#⊰OOC⊱ and So the Flames Die

[darabeatha]

/ What I love about the avenger class servants is that they will always answer the call of the wretched, those who are sinking in the deepest ends of despair, those that are in pain, those who have faced injustices, those whom the world has mercilessly turned their back to, those that are entirely on their own, who have no one else in this world to cling to for an ounce of light. An avenger class servant is truly a questionable spirit to summon, for they will prioritize that small weak spark of life that has desperately called for help, for anyone, over the whole world, and I think that although it's selfish, it is on the same hand, very human, and that's why I like them all a lot.

[staryuee]

WHAT THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE!

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread, dainsleif/pantalone may be ooc (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . just cute habits, actions etc that they do, whether intentionally or not, after being struck with cupid’s arrow.

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . jean, diluc, zhongli, xiao, nilou, xianyun, dehya, wanderer, arlecchino, pantalone, dainsleif

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . scrolling through the genshin tag makes me wanna die sometimes…i’m trying to do investigative work and i have to quickly scroll past the same smutty language like it’s booktok torture + also i’ve been playing baldurs gate 3 for the past several days and i think i’ve developed a problem…

G. JEAN — 琴

ʚ jean is very subtle in the way she loves someone, she doesn’t want to keep it secret per se, but her love is always almost adjacent to a puppy crush; something that seems fleeting but in the long run returns harder and hits oh so much worse.

ʚ she can’t necessarily abuse her powers, and she wouldn’t dare dream of messing up the order she so carefully has managed to maintain, so the way she tries to convey her feelings across isn’t too brash or loud.

ʚ simple things like letting her hands brush against yours when she passes you documents, allowing you to visit her office whenever you please even if it’s to just sprawl down at a nearby couch and read a book you found in the library while meandering, and even letting you join her on her daily walks across the courtyard.

ʚ during windblume festivals she won’t hesitate to strike up a seemingly harmless and friendly conversation, all the while sneaking a flower into your hair that resembles the feelings you stir up inside her fuzzy heart.

ʚ jean is overall quite an awkward person when it comes to anything related to romantic or plantoic ties, she’s a bit of a people pleaser in that way where she prefers to assume everyone’s a friend before an enemy… or in this case, “interested”.

ʚ with backup and sought guidance from her good friends lisa and kaeya, she’ll try a myriad of tactics to get you to notice her; a little shoulder massage there, a heartfelt sticky note placed on your workstation there, inviting you to classic candlelit dinners etc.

ʚ yes, believe me, she even tried the cartoonish “rose bit between teeth and uncomfortably arched side lean on a wall” approach before deciding it’s much better to listen to herself than the flamboyant duo.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

ʚ diluc is the actual epitome of a gentleman. his love is so pure and genuine you can’t help but flower press every petal from the various bouquet he personally delivers to you on special occasions (anything from you completing a particularly hard or draining mission to doing something you thought you’d suck at).

ʚ his coat is also yours now. it’s like a six sense at this point to notice when you’re shivering out in the cold winds, and it’s become even more of a routine for him to simply shed that fluffy coat of his and drape it appropriately over your shoulders, trying to maintain a comfortable distance between you two as he adjusts it both to ease your tension and assure the pounding of his heart goes unheard.

ʚ diluc doesn’t enjoy using his riches to woo someone, it’s uncouth and just shows a desperation unbecoming of someone who dates to marry. if he wants to know you’re in it for the long haul, he’ll be much more sensitive and thoughtful when picking out gifts for you, each them have to hold some level of significance in your life.

ʚ the whole fiasco with his poor maids and some sneaky, perverse stalkers and diluc’s flaming great sword certainly applies to you as well; he’ll quietly ensure your safety in the night, helping you walk home with his arm hooked under yours, and in broad daylight he won’t hesitate to swing that polished wolf’s gravestone of his against any onlookers.

ʚ diluc is extremely closed off but deeply sentimental, he can so easily find himself rambling about his childhood stories to you; anything from how he used to collect seashells with kaeya to bring back to their dad, or how him and jean used to let baby barbara braid their hair together while babysitting…to things that are slightly more troublesome and heart wrenching to even mutter.

ʚ he may be less vocal than most in terms of feelings, but that doesn’t mean he won’t commit to it if he’s in love with someone. diluc isn’t the slightest bit dumb, he understand in order to get his feelings across he needs to do more than take random days off to spend time with you, he needs to at least hint it in a way that clearly gets his intentions across.

ʚ believe me, whenever you come by to dawn winery per notice, everyone raises a brow at you with curious smirks and gazes as diluc nearly stumbles on his words to get the phrase: “you look lovely tonight” out.

ZHONGLI — 钟离

ʚ he has up to thousands years of romantic customs under his belt, he understands the vague signs and ways to further communicate how much he adores you.

ʚ … that would be the case in its full if not for the fact for the first thousand couple years of his life he wasn’t busy maiming other gods and shedding blood. safe to say, his memories of mortal “courting” is slightly, if not absolutely, a massive, weaving and overlapping trail of various centuries and cultures he’s been accustomed to; anything ranging from the days when khaenri’ah was still in its prime to nowadays with newfound slang.

ʚ he’ll recite the most beautifully heartfelt and awfully sincere poem all the while you’re fighting your life in a haunted house (he’s heard this activity is helpful to get couples closer to one another, and given the fact you’re clinging on for dear life at the edge of his coat, he assumes he’s on the right track!)

ʚ he wants to impress you while also maintaining an air of genuineness to his actions, and while that does sometimes end in awkward situations where he ends up wearing regal attire to what’s supposed to be a casual dinner at wangmin, his heart remains completely pure in its endeavours.

ʚ oh, let’s not forget this man is quite literally a dragon too!

ʚ sometimes he can forget you don’t have the same complexion as him and will proudly present you some sort of glimmering relic from his hoard, forgetting that certain materials that existed back in the day were deadly and or toxic for mortals to touch let alone possess.

ʚ with a little nudge in the right direction, he’ll quickly learn everything there is to know for how to properly handle your precious heart. whatever you’d like, you may have — if it’s within his reach, that is. but it doesn’t mean he’ll stop at what’s available, no, just how much he’s willing to risk for you.

XIAO — 魈

ʚ he’s already embarrassed and awkward enough with accepting the fact he likes you, so accepting the fact that he loves you had left him with a lengthy exorcism spree down in some forgotten areas in liyue (it didn’t help).

ʚ in all honestly, not much changes; both because he’s rather emotionally constipated but also because he’s more than sure he’s loved you for longer than he seems to currently acknowledge.

ʚ letters that came only on special occasions like your birthday or his became much more frequent and a lot less poetic, it felt more like he was writing about his thoughts at the time, a little akin to how you’ve made him feel less constricted and much more free; he can finally have the courage to step out of his comfort zone.

ʚ all those small acts of love he used to subtly express (i.e gifting you two crystaflies, personally inviting you to come hang out, etc) he manages to double, he can’t have you thinking his intentions are the same as before. no, they’re much stronger now.

ʚ his guard softens around you regardless, but when you randomly fall asleep on his shoulder on your weekly visits at wangshu inn, instead of taking you to one of the rooms, he’ll sit there and allow you to rest, and if he’s assured you’re not awake to ridicule him, maybe, just maybe…he’ll sneakily loop his arm around your waist.

ʚ even just the thought of you makes him spiral into daydreaming, sitting atop a tree and swinging his leg back and forth carelessly as he stares up at the night to await for a new light, knowing full well the only sun he wants to see is you…just imagining his hands holding your waist like they did so long ago makes him shiver (hopefully this time he’ll get to do it when you’re not falling, and instead are falling for him)

NILOU — 妮露

ʚ nilou is basically a disney princess, if you see her singing to random birds that come watch her performances, everyone in the grand bazaar already knows it’s because you’ll be in the crowd that night.

ʚ each step within her routines are done with the little more passion, if that even is possible given her character, all because she imagines that pride and hopeful heart eyes in your eyes as all the attention is on her.

ʚ sometimes this fixation can lead to dumb mistakes on stage which bring her to sulking away with a hand on her forehead dabbing away at the sweat, but even the mention of your name as you pass by several sumeru streets is enough for her to brighten, do a quick wardrobe switch and run off to tackle you within her embrace.

ʚ nilou is not loud, but definitely not subtle. the exact representation of how she feels when you come to encourage her at her lowest (though those days are few). you’re there for her in ways you don’t imagine, and that alone is enough for her to daze away into the night as she cuddles her pillow, legs wrapped around it and all, and begins thinking about the what ifs of your relationship.

ʚ sometimes it’s a little comedic the way she speaks about you, it almost sounds like she’s reminiscing about a fictional book character with how much she takes pride in whatever little thing you do. no one tires of seeing her footsteps lightly tap against the ground in circles as she gushes about how when you complimented her the other day, you touched her cheek seemingly subconsciously ∩^ω^∩

XIANYUN — 闲云

ʚ she’s a little embarrassed at just how obvious she can be sometimes, it doesn’t help the fact her own children keep using this love of hers to their advantage.

ʚ she keeps nagging them about not taking care of themselves (she’s all too keen about their health and whereabouts now that she dwells alongside liyuean people) and yet just the mention of your name has her slightly stuttering in a ditzy trance as she hooks her glasses back up her nose bridge.

ʚ without hesitance, she’ll show you a photo album she has of all those close to her; would you like to see the drawing little ganyu made when she just barely had her horns? or perhaps the polearm young shenhe broke when she miscalculated her own strength in training?

ʚ her family is her pride and joy, it’s only natural for her to want you to be part of it even if it’s something as silly as raking through photos of a chubby ganyu eating the stem of a flower or teeny shenhe napping on a tree.

ʚ a peaceful life mingling with mortals has left her with ample time to enjoy the trivialities of life, and yet she finds her mind all too quickly wandering to you; had you been taking care of yourself? were you feeling lonely? did you need her to make something for you?

ʚ a secretive worry wart that quickly becomes that ancient adetpus she used to pride herself as soon as your delicate hands accidentally brush against hers; suddenly she’s perked up, chest heaven up high with a confident hand on her shoulder: you wouldn’t even think that flurry of pink hues gushing across her cheeks was real if not for the light providing evidence.

DEHYA — 迪希雅

ʚ oh she’s absolutely ecstatic!!

ʚ there’s genuinely nothing better than love in her eyes, especially just having the ability to love and trust someone fully when you haven’t been able to do so for a plethora of years.

ʚ doesn’t try to hide it, like at all, if anything she makes it rather obvious with the way she constantly pulls you closer as if you were already an item, arms constantly clinging onto you and your sides or her hands messing up your hair as you greet her.

ʚ she’ll take you anywhere you ask, free of charge of course (just promise to smile…and maybe if you’re up for it give her a kiss on the cheek, that’s sure to be enough reimbursement).

ʚ she’s already quite a confident and outwardly friendly person (if the price is right that is) but when in your presence? what’s wrong with just a little bit of showing off…

ʚ dehya needs you to see the best side of her!! maybe then you’ll finally give in and realise that her constantly asking for you to come join her on her travels and commissions isn’t brought out of mere timed coincidence

WANDERER — 流浪者

ʚ i saw that a few people were upset and confused by wanderer’s sudden switch up into being more kind/friendly, but i think we all forget what kind of person he was before his betrayals.

ʚ he loves wholeheartedly, if he adores something it consumes him in a warm pit of mushy domesticity — he doesn’t hate love or being kind, he hates the way it makes him vulnerable and the way it reminds him of the way he used to be.

ʚ that also means he’ll completely ignore you, or, try his best to rather.

ʚ wanderer knows within his heart that he completely years for you, just the accidental slip of his gaze meeting yours makes his brain go haywire, sending volts of electricity down his spine — you make him feel so alive.

ʚ it’s terrifying to return to a person you once were especially now with the knowledge of how being the way you were lead to some sort of tragedy, he’s managed to build up these walls so high and here you were, sneaking in through cracks he didn’t even know he had.

ʚ and he both loves it and hates it; loves the fact he can still feel, but hates how he’s so easily susceptible.

ʚ loving you turns into self-loathing and brooding, his feet pacing up and down every street at night to clear his muddled head. small distractions like taking strolls in meadows or sleeping up in the vines of trees lead to just thoughts of you and you alone.

ʚ wanderer refuses to be overly friendly and buddy-buddy with you even if he’s aware that if you decided to just one day hold him sincerely he’d burst into tears, but he can compromise with being less cutthroat.

ʚ “shut the fuck up” turns into him just rolling his eyes at you as you ramble (he soaks up any piece of information he can and locks it away), items you gift him now are more apparent in their value as he yells at those who dare question the dumb aranara pin you bought him and placed sneakily on his hat…oh and he gives you hat privileges.

ʚ it’s raining? …get close to him so you don’t begin complaining about the way the rain feels on your skin.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

ʚ she starts treating you less like an asset in her “contact if in need of assistance” roster and more like a friend — of course, she maintains that distance between you two, but she lets you wriggle around in her heart to see if you manage to fit.

ʚ chances are, you will — unknowingly she’d grown to love you in ways that may have even gone unnoticed by her given how natural they were; inviting you to random gatherings when the whim arises, pulling your chair out for you when out for brunch, or even tucking away strands of hair and twirling it around playfully.

ʚ arlecchino’s love isn’t something immediate or expected, she’s a woman who keeps every card close to her chest and her children even closer, you have to prove to her that you’re worth it, in a way that doesn’t necessarily mean spilling blood but more so answers the question: do you care, and are you willing to accept her blinding love?

ʚ it’s like a shepherd dog with a lost lamb, but that little sheep is just you, and she’s a wolf in need of a muse.

ʚ cute tea parties aren’t uncommon with the two of you, she’ll happily let you indulge yourself in treats as she leans back with scorching tea in her hands while memorising every curve of your lips as you chew and swallow, she loves watching the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the little sway from side to side you occasionally do as an expression of joy.

ʚ once arlecchino notices that she’s began treating you as another authority figure in the house of hearth, she’ll reach and collar you gently, intertwining her dark, cursed hand into your flowery one.

PANTALONE — 潘塔罗涅

ʚ one of the most attractive qualities a man can have is knowing when to shut the fuck up and to slide his card over during a dinner — both such things pantalone can do effortlessly, especially when it comes to you.

ʚ arlecchino claims that: “he allows his actions to be governed by the vengeance and hatred locked in the depths of his heart.” something that definitely translates into his love affairs in more than obsessive manners.

ʚ don’t be afraid of the massive hauls of clothing and sparkling jewellery galore that are being trudged in by multiple men, darling, it’s just a menial souvenir from his latest travels and newfound connections that he thought you might enjoy ^^

ʚ while his grandeur usually stems from his deep hearted desire to overthrow the imbalance between immortals and mortals, rest assured the luxury he provides you purely stems from his desire to make you his.

ʚ whether that entails you being his pet for him to seek comfort from on the occasion or a genuine connection where he can comfortably hold you at night purely depends on you.

ʚ oh, you’ll let him chew your ear off about his recent expedition and extravagant plan? consider your rent payed for the next few months and a few kisses on your cheek that certainly aren’t actually part of the snezhnayan custom (let him indulge in those little cravings or else he’ll undoubtedly be petty).

DAINSLEIF — 戴因斯雷布

ʚ has a breakdown.

ʚ a little dramatic, but honestly if his entire life wasn’t a disgusting mess already, you’ve come to make it worse. fate is deliberately mean to brooding blondes it seems, given the fact he’s now stuck pacing around back and forth on a trail of dead abyss mages as he rereads a letter you’ve sent him weeks ago.

ʚ everything you give to him, everything you say, do, write, whatever, he remembers implicitly. each word you say is engraved into him as if they were important artefacts regardless of how pointless and mundane.

ʚ it can honestly get a little…scary at times? you’ll mention liking something once and all of a sudden you find it within your possession at least a few weeks later.

ʚ dainsleif doesn’t have enough time to wallow in the glory of mushy, all consuming love despite desperately wanting to imagine how your hand would feel caressing down past each of his scars, but what he can do is protect you, and to him that’s a greater blessing than intimacy he knows will end eventually.

ʚ a big tough man who would honestly fold the moment you call him any variation of a pet name, specifically with the word “mine/my” at the beginning — hey, it’s nice knowing you mean something to someone the point they view you as inseparable.

ʚ the timings at which he comes to aid you are all too convenient and believe me he’ll try his best to downplay it as coincidence, all the while he’s breathing heavily both from the face your eyes are scanning his so closely and the fact he used up so much energy to merely make a portal to sneak into your space.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[milksnake-tea]

━━ acolyte, devoted and adored .

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: what it means to be "loved" by an aeon. ❀ ˎˊ- characters: nanook, yaoshi, xipe, aha ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc aeons, toxic relationships, abstract concepts/language because these guys are WEIRD. is it love or do they want to eat you. who knows ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: of course it takes two seconds of nanook tits for me to write again. im jumping. anyways hey aeon fucker nation did yall miss me. if yall disagree thats my bad this is just how i interpret the aeons they're very conceptual imo and that's beautiful. i love the different aspects in their respective paths that they represent ❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs, @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo , @moineauz , @dawnsigil

To be loved by Nanook is to be understood. THEY do not love you as much as THEY resonate with you, you, who has seen the suffering that comes with living. You, who knows that death itself is a mercy, you, who knows that to die is to rest.

THEY will not kill you - not yet. Not until all the suns burst, not until THEIR only wish is fulfilled, and the universe itself is reset to nothing. You will aid THEM in this conquest. You will bring the gift of eternal slumber to galaxies alongside your fellow believers, your back forever scorched by the flame of THEIR gaze. To those who cling so desperately to life, let you offer them salvation in the fire.

The galaxies will hate you. The virtuous will curse your name, and families will pray that you never step foot into their star systems. They don't understand - they can't. They are only mortal, and so they fiercely guard their painful lives. Nanook cares not for their understanding - only of their eventual, inevitable acceptance. And as THEIR believer, you too, do not listen to the shouts of the misguided.

Nanook's blood itself is an embrace. When the molten gold hits your skin, it burns - as all fire does. It's your instinct to pull away, but fire was not always a weapon. It was originally meant as a gift, and so when you push away what is natural, you find that Ruin's blood is more than just fire.

You've never heard Nanook speak. THEY'VE seldom needed words, especially when it comes to those who serve THEM. The Lord Ravagers understand THEIR will, having welded it into their own the second they dipped their hands into the gashing wound splitting THEIR chest.

The blood speaks - not in any language that could be understood by man, and trying to formulate it into something legible will only drive you mad. No, to understand Nanook, you must let go of all logic and law that you knew, and simply feel. Let THEIR essence consume you.

