#HAVE YOU SEEN HOW MANY ELEMENTAL BURST LINES HE HAS

[kaguya-muneuji]

he is home!!!!

[uzurimisery]

like real people do. / kageyama tobio / nsfw

wc: 5.5k

Warnings: Kageyama is autistic, smut, fingering, reader has nipple piercings, reader works in A&R for music, reader used to live in brazil, friends to lovers, awkward sex

A/N: experimenting with more awkward/realistic smut and I love my autistic blorbo Kageyama

thank you to @peachyminx and @dervngedgf for beta reading

Kageyama never did understand the way that conversations worked, or were supposed to work. They were winding, circuitous, jumping from place to place. Unstable like a fault line, bursting from tension. The older he got the more he began to have a loose grasp on them. One so faint it slipped from his fingers if there was too much deviation. It hadn’t been easy to get to this point. It took years of failed attempts at making friends, three failed relationships, and a PR manager to get here. 

Hardly a gentle climb into social know-how. 

There was a script that worked in most situations. The gym, interviews, the grocery store, casuals and quick conversations weren’t altering his normal routine in any major way.  He liked things being the normal way.

So why the hell was he in a club? A place that went so far against the normal?

It had been Hirugami’s idea, he said that the team needed to bond more. Kageyama knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to get drunk on the team’s card.

 It was awful— the drinking.

Conversations were bad enough while sober, small talk, social cues being a forge in language, and alcohol just made him feel worse about them. The script was thrown across the room and given to an AI generator that made something worse for him to spit back out. 

The pounding music, early 2000s rap, split his head with each drum beat feeling like it was played against his skull. He could smell everything, the foreigners easily able to be picked out from the crowd. The buttons on his navy blue dress shirt had started choking him early so it was now half undone, which he hated. Shirts were meant to have only one, or two, buttons undone depending on the level of formality of the event attending. How many were appropriate for a club? At four buttons down the curve of the underside of his pecs could be seen. 

He felt out of place, out of his element, and like a child sitting at the grown-ups' table for the first time and trying to seem mature. 

“Tobio!” Nicolas shouted at him from across the booth. “When are you going to bring them around again?” 

His face scrunched up. “Why?” 

“Because if you’re not going to make a move I am!” Nicolas’ laugh was grating and sharp. “They used to live not far from my parents. A shame it took until now to meet.”

“I thought you were working things out with Maria?” Kageyama had stopped bringing you around after one too many comments on how he was in love with you and afraid to make a move. Something Nicolas harped on him for and took every opportunity to flirt with you in front of him. 

“Por que não ambos? Maria doesn’t have to know.” Kageyama hated the smirk that spread across the Brazilian's face. He knew that Nicolas was teasing him, just like he knew Nicolas wasn’t interested in you in the slightest, but it always drove him up the wall.

Wakatoshi cut in, voice steady and flat, as always. As much as Kageyama struggled with conversations he knew Wakatoshi would be right there with him. “I believe we have discussed many times that Kageyama-san has stated he is waiting for a better opportunity to discuss his feelings with them.” 

“That’s what he said last week and three months ago and then six months ago.” Sokolov chimed into the conversation now, monkey-like as he usually was, followed by Heiwajima.

“You really should talk to them about it. Either way, you need closure to get past your emotional constipation.” 

Kageyama wanted to crawl into a hole. It was bad enough having to figure out his feelings but having them discussed in front of him made him want to jump off the side of Tokyo Tower. His feelings were complicated. Tangled and messy, blending into each other. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to separate them let alone tell you about them.

“Guuys chill, chill,” Hirugami was back with another round of drinks. “Tobio will get to it when pigs fly.” The team busted out laughing. It was humiliating no matter how many times they all poked at him about it. The only way that he’d ever get them to stop was to confess to you.

“Fuck you guys.” He was grumpy now, grumbling into his drink as he took a swig. 

The chorus all said they just wanted the best for him, that there was no way you didn’t feel the same way, that it was all in good faith, all stuff to make them feel better about teasing him. He hated being teased. 

Maybe if he just told you they’d finally leave him alone about it. You might get distant for a bit but he had faith that you could be friends again down the road. 

“If I tell them tonight will you guys leave me alone about it?”

Nicolas’ sly look managed to get worse. “You tell them tonight and I’ll give you ten thousand yen.” 

“Deal.” 

Slipping his phone out of his front pocket and pulling up your contact information had never felt so stressful. He didn’t need the money, he just wanted to be left alone about this. 

To: Best Brazilian

Can you meet me outside Playa Del Sol? 

From: Best Brazilian

You’re at a club?

To: Best Brazilian

I wasn’t my idrea 

Typing was hard. The heat of all the bodies in the room made his hand slippery. 

From: Best Brazilian

Lucky you, I’m just down the street at a gig

>You think you’d be fine to hang out for that? Local band

To: Best Brazilian 

As long as it’s not Sean Paul 

From: Best Brazilian

Kk see you in 10 

Kageyama was, as usual, grateful for your friendship as he excused himself from the group and headed outside to wait for you. More often than not you served as a refuge for him. One of the few people in the world who truly understood him. You didn’t question his mannerisms and need for routine. 

Once he had asked if you thought he was weird, as flawed as he felt, and you had looked at him as if the question was stupid and gave a simple ‘no.’ 

Meeting you had been a deviation from the norm in the best way. Hinata had been visiting and when they were out they bumped into you, surprised since you had been a manager at one of Hinata’s favorite jazz clubs back in Brazil. 

Kageyama got lost in the conversation as Hinata and you bounced between English, Portuguese, and Japanese when speaking. You had corrected and steered the conversation to Japanese, seeing Kageyama’s confusion. 

Your Japanese was clunky back then, and your mouth still struggling with the syllables at times. More than that, your understanding of pitch accent back then was abysmal.

But that meeting had changed his world, shifted its axis. 

Eventually, Hinata’s two-month vacation ended and he left, and Kageyama expected you to leave his orbit too. But you didn’t, you stayed around. It’s been three years and you were still around. And it's been a year since he realised he loved you. 

When the night air had started to sink in, sweat from the club finally drying, he saw you round the corner. 

Every time he saw you he thought he’d get used to how beautiful you were but he never could. You were bright as the sun, warming him, the rays of your light brushing across his skin promised growth, comfort, and shelter. 

Your braids had been half pulled back in some sort of half-updo, two ponytails at the top of your head. He has watched you do them the other week. Or he had been watching before you made him help you since he was sitting there. He didn’t know how to braid at all, but you made him learn. Told him your continued friendship was dependent on it.

He was glad you made him learn though. It gave him an excuse to be in your space, close to you, for hours on end. To touch you without worrying if the amount of contact was normal or not. 

“Tobio!” His name always sounded so perfect coming from your glossed lips. There was a twinkle in your eyes. You had done your makeup for “special events” as you had once explained it to him. Instead of a normal cat eye, you had graphic black eyeliner. He never understood why you wore makeup but he knew that it was something you enjoyed doing. 

He stumbled a bit as he moved towards you, wetting his lips with his tongue as he said your name.

“Whoa careful there big guy! How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

Your arm grasped his bicep, his heart stuttering at the contact.

“Three double vodka cranberries and one beer.”

Your brows raised. “Rough time in there huh?”

“You have no idea.” Kageyama launched into recounting what had happened. 

One of his favourite things about you was how you didn’t press on topics he didn’t want to talk about. You left the conversation shift onto the gig you dragged him to and about the band. His second favourite thing about you was your willingness to unabashedly talk about your interests. Your job as an A&R at Sony meant you were always talking to him about a new band or artist. Before meeting you he wouldn’t consider himself someone who cared about music much. It was just something to help him keep pace while running. He didn’t understand why people liked it. But by watching you he started to dissect the reasons. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision, no grand realisation listening to a recommendation from you. It was a gradual shift. He started listening to more things, trying to pick out ones you’d like and he could send them to you. It was only after Wakatoshi had pointed out he was humming one day that he clocked the change went beyond just you.  

When you got to the venue, you flashed your Employee ID at security and pulled Kageyama in behind you.  It was just as dimly lit as the club but the smaller venue made it less obstructive. You had dragged him here before for a folk singer-songwriting you signed after the show. He had no idea what he was about to listen to but he knew if it was you, it’d be good. 

You led him to the middle of the standing-room area. You preferred a more central location so you could observe the artist’s dynamics and stage presence. While he would normally want to be on the outskirts, he didn’t mind being in the middle. It was crowded though so you were stood in front of him. Someone walked past and knocked you back against him. 

“Sorry!” You knew that he didn’t like physical contact much, so you created space as soon as you could. It pained him. 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s you.” When you smiled up at him, he felt like he was going to short-circuit. “Who are we discovering today?” 

Another person bumped you into him, shifting your balance and almost causing you to fall. He wrapped his arms around you to stabilise you before he even knew what he was doing.

You muttered under your breath something about expecting better from the crowd here. “You remember Hozier?” 

He knew who Hozier was. You had forced him to listen to Hozier’s entire discography one day. He liked Hozier. In another world maybe he would be as good with his words as the singer was. He could write you poems and sonnets, tell you all the little things about you that made him feel right. As much as he might try now, he couldn’t so he hoped that you wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Yes. You made me listen to his entire discography.” His throat felt dry. “I don’t believe I understood all the metaphors but he has a good voice.”

“Well, imagine Hozier if he was Japanese. And he blended traditional instruments, taiko drums and all that, with a raspy voice and great lyricism.” 

“I see.”  His gaze shifted, watching you adjust in his arms. He wondered if he should release you if he was supposed to have let go three seconds ago or held on longer. Now he was scared to move and make it weirder by moving.

“Sorry, should I let you go?” He was nervous, anxiety creeping, edging him out of the buzz he had from drinking earlier and into harsh sobriety. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m kinda cold and you’re really warm.” 

“Okay.”

The conversation between the two of you died down and Kageyama wanted to make a clone of himself and shake it around. What the hell was he doing? Under the dim lights, the first few chords starting to play, cradling you in his arms, he felt so nervous. 

The opening band started to fill the room with an instrumental. Their first two songs went by quickly enough at least. You would sway along, occasionally bobbing your head to the beat. Your eyes were focused on them as they performed. Someone might look over and think you were a long-time fan of the opening act, enraptured by their performance, but Kageyama knew you. You were appraising them, seeing if they had potential.

As their set drug on, he found himself watching you more than the band. Your brows would twitch, pulling together in the middle for a split second, every time they did something you considered to be a technical miss. You had told him that bands were like a team of volleyball players. 

When you explained it you said that singers were like aces. The powerhouse that made a team stand apart from their opponents. Drums were the setter. They set the tempo, and the flow, of the song Guitars were like hitters, driving down the point. Keys or synths were liberos, not always on the track but essential for making a good song, and basses were middle blockers, getting a perfect read and keeping the team grounded. So far it seemed like the band was winning their set. 

He liked watching you like this, seeing you the most in your element. It hurt his heart, made it tight in his chest from how your eyes darted across the stage. It felt like ripping off a bandage. Diving without a kneepad and your skin tearing on the polished floor of the court.  Like hand sanitiser in a superficial wound. Painful, but knowing that the pain was a sign of growth, of healing. 

The lighting changed, hues of pink and red, as the frontman started talking about their next and final song. He was telling the crowd to grab their lovers, pull them close, and sway along with the music. Kageyama nearly choked when you turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Well hello lover.” you giggle at the last word, joking about your relationship. While didn’t like the joking nature of it, he wanted it to be real, he liked you calling him it. Your fingernails scratched at the nape of his neck, tangling in the hairs there.

He had had too much to drink and feeling your chest against his own was making the blood rush from his head and straight to his groin. He felt like a teenage boy, unable to keep himself from growing hard. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he swore he could feel your nipples. 

His breath hitched as he went to respond, low and raspy in your ear. “Hello.” Kageyama wanted to say something better, more suave and flirtatious, wishing for a second that he could embody the same way with women Nicolas had. 

“How much did you have to drink?” 

“Not enough.” His cheeks were flush, he needed something in this moment. To pull you closer against himself or to push you away so you didn’t catch on to his growing hard-on. 

Your heartbeat against his own in the confined space, slower than his rapid one. The music drowned out, turning to background sounds as he stared into your eyes. Eye contact was normally so forced for him, constantly having to remind himself to make it. It felt so much more intense with you like you could see through him. He loved your eye colour and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled. 

Your lips curled up into a smile as you gazed at him, coated in a shimmery gloss that smelt like vanilla. Your tongue poked out the wet your lips, something you always did when you needed to reapply the lip gloss. He wanted to know what it felt like against his own. If it was as sticky as it looked. If it’d pull into fine strands as you separated. 

“What are you staring at so intensely? I feel like you’re dissecting me.” 

He felt loose and sappy from the drinks earlier, more willing to take risks.

“You. I’m staring at you.” 

“Me?”

His eyes shifted up to meet yours again. “You.” You chuckled a little bit at him before replying. 

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you.” The words slipped out of him before he could stop them, once again putting his foot in his mouth. You were going to reject him, tell him off for violating your boundaries. He’d have to text Hinata tomorrow that he fucked up with you and that everything went wrong. 

“Kiss me.” The first time you said the words it didn’t compute in his brain. 

“Tobio, kiss me.” He stood frozen, short-circuiting, he had been so set on an outcome that a change in path threw him off.

The trance was broken when he felt your lips against his, sticky from the lip gloss as he imagined. You were soft, like a feather brushing across his kiss, gentle and tentative. When you pulled away from him it felt like he could breathe again. You tasted sweet, no doubt partially from the lip gloss but also just you. He wanted more.

Kageyama leaned in, one hand tentatively reaching up to the side of your face to cradle it. His lips met yours again it started with pecks, gentle like you had been, before building in intensity. It felt like Kageyama had been starving for years, the sensation unknown and accepted as just a part of living, but as your mouth opened and his tongue met yours he realised that his hunger, his craving, his desire, had been an aspect of himself so far removed from his understanding until this moment. He understood want and need now that he had tasted you.

The heat of your breath melting with his own made his nerves alight as you parted for air. 

“I’m in love with you.” Your forehead met his shoulder and you laughed. 

“Tobio I know,” it was like the lights in the room knew to shine down around you giving you a halo. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

“I’m sorry.”  You tucked your head under his chin and he let his hands slip down from your waist and into your back pockets, feeling emboldened by your actions.

You swayed with him to the beat of the song as the transition music into the main act’s set began. 

“If it’s any consolation I found it cute.” Your lips met the side of his neck and you tilted upwards to his ear. “I’m in love with you too.”

He joined you in shifting side to side, enjoying the moment as you murmured against his skin, voice warmth with honesty. He didn’t understand it all, but he understood you in this moment, the shared feeling of love between you. One old and ancient, but never weathered by time, still steadfast in its stature. Unending, unshifting. 

The “Japanese Hozier” stepped out onstage and Kageyama let you turn to face the stage, moving to take his hands off you only to find them being wrapped around your waist again, guided by your hands.  He wouldn’t remember the set list, or the singer's performance, too entangled in you and feeling you in all his senses to care about anything else. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had brought him home after the show, still humming some of the songs as you puttered around. He had changed as you made a midnight snack for the two of you. His hair hung in clumped damp strands as he played sudoku on his phone waiting for you to finish up. You hated when he got in your way in the kitchen. 

With a plate full of mini pancakes you plopped down on the couch next to him, your makeup removed and hair up. He liked you the most like this, relaxed and human. Sometimes he worried you were an angel sent down from the heavens to make him believe in god but instead drove him to sin.

He took one off the plate when you moved it closer to him. Chewing on it slowly, watching you nibble on yours. 

“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes were peeled on your lips. 

“Only if you’re comfortable.” 

“I’m fine…” you moved and placed the plate on the coffee table. “Good, actually. Great even.”

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” He felt so many things right now it was difficult to verbalise any of them.

You pulled your knees to your chest and faced him. A braid fell into your face and you tucked it behind your ear. Every time he looked at you he understood poetry and prose, songs of admiration, why men would go to war over their lovers. It was nonsensical, to think you could see stars in someone's eyes, but you reflected the lights of the room like a planetarium. He thought that he might die before he found the words to express his thoughts and feelings to you, to get his point across, but he knew with you he didn’t have to. He had never had to. 

His hand encompassed your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces, you the last piece needed to complete the puzzle. Simple connection, conjoining of spirits. 

Kageyama tugged on your hand, pulling you towards himself, making you come to rest on your shins in between his legs. He kissed the back of your hand, softly, tenderly, still afraid that there was something he was missing. But the ball never dropped, the tower never crumbled, and he led you further forward, your free hand resting at his chest before slithering up the back of his neck. 

He couldn’t tell if it was you or him who moved first, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting again. It felt more tentative than the first ones had. Careful and measured, aware of the space, the boundaries, the dynamic you had had. Of how that was shifting, changing, as the pretences you had were changed. 

Kageyama dropped your hand in favour of wrapping his around your waist, guiding you to manoeuvre into his lap. Your ass rested against his groin. The longer he kissed you, the more he felt himself growing hard, aided by your hips grinding down on him. Once on a night out with the team, you had danced with him and it was then that he learned of how fluid you were. Tonight you were water, dripping down on him, swirling around him, wetting his skin. 

He palmed at the waistband of the sleep shorts you had changed into, desperately wanting to remove them but unwilling to force you into something. You pulled away from kissing him to remove your shorts, left in just your underwear and oversized shirt. Kageyama quickly stripped off his shirt before kissing you again, this time letting it evolve into making out with you.

One of your hands moved to his lower abdomen, brushing against his happy trail, making him shiver. He felt you palm at his length through his sweats, slow and sensually. His dick was bigger than you thought it’d be. Average girth but one or two inches longer than expected.  

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” His response was quick, jumping the gun, eager to have you take him in your hand. 

When your skin met his Kageyama swore he might cum from it. His emotions were high-strung, making him more sensitive. He whimpered as your thumb crossed over the tip. 

Your hands felt like velvet against him, smooth and soft, your touch gentle but firm, supplying the perfect amount of pressure as you began sliding it up and down his shaft. His stomach muscles tightened as you went along, pulling him in on himself. It should be criminal that you made him feel such a way from something so simple, reducing him into a schoolboy being touched for the first time. 

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to stop your movements, separating from kissing you to speak. 

“I’m going to cum if you do that too much.”

“That’s the goal Tobio.” 

“Yes, I know, but I would like to make you cum before I do.” 

You gave a small smile, butterflies flitting around in his stomach as you did. “Well, who am I to stop you?”

You crossed your arms as you took off your shirt. When you changed earlier you must not have put on a bra. The curve of your waist he knew already to be temptation incarnate, but the swell of your chest would turn any many into a sinner. 

Your nipples were hard as they were exposed to the cool air of your apartment, small silver balls catching the overhead light. 

“You have your nipples pierced?” 

You cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples. Tobio’s eyes were locked in, focused on the way the silver complimented you. “Yeah, I’ve had them for ages.”

“Can I touch them?” He wanted to pinch at your nipples and feel the cool metal beside them. Your nod was all he needed to do so. 

His touch was hesitant at first, afraid of damaging the piercing somehow. When he squeezed down harder on them he could feel the bars going through your nipples. It was interesting to him, the modification, he wondered what made you get them in the first place. 

As he pinched and twisted your nipples slightly, a soft whimper snuck out the back of your throat, going straight to his already painfully hard erection. 

If you were sensitive to this he wanted to know what it would do to you if he took them into his mouth. It was in the name of science that he did so, leaning forward and wrapping his mouth around your left nipple. 

The metal met his tongue, cold and sharp, constructing against the warmth of your chest. He was cautious not to use his teeth as he played with your nipple in his mouth. You gave out small moans and gasps, hips stuttering against his own, as you threw your head back. Ever since you had gotten them pierced your nipples were more sensitive than ever. 

Kagayema stared up at you. He wondered how he got so lucky in life. He’d have to go to the shrine on New Year with his mother to thank the gods for letting him have you like this. 

He wanted to make you feel more, to know his touch in ways you never had before. 

His free hand not ding at your waist trailed down your side, tracing the outline, as he dragged it down to your core. When he met your underwear, the fabric a simple micro-fibre, and slipped past it he was certain that he’d need to go to the shrine every holiday. You were wet, drenched even, allowing his fingers to slip through you easily. 

Kageyama was not a virgin, he’d had sex before and he was thorough with it. His thumb met your clot, going over it in slow circles, while his pointer and ring finger started to tease your hole. 

When he was able the press both fingers into you and pump them in and out of you, he released your nipple that he had ever so diligently been sucking on to swap for the other one. He bit down it ever so slightly making a shocked gasp and whimper of his name escape you. 

“Be gentle jackass!” Your speech airy, escaping as an exhale. 

It was cruel the way how you said his name made his dick jerk as if he was going to cum, the muscle in his abdomen flexing tight. He’d be dammed if he came before you though, his teeth grazing over your nipple again, tongue swiping over the bar. 

His fingers picked up in speed, pressing against a spot that made you squeak almost. High-pitched and short. Like you hadn’t expected him to hit it. 

The pressure building kept building as he did so, making you get lightheaded as it went on. He was so close to making you cum. Like an itch, you scratch just next to it, the edge. 

His thumb kept toying with your clit as he kept his pace steady, matching the tempo. You could feel yourself tightening up as he worked your body. The noises in the room turned pornographic as more liquid gushed out of you, lubricating his hand, making it easier for him to thrust his fingers in and out and in again. 

Kageyama detached himself from your chest and moved to kiss along the side of your neck and ear.

“You’re so pretty…” he trailed off before biting your neck and sucking hard to leave a hickey. 

You came with a start, the orgasm rolling through you as he bit down, his name coming out a broken moan. Your muscle winding right before snapping under the pressure, eyes screwing shut. It made your head spin, feeling your heartbeat in your skull and down to your toes. The force of it made you clamp down so hard on Kageyama’s fingers that as he tried to pull them out, he couldn’t. 

A minute passed before he was finally able to slip them out of you as you whined for him to keep them inside. When you finally opened your eyes you were met with Kageyams face being entirely red.

“You okay?”  You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

He licked his lips before speaking, trying to wet them. “I just came.” 

“Oh.”

Things were still for a second. 

“Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?” 

“No. Just give me a minute.” This was the most embarrassment he had felt in a long time 

“Okay.” You cupped his face with one hand. He turned a kissed your palm “We can stop here if you want.”

He contemplated for a few moments in his head, his boxer briefs now feeling sticky. The sensation was grossing him out no matter how badly he wanted to continue.  

“Tobio,” you flicked his forehead “Get out of your head, you’ve got that scrunched-up look on your face.” 

He grumbled against your palm as he spoke. “I like you and I’m embarrassed.”

“Well, I love you and we can always go for a second round.” 

He stilled, humming under his breath. “Could we shower first?” 

