#^^^ the noises of demons escaping my mortal form

[jazzy-man13]

YEAHHHHH ST3V3 IN MTMTE ^^^

Also. I am so MAD. I FELL IN LOVE WITH ROSSUM AT FIRST SIGHT AND I KNOW DAMN WELL THAT SHE'S NOT GONNA BE IN ANY OTHER TRANSFORMERS MEDIA EVER. WHY MUST MY BLORBOS BE THE MOST VAUGE OF SIDE CHARACTERS!!!

[tgirltorment]

The trick about devils is that the high-ranking ones are often less concerned with inspiring sin and perversion within mortals as they are satisfying their own. You believed that by identifying the right patron and giving them what they want, you could make a deal with no clever loophole or catch. Make an offer, follow through, and come back unchanged and unharmed. Easy. And you knew just the devil to chose: a Devil Lord of Lust, one of the most self-serving of sins. Pride is too unstable, sloth might never hold up their end, gluttony is insatiable, but a Devil Lord of Lust? That you could handle.

You summoned them one evening to your apartment, offering your demands with clarity. "Beauty and power," was all you asked for. "In return, I offer to enter your service for six months." He chuckled lightly, eyeing you up and down. "One year," he countered. "And I promise you'll not be hurt. Not in a way you don't enjoy, at least." You shook hands, and the deal was struck. You were given a day to get everything in order, pay any outstanding bills, notify your family that you'd be away, and went to sleep. The next time you awoke, it was in a cage.

You noticed right away that your clothes were gone. Every so often a demon would pass by, leering at you through the bars. You also noticed that your were very, very, very horny. At first, you tried to cover yourself up, hide from the observing demons. But a heat began to build in your chest. You ached to touch yourself, to cum. You tried to resist. "Not in while they watch," you tried to think, but it was fuzzy. Strained. You noticed that the demons were naked too. Were they always naked? Looking them only made you hornier, so you tried to look away, but the image of their cocks was buried in your mind. Without thinking, you began to touch yourself, and by the time you noticed, it felt so good that you didn't care.

Against your will, small whimpers escaped your mouth. It felt so fucking good. The noises you made riled up the demons, spurring them to get off too. Cum shot through your bars, covering you, making you feel so warm. Why couldn't you cum? You were so close, so fucking close, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get over the edge. You began to beg. "Please," you whined. "Please let me cum."

Eventually, your hands became too tired to continue and fell to your sides. You lay at the floor of your cage, covered in the cum of a dozen demons, unable to orgasm but so desperate. You didn't care anymore. You needed it. So you pushed yourself against the bars and let them fuck you, their cocks taking turns inside you, filling you with more and more cum. Cocks appeared in front of you too, right before your face, and, without thinking, you began to suck them. God, it was so hard to think with their cocks so deep inside you. But you still couldn't cum.

Eventually, they all had their fill and left you, broken and desperate and unsatisfied, squirming on the floor of your cage in a pool of cum, which you brainlessly began to lap up. Soon enough, a familiar form appeared and opened your cage. You crawled out and immediately offered your throat to the Devil Lord, too dazed to even beg. "My sweet pet," he purred, grabbing your horns. Did you always have horns? "You've been so good. I believe you deserve to cum now." You whimpered in excitement, you tail (tail?) flicking behind you. He led you to a throne where he sat down, stroking his cock. "Have a seat," he said. So you rode him, pushing his cock as deep into you as it would go, screaming as you came again and again, unable to stop bouncing. Your back arched and your wings flared as wave after wave of euphoria ran through you, the sweet release you'd been desperate for for so long.

One year would not be enough. Not nearly.

[runscold-runsdeep]

Squeeze

Terzo X Omega - Dark Cardiophilia

Warnings/disclaimers: dark cardiophilia, fluff-ish, arguing, near death experience, heart failure, arithmetic heartbeat, demonic magic induced injury, Google Translate Italian for one phrase.

Word count: 800+

///Author’s note

I finally got it written!!! It’s short, and probably undeserving of a banner that took too much effort to make, but I wanted to scrub off the rust and get back into the swing of things. I’m gonna be adding a tag list to my fics from now on, so be sure to let me know if you want on!

🫀⸸⛧⸸🫀

The room was dark, the only light being the flicker of the TV displaying a horror film with Terzo scooted as close to Omega as he could, the mortal being curled up into the demon’s side. Omega enjoyed this closeness though, wrapping an arm around Terzo to keep him cozy. Despite the volume of the TV not being turned down low and Omega not having his ear pressed against Terzo's chest, he could still hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, occasionally quickening in response to the suspenseful moments in the movie.

Unable to resist the urge, Omega slid his hand down to Terzo’s chest, feeling the gentle, rhythmic beat of his heart against his palm, which made Terzo smile and lean closer to him. Despite his best efforts to concentrate on the movie playing in front of them, something about Terzo’s heart in that moment kept drawing his attention away. A sort of curiosity was nagging at him.

Ever since he was summoned and his natural talents for healing and caretaking were discovered, he found himself dedicating most of his spare time in The Ministry’s infirmary whenever he wasn’t with Ghost or alone with Terzo. The infirmary became a sort of sanctuary, a place where he could learn about the intricacies of the human body and its many ailments. However, amidst all the knowledge he was gaining, there were curiosities that lingered in his thoughts, and one of those questions kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. What happened if a heart was squeezed?

He tried to push this thought away once more. He would never test such a thing on his partner of all people. He would rather be sent to the ruthless hounds of Hell than to purposely hurt Terzo to answer such a ridiculous question… But at the same time, he also wanted to know how exactly Terzo’s heart specifically would react to such a thing. As he thought over this dilemma, his mind was clouded with conflict. On one hand, he felt a sense of guilt for even considering such a cruel experiment. On the other hand, curiosity gnawed at him, and whatever damage was done to his heart, he could always reverse it.

A purple light in the corner of Terzo's eye caught his attention, forcing his eyes away from the TV to look in the light's direction. Omega's hand was in a grasping position, aglow like ignited hand sanitizer. As Terzo's gaze lingered on the mysterious light, his lips parted to question Omega, but all that escaped was a wince. As Omega’s talons closed, a tightness formed in Terzo’s chest and a sharp pain began to shoot through his jaw and arm. As he felt his heart begin to stumble, his eyes widened, realizing now what Omega was doing. The sound of his pounding heart filled the room, drowning out all other noise as fear and confusion clouded his mind.

“O…Omega..!” Terzo gasped out, clutching at his chest and watching helplessly as Omega's claws tightened their grip around his heart, slowly squeezing it with his demonic powers, “Omega, s—stop!” He leaned against the ghoul, the pain and his failing heart causing his consciousness to wane.

And at once, Omega did, letting go of Terzo's heart and placing his large hand on the mortal's chest, taking in the pain he had inflicted. His own heart started to falter and ache now as he absorbed the injuries that had once belonged to Terzo.

Terzo closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he took in several deep breaths, trying to regulate his heart and his nerves before his eyes shot open, his head jerking to face his partner, glaring at him. “Tu... Tu fottuto idiota!” He exclaimed, “Wh—What the hell came over you?! You almost… you could have fucking killed me!”

Omega, who more than expected this reaction from Terzo, sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do that?” Terzo pressed his hand to his chest, as if trying to reassure himself that his heart was still beating.

Omega shrugged. “I was curious.”

“…You were curious.” Terzo repeated as he blinked at the demon, as stunned as he was furious. “You tried to kill me just to satisfy some curiosity?!”

“I mean,” Omega exhaled, pausing to choose his his words, “I wasn’t trying to kill you—“

Terzo glared at the ghoul, his white eye bearing a more intense coldness than it normally did, which made Omega cower just slightly.

“…I—I, uh… I wasn’t gonna push you that far. I was gonna stop before you reached that point. And I did.” Omega stammered, averting his gaze from Terzo’s.

Terzo huffed, shaking his head slightly as he curled back up with the demon, snuggling up against him. “Just… warn me next time you try something stupid like that.” He grumbled, “And look, I've missed a part of the movie because of you!” He complained, which forced a small chuckle from Omega as he pulled Terzo close.

“Want me to rewind it?” Omega offered, nuzzling his nose against the top of Terzo’s head.

“No, I’ll figure out what I missed later.” Terzo settled back into Omega’s hold as the ghoul draped his arm around him. Omega turned his attention back to the TV, feeling content at last even though his heart still throbbed and ached with an unsettling rhythm. He hoped that the discomfort would pass soon…

[doumadono]

⚠️ EMERGENCY REQUEST ⚠️

Hello! I have a small request with an Aizetsu (demon slayer) with a reader who self harms? Maybe he finds out when we are having a breakdown? I've been dealing with this for about 5 years now and need some form of comfort from him. If this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to not do it. Thank you.

Empathy - Aizetsu x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

One night, unable to bear the weight of your dark thoughts, you wandered into the forest, hoping the cool night air might soothe your troubled mind. As you moved deeper into the woods, a strange, unsettling noise reached your ears. Curiosity and fear battled within you, but you pressed on, drawn towards the source.

You stumbled into a clearing and froze. There, under the pale moonlight, was a figure, hunched over another. Blood gleamed darkly on the ground, and its metallic scent filled your nostrils. You realized with a jolt of horror that the figure was feeding. Your breath caught in your throat, and a terrified gasp escaped your lips.

The demon's head snapped up, and you locked eyes with him. His sorrowful, blue eyes widened in surprise, then softened with an almost human sadness. He slowly stood, the lifeless body of his victim slipping from his grasp. For a moment, you were certain he would come after you, but he remained still, his gaze locked on yours.

"Run," he said softly, and the corners of his mouth curled upward in a wry grin as the blood dripped down his chin.

You didn't need to be told twice. Heart pounding, you turned and fled, your mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. You ran until your legs gave out, collapsing at the edge of the village, gasping for breath. The image of those sorrowful eyes haunted you, mixing with the ever-present pain in your heart.

Despite your terror, something compelled you to return to the forest. Maybe it was the shared sorrow in those eyes... Days passed, and you found yourself wandering the same path, hoping and dreading to see him again.

This time, he was sitting on a fallen log, his back to you, staring at the ground as he played with a spear he held in his hand. He didn't seem to notice you until you were only a few steps away. When he looked up, his expression was filled with the same sorrow and regret you had seen before.

Your fear hadn't entirely vanished when you asked openly, "Why didn't you chase me?"

"I felt your pain," he replied simply. "I sensed a great darkness within you, a sadness so heavy that it would have made your flesh taste awful."

You looked down at your hands, tracing the scars that marred your skin. "I hurt myself because it feels like the only way to make the pain inside stop, even for just a moment."

"Hurting yourself won't make the pain go away. It only deepens the sorrow. I understand the need to escape, but there are other ways."

"But how? How do I find another way?"

He sighed deeply, looking directly at you with his blue eyes with kanji written in his pupils. "By finding something, someone, to hold onto. You mortals cherish life more than anything else, so hold onto it."

You collapsed at his feet, sobbing uncontrollably. "I can't escape the pain," you cried, your voice breaking. "It consumes me, and I don't know what to do. I want to disappear. End my life, demon for there is nothing good in it for me," you begged.

He gently lifted your chin, his touch colder than you expected. "I won't do that, little mortal."

"Why?" you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "Why won't you end my suffering?! You're a demon! You hunt people down to devour them! So act just like your nature tells you to!"

"Your life, no matter how burdened with sorrow, is precious. Your existence holds meaning, even if you can't see it right now. And you have a choice. And you're about to choose wrong."

You stared at him, shocked by his compassion and the depth of his understanding. "But you're a demon," you said, your voice barely audible. "Why do you care about a mortal like me?"

Aizetsu's sorrowful eyes softened even more, a hint of a sad smile playing on his lips. "Because I, too, know what it means to suffer. My existence is bound to sorrow, but that also means I understand the depths of your pain. I care because, in our shared sorrow, we can find a way to endure."

A sob escaped your lips as his words cut through your despair. His touch, still cold, now seemed almost comforting. "But how?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "How can I find a way to endure when every moment is agony?"

Aizetsu's fingers gently brushed away your tears and brought his digits upon his lips to taste them, his expression a mixture of empathy and melancholy. "You endure by finding even the smallest glimmer of hope," he said softly. "You endure because your suffering is not the end, but a chapter in your story."

You felt a strange warmth emanating from him, not in temperature, but in the sheer weight of his empathy. "But what if I can't?" you asked, the hopelessness threatening to drown you again.

His eyes, pools of infinite sorrow, held yours firmly. "Then you lean on those who care for you, even if that creature is a demon like me."

[sonneillonv]

@reucrion and @sonneillonv are proud to launch our Patreon! We are working on the first of our Tourist's Guide projects, which will be supplements exploring different realms in the gaming multiverse. Join to get project updates, free content, assets, and merch reviews, as well as access to a brand new serial by Sonneillon V!

Descent Into Avernus Do you enjoy Lets Plays? Would you like to explore the story behind game modules without actually having to play through them? Or maybe you don't have a consistent D&D group, but you still want a chance to experience the twists and turns of established in-universe stories. As a special bonus, even the lowest subscription tier can enjoy a serialized fic based on the popular D&D 5e Module "Descent Into Avernus", updated 2x monthly. Read a sample below!

(Refuge, Undersigil)

The deep, bass pounding of the drums shook the walls and floor. Ceiling too, if the intermittent rain of mortar was any indication. It rattled Hyx's organs, demanded his heart take on the beat, which was exactly how he liked it. The orcs in The Well were doing something really interesting with carefully pitched industrial grinding noises they made with rusted machine parts, chanting in dissonant harmony with the groaning cry of the war horn their tattooed tanarukk lead was blowing.

 The other patrons seemed to like it as much as he did, crashing their bodies together on the cracked, silt-stained dance floor and crowding around the bar, a collection of salvage lashed together with hemp cord and nails, propped against a stack of re-used barrels. The drinks were swill, clouded with sediment, but they flowed fast and free, and they were strong enough to ignore the taste most of the time. Hyx was good with the trade - no one in The Refuge would expect better - but he wasn't a noob. He was alternating. The thirst that propelled him from the crowd, weaving between bodies in the wild strobe of colored magical light, demanded water.

Fiends were immune or resistant to a lot of things that hurt mortals, but suffering for one's excesses was half the purpose of hell, so hangovers weren't on the list.

The water was warm and the dented tin mug made it taste metallic, but it was clean enough. He guzzled it and considered stepping outside for a piss, extracting himself from the bar crowd and shifting toward the entrance so he could puff his feathers and get some air on his skin. As a result, he was standing in easy view when a three-tailed celestial fox demon with long, white hair pushed past the crowd at the door. Hyx ground his teeth on a sigh and made a token effort to look for an escape route, but he wasn't fast enough.

Siblings were another form of suffering fiends were allowed, nay, encouraged to experience.

Xien strode in his direction, eyes burning white in the darkness between strobes. His expression was anger, exasperation, concern... different colors highlighted different emotions. It would have been fascinating if Hyx hadn't been busy bracing for impact.

He opened with, "It's 2am," and Hyx scoffed because he never understood why normies bothered pointing that out to people like him. If he was out partying until 2am, it was clearly because he didn't give two shits.

"I know," he shouted over the music, favoring his brother with a toothy smile. "You're just in time -  party just hit its stride!"

Exasperation took center stage. Xien knew when he was being annoying on purpose. "We have an early check-out."

"I'll sleep on the trip."

