#now i will never say the sky train was anything but dull

[oneminutefiftysixseconds]

first and second at the Tour since 2018:

Geraint Thomas, Chris Froome

Egan Bernal, Geraint Thomas

Tadej Pogačar, Primož Roglič

Tadej Pogačar, Jonas Vingegaard

Jonas Vingegaard, Tadej Pogačar

Jonas Vingegaard, Tadej Pogačar

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Before the Happiness

After developing feelings for Astarion, it becomes clear to you that this is uncharted territory...and not just for you.

Pairings: Astarion x female Tav

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, dual pov. MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: yes

A/N: Graphic made by me, I do not give permission to share it without asking.

The conversation and laughter around you had lulled to a dull roar as the night sky darkened. Sitting diagonal from Astarion at the campfire, you watched his lips move, almost in slow motion. You couldn’t focus on anything else – the rest of the party were conversing over bottles of wine that you all had found earlier in an abandoned village’s pub. Deciding to stay in the same campsite for two days as an extended rest, Karlach and Gale had the big idea of taking it easy and getting drunk – “to relax, and build morale!” Karlach had claimed.

Too bad you couldn’t take your eyes off of the fair-haired vampire across from you.

What started as an innocent crush – who could blame you, with Astarion being so cocky, and so charming, and so handsome? – quickly turned into something more. Now, you were unfortunately dealing with what you were sure was an unrequited love on one of Faerun’s biggest lady killers.

Figuratively, and literally.

“What say you, Tav?” Wyll asked, elbowing you gently. Snapping you back to reality, you immediately brought your goblet of wine up to your lips to buy yourself some time.

“Sorry, what?” You asked Wyll, keeping your gaze on your goblet. You felt a blush creeping to your lips…hopefully, no one had noticed your total focus on Astarion.

“Gale here was just saying that he could easily have taken on that hoard of goblins we came across this morning by himself!” Wyll chuckled, nodding towards Gale, “Him! Against 20 goblins himself! I say bullshit.”

“Now, now,” Gale interrupted, readying to defend himself, “I said if I had the proper time to prepare my spells correctly, I could easily fight against them-”

“Well, of course, if you had time to properly prepare for battle, you are more able to fight,” Shadowheart retorted, rolling her eyes, “But that’s not the point of battle.”

“Well…” You started as the party erupted into conversations about the designs of battle. As mini discussions started, you swept your eyes across the rest of the party, all who were animatedly debating whether they were for or against Gale’s point.

All, except for Astarion.

Once your eyes met his, you were locked on. He was absentmindedly swirling the wine in his goblet, his eyes unwavering against yours. Face completely unreadable, he caused heat to rise in you. You looked away quickly, only to check again to see if he was still looking at you.

He was.

You felt panic start in your fingertips as you gulped down the rest of your wine and immediately put your goblet down next to you. Standing, you wiped your hands on your pants.

“I’m going for a walk – I need some air.” You announced to no one (as they were still engulfed in their can-Gale-fight-20-goblins discussion). Without hesitation, you made your way to the creek a little bit beyond your campsite. Through the trees, the only noise was the fading of voices and the snapping of twigs beneath your camp boots. Finally reaching the creek, you were able to breathe out a sigh of relief, leaning against the nearest tree.

Your infatuation with Astarion was a point of panic for you – having never been in love (nor never had a partner before), you found yourself in undiscovered territory. You spent your whole life training as a fighter, not a girlfriend. So of course, the irony of it all would be that your first love would be a man who had so much experience, he would make the employees at Sharess’ Caress blush. He also happened to be a man that, though kind enough, wasn’t exactly a buddy. Astarion wouldn’t be the first person you’d reach out to in times of trouble at camp, no matter how much you wanted to. You and Astarion hadn’t had any talks where you were able to divulge your backstories – the only thing you knew about him was that he was a vampire, and his past with Cazador, really.

Oh, and that he was really, absurdly sexy.

You had only hoped that the others around you – especially Astarion – didn’t notice the extra time you spent staring at his face when you hoped no one was watching. Or the fact that your laugh was the loudest when he told funny stories around the campfire. Or that when travelling, you often found yourself walking near him.

