#it never fails to soothe anything in the world for River

[izayoichan]

Musical Christmas Magic (part 1). 🎶

(Poses by @simmireen )

[theweightofakiteofdreamsingold]

Unchained Melody – J. M. K.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, fingering, unprotected sex, language, MINORS DNI

A/N: I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. There’s something about my brain and Josh and showers that somehow equals smut. I don’t know. BUT I’ve been working on this fic since the end of July because hearing Josh sing Unchained Melody with my own two ears in person changed me as a woman. Enjoy.

Bajabule,

-Han

As you wiped the sleep from the corners of your eyes, your ears grew accustomed to the sounds around you. You heard the hum of the fan oscillating over in the corner of your bedroom, feeling the cool air that it was projecting as it brushed against your face. You heard the pattering of water against the floor of the shower, and you could see the steam from it wafting through the space under the closed door of the bathroom. Just then, a sound broke through the quiet droning of your surroundings.

His voice.

It was light at first; it sounded soft and sweet, like the falling of rain while the sun is shining or the tinkling of chimes in the warmest breeze.

“Loooonely rivers siiigh, ‘wait for me, wait for me.’”

He paused, and you could hear the water hitting the floor again.

“Hmmm mmm coming hooome, wait for meeeee.”

His voice grew louder, belting from his stomach like no one could stand a chance of hearing. The sound was clean and crisp and made your heart pull tight in your chest while pulling the air from your lungs at the same time.

“Woooooahhhhh,

myy-yy-yyyy lo-ooovvveee,

myyy da-aarllinn’,

I’ve hunnn-gered, hun-ger-eh-ered, for your tou-ou-ouchhh,

A longgg, lonely time–,”

It was then that the door creaked as you tried so very gently to open it. You cursed yourself at the sound and softly padded across the threshold. You saw a loosely figured silhouette move behind the shower curtain, and you watched as his fingers snuck out from behind it, curling around the edge, before pulling it slightly down the rod, just enough for his head to poke through. His face emerged with a silly grin and his hair completely lathered with shampoo. He looked you over more than once before he asked, in a playfully dramatic voice, “Did you come for the show?”

“I did,” you said, grinning from ear to ear.

It made your heart swell when he was lighthearted, and he was, the majority of the time. Every once in a long while, he would express an insecurity or a worry that made him self-conscious, and you always did your best to soothe his anxieties. You absolutely adored the little light in his eyes and his brilliant smile, and it truly shattered your heart to ever see him anything less than euphoric.

His heart warmed you like a kiss from the sun, and all you wanted was to be his moon, reflecting his light back to him and out for the world to see.

You watched him scoop a handful of lather from his head and blow it at you like a kiss. It fell densely through the air and landed on the tile floor without a sound. You smiled at him and let out a small giggle, and he immediately returned it to you.

“You know,” he started, his brown eyes glinting at you, “you could join the show. If you wanted to.” He dramatically wiggled his eyebrows at you as he failed to fight off another grin.

“I’d love that,” you spoke in a tone hardly above a whisper, “but there’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t sing,” you said with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Your eyes stayed trained on him as he thought, processing your so-called “problem.”

He huffed a bit air from his nose, chuckling at himself. “I can make you sing, mama. Maybe not like The Righteous Brothers, but either way.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled a cocky smile.

Your body immediately felt as if it were burning from the inside out. Your eyes widened and your cheeks got hot. His smile never wavered as he let you squirm under his gaze. All of the silliness had melted away, leaving you with an aching between your legs for him.

You removed your clothes while he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, and you gingerly stepped into the shower. His back was to you as he faced the water, and you let your eyes wander over his naked body in front of you. You took special notice of the muscles in his legs and back as he ran his hands through his wet curls. You watched small streams of water flow down his back and over the prominent curves of his ass before they hit the floor of the shower.

Once he had finished with his hair, the two of you changed places, and you started to rinse your hair. You took your turn to face the water and he took his turn to look over you. It wasn’t long before you felt his hands running over your hair, working the water into it, the tips of his fingers softly massaging your scalp. You tilted you head back, embracing the feeling of his fingertips and letting the warm water hit your chest.

He moved his chin to sit on your shoulder while his hands traveled to your heat. He slipped his middle and ring fingers through your folds before making light circles around your clit. Your chest heaved as you huffed air in and out of your nose, tilting your head back and feeling a whine escape from your throat. You arched your back, pressing your ass into his hardening cock, and he responded by slipping his fingers into your entrance and curling them immediately.

He set a quick pace, his fingers sliding in and out of your heat with more ease than usual. You assumed the copious amounts of water from the shower had a big hand in this, because it certainly had a big hand in the sounds that came from between your legs that echoed throughout the bathroom. Right as your whimpers became essentially continuous, you felt him remove his fingers from deep within you and take them into his mouth. You turned to look at him, and he was moving toward the back wall, his fingers still between his lips.

After you’d shampooed and rinsed your hair again, you turned to Josh to find him already looking at you. Sitting on the small bench in the corner of the dimly lit shower, the shadows of his face were dark, making the structure of his jaw look much more pronounced than usual. His eyes also looked darker; more lustful, causing another budding warmth to spread between your legs.

You watched as he extended his arms out toward you, making repeated grabbing motions with his hands. You giggled before walking over to him and standing in the space between his knees.

“You look so gorgeous, mama. So pretty when you’re wet like this for me,” he said, a grin spreading across his face at his own innuendo.

You snickered. “Shut up,” you managed, mid-chuckle.

“I can’t. You’re too good,” he murmured, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, so close that the tip of his cock rested on your lower belly. You let the smallest moan spill from your lips at the feeling, and his eyes flicked up to yours, his irises impossibly darker than they had been just a moment before. You rolled your hips into him, and he cracked another smile.

“God, Josh. Please.”

His lips planted a long, open-mouthed kiss between your breasts, and your fingers tangled themselves in his drying curls. He hummed against your sternum, making your entire chest vibrate and fill with warmth. You felt your nipples harden as his hands roamed over your spine.

“My sweet baby. So polite,” he said, his lips touching your skin as he spoke. He changed his focus to your breasts as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked it, while his hand cupped you from underneath, gently squeezing the swell in time with the laps of his tongue.

You ground your hips into him harder now, begging him for his cock with more than just your words. He moved to your other breast to repeat his ministrations before giving in to your pleading and lifting your hips. He teased your clit with his tip, making your legs twinge before he slipped into your entrance. You gradually lowered your hips until you’d taken him in his entirety, and you felt yourself relax as you settled against him.

“Oh fuck, Josh,” you breathed, “So fucking deep.”

He moaned at your words, his eyebrows scrunched as he looked at you. “Feels so fucking good like this,” he strained, “Fast and deep this round, yeah?”

You took your turn to moan at him. “Mmm please,” you breathed.

“Haven’t even moved and you’re still begging. This is gonna be messy, he chuckled, “and really fucking loud.”

“Shit–,” you started, but you were interrupted by the feeling of your hips being lifted and dropped, quickly shoving his cock inside you as far as it could possibly go. You let out a squeal and he grunted, his hands finding residence over the curve of your ass, helping to guide you as you bounced in his lap. Eventually, he let you take over your movements, opting to wrap his arms all the way around your back and bury his face in your neck.

You moved quickly, but still made long strokes, almost ridding yourself of his cock entirely each time you raised your hips. In a matter of less than a second, you found yourself rising yet again. You dropped your hips with such force that the sound of your soaked skin meeting his each time you came down quickly became more ominous than the droning sound of the water from the shower hitting nothing but the floor.

As you perfected your rhythm, you felt his breathing change, and you knew that he was close. You noticed that he would hold his breath for a few moments, straining, trying to hold off his climax just a bit longer, and then he would take rapid, short breaths and then repeat with various moans and grunts mixed in.

His head separated from your neck, and you watched it tilt back, his face absolutely twisted and flushed a deep red. His eyes were screwed shut, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would have been afraid that you were hurting him. However, his cock throbbing in your pussy served as reassurance. You strained every muscle in your legs to move faster than you had before, and you felt the intensity of his impending orgasm rise to the absolute brink. He was fighting with absolutely everything he had not to let go, and still, you pushed him. You felt yourself rise again, but this time, in the midst of all of his moaning and the squelching sounds of your pussy sliding around all over his cock, you misjudged your placement, and he slipped from your entrance as you lowered yourself, his tip slipping up and out of your folds, his shaft pressed hard against your clit.

A guttural moan ripped from his chest as he released a breath he’d been holding. He gasped and moaned, trying desperately to catch his breath and process the sudden feeling of his cock not being swallowed by your heat. His hands gripped you harder than they had the entire time as he attempted to regain his composure.

His eyes found yours and he watched you half-lidded as you tried to regulate your breath. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest while he throbbed against your clit.

“Fuck, I’m sor–,”

He interrupted your breathy apology by crashing his lips into yours in a needy, feverish kiss. He licked and sucked at you bottom lip while he rocked his hips into you, sliding your clit along the shaft of his cock. You cried out into his mouth at the sensation and he continued, gripping your hips and pressing them into his own to create more pressure against your clit as you continued your wordless praises.

“Cum for me, mama. Cum on my cock.”

“Ohh, Josh,” you cried out, gripping his curls in your fingers as he held you up. “Want you,” you panted, “to cum, t-too.”

“Mmmm I will, don’t worry,” he grinned, “I’m right behind you, sweet girl. You need me here? Or back inside?”

“Fuck, put it back in,” you panted, “please.”

“Godddd-dammit, I love it when you beg me for my cock,” he breathed, as he moved you up and down his length.

Your legs trembled underneath you as they did a shoddy job of holding your weight. Your whimpers grew higher and louder as you bounced in his lap, sure that the tip of his cock was tapping at your cervix. You clenched every muscle in your walls around him, just savoring the feeling of your pussy being filled to the point of stretching over and over again before you erupted into your orgasm, and he into his immediately afterward.

He grunted and strained as his hips paused before pulling back and pushing up again, filling you with his cum at each pause. When he had finished, you felt him lean back against the wall of the shower to finish coming down, and you went with him, your head in the crook of his neck.

When both of you had regained control of your hearts and lungs, he helped you to stand before joining you under the now-cool water of the shower. He slipped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips into the spot between your neck and shoulder, gently swaying you both back and forth. You let the cool water hit the searing skin of your chest, leaning your head back into him.

He pulled his lips from your neck and kissed the shell of your ear, still swaying you back and forth.

“And tii-ii-iime goo-oess byy-y sooo sloww-lyy-y,

And tiiiime– can dooo so-o much,

Aaa-are you-ou-ou still miiiiiiiiiiiineeeee,

I-iiiii neeee-eee-eed your loo-ovee,”

He paused and placed a kiss under the side of your jaw, sliding his hands over the front of your body before pulling his head back slightly.

“Iiii- I need your lo-love,

Godspeeeed your lo-oveee too-oo-oo-ooo me-ee-eee.”

[danikamariewrites]

Hey I’m not sure if you are still taking requests so if not I’m really sorry and you can totally just ignore this. But I was wondering if you could write a Mor x Reader where the reader has a panic attack and Mor is helping to soothe her.

I love your writing so much, you are incredibly talented and I’m always in such awe of how creative you are! ❤️

Hold Your Hand

Mor x reader

A/n: thank you so much anon, that’s very kind of you to say❤️❤️

Warnings: anxiety, some angst

The pulsing music in Rita’s finally got to your head. Everything felt too tight on your body. You had never liked bars or clubs. You had only agreed to come out tonight because you were feeling confident in yourself.

Your feelings for Mor had finally grown to a point where you couldn’t ignore them. You wanted to tell her tonight but the words caught in your throat every time you went to tell her tonight.

Not only would your words die out but you kept getting interrupted. If it wasn’t you then it was a male offering her a drink, or Feyre pulling her on the dance floor.

Coming out of the bathroom you started to walk back to the table. People bumped into you the whole way back, overwhelming your senses, making you feel hot all over again. Your heart started beating erratically and your palms began to sweat.

You couldn’t do it. You were starting to shut down. You couldn’t tell Mor how much you liked her. You had to get home or you were surely going to die.

Mor was watching you, silently begging you to come back over. She wanted to spend time with you tonight but the look on your face told her you weren’t enjoying yourself. A glazed look came over your eyes as you walked out of Rita’s.

She quickly followed you outside into the cool night. Mor whipped her head around looking for you. When the blonde finally spotted you, you were pressed against an alley wall.

Your eyes were screwed shut, your chest was rising and falling rapidly. Mor slowly approached you holding out her hand for yours. “Y/n,” she whispered, “can you open your eyes for me sweetie?” They slowly open with a wince. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—I,” you trail off, words failing you. Mor gently grabbed your hand pulling you to her body. “I want to go home.” You mumble into her chest. The world fell away as she winnowed you to your room in the River house. Mor backed you up to your bed helping you sit down.

“Can I get you anything?” You nodded, “water.” Your voice barely above a whisper. Mor rushed to your bathroom to fill up the cup next to your sink. Coming back she held the glass up to your lips. You gulp down the cool liquid as you calm down.

The quiet and cool air of your room helping your heart rate slow. You could hear. Or breathing with you which helped more than she’d know. Your eyes fluttered between her and the floor. Now that you were alone with her your courage was faltering.

Mor ran a hand through your hair, her nails lightly scratching your scalp. You lean into her touch as a small smile rubs at your lips. “What else can I get you? Are you ok?” Swallowing audibly you force your question out. “Will you stay with me…tonight?”

Mor’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your request. “Of course I will sweetie. I’ll always stay with you.” Mor climbs into bed with you and you both lay on your pillow, noses practically touching. Mor gently strokes your nose with her pointer finger. Your eyes slowly start to close as the exhaustion from your anxiety attack sets in.

Before you drifted off you felt Mor’s lips gently touch your forehead and a soft, “goodnight y/n.”

[rolling-storm-writing]

Thor/Reader- “A Home Just for Us”

Sum: The God of Thunder reveled in the slaughter of the giants but never wished any harm to you.

warnings: abuse, alcoholism, murder, blood, miscarriage...?, (d0es bad wrting count?)

Thor embraces his affections for you with each fiber of his being. You are his ultimate strength and carry his heart with the gentle touch he lacked from his own family. The family you’d built together was loved and cherished as Sif covered for you, happily allowing the two of you to live without the dumpster fire that could’ve possibly been started.

He had been far off on an assignment for the allfather when he’d heard a rumor about “a woman made from clay.” carved and made in the image of Jörð, Goddess of the Earth. And as the young Thor watched from his place on the river bank he could only marvel in your beauty. The rumors, no matter how descriptive, failed to truly capture a fraction of your golden figure. In this world lightning could strike twice. But for you, the God would make the skies shout their praises without falter. He’d make the clouds part and shower your warm skin with their soothing rain, the water pure and healing for you alone.

You had been wading in the water washing your coiled hair when he’d happened upon you. Melanated skin glimmering under the golden rays of the sun and plump lips parted slightly as you breathed Thor’s stolen air.

His eyes only widened the longer he looked for he’d never seen such beauty in all his long life. From all the realms he’s seen and every type of creature, you were in a league all your own.

“Um excuse me?” his voice was sharp and cracked much to his own personal embarrassment. But you turned to him with the most beautiful smile and when he got closer he could only marvel. Your eyes fluttered beautifully behind long curled lashes as he struggled to find the proper words to say.

Looking back on it Thor could only cover his face in embarrassment as you retold the story to your two boys. Magni and Modi were only little ones when they first heard the tale, the only true story they’d hear about you that they could recall in such detail. Magni looked more like you than anything, his caramel skin and long coiled hair made him your mini me. Modi looked just like Magni minus his shorter, more red hair like Thor’s who adored resting in his father’s strong arms.

But while Magni was your twin he took on Thor’s more adventurous personality, Modi much preferred your more calm and serene aurora and held that same for himself.

Safe in the little corner of the realm the little family could live quietly away from the gaze of the allfather. Where the boys could remove their glamor and reveal their true selves, where Thor could wake up and see his beautiful wife and children safe and happy.

The years went by and the small bubble began to burst. The influence of the allfather spoiling your sons and husband and the rest of the family. Sif told you everything, the verbal abuse, alcoholism, and just overall terrible trajectory things were on.

When Magni came to you one cold afternoon, quieter and solemn you knew something had been terribly wrong. His arms bruised and hair matted with sweat as you held him in your arms. His quiet sobs loud in your ear as hot tears poured from his eyes. Then Modi came crawling to you just days later and hid under your dress until Thor had to practically pull him from you. “Mama! Mother please!” His eyes were bloodshot and teary as he held onto your hand.

That was the last time you saw your boys alive. Modi craving his father’s strength while Magni craved yours.

But it was Thrúd who needed the strength of all of midgard when she traveled home to find you after Thor had fallen off the wagon. The door to your cottage eerily stood alone as a dark crater bruised the earth behind it. The rubble of stones and metal lingering as she took in the awful sight.

When she did find you her shock could only be imagined as she looked upon your awful state. Limply floating in the river amongst the cracked earth and scorched area, the water stained a crimson red as your bloodied form lay amongst the rocks. A long spear skewered through your rounded belly as two crows looked upon you with glowing eyes…

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

A/N: I gave up lowkey Writing this its been months since ive wrote anything ive got 4% on this computer- Im gonna just post all my drafts.

ANYWAY dont foret ur umbrella <3

[dream-meister-translations]

DREAM MEISTER AND THE RECOLLECTED BLACK FAIRY

MAIN STORY  : CHAPTER 3 PART 18

━

EMMA : (H-Huh? Where… Where am I—)

Warm light envelopes me, holding me in place as a soothing melody gently fills the air…

EMMA : (What’s this… This tree...?)

EMMA : (Why does this place feel so… familiar?)

Nostalgia grips me, welling up from within. I gaze up at the towering tree, in a desperate attempt to identify the source....

EMMA : (W-What’s happening!?)

But the lush green trees around me beginning to wither and die, leaving me stunned in a cascade of dead leaves.

Through the gap in the trees, a black mist crawls forth, accompanied by the lamenting calls of a cacophony of voices I fail to tell apart...

??? : Why...

??? : Why do humans dream…?

EMMA : (Wh-Who is this… Who’s there...?)

Whose emotion is this pitch black despair...

Human dreams, hopes shattered, we are painted black...

It’s so sad. It hurts. God it hurts so much…

EMMA : (W-Wait this is-- It’s the Black Fairy...?)

Humans are nothing but weak, fragile, transient beings.

EMMA : ...It’s… It’s not true…

Do not dream. Do not chase your dreams...

We hate humans----

EMMA : No! I don’t believe that! Humans & Black Fairies----

EMMA : We can understand one another! I’m sure of it!!

Suddenly, that burning sensation behind my eyes turns to a balming warmth, and light pours out from the key once more…

I focus on the light seeking to break apart this blank white world… And a vague figure steps into my field of vision.

CROW : .......Em--...?

EMMA : Crow!

EMMA : (Thank God he's okay...)

CROW : Emma? Emma!? Where are you!?

EMMA : Crow, I’m over here!

I call out, but he can’t hear me, so I move my heavy feet like cinderblocks, trudging towards him.

CROW : Emma…? E-Emma…?

I reach out to touch his arm, and it shifts in response. Still, he remains unaware, and then----

EMMA : W-Wha-- No, this can’t--?

My hand passes through Crow like he’s a ghost. As if he never even existed in the first place.

CROW : Emma!! Emma… Where did you go?

EMMA : Cr-Crow? Crow!!

EMMA : (Was I… Dreaming...?)

CROW : Emma, where did you go!?

EMMA : Crow...

CROW : What's wrong? Are you… Are you okay? What did you see?

I tentatively reach out once again for Crow's arm, and he again in turn extends it back out to me. This time… I feel warmth…

EMMA : (Maybe it was just a dream after all...)

GRANDFLAIR : Emma, don't you remember? Your key… It emitted this… blinding light.

GRANDFLAIR : And everything… Everything went white… The light, it saved us. Saved everyone.

ITSUKI : B-But you… You disappeared. We were so worried we’d lost you.

NOAH : It was so bright; I couldn't see anything around me.

NOAH : After it disappeared, Testament was gone. And the Dull Night Duo were gone, too.

EMMA : I see… Well, I’m glad everyone’s okay…

CROW : Yeah, we’re all okay thanks to you. So yeah... Thanks.

ITSUKI : ...Was that still the light of purification?

??? : Indeed it was.

EMMA : Everyone!!

NAVI : The light you emitted was stronger than any purification we’ve ever seen. It made all our hearts flutter in response...

NAVI : Hmm...

EMMA : N-Navi...?

NAVI : Hahaha!! ★ As expected of our master~.

EMMA : So… Uhh… Does this mean it purified everyone?

HIMMEL : Not everyone. ...Unfortunately, many of the black fairies that couldn't be purified seem to have disappeared.

ITSUKI : D-Disappeared?

NAVI : Yeah. And it’s probably all that jerk’s fault.

EVAN : We don't really understand it… But when that man disappeared… The presence of our kind disappeared too. It's eerie...

EMMA : So Testament could control their emotions? Just who is this guy…?

HIMMEL : ...Mmh. During the battle by the river, we felt a similar sensation coming from him.

NAVI : ...Strange and unpleasant.

HIMMEL : Perhaps, he's one of us…?

CROW : One of you!? So, you’re saying he's ALSO a black fairy----

HIMMEL : No. No matter how hard we try. We cannot sense him. It’s utterly futile…

HIMMEL : He must be human.

GRANDFLAIR : Then does that mean… The light emitted by the key… Could it be be the result of some kind of magical tool after all?

NOAH : .............

NAVI : But! That can’t be! Our master purified so many of them! They’re all sound asleep inside the key.

EMMA : I see… Well that’s a relief...

ITSUKI : Aaaaaaand... I can't take another step; I'm exhausted…

NOAH : Just letting you know, I’m not carrying you on my back. Even Korokuro’s tired...

KOROKURO : Kuuu…

CROW : Honestly, I'm pretty beat, too… Evan was seriously relentless…

EVAN : Hmph. I intended to leave him in tatters... but he proved surprisingly resilient...

CROW : Oh, scary~. Hah! I guess we both need more training.

GRANDFLAIR : On the other hand… Though we managed to thwart their plans, we do need to figure out what to do with this tragic scene...

??? : Excuse me.

We turn at the sound of Camus’s voice, to find him holding an unconscious Mam in his arms. The Primus Club surrounds him.

CAMUS : We'll take responsibility for this.

CAMUS : Be they our allies or our enemies, we'll take care of them equally, I give you my word.

CAMUS : You guys, rest up and tend to your own injuries. I see you’re all in a terrible state.

EMMA : Yes. A-Apologies, Camus. We'll leave the rest up to you.

CAMUS : Of course. Cleanup’s what we do best.

LEN : Ugh, what a pain… Couldda given us special treatment, too...

YMIR : I want to go back and take care of my beautiful face~...

VICTOR : Tough. You guys caused this mess! The least you can do is clean up after yourselves..

SEVEN : …Is breakfast ready yet…?

LEN : I see someone’s back to his usual self...

CAMUS : Everyone, move quickly. We need to clean up this mess before the police arrive.

CAMUS : Anyone who objects will be punished.

VICTOR & YMIR & LEN : .............Yes, Boss!!!

Despite a mass of grumbles and complaints, everyone follows Camus's order with complete compliance.

And yet… Among them… I can feel something… The presence of something twisted... Like a thick, tangled thread…

[lxiewrites]

a love like that lights up the sky

Hello! It’s been a long time!

I’ve joined the TodoDeku Big Bang for this year, I hope you like it!

My partner in this is KatTory! Her socials are Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr, go check her out! She’s super awesome!

Shout out to my beta BarelyFragile! You were super great to work with and I really appreciate all your help!

Ao3 Fic Link

Summary:

Shouto is the beloved god of Autumn and the son of Enji the god of the Sun and Rei the goddess of the Moon. One day, the Moon goes missing, and without the Moon to help curb the Sun's temper he's destroying life on Earth with little regard. Shouto, faced with the ultimatum to search for his mother or become the Sun himself and follow in his father’s footsteps, must go on a journey to find her.

On his journey, Shouto is led to go to the Unseen, the place where gods go to die. He searches out Earth to allow him access to the Unseen and instead finds an unknown god who volunteers to help him on his journey to find the Moon, though it seems like he had his own reasons for traveling to the desolate place.

Together, they travel down to the Unseen. There, they learn more about each other, what it means to do the right thing, and whether or not they have a choice in anything.

~~

As the legend goes, in the dawn of time there was only One Being. And while there are many stories about creation and many that explain the intricacies of this world, we shall focus not on how humanity was created, nor on the conflict between good and evil, but on a love story.

The One Being made the first of the Great Celestials, the Sun, for his human creations at the behest of the Earth. But the Sun raged and scorched the Earth, destroying the life on it instead of nurturing it. So They created the Moon to soothe the temperamental Sun, softening its harsh rays and gentling the light. As the Moon was made for the Sun they fell in love and from their union the Sun and Moon created the Four Seasons.

But it was not a happy ever after – someone had stolen the Moon, its gentle light missing from the night sky. The Sun raged ever hotter without his partner, once again stealing life from the Earth in his efforts to find the Moon. The destruction was so great and vast, the Earth cried out in distress, not only for the humans, but for Itself – for the rivers and lakes, the forests and animals – for so long and with such agony that the One Being declared that the Sun must be removed and one of the Great Celestials' children must take up the mantle. The favored ones were Spring and Autumn, for they would not burn too hot nor melt under the pressure of being the Sun, yet both refused. Perhaps though, the two thought, if they found the Moon they can avoid the terrible fate of becoming the Sun.

Fuyumi paced back and forth, thumbnail in her mouth in an unladylike fashion, her feet making soft pap pap paps on the marble floor. Shouto ignored her quick, shamed glances toward his face. “Are you sure about this, Shouto?”

Shouto nodded, eyes tracing her path, face impassive. “Yes, I am sure. You will handle Autumn while I’m gone?”

She stopped abruptly, worry lines creasing her eyes, far too soon for such a young deity. As far as his memory goes, she was always the worrier. She had probably had those lines when she was just a few centuries old. They were especially pronounced now but he understood it in a way he never did before. Their father was proving too volatile to keep his position. The pressure that was put upon him and his sister ever growing as Father became more and more temperamental.

It was one hot summer evening, the last of the season, directly after Their decree when Fuyumi contacted him and they devised their plan. By mutual agreement he would go searching for Mother and Fuyumi would handle the politics of dealing with the other gods as well as attempting to mollify Father. If he failed in finding and bringing back their mother then one of them would have to become the Sun. Despite the love and forgiveness Fuyumi extends to their progenitor, the fear in her eyes mirrors the fear threatening to clog his lungs.

Her hand reached out before retreating to grasp hold of her robes in an iron grip. Her mouth opened and closed, her mind whirring, the words in her mouth changing with every breath. He knew what she wanted to say. The unasked question hung in the air between them, but he knew that she was a coward just like him. “Of course, Autumn is not too different from Spring, as you know.”

He nodded in an affirmative. “Don’t worry, Fuyumi, I’ll find Mother and bring her back.”

She gave him a wobbly smile, the unsaid what if like a string pulled taut waiting to snap, but they paid it no mind. Instead, she wished him luck, reminded him of the three-month deadline, and sent him off.

First, he visited his brother, Summer.

His palace was located in the west, closest to their father, which he never failed to complain about. Shouto always found it ironic how Touya was the most vocal against their father, and yet had ended up the closest to him in both location and temperament.

He supposed that was the One Being’s brand of humor.

Yet, it’s exactly that temperament that prevents Touya from being a candidate for the Sun. Not that he would want it anyway.

But for all of his brother’s faults, he loved their mother. And if anyone knew where she would be it would be him.

The air was sticky and humid around Touya’s palace, so much so that it made Shouto’s clothes cling uncomfortably to his body. He ignored the oppressive heat, pushing through the burning doors and thick air.

“Touya!” he called out, his voice ringing in the empty halls. No answer. He called out again, reluctant to walk further into the heat.

“I’m here, I’m here,” his brother’s voice called out, a yawn partially disguising his words. He rounded a corner, robes barely hanging on, clinging to the back of his shoulders by either determination or magic. “Why are you here, squirt? It's not my time.”

Shouto crossed his arms in an effort to show his displeasure and immediately wanted to uncross them. Instead, he pushed out some of his power against his brother’s domain, just managing to cool the immediate area around him to a more manageable temperature.

“Are you really this ignorant or are you trying to play me as a fool, Touya?”

His brother smirked, slouching against a wall. “Aren’t you always, little brother?” At his silence, Touya rolled his eyes. “Mom’s not here.”

“So, you know.”

“Of course, I know! It’s why I keep getting prayers to stop Summer, even though it’s not my fault .” Bright blue eyes looked him up and down. “Runnin’ yourself a little ragged, little brother?”

Shouto ignored him, unsure if that question was a barb at his pallid appearance or genuine concern. He could never tell with his older brother. He’d help with the autumnal bonfires in the same breath as pushing Summer’s influence to confuse his trees and make him late for the Equinox.

“If Mother’s not here then where is she?”

Touya scoffs. “Even if I knew, why would I say anything? She deserves a break from the old man.”

Shouto furrowed his brow, conflict twisting itself up in his stomach. Out of everyone, of course, she deserved a break from the old man but– “The humans can’t survive like this, Touya. If this isn’t resolved soon, they’ll die.”

He shrugged. “Let them, we can just make more.”

Shouto almost flinched, shocked at how heartless he was towards the beings they were supposed to protect. He glared at him, shock turning to disgust turning to anger, and firming his jaw. “You are callous and cold. But I suppose it goes along with how much like the old man you are.”