"You'll be hungover and puking on the trip," Xien shot back. "Come back to the inn and get it out of your system so I don't have to smell it all day."

Hyx grinned. "You're not going to fix it? Disrespectful. Am I not your favorite anymore?" He hooked an arm around Xien-di's neck and bonked their horns together clumsily, swaying a little. "Didi, breaking my heart. Respect your elders."

"Gege," Xien said as patiently as he could while shouting to be heard, "Don't just assume I'll restore you if you get excessively fucked up. That kind of spell takes effort, actually. Magic isn’t free."

"Of course it's not." He rolled his eyes and walked Xien over to a wall near the exit where it was a little easier to hear. "So what do you want?"

"You've had fun, you've gotten drunk, probably high. It's a good night, right?” Xien was clearly doing his best to sound reasonable. “So wrap it up, come back to the inn now, and when you start feeling like shit I'll restore you... as long as you go to bed, STAY in bed, and let ME sleep until you actually need help."

"You bargain like a fucking devil," Hyx sighed, but he couldn't help a lopsided smile.

"I bargain like I have two older brothers," Xien tossed back. "Agreed?"

He snorted and tugged one of A-Xien’s fluffy ears. "The little princess of Seven Springs Mountain doesn't get to talk. You should have grown up at Broken Stone, THEN you could bitch about siblings." But he extended his hand with an air of great affront, prepared to trade a few more hours of fun for a get-out-of-hangover-free card.

Then the floor dropped out from under them.

x-x-x

You see, once upon a time, there was a cistern.

In the beginning, there wasn't anything very remarkable about it. It was built of stone and rusting metal, a reservoir for rainwater and run-off from the streets above. It was dark and quiet and alone, except for the ever-growing collection of trash it accumulated as the water ebbed and flowed through it. A peaceful, forgotten place that caused no problems and earned no accolades. Well-behaved cisterns seldom make history.

One day, a creature came to dwell in its collected waters. Slimy and seditious, with grasping tentacles and rings of saw-like teeth, it nestled into the darkness under the streets and made its home there. It attracted no attention and bothered no one, because its focus was elsewhere - an entirely different world, far from the floating city that contained it, a true planet with mountains and seas and a molten core that spun it around its sun. In that world, the creature had enemies and it lusted for their destruction, plotting daily, weaving spells and wearing down the barriers between itself and its prize. After many years of effort, it made a tunnel that would allow it to prey on the people it hungered for and retreat back to its nest from any resistance, escaping across the worlds, across the planes, where no one would reach it. It thought itself very clever for this.

Unfortunately, monstrous behavior indicates the presence of a monster, and the presence of a monster attracts adventurers. The greatest plague in all the realms, relentlessly nosey do-gooders, incapable of minding their own business... the whole phenomenon of adventuring parties is roundly condemned by would-be tyrants everywhere. And sometimes they are versed in magic, though the creature would have considered them clumsy as children compared to itself, limited in their minds, incapable of even rudimentary telepathy and limited to communicating via disgusting sounds they made with their actual MOUTHS. They hammered at the Weave like a child hammers at a toy lute, but they hit the right notes and the creature found itself cut off from its retreat.

All its plans collapsed quickly after that.

But even as its cartilaginous mouth with its rings of serrated teeth was mounted, hung in the halls of its killers as a trophy, the tunnel remained. With no living creature to maintain it, it anchored itself to those teeth, yawning wide enough to swallow a man whole. Then it went to sleep.

Time passed.

The forgotten cistern was truly forgotten. The waterworks of the floating city changed: new cisterns were dug and old, crumbling ones closed off. All paths leading to our subject were closed, and over time the water drained away and left only the refuse.

Decades later, someone exploring the depths of the floating city broke through a crumbling wall and found a vast space full of gently-rotting trash. Then another wall was broken through, and another, as the desperate dwellers in the dark searched for the resources to prolong their miserable lives. The former cistern became a place where the poor and suffering gathered. They dug for valuables, traded them, and eventually dumped their own trash so the next seeker could rifle through it.

The large, round hole in the ceiling didn't concern any of them. No one had reason to explore it, and even if they had, the tunnel was sleeping.

Because it was hidden and secure, the cistern became a place to trade not only garbage, but also information. Soon there was a goblin spit-roasting rats for barter. Then an enterprising wight began rolling barrels of his hobby wine down on alternate days and making deals for a stiff drink.

They called it Refuse at first, painting the letters over the entrances in used whitewash. Then, after a raid on Undersigil, someone messily painted over the 's' with a mismatched 'g' and it became Refuge. Availability of food and alcohol expanded. Locals gathered to make music together in street-corner bands, attracting others. Regular vendors pooled resources to have magic lights installed. Foot traffic swelled. Refuge became a place, not just to find things, but to lose them - inhibitions, memories, responsibilities, cares. It was elysium. As long as you kept the peace, nobody cared who you were. Living refuse, drifting into the cistern and settling in to stay.

Still, the tunnel slept.

Worlds away, there was a catastrophe. 

As it happens, the creature that had once resided in the cistern died not far from a tavern called Two Black Antlers, and its jaw was now displayed there amidst the remains of a dozen other monsters as an adventuring trophy. That tavern and its surroundings were being pulled across planar boundaries. Spikes were driven deep into the earth, chains rattling from Faerun to Avernus, reeling and ratcheting an entire city down to Hell. Dragged with it, the tunnel awoke screaming in the language of time and space and magic. It twisted, tearing, shrieking as the delicate threads of sympathy began to snap. But in the moment before it shattered forever, the tunnel opened and a portal bloomed between that old, crumbling cistern and a tavern sinking into Avernus. The ancient mortar gave - floors, ceiling, and walls all shattered. Screaming patrons and debris spun through the hole between worlds as if the dead aboleth itself exhaled them into Avernus, a last predatory act.

Then the portal shattered. The connection between planes dissolved into the nothingness between, and the place where the cistern had been was deathly quiet.

Casualty reports would change continually over the next few weeks as investigators in Faerun tried to tally the number of missing from the once-resplendent city of Elturel. Eventually the figure would crest 15,000.

The 73 victims from Undersigil went unmarked. No one even knew to look for them.

Like the rain trickling down the culverts of Sigil, they had disappeared into the dark.

[broke-art]

"Normally such a bold move would be suicide." Your father mused. He rested his elbows on the desk steepling his fingers in front of him. "But on account of your new abilities-" He smirked as you rubbed your arm nervously. "We will be in the perfect position to strike." Your father stood suddenly.

You found yourself locking your muscles into place to keep your body from flinching.

Your father circled the desk and ruffled your hair.

"You might just be useful to me after all, Spark."

You kept gaze on the floor as he spoke only once more.

"Now, go fetch me that gauntlet."

Your memory ended just as you pulled your hood lower. Then you watched as the last rays of daylight faded behind the horizon. Your foot falls were silent as you came to an old elevator.

Despite the silence surrounding you, your heartbeat sped a million miles a minute. What if your father was mistaken? You would die. There was no question about how the demon bull family would react to the blatant attack.

You had never caught a demon before. You only hoped you could get in and escape without detection. You secured your rope to a nearby building and began repelling down the shaft. You couldn't risk using the elevator making noise. The long descent made your mind wander back to your newfound abilities.

A 'Museling' was what your father had called you. A creature with the ability to control any demon with a single, simple kiss. The ability had dawned from a long forgotten goddess whom had married a mortal. She was then banished from the heavenly realm for the offense. This was the only ability left from her previous powers. Extremely few of her descendants inherited said ability.

You had simply been lucky. At that moment the rope above you snapped. The sound reverberated throughout the cave as you plummeted towards the ground. Then again maybe you weren't so lucky at all. Your body hit the ground with jarring force but you rolled to disperse the momentum. This worked, but pain still resounded through you.

"Well, well, well-"

You stiffened at the low voice.

"Look what we have here."

Your head snapped up and your gaze locked with the heir of the demon bull family. Behind him stood several mechanical bull humanoids. Your mind whirred in to action, attempting to conjure up a plan, a move, anything! Then, your body moved on it's own accord. You dashed past the heir and dodged several of the mechs.

"Gah! Get her!" The heir shouted as you flipped over the last mech using it's shoulders as a foundation. You raced towards the gauntlet.

It was perched on a pedestal placed in the opposite side of the room. Somehow, you barely managed to dodge each of the bots that lunged at you. You reached forward as you heard it. Your fingertips had only brushed the metal when a fiery hand clamped around your arm effectively ripping you away.

"I have no idea what you want with my gauntlet but I'm not going to allow it." The heir growled.

A yelp escaped your lips as he tugged you over, causing you to slip off a nearby ledge. Below your dangling form was a pit of lava. And the only lifeline keeping you from an excruciating death was his grip on your arm.

"Any last words, peasant girl?" He mocked with a sadistic grin.

Your jaw fell slack, but no words escaped your lips.

"No? Huh pity." And with that parting remark, he released his grip on your arm.

The instant he released, your mind caught on to one last plan. Your hand shot out and caught ahold of his collar, dragging him off the ledge with you. In one last desperate effort, you ripped him closer and slammed a kiss onto his lips.

Fireworks exploded in your mind but you forced yourself to pull away. And narrowed your eyes at him.

"Save me!" You commanded with a shout.

The heir's eyes widened but his body reacted instantaneously. He snaked an arm around your lower back and tugged you flush against his chest. Next, he scooped up your legs with the other arm. When you both landed it was directly in the lava. Yet, the heir hardly seemed to notice the heat, and only bent at the knees slightly in order to catch yours and his weight combined.

"WHAT MAGIC IS THIS?!" He demanded staring at you in shock.

"Put me down over there." You instructed, barely able to think straight from your previous fear.

The heir obliged, but glared at you as if tempted to light you aflame himself.

The moment your feet touched solid ground, you collapsed to your knees as tremors racked your body.

"Pathetic." The heir scoffed before gripping your arm, and yanking you upright. "Now answer me. What have you done to me?"

"Only what you told me to." You panted with a cruel smile.

"Wha-"

"You're the one who wanted to hear my last words."

The heir gaped at you a moment then growled.

"Answer my question!"

The more cruel part of you seemed to take over at this point.

"Alright, I will. After we get the gauntlet and I'm allowed to go."

"WHAT?! If you think-"

"Come on." You urged, walking up the stairs to your right.

Begrudgingly, the heir was forced to follow you. As you neared the top of the stairs you remembered the bull bots. So, you threw a glance over your shoulder at him.

"Hey. When we get up there, you need to tell the robots to leave me be."

The heir scoffed.

"As if I'd ever-"

The moment your foot touched the top stair a bull clone reached for you. Only, the heir held up a hand. Signaling the bull clone to halt.

"Leave her be."

The bull clone seemed shocked, but retreated immediately. And you giggled as the heir's jaw dropped.

You stuffed The gauntlet into your backpack. Maybe this ability wasn't so bad after all. You entered the elevator only to pause when the heir stepped in as well.

"No, you can't follow me. Stay here."

The heir rose a brow at you and folded his arms.

"I didn't decide to follow you. Just as I didn't decide to save you."

You frowned in worry.

"But I didn't tell you to follow me."

The heir only glowered at you.

"Of course I would be cursed by an idiotic witch."

"Hey!"

The elevator jolted upward at that moment throwing you into his chest. The heir caught you, then shoved you back in an instant.

"So, you don't even understand what you did." He concluded folding his arms once again.

You only huffed as you were regained your footing.

"I guess not." You muttered the answer more to yourself than to him.

The trip home was awkward to say the least. The heir threw insults most of the time. So, at some point you told him he wasn't allowed to speak. With such a command, his hair exploded into flames and you gasped at the beautiful colors the display had to offer. If there was one good thing to be said of this demon, it was how breathtaking his flames were.

Bright yellows, sparking oranges, and blinding white lights danced infront of your eyes. The lights brought an overwhelming warmth that flooded the lonely street you walked on.

Almost instinctively, your shoulders eased and your pace slowed a step or two.

The heir paused studying your reaction then abruptly extinguished his flames, folded his arms, and looked away stubbornly.

You tried not to show your disappointment and quickened your pace once again. Your father was expecting you.

When you finally arrived home, your father greeted you both with a grin. Then lead you both to his study.

"I see you brought home a stray." Your father mentioned amusedly. He walked behind his desk seemingly looking for something as he pulled open drawers. He would sift through them, seemingly find nothing, and close them again.

You were used to him ignoring you, and with his unavailability came your safety. So you hardly minded.

Your forced guest however, glowered at your father over his spectacles impatiently with folded arms. He didn't speak, but then, he didn't have to. His look conveyed more than enough.

To distract yourself from the scathing look you spoke up.

"He was forced to follow me. I don't know how to stop the effects."

You kept the explanation simple and to the point. Just the way your father preferred it.

He nodded.

"Well that's to be expected. There are really only two ways to handle a situation such as this." Your father seemed to find what he had been looking for at that moment. He pulled a long silver dagger from his desk and twirled it between his fingertips thoughtfully.

Instantly, the heir stiffened and his look shifted to caution.

"Um what is that for?" You ventured nervously. Memories of past attacks from your father flicked into your mind's eye. He had only used a knife once. The scar down your back throbbed at the memory and you squirmed a bit.

Your reaction did not go unnoticed by the heir. His eyes seemed to flick restlessly between you and your father. Confusion mingled with determination in his eyes.

"Well it's to handle our situation of course. One way is to kill the demon." Your father's eyes focused on the heir. The dagger still twirling, it's light glinting off the polished metal.

The heir met his gaze unflinchingly and smirked almost as if he was amused by the challenge.

"And the other?" You asked carefully. You didn't want to invoke your father's wrath. But perhaps there was a peaceful way to resolve this.

"You needn't worry about the other. The first will do nicely." You father dismissed with a wave in your direction. "This blade is blessed and can kill any demon easily."

The heir took a defensive stance as your father walked around the desk.

"This won't take long. As he cannot harm you, nor anyone in your bloodline." Your father informed you simply. His voice was calm as if he was only talking to you about the weather or something just as trivial and not someone's life. Meanwhile, the heir's fists burst into flame.

In a blink your father lunged at the heir and stabbed towards his chest.

The demon dodged the blade and raced towards the door only for his body to freeze.

Your father took on a smirk and used the opportunity to slash at the demon once again. This time the blade met it's mark slitting open a scar on the heir's cheek.

The demon shouted in pain and knocked the dagger from your father's grip.

"Y/n! Command him to be still!" Your father ordered.

Make him hold still? You could never do that, could you? Were you a murderer? You didn't want to be. Panic raced through you with your indecision and you froze.

The demon ducked under a punch and blocked a kick from your father all the while his gaze raking the room. Then his gaze locked on you. Realization seemed to alight in his eyes and he shoved your father aside before running towards you.

Fear gripped your heart and you rose your arms to cover your face on instinct. You waited for the blow. Only, no blow came. Instead, the heir lifted you bridal style and jumped at your father's bay view window. The glass shattered with the force of his shoulder, and you both fell onto some bushes. Thankfully, they cushioned your fall.

Still the demon pulled you back against his chest and took off in a run. You had no idea where he was taking you. And for a moment you were tempted to command him to stop. But then your father's voice flashed through your mind.

'Y/n! Command him to be still.'

You had froze. When your father had given you a direct order. If you turned back now, you were as good as dead. So, you allowed the demon to go where he wanted. The wind whistled around you, but no chill touched you. The demon's chest was unsurprisingly warm and even comforting. You had to stop yourself from leaning into him or he would surely drop you.