“Are you alright?” A voice asked, forcing your eyes to pop open. You whipped around from the tree, finding Astarion step out from behind the forest. A friendly smile played on his lips, putting your thundering heart at ease slightly.

“Oh…yes, I’m fine. Thank you…I think I’ve had too much wine.” You said, quickly making up an excuse, “I guess my body has forgotten how to drink since we started this journey…since…we haven’t really had any wine…since…we started journeying.”

Smooth.

Astarion let out a chuckle, meeting you at the tree you were leaning against. “Ah yes, that makes…sense.” He paused the same way you had. You locked eyes and he broke out in a smile, and you realized he was teasing you. Your heart sped.

“You know what I mean…” You grumbled, kicking a rock in front of you and blushing.

“Yes, yes. I certainly do,” He paused for a moment, looking out at the creek. He didn’t speak, and you were suddenly aware of how loud the running of the water was. “I was worried about you when you ran off so suddenly. I was hoping you weren’t feeling ill.”

“Oh! Oh, no, I’m fine,” You felt flustered – Astarion? Worried about you? “Thank you, though…for checking on me.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to change…were they darker somehow? But he blinked, and they returned to his normal ruby red. He raised his eyebrows and he nodded, gracefully slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “You are welcome.”

“I’m feeling better, if you wanted to walk back to the campfire…with me?” You asked hesitantly. Gods, he was just a man! He wasn’t some sort of monstrous creature…so why did he make you so nervous?

Smiling, Astarion raised his arm as if to say, lead the way, “After you.”

You nodded and walked past him, ready to shake off your nerves. You committed to yourself to go back to the campfire and not look at Astarion once. You needed to be objective about your feelings towards him, no matter how strong they were. After all, you all had a mission to complete, and falling in love would simply get in the way. Leave your thoughts of Astarion when you were alone in your bed, drifting off to sleep – not when you were needed to be present.

Suddenly, Astarion gently grabbed your wrist. His fingers were ice cold as you expected, but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to say something to you.” He started. You felt a lump in your throat, unable to speak. You simply nodded, your nerves making you unable to look at him.

“I have noticed that you and I haven’t been able to…get to know each other as much as the others,” His voice, barely above a whisper, was confident and sultry. “I would like that to change. I do enjoy your company very much. And after all, who knows how long we will be spending with each other until we can reclaim our minds from these wretched tadpoles, no?”

You swallowed and nodded, turning to look at him. His eyes glittered, mischievously. His signatured smirk was on his face as he slowly let go of your wrist. Somehow, his icy fingers left your skin burning.

“I would like that,” You eventually say, over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, “I also enjoy your…” Gulp. “Company.”

“Wonderful,” Astarion said. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s get back to camp, shall we?” And even though he originally had you lead the way, he started off to camp first, leaving you a few steps behind.

Not that you minded…you obviously had to use this time to collect your thoughts.

Astarion wasn’t quite sure what had come over him at the party’s get-together the previous evening, but once he had seen you (very obviously) fixating on him from across the fire, something in him snapped.

Sure, he had noticed you immediately when he had joined the party – your kind eyes, and beautiful hair. Not to mention your lyrical laugh, and curvy body…the same one where, the mere thought of could keep him up all night…

It was safe to say he had developed strong feelings for you, so Astarion decided to do what he did best – keep a safe distance, and play it cool. There was no way romance and love and feelings would be a good idea in any sense.

Especially when he knew that your feelings were probably just lust.

Love was something so far from Astarion’s lexicon, he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt it. No one could ever love him – not after everything he had done, or even because of who he was. Worthless, disgusting, abysmal…there weren’t enough words to describe Astarion’s shortcomings.

Astarion was very aware of what many others thought of him – his only redeeming quality to the world was his looks, so the idea that people only wanted to fuck and leave was not a new concept. Though he couldn’t necessarily get himself into that particular situation all that much while under Cazador (though he somehow was able to sneak away for an hour or two while completing a mission), he saw how people looked at him on this journey.