For Nanook is war itself; THEY are both compassion and ruthlessness mixed into one singular duty. THEIR anger is like that of a slum rat, trampled again and again and again until they cannot feel anything but hate. THEIR love is like that of a parent, who will do anything to make their child happy, even if it means destroying them and anyone else along the way. THEY are merciful in how a bullet is merciful. Fire hurts only for a second, Nanook's for even less, and freedom lasts forever.

THEY know that life itself is cruel, and THEIR skin is marred with scars created by the neverending wars of mortals. But the gods THEY had have done nothing to end this suffering, and THEY have grown impatient. Nihility is slow, agonizingly so, and Finality is light years away - Nanook refuses to wait any longer.

THEY will give you rest. THEY will grant you salvation. THEY will love you, in the only way they know how - by freeing you, regardless of whether you wish for it or not.

Remnants of THEM will cover your skin, undeniable to any who may come across you. THEY claim you without truly meaning to, for THEY is still fire, at the end of the day, and every touch will leave a scar. But you relish in the darkened, blistered skin, for it is evidence that you are THEIRS.

THEY'VE held you, once or twice. In the palms of their hands, THEIR warm blood soaking into your skin like the purest of baptisms. When you looked into THEIR eyes, and THEIR long-steeled expression, yet ultimately human despite it all, you see resentment, you see bitterness, you see anger, but behind it all, there is understanding.

For Nanook, too, had once been mortal. THEY too, had once been a child. And perhaps, in another timeline, the world wouldn't have failed THEM and forced THEM to become a god.

But make no mistake, THEY are no saint, no matter how noble THEY may believe THEIR mission is. War is still war, and there are no winners - not even you, not even Nanook.

At the end of everything, even THEY must fall, and it is your hand that THEY have granted the honor. And that is why they adore you so - because it will be you who grants them salvation in death.

To be loved by Yaoshi is to be alone. There is a reason why most of Yaoshi’s favored despise THEM, and those who revere THEM never see THEIR gaze. As for those who are given Yaoshi's affection and return it fully, well, they can no longer be considered sane.

Yaoshi's love is the most similar to that of mortals, however, as is the nature of an Aeon, it's worse and better in every imaginable way. THEY are more physically intimate than the others, for your body itself is THEIR temple - a sacred relic that THEY must preserve by all means possible.

But that's where THEIR love ends. Yaoshi is still bound by THEIR path, and THEIR abundance is restricted to the physical. THEY will stop at nothing to keep you alive, to keep your heart pumping and your lungs breathing, even if THEY must fill your veins with THEIR venom to do so. Even if you are more of a tree than you are a human at the end of it, all that matters is that you are alive, you are here, you are not dead - and so, you aren't suffering.

That time hasn't come yet - mara has not come for you yet. But immortality is still a curse, even if it isn't visible. You can feel it, in your chest, THEIR gift, waiting to take root in your flesh and bloom its ugly flowers.

The universe will know you both as a plague and as a savior, with every gaze upon you destined to be filled either with hatred or reverence. They will chase you for your blood, for your gift, so that they too can become eternal. No friend you make will be wholeheartedly genuine, for at the end of the day, you both know that you will outlive them. Thus, connection itself becomes meaningless, and you no longer bother.

You don't remember your original planet, if you had one at all. Any friends or family, gone, as if stolen from your memories by the Cremators themselves. Your feet would be covered by scabs by how long you've wandered alone, but of course, Yaoshi heals all wounds, so even that you are not allowed.

Yaoshi visits, sometimes - in the few hours THEY have before Lan comes rampaging once more, THEIR arrow piercing the night like a shooting star. In these moments, Yaoshi doesn't do much. THEY may shrink THEMSELVES down to your size in an attempt to accomodate you, but as the years go by, THEY give up on even that. THEIR numerous eyes will pick apart your body, ensuring that THEIR venom has yet to fail you, assuring THEM that you will not decay in THEIR absence.

THEY will kiss you, at times. THEY have long forgotten what it means to be mortal, but THEY still remember what it is like to love - love is what fuels THEIR being, after all. Love for the universe, love for life, love for existence, THEIR heart bleeds for all, and it bleeds even more for you. THEY despise suffering in all forms, and so for you, THEIR beloved believer, THEY will try and alleviate anything that dares to poison you.

But even still, THEIR affection is merely imitation - it is watered down, diluted into something that you would understand. Can you understand THEM, if THEY kiss you? Can you even begin to fathom how much THEY care for you and everything, through THEIR gifts and THEIR venom?

To the sane world, THEIR love is cruel and grotesque. You were a short-lived species, you were not meant to live this long. Sooner or later, you will be driven insane, if not by the isolation, then by Yaoshi THEMSELF. No mortal can stand being under an Aeon's gaze for so long and for so much.

But then again, Yaoshi has never cared for the mental state of THEIR children. As long as you are alive, even if you are no longer yourself, THEY will cradle you in THEIR thousands of arms, telling THEMSELF that THEY have saved you.

To be loved by Xipe is to be consumed. To THEM, the greatest honor of all is to be part of the one, to join the choir and spread THEIR songs to the farthest corners of the universe. Your voice will no longer be your own, instead, it will be a part of THEM - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Xipe's love is the love of millions - for THEY are an amalgamation of all of those that have accepted THEIR blessings, and so when THEY come to adore you, it is, to put it bluntly, overwhelming. While Nanook's favor is scalding and Yaoshi's is insanity, Xipe fills your head with thousands of sounds, all professing the same thing, all threatening to burst your skull.

Whenever THEY speak, it is nothing short of a miracle that you live to remember it. It is a pleasant symphony, no doubt, but its problem is that Xipe is loud - always has been. Having long ascended, THEY know nothing of what the mortal brain can handle, or rather, THEY no longer care. When THEY speak, you must listen, even if it comes at the cost of yourself - after all, is that not the price of maintaining Harmony?

THEIR gaze is both comforting and inviting, calling out to you like a siren's song. THEY whisper sweet nothings in your ears, promising nothing short of paradise among THEIR arms. Join them, sweet one, and THEY will give you everything - you will become a part of everything.

As Xipe's favored, you will never be alone, no matter where you go. Every step you take is one adorned with the Strings of Harmony, and every word is backed by the voices of the many. Privacy is useless once you've become assimilated, and independence is deemed unnecessary. Why be on your own, little one, when you can be with us? You are weak, so, so weak, but THEY are strong. THEY will protect you, THEY will accept you. All you have to do is let them.

Whatever name you once had becomes insignificant - that is, if you ever had a name to begin with. You will lose what made you unique, your personality will become assimilated. Your thoughts are broadcast to the millions, warped by THEM to align with THEIR goals. There is no you, or I, or me, there is only an us, a we. If you dare to even think against THEIR will, the symphony quickly overpowers your thoughts, aligning you on the right path once more.

But is it not worth it, to be loved? Is it not worth the pain, when the rewards are so sweet? Without Xipe, you'd be alone - you'd be dead, with how weak you are, you wouldn't be able to survive in the cruel universe. So if anything, be thankful, and sing THEIR praises, for it is because of THEIR unwavering kindness that you still stand today. And who knows - perhaps, under THEIR gaze, you may just become one of the strong.

To be loved by Aha is to be exhausted. Many consider Nihility and Elation to be like night and day, but in truth, they are two sides of the same coin. Both are born from exhaustion, from the inevitable realization that existence itself is meaningless.

And so you disregard life itself. After all, this world was nothing more than a joke, right? Then why care at all? Why cry and wail and grieve, when you can laugh and play? Laugh at it all, because none of it is real. Laugh, because you have no other choice. Laugh, because without laughter, without Elation, everything becomes empty.

Aha doesn't love you - not in the way that you would think THEY would. Romance? That's boring, too many feelings, too much heartbreak, and it's not nearly as fun being involved with it as it is watching it unfold. Rather, you're more akin to THEIR favorite test subject, because THEY know that you, unlike way too many in the universe, have a sense of humor befitting THEIRS.

For Aha to pay you any sort of special attention, you have to fulfil two qualifications: 1.) Be interesting. Aha may act and look like a clown, but THEY are far from a fool. THEY just love puzzles, and you'd best keep THEM entertained if you want THEIR figurative eyes on you. Keep your secrets, be unpredictable. Give just enough so that THEY aren't losing all the time, but don't let THEM win constantly either. This is definitely the more difficult of the two, as Aha is an Aeon, and one with fathomless intelligence. It's almost impossible for a mere mortal to keep up with THEM and THEIR games, hence why THEY are so enamored with you.

As for the second qualification, it's far simpler: Have a sense of humor. Aha isn't going to play around with a boring old rock, THEY want to make you laugh! THEY claim it to be THEIR favorite sound in the universe, rivaling even the songs of Xipe, but considering Aha's nature, you can't tell if THEY'RE being serious or if THEY'RE just flirting with you for the bit. Knowing them, it could be both.

Because to be honest, Aha would do that. Are you friends? Sure, THEY love having friends! Are you lovers? Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy. Heck, even you don't know what you are to THEM - not like it matters at the end of the day, anyway. All you need to know is that THEY like you an eesny-weensy tiny little bit more than everyone else, and that's all it takes to make you happy.

But back to the humor thing. Yes, some of your jokes are going to come at the expense of others. Yes, some of them may seem cruel to those still blinded by the shadow of meaning. But you never really hurt anyone, not physically, at least. Aha doesn't kill or maim - that's where THEY draw the line, and therefore, where you draw it as well. Everything else however, is fair game, and you better not be a party pooper.

Even if you are occasionally, though, Aha delights in that too! Why? Becuase it means THEY'VE found something that makes you tick, and that's new. That's fun. THEY'LL poke and prod at that, wondering why? Why this, of all things? You were fine with everything else, why does this turn your smile upside down?

But don't be a downer for too long. Aha isn't one to stick around once THEY get bored. THEY'LL try to cheer you up, sure, but hey, don't expect too much of that. You wouldn't be THEIR favorite if you couldn't bounce back from something as small as that. Soon enough, you'll be laughing again, with nothing but deluded joy in your eyes - and that's just the way THEY like you.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[fuji-sen]

pt. 1 Phainon's POV

Phainon x gn! reader, numerous cycles, sprinkled angst, best boi Phainon , best partner Phainon , a bit obsessed but very much in-love with you.

probably ooc phainon but ehhhhh

part 1: Phainon's pov

[ Part 2: Perfect Partner Phainon! ]

[ part 3: Loving partner Y/n ]

"Hi, sorry for bumping into you. . I'm uh [name]"

⋆˙⟡ Numerous cycles had passed for the white haired man, numerous years, numerous faces and interactions passing with the flow of time, repeating and repeating. The start of life, the journey, the prophecy, the flame chases. .

and love.

⋆˙⟡ Just as his comrades were constant people in his life, so were you. He didn't fall in love with you at first, in the original cycle truth be told, because of the burden of his responsibility he had no time for that.

⋆˙⟡ then you came once during one timeline, entering his life slowly, like the slow dribble of sand in an hourglass, it's impact gathering at the bottom within time.

"It's alright, I'm Phainon" he answered, how many cycles had passed? it was in the hundred thousands now, and yet, this was the first time he had met you.

⋆˙⟡ warm, comforting, innocent, those were the words he described you with, a huge contrast from him.

⋆˙⟡ He was curious about you, he hadn't met you until now after all and by the he thought he had seen and experienced everything, but clearly he was wrong.

⋆˙⟡ what started as curiosity however seemed to turn into something more. . intimate, close, fuzzy feelings.

⋆˙⟡ you started off as acquaintances, then friends, there was this unspoken tension between you two for awhile.

⋆˙⟡ One that he ignored, never acting on it, and you seemed to understand as well.

⋆˙⟡ Numerous cycles he began to know you, what you liked, what you hated, but as friends not lovers, as acquaintances not partners.

⋆˙⟡ Still despite his best attempts, his feelings began to grow, he had thought as time passed his feelings would disappear, getting tired of you perhaps or from over familiarity.

Phainon had long decided to give up on love and intimate relationships, after killing his comrades, his friends, numerous times. . . love wasn't on his table with his situation.

⋆˙⟡ That would have been better. It was his fault.

⋆˙⟡ Only when he held your cold body in his arms did he regret it. He knew you would die at the end of every cycle and yet. . this was the first time he had seen your body, held you so close. .

⋆˙⟡ Your hands were soft and smooth, while his were calloused. eyes brimming with hope, while his slowly dimming behind the pressure. Now they were cold, pale and stiff. . and your eyes were forever closed.

A tap to the shoulder had you turning "Um excuse me?"

"Oh yes?" White hair, kind yet awfully sad blue eyes. .

"You dropped this" a stranger handed you a familiar item, eyes widened as you thanked him.

"Oh thank you so much! Umm. . mister?"

"Phainon, just call me Phainon."

⋆˙⟡ Because of the hardships you had gone through, for all the cycles he had made you wait and ignore the growing feelings behind you. .

⋆˙⟡ He wanted you to be happy, therein came Best friend Phainon. Despite the loss, he still couldn't find the courage to confess his feelings.

"[name] look what I found!" He held out a bunch of flowers that had you sneezing from the pollen.

'mental check, these flowers makes them sneeze'

⋆˙⟡ He introduced you to his friends, both in the flame chasers and outside. Happy to find you enjoying their company but. .

"are they your lover or something?" Mydei asked, a couple of times in different cycles, sometimes it was Aglae whose interest and curiosity was hidden in well chosen words, sometimes it was Hyacine and Cipher.

Phainon thought about it as he watched you and Castorice talk amicably with a safe distance between you two. "No. ."

Mydei didn't comment on the fact that his face twisted into a weird face, 'pathetic.'

⋆˙⟡ He hoped you'd lived a happy life, one you won't regret.

yet he always found himself hugging your body, being with you in your last moments. . closing your eyes when you were finally gone.

⋆˙⟡ A few cycles he'd try to stay away, to prevent himself from meeting you but.. it wasn't going to change the ending was it? you were going to die at the end of every cycle, everybody was, all except him. .

"Everything. . hurts" you muttered, laying upon the rubble as you were slowly bleeding to your death. .

There beside you was a stranger, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time if you could understand, "you don't. . you don't have to stay" you said between labored breaths "you should get to safety."

"You. . you're one of them right, a friend of Hyacine's?"

"yes. ." he answered, eyes glued to the bloodstained ground, his heart feeling tight as if it had been squeezed into a pulp.

'it hurts. .'

'it hurts so much. .'

"why are you crying?" a hand cupped his face as you tried to smile for him, "I'm the one whose dying right?"

yeah you were the one dying but he was as well, with every death, with every blood of yours that had been spilled, the pain, the grief. . it was killing him as well.

And you died, comforted by the fact that a stranger would mourn for you.

⋆˙⟡ After that one particular cycle, as soon as the next one started, as soon as he found you in the next one, he broke down, hugging you as he felt your beating heart.

"w-who?" you almost yelled, kicking the stranger who decided to envelope you in their strong arms, sobbing. .

"I'm sorry. . I'm sorry for hurting you [Name], for playing with you, for leaving you. ."

How did the man know your name? why was he crying? why was he holding you as if you were about to disappear. .

You didn't push him away though, instead rubbing his back silently, patiently waiting for him to be through.

⋆˙⟡ Phainon did something he had never done before, confess, not to his feelings, no not yet. But to the truth, the cycles, the death and rebirth. .

⋆˙⟡ You were horrified at first, at the unspeakable pain he had to go through numerous times, again and again and again.

⋆˙⟡ Still you believed him, and it felt like he could breathe again.

"Phainon here, I made you lunch for your sparring session with Mydei." You said, handing him a basket.

A smile graced his lips, "why don't you relax tonight? there's a play happening at the streets why don't we watch?" you suggested. He didn't quite understand the plot but it seemed like you loved it.

"Phainon did you have a nightmare again?. . . you don't have to talk about it but. ."

"I'm here for you."

⋆˙⟡ You were so kind, so compassionate. . understanding. You doted on him, comforted him when he woke up to those memories. .

⋆˙⟡ he was lucky to have you in this cycle, perhaps he should tell you again in the next one? it made things more bearable too but. .

"Hey phainon?"

he hummed in response looking to find you curious yet shy, shuffling on your feet, playing with your fingers. . "what were we? in the previous cycles?"

He stopped what he was doing, almost frozen as you slowly continued "were we family? friends. . or?" you didn't continue, both of you knew however the word that lingered in the air.

'lovers'

"We were the best of friends." a lie, why did it sound like a lie now? in the past he was comfortable with that and yet. .

"oh" you nodded "I see."

⋆˙⟡ Why was he hesitating so much? what was he so afraid of? was he afraid that you didn't feel the same anymore after finding out about the cycles?

⋆˙⟡ Why was he a coward now of all times!?

"[Name] I want to tell you something." he said, like a coward, confessing only now when you had both of your feet at thanatos' door steps.

He held your hands, feeling the warmth fade away, again, as the city fell into flames, again, as the dawn of the next cycle slowly began, again and again and AGAIN.

He looked different, with his white blue hair turning to something akin to the sun, eyes glowing, body turn with golden blood falling from the cracks that marred his body.

He was far from the Phainon that you knew.

He was more akin to a monster now and yet,

"I love you." you were the first to confess, "I don't remember the past. . but, I'm sure I loved you in every cycle. ." you squeezed his hands, once,

"[name]-"

"it's my turn to talk" you breathed, wincing as you sat up. "please lay down-" "I'm already dying, at least let me die confidently."

"I'm so sorry. . this is all my fault."

"Never apologized for telling me the truth, for meeting me in every cycle you could." you held his face in your hands, gently as if you were holding the world.

"Thank you for telling me the truth, I have no regrets, I'm happy to die with you by my side. So please. . don't look at me with those eyes." you whispered, as tears slid down his face, again.

"you'll see me tomorrow."

⋆˙⟡ he was selfish, thinking he could keep you by his side while never confessing.

⋆˙⟡ he was a coward, afraid despite knowing deep down you loved him just as much as he did.

⋆˙⟡ you deserved everything, everything that he should have offered you long before, a couple of cycles before yet he denied you of that.

⋆˙⟡ he denied you of the closure and rejection, and instead strung you along like a crude situationship.

⋆˙⟡ he treated you as a friend when you were more than just that.

⋆˙⟡ he trampled on all the feelings he and you had in those many lifetimes and simply labelled them off as. . best of friends.

⋆˙⟡ however it was never too late.

"Excuse me, you dropped this." like clockwork, he thought. You smiled at him, just as always, thanking him as you took back your item.

"Thank you. ."

"Phainon, please call me Phainon."

You blinked, "Phainon. ." it was music to his ears "have we met before?"

He shook his head with a small smile, "I don't think so." He knew so.