“Of course.” 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Out of the shower, where a second round had happened, along with telling you about the bet, Kageyama felt unsure of what to do next. It reminded him of leaving a court at the end of a game, his adrenaline high and heart pumping. The adjustment to reality was strange and foreign. He was sure this must have been how you felt after a concert ended. Lost, unsure what to do after as he cuddled with you in your bed. 

“What happens next?” 

You laughed and it shook your body as you lay on top of him, tracing patterns on his chest.

“You buy me breakfast in the morning.” 

“And after that?” 

“What about after that?” 

“Well,” you started. “We keep doing what we’ve always done. But when we go out to eat we don’t call it hanging out, we call it a date. When we sleep at the other’s place, we sleep in the same bed. Only the little things change between us, the big things stay the same and we get to kiss now. When an interviewer asks if you’ve got a girlfriend, you get to say yes.” 

“You’re my girlfriend?” 

“Well, I thought that was the point of the confession, well along with winning a bet, unless you don't want me to be?” 

“No, I do.” 

“Good.” 

It was silent for a moment as he intertwined his free hand in your own, bringing it closer to his mouth so he could kiss it. You settled further into him, filling out the space where he was the most empty both physically and metaphorically, humming ‘Like Real People Do’.

A Venmo notification cut through the peace. 

Nicolas Romero sent you ¥10,000 

“Atta boy Tobio” 

©️ uzuzrimisery

[s-b-party]

Noctua: Diluc and the Owl

****Possible spoilers ahead!

So who is Diluc? We know him as the owner of Dawn Winery, one of the richest characters in the game, the Darknight Hero, one of the characters who helps us w/ Dvalin, someone from the Ragnvindr clan (one of the prominent families in mondstadt’s history), etc.

Clearly we know him for many various things, but let’s see what else his constellation can tell us about him that might not be so obvious/apparent in the game & how it relates to Diluc, personality, and his lore overall

Let’s start w/ what Noctua is; in Latin, it means “owl” which is very straightforward but that’s not the “complete” meaning. In actuality, there are a couple of ways to say “owl”, if you search up different owls & their full names in Latin, you will find that not every one of them has noctua in their names, some have strix (i.e. tawny owl), others may have bubo (i.e. great horned owl), another may have tyto (i.e. barn owl) instead; so I suppose “owl” is the more generic meaning; Noctua specifically refers to “night owl” which you can see based on how the name looks similar to the word “nocturnal” (being more active at night) and we sometimes use the term “night owl” to refer to someone who is usually up very late when many others are asleep at night, so technically the title of this thread should be something more along the lines of "Noctua: Diluc and the Night Owl"

So how is the night owl related to Diluc? You can actually see some of the similarities in his personality and lifestyle

Quiet, aloof, quick to the point, he is up late at night for the sake of Mondstadt & its safety, very loyal & dedicated to protecting his home; like an owl hunting at night, he comes in quick to accomplish what he needs to do & can disappear just as quickly so that people don’t easily figure out that he is the Darknight Hero of Mondstadt (owls can be terrifying hunters bc their wings are very quiet & their prey usually don’t hear them coming until it’s too late)

Something to point out is how his elemental burst takes the form of a phoenix rather than an owl. Initially this confused me when I started playing the game, but in terms of connections to the constellation, the night owl does make more sense to me since the European phoenix tends to symbolize immortality, resurrection/reincarnation, etc, which doesn’t seem to fit a lot into his lore based on what I’ve seen except for perhaps the part of his life when he was able to accept his trauma and move forward from it. That is one form of rebirth that you could consider, but overall, Noctua seems more relatable to Diluc and his lore & as I’ve said, you can see parts of the night owl play into his personality and lifestyle

It’s also possible that they chose to use a phoenix as opposed to a burning owl to represent his strong resolve or maybe they just thought that a phoenix would be more aesthetically pleasing lol

I don't really know the reason, but I do think that the owl is very fitting for Diluc

So let’s move onto what owls can represent. Usually we think of them as symbols of wisdom and even vigilance (probably bc of their alertness at night); in some cultures, they can represent omens (both good and bad); w/ negative connotations, they can even be signs of death

So does Diluc exhibit any of these traits? One thing to distinguish first is the difference between intelligence and wisdom before we think about whether he does display wisdom because those two traits are not the same. Intelligence is the ability to think logically whereas wisdom is understanding the complexities of life and human nature, which is normally full of contradictions and paradoxes, meaning that it can change all the time.

Diluc is undoubtedly an intelligent man. We see various instances of this. For example, he is one of the few people who are aware of Venti's true identity when he hasn't bluntly stated it in the story. He also found out that Kaeya wasn't really blinded by him bc of all the mentions of “eyes” in his letters (which also did not say that they were written by Kaeya himself).

He is also part of an underground intelligence network and no, I'm not saying that he's intelligent based on the fact that the word “intelligence” is in the name 😂 It is because of what it requires him to do. With a large network, there is bound to be a large amount of information, both useless and useful, passing through. So it would require good judgement on his part to discern what pieces of information may actually mean something.

Basically Diluc can put things together & figure out the truth, so he is intelligent for sure, but is he also wise?

He might not be considered the “wisest” per se, BUT he does have the aura of someone who has his own wisdom and passes advice onto others. I think that we can consider him wise if we think more about how he has changed from his past self when he was lost after the death of his father. He is the type of person who would give good advice because he has learned from his experiences; he KNOWS it is difficult to move on from hard things. He mentions in one of his letters to Kaeya that self-preservation is easy, it’s heading to your goals that is hard

He understands life is rough, he gets how hardships can change ppl (if you’ve seen/read the parts of the manga where Diluc’s history is involved, you’ll know that he was a lot more expressive in the happy department than he is now)

After facing trauma, he struggled but w/ encouragement from Alice & Kaeya & also w/ some time, Diluc learned to move away bit by bit from the painful experience (not forget but to move in spite of it).

His vision story attests to him having learned on his journey & once he grew more mature, he took up his vision again

Going back to the symbolism of the owl, it is easy to see how Diluc is related to vigilance so I don’t think I’ll have to explain my thought for that. Connections to death though is a bit interesting. At first, I hadn’t thought of him as being related to death, but I thought about it again & I can see it now. He can be seen as a sign of death for his enemies (even if not a symbol of death, he’s still bad news/a bad omen for his enemies & “unwanted guests”).

Overall, I think Diluc exhibits the concepts that owls can represent pretty well. The next thing I want to talk about is the theme of dawn which we often see associated with him & how Noctua relates to it.

First impression might be to say that owls & dawn are opposite of each other or contradictory, which is true, but I also think that the two complement each other when we look at Diluc overall.

He is someone who does most of his non-winery duties at night, he wishes to be the light in the night that breaks through the darkness meant to be representing evil & enemies, he’s the owl protecting Mondstadt when people aren’t alert/vigilant at night.

Dawn is defined as the first light that we see in the sky BEFORE the actual sunrise. The day represents the citizens & Mondstadt and he makes it his duty to protect those two up to the point when they both come into full light. He won’t let down his guard in daytime per se, but he knows more people will be awake to protect during that time (although he is still iffy about the Knights of Favonius, which is understandable, but he also knows that overall they do wish to help and not every one of them is incompetent)

I also noticed how Diluc’s outfits fit him so well, his default skin blends very well w/ the night & his Red Dead of Night skin are much like flames that will burn away the darkness

Diluc is a “creature of the night” that remains ever vigilant, striving to protect Mondstadt & the people during the times when they aren’t awake. He is the one who makes sure that he and Mondstadt will make it to see the dawn of another day.

[glazelilyy]

their s/o is the dendro archon! (vol. 1)

pairings (separately!) - albedo, xiao, kaedehara kazuha x gender neutral reader

word count - 8126

genre - fluff, angst with comfort

format - hcs + blurbs

warnings - crying, slight gore and harm, skinship, spoilers for everyone's backstories (lol), suggestive lines and actions and negativity towards baal in kazuha's

summary - you just happen to be the dendro archon, no big deal to him, right?

a/n - i kid you not this idea has been living in my head for like a week LOL. (my xiao favoritism is absolutely BEAMING right now with how much i wrote for him here: three hcs + scenarios instead of the normal two, HA) volume two and three for other characters are in the process of being written! i decided to move kaeya into volume two with scara and dain :P

disclaimer - i literally know nothing about the dendro archon or how the dendro element works asides from the fact that it's susceptible to pyro PFBFBT- so this is my interpretation of what both the personality of the dendro archon, their powers and the dendro element itself could be like!

you're a plant consultant that albedo often requests for while working on his various experiments

most of your time is spent cooped up in his lab, studying the various effects of genetic enhancement in different types of flowers

he's not focused on you at first, after all you're merely there to provide slight consultation on the different varieties of plants and such that he's working with

but as time goes on, albedo realizes that the soft hum of your voice and the tender nature in which you handle his research and him in itself have begun to make his heart hammer against his chest

from them on, he requests for your assistance only to have you sit perched on a stool while he documents his findings and simply basks in your presence

obviously, you're confused at first and ask why he's requested for your assistance if all you're going to do is sit and watch as he works

nonchalantly, he'll reply "i simply enjoy your company," and carry on with his work, leaving you a flustered mess of emotions

it's clumsy and a little less organized than he would've hoped, but albedo finally asks you out on a date (klee helps him out by scribbling "go out with mister albedo!" on a piece of paper in crayon except "mister" is missing the e and there's an apple juice stain in the corner, but you reward her regardless with a pink tulip that bursts from your hand, and a warm hug)

albedo loves seeing you use your vision, he finds it mystical and enchanting

but, he's a very perceptive man and immediately catches on that you seem to be more than you make yourself out to be

it's evident especially in the way that you can name ancient flower and plant types like you'd seen them yourself

your powers additionally far surpass that of any dendro user he'd ever seen before

not only that, but it has become obvious to him that you are well versed in the ancient art of khemia: one that is secret only to alchemists of khaenri'ah

albedo isn't confrontational, but he manages to get the answer for your immense power out of you in a meticulously planned and organized manner

scenario + more utc!

"love, would you mind lending me your eyes for a moment?"

you perk your head up from the many papers that littered albedo's desk and nodded with a smile, eager to help as always. what you didn't know, however, was that albedo had sketched out a principle rooted in the practice of khemia: just a simple five step plan to create a small flower field, and yet this kind of alchemical practice hadn't been seen by any other practitioners of alchemy outside of those who were well versed in khemia.

"i believe i've come to a halt in my studies, would you care to demonstrate this practice?"

albedo felt wrong for placing you in such a scenario, after all it forced your hand and would unintentionally make you reveal to him whether or not his suspicions were correct. though calm and collected, albedo couldn't stop the feeling of sheer horror from rising up within him when you easily understood the instructions and mimicked the procedure, going as far to correct the mistakes he deliberately placed in the instructions and adding a few comments of your own.

"(y/n)," you froze, he rarely ever called you by name now, "just...who, or what are you? how is it that you are able to understand the practice of khemia?"

the truth tasted bitter on your tongue in fear of rejection, and yet you found the courage to look him in the eyes and utter the words that might forever change your relationship.

"i'm an archon. the dendro archon."

emotions are odd for albedo to decipher, but this amalgamation of reactions, the conflict between the screams of his mind and the cries of his heart, combined with your apprehensive look was all far too much for him to comprehend. his legs screamed at him to run far, far away and seek out his master for answers, but he knew that it'd do him no good.

"i...understand. i do wish you told me sooner."

you sagged in relief and approached him with cautious steps, "may i?" your arms stretched themselves out towards him, and who was he to say no to a god?

albedo felt odd holding one of the many beings that had laid to waste his home so long ago, though he doesn't recall ever seeing the glow of dendro among the carnage.

"khaenri'ah was a very lovely nation," you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, and when he remained quiet you carried on, "i often visited under the guise of a mortal and soon came to learn of the art of khemia. being the dendro archon, i can form life from my hands with just my will," you rose and unfurled your hand, letting a lotus bloom from your palm as if to reiterate your point, "so when i learned that khaenri'ah had found a way to create life through alchemical properties, i was in awe!"

despite the serious atmosphere, albedo couldn't help but crack a smile; he truly found you adorable beyond words. but as your face fell, the gravity returned to his lungs and reality came swooping in.

"i briefly studied khemia, but the fall of khaenri'ah prevented me from learning any more. i tried to reason with the gods from celestia, but to them i was no better than a mortal."

he nodded once, then twice, and you felt yourself be pulled flush against his body with your thundering hearts pressed up against one another.

"i believe i understand what happened, i apologize for forcing your hand, my flower." albedo finalized his words by intertwining your hands and pressing a kiss to the knuckle. "these hands have crafted so much life," another kiss, this time more tender and gentle, "and it is these hands that hold within them my heart."

albedo came a little closer to understanding what his master meant by the purpose of this world, and all he had to do was look into your eyes. the same eyes that held the love of his practice, the love of his people, and love for him, simple albedo.

upon discovering your status as an archon, albedo will first revel in the fact that his hypothesis was right (nerd lmao/j)

but despite the past, he acknowledges that you are not at fault for what happened to khaenri'ah

your archon powers interest him very much!

especially your inability to control the flowers that bloom around you when your emotions are intense

albedo experiments to see which kind of reactions will produce which kinds of flowers (of course, with your consent)

the reactions are usually flustered-based (kisses to your cheek, face, and lips especially are most effective as well as romantic compliments and remarks, he notes), given that albedo refuses to do anything to upset or anger you in any regard, and thus, many times will sucrose have to sweep up rose petals from the lab floors after another one of his experiments

but albedo loves the tender moments you spend with him, barren of experiments and tests, and he marvels in seeing you put your powers to work

days off were rare for albedo, but not unwelcome in the slightest. the gentle chilly breeze that ruffled through his ashen locks and the warmth of your weight pressed against his side while both of you sat huddled at his workdesk in dragonspine was a feeling he embraced with open arms.

yet, his worker's mindset truly never left him even on his days off.

"i've been pondering," he began, looking towards you who leaned your head on his shoulder, "would you like to be a subject in another one of my experiments?"

your lips curved upwards into a curious smile as you nodded thrice. "of course! but whatever for?"

albedo glanced downwards and pulled out his leather bound notebook and charcoal pencil, "a simple test of your powers, i wish to study them more, and, consequently, understand you better." the gentle, feather light touch of his knuckles grazed away the stray snowflakes that had scurried their way into his base and landed on your cheek and hair.

though you knew albedo meant business, you couldn't help but let a giddy, lovestruck smile cross your features at his words.

"well, i can't say no to that can i?"

once you had bundled up in your snow gear, albedo took you by the hand further into the woods of dragonspine. snow dribbled gently from the sky and landed on your upwards glancing face, right on the tip of your nose.

"albedo, look!" you pointed with a gleeful smile to the snowflake on your nose, which quickly dissipated into a thin droplet. albedo chuckled and paused his steps to wipe away the water from your face, and press a gentle kiss against your nose.

"adorable," he murmured and continued to walk with your palm in his hand. he knew for certain if he looked back at this very moment, you'd be covered in roses and thornless vines and the very thought had him smiling affectionately to himself.

you on the other hand, made haste with your free hand to swipe away the growing rose buds and vines that had begun to wrap around your body. "so many years i've had these powers and i still can't control this." you mused to yourself, watching the last rose petal disappear under your glowing, green touch.

not paying attention, you nearly stumbled forwards over a rock had albedo not caught you in time.

"for an archon, you are most clumsy though endearing." it was rare to hear a lighthearted lilt to albedo's voice, but never rare for you. his arms carefully steadied you to your feet, and despite his sweet actions an evident pout remained on your face.

"i am certainly not clumsy, excuse you." though he nodded his head at your retort, you almost definitely felt the playful smile that lingered on his face like the sugary aftertaste of honey.

after walking for a bit, hand in hand, albedo finally pulled you into a snowy clearing surrounded by thick fir trees and devoid of any other plant life.

"i am interested in seeing if you can summon forth some common flowers in a different climate, especially one that poses natural challenges," he paused to gently pull you body closer to him and peer into your eyes, "if that is alright with you, of course."

you beamed with affection and nodded with a confident smile, "of course! i'd be more than happy to test it out."

notebook in hand and pencil ready to record any valuable information, albedo remained at your side and quickly sketched the clearing as a "before" picture. "alright, at my word please summon forth a field of cecilias." you nodded and knelt down to the barren, snowy ground, placing your palms on the thick blanket of snow.

"oh," he paused to lean closer to your ear, "and you must ignore my presence, no matter what." confused, you nodded anyway and once given the signal, you let the rivers of your dendro energy surge from your palms into the ground below.

concentrated on your task, you barely noticed when albedo knelt down to your level. only when he begun to pepper kisses across your face did you falter in your work. "you are so beautiful, absolutely radiant. your beauty rivals the break of dawn and your sweetness triumphs over that of the sweetest sugars. i love everything about you, my flower." he mumbled into your ear with a tone you'd never heard before, but a tone you definitely wanted to hear more of.

you felt your face heat up, and instead of cecilias, from the snowy ground burst forth a large bushel of bright red, blooming roses and sparkling asters. mortified, you turned back to albedo with apologetic eyes only to be met with the satisfactory glint in his irises as he stared back at your work.

"marvelous job, my darling. exactly as i had predicted too." he mumbled while scribbling some notes down in his notebook. albedo set aside the items and pulled you close into his arms.

"though, i meant every word of what i said even if they were used for an experiment," his lips found their way to your temple and gently pulled back to brush his nose against yours, "i love you, and all of you."

you swore you felt the roses behind you grow in size and double in number and the tips of the fir trees began to dip inwards to where albedo held you like a gentle flower.

he's absolutely whipped for you, and the fact that you're an archon doesn't change that

you're his muse, to put it lightly

he loves sketching you and making attempts to understand you better

you're also one of the only people he can outwardly discuss khemia with, given that it's an ancient practice belonging exclusively to khaenri'ah

albedo hadn't fathomed that he could possible spend a lot of time with someone and yet feel as though his energy levels hadn't depleted

but whenever you stop by and he manages to get your assistance in an alchemic experiment, he hopes you never leave his side

albedo swears he can feel every flower petal brush against his heart when he manages to fluster you enough into a state where you've covered in flowers, even unintentionally

but whether or not you could summon entire fields with a single whip of your hand or not, albedo would love you all the same

xiao already knows who you are the minute you step foot into liyue

rex lapis never fought you during the archon war as you had proven yourself by offering aid to injured gods and goddesses

but xiao remembers clearly, the way you looked at him with kindness in your eyes as blood seeped from a wound in his head

a wound that you had healed with the warmth of dendro energy from your palms

he'd never met a god quite like you: the gods he knew were either power-hungry or righteous beings who cast away evil shadows, much like rex lapis in his mind

you, however, seemed to seek nothing from him but his well being

many historians argue that it was rex lapis that saved the young yaksha from the grips of the evil god who commanded him to shed innocent blood and devour dreams until hope ceased to exist

however, not many know that it was the dendro archon who pulled him from the depths of his oblivion and left him in the aid of the most reliable of the bunch: morax

alatus hadn't seen light nor had he known warmth for centuries. head to toe, his body was coated in sticky, irony blood. 'whose blood was it?' he wondered to himself. the likely answer he knew, was that this blood on his skin was blood that was never meant to be shed. the bitter taste of dreams lingered on his tongue and felt slimy in the caverns of his mouth. he felt vile, the most disgusting being to ever exist in teyvat.

no matter how far he looked ahead, there lay bloodshed and a sky tinted red and charcoal black. with every step he took, glancing back would reveal a pile of bodies in the wake of his path.

even now as he stumbled aimlessly through the desolate village tarnished by war and devoid of life, hope ceased to exist in his heart. his eyes fell upon a tattered pile of limp bodies, sagging with the weight of death.

as normal as blinking, or taking a deep breath on a quiet summer's night, alatus walked past the corpses with his head bowed to the ground. that was until the toe of his boot caught on something small, and squishy. he looked towards the ground to see that he'd stepped on what looked like a hand-sewn fabric doll with black yarn for hair, brown button eyes, and a tattered, lime green dress made from cotton. and right beside it lay a small, chubby hand, extended towards the doll as if reaching for it. the little girl's body was marred beyond comprehension, there's no doubt that whatever caused the injuries that littered her body was something she received the brunt of.

but alatus didn't care about how she died. he dropped to his knees, weak from sheer terror, and pulled the little girl's limp corpse out from the pile of bodies discarded like trash. she breathed no more, and yet alatus held her against his hammering heart as if she would suddenly wake up and her cold, bruised hands would once again turn soft and warm: full of life.

his bloodied fingers scooped the doll up from the ground and placed it in her drying fingers. and he sat, eyes empty and heart pained, and held her lifeless corpse while he listened to the thunderous roars of nearby battles and the ominous hum of what he could only think was the wrath of a god from just over the mountain tops.

"did you know her?"

alatus lifelessly looked behind him to the source of the voice, meeting your concerned gaze. just when had you appeared? he hadn't heard the gentle crunch of your feet under the crumbling dirt, too lost in his thoughts. he didn't recognize you, but your attire made it known of what exactly you were, as did the emerald lines that ran up your arms that most likely thrummed with dendro energy.

he didn't respond, for fear that you may unleash your wrath if he gave an answer that wasn't to your liking: the gods were not to be trusted, the gods were not to be taken lightly. he knew this, and he was reminded by the invisible jingle of his metaphorical shackles that bound his wrists and cuffed his neck not unlike a dog.

alatus hardly moved when you stooped down to sit beside him, though he held the girl closer to his body. "you're hurt," you gently chide and, almost unconsciously, your fingers find their way up to the pulsing wound near his temple. despite having no reaction to your presence, your touch, however, had him flinching away and holding the girl's corpse tighter to his body as if to shield her from you.

your heart dropped at how fragile he looked, despite boasting the blood of what you assumed were his victims and a scary-looking polearm.

"come, allow me to clean you." alatus looked at your hand, outstretched and waiting in front of him, with tired and dead eyes. you managed to take the dead little girl from his arms with a genuine promise to return and bury her and her family, and took him by the hand to a nearby spring.

alatus followed limply, your hand being the only thing that kept him upright and walking. even as the cool, spring water brushed against his skin and hair, all he could see was the once pure, blue water stained a horrid maroon: no matter how hard he scrubbed, he'd never be absolved of his sins.

you hadn't managed to coax a name out of him, not even as you gently washed the sticky blood out of his lovely, thick locks or healed the gash by his forehead with a light press of your palm to his skin.

alatus, on the other hand, began to feel strange. the shock of bathing in snow only to step into warm water was vivid and bright, and he's confused beyond belief. why was your touch so incomprehensibly warm? why had you treated him like a gentle glass figure that would break if handled too rashly. why did you bathe him like a child and heal his wounds without asking for a single thing in return? he realizes he must have asked the last question aloud because you respond with an airy laugh and, "because one should never expect anything in return when offering help from their heart."

he sat in silence and continued to watch the blood form clouds in the spring water.