“Oh?” Touya sauntered over, the domineering heat pushing against Autumn’s chilled guard. “Would you rather have Summer’s power, little brother? Spend even more time with dear old dad?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, lips twisting into a sneer. “Or, from what I understand, if your little endeavor doesn’t go well, you’re going to have to be the Sun. So, which is it gonna be, Shouto? The little humans or becoming a monster?”

Shouto pushed back against him, hands burning, the Autumn chill wavering under the waves of heat from his brother. But he wasn’t going to back down. “I’m not becoming the sun. And neither is Fuyumi,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m going to find Mother and she’s going to fix all of this.”

Touya barked out a laugh and started pushing him towards the door in short jabs, handprints burning through the fabric of his robes. “You’ve always been a spoiled, selfish little shit. Putting this on mom.” He sneered when Shouto grabbed the threshold, his hand burning where it laid over his heart. “This is going to end in one of two ways. Our father being his charming self and destroying the humans, or you following in his footsteps in the next millennia and we’re right back where we started.”

With one last shove, Shouto stumbled back over the threshold, the fresh air a relief over his skin. Touya loomed over him, a lazy smile in place but his eyes were cutting. “You’re a lot more like us than you think, little brother, but I’ll throw you a bone. Check with Earth. Maybe they know, it’s the only way to get to The Unseen after all.”

Shouto recoiled. “Why would Mother go there?”

“Where else would you go to hide from the old man?” Touya said glaring up at the sky. Before Shouto could question him more, the door slammed in his face.

Finding Earth on a dying planet was a monstrous task in and of itself. Shouto could deduce that she was either somewhere safe and secure to keep her domain stable or everywhere at once to keep up with the amount of damage being dealt to it.

He spent a few days searching, talking to other deities about her whereabouts, being sent to places all over the world with nothing to show for it. Days turned into weeks and he could feel the slow drip of time slip through his fingers.

He wandered through a desolate village, the windows shut against the light, no human in sight. Part of him wondered if it’d been abandoned but Keigo told him that the humans intended to redirect water to their village from a shrinking stream. He would normally take Keigo’s word with a bit of caution, the wind god was known to be playful and mischievous, but even he was worn down by the effect of the Sun.

He once again pondered if it was a fruitless endeavor, if he would have no choice but to become the same monster, that, given a couple of years, the world would be back in the same state because he couldn’t handle the responsibility, that his—

“Lord Autumn!”

Shouto looked up to see humans bowing low and an impressive trench in the land, a dark crumbling slash through the dry earth. The human at the forefront spoke from his bowed position, sweat dripping from his curly hair to the ground.

“Please, Lord Autumn, if you could do us the great service of aiding us, we’d be in your debt.”

Shouto hesitated. “I’m unsure how you think I could help. My powers cannot move the earth, nor move the water closer.”

“If you could make the weather cooler it would be a great help, Lord Autumn.”

The spring was in sight, yet this was still several days’ worth of work. There were only a handful of men digging, drenched in sweat and looking on the verge of passing out. How many humans had already died from dehydration?

He started rolling up his sleeves.

“L-Lord Autumn?”

“Hurry, send one of your men to the river. Entreat the spirit of the river to assist, state how you’re going to take care of its new home. The faster we start the faster we will be done.”

“Of-of course!” The man turned, muttering something under his breath before jogging with too much energy for a human working under the hot Sun all day.

The rest of the men gathered around Shouto in a loose circle. He called upon his powers, not as effective or as far as he wished but enough to see the men slump in relief.

“We are incredibly grateful to you, Lord Autumn,” another human said, voice exhausted.

He waved off their praises, lowering himself into the dug-out earth. Ignoring their attempts to thank him in favor of digging a borrowed shovel into the dirt.

He could see the man from before speaking to the spirit, her hair long and slick down her back, green in the sunlight. With a nod and a handshake—odd, but he supposed that most spirits were more casual with humans than most gods he knew—started redirecting the river to erode at the earth.

For hours they chipped away at the dry earth, the men still sweating despite Shouto’s influence. One by one the men dropped their shovels for a rest, taking advantage of the cool air emanating from Shouto and drifting off to sleep before it could register.

They all no doubt had earned their rest, all but one succumbing to Hitoshi’s influence. But it was strange. The one who had spoken to the nymph looked to have much more energy than the others, a smile on his face, hands scarred from hard labor relentless in his digging, never faltering even as every other man gave in to the exhaustion and the brief reprieve set from a Season.

His shovel finally slowed and Shouto wondered if this would finally be the time the man sat and rested. Instead, he tossed the shovel from their dugout and faced him with a bright smile and crescent eyes.

“Thank you for the assistance, Lord Autumn! I believe I have it handled now.”

Shouto blinked in confusion. He looked at the miles they had left to reach where the river spirit was eroding away and back at the man.

He at least had the decency to blush. “W-well, I suppose I still need help moving these men from the ditch. It’s not necessary but I would greatly appreciate the help. Thank you for helping these men, Lord Autumn!”

He finished with a low bow. While confident, Shouto still wondered how this man expected to continue—or how much he even could continue—when there were still several days-worth of blistering work. Perhaps he was worried about taking too much of a god’s time?

Which is not untrue, but Shouto was in part responsible for their misery.

“It is fine. But, how much work do you expect to do single-handedly? I shall continue assisting.”

The man shot up, hands out in a flailing placating gesture. “No, no! Please, it’s alright! I still have a good handle on my powers and it should take me no time to finish. I just needed to wait until the men fell asleep.  I saw you and thought it would be the perfect opportunity.  I’mtrulysorryforinconveniencingyou!”

Shouto was once again left floundering in front of the man in front of him, unsure if he heard wrong because he was surely a mortal. “Powers?”

The man turned red as a sunset red from ears to neck, his hand fluttering around him like falling leaves. “I-I am so sorry! I didn’t properly introduce myself and I haven’t taken off my disguise. You must feel so deceived. Here, I’ll—”

Still a blushing mess, the man let his disguise fall away, the plain and nondescript veneer being outshone with vibrant green hair and eyes to match. The subtle glow of goodlihood and power sparking to life across his skin. The god practically fell over to bow. “Midoriya Izuku! God of the soil and plant life and son of the Earth!”

Truly the god did not look that different in his True image from his mortal one; he still had the freckles and same face shape and build. Even the scars on his arms stayed the same. While Shouto was no stranger to scars he had to wonder who hurt this god in order to make him scar.

With the disguise melted away Shouto could see how obvious it was that he was a god. It made Shouto wonder how he was able to conceal his power or if Shouto was so isolated from his fellow gods he forgot what to look for.

“Oh,” Shouto said, hesitatingly, stutteringly bowing back in return. Not quite bowing his head like he should, stunned enough to forget about formalities and to instead stare at the top of a curly flop of hair. “Shouto Todoroki. God of the Autumn season and all it entails.”

Izuku straightened. “Ah! Yes! I-I know. N-not that—! I mean—you’re pretty well known amongst us minor gods. That’s—that’s what I meant.”

“I’m afraid I’m well out of loop with the other gods, I’m not sure if I’ve… heard of you before. I didn’t even know that Earth had a son.”

“Don’t—don’t worry about it, Lord Autumn! Not many acknowledged my godhood, I was very weak when I was younger. I’ve only been actively assisting my mother in her duties the past couple hundred years! Nothing to worry about!”

Shouto inclined his head in acquiesce, pausing, then, “I actually have a request of you and your mother if you’ll be willing to hear me out.”

“You did just help me out a great deal here, just give me a few minutes to finish out the new stream and I’ll be happy to help you!” The enthusiastic acceptance was accompanied by a smile so bright and warm that Shouto had the thought that if the sun was like that, he wouldn’t mind it so much.

He assisted Izuku in moving the men over, standing near them to help keep them asleep comfortably. Or at least enough to not be woken by the Unseen’s armpit that is the Sun. He watched in fascination how Izuku stood in the middle of their hard work and reached out, hands fisting in the dirt and arms pulling like he was tearing something apart. The earth before him gave away, crumbling and getting shoved onto shore from where his hands were. The earth roiled like the waves, flowing down to where the nymph was working on her end of the new stream and cascading up and over the new banks.

A completely new stream in under a minute.

Izuku brushed off his hands and hopped up to stand in front of him. “Thank you again for helping me out with this. It was just too uncomfortable for them to properly rest and I didn’t want to force them to sleep, that’s just rude, and if I revealed myself they would get all worship-y and it would be so awkward and—” he cut himself off, his hand waving away the topic “—I really didn’t expect you to help out help out but it’s very much appreciated! What was it that you wanted to ask?”

Shouto blinked at the onslaught of words. He tried to remember if he had met anyone who spoke quite as fast or as much as Izuku and failed. Everyone he knew spoke very deliberately—his siblings and those associated—and with purpose. Izuku seemed to ramble on without a care, words falling from his lips uncensored and authentic. Perhaps it was a trait shared by those under Earth’s domain.

“I wanted to request help from Earth if she could help me find my mother, the Moon.”

“Oh! You’re looking for your mom! Of course, that makes sense with all the commotion and the Sun…” Izuku furrowed his brows, a hand coming up to his lips mumbling something Shouto couldn’t quite make out before shaking his head. “I’m afraid she’s nowhere on Earth. If she was, we definitely would have known.”

Shouto hesitated. For the most part, no one spoke of The Unseen. Only the One Being and desperate fools stepped foot down there. Izuku was not like his brother, he seemed kind and genuine and too good. He was unsure if the other god would approve of him traipsing down into the place where gods go to die.

“I believe that she may have retreated to The Unseen. I need Earth to allow me passage.”

That seemed to stun him into silence. Green eyes wide and mouth agape. He blinked a few times, hands coming up to twist into mindless shapes before deciding to clasp into fists in front of his chest. “You do realize that if you go there the Devourer will take your immortality and you can die, right?”

Shouto nods. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

“What makes you so sure she would be there? Why would she be there?”

He huffed in frustration. He knew it would be a poor bet for Izuku to help him. “I’m not sure. I just know that’s a place where she can hide. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just,” Izuku looked off to the side and took a breath. He looked back, eyes sparking with grim determination. “When you step into the Unseen it will take your immortality. You can die there. The Devourer may be weakened and only speak in whispers but his prodigy is just as deadly and should not be underestimated. If we go you have to be sure that she’s there.”

He clenched his fists and could feel the air around him grow colder. “I don’t know for certain if she’s there but I don’t know another place where she would be. My brother has connections in the Unseen. He knows them. I can imagine him pulling in a few favors to make sure she’s safe there.”

“There’s no guarantee that she’s safe down there, Shouto.”

“I know that!” he snapped, the temperature dropping enough to see a little shiver run through Izuku’s shoulders. He looked away, drawing the cold back. “I don’t have any choice. I can’t find her anywhere else and I need to be able to bring her back to the One Being by the end of next month. I just need to get to the Unseen. Please.”

Izuku was silent and Shouto refused to look at him. Something gross and uncomfortable twisted in the pit of his stomach while he waited for his answer. The new stream was flowing steadily but he could see the river nymph a way away, her large eyes watching from a distance.

Finally, after an eon, Izuku said, “Alright.”

Shouto turned to him in shock, searching green eyes for any deception, so certain he was going to get a refusal. “Alright?”

“I’ll show you where an Entrance to the Unseen is and we’ll go down to find your mother.”

“We—?”

Izuku held up a hand, silencing him. “Yes , we. You are not going alone. It’s too dangerous. I’m coming with you or you’re not going at all.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Shouto tried to bite out but it came out bland and toothless.

Eyes shining and a grin a shade too impertinent to be unassuming— Shouto had a sinking feeling that Izuku Midoryia was anything but unassuming—he said, “It’s a good thing you have a friend.”

“Unfortunately, we do have to go to an already existing location.” Izuku threw a grin over his shoulder, expertly trekking through uneven ground and ducking under branches. “I don’t think Mom would approve of us going into the Unseen.”

They had already been walking for an hour or two, following the main body of the stream they had altered. The entrances could only be accessed through the mortal way, Izuku explained, waving a cheery goodbye to the nymph. They were enchanted to make it even more arduous for both mortal and god alike, to keep out “troublemakers”.

Izuku had been chatting about it since the start of their little journey, telling him the ins and outs since his mother and he are the ones tasked with keeping the entrances secure. There were traps and beasts that would be a challenge to take on by oneself let alone without powers, and a particularly tricky enchantment that they would not be able to bypass that would randomly send them back to the forest. It made it all the more apparent that Shouto had no chance on Earth, the Unseen, and the Celestial of ever finding the entrance on his own before the deadline.

Shouto would not lie. There were very few instances where he did not get his way (typically only when dealing with his siblings), let alone where he had no other choice (when dealing with his bastard of a father). He would not say he was pouting but he was letting his grievance be known.

Suffice to say, he did not dignify him with a response.

“Shouto?” Izuku slowed, his mouth not smiling, but his eyes definitely were – twinkling at him mockingly-but-not-mockingly. He had the distinct feeling that if Izuku bothered in hiding his amusement it would not be at him. It wouldn’t be some sort of hidden joke that went over his head, a silent mockery over some strange thing Shouto did. But he was.

Amused that is.

“It really is for the best for me to come with you.”

“Hm.”

“It’s true! Your chances of survival have gone up at least fifty percent!”

“And why would you say that?” Damn it.

Izuku grinned. “Because I am here!”

Shouto gave him the blandest look he could muster.

“It’s not the best, I know but,” he tilted his head unabashedly at him, “it got you to stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting.”

This time Izuku did nothing to hide his amusement. Laughter rang out and startling birds into flight. A hand came up to cover his mouth, scars silver in the light. “You’re pretty funny, Shouto.”

He was quite sure that “funny” was never a word anyone would have described him as.

Grunting in response, he trudged forward. He wasn’t sure how to deal with the Earth-bound god. Most of his interactions with other gods were curt, polite, distant, and occasionally filled with an undercurrent of frustration. Someone poking fun at him, who laughed and smiled freely without a second agenda, who called him funny —

It was strange.

It was strange and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Like everything had been moved two inches to the left or Touya being in a good mood. It wasn’t bad but he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

He held a branch out of his way before letting go. And when he heard a thwap and a startled yelp he decided he’d settle on not that bad.

He could honestly say that whoever had the ability to stumble across the entrance to the Unseen had to be either very lucky or very stupid. Most of the gods that he knew would have not bothered when they learned they couldn’t use their powers to get to the entrance.

He and Izuku had to walk through the forest three times, wade through a wide river while dodging the arms of a deep creature borrowed from Seruki that Izuku ended up chatting with for at least 10 minutes. Apparently, the god of the Sea and the Earth were close friends and they regularly met up – Izuku went as far as calling him Uncle Seruki. Shouto couldn’t imagine it. His father and the Sea god never saw eye to eye and always instructed him to keep a wide berth, though Shouto always suspected it had something to do with how the Sea gods were more creature-like in appearance. But the no-nonsense god with his grey whiskers and round seal face always winked at him with a brief smile when he attended meetings and always advocated for the nymphs and other minor gods under his rule.

Their last task, after essentially having lunch with what he thought the humans called a “kraken”, was climbing up the side of a mountain with no magic to stand at the gaping maw of what seemed to be an endless tunnel.

Exhausted to the bone, Shouto stepped closer. He could feel an invisible wind coming in from deep inside the tunnel, but no magic. He looked around, not seeing any horrific monsters waiting to pounce and really hoping not to. In polite society, it was spoken of in hushed, reverent whispers about how the One Being banished the monstrous Nomus and those loyal to the Devourer, and how they lurk under the surface waiting to be released again. His father on the other hand always bragged about how many monsters he destroyed in the war. “So, this is the entrance to the Unseen?”

Izuku hummed, stepping up next to him. “Almost.”

Shouto’s shoulders slumped. “There’s more?”

After spending at least the past couple of days with him—whatever counted as days with his father never leaving the damn sky— and having grown used to Izuku’s steady and cheerful presence, it was somehow still gratifying when he threw his head back and laughed so loud it echoed down the tunnel.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just the way you said—you were just— so disappointed,” Izuku choked out through his giggles. He wiped a tear from his eye, sighing. “We have to wait here until it opens up. It shows up randomly, otherwise it’s just another cavern.”

Izuku led him away from the opening over to a copse of dead trees not too far away. “It’ll be good to use this time to rest up,” he continued, casually walking over and picking up a log to use as a seat. He patted the log next to him with a smile before collecting rocks to start a fire pit. “We might be here for a while.”

“How long is a while,” Shouto drawled, squinting a bit at the god before cautiously sitting down. He lit a small fire in the circle of stones Izuku was preparing, earning him a beaming smile.

“It’s hard to tell with the sun but it usually comes at nightfall. Scares off more people that way I think,” he said, sitting, smiling at his own joke.

Shouto tensed, his gut clenching like there was a fist twisting his intestines. “Will it ever come then? Night hasn’t fallen in weeks, Izuku. How can we know that the entrance will even come? I don’t have the time to wait.” He stood as if he could somehow march back and demand to be taken to the Unseen.

Eyes wide, Izuku held up his hands in a soothing gesture, almost fanning to guide him back down to his seat. “D-don’t worry, Shouto. That’s not how the spell works, it’s based on time, not light, a-and even then, I’d still find a way to open it.” He looked down at his lap where his hands were strangling each other. “I-I’m sorry. I know this is extremely important to you and I think I’ve been too lighthearted about this. I’ll treat it more seriously from now on.”

He was still trying to drop his shoulders from where they crawled up to his ears. He sighed, loosening some tension from them. “It’s fine, Izuku. You’re fine. I apologize for snapping. I’m just… tense.”

Shouto frowned when the silence stretched, the chirping of cicadas and buzz of insects filling in where it would have been Izuku’s chatter. He turned to look at his friend to see him still staring at his hands, brow creased and worrying his bottom lip. Shouto waited until he looked up, squeaking when he saw that Shouto was already looking at him.

Green eyes darted away and came back, conflict creasing at the edges. “Shouto, would you—ah—that is, if you’d like, if you would like to… talk about what’s troubling you. I’m here to listen.”

He looked away from piercing green eyes that seemed to be begging to help. The gaze prickled at his skin and he half expected Izuku to retract that offer but it hung in the air between them.

Practically everyone already knew anyway. What’s wrong with telling one god that’s going to find out or even already knows? At the same time, this was  Izuku, the one god he knew who went out of his way to help strangers—gods and mortals alike. He offered help with nothing in return, chatted with beasts as if they were old friends, and opened up so easily that Shouto feared for the heart he gave out so freely. The vicarious vulnerability ate away at his own walls. He was afraid that if he opened up to Izuku the dam would break and all the things he tried to keep behind it would spill out into a never-ending ocean.

A gentle hand touched his forearm, a comfortable warm despite the heat. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but… I think you want to, Shouto.”

He sighed. “I’m afraid if I tell you I’ll tell you… everything ,” he pressed a hand against his chest as if to keep his heart from spilling out, “and that’s…”

“Scary?” At his nod Izuku sat back a bit, tilting his head to think. “How about… I’ll tell you about me? A secret for a secret.”

He couldn’t believe that Izuku, god of heart-on-his-sleeve, had any secrets. If he did, they had to be how he secretly rescued a cat or his legion of friends he made from aloof gods. His brow furrowed in confusion. “You have secrets?”

Izuku chuckled, face flushing a soft pink. “I can have secrets! Everyone does!”

Shouto felt his own face heat up, embarrassed for some ungodly reason, and looked away. He felt a nudge against his knee.

“So? Do you think that would make you more comfortable?”

He turned and got a full-frontal assault of freckles and big doe eyes blinking hopefully at him. His face felt like it was in front of a raging bonfire but he didn’t move. His instincts yelling danger! Danger! Danger! But since he couldn’t exactly punch Izuku, he froze.

“Has anyone told you you’re very insistent?”

Izuku grinned, unrepentant. “All the time!”

He turned away, his skin buzzing and hiding his smile in his hands. Fully in control of his facial features and determined not to let anything affect him, he looked back. Izuku was still watching him, his eyes warm and his smiling inviting. He could feel his heart clench in his chest but otherwise he was completely unaffected.

“What kind of secrets do you even have?”

“Well,” he drawled, “I could tell you how I was born.” He looked at his hands before offering them up for Shouto’s inspection, flexing his fingers. “I could tell you about my scars. Or, ” he leaned in close, eyes twinkling as he whispered, “I could tell you my mom’s secret katsudon recipe.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “The Earth’s secret katsudon recipe? That might be too powerful.”

Izuku nodded very seriously, even though Shouto could see him fighting a smile. “That’s top-secret information, Shouto. I’d choose wisely if I were you.” His eyes drifted past him, the humor seeping away and leaving them darkened with gravity. “But we might have to leave this for later. The portal opened.”

Shouto whipped around, nearly cracking something in his haste. And sure enough, the cave from before was replaced by something darker and much, much more powerful.

Before, he had been able to see a way down the tunnel because of the light; now, it was a yawning darkness. Whatever light from before disappeared past the entry. It almost looked like a piece of the mountain was just missing, like a bored god had come and cut out a circle from the mountain. Which actually sounded like something Touya would do. The only evidence of it being a part of the Unseen was a hazy purple-black around the mouth of the cave, clinging to the rock like poisonous moss.

Izuku was already looking at him when he turned back, eyes serious and determined. “This is your last chance to back out.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

“You might die.”

“So might you.”

“We might not even find her.”

“If we don’t, I shall deal with the consequences.”

“Time doesn’t work the same there, it might not be the same time when we come back out.”

“Then we better be quick.”

After a pause, Izuku nodded. He stood up and offered Shouto a hand with a smile. “Then let’s get going!”

There were no monsters hovering right inside of the gate like he had thought. No nomus pressing their deformed and decaying bodies against the invisible wall, destroying each other for a chance to escape. In fact, he would call the experience anticlimactic.

The most bothersome thing was the fact there was no light. After having non-stop sun for several weeks straight it was jarring to not see anything . Izuku led the way, his steps confident and sure, while Shouto stumbled after him, a hand on his shoulder and knocking pebbles and rocks every which way.

It was obvious he had been down here before but it was almost as if he could see.

“Exactly how many times have you been down here?”

Izuku laughed but there was a strange note to it. “Once! But for a very long time. Don’t worry, I’ll be able to lead us back out.”

That he had no doubt. Even though Izuku was attentive in letting Shouto know about the dangers and risks about the Unseen, he seemed to have a very intimate knowledge of it. And despite all the warnings he had still come down for an unknown reason and returned with his life and immortality intact.

Shouto wondered if that story was something he would be willing to share.

“If she is here as a guest, she will be at the palace. As soon as we make it through the Shadows it’ll lighten up and we’ll be able to see better,” he rambled on.

“Izuku.”

“It’s hard to tell but these shadows belong to Kurogiri,” he continued. “Which is different from the shadows made by Dark Shadow for the Death Gods. Which – they need a new name. It sounds so ominous and they’re so nice! Kurogiri is nice but very distant; he does not make a good conversationalist.”

“Izuku.”

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, that strange note reappearing in his voice.

“You’re… nervous. Something’s wrong.”

He could hear the air whoosh from Izuku’s flailing hands. “Nothing—nothing’s wrong! Just, uh, a few things? I may have not mentioned? Maybe?”

He slowed to a stop. Did Izuku have more sinister secrets than he had initially thought? Did he trick him or was he a god from the Unseen that had escaped? He took his hand off of his shoulder, ignoring the wounded noise. He avoided the hands that tried to grasp him.

“What are they?” he demanded.

“Nothing bad!” Fingers brushed his hand. “You were determined to come down here and I don’t think it really will affect you—”

“Just tell me what it is, Izuku.” He may have been powerless in the place but he would not go down without a fight.

There was a little choked noise. “There may be… a little girl that needs to be rescued?”

It was like the floor was taken out from under him. “…What?”

Fingers brushed his again, tentatively, but didn’t try to hold on. “A little girl named Eri. She’s from the Unseen but she’s one of the kindest, sweetest gods there are. She helped me the last time I was here and I promised I’d come back for her.”

Shouto’s breath left him with a whoosh , the tension leaving his shoulders, his body dropping from the defensive stance it was gearing up for. Guilt and embarrassment settled in his cheeks and ribcage, making them hot. He couldn’t believe he had been getting ready to fight Izuku .

“I will try to help you the best I can! Just—this is also important. I can’t let her think I’ve forgotten about her.”

He raised his hand before realizing Izuku probably couldn’t tell. Instead, he reached out and grabbed his hand, silencing him. “I understand.” Idly, he stroked his fingers over the calluses on his palm. Izuku’s powers did seem more hands on than his did. “I will look for my mother and you will look for Eri.”

There was a sniffle and Shouto could feel his heart stop. He almost dropped Izuku’s hand but he just held it tighter. He could hear the rustle of clothes and wet sniffles. “Izuku?”

Another sniffle. “Sorry,” his voice was thick with tears, muffled against something, “I’m being a baby. Thank you for understanding.”

“It’s okay to cry. There’s no need to thank me.”

There was a wet laugh. “I will anyway. Thank you, Shouto. For being so kind.”

Embarrassment flared in his cheeks again, so hot he was almost afraid of catching on fire. He cleared his throat. “Is there anything else?”

“Um, if you plan to talk to the gods in the Unseen, I’m going to have to hide because there are a few grudges there and they will try to kill me. But if they don’t know you’re with me I think that they’d be more willing to hear you out. Tomura really likes games. But if we’re ever separated or I’m captured you have to jump into the river.”

Shouto blinked, not that Izuku could see his confusion, but he’s sure that Izuku knew he just threw Shouto one too many balls to juggle. “Jump into… the river…”

“Yes, it’s the Umi river and it’ll lead you back to the surface.”

“Right. But what will stop them from following us?”

He could hear the scuff of skin on stone as Izuku shifted from foot to foot. “Well, the last time anyone tried they drowned and got their immortality sucked up by Tomura. I’m not sure why it allowed me through but I suspect it’s because of my mom. When I woke up, I was in the Sea Kingdom and mom was waiting next to me.”

Shouto nodded, allowing the new information to digest, thinking. “Can we not go through another gate? They might let you through but I’m not precious to Earth in any way.”

“There’s only three gates and we can definitely try that first. But! In an emergency you should jump in the river, it’s the fastest. The river goes through the entire place. And you’re still important! I’m sure that they’ll recognize you and let you through!”

“That’s a lot of faith you have.”

“Well Seruki is actually really nice so I have no doubt he’ll let you through!”

He remembered grey whiskers and sly winks when Father wasn’t looking.

Well, if it worked for Izuku it should work for him. “And… the grudges?”

“Ah. Ahaha. Ha. That’s, um, a bit of a story. I would have to start with how I was born.”

He could feel the questions swirl in his head like the Autumn leaves, unable to focus on just one. It made his head spin. “I would appreciate it if you could start from the beginning.”

“Oh, sure, um.” Shouto felt a tug on his hand. He had completely forgotten that they were still holding hands. “We might as well keep walking. Um, so I’m actually a demigod and the only reason I’m a god is because I accidentally stole immortality from the Devourer last time I was down here.”

Oh, by the One Being, the secrets were somehow exactly what he expected and worse at the same time.

When Shouto had imagined the Unseen when he was younger, he imagined darkness. He imagined grey barren fields watered by bodies and blood. The Devourer had been elevated to monstrous levels fed by a young mind. A shadowy figure made of pure hunger, larger than even his father with thousands of teeth and glowing red eyes ready to rip his precious immortality from him.

He had imagined his father, blinding and horrific, scorching everything in his path and reducing the place to a blackened pile of ash. Desolate. Forsaken.

Granted, most of his imaginings were fed by his father’s tales of the war between the gods and the Devourer. They used to be tales that would fill Shouto with awe for his father, displays of strength and safety, until they became more like possibilities of punishments instead of stories.

Somehow the reality both matched up with his young mind—dark, grey, an eerie emptiness—and somehow not at all. There were not the fields that he thought would be reflected from Earth but a hard and black plane, smooth and shiny and reflecting the light from captured lights that he had never seen before. He had been aware of the oil lamps used by humans but this was completely different. Some were even different colors .

Stone buildings and more humble huts were scattered around. Those he recognized. Some were wooden structures that he remembered from a few years ago. There were buildings that did not reflect the architecture that he knew, completely foreign, with colors and lights that seemed impossible. Izuku explained that the Unseen had a complicated relationship with time and strange things would appear that he could only assume came from the future.

He spent some time gawking at the different things around him, from the grey-white rectangular building with a headache-inducing blue light blinking “laundromat”, to a small altar of sorts with a flat roof on two pillars and a rope connected to some sort of hook. In fact, much of the time he had to ask Izuku to repeat what he had been saying for the past who-knows-how-long.

It reassured him that Izuku not only repeated that he was born from the love of Earth and a human – how Earth tried and failed many times on making him immortal, interspersed with many anecdotes with other gods, of course – but also what he theorized each building was for and when the humans had made it. He briefly paused to point out the Umi river that would send them home. The light was minimal, the equivalent of twilight back on the surface, but it was supplemented by the flashing lights from the buildings.

“The nomus aren’t roaming around. They actually keep them in a separate area. They don’t understand the concept of ‘allies’ so they would just fight anything and anyone here.” Izuku said, face lit up with pink and blue.

Shouto nodded. At least they didn’t have to worry about mindless, nearly-indestructible slaves trying to fight them, just petty, irrational gods. “What made you decide to come down here for immortality?”

“The funny thing is that I didn’t decide to come here. Uh, this might be a little confidential so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to the other gods. The Death and Sea Gods and mom have it covered. Unless The Devourer gets any more power from other gods – then we have a problem but I don’t think that’ll be a problem? Hopefully?” He gave him an awkward smile. “Just don’t die and get your immortality stripped away while we’re here, ‘kay?”

