bit her tongue from saying anything more.

She felt his hair brush against her cheek as he fell forward a bit. His breath inching closer to her ear.

“May I say something?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

She nodded her head, unable to get an unshaken word past her lips.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, breathing an unsteady breath down her collarbone. His heart wasn’t letting up now nor anytime soon.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a very long time but I just didn’t know when the right time would be.” With his head back up, he took her hand in his before bringing it to his lips, mimicking that first night at Capybara Land. The hair on the back of her neck rose with the certainty that her heart was in sync if not faster than his now. He smiled nervously but lovingly all the same behind their hands, “Forgive me if I’m out of line but, Hiyori...”

She sucked in a hesitant breath. No, he couldn’t, there’s no way he-

“I love you,” he let out a relieved sigh, “I love you and it's something I’ve been sure of for a long time now,” he briefly kissed her shaking fingers before letting the hold on her go, returning her hand to his chest where she once felt his heart's beating. It fluttered beneath her hand like a scared little bird.

She was scared too. She parted her lips to reply but closed them soon after. She wanted to say so many things with the first thing being I love you too . She wondered if it was okay to love him at all, a God.

He smiled nervously at her silence and chuckled. “You don’t need to reply now or even ever if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you don’t want to-“ he stopped at the feeling of her hand trailing its way up past his heart, to the side of his neck to his cheek. She felt the heat beneath it, his true feelings. She met his eyes and returned a nervous smile.

“Actually, I uh,” she bit her bottom lip before parting them once more, “I feel the same.”

His mouth was agape and she had to suppress a laugh at his shocked expression.

“R-really? Are you sure you don’t mean something else?”

“Yato, be more confident in yourself. I’ve told you this multiple times.”

“Yeah but I just want to make sure it's the same way I feel,” he grumbled.

She sighed and swallowed her nervousness. “Yato, I love you,” she tilted her head, “I’ve known for quite a while myself.”

He smiled, “when was this?”

Hiyori pursed her lips, “when you left to find your father and I came after you. Kazuma stopped me and told me that a God can never love a human.”

It felt good to get it off her chest but she immediately had to talk Yato out of beating up his former shinki.

“It’s fine, right? He was wrong,” she reassured him.

He reached for both her hands and brought them towards his lips, he kissed them and looked at her with unwavering eyes. “He was very wrong. I’ve never loved anything more in my life than you.”

She swallowed hard as her whole body heated up at his words. She watched as he lowered her hands to fit in the space between them. He inched closer, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Hiyori, can I try something new?”

“W-what?” She had an idea as she saw him quickly lick his lips. Oh man was the room getting hotter or was it the verge of springtime flowing in from the window?

All of a sudden his hand was caressing her warm cheek, her embarrassment reflected upon them with a shade of pink.

“I think you know,” he chuckled nervously.

“I d-don’t unless you clearly s-say it.”

“May I kiss you?” It came out as a soft and careful question and it warmed her heart that he asked. He knew what heartbreak and suffering the last one caused her. She squeezed his other hand that was still holding onto hers. She couldn’t get any words out so instead she nodded.

First, she felt his hair tickle her forehead and the side of her cheek. Next was the warmth of his exhaled breath before taking one in. Last was his hesitant lips hovering over hers before she pushed herself to steal away the last remaining space between them.

She didn’t know the full extent of what a real kiss could feel like. She didn’t know it would make her stomach flutter, her fingertips tingle, her heart burst into a tiny flame. His lips were soft and warm and so gentle. He began to pull her in more and more with each sparing breath they took. When his hands took roost on her hips it felt like nothing she’s ever experienced before. It felt electrifying. It felt right.

She had to keep telling herself that this wasn’t sudden in the slightest. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen this coming. Not when soon after defeating his father they started to confide in each other more and more. It wasn’t as if after that first accidental handhold under the kotatsu, that his hands just so happened to entangle themselves with hers on occasion. He would never take a hold of her hand after walking her back to her house, kissing the inside of her palm before their goodnight farewells. She definitely didn’t find excuses to give him hug after hug. As if she wanted to feel the warmth and closeness of his body, to get a secret whiff of her favorite scent. She wouldn’t even admit the fact of him kissing her forehead a total of eight times.

And no she certainly was not keeping count, but she would admit that most of them were when their lips had almost met each other’s, but one would reel back in realization. He’d give her a kiss above her brow for forgiveness.

But now he was murmuring I love you over and over again against her heated lips. She had her shaky hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer and closer like an uncontrollable need. She had wanted this for so long; since the moment he appeared to her with his broken shrine in hand but instead of looking at the damage her eyes couldn’t stray away from those lips.

The early spring was cold but Hiyori wasn’t lacking in warmth. Yato helped with that.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home soon?” He said in a soft, warm voice, his fingers brushing hair behind her ear.

“Probably,” was all that she could muster. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He sat behind her now, with enough room between his legs for her to sit perfectly, her back against his chest. She liked the feeling of his heart pounding behind her, his breath tickling the side of her neck, his hand reaching for hers. She grabbed on and squeezed, realizing she really didn’t want to go home.

“I’ll walk you home if you want,” he suggested.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She teased.

“Believe me, Hiyori, I don’t want you to leave, not ever. But I also don’t want your family to panic when they realize you aren’t home.”

A hum escaped her lips. He was right but there was one thing she had to do before she left.

Yato seemed surprised as she turned around on her knees to fish something out of her skirt pocket. His eyes never left the rummaging of her hands even as they pulled out a folded piece of paper. He looked up at her and cocked his head as she tried to hand it to him.

“Go ahead, read it,” she said in a soft voice.

He did and it didn’t take him long to realize what it meant, well partly. He crashed into her, almost knocking her back onto the floor. He held onto her tightly and an excited laugh rang in her ear.

“I knew you’d make it in, Hiyori! I just knew!”

She hugged him back and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She was happy but the pit in her stomach was still there.

“You’re going to be amazing! Dr. Iki. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

She pulled back and smiled lightly, “I’m excited,” she admitted, “but it’s far away, Yato.”

His happy face only faltered for a split second before he was able to put it back on. “I’ll come visit you every day.”

Hiyori laughed, “I’d love that, but please don’t forget about your first priority. Yukine will always need you.”

“Of course, I’ll be there whenever you want. I’m just a wish away.”

“Is that your new slogan?”

He placed a kiss on her forehead, “only for you, Hiyori.”

And he was right. He visited every day she wished him to. In between classes when quick kisses were stolen in empty hallways, on weekends when she had caught up on school work, and nights when the winter chill was just too much for her to bear alone. Some days they’d get lost in meaningless conversations or games while others they’d bask in silence and kisses.

On occasion Yukine would tag along, the three of them doing everything but also nothing in particular. It was like nothing really changed.

Not until he caught her with a failed test result.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, Hiyori? Am I coming here too often?”

She jumped up at the question and stared down at him, lying next to her on her dorm room bed, “I’m doing fine! I just,” she paused trying to come up with an excuse, she sighed when she couldn’t, “forgot about it.”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, “remember when you said Yukine is my main priority? School is yours, don’t neglect it because of me.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

It was the only promise she managed to let slip from her hands. The last night they spent together was full of affection and words of love. He had gently taken her crown necklace that she wore every day between his two fingers and smiled at her.

“I’ll always love you, Hiyori.”

Present Day

Hiyori gripped onto the end of her sleeve like it was a lifeline. He had known all this time and hadn't said a word to her. He had known she was lying this whole time, acting as if she had forgotten him.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew.”

“Did you follow me today, to the bar?”

His eyes flicked away and he shrugged.

“What was your plan? To avoid me the whole time I was there and hope I didn’t see you? Did you plan to approach me at all?”

“I don’t know I-“

"Why haven't you said anything? Why did you play along?  All these years..."

He scratched the back of his head. “You were failing your classes, Hiyori. I saw your scores on essays and exams. I was a distraction, I’m not that naive to realize it wasn’t good to have me around all the time.”

“You didn’t say a word to me. You just stopped responding to me. Do you know what I went through?”

He watched the snowfall melt into the pond below them, below the bridge. “I do. Do you think I could go years without checking up on you?”

She clenched her teeth, “of course you did, you’re a high-class stalker.”

He chuckled and she almost had the nerve to push him over the bridge into the cold water below.  

“Then why,” she pleaded, “if you knew how broken I was after you left without a single word, why did you never tell me why you left.”

“Because,” he paused, meeting her angry gaze,  “I knew if I went to see you again, I wouldn’t be able to leave a second time.”

She ripped her hand from his and walked off the bridge. She wanted to yell at him, to call him selfish for all that he has done. But she couldn’t deny that he was right. After he disappeared, her grades skyrocketed, her focus shifting back to schoolwork. It was something to keep her mind off him. She also knew if he did come back to visit her, she would have found a way to make him stay.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep away from you, Hiyori? Every day I had to convince myself to not approach you, no matter how desperate I was.” She heard him sigh. “It took all my willpower to not let you see me again after that night.”

She stopped and spun around on him. "That night…"

“I knew it would be the last, that’s why I told you-”

“Shut up.”

He reached out for her, “Hiyori-“

“I said shut up!” Her hands were balled into fists against her side, her eyes never straying from the snow-covered ground.

He dropped his outstretched hand, hiding them deep within his pockets. “I’m sorry. I realize now I probably should have approached the situation differently.”

“It was inconsiderate.”

“I know.”

“Selfish and so stupid.” She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and she flinched when his hand touched her cheek. She looked at him timidly, letting his thumb wipe the tears from her eyes.

“I’m an ass, that’s for sure,” he admitted.

“Most idiotic God for a boyfriend.”  

“Hiyori, please-”

Her lips met his again, this time drowned by the saltiness of her tears. He accepted it with eagerness and pulled her in tight. There was sadness and desperateness behind her kiss. Something so raw and powerful that it almost made him falter at the knees.

She pulled away to only have him pull her in again. Keeping her lips and body hostage to his demand. She didn’t mind it but the longer this went on the harder it would be for her to walk away.

When they did, his arm lingered on her shoulder and down to her fingertips. They tingled and shook at the thought of not being able to see him again for God knows how long. They met eyes and she smiled first, her makeup running down her face.

“Will you come see me again?” She was almost afraid to ask.

He closed the distance once more, leaving a feathered kiss on her brow before tapping her forehead with his.

“Only if you keep your grades up. How many more years do you have until I start calling you Dr. Iki?”

She laughed and sniffled, her feelings all over the place. “Too many.” Looking up to his eyes she noticed he was staring down at her chest, at her necklace. “I wear it every day, you know.”

“I know, I’d sometimes watch you put it on.”

She shoved him playfully and he put up his hands in defense, “please forgive me my beautiful and ever so devoted girlfriend.”

“You’re gonna have to kiss up to me better than that for all the years you left me alone.”

He grinned, “Shall I start with your lips?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “how about you start by walking me back to my hotel room?”

He grabbed her hand, “as you wish.”

[ikevamp-shrine]

“You make everyday an adventure Cara Mia, sleep well.”

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen vampire

Warnings: mentions of blood and puke

Word count: 1808

Character(s): Anna (MC), Leonardo, Arthur, Theo, Isaac

So you know those daydream fantasies you get while on the toilet... or something? Well this is one of those. Honestly I think it’s a little cringe 😂 but I couldn’t get it out of my head so yeah... welp enjoy.

                                                ~*~

“Cara?” 

Leonardo shifted from his orginal laying position to rest on his elbow at the sound of whimpering emmiting from his sleeping lover. She was sweating and shaking, her eyebrows furrowed in pain. 

“Cara mia?” Leonardo repeated while gently shaking her shoulder with his hands, concern written on his face.

“Anna!” Leonardo’s voice turned serious when she stopped breathing. The frantic girl shot up and furiously looked around the room until her gaze landed on Leonardo’s worried eyes. 

“Leo-,” Anna’s voice was interrupted when she felt the hurried burning of bile rising up in her throat. Shocking Leonardo, Anna threw the comforter off her throbbing body, planting her feet on the wooden floor attempting to make a mad dash to the toilet only to end up tripping, her world tilting before her eyes. Pain shot up her arms as the corner of random sharp nick knacks splayed across the room dug into her hands and forearms. The thin night dress she was wearing flowed out around her like wings fluttering through the air. Leonardo was at her side in less than a second as he helped her sit upright, shearching her dazed, pain filled eyes.

“Anna do not move- you’re bleeding.” 

It was only then at Leonardo’s words did she notice the wet drops of blood sliding down her arms onto the cluttered floor below. The sight of her own blood did nothing to help the sickening feeling quickly rising in her trembling body.

“Leo, I’m going to pu-” Anna gasped out when she was lifted off the ground and rushed out of the room and into the adjacent bathroom from the couple’s shared room. As soon as the toliet came into her view, it was like Anna’s body skipped the gagging process and went straight to puking her guts, barely having time to actually open the lid. Leonardo quickly grabbed his lover’s hair and wrapped it around his fist to keep it from being soiled by the horrid smelling puke. A chill racked its way through Anna’s trembling body as she gagged, groaned, and expelled her dinner that she could barely finish while eating that afternoon.

“Good girl... let it out baby. I’ll take care of you Cara so just let it out,” whispered Leonardo as his large calloused hands rubbed gentle circles on Anna’s back. His voice was calm and soothing, a lovely deep constrast to the ugly sounds of his lover’s actions.

“Leonardo,” Anna sobbed, “it hurts.”

“It will be okay Anna, you’ll be okay.” Leonardo didn’t know if he was telling her that for her reassurance or his own sanity. He had seen the way she acted during the day and he knew she was coming down with something, but she tried every trick in the book to convince him she was fine- that it was just allergies, so he let her have it. Her skin was pale- too pale, the entirety of the day, and she would shiver every so often as if moving made her sick. Leonardo had caught her a few times coughing as if trying to rid herself of a lung, and all he would do is glance at her with observing eyes only to be waved off.

Allergies she had said. God how horrible he felt at this moment that he hadn’t forced her to quit working and rest.

“Damn,” cursed Leonardo when Anna went limp in his arms suddenly, causing panic to rise in his chest even if his outward appearance remained calm. His silky greyish locks tickled Anna’s nose as he shifted her in his strong arms, lifting her from the cold tiled bathroom floor. The cotton clothing consisting of his normal everyday attire, he once more forgot to change before he passed out on the bed, rustled with each quick step Leonardo took towards the game room he had an inkling Arthur would be in at this time of night. Leonardo knew it was a risk to carry a bleeding Anna around a mansion of hungry male vampires, but leaving her alone would be even more dangerous. 

At least this way he was with her to protect her, Leonardo thought as he glanced down at his lover who groaned pitifully. The closer Leonardo came to the game room the louder the laughter and voices became until the voices stopped all together... probably from the scent of blood.

“...do you smell that?” 

The sight Leonardo walked into would before have made him laugh, but at this moment his anxiety was so high he didn’t think he could laugh for the next little while. Arthur and Theo were competing against each other in a game of chess the former would most definitely win, while Isaac’s head was sandwiched between Theo’s bicep and rib cage. Of course that all changed when Leonardo walked in with a still dripping blood and passed out human female in his arms.

Theo’s brows furrowed, his arm relseasing Isaac who tumbled to the floor, but the art seller made no other move from his seated position as if sensing the greater vampire’s growing worry. Isaac’s hand quickly shot to cover his nose and mouth, his face shifting into a grimance. He shot off the floor and just stood there as his peach colored eyes watched each slow drop of blood like a predator hunting his prey.

Leonardo’s smoky golden eyes shifted over to a quivering Isaac, who was quickly loosing his control on his own blood lust, when a low guttural growl slid past the pureblood’s lips slithering through the suddenly chilled air and slicing through the lesser vampires’ eardrums. The growl was terrifying, putting the whole room to a stand still. Arthur froze, Isaac froze, Theo froze. 

To hell with their father-son like relationship, Leonardo thought, if Isaac went after her he wouldn’t hesitate to throw their bond out the window and drag him down to the bowels of hell himself.

No one would be touching Anna without getting their head torn clean off. 

“My... ha, Leonardo that was quite scary, but I need you to put her down on the table and keep her steady while I look at her wound,” Arthur’s shaky voice broke Leonardo out of his stare down with Isaac causing the smaller male to bolt out of the room.

“She woke up, fell, and then puked,” Leonardo spoke smoothly as he watched Arthur slide the chess board off the table and onto the nearby couch, and continued speaking while laying the still unconscious human on the table, “she was acting strange yesterday, gagging, pale, shivering, breathing heavily at the smallest actions, coughing up a lung... all the signs of-.”

“Pneumonia,” Arthur interrupted lifting his head from Anna’s chest after listening to her breathing.

Theo tried to shuffle out the door undetected freezing when Arthur said, “Theo go get my medical bag- up on the shelf in my closet. Gods speed.”

After a few quiet moments of Leonardo stalking each action of Arthur, Theo stepped back in, laying the large bulky bag next to Arthur.

“Such a troublesome Hondjie she is,” Theo whispered walking back out of the room. The scent of blood was slightly getting to him and Theo in no way, shape, or form wanted to be on the receiving end of the pure blood’s blinding rage.

“High fever, struggling to breath, chills, vomiting,” Arthur mumbled on, “any allergies you know of?”

“She’s allergic to pineapple, but other than that she hasn’t told me of any,” Leonardo mumbled deeply.

“Hm, well how disappointing... now she might wake up from this so... don’t chew my head off.” Arthur's voice lessened in volume at the last part while he threaded a needle and placed it against her skin.

Leonardo’s jaw felt as if it was crack while watching Arthur stitch his lover’s wound up. She still slept but flinched at every new puncture of her skin. This was all his fault.

Soon enough the couple were back in Leonardo’s room, Anna sleeping deeply and peacefully- finally- bundled up in the thick blankets on Leonardo’s bed. The pureblood had dragged a chair beside the bedside to watch his lover’s chest rise and fall while changing the wet rag on her forehead. 

“Oh my love, how foolish I am,” Leonardo sighed, chuckling self depreciably, running a heavy calloused hand down his face. Leonardo’s fingers twitched with the need to hold a smoke between his digits. 

“...this is not your fault Da Vinci,” Anna grumbled out while slowly pushing herself up and tossing the rag into the cold bowl of water. 

“You have pneumonia Anna,” Leonardo gruffly spoke, leaving his hand on his forehead and glancing over his cheeks at the girl who was now sniffing her dress collar, a grimace on her features.

“Lord I smell of puke,” she whispered before glancing at Leonardo with a hopeful expression and joking, “you still love me correct?”

Leonardo couldn’t help but smirk at her question. 

“Always Cara Mia.”

“Well time to get up.”

“Are you insane?” Leonardo whispered as he watched the girl struggle to rid herself of the burrito like blankets, lightly pushing her back down the man couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically at the girl’s display of slight defiance and huff. 

“Stop pouting little lamb, you passed out and had to get stitches. You may move around as much as you shall please when you get better.”

“... whatever.” 

“Good girl.”

Anna sighed and attempted to bite her lover’s hand when he tried to ruffle her hair.

The couple slid into a comfortable silence, Leonardo grabbing the closest book to him and opening to the first page, Anna shifting to lay on her side to stare at her lover. The ticking of a clock, gentle rushing of the wind against the window, the distant purring of a cat, quiet flipping of pages all lulled Anna into a sleepy state. She could barely keep her eyes opened at the moment and the warmth of the blankets that seemed to seep into her bones did nothing to help.

Leonardo shifted his gaze, noticing his human was fighting sleep he began to read aloud. His deep, gravely voice weaved its way through the air, reverberating against the walls and tracing its way up Anna’s skin. 

“Sleep, Anna, I will be here beside you for every moment,” Leonardo whispered as he placed delicate lips against the crown of his lover’s head, breathing in their scent, causing a wave of calm and relaxation to crash over his large body. 

A soft hum sounded from the girl as the sweet scent of Leonardo finally pushed her over the edge, tumbling into the land of dreams.

The flipping of pages once more began as Leonardo sat back, resting his feet on a pile of who knows what. 

“You make everyday an adventure Cara Mia, sleep well.”

MASTERLIST

[the-peachpit]

Sons Of A Crow

DSMP AU: Wilbur, Tommyinnit, Technoblade are siblings with an absent Father

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Philza left to defend L'manburg, Technoblade left to bring him home, Wilbur stayed and watched Tommy grow on his own. Too young to watch over himself and suddenly watching the struggles of others something broke inside Wilbur. his family reunion wasn't what he wanted, but maybe- what they all needed.

In this story L'manburg was a city that always existed and was ready to erupt without the help of Wilbur or Tommy.

Also consider following me on Twitter for more insights on stories! @Thepeachpit_

Orange leaves danced through the sky when Wilbur said goodbye to his father watching his back become a silhouette against the sun. It was fall, a crisp chill in the air when Tommy ran from the top of the stairs his little yellow wings puffed behind him as he missed a step tumbling down. Wilbur turned his face fell watching Tommy scramble to stand ignoring the blood on his knee and hands. Wilbur wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck as he screamed for his dad to come back in shorts and a t-shirt. Wilbur could see his own breath as he held Tommy down from trying to fly telling him it was alright.

“Why is he leaving!” Tommy sobbed, “I told him I’d learn how to fly! I’d learn to fly to keep him here! I can do it!”

Wilbur hugged his brother closer whispering into his wheat-colored hair, “Please, Tommy it’s not your fault.”

“It’s everyone else’s,” A voice growled.

Sun beamed through the high windows of the wooden home, but Techno stood in the shadow that day. Sulking, tricking himself into thinking Wilbur couldn’t see his tears. Wilbur would never say a word about the way Techno’s mouth twitched and his shoulders shook. Being the oldest Wilbur knew Techno would carry too much on his shoulders, but he was no father figure. He was no unfeeling weapon, as much as he pretended. Their father had rescued Techno from an auction, and Techno repaid that kindness by being his shadow. Learning everything their father had to offer. A piglin with the dream to be equal to men. Wilbur couldn’t imagine what Techno thought watching their father spread his wings without him.