"alatus." he whispered.

you couldn't stop the smile that formed across your face, "alatus," you parroted, letting the taste of it sit in your mouth; it tasted of sweet sugar with a bitter, burnt aftertaste, "what a lovely name."

"i am (y/n), the dendro archon." you murmured just as your cupped hand, filled with clear water, swiped away at the remaining blood from his cheek.

but you understood that alatus would not receive protection under your wing, so instead you hurried to the strongest god you knew: rex lapis, who was a rigid soul but you knew he could be trusted. with your cloak draped around his head and shoulders, you gently led alatus by his shoulders to the ominous-looking man who had his polearm speared through an enemy.

alatus' heart began to race as he got a better look at the figure who had succumbed to morax's spear: his master.

"morax..." you hesitantly called out to him, squeezing alatus' shoulders with your palms.

"i believe this is the master of that boy you hold." morax's voice boomed with authority and power. alatus shrunk back into your touch, preferring your much more docile and soft voice.

"they've made him to slaughter, innocent or defiled. a weapon." with a yank of his arm, morax drew his weapon out from the chest of his victim and whipped it to the side so the blood flung off from the golden metal.

"you are free now." the god uttered with what looked like pity swirling in his golden irises.

alatus never thought he'd hear those words, or understand them fully. but the gentle coax of your hand on his back and a reassuring smile had him stepping forward and realizing the true gravity of what rex lapis had done for him. the glint began to return to his eyes as he dropped down to one knee, placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head down respectfully to morax. "my lord, i am forever in your debt. you may use me as you see fit."

he expected to once again receive the same shackles his master had placed on him, but instead, your gentle hand dipped under his chin and tilted his head up to look at morax, who surprisingly looked down at him with gentle eyes and a kind yet firm smile.

"you will be now known as xiao, and assist me in protecting liyue."

and he accepted.

he'll never forget the day the dendro archon bathed him of his sin and led him to his new master

you had later taken him back to the desolate village you found him in and helped bury the little girl and her family, placing her doll on top of her grave

you also summoned a beautiful ginkgo tree that towered over their graves and covered their tombstones in white lilies and roses

it was the closest xiao had ever come to crying in a long time

you left the battlefield that day and xiao never saw you again, not until recently that is

your aim was to visit the city of liyue as you'd been recently hired at bubu pharmacy as its personal medical and plant consultant, healer, and resident substitute doctor in case baizhu was unable to work

oddly enough, you decide to take up residence in wangshuu inn despite the long commute to liyue (verr goldet must be having tons of fun, having her hotel host a famed adeptus and the dendro archon themself, even if she doesn't know it)

wangshuu inn had such a peaceful aura, but you also sensed a familiar presence and decided to investigate

you find xiao purely by chance while he's bandaging his wounds after a fight out on the upmost balcony

he seems to recognize you immediately, and you him

you offer to heal his wounds but he shies away from your touch and declines

xiao is still apprehensive about gods that aren't rex lapis, considering his past treatment

he practically folds in on himself upon seeing you and recognizing who you are

instead of leaving him without a word, you end up leaving behind a glaze lily by his side imbued with healing properties that heals him from afar

you repeat the same routine each day: work in liyue, return to the inn, and head up to the balcony to see if xiao had returned

you weren't sure what had you checking up on him so often, and xiao wasn't exactly partial to your concern

perhaps it was the brief history the two you held, but there was an inexplicable connection between the two of you that you desired to strengthen, and xiao desired to break in fear of being hurt, or, even worse, hurting you

but as time went on, he found himself expecting your visits, and at times he'd indulge in your conversations and let you come stand beside him

it takes a long while for him to catch feelings, partly because your status as an archon secretly intimidates (and slightly frightens) him, and also because he's emotionally constipated/j

initially when he begins to feel different in your presence, he requests that the connection be cut before it becomes too strong, much to your dismay

"we should...cease whatever this is."

if your heart could physically drop, it'd be in your stomach right about now.

"xiao-"

"this is not up for debate, leave." before he could step away from the balcony, you caught his wrist with a gentle yet firm grip.

"i won't leave you, xiao." you mumbled.

xiao scowled and attempted to yank his wrist away, but you stood firm and kept a determined look on your face. "i know this isn't what you truly want, is it?"

and it wasn't, xiao knew this and he knew it well and yet he knew that if he stayed anymore that he'd never want to leave. and what would happen should you turn on him like the god before? he was no more than a tool to the divine, someone like him was incapable of forming a bond, and yet here you were. a god, pleading with a divine tool to stay.

the words he wanted to say got caught by the needles in his throat, instead he shied away from your touch and mumbled, "you make me feel...incomprehensible things. i do not understand why it is that my heart pains when you are near. or why everything feels so...calm, and warm when you're around. i feel as though i am back in that spring and you've cleaned me of blood. i do not understand..." defeated, his arm went limp in your grip as did his shoulders.

relief hit you in waves and you moved your hands to hold his face before speaking quietly, only to him, "that's love, xiao. you're feeling love."

of course, your remark was met with an indignant scoff and the crossing of his arms as he ripped his golden irises away from your own, "ridiculous, i don't concern myself with such mortal emotions. i am incapable of such mediocrities."

you laughed before replying with a wistful tune to your voice, "xiao, i'm an archon and yet i know what i feel for you is love. love transcends mortality, and you are most capable of feeling such a wonderful thing."

blown open in shock, his eyes could only stare straight back at you who patiently smiled at him. "you are no tool, nor are you human, but you deserve to love, and feel loved. i would be honored if we could discard the idea of ceasing relations," you paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear, let a green zinnia form from your hands, and placed it behind the tucked part of hair behind his ear, "for i know i wish not to cease relations with you, even if you desire to remain just as companions."

xiao swallowed thickly, raising a hand to gently brush against the thick, dewy petals of the zinnia behind his ear. his mind was screaming at him to run, and get as far away as he could before he hurt you, or you hurt him.

but his heart commanded his arms to wrap around your figure and pull you close against him, and it was his heart that hammered ferociously against his chest when he murmured a "please don't go," against your temple.

there's no official label on your bond and you've never forced xiao to label it, but as time goes on he begins to like the idea of being called your lover, and you his

courting xiao has its ups and downs but everything is a learning process

initially, xiao will be very quiet and servant-like

you'll have to reassure him that just because you're an archon doesn't mean he needs to serve you: that you're his equal

drill it into his head until he's able to be totally at ease around you

the patrons at the inn often muse about the young, odd couple on the highest balcony

xiao appears to be intimidating and stoic outwardly, whereas you carry a gentle aura and a kind smile wherever you go

on days when his karmic debt is overbearing or he feels himself slipping into oblivion, all you have to do is take him into your arms and gently shush him while stroking the top of his head

when in a vulnerable state, it comforts him to see you use your vision: creating flower crowns out of qingxins and silk flowers has helped the most, and you're always around to give him guidance and praise his work

LOVES to be called alatus by you, and you alone. he cherishes the name "xiao", but can't help but let you call him "alatus" because it makes his heart sing

xiao shows his affection through actions more than words, but when he does speak it takes time for him to find the right words, especially with having to push down any formalities given your status as an archon

he'll bring crystalflies to you just to see your elated reaction and awestruck gaze as he unfurls his hands and the sparkling creatures flutter away into the night

he won't admit it aloud, but he loves when you form flowers in your hands and tuck them behind his ear

the simple action of tucking a flower behind his ear, kissing his cheek and wishing him well when you set off to liyue each morning never fails to fluster him

pale, morning light began to trickle onto the balcony where he stood in solitude, watching with steady breaths as the sun rose again once more over the liyuen horizon. so lost in the view and his own swirling thoughts, he nearly jumped out of his skin upon registering the touch of your arms around his waist. you noticed his startled expression and began to retract your arms with a quiet "sorry", but not before xiao's hands caught your wrists and gently tugged them forward to rest in the position you had before.

"forgive me, for startling you." you hummed against the flesh of his cheek.

he shook his head and turned to the side to hide the faint blush that coated his cheeks. "it's fine. don't concern yourself about such troubles." he mumbled, leaving you to quietly laugh to yourself and squeeze tighter around his torso.

it was as if your touch could unbind him from the black, slithering tendrils of his karmic debt that kept him in place no matter how hard he thrashed. with each hug, each kiss, or even a kind smile and loving glance in his direction, the binds would begin to loosen and slip. even now as you held him from behind and pressed gentle, feathery kisses from his shoulder blade, to the crook of his neck, to the line of his jaw, the weight on his shoulders began to lift.

"what flower shall it be today, love?" you pulled away and let him turn himself to face you, watching as your raised hands thrummed with verdant dendro energy.

cocking an eyebrow up, xiao crossed his arms and stared at your glowing hands, "whatever you pick will be the same for me regardless, it is your choice to make."

"aw, come now. just pick one!" you raised your palms, eagerly awaiting xiao's request. defeated, he conceded with an exasperated sigh before mumbling, "a rose."

from your fingers bloomed a blood red rose, fresh and humming with vivacious life and energy. you'd manifested many flowers in his presence before, but xiao loved seeing you conjure up roses the most.

before you had an opportunity to nestle the thornless rose behind his ear like you normally did, the flower was snatched from your hand and instead placed behind your ear. xiao's nimble fingers gently brushed over the shell of your ear, tracing downwards from your jaw, to your chin, before finally settling to cup your face. the pad of his thumb ran against the bottom of your parted lips, absorbing each of your quiet, bated breaths.

"may i kiss you?" he mumbled, barely above a whisper. if you hadn't trained all of your focus onto him, you wouldn't have heard him at all.

you answered his question by leaning in and softly connecting your lips against his. his arm snuck around to hold your body in place against his as your mouths worked in tandem with one another. the kiss was so innocent and sweet, yet held within it an unmistakable desire and craving for each other that he couldn't help but indulge in.

"intoxicating," he panted once parting from your lips, taking a moment to brush aside the stray locks from your face, "absolutely addicting. you do not understand what you do to me."

from your hands bloomed a rose identical to the one in your hair. you gently placed it behind his ear and kissed the tip of his nose. "i believe i do understand what i do to you, but it is you who has a god weak in the knees for your love."

he'd deny the furious blush that covered his face at your comment for weeks to come, no matter how much you teased him for it.

when it comes down to it, there's no denying that xiao loves you

and you love him just as much

his relations with gods and archons has been tumultuous to say the least

but you've managed to start the process of mending his wounds, even if they leave scars

you're kind of opposites, but there's no denying that xiao absolutely loves everything about you

from your caring nature to your gentle aura, you're akin to the light at the end of his tunnel and he's let himself accept that he'll stay by your side no matter what

he knows you as the god who helped saved him from oblivion so long ago and feels that he owes so much to you and morax

at the end of the day, whether you were a mortal or a god, he'd still give all of himself to you

you first meet kazuha aboard the decks of the alcor

you'd befriended beidou in liyue and came at her request for an on-board medic in case of any emergencies

though you had initially come on board as hired help, your eyes slowly began to wander to the mysterious stranger who constantly sat atop the ship's bow

you weren't the only one whose eyes were wandering: kazuha had been wary of your presence the moment you stepped foot onto the alcor

his connection to nature allows him almost inhuman insight and from your aura alone he concludes that you're much more than a simple dendro healer

but he pushes the thought to the back of his head and continues onwards

you first get a chance to speak with him when you're bandaging up a wound he received while fending off treasure hoarders from the ship

he tries to play tough, but you see right through his act and he conceded with a small laugh and asks for your name

kazuha wins you over quite easily, and it's not hard to see why

you both are gentle in nature and have a strong connection to the environment around you

that, and you have the ability to understand him at his most poetic, beidou often waves you over to decipher his words when she can't understand what the heck he's saying

but as said before, kazuha knows that you are more than you appear to be

from your almost inhuman capability to revive a person from near death, to the omnipotent power of parting fields and raising trees from nothing, it's hard to believe that you're just a regular dendro user

he understands, however, that you must have your reasons for keeping a secret and will wait for you to tell him yourself if you should ever choose to

you'd been hesitant to tell him since he revealed to you the circumstances of his joining of the crux but ultimately decide he's better off knowing what exactly he's getting himself into

"the stars are most brilliant tonight, are they not?"

your legs dangled from the edge of the alcor's crows nest, eyes far too interested in the air below your feet rather than the night sky above. kazuha glanced to your side when you hadn't responded to his question, concern written on his calm features.

"there's..." you paused to stop dangling your feet through the wooden bars and turned your gaze to the man beside you, "there's something you must know about me."

the rest of the crew had departed into the quarters for the night, so you felt no trouble nor hesitance in unfurling both of your fingers to reveal your floating gnosis. kazuha's normally gentle and composed eyes were blown wide open, any more and they'd go flying right out of his head.

"i'm the dendro archon."

archons are creatures he's familiar with, all too familiar with. but you must be different, right? your eyes desperately searched the conflicting emotions on his face for an answer, one he knew he didn't even have right now.

"i...understand," he swallowed dryly and looked to his bandaged palm, "i just am in need of some time to...process it."

he leaves you with those words and nothing more. you were aware of what baal had done to his friend, and to her nation which had festered into the hesitance to reveal your identity to him. being an archon meant carrying the bias that you sought an ultimate goal and would stop at nothing to achieve it, even if more harm was being done than good. and while you sat in the crow's nest that night with you knees hugged to your chest as you hiccup sobs into the fabric of your clothes, you couldn't help but wish that you were born a mortal.

kazuha's mind is filled with thoughts of all kinds, but the one that stands out the most is the fact that you, his kind, gentle lover, bore the same status of the god who slayed his best friend and stole the life out of her citizens. he contemplates this while leaning his forearms against the wooden rail of the ship, uncharacteristically throwing back mug after mug of beer, and thinking about the revelation you'd given him nearly a week ago. he hadn't seen much of you, and he suspected that you had cooped yourself up in your office and busied yourself with work.

"woah there, chief! didn't take you for a boozehound like me, easy on the drinks or you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow!" beidou sauntered up beside him and clunked her own full mug of beer down on the wooden edge of the ship. "something happen?"

kazuha wanted to bite his tongue, after all captain beidou didn't need to be bothered with his internal storm. yet, he found the words slipping out without even realizing it.

"(y/n)...they've told me something about themselves recently. something crucial, and it conflicts against all i know."

much to his surprise, beidou huffed a laugh and knocked him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "and? if it goes against all you know, then learn about it so it doesn't go against all you know. simple, yeah? is that all you were worried about?"

kazuha let her words swim around his mind for a bit, hazy from the alcohol and lack of sleep. "learn about it so it doesn't go against all i know, huh?" he mused and took one final swig from his mug. beidou had a point: what he knew about archons was that they were cruel, and heartless. but upon further inspection, baal was the one he had attributed as defining the characteristics of an archon. and suddenly, he felt terrible for generalizing your status down to his own biased perceptions.

"e-excuse me, captain." he slurred while pushing himself away from the banister.

"make sure you remember to give them an apology kiss!" she called out after him with a teasing lilt to her drunken voice.

his wobbly feet managed to find their way to your quarters, with the small medic sign hanging from the wooden door. knocking was out of the question, as was announcing his presence: this was too important after all.

kazuha stumbled in just as you rose from your small corner desk. before you could get a chance to even process what was happening, the ship rocked with an abnormal wave which sent him catapulting straight into you, sending both your bodies to the wooden floors.

"kazuha?! are you okay?" you pressed your hand against his forehead upon seeing the flush of his face and the gloss in his eyes, but the fan of alcohol on his breath had you retracting and staring up at him in awe.

his arms caged you in on the floor, yet he made a point not to tower over you and instead leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. he moved to pull away but your fingers found refuge in combing through his locks and brought his head down to drag out the kiss for just a moment longer. you tasted the words on his lips and let him part from your body this time.

"i realize how wrong i was, to leave you alone to stew in your thoughts like that. i apologize, how sorry i am cannot be conveyed purely by words. i had minimized you to the terrible perception i had of archons in my mind, and yet you are so different." his eyes searched your face for any semblance of understanding, and when he finally found it, he began to crack.

the gentle splatter of a single tear dropped onto your cheek from his eyes as he tried his best to hold in his regret. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry!" but the alcohol had let his dams lose and composure thrown out of the window.

you helped yourself sit upright and took him into your arms, gently shushing his cries and stroking his back while you held back tears of your own. "it's alright, i understand that you've been hurt by one of my kin. but i promise you," you paused to pull his face away from your shoulder to look him in the eye, "i would never harm you, or anyone you love. you have my word, and my utmost protection and love."

and he believes you with all of his heart.

the death of his friend and baal's transgressions are still fresh in his mind and in his heart

but kazuha begins to realize that not every archon seeks what baal does, and will not use the same means to achieve their goals

his best example is you: who cares not for power or glory but rather for a simple life as a healer aboard the alcor, and to be his lover

your relationship is absolutely adorable and full of love and gratitude

the crew members of the crux often slap kazuha on the back and send him cheeky grins when he walks around the ship with his hand entangled in yours

despite boasting no visible injuries, kazuha stops by your medical quarters at least twice a day just to see your face and press a gentle kiss to your knuckles

he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and even more so when you take the time to form little flowers from the tips of your fingers and thread them through his locks

how was it possible for someone to have such silky and rich hair? you'd never understand how kazuha kept his locks so tame and so healthy despite months out at sea. his strands felt heavy and lush on your fingers, like dewy blades of grass in the wee hours of the morning. combing his hair had become sort of integrated into your routine, and you loved to sit him down on the edge of your bed and help detangle his luscious locks.

your lips found their way onto the scarlet streak of hair that adorned his otherwise pearly locks and placed feather light kisses to the dawn colored area. his hair had been let down for once, ruffled only by the gentle sea breeze and the heavenly touch of your fingers.

"your hair is so lovely, kazuha. like thick silk..." you mused with a soft smile, one that grew when you felt the man in front of you further lean his back against your chest and sigh into your warm touch.

"not as lovely as you, my darling." you'd never tire of hearing his dove-like voice coo affectionate words in your direction, nor would you ever tire of staring into his pools of vermillion that seemingly never ended. he craned his neck up to gaze into your eyes, and you met his actions with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

with careful hands, veins of glowing, dendro energy began to pool from your hands and weaved through kazuha's pale, pearly locks. from your fingertips bloomed tiny, pale blue followers with ripe, lemony centers which found solace nestled in his downy locks.

you hadn't missed the fond smile that crossed his face upon reaching his hand up to come in contact with the small flowers.

"you spoil me far too much. such lovely flowers do not belong trapped in my hair." he mused with a forlorn smile as he plucked one of the sky colored flowers from his hair and twirled the verdant stem between his forefinger and thumb.

"nonsense," you gently chided and tickled his face with sparkles of dendro, "you deserve the world and i plan on giving it to you, one flower at a time."

kazuha was a gentle soul with equally gentle hands, so when you found the world spinning and the grip of your lover's hands keeping you immoveable under him as he flipped you over onto the bed, least to say your heart was in quite the tizzy.

"allow me to return the favor, my most beloved archon." with the gentle purr of his words, the flowers in his hair hummed with life and burst out in greater numbers and larger sizes in tandem to your flustered face and stuttering responses.

he'd never tire of the reactions you gave when flustered, but he truly meant that there'd be no end to his journey to give you the world.

you've always been fond of the gentle breezes that flow through your cultivated flower fields or lumbering forests of trees

kazuha is similar in that regard, where you bloom he nourishes

the two of you work in sync and you truly feel like yourself around him instead of your title

it takes a little while for kazuha to come around about his apprehensions about the archons, but he trusts you with all his heart

if there ever is a problem, he's sure to come straight to you and discuss it in a calm manner

should you one day choose to leave the crux, kazuha will be right behind you despite his close attachment to the crux and beidou

but he knows that he is happiest by your side and wishes for nothing but a peaceful life for the both of you

date published: august 15th, 2021

[give-soup-please]

(These were similar, so I've combined them into one)

Narrator and a reader who is in theater (platonic, but could be read as romantic)

The narrator has theater kid energy himself, if his dramatics are anything to go by. I mean, did you hear his monologue during the bucket destroyer ending after it explodes? Or his dialogue during the freedom ending?

He’s very supportive. He’s watched you perform a few times and he’s impressed with what he sees. 

He’s surprised with your memory of musicals. The fact that you can sing several songs from the same show, in order of their appearance? He’s amazed.

He enjoys your passion as you throw yourself into various productions, and he’s always in the wings, watching you raptly.

He catches you one day performing his script, and he’s absolutely enchanted. It’s adorable, really. He gently critiques your body language and vocals, wanting you to perform as best as you can.

“That was lovely, Reader.” You startle and flinch away. He’s desperate to recapture the moment. “No! No, no, no need to be shy, really. Just, when you’re delivering the line, “He refused to believe it. He couldn't accept it; his own life in someone else's control? Never!” Just lift your left hand a bit more. And don’t forget to project your voice. What sort of a story would it be if you couldn’t be heard?”

He’s overjoyed on the inside. His words must be important for you to want to repeat them.

He’s elated when you say you want to perform his story on stage.“Reader, what a wonderful idea! The audience will be blown away if we combine our many talents. Let’s see what we can do.”

He jumps onboard so quickly. He never thought of using theater to get his work out to a wider audience. He immediately begins planning props, sets, and debates how things can be translated from game to stage. No such thing as a perfect adaptation, but he’s giving it his all. 

He’s in his element as a director, whether he recognizes it or not. Yes, he’s a bit of a control freak, but he means well. 

He can match your theater kid energy with ease. It’s likely that he’s been performing and writing for much longer than you have.  

The narrator wonders how this will work. Are you going to play as him, (So flattered, unbelievably smug.) or are you going to act as Stanley, and let him narrate? (Again, in his element. It’s his job.) Either way he’s very happy.

He makes sure your costume is just right. He really doesn’t want to be misrepresented.  

It’s the night of the big performance. The seats are packed, and the narrator peers through the curtains nervously. He’s not had a live audience listen in before. You’re trembling with excitement. Or is it fear? Maybe a bit of both. The narrator puts his hands on your shoulders and comforts you.

“Reader, this is a major night for both of us. I’ve seen the work you’ve put in. You’ve been practicing so much that I have every confidence you’re going to be excellent. The stage is set, it’s your time to shine. I’ll be just behind the curtain, cheering you on. And don’t forget to break your legs.”

You put everything on the line, and perform your heart out. The curtains roll down, and the audience bursts into applause. The narrator soaks up the praise from a distance. There’s a lazy curl of satisfaction that he’s feeling, and he sighs dreamily. Finally, he gets the adoration he deserves. And it’s all thanks to you. He’s already found a small way to repay you for everything you’ve done. But-

He hears your voice from the stage again. “Thank you, everyone. Tonight's performance was dedicated to the author of the script. Everyone calls him ‘narrator’, so please put your hands together and give him a warm welcome!”