Eventually his run died out to a walk. He entered a nearby park and dropped you hard on the grass.

The landing was a touch unexpected and slightly stung but not much. Especially not compared with how your father treated you. The demon sat a ways away from you panting to catch his breath.

You waited patiently for his chest's rising and falling to take on a more steady rhythm before speaking. Silence filled the brisk night air around you and you glanced at your surroundings trying to figure out where you were. Nothing appeared to be familiar. The sun was long since gone and you had no plans of returning home.

Suddenly, the future seemed rather bleak for you. Especially if this demon kept following you everywhere.

You glanced back at the red head deciding he'd caught his breath enough for you to speak.

"Why didn't you run?"

His head snapped up. His features first held shock which quickly morphed into anger.

"Apparently, I have to remain within a certain distance of you or I can't move."

Guilt pricked your conscience, so you looked away.

The demon remained silent for a few minutes then spoke with a bewildered tone.

"Why didn't you obey him?"

"What?" You asked looking back at him.

The demon heir grew annoyed.

"Why didn't you obey your father? He told you to command me to be still. But you didn't."

You thought for a moment. Was there a reason? Or had it simply been panic? Taking a deep breath you slowly put your thoughts into words.

"I'm not entirely sure. I didn't want to be a murderer. And I didn't think you should have had to die just because I don't know what I'm doing."

A small pause filled the air until the demon scoffed.

"Nice speech, peasant girl. Real touching."

Suddenly, you wanted very much to slug him.

"Well you don't seem very grateful."

"Grateful?!" The demon yelled. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this situation."

You huffed. It was the truth, and you knew it. But that didn't make listening to it any easier.

"Well, now what?" You mused to yourself. "I suppose I should release the spell."

The demon quirked an eyebrow at you.

"I thought you didn't know how."

"Well no." You agreed.

The demon groaned.

"But dad does."

The demon stared at you with a deadpan expression for a moment.

"Oh look who finally learned how to think."

Your patience ran thin at that remark.

"Be quiet!"

The demon's lips sealed but his hair burst into flame along with his eyes. You were sure he wanted to burn you to ashes at that moment.

"Listen, If dad knows then he had to have learned somewhere. And he has tons of books about Muselings in his study."

Intrigue sparked in the demon's eyes suddenly and you felt like you had finally made a connection.

"What do you think?"

The effects of your command for silence faded instantly with your question.

"I think you should stop silencing me before I rip you apart." He warned darkly.

You flinched but then he sighed.

"But you have a point. My knowledge on Muselings is... Limited to say the least. If that's truly what you are I have no idea how to remedy the situation."

You smiled excitedly.

"So we sneak in, steal the book he has on Muselings and remove the spell."

The demon leaned his back against a tree folding his arms.

"One question."

"Mhm?" You asked shivering a bit as a breeze blew past you both.

"What's in it for you?"

You paused. What would you get from this? Death if your father caught you. Likely death, if you released the demon. This was simply a no win situation.

"Here, if I help you then you have to help me." You began feeling nervousness creep up your stomach.

"And how would I do that?" The demon asked exasperatedly.

You bit your lip for a moment.

"You have to make sure he doesn't kill me."

The demon tensed and shock was painted across his features.

"What?"

You wrung your hands.

"He'll kill me for this...If I help you, you have to make sure he can't."

Something akin to concern laced the confusion that over took his face.

"But he's your father."

You laughed a little bitterly.

"Ok and?" You waited for him to continue.

"Your father would do that to you? His own daughter?"

You scoffed.

"Without hesitation."

A long silence broke the conversation and you simply sat and watched the demon think.

"..Fine." He huffed begrudgingly. He offered you his hand. "It seems we have a deal."

You gripped his hand and shook it only then remembering that deals with demons very rarely ended well.

[asukamood]

SPOILER ALERT FOR PERILOUS TRAIL’S LAST PART

HELP I JUST NOTICED AUTOCORRECT CHANGED MY KARMATIC DEBT TO K E R M I T

TW: Xiao’S Kermatic debt, do I have to say anything else-

“Xiao-“ Yelan reached out her hand to him but before they could touch, she disappeared in a green and black mist along with the others. Teleporting the others out of this place was the last thing he could have done, he didn’t have any more energy now.

Without any way of maintaining the Fantastic Compass going, the platform broke and let Xiao fall backward into the darkness.

He didn’t make any attempt to turn into his real form and fly, he knew it would be pointless. The Conqueror of Demons didn’t value his life and never did. When he signed the contract with his deity, Rex Lapis, he was prepared to die for the sake of others. Hell, he was even happy to do so.

In his eyes, dying to make sure others lived was a way of atoning for the eons of slaughter he performed before and after he had met the deity. Plus, death would free him for the karmic ties that made him suffer everyday, threatening to make him lose his mind.

And yet, falling in that empty void felt wrong.

What could be making him doubt that dying would be good?

He closed his eyes and emptied his mind. He was going to succumb to this darkness anyways, there was no need to wonder about that.

Unknown to him, a trail of golden magic coming from the surface dived down and split up into multiple parts. They surrounded him and he felt… warmth enveloping him. Before he knew it, he was kneeling on solid ground, the rays of the sun illuminating him and the people he saved rushing towards him.

***

It has been a few weeks since Chasm's accident took place.

Life had gone back to normal for everyone. Itto and Shinobu left Liyue for their mother country after spending some time with the others, Yanfei restarted to take cases, Yelan went back to inspecting the depths of the Chasm and as for Xiao, he resumed defending Liyue from the phantomatic wrath of the fallen gods.

Dozens of hillichurls’ corpses lay lifeless on the ground as black mist evaporated in the air. In the middle of this corpse display. A short dark-haired man stood, bloody spear in hand. The very same mist from the hillichurls was leaving his body and he found that he had a hard time breathing.

Karmic debt.

Xiao was used to the pain, he had lived with it for as long as he could remember after all. Yet today, the ache that shook his entire body was simply unbearable. The pain seemed to have increased in strength, so much that it got Xiao collapsing and miserably gasping for air as he tried to keep his screams and other noises as quiet as possible.

If someone heard him, they would approach and get hurt. He couldn’t let that happen.

The sky in front of him started to wobble and turn a crimson red, his eyes closed a few seconds before opening back again, each time becoming harder to keep them open. The pain grew and he felt like the earth was going to split open and let the fallen deities devour him whole, similarly to how he ate dreams of mortals in the past. Something pressed his stomach and churned it, twisting it into an awkward angle. He accidentally let out a scream before gritting his teeth and holding onto dear life on the ground with his shaky free hand.

Just as he thought that would be it, the end of his story, he felt himself being picked up from the ground by a strong pair of arms. The area around him stabilized and the crimson color that covered the entirety of the place faded away, making place for the usual relaxing blue sky and green grass. Even the nausea and pain he felt disappeared with them, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth. Yet he was so tired…

“Rest.” The voice didn’t leave any place for questions or objections, the order was clear. Despite that, the boy still fought against exhaustion, fearing that it would actually have the opposing effect of resting. Besides, he didn’t want to go, not yet.

A hand brushed his forehead gently and placed a rebellious strand of hair back in place. “Do not fret,” That voice he knew so well was soothing, it was starting to lull him to sleep. “I will be here when you wake up. Just go to sleep.”

At the edge of passing out, the boy turned his head to look at the man’s face. The last thing he saw was a pair of golden and orange irises, pupils similar to a reptile, staring back at him.

Xiao’s head fell to the side again and slow breathing could be heard if silent enough. Zhongli, who was still holding him in his arms, sighed and pet his hair, earning an appreciative noise from the sleeping man.

The old dragon cracked a smile. “Maybe I should ask the Director for more vacation.”

***

The smell of brewing tea was what Xiao woke up to. His vision being a bit blurry and memory foggy, he started to wonder where he was. Wasn’t he out dealing with demons? That’s when it hit him. Red, karma, pain, scream, relief, Rex Lapis.

Rex Lapis.

Xiao jerked his body upward, eyes as wide as planets. His body didn’t like the sudden movement if the way nausea suddenly hit him like a truck was of any indication, he slumped back down, wincing.

Footsteps echoed near him and the smell of the tea got closer.

“You should take it easy. That episode you had was way more painful than usual, your body is still recovering from it.” Zhongli didn’t look at Xiao when he said that since he was busy placing the steaming cup of tea on the table besides his bed. He sat down on the wooden chair he moved earlier as Xiao watched with a wide open jaw.

When he told him he was going to stay, he didn’t think he actually would stay.

Zhongli noticed the stare Xiao was giving him and chuckled. “What is that look for? Surprised I was actually here when you woke up?” The Yaksha could nod dumbly, unable to form comprehensible words.

“Well I told you I would and as the God of Contracts, that would be quite out of character not to.” Zhongli briefly glanced at the cup before turning back to Xiao. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh…” Xiao frowned. “Better.”

The deity nodded. “Would you like some tea? You were quite cold when I found you back there.” Xiao accepted and drinking it did make him feel warmer, he didn’t even notice how cold he felt.

Zhongli flashed him a smile. “I bought you some sweet tofu as well in case you were hungry.”

“… Whose money was it?”

“We don’t speak of that.” Xiao snickered, feeling more relaxed than he had done in years- No, centuries. Was it because Rex Lapix was beside him? It could be an explanation. The fact he was babying him too was quite enjoyable if he were honest.

“Sure dad.” Silence.

Once the weight of what he just called the geo archon dawned on him, his cheeks flared up with blush. “MY LORD. I MEANT TO SAY MY LORD!”

‘Oh no, what if he gets weirded out and doesn’t want to see me anymo-‘

The sound of genuine laughter interrupted his thoughts.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed, I’m glad you see me as a father figure.” Zhongli beamed at him while he patted his hair.

The reason why it felt so wrong to die back in the Chasm was right here after all.

He wanted to stay by Rex Lapix’s side forever and death would make them part ways, that’s why he didn’t want to die.

[starrconch]

HUGS

★ Includes: Childe/ Tartaglia, Xiao, Albedo, GN reader, fluff

★ Word Count: 1263

★ Master List

CHILDE / TARTAGLIA

★ The eleventh fatui harbinger was a busy man, getting spare time was a rare occasion. So, whenever he saw you, your partner would tend to cling to you as much as he could.

★ At first he was hesitant to hug you in public, nervous that the enemies of the fatui would see your relationship and take advantage of it. He never wanted harm to come your way, especially because of him.

★ But eventually, he’d come to the conclusion that any time with you was precious and must be used to its fullest potential.

You felt arms slip under your own and around your waist before the culprit announced their presence, but you knew who it was. Those arms had held you countless times before, you knew them as if they were your own.

“Y/N!” Childe murmured into your ear, burying his face into your neck and placing several kisses there. “I’m home.”

You twisted round to return the embrace, running your fingers through his ginger hair. “You’re home, finally.” Not caring who stared in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbour, you squeezed him so tight you were sure you were nearly cutting off his oxygen supply.

Childe was your warmth, your safety, your life. You needed to cherish every moment you could.

“How was your trip to Snezhnaya?” He had been very excited to see his family after months of sending them letters, though a little disappointed that you couldn’t come with him.

“It was great. Anton loved the pictures of Liyue you took and Tonia adored the preserved Qingxin. They want to come here as much as they want to meet you.” Your partner tilted your chin upwards to kiss your lips fervently. “Would you like to go and get some food?” He smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead and trailing them down to your nose.

Nodding you nuzzled your head into his chest. Even with the agreement that the two of you had made, neither of you moved. Food would come later, but now was the time to enjoy each other’s presence.

XIAO

★ In the long years of his life, some that vanished with a blink and the others dragging on for centuries, the adeptus had never really experienced physical contact with another being.

★ There was once a time where Morax would embrace him in an attempt to get him to smile, but when he realised it was futile he stopped.

★ He couldn’t remember how long it had been since then.

★ When you came into his life and your time spent together developed into a closer relationship, affection came at a very slow pace.

★ Though, with time, Xiao found that he enjoyed hugs the most as he felt as though he was protecting you.

Night had fallen at the Wangshu Inn and you and your partner were huddled together in bed. He was sat up with his back against the headboard while you rested your head in his lap. His fingers had been mindlessly running through your hair, but eventually they slowly halted.

You looked up confused, a little sad that he had stopped, but what you found was an adeptus snoring softly above you. He appeared to be so peaceful, so beautiful, leaving you unsure as to whether you should wake him or not.

As his head fell down, jolting him awake, his amber eyes frantically searched the room before landing on you.

“Were you asleep?” You asking, pursing your lips to hide a chuckle. This was the first time you had ever actually seen him doze off.

“No. Of course not.” He rolled his eyes to avoid making contact with yours, a blush of embarrassment forming on his cheeks. “Adepti have no need for sleep as our bodies are different from your mortal ones. I was... just resting my eyes for a moment.”

★ Earlier in your relationship with Xiao, you had mentioned the topic of him sleeping before which he brushed off a few times. However, he came to you on his own accord to inform you that he didn’t sleep because he had nightmares whenever he did so.

You outstretched your arms towards him. “Come and cuddle with me. If you need to rest I’ll be here to help keep your demons at bay.”

Watching as your partner’s expression softened for a split second, you weaved your hand into his. “Please.”

He gave in and slid down to lie next to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “I won’t rest. This way I can protect you from all angles.”

This time your stifled laugh escaped. “Thank you, Xiao.”

★ When you woke up the next morning you were greeted by a peacefully sleeping adeptus who, for the first time in his prolonged existence, smiled in his dreams.

ALBEDO

★ As the busy Chief Alchemist at the Knights of Favonious, Albedo never had time to consider the thought of affection, let alone hugging his partner. He was always too engrossed in his latest experiment up in his cave in Dragonspine, leaving you to wonder if he ever had the opportunity to experience such a thing.

★ You were sure that he must have received some form of a hug when he took care of Klee as the little girl was quite a touchy person, but it left you guessing what it meant for your relationship.

Albedo was hunched over his desk writing up several reports of some chemicals he had mixed together. His job confused you greatly, but you adored the passion that filled him while he worked. You loved it so much so that you were hesitant to stop him to ask him about whether or not he had ever had a hug before.

“Albedo,” You called out, finally deciding to make your move. If you didn’t ask eventually you knew it would just eat at your mind for the rest of eternity.

There was no response. The alchemist didn’t even stir from his work, his eyes still focused on the results he had discovered.

You stood from where you were sat. That was it. It was time for a more drastic measure to get his attention.

“Quick! Albedo!” You shouted, lacing as much panic into your voice as you could muster.

He jumped a little, scared by the sudden noise. Though his eyes met yours, worry consuming them. “What? What’s the matter, Y/N?”

"My arms, look. Hold them."

He did as you commanded, wondering what would happen when he did touch them. Did they hurt? Was something wrong with them?

As he went to lift up your sleeves to inspect your arms, you smirked. The oblivious boy had fallen into your trap. You pulled him close to you, burying your face into his shoulder and holding him tight. “Got you.”

Albedo was stiff for a while, not having such contact in quite a while, but he relaxed after he realised you weren’t letting him go. “What’s the occasion for this?” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine.

“There’s no occasion, I just wanted a hug.” You were glad he couldn’t see your face now as you were certain you would be bright red.

“So your arms aren’t injured?” He pulled back just to make sure you were okay.

You shook your head smiling. “I just wanted to hold you.”