The day dragged on as Wilbur sat with Tommy on the couch drilling it into the young boy’s skull it wasn’t his fault their father left- he had to. Their father’s situation was delicate. He wasn’t just a crow hybrid but a godly being of sorts, though he never advertised it. Their father had taken Wilbur and Techno to his shrine when they were a little older than Tommy. People worshiped him when they were in need. He looked after those who needed protecting. He wasn’t born an immortal god but was given the right after giving so much of himself to the world that the universe had to reward him. An immortal life with the curse of mortal children with the universe herself. Now people expected him to fight in the war of L’manburg a nation that had been teetering on the edge of revolution for years. Philza would be the hammer ending it all. Wilbur shifted his white wings when Techno came in the whites of his eyes red, his cheeks puffy. Wilbur wouldn’t utter a word.

Taking on the role of a caretaker wasn’t unusual to Wilbur having done it before even when their father was home. Before Tommy was born. Growing up with a piglin brother who still had basic lessons to learn in over world customs was fun but came with challenges. Especially when Techno started learning the art of the blade. Wilbur was tasked with keeping his brother from scrapping with every kid who laid eyes on him with a sneer.

Tommy had finally fallen asleep to something on TV and Wilbur had noticed Techno slip out hours ago. Walking out onto the back porch Wilbur watched his half piglin brother whack at dummies with an axe. His blows were messy- unusual for the calm and collected fighting state his brother usually took on. With tight moves and precision.

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur sat himself on the stairs.

“Not really,” Techno huffed.

Wilbur leaned back on his palms, “You can’t keep it in forever, better to get it out now right?” he looked up at the sky, it had gotten cloudy.

“Bet I can,” Techno landed another blow.

Wilbur sighed, “Come on.”

Techno spun around his long pink ponytail lifting from his shoulders, “What the fuck do you want me to say Wil? Philza just left us here with no warning, who knows how god damn long he’ll be gone. L’manburg’s been fighting itself for years now. Suddenly he has to do crowd control.”

“If you keep swearing like that Tommy is going to get a sailors mouth,” Wilbur smirked.

Techno rolled his eyes, “You remember what he was like after the last war he was called to don’t you? Swearing is the least of Tommy’s worries.”

How could Wilbur forget, the man who came back was not their father. He was cold, distant, quick with a fist. Techno scrapped with their father a lot after he came home, sometimes protecting Wilbur, sometimes Tommy who was too young to remember the in-house violence. Too young to know to keep away from his own dad. Wilbur never blamed Philza he had seen a travesty; he’d taken lives and there’s no coming back from that casually. To return to a family after finding blood on your hands couldn’t be easy. The thought of that happening to Technoblade haunted Wilbur, to see his brother’s eyes look empty and dazed. He hopped Philza would never let Techno join him, as much as Wilbur knew that would tear Technoblade apart.

“Maybe this time will be different,” Wilbur sighed watching the clouds roll in.

Within the first week Tommy’s golden feathers were scattered around the house. Wilbur found a few in the bathroom at first thinking nothing of it. Then more popped up in the kitchen, living room, and a whole pile on the front porch. Wilbur had always respected his brother’s privacy, but out of pure panic he burst into Tommy’s room without knocking watching as Tommy pulled a handful of feathers from his wings. Wide blue eyes filled to the brim with tears starred at Wil-pleading. Scooping Tommy into his arms Wilbur tore down the stairs yelling for Techno.

It was noon on a chilly fall day a storm was rolling in the thunder rumbling deeply as it shook the old house. Wilbur was clutching Tommy’s hands as the boy sniffled at each tug of the bandage Techno wrapped around the bald spots. Pouring oil to heal and hopefully deter Tommy from plucking anymore.

“He’s stressed out,” Wilbur sighed finally feeling like he could breathe.

“Really,” Techno said sarcastically.

Wilbur ran his hand through his brown wavy hair-it was getting long- “I’m serious what are we going to do?”

Techno shrugged, “Our best I guess?”

Wilbur was already doing his best.

After plucking his feathers and being banned from flying on Dr, Techno’s orders Wilbur made sure to never let Tommy leave his sight in fear of his depression getting worse. If the wings were the worst of it Wilbur was sure he could deal, but things could always get worse. The curse of the Crow god hung heavy on the odd family. Weeks passed with the weather oddly warmer for the middle of fall. The trio was outside regularly soaking up the sun or hiking into town casually speaking with others. Techno hated the small talk, but Wilbur insisted it was for Tommy’s sake, keep him socialized. He reminded Techno how important it was to socialize him and was met with a swift whack to the back of the head. Ignoring every bit of war talk they could. It finally felt like it was all stabilizing- like they could hold out until Philza came back.

“You know we just got some new candy in I thought you’d like to try,” A girl smiled coming out from the back of the grocery store.

“Hell yea!” Tommy pumped his fist in the air.

“You’re spoiling him Niki,” Wilbur shook his head putting his groceries on the counter.

“I got some new books too,” Niki put three books on the counter, “Free of charge of course, “She winked.”

A month ago, Wilbur had resented Niki’s kindness as if they couldn’t care if themselves without their father. He hated thinking she was right. With time he realized that wasn’t it at all. Niki was genuinely kind, enjoying the company of the brothers. She wasn’t full of sympathy, but compassion. Giving where she could, but never overly so.

“What, nothing for me?” Technoblade put on a show of pouting.

“Sorry,” Niki shrugged, “My boss still thinks weapons in a general store is a bad idea.”

Techno shook his head, “He’s missing a whole customer base.”

“Maybe I can-“ Niki was cut off as a crowd gathered around the TV in the corner of the store.

Coming from the back the store’s owner turned up the volume on the news broadcast. It was a warm fall when the footage of fires ablaze in homes that viewers were assured had been abandoned was shown to the public. People whispered and gasped, but no one saw him-except Wilbur. A shadow in the corner of the screen wings close to his body, his stance tight, sword sheathed at his side-the Crow in all of his glory. Was that his handy work? He wouldn’t. L’manburg was in flames. Something silently snapped in Wilbur that day, watching his father do nothing as a city burned to the ground. Seeing that scene alone may have started the spiral but knowing Philza watched over the pyres of family’s- Wilbur grabbed the groceries rushing out of the store.

He didn’t speak to his brothers the whole walk home. It had gotten chillier.

Winter dropped two snowstorms back-to-back, during the second Wilbur picked up smoking to keep himself warm. The clouds that escaped from his lips as he sat under a hazy sky while Tommy played in the snow were thick. He watched the smoke curl and join the sky. It started with a smoke outside int eh morning and night. His hands with nothing more to do just kept lighting until he found himself at a pack a day. There was a numb comfort as he lit a second cigarette while Tommy rolled snow into a ball. His mind felt distracted, distant floating away with the smoke. His chest felt lighter, like the weight he’d been carrying found its peace-it never lasted long enough.

“Come on Tommy,” Wilbur put out his cigarette butt in the snow, “It’s cold out here,” He stretched out his wings, “Techno has a nice fire going inside.”

Rolling his eyes Tommy groaned, “Fiiiine,” he pouted his golden wings puffed behind him.

He’d healed perfectly and Wilbur had taken Tommy out for flying lessons a few times over the fall, but winter was hard for flying. The weather changed fast and the cold hurt inexperienced wings. Wilbur had been so happy there was no permanent damage he cried to himself in his room, not unusual, but this was different. He was so happy.

“Wilbur,” Tommy rolled on the floor by the fire, “Can you make hot chocolate?”

“Sure thing,” Wilbur smiled heading into the kitchen.

Techno stomped in trying to get the snow off his boots. Wood stacked under his arm.

“Well, we won’t freeze to death.” Wilbur joked pulling out a small pot.

“You’re welcome,” Technoblade stuck his tongue out.

A knock on the door stopped Wilbur’s quip dead in his throat. A knock at the door. Their door in the middle of nowhere. They weren’t expecting anyone. Would he have knocked after all this time? Wilbur shared a glance with Technoblade who was holding his breath.

The sound of the door creaking open sent Wilbur to the front entrance.

“Tommy, dude you can’t just open the door for anyone,” Wilbur scolded him.

“Oh, come on Wilbur,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a familiar face in a light blue hoodie. The man would have almost disappeared amongst the snowy landscape if not for his tan complexation.

“Hey Skeppy, what brings you out here?” Wilbur asked the ice mage.

“Mail believe it or not,” Skeppy held out a disheveled letter, “Niki said you guys don’t go to the store during bad weather and asked me to deliver it.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur nodded, “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Skeppy shook his head, “This weather is my natural element I am as comfortable as can be,” He assured him, “Plus Bad is expecting me back.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Have fun in the nether, don’t melt.”

“Ha-ha,” Skeppy rolled his eyes waving goodbye.

Closing the door Wilbur looked at the letter in his shaking hands. It was tattered and must have had a long journey to his cold fingers. Walking back into the kitchen where Tommy and techno stood Wil looked between his brothers unsure what to say. Opening his mouth, he wished he had a cigarette to give him an excuse to stay silent. There was no other choice as he slowly slipped a finger unto the fold of the yellowed envelope ripping it open. Pulling out the letter Wilbur gasped.

“Who is it from,” An urgency in techno’s voice.

“Dad,” Wilbur whispered his dark eyes scanned the letter again, “He says he’s coming home soon.”

“Let me see,” Techno ripped the letter from Wilbur’s grasp, “Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

“Dads coming home!’ Tommy threw his hands up in the air running around the house.

Spirits were high as the sun shone over glittering snow.']

The letter hadn’t stated when their father would be back, just soon. The days rolled like molasse with everyone especially Tommy, checking the windows to catch a glimpse of their father landing. The days and nights were all becoming bitterly cold, and the thought of delayed travel started to creep into Wilbur’s mind. To clear it when cigarettes weren’t enough, he snuck out at the dead of night through his window. The air was brisk, it shook him to his bones. Extending his wings with a powerful downward thrust Wilbur took to the starry skies. The wind hurt his wings-burned them with frost, but Wilbur had never felt so alive as his lungs froze inside. He was reminded of living as he soared against the inky night. He remembered his first winter flight with Philza. He fell towards the ground unable to deal with the brutal temperatures. His father had been there to catch him- support him- swearing to Wil he’d only have to fly in the winter if he were every in trouble. He wondered if he was in trouble now.

Technoblade was off, it had snowed again in the middle of the winter season. Wilbur would catch Techno staring out the window at nothing for far too long. Putting his hand on Techno’s shoulder would jolt him back to reality. His brother’s long pink hair that was usually tied so neatly in buns, or ponytails was in a knotted braid that hadn’t been maintained in days. He looked pale. Wilbur was worried about illness.

“Hey Techno,” Wilbur stood form the floor, “You mind playing this round with Tommy? My knees are kind of sore.”

Techno shrugged sitting across from Tommy who shuffled a deck of cards.

Wilbur at on the sofa behind Techno taking in the site of his older brother. Techno had purple marks under his eyes, they looked slightly puffy as well. He missed his turn and Tommy had to keep pulling techno from his fog. Slowly Wilbur reached out picking up the long braid and pulled the hair tie free. He brushed through his brothers matted hair surprised Techno was being a willing participant.

“I’ve always been jealous you had the patience for all of this hair,” Wilbur started braiding noting it was messier than anything techno had done.

“I’m going to grow my hair as long as techno,” Tommy proudly declared, “My braid will be ten times better.”

“You know I bet Techno could braid your hair now,” Wilbur suggested getting no response from his distant brother, “Techno,” Wilbur prompted.

“Oh-yea,” Techno shook his head, “Tommy come here.”

With quick fingers Techno braided Tommy’s short blonde hair before moving to Wilbur’s brown wavy mess. They were bonded the brothers of misfortune. Techno was getting worse, forgetting things, spacing out for hours, losing blocks of time. Wilbur kept asking him if he was okay but, Techno kept deflecting. Wilbur knew it was better not to push when it came to his brother. Techno would sort it out on his own, maybe it was a weird Piglin thing. Tommy stated asking again when their father was returning home as the snow melted and spring was on the way. Wilbur had no answer and it added onto the pile of anger he had been harboring. Seeing news cast after news cast about the war. How L’manburg was falling, how they didn’t just end it. He kept catching glimpses of their father at horrible sights, but nobody else seemed to catch him. Wilbur had given up months ago on the man he knew.

Cutting vegetables for dinner Techno put his knife on the counter leaning forward heavily panting.

“Hey you,” Wilbur started before Techno slumped to the ground.

“Techno!” Wilbur fell to his knees to comfort his brother only to be slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” Techno growled.

“You need to rest something’s not-“

Slapping Wilbur’s hovering hand away Techno’s piercing green eyes shot through Wilbur, “I said fuck off, don’t touch me,” he growled. Standing on shaky legs Techno stumbled away and up the stairs leaving Wilbur to worry about his piglin brother. Techno locked himself away for three days, Wilbur left meals outside his door.

“Tommy!” A voice roared from down the hall, “I told you a hundred times to stay out!”

A scream sent Wilbur charging up the stairs, “What happened,” his voice died in his throat.

Cowering in the corner was Tommy his arms in front of his face to protect himself while Techno brandished a blade in front of him. Charging into the room Wilbur pushed Techno and his brother swung the weapon at him instead. His eyes red and angry his features more piglin than man.

“He’s just a kid what the hell is your problem?” Wilbur yelled.

“I’ve told him a hundred times to not touch my weapons and he was in here playing with my crossbow,” Techno growled.

“Is it broken? What is your deal, you don’t threaten him!”

“He doesn’t even deserve to be our brother, Philza raised us to be strong, and Tommy’s always been pathetic,” Techno spat.

“You’re a monster!” Tommy stood stomping his foot before taking off.

Slowly Techno lowered his weapon blinking frantically as his red eyes faded to the familiar green.

“Wil,” Techno swayed before collapsing to the floor.

Wilbur wasn’t sure which mess to pick up first. Deciding his brother on the floor would be priority. Getting leverage under his arms Wilbur hoisted Techno onto his bed glad the man passed out in his own room. Putting his hand on Techno’s forehead he felt the sheen of sweat on his hot skin. Biting his lip Wilbur took off to tend to Tommy. As he ran down the stairs, he pictured a flurry of gold feathers littering the halls. Of irreversible damage. Wilbur felt like his lungs were collapsing in on him as he checked every room to no avail. There was a chill in the air from an open window in the kitchen, Tommy had left. Wilbur felt himself gag when he realized. Tommy had taken off into the winter sky on the verge of darkness alone. Fuck and Wil knew he hadn’t taken time to put on any warmer clothes besides his thin long sleeve shirt. He had to go out and find him quickly throwing on his brown trench coat, scarf, and knit hat before running out and taking off to the sky.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur screamed until his voice was hoarse scanning the sky and land.

It had been two hours since he started his search, and his heart was pounding in his ears from a mixture of cold and panic. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving only a faint blue glow to the sky Wilbur knew would fade in time. Then Tommy would be out there alone overnight with no way for Wilbur to spot him. Tommy wouldn’t make it.

“Tommy!” Wilbur screamed.

“Wil,” A small broken voice made its way over the rushing wind.

Through tear frozen eyes Wilbur spotted him a small dark red speck in the white winter night. Immediately landing hard enough to stumble like he did when he was a child Wilbur scrambled to the lump on the ground. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more, himself or Tommy. In the darkness it was impossible to get a read on what was wrong, but the young boys breathing was shallow, and Wil begged for him to tell him what was wrong as he wrapped Tommy in his coat. A feeble effort to warm him. Holding his brother tight Wilbur prayed something he’d never been a fan of even being the child of a man akin to a deity. He prayed to his father to guide them safely through the night.

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked, “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Wilbur whispered holding his brother closer.

Miracles could bless those in dire need as the wind died down and the sounds of horse hooves crunching on the snow echoed through the trees. Wilbur’s ears perked at the sound of his name.

“We’re here!” Wilbur shouted with every breath he had left in his shivering body.

A horse sent by a prayer appeared before them with a familiar pink haired figure riding on top. He pulled off his red cape as he dismounted wrapping it around the shaking shoulders of the man who was trying so hard to have all the answers and hold it together.

“Let me see him,” Techno’s voice a faraway whisper with hands outstretched.

Wilbur hesitated knowing those hands caused destruction and started the argument that lead down this path. However, he was weak using all of his stamina while flying and holding Tommy tightly to his chest trying desperately to protect him from the elements. Slowly Wilbur handed over the shivering boy. Techno looked over Tommy nodding to himself Wilbur knew he was using his superior night vision to check Tommy over.

Standing on unstable legs Wilbur hoisted himself on the horse holding the red cloak around himself tightly apologizing in his own mind to his brother quietly endured the bite of the frost. Letting his dark eyes slowly close Wilbur continued his prayers to his father-pleads to come home.

Waking slowly with a pounding headache Wilbur propped himself on his elbows. He was in his bed int eh same clothes he’d worn last night. Looking down he saw red splotches on his shirt feeling his skin crawl. He wished it was his. Rolling out of bed he hissed at the pain in his knees, that landing had done more damage than he thought. Leaning against the wall for support he limped his way out into the hallway where a savory aroma hit his nose. Soup- a familiar soup- a dish his father had made a hundred times when one of them had been injured or sick. The stairs creaked causing Wilbur to hold his breath.

“Oh, good you’re up.”

Wilbur’s face fell, “Your hair.”

Techno stood in the hallway with a tray carrying two bowls of soup. His long hair had been hacked away into a short messy style. His long braid discarded.

“I’m leaving Wil,” Tehcno’s voice was cold, “I need to find Philza.”

Wilbur shook his head feel his braid, “We don’t need him we’re doing fine without-“

“I need him!” Techno shouted, “You don’t get it! I’m a danger to you two without Philza here! He keeps the voices away; they demand blood, and it doesn’t matter whose. Wilbur if I did anything permeant to you or god- fucking Tommy almost died last night!”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t try to spare me, you sugar coat everything thinking it’ll all work out, but it’s not working Wil! So, I’m going to drag dad back here by the scruff of his wings.”

A creak of the floorboards.

“A branch went through Tommy’s leg, its broken. I set it the best I could.”

“Techno please, we can beat this without him.” Wilbur felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll be back before summer.” Techno set the tray on a small table in the hall.

Without another word Techno walked down the stairs with Wilbur at his heels begging the man not to leave. Not for him but for Tommy, he would beat himself up, he wouldn’t survive if Techno just up and left. He’s a child who doesn’t deserve anymore disappointment. Nothing could deter the determined look of the piglin as he secured a travel bag to his horse and double checked the saddle. With a stern glance Techno left his axe shinning in the sun on his back.

Wilbur went inside a numbness overcame him as he pulled his heavy legs up the stairs grabbed a bowl of soup went into Tommy’s room. The boy laid eyes closed leg elevated the wrapped. Bloody scraps of cloth laid all around the room. Setting the bowl on the nightstand Wilbur felt his world crush him falling to his knees and sobbing his chest heaving. He apologized over and over to no one who could hear him. He apologized for being weak, unable to protect anyone, for letting things slip through his fingers. When Wilbur felt his heart snap months ago watching the fires he ignored it, took up smoking, and retreating into himself hiding what he thought he knew of his father from his brothers. If L’manburg was supposed to fall Wilbur wanted to push-someone had to push. It was the only way to bring everything back.

It was the first day of spring when Tommy finally awoke disoriented and Wilbur cried again holding his brother close to his chest. A warm wind rustled the grass that was returning when Wilbur had to come clean about Technoblades absence. He watched Tommy’s curious blue eyes become cold and steely. He wasn’t inconsolable, but as the earth thawed Tommy became icy. Going into town wasn’t as fun without Tommy chatting to everyone instead, he stood by Wilbur avoiding eye contact. Wilbur made a point to take Tommy out more hoping he would just spring back even on his crutches. After a while Tommy started saying he was too tired to hobble to town on his busted leg.

“That leg will heal in time Tommy, before you know it, you’ll be bouncing around again,” Wilbur encouraged.

Tommy pouted silently.

“I’m at my wits end Niki,” Wilbur leaned on the counter, “I can’t bring him back from this.”

The sweltering summer weather was on the way Wilbur had gone to buy ice cream realizing it was just another feeble attempt at fixing something impossible. “He’s been through a lot; the cast just came off didn’t it?” Niki pointed out, “All spring he’s been trapped, maybe take him for a flight! He’s always so happy to come back from those and tell me what he saw,” She giggled.

Wilbur shot up, “You’re a genius!”

A crash stopped Wilbur and unknowingly changed the ever-evolving family of unfortunate crows. A boy stood there wide brown eyes shooting between the knocked over display and Niki and Wilbur. His breathing was heavy.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Niki quickly assured him, “Accidents happen.”

Wilbur crouched down next to the boy spotting two stubby ram horns poking through his thick brown hair, his bangs were practically covering his eyes. He had long floppy ears and black nails. A hybrid.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Wilbur observed.

Tubbo said nothing staring back with big doe eyes.

“You just move in mate?”

Tubbo shrugged.

Niki gave a sad smile to Wilbur, “His situation is a lot like yours, except it’s just him.”

Wilbur’s body jerked like electricity had shot up his spine. A situation like his huh, an absent father fending for himself. All alone though he was just a kid couldn’t be older than Tommy, that was cruelty. Without hesitation Wilbur offered the kid a place to say welcoming Tubbo into the misfit pack. How he wished he’d met that kid sooner. At first Tommy was apprehensive until Tubbo burned himself on the stove. He wouldn’t let Wilbur go anywhere near him to help cowering like an animal in the corner. When Tommy approached though slowly Tubbo offered his hand. From that day forward the boys were inseparable as Tommy showed Tubbo things the ram boy had never seen and swore to protect him. Wilbur smoked a cigarette on the porch watching the boys climb trees in the backyard. Sometimes when he blinked, he saw himself and Techno climbing those trees. When did Techno go from the scared unsure halfling to a warrior? All Wilbur did was blink.

Running an errand in town the boys were chasing each other as usual when Tommy’s golden wings sprung out, somehow Tubbo had yet to see them.

“Wow!” Tubbo beamed, “Can you fly with those?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kind of.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur raised a brow, “You’re a splendid flyer.”

Tommy gave his wings a flap shrugging again.

It hit Wilbur; Tommy hadn’t flown since that night in the snow. Hadn’t even attempted all summer to stretch his wings.

“Why don’t you guys buy some candy form Niki,” Wilbur handed the two boys money watching them run off.