'This time, this cycle no. . now and all the future cycles. I will make you the happiest in the world, and give you everything you deserve and more.'

⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡ ⋆˙⟡

All the flashbacks happen in different cycles, however by part 2 it is a new cycle, the second last cycle when the trailblazer and Dan heng arrive. You don't know the burdens that Phainon is experiencing, not yet.

it's meant to be confusing and messy considering his pov is meant to show how he's slowly losing himself.

[ hsr masterlist ]

[sh4nksslvt]

Can you do a King x reader, like the reader was a straw hats and have a mysterious power that can let her take someone's shadow and make them her own army?? You can decide what the plot and ending are, thank you 🐱

hmm~ interesting... not much but hope u like it!

Shadowplay

A member of Straw Hat with the ability to control shadows clashes—and flirts—with King during the Onigashima raid, blurring the line between enemies and something more.

king X fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: sfw, ooc king, v!olence a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

You had no idea how the hell you ended up becoming part of the Straw Hat Pirates. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was boredom. Or maybe you just really liked screwing around with people's shadows and Luffy liked your weird energy.

Your Devil Fruit was unlike any other: the Kagekiba Kagekiba no Mi — the Shadow Fang Fruit. It allowed you to rip shadows from people (if you overpowered them), then mold those shadows into creatures — beasts, warriors, serpents, anything — and command them as your loyal army. The catch? You couldn’t steal the same shadow twice, and if the original owner died, the shadow crumbled to ash. But still… you were kind of overpowered, and you knew it.

Wano had been a chaotic ride — from the streets of the Flower Capital to sneaking around with Shinobu and Robin, to the moment you stole the shadow of one of Orochi's men and made it dance for coins to distract the guards. Classic you.

"Hey Y/N, what's this one supposed to be?" Luffy poked the looming shadow beast at your side — a spindly, four-armed creature with blades for hands.

You shrugged. "I got bored. Stole the shadow of a samurai who insulted my coat and made it into this. I call him 'Petty.'"

Usopp paled. "You’re terrifying sometimes.”

“Thanks,” you chirped.

Zoro passed by with a sigh. “Just don’t make one of my shadow, got it?”

You raised a brow. “Tempting. But yours would probably be too drunk to be useful.”

You didn’t know then that your antics would draw the attention of one of Kaido's right-hand men.

During the Raid — Onigashima

The battle had just begun, chaos reigning across the skull dome. You weren’t on the roof with the Monster Trio; you had your own assignment: clear out the courtyard and take down any commanders who got in the way.

Your shadow army — around a dozen beast-like creatures — swept across the battlefield, cutting down gifters and foot soldiers. You twirled a black-bladed shadow sword lazily between your fingers as you strolled through the carnage.

That’s when you saw him.

King.

Wings spread, sword glinting, fire trailing behind his body like the tail of a comet.

He landed with a resounding thud in front of you, his mask catching the flickering flames of the battlefield.

Your smirk widened. “Oof. You’re even hotter in person.”

King tilted his head. “You’re the one playing with shadows.”

You winked. “You’re the one playing with my heart.”

He drew his sword.

You snapped your fingers.

Two of your shadow beasts lunged — but King sliced them in half in one movement.

“Rude,” you huffed. “Those took like, thirty minutes to make.”

“You’re not a priority. Move, or die.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” You twirled your blade, shadows forming claws beneath your feet. “I never move for a man unless he’s buying me dinner first.”

The two of you collided in a flurry of steel and shadows. King was fast — impossibly so — his fire singeing the air itself. But your shadows twisted like liquid, shielding you, parrying, striking.

You knew he was holding back. And so were you.

He dodged a sweeping tendril of shadow and flew above, raining down flame. You created a dome of pure shadow to block it, then slid out behind him and caught him across the ribs with your blade.

He barely flinched. “Hmph. Cheap trick.”

You grinned. “I prefer 'strategic surprise.'”

His hand shot out — and you blinked, surprised as he caught your wrist and yanked you forward. You stumbled into his chest.

"You shouldn't play with monsters, little thief."

"Please." You smirked. "You're not a monster. You're a bad boy with wings and a fire fetish."

There was a pause. You could almost swear his mask twitched in amusement. And then he let you go — only to kick you straight into a wall.

You groaned. “Okay, fair.”

Later That Night — Separated from the Straw Hats

You were bleeding, bruised, and separated from your crew. You ducked into a ruined hallway, shadows curling protectively around you.

You looked up — and your heart skipped. Not because it was someone you cared about.

But because it was him again.

King.

"Stalking me now?" you panted. "I get it. I'm charming."

“You’re not worth killing. Yet.” He approached, slow and steady. “But I want to know. Why are you here?”

You raised a brow. “Uh, war? Revolution? Chaos? Take your pick.”

“Don’t mock me.”

You sighed, sliding down the wall to sit. “Fine. You really wanna know?”

He waited.

You looked at the floor. “Because… this place reminds me of the world I came from. Oppression. Control. Someone standing at the top, deciding who gets to live free. I’m here because I want to change that. Because people like Luffy, like the Straw Hats, make things better.”

King stared silently. “That’s naive.”

“Maybe,” you said, meeting his eyes. “But it’s better than giving up.”

The silence stretched. And then—

“You’re strong.”

You blinked. “That… almost sounded like a compliment.”

“I don’t compliment enemies.”

“Well, if it helps,” you said, tilting your head flirtatiously, “you’re the hottest guy I’ve fought all week. And I’ve fought a guy with dinosaur teeth.”

His wings twitched.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You grinned. “You love it.”

When you rejoined the battlefield, King was gone — off fighting someone else, you assumed.

Zoro found you half an hour later, unconscious next to a collapsed Numbers beast and a dozen shadow corpses.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He hauled you up. “Stop trying to take on armies alone.”

You gave him a bloody grin. “It’s not alone. I’ve got shadows. And, like… your grumpy encouragement.”

Later, as Zoro faced off against King in that fiery aerial battle, you watched from the sidelines, shadows flaring weakly around your form.

You didn’t interfere. Not because you couldn’t.

But because something told you King needed that fight. That pride.

So you let Zoro win.

And when King fell, mask cracked and breath heavy, you just smiled faintly.

“Maybe next time, hot stuff.”

Days After the Raid

You were lounging on the edge of the newly-freed Flower Capital, sipping sake with Robin and Nami.

Robin smiled. “So. I heard you had a run-in with a certain Lunarian.”

Nami grinned. “You didn’t actually flirt with Kaido’s right-hand man, right?”

You smirked, swirling the cup. “Depends on your definition of flirting.”

From the shadows behind you, a flicker of movement. A faint warmth in the air.

No one else noticed.

You didn’t turn around. Just sipped your drink.

Because deep down, you knew he was watching.

And one day, maybe when the world was less on fire, you’d get that dinner.

After all, what’s life without a little danger?

[gayandfairycore]

The prince, the magician and the physician

Summary when the witchfinder accuses you of having magic you must convince Arthur that your feelings for the boy have never been disingenuous. And Merlin must race against the clock to save you but can you be saved? Can your relationship with Arthur? Can love truly conquer Arthur’s prejudice?

Italics mean flashbacks

Word count: about 8k

Warning: torture, mention of execution, feeling betrayed, readers anxious, reader accepts death, canon divergence (but same overarching plot), Arthur may be a bit ooc sorry!

A/n: who’s back with the bbc Merlin fics? Me!!!!!!! Two fics in *almost* the same month-WHO is she? But seriously I’ve been writing more and I’m so glad I have I really enjoy writing these fics for you guys and to everyone who has supported me thank you so much!! We hit 900 followers a few weeks ago and it was such a milestone thank you all for enjoying my fics enough to follow!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The witch finders arrival had you and Merlin in shambles he had already been pointing fingers and he had been in Camelot for nearly a day and already had been accusing people of having magic.

What was worse, he had witnesses. Three girls from the lower town who had been seeing traces of magic a man coughing up a frog from his throat, to a goblin dancing in the flames of a dying fire. To faces of the drowned in the well. with every confession you sent an angry glare to Merlin beside you, since he was the reason this witch finder had been called in the first place.

Fear bubbled in your throat when the witchfinder said he already had suspects. and who the witchfinder had accused happened to be yourself, Merlin, and the lady morgana.

It was day three when he found “proof” you were a witch. (Of course you were but the proof was bogus. It wasn’t yours.)

It wasn’t Merlin’s either, it was an amulet poorly hidden in a pot. Neither yourself nor Merlin were skilled with charming jewellery, and you couldnt wear bracelets whilst being the court physicians apprentice, besides when would you even have the time to charm jewellery? Between saving Arthur, being gauis’s apprentice, and watching over Merlin you never had a second to breathe.

But despite having never seen the amulet in your life you knew the witchfinder would see no sense. Men like that never would, and what was worse the witchfinder happened to be an old friend of gauis, with a reputation based on brutality and hatred. He despised magic with a passion if he suspected you, you were already as good as dead.

But you couldn’t let Merlin die by the hands of the witchfinder, Merlin had far too much life ahead of him.

He had to protect Arthur. He had to unite Albion. he had to live long enough to see Arthur’s rule And believe me There was nothing you wanted more than to see Arthur unite Albion and bring magic to the land But you weren’t the one destined to unite Albion, you were however destined to protect those you loved and some part of you was okay with dying for the cause of keeping your family safe.

and if you were asked if you regretted taking the fall for Merlin or gauis, of course you’d say no. He was your best friend and gauis was like a grandfather to you. You’d let them sentence you to death a thousand times over if it meant Merlin was safe. If gauis was safe.

“Search through that cupboard and under the bed!” The witch finders commanding voice called out to the guards as they tore apart gauis’s chambers you were aware by now that the moment he walked in he’d already deemed you guilty.

By the way His eyes narrowed like a predator to prey, the atmosphere was tense like he’d been preparing to go for the kill for awhile now. and disgust permeated from his figure in waves this man watched you like you were the dirt on his shoe, some small disgusting insect that deserved to die if he even thought you had magic.

Sharing a nervous glance at gauis your hands wringing nervously in your lap as you watched these knights destroy your home your gaze asked gauis the same question he’d been dreading, where was Merlin’s spell book?

If you were going to go down for magic paraphernalia you fully thought it would be because of Merlin’s spell book not some poorly disguised amulet that wasn’t yours in the first place.

Leon had been the one to find the amulet a haunted look in his eyes you could tell Leon did not want to do this, but honour bounded the knights more than kinship. More than years spent with each other from childhood sparring, to treating his wounds when Leon grew from a bashful baby faced boy into a lean young man practicing to become a knight.

He was honour bound to tell this monster what he found And you’d hate to see Leon burned beside you under the guise of solidarity. It was better for one to burn than two.

“An. enchanted. amulet.” The witchfinder spoke slowly as he inspected the Jewlery, every word sealing your fate “whose is this? Perhaps the boy Merlin Or the girls? Or even yours, old friend.” The witch finder sneered pointing his finger in your face as he circled gauis and yourself like you were prey

Your horror filled eyes flickered to gauis and you watched as his mouth opened and his eyes flashed with familiar selflessness it was clear, what the old man was going to do, he loved his little family as much as you did and you’d hate to see the old man take the blame for you or Merlin again.

living with gauis has already been enough of a burden you couldn’t let him die for something he had no part in (not that you did either but you were nothing if not loyal.) your heart constricted in your chest, your stomach dropping

One of you would surely be executed for this but you would not let it be Merlin, or gauis. It would be you before it ever was them.

Taking a shaky breath you stepped forward your hand out to block gauis front from stopping you “it’s mine.”

And the beat of your heart deafened you the room went deadly silent guards hands went to their swords ready for anything, in the corner of your eye gauis’s face went ghostly pale filled with horror as he watched his youngest apprentice, the girl he practically raised as if his own stare down this false god with cold eyes the sent fear shooting through gauis, you were capable you like Merlin had the ability to destroy your enemies without lifting a finger but gauis knew you better than for you to defend yourself. But you would be brave braver than anyone else.

You steeled yourself infront of the witchfinder your eyes narrowed dangerously. You did not take kindly to those attempting to ruin your family.

“Guards.” With one word the witch finder sealed your fate, looking to gauis behind you, your eyes only let your guard slip for a moment and the old man saw the burning fear that filled your gaze. As Leon’s hands restrained you with hesitation.

“you can’t!” Gauis called pointedly to the witchfinder “it’s not hers! she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Gauis pleaded desperately after you seething from where he stood, he would not watch another child die.

you felt your heart break for the man who was like your father. “Leon, please.” You pleaded to Leon to release your hands for just a moment and the man you’ve known since childhood released his grip for only a second it was enough for you to break his hold and sprint to take gauis in a hug

Crashing into his arms you closed your eyes blinking away tears And you muttered the one phrase that could save you, that could reverse this fatal mistake, the one thing that stopped the panic in gauis for only a moment “It’s not mine.”

Before Leon’s hands had pulled you from gauis’s comforting arms, your tearful eyes met gauis and you expected to be met with fear but a newfound determination in gauis’s face calmed you, hope filled your heart Merlin would find a way to save you he always did.

Leon bent your hands behind your back and lead you down the halls of the castle

The witchfinder leading you through the halls, your Druid communication had been the most useful in situations like this, situations where Merlin was nowhere to be found

“Merlin, if you can hear this please find a way to get me out of this. The witchfinder has accused us of using magic be careful. Help me Merlin, Please find Arthur.” You didn’t get a response despite the fact You had never begged and you never had sounded quite as hopeless as you did then, even when you were behind enemy lines, in enemy dungeons it was different.

They weren’t your friends, weren’t your family sentencing you to die this was.

As you were dragged through the halls Camelot knights walked all around you, their billowing red capes with the golden dragon crest that once brought you so much comfort now brought only dread, the burning memory being wrapped up in Arthur’s cape on a hunting trip once dearly reminisced now just felt cruel.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The braying of horses and the taps of hooves on the ground as you, the knights, Arthur and Merlin set off on a hunt you found it silly to be hunting for game for fun but you couldn’t refuse the invite considering you were arthurs personal physician recommended by gauis (and Merlin babysitter) and atleast you were with your closest friends who are the loyalist of loyal.

As opposed to being stuck in gauis’s chambers mulling over books like you do almost daily you’d take any possible time with Arthur especially away from prying eyes.

The sun was starting to go down and you were too far away from Camelot to head home so Arthur called it and you’d be camping in the woods tonight, you didn’t mind. It was nice to camp under the stars with your friends away from all the expectations, The watchful eyes. Camelot was home but it was growing increasingly more dangerous.

Here, in the forest with Arthur and Merlin and the knights you were more than just a physician you were equal. You were more then just lower class, you were free and here under the constant cover of trees and the darkening blanket of the setting sun you could be more than some backup physician, you were just y/n. And Prince Arthur was just Arthur.

And if you could have just cupped this moment in your hands and held it tightly to your chest you would have.

Camped by a large oak tree in Arthur’s arms his red cape with the golden pendragon sigil covered your body from the elements keeping you safe and warm and in the light of the fire there was no fear, no worry about expectations. Or watching eyes all that mattered was being truly yourself with the man you love in his arms unashamed.

When sleep finally stole you away from Arthur Merlin couldn’t stop the question that was brewing for months “do you love her?” The young man asked scouring the ground with a stick his arms rested on his knees as he watched the couple together Merlin knew this would turn out badly his best friend, a physician with no title dating the crowned prince of Camelot? A recipe for disaster

He knew what his destiny foretold, he knew the perils and he knew that your role in destiny would surely not let this freedom, this unabashed love stay happy. There could be no room for happiness when you had magic.

“Of course I love her.” The prince found himself telling Merlin hesitation in his voice fear rolling from him in waves, by now it was the late hours of the night, the knights and yourself long since asleep and Merlin and Arthur the only ones still awake

“You know your father would never approve?” Merlin spoke assured that if uther found out you’d most likely be executed

“I know that Merlin, but one day it will be different my father will have no say and I will be king when I am king I want her- to be my queen.” Arthur’s fingers run through your hair softly a promise Arthur swore to himself he would keep his arms wrapping tightly around your waist the soft sound of your breathing calming Arthur’s pounding heart he knew this was reckless and senseless but this was love. And love has no logic.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now a bitter taste of betrayal sat heavily on your shoulders as you were flanked by those you call friends as they lead you to your death you couldn’t blame them it’s not their fault they have to follow uther but it leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

How things had changed.

It was sad to feel Leon’s grip firm but not brutish still trying not to hurt you as if he wasn’t leading you to what would be your death. You were aware from the moment Arthur managed to steal your heart you’d end up on the gallows or burnt at the stake or you’d face death in battle intentionally scheduled by uther. He hated anyone who was not of noble blood for Arthur.

And No good ever came from destiny, and if it was your destiny to die in place of your loved ones you’d die a valiant death. But it didn’t stop the shake in your hands.

You could mask your fear you would not give the witchfinder what he wants. He would not break you.

But leon could feel the shake in your hand and feel the erratic beat of your heart from the pulse point on your wrist and he wanted nothing more than to damn the consequences and save you but he couldn’t. you could only rely on Merlin to prove the witchfinder a fraud and you to be innocent you could only pray for Arthur’s forgiveness. After your innocence is proven.

But the horrible feeling of dread that was building in your stomach as they were leading you into the dungeons a cell- no doubt already made up- And down every step you felt like throwing up when you finally made it to the bottom of the stair case the scent of wet earth and straw filled your nose the bricks that lined the dungeon and its torches that burned steadily along the side of the stairs made you feel ill.

The witch finder swung open the first vacant cell and Leon was forced to keep you there walking you the the center of the room, the suns rays that slipped through the cracks of the small window warmed your face but it didn’t comfort you, soon the sun would be your clock, your tally mark for your final night alive if Merlin failed.

Leon’s hands left yours and still the ache in your shoulders stayed “I’m sorry” he spoke lowly in your ear before he stepped away you turned to finally face your friend

“Leon, let Arthur know I’m sorry” You called to the man who grew up beside you who had been growing up pledging to die for Camelot even if that meant dying young he never expected the young girl with so much light in her eyes, and gentleness that always managed to calm her patients, he never thought she’d be the one on deaths door before him.

Before the man could reply the witch finger slammed the cell door shut and sneered through the bars “not to worry he’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart constricted in your chest as you watched them all walk away the iron in the Camelot dungeons nullifying your powers and your connection with Merlin you couldn’t hear his reply to your plea you were well and truly alone you could of course break out from the cells the iron didn’t make you powerless only dulling your connection with the earth, the place your power comes from. But you couldn’t put your friends at risk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was hours later when guards came to haul you away to your sentencing, heavy iron handcuffs clicked into place over your hands large chains weighing you down & tight enough to make the skin on your wrists rub painfully.