★ If you wanted hugs from the alchemist, asking him verbally was out of the question most of the time. You would have to initiate the contact yourself and he would gladly follow through.

[kkaeyva]

'forever' is for dreamers

𐐪𐑂 summary: xiao learns how to dream.

𐐪𐑂 note: sorry for disappearing for a bit </3 i was working on a few things and now i'm back :) and just in time for xiao's birthday as well <3 happy birthday xiao <3 here's a drabble dedicated to you and THANKS FOR THE CRYSTALFLIES MWA MWAH KISSES XIAO ON THE FOREHEAD

𐐪𐑂 includes: xiao

𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff, you could read this as friends to potential lovers but idk, misuse/overuse of the words 'forever' and 'dream' LMAO

𐐪𐑂 word count: 1.5k

xiao does not believe in love.

or, more specifically, he does not believe in mortal emotions.

his arms rest against the railing of the balcony on the top floor of wangshu inn when he senses your presence behind him. your gaze meets his when he turns around to acknowledge you, and a smile appears on your face when he does so.

“xiao!” you call out to him, “so you’re here too, huh?” he moves to the side as to give you room on the railing. he doesn’t respond to you, choosing instead to look out into the horizon. (although, it’s not like he’s ever responded all that often.)

you continue a one-sided conversation, your gaze flickering back and forth between the adeptus beside you and the view before you to watch for a reaction to anything you say.

to anyone else, he certainly seems like he has turned you out or ignored you since your arrival. but you know better— xiao simply isn’t much of a talker. you glance over at him again once you finish up the story you were telling (something about a friend being descended from pirates?) and decide that maybe today he’d appreciate a bit of silence. you catch him as he gives you a look when he realizes you’ve gone quiet (it’s a look of something you can’t discern, unfortunately) but neither of you says anything of it.

a soft smile breaks out on your face as you lean a bit more onto the railing. you don’t know what’s so special about this quiet moment, but the words escape through your mouth faster than you can stop them.

“will we be friends forever, xiao?”

this catches him off guard. you can tell in the way the tips of his fingers twitch just a little, and how he swivels his head to look at you. he simply scoffs and turns back, his words nonchalant and indifferent, “forever is impossible for a mortal like you. you humans should stop romanticizing a concept you will never understand.”

you simply laugh a little at that and gaze out into the scenery once more. “i was thinking you’d say something like that. xiao, the ever-so-predictable adeptus, hm? anyway, i guess i’ll have to keep dreaming.”

he rolls his eyes and you laugh again. the sun is beginning to set and the sky is becoming stained with orange-yellow watercolour hues.

xiao would rather not grasp the concept of human emotions. they get in the way when he is trying to carry out his duties, and so he whisks them away each night as if they are another one of the demons he slays.

but as he sits on the edge of a cliff, staring up at the full moon, his mind wanders to the words you said not long ago. dream? about what? how do you dream about forever, when you’ve only got a bit of time to live?

‘forever’ is not something he could promise to anyone, not even rex lapis.

he’s seen many promises made between the children playing in the streets through the form of hooking pinkies together, and he’s seen promises made between merchants and shopkeepers through the form of paper and pen. above all else, the word ‘forever’ seems to be a common trend with them. what did you mean back then, to keep dreaming about forever? it’s always you that twists and turns his brain into a mess trying to decipher what you mean. why must humans dream about a concept even he can’t put into words yet? would any adeptus be able to describe ‘forever?’ the adepti are immortal, but does that necessarily mean ‘forever?’

he grumbles as he shakes his mind free of those thoughts. it’s not like the moon could give him any answers, anyway.

you’ve gone and done it this time— xiao thinks you’ve infected his mind with your words.

the thing is, xiao does not dream. he tries his hardest not to, he refuses to (weakness like that could spell the end for him.) and what kind of dream would he even have? one of light? one of peace? they are both so, so far out of his reach; he’s better off not thinking about them at all.

he’s pulled out of his trance from the sound of you setting a plate of almond tofu in front of him.

“you’re welcome,” you say as you take a seat across from him. “what’s on your mind? you seemed out of it earlier.”

he shakes his head— a “nothing that a mortal needs to worry about,” leaving his lips— and he digs into his almond tofu. while he would rather eat alone, he supposes he’s come to not mind your presence as much as before. maybe he could get you to explain to him what you meant that day.

he takes a bite of his tofu, relishing in the soft sweetness enveloping his tongue.

it tastes like how he thinks a dream would feel.

oh, and suddenly he understands your words a little more. or so he thinks, of course.

“what do you think this tastes like?” he blurts out, effectively giving you the biggest surprise of your life— how many times had xiao started a conversation before this moment anyway? exactly zero.

“i mean.. it’s sweet? there’s almost in it, so there’s that sort of flavour... what are you trying to ask, xiao?” by this point, you’ve put down your chopsticks, fully invested in this new conversation.

he averts his eyes, seeming to be embarrassed that he’d ask such a thing, but answers you nonetheless (though it was after a few moments of contemplation), “what did you mean that day, when you said you’d continue dreaming about forever? what does ‘forever’ mean?”

he fully expects you to laugh at him— call him foolish for thinking so hard about a throwaway line you gave him— but to his surprise, you answer honestly. (it sends a pang of something unfamiliar to his heart.)

your eyes are soft, and they are understanding. you are a table-width away, but he feels close to you at that moment. he wants to keep this view in his memory until the day he dies.

“‘forever’ has a lot of meanings, y’know? poetry-wise, i mean,” you lean your head against your hand, staring at the adeptus from your side of the table. in this moment, he seems more like a curious boy who simply wonders about the world. “at least for me, my forever is until i’m forgotten. it always has been.”

your forever?

the confusion is evident on his face, causing you to let out a chuckle and continue explaining, “what i mean is that... when i asked you if we’d be friends forever that day, i meant if you would ever forget about me.”

xiao lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, taken aback by your bluntness. how could you say something like that so nonchalantly? weird human.

but perhaps he appreciates this side of you, one that he has never seen in any other mortal he’s met. weird and unpredictable, but always honest and at this point, your voice is comforting enough that he finds himself using it as background noise— a breath of fresh air compared to the malicious thoughts that plague his mind. for a moment, he is allowed to forget about the weight of the bad karma weighing down on his shoulders.

he observes how you simply shrug and start eating your food again, but he senses how on edge you are as you wait for him to answer you. so you were sincerely hoping— no, dreaming— that he would be part of your forever as well. his instincts tell him to say that, unfortunately, he’ll live so long even after you leave and eventually you will be another insignificant memory, but something stops him from doing so. he wants to promise you that ‘forever’ you so dream of. to his own surprise, xiao himself wants to make sure that ‘forever’ rings true, even as he takes his last breath on the battlefield.

“i’ll try not to,” he murmurs, making you let out a questioning “hm?” at his words. and despite the embarrassment bubbling in the pits of his stomach, he clears his throat, “i meant i’ll try not to forget about you. don’t worry.”

he’s met with silence.

he waits with bated breath and finds himself hoping he hasn’t said anything wrong, only to be shocked by how you immediately burst out into laughter.

you look back at him with a wide grin plastered across your face, “thank you, xiao.” it’s a type of smile that he’s never seen you wear before. his body fills with a soft, fuzzy feeling and although it is unfamiliar, he welcomes it fully.

if ‘forever’ is for dreamers, then xiao simply has to dream, no? he’d dream again and again if only he could see that smile of yours over and over. he promises with his entire being to fulfill that dream of yours.

[vegalocity]

Horrible idea...Tang being Tripitaka is revealed bc he got stuck in the calabash and when MK freed him he was kicking and screaming for Wukong and... glowing?

Haha! Calabash schenanigans would make it fun certainly.

Assuming Yin and Jin are behind this because who else would it be, one would assume they grabbed Tang and forced him in there for ransom. like ‘weve got ur human nyeh heh heh’

Tang of course is sus from moment one. Look, reaching enlightenment and becoming immortal means it gets tough to trick you. maybe he’d have been an easy mark back during the Journey, but it’s been an eon since then, and he’s changed with the world around him. So he catches on to the ‘something is seriously wrong’ train very quickly.

However, ‘fake world’ is not the first thought, the first thought is ‘some sort of city wide curse affecting everyone, and idk why I wasn’t affected as well, enlightenment perks? Maybe???’ But surely if he goes sniffing things will unravel fast, Whatever strange enchantment the city has been put under seems really concerned with keeping the peace, everyone has suddenly become far more placid and kind, even those whom show their affection through gruff behavior and playful bullying like Baije does. Maybe he was unaffected due to his pacifism? Whatever the enchantment was saw him as no threat and thus unneeded to change?

But no.. Wujing was affected too. Not his behavior, but his memory. He seemed... distant. Moreso than usual. he tried to bring up some anecdote or another about their travels and he’d laughed good naturedly and agreed blithely, but made no further commentary. 

Xiaotian and Xiaojiao were... okay he was going to be honest, they went full Shining Twins on him when he slipped a bit and got a little too obvious with his investigating and it was terrifying. That of course was what sent him careening back to his apartment, ready to spend hours putting together what he’d learned before heading over to FFM to breif Wukong on the situation.

Only to find his monkey already in his apartment. His usual attire gone and replaced with a long shirt and comfortable looking pants. As though he’d been there the whole time. And that SEEMS like such a thing for him to do. To just drop in and put on some old clothes he doesn’t even remember owning and acting like he was always there. But... 

it was off. 

Like someone had gone into his apartment when no one was home and moved everything two inches to the left, but to a PERSON. Wukong... but two inches to the left of where he should be. Where Tang KNOWS he should be.

So instead of taking this at face value he pulls on those acting skills he’d learned in his time faking the mortal life and... And he cranks it up. So he pulls from every person who’d ever given him ‘eyes’ before in his time immortal and goes from his comfort zone of playful flirting, to full-stop hitting on him. Aggressively. 

Their false courtship had been innocent in nature, Wukong’s general disinterest in all things sexual combined with Tang’s still upkept celibate status meant that their relationship had never been a physical one, even long ago. (well... not physical in THAT sense at least, he remembered quite a few playful comments from Baije about how if ANYONE would have romantic interaction without sexual interaction it would be the two of them)

Wukong’s response to this would be laughter, or flusterment, or maybe asking if he was okay. But he would not respond as if he were interested. He would NOT return the comments with ones of his own. But that’s what he did. And that’s when it clicks. The city isn’t under an enchantment, it’s not the city.

This isn’t how Wukong would respond to something like that, because this isn’t Wukong. 

He wracks his brain trying to remember how Wukong got out of here way back when, crap, he’d just made a lot of noise until one of those demon brothers opened the lid to check up on him and shapeshifted to escape, didn’t he? He couldn’t shapeshift, but maybe if he dropped the mortal disguise he could convince them to let him out? Demons usually weren’t big on making enemies out of immortals, and he wasn’t exactly the same easily consumable monk he was back then.

So he’s JUST in the middle of telling the false Wukong off, hoping the demon brothers would hear him, as he went on on them for trying to play with his mind like this. How it might have worked if they’d bothered to do a little research into their target. How he’s surprised they don’t remember him. 

The Calabash breaks right when he’s in the middle of the height of passion, literally seconds away from dropping the mortal guise and golden light pouring from his form.

“-Do you think I spent centuries with Sun Wukong by my side to not be able to recognize a false version at a glance?!”

But it’s not the fake Wukong in front of him anymore. It’s two very afraid demons, and Xiaotian. staring at him in shock, confusion, and a little bit of fear for the former two.

[obutsuwrites]

a single feather (tengu!hawks x f!reader)

tumblr request:  Hi! I just read your new story on ao3 and it was amazing!!! Your writing style is really fantastic and I saw your requests were open. Could I request Yandere Hawks x fem Reader? Bonus points if it’s also NSFW but it doesn’t have to be, I just really enjoyed your take on yandere Katsuki and was curious to see how you’d approach a yandere hawks. Thanks so much for your time!

summary: “G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

“Don’t be like that, little bird. I’m a kami, shouldn’t you be falling at my feet?” Keigo asked, his tone casual. His lack of concern or formality was alarming. No one had spoken to the princess in such a way. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed his nonchalant nature, but now -- in her darkened room -- it was a threat. xxx basically a really self-indulgent, kinda researched feudal!au with tengu!hawks bc he rlly do got me feelin sum typa way 😳

word count:  6,209

warnings: yandere elements, dubcon, stalking, loss of virginity, choking, possessive behavior 

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

my ask box is still open 4 requests~!

glossary:

Tokin - a traditional or fictional small black box worn on the foreheads of Yamabushi – practitioners of Shugendō – or Tengu, dangerous yet protective spirits of the mountains and forests from the Japanese mythology

Yuigesa - pompom stash worn by Yamabushi

Yamabushi - Japanese mountain ascetic hermits

Shoji - door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame

Kami - are the spirits, phenomena or "holy powers" that are venerated in the religion of Shinto

Fundoshi - traditional Japanese undergarment for adult males, made from a length of cotton

lil special author's note: from what i've been able to read, kami/tengu are really similar?? but here obviously they're two different things v.v so hawks bein a lil misleading lmao

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It was midnight and the princess had retired to her chambers. Her plush mattress and soft covers were simply too inviting. She had collapsed into bed and dove into a deep slumber. Quiet snores echoed through the obnoxiously large bedroom. It hadn’t been her choice to have such a spacious room… but it was never her choice. The princess of the kingdom was merely a figurehead. A token of the nobility. Seen in public, but never heard. Her voice was reserved for servants and other royalty behind closed doors.

‘As a lady should,’ her mother would say. ‘Your breath isn’t worth the common folk.’

The princess argued, ‘But mom, the servants… they are common folk. It’s no different!’

Her mother’s face scrunched into a sour expression, as if she ate a lemon. Under other circumstances, her expression would have been humorous, but the empress was a severe woman. A serious woman of royal blood and polite nature.

‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’

That had ended their discussion. Yokai -- as the princess knew -- were spirits and demons that inhabited the untamed land beyond their kingdom. They preferred the eternal darkness of dense forest. A perfect habitat for such apparitions. She had never seen one, of course, but the princess learned of their many forms from maids. Fantastical tales of wild beast men with protruding horns and unkempt hair; fox-like spirits that brought good fortune, but possessed a mischievous side, and cat yokai that roamed the mountains, often transforming into humans. However, there was one yokai that caught the princess’ attention.

The tengu; a dangerous spirit of the forest. A yokai that possessed the talons and wings of a bird, but the celestial beauty of man. Tengu wandered mountains and forests as the land’s protector. Their wings were said to expand as wide as the sun. They donned the traditional dress of a yamabushi, adorned with a tokin and yuigesa. Tengu were accompanied by strong gusts of wind generated by a magical feather fan. Sometimes, as the princess learned, tengu instead carried a pewter staff. Their approach could be told by the jingle of their pewter staff and currents of wind that almost magically appeared. Some servants even told of handsome tengu. Tengu that charmed and bewitched with their allure. Mischievous and curious.

In truth, the princess yearned to escape the frigid confines of the castle, and explore the forest. She wanted -- wished -- to stumble upon a tengu. She wanted to feel their fabled soft feathers under her fingertips, to taste the crisp air they produced. The princess had no qualms with finding a hideous tengu with a beak, as the maids told her, tengu with beaks were more common. They were also more monstrous. Portrayed as wild birds of prey that lured young women into their nests for unspeakable acts. Eventually, the young women would return… but they were different. Blind. Insane. Soiled.