Wilbur went to a different store to buy his cigarettes. It smelled of cheap smoke and alcohol lined the shelves. It also played the news Niki had stopped showing because she thought it was bad for Tommy to see. Wilbur didn’t totally disagree, but he couldn’t play it at home either. The store was dim and none of the faces looked friendly, besides the slick man who worked at the counter. Tall with a close buzzcut, he wore glasses with two different colored lenses. Wilbur had spoken to Jackmanifold a few times, never in depth, but he knew they shared the same view of L’manburg-it had to end. The conversation had started that summer if you could call it innocently. Now it was becoming real tangible plans with a syndicate closer to the city.

“They’re starting to move the dynamite,” Jackmanifold slid a pack of cigarettes across the counter, “It’s a slow process, but when it’s done the war will end.”

Wilbur scowled; it was for the best. It was a complicated plan and included p6eople sneaking around to plant large undetectable stacks of dynamite around the city. The hardest part would be building the kill switch mechanism from what he understood. To set off he explosives untraceable.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag Wilbur walked towards the exit, “Keep me updated Jack.”

“You got it boss,” Jackmanifold saluted.

Exiting the store Wilbur’s shoulders sagged.

“Wilbur!”

Two boys ran towards Wilbur showing off their spoils from the general store smiles bright and unafraid, unaware of the world crumbling around them. Wilbur returned their bright smiles he was doing this for them.

Summer was hot and the only cooling relief came in the form of a small inflatable pool Wilbur pulled from the basement. The boys got a kick out of splashing each other and Tommy had gotten more comfortable letting his golden feathers flap around like he used to. Wilbur had taken up journaling writing down every insignificant detail of days that dragged on through noon until lunch when suddenly the cool nights went much too fast. He wrote down the day he took the duo fishing, how Tommy never wanted to go again seeing fish struggling was too much for the young boy. How Tubbo tried to show Tommy it wasn’t that bad and trying to eat a raw fish. He wrote about taking Tommy back to the sky the poor boy was practically shaking at the thought.

“Tommy avians weren’t meant to spend so much time tethered to the ground,” Wilbur had said one day.

Tommy shook his head, “Wilbur I can’t last time it was.” He stuttered.

“Last time it was cold and dark,” Wilber gripped Tommy’s shoulder reassuringly, “Today’s perfect.”

Tommy shook his head, “Look Wilbur.”

“I’d like to see it,” Tubbo chirped, “I’ve never seen you fly! Could you take me?”

Tommy looked at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded, “When he’s older he can.”

The thought of taking Tubbo into the sky was all it took for Tommy to follow Wilbur back into the open air. It really was a perfect day; Wilbur wrote in his journal about how there was no clouds in sight that day. He wrote about Tubbo wanting to get into music after seeing a traveling band in town. Wilbur spent the end of the summer teaching the boys guitar. Tommy snuck into Technoblades old armory in the shed and started to take blades seriously. Wilbur was hesitant but figured Tommy should know how to defend himself. Sending him to learn with Jackmanifold who was sworn from talking about L’manburg. Wilbur wrote about watching the boys grow for two years they turned into brave young men, and for a moment he was proud. They’d had ups and downs but the young men who stood in front of him now were admirable. Wilbur wrote letters his father would never see, and apologies Technoblade deserved.

Fall was right around the corner and Wilbur had given his trench coat to Tommy last winter. He was in town looking for warm clothes for himself as well as Tubbo. The boys were milling about the isles on their own while Wilbur hummed to himself going over his coat choices. When the crowd around the TV caught his eye Wilbur already knew it would be L’manburg coverage. Noticing Tommy and Tubbo at the back of the store Wilbur slowly made his way through the crowd. His heart shattered and his breathing became ragged at the sight of the news coverage, hey were speaking of a beast of pure rage that had knocked down a whole wall in a single blow. Wilbur knew who they meant deep down in his aching bones he knew-but it couldn’t be he went there to bring their father back not join in the bloodshed. They must have been talking about Technoblade as they mentioned his blood red cape and crown on his head- a prince of destruction.

Wilbur ran, he left the boys as he sprinted down the street to the sketchy store on the corner where he bought the cigarettes that started to make him cough. “You have to blow it!” Wilbur slammed his fists on the counter.

“Wil, we can’t,” Jackmanifold tried to calm him, “There’s only a fail-safe button if you were to press that you’d die.”

Wilbur laughed, “It’s almost been three years Jack! What is taking so long!”

Jackmanifold raised his unusually even tone, “It’s not exactly easy sneaking tons of explosives into a maintain and rigging them outside of a war zone!”

“Tell me where,” Wilbur ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mate,” Jackmanifold looked pale.

“Tell me Jack or I swear I’ll burn this place to the ground!” Wilbur grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt his wings spreading far enough to break bottles as they fell off shelves. Jackmanifold spilled the beans and Wilbur spiraled that night packing all of his belongings hastily into a suitcase. Hurrying down the stairs in the dark only to be stopped by a man at the door with blonde hair and arms crossed.

“Where you going Wil?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I have to,” Wilbur trailed off.

“Have to what huh?”

Wilbur winced, when was the last time Tommy had raised his voice in true anger.

“Fucking leave? Like Techno? Like dad?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “Want to leave me here alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur was trembling, “You have Tubbo.”

“You’re my brother! You’re all I have left of my family Wilbur!” Tommy slammed his fist into the door, “Tell me why you’re leaving! Tell me why Technoblade really left! Tell me if you knew dad was leaving and why nobody gave me any goddamn warning! Why am I the last one to know anything in this family? I. am. A. part. Of. This. Wilbur! Stop treating me like I’ll break if you talk about them! It’s been three years and I haven’t heard you mention them once, just slowly break!”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur turned he felt lightheaded as he saw Tubbo those same wide brown eyes shining in worry like the first day he saw him.

Tommy was laughing, “Welcome to this shitty family Tubbo! We’re fighting because your brother thinks your nothing!”

Wilbur felt his stomach twist at Tommy’s laugh-he was becoming more like Wilbur- Tommy was better than that. Wilbur thought he had been sly all these years, but Tommy was wise and knew he was falling apart.

“That’s not true Tommy,” Wilbur reached into his pocket pulling out a leather-bound journal holding it out to his brother, “If you don’t believe me then read this, but not yet. I’m going to L’manburg, and you might as well come with me. I hear there’s a safe zone outside of the city. You can read that and all of the books in the desk in my room after this trip. Okay?”

Tommy snatched the book looking at it, “Why would you go there,” he scowled.

“Techno went to get Philza back, but something went wrong. Now I’m going to end this story and get them both home.”

“Fine,” Tommy nodded, “Let’s pack our bags Tubbo.”

Renting a cart all Wilbur could think about was the outburst Tommy had, years of resentment had built inside of him Wilbur had never seen coming. Years of pain and confusion as his family fell apart around him. He was feeding off of Wilburs poor energy it seemed as well. Tommy was better than Wilbur-he had a bright future ahead of him. When they stopped for the night on the first day of their trip Wilbur snuck the leather journal from out of Tommy’s backpack. He wrote an apology letter, for the past present and future. He deserved at least that much.

When they got to the encampment Wilbur felt electricity spike through his body. He jumped from the cart running past confused by standers before his fist collided with a familiar face.

“I deserved that,” A gruff voice spoke.

“You deserve more than that,” Wilbur growled his fist still at the ready.

A tall figure with a muscular build stood before him, an axe at his hip, pink hair growing out to his shoulders. A blood red cape fluttered around his ankles and it looked like he’d broken a tusk.

“You’re right,” Techno nodded.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted running through the path Wilbur had carved out of the crowd.

Colliding with the tall man there was very little give as Tommy threw his arms around his chest. Techno looked at Wilbur in a pause his arms in the air palms out. Wilbur sighed giving a nod.

Technoblades face was soft as he smiled bending down to hug Tommy, “You’ve gotten so big.”

Wilbur wondered what it was like for Techno, the last time he saw Tommy he was critically injured, a busted leg, hypothermia now he had a full wingspan. Tubbo slowly came to stand next to Wilbur silently watching Tommy hug another hybrid.

“Who’s that?” Techno asked spotting the ram boy.

“My mate Tubbo,” Tommy moved to the boy slinging an arm around his shoulders, “basically part of the family.”

Tubbo gave a small wave.

“He basically saved Tommy after you left,” Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno started.

Wilbur walked away without another word into the crowd back to the cart. He pulled it out of the commotion of the tents and stalls to an open part of field. He tied it to a tree and found a large boulder to sit on watching the crowd mill about. Looking at the sky he saw it, the mountain he would be climbing that night. After the sun went down Tommy would get the life he deserved.

As the time wound down Wilbur made sure to spend the day with his brothers even softening up around Technoblade. They ate good food and met better people caught up in a tragedy Tommy slowly realized he didn’t know much about asking Techno question after question to Wilbur’s dismay.

“How sheltered did you keep him?” Techno half joked.

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Wilbur looked at his reflection in his beer, night had fallen he had to leave, “If something happened to me,” he swallowed thickly, “Would you look after both of them?”

“Of course, I would but nothing is going to happen to you out here, it’s safe,” Techno assured him.

“Come home Techno,” Wilbur asked. His answer would change everything. He was the last string holding him together.

“I can’t until this is done,” Techno shoot his head a new braid done by Tommy swished around, “These people need me to keep them safe right now.”

It snapped.

“Right,” Wilbur nodded pulling his knit cap over his ears, “Have you seen Philza out here?”

“A few times, he was trying to be positive, but,” Techno took a drink, “He’s losing himself Wil, it’s bad. If this doesn’t end soon, he won’t be Philza much longer. I’ll get word out you’re here though; he’d rush to see you.”

The thought made Wilbur smirk, he had so much time to rush to see him, it was too late now.

Wilbur squeezed Techno’s shoulder as he said he was going to bed. He hugged Tubbo and hugged Tommy for far too long. He heart was aching; he thought this operation would be easy and as he hugged his youngest brother who had been through the ringer, he second guessed himself. He had to remind himself this was bigger than Tommy, this would stop a whole war. He had come this far-it was for more than just himself.

Lighting a cigarette on his torch Wilbur started to climb the mountain, it was steep, and rocks slid and tumbled with every step he took. How people could be stealthily on this trail he’d never know. He was sure the whole city could hear him scheming. He had his white wings out to help him balance and for comfort-if he fell, he would catch himself. He cursed his white feathers if they were black like his fathers he could have flown up.

Getting to the crest of the mountain the mouth of a cave greeted him. He entered with no hesitation his heart pounding in his chest as he noticed the writing on the walls. The anthem of L’manburg. In the center of the writing was a button-the button that would end it all.

“I knew I’d catch one of you eventually if I waited long enough.”

The voice behind Wilbur turned his veins to ice.

“Turn around slowly,” They demanded, “And come with me. I have a few questions.”

Slowly Wilbur turned to a shocked face holding a shaky sword.

“Wil,” Philza whispered into the dark, “What are you doing?”

“Philza,” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

“Why are you here?” Philza dropped his sword his long blonde hair braided to the side.

Wilbur wondered if Techno had done it. He smiled feeling his mouth wobble, “I want to bring you home.”

“Wilbur I promise to come home as soon as-“

“I’m ending this tonight!” Wilbur shouted, “It’s been three years Philza! Do you know what any of went through? Did Techno tell you how he ran away when Tommy almost died?”

“What?” Philza’s green eyes were wide, ‘I didn’t-“

“What do you still know about us!” Wilbur backed towards the wall, “We’ve grown and changed, and you haven’t been there! I can’t believe you even recognized me!”

“Of course, I recognize you! You’re my son!” Philza shouted.

Wilbur smirked, “I used to proudly tell people I was the mortal son of the crow. Now I say I have a dad somewhere. Except I’ve known exactly where you were all this time. I saw you on TV when no one else seemed to be able to! Causing atrocities. You even brainwashed Technoblade into it because he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Buddy I’ve been,” Philza hesitated.

“So, help me if you say doing your job, I’ll slit my own throat,” Wilbur spat.

Philza stood straighter, “I’ve been helping people, I’ve been a relief effort I’ve only raised my sword to defend.”

Wilbur hung his head, “I wish I believed you,” He looked at Philza with blurry vision tears welling up, “Do better for Tommy.”

Wilbur hit the button.

“NO!” Philza screamed rushing forward as the earth shook and rumbled.

Wilbur closed his eyes waiting for the crushing pain he deserved of mountain debris. Nothing came as the sounds of explosions rang through the night and sparks brighter than the stars lit up the night before the fires. Opening his eyes, he saw black wings extended over him protecting him from harm. Heavy breathing was the only sound as Wilbur looked into his father’s soft eyes and saw fear, panic, and anything but disappointment. Wilbur felt tears fall down his cheeks, but they weren’t his own. Looking to where the small mouth of the cave used to be he saw a gaping hole with crowds of people gathering to see the monster dwelling inside.

Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo stood out, their mouths a gape as they saw Wilbur pinned by their father in a tragic twist of fate. Slowly Philza stood turning to see the same crowd.

“You brought them here,” Philza looked panicked.

Wilbur clutched his own chest, “Philza you have to kill me.”

“What?” Philza whipped back around.

Wilbur stood kicking Philza sword towards him, “You have to kill me. They’ll arrest me.”

“Wil,” Philza shook his head, “We’ll work this out, I’ll talk with them.”

“Your reputation will be ruined.”

“I don’t care about me reputation! I won’t have to keep doing this if I lose it!” Philza stepped closer his hands out like he wanted to comfort Wilbur, but they were shaking.

“Philza they’ll torture me, you know they will.” Wilbur spoke like a dead man.

“I won’t do it in front of them!” Philza screamed, “You’re my son! I won’t kill you in front of your brothers! My children!”

“They’re so much stronger then you know now,” Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground slowly walking towards Philza. He put the hilt in Philzas open palms closing his fingers into fists holding his own clammy hands around Philzas warm ones, “Dad.”

Wilbur whispered his final word as Philza stepped forward and Wilbur hugged his father for the first time in a very long time. He cried silently while his father sobbed onto his shoulder his black wings encircling them as if to make it more private, to spare his brothers from knowing. As Wilbur succumbed to the pain he smiled, they knew, he bet Techno knew all along he came to L’manburg to die. It hurt more then he thought it would, physically or emotionally he couldn’t tell though. The pain in his abdomen was fire, but hearing Philza wail, and Tommy’s voice ringing in his ear Wilbur closed his eyes feeling cold, and warm against his father and his feathers.

“Wilbur, my strongest son,” Philza whispered.

They were the last words Wilbur heard. ------- Traveling in silence a day later Tommy was flipping through the journal Wilbur had given him, it was all of Wilbur’s personal thoughts. Tommy felt like a fool saying Wil hadn’t cared about him. He’d documented everything, several times he talked about how brave, and strong Tommy had gotten two summers ago. Their first winter flight together- how impressed Wilbur was. Tommy was a fool, he wrapped Wilbur’s old coat tighter around his shoulders trying not to cry where everyone could hear. If this was just one journal he wondered how many were in Wilbur’s desk, what they all said. At the end of this one Wilbur mentioned getting the family back together. He looked up at Philza driving the cart- he held Tommy so tight last night. It reminded him of the forest when he broke his leg. Idly flipping through Tommy noticed writing he had missed on the front cover earlier.

Dear Tommy,

You were served a rotten hand in this life, with a father who disappeared and brothers who were broken. Techno and I tried our best I promise you that, but we weren’t equipped to bring you up still being kids ourselves. We were scared- I was scared- of letting you down. I’ve written a journal full of apologies to Tehcnoblade, and I was a fool to think after Tubbo showed up you weren’t owed anything. You are owed a dozen apologies from three people, but I hope I am sufficient. If you’re reading this at all there’s a good chance I didn’t come home okay, or I didn’t come home at all, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. This life wasn’t for me Tommy, I am in pain and I don’t know how else to stop it. You dulled this pain for so long I almost forgot I was suffering. I never realized how it was affecting you, and you were right, you’ve bene in the dark for a long time, because no one wanted ot hurt you- instead we did the opposite. Don’t be mad at Philza – our father never wanted to be a figure head, he wanted to be a man who made his family proud, and you should be proud of him. He would do anything for us, he just hasn’t had a lot of choices when it’s come to fate. If he could leave it behind, I know he would just to spend every day listening to you catch him up on what he missed. Be gentle with Technoblade, under his tough exterior out brother is soft and scared of what you think of him. When he left it was with good intentions to bring our father back. He gets caught up in his own head and becomes a danger to himself more than others. If you see him start to clam up don’t let him- bother him every day. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to feel something. Protect Tubbo when this is all over. Our family will be fractured and hurt, Tubbo has only ever had a broken family, he’ll hurt watching the pain work its way through your hearts differently. He’ll fell like an outsider with no right to mourn, but I believe Tubbo became just as much of a brother to me. I know he saved you from yourself, you might need to save him in return. Just remember not to be too strong, let yourself feel. We as a family hid our emotions for too long. Lastly, I have a large request I may not even know comes true, but don’t be mad at me. If I could have, I would have done this differently, but there was no more time. I needed to be free, you needed to be free. Tommy you’ve grown into a brilliant, gentle, curious soul who puts others before himself. Who is afraid to put himself first, listen to yourself more, trust yourself more. You are important and deserve to take care of you. I would have loved to see you continue to grow as you come into your own, but it wasn’t meant to be. Remember avians weren’t meant to be on the ground too long. Find me amongst the clouds on your next trip to the sky. Your brother forever, Wilbur.

Tommy hiccupped grabbing the ends of Wilbur’s jacket tight as he dropped the book, curled into a ball and sobbed, not for himself, but his brother whose hurt he never got to understand.

[faimrpg]

Name: Karine Age: 25+ Occupation: Spy for Alain Gauthier Suggested Faceclaims: Alperen Duymaz, John David Washington, Amita Suman, Zoe Kravitz Pronouns: Up to player Currently: Open

YOU HUNGER FOR —

Pursuit. Though you are not one for cheap thrills, you chose this life specifically for it. You became an informer because it led you to the mouth of adventure, opening wealth and danger before you like a river. Instruments are usually made at the behest of others—but you carved yourself from yourself. You are self-professed in the best ways to infiltrate a foreign body, be it country or a person. You weaned your mouth on the poison it takes to subdue and survive it. For a while, you whetted these talents in one of the secret covens that abound throughout Celestine. When your companions spat you out in the streets, determined to cut the losses of rabid dogs, you landed on your feet and even did a tumble. You smiled blood-lipped at the applause. Alain recruited you as one auctions a cursed object, abandoned by a wiser, duller owner. He chose you not for your talents with a stiletto, which remain unrivaled even in the copse of killers that is Calandre’s capital, nor for your mind, skilled in all the vernacular of dead and dying empires. You never asked what you saw on you, but you can wager a safe bet: it was your laughter, opening around danger like a fruitbite. Gauthier had enough sensible hirelings: what he needed was a beast that never slacks the chase.  As it is, your thrills are the furthest thing from whimsical. They are an offering on the shrine of the highest bidder, sharp as cut rubies and thrumming crimson. 

CONNECTIONS

Sylviane Amaury: There’s something to be said about the lap of luxury, after all. Though you never saw yourself falling in bed with someone like them, all gilded satinwood and flimsy porcelain, it was not for lack of imagination. You simply dismissed them as complications without due reward. You wanted your hunt for power to be seized and earned, rather than granted as some alcove gift. Whenever Alain called you into court, your entertainment laid elsewhere. But the painter, in their decadence and ignorance of all that’s dirt and bones, has a charm of their own.  Of course, that they have Calandre’s ears does not hurt, either. 

Rowan ald Gwynn: It’s a jarring sight, watching Widrowem bleed into Val Faim like an open wound. It’s  as if having two worlds enmeshed together and then wrenched apart. You knew Rowan in what feels like another life—not older, or kinder, or even less deadly, but one carried in parallel to your days in Celestine. Whenever Alain dispatched you to the southern kingdoms, on numerous and sinister  tasks over the years, you would go to them for both information and indulgence. Perhaps it was rivalry; perhaps it was affection. Whatever the form, they knew you under a different name, a different self. And now they are here.  

Victoire de Chevin: Before the little tin soldier rose in the ranks, they were only another toy waiting beneath Celestine’s heel. They say Calandre makes people, and then unmakes them at the next wheel’s turn—but you know that is not the empress’ prerogative. That’s merely how fate turns. As someone who travelled all over the known world, and to the brink of the unknown one, you’ve seen all kingdoms do the same. Victoire was once small, and overeager, and it nearly cost them their life. You swept in to save them before Alain even ordered it. How fortuitous, that now they’re on the large, and you can swoop in to ask for your debt.  

[cognitivefunk]

Eey, I haven’t written in months but I was caught up thirsting over Sesshoumaru so I made this lol Title: Over the Edge  Fandom: Inuyasha Pairing: Sesshoumaru/Reader (Second person POV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: smut, Mild dubcon, pheromones, rutting, knot, biting/scratching, blood (mild) 

The air burned in your lungs with each sharp breath you took, frantically trying to fuel your body as you pumped your legs as quickly as they would carry you. The roaring in your ears was deafening as you batted away branches that wicked at your face. Blood tickled your skin, and you smeared it on your cheeks with your sleeve, too afraid of what may happen if you stopped running.

It had started out as a normal day, the weather was mild but there had been rain in the forecast so you made sure to wear a light jacket to keep the damp chill away. After all, you knew you’d be out for most of the day visiting the Higurashi Shrine with a group of friends. You had heard rumors of the Bone Eater’s well, fairytale whispers of a portal to another time. “There’s no way that’s real,” you had laughed, joking with the others in your group that it was essentially just a campfire story to scare children. Portals and demons couldn’t possibly exist. No matter how alluring the concept may be.

The plan was to have the group split up so you could access the well in private and take turns taking selfies sitting on the edge while the others kept watch. Even if they were just ghost stories, it still made your heart race with excitement. It felt naughty, sneaking around in such a place. Everything had gone smoothly up to the point where you had leaned a bit too far, trying to angle yourself over the edge of the old well. Your hand slipped, scraping against the stone and sending you tumbling head first into the abyss.