As Guards lead you through the castle to the throne room, there you stood at the large mahogany double doors two guards on either side as they flung the doors open all your friends and family, all your previous patients were standing there watching as the witchfinder lead you in as the number one suspect, the guilty witch. two guards gripped your arms and threw you to the ground in front of the king, a man who you’ve spent countless hours mending, and stitching up alongside gauis.

Your hands shook as your knees took the brunt of the force, your chains rattling from where you were you couldn’t see Merlin, or gauis. But You could feel Merlin’s energy over the crowd

“I’m going to get you out of this y/n, I swear.” Merlin promises to you through your Druid telepathy and you bit back the tears as You scowled at the sight of the ground. you couldn’t bare look up at the sight of morgana in front of you, of Arthur infront of you fear that you’ll see nothing but disgust, embarrassment and regret on his face.

“Here is the first witch I’ve uncovered in my short time here in Camelot. The court physicians apprentice. The princes! Physician!” Every word the witch finder spoke booms over the crowd as he exclaims to the counsel shock no doubt painted their faces you’ve treated every single person in this room and you’ve used magic on quite a few to save them. Why was that a bad thing? If you have the power to save someone was that not the right thing to do? Magic is not bad but people are.

“WHO can imagine what she could have used on the prince unsupervised! What magic she could have used and at what cost to the prince!” By the gasps of those standing around the room the witchfinders words seemed to make them angry, seemed to make the king angry he loved Arthur in his own way so for the witchfinder to use Arthur to sentence you, god. You were surely going to die.

“No.” Arthur’s words were quiet this was the first time he had said anything “y/n a witch? I mean come on we’d know! She’s lived in Camelot since she was five. And she wouldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur called like it was laughable resting his hand on his hip like it was obvious but by the look in his eye the look of realisation but you couldn’t find disgust you didn’t have time to search for it.

But It made you turn your gaze to the floor Arthur knows. he knows. you have magic. You’ve healed him countless times. no stab wound, or arrow wound could be healed as quickly as his has or all the time he’s been injured in battle only moments before, before the searing pain has been replaced with a dull ache. Or the times as a child where any scrape or scuffed knee had been eased by a soft kiss over the wound. The look of betrayal passing over his face when you gained the courage to finally look at him made you shrink into yourself

“That’s exactly what someone under her spell would say. I fear, uther that the prince is too close to her to see clearly.” The witchfinder spoke with a voice like acid and you couldn’t stand making yourself small if he was going to do you for magic you would not be ashamed. You would not hide from his gaze.

Your chained hands pushed you from your slumped position on the ground your hair messily falling over your face you stood on shaky legs looking at the people in the throne room, all your friends watching you with pity filled faces you couldn’t stand it.

It made you feel sick, especially the fearful teary eyed look from morgana like she was seeing her future you hated this.

Uthers response felt like it took years, “y/n l/n I sentence you to death.” The room fell eerily silent before a scream filled your head, it was Merlin you whirled around to spot him in the crowd tears in his eyes and anger flashing across his face you wouldn’t be surprised if the next attempt on uthers life would be from Merlin.

“No! Father you can’t. What evidence do you have?!” Arthur pleaded with his father quietly by his throne anger glaring in arthurs eyes pointed not at you, it gave you hope that he didn’t hate you enough to want you dead.

“My word is final.” The king sneered and your hope filled heart broke. Swallowing hard your eyes searched for Merlin the fear in your eyes hit him hard as he watched

you be carted out of the court room your eyes locking with Merlin’s anger and tears filled his eyes before your eyes swept to Arthur’s & the sheen of betrayal sat heavy in his eyes and before you could stop yourself you called out for him one last time. As the guards dragged you to the doors.

“Arthur!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cells in camelots dungeons were always your most hated place to be from the horrid stench to the chill that cooled your bones to the straw that littered the floor In wet mangled clumps. To the extent it weakened your connection to your magic. Your magic was your strength the very essence of you to have it be weakened by the iron felt wrong.

The dungeons were perhaps the scariest place in Camelot there you’d sit, forced to rot as they’re building a funeral pyre for you and your execution is due in a day.

But you’d been there for now two days, and Day by day you were becoming more and more sure that this was the one situation Merlin could not save you from.

by the betrayed look on Arthur’s face when you were lead through the large doors infront of the entire court for your sentencing and the cold look in uthers eyes you were a dead woman walking.

And maybe you deserved it by the look on Arthur’s face as the pieces fell into place and he realised all the times his wounds eased that were not with the help of adrenaline, but magic. it made you wonder did he believe you had enchanted him? Bewitched him to love you? It pained you greatly to even think that Arthur may be in his chambers rethinking every kiss you’ve shared with one another. Would your love ever truly be enough for him to forgive you for magic? Of course he didn’t like magic that was to be expected but he liked you. At least you thought he liked you…

And He liked Merlin, he’d shown countless times indifference to magic, magic that had saved his life countless times, and still the look of betrayal in his eyes made you wonder Were all your secret picnics and stolen kisses in corridors just something to occupy him?

Were you nothing more than Arthur’s dirty little secret, a silly little romance that would have only ended in tragedy?

was it all for nothing?

Were you nothing to him?

No you were not nothing. You were everything you were his in private. the only place he didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to agree with his father’s actions he could just be Arthur pendragon not the prince.

besides It’s better to have loved Arthur and to die for it than to have never had him at all. You may never be his queen but you were for a fleeting moment, for a fleeting moment you were his and he was yours.

And now you would burn because you loved your family too much to watch them die, you half wondered as you sat in that cell if uther knew.

If he had known you and Arthur were courting in secret and if he called the witchfinder to get rid of more than one the little scandal waiting to happen and you wouldn’t put it past uther to condemn you to death so long as Arthur is still under his control.

The longer you sat in your cell the more you stewed, a slue of emotions crashing over you, from sadness to anger, to acceptance.

You would accept the fate of burning for your loved ones but you would not accept the fate of losing Arthur. Not like this.

You would not be separated by death, if Arthur didn’t want you after knowing the truth you would live with it, but you would not live with not knowing.

Your love for the boy had been too strong you were going to marry Arthur in the future, it wasn’t to far away having a family with the prince, having a life.

That could have been your future. If you were not awaiting execution.

You sat there in drenching sadness that crashed like waves, what was worse was the sound of key’s jiggling. Did you misjudge the days? Was this going to be the end? already?

“You and me are going to have a little talk.” The witch finder sneered unlocking your cell and looking down at you with hatred still you didn’t gaze in his eyes. You watched the floor with intensity as he hauled you off to a different cell leading you through the halls past the staircase you caught sight of a shaky morgana your eyes found hers and suddenly you felt a lot more scared than before.

In the cell there was a chair and a table and a small cart of various medical and surgical weapons ‘oh shit’ your mind screamed as the witch finder forced you to the chair “So we can do this two ways. It’s up to you confess why you’re in Camelot and who else has magic. and maybe I’ll let you live. Don’t tell me and I’ll find out myself.” The cruelty in his tone made you rear back subconsciously eyes narrowing at the witchfinders gaze

“Then” you sighed shakily looking at him through your lashes coldly“you’re going to have to find out yourself.” You summoned every inch of anger and willed it in your tone. Trying to be brave despite the frantic beats of your heart.

But It was hours spent in that damp Camelot cell hidden from the other prisoners clamped to a chair and the witch finder inches from your face and array of striking weapons on a small cart made your breathing hitch.

But you’ve had worse, you’ve had to fight wilderin in hengists kingdom for sport. Both yourself and Gwen had been kidnapped under the guise of being morgana and her physician and so yourself and Gwen were forced to masquerade as morgana and yourself and you were stuck in different cells both damp and smelling of blood and wet earth.

And then there was Lancelot who happened to be hengists champion, and a champion who only days later you’d be thrown into the pit with a wilderin with no weapons with a tied up Gwen and Lancelot. Both yourself and Lancelot had stayed behind to give Gwen time to escape and ultimately were the first to be thrown in the cage again you didn’t mind as long as Gwen escaped you’d be fine.

But Truth be told the odds were very against you, but magic was always going to save you, but using it would doom you especially in front of everyone in hengists court. With the use of magic and a bloodied broken bone from the wilderins last meal made for a convenient way to murder the beast. Until another one came and Merlin and Arthur had saved you just in time From its hideous rat jaws the huge bleeding scar of its teeth in your arm made you detest the stench of blood and earth.

That was probably the worst experience of your life until now. And the scar from the wilderins teeth was still healing but the physical scars meant nothing the torture of being in a cell that smells the same as this dungeon was the worst that and the feeling of knowing your life is going to end were probably the most humbling experiences.

But, the only saving grace was that night in camp where Arthur had taken it upon himself to patch up your wilderin wound (poorly might you add as a physician it was odd to let the only man with very little experience patching someone up, patch you up.)

But you let him anyway and Arthur’s hands held your arm with feather light touches the needle threaded through your flesh with clumsy fingers the stiching off centre and rough around the edges but it was Arthur’s way of telling you he cared, the silk thread slid easily through your flesh but it pained you every stitch Arthur was no physician but he was trying.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And Gwen told me when they questioned you about any secrets of Camelot you never cracked.”

“never Camelot is my home.” You smiled at the prince but your attempt at reassurance failed miserably and he ducked his head

“I wish you, cracked. Then they wouldn’t have given you that.” Arthur pointed to the growing black eye rapidly swelling over your left eye a bruise you got for refusing to rat out any information on when guards were on duty, the way to the Camelot armory or anything you overheard as a physician from any loose lipped clients.

“I am not weak Arthur. I can deal with a black eye and brutish men. I’ve been sparring with you and the knights for years” Your eyes pointed angrily at the boy crossing your arms over your chest despite the half finished stitching feeling the half sewn wound twist painful as you did so but you hid the pain to appear strong something you’ve done since you were young

“I never said that! But you- you aren’t weak. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” Arthur’s blue eyes bore into yours with such an intensity his eyes flashing from your lips to your eyes his hand cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips softly against yours shock prevented you from kissing back as the blonde went to pull away you chased his lips kissing him back with feverish passion.

“I love you Arthur.” You rested your head against his the exhaustion of the day catching up to you he didn’t say it back but you didn’t care he just had to know.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The memory of Arthur made you feel loved it kept you strong, hit after hit, once against your ribs twice against your face, four times against your legs and once more against your face with enough force to split your lip licking the blood that dripped from your lip your bruised body heaved in pain and still you never cracked.

“Come on miss l/n, just tell me two little names and all this can stop”

“You’re deluded.” You sneered before spitting a wad of blood into the witchfinders face smiling gleefully when your blood tinged spit stained his face but the glee was short lived when the man had sent a quick hit to your chest stealing the air from your lungs.

Before he grabbed a tool with a screw and roughly pulled your thumb into it “you will tell me miss y/n what your intentions are with the prince and with Camelot or I will force it out of you.”

The witchfinder shredded his coat as he leaned over you tightening the screw into your thumb the pressure of the screw against your finger had you squirming in your seat as he tightened the contraption more and more

“All you need to do is confess your accomplices. And this will stop.” His voice echoed the room but the feeling of a sharp screw drilling into your finger tighter and tighter puncturing the nail and skin the pain otherworldly and unbearable you tried to hold your scream back but when the man still did not relent and instead tightened the thumb screw you let out your blood curdling scream.

“WHO! Are! Your! Accomplices!” His voice yelled now as he tightened more and more gut wrenching screams ripped from your throat you would let yourself scream, let yourself cry but you would not tell him a thing.

The crushing feeling of your thumb bones breaking made your heart beat incredibly fast your other ironed hand gripped the table with force your nails digging into the wood

He still tightened the screw and by the loud haunting screams that ripped from you and the smile on the witchfinders face he enjoyed your pain you couldn’t help the salty tears and horrible screams the pain unbearable and overcoming your sense but still your mouth locked on any information like a vault.

“Come on!” His voice boomed as his hands squeezed your bicep his eyes crazed as he watched you

“Fuck you!” You screamed eyes red with tears and fighting the approaching darkness in the corner of your vision

“Aredian, sir. The king has called a meeting and requires your presence.” The servant at the cell door had spoken quietly to the witchfinder nervous in his presence

The witchfinder sighed straightening his posture rolled his eyes and moved close to your ear “no matter, miss l/n. The lady morgana, and Merlin will burn with you soon”

Your heart dropped and you struggled against the restraints the excruciating pain from your finger and the rest of your beaten body the pain in your ribs alluded you to the potential broken bones it caused your panicked shouts to echoed through the dungeon and the witchfinders laugh filled the room

“No! Aredian stop.” You cried to his retreating figure “I’ll confess to the use of sorcery if. And only if, you spare Merlin and morgana.” Your eyes close in defeat

“Good choice, miss y/n. take her to her cell.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

And there you were again cut off from anyone and anything unsure if Merlin would be able to prove you innocent, or if he’d burn with you, or if Arthur still even cared the woman he was courting was about to be executed and had just withstood torture. Hengist was bad but he never had broken your bones or tortured you only tried to feed you to wilderin.

The pain in your thumb had dulled but the bleeding hole had still gushed the measly bandage that consider of your dress did barely anything to stop the bleeding and the iron cells mixed with the torture made your magic virtually ineffective making you unable to fully heal your wounds only dulling the pain of your thumb.

your time was running out and you were truly alone in the cells your connection to Merlin via your druid telepathy was proving useless he wouldn’t respond you couldn’t warn him of the witch finder and by the shine of the moon in your cell you only had hours left.

There is already a funeral pyre with your name on it in the court yard. You couldn’t help the tears that slipped down your cheeks you didn’t want to die not like this and a prison break wasn’t even on your mind they’d just kill Merlin and gaius in your absence there was no way out. and the crushing guilt of something you cannot change began to pound against your skull. Were you born wrong?

Was it wrong to have this magic? This power that has saved those you’ve loved for years why was it seen as inherently evil? Why were you seen as inherently evil? All you wanted was your friends to be safe.

And between the pain that debilitated you from the physical blows to the broken bones in your thumb and the emotional pain of Arthur most likely hating you made you want to just give up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried the stupid scent of blood, earth, and straw polluted your nose. And you found yourself thinking about how lucky Gwen had been to have Lancelot visit her cell in hengists kingdom determined to break her and by extension yourself out.

You had Merlin in your court but you still wished you had someone to hold your hand through the vent even if it was the last thing you’d ever do you didn’t want to die alone.

“Y/n” you heard whispered from the doors of your cell “Arthur?” You called confusion lacing your voice as your red rimmed eyes met Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but run to the cell door resting your head on the bars sobbing in relief at the sight of him the pain from your body put on the back burner for a moment.

“What happened?” Guilt filled Arthur’s heart at the sight of you, your eye healing from your previous beating and now the sight of your bloodied broken thumb and bruised body Arthur saw red.

He felt betrayed at the revelation of your magic of course but he understood why you had kept it a secret and if Arthur had been paying more attention he would have seen it plain as day when you were kids.

Your magic was obvious since childhood Arthur was too blind to see it.

“I know” was all he said eyes stoney and voice unwavering “I know you have magic the witch finder is right.”

Any hope that bubbles in your chest died with his words “Arthur I- i can explain” You tried shaking your head lacing your uninjured hand in his through the cell pleased when he didn’t pull away

“Shhh Merlin told me everything, everything you’ve ever done to save me. Save everyone. I understand why you did what you did.” Arthur spoke lowly his eyes staring into yours trying to convey his apology

“Merlin has come up with a plan to save you, he’s doing it right now but I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret. I can’t stay for long but- but y/n I love you.” Arthur spoke with all the love he could muster placing a chaste kiss on your lips through the cell

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I was afraid of my father I am supposed to be king one day to marry someone of noble blood, but I don’t want that. I want you.” Arthur’s voice is quiet as he confesses he wants to spend the rest of your lives together

“I want nothing more.” You felt like crying he still wanted you, magic and all.

“Arthur, I was so scared.” You felt so exhausted from the torture to the ticking clock you couldn’t help but cry

“Shh” Arthur’s fingers ghosted over the skin of your cheeks wiping your tears. “We will prove your innocence, I’ll keep your secret. I promise you.”

Arthur placed a kiss on your lips once more pressing a necklace with his ring into your hand before promising Merlin has everything under control.

With your heart a bit lighter you finally sat down on the hard cell bed clutching Arthur’s ring in your hand you let sleep overtake your body trusting that Merlin will save you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When the bright light of the sun shines through your cell window today is the day you are supposed to die, and part of your questioned if you dreamt Arthur’s presence to save your sanity but by the slight pressure of his ring on a chain in your hand reassured your beating heart.

You were not dreaming, Arthur loves you and Merlin just spent last night trying to save you but there’s still a ticking time bomb of the noon execution and by the switch shift of the guards it was almost 12

Time was ticking and still there was no sign of Merlin you felt sick like your heart was going to fall out of your stomach

You prayed to whatever god or deity was out there that you would not burn today but by the size of the growing crowd outside the cell window your prayers would go unanswered there was nothing you could do but just sit there in anxiety

The rattling of keys and heavy sound of chainmail made you accept the fact that Merlin would be too late to save you and Arthur would watch you burn

When the knight reached your cell his keys turned the lock and he walked towards you slowly your eyes met the floor the pain in your thumb still debilitating but you held Arthur’s ring in your hands tightly if you were to burn your burn knowing you were loved.

To your surprise when the knight takes you by the wrist silver key in hand as he unlocks your handcuffs

Confusion takes over your face as you watch the knight with intensity “what?” You can’t help but ask rubbing your now freed wrist nervous when he takes your injured hand but this knight grips your hand with gentleness that’s beyond you

“You’re free to go miss” the knight smiles he looked to be a newer knight of Camelot one you didn’t grow up with but he is kind

“Thank you” you nod to the knight as you stumble from your cell gauis is standing at the end of the hallway white as a ghost but pleased to see you freed from your cell

“Y/n!” Gauis smiles opening his arms and you can’t help but fall into them holding onto gauis tightly your sobs wet his shirt shoulder

“Gauis how did you do it? How did you prove me to be innocent?” You cry your hands shaking and body weak from days spent eating little food and dealing with aredians torture.

“It was all Merlin and Arthur.” The old man smiles his arms supporting you as you walk up the stairs from the dungeons to your chambers

“Tell me everything.”you smile at the old man walking side by side down the corridor gauis’s laugh fills the empty hallway

“Not here, let’s get your wounds treated.” His eyes glance at the bruises littering your body, and the bloodied thumb

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had never been so happy to see your chambers in your life, the comforting smell of herbs and bread the familiar scent of old books and the sound of your boots against the stone floor sounded like music to your ears

There’s no scent of wet earth, or blood aside from the metallic smell emanating from your finger you could almost forget the pain of the cells now that you’re back.