He rushes forward to the stage and- People are cheering and clapping for him directly. It feels wonderful. Good thing he dressed well for your performance. 

It’s a very emotional moment for him, everyone showing their enthusiasm for his work, including you. He soaks it up for as long as he can, knowing this might not happen again.

The two of you take your bows, and walk off stage together. The narrator is in a delighted haze, and doesn’t speak for several minutes, a new record for him. Then, he remembers.

“Consider this a small token of my appreciation for all your efforts, reader.” He hands you some flowers and a box of your favorite candy.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together, switching between relaxing and celebrating.

The narrator will always be thankful for this precious gift you’ve given him.      

[pedrito-friskito]

twelve months with the devil - chapter three: december - part i

summary: matt asks for a favour, and you’re happy to oblige.

warnings: no warnings here really, pretty tame, if not just a bit emotional.

a/n: one thing to note - this fic contains matt as a character, and elements of the MCU, but I am tweaking things (plot points/background details/etc. etc.) - keep an open mind!

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

You do talk soon. You talk a lot, actually, even after you’ve signed the documents Matt and Foggy hand-deliver, accompanied by more doughnuts. “Powdered sugar won’t buy you much, Nelson,” you joke, the words said around a bite of doughy goodness, “but it will buy you my affection.”

It pulls a smile out of Matt, and Foggy blushes bright red.

That’s the last time you saw Matt in the flesh, in truth. Most of your nights are spent on the phone with him, when he isn’t…occupied. Sometimes he’ll call after he’s gotten back from whatever ass-kicking he’s delivered — not that he tells you — always chalking up his gruff voice to a late night at the office or a few too many beers at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen.

You don’t mind, telling him he can call you whenever he wants and you’ll answer; your sleep schedule has dissolved into chaos since the Alleyway Incident, as you call it, and you like the sound of his voice just as much as he seems to like yours.

And there’s something different about those late night/early morning calls, something hidden in the rasp of his whispers, the way he says your name like a prayer, his easy praise and easier compliments. Matthew Murdock is a smooth talker, and thinking you were in trouble after that first night on the roof had been an understatement.

You were in deep. You are in deep.

The phone conversations aren’t as information-filled as you’d like, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’d nearly blurted out that you knew his secret. But really, how does one go about that? I know you’re the masked vigilante that roams Hell’s Kitchen and saved my life — can we make out now?

You know he wants to ask about your past — there’ve been a few close calls, questions you skirt around far too quickly, half-truths that roll off your tongue all too smoothly. Lines you’ve been saying for a long time. “Tony and Pepper got me out of a…bad situation, and I probably won’t ever go back to Nevada. It’s in the past, and it can stay there.”

“A bad situation can mean a lot of things,” he’d returned, and you could hear that slight change in his tone, that instantaneous slip from your friend/potential lover/gigantic crush to the lawyer version of Matt Murdock. “Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I do trust you, Murdock. Probably more than I should. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

He’d gone quiet for a second, before, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. But if I can help, if you need legal advice or representation or anything like that, then please, let me.”

You’d nearly burst into tears on the phone, quickly changing the subject and asking him to tell you about the first case that had made him feel like a real lawyer. It was distraction enough, but even after you hung up the phone, the offer sat heavy on your chest.

It would be so easy to spill your guts, to tell him everything, just lay it all bare. But then where would that leave you? What would he think of you then? Would he admit who he was if you told him what had really happened?

The questions linger in the back of your mind, so you keep your mouth shut, and it hasn’t come up since. Your secret, or his.

You’ve both managed to skirt around the rescheduling of your dinner date, as well, much to your dismay. Matt is busy, with both his day and night jobs if the papers reporting on the Man in the Mask are anything to go by, and you’ve been working your way back up to well, working, slowly but surely. Pepper had all but forced you to take a break, quite literally pushing you out of the office the first day you’d tried to go back. It had been too much, and you appreciated her looking out for you.

Your bruises have mostly healed, save for the cut on your lip that you’ve formed a bad habit of biting at, and thanks to a little science from Tony, the gifted rose is still intact, perfectly preserved and still as sweet as the morning you’d found it. You’ve also contemplated mentioning the flower to Matt, too, but haven’t yet.

When he calls you out of the blue on a Tuesday morning, however, you feel like something’s coming.

“What are the chances I could ask a favour of you?”

+

The favour turns out to be driving Matt, sans Foggy, upstate to see a client. It strikes you a little odd when only the Murdock side of Nelson and Murdock climbs into the white Jeep Tony has leant you for the excursion, and you say as much. “Foggy doesn’t know about this client,” he answers a little too quickly. “It’s…off the books, I guess.”

“Super secrets,” you reply, watching to make sure his seat belt is buckled before you pull away from the curb outside Matt’s office. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Between the two of us, we could write a book filled with our super secrets,” he jokes, “but then, I guess it wouldn’t be much of a book, since they’re secrets.”

“Invisible ink!” you offer, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him grin. “Do people even actually use that stuff, or is it just in spy movies?”

“I’ve yet to encounter invisible ink,” he tells you, “but the moment I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.”

The conversation comes easily as you pull onto the freeway, having punched in the address Matt provided into the car’s GPS. It’s a chilly December day, snow lightly falling as you drive. You like driving, you’ve always liked driving, and you have to admit your heart picked up a little at the prospect of spending a few hours in a car with Matt Murdock.

You find a Starbucks with a drive-thru, waving off Matt’s offered cash and ordering the most Christmassy drinks you can. Matt makes a face when you hand him one, his expressive eyes hidden behind his glasses but the frown on his mouth telling you more than enough. “This smells more like sugar than coffee,” he grumbles.

“It probably is,” you agree, giggling and sipping at your drink, which happens to taste more like a sugar cookie than a latte, complete with sprinkles on top, “but I’m still shocked you’ve never had a peppermint mocha, so drink up.”

“Really, that shocks you?”

“Zip it, Murdock, and drink.”

He grins like the devil at you, but does as you ask, somehow managing to get whipped cream all along his upper lip in the process. You find yourself staring as his tongue darts out to lick it away, and he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb before sucking it clean.

Deep. You’re in deep.

Eyes on the road, you think to yourself, setting your drink down and putting both hands on the wheel. It’s unfair, how distracting he can be, just sitting there. And then he adjusts himself in his seat, planting his elbow on the console between you two, his arm pressed against your shoulder. He’s so warm.

After a few minutes, you catch him trying to slip the money you’d waved off in the drive-thru into your purse, and reach out to smack his hand away, pulling a quiet yelp out of him. “Put it away, Matthew,” you scold, pushing at his wrist. “I mean it.”

“Let me give you some money,” he protests, pushing back against your hand. “For the gas.”

“I don’t need your gas money!” you laugh, grabbing the bills from his hand and tossing them in his lap.”I mean it, Matt. It’s fine. What are friends for, right? And I don’t I already owe you and Foggy for the representation, technically?” He sighs, tipping his head back and stuffing the money back into his pocket. “You’re talking to the girl living rent-free at the Avengers Tower, working for Stark Industries, and my sister signs my paycheques. Trust me, I can afford the gas.”

“You’re bragging,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders towards you, sly grin on his stupid handsome face, “just for the record.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He waits a beat, the smile fading slightly. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

A vicious blush crawls up your face and you bite the inside of your lip, happy he can’t see it. “I wasn’t sure what to call it. Friends seemed like a good place to start.”

He purses his lips, leaning further sideways so his arm is pressed tighter to yours. “Well, then I’ll have to owe you a favour, friend.”

“Please,” you start, shaking your head, “you saved me from another day in the Tower, most likely shuttered in my room, pondering my existence. You know, the regular Tuesday schedule. So, no return favour required. Happy to do it.”

“And the pondering of your existence,” he asks, “does that have anything to do with what happened last month?”

You heave a breath, leaning forward to adjust your gaze as you turn right, following the GPS’s directions. “Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize,” you mumble, biting harder at the inside of your lip. “Didn’t know you were a lawyer and a shrink, Murdock.”

He says your name like a warning.

“Sorry, that was mean,” you say instantly, pushing a hand through your hair as you continue down the road. “It does and it doesn’t, but it’s fine. It happened, it’s over with, I’m alive and it could have been much worse. End of story.”

You’re not sure why, but the conversation feels like an opening, and for once, you leap at it.

“And I can add you to the growing list of people I owe my life to.”

The car falls so silent, Matt going so incredibly still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to say something, and when you chance a glance at him, you see his mouth slightly parted, his hands now folded in his lap like a child being scolded.

He says nothing, so you just keep talking.

“I know,” you say, “that it was you. That night in the alley. I don’t know how I figured it out, drunk as I was, but I saw your mouth under the streetlights, heard your voice, and bam, puzzle complete. It just clicked. And that, coupled with the way you kissed my forehead before you disappeared. I had a hunch,” you chance another glance, he hasn’t moved, “a very strong hunch. And then I saw you, the next night, when we were supposed to go to dinner, on the roof across from the Tower, and I knew I was right.”

Still nothing, no movement. You’re tempted to check for a pulse.

“I know it was you,” you continue,” and you don’t need to tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my secret to tell. But I know. And thank you.”

Finally, he speaks, sagging slightly in the seat, his arm like fire against yours. “You don’t have to thank me.” He shakes his head slightly. “I heard you scream and I just…” He pushes a hand through his hair, scratches at his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you say, glancing between him and the road. “I do have to. And I will say, I admire the moral code, with the no killing thing. It’s refreshing.”

There’s the tiniest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Says the girl who’s friends with the Avengers.”

You grin. “I’m not friends with all of them,” you admit, “but the whole Hulk Smash thing doesn’t exactly fall in line, does it?”

“I suppose not,” he agrees, nodding once. “Neither does your friend Natasha. The assassin.”

“Nat is…complicated,” you say, biting back your grin. “And looking out for my best interests.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, “that explains the pretty red-head lurking in the building across from my office.”

“You saw her?” you ask, balking before realizing how silly the question is.

Matt chuckles. “Foggy did. Gave me a…detailed description. I assume that means you told her about me?”

You inhale, reaching for your drink. “Your name might have come up, once or twice.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. It’s not exactly how you’d envisioned having the conversation, and you haven’t gained much more information than you already had. But he knows that you know, and for now, it’s enough.

You set you drink back in the cup holder, and your hand lingers over the gearshift. It takes less than a second for Matt to slide his hand beneath yours, fingers laced together, palm warm as anything.

+

The rest of the drive is quieter, the silence there but not awkward, your hand folded in Matt’s. He weaves his fingers through yours over and over, your knuckles knocking together, his thumb tracing shapes in your skin.

As the miles tick down on the GPS, you notice Matt’s demeanour change, his shoulders bunched up around his ears, his grip on your hand tightening.

He only tries to offer you money once more, saying he feels bad that you’re doing all the driving and he’s just sitting there.

“How about you buy me dinner when we get back to the city?” you offer, and while his shoulders don’t loosen, the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I guess that’s a fair trade.”

Finally, you make the last turn, passing through large metal gates and driving up a long, winding driveway that leads to a pretty house tucked amongst evergreen trees, a small lake not far off. There’s one car parked out front, a neatly tended garden blanketed with snow and a pathway leading to the house that’s clearly been freshly shovelled.

“Nice place,” you comment, pulling the Jeep into the space behind the parked car. Matt unbuckles his seat belt and you reach for yours. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no,” he says with a shake of his head. “I know the way.”

“Matt, there could be ice, you could fa—”

Lightning quick, he reaches across the console and takes your face in both hands, his palms warm against your cheeks, fingers just brushing your hairline. Instantly, you’re back on the rooftop, back under his grip, his lips locking with yours. The kiss is different from the frantic, heated one on Halloween, but it sets you on fire all the same. He drags his mouth across yours slowly, intimately, kissing your bottom lip, then your top one, then the bottom again, teeth catching on the split in your lip. It sends a spark of pain across your mouth and you taste copper, but it only stokes the fire.

“Shit,” he whispers against your lips, pulling away. “You’re bleeding. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You quiet him with another kiss, your hands reaching for his wrists. “Don’t apologize.”

He groans into your mouth, yanking his mouth away from yours with a twist of his head, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of his breath on your face smelling of chocolate, peppermint, and coffee. “I should go inside. Don’t move, okay? Just stay,” a peck beneath your left eye, “right,” the bridge of your nose, “here.” Then your right eye. “I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.”

When you open your eyes, he’s gone, the car door shutting as you settle a little deeper into the driver’s seat. True to his word, he does know the way, his cane barely touching the ground as he makes his way to the door. You watch as he lifts his hand to knock, and a moment later, a woman dressed in Christmas-coloured scrubs answers, smiling at him and stepping to the side so he can enter.

The door closes and you busy yourself, flipping through radio stations before settling on a Christmas station playing all the oldies. Frank Sinatra croons his way through Baby, It’s Cold Outside, and you stare at your phone, replying to texts from Pepper and Nat and Caleb. The snow is coming quicker now than it had been in the city, and before you know it, an hour has passed and there’s nearly five inches of it sitting on the hood of the car, the previously shovelled pathway now hidden beneath the white.

Another half hour, another three inches on the ground, and you’re starting to worry that the trip back to the city won’t be easy. You check the weather reports, which all tell you the snow is not stopping anytime soon and to basically hole up where you can.

Tony answers on the first ring. “Hey, kid, how goes the unknown journey?”

“Fine,” you answer, peering through the windshield up at the grey sky above. “This weather is something else though.”

“Well, the Jeep is all-terrain,” he laughs, familiar beeping in the background, “but there’s always the cabin if you’re worried. You and Murdock could hole up for the night, drive back once the roads have been cleared.”

“Cabin?”

“I’ll send you the address,” he responds, “not far from where you are now.”

You sigh. “You’re tracking me?”

You can almost hear the nonchalant lift of his shoulder. “The car is hooked up to Jarvis’s network, kid. Just keeping an eye out, you know how it is.”

Another sigh. “I do. Thanks, Tony. See you tomorrow then.”

“See ya, kid,” he says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Hah, that narrows it down.”

He just laughs and the call disconnects.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens, revealing a ruffled-looking Matt, and you’re out of the car, the hat and gloves you’d grabbed on your way out shielding you from the falling snow, brush in hand, wiping what you can from the car. “Hey, wait there!” you call, setting the brush on the hood and picking your way up the path to the door, grateful for your boots. “It snowed a lot while you were inside,” you say, reaching where Matt is standing and putting your hand on his arm, letting it slide down to his wrist. His breath is heavy, sending puffs of steam into the air between you. “Stay close to me.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you don’t miss the way his voice breaks on the word. Your eyes narrow, raking across his face, and you can see the trail of wet along the side of his nose, the slight red gathered around his eyes beneath his glasses. For a minute, you think it’s just the reflection of the lenses against his skin, but as you approach the passenger’s side of the car, he slumps against you, hooking an arm around your neck. He murmurs out your name, voice breaking again, and you realize he’s crying.

“Hey,” you say, instantly trying to soothe him. The snow is still falling, flakes catching in his hair and settling on his shoulders. His hand settles around the back of your neck, pulling you against him, and you hook your hands under his arms, pressing your gloved palms against his shoulders. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

He puts his face in the curve of your neck, and you can feel the tears falling against your skin, sliding beneath the collar of your sweater. His breaths are shaky, and when you repeat the question, hugging him tight, he just shakes his head against your skin and mumbles, “Not here.”

“Okay,” you say, and pull back slowly, kissing his cheek as you go. His face is flushed and you brush the snow from his jacket, moving him backwards carefully so you can open the passenger door.

Once he’s settled, you close the door softly, your heart breaking a little in your chest as he pulls his glasses off and covers his face with one hand, a broken sob falling out of his mouth. You finish cleaning off the car the best you can, then toss the brush in the trunk and get back into the driver’s seat. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees, forehead pressed against the dashboard, shoulders shaking slightly. He flinches when you pull the door shut, and you start the car again, turning on the heated seats and tossing your hat and gloves into the backseat.

“That wasn’t a client,” you say quietly, “was it?”

He doesn’t move, but whispers out, “No.”

Your phone beeps then, a text from Tony appearing on the screen. It’s an address, coupled with the code to the front door. You put the address into the GPS, sighing with relief when you see it’s only half an hour from your current spot. “It’s still snowing,” you tell him, your voice still quiet, “and it’s not gonna stop. It’s dangerous, to drive back to the city now.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning back in the seat, hands fisted on his knees. “I should have…I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” You lean across the console, putting your hand on his leg. Slowly, his hand unfurls and he covers your own with it, rubbing his palm across your knuckles. “You can’t control the weather, Murdock. It’s okay.” He seems to chase your voice a little, his head hanging forward, lips parted as his temple rests against your forehead. You stretch your neck until your lips graze his jaw. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Another shaky sob falls from his mouth and your other hand reaches up to rest against the back of his neck, thumb rubbing along his hairline. He inhales deeply. “That’s my line.”

You kiss his cheek this time, snaking your hand up the back of his head before leaning back in your seat and reaching for the wheel. “Tony sent me the address to his cabin. Said we can crash there till tomorrow, wait out the snow and head back when the roads are clear. And I’m sure there’s a cabinet full of liquor.”

“Thank god.”

You turn the car around and head back up the drive, pulling carefully onto the now snow-covered main road and following the GPS directions. Matt’s hand finds it’s way to your thigh and stays there the whole way to the cabin.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

sir, ma’am, person, or other pronouns, you cannot just post good writing ideas right before I sleep /j

I’d like to see that golden house prompt as a short story,,, possibly????😳

-💃

spoiler! i ain't good at choreographing fights but uh i THINK i was poetic enough so it still sounds cool??? hope that's ok!! this is also inspired by some of the brainrot i've been having and getting in the past few days so i can definitely make a part two!! also normal Childe’s there for a bit original prompt was of FL Childe injuring you during the golden house fight!! read Part Two here!!: The Sky’s Tears ~ * ~ Golden House is Falling Down Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Worrying, descriptions of anger, fighting (battles), a corpse, allusions to blood, pain, potential death, lightning, electrocution

~ * ~

Sometimes Childe worried you. It came with his job, you supposed. You were well aware of his status as a Fatui Harbinger, although you’ve never personally seen him at work- it had been a casual accident when you walked into him discussing plans with his subordinates. The two of you hadn’t been close back then, only acquaintances, and he made you swear to secrecy. Well, technically he had threatened you, but you didn’t particularly mind. You weren’t as in love with Liyue as some of your friends were, and you, unlike many people, understood the importance of a well-paying job. Having his position exposed to the public could very well get him fired. Those had been your concerns, so long ago. But now, as you hurried after the Traveler in all their glory, those pitiful worries seemed so far away, replaced instead by anxious thoughts flurrying by about life and death. You weren’t anyone of particular importance in the harbor, but you always made sure to pay careful attention to any rumors and gossip you heard. You always took them with a grain of salt, of course, but you had long ago learned that it was good to keep things you heard in your mind as potential possibilities. Liyue had a habit of having “impossible” events happen anyways. It really got on your nerves sometimes. Last week’s whispers had been full of a Fatui plan about meddling with the panicking government, after Rex Lapis had allegedly fallen from the sky, his status as the oldest living archon gone. Seeing that the Fatui’s reputation wasn’t particularly good, you had filed the thought away to consider later. A few days later, it came true. And Childe seemed to vanish into thin air, shifting your worries instantaneously over to him. It was funny, how close the two of you had gotten in the weeks he’d been in Liyue. At least, you were close to him. The Traveler was kind enough to let you accompany them to the famed Golden House, just to cover all possible leads. Their steps are light and quick as you approach the elegant building, all lined with gold and jade, and you can almost hear the tinkling sound of mora within. The Traveler stares up at the enormous door, clutching their sword. They seem prepared for a fight. You gulp, hoping that their stance is just how they stand as a default. The doors to the Golden House swing open, and the Traveler gestures for you to follow them, a determined look in their eyes. You enter together, and momentarily you’re distracted by the piles of mora scattered around the floor- probably more mora than you’d see in your entire life. Your eyes scan the room as the glimmer of coins snatches your attention, a tendency that friends and family had always teased you lightheartedly about- they’d call you a crow or a magpie. You didn’t mind being a bird. It sounded fun, to fly away from all your problems. Finally your gaze lands on the corpse of Rex Lapis, floating in the center-back of the room like a morbid decoration put on display. Despite it being very, very dead, it emanates an aura of power, and you involuntarily shiver, the temperature seeming to drop by a few degrees. Suddenly you hear the great doors of the Golden House slam shut, and someone’s voice questions why they, the Traveler, still lingered. The three of you, little Paimon included, turn in surprise. It’s Childe, the very person you were fretting over and looking for. You sigh quietly in relief, but your fleeting moment of calm is quickly dashed as the Traveler silently challenges him to a duel. Hastily you scramble to get out of the way, and just barely find yourself “out-of-bounds” when the arena for their fight flares to life as they both ready their weapons. Childe retrieves his bow with a twisted smile, a counterpart to the Traveler’s iron stoicness. But it seems his gaze lingers on you, and softens for a brief moment, something you tell yourself is just your imagination, because you doubt he was ever your friend to begin with. As someone whose work isn’t associated with adventuring, your knowledge of combat is limited, but even you can see the

skill of both the Traveler and Childe as their blades clash. Several times a burst of elemental energy strikes the burning walls of the arena, and you’re thankful for the barrier between you and them, because you have very little chance of surviving the power of their abilities. When Childe’s clothes darken and the mask falls over his face, you remember hearing something about a far more powerful and dangerous version of Visions- Delusions, items the Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon and ruler of Snezhnaya, rewards to her most loyal and deserving followers. Childe’s is Electro, and the crackle of static energy he slashes towards the Traveler makes your hair stand on end. You shield your eyes from the bright lights dancing around the arena, and when you reopen them, Childe has disappeared. And he reappears next to Rex Lapis’ corpse. Several things happen at once. The Geo Archon’s Gnosis is gone, taken by neither the Harbinger or the Traveler. Paimon looks worried, the Traveler looks shocked, and Childe enraged- You blink and he’s changed. Suddenly several feet taller, he now floats, some sort of terrible creature you’ve never seen before. Everything is loud, too loud, and you clap your hands over your ears, as the floor breaks away beneath you. And you fall with the Traveler and Paimon into the chamber below. You feel something catch you- an enormous clawed hand- and set you down more or less gently into a single large room. The room is the arena, an arena you stand in with no escape. The Gnosis is gone, and Childe is a monster, one of both Hydro and Electro and a foreign, starry magic that makes your skin crawl. And the battle only continues. Luckily the Traveler is adamant on staying away from you, drawing Childe’s attacks to the other side of the arena entirely, and for a majority of the fight the most you have to do is dodge falling arrows and water amalgamations. Childe’s furious questions about the Gnosis soon fade into hisses and growls as he loses himself more and more into the horrible joy of battle. You lean over, coughing slightly from the water that splashed you as a consequence of his attacks and the exertion from dodging and keeping your balance in the Hydro-soaked room. The Traveler screams, and you look up too late as a burst of electro slashes across your chest. Then everything goes white and high pitched, your senses bursting alongside the elemental energy as it runs up your damp skin and clothes. The pain from the combination of Hydro and Electro in your veins brings tears to your eyes, and it’s only amplified around your torso as you vaguely feel something warm and sticky dripping down. Someone shakes you, panicking, calling your name, but everything is white, cold noise. The sounds around you are muffled as the battle slows to a halt, and all you hear is ringing. Another hand, sharp and clawed, brushes against your arm, but it retreats when someone starts shouting. A blade is brandished as someone yells at a monster to stay away, he’s done enough damage, how dare he, and you hear a mournful, desperate chitter through the haze of static. Ah, that curious sound, it makes your heart ache. But what, or who, is it? The sword slices through the air as the monster is pushed away by a blonde-haired Traveler’s rage, and it soon joins into the pitching, ringing note in your ears before it tapers into silence and sorrow, leaving only the inky abyss of darkness crawling up to your eyes as the pain fades into weightlessness. This time, you let yourself fall. In the harbor, the Fair Lady is informed that the Golden House is falling down, falling down.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Meister of the Stars

Genshin Impact College!AU but it’s in canon universe with canon elements

Otherwise: Hogwarts in Teyvat, Sumeru Academia

Welcome to Exiled’s first public domain post! What does that mean? Well that just means that this work is entirely repriseable and can be used by other authors for their own plots, fics, stories, or even AU characters. So long as you credit me appropriately by either tagging this post or just tagging my url hehe.