These stories did not deter her. The princess knew better. She knew such stories were only regurgitated as a means to frighten her. Tales meant for cheap scares of common folk. She was no common folk; she was nobility.

The woman began to drool into her dreamless sleep, too blissfully unaware of the winged beast hovering outside her window. A curious, crimson feathered tengu that was drawn by the scent of royal blood. He inhaled deeply; the princess’ scent mixed with the humid summer air in harmony. Known as Keigo, the yokai’s expansive wings flapped violently, and left shivers of feathers that fell gently like petals. Keigo wondered what she looked like; was she clothed in a thin nightgown or nothing at all? Keigo preferred the latter and nodded his head in solitary agreement. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it? ‘Her snores could wake the dead… ’ He chuckled at the thought; a woman of her nobility never spoke out of turn -- seen but not heard -- and yet this woman could produce a symphony of noise in her sleep.

“What other noises do you make, little bird?”

Slowly, Keigo unlatched the princess’ window and crept into her quarters. The room wasn’t remarkable, but her scent was etched into every corner. A patchwork of divinity itself. He wanted to bury himself within the fragrance, bury himself within… her. Curious golden eyes searched the darkened room for the princess’ sleeping form, finally resting upon a human-shaped mound. She looked so innocent. So unaware of the tengu’s presence. He could snatch her right now and be within the forest by daybreak, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t like the beastly oni. ‘No,’ Keigo decided, ‘I’ll simply watch over her.’ Keigo watched as the princess shifted in her sleep and caught a glimpse of her chest. Ample and supple. Absolutely begging to be touched and conquered. He ran a cold hand down the woman’s exposed flesh and thought, ‘I should at least take a trophy. ’ A means to memorialize her existence.

The tengu detached himself from the woman and began his search. He wanted a garment, something personal -- something private to her. Keigo remembered that mortals kept such clothing hidden away in drawers. Like treasure. As quietly as he could manage, Keigo rummaged through exquisite textiles and cloth, until he palmed satin material. Curious, Keigo grabbed the garment and examined it. A pair of panties. He brought the undergarment to his nose and inhaled. Fresh linen, welcoming and clean. The tengu would have preferred a pair with the maiden’s carnal scent, but even possessing something that was so close to her body was a gift. It was meant for him, Keigo decided. Stuffing the panties into his robe, Keigo allowed himself a final look at the woman before quietly flying off.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

She awoke, drowsy and exhausted, as if sleep had evaded her. The princess stretched and exhaled a soft yawn. Morning light streamed through the woman’s only open window. Wait. Open window? The princess had no memory of opening her window before bed. In fact, she had been too exhausted the night before to even take off her slippers. She had collapsed into bed in a weary state and fell promptly to sleep.

‘This is odd. So very odd,’ the woman thought and closed the window. She had been awfully weary, perhaps she opened it and had forgotten? It was possible, but the princess still felt perturbed and began a rudimentary inspection around her chambers. Nothing seemed out of place, until she happened upon a single crimson feather that appeared within her dresser. It was long, far too long to be a bird. The feather was unlike anything the woman had seen in her garden.

Tucking the feather away, the princess slowly started to get dressed. She savored this time in the morning. It was her simple slice of heaven. Her escape from prying eyes… and her mother. This was the princess’ only ritual that wasn’t tainted by maids and royal duties. It was a situation she had insisted upon and insisted upon until her mother eventually relented. She was an adult -- the sole heir -- and had no need for maids to dress her anymore. It had been convenient and almost fun as a child, but now as a young maiden, the task seemed almost inappropriate for hired help. The woman reasoned that their time could be spent elsewhere. This was her mother’s weak spot; the empress detested a lack of work ethic. She reasoned it was an absence of pride in one’s work. The maiden believed this to be the very reason for the garden.

The garden was quaint. A private sanctuary away from inquisitive eyes and lurking mothers. A place to call her own. This was a space not yet invaded by her controlling mother or by intrusive maids. Serenity in every meaning of the word. Plants flourished there; the modest terrace was alive with flowers and greenery. She was permitted this piece of serenity if she toiled in the earth. Hands smeared with dirt and sweat trickling down her brow. Such hard work earned her seeds and decorations for the princess’ little terrace. Fairy lights, statues, and decorative pebbles. The princess cherished every addition.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

She sat in the lively terrace, hands tired and dirty. The peculiar feather plagued her mind throughout the day, until finally, the woman decided she would rid herself of such compulsive thought. Toiling in the earth allowed her mind to wander beyond it. Idle hands were the devil’s work, as her mother would say.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky and beat down upon her back. The silk fabric of her summer kimono stuck to the maiden’s back like tree sap. Impossibly thick. The princess felt exhausted and unbearably hot, but busy work kept her thoughts at ease, and away from the stark reality of a midnight visitor. She had wrestled with the thought. How could an animal -- a beast -- flutter into her room, only to escape and leave behind a single feather? What bird could manipulate a latch? Originally, the woman settled on the possibility of a trained eagle being her intruder… but the idea was preposterous. Insane. Unlikely. The empress had no mortal enemies. Not a living soul was capable of such a feat, no commoner had reason. Her mother’s public demeanor was a farce. Kind. Generous. Loving. Traits she lacked in private, behind pristine castle doors.

Unbeknownst to her, on a nearby towering tree, sat a red-tailed hawk. Golden, predatory eyes were trained on the princess; unmoving and calculating.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

Throughout the day, the princess couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched. Like a lab rat. The thought was preposterous. The castle walls were far too great for peering eyes. No pervert could spy on her, and yet, she felt like this. This tightness in her chest that had appeared once she began to toil within the garden. It was so suffocating -- so frightening -- the princess decided to abandon any cultivation for the day. Instead, the princess focused on her studies. Academic topics specially suited for a “maiden of her stature,” as her mother would say. Subjects included etiquette, housewifely duties, mathematics, language, and archery. Archery, of course, was the maiden’s suggestion. A term the empress begrudgingly obliged. If a woman couldn’t protect herself, what sort of woman was she?

The bow fit neatly in her callused hands. Rough palms were earned from hard work and determination. Hands “unbecoming of a noble,” the empress would chide. As if it mattered. The princess was of age, but still had no suitors. No man of nobility had even considered her as a wife. She was never seen in public enough for such courtship. The castle was her home and her prison.

An arrow flew through the air, hitting its target. Archery was simply another means of keeping idle hands busy. Nothing more, nothing less. The woman felt safer within the confines of the castle. She didn’t feel the carnivorous eyes that burned into her body like hot coals. Perhaps this was all caused by the feather. It’s discovery caused her mind to wander with possibilities until her thoughts landed on something irrational: a tengu.

The thought had crept into the back of her skull and taken up residency like a canker sore. Unrelenting and impossible to ignore. It only grew in size as the day continued, until the idea was all she could muster. A large part of the princess was excited by such a discovery, but a smaller, weaker aspect dreaded the possibility. Her room wasn’t a forest and the maiden didn’t require protection, which left only a simple reality; the tengu was attracted to her. The empress’ previous words now echoed, ‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’ Was this true? If it was, no maid gossiped about it. It was unlikely shrill midwives could keep such a juicy secret to themselves, the princess reasoned. She prayed it was true a crimson feathered tengu had visited her. She didn’t mind if the tengu wasn’t handsome and instead had the face of a bird. She merely wanted the feather to have significance. It should, at least.

However, the maiden did wonder if the prying eyes were that of a tengu. They could shape-shift -- she only knew from castle gossip -- but they preferred a more mortal form. Imposing wings and a yamabushi’s robe, sometimes, tengu would wear a red mask with a long nose. This was less common now. Instead, such a mask existed for festivals and revelry. An accessory taken by man. Maybe the tengu had taken the shape of a bird. They were, after all, protective yokai of the forest. A bird’s eye view of the land seemed the most logical… but if it was a tengu, why did she feel so uneasy? Why did her skin prickle and become so sensitive?

She was familiar with stories of tengu that were renegades. Yokai -- like oni -- that preferred mortal desires. The mortal sin of flesh. It was a topic that was taboo to the princess. Courtship wasn’t a necessary knowledge. It was more useful of her time to learn household responsibilities. How to hold a babe. How to preserve fruits. What linens were best for summer months. Nothing truly of value beyond mathematics and archery. The prospect of a tengu that wanted her for carnal reasons left a horrid taste in her mouth and her knees weak. It was both thrilling and frightening.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

Days melted into one another, but the princess couldn’t purge the feeling of being watched. Her garden was no longer a sanctuary. It was crypt; suffocating and miserable. Because of this, she opted to stay inside and attend to her studies. Busy work that kept prying eyes at bay. The castle walls now provided protection from the rotten anxiety decaying her gut. Caring for plants used to be a welcome chore; an activity that broke up the monotony of royal life. Instead, the fresh air and bright sun only brought a sense of dread the princess couldn’t escape. It sat in her gut like a stone. Heavy with burden.

She experimented with venturing out during different times of day. Neither the cool morning nor the starless evening cure her. Everyday was the same, except for her lack of gardening. Servants took note and tried to coax the princess into the terrace, but she held fast in her fear. It was becoming all consuming. A black hole even the empress noticed.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

“You insisted on this ridiculous hobby, and yet, you won’t be appreciative?” Cold, hard eyes observed the woman, waiting for a response. Her mother’s eyes never quite held any warmth of familiar love. It was an aspect the princess was accustomed to.

The princess, playing with the hem of her kimono responded, “I… Of course I appreciate it, Your Majesty.”

“Well then, why don’t you tend to it, little bug?”

She winced at the epithet. It was an embarrassing and old name that was born of the maiden’s interest in plants. Nothing more than an insult veiled as a loving moniker. The name brought forth memories of childhood. Memories of learning cruelty.

“It’s been too hot lately, Your Majesty. My kimono sticks to my back and it’s very unbecoming.” Picking her words carefully would be the key here. She knew the vicious nature her mother carried. A stick to beat others down into submission; into the dirt.

Satisfied, or perhaps finally disinterested, the empress curtly nodded and continued her stroll around the castle grounds. The lack of her mother’s love didn’t bother her anymore. She was the empress. Nobility that commanded -- demanded -- respect.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

The day had transformed into night. Humid summer air that melted into a brisk evening. Typically, twilight was the perfect time for tending to her garden, but the princess hadn’t set foot within her sanctuary. She sat directly in front of the shoji that led to the terrace, timid hands fumbling with the hem of her kimono. It was a nervous habit that followed from childhood.

‘Should I try again? ’ Thick saliva began to pool within the maiden’s mouth. A bundle of anxiety coiled within the pit of her stomach; like a hot brand. Truth be told, she wanted to run and hide further within the castle. The princess’ bed was her sanctuary now.

‘...but it’s only a feeling. Mother wouldn’t want me to be such a child. ’ Swallowing the saliva, the woman stood up and meekly slid open the door.

Sticky, heavy air stuck to her lungs. Her chest rapidly rose and fell; the princess desperate to not suffocate. It was a starless night. An inky blackness that threatened to swallow the princess whole. The evening was darker than usual, which allowed dread to further creep into her body. Instinctual goosebumps decorated her arms as she slinked towards a bed of flowers. The floral scent was almost nauseating. Too overpowering and fragrant.

Shaky knees knelt into the earth and trembling hands began to pull at weeds. Her lack of care supported an invasion within her garden. It was no longer a garden of love. Now, the terrace sat abandoned and overrun. Stubborn weeds were plucked and tossed aside. The princess’ hands ached and were caked in dirt. Not becoming a of woman. Of a princess. But the woman lacked care. She didn’t want to live in fear of her only outlet. Her only safe haven from her mother and from the castle servants.

Tears gathered at the corner of the maiden’s eyes as she worked. Her disdain and anxiety had become tangible. She brought a dirt crusted finger to her eye and wiped away the salty liquid. Crying was a sign of weakness. It was a saying the empress had drilled into the princess since birth. Crying wasn’t allowed for nobility. The woman needed to be strong and feminine; not a blubbering child. Gradually, the feeling of being watched dissipated and was instead replaced by a feeling of inadequacy and misery.

Atop a neighboring tree within the terrace sat a red-tailed hawk. Beautiful and majestic. The bird watched the woman below. It cocked it’s head in interest. Despite his watchful gaze, the tengu known as Keigo hadn’t seen the princess cry before. The action seemed almost foreign to her, as if she had never cried before. Her chest didn’t heave and no sound emitted from her. Instead, the maiden sat on her knees and silently toiled. This lack of passion angered Keigo in a way. He wanted to see the woman in all her entirety. He wanted to witness her anger. Her sadness. Her wailing. A part of him would envision her beneath him, begging him with tears in her eyes. It was a sick pleasure, really. Keigo wanted to be disgusted by this desire, but it was a thought that dug its heels in, refusing to leave. He was left with the only option; to embrace it.

Keigo continued to watch the quiet sobbing until he grew bored. Until an idea surfaced. He should try to comfort her, shouldn’t he?

‘I want to touch her. I want to feel her warmth. I want to feel her writhe underneath me,’ the tengu thought as he gently fluttered to the ground. Keigo didn’t want to approach her as a man. He knew mortals weren’t stupid; she would question why a strange man with golden eyes suddenly appeared within her castle. ‘I want you to love me. ’

Softly, the tengu made his way towards the princess. Keigo’s footfalls were ignored by the maiden until he rubbed a wing against her. Startled, she released a quiet yelp and looked at the creature. The bird was small for a hawk and looked to be the runt. An unfortunate bird that had been given the same lot in life as herself. The princess regained her composure and reached out, touching the little bird.

“You scared me! Are you lonely, little birdie?” She asked, trying to stifle a giggle. Being frightened by such a small thing was comedic in a way. Deep inside, the bird and it’s tiny, insignificant body reminded the woman of herself. Perhaps this creature had been the prying eyes? ‘It was so silly of me to worry,’ the princess thought as she petted the bird.

The hawk released a low growl, as if the sound came from the very back of their throat. It reminded the princess of a cat’s purr. A sound only produced from trust and contentment. Soft lips curled into an insignificant smile. Her lips felt tense and unfamiliar with the action; smiling wasn’t common within the castle. The empress saw it as fictitious and unnecessary.

‘You can express pleasantries through your words. A noble woman doesn’t need to stoop down to a commoner.’

She reasoned the bird couldn’t be more than a young babe; the runt of a litter. ‘Are its wings hurt? Is the mother looking for..? ’ Before the princess could finish her thought, the bird gently pecked at her palm. Almost like a warning. The feeling of being watched had subsided; the princess was confident that her intruder was a lonely baby hawk. She hadn’t seen such a bird before. Hawks weren’t common in her kingdom and the woman was unsure the creature could fly. If the bird couldn’t fly, surely she should nurse it to health and then release it. The woman had never raised a dog before, much less a hawk, but it’s kindness proved too powerful.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

The princess managed to smuggle the hawk into her room. The operation had required bribing maids, but ‘business deals are important and are to be honored,’ as her mother would say. It wasn’t bribing; she was merely asking for a service and in turn, the maids were paid. ‘A simple transaction,’ she told herself.

Currently, the hawk was cuddled against the woman. She had made several attempts to leave, but the creature would loudly squawk like a threat. The princess knew her mother would at best be displeased -- and at worst -- demand the bird be confiscated. No animal was worthy of a princess. No creature was bred with the same noble blood. The empress deemed animals unworthy of her daughter’s company. ‘To rule, you must have conviction and a barn animal would only dirty you.’ Remembering her words only caused the woman to flinch. Even the ghost of her words carried severity and coldness.