It would’ve been flattering to him if he didn’t hate himself so much.

So the idea that your feelings – which were always written all over your face – could be any more than a fantasy of bedding him, was preposterous. Up until now, Astarion would be able to push that aside for a night or two in order to satiate his (and your) need to get off, but something inside him told him that his feelings would get in the way. His fantasies about you weren’t just sexual…sometimes, his mind wandered to holding you in his arms, or simply eating a meal with you by the campfire.

Or even worse…a future with you. One that didn’t include tadpoles and battles, but of sleeping in a fluffy bed with you on a Sunday morning; of going to the town market together to complete your errands, and of owning a cat with you.

Which, truth be told, scared him more than anything.

So when he found himself following you to the creek after you had left the campfire that evening without even thinking about it, he knew he was in trouble. Gone was any sense in his brain; instead, he knew his heart was taking over, and for whatever reason, he decided to go along with it. Maybe it was because his feelings were too strong, or that he couldn’t help himself, but he knew he needed to finally be around you more.

Even if that meant you wanted nothing more than a dirty fuck.

A few days after the night at the campfire (and - surprise, surprise - another night of drinking the following evening), you found yourself once again headed towards Baldur's Gate, party and belongings in tow. Since then, you and Astarion had fallen into your familiar rhythm of what seemed like standoffishness, but now with more smiles and pleasantries peppered in. Which, was more than okay with you, since the very idea of Astarion becoming close seemed to scare you.

However, your heart couldn't help but flutter when the surprisingly flirty remark Astarion made was thrown your way. So much so that you didn't mind the curious glances from Lae'zel, or Gale.

"C'mon, you have to tell us!" Karlach pleaded while on the road, her voice a hoarse whisper as to not draw attention, "What is going on between you and Astarion?! Don't think I didn't notice, soldier...him running after you the other night? And now he's flirting with you...complimenting you?! The others may not be noticing all that much, but I certainly am!"

You laughed nervously and swatted your hand in the air as if to say, it's nothing! "Oh, you know Astarion. He flirts with everyone!"

"Yeah, but this is the first time he's flirting with you," Karlach retorted. "Which, took long enough since Gods, you're hot! But, don't think I haven't noticed the change in attitude between you two."

A blush crept to your face as you felt yourself unable to look away from the back of Astarion's head, who was walking a few paces ahead of you, discussing something with Halsin very intently. Your mind wandered to other things as your eyes scanned his body...his back, his behind...how both of them would look naked.

"Alright, I'm leaving you to whatever weird fantasy is currently going on in that brain of yours, okay?" Karlach finally said, pulling you out of your daydream. She playfully shoved your shoulder and walked faster, stepping in line with Shadowheart at the front of the pack. As she passed, Astarion slowly turned his head to look at you, Halsin still blabbering away in his ear. Your heart leapt to your throat as you locked eyes with him.

He had definitely heard.

The night had fallen silently, the only noise in camp being crickets chirping away. The oil lamp in your tent flickered as you pulled the blanket on your bed closer to your body. The book you were reading was propped up in your lap, and you reveled in the peace of the evening - retiring to your tent early, you heard exactly when everyone else had gone to sleep. Sure, you probably should have been sleeping already since Wyll insisted on an early morning start, but you wanted to enjoy your book for just a few more moments.

Suddenly, a rustling came from the front of your tent, the sound of someone announcing themselves.

"It's me," Astarion's voice called, "Are you decent?"

"Um-" You threw the book closed and swept the blanket off of you in a panic, though there was literally nothing to panic about. Rising from the bed quickly, you started to pace your tent, "Yes. Come in."

The flap to your tent was quickly undid and thrust open. Astarion strode in and redid the flap with ease. He looked down, and once he realized you had enchanted your tent with a wooden floor, slipped off his camp shoes. When he looked back up at you, he smiled.

"Good evening, darling."

"Good evening." You said, holding your hands behind your back. You plastered a smile on your face, trying to suppress the urge to smooth your hair. A moment of silence passed by before you snapped into action, "Would you like to sit?" You asked, motioning to your bed.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Astarion said awkwardly, moving towards the bed. He sat at the far corner, causing you to sit at the opposite side.