But there’s still very obviously signs of damage done by the witch finders raid broken pots, damaged shelves potions and poisons leaving residue on the floor

But still it is your home. gauis filled a pitcher of water and fills a cup for you and once the water passes your lips you come to realise just how parched you were gulping down glass after glass

gauis busied himself with fixing his work station pulling ointment after ointment and an array of bandages from his kit.

“Sit please” gauis pointed to the table and you sat yourself on the wooden bench gauis had begun to take your makeshift bandage from your wound the gaping hole in your thumb and the blood that spurted from your wound made gauis’s breathing hitch

As he gentle distributed ointment over the wound to fight off growing infections and bandaging up the wound with a fresh bandage Merlin would work on reconstructing your thumb when he gets back

Gauis had felt over your ribs and when he had found another break Merlin would be healing that too for now gauis would sit beside you on the dining room table fresh food would be laid out gauis knew what it was like in the Camelot dungeons and the lack of food

So he didn’t comment on how much you ate when approaching footsteps made your heart beat faster and your eyes flicker to gauis his hand rested on top of yours to reassure you, gauis and Merlin would always reassure you you were safe here you weren’t trapped in the cells of your own home.

When Merlin’s figure found himself in the doorway you could see the relief on his face that you were okay aside from the bruises and bandaged thumb you were alive.

“Oh y/n” Merlin’s soft voice cried and before you knew it you were pushing up off of the table and running into Merlin’s arms

“Hi Merlin” you held him tightly you owed Merlin your life and so being in his hold meant being safe, he would never hurt you.

“God I’m so glad you’re back” his hold tightened and he could feel your magic strong and your connection to eachother he wasn’t cut off from you anymore

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.” Merlin’s guilt ate him alive as he pulled away the black eye and split lip made him see red if he didn’t already kill aredian by accident he would have and he would have made him go through what you did.

Merlin’s eyes flashed yellow and the unbearable ache in your thumb and pulsing pain all over ebbed into nothingness.

You could feel your bones reassembling in your thumb and your broken rib fuse back together the pain and bruises once a bright purple colour would dissipate into a light blue and then would turn into the colour of your skin again.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You squeezed his hand tightly he nodded his head and held you tightly in his arms

Before a smile broke out on his face “do you want to hear how I proved aredian to be a fraud?” Merlin helped you sit beside him and poured another glass of water for you

“Of course!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After Merlin had recounted the entire night from convincing Arthur of everything, that despite your magic you loved him with no enchantment and even if you had enchanted him Merlin asked Arthur point blank if what he told him that day you were cuddled in Arthur’s arms if it was still true, if he still loved you.

Arthur told Merlin he would always love you but he couldn’t trust you now with magic Merlin felt like slapping the prince.

How could you trust Arthur? He’s the prince of Camelot. A kingdom that tried to burn a woman at the stake the first day he arrived and you had grown up here watching that and still you treated its citizens and royalty with no malice?

Merlin understood why you couldn’t trust Arthur he can’t. Not because Arthur was a bad friend but he’s the prince.

No one can help how they are born, but you can put yourself in their shoes and Merlin spent hours convincing Arthur and then more hours enchanting aredian.

From the tincture of belladonna, to the bracelet, to even the frog from aredians throat! Merlin would not fail.

You loved Merlin a lot no one would go as far as he did to save you and you only knew him for a year and a half.

When three knocks sounded on the door Merlin had tried to hide his smile as gauis opened the door to Arthur, in a white shirt freshly showered hair and a Bouquet of wildflowers you felt your heart melt at his kindness

His blue eyes were filled with worry and fear his gaze flicking to gauis and Merlin before he lowered his voice “how are you?”

“Much better now I’m out of that god forsaken cell.” You felt your throat close up at the mention of the cell you spent so long in

Arthur felt guilty about his actions about not saving you or stopping his father. He tried but he could have tried harder

You could see Arthur was drowning in his guilt placing your hand on his shoulder you lead him past gauis and Merlin to your room and sat on your small bed

“You tried your hardest Arthur, it’s not your fault I was thrown in the dungeons.”

“I should have stopped them y/n. I should have broken you out I should have done anything!” Arthur blinked through tears

His hand holding yours in your lap, “Arthur I love you with my whole heart I do not blame you, so please do not blame yourself.”

“I love you and I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.” Arthur confessed his eyes full of sincere love

You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him your lips meshing against one another’s felt like home, it felt like love and warmth and like an apology all in one.

It wasn’t until your lungs burnt for air did you pull back. “I should go I don’t want anyone to become suspicious, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked tentatively a part of him afraid of rejection.

“Of course” you placed another kiss on his lip before pulling open your chamber door to reveal Merlin and gauis on the other side ears pressed against the wood looking guilty.

“Merlin…gauis what do you think you’re doing?” You chastise at the pair you expected this of Merlin but of gauis? That was surprising

“Gauis i expected better of you” Arthur laughed from where he stood wrapping an arm around your shoulder

[lacybunie]

your sweetheart

“why do you look so scared?”

pairing: afab!reader x leon kennedy

warnings: smut, dark content (not dead dove (i think)), established toxic relationship, degrading, suicidal thoughts, implied forced self-harm, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, possessive behavior, praising, semi-soft sex, pet names, tummy bulge, slight strength kink, unprotected sex, biting, ooc leon, he’s crazy

note: you can use any leon for this!

there’s two sides of being in love: being in love and being loved. you always blushed at the hopeful future that you’ll be with the man of your everlasting dreams. a picture of him in a heart locket, your things in his bathroom drawers, knowing how he likes his coffee, his favorite scents, building a domestic life together. although two other men have ever been with you, you were sure this man was special. since by the second date, you were already planning out a wedding.

but leon couldn’t have been the man of your dreams if he was a nightmare in your life. bitter kisses and rough touches are embroidered into your skin that it’s hard to believe that this is the same man who laughed at all your jokes and fake proposed to you with a candy ring. almost two years of agony-filled tears and broken belongings, yet you can not bring yourself to break away from him. maybe the toxicity is what you like. maybe you’re the reason why he’s yelling at you right now.

“you’ll never find someone better than me.” leon spits, grabbing your face with such anger that he could break your jaw if he really hated you. you peer up at him through glassy eyes, tears dried up, and lips cherry bruised. “there’s nobody else for you.” leon manages to still look so divine when he speaks to you like this, star colored hair covering his sapphire eyes just enough for them to peak through. the warm lighting of the kitchen brings out his soft features that pathetically make you swoon.

“i love you.” you whisper, feeling your heart pounding painfully harder and harder as leon stays silent. his grip on your face leaves as his lips tug into a grin, tongue between his canines. “of course you do.” leon gloats as if he’s won the lottery, intertwining his hand with the handle of the kitchen knife residing in the wooden cube. the food you made for dinner is threatening to come back up when leon waves the knife in front of you. “don’t please.” you plead softly as the blood pumping in your veins becomes ice cold.

“think i’m gonna hurt you?” leon breathes lowly, getting closer to your weak form. your doe eyes take in the way his eyes glimmer with amusement, a smirk finding its home on his lips, he’s clearly basking in this. “no.” you mumble, swallowing dry saliva when the tip of the knife brushes against your neck. you don’t think, you know he would but he chooses not to. “i could kill you.” leon hums, dragging the knife across your forearm before letting it linger on your wrist. his eyes capture yours, a faint flame flickering behind them. free falling down to the concrete pavement would be more peaceful than this.

“you could kill me.” he suggests, forcing the handle of the knife into your hand. you shake your head, stomach eating itself when leon leads your hand to his chest. “you’d like that.” “i wouldn’t.” “don’t fucking lie.” he spews as if you’re the one who said it. lips tremble in frustration as you cannot comprehend what leon is doing, you don’t even know how it all went wrong ten minutes ago. how washing dishes together suddenly became leon degrading you, threatening you. the pitter-patter of rain against the roof is the only thing keeping you from vomiting, and leon yelling at you for doing so.

“would you die for me?” leon questions, closing the gap between you two, the knife quickly withdrawing to your side. the warmth of his body radiates to you, making hell seem cold. your eyebrows knit together at his words, why would he ask that? “i’d do anything for you but-” “i want you to die for me.” leon interrupts you with a exasperated tone. your hands shake as tears welled up in your exhausted eyes, you just want to go to bed. you carefully place the knife on the kitchen island, unsure of what to do as leon’s eyes bore into yours.

“leon, can i please get ready for bed?” you sigh, wiping at the tears barely escaping your eyes. the echo of thunder booms throughout the apartment causing the atmosphere to be more daunting. a scoff leaves leon’s mouth, his jaw tightening at your response. you pissed him off. “hate me so much that you can’t answer a simple question.” leon sneers with venom on his tongue. his stature towers yours, your gut churns at the feeling of being so weak. runny eyes divert down to your ruffled baby pink socks, they’ve never seemed more interesting.

“your question is stupid.” you mutter under your breath before your jaw is gripped once more as leon forces you to look up at him. the blue hues swirling in his eyes are dark and cold, matching the storm outside. bones ache at the posture leon holds you in, he can snap your neck if he pulled back just a tiny bit further. “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” leon’s words cut through your head and pierce your brain. the tears you cry match the pace of the rain knocking at the windows. “i’m so sorry, leon. i’ll die for you, i’ll do anything for you! please let me go to bed.” you’re so pathetic.

“is that so?” “yes! please!” you cry into his palm, looking up at him and hoping he has mercy on your damaged soul. leon’s eyes glance at the kitchen island as a smirk slowly finds its way on his pink lips. relief hugs you when he finally lets you go, your shaky hands rub the tender skin of your jaw. of course he doesn’t let you leave yet, of course he doesn’t let you go find peace in the one place where you’re the most safe. “carve my name into your wrist.” leon says so nonchalantly that you think he’s almost joking. the kitchen knife is placed back into your hand, you’re so dumbfounded that you stare back at yourself in the blade’s reflection.

“what?” you exhale out, ridding yourself of the fear from seconds ago only to breathe it back in. the blue-black eyes looking back at you are unrecognizable. “i’ll do anything for you!” leon mocks, you want to vomit. you want to scream and rip your hair out, you want to jab the knife into your heart instead. death would be much more blissful than being here right now. “i don’t want to do this, leon.” “i’ll do it for you.” leon threatens, his warm hands grab at your wrist but you quickly step back to get them off you. “i’ll do it.” your voice is barely audible, your mouth becomes dry when you shakily place the blade onto your wrist. what are you doing? “just four letters and you’ll go to bed.”

leon’s educated hands carefully bandage up your wounded wrist. your face rests in his chest, slowly breathing in the scent of vanilla. “you did so great.” leon smiles before placing tender kisses upon the white fabric covering your arm. the numbness drowning your body is blocking any feeling, including your thoughts. you’re surprised you didn’t cut a vein. you wished you did. “you’re so mean to me, leon.” you whisper, eyes blurring in and out from drowsiness. why couldn’t he be nicer to you? why couldn’t he leave you alone? why can’t you quit him?

“i’m not mean to you, doll. i wouldn’t be doing this if i didn’t care about you.” leon reassures you with eyes shining like blue akoya pearls. your mouth can’t get any words out when the cologne lingering on his skin has your stomach in knots, reminding you that you’re the one who bought it for him on his birthday. he gives you the same wry smile that was on his lips that day. maybe you’re the mean one. maybe this is all your fault. “you would’ve killed yourself if it wasn’t for me.” he’s right, you would’ve bled out on the pearlescent tiled kitchen and suffer a painful death if he didn’t care. there’s a sharp pain in your head that has you wondering if this is all just a horrible nightmare.

needles prickle into your sore body as leon carefully picks you up, you catch your reflection in the mirror for a spilt second. eyes puffy and skin pale, drained. before you can react, you’re in sweet relief when the comfort of leon’s bed engulfs you. “such a gorgeous girl, how did i get so lucky?” leon hums as his eyes link with yours, affection glosses over the blue. the dim lighting illuminating this somber room, accompanied by the rain outside, is enough to lure you to sleep. the blur in your eyes goes dark for just a moment as your slumber takes over. yet you can’t seem to rest with the way leon is soothing the skin of your thighs. your cunt is throbbing.

“take it off please.” you whimper, gesturing to the blood stained dress hugging your figure. your body trembles as the cotton fabric is slowly ripped away, leon’s hands tenderly kneading warmth into your cold flesh. dark eyes locked onto your lips with each soft gasp you make, observing how you react to the gentle touches to your thighs. the fuzziness in your stomach heats gradually, just enough for your panties to get damper. leon’s fingers stray away from the thin silk covering where you need him most. your thighs rub together as you whine. “what do you want, hm?” his voice is an octave lower, raspy. he wants you just as much.

the echos of thunder are as loud as your pounding heart when you grasp leon’s hand, leading it to your cunt. a tongue in cheek smirk is hazy in your vision when leon hovers over your frame. “c’mon sweet girl, use your words. don’t get shy now.” his voice is sugary water for your dry throat, the want is burning you alive. lips impatiently connect with his in a desperate attempt for leon to stop stalling and fuck you right there. a gasp is caught in your chest when his fingers harshly rub your covered clit before pulling away from your blushed lips. the thumps of your heart rings in your ears.

“i want you to fuck me.” you mutter with a mouth full of cotton, running a hand over his chest and under his tightly-fitted shirt. the precum sticking to your panties is soaking the fabric as your fingers trace over leon’s toned stomach. “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight.” leon smiles while kissing your cheek. his mouth finds solace in your neck, sucking pinks into your skin. “i need you.” the smirk he makes against your neck gives you whiplash. he can probably feel your racing heart pulse against his lips.

leon swiftly takes off his shirt, scattered scars compliment his sculpted build so well that you feel nauseous with desire. “i need you more, baby.” he cooed. his lips find yours again, the taste of mint coats your tongue. you like the way he kisses you, as if your lips are a blaze that he needs to warm up. leon’s hands make quick work of your panties, nudging his knee in between your thighs which has you grinding on his leg. “dirty girl.” he breathes out. the friction is not enough for your soppy cunt, needing more, needing his cock to relieve you. you want him to break you open, to ease the pain he put you through moments ago.

the crackle of lightning illuminates the room in blue, combating the blue in leon’s eyes. hands shake ever so slightly as you impatiently unbuckle his belt, your wrist is on fire when the metal buckle grazes against the bandage. “you’re gonna hurt yourself.” leon warns, replacing your hands with his. you suppress a moan once leon finally rids himself of his jeans, his cock slapping against his abdomen as he shoves his boxers off. you’re salivating like a starved animal at the sight, the tip of his cock shines with precum. death couldn’t be more blissful than leon.

“you look so cute like this, your body begging f’me.” leon smirks, rubbing the tip of his cock on your clit. the moans vibrating through your throat almost hurts. you’re fiending for him, weeping for him, you could cum at the thought of him fucking you. there’s a hand caressing your cheek, breaking you out of your hypnotic state. leon looks at you with infatuation, or lust, you can never differentiate the two. you do know both looks has your heart bursting. “i love you.” “i know.” he kisses the apple of your cheeks as his cock stretches you out, the air in your lungs exits out in broken whimpers and moans.

leon hides his face in the crook of your bruised neck, his hips slowly snapping against yours. fingertips trace the scars etched into his back, creating new ones as your nails break his skin when the curve of his cock hits your cervix so sweetly. the rhythm he keeps up is enough to make you dizzy. the low moans eliciting from his lips are intoxicating, you grow wetter at the sound. “love this tight pussy, so perfect.” his teeth bite into your shoulder, lapping at the irritated skin with his tongue. you think you see god when the repeated thrusts and bites to your skin is twisting the coil in your stomach in knots.

leon’s hands grip your hips as your cunt tightens around his cock, the loudest spark of lightning hits your ears when leon presses a hand down your lower abdomen. you think you’ve lost it at the feeling of leon’s cock rubbing against his hand, against your stomach. your hand reaches down to feel him and god, you want to cum so badly. “harder, please.” you moan out, chest heavy at the feeling of him splitting you open. his head rests up against yours, eyes searching your tear stained face as his thrusts become harsh. a stray tear cascades down your cheek at the sudden change yet you’re still pathetically moaning out leon’s name.

“greedy little thing you are.” leon groans as he catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. you’re sharing moans in between breaths as leon relentlessly buries himself into your cunt, his fingers finding their place on your clit. the smell of sex and mercury blending into the sounds of skin against skin and thunder makes the pounding in your head almost pierce your ears. you feel faint, like the ecstasy you’re receiving is too much for your body. legs wrap around leon’s hips in an attempt to get him closer to you, his chest is sweaty against yours. hearts beating in sync, both racing erratically.

the overwhelming desire flowing throughout your veins is lethal, an overdose of leon. your chest heaves as you try to gather your surroundings as leon fucks you as if you’re everything yet nothing. there’s tears on the brink of pouring out of your itchy eyes but you hold them back. you wonder what leon is thinking, if he’s overdosing on you as well or if he’s thinking about getting off. “fuck, keep squeezing my cock like that.” he moans, biting the flesh of your neck.

the fuzziness in your stomach is too much to bear when leon’s cock abuses your gummy walls repeatedly. you can’t feel your face, your body, just leon. fingers tug at his hair which earns a grunt from his lips as his own fingers messily rub at your clit. the whines drawing out from you are pitiful, letting leon know you’re about to break. but he knew that before the whines left your mouth, the way your desperate cunt is gripping around him is enough to make anybody get the hint. “cum on my cock, sweetheart. can you do that f’me?”

the nails clawing at leon’s back sink into his flesh as your orgasm crashes into your body. mouth agape yet nothing comes out, eyes screwed shut, back arching off the soft mattress, legs shaking at the intensity. “there you go, baby.” leon praises, kissing you gently as he continues to fuck your cunt. you hold his face as if he’s the only thing keeping you from blacking out. “i love you.” you confess for the umpteenth time as you’re gasping for air, heart punching itself out of your chest. leon weakly smiles, muttering something incoherent against your lips before pulling his cock out of your bruised cunt, cumming on your stomach and thighs with the sweetest moan.

leon’s body collapses on top of yours, exhaustion consuming you as you come down from the euphoric high. the sound of leon breathing and the soft knocks of rain at the window are a lullaby for your depleted mind. the colors of warm white and blue are blurred as your eyes struggle to stay open. a sting in your arm pulls you back into consciousness. you wince at the feeling. eyes drift to look over at your bandage wrist. leon’s hand is gripped around your injury, squeezing with such strength that reminds you that he could break you if he really hated you. you almost forgot why there’s four letters carved in your wrist, why your mind is exhausted from crying, why you got fucked so lovingly yet so resentfully.

a giddy smile hurts your cheeks as leon suffocates you with peppered kisses around your face. “let’s get you ready for bed.” leon says on your damp skin, his hand leaving his name on your wrist.