He blinked. “I’ll try not to. I expect you to do the same?”

“Of course!” After a nod to continue, Izuku said, “The Devourer has been luring mortals and demigods down into the Unseen for eons—which is why mom made it so difficult to access—to turn them into gods from his stored up power so they could go out and help him regain power and return to the surface to overtake the One Being. So, none of the gods here officially have their own domains but due to the process of them gaining their powers are also a little unbalanced and aren’t that good at serving the Devourer’s purpose.”

So, they’re basically incompetent from what Shouto could translate. He supposed that he’d rather have a bunch of incompetent, unhinged gods than ones that actually follow the Devourer’s instructions. Their missions would have been considerably more difficult. Even then, the concept of this being who he had only heard horror stories about coming back, even with a ragtag group of gods, sounded unsettling.

Though, as Izuku laid out the plans of one of the most dangerous beings in the universe that threatened their lives, Shouto could not bring himself to be concerned. It seemed like such a faraway concept that bordered on impossible. Though perhaps he should have been more concerned since if they failed, they would give him even more fuel to further his plans. He resolved to help Izuku protect the entrances when they returned.

“And how do you factor into this?”

“Well, one night I had a strange dream. I was following someone into a dark cave and it felt incredibly important and urgent that I follow them. The next time I woke up I was outside an entrance and… followed that feeling. It all went downhill from there. I was immediately captured by Tomura and his gang. They tried to sow seeds of doubt about my existence and rising up against the One Being.”

Shouto smiled. “I’m guessing it didn’t work.”

“Like a fish trying to climb,” Izuku said, grinning.

His smile turned wistful. Sad. “That’s where I met Eri. We had plans of escaping but we didn’t know the river would lead to the surface so we tried to escape through one of the Entrances. We were found during our escape and I fell into the river and was swept away.”

He reached out and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Izuku’s shoulder. His smile lost the sad edge and became softer, patting his hand in return as thanks. He heaved out a sigh. “I just hope that they left her alone after I left. During that entire ordeal I ended up taking her handler’s immortality, and the rest seemed too chaotic to focus on a single child.”

Shouto squeezed his shoulder before carefully removing his hand, brushing his fingers against his arm, idly wondering if the silvery scar tissue could feel it. He wondered if it had happened here or before he was taken. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. You gave her hope and it sounds like she was smart enough to lay low.”

Izuku sighed. “I suppose but it doesn’t stop me from worrying, you know?”

He nodded. No matter how many times he told himself to ignore his thoughts or to stop feeling something they never truly went away. “Where do you think she is?”

“There was a special place where she was held for experiments. She developed an unusual ability and was separated from everyone else. I was there because they thought Kai could break me.”

Even though he had not known him at the time, Shouto felt so inexorably proud to hear how Izuku had prevailed. It was ridiculous, as if he had had any bearing on Izuku’s success. “Do you think we should split up and meet back at the river?”

Izuku hummed, hand coming up to cradle his chin as he thought. “Honestly, your best bet might be just to talk to Tomura. If she’s anywhere, she’d probably be with him but you have to be careful because he will definitely try to trick you. If you find your mom and I don’t meet with you,  jump into the river, with or without me because I’m not leaving without Eri.”

“So, meet up at the river.”

“Yes, but jump in if I’m not there.”

“Didn’t you say it was important for the Devourer to not receive any more gods?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Aren’t you a god?”

“I mean, technically but—”

“So, I’ll take my mother to safety and come back and get you.” He shrugged. “Simple.”

Izuku glared at him, nose scrunching as he squinted. He was not very intimidating. “You are… incredibly stubborn, I hope you know that.”

“It’s the younger sibling in me.”

He barked out a laugh. “Oh, I bet you were the baby. Baby Shouto getting everything he wanted.”

Said baby smiled. He wasn’t wrong. Out of his siblings he certainly received the most during their childhood – attention, time, toys if they were phrased carefully enough. However, that wasn’t the best thing most of the time. The mantle of perfection was a heavy one. Any perceived fault was broken down to nothing and reshaped into something that fit his Father’s image.

There was a lot of resentment and anger that he refused to give attention to, reasons why he had refused to see that man in the past centuries. But he had found he quite liked leaning into the younger sibling role, liked the fond exasperation from his siblings. The particular love that he got from the playful back and forth before they eventually gave in. It had felt like it was the closest they could get to a “normal” sibling relationship. It hadn’t been to the point where that dynamic was comfortable or even natural—after centuries they still felt like strangers most of the time—but he hoped that it would slowly edge out the stony, awkward silences that dominated their interactions.

Yes, now, after the centuries, the reparations, he quite liked being the youngest sibling.

“My father was quite harsh and my mother tried to make up for it.”

At his silence Shouto looked over to find Izuku looking at him with full attention, his eyes never wavering from his own as he waited. Shouto had to look away, the weight of Izuku’s gaze too heavy for him to hold.

It seemed like a good time to tell him. Izuku wasn’t pressuring him, wasn’t asking, and he had the feeling that if he changed the topic, he wouldn’t question it. In the short time that he had known him, he had come to the conclusion that Izuku was one of the safest people he knew. He could tell him.

So why was there a burning fist around his heart that kept him from saying anything?

He swallowed around the clog in his throat. “My mother is everything they say in the stories about her,” he compromised with himself, “kind, loving, and gentle. She bent where he pushed, pushed when she could, and took the brunt of it when it was too far. She tried her best for us. Even when her best wasn’t the best, I knew she tried and when she couldn’t try anymore… I just want her safe.”

He heard a sniffle and had to hold back his own burning tears when he saw Izuku’s. Green eyes glimmered with determination and empathy as tears streamed down his face. Brow furrowed and mouth set, he reached over and clasped Shouto’s hand. “We will make sure your mother is safe, Shouto. I promise.”

Shouto blinked back the tears building behind his eyes, hand coming up to shield his face. A faux barrier to protect him from the contagiousness of Izuku’s tears. “Why are you crying?”

“Because it’s sad! You love her so much!”

He couldn’t help the strange conflicted mix of feelings in his stomach – the worry and anxiety over his mother and whether she was safe and the fear of what would happen if he didn’t find her – purely for selfish reasons. He was not nearly as altruistic as Izuku thought and it made him vaguely sick.

“I haven’t seen her in centuries.”

Those eyes could make his father repent. They pinned him like a rabbit in front of a snake, unable to hide from the waterlogged gaze. The guilt gnawed on his intestines. “Centuries?”

Izuku blinked, the last of his tears falling, and Shouto could finally look away. His cheeks were hot with shame and he gently extracted his hand from Izuku’s grip to fiddle with his bangs, brushing it over old scar tissue.

“We have a… complicated relationship.”

“Complicated or not you’re still risking your life and godhood to find her and—to me? That just proves how much you care about her.” He spoke with such a decisive nod of his head that Shouto couldn’t help but believe him a tiny bit. “You are a good person.”

“Coming from someone who’s down here to rescue a little girl because of the simple fact you want her to be safe, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Izuku turned red all the way to the tips of his ears, shrinking under the arms he wrapped protectively around his head. “Sh-Shouto! An-anyone would do the same! She doesn’t belong down here!”

“And you do?” he shot back. He shook his head. “You’re a better person than I am. You’re doing this unselfishly.”

“Says who,” Izuku muttered. Before Shouto could question him, he pointed at a large building, one he only recognized from traveling. A castle of some sort, with spires of grey brick climbing high to a point, narrow windows and a large mouth of an entrance. Large chunks of stone from the bottom were missing, crumbling and breaking off, the mouth gap-toothed and gaping. “That was Kai’s,” he said and swung his arm to the other side of the river to a small building in the distance. As they walked closer, he could see that portions of the walls were collapsed or outright missing, and he wasn’t sure if it was fully standing, but he could make out the green and red of the roof, and a giant, dull “7” next to it. “And that’s where Tomura lives.”

Shouto raised a brow, both at the poor attempt to change subjects and the run-down hovel Izuku was pointing at. “That’s his ‘palace’?”

Izuku’s shoulder’s shook as he muffled his laugh. “I don’t think Tomura cares when the others fight through his house, not enough to clean up after them. He really hates having his stuff go missing though.”

He couldn’t help the little judgmental hmm . “Is this where we split up?”

Izuku tilted his head, green curls bouncing. “I’m afraid so. If I get any closer it’s only a matter of time before they find me and you’d have a better chance without me.”

Shouto was nervous. His bones buzzed and his muscles twitched under his skin. He’d been with Izuku for the entire trip; it felt wrong to split up when neither had accomplished their tasks. How would he know if he was safe? If he found Eri?

He ignored the odd twisting in his stomach and nodded at the bend in the river closest to Izuku’s destination. “I’ll meet you there?”

“I’ll meet you there.” Izuku grinned, eyes glittering. “I’ll see you soon, Shouto. Good luck.”

He smiled back, heart pounding, stomach in knots. “Good luck.”

The place was worse when he got closer.

It looked like the ruins of an old market stall, if that had been pockmarked with crumbling walls and a caved-in roof. It was a strange contraption. An entire wall was made of once-pristine glass smeared with dirt; the other side was boarded up with wood. There weren’t any candles or lamps, but a flickering light as trapped in more glass attached to the ceiling. Towers of colorful, small packages in dozens of shapes stood scattered around. There were signs and machinery at the back walls that he didn’t recognize.

It didn’t smell like it had been cleaned regularly either. The wet, musty smell of stale water and the iron tang of blood hung in the air like a fog.

Inside he could see figures moving. One was sitting on the long table at the back, more were moving between the colorful towers, knocking them over and scattering the mysterious contents over the floor.

He couldn’t help but wonder why in the Celestial plane did his brother have business with the gods in the Unseen. And if he truly did have friends here, what price did he pay?

There was no door, or if there had been one once, it was long gone. He stepped through the threshold, careful of the strange glassy ground.

There were several gods who looked the same, blond hair and manic eyes going as far as having the same scar on their foreheads, hopping and bouncing around one creature looking god in the center. “Missed me again, Iguchi! You’re really not good at this. You’re the best! That’s a lie, you’re really bad.” A cheerful voice echoed.

“I’m going to fucking slice you to bits!” the other god hissed, baring surprisingly blunt teeth. Shouto half expected fangs.

Another voice laughed, from the circle. “You gotta find the real one first!”

A harsh voice cut through their laughter. “Will you idiots shut the fuck up?”

“Aw, come on, Tomura! You love us! You wouldn’t know what to do without us! He would kill us and replace us easily. AH!”

Shouto merely watched as the wall next to the man sitting at the table dissolved into ash. Wherever the man’s hand touched ate away at whatever the building was made of until he could look back out to the caves carved into the walls of the Unseen. The voice in his head that would normally tell him to run was conveniently missing, too stunned to do anything except take a stuttering step back and make a loud bang! Something crunched under his foot and he looked down to see one of the colorful packets on the floor, the strange triangular contents exploded out. He looked up to see an angry, disheveled god—clearly the cause for the disintegration—looking at him with bloodshot eyes and yet his body remained still.

Five pairs of eyes stared at him. The pair of bloodshot, red eyes glared through scraggly light blue hair. Three of the five were from the same man, though there had been more before, with blond hair and blue eyes all with various expressions, but the one at the forefront was accompanied with a wide grin which quickly crumpled in despair. The last were still blazing with anger— hopefully towards the one who called him a bad fighter—and upon closer study was distinctly lizard-like in appearance with wicked sharp swords in each hand.

“An Acknowledged? Here in the Unseen?” The one with blue hair smiled, his lips cracking and bleeding. “What a lucky day for us. Kill him.”

Shouto leaped back, calling upon his powers but finding nothing. He narrowly dodged a punch by one of the blonds and blocked another. A swift kick to one of the duplicate’s heads disintegrated it to a clump of grey clay. But without his powers and outnumbered four to one he was quickly subdued.

One of the blonds, either the duplicate or the original, kicked the back of his knees to force him to kneel, his arms held in two strong grips.

“Wait!” he shouted, his heart thundering in his chest. By the One Being, confronting him head-on was supposed to be easier?! “I’ve come here to make a deal!”

Tomura—because it had to be Tomura—crouched in front of him, smelling like decay and dust. “What makes you think we make deals with the likes of you, little god?”

“My brother is Touya, the god of Summer. He told me that our mother was taking refuge here. Because he has friends here.”

Tomura threw his head back and cackled. “Is that what he said? And that we’re friends?”

“Aww, but I thought we were friends,” the man holding his right arm whined.

“I fucking hated him!” said the one on his left, “couldn’t get rid of him sooner!”

“But you can’t plan a revolution without becoming friends!”

A cracked hand grabbed the left one’s face, covering his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks. The skin under his hand chipped away in flakes before fully dissolving into more mud. “Shut the fuck up you two,” he said, shaking his hand, the mud flying off and landing on Shouto’s face.

Shouto stared at Tomura’s hand, heart beating so loud it drowned out the complaint from the last blond man and whatever response there was. He could barely breathe. His chest barely moved, his lungs constricting to nothing in his chest, along with the instinctive fear that if he breathed too loudly it might draw their ire.

This was a very different fear than time with his father and his temper. At least he knew what would set him off and when to avoid him and what the aftermath would look like. Ruined rooms, broken cries, and blood and bruises painting his skin in purple and red. No one was safe from his anger but at least they knew who was targeted and what for.

But here, surrounded by unfamiliar gods and someone who could and would kill an ally with no forethought, it hit him like a meteor to the chest that he could die.

He knew that Izuku warned him, several times in fact, but literally faced with it and with no powers to speak of, he was in over his head.

How, how, how , did Izuku come to this place and leave in one piece? He spoke of Tomura as if he knew him. How close was he to dissolving into ash? As close as Shouto is right now? What did his brother do to get out of here alive?  

“What is it that you want?” Shouto’s mouth moved, spitting out words before he could even process what he was saying. “You let Touya go, he must have done something. What do you want?”

Tomura’s eyes grew dark, mouth twisting into a snarl. He grabbed his face and Shouto’s heart leapt into his throat. ”Don’t interrupt me.” He tapped his pinky finger twice against Shouto’s jaw and he had to swallow a scream at how he could feel the first layer of skin die where it made contact. “You don’t wanna end up like Jin two.”

He dropped his face and Shouto almost threw up his heart right there on the dusty floor.

The lizard man sidled up to Tomura, lips twisted and yanked the god back by his shoulder. “Don’t you remember our deal with Touya? We can’t hurt him.”

Tomura jerked out of his hold, elbowing him in the process. “Do I look like I care about that?!”

“Do you want to die and have your very essence stripped out,” the lizard man said through gritted teeth, arm around his stomach.

“UGH!” Tomura threw up his hands, flinging a hand out to grab a chunk of wall and disintegrate it in his hands. “Fine. ”

He leveled a glare at him, red eyes nearly glowing in the dim light. “Be grateful your stupid brother made me promise on the stupid rock or you’d be dust right now. And it wasn’t that we couldn’t hurt him,” he said glaring at his companion, “it was that we couldn’t kill him.”

His blood-hungry gaze slid back to him and Shouto had to suppress a shudder. Touya might have prevented Tomura from killing him but who knew what the crazed god was thinking. It was incredibly risky. But if the Vow extended to their mom then she was at least alive and maybe that’s what Touya meant when he said he had friends in the Unseen.

Though it looked like his brother needed better friends.

“We can’t kill you and take your immortality, so what use are you?” Tomura mused, “What should we do with you?”

“Hold him for ransom to get another god here!” Jin exclaimed, jumping up and down and jerking Shouto’s arm with him. “Release him back to the Surface!”

The Jin abruptly stopped. He jerked Shouto’s arm up, wrenching it high up his back to pin him. Jin’s arm snaked up around his throat and put pressure on Shouto’s windpipe. It was still just the one Jin, no duplicate despite the contrary statement of releasing him. Which was looking like a faraway dream when Jin said in a low, menacing voice, “We can always force him to kill himself.”

And just as quickly as he was choked, he was dropped. He coughed and gasped, hands instinctively coming up to cradle his sore throat. “Or we can make him join the revolution!”

“He’s not going to join the revolution!” the lizard argued. “He’s not made of the same stuff as his brother.”

“It’s a good idea! No, it’s a terrible idea. But we can convince him. Or we could just drop him in a hole and keep him there forever.”

“Both of you shut up!”

“I want a deal,” Shouto rasped through the fire that was his throat.

The three quieted, looking at him like he was a new creature that they never noticed before.

“Oh! Just like his brother!”

“Shut up, Jin,” Tomura said, almost distractedly. He narrowed his eyes, Shouto felt like an insect, Tomura, the cruel child waiting to tear him apart to see how he worked. “What kind of deal?”

“A challenge,” he said, standing as straight as he could. He leveled a hard gaze at Tomura, the rasp in his voice still, unfortunately, present. “If I win you let me and my mother go. If I lose you can take my immortality.”

Tomura laughed, wild and manic, his bloody eyes crescents with glee. “Will you promise on the fucking rock?”

Shouto raised a brow. “You don’t trust me?”

He cackled again. “As much as you trust me.” He held out a hand. “Three challenges.”

“If I pass your three challenges then me and my mother have safe passage out of here. Unharmed .”

Tomura rolled his eyes. “If you pass my challenges, then I’ll allow you and another companion safe passage unharmed. If you don’t, you’ll slit your own throat for us to take your immortality.”

Shouto hesitated, something in what he had said not sitting right. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I’ll slit my throat but you’re responsible for actually taking my immortality.”

Tomura shook his hand at him, eyes narrowing. “Yes, yes, that’s what I said. Do we have a deal or what?”

His hand reached out, eyes narrowed. “You can’t complain if you happen to miss the chance of getting my immortality if you’re distracted.”

Tomura glared, red eyes glinting in the dim flickering lighting. “Touya told you about the siphon, didn’t he?” Shouto didn’t have any time to react before Tomura snatched his hand, crushing his fingers and burning the skin off where the pads of his fingers met his skin. Tomura ignored his gasp of pain, as he continued the deal. “No matter, yeah, whatever. Unbreakable Vow, safe passage, no harm, one pass, you kill yourself. So swear I, on the Unbreakable promise rock.”

His hand burned and he could see the skin flake off, slowly drifting from his skin. He could feel tears drop from his eyes and roll down his face as he gasped out, “So I swear on the Unbreakable Stone.”

A vacuum of power swept over them, locking their hands in invisible stone before breaking and Shouto could finally drop Tomura’s hand.

He cradled his hand into his chest. What was left of the skin was raw, cracked, and throbbing. Blood pooled and dripped off his hand. If he looked too closely, he could almost see fingerprints in the muscle.

“Now that’s over with,” Tomura said, brushing off his hands as if his skin was just dust, “I need you to get my father’s hand from Himiko.”

He blinked back the leftover tears from his eyes, anger raging inside his chest. “You expect me to go right now? Without even healing my hand?”

The god just scoffed, his smile smug and disgusting. “We’re not bringing you to our only healer. How stupid do you think we are?” He turned and gestured for his lackeys to follow, dismissing him. “Himiko is probably in one of the caves. Bring it back by tomorrow.”

He clenched his injured hand, the pain grounding him as fury rose, lapping at the back of his throat and threatening to flood him. “You’re so intimidated by me winning you have to resort to cheating?!”

Tomura paused, turning around lazily, arms loose at his sides. “Let’s get this straight, little god. You’re not the one I’m after. I could care less about what you do or how I win. To me, you’re just another character.”

Then he left. Disappearing further into the house and leaving Shouto alone with his hand and rage stained red.

He was able to bandage his hand with fabric torn from his clothes. It didn’t do much, but it protected the exposed parts of his hand and he sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t need it in future challenges.

Who was he even kidding? Of course, Tomura was going to force him to use his injured hand.

He could practically feel his teeth grind away to nubs when he thought about it – how he hadn’t thought ahead, how he was caught off-guard. He should have paid closer attention to what Izuku was saying; maybe he would’ve had a greater advantage if he hadn’t been so arrogant.

He was so angry at Tomura, at his father (since it’s his fault that he was down here in the first place), and at himself . If he’d still had his powers, they would have been going haywire, producing cold winds and early snow mixed in with the seasonal bonfires. Something that would pair amazingly with this endless grassy field.

Though, it wouldn’t be the worst thing for this place to be set ablaze.

Shouto shook his head and walked even faster to get to the caves. It wouldn’t serve him to act like his father. It was only more evidence as to why he shouldn’t become the Sun. If he got angry, who knew what he’d do with that much power. He just had to focus on what he needed and get out.

He just needed to pass the challenges, find his mother, find Izuku, and get out.

He spared a glance over his shoulder to where Izuku had pointed out Kai’s base. It honestly wasn’t too far. He was half tempted to drop in and check if Izuku had Eri yet but it would only take time away from his own mission and he was sure Izuku had it covered anyway.

It didn’t stop him from wondering.

Shouto really hoped that Izuku was having a smoother time than him. Izuku had reassured him that it would be abandoned, but who knew who had decided to take refuge in that place.

It did make him wonder why this Himiko had decided to sequester herself in the caves instead of just taking over Kai’s headquarters.

Although, Shouto thought with a grimace, he could see how she had made the place into a home. Much more aligned with what he imagined the Unseen was like as a child. Rust red loops and shapes that vaguely resembled human faces were splattered around the entrance. Peering past the entrance, he could see various items strewn about, placed somewhat randomly but deliberately. Various malformed skulls hung on the walls, some filled with oil or fat and a woven stem of grass that lit the way further inside. The walls also seemed to have various drawings in dark paint. There was a distinct lack of anything broken, but he could see the occasional imprint of a hand or five round divots, no doubt courtesy of Tomura.

Shouto wished he had his powers back; he wasn’t looking forward to holding one of these strange skulls for light.

Nonetheless, he grabbed the one that was the most intact. Its shape was awkward but the cranium was wide enough to rest in his palm despite its bumpiness. The eyes glowed a yellow-orange and the mouth was a gaping hole with a crack along the upper jaw.

“Hello?” he called, “Himiko? You have something of Tomura’s and I’m here to retrieve it.”

He crept farther into the cave, passing more skulls and strange drawings. He stumbled when the next step seemed to disappear from under him, the drop causing him to slosh hot oil past the rim of the skull. He winced, but the bandages seemed to protect him from any heat. He looked up and saw that the drop opened up into an even wider cavern, more skull lamps lining the circumference of the room, showing off the spaciousness of the area.

There, in the middle of the room, stood his mother.

He nearly dropped the skull, his body going slack in shock. “Mother?”

She stood stock still in the center of the room, eyes wide and mouth agape as she looked at him. The candlelight flickered over her, the shadows dancing across her high cheekbones and slim figure. The darkness contrasted with the pale white of her skin and hair making her look sickly and wane, but perhaps that was due to hiding out in the Unseen. He couldn’t see her grey eyes in the shadows but it was no doubt his mother.

She didn’t move as he walked closer, his heart thundering in his chest, his hands shaky.

He wanted to shrink away. To hide. He had thought he was ready to see his mother again but he wasn’t. He should have let Fuyumi search for her. It’d been too long; there were too many unsaid things between them for their first meeting in centuries to be under these circumstances.

He should have covered his left side. Did it remind her of that day? Did she regret it?

Was she afraid of him?

She was trembling. He could see her shoulders shaking as she watched his approach through wide, unblinking eyes. He was taller than her now. “Mother?”

Tears filled her terrified eyes, spilling over her cheeks, hunching over as she sobbed when he stood in front of her.

Heart stopping, he reached out but didn’t touch, his hand hovering over her crumpled form. “M-mother? Are- are you hurt?” He summoned enough courage to lower his hand, the touch a butterfly’s wing over her shoulder, but she flinched back like he had hit her.

He couldn’t stop the quickening of his breath nor the tears in his eyes that burned like the sun that day. His hands were digging into his chest before he was even aware of moving. Everything just a little bit darker from dropping the skull, the oil pooling on the ground, the light fizzling out in the cooling liquid.

Her eyes darkened at the oil oozing between them like blood. “You’re just like him,” she muttered at the ground.

His heart dropped from his chest, leaving him hollow. Hot tears spilled over and burned their way down his face. “I-I’m not.”

She glared at him, her eyes wild and terrified and burning. “You’re just like him!”

It was like she had gutted him, took her frigid hands and scooped everything out and left him with nothing but ash and threadbare memories. When he spoke, his voice was nothing, barely a puff of air. “Mama, no.”

“You’re going to take me back to him!”

He couldn’t even swallow. His throat closed up at that last statement because wasn’t it true? Was he not taking her back to his father for his own gain? To pretend a little bit longer that he was not his father’s son?

Touya was right.

He’d been trying to force her to come back because he was selfish. Selfish and cruel to make her go through this all over again just so he didn’t have to turn into his biggest fear.

She was stumbling back, the light reflecting in her eyes and making them look like fire. Her face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “Get away from me.”

He felt awfully like a child at that moment, small and lost, hurt and confused. Tears fell and he tried to sweep them away, but they wouldn’t stop. And unlike the memories he had of her, she did not come to comfort him. She stood as far away as she could get, like he was a dangerous beast.

He felt like that young child who got a face-full of unfiltered power from the sun, arms out and looking for his mother, crying and screaming. And, oh, did he want to cry and scream at this moment. Something feral and desperate clawed behind his breastbone with nails made of steel. He wanted to sob, to scream, to rage at how it wasn’t not fair .

But it would only prove them right.

So, he pulled back all those messy feelings. He grabbed them and stuffed them in a box to be shut away. He did not scream. He did not rage like he wanted to. He did not shout or yell asking why she didn’t love him anymore, if she ever did or if it was his fault she had left.

His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, hands falling to his lap. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, copper in the back of his throat. “I was trying to make things right. I wasn’t thinking of you at all. I’m sorry, Mother.”

Tentatively, he looked up when she didn’t respond. She was smiling at him. It was not the soft, gentle smile from his timeworn memories. It was sharp and cruel, her teeth pointed and fanged. Her eyes, usually a gentle grey were now a piercing yellow, lit up with glee.

She giggled, high pitched and hysterical. “D’aww, aren’t you such a good son.”

He could feel his heart beat in every part of his body, a slow dull throb that rattled his bones and reverberated in his ears. His mother continued laughing with her yellow eyes that didn’t fit her face and a manic smile that stretched her mouth too far. She got up and skipped off to some hidden alcove with more energy than he has ever witnessed from her.

“That was so much fun! I haven’t been able to get that much despair in forever!” She skipped back, her long white hair falling out in clumps to reveal dirty blonde hair underneath. Her body shrunk as she tossed him a small wrapped package. “It’s no fun with those guys anymore!”

Himiko grinned at him, all teeth, her eyes flicking up and down and surveying him. She got up on her tiptoes and leaned into his space. “You’re pretty. If you survive these trials, feel free to stop by, I’d love to have more of your blood.”

She dropped back down, grinning, face flushed. “I’ll see you at your next trial, Shouto. You better get that to Tomura before the next day comes around.” She reached out—to pat his cheek, steal his eyeballs, something — laughing when he jerked back before she could even touch him.

“I’ll see you soon, Shouto!” she called, skipping out of the room.

He tracked her with his eyes, body numb and immobile, unsure if she had really left or if she was just waiting until he was sobbing and pounding the floor to kill him off. He was certainly an easy target.

When she didn’t come back, he huddled on the cold ground. His nails dug into his thigh, the dirt sticking to his bangs, and tried not to cry as he hardened the inferno of anger and grief into cold, hard coal.

For the most part he wasn’t listening when Tomura went on a rant about the gods and his success, waving around his literal father’s hand that Shouto fetched from Himiko, who was already there and waiting for him at Tomura’s base, smiling an eerie smile at him. He concluded that the only reason for him to go on that fetch quest was to make him want to hit them more than he already did.

“Hey!” A hand grabbed the front of his robes, shaking him. “Are you even listening?!”

“Of course,” he replied, voice lacking any inflection.

“Tch,” the hand dropped him. He absently smoothed out his clothes and tried not to grit his teeth at feeling the new holes where Tomura’s fingers were. Tomura was watching him closely and Shouto’s stomach soured as he watched Tomura’s scowl transform into a smug smirk.

“Congratulations little god, your next task starts now.” His smile stretched wider, far too wide to fit comfortably on his face. “It’s perfect for the spawn of the Sun god. It’ll be right up your alley.”

Shouto glared, fighting the urge to lean back from how close his face was to his own, disgust rising. He was determined to stand his ground; he was not going to let them get under his skin. Or at least, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing.

He waited for Tomura to actually tell him what the task was but he just stood there in front of him, grinning. The rest of his lackeys behind him giggled like Shouto was the punchline of some joke he doesn’t know. “Well what is it?” he snapped.

Himiko howled, tipping backwards from her perch on a broken beam and falling off. Jin supported her, gasping out, “you sound just like your old man!”

With Himiko steady Jin stood up tall with his hands on his hips, lowering his voice to mock him. “Well, what is it?” He burst out laughing. “Ah, that’s too funny. Actually, it isn’t funny at all. Way too serious and you rely on the lowest forms of comedy.”

Tomura smiled, all teeth. “If you were listening, you’d know, little god.”

He slunk back, perching himself on the strange table, one foot dangling and rhythmically beating against the block under the lip of the table his other foot was braced on. The rest of the gods gradually followed, slinking off to the sides of the room until it was just him and the blond man standing. The man grinned at him, waving like a child at their playmate.

Shouto narrowed his eyes, body tensing as he got in a fighting stance. “I thought you said you weren’t allowed to kill me.”

Tomura barked out a laugh, he propped his head up with the heel of his hand supported by the elbow digging into his knee. “Yeah, kill , nothing said about some entertainment.”