You had braced for impact, throwing your arms over your head to cushion the fall, but instead of pain, there was pervasive darkness.  A crawling sensation spread across your body, followed by a sinking feeling deep in your gut. The only sound you could hear was the blood rushing in your veins from your beating heart. Numb... A sensation of nothingness threatened to take hold of you, gripping at your mind as you flailed your arms in front of you looking for something, anything to hold onto. For a moment, nausea bubbled up into your chest as the panic set in. Time seemed to pause and accelerate around you all at once, making you feel disoriented.

A sudden blinding light shocked your body back into fight or flight mode, and you struggled your way toward the light. Sound slowly began to return the closer you came to the entrance until you came tumbling out of the well onto the grass below, thankful the landing was softer than you were expecting.

You thought for a moment you must have hit your head, reflexively reaching up to check for a wound. The only thing that stung was the scrape on your hand from when you had fallen into the well. Your hands fell in disbelief, gripping at your jeans. The sense of relief dissolved back to terror as you took in your surroundings. The sun shone down on a densely forested area, the Higurashi shrine from before was nowhere in sight.

“No, this can’t be happening,” you muttered to yourself, reaching back up to check for a bump on your head, hoping it would clear your head so things made sense again. “No, no no no …” the hair on the back of your neck began to stand to attention as a shrieking roar echoed around you. Whatever was crashing through the trees was not going to give you the time to come to term with your surroundings.

Fear prickled its way down your spine as you took in the sight before you. A grotesque, pulsating creature with hundreds of arms and tendrils ripped through the trees, right toward where you were standing. Eyes from every angle pierced through you, and it was obvious it had no good intentions.

A shriek caught in your throat as you turned on your heel, trembling as you willed your feet to move, lest you meet an untimely demise at the hand of that thing. W-what is that? I must be dreaming, this can’t be real. The scent of blood and death was thick in the air, you fought back the tears that threatened to blind you of your sight.

“Help! Please, anyone, help!” you cried out in desperation, trying not to gag on the putrid air. You covered your mouth with your dirtied sleeve in a futile attempt to filter the air around you. Gasping choking on your own tears, you lose your balance yet again, crashing down the hillside until your body finally stopped near the edge of a ravine.

Your body came to a stop as your back brushed into something undeniably soft, which only added another layer of confusion while you scrambled to collect yourself without going over the edge. You had fallen too many times for one day, and you were certain you wouldn’t survive a fall from that height. The guttural shrieking from above ripped you from your thoughts, and you instinctively recoiled into yourself, unsure what you should do. Something shifted beside you, and you jumped to the side, skittering toward the rocky wall that you clung to, away from the source of the movement but unable to move very far from your spot without risking certain death.

Your eyes finally came into focus on what had stopped your fall. In contrast to the chaos leading up to this point was a serene scene. A beautiful man with long silver hair lay resting on a luxurious pelt of fur. There was a strange aura around him, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Taken back at his appearance, you had nearly forgotten about the demon spawn that was making its way down the cliff. The sound of rocks falling caught your attention once again and the man’s eyes slowly opened, a vaguely irritated expression marred his handsome features. He tilted his head toward the sound and let out a quiet puff of air before standing in wait of the demon.

Meanwhile, you started looking around for a way out, feeling around the wall and testing the ground near the ledge for strength. “Uh- excuse me? I think if we’re careful we could probably get away if we go this way-” your words slowly began to trail off as you watched the scene before you unfold. He moved like flowing water as he gripped his sword, unsheathing it in one fluid motion. There was a cracking noise, then rocks and debris hurdling away from the sudden gust of air unleashed toward the terrifying beast. It took you a moment to register the thick blood on the blade of his sword as he flicked it to the side before sheathing it once again.

A mist of smoke and particles exploded around the body of the creature, drifting off with the wind. It had a strange smell to it, but it seemed the elegant man was less affected by the sensation than you were. Or at least, that’s what it appeared as to you. It was as though the thick pollen was clinging to your pores and it made your head feel light.

You gulped, an involuntary shiver flowing through you as you came to the realization that he had just killed that horrible creature. There was no struggle, just one clean sweep of his sword. “But..how..” you muttered, staring in shock before falling to your knees, unable to hold up your own weight anymore. You placed your hands on the ground, seeking stability from the ground. The world seemed to swirl around you as the dizziness settled back in.

The man had turned back around, looking down at your pitiful form, dirtied on the ground. “Hn,” he sneered, approaching your shivering body. “Human, you do well to kneel before this, Lord Sesshoumaru,” he spoke in a dignified manner, his posture relaxed but tall. He had just introduced himself to you, so at the very least it gave you hope he wasn’t planning on outright killing you. His piercing eyes were examining you with such an intensity you couldn’t help but shrink back into yourself.

Feeling awkward, you attempt to introduce yourself,  “I-“

“Do not speak unless, this Sesshoumaru commands you to.” At his sharp words, the shiver intensified, leaving you trembling before the demon. He walked around you carefully, not seeming to care much about the ravine below. He leaned forward, his silver hair cascading over his shoulder down toward your frame. He reached forward, running a finger over the collar of your jacket. You couldn’t tell if he was curious, disgusted, or irritated. His expression was as hard to read as his demeanor was.

“Human, your clothes are not from here.  Did you come with that miko?” this time, he directed his words in a question, urging you to speak. Your lips were dry, and your voice cracked as you attempted to use your voice, realizing how hoarse you had become from the whole ordeal.

“I’m not sure what happened, one minute I was at the well and the next thing I know is I was being chased by that…” you point toward where the corpse had disintegrated into the earth. Nervously, you looked up at the man from where you knelt, hoping to get a better look at him now that you weren’t in imminent danger. “Thank you, for saving me.”

At that, the man’s eyes narrowed at you and he crouched in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly in his hand to jerk your face closer to him. “Do not mistake, I did not save you,” he paused, his thought cut off as he caught the scent of the blood that had dried on your face. His nostrils flared and he brought his face closer to yours. “What do we have here,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to swipe against one of the deeper cuts from when the branches had cut into you. He pressed hard enough to reopen the wound to allow for fresh blood to flow out onto his tongue.

The sensation stung, but at the same time it was as though there was electricity where he lapped at your wound. You let out an involuntary whimper, wanting to move away but fearing what he might do if you moved away from him. Inhuman strength aside, his golden eyes and pointed ears indicated he was not a human like you. He could likely crush you without even using his weapon and while that thought should have been terrifying to you; there was a part of you that was excited.

He sighed against your cheek, nuzzling his nose closer to your ear, breathing in your scent. Your hair was slightly matted with sweat, clinging to your forehead with a light sheen. You gulped; fear holding you in place as the demon tugged the skin on your lip downward, forcing your mouth open. He pulled back to brush his lips against your own, dipping his blood tinged tongue against yours. The taste of copper filled your mouth and you forgot to breathe.

His tongue slid along yours in an inquiring way, exploring you. Tasting you. You finally pulled back, gasping for air, a thin trail of saliva snapping between you as you parted your connection.  The sweet air filled your lungs all traces of the stench of death replaced with a sickly sweet presence.  You glanced back at the man who was staring at you very intently. A crimson color was spreading across his sclera, painting the whites of his eyes red.

“Wh-“ your words transformed into a yelp as he pushed you against the ground, suddenly ripping at your clothing with his claws. He started at your jacket, cutting it away from your arms before moving to your top.

“No! Stop!” you shouted, forgetting your fear for a moment to try to preserve some of your dignity. This stranger, despite how ethereally beautiful he was, was undressing you without a word after stealing a kiss so brazenly. What made his demeanor change so suddenly? You could feel a chill on your skin as you became more exposed to the open air.

He paused only to shoot you a warning glare, “Do not address me in such a manner.” His voice was husky, and he was eyeing you like a predator cornering his prey. “You may address me as Lord Sesshoumaru if you must speak.”

He leaned forward once more, pinning your body under his, dipping his head toward your neck to take in your scent once more. The pollen from the forest youkai contained a pheromone capable of triggering a heat cycle in certain breeds of warm-blooded demons. It was coursing through his veins, heightened by the taste of the blood from your wound, and the tangible fear coming off of your body.  

“L-Lord Sesshoumaru, please, d-“ you attempted to reason with him, trying to gain favor with the man. He placed his fingers over your lips, pressing down to hush you. Just hearing his name on your lips was enough. He had no use for any words of denial.  

“So small…so frail. Why do you fight me? You should be honored that I, the great Lord Sesshoumaru find you… quite palatable in this moment,” he dug his fingers into your mouth, relishing at your startled yelp. The sensation of your tongue on his fingers caused him to shiver ever so slightly. He pressed them in further, triggering your gag reflex and you started to tear up. Without thinking, you bit down and the small smile that had graced his face disappeared. “You do not understand your place. Allow me to show you,”

In the blink of an eye he had flipped back onto your knees, shoving your head into the ground. You coughed, spitting the dirt out of your mouth as he pressed your cheek against the rough ground. Gravel stuck to the cuts on your face and your eyes welled up. “You will not waste my time, human. I am bestowing on you a great honor,” he spoke, draping his body across your back as his claws continued their work, tearing the cloth away from your body, occasionally nicking into your flesh. “You look much better like this,” he murmured, admiring his work. The tattered cloth clung to the curves of your body, allowing him access to you. Little red beads from where he dug his nails into you decorated your back.

He couldn’t resist the allure, ducking his head toward your enticing flesh to run his flattened tongue along the shallow wounds. It made your spine tingle and your breath catch in your throat. “You will look even better full of my seed,” his voice was quiet, but determined. It was the only warning before he placed the fingers that had been inside your mouth directly into your heat. Your saliva acted as a mild lubricant, diving and twisting into your core.

He groaned low, a primal growl emanating deep from within his chest. A moan escaped you, the sound surprising the both of you as he began to work his fingers inside of you. His nails were sharp, and you knew that he would tear you if he was too rough. He did not seem to have any such reservations about how delicate your body was compared to a demon’s, thrusting his fingers in and out in a calculated fashion. It didn’t seem that he was seeking for your pleasure, but rather preparing you to accommodate his girth.  

He still had his other hand on the small of your back, pushing you against the ground, not allowing your hips to move away from his onslaught. There was a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burn you up. You whined, sure that you were unable to reason with the man at this point. You thought it best to do as he said for the best chance of making it out alive.

Sensing your surrender, his hand finally left your back, allowing him to situate himself closer to the opening of your sex. He breathed deeply, his face inches from your most intimate place. Your face flushed with embarrassment. ‘Is he really smelling me down there? It’s like he’s a ..dog’

You shifted so you could sneak a peek at the man behind you. His face was flushed and he was panting slowly, but surely with each breath. His golden eyes tinged with red were focused on your now quivering heat. You bit down on your knuckle to suppress a groan at the sight. He didn’t seem to mind you were watching him, instead removing his fingers from within you only to grab ahold of your buttocks to spread you wide open and dip his head forward. He inhaled deeply as he ran his tongue across your entrance.

“Uhhnn, Sesshoumaru?” he was lapping at you, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, reminding you how dangerous it was to have him in such a delicate place. You panted, trying to regain your composure, burying your face in your arm.

“Hnn, It would seem… for someone who was so obstinate, you offer yourself so willingly,” he mused, clearly enjoying himself. “Look how you swallow up my fingers,” he breathed, easily slipping a digit inside for emphasis. “Offering yourself to this Sesshoumaru,” he continued, sitting back on his heels to disrobe. He draped his clothing to the side, with more care than he had afforded you. The stark contrast was somehow arousing to your senses, and you felt yourself becoming wet at the thought.

“Come, spread yourself for me, I will give you what you’re waiting for,” he smirked, lining himself up behind your body. You were hesitant, but the arousal was shrouding your judgement. The lingering embarrassment would pass. You propped yourself up on one elbow, using your other hand to spread yourself open for him. Another growl tore from his throat and he seemed to be at his limit. It didn’t take long until he pushed himself into you, with far more girth than you were expecting. You cry out in surprise, the burning sensation in your loins was overwhelming. He was much larger than you were anticipating and it was driving you crazy.

He couldn’t hold back, panting heavily as his nails dug into your hips, snapping forward, he buried himself to the hilt. He grunted, aggressively pulling you toward his aching cock as he ravished your body, taking you for his own pleasure. “Say it, who is giving you this pleasure?” he teased, chuckling as you struggled to call out his name between thrusts. He specifically timed himself to render you speechless.

You, an ordinary human who only wanted to take a few selfies at the shrine’s well, were now face down on the ground getting pounded into the next life by a majestic demon lost in his carnal desire. He stretched your walls as he took you from behind, thrusting erratically, without giving you a moment to rest. You scrambled to grab onto the ground for balance. Seeing this, he sat back with you still riding his cock, using his strong thighs to thrust up. You threw your head back, moaning loudly at the newfound angle. It was much deeper than before, and you could swear you felt him getting impossibly bigger with every thrust.

He took advantage of your exposed neck to bury his fangs into your shoulder, the pain firing through, intoxicating you with hazy pleasure. He bounced you on his swollen cock with abandon, chasing after his release. He had the desire to fill you, to make you burst with his seed until you couldn’t walk anymore.

You felt your orgasm building from the stimulation, your body shaking against his. Your walls tightened around him, sending him into a frenzy. Tears fell down your face as his onslaught on your sensitive body continued, his length swelling inside of you as he neared his release. He slipped his fingers back into your mouth, and you could taste yourself from before, arousing you further. You couldn’t help but drool on his fingers as he latched onto you, spilling his seed deep within your body with a particularly well aimed thrust.

He pulsated inside you, stretching you to your limit. You had never felt something like it before. Instead of becoming limp after his release, his knot had locked inside of you, pumping you full of his seed, sealing it within your walls. He breathed heavily against your shoulder, finally releasing his fangs. Blood sprang to the surface, and he soothed the wound over with his tongue, lapping at your skin tenderly.

“I have granted you the highest honor of receiving my seed, don’t you dare spill a drop or I will have no choice but to fill you again,” he murmured against the back of your neck, “and again…” His hands caressed your body, gently now that he was basking in his afterglow. He nuzzled against you, his hips rutting sporadically, drawing soft whines from your throat. You were so overstimulated as it were, but you could feel yourself becoming aroused once more with him seated inside of you.

“It is decided. You will stay with this Sesshoumaru,” his command was unwavering. He nipped at your ear, continuing to nuzzle you from behind.

“Excuse me? I..I have to go back home! I can’t just stay here,” you felt like your words were perpetually falling on deaf ears. He shifted, his hips snapping up, pushing you down onto him with renewed strength to assert his dominance on the situation. “No such thing,” he murmured, rocking his hips in a circular motion, relishing in the hazy pleasure it was giving him. “You will stay here until I am satisfied.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Prince! Harry Hook x Chosen Knight!Reader - Remember your past life

Inspired by botw story of link and Zeldas friendship

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Long ago, almost 500 years, the was a prince, named Harrison Killian Jones, son of the savior Queen Emma swan and the thief turned hero King Killian jones, he was prophecized to be the savior of his kingdom, a power locked within him.

When he was 16 he was assigned a knight, but not just any knight, the wielder of the sword that seals the darkness.

(y/n) (l/n) his chosen knight, his guard.

And he hated her, for they had been able to unsheath the powerful sword when she was only 15, only trying once before the sword allowed her to wield it.

While Harry had been hounded and pressured to access his stupid magic since he was a child, to no avail.

Every time he looked at her, he saw his failures, his duties, his fate, his destiny.

He hated it, doing his best to run, keep her at a distance, but she always found him, keeping pace behind him and watching him.

The darkness soon erupted, and the knight lost her life, the prince ordering her into the shrine of resurrection, heading to his home to face the dark one alone.

It has been 500 years since then, and the kingdom had long been forgotten, the prince long since reincarnated, and the knight had awoken, though her memories, were scarce, only remembering her name.

This is where our story begins

=

“We need ta get to ȋ̷̢̫́͗n̶̜̫͂͗̕a̷̹͔̳̒ụ̵͓̼̈ͅd̸̡̉̅͘͠ȉ̴͍̫̥b̶̧̛͖̤͆̾̈́͜l̵̬͐e̶̳̼̟͂̈̕͝ as soon as possible, and make some adjustments on that divine beast so G̸̘̤̙̤̀̇͗̚î̶̬̘̄l̷͕͊̋̚ can use it as easily as possible”

You walked behind the taller black haired prince, listening as he prattled on about the divine beast.

“I still can't believe he figured out how to get it to move” the prince muttered, looking down at the high tech tablet “he still has yet to figure out all the secrets and tricks.”

“it's odd to think that these beasts were actually built by people, but that means they are not out of our understanding, and we should be able to figure it out.”

The prince finally looked up from the tablet looking to the sky, a determined tone to his voice.

“and we can use them to our advantage, these divine beasts…there is so much we don’t know about them, but if we want to seal back the dark one, they're our best hope”

The dark-haired prince slowly came to a stop, his shoulders slumping, turning to you, his bright ocean blue eyes meeting yours.

“tell me…that sword, how proficient are you at using it?”

You glanced at the hilt, gleaming over your shoulder, before turning back to the prince.

“Legend says that a voice can be heard by the swords chosen, can you hear it yet, Hero?”

=

Your horse huffed as you made it gallop up the hill, heading towards the prince as he tried to unlock the large shrine.

He turned, his ocean blue eyes simmering with surprise and rage. You hopped off (horses name) quickly jogging up to the prince

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t need someone to guide me around!” the prince rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

“I, the prince, am perfectly fine by myself, regardless of the kings orders” you simply stared at him, tapping your fingers on your thigh nervously, not that he could see “return to the castle, and tell that to my father….please” he added as an afterthought, strutting angerly to his horse, you watching him before starting to run after him.

The prince’s fists clenched, hurridly turning and yelling in your face.

“and stop following me!!”

=

The prince leaned against his sister fast asleep, the dark-haired girl staring softly down at her little brother.

“you sure got her’e quick” she muttered, turning slightly to greet you “I guess I should have to expect that from meh little brother's own personal knight. He was out on a survey all day, still as water now”

She smiled at the dark-haired prince, before turning back to you, a slight coldness in her eye “so? Spill it (y/n), how are you two getting along?”

You sucked on your teeth, shrugging slightly, the princess let out a light breath through her nose “I got it, he's not letting you two get along, he gets frustrated every time he looks at you carrying that sword on your back”

the dark-haired girl sighed, staring at her peacefully sleeping brother “makes him feel like a failure with his own destiny” the princess smiled at you “don’t worry, no need to carry any blame, its unfortunate, he's put in more than enough time, ever since we were kids, da’s pushed him to access his “magic”, even passing out in freezing water to try to unlock it…and he has nothing ta show for it”

the princess looked into the distance “that is what motivates him to research every little thing about all this, technology, he feels it’s the only thing that he can do to help”

she turned to you, a determined look on her face “protect him, understood, with your life, it will be your highest honor”

you nodded, staring right back into her charcoal eyes. She nodded back, turning to her brother “it's getting cold, we should get him inside” she smirked deviously “or~”

the princess’s eyes glowed for a second, and she snapped her fingers, lightning striking the ground, thunder roaring around you, you crouched low as it resounded and shook the earth.

The prince awoke suddenly, squeaking and tumbling forward

“Ah! Ḥ̴̢̥̲̅̽͝ă̷͓̚r̵͕͓̩͛̋͗͝r̸̼̝͒͊͝i̴̭̬̣͓͊͝e̸̡̦̻͊̓t̴̛̠͙͍̐̂! What was that! Did you feel that?!” the prince slowly took notice of you, his striking ocean blue eyes squinting in confusion “wait, what-how did you- what are yeh doing here?!”

The princess snickered before she burst out laughing, the prince turning his confused face to her.

“what? Why are yeh laughing?!”

=

(y/n) wake up

Wake up!

You must save prince H̷͓̤͎͖̺̣̎̒̓̃̉̕ą̴̡̪̼͕͚̦̓́̆̓̔r̸̹̼̥͓̲̤̐͝ṟ̵̡̛͎͇̝̿̃͊̔̆y̶̟̙̞͛̚

You are our only hope

(y/n)!!!

You jerked awake, gasping as you stared at the ceiling of your room, the birds chirping outside.

Those….dreams, had been plaguing you again, more often now that the new vks had started school here at Auradon prep.

You sat up, holding your head, trying to remember the boy in the dreams, he seemed so familiar, but yet so…distant?

You couldn’t recall his name, you couldn’t recall his face, you couldn’t remember anything about him.

Only his ocean blue eyes.

Sighing you looked at your alarm clock, the glowing numbers showing it was 5:00 am, you had always gotten up at this time, you didn’t know why it was just instinct.

Tossing your blanket, you stood from your bed, grabbing a towel in the process, going into the bathroom to wash the sweat from your skin.

=

You sat, silent as the others sparred, watching as Lonnie parried chads sword, knocking him to the floor, her sword now at his neck.

“Valid!” jay called, grinning as Lonnie took her helmet off, “nice one Lonnie!” she smiled, high fiving him

“Thanks, jay! Okay, whos next?!”

You looked around, seeing the rest of the members shuffling on their feet, not wanting to fight the skilled daughter of Mulan.

“ill take a whirl” that voice…you looked up, seeing striking ocean blue eyes, dark wild hair, this person…he was so familiar?

Lonnie grinned, putting her helmet back on, “you're on harry!”

Harry?...why did that name sound so familiar?

As Lonnie drew her sword, an instinct tried to take over, a scene flashing before you.

“Hello your highness, I believe you need to come with us”

“fuck off, im not goin anywhere with yeh!”

The clan member growled, unsheathing his sword and dashing toward the prince, you kicked off the one straddling you, quickly springing forward and blocking the sword, flinging it up into the air, and slashing the clan members' neck.

“gahk”

He fell to the ground, choking on his own blood, you stood in front of the prince, guarding him, as the other clan members backed away slowly.

“leave” you spoke, hearing the prince gasp behind you, having been the first time hearing your voice.

A pounding headache split your head. Groaning you leaned forward, holding your head in your hands.

“(y/n)? you good?” Jay asked, walking over to you, avoiding Lonnie and Harry sparing, patting your back softly

headache you signed, wincing as the pounding increased as you watched harry fight. Jay nodded, helping you stand.