Keigo was growing annoyed. Yes, it was blissful to be smothered by this woman, but he desired more. His heart grew black with a carnal want that only oni experienced. He wanted to defile her in the worst way. He wanted to feel the princess squirm underneath him, begging him in ecstasy. Naturally, the mind of a tengu is always several steps ahead of a mortal. A plan began to form; once she retired to bed, Keigo would reveal himself, explain he was a kami and had selected her for his divine touch. The tengu knew that even among nobility, the visit of a kami was prized. It was an offer the princess couldn’t -- wouldn’t refuse. Keigo ruffled his feathers in anticipation.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

The night was still and silent, except for a slight breeze that blew through an open window. The princess had retired to sleep, but decided to keep her window open for the little bird. Keigo sat atop the windowsill and watched her sleeping form. He noted how small she was; an impossibly tiny body dwarfed by a mattress decorated in ornate blankets and pillows. This form allowed for the tengu to watch the princess undress. Her body was delicate and without blemish. A part of Keigo felt excited by this; a perfect body he could ruin. He would claim her and defile her.

With a quick pop, and a patch of black smoke, the bird was no more. In place sat a young man with ash blonde hair and golden eyes. His features were sharp and almost avian like, but his expression was laid-back and carefree. He wore the traditional garb of a yamabushi, complete with a tokin. He was a handsome man, but carried the dark intentions of a predator. Yellow orbs that burned with want.

Keigo slowly drifted towards the princess, leaving red feathers in his wake. He watched with interest as she tossed in bed. So blissful. So blissfully unaware of him. Unable to resist any further, the tengu placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She was soft -- malleable -- and smelled of perfume. Like a garden.

The princess awoke suddenly from the action and came face-to-face with the tengu. By the moonlight, she couldn’t make out his features, but knew the shape was that of a man. Shock ignited in her eyes and the princess instinctively opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She felt suffocated by the intruder. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed how bizarre the man’s silhouette was. He stood of average height, but it looked as if the man had hidden an object behind his back. An object that resembled the wings of a bird.

Finally, a whimper escaped the woman. A small and pathetic sound that aroused the tengu. Before the princess could helpless babble, Keigo spoke, “Sorry if I scared you! Wasn’t my intention, but I’m Keigo.” A lop-sided grin found its way onto his thin lips. The smile did little to quell the fear in the woman’s gut.

“G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

“Don’t be like that, little bird. I’m a kami, shouldn’t you be falling at my feet?” Keigo asked, his tone casual.  His lack of concern or formality was alarming. No one had spoken to the princess in such a way. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed his nonchalant nature, but now -- in her darkened room -- it was a threat.

The princess’ heart hammered in her chest like a drum. Too loud and too thunderous to ignore.

“A k-kami..? I -- you visited me several nights ago, didn’t you?” She desperately wanted to believe the man. Any other possibility was horrific. She squinted in the dark and noticed the sharp features he possessed; blonde hair illustrated in the moonlight and yellow eyes that seemed to glow.

The tengu laughed. It was soft and gentle, the pure opposite of the roaring cackle she was accustomed to.

“I wanted you to have somethin’ to remember me by, little birdie. It’s flattering how close you keep it.” It excited Keigo that the young maiden had kept the feather. Especially because she kept the feather so close, buried underneath her kimono, right atop her breast. He hoped her breasts were as soft as her cheek.

Plump cheeks flushed with pink. She hated being teased. It was one of the few social interactions her mother was capable of, but it always left a sour taste in the woman’s mouth.

“How… how do I know you’re a kami? You could simply be a convincing oni, a pretender.”

His smile faltered. “You don’t trust me? That’s okay, little birdie. I’ll take my leave,” Keigo replied. Leaving wasn’t a part of his plan, it was merely a distraction from the bewitching magic he cast. A glamour that would enlighten the princess to desires held deep within her heart.

The princess didn’t want him to leave; it was improper to turn away a guest. Compelled, a delicate hand grabbed Keigo’s robe. It was tightly woven material, similar to the great textiles within the castle.

“Stay,” she begged, “please stay. I didn’t mean…”

Keigo placed a large hand atop the crown of her head and stroked. The maiden leaned into the touch, it was unlike any sensation she had experienced within the castle. It wasn’t the uncaring, technical touch of a wet nurse, but the tender touch of a lover. Warmth began to bloom in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that was foreign, but welcomed. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the tengu’s touch.

The woman patted the empty spot next to her. She hoped the winged man would slide into bed and perhaps hold her. Simply hold her and their body heat mixed together in the summer air. A small, childish part of the princess desired to touch the man’s wings. If they were as soft as the feather, they must feel like heaven. ‘He’s divinity in every sense of the word.’

Silently, Keigo slid into bed beside the princess, his wings ruffling against her soft skin. He shivered from the sensation. Tingly and electric. Keigo draped an arm around her and pulled the princess closer. He needed to hear her heartbeat and feel the blood coursing under her skin. The maiden’s floral scent was overpowering now; the smell fresh and heavenly. The woman buried herself into the tengu’s robe. His body was warm, almost hot. A summer heat draped in a man. He smelled of the earth and pine. It was a scent that the woman found comforting.

“Eager little bird,” Keigo joked, his hand now drifting down her form. He was desperate to memorize the soft landscape of her body. She was a treat to be savored. “Gonna touch you and make you feel good, okay little birdie?”Keigo grabbed the princess through her nightgown, her breast fitting perfectly within his palm, as if she was made for him. Only one thought came to Keigo’s mind: ‘This is mine. She is mine.’ It was uncommon for the tengu to feel so territorial -- so protective, but she was giving herself to him, afterall.

He palmed the woman through her nightgown, eliciting a quiet moan. Keigo had to strain to hear it; she tried to stifle the sound. It was unnatural and embarrassing. She had never been touched like this before, much less by a kami.

“Don’t be so shy.” Keigo continued to caress and massage her breast, his other hand wandering down his lover’s nightgown. His hand stopped at the hem of her gown, sliding up the material until it was bunched around her waist. The princess shivered from the cool air, and from a foreign feeling of shame. A part of her wanted to push the winged man away and lock herself in a neighboring bathroom until guards arrived, but another insatiable piece wanted the kami to take her maidenhood right now. Her body burned with an undeniable passion that only Keigo could extinguish.

Mewls of want penetrated the night air as the tengu circled a finger around her sensitive lips, the warmth of his touch separated only by satin panties. The cloth -- saturated with her juices -- would be Keigo’s prize. Another memento of the woman, of his lover. Her squirming underneath him only cemented that fact.

Greedy, trembling hands reached for Keigo; needy for his body to be pressed against hers. She slid a hand underneath his robe, and traveled down his body, stopping at his waist. Pleasing a man was never a topic of discussion in the princess’ studies. The maiden’s hands glided under Keigo’s fundoshi. His member stood proud and leaking pre-cum, unsure and nervous, she began to rub his leaking head. A groan rumbled from deep within Keigo’s chest, like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t stop, little bird,” Keigo murmured, the tengu too enamored from the woman’s touch. He had dreamed of this for several nights, but finally, her soft hands were working his manhood. She stroked down his length, clumsy and inexperienced. The tengu was growling now; noises guttural and rough. Like a wild beast set free.

Encouraged by her touch, he tore her undergarment, allowing for proper access to her nether region. Roughly, Keigo parted the woman’s lips apart and a calloused thumb began to rub her now swollen clit. Under normal circumstances, the princess would have recoiled from such brazen action; she was taught a man should never tear a royal’s garment. It was an act perpetrated by oni and men of lesser nobility, but this man wasn’t of lesser nobility. He was a kami. A god.

Golden, hungry eyes looked down at her; like a wolf appraising meat. Predatory and insatiable. An idea formed within his mind and the tengu detached himself from the princess. She released a whine, her features twisted in a pout. A little brat denied subsistence.

“Touch me,” she requested. Her tone was demanding. It was more of a command than a request. Her hands felt empty and useless, the maiden convinced her only purpose now was to please the kami.

Keigo positioned himself at her entrance and commanded, “Lay down, let me pleasure you.” His words were like velvet, his voice like nirvana. Sickeningly sweet and light. With hesitation, the woman laid down, her cunt in full view of the tengu. She felt another pang of embarrassment. Even wet nurses hadn’t seen her exposed like this. Her instincts screamed to cover up and to run away, but the allure of Keigo proved too much.

A single finger was harshly jammed into her slick core as Keigo’s mouth engulfed her mound. His hot tongue swirled around in her cunt, learning every sensitive spot. His wide finger sent a shock of pain up the maiden’s body, but the sensation was soon replaced by warmth that spread between her thighs. He pumped into her, scissoring and stretching her. Preparing her for him. His teeth grazed against her delicate clit, evoking a wanton moan. Her legs trembled as Keigo shoved another finger into her wetness. She felt full -- whole -- with the tengu’s fingers inside. A thumb prodded her clit again, gently rubbing the nub. The red-hot coil within her center made the maiden feel as if she would burst, the sensation of an orgasm building. Sounds of squelching and a river of moans flowed from her.

The tengu brought his face up to her, fingers wet with her arousal.

“Little birdie all ready for my cock, huh?” Keigo stood up and quickly disrobed. His lean frame vibrating from excitement. In the moonlight, the princess could make out the sculpted body Keigo possessed. The body befitting of a kami. He crawled over her body and positioned his cock up against her lips. Slowly, savoring the moment, Keigo pushed into the woman. His cock stretched her, far more than his fingers. Sensitive, wet walls clasped around him. Her body was desperate to swallow his member whole. The tengu crammed his soaked fingers into his lover’s mouth, muffling her moans. “Don’t want you too loud, little birdie.”

She wondered if this was a normal part of lovemaking, but obliged the tengu and sucked on his fingers. Lewd sounds erupted from Keigo, along with a string of swears. The princess hadn’t heard such depravity before, but Keigo’s thick cock was too distracting. He sped up, provoked by the sucking of his fingers. His balls slapped against her ass at a feverish pace. Keigo’s strokes were no longer slow and delicate, but harsh and starving. A man -- a beast -- possessed. The force of his strokes almost hurt and his fingers were jammed to almost the back of her throat.

“Pl-please stop,” the maiden slurred, spit trailing down her chin. Keigo had to strain to hear her, but decided to partially accommodate. He removed the saliva coated fingers, leaving her to gup down chestfuls of air. Instead, strong hands clasped around her delicate neck. A neck that had only known the pleasures of cotton or satin. His touch around her neck was the opposite of the tenderness she had known before; his touch now felt possessive and dark. An aura of blackness that threatened to consume her. Keigo’s grip tightened, along with his feverish pace. The princess’ hips now began to ache underneath him.

The coil in her stomach reached its peak; a feeling of relief washed over her. The maiden felt grounded, more aware, less hazy. She finally noticed the dangerous shine in the tengu’s yellow eyes, which sent a deathly chill down her body, leaving goosebumps. She no longer wanted this. She no longer wanted him. The woman began to squirm underneath the tengu, defaulting to her original fear. Realizing the turn of her nature, Keigo released a final pump into her soaking cunt. A deep growl sounded from his chest, this time the sound no longer velvet and soft. The sound of a predator. As he climaxed, Keigo’s grip around her worsened. The maiden feeling out of breath. Asphyxiated. She beat against his chest, her vision becoming a blurry mess of black spots and dots.

Keigo’s large hands fell from her neck and the princess swallowed greedy gulps of air. ‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ the tengu thought, ‘sweaty and broken beneath me.’ His seed began to leak out of her, staining her plush thighs. The sensation made her feel dirty, wrong, used.

“L-l-leave.”

Yellow eyes bore into her features, memorizing every inch. A carefree grin plastered on the tengu’s handsome face.

“...but you’re mine now, little birdie.”

[sunlightwoo]

Jump Start Love

ღ pairing: fallen angel!seungcheol x gender neutral reader

ღ genre: angst. just angst.

ღ wc: 895

ღ plot: you think that with the fallen angel beside you, that things were deciding to look up as the two of you were ready to take the next level of your relationship together. but at the hour of three, what would happen when things suddenly stop in time?

FALLIN FOR YOU MASTERLIST

It’s been a day where you think that it’s been too peaceful and perfect for it to be real; one where you think that it was possible to be ruined by a dark force.

Not the dark force that you were used to though.

It had been months since you last met the fallen angel at your door steps, having revealed his true form rather than the person you believed he was; the cute barista that was working at the coffee shop down the street. That night he came in with tattered clothes and tears staining his beautiful cheeks as you held him close to you then, listening to his cries of pain that resonated in your empty living room.

They originated from his wings being ripped off personally by the man above, and you resented him because of how he managed to ruin and break a beautiful being. The sobs that shook from his chest and curses that would’ve landed him worse than the human world echo in your mind as it is imprinted there, waiting to listen for the reasoning that he was like this in the first place.

It wasn’t until it finally leaves his lips that you could feel your stomach churn at the fact that he was willing to risk his own life to even go through that much pain, to endure something that would’ve killed him just because of a mere human. He fell in love with a mortal, in which it was a sin considering he was not supposed to grow close to them in the first place.

However, he fell for you.

He confesses to you at the time and you were shocked considering you didn’t think that he had actually done that for you. It wasn’t until he reassured you that night it was fate for you two to meet, because by then he only wanted to be with you and you only. There was no other factor that could come into play in regards to how he felt about you, and you were happy enough to reciprocate the feelings that he expressed as you both dated for a while.

Months later that turn into your one year anniversary rolls by as the said perfect day suddenly feels cold. The chills of the April breeze are harsher than the freezing winds that were blowing against your skin as you entered your shared apartment in alertness and confusion.

“Cheol?” You muttered throughout the empty home quietly as if you were waiting for some sort of noise to be made, but nothing.

It was actually empty.

You weren’t sure why the unsettling feeling that was sitting in your stomach had been there, the uninvited emotion resting there as you looked around for any trace of him. Nothing. The atmosphere is unsettlingly too silent for your liking and you almost feel as though you instantly knew what was going to happen from here on out.

“Choi Seungcheol, come out here.” You rasped out from a dry throat as if you had been crying all night, when in reality you had been holding back all of the sobs that were threatening to escape from the back of your throat.

In almost a split second, the familiar figure appears in front of your eyes just a few feet away from you near the hallway of your bedrooms and you notice how his gaze doesn’t match yours. His own eyes were avoiding yours and it made you feel pathetic knowing that he couldn’t dare look at you, knowing that there was something wrong.

“You shouldn’t call me by my name anymore, Y/N. I can’t be here anymore.” He says quietly making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you slowly walked over towards where he stood.

It wasn’t until he slowly lifts his head up so that your eyes finally match that you see the hues of neon red that were circling around his previous chocolate orbs, the contrast of the two making you realize the situation at hand. The set confirmation of him finally becoming a demon was his eyes, and you hated that this was it considering the only other way to see him would be to make a deal and give up your soul.

“So that’s just it? No warning and you would rather just leave without saying goodbye?” You bitterly ask while crossing your arms over your chest, not realizing that he had reached up to wipe the tear that was streaming down your cheek away.

“It’s not that easy-”

“But you were fast enough to jump start your life as a demon instead, Seungcheol. That says a lot about how much you really cared about us.” You whisper quietly, moving your eyes away from him as his voice hitches in his throat, speechless from the fact that you had caught him off guard.