“Don’t worry! It’ll be a ton of fun!” Jin said, putting on a split grey and black mask, one that completely covered his hair and face. “Well, maybe for me. Not for you. You don’t even have your powers under here!”

Jin clapped and hopped from foot to foot, more Jins manifesting from him until four were hopping around the place. “Now don’t hold back, okay? If you do, I’ll be really, really mad.” A different Jin sped forward and kicked him into one of the rows, knocking it over. “Or maybe do, I don’t wanna get hurt!”

Shouto bit back a groan, crushing the strange items under him as he got up.

The packages crunched under his foot. The four circled him with varying degrees of excitement. He backed up, picking his way around until the ground was clear under his feet and nothing was at his back. A Jin on the left lunged forward with a cry.

He tried to call forth a cold wind to blow him back but was left empty, diving to the side at the last second.

“You can’t keep dodging! That’s no fun!” The Jin who dove for him complained.

“Yeah! It’s no fun if you keep moving!” said another.

“Ahh! I don’t want him to attack! He’s scary! Just look at his eyes!”

Shouto grabbed the closest thing to him, whatever it was squishing under his fingers with a crinkle, and threw it at the one closest to him, hitting him in the face. The Jin stood stunned for a moment, catching it in his hands. “Did you just hit me with a—”

He didn’t allow him to finish before he threw a punch, less force than with his dominant hand, but still enough to have the man dissolving into mud at his feet.

“That’s cheating!!”

“That’s playing dirty! You should join our rebellion!”

After that, the Jins came at him with a vengeance. Left and right with no reprieve. Anywhere he stepped there would be someone else swinging at him and with every Jin he defeated another would replace him. His injured hand cried in agony every time he was forced to use it. He tumbled through the room, destroying the towers, dodging hits and blows, all the while they just. Kept. Talking.

Not just the man—men—attacking him but the others on the sides of the room. Jeering at him. Shouting. They all coalesced into one raucous noise that made his head spin.

“Get up! Get up!”

“How can you join us if you’re going to lose to Jin. ”

“Go for the throat! Break his hands!”

“Stay down you worthless piece of shit!”

Broken pieces of metal and wood dug into his back as hands on either side held him down. He coughed and sputtered, the metallic taste of blood rolling down his tongue and down his throat. His face and body throbbed in pain.

Jin’s mask engulfed his vision, the outline of his face blurry and wobbling. “You’re not even trying!” he snarled and for a second he saw a different face scowling down at him. “How do you expect to get your mom back if you can’t handle this?”

The god punched him in the stomach hard enough to make him wheeze, shouting, the childlike cheerfulness back in his voice, “Trying’s for losers!”

Shouto was only vaguely aware of how close Jin’s face was when he reared his head back as far as he could and slammed it forward, mud splattering on top of him. Using the indignant surprise from the two Jins holding him down, he twisted his body and kicked one in the temple, dissolving that one too.

The last Jin was staring at him with wide eyes. “Wow! You’re pretty ruthless! You should definitely join our cause now!”

“Yes!” Himiko cheered from the sidelines, kicking her feet. “Join our war, I wanna see you bleed .”

A second Jin popped duplicated, his face an exaggerated frown, arms crossed and stomping his foot. “No! You can’t join now! You’re not good enough! Too soft!”

His heart was beating against his bruised ribcage, his shoulders heaving with his breath as he barely dodged a punch from the second Jin. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. How could he end this? By lying down and admitting defeat? Or did he have to defeat Jin and his army for Tomura to be satisfied?

Something in him rebelled against the idea of lying down and taking it. He doubted that it would satisfy Tomura’s bloodlust, and who knew what the next task would be. They could very well beat him within an inch of his life before sending him off on another task hoping he’d die. He also couldn’t give them the satisfaction. The thought of them seeing him yield, of smug faces and taunting comments, turned his stomach and grit his teeth.

His head was knocked back, pain blooming across his face. He gasped, choked, and spat out blood from the punch to the face, vision disorienting enough to see double. A too firm hand held onto his shoulder and it felt bigger than it should’ve been. If Jin wasn’t wearing the mask he would probably have felt his breath stir his hair. He could almost feel phantom waves of heat. Jin spoke in a low voice, “You’re really weak, you know that?”

The Jin easily danced back from his wild punch, not that it was that powerful with half of his body still restrained by the original. “Okay, but, your mom. Does she actually want to leave? ‘Cuz then you could just stay here!”

“Shut up!” he snapped.

“You can also beat up your dad!” Tomura called, a sharp smile in place. “We know you want to!”

The Jin holding onto him picked him up from behind in a restricting bear hug. “You’re already all trained up for war! Join us!”

Blood gathered in his mouth and he spat it at their feet, not that it mattered, the trickle of blood from his nose felt endless. “Never.”

He hissed when hands came up to press into the bruises on his face, squishing it and making his face throb all the more intensely. “I didn’t want him to join anyway,” the other Jin said, hissing at the one behind him when he disagreed. ”No. I didn’t want him to join. He wouldn’t understand it here, we’re a family . We’re loyal , we don’t sell out family members.”

The arms around him coiled tighter, pulling a pained breath out of him. “We can convert him!”

“Hmmm, you’re right,” agreed the other Jin, tapping his mask where his mouth would be. He ducked down to look Shouto in the eye, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “You’d be an okay little brother, what do you say? It’d be pretty hard since you’re the Sun’s son—ha—but after a bit you’d know what a real family is like!”

“You don’t know me or my family,” he snarled, venom spewing from his voice. These gods had some gall to think that they could make such careless comments about his family. His old man could go and disappear but Fuyumi, Touya, Natsuo, and his mother were his family. He knew what a real family was like. They didn’t know anything .

They continued to talk over him, their voices clashing and grating against his ears.

“Hey, hey! We’re trying to kill him, not make him join us!”

“Let’s keep him, he’s cute~” Himiko purred before grimacing as Tomura yanked her back by her pigtail.

“Yeah, but, Tomura! He seems okay!”

“Is he though?” the other Jin asked, hands on his hips and eyes raking over Shouto like he was particularly unimpressive livestock. Shouto glared back, wishing more than ever he still had his powers. They didn’t know anything. “He’s been nothing but mean the entire time! Himiko said she tasted fear in his mom’s blood! His mom’s . We can’t trust him!”

Himiko grinned at him, eyes shut dreamily and head tilted, catlike. “He’s so tortured. I want to taste it.”

“Let’s ask him about his loyalties,” said Iguchi, a hand thoughtfully stroking his lizard-like chin, peering at him from the side critically. “If he joins up like his brother…”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! —It’s terrible— hey, kid, do you want to enact revenge on your old man? Or are you following daddy’s footsteps?”

It was the last straw. He didn’t even remember how he got free, he just knew one minute a Jin was behind him and a smug-faced Jin was in front and the next he had a Jin pinned down in the mud of his clone. He could barely feel it as he punched the last Jin, he was aware of his arm moving, his fist splattering red everywhere like paint, but it was distant and fuzzy like he was possessed.

By the time he slowed, his chest was heaving and his heart pounded against his ribcage. His hand throbbed and hurt even as it still felt strangely numb and disconnected. Everything was fuzzy on the edges highlighting Jin’s mangled, bleeding face in the center. His mask was torn and bunched up around his throat and forehead, his nose was definitely broken, possibly in more than one area, blood flowing from it like a river, and bruises were already forming and swelling in lumps.

Jin groaned, eye already swelling shut, and squinted at him. After a moment the god flashed a crooked smile and gave him a thumbs up. Shouto scrambled off of the other god, arms shaking. His stomach heaved and he felt bile burn at the back of his throat.

He could see the muddled forms of the gods amble forward, the different shapes and colors spinning across his vision, but Jin’s bleeding face was still at the forefront of his mind. A slouching black form with a light blue head stopped in front of him as more colorful blobs crowded around his victim.

He could only see Jin’s limp and broken form and the underwater quality of panic flooding him up to his ears made Tomura’s voice sound strangely distant and wobbly. He could still easily hear the smug smirk in Tomura’s voice. “You really did it this time, little god.” He barked out a laugh. “I can see that it was not just Touya who inherited your father’s bad temper.”

“I didn’t—where are they taking him?”

Tomura tilted his head back to see Jin hoisted over a very large woman’s shoulder, blood dripping from his lax face and staining the back of her short dress. “To our healer,” he said in an offhand way. He turned back to Shouto and grinned, all teeth. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll do in the next task.”

He immediately shook his head, eyes tracking to where the gods were taking Jin’s body. “No.”

Tomura barked out a laugh, a slash of white stretched out. “You don’t have a choice, kid.” He jumped from his seat and swaggered over, red eyes malicious and far too amused. “If you want to get out of here in one piece that is. Unless you actually wanna join the gang.”

Revulsion forced him to flinch back despite the aches and pains that coursed through his body.

Tomura sniggered, waving a dismissive hand at Shouto like he was expecting it. “That’s what I thought. Now get going while we set up, kid. As a prize for how entertaining you are, the next task should be easy for you.”

That was not reassuring in the slightest but Shouto didn’t bother to argue. He could still see all the blood pooled on the floor and the destruction strewn about the room. The iron tang invaded his senses until he could practically taste it from the air. He could feel his hands pulse with blood, hot and throbbing, from when he hurt Jin.

He didn’t bother to answer as he took off running. He ran until his lungs burned and his feet practically skimmed the grass as he headed to the meeting place.

Shouto could feel the pounding of his heart in his throat, his stomach twisting with nausea, turning further when Izuku wasn’t at the river. He fisted his hands, digging his nails into his palms to keep it together, inhaling shaky breaths as he tried to slow down his thoughts.

Images of Jin flashed through his mind, of his broken and bleeding face, grinning at him as blood stained his teeth. Red dripping from Shouto’s fists—

He retched. Bile burned his throat as he coughed and hacked into the river. He could feel his body trembling as he spat out what was left in his mouth, gasping. He plunged his arms into the icy water. A fleeting thought of diving crossed his mind as he watched the blood wash off his hands.

Soon he was trembling from the cold, his arms numb and stiff, but at least he could finally breathe and think.

But thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. Because all he could think about was that moment of dragging himself back to the surface and finding Jin’s broken and bleeding face under him. How stupid . He let his emotions take control of him for some worthless taunting .

He had hurt someone. He hadn’t even cared . He hadn’t even thought about it. From one moment to the next he had been on top of Jin feeling the way his nose gave way under his fist.

He didn’t want to be like that. He tried so hard to distance himself from that part of himself. He tried to shove those thoughts back into the crevasses of his mind. But his mind was doing him no favors, reminding him just how hot-headed, impulsive, and angry he was. His father was laying down bricks in a pre-set path laid out before him.

He gasped, his arm feeling like it was on fire. Shouto flinched away, looking down to see a strong hand on his wrist, stubby fingers leaving white imprints like a brand.

Looking up he could see the frantic green gaze of Izuku, eyes wide and searching, flicking over him like he couldn’t take in everything fast enough. “Shouto! Shouto!”

He hissed as those hands drew him out of the river, the touch painful but grounding. What was left of his wet sleeves were stripped away, hands briskly rubbing over his arms and making him cry out.

“Shouto? Shouto? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

He could only shake his head no. The shivering intensified as Izuku rubbed his arms up and down, practically scrubbing his skin raw. Thankfully, Izuku fell silent, focusing instead on the shivers that wracked his body as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

Izuku started darting little glances at him, questions painted across his face. While he stayed silent for now, Shouto could see them edging closer and closer to his mouth.

“How was it on your end?” he asked when Izuku opened his mouth.

He gave him a funny little look like he knew what he was doing but played along. Izuku looked down and continued rubbing feeling back into his hands, which made them tingle. He could see Izuku’s brow furrow and jaw firm and it occurred to Shouto that this must be what Izuku looked like when he was angry.

“I couldn’t find her.”

“She isn’t—”

Izuku shook his head. “I don��t know. There were nomu all around Kai’s workroom and it was difficult to get in and out. I didn’t see a trace of her.”

Shouto flexed his hands in Izuku’s grip, not really massaging to get feeling back but just…holding. He turned his hands up to hold onto Izuku’s. “You said that she developed unusual and unknown powers. If they’re smart, they wouldn’t hurt her. There seemed to be a brain cell or two for them to share back there.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Izuku’s lips, huffing out an amused snort, but it disappeared just as quickly. “They wouldn’t kill her, she’s too—useful,” he said, choking on the last word, eyes squeezed shut. Sighing, he scrubbed at his face, looking so, so tired. “They would definitely have her. I think I’m going to have to confront them.”

“I thought you said you had to stay hidden from them,” Shouto asked, knowing the answer.

“Because he wants revenge against me. I can try to find her without them knowing but I still need to know where they’re keeping her. Either way, I’m walking right into the thick of it.”

He reached out, arm moving on its own accord, threading his fingers through dust-coated hair to rest their foreheads against each other. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes falling shut. “You’re doing the best you can.”

Minutely, he could feel Izuku nod against him. Shouto wouldn’t consider himself good with words but it seemed to be enough for Izuku. He cried so freely that these silent drops of water wetting his hand seemed disturbing.

Shouto waited a moment. “It’s alright if you cry. I’m used to it.”

Izuku gave a wet laugh, sounding half like a sob. He leaned back, letting go of Shouto’s hand—which suddenly felt too light without the weight of Izuku’s—and wiped away his tears. Something inside Shouto wanted him to draw him back in, to give comfort. He curled his hands into his robes instead.

“Thank you but I think I cried myself out today.”

“If you say so.”

Lips quirking, Izuku gave a firm nod, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I say so. I don’t want to cry anymore; I want to do something.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll follow your lead.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

Shouto shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Izuku gave him a funny look. It contained a strange mix of emotions Shouto couldn’t decipher. He waited for Izuku to say something but he only shook his head and pinned him with a wide-eyed look, forehead creased with unsaid concern. “How did it go with Tomura?”

Shouto wondered if Izuku had some sort of extra power that compelled others to talk. Maybe he had taken all of his extra words and given them to Shouto. He fought the urge to spill everything at that guileless look. “It went as well as it could have.”

“That bad?”

Shouto choked on a bitter laugh. “I suppose. Quite honestly it probably wasn’t as bad as it could have been.” He flexed his fingers; the blood was gone but his hands still felt soaked in it. He shuddered. “I’m still alive and have all working appendages.”

“That’s the least damage Tomura and the rest of them can do. They wear you down and make you doubt yourself.” Shouto could hear Izuku’s swallow, feel the tentative hand that reached out for his own. “They can make you believe the worst things about yourself because they revel in theirs. Whatever it is they told you, it isn’t true.”

It really made Shouto wonder how long Izuku had to deal with them, all the while trying to protect someone else. How long did he have to tell himself the same thing he was telling Shouto until he started to believe it? It made the same dark anger from before rise up like bile in his throat, vying for retribution. He wanted nothing more than to crush Tomura and his cronies.

He swallowed it down, his heart beating too fast for his chest. That was the difference between him and Izuku. Whatever they told him were lies to keep him down. But they said nothing but the truth for Shouto.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Everything they said was true. I am… powerful. I am careless and I am angry . I can hurt others—”

“But you wouldn’t.”

“But I did ,” Shouto snapped, glaring at Izuku. He didn’t know. He only thought that because he didn’t know . And once he knew it would change everything and Shouto couldn’t stop himself. “I have .”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Shouto didn’t know why he felt so inexplicably mad at this god who thought nothing but the best of him. But he did. Maybe because of it. “I hurt Jin right before coming here. Beat him until he was a bloody mess and I ran away like a coward. Because I couldn’t control myself. I am thoughtless and careless; I barely speak to my siblings to the point that I don’t even know them. I came down here for my mother without even thinking about what she wanted. She ran here for a reason and I’m what? Going to force her back because I don’t want to do my duties as dictated to me? Does that tell you that I am a good person, Izuku?!”

When he finished, he was panting. He could feel a flush of heat in his cheeks, partially from anger, partially from the embarrassment of vulnerability. His stomach tied itself in knots waiting for Izuku to respond.

“I think,” Izuku started, picking his words carefully but no less sincere, “that you did the best you could given the circumstances.”

When he didn’t answer Izuku scooted forward, green eyes connecting with his and never breaking. “You have a right to be angry. From what you said, you should be angry! And you are still one of the kindest gods I know, and you do it without thought. Most wouldn’t bother to help physically dig a trench for some mortals, not without having them sacrifice something. Or accept my confession as well as you have. You have stood by me and helped me. So much, you don’t even know. You love your mother, you are kind and trusting, loyal, fierce, beau—” He started coughing, red sprouting on his cheeks and traveling to his entire face. Shouto could sympathize; he could feel an answering blush overtake his face as well. The fervency of Izuku’s lecture caught him off-guard.

After a moment, the red started to recede and Izuku spoke, voice tight with control. “I know what they are like. They were provoking you, egging you on to do what they wanted. And all those things you mentioned can be changed for the future. You can start to speak with your siblings more, you can apologize or whatever you want. And it was your mother who abandoned her duties first.”

Shouto reeled back like Izuku reached out and slapped him.

“That isn’t—she… she had her reasons,” he stammered out.

“She did. And so do you. I’m not—I’m not,” Izuku huffed out a sigh, cheeks glowing red, “I’m not trying to say she’s a bad person or-or talk like I know your life. I’m just saying that, like your mother, you have your reasons for wanting out of this situation. And it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

His cheeks still felt like he spent too much time in front of a fall bonfire. Izuku gave him a new perspective, but it was too fresh and confusing to wrap his head around. He had who knew how long to get back to the last task and he still had no clue what he was doing or what he should do. He didn’t even know how they had started talking about all of this!

He looked away, trying to calm down his face as he tried to remember what his point had been. There were nothing but grey, dull fields beyond Izuku’s shoulder, but it was better than looking at him directly. He cleared his tight throat, hoping he sounded perfectly controlled. “It doesn’t exactly change why we’re here.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, “but we can change the how a little bit.”

Shouto furrowed his brow, casting Izuku a fleeting glance. “What do you mean?”

In his periphery,  he could see Izuku’s Adam’s apple bob. “Just—you can still find your mom and bring her back. But she doesn’t have to resume her duties if she doesn’t want to, right? She wouldn’t be forced. You can still become the sun if you want, even when we find her.”

He scoffed. “I’d never want to be the sun. I’d be horrible at it.”

“I don’t think you would. I think you’d be great.”

Shouto could feel that tight feeling come back, in his throat, in his chest. “I think the idea you have of me makes you too gracious towards me.”

Izuku stood up and started the walk back to where Tomura and his horrors were waiting. “I think that the idea you have of yourself isn’t gracious enough.”

Sedately, he followed. He didn’t feel lighter after these horrifically emotional conversations, but perhaps he was more comfortable in the heaviness. “You have too much faith in me.”

Izuku turned to blind him with a grin. “Only as much as you have in me.”

“I would’ve thought you’d turned coward and run away.” Tomura grinned. “At least that’s what I would’ve thought if you could’ve left.”

Shouto kept his face impassive. More was riding on his shoulders now. He not only had to beat this mysterious, and no doubt sadistic, last task but also serve as a distraction.

“Just hurry it up.”

“Oh ho, someone’s eager for their next victim.” Shouto held back a wince but Tomura still smiled like he knew. He leaned forward to call over his shoulder, “Hurry it up! Bring ‘er out already!”

Shouto could hear the sounds of shuffling feet, echoing into the empty room. While he was gone, all the strange and colorful packages and the shelves they were on disappeared. He didn’t have a clue where they put them but it left behind a white void in the room, the white walls and too-bright light bouncing off the abnormally shiny floors. He wondered how they were able to stand being in here; any longer, and it felt like Shouto’s head was going to implode. Maybe that was the point.

He focused on Tomura who was scratching at his neck, flakes dropping like snow around him though there was no blood, and casting impatient looks towards the back door. Frankly, it didn’t look like he fared any better from his surroundings. He squinted his eyes like they hurt and the walls washed him of any color, leaving him almost as grey as the earth outside. The others didn’t look nearly as sickly as he did; most didn’t have the grey pallor or the dark circles like caverns under their eyes.

Whether this was the effect of being one of the first created by the Devourer, or if it was due to his specific power, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask.

Someone bounded through the door, kicking it open hard enough that it made a dent in the wall. “Sorry it took so long—not sorry at all—but the kid was hiding and we couldn’t find her!”

“Just bring the brat in,” Tomura snapped. “How hard is it to handle a five-year old?”

Jin scratched a—unbroken, un-swollen— scruffy chin, head tilted in confusion. “Is she five? How long has she been here?”

The rest of the conversation faded into the background as Shouto stared at Jin’s completely undamaged face. There was not even a bruise or a wince of pain as he hopped around while Shouto could still feel the sting of his knuckles. In fact, he looked better than when Shouto had first met him. There were fewer lines around his eyes and the circles under his eyes were nearly gone, and his hair was a few inches longer than when it was shorn against his head.

He flinched when Tomura jerked his arm, trying to scowl at him but could only grimace against the pain. “Aren’t you paying attention?” His eyes slid over to Jin, returning with a smug smile. He let go, his upper arm missing five circles of skin. “Don’t worry, you still wrecked him, we just have a good healer.” His smile grew.

Jin next to the door rapped his hands against the wall in a rhythmic roll before throwing his hands out with a “Ta-da!”

An extremely buff woman entered.

“Big sis! You ruined Eri’s big entrance!” Jin complained, stomping his foot.

He bit down on a gasp. Holding his breath to keep from showing his surprise.

A little girl with long white hair stepped out from behind the woman, red eyes downcast and tiny shoulders scrunched up to her ears as if to shrink into herself. She was barefoot and both her ratty dress and feet were coated in dirt. A small horn that protruded from her forehead hid between the locks of silver-white hair, bone white.

“Get over here, brat.”

Despite the relatively calm way Tomura commanded the little girl over, she flinched. Shouto could see a minute trembling in her shoulders as she shuffled over, leaving behind Jin bickering with ‘Big Sis’.

Tomura leaned forward, a sneer on his lips. Shouto could see her start to shake as she stared at the ground in front of her. “Why don’t you be polite and say hi to Mr. Fall here.”

Shouto had to strain his ears to hear the whispered “Hello”.

“Louder, brat, no one can hear you.”

“He-hello,” she said louder, her eyes never looking in his direction.

Tomura leaned back, smiling. “Eri here is our little healer. Took some time though, she killed a few before actually getting the hang of it. She still fucks up sometimes.” He nodded to Jin. “Jumped back a few years instead of a few hours.” He turned to him; eyes lit up maniacally. “She’s who you’re fighting.”

“No.”

Shouto watched as Tomura barked out a laugh, the sound gleeful and self-satisfied. His jaw ached from the restraint it took to not punch him. He balled his fists into his pants just in case as he continued to snicker.

“Oh, I’m afraid so. I’m the one who comes up with the tasks, remember? You just have to follow.” His foot swung out and kicked Eri in the back, making her stumble towards Shouto. “It’s easy, just beat her in a fight and you’re good to go.”

Eri was stick straight, paralyzed in Shouto’s hands when he steadied her. She still hadn’t looked at him. Soothingly, he patted her shoulder and her horn started glowing. He hissed a breath as his body seized, like every part of him was being squeezed by a giant fist and burned .

Eri finally looked at him, red eyes wide and startled. She scrambled out of his loose hold, tears gathering in her eyes but not falling. He gasped as the pain faded to a dull ache.

He noticed that while the ache still resonated throughout his body the other sharp and dull pains from before were no longer there. His face didn’t feel like it was throbbing with blood and the concussion he was sure he had was gone, the ache and sting from his arms and hands seemed to have disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” came a soft voice. Eri looked up at him, her horn flaring, her arms wrapped around her tiny body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You should be, you little monster.” It would have sounded like a reprimand if Tomura didn’t sound so fucking happy. “You’re gonna kill our new friend here if you keep it up.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and her horn’s glow faded until it wasn’t.

He could feel his entire chest constrict looking at her. He glared at Tomura. “You can’t possibly expect me to fight a child.”

Tomura scratched his neck thoughtfully, leaving behind pink streaks. “I suppose I can be persuaded to change the last task.”

Shouto regarded him with suspicion. He was giving in too easily for there to not be another angle to it.

“I won’t make you fight the kid.” He looked at Shouto, eyes no longer musing with delighted glee at his expense but hard and flinty. Narrowed on him with a seriousness that sent a chill up Shouto’s spine. “If you hand over Izuku. That’ll be your new task.”

His stomach dropped out of him, cold infusing into his core.

Eri’s head snapped up, looking between them. “Izuku?”

“Who—”

“Cut the bullshit,” Tomura snapped. “Like there’s anyone dumb enough to come back down here. Who else would help your sorry ass or even get down here in the first place.”

He hopped off his makeshift throne, stalking toward him. “You have two choices, little godling. Either fight Eri or hand over Izuku.”

Small hands fisted into his clothes, the barest touch, far from his body but they stuck fast. Eri shook her head, her hair flying and getting caught in her horn. “Don’t hurt him. Please, ” she whispered.

Shouto bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, trying to keep a rein on his temper. His chest felt tight, only allowing short shallow breaths as he tried to think of a way out of this. Because no matter what he was absolutely sure that Izuku would trade his life for her in a heartbeat.

And the thought of that sent Shouto’s mind spiraling.

Because even if it made sense , that even Izuku would be affirmed in that decision, he didn’t want to .

He tried to reason that it would just spell out disaster – that it would lead to more trouble down the road, to a new war with the Devourer, but above all of that, he couldn’t .

“Where’s my mother?”

He ignored the whispered pleas from Eri. Begging him to not give away Izuku.

Tomura looked at him, a smirk creeping across his face. “You’ll see her after handing over Izuku.”

“You’ll tell me now,” he growled out.

He shrugged. “If you don’t get Izuku now you’re agreeing to fight Eri.” He reached down and petted her hair with four fingers, ignoring her flinch. “And I’m sure you’d love that.”

He had to do it.

He’d never forgive himself if he hurt this scared and timid little girl who flinched at the sign of movement. And he wouldn’t .

But could he leave Izuku behind? Could he leave him to be killed at best and slowly tortured at worst? Could he leave behind his mother whom he was so close to reaching?

Shouto knew what he had to do.

He spoke slowly. “If I tell you where Izuku is then the third task is considered complete? My mother and I can leave?”

Tomura grinned, eyes alight with victory. He even stood a little taller. “You and your precious mom can leave.”

“What if I take you? I heard you’d die outside of the Unseen.”

“Ha! I’d have to want to go with you, little godling. The deal was that you can take someone with you, not that you can force them.” He leaned closer, his breath sour against Shouto’s face. “And just give it time, little godling, with Izuku’s power I’m sure that all of me and my friends will be out of here in no time.”

He took a step back, a hand hovering over Eri to guide her with him, her eyes overflowing with tears. She was wound so tightly he thought she was going to shatter. He couldn’t look at either of them as he said, “Izuku should be somewhere outside, I’ll lead you to him. He was looking for Eri.”

“Of course, he did,” Tomura said, rolling his eyes though his smile was gloating. He snapped his fingers at the gods watching them with interest. Big Sis had her arm wrapped around Jin with her hand covering his mouth. She looked calm and composed, like it took her no effort in controlling a struggling, bouncing Jin.

“You two, prepare yourselves.” He turned to Eri. “You. Start screaming.”

She hiccupped through her tears, shaking her head.  She had since let go of him, arms held stiffly at her sides, her horn fluctuating. Tomura leaned down, hand out.

“Start screaming before I make you. And where are the rest of you idiots?! Where’s the siphon and where the fuck is blondie?!” He snapped at the other two gods, stomping over to Jin to shake him.

With Tomura preoccupied with yelling at his lackeys, Shouto reached a hand out to Eri, but she shrank away from him. His heart broke looking at her silent sobs, something twisting in his chest.

“Please, Eri,” he asked, his voice hushed. “I won’t let anything happen to Izuku but you need to come here.” Still, she shook her head, her horn glowing, the ground at her feet slowly turning backwards into soft dirt.

“Didn’t I tell you to start screaming, brat?”

Shouto stepped between them before he could get closer to her, though he wasn’t sure if Tomura would have risked touching her. They must have kept her in such terror to keep her controlled.

“Don’t touch her. Just go outside and I’ll call for him. Call off your lackeys.”

He scoffed. “Like I’d trust that.” He inclined his head towards the clear doors. “March.”

Tomura and the rest of his underlings followed – Big Sis and Jin, the lizard man and a man in a mask that he didn’t meet before with an ominous box in his hands. Only a few seemed to have answered his call, but not nearly enough for any sort of war. Himiko was decidedly absent. He could hear Tomura muttering about how lazy they were, and he guided Eri in front of him. Her shoulders were steadier than before, her breath shallow but even. The light from her horn illuminated the grass around her as the long stalks shrunk into the ground.

Once they were a decent distance away, he called for Izuku. They hadn’t had a full plan when they went into this—or, Izuku didn’t. With as little information as they had had, they hadn’t gotten past the “distract” and “search” part of the plan with only the contingency of shouting for each other when it eventually went to shit.

He wished that he could scoop Eri up in his arms for more security, but her powers were probably her best defense at the moment.

It didn’t take long at all for Izuku to run around the back of Tomura’s hideout, cheeks flushed in the too-bright, colorful light. He slowed as he took in the scene. Four gods standing a cautious distance away from each other before finally spotting tiny Eri.

Shouto could see the exact moment he saw her, eyes going wide, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Eri!” He ran towards them, disregarding the danger.

“Izuku, don’t!” Eri cried, the loudest he had ever heard her. She took a step forward, her hands out as if she could push him back.