“let's get you to the nurse's office okay?” you nodded, looking back, eyes widening when striking ocean blue met (e/c)

Save prince Ḩ̷̧͙͕̩̗̞̤̱̟͊ä̸̢͖̙́͐͋̈́̉͌̕͝r̵̡͚̭̙̬̹͈͉̩̙̮̖͆͌̂̏̈́̚͝ͅr̸̫̞̤̞̎͗͂̀̀̈́́͐̅̊̎̋͝y̴̨̯̻͖͉̥̙̞͔̩̎ͅ

---end of part 1---

[emilyrhymeswithfelony]

Koi No Yokan

This is a Noragami Historical AU I adopted from @bloodredrubymoon and @watchmist1412 with Miko!Hiyori and God of Calamity!Yato based on events during the Hogen Disturbance of 1156. You can always read it on AO3 but I’m still learning to format there, and structure is rather important to my storytelling. Rated T+ due to death and some adult situations. Historical and A/N at end of each chapter. Musical references will be noted before (if any).

You were inhabited

Speaking in tongues in the night

Oh, it was anathema

Olympians by Andrew Bird

Chapter 2

They arrived on the thirteenth day of the month; the day to venerate the dragon Kami, Ryujin.  Overwhelmed with gratitude, Hiyori’s parents intended to show proper thanks to the gods who protected this village from the fighting, and allowed them safe passage through the night.  They enlisted themselves as healers, offering their services and knowledge in exchange for a shelter and food for their daughter. Though they seemed to be the only survivors, the villagers accepted them eagerly and with kindness.

The end of the day marked the beginning of the festival. Men marched from Lake Biwa to the prepared space to call down the spirit of the Kami. They carried above them a massive draconian serpent made of rope to represent Ryujin.  Hiyori watched with wide eyes, transfixed by the dragon effigy. Her family followed the parade, and gathered on the side of the raised platform to witness the invocation of the god. 

The villagers performed theatrical dances, followed by the priests performing a call to the god in their dance, their kagura. Three times, a single villager was brought to dance while priests sang and music was played, and all hoped for a moment of divine possession.  It was an honor to be blessed with the presence of your kami, a sure sign that he or she liked the offerings of worship.  If they were lucky, they could divine prophecies from the possessed, any good omens for their town’s wellbeing.  This evening, the third kagura revealed more than just the abundance of crops.  A divine possession rendered the man stiff, eyes rolling back into his head.  He stood motionless for only a few moments before his trance was broken, jumping towards the crowd. Finding the springtime eyes of a small brunette girl, smoke rose from his mouth as words tumbled from his lips. Most in the crowd heard nothing akin to their own native tongue. Hiyori, however, heard every word clearly.

“Another name, but the same fates intertwined. The same face, and another chance to be more. The Far Shore calls you, child. The gods have blessed your line.  Your legacy is to protect. Come, meet your fate as the bride of a god.”

The last of the smoke dissipated as the prophet collapsed on the floor.  People in white robes rushed to Hiyori with demands and questions, but all she could hear were the strange words echoing in her ears, and the sounds of her mother’s sobbing. It seems payment had been asked of Hiyori’s family for their protection the previous night.

Back at her home, the priests and priestesses spoke to her parents all night, leaving Hiyori alone outside. She hoped they would call her soon, lest she become a spectator to her own fate. She could feel the eyes of the forest on her as she stared beyond the garden.  Just as she began to contemplate sneaking away, the shrine entourage made their exit, leaving her for the night. Hiyori ran to her parents, hoping they hadn’t decided her future without her input.  

Both her parents sat around the fire recessed in the floor.  The atmosphere was tense and grim.  Hiyori could barely stand the anticipation.

“What did the priests and priestesses have to say tonight?”

Her father stood and walked to the doorway, leaning his arm against the threshold.  Neither of the two looked up to acknowledge the girl’s question.

“Mother. Father. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“From the moment I first held you, little bird, I knew you were incredible. It wouldn’t be a lie to say I have feared this day would come since you drew your first breath.”

Hiyori made her way to her mother’s side, leaning her head against her trembling shoulder.

“They want to take you to train with them, Hiyori. We can’t hide your gifts from the gods any longer. You’ve been called to become a priestess.” Her father had yet to face his daughter, but his voice betrayed his fear.

Hiyori knew of the priestesses, and the role they played in different towns. They had seen them traveling, traded herbs and spells with them in their previous village. Her parents would dismiss her whenever they came around, but she knew how much good they could do for people. She knew how much they could help.

“Why do they want me?”

“It’s your gift, sweet bird.  Your gift to see what others cannot.”

“Maybe this is our payment for surviving that bloody night,” her father lamented.

“No, my love, don’t sp--”

“Then I’ll do it!”

Both her parents turned to her, stunned.

“You’re such a good girl, Hiyori. You don’t have to fix this,” her mother cooed.

“This is my choice. For once, please, let me choose my own path.”

Her father approached her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. 

“This is a permanent choice, Hiyori. You will live at the shrine for years, traveling and working, placing yourself in danger for others.  You cannot marry until your training is completed, and even after, your first priority will always be your duty to your kami. If you understand all of this, then tell me why you want to go.”

Hiyori met her father’s eyes, and squeezed her mother’s hands.

“More than anything else, I want to help people.”

The matter was decided, and they slept, holding each other close, one last time as a family.  Beginning the next morning, she would train to become a miko.

Before the morning light could dispel the gloom, Hiyori found herself beneath the arch of the torii.  The sacred rope swun in the breeze, the wind pushing against her back as if to urge her towards her new home.  She had years of training ahead of her before she would be a proper miko, but Hiyori didn’t mind if it meant she could protect her parents from being afraid like they were the last two nights. 

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

Over the next seven years, Hiyori seemed to fulfill her childhood ambitions, and learned to channel her immense spiritual energy.  She would train and travel for half of each year,  growing stronger as an exorcist and healer.  While some clans sought to unite, others resisted harshly, causing strife and chaos.  Hiyori’s services were needed constantly for purification and protection, as well as for auguries.  Her skills as a healer were renowned, but nothing was as valuable as her predictions of disaster.

When staying home, Hiyori made it a point to learn from the spirits of the forest.  The more focused her power became, the more guardians she would meet. They aided her in training, as well as protecting her village.  Together, they erected a powerful barrier around the perimeter. 

Her self defense skills grew steadily, as well, and she inherited the sacred weapons of her shrine. It was as if the power of Ryujin was embedded in the jade scales on her bow and short sword. She made a point to chase out any rogue samurai who sought to take what was not offered from her village, as well as any deviant spirit.  She channeled divine protection as if manifesting the dragon Kami himself. 

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

A/N: Located just north of Kyoto, the old capitol, lies Lake Biwa. I will give you a few visuals here and here. And the shrine, as well. 

I combined a few customs together for the very real god, Ryujin. Lake Biwa is said to be his dwelling place. 

Before traveling priestesses and priests were limited in their capacities, they were considered powerful shaman and shamanesses. I’m harkening back to that.

[caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma]

Peripheral, Part 1

Peripheral, Part 1

Pairings: OT7 x reader; Hoseok x reader; Yoongi x reader

Series Summary:  An unfortunate accident leaves Kim Namjoon with amnesia, and Big Hit, BTS, ARMY, and the entire world is desperate to help him regain his memories and knowledge. Fortunately, a new genetics company has successfully created a system to alter our brains into human databases which can help someone regain knowledge and memories through a simple input/output exchange. Can this new invention give us back our beloved leader?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol AU

Warnings: Accidental fall down a flight of stairs, mild coma, amnesia, cursing

Word Count: 6K+

Everyone knew he was clumsy, but no one ever anticipated that Namjoon would end up seriously injured. He’d had a few missed steps here and a stumble or two there, but he always managed to pull through with maybe a few bruises, scrapes, or a minor injury or two.

Unfortunately, his luck couldn’t hold out forever. Namjoon was leading the others out of the stadium after yet another successful concert, but he failed to see the empty basement stairwell he was unknowingly leaning towards. The overhead light that usually illuminated the stairwell had yet to be replaced and the entire section sat in darkness, the inner door left open while maintenance searched for replacement bulbs.

The guys were racing down the hall, joking and unwinding from the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Namjoon laughed heartily at something Jin was saying behind him, and as he turned to utter his snarky reply, he leaned too far into the wall and lost his balance. To his horror, he realized too late that there was not a wall to hold on to, just empty space.

Realization dawned slowly on Jin’s face as Namjoon slipped just beyond his grasp and tumbled heavily down the stairs. It all happened within a few seconds, but each member experienced a slow, drawn-out shock as Namjoon fell, hitting his head more than once and crumpling into an uncomfortable pile at the bottom of the stairs.

Everyone clambered down the narrow stairwell, using their phones to illuminate the space. They found their leader, unconscious, but breathing, the only sound they cared to hear over Yoongi’s frantic voice calling for help. Jungkook climbed over the others to Namjoon’s other side. He kneeled behind Namjoon’s head and braced his neck protectively as tears poured from his eyes. Jimin and Taehyung carefully arranged Namjoon’s twisted limbs, taking special care to avoid disturbing them further. There didn’t seem to be any breaks or blood that they could see, but none of them were medical professionals, so they couldn’t say for sure.

Hoseok was doing his best to console the frantically sobbing Jin, but the task was proving to be beyond his skills and strength.

All of them were distraught at this tragic turn of events, but Jin had been in the front row as Namjoon disappeared from his sight down the stairwell. He had reached out for him and missed. He had seen Namjoon’s face before the darkness swallowed him whole. He had failed his best friend and leader.

Emergency personnel quickly filed in, but it took several security guards and handlers to pull the boys away from Namjoon’s side. Jungkook alone needed five people and a heartfelt talk from Yoongi to finally relent and release his hold on Namjoon.

They all watched as Namjoon was meticulously lifted and strapped onto a stretcher, neck brace attached, and then carried up the stairwell and out the side entrance of the stadium to the waiting ambulance. He was still breathing, but he remained painfully unconscious.

Jimin tearfully pleaded with their handlers to take them to the hospital with Namjoon. The others joined his pleas in varying degrees of persuasion, and after they agreed to eat something on the way, the handlers were allowed to load them into a van and drive them to the hospital. 

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

A swirling sensation crept through Namjoon’s body.

“What is this odd feeling?” He wondered. “It feels so strange.”

The swirling coalesced into a dull throb and then merged into a full-blown ache throughout his entire body.

“What the hell?” He groaned silently. “What happened to me?”

Faint voices trickled in from nearby and he did his best to focus on them despite the blinding pain.

“It’s been three days, doctor. Isn’t there anything else we can do for him?”

The voice was gruff but firm. Namjoon couldn’t place it. He felt like he should know that voice. Why couldn’t he remember the person’s name?

“Mr. Min, I apologize, but I’ve already explained to your managers, producers, and everyone else at the company that there is nothing else we can do at this time. We’ve treated his other injuries, and he’s healing well, but his head injury cannot be properly assessed until he regains consciousness. There was considerable swelling, but it seems to be dissipating slowly. We just have to be patient and wait for Mr. Kim to wake up. Until then, there isn’t anything to be done.”

“Mr. Kim?” Namjoon crinkled his forehead. “That’s my name. Are they talking about me?”

A soft tinkling voice piped up in the uncomfortable silence which followed. Namjoon frowned when it also seemed familiar; he just couldn’t understand why or how.

“Can we please see him, doctor? Maybe sit down and talk to him?”

“Of course, Mr. Park. You and the rest of the members are welcome to sit with him while you’re here. We’ve added more chairs to his suite so that you can all be more comfortable.”

A round of appreciative “thank you”s broke out and the doctor took his leave. Namjoon braced himself as the other voices pushed through the door and entered his room.

A sharp hiss and a quiet sob silenced the group.

“Hyung, I hate seeing him like this.”

“I know, Jungkookie, but Joon-ah needs us. We have to be here and let him know what’s waiting for him when he wakes up.”

“When do you think he’ll wake up, Jin-hyung?”

“How should I know, Tae? I’m not a doctor.”

“Dude, you need to stop beating yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was right there, Yoongi. I could’ve saved him. But I wasn’t fast enough.”

“We were all there, hyung. There was nothing we could do. It all just happened so fast.”

Slender fingers lifted Namjoon’s hand and pulled it into a gentle hold. A thumb traced a delicate path across Namjoon’s knuckles.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was steady breathing, the beep of the medical equipment, and several sniffles. Namjoon debated on whether he should reveal his newly gained consciousness.

Who were these guys? Why were they here? Why was this person holding his hand? They seemed to know him, but he couldn’t remember any of them. They talked about him as though they all shared some type of special connection or relationship. They couldn’t be brothers; he only had his sister. Why wasn’t she here?

“Yoongi, what did Namjoon’s family say?”

“They’re going to stay nearby and wait a little longer. We’re all hoping he’ll wake up soon. I’m sending them all updates as we get them.”

“Speaking of updates, have you guys seen the social media posts the past few days? ARMY is freaking out over this.”

“I saw a few of them. Once I started seeing shrines, I couldn’t look anymore.”

Collective sighs danced around the room. A heavy air settled, and Namjoon almost shuddered at the discomfort.

“Do you think he can hear us?”

The hand holding Namjoon’s twitched into a torturous grip.

“Of course he can hear us, Tae! Why would you even say something like that?”

Without meaning to give himself away, Namjoon attempted to jerk his hand away from his assailant, only to elicit gasps and shouts from everyone.

Namjoon’s eyelids abruptly fluttered open and he winced at the bright lights.

“Namjoon-ah!”

Jimin and Taehyung simultaneously rushed to the door to call in the doctor or nurse. Jungkook rushed to the other side of the bed, tears running down his face on cue. Jin remained frozen at the foot of the bed, fingers curling tightly around the footboard. Yoongi placed his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and rubbed them softly.

Namjoon blinked a few times and let his eyes adjust to the harsh light. He was in a hospital bed and there were various wires connected to his body. The man holding his hand in a vice grip gaped at him with shining eyes and a brilliant smile. Namjoon winced as he tried to place his face or his name, but all he got back from his brain was a dull ache resonating from his temples.

“Could you please let go of my hand? That really hurts.” Namjoon pleaded.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hoseok hastily replied while releasing his hold. “I’m just so excited to see you awake. It’s been a long three days, Namjoon-ah.”

“How are you feeling, Namjoon-ah?” Yoongi pressed. “Are you in any pain?”

Namjoon stared blankly at the men in front of him. His eyes flitted from one to the other and his eyebrows sank in confusion.

“Ummm...my head kind of hurts and I feel really sore,” Namjoon said. “But other than that, I think I’m ok.”

Jin released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Joon-ah...we were so worried about you.” Jin sighed.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly.

“You were? Why?” He queried. “Are you guys my nurses?”

Jungkook laughed in a burst, but it trailed off when he realized two things: 1) no one else was laughing and 2) his hyungs looked nervous and serious.

Yoongi took a shaky deep breath and looked at Jin and Hoseok. They both looked as worried as he did.

“You really think we’re your nurses?” Hoseok asked in disbelief. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious.”

Jin’s frustration bubbled over and his hold on the headboard tightened.

“This is no time for jokes, Namjoon!” Jin spat. “The six of us have been here every day waiting for you to come back to us. We’ve been taking care of your family and we tried our best to keep ARMY and the rest of the world calm. So please stop looking at us like we’re strangers!”

“But…” Namjoon began apologetically. “You are strangers. I don’t know any of you.”

At that moment, the medical team rushed into the room and the members were forced to leave the room while Namjoon was examined. As they wheeled him out of the room for more tests, the six men reached for one another with trembling hands.

What had happened to their Namjoon? <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Big Hit Studios

“Boys, we have a problem.” Bang PD remarked coolly. “Namjoon is going to be released from the hospital at the end of next week.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jimin piped up while glancing at his brothers. They all still looked pretty grim.

Bang PD sighed and shook his head slightly.

“Jimin, it would be great news,” he replied. “But unfortunately, Namjoon’s memory appears to be a bit...fuzzy.”

“How fuzzy?” Yoongi grumbled.

“He doesn’t remember anything after he joined Big Hit. He thinks he’s still a trainee. He knows who I am, but he doesn’t remember any of you.”

The shock washed over them as cold as a bucket of ice water. Namjoon really didn’t know who they were?!

“His family is with him now and they are trying to help him piece everything together, but it’s proving to be more difficult than any of us can manage.” Bang PD continued. “Physically, Namjoon is healthy. He’s still recovering from a few minor injuries, but those will heal in a few weeks. As it now stands, it’s unclear how long it will take to heal his head injury, if at all.”

“At all” Jin gasped. “What do you mean ‘at all’?”

“There isn’t currently a medical procedure to cure brain injuries, especially when it comes to amnesia.” Bang PD stated. “However, genetic engineering may have another option for us.”

“Are we going to clone Namjoon-hyung?” Taehyung asked while handing Jimin and Jungkook more tissues.

“What kind of stupid question is that, Taehyung?!” Jin sputtered angrily.

“Hyung!” Yoongi admonished sharply. “That’s enough.”

Taehyung sank into his chair a little while Jin crossed his arms angrily. The eldest had been antagonistic and short-tempered ever since Namjoon’s accident. Everyone but Yoongi seemed to stay out of his way out of respect.

The room settled, albeit uncomfortably, and Bang PD continued with his explanation.

“There is a company in Japan that is making tremendous strides in genetic engineering. In fact, they may have something that can help Namjoon, and perhaps all of you as well.” He stated. “I’ve hired one of their employees as an information technology expert.  She’s been genetically altered to store and transmit information to and from people. With her assistance, we may be able to restore Namjoon without any complicated surgery or procedures and in less time than therapy would take.”

At this, Bang PD pressed the intercom button on the conference table. “Send her in, please.”

Before the boys could respond, the double doors opened and a striking woman was escorted into the room. Her outfit was simple but flattering, and her hair fell in soft waves around her face. She briefly glanced at everyone in the room and felt the anxiety and animosity wash over her. She was ushered into the seat next to Bang PD, and once she sat, she kept her eyes on him.

“Boys, this is Y/N. She’s here to fix our problems.” <~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

The wood grain of the conference table was interesting, to say the least. Y/N focused on the intricate latticework connecting the delicate fibers of the natural wood. The varnish illuminated the brighter shades and deepened the darker ones. All in all, it was a nice table.

“Nice” wasn’t the exact word Y/N would choose to describe the reception she was receiving from the members around the table. She hadn’t properly looked any of them in the eye, and with the anger and confusion being tossed around, she wasn’t feeling particularly comfortable about meeting their angry stares just yet. It would be better for everyone if they began their relationship on more amicable terms.

“Boys!” Bang PD bellowed, completely out of character. “This is not open to discussion or debate. Y/N is our best bet to get Namjoon back, and she is going to be living in the dorms with all of you until further notice. A room has already been prepared for her, and her things are being moved into that room as we speak.”

“Do we need to share rooms again?” Jimin asked hopefully.

“Well, yes, for the time being, one of you will need to share a room with Jimin.” Bang PD answered. “I would like to leave Namjoon in his own room for the time being. If things with Y/N work out like they should, we’ll revisit the rooming arrangements. Before you even ask, I don’t care who shares a room with him. You all can decide that amongst yourselves.”

Jimin latched onto Taehyung’s arm joyfully.

“Want to be my roomie, soulmate?” Jimin cooed.

Tae rolled his eyes playfully and pouted.

“Why do I have to share a room with you?” He groaned. “Why can’t someone else share?”

“Because the 95s should always stay together.” Yoongi offered gruffly.

Bang PD stood up and placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled slightly.

“Good. I’m glad that’s decided.” He stated. “You should all escort Y/N to the dorm so she can get settled in. You’ve all been emailed an instructional packet explaining Y/N’s duties and responsibilities while she’s here with us. Please read through it and if you have any questions, ask her. I’m sure she can explain it better than I can. I expect you all to treat her with the utmost respect and help her with whatever she needs.”

At that, he smirked slightly and glanced at Y/N, who smirked in return, but the boys failed to notice the strange exchange between them.

Bang PD took his leave of the six boys and their curious new female roommate. <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> The ride back to the dorms was awkwardly quiet. Yoongi sat in the front on his phone with his headphones in, and Jin sat in the back and stared glumly out the window of the van. The maknae line was making plans to move Jimin into Tae’s room. Hoseok sat next to Y/N and tried his best to start a conversation.

“So, are you originally from Japan?” He began. “You don’t look Japanese, that’s why I ask.”

“I’m not. I’m actually American, but I went to college in Japan. I got a job offer from this company before I graduated, so I’ve been there ever since.” Y/N replied.

“Wow, you must be really smart then, huh?” Hoseok continued. “Just like Namjoon-ah.”

Hoseok’s smile reached its zenith and then slowly crumbled as Namjoon’s name left his lips. Y/N chanced a glance at Hoseok and saw the pain glistening in his eyes. She instinctively reached over and placed her hand over his.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Hoseok-ssi.” Y/N said softly.

“Hobi,” he smiled. “You can call me Hobi.”

“Hobi,” Y/N responded with a small smile pulling at her lips. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to help him.”

Hobi entwined his fingers with Y/N’s and sighed deeply. His eyes cleared and his smile grew a little brighter.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Hobi whispered shakily. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, for the first time today, she maintained his gaze. Hobi realized how vibrant her eyes were and the subtle blush on her cheeks. He traced his eyes down to her lips, which were still pulled into a small smile. He focused on the rosy hue of her lips, and she bit her lip slightly. Hobi licked his own lips without thinking, and her sharp inhale caught his attention, but before he could say anything, the van stopped in front of the dorms.

“We’re here!” Jungkook announced gleefully. He was already pounding down the hallway with Jimin and Tae in tow. They were in full “moving mode.”

Yoongi slid out of the van, still looking at his phone and still wearing his headphones. Whatever he was looking at was apparently very interesting. He said nothing as he headed inside.

Jin pushed his way out of the van and stomped inside, obviously not in the mood to welcome Y/N to her new home.

Hobi crawled out and held out his hand to Y/N to help her out of the van. He kept their hands clasped as he guided her inside the dorms.

“I’m sorry if the guys are being rude.” Hobi apologized. “We are all dealing with this differently. Don’t take it personally.”

“I understand,” Y/N responded. “It will take some time for all of us to get used to this arrangement. I’m sure it will be easier once I’m able to get started.”

They rounded a corner and stopped at the door at the end of the hallway.