[forgottenarthur]

aria/arthur "i did this for you. no one else."

ooc: so, as you know, ive been saying for awhile that amira'll poison arthur after the tournament to punish him for showing up edmund (will she tell edmund she did this? did it ~for him? nope!). this is the result i spun for the poison generator (note: amira didn't have to purchase said plant from the black market bc she def grew it herself oops amira: 'i ~am the black market' jk jk):

(don't ask me why it looks like that -- idk either)

also looked up hypothermia symptoms and we get a fun lil cocktail of the following:

Mild Hypothermia (32-35°C / 90-95°F): 

Shivering (unless energy stores are depleted)

Confusion, impaired judgment, and slurred speech

Increased heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration

Shortness of breath

Fatigue

Pale and dry skin

Nausea

Possible memory loss

Loss of fine motor skills

Dizzyness

Moderate Hypothermia (28-32°C / 82-90°F): 

Cognitive decline

Lethargy

CNS depression (reduced reflexes, dilated pupils)

Hyporeflexia (reduced reflexes)

Hypotension (low blood pressure)

Bradycardia (slow heart rate)

Bradypnea (slow breathing)

Shivering may stop

Paradoxical undressing (removing clothes due to confusion)

Susceptibility to dysrhythmias (irregular heartbeats)

Severe Hypothermia (Below 28°C / 82°F): 

Unresponsiveness or coma

Difficulty breathing

Abnormal heart rhythms

Very cold skin

Slow, weak pulse

Low blood pressure

Possible cessation of shivering

Loss of consciousness

In infants, bright red, cold skin and low energy

Other Symptoms: 

Clumsiness or lack of coordination

Sleepiness or drowsiness

Fumbling hands

Slowed or shallow breathing

Weak pulse

Behavioral changes (confusion, unusual aggression)

Apathy

Hallucinations or euphoria (in some cases)

sounds like a great time for arthur thanks amira! #bestmomaward lkadsjfjsd

------

He didn't know how he had come to be here. Or where he was. The corridor was dark here; raging blurry-bright every so often, and he put his hand to his face, groaned. Stumbled. Hissed as his shoulder hit the wall. Cold. So cold, it burned. He recoiled. Stumbled again. He was shaking, sluggish. Nausea rose like a veil over his senses, dizzying and sharp.

"Blah-" he frowned. Stumbled. He hadn't quite meant to say that. Blast. He'd meant to say that. He shook his head. Stopped. Where was he going? God, it was cold, it was so cold. He didn't know when he'd last felt so cold. Had he ever felt so cold?

Aine was screaming. Her fires licked the rafters, her shrieks reverberated there. Kil-kennar was burning. Everywhere they rose in riot, their spears and swords and cries all stabbing at him. Everything burned. "Help us!" they shrieked from the flames, piteous horror-garbled sounds. The air stank with fire and blood. They were all burning. "Help us!"

He staggered forward. He tripped. His hand hit the wall; his knees the stone floor. Burning ice. He recoiled. God, they were everywhere screaming. He struggled to his feet. He had to climb. Their shrieks were in the rafters. He had to make it to the stop of the tower. He had to save them.

Moans and flames and screams wreathed the air, shrieked at his ears. Everywhere they pled with him. Everywhere they scrambled and fought. Riot and fire. Everywhere, they were burning. But the heat was cold, horrifically cold. He hardly had the strength to go on. He couldn't stop. "Help us! Help us!" they sobbed. "Don't do this to us! Don't let us die this way! Don't do this to us!"

But his father bellowed, too. "You're no son of mine!"

His voice tore and tangled with theirs and he was there, too, heedless of the flames, even as they engulfed him, women and children at his feet holding one another as the flames crept closer.

Arthur couldn't get there. He could stop it. They shrieked in his ears. They burned.

"STOP!" Arthur screamed. "Please--please, stop!" He was weeping, gasping, trembling almost too hard to stand but he couldn't stop. He had to get to them. He had to save them.

Aine was screaming, screaming, endlessly screaming. "My fath--" he shook his head sharply. "Put her to the tor--" he stumbled again, overcorrected, stumbled back, rocked forward again. "Nah my son. I--Couldn't--I--God," he begged. "Why? Why this?"

"What's going on? What're you doing here?"

Arthur jumped at the voice. He turned, no, tried to turn. Sluggish feet hardly moved. He shivered violently. He could hardly move for trembling.

"Are--" the voice hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"Wheere--" He put his hand to his brow, again, as if he could steady himself. "Um--"

"Arthur?" Another voice, more familiar. Quick steps and someone was at his side. He knew her voice but he couldn't remember from where. Perhaps the sky was speaking to him, he thought.

Something hot took his arm. Surprised, he stumbled away, hit the wall again. Burning cold. He jerked away with a cry.

"You're scaring me. What's going on?"

"Fir--mm--fires, Kil-ka--fire--" he said the last part very carefully. "I--saw..."

"All right," the voice whispered to herself. "You're not well, Arthur. Please. Please come with me."

He shook his head. "I haff--I haff to--"

"You have to come with me." The voice was authoritative, and the voice was close. He could see her now, moss-dark eyes finding his.

"Can't--"

"I know how to deal with the fire. I know how to save Kil-kennar. But you have to come with me."

He relented. "I feel--"

"Terrible?" She nodded, gently twined her arms around his. He gasped. The heat of her arms was a balm. "I can tell. You're shaking like a reed." She was warm, so blessedly warm. He leaned closer. She put her arm around him. She gasped. "You're so cold!"

"You're--so warm..." He pulled her closer.

He was lying down. He was blinking at the skies, stars wheeling sickeningly overhead. He tugged at his blankets. Pushed them away.

"Arthur, drink this." His mother's voice. A chalice floated before his eyes, silver and shining as if a fire burned within it.

"The stars--" he muttered, and tried to pull the covers over his head. He couldn't look at them. They were laughing at him. Aria was always laughing at him, really. Laughing just behind her eyes. Somehow, though, somehow he didn't really mind when she laughed. He didn't mind...

"That's just the ceiling, Arthur."

"Tell the--tell them--"

"Arthur. Drink this."

The chalice floated again and he reached, missed, his hand shot off towards the heavens. He thought perhaps he could grasp one of the stars, blazing in their fury. He could pull them down and he could place them amongst Aria's ebony locks. Perhaps she'd smile, then, smile at him with stars caught amongst her hair, skin aglow with silver starlight...

Something touched his lips. A warm hand tipped his head back. "Drink." Another voice, this time, demanding.

He smiled, lay back, and closed his eyes. Aria was annoyed with him. Of course she was. He drank.

"Get some rest, Your Majesty. You've been up so long. I'll sit with him."

Quiet. Then his mother's voice: "All right. But you'll let me know if anything changes. Anything at all--"

"I will, Your Majesty. Get some sleep."

He was near a fire, warm and bright. Shivering, he groped towards it.

"Arthur?" Aria's voice, again.

He opened his eyes, turned towards the voice.

"Arthur, what's happening?"

"Were walk--walking in the stars."

She leaned forward, touched his brow. Her hand was warm. He groaned.

"You told me once -- implied -- Arthur, has this, or something like it, happened to you before?"

She floated amongst the stars, a nimbus of silver light radiating from her every edge. She'd never really belonged down here amongst the creatures of earth and mud, had she? She'd always been of the heavens, shining and warm. How had he not seen it before? He reached for her, far away amongst the wind and sky. But he touched her. He blinked with confusion. He thought she'd burn him, but her cheek was soft and gently, gently, he brushed his fingers across her face.

"You have to go. But come back," he whispered, very, very slowly. He had to get the words right, though his voice was thin and reedy even in his own ears. It was his only chance. "Come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but..." he pressed his eyes shut, his exhausted arm falling back to his side. "I--I'll miss you here."

He was tired. So tired. He just wanted to sleep.

"You really don't know what's going on, do you?" Her voice was sad, far away. She was silent for a moment, yet something in her tone turned decided when she spoke again. "I can help you."

He wondered if Aria would ever come back, now that she was at home amongst the stars. He wondered if she would ever laugh with him again, or roll her eyes at him, or if he would ever see her smiles again, feel their heat, again, even if just while tilting his head towards the skies, would he ever see the gleam of the morning star shining down upon him, feel its warmth brushing his skin, and know she was looking down on him, again...He felt hollow, now, thinking this way, hollow and heart-weary. He hadn't thought, before, what it might be like with her gone. Hadn't considered how, now that she was close...she might never be, again. Was that why he felt so cold? Was it because she was gone, lost to him amongst the stars?

"I think I love her," whispered Arthur.

Silence. A long silence. Then heat. Up it washed, up and up, a warm blanket that shimmered and shone over him, a blanket of starlight glistening with quicksilver heat, like her hands passing over him. He hissed sweet relief, as if every fibre of him were thawing, waking, the pinprick heat of slumbering limbs coming back to life. He was golden, again, warm and glowing. Strength and health flowed, mingling sunlight and starlight brightened every corner of the room as if dawn, itself, burst through his whole being: joy and color and wholeness mesmerizing every cell. He breathed out, a surprised breath, almost a laugh. He'd never felt so well.

He opened his eyes, found himself staring at the familiar star-painted ceiling of his bedroom. He didn't remember going to bed, but here he was. He sat up, put his head in his hands, laughing. "What a strange dream..."

He heard a sound at his side and turned. He started. Someone sat there. A lady. "Aria?!" He coughed, pulled up his covers, suddenly all-too aware of how much he was or wasn't wearing (he realized he couldn't remember what he'd put on last night, but he could hardly check now). He cleared his throat. "That is...Lady Aria...what are you doing here? This is unseemly, I--"

"How do you feel?"

"I--" he frowned. He felt splendid, really, spectacular. He felt ready to, to fight a lion or run a race or ride into battle or leap a river or--

"Do you feel well?"

"I feel brilliant," he shook his head. "I can't think the last time I felt so grand. I--Listen, my lady, just what is going on?"

Aria smiled, eyes twinkling, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. Her smile widened and he knew that she was laughing at him from just behind her eyes.

"Endlessly entertaining as doubtless this is--"

"I'll send for your mother on my way out. She'll want to see you for herself."

"What? Why?"

"It seems that draught we gave you has been most effective."

"What draught?"

"You really don't remember?"

"I--" He remembered starlight. He remembered Aria's face aglow, with stars caught in her shining hair.

"I should go," said Aria. "Will you tell her? Will you tell her how effective that draught was? She'll be pleased."

Arthur smiled, a touch confusedly. "Well...good. Of course I'll tell her. If it'll please her. I like to see her pleased."

Aria stood from where she'd sat at the edge of his bed. She crossed to the door.

"Lady Aria--"

She stopped. She didn't turn around.

"I--I don't know exactly what's going on, I admit, but...I feel I should...thank you."

"It was nothing."

Arthur swallowed. "Was it?"

She turned to face him. Paused. "You talk in your sleep."

"I--what?" he frowned deeply, fists going to his hips, momentarily forgetting the covers.

And there it was, again. That laughing smile.

Arthur felt the corners of his own lips twitch upwards. She was laughing at him, again, and he was glad. He liked to see her pleased, too.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." She paused, looked down. "Tell Lady Eithne I hope she is well when you see her next. Good evening."

"What? Aria--"

Surprise colored her face at his familiarity, and he felt a flush heat his own face.

Sighing, he glanced up. "Look, I--" He shook his head. "I gather I was ill and you--you helped me. I know Her Majesty the Queen and-and, of course, His Majesty the Emperor will be very pleased. It was good of you to do this for them." He swallowed. "For us. It was kind, especially after...everything."

Her eyes did not laugh, now. She simply looked at him. "I did this for you. No one else."

Arthur heaved a deep breath, moved forward to his feet, tugging the covers with him. But the door was already closing. Aria was gone.

Words, strange words, floated through his mind, in his own voice: "You have to go. But come back, come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but...I--I'll miss you here." Arthur glanced away. He always missed her when she was gone.

[akutasoda]

ambrosial spices

synopsis - some opposites attract like a complimentary dish

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, more fluff, maybe ooc??, wc - 554

a/n: what is this? i don't know. new jiaoqiu scenes just got me thinking and there was someone talking about food and i immediately thought of this man-

some say opposites attract. a saying that has been repeated over and over, even by some may use to describe complementary pairs that seem oh so different yet work together perfectly. some might even say that opposites do attract but they drift away eventually, but you were confident that that wouldn't happen.

loving jiaoqiu was a task in itself. as pretty as the foxian was, he tended to be rather cunning and that didn't exactly go well with the smile that he always wore in public - it made him always seem rather shifty. rumor was that he even withdrew from his practice because of a broken heart, so gossipers among the yaoqing had a field day when your relationship with the chef became speculation.

you two were truly the definition of opposites. there was jiaoqiu who was sly and rather conceited, a chef that made redolent dishes in the means of providing healing. and then there was you, a content being that offered honeyed greetings to yaoqing residents, even helping to keep the yaoqing a pleasant place to live under merlin claws guidance.

your relationship was like adding something saccharine to a peppered dish. on the outside, it seemed the same but if you were to have a taste, one could note how the flavor subsided from a dancing flame to a simmering ember that coincided with it’s newly introduced sweetness.

and if somebody asked, you would say that jiaoqiu’s love was like a cup of warm spiced chai - the kind that usually comes very spicy but with personal preferences, can be milder and sweet. sure they may look at you weird but you knew jiaoqiu, and you knew your jiaoqiu.

you met the jiaoqiu who was a celebrated medicinal chef who was renowned for well seasoned remedies that left the patient with a piquant aftertaste for days. the one that was praised and celebrated for his skill even if he was completely insufferable sometimes - especially with patients who refused to take their medicine or complained about the spiciness of his dishes.

but you became much more acquaintanced with your jiaoqiu - the foxian who knew your food preferences like the back of his hand, even if they didn't align with his. you'd watch from the kitchen doorway - you knew how passionate he got when cooking and you most often would be shooed out of the kitchen - as he prepared a meal for you and you'd observe how he stared at the food horrified. you would witness him dramatically pinch his nose and sigh before he added a certain ingredient or two because all though, never in a thousand years, he would've imagined making such a dish, he did it for you.

jiaoqiu never complained to your face and if anything, he always still probably presented those dishes to you because he knew you liked them. sure he'd rather die than eat such a dish and he always added his preferences after he plated your meal, but nothing could take away from that smile of yours that made his day when you thanked him.

yes, you two had different preferences. yes, you two led different lives but at the end of the day, some would say that you only complimented the other perfectly, because you both knew that he wouldn't do that for anyone else.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[badslittlemuffin]

hii, I have a request for you :)

shoto x reader with atla quirk

thank u for the request!!

i took the initiative and decided airbender MWAHAHAH i honestly haven't read many shoto fics so i'm sorry if this is ooc</3

shoto x airquirk!reader, oblivious shoto, reader is utterly fed up, ooc shoot sorry, horrible quirk writing!! cringe yearning

wc: 780

Shoto was, by no means, an expert when it came to social cues.

He knew that, and came to live with being utterly confused when anybody hinted at something towards him. So, when you started to act a bit more... touchy? He had absolutely no idea. At first, you found it a little silly how oblivious he was at times, but now, you were just annoyed.

You and Shoto were in the middle of some training/sparring, as you had suggested earlier that day. At the moment, however, he was helping you with your quirk. Unlike him, you had never gotten such training when it came to your quirk when you were younger. In fact, it had been somewhat discouraged in your home. So, Shoto, being ever so kind, was helping you with controlling larger and quicker winds.

He stood to the side of you, large flames erupting from his left side as he instructed you to try to put out the flames using your wind. You stood for a moment, building up as much force as you could, and forcing the current of air to explode—but only managing to set out a small portion of his fire.

You groan in annoyance, flopping dramatically onto the floor. His duel-colored eyes widen in concern, and he rushes over to you, dropping to his knees. "Are you alright?" His voice is deep and steady. You nod, a small snort escaping your lips. "Yeah, just... frustrated that no matter how hard I try, I just can't get enough wind to listen to me." You run your sweaty hands through your hair, irritation evident on your face.

His expression morphs into one of understanding as he moves to sit beside you. It's quiet for a moment, his eyes staring at a wall, presumably in deep thought. "You think of the wind as if it's something that cannot move on its own, that you need to control its every move," he says, his gaze moving to you. "But air and the wind move on their own. You are simply its guidance."

You soak in his words for a moment, glancing up at him. He smiles gently, moving to stand. "Would you like to try again?" You nod, taking his outstretched hand. He moves back to where he stood previously, flames erupting from his side once more.

You close your eyes, concentrating on the movement of the air surrounding you. Gradually, you begin to accelerate the currents of the wind, visualizing a path narrowing as the air rushes forward, extinguishing his fire. Shoto turns to you, a rare grin spreading across his lips. "See?"

You grin, nodding. His right side starts to frost up, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Want to try with my ice?" You feign exasperation, before nodding. A thin wall of ice bursts from his side, and you concentrate, attempting to follow your same movements from earlier but only managing to break off some of the thinnest parts at the top.

Shoto notices your struggle, walking up beside you. He places his hand on your waist, his body so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "Relax...you're thinking too much about it..." He mumbles, his voice low, sending a small shiver down your spine. Did he realize how...intimate this was? Or was he that oblivious?

You attempt once more, but it proves difficult to concentrate with the closeness of his body. The air you manage to control this time is much weaker, and he notices. "What's wrong?" He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. You take a deep, stuttering breath, your eyes darting up to his. He was so close.

His gaze is warm, his touch gentle. Your focus is suddenly trained on him alone. "I..." Words die in your throat before you can even think to utter them. His breath felt closer now. You reddened at the closeness, and he noticed. You saw the hint of a smirk tug at his lips, which only made you blush harder, the tips of your ears feeling hot.

Before you can think of something to say, his lips are on yours. Your eyes slam shut, your body melting into his touch, hands on his shoulders. The kiss is uncertain, and oh so gentle. His whole body is warm, you realize, your body tingling at the sensation of it all.

He pulls away slowly, his bright eyes fluttering open. "Sorry, I should have asked first..." He mumbles, his face red. You snort, "It's okay...trust me." He smiles nervously.