Why is this Public Domain? It’s too big and extensive of a plot for me to write alone and I’m sure other authors can do this plot justice than I do. Besides, with my schedule and writing manner, I won’t be delving into this plot anytime soon. Or at all.

Story Prologue Summary:

Sumeru Academia, the oasis of knowledge in the vast continent of Teyvat, is a constitution inhabiting scholars around the world. Within its walls harbors great minds and masters of elemental prowess and higher intelligence. Only select people can enter or even pass the trials of the scholars, some are gifted by invitation by the Headmaster and leader of the nation, the Dendro Archon.

When you had been gifted your Dendro Vision one day when you encountered and rejuvenated one of the many ley lines connecting the world together, it was guaranteed the next day that you were to receive a letter by a majestic hawk: within its claws it clutched a cured scroll, locked by a tie and the logo of Dendro, and the insignia of the famed Academia.

The Archon, shut and reserved as he may be, he knows and keeps close the gifted ones who received a sprinkle of his power.

Sumeru Academia does not value itself with how long you had been under scholarly guidance, students are not recognized by how many years they have been in the constitution, no. Instead the students are split into three different systems of prestige: elemental, mastery, and admission.

Elemental System separates students into different, well, elements corresponding to their Visions: Dendro, Pyro, Cryo, Hydro, Electro, Geo and Anemo. There are no titles do scholars who enter the Academia, but scholarly jargons had opted for either ‘awakening’ or ‘waiting shell’, because more often than not, many scholars had been blessed while inside the walls of the Academia, as well as the obvious fact that being blessed by a Vision comes at a natural time and age in your life.

Mastery System comes in four main hierarchies and two sub-categories, all of which are determined by the Trials of the Scholars upon being allowed admission into the Academia. The four main hierarchies are classified by prestige stars or which the amount you are allowed pinned on your Academian sash:

Six stars are those who come near the grace of Celestia’s understanding of the universe, very rarely are scholars placed into this category, and many scholars even dispute the existence of such a class. However, they do exist as they are honored by the God of Wisdom himself deeming them to carry the blessings of the wisdoms from the stars. A Six star only comes one in a generation, some say. Many speculations linked to this class are supernatural and absurd rumors.

Five stars are those who master the flow of their visions powered by their undeniable talents in their major scholarly interest, renowned as true geniuses of their professions, a lot of them turn into prodigies after leaving the Academia and even serving under ruling kingdoms with high roles.

Four stars are the base level a Vision-holder can reach and is the starting system for said Vision-holders; even tho this is the default level of Vision holders, wielders of Visions in Academia are not to be trifled with, as they are expected to exceed their mastery over Vision-holders residing outside the Academia.

Three stars are non-Vision scholars that have an adeptness in both academics and weapon mastery, they are proficient in combat prowess enough to par those who have basic grasp of their Visions outside of the Academia. Most three star scholars are also known to have a higher chance of receiving their Visions.

There has been no record of Two Stars or One Star scholars in the records of the Academia.

Sub-category of the Mastery System are reliant on physical properties of a scholar: Adepts are those with mixed blood with mystical beings of the continent, or simply put, scholars that are not just of mortal origins. Mortals are simply normal mortals. These sub-category, meaningless as it may seem, are actually used to observe patterns for research purposes regarding power and skill differences.

Admission System is the plainest and easiest judge for all scholars and is not that much given attention to unlike the other systems, except for the last one. Entrance Admission simply means you have taken the appropriate customary tests of the mind, body and element (if you are a Vision-wielder) and passed the marks to enter the Academia. Letter of Recommendation means that you were either transferred from another academy besides Sumeru or some prestigious bloodline convinced the headmasters of Sumeru to allow such easy admission. Meisters are those who wield Dendro Visions with full potential, invited by the Dendro Archon himself to join the ranks of the Academia.

During the Rite of Prominence in the main hall of the Academia, the Dendro Archon descends from his temple to hold this important annual event for new scholars, together with the Headmasters. Rite of Prominence is where new scholars are given their first prestige systems, and those who are convinced to have ascended gets their new titles.

Your knees almost buckled when your name echoed through the wide building, calling you upon the presence of the Headmasters to finally receive your classification. Your first friend and fellow newcomer Chongyun pats you in the back, urging you to approach the aisle that leads to the stage up front. His smile was enough to push your legs to a subtle tremble as you made your way through the carpeted path, standing before the Headmasters.

There was a beat of silence and unmoving, and then the Headmaster starts to raise his hand- before the Dendro Archon himself suddenly stands up from his large throne of a seat at the very back. The movement caused a series of gasps to erupt from the scholars and staff behind you, and you must have hallucinated one from the cloaked Headmasters, as the God of Wisdom made his way to stand in front of you.

His presence was both ethereal and overwhelming as his imposing figure looms over you. You politely raised your head to rest your view by the bridge of his nose, not wanting to offend by making direct contact. “Child,” he extends his large hand and you looked at it, “Your hand.” Your eyes fleet back to his with wary but his gaze softened in assurance. With a sharp inhale, you finally placed your hand into his-

And a burst of gold streams flew out from your connected hands, with enough force to send a pulse of a wave through the building. Hanging cloths were whisked by the elemental burst, flames of candles extinguished, as suddenly all the Visions in the building began glowing. You blinked the surge of nausea away, and it was only the Dendro Archon that noticed the golden glow that pulsed from your iris, and looked around in confusion.

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you felt the hand under your palm move away as six glowing rocks manifested and twirled around you. Scholars knowledgeable enough gasped once again at the sight. And you warily watched the glowing rocks forge themselves into star-shaped badges, slowing down as they descend in front of you and on to your palm. “Welcome to this new age, Six Stars Meister of the Stars.” And the hall blows into a series of thunderous claps.

(This area is a WIP)

In the back of the Ancient libraries of Sumeru Academia resides the domain of the record holder, and there upon are bookshelves of numerous records about every scholar that has been admitted into the Academia. Each book corresponds to a student and its first pages carry their basic information, however the pages after that are hexed with powerful lexical charms to make it unreadable to anyone that dare looks at the other pages:

Albedo: Geo Vision. A Five Star, Adept scholar who has been in the Academia for two years through a letter of recommendation. Albedo is a master of the sword too, but his expertise lies in his expert handling of the concept of Alchemy. Hailing from an unknown continent, Albedo aims to spread his knowledge and master it enough to become a Six Star, a prestige title his master once held before mysteriously disappearing. Upon your appearance, the master alchemist had been not so subtly observing and following you around whenever you were in the vicinity. You're not sure if you saw this right, but when you once had seen his passing look, you swore you saw a slight squint when he looks down at your sash.

Amber: Pyro Vision. A Four Star, Mortal hailing from Mondstadt. Her grandfather was an alumni of the Academia who mastered the arts of gliding, and was thus allowed the opportunity to accept his letter of recommendation for Amber when she reached the age of 15. She continued her grandfather's work in the Academia and carried the Outrider title, focusing on aerodynamics and her bow mastery. Seeing as she was around your age range but having been admitted years prior, Amber took it upon herself to tour you around the campus and also introduce you to her friends from Mond. During the weekends, you find yourself gliding over the university's towering buildings with her.

Baizhu

Beidou

Bennett

Chongyun: Cryo Vision. A Four Star, Mortal from Liyue with ties to the spiritual realm. His expertise in exorcism had earned him the title of Master of Spirits despite being a newcomer, and many of services are seeked out even in the new continent. With his mischievous Liyuean friends, he's seen roaming around the halls of the Academia during ungodly hours. Chongyun was your first friend in the Academia after you both rendezvous at the entrance as newcomers and finding solace with the company of each other. When you earned your Six Stars title, Chongyun had become protective of you yet still treated you as a normal friend, not wanting you to think he was only there for prestige. During random nights, you'd find yourself in the darkest and secluded areas of the Academia as he pulls you around with Xingqiu, hoping to find roaming spirits of scholars from years ago.

Collei

Cyno: Pyro Vision. A Five Star, Mortal that had been in the Sumeru Academia for years. He is one of the senior scholars and running for Headmaster after his graduation. In the Pyro Visions, he is one of the renowned masters of the element, and can usually be found tending the books of the ancient libraries of the Academia. As of Sumerian descent and strong ties with the Academia, under the buddy system Cyno became your senior buddy on your first year to make sure you do not incur a failing grade nor misunderstood the practices and customs of the Academia. Because of this, you meet with him daily for check-ups and tutoring.

Diluc

Fischl

Ganyu

Jean

Kaeya

Keqing

Lisa

Mona

Razor

Sucrose: Anemo Vision. A Four Star, Adept of an unknown cat species from Mondstadt. Master of Bio-Alchemy as renowned of her multiple contributions to the field, Sucrose made her way to Sumeru Academia at the news that it harbors the one and only Master of Alchemy in it. She passed the entrance exam with expected ease and has then exhausted the laboratories and resources of the Academia for her researches. You've ran into her once when you were lost in the halls of the large Academia, stumbling on her unsupervised experiments in one of the laboratories. Her cat ears caught your attention and had since then become engrossed in researching about it, with her next to you, you were both brought together into a friendship focused on nature and a thirst for discovery.

Tartaglia: Hydro Vision. A Five Star, Mortal that carried with him a different aura opposite of the stars. Childe entered the Academia after near perfecting all his scores in all the tests, before the Headmasters realized that he carried a letter of recommendation from the Tsaritsa, which was then useless by the time he revealed it. One of the few Masters of Hydro, Childe was more fond and known in the arts of combat, Warmonger was a title he was more confident in as he shows prowess in all weaponry he touches. When Childe heard about the existence of a Six Star, his first instinct was to test out the difference between him and the fabled child. But his mastery in combat alone was enough to show he was still ever more superior. Irked yet still curious of a hidden potential, Childe ended up tortur- tutoring you in mastering weapon proficiency. He manages to persuade you in his test spars (still looking for that six star glory) by a promise of an expensive dinner everytime. Damn rich people.

Venti: Anemo Vision. A Five Star, Adept that was personally invited by the Dendro Archon after his retirement from his position as archon of Mondstadt. Despite the idea being absolutely preposterous and against his principles, clearly he had nothing better to do, he was ultimately persuaded after hearing his fellow retired archon resided in the Academia as well. The Master of Winds and Weaver of Tales had become your partner in your Anemo classes, and what better way to teach you about Anemo than flinging you into the sky to 'feel the fresh air' up there? He'd always make sure that you were there everytime he performed for the Academia, and lingers around you whenever you were free just to loiter around before the next class.

Xiangling:

Xiao: Anemo Vision. Five Star, Adept that passed the examination in hopes to follow his master in search for the truth. Master of the Polearm is the title he boasts, and a lot of pupils under him are always devastated upon entering combat with him. Although he's only been there for a year, he has secretly been enjoying the new atmosphere. Xiao had noticed you during the Rite of Prominence when he felt the familiar touch of the Gods, and he had found that whenever you are near, there is a cleansing aura that silences the demonic whispers in his head. Ever since then he'd be found usually in your vicinity yet unapproaching, subtle. When Zhongli officially entrusted him of your safety during your stay in the Academia, he doesn't know whether to scuff or sigh in relief as he was finally introduced.

Xingqiu

Zhongli: Geo Vision. A Five Star Adept that was also invited by the God of Wisdom but was dependently persuaded by Venti. He carries with him 6000 years of knowledge and had since then assisted in collating those sacred years to be immortalized in the Academia's libraries. As the Wielder of Earth he prides himself with his elemental mastery despite the removal of his true power, and yet he is more known of his title as Historian of the Wars. Zhongli was no ordinary student, he carries himself like that of a Headmaster and yet he does not situate himself with matters of either scholar of staff interests. You encountered him during a nightly walk to calm yourself over the burden of your academics and Meister title, and his presence had been the best comfort. Ever since then you'd always find him when you need him, and he always helps you with any troubles, if you count a 500 words dialogue as such.

Storyline - Arcs

Arc Socrates : the foundation

i. Rite of Prominence - earning ones title

ii. Welcome to Sumeru Academia - the dormitories

iii. The Seven Majors - first classes for the seven corresponding elements

iv. Buddy System - newcomers are always paired with senior scholars on their first year in the Academia

v. Labyrinth - the libraries of Sumeru Academia is large and secretive, hence the perfect domain for treasure hunt exercises

vi. Combat Mastery - dive into the trials of weapons, another major

vii. Science Side of Sumeru (SSS) - numerous laboratories harbor different individuals and strands, from alchemy to biology to— wine-making?

ending. The Walk of Scholars - every midyear, scholars are entitled to a week long fieldtrip/vacation in the nation of Sumeru, beyond the walls of the Academia

Plato : the calling of the stars

i. The Midyear Examinations - annual exam to retest your standing in the Academia

ii. Divine Intervention - archonistic convention of a looming celestial presence

iii. The Leyline Disorder - a leyline in the Academia became corrupted, forcing a halt in the academics as malignous forces plague the Academia

iv. The First Miracle - as the Six Stars scholar with a touch blessed by the stars, you were the only one to succeed in repairing the problem

ending. Advancement of Medicine - after the First Miracle, the Six Star scholar was plagued with eternal sleep. With this new case, the Academia scrambles for medical intervention

*shrugs*

This is not a series I'll be working on, but may be referenced in oneshots in the future.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18​‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

 “Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together. 

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking.  "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming.  Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile. 

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.” 

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive. 

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving." 

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him. 

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria. 

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled. 

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was." 

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating. 

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged. 

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault. 

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy. 

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears. 

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in. 

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over. 

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged. 

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her. 

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear. 

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch. 

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered. 

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home. 

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips. 

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her. 

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock. 

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted. 

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head. 

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise. 

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind. 

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

 "Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you. 

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript. 

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive. 

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

 ‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch. 

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface. 

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger. 

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground. 

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face.  Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out.  “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.” 

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

[faeryqueenwitch]

🧚🎉Fairy Festivals🎉🧚

🎉 Fairy festivals take place at crossover points in the seasons. Equinoxes and solstices are determined by the position of the Sun, but the other four festivals are celebrated when the time feels right, so the dates given below are approximate.

🎉 There are other festivals too,such as Christmas Eve,Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day. Any human festival that touches on old traditions,from Ramadan to a Japanese Flower Festival, is a fairy feast. If you celebrate these festivals and make the effort to tune into what concerns the fairies, you will draw closer to their world. If you celebrate a special meal, remember to leave a little outside afterward for the fairies

1.  🌷 Imbolic - 🌷

February 2 in the Northern Hemisphere/July 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Imbolc means “in the belly,” and this is the time when life stirs in the belly of the earth. Frost sparkles and the pale light lingers each evening,bringing the message that spring is on the horizon. Imbolc is the delicate crossover point from winter’s depths into the New Year. It is a feast of lightness and brightness,but also a time of cleansing,to make way for the new. The Hag, who is Dark Goddess or Dark Fairy, gives way now to the Maiden, who is young and radiant.

Fairies love neatness and good housekeeping,so it is a good idea to have a late-winter sort-out,in preparation for fresh activity. While the fairies are busy coaxing snowdrops and crocuses out of the winter-hard earth,do something creative of your own,such as knitting,painting,or writing poetry. Ask the fairies to lend you a little of their magic by leaving them an offering,such as a piece of wool or a verse written just for them.

This feast is also called candlemas,sacred to St.Bridget,who was the successor to the pagan goddess Bride (pronounced “Breed”). Bride was the keeper of the sacred flame,which represents eternal life. She is the patroness of poetry,smithcraft,child birth, and healing, and is a very powerful fairy indeed. Invite her into your home by lighting as many candles as you like, in your windows and around your house. Ask her to bless your projects for the coming year,and pledge a special act of caring for the natural world in return,to seal your pact as the year waxes.

2. 🌼 Spring Equinox- 🌼

March 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/September 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

The fairies are very busy at the Spring Equinox,looking after all the flowers that are newly blooming.Scandinavian fairies become active now: the Russian cellar fairy,The Domoviyr,casts off its skin and grows a lighter one for summer; and the Russian Rusalki,or river fairies are glimpsed by lakes swollen with melted snow.

A tree planting project is a very fairy-friendly activity at this time. A seasonal blitz on the garden is also called for. While you are hard at work, digging and pulling away at dead winter twigs, it is easy to go into a kind of trance. This, coupled with the spell of the natural world around you,can create the perfect state of mind to catch a glimpse of fairies.You can be sure they are near you,helping you with their energies.Plant some seeds of your choice and, as you put them in the earth, close your eyes and make a special request for fairy help. Visualize the fairies tending your seeds,giving them their love and care. Ask out loud for the fairies to help you,and sing or hum and you plant. Touch the soft soil with your bare hands and make real contact with the earth.

Place water in a pottery or glass jug (plastic or metal is best avoided) and leave it out in the noon sunshine. Ask the fairies to bless it. Imagine them dancing around it and coming up to touch it with their glimmering fingers. Use the water to give your houseplants a special spring blessing.

The Green Man is a powerful nature spirit that has been sensed by many people. He is represented in numerous churches as the Foliate Mask (a face made up of leaves),and one theory about his presence is that the masons who fabricated him had hidden sympathies with the old nature- worship. He is making his appearance now on some new park benches and monuments. However, you can make contact with the real Green Man out alone walking through the woodland. Ancient and wise,he is watching you. Catch a glimpse of him behind tree trunks or in the lacework of budding branches. Hear his footfalls behind you as you walk. He is the very breath of Nature, and his strength is bursting forth in springtime.

3. 💐 Beltane - 💐

April 30 in the Northern Hemisphere/October 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Of all the festivals, Beltane is the most flagrantly joyful and sensuous as Nature is bursting forth with beauty and excitement. This was the Celtic beginning of summer, and also marked an important transition for the people of Fairy, for it was the time when the Milesian Celts landed on the shores of south-west Ireland. With this, the last of the magical peoples,the Tuatha de Danann, receded from the the world of humans into the Hollow Hills and became the people of the Sidhe.

However, they and the other fairy folk have not gone very far. You will find them dancing in a bluebell wood or skipping in the sunshine,sheltered by a greening hedge. Beltane is the time when good fairies reign supreme and bad fairies retreat. Fairies are very active now and may try to steal butter,or some of the ritual fire that used to be ignited on hilltops and is still lit by modern pagans.

This is the maypole season, but instead you can always dance around a friendly tree. Link hands with friends, and you may find yourselves spontaneously re-creating the kind of things people used to to do when seeing fairies was commonplace:lingering,walking,and talking, in the open air, away from television,computers,and other modern distractions.

There are many tales of beautiful fairies marrying mortals. Such tales usually end in tragedy, for fairy and human can never truly be joined. Better to borrow some of the fairy enchantment by performing a little magic of your own! Rise early on May Day and wash your face in the dew or simply walk in it. As the rhyme says: “The fairy maid who, the first of May Goes to the fields at break of day, And walk in dew from the hawthorn tree, Will ever handsome be.”

Welsh legend tells how the hero Pwll saw the Lady Rhiannon riding past him at Beltane and, after pursuing her, he eventually won her. Rhiannon is one aspect of the Fairy Queen,riding on her white horse between the worlds. As you sit quietly outside,on a bank in the late spring dusk,listen for the sounds of her horse’s hooves,and open your eyes to the shimmer of her sea-blue cloak. When Rhiannon touches your heart, she will fill it with love and inspiration.

4. 🌹 Midsummer -  🌹

June 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/December 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

This is one of the most magical times of the year, when fairies are very active and visible, playing pranks and even, it is said, stealing away the young and beautiful to join them in the Hollow Hills. The sun is now at the height of its strength and this is an important crossover point,such as the fairies love. For at the Midsummer Solstice the sun stands still, before beginning to recede as we move into the waning half of the year.

Flowers are colorful and luxuriant, and one radiant day seems to merge into another, as late dusk meets early dawn. At no time is the natural world more inviting. Take part in it by going on quests -long walks to sacred spots,evening camping out with the minimum of equipment,to draw close to the mystery that is all around, and to the Fair Folk in particular.

The rose is possibly the most sensuous bloom of all, and at midsummer it is often at its most gorgeous. Roses in the garden are especially likely to attract fairies. Distil water from rose petals and add it to your bath, asking the fairies to lend you some of their enchantment and to help you attract love. Brew tea from rosebuds and drink it,to increase your psychic powers.Plant a rose bush with a friend, to affirm the loving bound between you and invite the fairies into your life.

St.John’s wort is a herb known to break any negative fairy enchantment and drive away depression. Pluck some on Midsummer’s Day and carry it, to keep cheerful.

Look out for water nymphs by streams, or for undines for water elementals on the seashore- or for even the Lady of the Lake herself,rising from the luminous depths.In olden times, these beings were said to have no souls. It is closer to the truth to say that they do not have human morals. Conventions often conceal or feelings, but the beauty of the water fairies opens us to our unconscious tides; see them and let yourself be transformed.

5. 🌾Lammas- 🌾

July 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/February 2 in the Southern Hemisphere

Lammas is “Loaf Mass,” a christian version of a much older festival known as Lughnasadh, or the “Feast of Lugh.” Lugh was a Celtic god,lord of the Tuatha de Danann, and his name means “bright one.” Lughnasadh is a major fairy festival, and many fairies become active during this period,such as the Russian Polevik, who kicks sleepy harvesters awake. It is also a time when fairies move about in preparation for winter,and processions of them may be seen as a line of twinkling lights moving between the hills in the countryside.