“Well, you have almost two weeks to get ready for that,” Hobi chirped. “I’m sure we will all feel better once Namjoon is back here with us.”

Y/N smiled, but there was also a hint of another smirk tugging at her lips.

“A lot can happen in two weeks.” Y/N said. “I still have a lot of prep work to complete before I meet with Namjoon.”

A loud crash erupted from down the hall, and they both turned to see Jimin and Jungkook tangled together with bags and boxes scattered around them.

“I told you to let me go in first, Kookie!” Jimin screamed.

“And I told you that I had to get in there first because I was carrying more weight than you!” Jungkook retorted angrily.

They began pushing at each other and Hobi could already see the situation escalating quickly.

“Sorry to leave you in such a rush, Y/N,” said Hobi while backing away toward the ruckus. “I need to get these idiots under control before they break something or each other. Make yourself at home, and I’ll come to get you when it’s time for dinner.”

Y/N nodded and took one last look at the hilarious pile of ridiculousness. Taehyung stepped out of the room and helped Hobi separate the two while picking up the mess in the hall.

She entered her room and saw that most of her belongings had been unpacked and set up in her room. Her sheets were on the bed, her vanity table was set up in the corner, and her clothes and shoes were in the closet. The room already had a homey, moved in feel to it.

She sat on the bed and laid back against the pillows. She still needed to meet with the boys and explain the parameters of Namjoon’s treatment. She hoped they’d taken some time to read through that packet Bang PD sent them. It would make the next conversation much less awkward for all of them. 

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Yoongi took out his headphones and placed his phone face down on the coffee table. The initial shock was just wearing off and a fresh wave of smugness settled onto his face as he saw Y/N strut into the living room.

She no longer appeared aloof but instead radiated an air of confidence and comfort in her black yoga pants and gauzy button-down floral shirt. Yoongi eagerly watched as she took up residence on the big armchair across from him with one leg crossed over the other. She looked refreshed and ready to take on the world, preferably the world within the walls of the dormitory. Yoongi watched as her eyes scanned the room for the other members and finally landed on him.

“Y/N, I hope you had time to rest up.” Yoongi taunted. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Y/N eyed him in confusion and soon picked up on his subtle innuendo. Before she could toss back a clever remark, he held up his hands in submission.

“Relax,” he continued. “I’m not trying to initiate anything yet, I’m just curious about how this is going to play out. These guys may look like adults, but they’re no better than teenagers sometimes.”

With one eyebrow raised, Y/N assessed Yoongi’s demeanor. He appeared resolute and genuinely interested in the impending treatment, but there was no perversion or malice lurking in his eyes. If he was harboring any anxiety, it was well hidden behind one hell of a poker face.

Interesting. He’s a sneaky one.

“So I guess you read the packet, then?” Y/N asked. “Any comments, questions, suggestions?”

Yoongi lowered his gaze briefly and chuckled. When he looked back at Y/N, it was obvious he was enjoying this. He shrugged nonchalantly and pursed his lips.

“I mean, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything…” Yoongi muttered.

“But?” Y/N countered.

“But,” Yoongi grinned. “I ask that I get put at the bottom of your list. I need some time to wrap my head around this little arrangement. Also, I’d like to watch you in action so I get the full experience. I’m not one to jump into anything lightly, so I’d like to get to know you better before we start anything.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N replied. “I appreciate your honesty.”

Yoongi’s smile widened, clearly putting his gums on display. Y/N couldn’t help but return it with a smile of her own.

“I’ll remind you of that later.” Yoongi jested, wagging a finger at her. “You may not always feel that way.”

Before Y/N could respond, the other boys joined them in the living room, and Y/N straightened up to address them more formally, knowing this conversation might be awkward, especially if they hadn’t read the instructional packet.

They were all looking at her with anticipation, except for Jin who remained in his chair to stare out the window with glazed eyes and a seemingly permanent pout.

Sighing at his noncompliance, Y/N turned to others and smiled.

I hope they’re ready for this.

“So, I’m guessing everyone already read their informational packet,” she began. “It will help things run more smoothly.”

Y/N chanced a look at Yoongi, and he leaned back in his seat, one leg over the other, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, eyes sparkling. He knew none of the others had bothered to read. This was going to be fun to watch.

“Uh, noona,” Jungkook pouted. “I haven’t had time to read because I was helping these two idiots move in together.”

“And we were moving our stuff since you took Jimin’s room,” prompted Tae. “So, we didn’t have time to do our homework either.”

“We had homework?” Hobi interrupted. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

Jimin giggled airily at Hobi’s distress. Yoongi grinned and looked over at the others. They had no idea what was in store for them.

“Bang PD-nim sent us that packet to read about Namjoon’s rehabilitation treatments,” Yoongi stated, waving his phone in the air. “We have to help Y/N prepare for Namjoon’s treatments.”

“Oh!” Jimin gasped. “Well, now I feel bad for not reading it. Whatever you need, noona, we can help you with it.”

Y/N scooted to the front of the armchair and leaned one elbow on her crossed knees. Yoongi was entranced at her ability to straddle the line between provocative and professional. He licked his lips and settled his gaze at the hint of cleavage peeking at the top of her blouse. He was sure the others had also noticed, but they wouldn’t dare give themselves away.

“Since you didn’t read the packet, I’ll have to brief you on the procedure.” Y/N stated. “As you know, I’m an information technology expert, but I also have experience in genetic engineering. My team developed a procedure to alter a part of the brain to act as an anatomical digital database. Essentially, we created an additional hard drive space within the brain that is able to transmit and receive information between other organic organisms.”

“Noona, you made a robot?” Tae blurted out. The look of horror on his face was amusing and it elicited giggles from the other boys.

“No, Taehyung-ssi,” Y/N assured him. “We didn’t make a robot, but we did find a way to communicate thoughts and feelings from one person to another by linking brains together through electric pulsations.”

Jimin raised his hand, and Y/N had to hold back a giggle of her own.

Oh, he’s adorable.

“Yes, Jimin-ssi,” Y/N asked sweetly. “Do you have a question?”

He lowered his hand and blushed slightly. The sweet tone of her voice made him shiver slightly.

“Ummm...well....” Jimin said nervously. “Are you going to be electrocuting us?”

The others darted their eyes back to Y/N with a hint of fear lurking behind their lashes. They did not want to be electrocuted.

“No, sweetie.” Y/N assured him. “No electrocution. However, there will be other things that are not exactly traditional methods of rehabilitation.”

“Like what?” Hoseok wondered aloud.

“I’m glad you asked Hobi.” Y/N declared while standing up. “I can actually demonstrate the method for you here and it will make everything easier for all of us.”

At that, Yoongi sat up and leaned forward with interest. Hoseok stood up and eagerly bounced over to Y/N. She stood in front of him and took a deep breath. The first transaction with a new person could overwhelm her if she didn’t mentally prepare for it.

“The memories and information you have of Namjoon-ssi are locked in your mind.” Y/N explained to the collective group. “If we just sat down and you told me about him or the places you’ve traveled together or the unique experiences you’ve shared, I would only be getting your memory of those events and experiences. I wouldn’t be getting any firsthand information because I wasn’t there to witness it or be a part of it.”

“Well yeah,” Jungkook commented. “It’s why we say “You had to be there” when we tell each other stories. It’s never going to be exactly the same.”

“What if it could?” Y/N prompted. “What if I could experience that event as though I were actually there when it happened?”

“How?” Jimin asked. “That’s not possible, is it?”

Y/N’s smiled widened.

Here we go.

“Let’s test that theory, Jimin-ssi.” Y/N exclaimed. “Hobi, you’re going to give me your hands. As soon as you touch me, I want you to think about something that happened between you and Namjoon-ssi that I wouldn’t know about. Don’t say anything, just think about it. Replay the whole thing in your head. Ok?”

“Ok,” Hobi replied skeptically. He reached his hands forward and took Y/N’s hands in his own.

Hobi’s arms jolted in a wave as soon as his hands made contact with Y/N’s. The slight electrical shock wasn’t painful, just overwhelming. The pleasant tingle felt like feathers ghosting across his skin and he felt the goosebumps crawling up his arms and down his back. She closed her eyes and reminded him of his given task.

“Think about Namjoon, Hobi.” Y/N urged. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”

The tingling delightfully surged throughout Hobi’s body like when you submerge your body into a hot jacuzzi and it needs to adjust to the bubbling temperature. He let out a soft whimper as multiple sensations flooded his entire being. He shook his head slightly and tried to focus on the last conversation he’d had with Namjoon.

↸ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Hobi knocked tentatively on Namjoon’s studio door. He needed a second opinion on some lyrics he was working on and only Namjoon’s expertise in the English language could help. Hobi just hated bothering him when they were in the middle of the album production.

“Come in!” Namjoon bellowed from within.

Hobi opened the door and walked over to the couch to watch Namjoon work. Whatever he was working on looked pretty intense and Hobi immediately felt guilty for disturbing Namjoon’s creative process. Maybe this lyric issue could wait?

Before Hobi could chicken out and leave, Namjoon spun around in his chair and grinned at Hobi. He was obviously enjoying the progress he’d made.

“What’s up, J-Hope?” Namjoon greeted, reaching to initiate a handshake. Hobi was too lost in thought to react in time and Namjoon awkwardly pulled his hand back. Hobi felt his face flush and the embarrassing moment lingered between them for a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Hobi apologized. “I just feel like I’m bothering you. I should just go.”

Hobi started to stand, but Namjoon rolled over and trapped him on the couch.

“Hobi,” Namjoon assured him. “You’re like a brother to me. Whatever you need, I will do my best to help you. Don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me, ok? Now, what’s on your mind?”

Hobi nodded slightly and exhaled in a burst of air. He felt stupid asking this question, but there was no one else he trusted enough to ask.

“I’m having trouble with some lyrics I’m working on, and I need your advice.” Hobi declared. “I’m struggling between the Korean and English translations.”

Namjoon nodded with familiarity. This was a problem he struggled with on a daily basis.

“Let me see what you’re working on.” Namjoon offered. “Maybe I can help?”

Hobi hesitated and then pulled out his phone. He’d been typing and retyping lyrics for a few days now, but the same two verses kept getting wiped and then rewritten. Something just felt off. He handed over his phone to Namjoon and drew his lips into a thin firm line, while Namjoon’s chin jutted forward slightly. No one knew about this song, and Hobi wasn’t sure he was ready to share it yet, but if he couldn’t figure out these verses, he’d never finish the song.

Namjoon read over the lines twice and then brought his hand up to cup his own jaw, lost in the cranks and gears of his brain at work. Hobi’s anxiety crawled up his spine and settled uncomfortably into his shoulders. Sharing work that was this private was such an intimate exchange, but he trusted Namjoon. He took a deep breath and waited patiently.

“I really like the concept you’ve got going on here, Hobi,” Namjoon burst out without warning. Hobi recoiled from the sudden boom of his voice. He gripped onto the arms of the couch to steady his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” Namjoon chuckled. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Hobi released his vice grip on the couch and smiled weakly.

“That’s ok,” Hobi breathed out. “You were excited, I get it. So...what do you like about it?”

Namjoon scooted over and motioned for Hobi to lean over so he could show him on the phone.

“You have this beautiful extended metaphor that is developing throughout the beginning of the song,” Namjoon explained. “But it starts to fall apart a little in this verse. I think if you keep expanding the same metaphor, you’d be able to find the words you’re looking for. Just follow the concept and see where it leads you.”

“What do you mean?” Hobi queried. “Do those words not fit in with the rest?

“They do,” Namjoon agreed. “But I think using different words would be more impactful if you kept the metaphor going past the first two verses. Use that comparison and pull it into the rest of the song. You shifted to another comparison, but the first one is so much stronger. You should stick with it and really sell that idea.”

“What about this phrase right here?” Hobi pointed out. “Is that the right word to use? It feels wrong.”

“Well, the word isn’t wrong, per se,” Namjoon remarked. “I think “coincidence” is probably a better fit. There’s no real irony in your lyrics; it’s all just an unfortunate coincidence. You could actually use that and tie in the idea that fate is controlling everything in life.”

“Ooooh,” Hobi squealed. “I like that! Thanks, Joon-ah!”

“Anytime, Hobi,” Namjoon smiled.

ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ⇲

Y/N sighed slightly and released Hobi’s hands, her eyes remaining closed. The soothing prickle under his skin dissipated slowly, leaving Hobi reeling from the stimulation. He stumbled back into his seat, gasping slightly. He looked at his hands and then gaped at Y/N. The euphoric feelings he’d felt were mind-boggling and he didn’t know how she’d accomplished so much sensation with just a simple touch. The other members exchanged curious looks between Y/N and Hobi, but no one was offering any kind of explanation.

“What just happened?” Jungkook asked. “Hobi-hyung, are you ok?”

Hobi shifted his eyes over to Jungkook and nodded his head slightly. His hands were trembling and he had an inexplicable desire to touch Y/N again. He chanced a look at Y/N who was still standing in the middle of the living room with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. She appeared to come down from a sort of high. Her body relaxed and she gasped and hummed sweetly as her brain processed the information.

Y/N took a deep breath and opened her eyes. They were slightly glazed and she smiled warmly at Hobi, who blushed under her intense gaze.

“So, Hobi,” Y/N began. “What is this song you were working so hard on?”

The others shifted their eyes over to Hobi and he retreated into the couch. What was Y/N talking about?

“Uh, it isn’t ready yet,” Hobi pouted. “I still have some more lyrics to write.”

Yoongi was dumbfounded. He turned to look at Y/N, who still had her eyes trained on Hobi’s retreating figure. 

What did she see? What did she do to Hobi?

“Can someone please explain what just happened?” Tae interrupted. “I’m very confused about what we just saw.”

“Hobi shared his memory with me,” Y/N stated. “He allowed me to connect with his mind through electrical impulses and we were able to relive a private conversation between him and Namjoon together. It isn’t a precise science though. I was only able to catch a few visual flashes and most of the audio. With a more intimate connection, I would be able to process more information.”

“What do you mean by “intimate?” Jimin asked.

“Exactly what you think I mean,” Y/N continued. “Physical connection is only a part of the process. If there is also an emotional connection, the synapses are able to communicate more clearly and precisely. Hobi and I already established a friendly rapport, so holding his hands was enough to get basic information from him. With more time spent together, the connection could grow stronger and it makes the information transactions easier to process.”

“So how does this help Namjoon?” Yoongi wondered. “Not that I’m questioning your process. I just want to understand what I’m contributing.”

“I already have a base knowledge of Namjoon from all the content Big Hit sent me before I came to Seoul.” Y/N explained. “As entertaining as it all was, it hardly gives me an accurate portrait of who he is or how others feel toward him. You six spent more time with him than anyone else, so you are the best resource we have available.”

“But these aren’t Namjoon’s memories,” Tae pointed out. “These are our memories of him. How does that help?”

“You’re right, Taehyung,” Y/N responded. “These are not his memories. However, he was a part of them and reliving the experience from an intimate point of view can help fill in the missing pieces in his memories and possibly help to unlock others. We’re hoping to trigger his brain into releasing his memories by flooding it with your intimate knowledge and experience.”

“So what happens now?” Jungkook asked. “ Do we just sit around holding hands while you get information from us?”

“That’s one way to go,” Y/N admitted. “But Namjoon comes home in almost two weeks, and I’d like to start his rehabilitation as soon as he arrives. It would be more efficient to speed the process along as quickly as possible.”

“How do we do that?” Jimin asked, biting his lip into a pretty shade of pink.

“Isn’t it obvious, Jimin?” Jin rudely growled from his corner seat. “She wants us all to fuck her.”

Next Chapter

PERIPHERAL MASTERLIST

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​‘s MASTERLIST

[essays-for-breakfast]

Battle of Stars

Melizabeth Week Day 7: AU

Author’s note: This is a Star Wars AU - for self-indulgent reasons - with almost no semblance of the original plot, and the author flexed all her nerd muscles while writing this. Forgive me!

The Manta class troop transporter tilted sideways as the pilot battled against the harsh winds of Ruusan’s upper hemispheres, and Elizabeth swallowed a wave of nausea from the sudden jolt. Her hands found their way to the lightsaber at her side all on their own, and the cool metal calmed her stained nerves. Fear was an unnecessary emotion for a Jedi to harbor, especially for a newly appointed Jedi Knight. Elizabeth had earned this title through hard years of training and field missions on the most outlandish terrains the galaxy had to offer, always under the guiding hand of her master, Hendrickson.

If her master could see her frightened face, he would surely remind her of the pure light of the Force that protected every Jedi and led them through even the most difficult times.

The Force is with you, Padawan, even when your fear prevents you from seeing it, was his favorite mantra, and he had made sure Elizabeth could recite his teachings in every situation, no matter how precarious. Including the smoldering battlefields of Ruusan.

But despite the calm stream of the Force inside of her, Elizabeth tensed when a projectile exploded a mere armlength away from the outer shell of the transporter as the shields absorbed the bulk of the damage. The ship tumbled sideways like a confused Aiwa, and Elizabeth dug her fingers into the leather handle above her head. In the cockpit, separated from the troop compartment by an open bulkhead, an alarm howled, a warning that the shields had dropped under twenty percent. Another hit and they were done for.

And despite the cacophony of nearby explosions and the constant up and down of the troop compartment, Jedi Master Diane stood unmoving between the Republic soldiers, as firm as a rock in the raging seas of Glee Anselm.

The older Jedi offered Elizabeth a reassuring smile. “There is little to worry about,” she said, “the Sith don’t have the resources to hold a crossfire like this up for long. Their troops will need to spare their blaster fire if they want to stand any chance during the ground assault.”

As if on command, the sound of laser artillery penetrating the sky and the handful of republican transporters faded to be replaced by the buzzing of engines as their unit continued their descent without further troubles.

“I wish I had your confidence, Master,” Elizabeth said.

“It is all a matter of experience,” Diane said. “The more battles you fight, the better you will learn to understand the nuances of warfare and what aspects you should focus on to gain the upper hand. Didn’t Master Hendrickson teach you these things?”

“He did, and we assisted our troops in a few skirmishes along the Tingel Arm. But Master Hendrickson values the role as peacekeeper more than that of a general. Whenever possible, he dragged me to some distant planet to study the local fauna and help those in need.”

At the time, Elizabeth had found these trips into the Outer Rim boring and unfitting for a Jedi, after all, the war with the Sith threatened to destroy stability all throughout the galaxy. And as soon as Elizabeth had traded the Padawan plait for the title of Jedi Knight, she had volunteered to join the constant stream of supply units headed for Ruusan, one of the most heated and most crucial battlefields, to support her fellow Jedi in the fight against the Dark Side. But the grueling minutes before the fight, during which she could do nothing other than trust in the pilot’s ability to land his vessel safely, almost made her miss the peaceful fields of Dantooine.

Diane nodded thoughtfully. “Your master is a wise man. With priorities that are sadly becoming more and more rare among the ranks of the Jedi. Even the council grants Master Ludociel more freedom to carry out his feud with the Sith than necessary.”

“But aren’t the Sith and especially the Emperor an evil that must be destroyed to bring peace to the galaxy?” Elizabeth asked. The Jedi temple was filled with nightmarish stories about the Sith and their dark arts, and she had been warned of the tempting yet destructive nature of the Dark Side since her days as a Youngling.

“Some Jedi would say that, yes. But fighting for the sake of fighting is meaningless – I would rather avoid the path that leads to more conflict.”

A jolt went through the transporter that made Elizabeth’s teeth smack against one another, and a second later, the bulkheads opened to allow Rusaan’s sandstorms to enter.

Elizabeth squinted but jumped into the open as the first hail shower of blaster bolts rained onto the transporter to leave smoldering marks on its shell. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, Elizabeth recited the ancient saying of the Guardians of the Whills, and activated her lightsaber. The blue bolt of pure light sent the blaster fire back to its marksmen; one Sith trooper went limp behind the makeshift trench he had used as cover.

Diane was leading her troops forward, green lightsaber in hand, and soon their unit advanced through the enemy lines and towards the goal of their mission: the ancient temple embedded into the mountain range ahead. Before the war had come to Rusaan, the stone structures had represented a shrine to the local population sited amidst a prospering forest, but the Sith had since burned down the trees and had turned the temple into one of their strongholds – where the forces of the Republic planned to secure crucial data about the enemy’s plans and tactics. Elizabeth had garnered this information from the official report handed out during the mission briefing, but the burned earth in the mountains’ shadow still turned her stomach upside-down. Master Hendrickson would have shed a silent tear had he been tortured with this view.

Elizabeth silenced the cries of injustice in her heart and filled her mind with a feeling of peace the way she had been taught. Guided by the Force, she pathed her way through the enemy defenses and the dunes of sulfur-heavy sand, swung her lightsaber in a perfect display of Soresu, the third form of lightsaber combat, and never halted until she reached the entrance of the temple, a gaping chasm filled with the stench of the Dark Side.

When she failed to detect enemy presences in the immediate area, Elizabeth turned to meet Diane’s eyes across the battle field. The Jedi Master briefly paused her chain of heavy-hitting attacks, and called out to Elizabeth over the buzz of laser artillery that announced the arrival of enemy reinforcement.

“Take a few of my men and advance into the temple. We will join you shortly.”

Elizabeth waited for three heavily armed republican soldiers to catch up and offered them a nod, before they climbed the final steps and entered the shadows. Inside, the howling of the storm faded to distant background stereo, like interference on a flawed comm channel.

A chill befell Elizabeth in her light Jedi tunic, but she fought the unease with a few calming breaths. Water dripped from the detailed reliefs on the wall, hinting at an underground spring located deep within the mountain that collected Russan’s sparse rainwater. The tiny streams reflected the glow from Elizabeth’s lightsaber and the small search lights attached to the soldiers’ helmets, but apart from that, the hallway with its high ceiling was cast in shadows. Somewhere in the dark, a stream of water gurgled along. Always in expectation of an ambush, their squad crept forward.

“No heat signals up ahead,” one of the soldiers informed after performing a scan via his HUD. With the anonymous helmet, Elizabeth had difficulties identifying the soldier, but she believed the voice to belong to a man named Howzer, one of Master Diane’s top commandos. “Thanks to the storm, the comm’s already dead. The sand could’ve messed with the scanners too.”  