Of course, he didn’t listen. He didn’t care that Jin multiplied himself ten-fold to surround him. He didn’t care as he was bombarded by Jin and held still by Big Sis, that he was surrounded on all sides by the rest of Tomura’s friends. Because Eri was safe. And Shouto had the resigned realization that Izuku was going to do this anyway. Of course, Izuku was going to try his best to get them all out, but Shouto’s role was to ultimately get Eri out regardless of his own fate.

A ripple of power flowed over him, and from Tomura’s abrupt tensing he had felt it too. The completion of the third task.

Tomura rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, trying to shrug off the magic compelling him to follow through on their agreement.

“I suppose you want your mom,” he sneered.

He shook his head. “I’m taking Izuku.”

The crowd of Jins exploded into sound, several slapping their hands to their cheeks in shock. The other gods all tried to talk over each other, shouting at him. Above the noise he could hear a clear:

“What?! Shouto!”

He ignored Izuku, gaze never straying from a seething Tomura. He was sure that if he was within arm’s length, he’d be dust, no matter what the consequences of an Unbreakable Vow. A red aura slowly gathered around Tomura, his eyes and hands twitching under the compelling force of the Vow.

Red eyes narrowed onto Eri. Black blood was slowly seeping out of the pink tracks on his neck. “She wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Neither are they.” Shouto nodded to the gods beside him.

The black started to creep up the veins on his neck, pulsing with a red light. He growled out, “Don’t you want your mom?!”

He looked at Izuku’s gaping face when he said, “I changed my mind.”

Tomura fisted his hands in his hair and roared. Dust swept up around him, his followers dancing out of range, leaving behind a barren circle. Izuku broke free of the crowd, his own red aura surrounding him but not harming him like it did Tomura. He looked down to see his own red aura around his hand.

“Are you sure?” Izuku asked breathlessly, hand gripping his arm hard.

He nodded, feeling helpless at the awed disbelief in Izuku’s green eyes. He tore his gaze away to watch Tomura grab Jins one by one and dust them in a tantrum, internally wincing at the casual disposal.

The enraged god whirled on them, his eyes blazing with fury and power, the black receding now that Izuku was with him. He jabbed a gnarled finger at Eri. “You can’t take her. ”

Izuku leveled a look at Tomura, moving to stand in front of Eri. “Watch us.”

“You can’t even touch her,” Shouto said, stepping up next to Izuku.

“Neither can you! Wanna risk her drowning? Or let her loose Above and risk her destroying everything? ” Tomura sneered. “We’ll kill her first.”

“You—!” Izuku cut himself off, looking down to see where Eri was cautiously tugging on his clothes, the strands unwinding themselves. Watery red eyes looked up at them, tears spilling over on her cheeks.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she whispered. “I’ll stay here.”

“Eri.”

Shouto dropped down and grasped her shoulders, wincing as her power pulled at him. “You won’t . You won’t hurt anyone.”

She threw herself back, away from him, hunching over herself. “I can’t control my powers.”

“Yes, you can, you did before.” She squeezed her eyes shut and took a step back. “Don’t listen to anything Tomura said, he was lying to you. He’s always lying, isn’t he?”

Reluctantly she nodded.

“You trust Izuku, yes?” Another nod, stronger. “And Izuku trusts you.” Warm, red eyes peeked open to look at Izuku, who nodded through his tears.

“Do you think you can trust yourself?”

She darted looks between him and Izuku, glancing back at a murderous looking Tomura who was shouting nonsensical things about how she was dangerous and how he was going to kill all three of them. He wished he could cover her ears. Tomura continued to destroy copies of Jin, ranting and stalking closer. The other gods were a restless ocean of movement behind him.

Her brow knotted in concern but she nodded. She took a deep breath and her glow faded.

Izuku immediately scooped her up and they ran to the river. A terrible roar of noise followed as the Unseen gods hounded them. His heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t sure how far Tomura would go in the pursuit, if harming them would be worth the pain. With Izuku shielding Eri with his body and Tomura’s further descent into revenge they might not come out unscathed.

A burst of grass and dirt disintegrated next to him, leaving behind a crumbling hole. The power followed too close for comfort. A similar eruption followed Izuku’s left and Shouto knew that they were going to try to pin them in.

They were nearing the shore, the disintegration becoming deeper the closer they got. The ground in front of them disappeared, water rushing to fill the gap. Izuku grabbed his hand and jumped, shouting, “Tsuyu!!”

Water rushed up and over them in a wave too large for a river, sweeping them up and crashing them down into water that felt like stone. He could only hear Tomura’s enraged yell and feel a strong, unyielding grip in his own hand before he drowned.

Shouto woke up in bits and pieces. Pressure pounded at his skull like a drumbeat becoming louder when he tried to open his eyes. The light was a gentle blue but it still sent a spike of pain to the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to cradle his head to sit up.

The pounding in his head made it difficult to remember what he was doing last if it was preparing Earth for Fall or—

He turned around, swallowing around the nausea that rose up, flexing his empty hands. “Izuku? Eri?”

The room he was in was empty save for the built-in shelf built into the wall, bleach-white, coral textured, and round. It felt like being in a shell. Next to his bed was a wall of water looking out into a surprisingly clear sea. A strange fish he didn’t recognize peered at him with bulging eyes, swimming closer to him until the tip of its nose poked out of the water before darting away.

It was surprising to see light so far down into the Sea Palace. He heard that Seruki formed it in the deepest part of the sea but that could have been due to holding the power of all the oceans in the palm of his hand.

Or it could all be a trick by Tomura and one of his friends.

Shouto staggered to his feet. He needed to find Izuku. As long as he found Izuku, everything would be fine. He cast a quick glance at the shelf, though nothing stood out other than a roll of bandages and other little pots filled with mysterious creams and liquids, before flinging open the only door.

“Ribbit.”

He blinked.

The frog spirit blinked back. She tilted her head at him, her tongue sticking out from the side. She was carrying a large basket woven out of some sort of seaweed. Whatever was in it smelled like grilled fish and a mixture of spices that made his stomach growl.

Large eyes flicked down to his stomach and back up. “Thank you for opening the door for me, Shouto.” Gently, she pushed past him and set the basket on the bed. “I have some food and water for you, ribbit.”

He stayed near the door.

She looked back at him, her long green hair flowing behind her. “You will feel better if you eat, Shouto. I’m sure Izu would want you to eat. It has been several weeks since you two left after all.”

“Where’s Izuku?” he demanded, taking a threatening step toward her.

She only stared placidly at him. “He’s resting like you should be doing, ribbit. Izuku is my friend. I wouldn’t let him get hurt.” She dipped her head at him. “But I understand your concern, you three went through a lot of stress. If you can be a bit patient, I’ll send him down when he’s done with our healer.”

With that, she walked to the shelf, shoulders relaxed and expression neutral and friendly. She picked up a small vial and handed it to him on her way out the door. “For your head, ribbit.”

And he was alone again.

He palmed the small vial, unsure. She seemed nice enough and seemed to be on friendly terms with Izuku. Maybe it was the color green, but she felt undefinably familiar in a way that reminded him of Izuku. But…

He popped the cork and downed the silvery contents. Instantly the pressure in his head lessened and he sighed in relief. Uncovering the basket revealed grilled fish and rice and an assortment of little side dishes that made his stomach growl at him as if to ask why he wasn’t eating yet.

He didn’t know if it was the fact that he had no clue how long he hadn’t eaten since being in the Unseen, or if those who were Sea ordained were better at cooking than those of his own domain, but the meal tasted better than what he had had in ages.

After he finished, he wandered around his room. He examined the bumpy walls embedded with little seashells and nosed around the shelf that he guessed was mostly medical supplies. He only just debated leaving and trying to find Izuku and Eri when the door opened.

It was his mom.

She stood hesitantly at the door, half in half out, a pale hand laid delicately on the frame as if she was ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Her brow was furrowed and her grey eyes seemed to land on everywhere but his face.

Shouto stood there, heart trapped in his throat, physically unable to move even if Tomura and his army were to emerge at their feet at that moment. “Mother?”

Startled, she finally looked at him. Her eyes welled up with tears and she crumpled into a low bow.

He was at her side in an instant. His hands hovered around her, afraid that if he touched her, she’d break more. She didn’t sob but he could see the teardrops that fell like rain onto the floor.

“I am so, so sorry, my son.”

“Mother—”

She shook her head, her white hair flaring like a curtain as she resolutely stared at the floor. “I failed my duty as a goddess. I failed my duty as the moon. And I failed my duty as your mother.” She finally looked up at him, her eyes rimmed red and whispered, “I have put you through so much.”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t agree with what she said, not when she was the brightest point in his life, one of the few joys he could hold on to. But he couldn’t disagree with her either. That because of her choice, he had had to make terrible choices and felt that he had had none at all.

He didn’t know what to say except, “Mama.”

She reached out and gathered him in her arms. Despite being a head taller and much bigger and older than the last time they had held each other like this he felt something unravel in his chest. Pure emotion welled up, getting caught in his throat as he basked in the cool warmth of her arms.

He didn’t cry. He wasn’t sure if he was there yet. But she hummed in his ear and held him like she used to centuries ago.

He turned his face into her neck, inhaling the soft, airy smell of her hair. “Where were you?”

Her hand brushed through the length of his hair. “Here.”

Shouto drew back and they sat on the bed. She clasped her hands together on her lap and took a bracing breath. “I have made many mistakes over the years, but this one was the worst. After this last summer I just… fled. I went to Seruki and hid in the deepest parts of the seas where the sun could not reach. The reasoning is my burden to bear, I just—I regret—” She softly laid a hand on his face, sadness sweeping over her features. “I didn’t know what the consequences of my actions would be.”

He drew in a shuddering breath. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m the one that decided to go into the Unseen. I made that choice. I learned a lot. I also…” He reached up and held her hand, turning his cheek into it. “I also left you there.”

Quietly, he explained what happened. The tasks, Touya, how Tomura pretended that Rei was there, and his decision. His stomach twisted the whole way, waiting for her reaction. Rei listened through all of it, eyes glimmering at what he had to do but making no comment except to hold his hand tighter. At the end she cupped his face with a firm grip that reminded him of safety.

“I am glad you chose for yourself.”

She kissed his forehead before resting hers against his own, eyes shut. After a beat, she spoke, “I will return to my duties as a moon.”

“But mother—”

“Shh, I want to give you choices. And I want you to have the options to make the best one for you. I know I wasn’t strong in the past but I will be stronger now.” She opened her eyes, the grey almost silver. She smiled. “I might just ask for a break once in a while. Maybe once a month.”

He watched as she walked to the door, her steps making no sound save for the rustle of her dress across the marble. “No matter what, I will support your decision.” She bit her lip and looked off to the side, apprehension settling in her shoulders. “I hope that I will see you soon, Shouto.”

Just then the door burst open, startling both him and his mother, making her glow with the white-blue power of the moon. Izuku ran through the door, Eri hot on his heels, before rearing back at the presence of his mother right in front of the entrance.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about apparently everyone knowing where he was and barging in when he, himself, had no clue where he was. But he supposed he would forgive the transgression one last time.

“Shouto!”

Izuku rushed towards him, scooping him up in a bone-crushing hug that lifted his feet from the floor. He felt his spine crack as Eri timidly shuffled in, her hair catching the light. Izuku set him down, presumably for her welcome. She didn’t rush to hug him, just looked up at him with wide, red eyes and fiddled with her fingers. His mom dithering at the doorway, her smile equal parts uncertain and amused.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! Tsuyu wouldn’t let me leave until I was healed and I had to find Eri first and then Seruki must have contacted my mom when we returned so I had to talk to her and then we were both crying and talking and—” Izuku had to cut off with a large gasp. “Sorry—sorry! I’m—sorry that it took me so long to get here. Is that your mom?! ”

Shouto blinked at the avalanche of words that fell from Izuku’s mouth. Briefly looking at Eri to find her staring at Izuku with a look of awe mixed with incredulity.

Izuku looked from him to his mom, eyes wide, jaw somewhere on the floor. He gasped before dropping into a low bow in a near copy of what he did when they first met. “I am so sorry, Your Ladyship, I am being so incredibly rude right now.” Eri hurried to copy his bow, her hair trailing over the floor.

His mother raised a dainty hand to cover a smile. “Stand, son of Earth, young lady. There is no need for apologies, I should be thanking you for protecting my son.”

“No need! He protected me—us—more than I did him!”

“Still,” she murmured, eyes looking over Izuku with intrigue. She looked over to Shouto, a cautious smile in place. “I shall be with Seruki to report back to the One Being to resume my duties. I hope to see you soon, my son.”

“Please, wait before you go,” Shouto asked, the words leaving his lips before he could think twice.

She blinked. A radiant smile replaced her surprise. “I shall.”

Izuku waited until they could no longer hear her dress trailing over the floor before turning to him with a million questions in his eyes. “How did you know that she wasn’t in the Unseen?”

His stomach churned. He wondered if this feeling, this worry, about Izuku’s opinion of him would ever go away. Izuku was his cornerstone and one word from him would make everything fall apart, even if Shouto was learning to trust himself. “I didn’t.”

Izuku’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Shouto.”

“It was just a hunch at first. From how Tomura phrased things.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Getting you two out… you two were more important.”

A hand slid into his, rough calluses smoothing over his skin. “I’m still sorry you had to make that choice.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. But I’m thankful you did it.” A blush crept over his skin, almost obscuring his freckles, spreading even to his ears. And for some reason, Shouto felt his own skin heat up, more so with his power over Fall restored. Izuku cleared his throat, squeezing his hand. “So, your mom’s here. Does that mean…?”

He nodded. “She said that she would take up her duties as the moon again.”

“And your dad?”

“It’s my choice.”

Izuku’s gaze never strayed from his face, searching for something. Maybe doubt or reservation. Whatever it was, he found it, and a slow, tiny smile pulled at his lips. “Then you’re gonna do it?”

An answering smile echoed across his own face. “I think it’s about time I stopped being so afraid.”

The grin he received was blinding, making something in his Shouto’s chest spasm. He had half a thought that Izuku should be the sun. “I’m happy for you.”

He blew out a breath. “I’m terrified I’m going to mess it all up. Make the same mistakes my old man is making.”

“You won’t,” Izuku said, stepping forward and engulfing him in a hug. And Shouto was reminded that while Izuku was his cornerstone, he had incomprehensible blind faith in Shouto. And Shouto took strength from that. Eri followed and wrapped tiny arms around both of their legs. “You’ll learn from him. I trust you.”

“Me too,” Eri’s soft voice piped up.

He chuckled. “Thank you, Eri. I appreciate that.”

Izuku let go with a laugh, holding an arm out. “Shall we escort you to your mother and Seruki?”

Shouto threaded his arm through his, feeling that warmth suffuse through his chest again, feeling the anxious-excitement of starting something new. “Please.”

[unkalaki]

The Seduction of Nihilism and why its stupid

Nihilism. Oh, thy poison is sweet, thy fruit most succulent, thy scent the soporific musk of death. Please forgive me this little indulgence, being flowery and poetic is something of a yearning and if I don’t indulge in it from time to time it becomes quite painful. Let us however turn to nihilism and look at it. Let us really look at it.

Nihilism. I always liked the word. Not the concept. The word itself. It sounds so … threatening. It has such finality. It invokes feelings of destruction and endings. Or perhaps that is what I think of the idea and thus translate onto the word. Who knows and frankly who cares? It is a word. A deep and meaningful one perhaps but it is still a word. Let us try to delve into the meaning behind the concept. The idea that is there. That is far more interesting. However, the idea of nihilism is one that does not really have a universal definition. At least I don’t think it can. I think due to the ideas and themes it invokes it is a highly personal thing. It will change from person to person. So today we are going to be venturing into my personalised hell scape and look at what nihilism means to me. Welcome aboard. Next stop futility.

Futility. That is the core concept behind this idea. Useless. Doesn’t matter. Without effect. That is what nihilism is to me. That no matter what we do, no matter what we try, no matter what our achievements, what our goals, it doesn’t matter. It never did. You were a fool to try to do anything. Your efforts, for any stated goal, are useless. Why are you trying in the face of an inescapable, uncaring and, most importantly, unchanging world? Your perceptions of the good in life and the evil in others is an illusion of meaning that you created to see the world through. It is all banal, hopeless and without meaning. Why help someone? It won’t change anything. In a weeks time you will be forgotten. In a decades time you might all be dead. In a century your existence on earth will be erased and in a longer span of time earth itself will cease to be. You do not matter. Not really. Nothing you do is able to actually really help. Your efforts are a patchwork, a poultice applied onto a wound that might soothe the pain for a while but that pain is not banished, it is merely biding its time. It will return. In its waiting it is just growing more potent. In fact, the pain will be worsened by the fact that you have provided a contrast now. You were merely a tool of the world. However, even that is wrong. A tool presumes a wielder, a wielder presumes intent, intent presumes awareness and awareness presumes importance. You are not important. Your presence is not notes by anything. Your life is not a speck of dust. It just might as well not be. Remove yourself from the cycle of existence and you will see that there is no change. Remove your species and in a few centuries you will never have been. In fact, in this time period there will be no centuries. For that is a word you have given to the passage of time to mark your place in it. The chiming of a clock is important for he who wishes to know where they are in the river of time. The river does not care to be measured and when you are gone it will just flood up and be itself again, without your stubbornness in trying to create bounds for it.

I don’t claim to know what the true academic definition of nihilism is. I never studied it. The above words are just my feeble attempt of evoking the same feelings and thoughts that I have passed through. They have failed to do so but then they have to fail. Words in themselves are, at least for me, never enough to convey what emotions and thoughts are. Words are limited by a linearity of structure that thoughts do not have. The human imagination just leaps from one idea to another and does this constantly and we just get glimpses of it. True understanding is not possible, for me at least. It is a chorus of voices, sometimes talking to each other, sometimes to the part that I identify as the self and sometimes just screaming. In joy, in horror or just because they are bored, it is difficult to parse the reason why.

Let us leave that to the side though. Nihilism. What is it? It is in simple, a sweet seductive call. Leading you to the rock-strewn shore of cynicism where the broken husk of hope lies and asking you, pleading you, don’t. Just don’t. That is where the beauty and horror of nihilism lies. It asks you to simply refrain. Refrain from all that is hard, that is painful, that is burdensome. Throw all that weight into the sea and just lie down. Close your eyes and become oblivion. If nothing matters why try. Why spend a lifetime trying when in the end it is fated to be erased, so as to never have been? If the work of your bruised and bloodied hands is fated to be forgotten, to be destroyed then why hurt your hands. The end is predestined, why struggle against it. This is when it asks of you the ultimate question. If you are going to be consigned to the uncaring care of oblivion in the future then why wait. Oblivion is retrospective. It doesn’t just erase you from the future, it reaches back into the past and erases all signs of your existence there. Time will ravage the land so that the witnesses of the future will be unable to even think that you ever existed and they will be right, you never did. So why wait? Just take the leap now. If after a lifetime of struggle, you are going to be erased then why wait. Why continue the struggle, just wade into the waters and drown your existence, that is its ultimate destination anyways isn’t it?

Thus, you are wooed and thus you are conquered.

Nihilism is stupid though. I know, I spent so many words and so much effort to describe it but now I say that its stupid. What the hell do I mean? I mean what I say. It is stupid. It is so bafflingly stupid because the simple answer is “So what?”. The world is fated to end. I am fated to be forgotten. My memory, my existence, it won’t matter in a given period of time. SO WHAT? I am real. My pain is real. The pain of those that are around me is real. This world is real. Even if we get into the argument that love, pain and all other emotions are just perceptions that chemicals in our brains create to explain the inputs that those around us have, SO WHAT? Does that make this any less? If this is all an illusion, if we are all in the matrix, SO WHAT?

The pain is real. It is real because of the very simple fact that we feel it. The cause, the effect, the phenomena that explain its existence, those are secondary. The pain is here and the pain is felt. That is enough to make it real. That is enough to make it important. Actions taken to soothe it are important because they affect the now and here. In a hundred years no one will remember you. Who cares? Remembrance of others is not what makes me real. I lived, I loved, I cried and I laughed. That is what makes me real. The aim in life is not to make an indelible imprint on existence, it is to make an impression on something far more important, the lives of those around us. The world is important because it contains those that see its beauty. That give purpose to its existence by theirs. The world without us, and us here is not just humans but all those that live. Its longevity is not a curse that should break us down because without those that see, this longevity may as well not be. A world unwitnessed does not exist. The world came into being when the first being with senses felt its being.

So why struggle in this world? Why continue to rebuild towers that fall to ruin, that will always fall to ruin? Because while ruination is the end. It is not the whole of the story. It is notable only because of its finality but that finality only brings greater contrast to all that follows. The existence, though a blip on the radar is beautiful and meaningful in itself. For that single blip it was. It pierced the heavens. Should we not celebrate it because it fell down? What doesn’t? One must imagine Icarus happy. For he fell down, for a moment there he flew alongside the stars. The fall may come, the fall may be inevitable but the life before it still matters. Just because we all fall does not mean we should cease the flight.

Sorry for the length.

[charzard-lord]

Hi, can I please request a River x Reader where the reader has an emotionally abusive mom and dissociates and traveling with River has helped. She doesn’t know what happened in the reader’s childhood but she suspects it wasn’t as good as the reader tries to portray it. The reader has a dissociative episode and is just emotionless and River doesn’t know what to do so she kisses them or makes a love confession to try and stop it and it works. Mostly just fluff with some angst and preferably she/her pronouns but any are fine.

Title: What's Left Behind

Pairings: River Song/Reader

Word Count: 976

Key: 🧸💣❤🍷☂️

Warnings: Angst, mention of past abuse, dissociation (with a pretty intense description of it), mentions of alcohol, love confessions, comfort

Moodboard

A/N: Thank you for this request! I never really use pronouns for the reader in my story so it's not specified what gender the reader is. You can imagine it however you like. I hope you enjoy this angsty little piece with some comfort at the end! :)

Traveling with River was amazing. There was always something exciting happening. Despite the chaos that seemed to follow you both, you felt safe with her. And that was a rare feeling for you. 

Growing up wasn’t always easy. In fact, a lot of the time it was hell. You love your family. You love your mother. But sometimes, it felt like they didn’t love you back. 

Your childhood was spent constantly trying to prove yourself, but nothing seemed to be good enough. Especially for your mother. She was never happy, no matter what you did. You tried and tried and tried, but each time you were left feeling more defeated. More depleted. 

Eventually, you gave up. Why bother trying if you were going to fail anyway?

When River had come into your life, it felt like more than just a breath of fresh air. It was a breath of new life. A life full of adventure and fun, away from the judging eyes of your mother. 

You’re grateful for everything River has done for you. Sometimes, however, it feels like a little more than gratitude. Every time you brush against one another you feel a spark of electricity. Every time you meet her gaze you have to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. Every time she laughs you can’t help the joy that bubbles up inside of you. 

You’re not sure when it started. Maybe it was when she saved you from a couple of nasty Sontarans. Or when she pulled you out of quicksand on an alien planet. Or maybe, just maybe, you’ve loved her from the very moment you met. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” River’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly. 

“Sorry sweetie, didn’t mean to startle you,” she runs a soothing hand up and down your arm as an apology. 

“You’re fine, I was just distracted, that’s all,” you say, attempting to collect yourself. 

“Distracted with what, exactly?” she inquires, an almost knowing grin on her face. 

“With whatever that person is doing,” you point across the room to an alien standing on a table, shouting nonsense and swaying slightly, struggling to keep themself upright. 

“Probably had too much to drink. C’mon, let’s go look at the stars. I hear this planet has beautiful constellations,” River grabs your hand and pulls you along with her. Your plan seems to have worked, getting the attention off of yourself, and you sigh in relief. 

Stepping outside, you follow Rivers' lead as she takes you to a small blanket set up with a basket of food and some red wine. She gestures for you to sit before taking the seat opposite you. 

It’s a lovely setup, really, but you find yourself drifting, unable to stay grounded in the present moment. The world is distant, blurry, an echo of what it should be. You want more than anything to enjoy this moment with River, but your mind has other plans. 

Your brain struggles to keep up as food is passed to you. It should be delicious, but your taste buds come up blank, unable to register anything other than this deep feeling of emptiness. Nothing seems real. Nothing seems to matter. 

“You alright, love?” River grabs your hand and you mean to look at her, but instead, you look right through her. She can sense that something is wrong and moves closer to you. 

You’re aware of her presence and of some words she is saying, but nothing sticks. It’s like you’re standing on the side of a creek, watching as leaves float by and forgetting what they looked like as soon as they pass. 

“Look at me,” River gently grabs your chin, pulling you back to the present moment. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in that beautiful brain, but it doesn’t seem good. And I hate to see you upset. You mean the world to me, you know that, right?” she searches your eyes for a moment before continuing. 

“From the second I first laid eyes on you, I knew you would be someone special to me. And you are. Oh, but it’s so much more than just that,” she gently rubs your cheek and you lean into her touch, starting to reconnect with your body. 

“I love you, so much more than words will ever be able to express. You are my world, no, my universe, and I can’t imagine a life without you in it,” your brain slowly starts to catch up and you realize what she is saying. 

“You… love me?” you look at her, really properly look at her, and let her words sink in. 

“Yes. I always have. I just never found the right moment to say it,” she leans closer to you, searching your face for any sign that you might not want this. 

“I love you too,” you say after a long moment and River captures your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

You expected her to be more rough and visceral, but she is slow and passionate, pouring every ounce of love she has into it. By the time she pulls away, you have fully integrated back into your body, feeling every place where she touches you and you touch her. You feel electric and so very alive. 

River stands up and extends her hand to you. Without thinking, you grab it and let her pull you up. She embraces you in a comforting hug before pointing out some constellations she recognizes. 

You spend the rest of the night talking and laughing as she recounts tales of her many adventures. She tells you of distant planets and alien races, promising to take you to the most beautiful places, and you believe her. She always follows through for you. And you know she always will.

[lottiebagley]

Space Girl- George Weasley

Space Girl, show me the stars You know the galaxies of my heart

George Weasley was not excited for his first astronomy lesson of the year. He'd agreed to do the class simply because he needed to fill his timetable and it seemed more enjoyable than history of magic.

That's what he had told Fred at least.

In reality he had opted for astronomy for one specific reason. Y/N Y/L/N. She was a shy Hufflepuff girl and although he had never spoken to her George was absolutely enamoured with her.

So, as he dreaded the lecture ahead he tried to remember that this cloud had a silver lining, and it was a silver lining that was absolutely worth it. This was all confirmed when he walked into the astronomy classroom and saw her.

She was sat at a desk at the back of the room. Her hair twirling round her finger as she studied the open text book in front of her, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her. George noted happily, that none of her friends seemed to be in the class and rather than asking to sit with Angelina and Katie like he had been planning he figured what the hell and went for it.

"Hey, is it alright if I sit here?" He questions, willing his cheeks to not flush red when he looks up at him

"Oh, of course you can George," she nods, moving her stuff to the left to make room for him. He feels his heart leap at her knowing that it was him and not Fred.

"How did you know?" He questions, head cocking to the side to look at her better. He smiles slightly at the bright red flush on her cheeks.

"You aren't that hard to tell apart," she shrugs

"Our own mother can't always do it," he pesters, he's genuinely intrigued how she seemed to know so easily.

"Uh, okay then. You're slightly taller so when you are together I could always work out who was who. From there I just kind of noticed little things, you have two freckles on your neck, Fred has a scar above his eyebrow. Your face is slightly longer, your nose is a little longer and has that cute little bump in it, your hair falls completely differently and your lip has a little curl in it. But the easiest way is that you have a different vibe about you," She rambles like it's the most obvious thing in the world and George himself wouldn't haven't been able to explain the physical differences so well.

He's pretty sure his heart melted on the spot.

"You should tell my mum all of this," he smiles gently, not knowing how to respond and explain that he's never felt more seen in his life.

"Sorry, I'm not a creep or anything I swear. Just observant,"

"It was quite sweet actually," George smiles, biting back a chuckle when her face blushes a bright red. "So, you any good at Astronomy?" He questions politely

"I'm okay. It's probably my best class. I've always known about it so," she shrugs, cutting herself off. She knew that George was a pure blood and probably wouldn't want anything to do with her if he knew she was a muggle born.

"You're a muggle born right?" He questions, she's surprised his tone doesn't sound angry or accusatory like was often the way with pure bloods, instead genuinely interested.

"Yeah," she confirms "my older sister is obsessed with astrology so I knew a lot about it before I got here. It's probably the only subject I didn't fail first term," she admits, George smiles softly. He can only imagine how hard it would be to come to the school with no magical knowledge.

"Look at you now, you're top of the year in almost everything," he points out

"Yeah, Ced helped me find my feet and after I settled in it all made sense," she explains. George knew that her and Cedric were best friends, he was a lot more outgoing and George had never quite understood how their friendship worked but it was no secret wherever one was the other wasn't far behind.

Girl, are you a cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

"Hey space girl," George grinned brightly as he dropped into his seat

"If you've forgotten my name you can just ask you know," she blushes a little, not thinking that the boy she had fancied since second year could actually have given her a cute pet name.

No. The only logical explanation is that he had forgotten her name but after being sat next to her for two weeks now was much too polite to ask for it.

She had told Cedric this and he had laughed loudly, ruffling her hair and telling her that she would do well to remember how beautiful she was.

"I know you're name. Y/N Y/L/N. You're a Hufflepuff, obviously," he gestures to her tie before carrying on "Your best friend is Cedric Diggory and you two are always together. You tutor my little sister in potions. You help Professor sprout with the plants in the green house on a Sunday morning. You like to study in the library, specifically the second table from the back left corner. You never eat carrots but you love peas and you always buy two chocolate frogs at Honeydukes one for the walk back and one for a treat that night. I'm not a creep. I'm just observant," He finishes his ramble with a reference to when she had proved just how well she knew him a few weeks prior.