At Lammas, the fields are golden with corn and splashed with red poppies. It is hazy,lazy time of holidays and abundance,but there is an underlying theme of death,for the Corn Spirit must be sacrificed in order to reap the harvest. If you walk out into a field of ripe wheat, you may sense the anger of the nature spirits as what is to be taken from the earth,even thought that is a part of the natural cycle of life.Gather up some ears of wheat and tie them into a bunch with red thread,to make a charm for the coming winter to hang over your hearth. At the same time,pledge an act of caring for the earth,such as clearing a derelict site in your neighborhood or garden, or planting and tending a herb, as payment for what you-and all of us- take from it.

At home, bake your own bread, using the rising of the dough as a spell to ensure that everything prospers in your life. While you are kneading the bread dough, say to yourself “As this dough swells, so may my fortunes increase.” Ask for your own personal Brownie, or house fairy, to come and help your bread rise- and remember to leave some breadcrumbs outside afterward,for the fairies.

Some say that Lugh is lord of the waning year, and his dance- through the waving,whispering corn- is a dance of death. If so, it is a reminder that all things come in cycles,and that everything is united in love and beauty. Stand at the edge of a sun-kissed wheat field and see the shimmer and sway that betrays the presence of Lugh. Take a few moments to feel respect for the earth in your heart, and understand the meaning of the Wheel of Life.

6. 🍁 Autumn Equinox (Mabon) - 🍁

September 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/March 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

At the Autumn Equinox, Nature stands poised between light and dark,but darkness is gaining. The veil between this world and the Otherworld is at its thinnest, and all manner of spirit visitations are more frequent now.

The hedgerows are beaded with berries,and mist lingers in the hollows. Sometimes the wind whistles in from nowhere and tosses baring branches. On other says, the mellow sun caresses the fields with slanting fingers. It is a time for reflection, but also for industry. In days gone by, preserves would be made for winter store and the help of the Good Folk would be sought by country people.

Absorb the atmosphere of the season by going blackberrying. In Celtic countries, there may be a taboo on eating blackberries, because these belong especially to fairies. However, as long as you gather them with respect and do not denude the bramble bushes, they will hardly object. Better still,leave out some of your homemade blackberry pie or wine for them,so that they will bless you. When this month ends, leave the blackberries alone and move on. Also look out for a bramble bush that forms an arch-so much the better if it faces east/west, for that mirrors the passage of the sun. Crawl through this three times on a sunny day to be healed of physical ills, especially rheumatism and skin troubles.

At this mysterious time, pay honor to Queen Mab. Her special gift is to bring dreams and visions to birth within us. She is really one of many manifestations of the Goddess, in her autumnal guise of wise-woman and Lady of Magic, and she is linked with ancient ideas of sovereignty- for the king drew his power from the land, and Mab presided.

Preferably at the Full Moon closest to the equinox,place good-quality wine in a stemmed glass or chalice,and take it into the garden or a secluded place.Raise the glass to the Moon,say, “Mab, I honor you”and pour some of the wine onto the earth. Drink a little and say, “Mab, I drink with you,” Then return home,light a bright-green candle beside your bed,gaze at the flame and say, “Mab,give me wisdom,” Place some jasmine or rose oil on your pillow,extinguish the candle-and drift into Fairyland. This is a little ritual that you can repeat during any Full Moon if you wish.

7. 🎃 Samhain - 🎃

October 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/April 30 in the Southern Hemisphere

Samhain means “summer’s end” and is pronounced “sa-wen.” This ancient Celtic festival at the official start of the winter was later Christianized as Halloween- a time when the dead were remembered. There was always a sinister aspect to Samhain,because certain sacrifices had to be made in order to survive the coming cold weather. Animals had to be slaughtered,and some say that human sacrifice took place to propitiate the spirits. Sacrifice,however, is a corruption of nature worship,for life is hard enough as it is and all we have to do is show respect.

Barrow mounds,shrouded in mist,are particularly eerie places at Samhain. Draw close,if you dare,and sit quietly.Do you hear the strange,far-off noise of fairy music,or the sound of knocking? Maybe the mound will open for you and unearthly light will stream over the barren fields.After Samhain,the earth is given over to the powers of darkness and decay.No crops or berries may be harvested after this time,because the Phooka, a malevolent Irish Fairy,blights them. The true meaning here,of course,is that death and decay have a place in the natural order,requiring due honor and respect lest they get out of hand.

Traditionally, this is the start of the story telling season. While the wind whistles around the eaves or the mist comes down outside,gather family or friends around your hearth- preferably with a real fire burning in it. If you do not have an open hearth,substitute a collection of large,burning candles. Sit round and speak of times gone by and people who have passed over to the other side.Ask the Beloved Dead to be present, if you wish(but note that this is not a seance,and the Beloved Dead are invited,not summoned). Laugh,share funny stories,feast,and drink.

Cerridwen is the Underworld Goddess and the Fairy Hag most associated with this time. In her magic cauldron,she stirs a brew that confers inspiration and transformation. Simmer up a hearty soup of root vegetables or pumpkin, to share with friends,then light a black candle and ask Cerridwen to guide you through the darkness into the light. You will  be both safe and wise.

8.  ❄️ Yule - ❄️

December 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/June 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

Yule is the Midwinter Solstice, when the sun again appears to stand still,as it did at midsummer,but the season is poised for the return of light. Celebrations of Christ’s birth were moved to coincide with the much more ancient solstice.

As you deck your Christmas tree,remember that the evergreen is a powerful symbol of the enduring life in Nature. Of course,is has a fairy on top of it,confirming that it is a festival of the Fair Folk,who also rejoice in the sun’s rebirth. Decorating your tree is an important magical act,for the decorations are fairy charms. Each member of the family should hang at least one special charm of their own,to enable a wish to come true.

Jack Frost is an active fairy in the cold weather,painting windows with intricate lacework. In Russia he is called Father Frost,the soul of winter,covering the trees in ice. Do not shrink from the frost fairy-go out and wonder at his works and he will reward you with hope and joy,just as in Russia Father Frost brings presents for the children on New Year’s Day.

By far the best-known and most powerful fairy at Yule is Father Christmas himself. Today we know him by his robes of red and white, but in the past he also wore green and other colors. As we have seen,red is the color both of life and death, and many fairies wear red caps. The hearty red of Father Christmas is a sign that he is an Otherworld being-very much alive,but not of this earth. He is recognized all over the world, as Kris Kringle in Germany and Pere Noel in France. In Brazil he is Papa Noel,and in China Dun Che Loa. He is the essence of Yuletide mystery,joy and renewal,and like many traditional fairies, he comes in and out via the hearth.

When all is quiet on Christmas Eve, get ready to welcome Father Christmas- light a candle and look at the stars. Pledge a gift for a friend and one for the world, and ask for a special gift to answer your heart’s desire. Write your wish on a piece of paper and “post” it up the chimney if you have an open fire. If not, burn it in the candle flame. Can you hear those sleigh bells?

(Art By: IrenHorrors On Deviantart -Link)

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[winter-weepingwillow]

So maybe Kaeya replicates what he sees/learns???

I know I promised myself that I would keep my own theories hidden until the very end, but I really, really need to get at least this off my chest (since it will be a very long journey before the end of the game anyway): aside from the HUGE lore about Kaeya Alberich (concerning Nibelungenslied, Dainsleif, the sword, humanity, the Abyss and the power from beyond; the pawn from Khaenri'ah; the seemingly fake Vision – case AND orb–; Albedo, Klee, Rhinedottir/Gold, the Unknown God, and so on), I've seen very few people talk about Kaeya's abilities, voicelines and/or constellations. Or maybe I'm just a big dummy and I'm making castles in the air.

Anyway.

First off, MiHoyo isn't the tipe to forget or neglect or leave aside details, as we have several proofs in murals concerning different ancient languages and myths, two different languages and alphabets plus the hilichurian, the tiniest little specs about characters, environment, artifacts, even bosses, books, creatures and drops. Or Vision cases, for all we care (wink wonk), so it comes out as quite strange that Kaeya's second constellation, "Never-Ending performance" bears the same name as one of the OSTs in Childe's boss fight.

This doesn't quite add up and I actually don't have a real explication, aside from the speculation that both Childe and Kaeya are somehow connected to the Abyss. Or maybe they met before and/or already know each other.

Next up are the (in)famous English lines: "Dodge this" and "Freeze" during his Elemental Skill: this is a more popular opinion. We heard those lines already when we fight against the Treasure Hoarders.

This theory is a bit more straightforward as it is canon that Kaeya studies and observes them in secret, trying to conduct an investigation. So, he often comes in contact with them and maybe received their influence in language.

Oh and let's not forget about the line of the Cryogunner Legionnaire: "Don't get frostbite", the same one as Kaeya's burst...

Lastly for this rambling moment, we have the comparison between Kaeya's combact style and Bennett's: Kaeya moves similarly to Bennett in the first four hits and then he TELEPORTS [much like Rosaria's E (!!! Replicating that too?). Or maybe this mysterious "power from beyond" used in the Abyss].

Maybe this one is a bit of a stretch because perhaps Kaeya trained Bennett so I could be gloriously wrong.

I found this source on Reddit in which Kaeya is analysed under other aspects, for example that he might have grown in a twisted environment, his presence in the manga, his character, his connection to Khaenri'ah and not only that, but I'll let you read it.

Trust me, it's worth it and it explains really well a part of one of my own theories too.

So following this speculation and analysis, it is possible that, as we know well by now, Kaeya has connections all throughout Teyvat (hmm I wonder how? coff coff ley lines maybe coff coff) so it's very likely that he's been trying to adapt to his new life by mimicking (ahem) other's behaviour, way of living, etc.

Maybe to adapt, or maybe to feel more... human.

Oh and one more thing (but that's just partly related to the replicating-thing): his passive, Glacial Heart, had a different name before version 1.2... Heart of the Abyss. Yes, it is real. No, I am not kidding.

This, together with some of the loading screen's descriptions, falls all too well with the theory I just presented. One of them says: "Driven on by the Abyss, they covet the lives of those who live on the surface, and dream of overturning the rule of the gods".

Additionally, there are lots and lots of bits and pieces that I personally find a little too convenient (too many references to the ice and/or the cryo element while other characters simply don't have that often; his base attack name; his outfit and other voicelines, etc.), but I'll stop here: this was meant to be me blabbing and speculating about too many doubles.

As for the rest, I think I'll keep my own promise to myself (at least for now ;P)

That's it, it's over (until I bottle all up all over again and eventually explode once more) I swear. Sorry for the rambling :')

[starlightsearches]

Can we get 3 with hux from the flower AU prompts?

Hello friend! Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like it!! 🌹🌸💐🌼🌺🌷🌻

Requests are open ✨

Florist! Armitage Hux x Model! Reader (f)

Warnings: Not really, a little yearning, some slutty narration, it's kind of silly and maybe ooc, but I think that's it.

I've been feeling pretty shitty about myself and my writing over the past few days, and I figured the best way to break myself out of that funk was to write something, even if it was stupid. Sometimes when your brain is telling you that you can't do something, you gotta do it anyway. Let me know what you think, besties!

3. Flowers are often used for photo shoots and Person A gets hired to arrange the flowers for one, but they can’t help getting nervous around the model, Person B from the Flower Shop AU Prompts

Armitage is out of his element.

He's plenty comfortable working with his assistant in the back of the shop, or helping customers as they dither over the size of the arrangements and the available flowers at the counter. But this is madness.

The backstage of the set is absolutely teeming with people, and every single one of them runs past without a glance in his direction, shouting into headsets or flipping through stacks of pages attached to clipboards.

He ventures further, past a few darkened hallways until he finds an occupied room. There's a vanity mirror against the far wall, and a woman sitting in front of it, resting her head on one hand, the other holding a book.

"Excuse me," Armitage knocks gently against the door frame before stepping inside.

You set the book down, greeting him with a smile.

"Hello, are you here for makeup?"

For a moment, Armitage is speechless.

He hadn't noticed your strange apparel when he first caught sight of you, but now he can't seem to look away from the dress you're wearing, a less-than-faithful recreation recreation of a Victorian gown that hangs low on your shoulders and tight around breasts, leaving very little to the imagination.

Is he hallucinating? He's never believed in ghosts before but you do seem like a rather lovely, and strangely familiar, apparition.

Your brows furrow in confusion before you glance down at yourself, eyes going wide like you've forgotten what you were wearing.

"Oh," you exclaim, throwing your head back with a laugh, "it's a period piece were doing today."

"I'm sorry?"

"You laugh again, finding his idiocy endearing instead of annoying, "you're not the makeup artist, are you?"

"The florist."

"I see. We're doing a shoot today, a romance novel cover. Do you read romance novels?"

So that's where he recognized you from. He's seen your face before, many times over. How to Wed a Rascal, Devil's Daughter, Three's a Crowd, and his favorite: Kingdom of Thirst.

He's spent too much of his time—bleary eyed, reading into the late hours of the night—imagining your face, your eyes, the sound of your moans as he devoured book after book, story after story.

But he's not about to tell you that.

"Uh, no, not really," he lies, and you shrug off the answer, turning the seat so that you can face him.

"I've only read a few, and they're alright. The jobs pay well, at least, and they're more fun than most shoots."

He nods, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to appear casual, hoping you'll say more. He likes hearing you talk.

You don't look like yourself in pictures. It's not just the makeup and the editing, although he's sure that has something to do with it. You're much more earnest in person, and surprisingly easy to be around. It's magnetic, your personality, to the point he can’t take his eyes off you. It must be what makes you so great at your job.

"You were looking for a place to put your flowers, right? I can help with that," you say, standing from the chair and moving into the hallway, calling into the empty space, "Hey Stacy!"

The sound of harried footsteps echoes down the corridor, and soon you're greeted by a serious looking woman, dressed in all black with her hair swept up into a ponytail.

"What do you need, babes?" she asks without looking up from her cell phone, "Jack said he'd be here half an hour ago but traffic's got him running late, of course. Shouldn't matter since we're ahead of schedule so far and going for a pretty minimal look this time but I told him to haul ass anyways, traffic laws be damned. Who is this?"

Every word pours out of her mouth without a breath in between, and it's not until she looks up, meeting his eyes that he realizes she's talking about him.

"This is . . ." you turn to look at him expectantly, raising your brows.

"Armitage," he provides, and you nod.

"Right, Armitage," you smile, turning back to Stacy, "and he's got the flower delivery for the shoot today waiting in his car."

Stacy nods, mumbling into her headset. "That's great. I'll have Phil unload them."

Armitage nods, wondering if he should offer to stay and arrange them. It's not something he'd typically do . . . but he's not exactly in a hurry to leave.

Another set of footsteps meets the three of you from the end of the hallway, this time provided by another harried-looking woman, almost in a sprint.

"Bad news, Stacy," she pants when she arrives, out of breath, "Ronan's called in sick. He's got food poisoning."

Stacy groans, and you roll your eyes. "Typical. Did you call somebody else?"

"They're all busy: Theo and Jacob are out of town shooting swim, and Will's best man at a wedding."

"We'll have to call off the shoot, then, won't we?"

You shake your head, defeated. Armitage can't help but feel for you; it's obvious how much work goes into these productions, so much time wasted. Not to mention the six dozen flowers currently dying in the back of his van.

"Not so fast," Stacy holds her hand up, silencing the group. Her eyes land on him, and she chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking.

"It's Armitage, right?" she asks, tapping her finger against her lips, "have you ever . . . modeled before?"

He feels his face grow hot, heart racing, "What? No. Absolutely not."

The other woman catches on, sizing him up herself. "Wait a second, you're right Stacy. He's totally got the look. Those god damn cheekbones could slice through steel. He’s about the same size as Will, too, so costuming wouldn't be a problem. How tall are you? Six foot? Six foot two?"

"No," he steps back, "I won't do it."

You put your hand on his shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

"Please, Armitage. It would really help."

He twists his face into a frown, already feeling his resolve crumbling under your eager gaze.

"Well . . . alright."

The three of you erupt in to cheers. He's absolutely going to regret this.

An hour later—hair done, costumed, and feeling ridiculous—Armitage walks out onto the set.

God, no.

It's a surprisingly faithful recreation—he assumes—sumptuously decorated and absolutely bursting with flowers. That's not the problem.

It's a bedroom, most of the space taken up by a large, dark four-poster, rose petals strewn across its surface. He knows what that means.

Bile rises in his throat, a wave of nausea rolling his stomach. He couldn't do this. There was a reason he read so many romance novels: he liked to imagine he could be someone different, someone charming, passionate, wicked.

Being that person is not in his nature.

Vivian, the costumer, approaches him from behind, startling him.

"You ready?" she asks, gesturing him towards the stage, but he hesitates.

"There's no need to be nervous, hon. Your partner for today? She's a god damn angel, the best of the best. You'll be in good hands . . . or I guess she'll be in your hands."

She laughs at her own joke and pats him gently, wandering away.

He's going to throw up. Or pass out. Or drop dead. He can't handle this.

Then he sees you, gliding in through the doorway. You're sparkling with your makeup and hair done to perfection, your eyes warm and bright, and you're smiling at him. Just for him.

Somebody ushers him towards the set, and you join him, arranging yourself on the bed.

"Nervous?" you ask him, laying down on your elbows, a little too at ease. He doesn't have to answer, he knows you can see it on his face.

You hold out your hand to him, and he takes it, adjusting to the feel of your skin against his. "You don't need to be, it's easy."

You pull without warning, and he falls forward, knees hitting the mattress. His other hand land besides your head, close enough to your face that he could reach out and stroke it, if he wanted to.

"Ready up there?" the photographer yells from across the room, and you give him the thumbs up before slipping in to your proper pose. You place his hand at your waist, tilting up his chin.

"Now furrow your brow a little," you whisper, "and part your lips."

He does as he's told, and soon enough the camera flash sparks in his periphery.

It's not as horrible as he thought it would be, although you are doing most of the work. You shift periodically, sometimes staring deep into his eyes, or looking down demurely with your hand just barely grazing your forehead.

"Alright, that's great, that's perfect," the photographer monologues, never taking his eye from the viewfinder, "why don't we get a couple with your lips at her neck?'

He trembles, his breathing shallow, but you look up at him with the slightest nod, arching your back just a little farther, leaving your skin exposed and inviting.

He bends closer, examining the graceful lines of your body. If this were real, where would he kiss you? If he had you to himself—without all these people watching—in his own bed, no pretense, no costumes . . .

He brushes his lips tenderly against the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and he swears that he can hear you sigh in response, your spine curving against his fingers, your chest pressed tighter against his own.

"That's perfect," the photographer shouts, but Armitage isn't listening, entirely preoccupied with the feeling of your pulse against his mouth, his lips traveling up over your jaw, stopping just below your ear.

You turn to face him, slowly, until nose brushes his, staring into his eyes. If he tilted his chin just half an inch, he'd be kissing you.

"That's great, everybody! I think we're done for today."

The set erupts with applause at the photographer's words, but you still don't pull away from him, smiling gently, whispering against his lips.

"Like I said, you're a natural."

His face grows flush, and he shifts back onto his feet, clearing his throat with a cough.

You stand beside him, brushing your hands nervously over the bodice of your gown.

"Thanks again for doing this, we all really appreciate it."

"Of course, it was . . . fun."

"No really, it was a huge favor. I'd like to do something for you, in return—we could get dinner, maybe? My treat."

You place your hand on his arm again, stroking your thumb down over his elbow. Despite how much he's touched you over the last hour, this contact feels different. Because you're not playing a part this time. Because it's him you're reaching for.

"We can change first, of course," you say, the words rushed as you read his dewy-eyed imaginings for hesitation.

He smiles, placing his hand over yours in reassurance, "I'd like that."

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[nightshade-minho]

-Embers- (3)

Warnings: heartbreak, jealousy, anxiety, blood, injury, feelings of depression and extreme sadness, but dw it’s not all angsty! this fic has a lot of fluffy moments + this particular chapter is lowkey felix centric + the rest of skz finally make an appearance.

Wc: 8.5k

He shot awake, groaning.

It was too early.

Minho blinked, eyes desperately running over the familiar room as he slipped out of his dream further. His heart was pounding a mile a minute as he closed them again, desperately trying to forget what he’d just seen.

Nightmares like the one he had last night had been frequent before Jisu showed up in his life. Apparently, now they were back.

He sat up. It was still dark outside, the sun weak and just as tired as he was.

He was about to slide out of bed when a pale arm wrapped itself around his waist, pulling him back a little. He looked to the side, humming and pushing a strand of hair behind his sleepy fiancée’s ear. “Hm?”

“No, Min, stay…” She mumbled in her sleep, making him sigh as he took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” He carefully freed himself from her grip, watching as she rolled to the other side, back facing him as she grumbled in her sleep.

Another sigh left his lips.

Minho carefully left the room, after pulling on his clothes hastily. Closing the door behind him softly, he started down the halls, knowing his dad's room was at the other end.

He’d asked to meet him in the morning, causing him to be anxious. What did he want to talk about?

The hallways were depressingly familiar. It felt like he’d been running down them just days ago, holding your hand and giggling at how slippery the floors were after the maids cleaned it.

There it was again. That ever present heartache that never seemed to truly go away. Pain, regret...he hated how much he missed his old life. Despised the way his heart longed for something, or someone he knew was no longer his.

He was deep in his thoughts, when he saw you.

You.

He swore his heart skipped several beats at the sight.

He really didn’t want to run into you first thing in the morning. To be honest, he was way too tired to put on a façade at the moment.

He watched you for a few seconds, wondering what to do. You were standing in front of the window, which was a little too high for you to comfortably look out of. Stood endearingly on your tiptoes, there was a coffee mug in one hand as you observed the sun rising.

He contemplated turning around. He wasn't ready for this, not right now.

Turning his head, he frantically searched the doors lining the hallway for his father’s. There.

Walking quickly, he padded in the opposite direction, pushing open the door and closing it behind him as quietly as possible.

Shit. This definitely wasn't his father's room. In fact, this particular room seemed a little too familiar for comfort. He was just about to turn and get the hell out of there- when he heard your voice.

"M-minho?"

Fuck.

Minho cursed himself, turning around slowly and facing you, avoiding your eyes. He tried his best to keep his face impassive. There was no way he was going to let his emotions show...years of repressing them had taught him well.

"I seem to have lost my way." He muttered, clearing his throat. He stared past you at the wall, determined not to make eye contact.

Eye contact was dangerous.

Minho had always loved your eyes, and had never missed an opportunity to stare into them. He remembered how much you’d squirm when he did that, how red your cheeks would get when he refused to break eye contact. He used to love making you a blushing mess under him.  