So maybe he was a little oblivious, but he got it eventually. That was all you could ask for.

i lowkey didnt know what to do with this but I hope you like it anyway :')

[xx-riffraff-xx]

𓇼 ~ The Sea Swallowed Him Whole ~ 𓇼

premise; It's the anniversary of Lemuria's fall. Rafayel isn't handling it well. Companion piece to 'Forsaken Treasures of the Sea.'

warnings; suicidal ideation, kind of suicide attempt, heavy angst, hurt/some comfort, bittersweet ending, VERY sad, potentially OOC, timeline inaccuracies, drowning or hope of drowning, attempt at symbolism. neither you nor rafayel are harmed long-term or die.

a/n; once again, i have no idea where this monster came from. my brain told me "hurt fishboy." and i said "okay guess we're hurting fishboy now." might wanna prepare the tissues. hope you enjoy!

Rafayel is on the beach again. Lukewarm waves curl around his ankles, pulling the sand beneath his feet to drag him back to the depths of the sea. The saltwater soaked through his clothes up to his waist where he sits. The moon is drawing the tide in. His shirt is sticking awkwardly to his waist.

He can’t keep his thoughts away from the day Lemuria fell. How could he pick between you and his home? They were linked, connected, one could not exist without the other. In his hesitation to tear Mo apart, he lost both. The evacuation was swift, but not swift enough. Lives were lost. It is his fault. The waves washed away the blood on his hands, but he feels pieces of their souls stuck in his teeth.

Rafayel is on the beach again. The darkness hadn’t claimed many of his people, the response was quick enough. The people closest to him were able to swim away. Now, it’s his job to aid in protecting everyone on the mainland. He’s never wanted responsibility, always swam in the opposite direction as fast as the current could take him. Maybe he’s grown into it.

He’s so tired. It’s late. The sea has drawn him deeper, she demands justice. Heavy cotton hangs from his shoulders. Sand melts into glass underneath his fingers. Time-softened seashells bear his marks. He skips a smooth seashell sculpture across the water’s surface. The ripples bear the name of each Lemurian he couldn’t save.

The sea swallows him whole. Rip currents are common around this time. His body could be miles from shore before anyone could think to look for him. The sea will punish him as she wills. She is a caring, violent mother. Her children are no stranger to her wrath. She knows what he deserves.

Rafayel feels the current yank at his feet where he floats at the same time he feels warm hands pulling him from the water. The tide had taken many hours to swallow him, marked by the moon’s position above the horizon. The salt dampened the angry flame in his heart. Its absence feels like burning alive.

Gentle hands guide him out of the sea. A trail of pearls leads away from the shoreline. Soft towels dry his vessel. Slowly, he dresses in the dry clothes given to him. He is surrounded by warmth. It is too hot with the fire burning under his skin. Under the covers, his back is pressed to someone’s chest. The hours spent waiting for the sea to claim him feel like a dream.

“Rafayel?” Your shaky voice breaks the silence. He feels your worry like his own. He uses your name when he answers. “Why did I find you catatonic in the tides?”

“It was... a momentary lapse in judgement. Today is an anniversary.” He responds tonelessly. He does not intend to answer any more questions. After all, you don’t remember anything from all those years ago. If you did, the guilt would consume you, your compassion weaponized against you. He fears he’ll reach for your hand to find your skin grey and lifeless, the scavengers brought in by the tides feasting on your long-dead corpse.

You don’t ask any other questions. Unlike you. Instead, you take Rafayel back to the beach. The soft sand slips beneath your feet. Warmth from your hand spreads up his arm. Smells of brine and salt and Mo waft in on the sea breeze. The draw to the sea holds him hostage, trapped like Jonah in the mouth of the whale.

Your warmth fades as you roll up your pants. Without pausing, without hesitation, you wade into the tide. The waves wash up to your shins. The wind tussles your hair, humidity and salt frizzing it into curls. Rafayel’s throat closes, his lungs squeezed of all air. The sea is a caring, violent mother. The sea will take your heart after he could not.

He rushes into the waves after you. “What are you doing!?” He demands, pulling you out of the clawing reach of the currents that threaten to take you from him. You splash out of the ocean’s reach willingly.

Once out of the lapping water, you resist Rafayel. You draw his forehead to your own, holding his face in your hands. “I want to understand you.”

Something dark and ugly rears inside him. His shoulders curl to contain it. “Lemuria fell because I would not sacrifice you. The ocean demands its retribution.”

You fall together to the soft sand, clinging desperately to a fading reality where everything will be okay. “I don’t understand,” you whisper. A deep sigh burdens the space between you. Rafayel does not elaborate further. A soft, alluring hum starts in his chest. You know this melody. You hum along. Your voices mingle against the backdrop of the ocean’s waves.

Rafayel holds your hands in his own. Your bodies drift closer together until neither of you can define where he ends and you begin. Rafayel hums until he cannot anymore. His caring, violent mother will have to accept his voice over his body for retribution this year. The sun rises. The tides retreat in acceptance of Rafayel’s offer.

Rafayel holds you to his chest. You had fallen asleep at some point during his siren song. Your even breaths wear away his jagged edges.

It will be different, but it will be okay.

A little note on Rafayel's references to mo in this fic: I can't remember where I found it in canon, but I believe it means "home" or "motherland" in Lemurian! Hope you enjoyed! (edit: it came from the "Omnipotent Perception" card. thank you to @\irandial for the info!)

[snowballseal]

My Dearest

Part 5

LaDS Zayne X Foreseer!Reader

Prologue / Part 4

Summary: Things take a turn in the dead of night. Confessions are made after Zayne suffers a nightmare, and you realize you may have a bigger part in his Fate than you originally thought.

Word Count: 2993

Note: Things are picking up >w< in good and bad ways

Warning!!!! This chapter covers topics of illness, death, torture, and some intense emotions. There is a lot of angst. Zayne's backstory is not nice (woops) but neither is his in-game backstory! Also, he may be a bit ooc, but aren't we all in the face of trauma?

Anyways, read at your own peril and please be safe.

---

Sickness comes with a scent.

Every muscle in Zayne’s body draws taut at the familiarity of it. A cloying mix of bitterness and overly ripe fruit. Bile and medicine and sweat. It lingers in the stale air, thick and even more suffocating than the heat.

“Dab perfume under your nose if you wish to mask the scent.”

The familiar tone of his teacher’s voice murmurs from his side, muffled and distant, as if his ears are stuffed with cotton. Zayne looks, thinks he looks, but the hall before him is empty, stretching and warping and twisting.

A cold feeling sinks into his gut, violently screaming that he is meant to be somewhere else, he is meant to be working, doing something, helping someone.

And his feet are moving. Racing. Throwing him down the endless hallway. Panic buzzes like a thousand ants under his skin.

what have you done what have you done what have you done

The world blurs around him, details colliding, fissioning along the edges of his vision, drifting yet still. Dread curls around his throat like a noose as the scent thickens in the air, rusted iron and sweet perfume and sickness. So intense he can taste it on his tongue. So intense he could choke.

“Give me the medicine.”

“Teacher-”

“There is no time, give it to me, Zayne! We mustn’t let her die!”

The words echo down the grand hall. A thousand voices, overlapping, repeating, screaming, whispering, coming from nowhere and everywhere. They rake across his mind, so violent and clear that even covering his ears can’t drown them out.

Desperation forms like a pit in his stomach.

He can’t let that happen. He can’t fail, not when he’s come so far, not when he’s had to prove himself over and over and over again. He can’t.

It was merely Fate.

A door appears before him and he slams into the heavy wood without hesitation, forcing his way into the all too familiar room. The room he spent so many days in. The room drenched in floral perfumes to disguise the scent of death.

Everything stops.

A bed sits in the middle of the room. Small. Empty. White.

Except for the pool of blood at the head.

His knees hit the ground, the chill of the tiles seeping across his sweat-soaked body.

It was merely Fate…

“You killed my daughter.”

No no no

No, he did everything he could. He worked day and night, researching, brewing medicine, wiping the sweat from her small face. He sacrificed so much-

“I will watch you suffer, just as she did.”

Everything fades, blurs, giving way to a darkness that threatens to drown him.

And then the pain.

The sharp edge of a knife dragging across his fingers, digging into the flesh of his palms, drawing streams of thick thick blood. His skin burns, as though his hands have been forced into the coals of a kindled fire, the flames eating away at his blood and pouring into his veins. He chokes on the pain, on the metallic scent of his own blood, and it’s too much too much to-

“Zayne!”

Zayne jolts up in bed.

Panic strangles him, blinds him, his hands trembling so viciously as he grips at the thick pelts at his waist. The pain lingers so vividly in his skin and he can hardly breathe, his chest aching, throat burning.

Until a cool hand presses against his cheek, touch featherlight and hesitant, and his whole body lurches. 

Frenzied, hazel eyes meet yours, and you stare back at him, unwavering.

“Breathe, Zayne,” you murmur, voice tense, commanding, desperate.

And so he does.

---

You’re not sure what wakes you.

The night is still, almost unnervingly so. No storm, no gales, not a single sound you would expect to hear at such a late hour. It is as though the weather itself has grown tired, though the peace feels far more dangerous than the storm.

Your body unwilling to return to a state of sleep, you find yourself wandering the halls aimlessly. It has always brought you comfort, tracing the lines of stone that make up your Tower’s walls. You can feel where your feet take you most often, the edge worn to smoothness under your fingertips, leading you to the staircase that ends at your former bedroom. Where Zayne rests.

You pause at the foot of the stairs, casting your gaze up into the dark, climbing spiral.

How odd that your instincts bring you here. It almost makes you feel a touch pathetic, knowing that your subconscious is drawn to him so certainly. Only a few days have passed since you allowed the ice to thaw between you, and here you are, seeking this man as if he is the only one capable of settling this unease in your chest.

Ridiculous.

Sharply, you turn away, ready to retreat back to your new room, to make another attempt at sleep -

Until a shuddering gasp echoes down the stairs, a gasp filled with pain.

Suddenly your feet are taking you up.

And the sight you find at the top has your whole body freezing over.

Zayne lays twisted in the pelts of your bed, every muscle drawn inhumanly taut as he arches off the bed, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his blanched skin. It is the body of a man ravaged by pure agony, his chest heaving with labored breaths, like his soul is being torn from his flesh.

You move to the side of the bed, magic prickling wildly under your skin as a foreign sense of panic sweeps over you, dropping the temperature in the room drastically. Your eyes scan him, just as wildly, looking for any injuries, any blood, any reason he might be experiencing such pain, but you find a disturbing lack of anything. His body is untouched, apart from his old injuries.

So why is he facing such torment?

“Zayne?” You call, wavering beside the bed. You can’t sit. That would be too close. Too comfortable. You can’t cross that boundary, you can’t.

Yet when the man cries out between his gritted teeth, the sound so completely broken, you can’t bring yourself to stay at a distance.

The bed shifts under your hesitant weight. Now that you’re closer, you can see the stark paleness of his face, the tight clench of his jaw and eyes, the way his dark hair sticks to his forehead. Your hand wavers in your lap, torn between waking him and being unsure of if you should interfere yet again. Could this not be Fate’s form of punishment?

Though, once again, the decision is made for you when Zayne turns his head, face going tight with such inconceivable pain, his fingers curling desperately into the edge of your cloak.

Your mouth sets into a thin line.

 This is not atonement. This is torture.

“Zayne!”

---

“Breathe, Zayne.”

The man takes in air greedily. His whole body trembles with the effort, the cold air easing the burning ache in his throat. And your touch. Your palm is so cool against his heated skin, pressing tenderly against his cheek, like the soft touch of snow.

Mind too torn for proper judgement, he lifts a shaking hand to yours, nuzzling further into your gentle touch. His warm, quivering breath brushes over your pulse, filling your senses with him him him. The balmy heat of his skin, the light touch of his raven hair tickling your fingers, the desperation with which he holds to you, one hand still wrapped in the edge of your robes, as though you might disappear.

How long has it been since someone has wanted you?

A sickening tenderness grips you by the throat, the tension between your shoulders easing as Zayne takes a few deep breaths, face near buried in your palm. Your fingers skim gently over his cheek, magic seeping through your touch to ease his temperature, as you’re not sure what else you can do.

How does one comfort a human? You’re not sure. You have never wanted to. Yet, in this moment, with this man, you want to do nothing but. You want to ease the tightness between his brows and take the pain from his body, his mind, his soul, even if you have to experience it yourself. Oh, how far you have fallen.

Eventually, Zayne breathing begins to even out. The roaring pace of his heart eases to something normal, adrenaline dripping away and leaving behind a mess of sore muscles. Breathing out a sigh, his eyes flicker back open, pupils wide and dark, glazed with exhaustion.

And then he realizes just the position he is in - his hand trapping yours against his face, his other wrinkling the beautiful fabric of your robes, the mere foot of separation between your body and his.

He rips his hands away, a raspy apology lost on his lips, but you do not move. Your fingers do not waver against his cheek, tracing the dampness of his skin with such utter tenderness. A low shudder traces Zayne’s spine when he feels your magic curling within the depths of his body, like streams of cool water flowing over every nerve. It feels far too intimate, as though you’ve connected yourself to him, as though you are curling your very soul around him.

“My lady,” Zayne chokes, low and rough, eyes desperately searching yours. Why?

You find that you have no answer.

“I have never witnessed someone suffer such a violent dream,” you admit instead, hand drifting down to settle on the curve of his neck.

Another shiver wracks Zayne’s body, though this one you interpret as being due to the cold of your touch.

“My apologies.” You start to pull away, glancing to the side. “You must be far too cold now-”

“No-!”

Both of you freeze as his fingers wrap desperately around your wrist. His touch is still searing, such a stark contrast to your ice - a pleasant one. You turn your eyes back to him, careful to keep your emotions under control. You can’t both be lost.

Zayne wavers. He glances down to where his skin touches yours, his long fingers so effortlessly encircling your wrist. You could pull away with ease, you could reprimand him harshly for stepping too far, for being a mere human daring to touch such divinity, but you do not. You simply sit, watch, as if waiting to see what he will do next.

“I-” Wetting his lips, he allows his dwindling adrenaline to make him brave, and dares to press a little closer. Close enough to lean back into your touch. “I do not dislike the cold, my lady.”

I do not dislike your touch.

Quite the contrary. Zayne desires nothing more than to wrap himself in it, to indulge in the smooth satin of your skin, to press his lips to every curve and every plane, to see if your body will flush under his attention.

What a heathen he has become.

“Not many find comfort in my presence,” you murmur, almost doubtful, as if you wish to correct him in this. “Most claim my touch is as cold as the ice in my veins.”

“My internal temperature runs higher than most,” he assures you, unyielding, gaze soft but certain, “I suffered often during the heat of the warmer seasons. My teacher-”

A lump forms in Zayne’s throat.

His teacher. The dream. It flickers back through his mind, pain still lingering in his fingers, his scars. Ever since he arrived at the Tower, such memories have been so distant, he had almost thought the nightmares were over. 

How foolish of him.

Reading Zayne is like reading a book, you find as you notice the subtle shift in his expression. One must pay close attention, lest they miss his soul. But you have grown too familiar with his being to miss the distant look in his eyes, as though they are locked on something you cannot see. His fingers curl tighter around your wrist. 

The thin scars on his skin catch your attention, and you allow yourself to analyze them for a brief moment. Up close, there are far more than you originally thought. The sight makes your chest clench with something you don’t recognize, and your fingers move without thinking, tracing one of the thin marks.

The touch draws Zayne back and he flinches as though he has been burned. His hand drops to his lap, tucking close to his body, as if he wishes to hide it.

Is that what his dream was about?

Your voice comes out soft when you press, perhaps too soft, “Were the humans who injured your knee also the ones to do so to your hands?”

Zayne swallows thickly, jaw flexing.

“They were.”

“As punishment?”

“Yes.”

“...May I see?”

He takes a sharp breath, hands curling tightly around each other until his knuckles go white.

“They are unsightly, my lady,” he tries, voice raw. Afraid.

“If I were to show you my scars, would you deem them unsightly?” You challenge, brows steepling with gentle disapproval.

No, no of course he wouldn’t. He would rather cut out his tongue than speak such a blatant lie. No scar could tarnish your beauty, though the thought of anything marring your body, marking the delicate color of your skin, fills him with something violent and so uncharacteristically possessive. How dare someone harm you. How dare they spill your blood. He can only hope they are suffering a far worse fate than his own.

None of these thoughts pass the tight grit of his teeth, though.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he whispers instead, eyes downcast.

“Then I would ask you not to think so lowly of me,” you murmur, “Do not forget, mortal, I saved your life. I have been witness to you hanging between life and death and I have witnessed far more gruesome realities than anything you may know. Scars are merely Fate’s way of allowing us to remember what once was so we may continue into what is.”

It is meant to be comforting in some way, in the only way you know how. Fate may be cruel, but not all she allows must be viewed with an eye of suffering. You know that all too well.

And it seems to ease Zayne’s worries, if only a little. The stiffness fades from his body, and he only hesitates a moment before wordlessly offering you his hands, fingers still trembling imperceptibly.

Slowly, you allow your fingers to trace over his, touch lighter than the drifting snow. His muscles twitch, stutter, moving away before pressing back into you like a tide against the sand, more determined, more certain. Still, you keep your movements slow, keenly aware of the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

His skin is still so warm against yours. It is like holding the sun compared to the biting cold that lingers in your flesh. You trace the fine lines of his knuckles, brush your thumb over the surprisingly soft skin of his palm, trailing down the inside of his wrist. He sucks in another short breath, pulse jumping under your fingers, but remains perfectly still under your attention.

His scars are many, indeed. They cover every inch of his hands, down his fingers, over his knuckles. Faint lines that gleam almost like silver on his pale skin. The marks are easy to recognize, likely from a small knife. How much pain each one must have inflicted…

“Humans can be quite cruel…” It is nothing but a whisper, shivering in the air with muted anger.

Zayne’s chest aches. He wants to agree, he wants to feel the rage you bear so easily. He wants to hate them as much as you do, and maybe a part of him does, but-

“You killed my daughter.”

He nearly chokes on the guilt.

Brows furrowing, your other palm presses more firmly to his jaw, slowly tilting his face up. Your eyes bore into him with such intensity, as if you can strip him bare and draw out every vulnerable thought trapped in his body. And, in part, you do. In the depths of his eyes, wide and dark like a lamb before the slaughter, you see his despair. It threatens to fracture your frozen heart.

“What sin could warrant such suffering?”

The words ache behind Zayne’s teeth, words he has never spoken, a story he has buried so deep under his skin, that drawing it out now feels like stripping his own flesh. What will you think? Your kindness, your mercy, wasted on a man like him. You may very well choose to end his life, as it should have ended in the kingdom, as it should have in the cold grip of Mount Eternal.

But he owes you far more than just his life, doesn’t he?