But there was nothing else that needed to be said.

What was done has already happened, you think to yourself as another long silence overtakes you both in the room. Closing your eyes for just a moment, you wonder if any of the words that he has told you the entire time that you dated were true and before you could even ask him your final thoughts, you open your eyes to see that he was already gone without another word.

For life.

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter five - Mushy brains and heartbeat flairs 

Sander’s side fanfiction

Wordcount: 1340

Ships: still just prinxiety

TW: well mentions of blood, wooziness, cursing, mentions of various forms of ridiculous torture. I think that should be all. let me know if I missed any :)

Summary of the whole story:  They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

------------------------------

Chapter five - Mushy brains and heartbeat flairs

Roman was too preoccupied with senseless babbling to notice the guard coming back. He didn’t even notice when the keys chimed as the cell got unlocked. What he did notice though was when the bars, he was heavily leaning on, succumbed to his weight.

Well not exactly, but the thief has lost a lot of blood. He fell forward, landing on his hands and knees. “Wow… the ground is very hard…” he mumbled.

Derius look at his sibling with a weirded-out expression. “Is it good?”

Murede shrugged. “How should I know.” And grabbed a babbling Ro under his arms.

Somewhere in his fogy brain he knew this was bad. He knew this demon figure was trying to take him somewhere. So he put all his effort into grounding his feet. Which just ended up in him being dragged out of there. He pulled on his arms, squirming as much as his injuries let him. “Where are you taking me?” he heard himself ask.

Nobody answered.

“Let- go of me!” he tried, tossing in their grip. But the guards didn’t even flinch. So Roman was either extremely weak at the moment, or they were too strong. He opted for the first one. (No demon is stronger the Roman.)

“I want to talk to your higher-ups!” he screamed in a final attempt to free himself. Glaring daggers at the pair of siblings.

“You’re in luck.” a booming voice cut through his struggles. Both guards stopped and Roman lifted his head to see who had spoken. “Here I am.”

Virgil sat on his throne, sprawled out as always. His daggered staff in one hand and the crown proudly on his head. A deadly gleam in his mismatched eyes and the smirk on his face.

Roman’s mind went completely blank. “Woah…Pretty boy….” he mumbled.

Wait! Did he actually say that out loud?!

Judging by the complete and utter shock written on the Devil’s face, he guessed yes.

Virgil cleared his head, ignoring the way his heartbeat flared again and forced his expression back into that cool smirk. He had a part to play. “So you’re the one who dared to come down to Hell, hah?”

He got up from his throne and walked over to them, circling Roman. Like a vulture, he eyed his pray. “You don’t seem strong. Nor are good at stealth, apparently. And your brain…” he lifted Ro’s chin with his fingers. “I can’t tell if it’s really that mushy or if that’s just from the fall.” he let go.

Roman watched in awe, as his captor walked around him, criticizing him. Why didn’t anybody warn him the Devil was this hot?

Virgil made one more circle and stopped directly in front of the thief. “Tell me… why did you come here?”

Oh right…! Roman was here for something! Something about steeling -

He felt himself lean forward, hanging from the guards’ arms, face inches from the head-demon. And looked him dead in the eye.  “To steel your heart.” he grinned, as charming as ever. (Or at least he hoped so.)

The king’s eyes went wide. Some weird eek-ing noise left his mouth and he stepped back. And was the haze messing with Roman’s mind again or was that blush on his face?

“My-my heart?!” the Devil gulped, staring at the stranger. How dare he-

Meanwhile Remi in the back by the throne was losing his shit! “Pffff… This is priceless!”

“Uuuuhum…” Roman swayed a little, woopy smile hanging from his lips. “You have very pretty eyes…”

It seemed like the thief’s self-control was barely holding. With his permanent filter off, his mouth was free to say whatever it desired. Even if on the expense of his ego. But Roman’s brain was getting too fogged up again to notice any of this.

“Well I-“ the crowned one stuttered. “I-“

“Ow…” the thief mumbled suddenly, loosing interest in everything around him. “My head hurts…”

“Are they-“ Virgil looked back at Remi, completely uncomfortable. The mind reader wasn’t much of a help, laughing his ass of somewhere in the corner. “Why are they-“ he looked back at the guards completely helpless.

“I want to go home…” the intruder wined again.

The guards shrugged just as much clueless as their leader. “I think it might have lost too much blood for its Human system to compensate in such a small amount of time.”

Yeah… Looking at the poor babbling fool, Virgil could see where they were coming from. Tears and scratches everywhere. Knees and hands scraped. Bandage on his head. Clothes dirty and coated with blood.

His eyes softened looking at the clueless mortal. “Why did you come here?”

“Hm?” Ro jerked his head up smiling dopy-ly. “To steel your heart silly.” he giggled.

Yap. He was completely gone.

“Yeah, right.” the king nodded, looking away. And that was certainly not blush on his face!

He looked at the guards, stern expression in place. “Take him to my suit. Give him a change of clothe and show him the shower.”

“Yes sir.” they nodded and dragged a half-conscious Roman away. He was still babbling on about how he’s going to win over that hot demon king and make him his!

Virgil let out a long sigh.

“Uuuuuuuuh!!! What’chu gonna do with it, babe? Tear it limb to limb? Fuck it senseless and then burn it alive? Uuuh! I know! Make it feel suffer endlessly and then throw it into the pit while still alive!” Remi run up to him completely giddy with energy. “And theeen maybeee…. we couldgogetthatStarbucks?”

The Devil looked back at him with a questioning look. “Shut you hole, dimwit! And you won’t get your coffee!”

“Satan damn it! I hate Hell!”

“Everybody hates Hell. That’s why we’re all stuck here.”

-

Roman was taken into a spacious room, shown to a shower and given clean clothes. To say he was back to normal after the shower would be a major over-statement, but he did feel a bit better. Enough to finally realize he was in the Devils bedroom!

What was the embodiment-of-all-evil planning to do with him? And oh god! What the hell was Roman thinking, babbling all that stuff!

Oh god! He surely made a fool of himself…

What is he thinking! He should be searching for an escape! He is about to be killed!

But these clothes are so soft… He has never in his life seen fabric like this…  And the bed was so comfortable…

Surely the king wouldn’t get back until later. He’ll just close his eyes for a second…

Somewhere in the back of his mind the red alarm was going off. This wasn’t safe. This was stupid. This was dangerous! But the fog pushed drowned all that out.

And Roman fall asleep.

Virgil found him like that, sleeping soundly in his giant bed. He watched as the Liveling turned in a restless sleep and mumbled something incoherent.

He sighed. This creature was so strange. Everybody usually ran the moment they saw him - well that was maybe ‘cuz they saw him in his demon form, but let’s leave that aside. This measly little Human stayed.

It even dared to look him in the eyes! “Pf…” he shook his head slightly. “You came to steel my heart, hah?”

“Sad to say I don’t have one. No one in hell does. It’s a Mortal thing.” he shrugged slightly, walking over to the bed. Sitting on the corner he watched his sleeping prisoner.

His brown brows were furrowed, hair still wet and tousled from the shower. He had sharp features. Sharp and worn. Thousands of tiny little scars covered his skin, the slope of his nose.

Virgil found himself entranced by the creature laying in front of him.

To steel my heart. Right… He snickered to himself. “What will I do with you?”

And those were the words Roman awoke to. Blinking his sleepiness away, he opened his eyes. And he found himself staring into two mismatched eyes. To very frightened and caught of guard mismatched eyes.

Shit.

------------------------------------------

Just imagine both of them thinking it at the same time.

I’m sorry if my jumping from viewpoint to viewpoint is confusing. I tried to make it as little confusing as possible, but it’s still kinda messy.

I have a question - would you like longer chapters or is this enough? ‘Cus like I know I’d like to finish in under 10 chapters, but if I’ll continue this way I probably won’t... 

Let me know, okay :3

I really hope you liked it, though!

Oh and, guess what! Now apparently I have a tag-list! XD

So: Tag-list:

@romano-hottopic

@alice-only-me

[scarabbai]

Adeptus Fragile! Handle with Care.

Rating: T

Relationships: Ganyu & Xiao | Alatus, Xiao | Alatus & Zhongli, Ganyu & Zhongli, etc.

Fic Summary:

Centuries have passed since the age of the Traveler and their companions, and the immortals of Teyvat—or what’s left of them—have moved on, living modern lives in modern times. The adepti of Liyue are no exception.

But when something rather unexpected happens, their modern life begins to get a little... too modern. One sunny morning, the great Conqueror of Demons, an accomplished senior in the ranks of the Adepti, wakes up and looks at the world with innocent eyes.

“Who am I?”

Archons, someone give poor Ganyu a break...

-

Chapter 1:

In which Xiao wakes up

AO3 Link

The first thought that comes to him when he wakes up is: Fuck, my head hurts.

The second one comes after, when he pulls the sheets tighter around himself and buries his face in his pillow with a groan: I don’t want to get up.

The third slams into him just as he’s about to fall back asleep: Wait, where am I?

He bolts upright in bed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes like a wet dog shaking out its fur. He regrets it when it only makes his headache worse, but the fact that he doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings when his eyes do a quick sweep of the room overshadows that.

Alright, this is fine. Everything is fine. Remain calm. Remain calm, uh...

The realization crashes down on him like a wave, leaving him cold and shivering.

He doesn’t even know his own name.

Okay. Okay, you know what? He can do this. He can work with this. First things first: get situated.

He makes a move to get out of bed, but with his legs tangled in the sheets, it ends with him taking a rather ungraceful tumble instead. His face burns with embarrassment when he lands on the floor with a thud, reduced to nothing more than a balled up heap of limbs. Frustrated, he kicks and struggles blindly, but it only gets him more jumbled up. He’s like a cat trying and failing to escape a blanket cocoon.

He huffs. Mortals and their needlessly irritating fabrics...

Wait, what? Where did that come from? He scrunches up his face in confusion, puzzled by his own thoughts.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much more about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Xiao,” calls a voice from outside the room, and his head snaps toward the sound. Shit, someone’s here. “Xiao, are you alright in there? I heard a loud noise.”

He doesn’t respond, not trusting his own ability to speak. What should he say? What should he do? And why is that voice, of all things, so familiar? It’s comforting, despite having no idea who it belongs to.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Xiao,” the voice repeats, firmer but concerned. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in!”

He struggles harder in response, but his awkward flailing gets him nowhere. He slumps in defeat. Apparently, this is his life. Whoever he is, bested by a very long and very tangled roll of cloth.

When the door opens, he freezes. A girl with light blue hair steps into the room. She has a gentle and earnest look to her despite the worry written all over her face, and...

Are those horns on her head?

There must be some kind of next level pathetic expression on his face because when she glances over and sees him looking the way he does on the floor, her first reaction isn’t laughter. Instead, she gasps in horror and rushes over, kneeling down and fretting over him in a way that makes him tense up and abandon the idea of wriggling free. He shrinks away and hides his face from her big, purple-pink-whatever colored eyes—they make him feel guilty, somehow.

“Xiao, what’s going on? What happened?” She reaches out but seems to rethink her decision, pulling her hand back before it can touch him. Is he poisonous or something? “It must be the karmic debt again... I’ll call Zhongli, he’ll know what to do.”

She’s back on her feet almost instantly, but before she can turn and leave, some unknown impulse—fear? Loneliness? Just the need for an explanation?—has him reaching out.

“Wait,” he pleads, and the sound of his own voice surprises him somehow. “Don’t go...”

The words stop her in her tracks. He can’t identify the emotion in her eyes when she slowly leans down again to take in his teary-eyed expression, but he thinks it might be uncertainty. Or suspicion? Maybe it’s just intense focus. He’s not sure what that something is, but he’s pretty sure now that he’s bad at reading people.

With that same look of scrutiny on her face, she cautiously reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. Her skin is cold to the touch, and he fights the urge to flinch away. He’s learning very quickly that he’s unused to physical contact.

Despite this, something inside him relaxes as the coolness spreads from his head to the rest of his body. She’s trustworthy, he decides. He may not know who she is or why her presence is so soothing, but he knows this.

Is she family? She feels like family. He does have a family, right?

A thoughtful—and somewhat displeased—hum breaks him out of his thoughts. Expression blank but eyes curious, he blinks up at her while she puts her hand to her chin and frowns at him. She seems troubled.

“Xiao–” She cuts herself off, worrying her lower lip in uncertainty. Dimly, he realizes she’s been referring to him by that the whole time—Xiao might be his name. “You’re... acting a bit strange this morning. And you came stumbling home last night, and you went to sleep when you never do, and...”

She sighs. Heavily. She sounds so distressed it makes him feel a bit sick in solidarity.

“I don’t mean to pry or overstep, but...” She pauses, unsure, and that inexplicable feeling of guilt returns to him in her brief silence. “Are you alright? I think there might be something wrong...” A look of alarm crosses her face, and she quickly backpedals. “Not with you, of course! I’m just saying...” She fidgets a little, but when she meets his eyes this time, her resolve seems stronger. “I’m just saying if you’ve gotten into any trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, wherever I can. It’s the least I could do.”

He stares at her in response. She stares back, wilting a little.

Definitely family, he concludes. A doting older sister, perhaps.

Awkwardly, he realizes her silence means he should answer her somehow, but instead of replying with something intelligent or actually explaining himself, all his stupid mouth blurts is, “Good morning. Are you my big sister?”

He immediately wants to bury himself.

While she balks, caught off guard by his clearly uncharacteristic statement, he panics. More foolish nonsense spills out of his mouth, and between her confused spluttering and his inability to form proper words, their attempted conversation dissolves into an unrecognizable mess of half-formed sounds. It’s as if he isn’t used to speaking or hasn’t spoken in a long time, and this failed speech of his is making up for it.

In the end, none of what they attempted to say was actually comprehensible. He takes one look at the pure confusion—and maybe even a little horror, but he has a hard time telling—written all over her face and knows he has to try again. It appears he’s bad with words as well. Shame and frustration settle in his chest at this discovery.

The first thing he manages to come up with is, “Sorry.” He buries his face in the fabric wrapped around him, feeling small. “I don’t... know what’s happening,” he admits, and he hopes the note of fear in his voice is muffled. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes sting with tears. Suddenly, he feels pathetic. “I don’t even know who I am...”

Saying it out loud breaks something inside him—it all feels so much more real now, and he‘s so confused, so lost. What is he supposed to do? Who was he? Why did this happen? Frantic thoughts swell like rising water within him, and he sobs, drowning. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

The question that says it all falls from his lips like tears:

“Who am I?”

- - -

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

She doesn’t know what she expected from this morning, but it certainly wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t waking up to find Xiao—whom she greatly respects—in... whatever state it is he’s in.

He had called her big sister. Her! The big sister! The sheer disbelief she felt at those words—if anything, Xiao is the senior. His rank in adeptal affairs is higher than hers despite their ages, and their interactions have always reflected this. And if that wasn’t jarring enough, what he revealed next sent her reeling.

No memories. None at all. Can you believe that? The Conqueror of Demons with sudden amnesia? What is this? What has her life come to?

She realizes, belatedly, that Xiao is crying. He’s crying right now in front of her when he had never once showed an ounce of vulnerability before her in the past, and the sight is shocking.

Well, no time to lose. She has to do something, even if she’s not sure what exactly it is she should do.

Swallowing down her nerves, she tries to sound as gentle and reassuring as possible when she shushes him and murmurs, soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Xiao, it’ll be alright... You’ll be okay.”