“Stay on guard,” Elizabeth said and followed her own advice by dropping into a defensive pose as she placed step by step forward.

The Sith were well known for their traps designed to take out unexperienced Jedi. One of her training partners during her temple days, a kid named Mael, had run into such a trap on one of his first field missions, and he was declared missing by his master ever since. In all likelihood, the Sith had long disposed of his corpse. Or they had taken him to their outpost on Korriban to use him in their experiments. Separate mind and body, mutate the flesh of their victims, or turn them into weak-willed puppets to add to their army; Elizabeth had read reports on these and crueler methods of torture when her master hadn’t been around to see.

She shook the thought off and concentrated on her environment. The Force might offer you glimpses into the future, but you can only use this advantage if you remain in the present, as Master Hendrickson liked to say.

Her crono confirmed only a few minutes had passed, but the walk through the dark felt like hours before Elizabeth and her squad came across a durasteel gate too technological advanced to fit into the old hallways and high-rising pillars around.

Howzer ordered his men to take cover with clipped gestures before he tapped the control panel embedded into the stone next to the gate. The bulkhead protested with a shrill squeal as the opening mechanism pulled the durasteel aside to reveal the chamber beyond. A multitude of screens enlightened the room to give the impression of a control center, but before Elizabeth fully realized the situation, a shadow rushed past her, followed by one and then a second outcry.

Elizabeth spun and skidded on the polished floor tiles as she caught a glimpse at their attacker. Two of her men had slumped lifeless to the ground, and above them towered a male human with a cold grin on his face. The red of his lightsaber painted bloody hues onto the walls. He was no doubt a Sith, his poisoned aura like a nexus of evil appalled Elizabeth to the core.

She had never faced a Sith before, and all her passionate preaches about fighting and destroying the scoundrels of the galaxy vanished, washed away by the cold imprint this man left in the current of the Force around her.

The blaster bolts hurrying past her head tore Elizabeth out of her paralysis as Howzer targeted the Sith with mechanical precision. The Sith’s face remained unflinching, and he deflected the shots with arrogant ease until the play bored him and he reached out with his unarmed right hand. Elizabeth could almost see the Force as it twisted between his clawed fingers. Howzer gargled but still managed to pull the trigger while the air was ripped out of his lungs by the hands of the Dark Side. His efforts amused the Sith more than anything, and he sidestepped the laser bolt without a change in expression.

Elizabeth finally regained her sense of self and jumped into the fray with a parade of swings aimed at the Sith’s head. His green eyes widened for less then a second before he raised his weapon to deflect. A mix of red and blue danced across his boyish features.

“Send for reinforcements, I’ll hold him off,” Elizabeth yelled, and Howzer, who had dropped to his knees as soon as the Sith’s attention no longer rested on him, obeyed and staggered towards the exit.

Elizabeth and the Sith parted, and his lips twister into a malicious grin. “How bold of you, Jedi, to think you can hold out until your unit arrives.” In his mouth, the word Jedi sounded like an insult rather than a title to command respect.

Instead of an answer, Elizabeth dove into the stream of the Force and allowed its wise hands to guide her next moves. She charged and turned her forward momentum into a chain of short swings with varied angles but minimal countermovement. Despite his smaller statute, he parried her attacks with enough physical strength to sent a quiver down her arm muscles every time their blades clashed. He retreated with quick steps that always allowed him to meet her with the advantage of a strong stance. Elizabeth’s best chance of victory was to pin him down and prevent him from dealing out hits himself. A small hope at best.

While she had trained all variants of combat her teachers at the temple and later Hendrickson had to offer, Elizabeth had never battled an opponent as versed with their lightsaber as this Sith. Each movement was a perfectly calculated effort, each shift in stance a display of uncounted practice sessions. More than one with the Force, he became one with his lightsaber the longer the duel proceeded. Elizabeth had seen Jedi Masters enter a fighting trance that reduced their reaction time to a fraction of a heartbeat, and the speed of this Sith rivalled the best of them.

If he had intended to end the fight, he could have done so numerous times over. But for some reason, Elizabeth’s efforts seemed to entertain him.

He allowed her to push him back with an endless loop of the same hits in slight variation, amused by her inability to alter from the patterns she had learned at the beginning of her training; his dark aura had disabled Elizabeth’s ability to strategize, and those fight patterns ingrained into her muscles were the only tactic she could rely on.

But apart from a physical and speed benefit, her opponent had another advantage to use in his favor: knowledge about the terrain. And as Elizabeth dared to hope she might corner him between the wall and her blade, he dropped low, struck for her legs, and stood behind her in one single motion. Elizabeth evaded the hit but tripped on the slippery tiles. She expected to stumble into the wall, but the ground beneath her suddenly vanished and she fell into the canal hugging the wall that had been obscured by shadows. The water didn’t run deep, and Elizabeth’s joints protested as she absorbed the impact with a roll.

Soaked and on wobbly legs, Elizabeth met the eyes of her opponent standing several meters above with a relaxed posture that screamed victory.

“Don’t try it if you want to make it out alive,” the Sith said, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth. With the aid of the Force, she could have catapulted herself back to ground level, but he had a point, he would cut her down if she tried.

“You fought valiantly, Jedi,” he continued, “but I’m afraid your efforts were in vain. Thanks to our little dance, my troops have gained enough time to destroy any information you and your pathetic ensemble of light bringers could have used against us.”

“You never intended to uphold this base.”

The Sith grinned. “No, my master generously surrenders these empty halls to the Republic. There are far more interesting targets worth pursuing. I look forward to face you on another day on a different battlefield, Jedi. For the time being, I must take my leave. My master is not a man of patience.”

Disheartened, Elizabeth lowered her lightsaber. The entire operation had been a failure from the start; the Sith had anticipated the advancements of the Republican army. But if Elizabeth stroked her opponent’s ego, perhaps she could gain at least some information of value.

“Your master must be a great figure in the war if he polished your skills with a lightsaber to these impressive degrees.”

The twitch of amusement in the corners of his eyes showed he had seen through her charade. But he stooped to an answer regardless. “You might have heard of him as the one who stands above the Ten Commandments, the elite of the Sith Empire. I merely carry out his plans. So long, Jedi.”

He saluted mockingly and disappeared out of view. Elizabeth remained in the canal while the water brushed past her boots, too shocked to speak or move. The man she had fought was no ordinary Sith, no distant servant of the Dark Side without prowess or knowledge of the enemy’s plans. The man with the blond hair and the excellent footwork was Meliodas, apprentice of the Emperor himself.

By the time Master Diane and her men arrived, Elizabeth had regained her composure and confirmed the failure of the mission and the destruction of valuable data. But her thoughts kept circling around Meliodas and the ease with which he had defeated her; he thought so little of her he had revealed his identity for the sole purpose of his amusement.

And while the soldiers searched the control center for minute clues the Sith might have overlooked in the haste of their departure, Elizabeth swore to herself to train harder and learn the fighting trance technique.

The next time she would face Meliodas, she would best him. To bring the galaxy one step closer to peace. So that the light of the Jedi might withstand and cast away the darkness of the Sith Empire.

[whoneedsapublisher]

Napping

This time, Nico reveals feelings even she doesn’t realize she has.

Words: ~1000

Day 5: Muse

Summary: Nico has managed to get herself stuck writing the lyrics for her group's next song. While she struggles to come up with an idea, inspiration comes from an unexpected source.

Also on Ao3

********************

This was stupid.

μ’s was a group. A team. And within that team, they had their own roles. No one asked Nozomi to compose their music. No one tried to make Rin plan their steps. No one made Honoka design their outfits.

So why, exactly, was Nico being forced to write the lyrics for a song?

Alright, maybe she’d claimed she could make it on her own as a idol just fine, and maybe she’d said something along the lines of “of course I can write a song, that’s just the basics for being an idol”, but Hanayo had said she could eat “an entire bag of rice” for lunch and no one was pulling out a rice cooker and forcing her to back up her claims!

And so, since she refused to back down, Nico was sitting in the clubroom with a pencil and a notebook, trying desperately to come up with lyrics for a new μ’s song.

“Ugh, how does Umi do this…” Nico grumbled, rewinding Maki’s composition again and tapping her pencil against the paper impatiently. No matter how many times she listened to the song, nothing came to mind. She could just write something generic, but the idea of turning in a cookie cutter song and having Maki sneer at it was… unappealing. She wanted to come up with something good enough that they’d all regret questioning the great Nico Ni!

...But not so good that they made her write the lyrics again, she reflected, given how much of hassle this was.

Glancing around the room in frustration, she spotted the girl who was supposed to be keeping her company. Although considering that she was fast asleep, it was hard to say she was really doing a great job of it. Less ten minutes into watching Nico struggle with her task, Nozomi had pulled out a pillow and laid her head on it, and now she was completely out, snoozing peacefully as if she was completely unconcerned with Nico’s problems. Probably because she was.

“Jeez… so defenseless…” Nico said, resting her face on one hand as she stared at Nozomi.

One time, Nico had asked Nozomi what her hobbies were outside of fortune telling and working at the shrine. She’d been expecting a normal answer like “reading” or “watching dramas”, or possibly a weird curveball like “voodoo dolls”. What she did not expect was Nozomi to put her finger to a chin for a moment, pondering, before answering “Well, I do like to take naps” with a completely serious expression on her face.

At the time, Nico had brushed it off as a weird joke. It seemed pretty out of character for Nozomi, after all. But now here she was, confronted by a woman who actually carried a pillow around in her bag, and was currently dozing in a clubroom without a care in the world.

“What the heck kind of hobby is “napping” for an idol anyway…?” Nico murmured, reaching out and brushing a stray hair out of Nozomi’s face. She looked so peaceful like this. It was a strange contrast to how she usually looked, with her coy grins and twinkling eyes.

A coy grin and twinkling eyes.

Always planning your next surprise.

Nico started for a moment, fumbling for her pencil. Suddenly, she had an idea.

Once, Nozomi had told them the meaning of the name “μ’s”. In the West, thousands of years ago, there’d been nine goddesses who inspired artists. Apparently in English, people would still talk about their “muse” when they were searching for an idea.

As Nico watched Nozomi and lyrics started to tumble into her head, she considered that maybe their group’s name was more appropriate that she’d realized.

********************

“Well, it’s…” Maki said, raising an eyebrow. “...Better than I expected, honestly.”

“What exactly were you expecting?” Nico asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Utter failure,” Maki said.

Before Nico could respond to that, Honoka chimed in. “It’s good, Nico!” she said enthusiastically. “I like it!”

Nico glanced over at Umi, eager to hear the opinion of the normal lyric writer. For some reason, though, she’d turned red, her copy of the lyrics shaking in her hands.

“...Well, it certainly isn’t bad,” Eli said. “But we can’t use it.”

“Eh?” Nico said, taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because it’s shameless!” Umi snapped, slapping the paper down on the table. “We can’t sing this!”

“What?!” Nico said, affronted. “What’s wrong with it?!”

“Nico…” Eli said, with a sigh. “You realize that the lyrics are supposed to be… generic, right? A love song is supposed to be something that could be about anyone.”

“Right…” Nico said, frowning. “But it’s not a love song.”

Eli looked at her, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” she said.

“Of course I’m serious!” Nico said indignantly. “It’s just a song about a friend!”

Eli sighed and shook her head. “Umi, you can write new lyrics in time for the next live, right?”

“W- this is unfair! Nozomi, you think it’s good, right?” Nico asked, turning to Nozomi, only to see that she was even redder than Umi, staring at her copy with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open.

“I..” Nozomi managed, swallowing hard. “I-I never realized you… felt that way…”

“Why are you getting all flustered?” Nico said, nervously. “What is it?”

Eli shook her head. “Nico, you do realize this is basically a love song about Nozomi, right?”

“Wh-” Now it was Nico’s turn to blush. “It is not!”

“It’s… pretty romantic, Nico…” Hanayo said quietly.

“And it’s not like it could be about anyone but Nozomi, y’knyow,” Rin said, slurring her last word in a distinctly cat-like fashion.

“You’re all crazy,” Nico fumed, crossing her arms.

“Look, let’s just agree that you proved you can write lyrics, alright?” Eli said.

In the end, Umi did write new lyrics for the song. But for some reason, Nico noticed that Nozomi held on to her copy of the old lyrics.

[squidpro-quo]

Snow

AN: Based on @vfordii‘s amazing Natsume Yuujinchou au, I just like the quiet snowy mood that comes with winter. So youkai!Obi and Shirayuki with their antics

“Should we chase him off?” Obi looks across at Shirayuki, hoping to read the same thought in her face. She’d become more open to his suggestions lately. More open to laughing and playing the particular tricks that he’d found made most humans run home with heads full of questions and beliefs that would fade over time as always, to forget what they’d seen without a second thought. But it was the moments where their expressions morphed into pure shock, where they lingered in the space between awe and fear that they could have real, tangible fun. 

He tugs on the end of her tunic, waiting for her reply. He won’t do it unless she does too, there was no point to his jokes if she would be watching, alone, from the sidelines. That should remain in the past, the marker of the time when she first stumbled into the shrine’s grounds after escaping and Obi had found the means to entertain her in the humans who came by. Now, she joined in the fun with him, usually.

This human looks promising after all. Quiet, respectful even, as he crosses the courtyard and stops by the wish-tree to stare at the bare branches laden with snow. The scarf around his neck hides most of his face, but his ice-blue eyes are clear as he exhales a plume of warm air and tilts his head to the sky. 

“He can see us,” Shirayuki finally says, leaning forward from her perch on the roof to tilt her mask down over her eyes. 

“How can you tell? He hasn’t looked at us yet.” Obi peers down below them, where the boy has moved beneath the eaves of their hall and almost out of sight. 

“He’s listening,” she whispers, climbing back across to the other side of the roof to swing her head down below the eaves to see. Her fingers grip the tiles with a surety that Obi was almost surprised at, but it’s a sign of progress and he’s glad for it. 

He’d been determined to stubbornly ignore the boy, now that he would provide no entertainment for the night, but his curiosity takes over as he creeps to Shirayuki’s side. What is it about this boy that compels him to duck underneath as well, to watch as he meanders around in front of the temple’s displayed items with a somber weight to his step? As if he carries something heavy, not something that bends his back but rather settles on his soul. 

Obi draws in a breath of cold fresh air and startles at the smell of the human that hits him from below, enough for his grip to slip and he tumbles off the roof with a muted yelp. He’d smelled familiar! A memory of similarly pale hair and sharp blue eyes swims into his mind, along with the sting of defeat and a cunning smile that might just put his own to shame. 

Shirayuki’s peals of laughter bring him back to the present. As he sits up to shake the snow from his hair, he sees the boy hiding his own smile behind his scarf as he pretends to be staring at the line of statues behind him. But the way his eyes keep flicking over him as Obi stands in the snowdrift in a distinct huff does not evade his notice. 

“What do you want?” he yells over, brushing the snow out of his sleeves even though he doesn’t necessarily feel the cold all that much. His mask had dropped during his fall and he only thinks of it when the boy retrieves it from the icy bush it had become buried in. 

“I’ve come to return something to you,” the boy says, looking up as Shirayuki’s bursts of giggles subside and she hops down to the railing beside him like a sparrow alighting on a branch. Her mask hides her face but from the way she leans towards him it’s plain that she’s eager to meet him, as opposed to Obi’s unwelcoming glare. 

“Why do you smell like him?” Obi picks his way over to the path leading through the temple’s garden while he points at the boy in accusation. 

“That’s why I’m here. To give you back what he took.” The boy holds out the mask, carefully holding the ceramic with his gloves so as not to dirty it and Obi reluctantly comes closer to take it from his grasp. 

“Give it back?” He almost doesn’t believe it, but something about the way the boy’s eyes lit up as Shirayuki laughed and his care with the mask that he seems to know is an important part of Obi, he wants to trust him. 

“Yes. You obey no one, and I don’t want to hold a hidden leash around you.” The boy twisted, pulling the book from his backpack and splaying it open. Pages whirled, the soft ticking sound as they settled mesmerizing, until one single leaf of it snapped upright. “Do you want it?” 

Obi stared at the name on the paper, the familiar blocky characters from a time when he’d been excited to write his name in a human’s book because despite the dent in his pride it had been the first time one had seen him and talked to him. And now, this one, offers his name back and without any kind of challenge issued at all. 

“On one condition,” he puts his mask back on and looks at Shirayuki, who nods, “You come back. Your brother won this with a game, I’ll only take it back if you come again for a game.” 

“What game?” 

“I’ll come up with one,” Shirayuki says, sliding her mask to the side to show her smile. His mission complete, Obi gestures to the boy to go ahead. He tears out the page and settles on the cold floor of the temple with his scarf as cushioning underneath him. Slipping the page between his lips, the boy exhales and Obi closes his eyes as his name flows back into him with a sigh. It wasn’t a missing part of him, but he still feels a little more complete now, as if something he lent to someone has been returned in as good a condition as he gave it. He shivers, despite his bare feet on the icy ground feeling nothing of the chill. 

The boy climbs wearily to his feet, his face paler than before as if from exertion. It seems it was for the best Obi didn’t demand a game right after, in this condition the boy wouldn’t have been any fun at all; Shirayuki would’ve run circles around him and there would have been no challenge. 

“Swear on your name, you’ll come again,” Obi demands, dashing past him to block his exit from the temple. He won’t let them go back to being alone together again, Shirayuki hadn’t laughed that brightly since they made someone slip in surprise down the temple’s grassy hillside last spring. He’d missed the sound, its bright notes and he wanted to hear it again. Names mayhap held more sway for youkai but this human would understand the gravity of what he promised. 

“I, Zen, swear on my name that I’ll return.” The boy catches his gaze and holds it, a hidden steel there behind the tiredness hanging on his limbs. Accompanying him to the temple’s boundary, they watch as he makes his way slowly down the stairs to the bus stop. 

“Do you think he’ll really come?” Shirayuki asks after a time, when they’re watching the snow come sifting down out of the sky.

“We didn’t chase him off, did we? So he’ll be back.”

[crexymonster]

Inner thoughts: Must. Get. English. Translation. Hunter +Kareshi Book. Thanks for posting that Kareshi had another book, I only thought there was one. I'm a fan of you zoldyck Angel blog and your headcanons, posts, and scenarios. I'm glad you're back for a while. Can you do a Nobunaga hazama nsfw or sfw scenario please? Nobody writes scenarios for him like other writer do for the Adult trio or trouble trio.

I know I was thinking the same thing! I need a translation of the entire book. hahaha. and you’re welcome! I’m glad you’re a fan of my HxH blog. And you’re so right! There is not much for poor Nobunaga. So here is an NSFW scenario for him with a Fem! s/o! I hope you enjoy! :)

Spring Showers

Fresh buds of spring, the leaves of cherry trees, a brilliant and vibrant green, and their pink blossoms ready to bloom at a moment notice. Frogs in a hurry hop across dirt road once frozen over with ice and snow to produce the next generation of peepers. 

School children race home laughing and running through puddles dotting their clothes with mud enjoying the warmer temperatures. The world was colorful and warm despite the light drizzle of cold showers of the changing of seasons.

A single repetitive clank of sandals of a woman are covered amongst the noises of spring but often she is overlooked but not that she minded. She holds onto a pink umbrella keeping her body sheltered from the rain.

 Her path always the same though she had no rhyme or reason to walk these roads. She listens as she walks to the frogs croaking, and the children laughing while breathing in the sweet aroma of flowers of cherry trees that had yet bloomed.

She turns on to an almost hidden path, and walks up a steep cobbled pathway which is missing some bricks from the passage of time but she is careful. She journeys this way every day when spring breezes sweep over the valley. 

She takes her time, the rain pelting her umbrella becoming the only noise she can hear as she moves further away from civilization, to a hidden world.

The aroma of cherry trees are stronger as she breaches the top of the hill. She opens her eyes and at the top of the hill is the first cherry tree in full bloom. 

She smiles but not because spring is finally here but at who sat beneath the tree. 

She walks closer to the man who chose to take shelter under the cherry tree during spring shower and offers her umbrella to him, rain hitting her kimono and making the cloth and her back damp.

The man, a swordsman, opens his eyes and stares at the woman muttering, “Took you long enough, woman.”

She frowns taking back the offered umbrella and turns around with a small, “ummp.”

As quickly she came she leaves. She closes her eyes and begins walking away, the sound of sandals once more clanking against cobblestone flattening any of the pink petals which have fallen from the rain. The swordsman with a ponytail bunched high on his head of silky black hair eyes widen.

“Wait, woman. Don’t be like that,” he yells after thinking about what just occurred.

She doesn’t respond and she continues walking slowly away, her umbrella twirling, the patterns on top of the umbrella becoming one giant moving blur.

He rubs the side of his head watching her figure get further away. He was annoyed with her and himself and he doesn’t stay sitting for long, he stands up and chases after her, thinking this woman was going to be the death of him.

He grabs her arm abruptly his strength like a brute not at all like a gentleman. He didn’t know any manners or any boundaries and she stares at his hand on her forearm a frown still on her face before she looks up at him in the eyes.

He had just as bad of a frown as she carried on her face though she had a little more practice dealing with this man with a wandering soul.

“Yes,” she asks her voice carrying her disdain into her tone.

“I told you to wait, (Name). What are your ears clogged with earwax?” he asks his hand still holding her arm tightly.

“Earwax? I believe that would be you, I told you my name enough times yet you get me confused with this person named woman. Now unhand me you brute,” she rebukes him and she moves the arm he has captured a little bit letting him know she wanted him to unhand her.

“Woman…” he mutters before he sighs loudly, “(Name) now hold on. Don’t be like that…”

“Be like what, Nobu? You tell me, I’m beginning to think I am just a whore of many as I hear woman gossiping about. I’m a joke in town,” she states sounding completely unhappy, her eyes even averting from his face.

“Wom- (Name),” Nobu says his voice trailing.

“Don’t you going, (Name), (Name). It won’t work this time on me!  I bet you have one in each city or place. I’m just a pit stop, a good time and yet here I get excited with each spring knowing you will be arriving. Though how many years will I continue hoping you’ll stay here with me? Or should I rephrase and say when will it be when you never show your face here again?”