Mr. Yang used to call the eyes a ‘window to the soul’. Minho could see where he was coming from. Within your eyes, he could see every tiny emotion, every little thought flitting across your brain. Looking into them was the most intimate act of all to him.

He refused to look into your eyes now because he wasn't ready to see the pain that was inevitably there. He'd already caught a few glimpses of your vulnerable, heartbroken demeanor...and he detested the way the sight made him feel.

That’s your fault, Minho. The reason she looks like she’s lost everything. That’s on you.

Minho knew he wasn't ready- cause he didn’t even need to look at you. The mere thought of you was making his heart almost burst out of his chest. That’s how overwhelming and potent all these fucking feelings were.

But he had to stay cold. Just for a while longer, he reminded himself. The suffering only had to go on for a while longer.

"I was searching for my father." He added after a few seconds of silence.

You nodded, staring at the floor. "His room’s opposite to mine." you mumbled softly, realizing to your horror that tears were already pricking at your eyes.

No. You wouldn't cry. You couldn’t...god, it was so hard to hold them back.

Minho peeked up for a second, regretting it as soon as his eyes landed on you.

He'd never seen you look so tormented.

It was that exact expression you had on right now. The one that had haunted each and every one of his dreams last night...the one he’d caught a glimpse of when Jisu opened the door.

Fuck, he really had to get out of here. Minho knew he couldn't stay in this room for a minute longer, or he might do something that he'd regret.

"Thank you." he walked past you and into the hallway, staring straight ahead. As soon as he walked far enough, he let out the breath he'd been holding.

That was close.

***

You watched as Minho left, sighing and heading over to your wardrobe, desperately trying to ignore your beating heart. You had to focus.

Tomorrow, the first trial would begin. Soon enough, you and the other competitors would have to move to the outskirts near the forest, where you would be staying for the next week, training in preparation for it.

You’d already packed a few outfits as well as some trinkets, your lucky charms. Namely, your mother’s button, your favorite book and a dragon claw necklace Minho had gifted you. You’d hesitated before adding the last one, but had ultimately decided it was still important regardless of the state of your relationship with the person who'd given it to you.

You had to win this thing. Your father was pretty clear- you had to prove everyone wrong and subvert their opinions, or else the consequences would be terrifying. The stakes were high, and so was the amount of stress clogging you up.

It was up to you to restore honor to the Ember name. And in order to do that, you had to get over Minho- although you were pretty sure it would be the most difficult thing you’ve ever had to do.

You breathed in deeply, shaking your head and turning around to look at your mirror, observing your reflection. This was it. This was your time, the moment you'd been waiting for. And you had to be ready for it.

So you pushed the despair as deep down as possible, deciding there was a bigger purpose to be fulfilled here. There was no way the pain would go away any time soon...but for now, suppressing it was the way to go.

You walked over to your wardrobe, pulling out thick pants and combat boots, choosing the most fiery red shirt in your closet. Pausing for a second, you stared at your bag before deciding to go get the dragon claw.

You tied it around your neck gently, letting it lie against your skin. Looking over your completed outfit in the mirror, you felt satisfaction coursing you at the reflection that greeted you.

There was a message you were hoping to get across today.

***

You moved across the hall to the dining room, stopping in front of the large doors. Taking in a deep breath, you grabbed the handle. This is it. You can do this.

You exhaled, pushing it open.

You’d never seen so many people in one room before...the table had never been so packed.

There were five participants from each village, and they were elementally varied. This meant that there were about twenty people at the table. Surprisingly, the chiefs and advisors weren’t in the room.

There were a few familiar faces, though. There was Minho, sat between Jisu and Changbin. The latter looked up, scoffing when he saw you before turning back to his food. You sighed. Changbin and you didn’t have much of a good relationship even before his family left your village to join Minho’s, so you hadn’t expected much else.

Looking away, a smile lit up your face when you noticed Mr. Yang’s son, Jeongin, sat next to the empty seat which was supposed to be yours. On the other side of your seat was Felix, who turned around when he noticed you coming. Seeing the two smiling boys made your heart just a little lighter, and you breathed in deeply as you went to take your seat. Maybe this wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking after all.

***

Minho glanced up when he saw you enter, prepared to look away immediately- he couldn’t have Jisu catching him stare- but paused when he saw the dragon claw around your neck. It was the one he’d given you all those years ago, the one he’d found near the lake. You still wear it?

You were smiling at the Terra heir as you sat next to him, turning to smile at Jeongin. Confusion flitted over his features for a second- you didn’t look like you were in pain anymore. In fact, your eyes were filled with joy as Jeongin muttered something that made you and Felix laugh.

“Babe?”

“Wha- huh? Oh-” Minho ripped his eyes away, looking at his fiancée’s suspicious expression.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Why would you think it isn’t?”

Jisu frowned, sighing and nodding after a second as she turned back to her food.

Minho swallowed, playing with his fingers as he stared at his lap. He ignored the sounds of more laughter erupting from your side of the table, picking up his fork and stabbing the chicken forcefully.

The table was filled with chatter as the young adults dug into their food. He tried to tune out the noises around him, but it was difficult. Everyone was so intent on befriending each other, that basic etiquette was forgotten.

These friendships would be short lived, though. After today, everyone at this table would have to be enemies, competing in the most important championship to date. There would be no room for amity. Of course, alliances would be formed- but eventually those would be shattered as well, and it would be every person for themselves.

A survival of the fittest, if you will. That’s how it always worked around here...and truth be told, he didn’t see that changing any time soon.

***

You giggled as Jeongin regaled you with yet another joke, slapping his arm as you doubled over in laughter. Minho was forgotten as you laughed along, glad to be in their company.

“Dad hates the jokes I write.” He chuckled. “So I’m glad to see you enjoy them, at least.”

“I do!” You grinned, turning to look at Felix as he nodded. “I like them too. You really should become a comedian or something.”

“Dad says comedy isn’t a suitable career path for Aers.”

“Nonsense Jeongin, I’ll talk some sense into him.” You nodded in determination, making Jeongin chuckle.

“Please do. Sometimes I feel like he loves you more than me.” He shook his head, smiling.

“Well, I know for a fact he does.” You joke, making Jeongin pout teasingly. You made a mental note to visit Mr. Yang when you could, since you hadn’t seen him in a while. He was more of a father figure to you than your actual dad, really.

You sighed and stared at your plate at the thought of your father, spooning the porridge into your mouth as Jeongin turned to his other side, talking to a guy from your village who looked slightly familiar.

"Are you nervous or anything?"

You looked up at Felix. His smile was so…reassuring. It only served to make your heart feel warmer, and you found yourself leaning closer to hear his voice better.

"Kind of? Not that much. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Ah...so you're looking forward to the championships? Hm...I guess that's understandable."

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Is it not for you?"

"Well..." Felix sighed. "To be honest, both my dragon and I are pacifists. My true passion is gardening, and Flore likes helping me with that..." Felix shrugged. "I’m not really a fan of duels and battles. I'm only participating cause my parents need me to."

"Oh...that’s terrible. Hopefully this whole thing goes well, and you don’t have to participate in anything too grotesque."

"Yeah. I almost wish there were eliminations, it would allow for an easy escape. Just mess up a little, and boom." he chuckled.

You took another spoonful, giggling. "Ah, if only, hm?”

He smiled at you widely, and you returned it. His eyes were looking into yours, his gaze flitting down to your lips for a second.

"You have a bit of porridge there..." he used his thumb to swipe it off, licking it right after and winking at you.

You blushed, taking a napkin to clean your chin further as Felix let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head at you. Ah, he found you so adorable.

The two of you were completely oblivious to Minho's piercing glare from the opposite of the table.

A nudge to his side caused Minho to startle for the second time that morning, looking to the side at Jisu.

"Seriously, what's up with you today? You've been weird since we woke up." She mumbled, glancing over to look at what Minho had been glaring at. She frowned as she watched you and Felix talk, looking back at Minho.

"Nothing.” He insisted. "It's nothing. I'm just sleep deprived, and stressed about having to live in the wilderness, I guess. You know how much I like our comfy bed...although as long as I get to cuddle you, even the tent will be comfortable enough."

Jisu raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Okay, but-”

Suddenly, the big doors opened once more. Everyone at the table looked up as the four chiefs entered, followed by the guards. They all stood with your father in the front, and he cleared his throat, requesting some silence.

It took a few minutes for the chatter to finally clear, and your father stood up straighter as he nodded.

“Good morning. Are you all ready for the championships?”

There was boisterous cheering, fading away when your father raised a hand.

"Well, well...it seems like just yesterday all of you were children, getting matched with their dragons. But now, you’re all grown up, and thus have to go through the trials we all go through. To prove our worth. This is more than just a competition." He reminded firmly.

"It isn’t which village wins that’s important. No, this is a rite of passage for all of you. Prove yourselves to the world."

"We all went through these trials, once. However, they weren’t this dramatized, and definitely wasn’t a competition. However this year, the four villages decided to hold a championship and compete with each other, so as to strengthen bonds and give you all an incentive to improve. This is the first time in centuries that all four villages have convened like this! I know it feels crowded right now, but remember it’s all for your benefit.” Your father nodded. “I hope you all do well. Now, Chief Farran will provide you the information you need to know about the trials.”

Felix’s father moved forward, clearing his throat. “Right, as you all know, there will be three trials in total. The first one will take place tomorrow afternoon. You have until then to prepare. More information about the trial will be provided right before it starts. Now, all twenty of you will be moved to the woods right after this breakfast. All the villagers will be watching, so keep your heads high and carry yourselves with poise.”

There were a few whispers around, understandably nervous ones as well as more confident people who were ready to show themselves off.

You felt like you were stuck between the two, unable to make up your mind. Were the butterflies in your stomach brought on by nervousness or excitement? You weren’t exactly sure.

“Right, you can all get back to your meals, now. We’ll be back in about half an hour to begin the procession.”

Everyone bowed their heads respectfully, resuming their meals as you noticed your father shoot a knowing look at you as he left, glancing between you and Felix. You sighed to yourself, turning back to your plate and finishing off your porridge.

“Hey- Y/n.” You turned to the side, looking at Jeongin as you chewed what was in your mouth. “Hm?”

“We...we have an idea. We talked about this before you showed up…” Jeongin pointed to himself, Felix and the guy next to him. You squinted at him, realizing you’d seen him hanging out with Jeongin before. You were blanking on his name, though.

“Seungmin, tell her.” Ah, that was it.

The man looked at you, moving his seat forward a little to talk to you properly. “Um, it’s really not that big of a deal. Not a huge plan or anything. I was just thinking…” He looked across the table, and you followed his gaze to Minho and Jisu.

“With them being together, I’m pretty sure the participants from their villages will have formed an alliance. So, I think it would be prudent for you and Felix to do the same.”

“Ohh.” You looked at Felix, nodding. “Sure, that actually sounds like it would be good idea.” He grinned in agreement.

“Mhm, I would love to form an alliance with a pretty lady like you~” You blushed at his words as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Done.”

“We’ll discuss strategies later, how’s that sound?”

“Great.” You felt like you were high in the clouds, one step closer to your goal.

For the remaining time, the four of you talked, swapping a few strategies and stories about your dragons. You hadn’t felt this light in ages, able to shed your worries for a while.

“And that’s how Flore helped me pl-”

The doors were opened again, so suddenly that a few people at the table were startled. Looking up, you realized the chiefs were back, this time with the advisors and wives, as well as a bunch of guards. There was a new man standing in front of them all though, and you recognized him as one of your old professors, Mr. Flint. To your knowledge, he was the one who masterminded the trials.

“Good morning, everyone! I hope you all are full and satisfied. We’re going to move through the village now, a procession of sorts. Don’t be daunted by the amount of people out there, walk elegantly. Your belongings will be given to you once you reach, so don’t worry about that.” He spoke in his high-pitched voice, an almost musical lilt to his tone.

Everyone started finishing up, a few maids entering the room to put away the plates. You caught a glimpse of Sylvia as she came in, giving her a smile.

The girl’s gaze seemed to be fixed on Felix’s face rather than yours, though. You raised an eyebrow, humming to yourself thoughtfully when your train of thought got interrupted by Flint.

“Is everyone ready? We must leave now. Follow me, please.”

The others got up, the room filling with noise once more as the guards ushered you to stand in two lines. You took your place behind Felix and in front of Jeongin.

You were ready for this. You’d never been more ready for anything in your life.

***

Minho swallowed as he followed the line, Jisu in front of him. He watched her ponytail swish side to side mindlessly, drifting back to what had happened this morning as he walked.

There were so many people on either sides of the procession, an abundance of cheering villagers who had left their homes to watch. There was virtually no space between the people, packed together like sardines as they eagerly ran their eyes over the rows of competitors.

It was the perfect opportunity for everyone to size up the participants. Despite being illegal, he knew there would be quite a few people betting on the outcome, hoping to make a quick buck.

‘Minho, you know what you have to do.’

He remembered his father’s words, biting his lip and groaning internally. He didn’t want to obey him, but he had to. He didn’t have any other choice.

He felt like he was thrashing in deep, black water...drowning without any hope of survival. He didn’t know what awaited him within the void, once he inevitably sunk. He felt blind, helpless.

Knowing you were close by only made him feel worse, your presence confusing him even more. Sighing, Minho plunged deeper into his thoughts, the cheering becoming a dull noise in the background as he walked almost mechanically.

That is...until the booing started.

He snapped out of it, looking up in confusion with widened eyes. He looked around, noticing everyone else’s expression mirroring his. Why was there a sudden shift from cheering?

Among them, you were looking around in bewilderment as well. Your eyes finally spotted the people who were booing...and that’s when you realized they were looking right at you.

These people were angry at you.

You frowned as you began to see more and more of those people. There were only a few, but they were loud, holding banners and waving them as they glared.

Your heart dropped as you saw what was written on the banners. "Stick to tradition!" one said. Another said "Ember has crumbled." Yet another one claimed that the championships were showing favoritism to a chief’s daughter.

Most people were cheering...yet your heart still ached at the sight. Yes, your dad had warned you that not everyone would be on board with such an arrangement...it still hurt, though. You already felt unwanted enough.

No. Stay strong. You would prove them wrong...you would show them the bond you and Aeracus shared. Both you and him deserved to be a part of this.

The booing died down as you moved onto a new stretch, filled with more cheering villagers. Felix gave you a sympathetic look, slowing down a little so that he could whisper to you. “Ignore them.” He mumbled. You nodded, blinking hard and trying to stay tough.

A few minutes later, you noticed a little girl on the side, smiling at you, holding up a drawing made up of scribbles. You squinted, recognizing it was you from the hair color and little fire doodles.

Your heart melted at the sight, and you felt a lot better as you blew a kiss to the girl, giggling. There were a lot of people smiling at you in this part of town. You felt relieved, thankful that it was only a small pocket of villagers hating you. The smiles of the people around you lifted your spirits, and you sighed in relief.

The rest of the walk passed relatively quickly. The villagers and houses started thinning out, and soon enough you’d reached the outskirts, the forest in the distance. The campground was already ready, and half the tents were up.

It was so much quieter out here. There weren’t many people living here except for the stable workers, whose cottages were littered on the vast expanse of grass right outside the forest.

Of course, this was home to some very important creatures as well. Deeper into the forest was a large clearing, where the dragon stables were located. Of course, Aeracus was in a different stable further into the woods, along with your father’s dragon. You imagined that he would have company now, what with the other chiefs and their children bringing their dragons as well.

Flint turned around abruptly, coming to a stop and facing everyone, along with the four chiefs.

“This is where you’ll be staying for the next few days. You will train, eat and sleep here. Tomorrow morning there will be a small training session, hosted by yours truly. I will also explain the rules of the first trial at said session.”

Someone raised their hand. It was Changbin.

“Sir, could you give us a hint for the trial? What will be involved?”

Flint shook his head firmly. “All will be explained later. For now, just focus on the people around you.”

Changbin glared, his hand dropping as he grumbled to himself.

“Now, if no one else has any questions…” He paused, raising an eyebrow. After a few seconds of silence, he hummed, clasping his hands together. “We will be taking our leave now. Sirs?”

They left, your father shooting a meaningful look at you once more. You sighed, turning away. The lines disintegrated, everyone milling about and forming little groups almost immediately. Felix came up behind you, his voice extremely close to your ear as you swivelled to face him.

“I love camping.” He said, his hands in his pockets as he looked around, taking in the greenery. “Probably my favorite part out of all this. Hey, let’s go check out our tent?”

“Our tent?”

“Yeah…” Felix turned slightly pink, scratching the back of his neck. “There are two bigger tents, for the heirs. I believe it’s supposed to be Minho and I staying in one and you and Jisu in the other…” He glanced over at Minho and Jisu, his arm wrapped around her waist as they chatted to Changbin and two other men.

“...However, I have a feeling those two wouldn’t appreciate being separated.”

You shrugged. Well, he had a point. And...why not? After all, the tent was big enough for the two of you. It wasn’t scandalous, by any means.

“Sure.” You glanced at the stable workers pitching the heirs’ tents, humming to yourself.

Felix chuckled, nodding. “Hm...so what do you want to do while we wait?”

You thought for a second. You had an idea, but you weren’t so sure about it. 

Fuck it. “Maybe...hm. There’s a lake nearby. Do you want to go there? It’s very pretty, a quiet place to talk. As a Terra, I think you would love it.”

“A lake? Sounds interesting, sure!” Felix sounded eager. You beamed as you took his wrist, leading him off.

Minho watched from the distance as you led Felix in the direction towards a lake he knew all too well. He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

How could you take him to your special place? The thought of you bringing someone else into the space that belonged only to him and you made him burn with anger.

He scrunched his eyes shut, groaning. “Get it together, Minho.” He mumbled to himself intently. Should he slap himself? Would that help? Or maybe he should dunk his head in ice-cold water-

“Minho, I’m worried.”

He blinked, tilting his head at Jisu as he looked back at her. 

“Worried? Why, princess?”

She shook her head, not replying as she stared at the ground. She looked saddened. He cursed himself, pressing his lips together. “Jisu…”

He gently grabbed her arms and pulled her in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Don’t be worried about me, okay?” He swallowed. “I’m perfectly fine, here by your side…” He breathed in.

“I don’t need anyone else.”

***

You swept apart the vines with your hands. Here you were. Excitement filled you as you pulled Felix in, waiting to see his reaction.

“Behold!” You waved your arms dramatically, giggling.

“Wow…” Felix’s mouth turned into a small O, his eyes running over the hidden lake in front of him. He’d never seen anything like it.

“It’s so beautiful, oh my god-” He ran his eyes over the crystal clear lake. It looked almost like glass, almost like he could walk on it if he tried. Hyacinths, water lilies and lotuses were dotted in and around it. The little clearing was closed off from the rest of the forest, large vines and sweeping willows hiding it from view...it was ethereal.

You grinned at his reaction. “It is, isn’t it? I...I spent a lot of time here when I was younger.” You said, going over and sitting down in front of it. You ran your hands over the slightly damp grass, sighing. “It’s been a while. I haven’t come here in ages.”

He sat next to you after a few more minutes admiring the sight in front of him. “Why?” He asked curiously, looking at the lake. He took a stone from his side and threw it in, watching as it sent ripples through the deep turquoise waters.

“Hm.” You changed the subject, not wanting to delve into that just yet. “What do you think tomorrow’s trial will be testing?”

“Ah, I don’t have a clue. The fact that we’ll barely get a day to prepare makes me all the more nervous.” He mumbled, putting his chin in his palm. The lake-side air was fragrant, and served to clear his head.

“I understand...but don’t be too scared, okay? You’ll have a lot of people behind your back. The alliance was a wonderful idea...” You mused, watching as a butterfly perched on Felix’s outstretched finger.

“You’re like some sort of fairytale princess.” You giggled, noticing a tiny bluebird flying closer.

“Animals love me, although it does go both ways.” He laughed. “It’s one of the side effects of being a Terra, I guess.”

“Ah. Being an Ember just means half your own people are scared of you.” You smiled wryly, inhaling as you lay back. Felix watched as you did so, looking conflicted as he wondered what to tell you. After all, there was no point in comforting you when what you’d said was true.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You interrupted his thoughts, stretching slightly as your eyes fluttered closed. He watched you, smiling as he moved a little closer.

“Use my lap as a pillow.” He said softly, and you obliged. Tired, you felt yourself fall asleep, despite trying not to. Everything just felt so...comfortable. 

Felix tentatively reached down, stroking your hair as carefully as he could.

A few minutes later you were napping soundly, lightly snoring as you nuzzled into him. He felt something inexplicable clutch his heart at the sight of you, scrunching your nose up cutely in your sleep.

Breathing softly, he pulled you closer into his arms, leaning back as he started to feel sleepy himself. It was just so calm, so quiet in that little clearing...and somehow, your presence just made him feel all the more relaxed. 

The heady scent hovering around him made him feel more drowsy. It was probably due to the flowers that were in abundance around him...but he knew part of it was your scent.

Sighing softly, he pressed you closer, inhaling your perfume as he fell asleep.

***

You woke up, blinking sleepily as you observed your surroundings. Somehow, you were back in your tent, huddled up in bed. Someone must have put you here...

Felix. You remembered falling asleep next to him at the lake. Your cheeks flushed at the thought of him caring enough to carry you here without disturbing your sleep.

You slid out of bed slowly, heading to your bag. Humming to yourself, you started unpacking as you looked around. You didn’t want to waste any more time asleep.

It was a beige tent, with a few lanterns lighting it in a warm glow. It looked cozy, spacious and so...romantic. You tried not to think about how Jisu and Minho were currently using a tent much like this one. God knows what they were doing.

As you finished arranging your items, you heard the cloth being moved aside as Felix stepped in, coming up behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you beamed at him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, coming closer to you and ruffling your hair. You nodded, feeling a sudden urge to hug him out of nowhere. You remembered how warm and soft he’d felt earlier today...you wanted to feel those arms around you once more.

Controlling yourself, you clasped your hands together as he gently took your hand.

“There’s a bonfire outside, everyone’s sitting around it and getting to know each other better. Come with me?”

Hm. As tempting as that sounded, you reminded yourself that you had a huge day tomorrow. You had to rest up for the big event and preserve as much energy as possible. That is, if you wanted to do this right.

Besides...there was another reason.

You sighed. "Oh. Um, I don't know. You can go on without me, I'll be fine."

Felix sighed, tilting his head. "Pleaaase? It's boring without you."

You raised an eyebrow. "What about Jeongin and Seungmin? And your other friends from your village..."

Felix chuckled. "They want you there too. Please, Y/n?"

The way he was pouting at you made you almost want to give in, but then your brain decided to show you a nasty image of Jisu kissing Minho by the fire, and once again you were determined to stay in your tent.

"I’m sorry, Felix, but....I just don't think I belong there. I don’t know many people…”

“You know me, Jeongin and Seungmin!” He pointed out, throwing your reasoning right back at you.