As she says this, she awkwardly reaches down and—the act kills her a little inside—pats Xiao lightly on the head. Despite his sobbing, he calms slightly. That alone is enough to make her nerves fade just a little, and she takes the opportunity to help him out of the blanket bundle he’s gotten himself into. With careful hands, she unwraps the sheets tangled around his body, peeling away layer after layer until he goes from sad spring roll to just Xiao.

As she pulls back to assess her handiwork, it really strikes her how... small Xiao is.

He hasn’t gotten any shorter or thinner, his facial features are unchanged, and overall he looks the same as he did yesterday, but the way he holds himself now makes all the difference. His emotions are out in the open as he wipes at his tears, his heart unburdened by memory, his eyes innocent. Without the millenniums of suffering and coldness that defined him, he feels so young.

He’s just a boy, she thinks as she pulls him into a hug. He resists at first but settles into the embrace soon after, resting his chin on her shoulder. Mindful of the way he shakes with quieting sniffles, she rubs little circles into his back. The action seems to soothe him.

Ganyu considers the situation. This is okay, actually. This is alright. Zhongli-dàrén will help her figure out what has happened to Xiao when they go to him, but she can handle this for now. She can manage this.

Responsibility is a self assigned fate that has always fit her like a glove, and this is just another to add to her list of duties. Surely it won’t be that hard to look after her new little brother?

“Your name is Xiao,” she begins, voice soft. “I’m Ganyu.”

She feels rather than sees the nod Xiao gives in response. It makes her smile as she pets his hair.

“And you’re right, Xiao-dìdì. I’m your big sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

[lailoken]

The Coblynau

“Under the general title of Coblynau I class the fairies which haunt the mines, quarries and under- ground regions of Wales, corresponding to the cabalistic Gnomes. The word coblyn has the double meaning of knocker or thumper and sprite or fiend; and may it not be the original of goblin? It is applied by Welsh miners to pigmy fairies which dwell in the mines, and point out, by a peculiar knocking or rapping, rich veins of ore. The faith is extended, in some parts, so as to cover the indication of subterranean treasures generally, in caves and secret places of the mountains. The coblynau are described as being about half a yard in height and very ugly to look upon, but extremely good- natured, and warm friends of the miner. Their dress is a grotesque imitation of the miner's garb, and they carry tiny hammers, picks and lamps.

They work busily, loading ore in buckets, flitting about the shafts, turning tiny windlasses, and pounding away like madmen, but really accomplishing nothing whatever. throw stones at the miners, when enraged at being lightly spoken of; but the stones are harmless. Nevertheless, all miners of a proper spirit refrain from provoking them, because their presence brings good luck. They have been known to

Miners are possibly no more superstitious than other men of equal intelligence; I have heard some of their number repel indignantly the idea that they are superstitious at all; but this would simply be to raise them above the level of our common humanity. There is testimony enough, besides, to support my own conclusions, which accredit a liberal share of credulity to the mining class. The Oswestry Advertiser, a short time ago, recorded the fact that, at Cefn, 'a woman is employed as messenger at one of the collieries, and as she commences her duty early each morning she meets great numbers of colliers going to their work. Some of them, we are gravely assured, consider it a bad omen to meet a woman first thing in the morning; and not having succeeded in deterring her from her work by other means, they waited upon the manager and declared that they should remain at home unless the woman was dismissed.' This was in 1874. In June, 1878, the South Wales Daily News recorded a superstition of the quarrymen at Penrhyn, where some thousands of men refused to work on Ascension Day. This refusal did not arise out of any reverential feeling, but from an old and wide-spread superstition, which has lingered in that district for years, that if work is continued on Ascension Day an accident will certainly follow. A few years ago the agents persuaded the men to break through the superstition, and there were accidents each year-a not unlikely occurrence, seeing the extent of works carried on, and the dangerous nature of the occupation of the men. This year, however, the men, one and all, refused to work.' dealing with considerable numbers of the mining class, and are quoted in this instance as being more significant than individual cases would be. Of these last I have encountered many. Yet I should be sorry if any reader were to conclude from all this that Welsh miners are not in the main intelligent, church-going, newspaper-reading men. so, I think, even beyond the common. Their superstitions, therefore, like those of the rest of us, must be judged as 'a thing apart,' not to be reconciled with intelligence and education, but co-existing with them. Absolute freedom from superstition can come only with a degree of scientific culture not yet reached by mortal man.

It can hardly be cause for wonder that the miner should be superstitious. His life is passed in a dark and gloomy region, fathoms below the earth's green surface, surrounded by walls on which dim lamps shed a fitful light. It is not surprising that imagination (and the Welsh imagination is peculiarly vivid) should conjure up the faces and forms of gnomes and coblynau, of phantoms and fairy men. When they hear the mysterious thumping which they know is not produced by any human being, and when in examining the place where the noise was heard they find there are really valuable indications of ore, the sturdiest incredulity must sometimes be shaken. Science points out that the noise may be produced by the action of water upon the loose stones in fissures and pot-holes of the mountain limestone, and does actually suggest the presence of metals.

In the days before a Priestley had caught and bottled that demon which exists in the shape of carbonic acid gas, when the miner was smitten dead by an invisible foe in the deep bowels of the earth it was natural his awe-struck companions should ascribe the mysterious blow to a supernatural enemy. When the workman was assailed suddenly by what we now call fire-damp, which hurled him and his companions right and left upon the dark rocks, scorching, burning, and killing, those who survived were not likely to question the existence of the mine fiend. Hence arose the superstition—now probably quite extinct—of basilisks in the mines, which destroyed with their terrible gaze. When the explanation came, that the thing which killed the miner was what he breathed, not what he saw; and when chemistry took the fire-damp from the domain of faerie, the basilisk and the fire fiend had not a leg to stand on. The explanation of the Knockers is more recent, and less palpable and convincing.

The Coblynau are always given the form of dwarfs, in the popular fancy; wherever seen or heard, they are believed to have escaped from the mines or the secret regions of the mountains. Their homes are hidden from mortal vision. When encountered, either in the mines or on the mountains, they have strayed from their special abodes, which are as spectral as themselves. There is at least one account extant of their secret territory having been revealed to mortal eyes. I find it in a quaint volume (of which I shall have more to say), printed at Newport, Monmouthshire, in 1813. It relates that one William Evans, of Hafodafel, while crossing the Beacon Mountain very early in the morning, passed a fairy coal mine, where fairies were busily at work. Some were cutting the coal, some carrying it to fill the sacks, some raising the loads upon the horses' backs, and so on; but all in the completest silence. He thought this 'a wonderful extra natural thing,' and was considerably impressed by it, for well he knew that there really was no coal mine at that place. He was a person of undoubted veracity,' and what is more, 'a great man in the world-above telling an untruth.'

That the Coblynau sometimes wandered far from home, the same chronicler testifies; but on these occasions they were taking a holiday. Egbert Williams, 'a pious young gentleman of Denbigh- shire, then at school,' was one day playing in a field called Cae Caled, in the parish of Bodfari, with three girls, one of whom was his sister. Near the stile beyond Lanelwyd House they saw a company of fifteen or sixteen coblynau engaged in dancing madly. They were in the middle of the field, about seventy yards from the spectators, and they danced something after the manner of Morris-dancers, but with a wildness and swiftness in their motions. They were clothed in red like British soldiers, and wore red handkerchiefs spotted with yellow wound round their heads. And a strange circumstance about them was that although they were almost as big as ordinary men, yet they had unmistakably the appearance of dwarfs, and one could call them nothing but dwarfs. Presently one of them left the company and ran towards the group near the stile, who were direfully scared thereby, and scrambled in great fright to go over the stile. Barbara Jones got over first, then her sister, and as Egbert Williams was helping his sister over they saw the coblyn close upon them, and barely got over when his hairy hand was laid on the stile. He stood leaning on it, gazing after them as they ran, with a grim copper-coloured countenance and a fierce look. The young people ran to Lanelwyd House and called the elders out, but though they hurried quickly to the field the dwarfs had already disappeared.

The counterparts of the Coblynau are found in most mining countries. In Germany, the Wichtlein (little Wights) are little old long-bearded men, about three-quarters of an ell high, which haunt the mines of the southern land. The Bohemians call the Wichtlein by the name of Haus-schmiedlein, little House-smiths, from their sometimes making a noise as if labouring hard at the anvil. They are not so popular as in Wales, however, as they predict misfortune or death. They announce the doom of a miner by knocking three times distinctly, and when any lesser evil is about to befall him they are heard digging, pounding, and imitating other kinds of work. In Germany also the kobolds are rather troublesome than otherwise, to the miners, taking pleasure in frustrating their objects, and rendering their toil unfruitful. Sometimes they are down- right malignant, especially if neglected or insulted, but sometimes also they are indulgent to individuals whom they take under their protection. ‘When a miner therefore hit upon a rich vein of ore, the inference commonly was not that he possessed more skill, industry, or even luck than his fellow-workmen, but that the spirits of the mine had directed him to the treasure.'

The intimate connection between mine fairies and the whole race of dwarfs is constantly met through- out the fairy mythology; and the connection of the dwarfs with the mountains is equally universal. God,' says the preface to the Heldenbuch, 'gave the dwarfs being, because the land and the mountains were altogether waste and uncultivated, and there was much store of silver and gold and precious stones and pearls still in the mountains.' From the most ancient times, and in the oldest countries, down to our own time and the new world of America, the traditions are the same. The old Norse belief which made the dwarfs the current machinery of the northern Sagas is echoed in the Catskill Mountains with the rolling of the thunder among the crags where Hendrik Hudson's dwarfs are playing ninepins.”

-

British Goblins

Wirt Sikes, 1880

[prettybirdy979]

Summer Omens: Lightning

Another flash fic from these prompts by @thetunewillcome. More Ineffable Husbands fics here 

Some mild warnings for kidnapping, implied torture and some mortals getting on the wrong side of an angel who definitely needs to say ‘Do Not Be Afraid’ before appearing unto them but ah, doesn’t. Because kidnapping.

Crowley is laughing when the summoning spell takes hold. Aziraphale feels the magic in the air, too human to be kept out by their wards, and his eyes widen. 

‘No,’ Crowley says, his eyes wide with fear. Aziraphale reaches for his husband desperately, his power already in his fingers to bind Crowley but he’s too slow.

There’s a pop. An absence.

Crowley is gone.

Aziraphale drops his hand, coldness creeping through him. Someone has taken Crowley. Someone has summoned him with human magics, torn him from Aziraphale’s side, and taken Crowley.

There’s a crashing noise outside as lightning strikes some point nearby, rain already pounding against the window of their cottage. Aziraphale notes it absently. 

It doesn’t matter.

Someone took Crowley. Someone TOOK CROWLEY.

Aziraphale grabs at the ring on his finger, the one Crowley put there himself with a whisper of his power. A part of his true self, for Aziraphale to carry always. A ring of him, an accompaning sense of Crowley that only enhances Aziraphale’s long learned ability to find him anywhere on Earth.

It’s blocked now. As if Crowley’s power isn’t there to reach fo-

SOMEONE HAS BOUND CROWLEY

Something in Aziraphale snaps. They reach - not for Crowley but for Themself, the ring they put on Crowley’s finger in return that holds a part of Themself - and find it.

They Blink.

A barn is before Them, glowing slightly in a way only occult creatures can see. Symbols decorate the door, demonic keep out wards intertwined with spells to prevent someone - CROWLEY- leaving.

With all the spells on the bulding They can’t use their abilities to get any closer than outside. But is a part of Them in there, no one can keep Them from finding it, not even the choking magic around here.

And now They’re here, well. There’s a door.

It’s a strong door but no door on this Earth is a match for Angelic strength. They push it aside absently, letting Their eyes See so that none within can try and escape.

Lightning flashes, though They do not need it to see into the room. It is full of Humans, their greed and lust choking the air. 

And in the middle of the room is a circle.

CROWLEY

The Humans cringle and cover their ears, two of them already screaming in terror and madness as they perceive Their form. Crowley, in the centre of the circle reaches out to Them, his wings out and bloody where the Humans have clearly torn feathers away.

RELEASE HIM

One of the closer Humans throws a bucket of water at Them, the Holiness of it a beam of light in this Dark room. ‘Begone foul creature!’ he cries as he throws it.

They let it drip off Them for a long moment, enough time for Horror to dawn on the Humans’ faces. Then They vanish it, and every other bit of Holiness in the room so that They are all that is left.

‘What the fuck?’ the Human closest to the circle says, pointing a knife at Crowley. ‘What is that?’

‘I warned you,’ Crowley says and something settles in Them to hear Their Love’s voice, weak and scratchy as it is. ‘I told you you wouldn’t like what was coming if you didn’t let me go.’

LET HIM GO

More Humans start screaming as They show more of Themself to the room. They cross it slowly, caring not for those Humans with the sense and sanity to flee. If they have hurt Their Love they can be found later. For now They must free Him.

‘What are you?’ The Leader says, pointing the knife at Them.

I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD

‘Bullshit.’

YOU HAVE MY LOVE

YOU WILL RELEASE HIM OR I WILL

‘Fuck this,’ a Human says behind Them and bolts. Now all that is left is those who Scream and this Leader, whose will is strong enough to ignore Their True Form.

‘Stop this or... or... or I’ll banish him an-’

YOU WILL NOT

They unfold, letting every part of Themself into the room. Their eyes See all - See how this Human desires wealth, desires fame, desires the sex he thinks is his. Can See how this Human planned to torture Their Love to make Him give it to him, to force Their Love to hurt and maim for his own gain. Their Voice rings with the Truth of the Lord, the rightenous of Their Anger echoing off every corner of the room. And Their hands touch all, Their light chasing out every Darkness but that of Their Love who must never be Harmed.

The Human screams as he burns with Holy Light, his soul too Hellbound to stand even a moment in an Angel’s pressence. 

They don’t care. They walk through the Human’s ashes and touch the circle, Their power cutting through it until it disapates. 

‘Angel?’ Their Love says as His wings vanish from mortal sight. ‘Aziraphale, you came.’

OF COURSE I DID

They reach out and heal Their Love’s wounds, pulling Him out of the circle. But Their Love flinches away.

MY LOVE?

‘Aziraphale, you’re too much... I’m okay now, I’m safe. You can come back.’

They blink. 

‘That’s it, come back.’ Crowley reaches out his hand and pats Their cheek. They tilt their head into the feeling and close their eyes. 

CROWLEY?

‘I’m safe now Aziraphale. I’m okay, you saved me. Can I kiss you?’

Of course

Crowley steps forward and kisses him, drawing the last verges of Aziraphale back into his mortal corporation. He leans into the kiss as he feels those last pieces settle, comforted by the sensation of his ring lighting up with Crowley’s returning power. 

‘I was so worried,’ Aziraphale says when they finally pull apart. 

‘I noticed,’ Crowley says dryly, raising an eyebrow as he surveys the scene around them. 

Aziraphale doesn’t look. He knows what he’ll see if he does and he’s not sure he wants to face it. A part of him still rages with an Angel’s Righteous Fury and he doesn’t know if he can control it if he has to look at the faces of those that took His Love, destroyed as they are.

Instead he buries his head in Crowley’s shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re safe,’ he whispers and feels Crowley tighten his grip. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been too late.’

‘You weren’t,’ Crowley says with a squeeze. ‘Now take me home Angel.’

With a snap, Aziraphale does.