“(Name)..” Nobu says again his voice trailing not knowing what to say to her to reassure her. He was part of the spider and he never knows when he would be slain in battle so he couldn’t make any promises with her.

“You can’t even produce a lie to comfort me,” she whispers and the umbrella she held so tightly is ripped from her hand by a strong gust of wind.

The wind carries not only her umbrella but petals of cherry blossoms into the sky and off into the distance far where the two at odds stood bare to the rain’s touch.

Nobu lifts her chin, and she lets him. Her eyes are wet and so is her face but he couldn’t tell for sure if it was the rain’s fault or he thought he had a good idea it was him who made her cry if it weren’t just the rain.

She makes a face and tugs her arm free feeling his hand loosen its hold and she bolts. She doesn’t create much distance between them because the thong on her right foot breaks and she falls, a small cry of surprise escaping her mouth before she hits the ground. 

She doesn’t wait for Nobu to help her up, sniffling as she tries to push herself up, her arms shaking terribly. Mud drips off her face and her pretty kimono hitting the ground with splats and puddles with splashes.

She hiccups before she starts to cry loudly even the rain unable to hide her sadness.  

Blood from scrapes and cuts from the fall meld with the endless rains disappearing and not revealing she was injured from her tumble. 

She doesn’t dare ask for help to stubborn and stuck in her own ways, she wasn’t a young girl anymore and she would feel completely foolish to ask for help to stand on her legs again although she desperately wanted to call his name and cling to him.

She starts to get to her knees and then her feet but she is scooped up. She hits his chest angrily, but he doesn’t feel pain, her hits weren’t even an annoyance. He deserved every last hit and yell that came from her, she was his and she had to deal with him after all. He would tolerate everything she did but he would not tolerate her putting her well being in danger or get sick over him.  

He starts to walk in the direction of her home but the rain instead of letting up, starts to pour cats and dogs. He starts to run with her in his arms sobbing and hitting him with her fists but he refuses to let go. 

He thinks as he runs through his feet are already decided on the where to go before his brain had yet decided. He splashes through puddles and mud and puddle water splashes and gets on his Japanese robe already drenched from the rain.  

“No,” she cries out through hiccups and snorts, snot running down the back of her throat making her voice strain.

“Be quiet woman, I’m concentrating,” he snaps jumping down the rocky cliff taking a short cut rather than the path.

“You’re an idiot, idiots don’t think,” she replies her hand pushing his face up and distorting his view.

“Idiot! You’re the idiot. Stop pushing at my face, I can’t see with you doing that! Do you want to die” he shouts pushing her hand away and trying not to slip in the slippery rocks sleek with rainwater.

“I don’t care,” she yells before coughing on her tears and snot.

“Just shut up woman, I care!” he yells back before running under a shrine’s roof which wasn’t far from where they originally were.

He pushes open the heavy doors of a shrine that had not been in use for some years but still kept clean by the locals nearby out of respect.

He slides her to the ground which he has to hold her up by the waist, her limbs shaking so much she would have fallen otherwise. 

He needed to light a lamp or torch, it was pitch black here which made him uneasy, the dark not a pleasant thing not even for a man as strong as him.  

Nobu pulls out a matchbook hoping it was salvage from becoming wet, wanting to light the shrine as well as warm (Name)’s bones. He could feel how her heart raced and how her skin trembled with the chill of the cold rain.

He sees the matchbook is a little damp but only on one end. He tries a couple of times before he succeeded in lighting it, it producing a tiny flame ready to be extinguished in a moment notice. 

“Hold on to me,” Nobu states dragging her inside the dark shrine where the daylight does not enter. Perhaps if the weather was sunny and bright, light would have found its way inside but not with rain clouds blocking the sun.

“Okay,” she replies, clinging to him and still blubbering.

But to Nobu’s relief she wasn’t hitting him anymore perhaps that was a good thing but perhaps not, women were difficult creatures to understand. He didn’t even understand Machi or Paku or Shizuka and they were mannish in some ways, especially Machi. 

 He slowly walks inside closing the shrine’s door preventing the cold from seeping inside but the inside was already very cold. He finds a lantern and lights it giving him more light to see.

He treads careful and slowly, he had (Name) with him and he never knew when an enemy was lurking nearby. He eventually finds candles and then a fireplace with logs ready to be placed in the fireplace. It takes time but he lights the fire before venturing into the shrine and finding blankets, lighting candles as he goes.

“They smell like moth balls but they are clean,” Nobu states laying down a thick blanket near the fire before placing folded ones where she sat.

“Thank you,” she mutters out softly, her crying stifling her voice.

“You going to just sit there in wet clothes? You are going to get sick.” Nobu grumbles and being impatient he tugs at her kimono before grunting, “Damn, wearing complicated clothing.”

“Complicated? it’s a simple kimono Nobunaga…,” she mutters her eyes puffy and red averted from his stare. She thinks for a little before she grasps his hand and mutters, “Here I’ll help you, this time.” 

The fire crackles adding a warm glow upon the two, her cheeks getting a rosy glow as she guides his hand to her kimono’s obijime. Her fingers are soft against his hands shaped by his sword he has always wield since a young child. Her lips painted in a soft pink gloss part as her breathing increases as his clumsy fingers undo the tie of the obijime.

The obijime comes undone and falls and Nobu hands are guided to the obi next and that too falls parting her kimono open.  Her pale lily skin is revealed to his eyes but it is then she chooses to look at him thru half-lidded eyes. Water trickles down her neck and down the valley of her breasts then down her navel and disappearing. His eyes briefly following the water droplets before meeting her gaze, noting she wore no undergarments beneath her kimono.

Her kimono is pushed off one shoulder then her other shoulder before he takes the hand which has been guiding him and pulling her onto the soft blanket with him. 

The wet kimono sags to the ground as he lays her on her back bare to him and closer to the warmth from the fire’s flames. He lets go of her hand to undo her hair which is neatly done up upon her head before threading his fingers through her hair, wrestling with wet tresses.

He smooths out her wet hair with his hand sleeking the droplets in one motion like a paintbrush.

 She turns her head and brushes her face against his hand in her hair before laying the faintest of kisses on his knuckles scared with wounds. 

She was the sweetest woman to Nobunaga, a blooming lotus flower easily killed with a storm but the hardest of flowers, and she was only like this with him. 

He knew how long she waited in her house. She was alone day after day, watching the seasons change from summer to fall then fall to winter and finally winter into spring waiting for him to return to her. She had no family and no secrets, her heart was an open book.

She reaches up with one hand as he undid his robe. His robe parts open much likes her revealing his nakedness, his body eager to be one with her. 

Her fingertips brush against his cheeks and then to his hair, her finger finds the knot holding his hair so high up and tugs at the same time he pushes inside of her, her entrance wet and enticing though warm compared to the cold rain.

“Nobu,” she gasps grabbing his hair and pulling before he grabs her hand pulling his hair.

“(Name),” he reprimands pulling her hand from his hair, his eyes closed enjoying the sex he gone without for 9 months.

Words are barely exchanged during the act of connecting their bodies. Hunger and passion is how their lovemaking can be compared to.

Soft grunts from him and soft moans from her as a slow rhythm of moving bodies is built. Her cheeks get rosier, fresh tears staining her cheeks slide to the blanket as he pushes himself in and out of her welcoming body.

Her body accepts everything from him as she is the most vulnerable under him as he pushes in and out of her heat. 

The noises are loud and vibrates with the pinging of rain on the shrine’s metal voice. 

The breathing from both of them gets louder as her voice gets more strained as his thrusts hit her spot but not with the speed or roughness she wanted. They had been apart for way too long and she needed to know he was alive and well and that he was here with her and that he was not a ghost who just visiting and would be gone with the first break in the rain.

“More,” she pleads before letting out whimpers. She attempts to get what she wants by delicately kissing the back of his hand that is still in her hair.

“(Name)” he grunts opening his eyes briefly making contact with her soft eyes closed halfway with pleasure.

“I love you,” she whispers kissing his hand repeatedly in the hopes he would be rougher before pleading, “Rougher, I won’t break. Please Nobu.”

She wasn’t as delicate as she appeared. She, after all, spent months by herself. She would tend herself when she was sick, she didn’t ask anyone. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. 

She was a grown woman and she wanted to be someone who matched Nobu. She wanted to be someone people praised and said she was a good match for this man she yearned for with all her heart.

“(Name),” he murmurs and he goes a little bit faster but not as much.

He is straining from being too rough with the woman he loves. She was someone he held up on a pedestal, not a lowly whore one would visit to curve lust. 

She was special, someone he wanted to be the mother of his children. He hoped she would wait for him a little longer because his feet has yet to tire from journeying. 

She grabs his face, her fingers soft like silk, a woman never knowing war or hard work, a pampered woman. She was a woman who he should be pampering not off journeying with his troupe. Her fingers dance across his face and slowly draw him down to her lips and they kiss, the gentlest of moments, a kiss between two in love.

He enters her more roughly, his mind lost to the sensations and to the skinship he shared with this woman he loved and held close to his heart.

 Kisses were long and time to breath in the air was short, her face soft with the current of pleasure and wondrous sensations but to her, the heart was more important and she knew how much he loved her adding to that feeling between her legs. She wanted to keep him to herself and never allow him to leave her embrace ever again, to always stay within this moment not allowing time to move.

Though no one can stop time and the gloss from her lips is gone, the flurries of passionate kisses stealing the gloss tasting of cherries.

Her hands slide down slowly from his face to around his back securing his chest to hers, her hands holding not only his back but some of his hair in place. And with each heavy breath, her erect nipples brush against his chiseled chest making his stomach flutter and his heart squeeze. Their bodies once wet with the rain is sleek with sweat from their continued skinship.

Her fingernails dig into the bare flesh of his back as she approaches her orgasm. He was close as well to and he grunts holding off until she finished. He focuses on kissing her, her lips always so sweet despite the gloss is all gone. She always smelled like her gloss too, like cherries. She was his home, a beacon in the darkness his wandering soul would always find no matter where she went.

Her smiles, her laughs, her tears, and her frowns all flashed in his head. Yes, this was the woman he would spend his last days with and he presses more against her, his rhythm lost, the sound of skin touching erratic and louder than the rain pinging the metal roof. 

She tightens against him, her wall shivering, and he grips her hair tightly, it taking everything for him not to spill his essence inside her warmth. He feels her struggle to keep herself from opening up like a lotus bud in the spring though she fails and she pulls from the kiss.

She gasps, her body stiffening and then spasming under him as he continued his moments. 

He finds her neck and lay his kisses there instead of her lips. His hair that was on his back spills across her lily white skin causing her to gasp more, her skin sensitive to the feather-light touch of his hair after her orgasm. 

He groans and he pulls his head up after giving one last kiss to her neck, and he pushes into her heat one more time before releasing that mounting pressure.

She feels a warmth spread through her, and she knows he had released too, her breath dies down and calms before him. 

Her hot breath mingles with his shortly before he leans up and kisses her forehead, his facial hair tickling her. 

It is uncomfortable just like her mouth burned from his stumble pricking her soft and delicate skin. She had no doubt she would have a rash and then everyone would know her business when she went into town the next day for groceries.

“Nobu,” she murmurs feeling his lips on her forehead and enjoying the soft comforts he gave her.

“I love you, (Name). I promise I will always come back to you. Soon, just wait a little more,” he confesses against her forehead.

She smiles softly and she slowly takes her hands from his back and reaches for his face. 

She once more brings his face back so she can stare into his soft brown eyes. She strokes his face and continues to smile, her smile soft and kind. It was a smile who stole the hearts of many young men and still continued to do so.

She closes her eyes before she opens them again whispering, “I love you,” back to Nobunaga. She speaks up again, “I will wait a little more until your feet tire.” 

The lovers wait for the storm to pass laying within each other’s embrace listening and also watching the steady pattering of rain. 

Time passes and the lovers leave the shrine but as to whether or not Nobu keeps his promise to his beautiful lover is another story. She will have have to wait for the next spring to see if this time he will stay with her.

[redroseinsanity]

Ōmagatoki - Day 3

@daisugaweek2019​ | Day 3 -  Drama/Music

Chapters: 3/7

Summary: In the Kamakura period, a fallen samurai undertakes a journey to pray for the mountain god’s mercy as a famine threatens his people, but instead meets an enchanting tree spirit. Daichi knows that the kodama is possibly the most dangerous being he has ever encountered, and yet, he falls.

—

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Daichi slammed through a particularly thick part of the undergrowth, felt his foot go through a hole covered by weeds and wild vegetation, and remembered to tuck his head down just in time to crash through several branches and tumble down a small mound. 

Staring up at the grey sky, thick with clouds, he let a string of curses escape his mouth. He started with cursing his leg, as he always did, then he moved on to cursing the enemies, for starting the war and forcing the deaths of so many. Then the crops, for wilting and starving his people and finally himself. 

Himself for not being fast enough to dodge that weapon without knowing it would injure him beyond repair; himself for not having anything concrete to feed his people with; himself for not being enough; and himself, for not being able to forget sparkling hazel eyes and the mischievous grin that came with it. 

Swearing as he felt the sting of fresh scrapes, he hauled himself into a sitting position. The tiny bursts of pain were a slight inconvenience compared to the way his mood had soured over the course of a day. As though in tandem with him, the sky rumbled its displeasure. 

He had awoken surrounded by crystal clear droplets of dew adorning perfectly shaped leaves and the rich scent of a treeful of blossoms, but no Suga. 

Daichi had sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, as though wiping hard enough would erase the night and return him to a twilight beside the curious being. He would trade the birds’ dawn melody and the way morning light glanced off gleaming blades of grass for a chance to run a finger over the edges of Suga’s kosode and perhaps, perhaps hold on for more than a sunset. 

But the knowledge that his limited time ebbed away while he was here, cavorting with someone who may very well be the daydreams of a desperate mind, hovered and worried him. He loathed having to make a call, but then again neither did generals on the field want to have to decide whether to leave a portion of their men and retreat for the sake of their remaining troops. 

He knew he had to, and so he did. One more try and if he failed to find anything, he would make his offerings at the most suitable place he could find and return home. There was no point chasing flimsy tales or stumbling after dreams in the mist here if he could be of better use plowing the fields or mending tools in his lands below. 

That had been five hours ago and as much as Daichi hated to admit, he could feel his body tiring fast while his mind chanted, ‘You’ve accomplished nothing, go home.’

By late afternoon, he found himself back where he began, where Suga had left him, and a bitter smile that was tinged with sorrow appeared. It seemed that, at the end, this seemed to be the most fitting place to make a plea, to beg for a bargain and then to say goodbye as well. 

It was quick work to get a tiny fire built from dried leaves and twigs going, and settling in front of it, Daichi made a bow. 

Drawing breath to begin, Daichi paused, reaching for the words he had carried up this mountain with him and instead, finding only Suga’s honeyed voice. What do you want? 

You.

Keep reading on AO3 or after the cut

“I’m not sure if that will work, but certainly, by all means,” Daichi’s hair nearly caught fire as he jumped, retracting the instinctive motion towards his sword when he recognised the voice and, after glancing around wildly, found Suga on the lowest branch of the nearest tree. 

Daichi’s heart nearly fell out of his mouth when, in a move too sudden for Daichi to even think about catching him, Suga leapt nimbly from his branch and landed lightly on the ground . 

As Suga approached, Daichi noticed the faintest strain that tightened the corners of a normally radiant smile and despite everything, a spark of worry flared amidst all the exhaustion and dread that he had been harbouring. 

He didn’t miss the way the fire that had been small but stable went out in the same instant that Suga lowered himself to the ground next to Daichi. 

Unable to stop himself, words failing him and a single question burning brighter than all the others, he extended one broad palm towards Suga. 

With a bemused expression, Suga followed the progress of that single tanned hand until it touched his shoulder, withdrew slightly and then pressed a little harder, as though unable to believe that it had encountered something solid at all. 

Looking mildly mortified, Daichi snatched his hand back, cheeks stained red as Suga’s eyes danced in unspoken amusement. 

“I just had to see if you were real,” Daichi confessed in a mumble. Throwing his head back, Suga laughed and it sounded like the autumn rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. 

“Either way, I have to go,” He continued, and Suga instantly sobered, a flash of what Daichi interpreted, hoped, was disappointment, crossed his face. 

“And your people?” Suga asked, slim fingers running over the ground that began to see dark spots as fat droplets raced towards the earth. 

“I will find some other way to feed them, perhaps see what my family has in our stores,” Daichi squared his jaw, “It is our duty to them.”

“So you’ll give them your food if you had to?” Suga’s voice raised above its usual liquid gold tones, perhaps to be heard over the beginnings of a shower or in disbelief. When Daichi made no response, “Starve yourself to feed them?”

Daichi did nothing except to tighten his jaw while the rain started to fall in earnest. 

“Why?” Daichi looked up in surprise because Suga had never raised his voice before, but now he was short of shouting as his cheeks flushed with anger, “Why do you always assign so little value to yourself?”

“My value is in what I can do, and since I’m no longer a samurai, my role is as a lord to these people, a life dedicated to them is a life well spent,” Daichi’s tone was even and measured as he met Suga’s outraged gaze. 

“So if I told you that your harvest would be prosperous if you gave your life for it?” Suga bordered on livid as his eyes darkened and darkened still. 

“So be it,” Daichi whispered, repeating one of the first things he’d ever heard Suga say. 

It wasn’t until Daichi heard the creaking of wood behind him that he whirled to find a massive tree erupting from the ground and burgeoning into full size at impossible speeds. 

Before he knew it, he was slamming into the solid trunk, thick vines beside him climbing ferociously upwards, and he opened his eyes to Suga, inches away from his face and settling an inhuman weight on his chest with a single arm.  

“Sawamura Daichi, do you know what I am? I can end your life before the next drop of rain falls,” Suga rasped, his eyes turning almost obsidian. 

Daichi looked at him, at the raindrops rolling down the curve of the most perfect face he had ever seen, the miniscule pearls that clung to lashes, the eyes that were foreign but enrapturing all the same, and he relaxed completely, leaving himself to be held up by that incomprehensible pressure on his breastbone. 

“To see your face before I die would be the most selfish thing I have ever wished for,” Daichi murmured, brushing away a stray lock of argon that hung in Suga’s face. 

Above them, the tree slowed in its growth, instead unfurling a series of heavy branches and deep green leaves. 

Daichi watched with detached fascination as Suga’s eyes settled into the exact shade of the leaves that sheltered them now and waited, as Suga remained still for what felt simultaneously like a brief moment and an eternity. 

Sinking down to the grass, Suga released his hold while, heaving to push air back into his lungs, Daichi slid to follow him there. The passing storm had slowed into a drizzle and for a while, the methodical tapping of droplets hitting leaves and Daichi’s breaths were the only things that resounded. 

“The first time I ever saw you,” Suga began softly, “Your leg had caught on a tangle of vines and root. You could have cut yourself free but you patiently unwound yourself and left everything intact." 

As his breathing steadied, Daichi noticed the way Suga’s hands trembled and he resolutely balled his hands in his robes to restrain himself from reaching over to clasp them in his. 

"It’s not supposed to be like this,” Suga continued, lifting tumultuous eyes that rioted with greens and browns to Daichi, “Humans are destructive and greedy, they take and take and never think of anything but themselves." 

Around them, the weak light that pierced through the dispersing clouds shivered over slick leaves and crept up to them, edging around their feet and the roots of Suga’s creation. 

"But you? You give and you never seem to think of yourself and-” Suga sighed, sweeping a damp curtain of silver shot hair behind his ear and blinking away stray raindrops, “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you need to save them when they have brought this upon themselves.”

“But it’s important to you,” He fixed Daichi with an unreadable, pensive look, “So I will tell you that your people have strayed away from remembering who is responsible for life and growth. If they begin building shrines and paying their respects to the mountain god and the gods of the harvest, they will survive the cold.”

“I thought you were supposed to bargain for the conditions with me before supplying the information,” Daichi could not resist from tease gently. 

Suga’s face cycled through a series of surprise, exasperation, fondness and resolute decisiveness before he smiled ruefully. 

“You’re already willing to give your life, is there not a condition that you’re not amenable to?”

“True,” Daichi agreed, “So what is it?”

“Stay with me.”

When Daichi opened his mouth to reply, Suga’s smile softened to amused affection tinged with age old melancholy. 

“I know your time is precious, humans do not have much to begin with, so all I ask is for one more day and you may return with this information.”

Daichi shut his mouth and blinked, recalibrating his response. 

“You have my word,” He said easily, and hesitated before asking, “Are you the mountain god?”

Suga huffed out a delicate laugh as his lashes fluttered, mirth quickly replacing the solemn atmosphere. 

“No,” he exhaled, “I’m a kodama, a tree spirit, if you will. The mountain god is hardly present, at least, not in this realm." 

"A kodama,” Daichi mused, wrinkling his brow, “Therefore, a yokai?" 

Seeing a crease appear between Suga’s brows and a pout begin to form on his lips, Daichi hastily backpedaled. 

"Or more of a yosei?” He hazarded and Suga’s face smoothened into a bright expression. 

“This is my home,” he explained, “Our presence keeps it thriving. We used to walk among your fields until we began to feel unwelcome there.”

“I apologise,” Daichi said with genuine regret and Suga snorted. 

“Yes, I forgot that you are solely responsible for the entire world’s shortcomings,” He got out through a burble of laughter. 

Daichi let the bubble of amusement be buoyed up by the swell of joy and laughed for the first time in months. It started out as a subdued chuckle but grew into a full belly laugh that felt as though something was loosening in his chest and pouring itself out in his exhales. 

From beside him, Suga’s eyes had turned immeasurably tender, shining as they trained on the curve of Daichi’s lips, and then shadowing as the radiance was dimmed by the knowledge of sorrow anticipated. 

Kosode - The basic robe that many Japanese of that period wore, can be held together with an obi or belt. Originally worn as innerwear, it later became outerwear and is as simple as Japanese clothing at that time gets. 

Kodama - Technically, it’s a yokai, Suga’s just being picky. A tree spirit or a spirit who lives in a tree.

Yokai - A demon, spirit or supernatural creature in Japanese folklore

Yosei - A subset of yokai (if I’m not wrong), but more akin to fairies than demons

If anything looks inaccurate, please forgive me or correct me (preferably both)!