She sits, slightly astounded as he looks at her like his ability to list off so much information about her that she had never specifically told him shouldn't be a shock.

Her heart melts on the spot and she's pretty sure her crush just became real feelings.

"Why?" She questions quietly, not really meaning for him to hear

"You're beautiful and I like looking at you," he shrugs, turning to the text book in front of him. He notices her eyes still staring at him and turns to look at her "hey, you wouldn't want to study together one night this week would you?" He questions, smiling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks

"Yeah. I'd love that,"

"Amazing, does Wednesday work for you? I could meet you at the library after classes end,"

"Sure," she nods shyly, biting her lip to stop a smile and having no clue the very action makes George want to kiss her senseless.

"I know the table," he grins, chuckling when she blushes bright red before turning back to his book.

Space girl, I saw a lunar eclipse Looked like how I feel 'bout your lips Space girl, the only way that we'd end Was if you were sucked into a black hole

'You'll be fine. Just be your self and if he doesn't love you he is stupid,' Cedric's words ran around her head as she remembered sitting in his dorm whilst he calmed her down and Cho did her hair. She had protested to the couple that it wasn't a date but they had still insisted on helping her get ready during their free period after lunch.

Now, sat in the library she tried to remind herself that George was a lovely boy and wouldn't do anything to make her uncomfortable, he probably didn't even think of her like that.

"There's my space girl, you're looking particularly beautiful today," George is beaming as he approaches the table she's sat at, taking the seat next to her.

"Hey George, good day?"

"It's better now i'm here. Fred hasn't shut up about Millie all day, I mean I know he fancies her and all but seriously you'd think she hung the stars in the sky herself," He complains, not admitting even to himself that Fred would say he was just as smitten for his astronomy partner. "How was yours?" he asks, opening his bag to pull out his astronomy text book

"It was okay, Ced managed to blow up our potion so we have detention tomorrow night," She shrugs

"I'll see you there," He grins

"Why am I not surprised?" she deadpans and he allows his laugh to fill the air around them

"You know me to well," he blushes a little as he says it and forces himself to not stare at the way she bites her lip to stop from grinning. Half wanting her to stop so he could see that beautiful smile that seemed to be all he thought about and half wanting her to bite that lip every time he sees her because something about it was so attractive to him. "Do you mind explaining the constellation we learned about last lesson to me because I won't lie I was very distracted?" He doesn't feel like admitting that it was her that he found so distracting.

"Of course," She grins, unfolding her star map and pointing out the constellation Lyra "So Lyra is latin for Lyre, it is like a stringed instrument basically a harp, and it's associated with the myth of Orpheus," She begins to explain

"The musician guy?"

"Yeah," She confirms, watching as he takes notes of what she is saying "Orpheus was given the harp by Apollo, and it’s said that his music was more beautiful than that of any mortal man. His music could soothe anger and bring joy to weary hearts. Wandering the land in depression after his wife died, he was killed and his lyre  was thrown into a river. Zeus sent an eagle to retrieve the lyre, and it was then placed in the night sky and that's the story behind the constellation Lyra. It's best seen in August, and, it kind of looks like a lopsided square with a tail to Vega, it's brightest star," She recites, pointing towards the star on the constellation.

George tries hard to remember to focus on what she's saying, listening intently but he can't help his mind from wondering, instead scanning her face, every small detail, the way her eyes lit up as she talked, the way her lips curl in a small smile when she stops talking and notices him staring at her.

"Distracted again," he admits

"Clearly, you find astrology boring," she teases

"No, I just find you distracting," He admits, his heart melting as she is unable to stop the bright grin on her face. She doesn't say anything, simply grabs her notebook and opens it to the right page

"Copy my notes so you can at least teach yourself the content, the textbook is confusing," she instructs before turning back to her own work. They work silently for the next hour, dutifully copying notes and planning for their essay that's due in next week but routinely stealing glances at each other, blushing when one catches the other.

But I'd still spend my days dreamin' 'bout you Dreamin' 'bout you Tell me how to Stop dreamin' 'bout you

"Were you listening to anything I just said?" Fred questions, waving his hand in front of his brother's face

"Sorry, what was it?" George questions, pulling his eyes away from the Hufflepuff table. Fred sighs, turning to look at what George has been staring at and is not surprised in the slightest.

She is sat amongst her large friend group, despite being shy around people she didn't know she was chatting happily to the group. Cedric on her right, is laughing at the story she seems to be telling and Archie Young, who George hated simply for his obvious crush on her, is clinging onto every word.

"You are so whipped,"

"I know, it's embarrassing. I can't stop thinking about her and she probably only sees me as a friend,"

"Hey, don't say that. She would be stupid to not like you Georgie, besides, she stares at you just as much," Fred reassures his brother, usually he would tease him but he knows that this girl is different, it means something. "I still don't believe that she would never get us mixed up," Fred ponders, in reality he didn't doubt it, if George said she could tell them apart then why doubt him, but Fred wanted a moment alone with the girl.

"I swear to you that she wouldn't,"

"Lets test her," Fred exclaims, jumping up and tugging his twin out of the hall and to their dorm.

They spend an hour getting ready, stealing Ginny's eyeshadow to draw two fake freckles on Fred's neck, stying his hair attempting to fix every minor detail to make them utterly identical.

When they find her, she's hugging Cho Chang before turning around on her own and walking towards the Hufflepuff common room.

"Go hide," Fred instructs, shoving George towards an empty classroom he can watch from.

"Hey space girl!" She turns immediately at the name, mildly confused when the person approaching isn't George.

She had never spoken to Fred before and immediately feels herself becoming a little shy.

"Uh, hi Fred," she smiles as politely as possible. Fred stands with a smirk on his face.

"You fancy my brother," he states, she blushes a furious red that seems to be the final confirmation Fred needs, his moment alone with her providing the answer he had wanted.  

"I-uh-he-that-it-" she stutters out, Fred's smirk only grows as she turns impossibly more flustered before sighing  "How did you know?"

"Telling us apart is hard, especially when we try, you must really like him to know so quickly. Besides that reaction alone was enough to let me know I'm right,"

"Does he know?"

"He's blind," Fred shrugs, eyeing her as he decides he likes her, she clearly cares for George and that's all that matters to him.

"Right," she nods awkwardly

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," Fred grins before turning on his heel and heading back up the corridor to where an oblivious George is waiting.

Girl, are you a Cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

George can't help the wide smile on his face when he sees her. She, like all the other 6th year astronomy students, is sat in her robes on the astronomy tower despite it being 11:45. He picks up the star map from a pile and heads towards her.

She is sat around a corner, almost out of eye line from the class completely and if he hadn't been looking for her he probably wouldn't have even seen her.  He sits down next to her, pressing his back against the cold stone wall just as she was doing.

The task was simple, to draw a diagram of the constellations they could see that night with the correct names onto an unlabelled star map and then from 6am tomorrow they had 48 hours to write an essay explaining each constellation they had found, it was their final assignment for the first term of school. George thought that was stupid, why would they do the task that involved sitting outside at night in December and the written exam in the summer when it would have been warmer.

"Hi," she speaks softly, the moonlight made her glow and George could have sworn she was an angel. Her own map was already a quarter full and wordlessly she arranges it so George can copy the notes she's already made.

"Hey, you okay?" he questions, noticing the way she curls into herself

"Just cold," she nods, he flashes her a smile, digging into his bag and pulling out a spare sweater and a blanket, both knitted by Mrs Weasley. He passes her the jumper

"Are you sure? you have it with you so that you won't freeze. I can't take it," she blushes

"No, I'm already wearing a jumper," he points out "I figured I'd bring a spare cause I knew you wouldn't think too," He adds with a smile, she blushes but accepts the jumper from his hands.

"thanks," she smiles, he nods. Watching as she pulls the jumper over her head. Her heart somersaults at the smell of George that envelopes her, his does the same at the sight of her in his jumper that looks baggy and too big, the sleeves like paws on her hands, and the large 'G' sewn into the front making him blush a little.

He wraps the blanket round one of his shoulders holding the other side out for her

"I don't bite," he speaks softly, it's like he can read her mind and knows she's thinking about how close they will be to sit under his blanket together. She blushes and giggles a little and George could die happy having heard that sound.

She shuffles closer, wrapping the blanket around her shoulder and begins to point out the constellations she's already mapped for him, cocooned next to him in the blanket.

They work together for the next twenty or so minutes as she stifles yawns, eventually allowing her head to droop onto George's shoulder when he teases her for stifling yet another yawn.

"This blanket smells like you," she mumbles, he blushes madly but can't help the smile

"Are you warm enough?"

"Bit cold, I'm fine though," she admits, he rolls his eyes at her as she shivers a little and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to him

"Better?"

"Better," she confirms. She didn't mean to fall asleep but all cozy and warm being held by her crush it was impossible not to.

Not wanting to wake her, George finishes both his star map and hers before dozing off, his head resting on hers. He knew he should have woken her to go back to her dorm but spending the night sleeping with her in his arms was just too tempting.

She wakes up before him, having slept better than she ever had before and feeling utterly blissful in George's arms. That is until she realises she hadn't finished her work, she can't help the beam when she sees George has done it for her. She wants to stay wrapped in his arms but feels it better to leave now so it isn't awkward. In return for completing her work she takes her astronomy notebook that has all the answers to the essay written simply and leaves it on top of his star map, she knew the answers from memory anyway. Not even sparing the doodles and comments in it a thought.

She slips out of his hold, sneaking through the other students who fell asleep and heading back down the tower stairs to the main school, forgetting to take off his jumper.

George wakes up disappointed to not find her in his arms but smiles when he sees her notebook.

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl

George can't help the sigh as he explains to Fred where he had been all night.

"That all sounds pretty good to me Georgie," Fred comments, wondering why his brother seems down after his night with the girl.

"It was, I'd just hoped she'd be there when I woke up," he admits

"Well think about it like this, when have you ever had the opportunity to be disappointed that she wasn't there when you woke up before?" It's Hermione Granger who speaks up, she'd been listening to the twins talk on the sofa next to her and Harry's without really meaning too. It was just more interesting than Harry and Ron's discussion.

"you're right. It's better than nothing. Thanks Granger," he nods in agreement. He begins to flick through her notebook, not to study but simply enjoying the little doodles and her comments.

And then his world stops.

"How many people can you think of with the initials GW?" his questions is almost under his breath but Fred hears, perking up from the puking pastel plans he had been working on

"Just you and Gin, why?"

With no explanation George leaps up, jogging out of the room. Fred look mildly baffled until he sees her open notebook, and sure enough written on a corner amongst drawings of stars and planets is a little 'gw' with a heart next to it. Fred smirks and closes the book, turning back to his notes with a feeling of glee for his brother.

When George Weasley arrives outside the Hufflepuff common room he suddenly realises he has no clue how to actually get in, he stops, slightly out of breath from his sprint staring at the barrels.

"Hey George," her voice makes him jump as he turns to see her and Cedric approaching

"Hi," he smiles, suddenly not really sure what to say

"Well, now I've walked you back I'm going to go and find Cho," Cedric smiles politely at George, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl as she blushes.

"You looking for someone?" she asks politely

"You, actually,"

"Oh, what can I help you with?" she asks, he has no idea what to say "Oh! your jumper, it's in my room. You can come with," she smiles, reaching out and tapping at a barrel and then climbing into the passage that opens.

He follows wordlessly, glancing around the large circular room that is filled with yellows and blacks. She walks a little more confidently than he's seen before and smiles happily to the people who call out to her but doesn't stop to chat with them. He decides he likes it here, not only because it's so cosy but because he likes seeing her so at ease.

He follows her into her circular dorm room and towards a fourposter covered in pillows and blankets, his jumper sitting folded on top of the trunk at the end.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he admits, it's now or never.

"Of course, what's up?" she questions, sitting comfortably on her bed and gesturing for him to sit down next to her

"I- well- how many people do you know with the initials GW?" he questions curiously, she looks at him, clearly mildly confused.

"Springing to mind just you and Ginny," She answers, not really sure what the point of his question is.

Without thinking for even a second he pulls her face to his and plants his lips on hers, kissing delicately before pulling away. She stares at him, utter shock in her eyes and mouth agape.

"I-I am so sorry. I just- well there were the initials GW in your notebook and a little heart and well I thought maybe you liked me back and then I heard you only knew me and Ginny and I assumed, which was wrong of me- and- merlin- I'm so sorry-" he's rambling anxiously and his hands wring through his hair

"Back?" her question is a whisper and he snaps his head up to look at her

"Yeah. I like you. Kind of thought that was obvious," he admits. His heart flips at the wide smile on her lips before her hands grab his neck and pull his head down so his lips meet hers. She kisses him with passion and hunger and he finally gets to bite down gently on that lip he's watched her bite a million times.

Her arms stay wrapped around his neck as she lies back on her pillows behind her, pulling him with her and not breaking the kiss for a second. They only pull apart when she needs to for air. But the beam on her face and her flushed cheeks make George want nothing more than to kiss her again.

"Wanna go do the essay together?" he questions

"We have 48 hours, we could stay here and cuddle," she suggests, a little timidly but her nerves leave when George grins brightly, kicking his shoes off and rearranging himself on her bed. She takes her own shoes off before climbing into his open arms, her head on his chest as she leans up to press another kiss to his lips.

"I'm keeping that jumper by the way," she informs

"Whatever you want space girl,"

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl I hope you play this song some day...

**

Masterlist

[rarephloxes]

@lucienvanserraweek, free day!

I’m so happy to announce that this is a collab with my dear friend @ratabrasileira!!! Go show the beautiful drawing she did some love!!

rating: G

words: 2.2k

Elain searches the woods for flowers and finds more than she ever expected. Sleeping Beauty Au

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Elain left the cottage barefooted, the soft cushion of the grass comfortable and well known to her feet. The familiar and gratifying feeling of calm earth beneath her, steady and grounding, more than enough reason to forego any sort of shoes.

Roses, Feyre had chanted, the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes persisting ever since her chance encounter with a newcomer guard at the town square, the prettiest ones you can find, please?

Elain had not the courage to tell her younger sister that she had picked fresh flowers just the day before, funny-shaped pink blooms Elain found at the lip of the stream near the border.

So, she had picked her basket - the one Nesta had gifted her on her last birthday, handmade by her older sister herself; a beautiful, intricate thing done with the hard-earned love of the hardest Archeron - and left, a spring to her step and a tune brimming in her throat.

The woods, the townspeople said, were older than the village by unaccounted years, and therefore filled with deep, wondrous and dangerous magic.

Elain, as well as her sisters, was orphaned too soon. A wasting sickness that had scourged their village had taken away both of her parents, one after the other, leaving only a nearly of age Nesta, a doe-eyed Elain, and a tear-stained Feyre.

Many years had passed since, the nebulous, all-consuming pain of the absence of their parents soothed by time. Despite her grieving, it never escaped Elain’s thoughts how lucky she was to have such wonderful people in her life: her kind neighbors; the quaint, energized people of the village, who never missed a chance for celebration; the old grouch at the square who made wooden figures just as her father once had; Feyre’s laugh, her creativity and Nesta’s attentive strength.

The woods, magical and mysterious, were a source of peace in Elain’s little life, too. A balm made of soft sunlight, fresh, perfumed breeze, and the singing quietness of wildlife.

She walked, shawl hanging on her elbows to ward off the slightest of spring chills. Elain sang to her heart’s content, a lively lyric dancing on her tongue and bouncing on the leaves of the tallest of trees, her heart soaring with each note she presented to her loved woodland.

With Feyre’s wishes in mind, Elain followed a path towards a grove, the humidity at her destination perfect for the birth of deep pink roses which best complimented Feyre’s complexion.

She crossed the sturdy old bridge that allowed passage over the river, her cottage’s mill no longer audible from where she stood.

“Hello, Mister,” Elain greeted the white, wild bunny, its twitching mustache smelling the air twice before hurrying on fast jumps towards her, a cupped palm of berries awaiting the animal’s eager mouth, allowing her to scratch its head “You’re rather famished this morning, aren’t you?” she asked. The bunny agreed with what seemed like and affirmative ear twitch before her furry friend scampered away to a nearby bush.

Then, singing about poets and kings, Elain continued her path through the meandering trees, her basket filling with dark, juicy berries - a few of them already staining her lips red - and multicolored flowers.

A bold, red little bird landed on Elain’s extended finger and enchantingly sung with her. Its melodic chirping lacing and harmonizing to the girl’s sweet voice, their impromptu duet accompanied by the rustling leaves and the gurgling stream.

How wonderful Elain felt, surrounded by nature, connecting to the air around her as if it had birthed her itself, offering it her voice. Respectfully reaping the charming flora, she found on her way, breathing their scent, befriending the forest animals, and spinning on the tip of her toes on the soft soil.

As she stopped dancing, her skirts still swishing around her calves from the last of her twirls, Elain noticed a magnificent shrub of the blooms she had braved the woods for, jewel-bright pink petals shining under sunbeams, as if the tress had organized themselves to create a spot of light for such earthly beauty.

Right then, the strangest of things happened.

With her heart jumping to her throat, beating frenetically against her ribs, Elain noticed a beautiful horse. Saddled, with a gleaming chestnut coat, dark eyes downcast, calmly munching on the grass near its hooves.

It wasn’t unheard of, horses in the woods, wild or otherwise, they were not far from the main road, but that was not what made Elain’s skin prickle with alertness.

A well-taken care horse as such must have a rider nearby.

“Samson,” called a male voice “There’s not much left to go.” The horse shuffled his legs, huffing before turning its nose away, back onto the moss.

“There will be carrots,” the voice tried again, with a tone of simulated indifference.

Caught like a fish on a hook, the horse’s great neck snapped up, looking at its rider, as if expecting the vegetable all at once. Stoic as the pair of them seemed, Elain had the impression Samson was kindly spoiled.

Elain, who could hear the rich sound of the stranger’s voice, had not yet distinguished his form in the shade beyond the grove she entered, but following the stallion’s gaze she finally sighted him.

Oh, but what a beautiful man he was.

Stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, with an old, silvery scar marking the side of his face, slitting his brow and narrowly missing his eye - which seemed to be a disconcerting shade of brown. He had the most vibrant shade of red hair she has ever seen, dark like autumn leaves and silky like water.

He was the most beautiful human she has ever seen.

Stranger, however, had yet to notice her.

And as handsome as he was, Elain was clever enough to realize that a quick, silent escape was the safest option.

Slowly, she walked one step back.

The crunch of the branch beneath her foot echoed loudly, too loudly to be confounded by an innocuous wildlife sound.

Elain couldn't raise her eyes to look at him, attention glued to the sword holstered at his hip.

“Be not afraid, lady. I’ll take my leave in a moment,” Stranger said in a placating tone, palms deliberately upraised for her benefit.

The woods turned to music at the exact moment their eyes met.

A world-altering spark of recognition lighted in her mind.

A stranger in the woods, merry music, dancing fireflies, and singing birds, trees being led by the wind as if women in a ballroom, her vision spinning, and her body lighting up like fireworks. A hand on her waist, a choreography her body must have been made for performing, such ease it was to allow it to guide her away.

Dreams, she remembered, wonderful dreams which always kept her under her covers for a moment too long, always ending way too soon, leaving longing as a dent in her pillow.

Now he was right in front of her.

“I know you,” she whispered, words slipping through her lips like birds escaping a cage, her hands shaking.

He was dressed in well-made traveling clothes, dark pants, finely done knee-length boots she had only ever glanced upon whenever wealthier people crossed the town to check on their local businesses, but those deftly dressed gentlemen couldn’t have looked better than the man even with the priciest of fineries. Elain resisted the urge to press her hands to her cheeks, heated and pink from noticing Stranger only wore a thin, unruffled poet’s shirt, - his cape and hat using the nearby trees as hangers - its open laces revealing golden skin and wisps of red hair.

Elain had never felt self-conscious of her looks or clothes, the townspeople dressing similarly to her (even if Elain herself had one of the best sewing hands in their village). Her current outfit was a simple corset with boning made out of prepped hedgehog spikes, the plain fabric embellished with neat seams and picturesque figures Elain had stitched herself; a brown, light skirt - easy to wash and easier to hide soil stains - and, what now she deemed absurd due to the grime on her nails, no slippers.

“And I, you,” he answered as in a daze, hands falling limply at his sides.

“Do you hear it?” Elain made her voice firm, lifting he chin but with her knees slightly bent, ready to run.

“Yes, my lady,” he took a step, then two, until a stretch of his arm would land his hand on her shoulder.

But he didn’t move to touch her.

Elain swallowed, the breeze cooling her body, eyes downcast, legs now motionless and nearly failing her.

“Why won’t you let me see your eyes, my lady?” She couldn’t be sure, for she knew him not, but there was pleading in his tone.

“I’m afraid, my lord, that if I look at you, I’ll awake and leave this dream,” she whispered, surprised, but not fearful, of her words. “And you’ll fly away from my grasp,”

Suddenly shy of her newly found boldness, she turned her back to him.

“I’m-" She started, voice small.

“No, please.” Elain saw a shadow over her shoulder but wouldn’t dare to guess. “Forgive me for my requests, my lady, you need not give me anything, I-”

He sounded... embarrassed.

She found it endearing.

The song of the woods shifted to a village rhythm she knew well.

“Dance with me,” he called.

A gasp fell freely from her mouth, the ghost of a touch on her hand.

Slowly, she turned back to face him and realized her mistake.

His eyes were not brown, but a vibrant russet shade, complimenting his hair better. Elain had heard only the continent bred humans with the most varied and colorful bodies.

“I forgive you,” she mouthed, her throat no longer functional.

There were callouses on his palms if from holding reins or sword fighting, she couldn’t determine, but they were so gentle against her skin she barely put any mind to it.

A blast of sound surrounded them, as if the song recognized their meeting, rejoicing in their movements, magnifying their volume to ensconce the pair of them in a cloud of magic. Elain allowed her stranger to spin and lead her in the dance of her dreams.

She couldn’t help to laugh and smile and giggle as they swayed in impossibly rehearsed arrangements, his wide, carefree, delighted grin pouring sunshine into her chest.

Time turned to a growing bloom, following the natural, slow, unpreoccupied pace of life. A hundred dances thrummed with them while the small pointer of the square clock circled once.

At that time, the resounding, deep clang of the church’s bell chiming twelve times broke through the magic steering the couple.

Elain ceased her steps, the pang of reality downing on her face, awareness washing the enchanted fog in her mind.

She let go of Stranger’s hand, the melodies dimming to a quiet hum, tempting her as a distance siren song,

“I must go,” she told him, yet unable to move.

“So soon?” he asked earnestly, arms lovingly tightening around her waist, not caging, only a gentle embrace.

“Oh, please, I must have my leave. Your lordship certainly has somewhere to be. I don’t even know what to call you-“ she babbled in a rush.

Stranger pressed his nose to the sliver of skin above her neck line, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if she were a saint and he a devotee. Elain lost the breath in her lungs, head lulling back, her words cutting themselves short.

“It’s yours,” his lips brushed the slope of her neck, “My name, my heart, my soul. It’s all yours. I’m Luc-“

Hurriedly, Elain lifted his head and pressed her pointer and middle finger to his mouth, “You must not tell me your name,”

“I heard your voice,” he admitted, a portrait of hope in his face, gently grasping her wrist “I deviated from the road to look for the angel whose song I was lucky to listen. But the singing stopped, as it was never there in the first place,”

“The woods have a mind of their own” she whispered to herself, eyes roaming around as if searching.

“I found you once I let Samson rest for a moment,” he continued, uninterrupted, as though afraid she would vanish in a poof of light.

“Please, my lady. Can’t you see? One is never to deny a gift from the Gods,”

“Are you a believer, Stranger?”

“Now, I am,” he said, his gaze unfaltering, “Will you allow me to reveal my name to your Ladyship?”

“I’m no lady,” she said, taking her hand from the warmth of his, regretting it immediately, “I must have my leave,” How would she explain her tardiness to Nesta? Oh, how reckless she was acting.

“At least allow me to take you to your home, my lady,”

Elain knew deep in her gut as clearly as she knew the color of the sky and the name of her favorite flowers that he would never hurt her.

But her oldest sister warning echoed in her conscience, coiling its limbs around her, refraining her voice.

The universe, it seemed, understood her decision.

Samson let out a loud neigh, attracting her love’s attention for just long enough.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” she promised as he turned around to watch his horse.

And ran away, deep into the woods.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments make my day.

Special thanks to @moononastring and @silvergriff for hosting this awesome event, @separatist-apologist for being the kindest and most considerate beta reader I could ever hope for.

I’m building a tag list! If you want to keep up with my writing, let me know :))

I may or may not continue this? I really want to mesh this with a bunch of other ideas I have on my notes!!

[taizi]

out past the shallow breakers

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, jiang cheng & lan sizhui word count: 3148 read on ao3

x

“He died!”

The words ring loud, sharp—in the pavilion where they’re taking their evening meal, surrounded on all sides by untroubled water, the words seem to carry for miles.

It’s unlike Lan Sizhui to raise his voice at all, much less to raise it toward a senior. His hands, resting politely on his knees under the table, have curled into fists.

“Everyone goes on and on as though baba has so much to atone for,” Lan Sizhui says, each word lurching from his throat like a line of fierce corpses shambling through brush. “What more is there for him to give? What more do you want? He died.”

Jin Ling is staring at his friend as though he’s never seen him fully before. On Lan Sizhui’s other side, Wei Wuxian’s expression is shifting rapidly from alarm to comprehension. His gray eyes are full of a painful understanding.

“Sizhui ah,” Wei Wuxian says, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Come take a walk with me.”

Jerking his head in a nod, Lan Sizhui pushes to his feet and then pauses there. His Gusu Lan whites, those extra lines and layers that denote him a member of the main family, ghost elegantly around him when he lowers himself in a bow that is every inch deep that it needs to be and not one inch deeper.

“Sect Leader Jiang, this disciple apologizes,” he says. The cheerful ‘shushu’ of earlier that morning might as well be a memory of another life. “My behavior was unworthy.”

He doesn’t grit it out, the way Jin Ling would probably have had to. It doesn’t even seem to cost him any pride.

For one, single, impossible moment, it’s as though Jiang Yanli is standing there, making her apologies to their mother for her brothers’ sake, to spare them any pain she could. It didn’t matter that the blame wasn’t hers. It didn’t cost her any pride, either.

But Jiang Yanli didn’t have a chance to be a part of her nephew’s life, as much as she would have wanted to be. This likeness isn’t hers, not truly. Wei Wuxian was always more like his sister than he or Jiang Cheng were ready to admit.

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is hoarse, but in the stillness of the water and the silence of the pavilion, it carries, too. “Go on.”

Wei Wuxian shepherds his son from the table. He glances back at Jiang Cheng once, a grimace of apology on his face, but then Lan Sizhui’s hand finds the trailing black hem of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve and clutches to it, and that steals all of Wei Wuxian’s attention as easily as a slap or a shout might have.

The moment they’re gone, Jin Ling lets out a breath he must have been holding, and rounds on his other uncle with wide eyes.

“What did you say?” Jin Ling blurts. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but it didn’t sound like—I mean, it sounded normal.”

Jiang Cheng is still staring at the place Lan Sizhui had stood.

The last living remnant of a persecuted clan, so much an amalgamation of his two fathers that it didn’t make sense that one of them had been dead for most of his young life—holding a grudge and bowing his head at the same time. Lan Wangji, in Jiang Cheng’s experience, has never once let something go that he could nurse icy resentment for instead. Wei Wuxian has always choked down hurt like it was second nature, no matter that it must feel like swallowing nails every time.

It was a normal conversation, but perhaps that’s exactly why Lan Sizhui couldn’t bear another second of it.

“He died,” Lan Sizhui had said, as raw as a fresh wound, or one that kept getting torn open again before it could heal. “What more do you want?”  

#

“Ah, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says the next morning, meeting him in the courtyard. “Did you sleep well?”

He’s smiling with a certain nervous energy that Jiang Cheng can only pick out because he spent the formative years of his life raising and being raised by his siblings. To an outsider, there probably wouldn’t be a single visible chink in that cheerful armor.

Jiang Cheng, for all his failings, isn’t an outsider. Not quite. The door between them is closed—has been closed for years, almost decades—but Wei Wuxian isn’t the one who closed it. There almost certainly isn’t a lock or talisman keeping Jiang Cheng from forcing it open again.

It won’t come open again easily. There is so much stacked in the way. Hurt and betrayal and grief throw their weight into keeping it shut, weighing it down on either side.

But—

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng forces out. Wei Wuxian blinks, as if he didn’t expect a forthright answer, or any answer at all. Something about his open surprise at the barest scrap of civility makes Jiang Cheng add, “If you’re awake this early, you didn’t sleep at all.”

His brother takes the opening for what it is, and bends into character. “Oh! You know me so well!”

Mo Xuanyu’s body is smaller, slighter, than the body that Wei Wuxian was born into, and his face is not quite the same, but Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms shine through so clearly that it’s easy to look past everything else. Even the way he stands still is entirely his own, his whole body vibrating with the necessary focus it takes to keep from bursting into movement again.

He is so familiar. The most familiar thing in Jiang Cheng’s entire, almost-empty life.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Wei Wuxian says. The words spill from his mouth like river pebbles, scattering around their feet. There’s that echo of their jiejie again, smiling around I’m sorry. “Don’t hold it against him, please. He’s so young, and he’s struggling to make sense of some things. He was happy that you invited him to Lotus Pier.”

The past-tense makes Jiang Cheng want to flinch, but he doesn’t. He just stands there in the peach pink morning and absorbs the beginning of a goodbye.