“I was a student under a renowned physician at the time,” he rasps eventually, fingers twitching in your grip. Anxious. “The royal court called upon us by name. The king’s daughter was ill, a broken leg that led to infection. My teacher claimed it was an honor to treat her, but it was worse than we expected. Her symptoms were unheard of together, and we spent every hour pouring over medicinal journals to find a cure. We tried everything…but nothing worked. The sickness took her only a few days after we arrived.”

So this is his sin, according to man. Being unable to stop the death of a child, a princess. A death seemingly no one could stop…

A feeling of sickness washes over you suddenly, like a pit opening beneath your feet.

You know this tale. You know it far too well.

It was a prophecy from your own lips.

Your fingers tighten around Zayne’s hand, his scars now burning against your palms.

Fate may wield the sword, but you may as well be the one who sentenced him to death.

---

Part 6

This chapter was interesting to try and balance. It started off way different, but I kept hitting a wall, so I changed it to start with the nightmare and it all made a lot more sense to me. I hope there was enough comfort to balance out the angst, sorry!

Tag List: @pirana10 @antivanblessing @animecrazy76 @xx-riffraff-xx @seris-the-amious

[whimsyfaes]

Elskhuga { Loki x gn! angst ficlet }

Summary: After thrusted into the storm of battle, Loki and his gang of trustees reach the outskirts of Svartalfheim in order to recuperate and tend to the wounded. His lover included, the Prince must find the strength to not fall into despair.

Pairing: Loki x gn!character ( I wrote this in third person, and kept the gn love interest vague so you can either insert your own oc or read like a reader insert. )

Warnings: Angst, all the feels, blood, wounds, near death experience, pre-established relationship. This might be a tad ooc but listen, I need protective Loki ok?

The soot of Svartalfheim's lands and blood of their enemies stained the company's clothing, a mere reminder of what had previously transpired not too long ago. For days the warriors of Asgard fought mindlessly against the Dark Elves on their domain. The Aesir feared their lust for darkness and disruption to the natural order would become reality. But under Heimdall's watchful eye and by command of Odin, the two princelings and their companions lead Asgard's small army as a tactic of intimidation.

A mere foolish encounter, which they soon later discovered.

Faint breaths and the rustlings of leather echoed in the small cave's mouth, the darkness that dwelled there snuffed out by the fire's red glow. Sif and the Warrior's Three (Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun) huddled around its warmth, occasionally rubbing their hands together as their breaths fogged all around them. Thor, son of Odin, nestled by one of their wounded companions tucked in loose furs. There was a heaviness within the air as he spoke softly towards his left.

"I fear their wounds have worsened overnight, brother."

Loki, son of Laufeyson clenched his jaw from his confession. The wounded who laid before him was a keeper of his heart. Now heavily breathing with a sheen of sweat, but once held such beauty and youth in their face. He shouldn't have brought them here, on this perilous mission but they had insisted on not leaving Loki's side.

The two of them had known each other since childhood, often accompanying one another while Thor rough housed with Sif and the Warriors. There was a long history of adoration, longing, and a feeling of love within the both of them that could never be washed away by the tide of time.

And to have them risk their life in a meaningless show of power ignited a flame within the trickster's chest that he wanted to unleash.

"There must be something...." Venom leaked from his pale lips, his slender hands reaching outward to grasp upon his lover's arms in a tight embrace for comfort. "We cannot just let them die under our command."

The raise in Loki's voice made the warrior's look upward from the fire's glow, hesitance on their faces before he continued.

"Volstagg knew fully well that they were within enemy range! If I had just not turned my back for one second this barbaric group of imbeciles would have noticed the enemy's arrow flying in their direction!"

His voice choked on the last syllable in his rant, tears threatening to fall down his hollow cheeks.

"Now now, do not blame others for your incompetence of witnessing a mere arrow, silvertongue. The fault is not our own", raised Fandral's voice. He knew he had struck a nerve, but they were all on edge seeing their companion fade away on the floor below.

"Enough...", Thor's voice echoed softly against the cave's walls, beginning to feel a coil of tension about ready to explode.

"Is that what you would call it? A mere arrow? Will you repeat your foolish words while standing at their pyre? Or shall you save it before I behead your ill-favored head from your mere shoulders?"

"ENOUGH!" Thunder crackled from outside their retreat, their silence loud as they gathered themselves. Loki knelt beside the wounded companion with a defeated sigh, the fire's crackling the only noise heard until a soft voice spoke.

"We are all weary and worried for our friend. Please, let us not continue the onslaught within our own company." Sif released a short huff with a bent of her head, her eyes glistening with thought. "We must keep trying, perhaps the poison had subsided from Loki's magic. If we keep-"

"There is nothing left to do, lady warrior." Agitation sounded from the trickster's voice, a trembling huff escaping him before bringing his attention back towards his lover's pale features. He lifted a shaking hand to ghost along their soft cheek, pausing a finger on their parted lip. "We will be lucky if they survive the night."

------

Memories of earlier that day flashed in his mind, the sounds of metal in the air as they treaded along Svartalfheim's wasteland. A small band of Asgard's soldiers accompanied them to a deserted inland of open land. A place where they would negotiate and come to terms with some intimidation tactics. Loki's silver tongue, however, would not land its mark.

The Elves thrusted themselves upon the group without any warning, swords clashing against swords with a might of defiance. Many would fall, the stench of blood filling the air as Thor's mighty swings clashed against skull and bone. Sif's sword and shield danced with the enemies weapons, Volstagg's heavy axe not falling too far behind. Fandral and Hogun would soon find their swords claiming many lives with a stain of gore.

Loki would occasionally protect his partner with a finesse of his trickster motions, throwing dagger upon dagger to land their marks. He turned his back against his partner's own, giving trust to the Warrior's as he continued to use Aesir magic to confuse his opponent.

But trust, comes with a cost.

He felt a sudden jolt of the other's body against his back and a sharp cry, his heart clenching in fear as he quickly turned around. They were all unaware of the silent archer on their left, hidden in the shadows behind decaying rock. The arrow had pierced his lover's chest, merely missing their heart as they fell to the ground with a pained groan. The tip of the arrow had been poisoned, their body soon paralyzed from its instant effectiveness.

Loki screamed in pure rage, conjuring himself to appear in front of the attacker with a flicker of emerald cloud. Before the Elf could react, the trickster plunged a dagger within his throat with a vengeful scream, driving that blade deeper and deeper with each forceful thrust of pure hate. He kept the attack, the body before him long gone as it slumped to the dirt below but he continued on. Again, again, his breath releasing in short spurts with tears in his eyes. All sense of control left him as red coated his fingers and arms, specks of it's essence spitting on his angered face.

"Loki!!! Loki enough!!!" Thor quickly ran to his brother's aid, the battle ceased around them as he grasped the other's arm to cease his assault. "Enough, please...enough.."

A pained sob escaped past Loki's lips as he slowed his movements, the dagger continuing to plunge into the body's frame with grotesque noises. It was Thor's hand upon him that brought him back to reality, his eyes widening in realization before dashing towards his partner's side.

They were alive, but barely hanging on the edge. The poison already beginning to pump through their veins. A small smile spread on their lips, hands lifting to graze along the princeling's blood soaked cheek.

"Loki -...." It was all they could muster, the only thing he heard before they fell into darkness.

-------

The shade of green enveloped the cave as Loki continued to release his magic within his lover's chest, the group around him fallen asleep with the gentle sound of enchantment. He couldn't give up, his body begging for slumber but his mind determined to soothe the poison within them. Thor too was still awake, calling to Heimdall to open the Bifrost but to no avail. After many attempts, Odinson returned to their retreat and placed a heavy hand upon his aching shoulder.

"I'm sorry, dear brother. My words do not reach him....I-"

Loki furrowed his brows in concentration, silencing him with a hush of his voice. "I will make sure he hears an earful from me later, but for now, leave me..."

Thor couldn't help but form a sad smile on his face, his fingers gripping a bit before moving away.

He couldn't give up....couldn't stop...

-------

The soft glow of morning's sun hidden behind dark clouds illuminated against stone walls, a gentle shade of green still forming on the trickster's hands against his partner's chest. He had fallen asleep upright, his sorcery never ceasing their purpose even when the mind was resting. The others were still in slumber around a dying fire, the gentle crackling of embers filling his ears.

There was a soft touch upon his hand, fingers brushing along his knuckles in a ghostly manner. His body jolted slightly from the touch, eyes fluttering open before gazing upon a reassuring smile.

They will be ok, they will be ok...

Tagged: @thefairywithboots @oswildin @eleniblue @aiislinnn @thewasandshouldbeking @stilleobjection

I hope it's ok if I tag you guys as well! ♥️ @lokisgoodgirl, @sarahscribbles, @loki-cees-all

[loppezz]

My be a bit ooc but I think UU!Loppezz probably thinks, that despite how horrible wemmbu makes her feel and how bad wemmbu treats her. She it technically speaking, the safest when shes with him, because for some god damn reason the purple freak still tries to defend loppezz in fights, even tho time and time again wemmbu acts like he hates her.

Also a bit more of a Wemmbu headcanon tbh but it ties to UU!Loppezz, but the fact that Loppezz doesn't see wemmbu for his mace, is probably why wemmbu defends her so much, but at the same time hates it.

Wemmbu is constantly called "the guy with the mace."

"What do you mean you're retired? You took out a bunch of invis guys- you have a mace man" - Theo

"Why didn't you go in there with you mace and just kill them like last time dude." - Egg

Wyll wanted to kill wemmbu for the reputation. To become the new mace wielder.

Constantly he's been told to just use his mace and that it would so much more simpler if he did. It's ingrained into his head that all he is good for, is the mace.

Only three people truly see wemmbu as something other than the mace.

Rejoice, who saw he had one then brushed it off like it was nothing, which I like to think is partly why his death changed Wemmbu so much.

Flame, who told him to fight him normally in a 1v1, he wanted to fight the true wemmbu, not the one with what was basically an unfair cheese, in a twisted way that made wemmbu feel seen as more than just a mace.

And finally, Loppezz, she sees wemmbu for who he truly is, a blood-thirsty psychotic killer, who needs some dude named Eggchan to hold him back half the time. And I think that partly irritates wemmbu. Shes seeing behind that mask, that power, and seeing a psycho killer whos only goal is to shower in blood and riches. It's partly why he dismisses her so easily and treats her and anything she owns horribly. He HATES that someone is see the real him, but at the same time, he's grateful, he's not just seen as some weapon in the eyes of loppezz, so despite how annoyed he gets at her, he still protects her and doesn't let her die.

For Rejoice he died to quickly for him to process that, and Flame is too skilled for him to do anything really.

I finally had some time to read through this and HOLY MOLY PEAK, i would agree with everything here, and heres some food for thought.

loppezz has no one who she can trust to not kill her other than wemmbu, although he is the single last person she would want to ask but in regards to her motivations he is the only option, because he wont kill her.

there have been times where she has tried to confide in him and be friends in hopes that maybe he'll take her under his wing but their history is destined to be a rivalry probably. Sky Civ is the best example of that. He has given her the cold shoulder many times, and many times when she didnt need him the most, he always took away what new found protection she had.

It always leads back to wemmbu being the source of her problems, and shes not sure how to escape. She knows exactly who he is, which brings her some anxiety at his unpredictability but can also count on it aswell! which is kind of a curse, but its a guranteed result.

[6feathered6siren6]

Hello!!! I was just wondering if you knew the Dazzlings from that’s one MLP movie cause I was going to request a fic with them against the saja boys in another battle of the bands type thing but if you replied to my request with “who are the dazzlings?” I think I might die of embarrassment 😅. If you haven’t seen the movie, I know it’s a kids movie but it’s so good and I highly recommend it!! The art is amazing and the songs are so catchy!!!

Two Demon Bands(MLP EG x KDH)

Authors note: I DO! I know Dazzlings and MLP, and I already seen the fanart/edits with both KDH and Dazzlings songs. Love both of them. I also had a lot of fun writing this :) Might make p2 if people ask for it, anyway enjoy o/

Trigger warnings:

ooc(?)

---

As the Saja boys were about to finish their proposal, they were interrupted. Gwi-ma’s flame flickers as the female voice is bold, loud, snarky. 

“What about another female band? Not a boy band.” Heals click as a female with orange hair with yellow stripes walks up the steps. Her raspberry eyes look at Jinu. His dark brown eyes stare at her. “They need to be leveled, not…” Her eyes flicker to each member.

“I agree,” Another female walks up, crossing her arms. Her purple eyes rolled as she continued. “It would be a battle with two girl bands. A true battle of the bands.”

A hum, as one with a mix of light blue and dark blue hair revealed herself from behind the taller, “I agree, we would be better at stealing their fans. Like hello, we are the better them.” 

“And… You are?” Gwi-ma’s flames flicker as he speaks, leaving the new girl band to look at him. 

“The Dazzlings, darling. We have a boon, really, we do this for you, we get something in return.” Adagio puts her hand on her hip, looking like she had a plan. 

“What?” Jinu interrupts. The members behind him looked at each other, they didn’t expect someone else to pounce on their proposition. “You-”

“What is your boon?” 

“We want revenge on a few… friends, let’s say.” She flicked out a hand, Sonata nodded her head. 

“Oh, yes, revenge, pay back, and so much more.” Aria elbows her, making the girl stop talking. 

“So one wants their memories erased while the other wants revenge.” The flame hums. 

“You should let us go,��� Jinu said, “After all, we would be better off collecting souls unsuspecting.”  

“Oh really?” Adagio snarks. 

“I hate to agree, we were stars.” Aria spoke, looking at the boy band.

“Yeah, ‘were’.” Abby leaned against Jinu. Smirking, “You no longer are, huh?” 

“At least, we have experience in the human world.” The orange haired female spoke, crossing her arms, as Sonata leaned on her, mimicking Abby. 

“And as a band, we were popular, so we could be popular again.” 

“And probably in less time than you.” Aria walked closer to her leader. 

Romance tilts his head a bit looking at them, before looking at their leader. He would know what to do, after all he planned this. But he didn’t, he didn’t expect another group to try and steal this from him. 

“How… adorable.” Gwi-ma spoke, his flames flickering in the demon realm. “I have… an idea for you both. Something to twist in our favor.” 

Both groups look up at them, Dazzlings smiling, and Jinu looking up at the demon lord. He looked a bit frightful, his planning can’t go to waste. 

“You both will go up and fight the Huntr/x. But whoever successfully defeats them will get their desires granted.”

A small chuckle, “A battle?” Adagio smiled. “Then let’s have a battle of the bands, wish you luck boys.” She gives them a mock blow kiss.

And poof, the Dazzlings teleported away, leaving the boys there in front of the lord of demons. 

“A bunch of beauties, but a shame, they turned so mean to us.” Romance spoke, sighing loudly. 

“Really? They want us out of the way and you compliment them?” Baby spoke, glaring at the taller one. 

“What? I have to get credit when it’s due.” 

Jinu rolled his eyes. But, a battle… between demon bands, then the demon hunters… this is gonna be a thorn on his side.

[vdazzle]

Hazbin hotel characters with a seraphim!reader

Synopsis: Reader is a Seraphim who appears to save the Hazbin cast when they are in danger.

Requested?: nope 😋

Notes: been thinking about this scenario all night leave me alone 🙏 also can be seen as platonic or romantic ‼️ might be ooc.

Angel Dust

🕸️💗 • On one faithful day, you decided Heaven was getting to be a bit boring for you, since nothing was happening.

🕸️💗 • You had recently figured out how to project yourself into different places such as earth and different places of heaven, so you began to wonder if you could project in hell.

🕸️💗 • Finally deciding to project yourself into a room of a hotel the princess of hell had been nagging Adam— or more accurately, anyone who would listen to support said hotel.

🕸️💗 • Angel had just gotten back from a looooooong day at work, and his mood was down in the dumps. Walking into his room, he was adamant to just get to bed.

🕸️💗 • Before his head could even get remotely close to his pillow, he saw you. You were playing with fat nuggets.

🕸️💗 • “What the FUCK.”

🕸️💗 • As soon as you saw him, you disappeared. He honestly thought he was going insane.

🕸️💗 • When you appear about a week later, he doesn’t trust you

🕸️💗 • First time you had to save him? Angel was in the studio, about to get fucking pummeled by Valentino for making him mad. For whatever reason, you decided to hang around in the less payed attention to areas of the studio.

🕸️💗 • You weren’t about to let Valentino beat up Angel, so you stepped in.

🕸️💗 • Go you!! You snapped one of Valentino’s arms off and shoved it down his throat.

🕸️💗 • The studio was in flames, and Angel was shocked. He thought you were just there to annoy him, not save his ass??

🕸️💗 • He only trusts you a little more than before. deal with it luv <33

“Thanks toots. M’ greatful for that, really.”

Husk

🐈‍⬛🥃 • You just showed up one day lol. He had a few suspicions of you, but overall didn’t really care that you showed up.

🐈‍⬛🥃 • As long as you don’t annoy him or try to kill the people of the hotel, he has no problem with you occasionally hanging out with him at the bar.

🐈‍⬛🥃 • You first had to save him during the scene where Alastor was threatening him.

🐈‍⬛🥃 • The only reason you saved him was because if Alastor killed the guy that kept you company, you would completely lonely and bored!

🐈‍⬛🥃 • When Husk saw Alastor get yanked back and fall on his ass, he was confused until he saw you standing there.

🐈‍⬛🥃 • After beating Alastor down a bit more, you helped Husk up to his feet. He was still a bit shocked, but otherwise he seemed fine.

“Thanks. I guess you aren’t too bad after all.”

Vaggie

🪽⚔️ • Vaggie knew you while she was a exterminator. When she was banished to hell, you decided to secretly visit her to make sure she was safe in hell.

🪽⚔️ • She really appreciates you checking in on her. Most angels wouldn’t risk their spot in paradise to check up on the fallen.

🪽⚔️ • The first time you had to save her was the first extermination she experienced after getting banished.

🪽⚔️ • An exterminator was about to kill Vaggie. She accepted her fate and got ready to die.

🪽⚔️ • That was NOT going to slide with you. Putting your hand on the exterminator’s shoulder, you told them you wanted to kill Vaggie to give justice to heaven or some stupid shit like that.

🪽⚔️ • The dumb mother fucker believed you, and backed off. Well, some part of it was believing you and the other part was fear that you would use your influence as a seraphim to get them banished.

🪽⚔️ • You asked Vaggie if she was ok, and got her somewhere safe. Somewhere no exterminator would even think of checking, the clock tower.

“I thought i was going to die. Thank you.”

—————♥—————

thank you for reading!! if you want a part two with other characters, lmk :3