You groaned. Fuck, there was no avoiding it. You were going to have to tell him the truth.

"Well.” You picked at the fluff of your pillow as you sat down on the edge of your bed. “It’s actually because..." you took in a deep breath, as he looked at you in concern. 

"The Aer heir and the Aqua heiress..."

Felix hummed, nodding. He’d kind of figured it was somehow related to them, considering the way he'd seen you staring at them all dejected.

"Well...it just- I don't know, I can't watch it. You can call me jealous, and you’d be absolutely right. Tears come to my eyes every time I see them, I feel weak and pathetic." You mumble, tugging at your fingers. "And weak is the opposite of what I want to feel right now. I need to feel strong for tomorrow. I can't be thinking about him."

Felix sighed, watching as your bottom lip quivered. He’d heard tales about Minho and you, but the rumors were now confirmed.

"Look...you deserve better."

"Do I?" You didn't know. After all, Minho couldn't be blamed for hating you. You just wished he'd trusted you enough to know better. To know you wouldn’t betray him like that, that you wouldn’t let go without a fight. You'd done everything you could.

"Y/n...please come? I'm here for you. We don't even have to look at them, or even acknowledge his existence." He placed his hand on top of yours. You swallowed, shrugging after a few minutes of thought.

"Ugh. You know what, fine!" You agreed. It would be fine...like Felix said, all you had to do was ignore them.

“Also, if your problem is not knowing enough people...I’ll introduce you to the others from my village as well. How does that sound?”

You sniffed, smiling through your wet eyes as you rubbed them. “Okay…I’d love that.”

“Great.” He grinned and took your hand, lifting you up and leading you out of the tent.

The sky was dark by now, but the light from the tents lit up the landscape. The two of you descended into the space where all the smaller tents were located, and Felix dragged you over to the nearest one.

He pushed aside the curtain, letting you go in first and following.

"This is Chan and Jisung!" Felix introduced, gesturing to the two men sitting on the bed, who looked up as you entered. They had warm smiles on their faces as they turned to you, their faces filled with interest.

“Who do we have here?” Chan asked. His smile was kind, his aura welcoming as he sat up. The man next to him looked a lot more chaotic- his grin was wider, and although he was slimmer, his presence felt larger than life. 

"This is Y/n, don’t pretend you don’t know.” Felix smirked. “Chan's an Aqua, and Jisung's an Ember, like you." He explained, letting go of you as he introduced the two.

Jisung grinned as he stuck his hand out for you to shake. "So you're the Ember heiress. I've heard about you."

"Good things, I hope." You joked as you shook his hand.

He shrugs. "Well...most of them are. There are rumors, but those exist about everyone. In fact-"

"Anyway." Felix cleared his throat. “These two are my closest friends.” He shot a look at Jisung, begging him to behave. “They're also a part of our alliance. I th-"

It was his turn to be interrupted as the curtain was suddenly swished to the side, Jeongin grinning at you. "Hey guys, the campfire's started! Come quick, or you’ll have to sit on the grass."

Chan stood up quickly, followed by Jisung. "Oh, good! I'm starving. See you, Lixie. Y/n, it was nice meeting you! Let’s go eat, now." His stomach growled and he let out a small, apologetic laugh as Jisung snickered. “Let’s just leave.”

They left the tent, offering you smiles before leaving you and Felix alone.

"Hey..." He placed his hands on your shoulders, noticing your nervous expression. "It'll be alright."

You looked back at Felix, breathing in and nodding. Yes, it's gonna be fine...right?

Felix gazed at you, pressing his lips together as he observed your expression morph into one that was calmer. His heart pounded faster at the sight.

His gaze flitted down to your lips for a second. Hm. He inhaled before leaning in just a little, making your heart beat faster. 

Was this happening?

You found yourself staying in place as he did so, almost wanting to lean in just a little more and close the distance between your-

"Why are you guys taking so damn long-" Jeongin appeared from behind the curtain again, Felix pulling away quickly at the sound of his voice.

"Um...did I interrupt anything?" He frowned, looking at the two of you in confusion.  

"Um, no! You d-didn't". You glanced at a very red Felix, taking your hand in his in a stroke of bravery. His palms were warm, soft...and you felt your heart flutter just the tiniest bit as he squeezed your hand.

"Let’s go."

As you walked out, you realized just how majestic the bonfire really was. It was close by, near the mass of tents. 

The flames rose high in the air, sending plumes of smoke up into the atmosphere. You noticed Changbin kneeling near it, his hand hovering over red scales. Ah, he was probably using the extracted dragon scales to make the fire more powerful.

There were smaller tents littered around the fire, and for a second you wished you were in one of them instead. Especially after what had happened in the morning, you somehow didn’t want to be known as a chief’s daughter anymore.

You and Felix went to sit down on the bench next to Chan, internally sighing as you realized Jisu and Minho were sat right across from you. 

To make things worse, she was sitting right on his lap. You felt nauseous all over again...but then it all disappeared, as you felt Felix's fingers wrap around yours once more. Looking up, you blushed slightly, his expression making something in you twist.

"We should play a game!" Jisu announced loudly, bouncing on Minho's lap a little and making him grip her hips to stay in place. She giggled as he did so, looking right at you and smirking.

Whatever. For some reason, right now you found yourself not caring as much as you did before.

"Mhm, great idea, babe." Minho mumbled, looking at you and Felix uncomfortably. Why were the two of you sitting so close to each other? Why the fuck was he holding your hand? He frowned, internally panicking for a second when your eyes suddenly met his.

Fuck- no way he could let you think he'd been staring. Minho quickly averted his eyes, placing his lips on Jisu’s neck and kissing gently. He glanced up momentarily to see if you were still watching. You were.

He decided to up the ante a little bit- he started sucking on the skin, making Jisu jolt in surprise. "M-min..."

"Hey lovebirds, you know there are other people here right?" Jisung shouted out, causing everyone else to laugh.

"Like, get a room." He sniggered.

Yes. You liked Jisung.

A red flush spread across Minho's cheeks, but he just shrugged, burying his nose in her neck and staying like that.

"A-anyway..." she continued, clearing her throat. "I was thinking of a kind of game where we spin something, and the person it points to has to answer a question truthfully?"

Ah yes, you'd heard of this game. Somehow, a bad feeling had already started to settle in your gut, just after listening to her explain the premise of the game.

There were a chorus of nods and agreements. After all, it didn't really matter what the game was. All everyone wanted to do was drink and horse around, before tomorrow when they would inevitably have to be more serious. Jisu nodded at the responses, turning to her side. "Jinnie, can you pass me that?"

A tall, blonde man next to her nodded, passing her the bottle. He was strikingly handsome and also definitely from her village. An Aqua too...he was dressed almost as luxuriously as she was, making you think he was probably the son of one of the advisors.

"Let's start.” Bending over a little, she placed the bottle on the ground, spinning it.

It landed on Seungmin.

“Right…” She placed a hand on her chin, ignoring the way Minho’s hands had tensed slightly.

“What was your most embarrassing moment?” Jisu asked finally, looking at the man expectantly.

“Well...probably that one time I proposed to a dude I barely knew. It was a bet, but still kinda embarrassing. After all, he didn’t know that.” He chuckled, looking pointedly at Minho.

Minho’s eyes widened in recognition. Oh. So that’s why he looked so familiar. Well, he'd badly misread that situation.

“Interesting.” There were a few scattered laughs as the bottle was taken by Changbin, who spun the bottle and landed on a girl from Felix’s village.

The game continued like that, a lot of secrets being revealed, stories of various kinds being told. It was actually quite fun, and having Felix hold your hand did make you a lot more comfortable. You were able to laugh along with everyone else, the mirth in the atmosphere contagious.

That is, until the bottle finally passed into Jisu’s hands once more. You felt a sense of unease return, gripping at you.

She spun it, and you all watched as the bottle turned round and round...finally landing on you.

She sat up, her eyes lighting up as she noticed who it landed on. Rubbing her hands together, she screwed her face up in thought as she prepared a question in her head. There was an unsettling smirk on her face. 

“Hmm...I have a good question for you.” She paused for a second, staring deep into your eyes and making your stomach churn. Something was about to go wrong. You just couldn’t tell what.

“Here it is. Your dragon and your best friend are both in danger. Who do you save?” She asked nonchalantly.

No...

Your eyes bulged out of your head as the words left her mouth, and so did Minho’s. Confused, the others looked at your expressions, shifting uncomfortably as realization dawned on some of them. The rumors had been widespread when it had happened, and you remembered just how horrified you'd felt then.

Terror, icy and unforgiving, was beginning to pierce into your heart. You had to divert the situation before it could go anywhere too unpleasant.

“C-can I have another question?” You mumbled, staring at the ground, ignoring the concerned looks of your new friends.

“No." She pursed her lips  "Why are you scared to answer the question, Y/n?” She grinned widely, ignoring Minho’s sharp warning squeeze. He was starting to feel the dread overcome him as well, and his mind was screaming at him to stop this. But...he just couldn't. He felt so numb.

“I’m...not scared-”

“But that’s exactly what you are. Scared. A fucking coward, isn’t that right? I know you’d-”

“Stop.” You said in a small voice, pulling your hands away from Felix’s and curling them into fists.

“No. Everyone deserves to know.” She was starting to get worked up. “It’s all your fault, everything is. And I want the whole world to-”

“That’s enough!” Minho shouted firmly, moving Jisu off his lap and glaring at her. He'd let it go too far, and he realized that fact in horror. Fuck, why didn't he react earlier? He felt that familiar sinking feeling from before hit him, slamming into him like a hammer.

She shut up immediately, still glaring at you. Minho looked up shakily to see your eyes filled with angry tears, staring right at him as you stood up.

His heart pounding, his voice quivered as he stood up as well, taking a step towards you. “Y/n, please-”

“No.” You held a hand up, bottom lip quivering. “I don’t want to hear it.” You put your head in your hands,  breathing in and out. Calm down, it’s ok-

But it wasn't, was it?

“You’re pathetic.” Jisu hissed. “It’s your fault your dragon’s dead, not M-”

“For the love of god, shut up!” Minho shouted at his fiancée, turning back to you as you shook your head. He felt himself starting to shake uncontrollably at the sight of you, looking absolutely betrayed as you stared at the ground.

“I- I have to...can’t do this..” You muttered, the tears flowing as you turned around, walking away as quickly as you could.

“Y/n, wait-” You heard Felix’s saddened voice calling after you. You ignored it. You could feel all their eyes burning into your back. You just couldn't stay here for a second longer.

You broke into a sprint, running and running as more tears spilled. You ran past the tents, into the forest, as fast as you could. Ran between the trees, your mind all over the place.

Everything was dark. So dark, you could barely see what was in front of you. But you ran anyway, desperately in the direction of the one being who could possibly comfort you right now. 

Somehow, it had also started to rain. A slow drizzle at first...but then the heavens opened up, drenching you.  As if you needed further reminders that the universe hated you.

When you finally reached the clearing housing the stables, you placed your hands on your knees, your chest heaving as you tried to regain your composure.

Calming down just a little bit, you swung open the door and walked into the large stable. Unlike before when there had been only Aeracus and your father’s dragon, now there were more, belonging to the chiefs and the heirs. They were all asleep currently.

The other dragons seemed normal enough, colorful and adorned with finery...except Minho’s and his father’s. You felt that familiar uneasiness fill you when you looked at the sleeping ebony creatures. They just didn't look natural, and definitely didn't look like Aer dragons.

You moved to the very end, rubbing at your eyes as you tried to make sense of what had just transpired. You couldn’t believe any of it.

So that’s what Minho assumed happened. How could he?

Your heart throbbed as you were taken back to that terrible, fateful night. The sheer trepidation and anxiety that had filled you, the overwhelming agony you'd gone through.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled. Stop. Don't take yourself back there, it's not worth it.

Looking up, you let yourself smile sadly as your eyes landed on Aeracus, fast asleep in his stall. You wanted to talk to him...but couldn’t risk waking him up from his slumber. Sighing, you sunk down to the ground instead, resting yourself against a bale of hay.

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you cried into your arms, wishing you could just disappear. Everything was just too much for you to process.

At the moment, you weren't exactly clear on what your goals were anymore. All you knew was you felt embarrassed, hurt and petrified.

Tired, too. Your limbs ached from the run, perspiration dripping from your forehead. There wasn't much else you could do but try to sleep. And so you closed your eyes, trying to clear all the thoughts away.

You were just about slipping into dreamland when suddenly, there was a loud, urgent knock on the door. Your eyes widened in shock, lifting your face from your knees as you stared at the door of the stable.

Who could it possibly be?

You sat up slightly, confused. Rubbing your eyes, you stood up shakily. Was it Felix, finally come to get you? Or Jeongin, perhaps?

Who in their right mind would venture out to you when the downpour was this heavy? You took in an anxious breath, slowly lifting yourself up.

As the knocking continued, you stood up and walked over hastily, deciding to open the door before it could get any louder and cause the dragons to wake.

Your hand closed around the handle, your heart slamming against your ribcage in fear, reminiscent of the raindrops falling against the stable walls.

Finally, you pulled the door open.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the last person you’d expected to see.

There he was, in front of you. His heavy, dazed eyes wildly searched your shocked ones as he tried to move forward. He was out of breath, soaked, distressed and...wounded?

"Minho, you-" Before you could say much more, Minho's eyes shut as he collapsed into your arms.

That was when you properly noticed the blood seeping through his shirt, staining the fabric a deep red. What the fuck-

Minho blinked up at your aghast face, wincing and swallowing as he clutched onto your shirt tightly. "Y-Y/n...please…” He begged, trying to suck in a breath, desperately failing.

“Help.”

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Blood In A Blacklight

Katara has a criminal empire to run, a family to protect, and plenty of shadows from the past who want to tear it all down.

Part 1: The Wind Howls (1/2) - She has him back, and everything should be perfect now, but it’s not. She’s more worried than ever. And she hasn’t slept in days.

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A/N: Mafiosa!Katara and Gaang™ gang because I want it and am willing it into existence. Basically took “Sokka and I, we’re your family now” and made my take on a bending-mafia-families AU lmao

Words: 1,748

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Katara punished her book for the weather and nearly tore it when she flipped the page. The words blurred again. She glared, hoping to become a firebender and burn a hole through the damn thing.

The door opened without a knock, and the frame of her vision shook, bordering on crimson. Mercy was still a foreign concept, and nearly ninety-six hours awake had mutilated her ‘moral code’ into watery dough. A few twitches of her fingers closed her hand around veins and arteries, but her bending recognized her intruder’s old blood and fresh wounds before she could register why her power wasn’t listening. It was worse than a tranquilizer. Worse than chloroform in a black alley. Aang’s heartbeat pinned her to her seat and ripped out her fangs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katara remembered that time was a thing that would still pass whether or not she kept breathing. Fresh rain met the wall of windows behind her. Her thumb dragged over the ear of the page. She crawled into the dull thump of his heartbeat and sank into her chair, hiding in his rhythm like it was a cave.

The soft click of the door startled her like it was a strike of lightning, stuttering her breath and rallying her instincts to probe for the nearest skein of water. She shifted, impatient for him to be closer, waiting for enemies to burst from the shadows.

She re-read the same paragraph until he limped — badly, on the left side — to her desk. He paused, thinned Katara’s sanity, and sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. His silence filled the room with static. The full moon taunted her with power for all the wrong problems. The storm put a distance of hisses and low rumbles between them, bleating her pulse against the drums of her ears.

“What are you doing?” Aang gently asked.

Katara propped her head on her fist, her voice like paint peeling from the side of an old ship. “I’m reading.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for seven minutes.”

“I’m reading slowly.”

“You’re sulking.”

She almost looked up. “I am not sulking.”

“And now you’re lying.”

Something made a spark, and Katara slammed her book, still open, on her desk. “I am not lying.”

Her almost-shout did things that the thunder could only dream of, but before Katara could retreat, Aang leaned forward, onto her desk, mirroring her posture and leaving inches between their faces. It brought the smell of the wind in his clothes, and his element tickled her frayed hair from her cheek. His presence was warm. In every way. Warm hues, warm feelings, warm heartbeat, warm memories—

It took longer for the crimson to leave her vision this time. The thin wound wasn’t the worst, but it was the most noticeable, crawling across his face and over the bridge of his nose like a comet touching from beneath one eye to under the other. It was a bleach-white horizon that his eyes sat just above, but what he leveled her with didn’t allow her the freedom to consider her to-kill list in detail.

Katara had been shot, captured, tortured, ransomed, and used as a bartering chip far more times than she dared to remember, but even oceans would part for the look that Aang gave her when she tried to dance around the truth with him and win. She scowled, not that it helped her. Intensity clouded his eyes in a smokescreen, and grey irises darted in short, sharp glances that wouldn’t have been noticeable if he was any further away.

Katara’s finger itched to turn the page. Aang’s breathing had been steady, but when he exhaled again, closing his eyes, it took the strength out of his shoulders and kicked her in the chest.

“You promised you would stop looking into this.”

Katara snapped the book shut and set it aside. “I told you to stay away from the hospital.”

“I had to see her. And you went there, too.”

He didn’t mention a name, but still, Katara’s nails dug into her hands and threatened to draw blood. She seethed, but her fire didn’t phase him. Always him. Only him. Even in her office she was powerless.

Lips pulled into a tight line, she took a calming breath and held it, waiting for it to start working. Aang didn’t look away. His smokescreen was looking more like a storm and shone lightning like steel blades clashing.

She knew what her glare did to good men, and she knew it didn’t work on him, but she looked away all the same. Her eyes found the book, and the pins and needles from her held breath suddenly became the cold gasps of a child who couldn’t run fast enough. She saw the splintering of ancient wooden doors and the darkness that spilled from them. She felt the ice of new irons and the strain they put on growing bones.

And the screams. There should have been screams…

Katara blinked and was back in her office, greeted by the sheets of bullets on her windows and the warm heat of Aang’s attention. She looked at him. He was the same as her gaze had left him.

She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she was so tired of losing. “What were you thinking, Aang?”

“Katara, you’re scared and angry and hurt and I get it, but you don’t have to save me anymore. I’m right here.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing. If I don’t fight for you, then no one will.”

She had seen men recoil from a bullet through the heart, but Aang caught himself just before the stage of crumpling to the ground. His gaze dropped, staggering to her necklace and then to her desk. “…I guess you’re right.”

Katara scrambled to pick up his pieces. “That’s not what I—”

“I know.” He splayed his palm, pretending to read the lines. “You didn’t mean it.”

Lightning lit up the room, like a picture being taken. Katara combed back her hair, fiddling with her low ponytail, and gave up trying to keep her empty hands occupied. “Can you just—” She grabbed the air like she could hold onto the problem. “Can you just promise me that you won’t do something like that again? Please?”

It was the closest she had ever — ever — come to begging, but Aang kept his eyes on his palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m not one of your goons to boss around,” he said, still without looking up, though his brow furrowed with a small crease.

“At least they know their limits. None of this would have happened if you had just let me handle it. This is my family, and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you need me, too,” he said, with a soft voice that could shake a stadium. “And I might just be a speedbump to knock you on your ass and make you think twice before you do it anyways, but you’re my family too.”

The silence yawned, hissing with a thick but fine sheet of rain. If it weren’t for her desk, Katara would have hugged him. Probably. Doubt opened a pit in her belly, and her throat threatened to seal shut. Instinct and intuition went to war and left her with the sinking feeling that touching him would just prove how far away he was.

Aang still didn’t look up from his hand. Katara tried to find the right words and, more importantly, how to say them, but all she could manage after so many years of lying was a tender inflection of his name. “Aang…”

“They made me forget your face,” he said, deflating like saying it out loud finally made the scars real. His voice was watery, broken on the last vowel, and took a sledgehammer to Katara’s chest. “And now you…” He gestured. “Now you’re there and I’m here and…” The word died. He paused, then dragged his eyes up to hers. “You think of them when you look at me, so I see them, too. They scare me. And now you scare me. And I don’t want to be scared of you because I don’t want to stop looking at you. But it scares me. A lot.”

“I…Aang, I’m sorry—”

“I know. I know,” he said as he stood. His eyes roamed her empty desk, trying to find something of hers and settling on the book, which broke what was left of him. “…You didn’t mean it.”

Katara stood, but the desk was still in the way. “Aang, wait—”

“I'm going to take a walk to…,” he trailed, more in his own thoughts than in her office. “…I’ll get Zuko so you don’t worry.”

She should have gone after him. She should have done something, but her legs were pillars of cement. The door bled fluorescent yellow light into her twilight and took him, in his red and orange robes from across the world, with it.

Something cold crawled out of the old attic of where her heart was supposed to be. It cracked, weaving thin white scars — like his — in a web across her vision. She braced herself on the desk. There was nowhere to hide. No heartbeat. Not even a wound to distract her with its pain. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth and wished she had the strength to cry without him. Just this once, without him. She was so full and so empty and on the verge of combustion—

Something broke, something small, like a cornerstone, and Katara plopped into her chair. She breathed just like he taught her and eventually rubbed her face. Her bones ached. Everything ached. She was so tired of losing. She just wanted to sleep without knowing that she would wake up, still stuck in her worst nightmare.

Thunder growled above the city. Katara picked up the book. It was blurry, no matter how much she blinked. She dragged her nail over the scuff marks, feeling the minute pilling of old leather like a topographic map of the past.

Aang’s absence reminded her why she was reading, but she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. The book took on the weight of a planet, her arms even moreso.

Realization dawned slowly, like a dog attack in slow motion. The thought was a shadow bleeding out of the tall grass to fill her stomach with ice.

She peeled open the pages, praying to whoever would answer.

It burned. It burned like fire never could. It ate her away from the inside out, like cinders consuming a dry leaf in the time it took to blink.

The raindrops became smaller, like a mist, and gently brushed the windows. Standing was a miracle, but Katara dragged her feet around her desk, falling into Aang’s chair.

It was warm, like his shadow always was. She crawled into the footprint his life left behind, imagining his heartbeat in the hug of plush leather and the smell of salt and sand that reminded her where home was. Katara told herself to breathe and sank into the reasons why. Her legs curled beneath her, like when she was a girl, back when she wore her mother’s dresses to imagine herself a hero and not in three-piece suits to mask bloodstains.

She read the book slowly, from the beginning again, trying to love even the words that hurt. When lightning struck, she held it closer, trying to protect it, even though she knew that she couldn’t.

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.

Don’t know if I described it well enough, but Aang’s ‘scar’ (quotes because it eventually seals up into a thin line) is supposed to be like the bottom arch of the Yu Yan archers’ tattoos.

[cybernaght]

The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity. 

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away. 

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity​ all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those. 

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is. 

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work. 

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to  stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it. 

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that. 

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense. 

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is. 

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production. 

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can. 

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it. 

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over. 

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel. 

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre. 

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This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel. 

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown. 

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television.