“So you’re leaving, then?” he mutters.

“I think we’ve definitely worn out our welcome this time,” Wei Wuxian says, easily shouldering the blame for everyone else’s bad behavior. They might as well be twelve years old again, kneeling here in the courtyard under Madam Yu’s furious eyes. “But it’s alright! Wen Ning sent word that he’s waiting for us outside of Yunmeng and Sizhui is eager to see him. We’ll go find some trouble to get into before we head back home.”

He won’t say a word about this change of plans to his husband, but Lan Wangji will still find out—whether Lan Sizhui tells him, or Wen Ning, or he just picks up something from Wei Wuxian through osmosis—and the next cultivator conference will be excruciating. And if the Jiang clan gets anything out of it, it won’t be anything good. And Jiang Cheng will feel slighted and angry for months, until the next time Wei Wuxian swings by for a visit. And having his brother nearby will soothe an ache in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s chest that he’s able to ignore all the rest of the time. And then, inevitably, Wei Wuxian will look wistfully at the water, or linger for too long by the flowers their sister liked best, or bring some other manner of ghost to the dinner table, and Jiang Cheng will lash out because it’s the only way he knows how to handle hurt. And then Wei Wuxian will extract himself and go home to Cloud Recesses early, and Lan Wangji will rightly guess why. And it just never fucking ends, does it?

The grief he carries around with him—he’s not wrong to carry it. It’s his. He was hurt, time and again, by a person he used to count on not to hurt him. He’s two times an orphan; once when his parents died, and again when his siblings did. He had to rebuild his home from the ground up, by himself, with his own two hands. Everything he has is what he was able to dig out of the dirt and ashes.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Lotus Pier fell. It isn’t his fault that the Wens were persecuted, that they had nowhere else to turn for protection. And it isn’t—

This one hurts; this one comes away bleeding. Jiang Cheng forces himself through it anyway.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Yanli died.

She died for him, but he didn’t ask her to.

Jiang Cheng feels his brother’s golden core thrumming inside his chest, hyper-aware of it now in a way he rarely was before—how it feels the way the sun looks in the morning, warm and brilliant and spilling color across the dull gray of dawn.

He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian to cut himself open for Jiang Cheng’s sake. He can’t be blamed for his brother’s choices. And if that’s true (and it has to be true or Jiang Cheng will go insane) then Wei Wuxian can’t be blamed for their sister’s choice, either. Yanli died for Wei Wuxian because she loved him, and Wei Wuxian gave Jiang Cheng his golden core because he loved him, and Jiang Cheng never moved on and never let go because he loved them, too.

They weren’t raised to love softly or quietly. Love between the three of them was always fierce, like a wild animal baring its teeth. Clinging to each other in a world that wanted to rip them apart. Even Yanli, who smiled and spoke with such sweetness, went to war because her brothers were there.

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

Jiang Cheng lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is already looking at him, poised, as ever, to leave the moment Jiang Cheng gives him any indication that he should, like a bird ready to fling itself into flight. His brother, dead for thirteen years and back again, and only sometimes-welcome in the place he used to call home. Only sometimes-wanted by the person who used to be his family.

In a world full of people missing people they’ll never see again, Wei Wuxian is a miracle that Jiang Cheng is entirely unworthy of.

He’s right to carry his grief, because it’s his. But he wouldn’t be wrong—it wouldn’t be a betrayal—if he chose to set it down.

“You find trouble as easy as breathing,” he says, speaking through his heart, where it’s lodged in his throat, “so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Maligned!” Wei Wuxian cries with an air of great sorrow. “Blatantly maligned, by my own flesh and blood!”

Jiang Cheng can’t say what he wants to say. He can’t find the words. There’s only so much of himself he can dig up and expose like raw nerves before the pain of it becomes overwhelming, and he reacts to the hurt the way he always does, and shoves Wei Wuxian away.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Jin Ling, or he’ll never forgive you,” Jiang Cheng settles for. “And I’ll be the one stuck hearing about it.”

“I would never forget my favorite nephew,” Wei Wuxian says easily.

“And if you fuck up, and get yourself into a stupid mess,” Jiang Cheng adds, before he loses his nerve, “don’t let me hear about it from someone else.”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What if it’s very stupid?” he finally asks, his voice at once both faint and painfully fond.

“What else is new?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Just send for me, and I’ll come.”

Above them, the pink and orange of fresh dawn make way for vivid blue. As Jiang Cheng stands in his childhood home with his only brother, while the market comes to life outside the walls and the breeze sweeps the smell of lotus flowers and scallion pancakes through the courtyard, the years seem to fall away. For a brief, uninterrupted moment, they’re both back where they belong.

“Aiyah, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course you will.”

#

The next time Jiang Cheng sees Lan Sizhui is at the cultivation conference in Gusu, two months later.

The boy smiles politely but greets him as ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ again, and next to him, Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling wince. Lan Sizhui’s counterpart, the wildly opinionated and deeply un-Lan-like Lan Jingyi is giving him a frank, up-and-down appraisal.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you,” he says baldly. “You’re brave. Like, if Hanguang-jun hated me as much as he hated you, I just wouldn’t show up. You couldn’t pay me to show up.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says at length.

“No, I know. I’m just saying. Young Mistress,” he adds, sweeping into a deep, performative bow in front of Jin Ling, “if you’ll come with me, your presence is earnestly awaited by Young Master Ouyang in the library pavilion.”

“Shut up, Jingyi, I swear,” Jin Ling snaps, but he lets himself be herded away with only a single worried glance back at his uncle.

Lan Sizhui is gazing up at Jiang Cheng with a complicated expression. Even though the explosive anger of that disastrous dinner doesn’t seem likely to make a reappearance, there is still something troubled in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize, shushu,” the boy says slowly. “Properly, that is. For the way I spoke to you last time.”

Ah. So the stiffness isn’t born of lingering irritation, but worry. These Lans, Jiang Cheng thinks, with significantly less venom than he’s used to thinking of the Lan sect with.

He has a well of patience for his nephews that has never run dry. Jin Ling has stretched it nearly to the limit, more than once, but it will take Lan Sizhui more than one emotional outburst to come even close. Given that they’ve only been family (for given value of the word) for a short while, it makes sense that Lan Sizhui wouldn’t know that.

“It wasn’t you that I was angry with, not really,” Lan Sizhui says, explaining when Jiang Cheng has already largely guessed. “I know that you care about baba in your own way, even if a-die doesn’t think so. But—there are—”

His young face folds in frustration, less remarkably than Jin Ling’s does when he’s having a snit, but just a creased forehead speaks volumes in this repressed sect.

“There are other people. Who say similar things. And they don’t mean it the way you mean it.”

Jiang Cheng knows that. He attended those meetings, too.

“And let me guess,” he says, “my idiot brother doesn’t want you speaking up for him.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth twists. “He says that he did horrible things, and those people are well within their rights to feel about him however they want to feel about him. But—he did good, too. He protected my clan, even though he had to do it alone. I don’t remember very much,” he goes on, slightly quieter, “but I know that he made the Burial Mounds a warm and safe place for me. I know that I never felt scared or cold or hungry when I was there with him. And I don’t think most people could have done that.”

Jiang Cheng boxes up the involuntary pain that swells into place at the poking of this half-healed wound, and gives himself a moment to organize a reply. Talking to the mind-healer his chief physician recommended to him has helped a lot, not that he’ll give that smug witch the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Wei Wuxian hurt a lot of people, but so did everyone else,” he says when he’s certain he can say it without losing his composure. “We were at war. None of us are blameless. He was just the most convenient scapegoat. He still is.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes are bright with vindication. He was born a Wen and raised a Lan, but there’s a streak of Jiang in there, too, Jiang Cheng thinks with pride. It’s that love that Jiang Cheng recognizes, the same kind of love that he and jiejie and Wei Wuxian had cultivated between them since they were children—the vicious, untamed kind of love that marches to war and claws its way up from hell and clings too hard to things it rightly should let go of.

“It isn’t fair,” Lan Sizhui says.

“No,” Jiang Cheng allows. “It isn’t.”

#

Wei Wuxian waves animatedly at Jiang Cheng from across the room, even though it makes Lan Qiren scowl at him. It’s reminiscent of every single stuffy banquet they had to sit through as kids, making faces at one another when Madam Yu��s eyes were turned away.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes in return, and Wei Wuxian lights up like he’s been handed a pile of gold. Lan Wangji gazes at him with a tenderness that would be absolutely absurd if Wei Wuxian didn’t actually deserve every scant inch of it that got sent his way, and even though the entire cultivation world is waiting, he spares a moment to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

Sect Leader Yao scoffs, a bit too loudly. “Shameless upstart.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes turn so sharp so fast that it promises violence.

Before he can say anything that starts another war, Jiang Cheng turns fully around in his seat.

“Problem?” he asks shortly.

Baffled, Sect Leader Yao’s gaze skates around the room for a moment before landing back on Jiang Cheng.

“If you have something to say about my brother,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice a snarl, zidian sparking on his arm, “say it so that I can hear you.”

“Ah, this meeting is off to such a lively start,” Wei Wuxian says into the ominous stillness of the room. “Shidi, you’re so energetic, why don’t you kick things off?”

It would be the first time in his career that he’s the first to speak at a conference. Openly disbelieving, Jiang Cheng looks from his brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s eyes are narrowed, but not as though he’s sizing Jiang Cheng up for a coffin, which is how he usually sizes him up. All he does is tip his head incrementally, conceding the floor to him.

Gods. It’s that simple.

“You are really not a difficult person, are you?” Jiang Cheng says aloud.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees, this force of nature who turned the world upside down and challenged every single person in it, who would do so again and again and again, just to be able to sit there and hold Wei Wuxian’s hand.

And then, in the closest the two of them have ever come to an understanding, Lan Wangji adds, “Neither are you.”

[trumpkinhotboy]

Hanging upside down

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Genre: A tiny bit angsty, a bit of comedy, and a bit fluffy

Warnings: A little mention of blood here and there, but nothing too intense!

Rating: g

Request: Open

A/n: First Edmund fic !! At first, this was supposed to be about mister Peter Pevensie, but then I got the divine inspiration to make it all about our dear Edmund. I had fun with this! I hope you'll like it. I recommend reading it while listening to a Narnia ambiance playlist with forest sounds or something like that! Also, THERE YOU GO @imjustdreamingig I POSTED IT

** gif is not mine !!

*** ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FACE??? SO HANDSOME OMGGGG

Sometimes, being part of the royal entourage, things just get so intense that you need some time apart, away from all the agitation and emotional banter. Being so included in it, you get deeply hurt and worried when nerve-racking and atrocious situations occur. Then comes in the terrible realization that there is not a thing you can do, that you are completely and utterly helpless. Even if you would like to listen to your sheer instinct, you cannot. There are protocols, political relations, and a whole country that depends on your every action. In those situations, you are stuck with these dark feelings undermining you slowly.

This time it was Edmund; involved again in a bloody affair with the Calormene. For a moment, you all got worried it would end up badly, but he had just gotten back, victorious. You were deeply attached to every member of the Pevensie family, especially the freckled adventurous young man, although that could never be revealed. Alas, with secrets to keep and worry eating your brains out you needed to be alone, take a breath or two and forget a little about the world you lived in.

Hanging upside down, hands and arms swinging down. Hair forming a curtain of various shades around your head. You went into the woods to clear your mind, soak in the freshness of the air. There is this little spot you found with an imposing willow oak and a little river right next to it; maybe you could absorb a bit of the serenity of the woods. Everything is calm and soothing, there is not a sound to be heard.

- “Hey!”

You scream, fall quite hard to the ground, and scene.

- “Aouch.”

Trapped in your hair, you sit down, a little dizzy from falling directly on the head. Rubbing your aching elbow that is going to be badly bruised without a doubt, you hear a bright laugh and see Edmund rolling in the grass.

- “Nobody taught you that it was not ideal to creep on someone while they are hanging upside down on a tree?” you grumble.

He is still trying to catch his breath when he answers you.

- “The… question… would be… why were you hanging upside down a tree without being mindful of your surroundings? Someone with bad intention could have crept up on you!” he tries to defend himself, but you can tell he thinks this is hilarious.

- “Come on, Ed.”

- “Alright, alright, I am sorry, but you must admit it was funny.” He answers while getting up.

- “Yeah, yeah, alright.”

You check your body to see any possible injury; your knees are a little scratched, but nothing too bad, your elbow still hurts, but other than that, you are all in one piece. You try to get up while Edmund is still brushing twigs and clumps of grass off his tunic. You slowly get on your feet, but the world is spinning incredibly fast; you grab the tree beside you for balance, hoping it will calm down the revolving of the world.

- “I cannot wait to tell the oth… Y/n?” he looks up, only to see you looking at the ground, eyes wide open.

- “I don’t feel so well...” You lift your gaze to meet his, seeing triples of him dancing around.

- “You are bleeding!”

- “Mh?”

He takes a step towards you, worries written on his traits. He touches the side of your face, and you cannot help but wince at the sharp pain it triggers in you. He lifts your head, turns it on the side, and examines you quickly before declaring you should get back to the castle and maybe get a stitch or two.

- “Will you be able to walk?”

- “It is just a scratch Ed, I am not deathly injured.” You scoff, taking a shaky step before the world starts spinning again. You reach your arms out, searching for anything that could balance you out, which ends up being his hand. “I just need a little support.”

- “Why, of course.” He smiles affectionately at you.

Together you walk slowly but surely to the grand castle. Luckily, you were not that far out in the woods, so the walk is not that long. From time to time, you feel a spin of dizziness. Especially when you try to look up too fast, but otherwise than that, you are fine.

- “Why were you there alone anyway?”

- “I needed some time to myself.”

You have grown up with him, he has learned to observe you and depict your physical language. Just by the tone of your voice, he knows something is wrong.

- “Something happened?” he asks you after a second of silence.

- “No, yes, I mean no! Nothing actually happened it is just….”

His eyes are piercing right through you; his stare attentively focused on your every move. You look back at him, and all at once, the stress and anxiety you felt while he was away are rushing back into your blood. You can feel your heart tighten in your chest; what if something had happened to him? The thought of losing him, you could not bear it, it physically caused you pain. What if he had been in danger and nobody could have saved him?

- “Y/n?” He interrupts your train of thought, bringing you back to reality.

- “Sorry.”

- “If you do not want to tell me it is okay, you don't have to.”

- “No, it is just that… I was so worried Ed. I hate when you go on your own, I hate when there is no way for us to reach or help you. I hate when you are gone off like that.”

You both stopped walking; you have taken two steps away from him. You cannot hold his gaze as all the terrible scenarios start playing again and again before your own.

- “I cannot help but think about all the things that could go wrong. About the actual panic and unbearable pain, I would feel if something were ever to happen to you. It drives me crazy.” You take a deep breath, trying to block the images assaulting your brain. "I needed to take a step back. This place is where I go when it all gets too much for me.”

A deep silence sets in; you are mad at yourself for telling him about it. Each word that leaves your mouth exposes your feelings a fraction more, and you cannot allow that. You do not want to annoy him with your worries. He is a king; he has many more things to worry about than you and your feelings. It is not like it would ever stop him from doing his royal duties, and you understood that. Your behavior is childish and immature. The more you think about it, shame invades each of your cells; you should have never told him about it.

- “Edmund I…” you spin on your heels to face an Edmund that is much closer than you thought. You do feel pretty dizzy from the sudden movement, but you almost forget about it as you are taken away by the emotion in his brown eyes. Almost. You trip a little, but he is quick to catch you and stabilize you.

- “I am sorry Y/n. I did not know you felt like that.” He looks down on your linked hands. “I must admit I would go crazy too if I knew you were in danger and there was nothing I could do to reach you.” He finally looks up at your surprised face. “Stop looking so surprised. I have feelings too, I am not always the rational and practical person everyone thinks I am.” He adds with a shy smirk. You are even more astonished but dare not to say a word.

He slowly lifts his hand towards your face, his whole attention centralized on your being. Holding your breath; you do not dare to move a millimeter. His hand stops in his track as his gaze slides to the long strike of blood going down your face.

- “We, we should get back to our quarters so that we can take care of you.”

You are frozen in place, not able to grasp what was just about to happen. What would have happened? What was that? You had never noticed such depth of emotions in his eyes, but at that moment, you could have sworn it was infinite.

- “Are you ready?” he slides one hand on your back while the other grasp your hand. You nod, feeling more confused than you have ever been.

Once you get inside and head for the royal quarters you suddenly think about the blood still dripping from your left eyebrow, feeling the warm liquid sliding down your throat. You already hear Susan's reprimands when she will see your ruined dress. You cannot help a smile as you think about the weird face she always makes when she is annoyed with something. Her brows furrows and she twists her mouth in an ungraceful rictus which never fails to make you and the other Pevensies laugh.

- “What are you smiling for?”

- “Susan’s face when she’ll see my ruined dress.” You smirk.

- “What do you mean?”

You lift your head to show him the multiples streaks of blood going down your neck and onto the collar and fabric of your dress.

- “Oh no, I did not think about wiping it up.”

- “No worries, as I said, it will be fun to see Su’s face.”

He lets out a chuckle before opening the door of the room. Inside Lucy is painting by the window while Susan is reading a book near her. The two sisters instantly get on their feet when they see the scenery of Edmund supporting you, blood dripping down your face.

- “What happened?”

- “Lucy, please get some towels and the healer’s pouch. Edmund bring her on the couch.”

- “It’s not that bad Su, it’s barely a scratch, I’m fine.” You try to explain.

- “I will be determining that.” She interrupts sternly.

You sigh, knowing you will not escape this as Lucy returns with the aid kit. She starts looking at you too with concern.

- “I think it will need a stitch or two.”

- “Oh, really, guys I do not…”

The older sister glances at you with an expression that did not need any explanations; you needed to shut it. She starts preparing the supply and is still turning your head from side to side when she finally notices the bloodstains on your dress and sighs.

- “Really Ed? You could not have wiped it off? Now her new dress is totally ruined.” That is when the weird rictus and furrowed brows made their apparition.

You take a look at Edmund who is also trying his best to hold in his laughter but fails miserably when she stands there staring at him, hands on her hips.

- “And you think that is funny? You too Y/n? Lu?” she turns around to look at you and her little sister barely containing your amusement. “Maybe I should not do your stitches and ask Mr.Tumnus to do them.”

You and the two other Pevensies grimace knowing damn well that he hates to do that kind of stuff. It makes him nervous and shaky, hence making the process even more painful for the already injured.

- “Oh, please, Susan.” You shake your head while rolling your eyes which was possibly the worst idea you have ever had. The whole room took a spin and brought back the dizziness.

They all come back to you, concerned that there might be more to this injury than what they initially thought.

- “I think she might have a concussion.” Says Edmund while reaching out to you again to offer you some support.

- “How exactly did you say this happened again?” asked Susan.

- “Well, actually, it is a pretty funny story.”

He is about to tell them about your slightly embarrassing fall when the arrival of his brother in the room interrupts him.

- “What happened ?!”

He walks to you with a confused expression. Edmund is still crouching before you, examining your face. You are not even able to answer Peter’s question as you are staring into his brother’s hypnotizing eyes. All this movement makes you even dizzier but let's be honest, even if you were about to puke, you would not miss the occasion to have Edmund’s warm hands on your face. You savor this moment as best as you can, but even though this feels incredibly good, you cannot ignore the feeling of your mind looping a little and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

- “Guys, what happened?” asks Peter again.

- “She might have a concussion; I think she fell on her head, and Edmund if you, please, stop holding onto her face, I could finally stitch her up and stop this tragedy.”

- “This tragedy?”

- “The dress Pete..” murmurs Lucy.

The older Pevensie looks at your dress, at his sister, then again at you with a look of disbelief. You lightly shrug your shoulder; he's about to say something but gives up understanding that when it comes to Susan, it is a true tragedy.

All the while, Edmund finally let go of you, his cheek a subtle shade of pink. You keep looking at him with confusion in your eyes. What is going on with this boy?

It takes a minute or two for Susan to stitch you up since the wound is small. The eyebrow arch being a place where there is a lot of blood circulation, it is typical you bled a lot. As for the concussion, there is nothing to do but wait and rest, which you absolutely despise, since everyone looks at you like a minotaur had impaled you.

You now lay on the pillowy sofa in a brand-new outfit; Susan forced you out of the dress to try to wash the blood off. Lucy went back to painting, Peter watching over her, and Edmund is sitting on the end of your couch with a book in hand. As for Susan, she is about to leave the room when she suddenly turns back.

- “You never told us what happened.”

You grin and look at Edmund who's already looking at you with a beaming smile on his face.

- “Come on, tell em.”

He does with much excitement, emphasizing the comedy of your fall, but he looks so proud, and everyone is laughing, even Susan, so you do not mind and let him have his moment.

- “Alright, alright funny guy. You told your story, now leave me alone.”

You nudge him with your foot, acting falsely angry. He swiftly grabs it, adjusting it so that both of your feet lay on his lap. He keeps a smile while going back to reading his book drawing small circles on your ankles. A swarm of butterflies is assaulting your stomach, and once again, the world starts spinning; although this time it is for a totally different reason.

...

A/n: I truly hope you liked this!!💛 Once again, just a word to tell you my requests are open. Feel free to send me anything Narnia related, I would love to make your idea come to life:))

[tom-riddle-haunts-me]

Not a new chapter but a mini fic I felt like writing. I'm a little stuck with the "main story", so I hope you'll enjoy this little drabble. I'm warning you, this shit gets sad and ugly.

Abigail 🐍✨

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

Tw: angst, gore, blood

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

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

It Hurts

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean, Y/n? It's me, I'm... I'm Tom"

"I... I don't know you"

Tom stepped back. Locking eyes with you had never felt so terrifyingly unreal to him.

"Y/n..."

Why you? Anyone. Fate could've taken anyone away from him, but you?

"Oh, Mr Riddle!"

Dumbledore. He would've helped him.

"Professor! Y/n is actin-"

"-our biggest disappointment."

Another step back.

"Who is this, Professor?"

Your voice echoed heavily in his ears, crawling up to his brain and piercing through it like a long blade. A thin, cold metal string slowly lacerating his cerebral matter, a wicked torture that left behind nothing but an even colder nothingness and blood, too much blood. Tom could feel the thick crimson fluid run down his neck, anxiety taking hold of the sticky substance and guiding its goopy drips around his own throat, suffocating the tired wizard.

"Y/n, it's me, IT'S ME."

"Who are you?"

The sound that somehow managed to reach Tom was muffled and eerily calm, almost lifeless. It wasn't your voice. The figure standing in front of him, that was you, he knew it, but he was hearing something else rather than your voice. It was painful listening to such an abomination.

Grotesque. Putrid. Writhing. Cruel words pooling around him.

Far, far away.

"Who are you? Are you okay? You look pale"

As your hand reached his face, Tom couldn't bring himself to melt into your touch as he habitually would. Couldn't you see the blood?

"He's about to die, Y/n."

"Oh... Alone? Like this? I'm sorry"

"Y/n I'm... I'm not dying"

As the teacher withdrew your hand from his face, panic tightened the pressure around his neck. Oxygen was struggling to flow through his lungs, his organs protesting as they were starting to feel the lack of air.

It hurt.

"Can we save him?"

"Yes, but we won't"

"Okay"

Words were failing the usually composed wizard, hopelessly stuck in his guts. His eyes were fixated on his dearest friend, the only person in the entire world who could make him feel something else rather than just anger and bitterness. His loneliness felt a little warmer with her, his thirst for power a little less cruel, his fears a little more bearable. Sitting under their dead tree by the Black Lake was something that brought comfort to him in times of distress, still, it was hard to believe the ones staring at him were those same eyes, the e/c gems that he got used to see smile every time they were to meet with his. In the mean time, your hugs were crumbling into mere memories in the back of his mind and Tom felt powerless for the first time since forever. Now the orphanage would be cold and desolate again, silence would come back to fill his empty room and days.

He needed to stop. Stop thinking, feeling. He hated that. He hated you. He was embarrassed with himself for he shouldn't have perceived such stupid things.

His pale hand traveled to his petrified face.

Tears.

Rotten fury exploded in his stomach like an erupting volcano, resulting in an aberrant sickness disturbing his already devastated self. Now nothing had to matter, not anymore. Not your giggles, not you nervously playing with your hair. What would happen to your smile, the one you had promised was only his, had to be none of his business. Letting it go should've been easy, he knew far too well how to block out anything useless to his goal. His exhausted mind slipped to your now blank eyes, your toneless voice.

You body, barely covered by the white dress you were wearing, looked consumed by a melancholy he couldn't define, deep buried in your eyes, flat and washed-up as much as the pale fabric flowing around you.

His chest stung.

"Tom"

Dumbledore's skinny hand found its way to your shoulder, like a caring parent, yet it had an ugly something in it.

Tom thought about your tone, your real one. He thought about the times it had reassured him, soothed his nerves down. That one time it had slightly raised with boldness to defend him from Dumbledore himself. Your promises. They flowed back like a swollen river. The darkness in your eyes when you declared that you were to come for whoever ever dared to wrong him, now gone. How, how he would've liked to tell you about your beauty. Harmless to sight, dangerous to the reckless. Just like a rose.

His rose.

Twisted sparkles in your eyes, shadows that still felt warm and pure. Innocence.

Horror.

Terror drowned his heart, need overwhelming his confused mind.

Where were you?

Uncertainty danced under his skin.

Not enough. Was he? Evil could never bloom into a rose. Its fruits would rot and fall into darkness, dragging down every little drop of light they'd ever reach.

The hand that was touching you, he hated that. And now, now it was rotting, the meat melting right onto your oblivious self.

Bones.

"Yes, Y/n?"

His tears kept on running dow his face, the skin under the salty guilty stinging while stretching into the smallest, surrendered smile.

You had no idea who he was, didn't you?

Time slowed down in the most excruciating way right before Dumbledore's skin began to shed off of him like a used robe. Dirty, now useless, distressed.

Large wings spread through the thick air of the Dark Forest, Lady Death herself raising up behind Y/n, her delicate face was now painted with a content smile and peaceful tears, mimicking his own.

"It hurts"

Before Tom's mind could gave birth to any sort of though, the Hooded Dame slid back, his beloved rose obnoxiously secured to Her chest in a possessive way. And at the same time they backed away, the ground faded unhurried into nothingness. An abyss was now opening its jaws under Y/n's beaten body, and it started to swallow her whole in slow-motion.

Tom stood frozen, the cruelty of his condition giving him all the time in the universe to process Y/n's flesh breaking into bloody, gruesome chunks, her organs easily finding their way out of her abdomen, down, into the merciless void with a dreadful, wet moan.

Tom threw himself in the emptiness of your end, reaching for the parts of what his delirious mind hoped could be sewed up together again. Was is it losing you that drove him crazy?

Or did the seed of madness just finally bloom in his now blood covered hands?

When did they got stained with crimson?

"Why didn't you save me, Tom?"

"Tom?"

"Tom"

"Tom!"

<TOM!>

The Slytherin's dark eyes shot open only to find e/c ones stare right back at them, red and swollen by tears still freshly oozing down s/c skin.

<What the FUCK, Tom! I couldn't wake you up!>

You felt so broken to his ears. So stressed to his eyes. As your finally sweet tone caressed his hearing again, Tom still found it difficult to move. Reality was just starting to settle in, his brain still processing the gruesome images that'll be now forever carved in his mind. You were screaming at him, but he couldn't hear you.

He looked to the left.

His diary.

Tom was in his dorm room, again, his soulmate straddling him in the most innocent way.

Crying, shaking.

Were you angry at him?

<Malfoy came running in the common room and he was in panic and then I was in panic cause he told me that you wouldn't wake up and kept on screaming so I dashed here and I panicked again and what the fuck Tom, bloody hell I- >

Tom did not have sufficient energies to keep his cold act up. Time was not wasted, and his arms laced around you as fast as possible, bringing you as close to his chest as they could. He'd probably crush your bones at a certain point, still he knew none of you cared, not when you were squeezing him the same way.

<Don't you dare do it again, Riddle. You scared the life out of me.>

He was not aware of his muscles being that tense until that very moment. The second your skin collapsed into his, everything was swept away, like smoke in thin air. The room was empty, the clock on its wall claiming the dead of the night to be the time your scene was playing.

<Malfoy went to Black and Evergreen's room>

You didn't really need to say more. Your body just slipped on the mattress, right beside Tom, letting enough space for his worn out frame to curl up to it. Your fingers began to play with his locks, actually unusually sweaty and almost dry, nothing like his usually silky ones. You'd swear you could feel his shattered mind under your fingertips, if only it was possible you'd seek for its scars and heal them one by one.

If only it was possible.

<Y/n?>

Tom's breath slowed down gradually, just like his heart rate, lulled by the quiet tone you were humming.

<Yes, Tom?>

The clock was almost too loud, you were afraid its ticketing would disturb him. Was keep staring at it enough to silence the noise?

Drowsy murmurs left the young wizard's lips, falling in your lap like dead petals but failing to reach up to your ears.

<Come again?>

You bent over, just a little, at least enough to trace out his confused mutters. It reminded you of your days at the orphanage, when you both were too young and scared. It brought your mind back when Tom used to tell you his secrets, when you were his one and only. When he was still just Tom.

<What... What does it feel to jump into the void?>

H/c hair gently fell over your shoulders as your head found rest on the wall.

Air was cold against your now wet cheeks.

"Can we save him?"

"Yes, but we won't"

The steady rhythm of Tom's chest raising up and down told you he was finally long gone into a gentle slumber, safe from himself.

<It hurts>

[unlocktxt]

in the darkness of tomorrow | c.yj

choi yeonjun x female reader

series masterlist :

prologue | part one | part two

genre: royal au, fluff, angst

description: the selection is happening once more to find a wife for prince yeonjun. y/n swears to hate the royal family, but when it’s time for the prince to choose a wife, she gets tied up in the mess.

note: this is inspired from the book the selection by kiera cass, however even though i use some of the ideas there are major differences.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: mentions being whipped and starved

tag list: @binniebutter @nshitae

this was the first time you had ever felt heartbreak. your heart has been a constant reminder that daniel ended things days ago. it haunted you, even as you passed by all of the bright faces in the city.

it seemed like heartbreak wasn’t enough for you. the world had to punish you some more by the announcement made yesterday. the news spread fast around town that day, “the selection application was required for all women of a given age.” you happened to be a part of that age group.

you doubted that the prince would choose you to even be considered as one of the options, but what if’s filled your mind. you still weren’t ready to let go of daniel. right now you wished you would’ve stayed to hear what he wanted to say, but now it was impossible.

you did anything to get your mind off of his frozen blue eyes, including thinking of the prince. unlike everyone else, you thought that prince yeonjun felt a little too entitled. single, willing women weren’t enough for him so he had to make those whose hearts belonged to someone else apply. unlike all the bright faces hoping to be picked, you didn’t want to be one of his little playthings.

they say that the selection was unbiased, but most people knew that wasn’t true. many girls who were unfortunate enough to be in castes five and lower, where they could hardly or not even make ends meet, rarely ever got picked and they were the ones who needed it most. you could stay a four and bake pastries all your life if it meant the people in castes lower than you could afford food.

besides, you had seen first hand what this kingdom has done and you didn’t agree. you would be caught dead before you ever bowed to their spoiled and corrupt system.

“hey mom!” you put on a small smile to please her worried eyes when you walked into the bakery. her small streaks of grey hair added to her beauty.

“i’m so sorry sweetie. i know how much you didn’t want to apply.” her shoulders relaxed, but she continued to place out new baked goods.

you let out a sigh, “yeah well... it doesn’t matter. it’s not like i’ll get picked.” you smiled at the thought. it was all just a waste of time.

your mom stopped, placing the basket of bread on the counter. “it’s supposed to be random... we never know.”

you furrowed your brows and laughed a bit, while giving your mom a look that said “really?” she smiled, shaking her head to acknowledge that you were probably right.

“anyways... where’s dad and taehyun?” you didn’t see or hear them in the bakery.

your mom looked up at you and for a moment she looked distant before returning to her warm demeanor. you caught the change but decided not to bring it up.

“going on an errand,” she responded simply before filling the basket of bread with a few cakes.

she wasn’t going to give you the chance to ask, but you didn’t mind. you knew she’d tell you later.

“so... this arranged engagement with taehyun.” you looked to the side while preparing your face for a whistle.

“you know he’s a great boy and he’s a doctor... a three. he also helps to manage the orphanage with the eights. he’s a great boy y/n.” your mom looked disappointed when you looked back at her.

“it’s just... when does a four ever get put in an arranged marriage. plus...” you looked down at your hands where your fingers were playing with each other, “what if... i could love someone else.” your eyes glistened at the thought of daniel always waiting for you on that tree branch. you didn’t know what caste he was in... even if he was an eight you’d be willing to be homeless with him... although now he’d be a two... all because of the draft.

your mom sighed as your little sister, seoyeon walked in. “that’s enough for now y/n. take this basket to the orphanage.”

seoyeon was all muddy, indicating how she came inside after playing around in the dirt. you grabbed the basket harshly, trying to show your mom that this was not over.

“can i go with?” seoyeon asked, looking at mom. your mom slightly nodded, so you took seoyeon’s hand in yours. you resisted the urge to glare at your mom before smiling at seoyeon.

“okay... we have to get to the orphanage... what’s the best route?” you asked your sister who wore a sly grin before pulling you out of the door.

seoyeon rushed towards the river as she pulled you along. it was your little secret space that no one visited. the two of you had been running for quite a while, slowly passing by fewer and fewer people.

once the two of you made it to the river, seoyeon balanced on the thin makeshift bridge with her arms sticking out. she wobbled here and there but made it over. you followed soon after, carrying the basket in your hand and making sure to avoid any wet slippery spots on the bridge. seoyeon laughed as you made your way over to her.

“hurry slowpoke!” she called before running off into the field.

you shook your head before fastening your pace. once you got off the bridge you took off into a sprint. by the time you caught up to her she was already at the orphanage and you were panting. that was one thing about seoyeon, for small legs she could sure as hell run.

“it’s about time.” she giggled as she took in your bent-over body. “i was starting to think i should’ve carried the basket.”

you rolled your eyes, waving her off before you straightened up. seoyeon had already run off to play with the kids her age. when you walked in there were a few kids and teenagers around your age sitting towards the entrance.

“are taehyun and jihyun around?” you asked, looking around to see if you had missed them in the small orphanage. all you could see at the moment was how it needed to be remodeled, like many things in this area.

“taehyun left a long while ago, but you could probably find jihyun upstairs if you like.” one of the teenage girls, who you knew to be yui, spoke. you nodded before moving towards the kitchen area to place to basket down, with a little note not to eat more than one.

you knew how hard it was for taehyun and jihyun to keep this orphanage up and running. it was hard to get everyone here a proper meal. taehyun nearly passed out from exhaustion when he came to visit your family. he had given up plenty of food just so those who were sick could eat enough.

you made sure to get the plates and napkins out to remind them not to leave the bread lying in unsanitary areas. once you felt your job had been done, you went upstairs to their office. unlike most days the door was closed. you knew something was wrong and the sniffling coming from the room only confirmed your suspicions.

you hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door and letting yourself in. jihyun’s sorrowful eyes burned through yours, making your heart drop.

“y/n thank god you’re here.” she cried before attacking you in a hug. you rubbed circles on her back to try and get her to calm down.

“what happened?” you asked softly, scared this question might break her.

she sniffled, “o-one of the boys-” she let out a sob and you continued to try and soothe her.

“it’s okay you don’t have to say anything.” at this point you moved one of your hands to her head and rested it there.

“n-no he... he stole some meat and they’re going to whip him y/n. they’re going to whip him. he’s only seven!” she cried looking at you in your eyes. she was pleading, pleading for you to do anything. you weren’t sure you could.

“where’s taehyun?” you asked looking around, maybe he went to help. maybe that’s what he and your dad were doing.

“i don’t know.” she finally calmed a bit, hiccuping here and there. “he left before we received the news.”

you were left to wonder what the two were doing, but you didn’t have time for that.

“i promise i’ll go help the boy.” you gave jihyun a determined look. “what’s his name?” you asked halfway out the door.

“hak hyunwoo.” she barely whispered it, probably ashamed. you gave her a reassuring smile before leaving and finding seoyeon.

by the time you had arrived back home they already were gathering people around the city to witness the poor boys' punishment.

“what is your name boy?” the masked man shouted more to the crowd than to the boy. you had been struggling to get closer to the wooden post.

“hak hyunwoo.” he was crying, his tears wouldn’t stop flooding. he had nobody to watch out for him.

“and what is your crime?” the masked man yelled out once more.

hyunwoo was silent before speaking. “theft.” it was quiet.

“your punishment will be...” he waited to see if the crowd of people would react. only a few weren’t excited, it was disgusting how many people were cheering. everyone was just sitting back... watching.

“thirty strikes to the back!” there was a roar in the crowd, but the noise died out in your mind. that was way too much...

you pushed even harder, “stop!” you screamed, but no one could hear you over the crowd. you saw them grabbing the whip, only making you lunge forward, forgetting about hurting the people in the crowd. you stumbled forward after reaching the front. it didn’t matter if he was an eight, you had to help him.

“wait!” you screamed, now where the two in charge of this could hear. the guards were watching you with cautious eyes.

“miss you can’t intervene.” one man standing to the side had said.

you took a deep breath. “this boy did nothing wrong. can’t you see he’s malnourished? the kingdom failed this poor boy... they’re the ones at fault.” you had to try anything. everyone gasped as you accused the royal family of this boy's actions.

“if you must punish someone. punish me, but theft does not deserve thirty strikes to the back.” everyone's eyes were on you, making you nervous. you never really asked for attention, but here you were gaining it.

the masked man was staring at you, no doubt glaring. “fine. get up here.” he nearly threw kyunwoo off of the tiny stage.

you were surprised that worked, you were just desperate, but now you would have to face the consequences. as you walked past the little boy you told him to run home, which he did. that gave you a little comfort.

“what is your name?” the masked man was seething.

“kim y/n.” you tried to sound brave and strong, but you couldn’t help the waver in your voice.

before he could do anything else, more soldiers rushed toward the tiny wooden stage.

“you mustn’t hurt this young lady. she’s been selected and the prince would like to see her now.”

you weren’t sure which guard had said it. you were stricken with shock. tears threatened to fall and you didn’t know whether it was from the relief of not getting whipped or because you’d have to leave everyone to be a plaything for prince yeonjun.

guards had escorted you back home. you were still in a daze from the information, even as your little sister cheered for you. your mom was the only one to snap you out of the trance.

“i’m sorry sweetie... just know that we will all be waiting and ready for anything that happens. we will support you no matter what.” she rubbed your shoulder as you stared at all of the paperwork in front of you.

there had been a palace worker standing beside you stating the rules and how the caste systems worked as if you didn’t know.

ones were royalty and family of royals. twos were celebrities, soldiers, and politicians. threes were people who worked pretty stable jobs like teaching and nursing. fours were business owners. fives were musicians and entertainers. sixes were those who helped others with jobs. sevens were mainly outdoor workers. then there were eights... these people were mainly cast out of society.

staring at the paper only made you even more frustrated. you were practically signing your life away for the possibility of being a three or one if you’re “lucky.”

everyone had to be virgins, single, and if caught in a relationship could be met with death. you rolled your eyes once more thinking about how it wasn’t optional this year. you guess it was a good thing daniel never asked you out and ended things.

then the man said that it’d be ill-advised to refuse anything the prince asked. that confirmed your suspicions, you were practically being sold off to a spoiled brat. the only one who could send you home was the prince himself and no one got a say in what the prince did.

of course, everyone had to be civil and not fight, but you had to wear what the palace gave you, nothing else. one of the worst things was that you couldn’t leave the palace on your own accord. you’d be trapped and watched for the entertainment of the show.

there was one last thing about being one of the last 10. it meant you were the elite, but you doubted that would ever be you. with that... you signed your love away.

your mom was the one to give the signed paper to the man at the front door who had been waiting to take your paper to the palace. she was going to see you off because your dad still wasn’t back yet.

“wait y/n!” seoyeon ran towards you, hugging your legs tightly. “are you going to be a princess?” her eyes lit up when she asked. you couldn’t crush her.

“maybe... that’s up to the prince.” and that was the truth. you didn’t have a choice, but you’d do everything in your power to leave.

it seemed every choice was being made for you as you followed the palace worker, the guards following behind.

the ride to the palace was slow and lonely. you were forced to look longingly at the forest, regretting not saying goodbye to daniel. you thought of all the things you wanted to say to him.

i’ll wait for you because i love you.

we can get through this.

please don’t leave me.

i can’t live without you.

be safe.

at that moment all you knew was that you had to find him somehow and he’d be in the palace. maybe staying for just a little bit wouldn’t be that bad if you could find him.

when you saw the large palace nausea rested in your throat and stomach. you don’t know why he called you here this early, but it couldn’t be good. all the other girls would be arriving tomorrow morning as they had announced.

it was weird being escorted in, but your nerves were exploding within you. you weren’t ready to see royalty. you vowed to die before you bowed before them, but here you were walking straight in and scanning the area. all you managed to see were maids and soldiers around, giving you another few moments of the pride you were willing to die for.

you were passed off to three maids who had been waiting for you.

“it’s amazing to meet you lady y/n.” the title made your face crunch with distaste.

“please... just call me y/n.” your voice was quiet, not allowing yourself to be comfortable in an unknown area.

“we can’t do that miss.” the shortest of the three informed, making you close your eyes and pray to the heavens that you would be able to survive this.

“okay then... may i know your names?” the three of them looked at each other before the one who led the path spoke up.

“i’m aeri, she's isuel, and that’s minsuh” aeri pointed at each of them. you noted that the shortest one, issue, was probably the youngest. you only nodded in response as they led you further into the palace, upstairs, and down long hallways.

“this will be your room,” aeri announced, opening the door to reveal a large room with many small details on the furniture. it was a bit much, but you didn’t expect anything less from people at the top of the caste system.

“we have to get you dressed because the prince will be seeing you soon.” minsuh rushed over towards the large wardrobe, that when opened revealed many different dresses. all of them... dresses.

“i say we should put you in the pink one!” iseul shouted, excited. the other two nodded enthusiastically, but you were too defeated to protest.

it was almost as if prince yeonjun had been waiting the whole time because as soon as they zipped you up, a knock came from the door. all of the maids ran to the door, leaving your pleading eyes behind.

“your majesty.” was all you heard before a few mumbling and giggling. they rushed out immediately and prince yeonjun replaced them. his hair was dyed pink now, making you wish you protested the dress’s color. your maids were sly.

your heart was pacing, scared from the uncertainty.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you lady y/n.” there it was again. the title you wanted to get away from.

“the pleasure is all mine.” you tried to hide the sarcasm in your voice as you stood strong in front of him. don’t you dare waver.

“i heard you got into some trouble today... i’d like to discuss that.” he was calm, every word held a hidden strength behind it. this was why he called you here early.

“i’d hardly call it trouble.” you stopped to watch him step closer to you. you wanted to tell him to stay away, not get close to touching you, but you kept quiet.

“oh really? you don’t call asking to be punished for someone else’s crimes trouble?” he was standing right in front of you now, but he was relaxed and wore a soft smile. he found this humoring. it was anything but.

“i call that two innocent people paying for a kingdoms failure.” the words slipped out before you could hold them back, but you didn’t regret them. not when you saw how prince yeonjun backed away, looking to the side.

“innocent? he was a thief.” yeonjun looked back at you, determined and unwavering. two could play at that game.

you walked towards him this time. a power move. “the world is not all black and white. he was a young boy, an orphan that was placed as an eight. your rules are the reason he was starving, leaving no option but stealing.” you were glaring now, trying to ignore the fact you had to look up at him.

he didn’t seem to want to back down either. “yet if we let one person steal something what’s stopping others?” he leaned his face closer to yours, noses only inches apart.

don’t you dare give in.

“if higher castes can pay their way out of punishment, why don’t the lower castes get a chance?” at this point, you couldn’t move any closer, but you could spit on him. that was only a passing thought to entertain you.

prince yeonjun was quiet after that, staring into your eyes as if he was trying to search through every part of your life. it felt interrogating. he hadn’t responded, so you took that as his loss and back away.

“is that all you wanted to discuss?” your voice was quieter now, not accusatory.

“for now... but you might want to learn some respect.” and then he left you to be swallowed in your anger.

part 2 sneak peak:

the castle had been dark for a while. all day today you were looking around for a familiar face, one that didn’t seem to show.

the creaking of your door alerting you of a new presence. you swore you told everyone you’d like to sleep peacefully tonight, but here they were interrupting you.

“princ-”

“i heard you’ve been looking for me.” you could recognize that voice anywhere. the playfulness in his tone lit your heart on fire.

[philliamwrites]

sunkissed

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Albedo / Aether

Tags: #kissing, #morning softness, #fluff

Words: 1.6k

Summary: “Don’t,” Aether laughed, rising his shoulders to hide his skin from Albedo’s hungry mouth. “I’m stinky after yesterday’s battle.”

“No.” The tip of Albedo’s nose grazed his sensitive skin. “You smell like the sun. Always warm. As if the sun loves you. As if it wants to cling to you as long as possible.”

Notes: A birthday present for my lovely friend. This pairing just butters my biscuits, fam.

Also I'm still taking commissions for anyone interested! Just write me a dm!

Masterlist

sunkissed

»’cause you’re so lovely, you’re so lovely, i can’t help but fall for you, love when you love me, it’s so lovely loving you

    When Aether awoke, he was all alone.

    He opened his eyes in a sleepy daze, and as his hand reached out to his left, he found the crumbled sleeping roll empty and cold. Immediately, he startled fully awake as if struck by lightning, his mind clearing from sleep and dreams that tasted like ashes on his tongue.

    “Lumine?” he said out loud—the first name he remembered ever speaking, and the last he wanted to be his dying breath. But when usually his sister would come to his aid, trained to respond to the sound of his voice from childhood, to rise from bed when Aether cried, to run to help him when he fell down, now he was all alone inside the tiny tent.

    No. Not quite alone.

    It’s his first day in Teyvat all over again after he’d regained consciousness and called out for her, and had found Paimon in her stead, drifting in the ocean stretching before Starsnatch Cliff. Now, her little snores filled the suffocating quiet and coated his throbbing heart in a soothing balm labelled companionship.

    Aether thought that with time, missing Lumine would become easier to bear. That he’d simply grow dull and time numbed his feelings. Clearly, he was wrong, and Father Time was not that kind.

    He crawled outside the tent, quietly so he wouldn’t disturb Paimon, and emerged into the early sunlight winking through the tree crowns. Their little campfire from yesterday night had lost its battle and died hours ago, and Aether shuddered when a light breeze stirred its ashes into the air.

    That was when he spotted Albedo sitting at the top of a slope. He hadn’t noticed Aether waking up, his eyes fixed on the horizon where clouds had gathered in the east, and the rising sun lit them in brilliant shades of reds and corals and violets. His hand, holding a fine brush, danced across a canvas, trying to capture that ephemeral beauty with lithe fingers Aether knew were capable of much more than painting. His chest tightened when he thought of yesterday night. Their quiet voices and hushed whispers as they tried not to wake up Paimon even though all Aether had wanted to do was scream Albedo’s name when he finally came as Albedo’s rough thumb had grazed the tip of his member. Thankfully, Albedo was kind enough to swallow all of Aether’s moans and gasps, leaving his mind completely fogged and drunk on his kisses.

    Aether tried not to think too much of it as he went up the slope where Albedo sat, overlooking the vast valley stretching out under them.

    “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Aether asked. He stretched in the morning’s light, delighted by the early warmth and slight breeze on his skin. “I wanted to see the sunrise with you.”

    Albedo’s eyes drew lazily from his canvas to Aether’s waist, watching how his shirt rode up and revealed more of his skin without allowing his hand to stop once as the brush mixed reds and blues. “I tried. But you just drooled.”

    “That’s a lie.”

    A smile crept up Albedo’s face. “True. But you looked too lovely to wake up. Like you had a good dream,” he said so seriously, Aether felt heat rise to his cheeks. His arms dropped back to his side. He couldn’t handle Albedo’s honesty first thing in the morning.

    Albedo rose an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

    Aether did have a dream. A dream about Mondstadt’s Windblume Festival where all his friends had gathered around a table in Angel’s Share, and in the centre, like the sun holding its own universe, sat Lumine, beaming at him.

    “Happy birthday, brother,” she’d said, intertwining their fingers just like on the day they were born.

    “Happy birthday, sister,” he’d said, touching his forehead to hers just like during their days spent inside their mother’s womb.

    How much he longed to be with her again.

    Aether exhaled. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until that moment. Albedo must have heard him, for he raised his head and his gaze met Aether’s, and he wondered how much of the endless black hole that his grief cut into his heart Albedo could see.

    The corner of his mouth pulled up into a rueful smile. “No, you’re right,” Aether said. “I had a dream. A good dream, indeed.”

    Albedo stopped painting. His eyes were the colour of the ocean after a storm, clear and bright and deep enough for Aether to drown in them. He wanted it. Aether wanted to be swallowed whole. Become tiny, pocket-sized, perfectly fitting in Albedos’ palm and be devoured. Be completely consumed until nothing was left, and all of him belonged to Albedo only. What a wonderful mess that would be.

    Quickly turning his eyes away before he dropped to his knees and begged Albedo to take him right here and now in the open, Aether tried to douse his desire by gazing out at the sublime scenery. A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree, their song echoing through the valley. Clouds drifted over their heads on their lazy journey over fields and rivers, taking unrecognisable shapes as they told stories about every place they’d seen. Aether envied them.

    “You know, in the world where I’m from, it’s always night,” he said. “Sure, it’s beautiful, we have so many more stars than you guys. And moons. But it’s the same. Wherever I looked, it was always the same. But this—” He waved his hand at the sky above them. “Your sky changes every day. It’s always different, the colours, the clouds. Dawn, dusk. I didn’t know words like that existed when I first came here. It’s beautiful.”

    Albedo followed Aether’s gaze, considering the landscape in front of them. But his eyes—suddenly ablaze, a roaring fire—drew back on Aether as he said, “It truly is beautiful.”

    Aether didn’t feel beautiful. He’s pretty sure his bed-hair was still sticking to all sides and his clothes were rumpled. But Albedo never failed in making him feel wanted, desired. Be that in the early morning hours without having his face washed or teeth brushed, or on the battle field with blood and grime spattered all over him.

    Just like now, Albedo was able to make Aether come undone with a single gaze of those piercing, ocean eyes.

    “Let’s go back before Paimon wakes up and throws a fit because she thinks we’ve left her,” he said and turned around before this would turn into an unholy, filthy ceremony out in the open not even the Archons should witness.

    Aether didn’t come very far. Halfway down, Albedo caught up to him and in a flash, seized Aether’s wrist. He pulled him to a nearby tree, and a second later, Aether felt rough bark against his back. Albedo closed the distance between them in one step. His hands cupped the back of Aether’s head, his mouth slanting down over his, hot and sweet as tea with honey. Aether ran his teeth lightly across Albedo’s bottom lip, and he made a guttural sound that raised the hairs along Aether’s arms. He pressed his body hard against Aether’s, lowering his head to kiss his throat, to lick and suck at the pulse point where he could feel the beating of his heart.

    “Don’t,” Aether laughed, rising his shoulders to hide his skin from Albedo’s hungry mouth. “I’m stinky after yesterday’s battle.”

    “No.” The tip of Albedo’s nose grazed his sensitive skin. “You smell like the sun. Always warm. As if the sun loves you. As if it wants to cling to you as long as possible.”

    Aether’s knees buckled. How could simple words like that make him forget his own name. In Albedo’s hands, he turned to clay, left at Albedo’s mercy for he was the potter and Aether would become anything to please him. Albedo’s fingers traced his curves, the dips and hollows of his body as if he were describing a painting in gilt and ivory with each rush of his hands. Aether raked his hands over Albedo’s body, trying to find purchase before he completely turned into a puddle and dissolved between Albedo’s fingers. His hands caught on the belt strung across Albedo’s chest, and they both halted for a second as they waited for a heartbeat that didn’t come.

    Albedo exhaled softly as he lowered his forehead to Aether’s. “If I had a heart, it would hurt for your burden.”

    “It’s fine,” Aether said. He took Albedo’s hand and put it over his own heart. “Mine is enough for both of us.”

    Albedo smiled. He pressed Aether’s knuckles to his lips, and murmured against his skin, “And what a magnificent heart it is.”

    Aether held onto Albedo so much, just a little more and they’d become one. It felt like they were the only two people on this earth, just the two of them off to see the world and all its wonders. Aether wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind if tomorrow came and all of Teyvat’s people fell into an endless slumber, and eventually completely disappear. Until recently, Aether hadn’t know it was possible to love someone this much. That if the world were to end tomorrow—if Aether were to have just one wish before it would all end in darkness, it’d be to wake up to Albedo’s sunkissed face in a quiet place they called home, built with their own hands. If that wasn’t love in its truest form, then every fairy tale Lumine used to tell him was a lie, and it was up to Aether to write his own story in which he’d make sure to burn so bright by Albedo’s side that even stars envied them whenever they come together to create a whole new universe.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[fencesandfrogs]

funerals. mourning. prayer.

part of my world building series for warrior cats. bracketed numbers represent notes that i felt disrupted the piece. see them under the cut.

THUNDERCLAN funerals are simple. the bodies are dressed, and vigil is sat in silence. at sunrise, elders will bury the bodies. sometimes younger cats, those who haven’t experienced a close death, will want to follow the elders, to know where their loved one is buried, but they are always held back. it’s bad luck to confuse a cat, to call their name. they could get lost on their way to starclan.

the cats in mourning try not to linger on it. there is always the fear they will call too strongly, and summon their ghost, keeping them from starclan. stories will not be told of them for at least a season, when the pain is no longer sharp and more of an ache, and the spirit has made it safely to starclan.

fireheart learned these traditions, and felt fear he kept spottedleaf to him, prevented her from finding peace. it was too late for her when he learned this. she assured him he kept her from nowhere, that she was only visiting.

and thunderclan believes in the visitation of individuals. they pray to those who have succeeded before them, or to those that have failed. one day an apprentice will pray to swiftpaw that they are made an apprentice soon, and before receiving their nine lives, a new leader will pray to bluestar that they never lose faith.

SHADOWCLAN rites are private. loved ones clean the coat and whisper their name, trying to breathe their memories into the spirit before it leaves for starclan. the elder will bury the bodies, but mates and queens and mentors will chose the place, that they know where to visit.

no one expects anything from a mourning cat. they may not speak for as much as a moon, hunting only enough to sustain themselves, going on patrols only as required. a grieving mentor may have their apprentice reassigned, a grieving apprentice might find they become a warrior a moon later than their littermates. this is done in kindness, not punishment.

a cat who mourns too quickly is troublesome. dawnpelt’s anger over flametail was to be expected. how could tigerheart not stand by his littermate? anything less would be cold. to mourn for a cat too quickly is to imply they aren’t worth committing to memory, that their name does not deserve honoring.

shadowclan prays together, at dawn and dusk. the leader begins morning prayer, before they eat, and the medicine cat leads evening prayer. as soon as kits are old enough to stand, they know to be quiet at these times, and it is often the first thing they leave the nursery for. a queen asks a medicine cat to pray for a kit who is weaker than the rest, and a mentor asks a leader to pray their apprentice does well on their assessment. the whole clan listens, knowing their ancestors will guide them to fulfill the prayer.

RIVERCLAN funerals are celebrations of life. bodies are decorated in flowers and sent down the river. stories are told, and the name of the lost cat is shouted many times. other clans find this disrespectful, that they should feel contrite. but riverclan will sleep soundly on the days of a death, secure that the river will bring their loved one to starclan.

cats who linger in mourning are concerning. it is one thing to hold on to a trinket swiped from the nest before it was sent down the river, but it is another to be saddened by loss for too long. life moves on like the river, and so must cats.

when he was in riverclan, graystripe took comfort in this. he had his own reasons, of course, but no one blamed him for focusing on his kits. when his first rainstorm came, he was nervous to share, so soon to her death, but it was a familiar act that soothed a grieving heart. [1]

riverclan doesn’t pray the same as other clans, but they do pray. they make shrines and memorials to those who have lost, gather trinkets in one place. when the rain comes, and they are well-fed and happy, they share stories. a queen may present her kits to the shrine of her lost mate, and feel his approval. riverclan believes in the divine and in their own connection to it.

WINDCLAN funerals are short. the body is dressed, a final goodbye is said, and elders and the medicine cat carry it, leaving it on the moor. the location is whispered to the deputy, in a somewhat illicit act, so that patrols can avoid the location for at least a half moon, when the body has likely vanished.

this is when the cat has run to starclan, they say, when the spirit has parted and sprinted home. it is a bad omen to find a body, and a worse omen to bury one, trapping them under the earth with no chance at finding home.

this is why talltail was so upset over his father. a tunneler’s biggest fear was that death, the inescapable. even tunnelers ran to starclan. they didn’t dig their way there. so not only did talltail lose his father, his father was not guarunteed to starclan. [2]

windclan cats pray as individuals. only the medicine cat, only a named medicine cat, carries the power to bless, and what a power that is. a queen can pray over her kits, but she seeks the blessing of the medicine cat that they will grow safe and healthy. [3]

SKYCLAN funerals are public. the whole clan gathers to mourn. each life lost is a precious thing, a small and kindling flame lost to the clan. the whole clan buries the fallen, the clan lacking sufficient elders to task them with it. elders do get to dress the bodies, and they are responsible for choosing the burial place.

a tree growing on the grave is said to be good luck. skyclan has not had the luxury of mourning for very long: they have been fraught with grief for their modern existence. so mourning is supposed to be a productive act, a way to preserve the life they have.

skyclan fears sickness. firefern. rileysong. they treasure their medicine cats, hope they are never without them, because they have seen the danger of it. that is why leafstar took her clan away: she feared sickness and poison, enemies that can only be weathered, never defeated. [4]

like shadowclan, skyclan prays together. in the gorge, they prayed on full moon nights, when they could only gather among themselves. the full moon is still a holy time, when the spirits of their ancestors are closest. they pray in small groups, too: mates praying for their kits, all of the mentors praying for an injured apprentice.  [5]

[1]: i kind of get into this, but basically, hunting is good (for riverclan) in the rain, so riverclan often celebrates on rainy days.

[2]: tunnelers used to be buried. but the decline of the tunnelers is not as sudden as it was to those who experienced it.

[3]: as discussed in “names. leaders. meaning.”, windclan medicine cats get a second name when they become senior medicine cat. kestrelflight is spirit seer. barkface is moor healer. it’s a huge mark of respect, and there’s never more than one. sometimes zero, if there is a tragedy, but never more than one.

[4]: i haven’t read much of skyclan’s latest focused work, so i’m drawing from memory.

[5]: old skyclan prayed like this, too. barn owls hunt the best in the full moon, so they gathered under the new moon. modern skyclan is still finding its feet, although i think eventually they’ll hold a group prayer on the new moon.