How funny...with how badly you wanted to jump his bones, you'd think you wouldn't be on basically the other side of the world.

"Well, darling, I just came here tonight to...see how you were doing?" Astarion started, looking at you. You couldn't help but smile as he leaned back on the footpost of your bed.

"How I'm doing?" You clarified.

He nodded, "Yes, as friends do. That's what we're working towards," He paused, his eyes flickering down your body. Then, his eyes did the thing - darkened slightly, causing an indescribable look to cross his face.

Suddenly, you recognized that it wasn't an indescribable look.

It was lust.

"Friends, correct? That's what we're looking for." He finally finished, meeting your eyes again. This time, his eyes stayed dark, running his tongue quickly over his lips to moisten them.

You heart began to thud and you shifted in your nightclothes, arousal springing in your belly. Just Astarion's look alone and you were suddenly putty in his hands.

"Y-yes. Friends...that's what we are." You quietly confirmed. Feeling bold - you couldn't believe that Astarion was feeling lustful towards you! Could it be a mistake? - you scooted a bit closer and leaned in slightly, "Unless you had...other plans."

Astarion smirked and cocked and eyebrow, mirroring your body language by scooting closer. "Darling...are you coming on to me?" His voice was low, floating to your ears. You began to feel warm, a bit of sweat pooling on your brow. "If so...well, that changes everything."

"Does it now?" You murmured, staring at his lips. Your boldness surprised you - you were surprised that the first time you took a chance with Astarion was working in your favor.

Not that you were complaining.

As your heart started to beat faster, Astarion slid closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. His hand slowly snaked up your side, his pointer finger lightly tracing your thigh. He moved in, his lips mere inches from yours.

"Say the word", He said, his voice ringing in your ears, "And tonight, I'm yours. But I will not continue unless you say it."

Your belly pooled with heat, and you couldn't contain yourself, no matter how nervous you were, "Then be mine tonight."

At once Astarion was on top of you, his lips pressed against yours. Spreading his legs so that yours were in between his, he pressed himself down on your body, his erection already prominent. You moaned into the kiss, causing him to deepen it.

"Astarion," You breathed as he pulled away slightly, starting to push your sleep shirt up from the bottom. He smiled as he quickly looked into your eyes, finally finding your lips with his again.

"If this is what friendship means for us, then I cannot wait to get closer." He spoke teasingly, his words sloppy, encased in your lips. You giggled through the kiss and suddenly gasped as you felt his cold hands on your sides, under your shirt.

You heart raced as your hands found their way to Astarion's shirt, pulling it above his head. You ran your fingers down his chest, taking in the sight before you. He paused, obviously loving the attention. A smirk played on his lips as he pushed your shirt above your head, eyes widening as your bare chest was finally on display.

"Gods, you're gorgeous." He purred, maintaining eye contact as he slowly lowered his head to latch his lips on to one of your erect nipples. You immediately moaned as his tongue swirled around your breast, leaving evidence of saliva around your nipple.

"Fuck, Astarion." You grumbled, your back arching into his mouth. He smiled but continued with his mouth, his hands finding their way to your soft pants. Without ties or buttons, Astarion was able to easily push them down, and you helped by kicking them off of your ankles.

"Darling, I can't wait to take you all in," He said, his mouth rising to yours again. One of his hands found its way to your neck, holding on to the side, while resting on his elbow. His other hand met your clit, immediately rubbing circles, "You're already so wet." He chuckled.

"You feel so good," You retorted as an explanation. Your thoughts were swimming overwhelmingly - you couldn't believe you were finally in bed with Astarion. You had fantasized about this moment basically since you had met him, and being here felt better than you could have ever imagined.

Say the word, and tonight, I'm yours. His words rang in your brain, causing your face to flush even more.

Tonight.

Tonight.

But what about after tonight?

You hadn't much experience with lovers, aside from the few and far between "relationships" as a teen, so you didn't know what was supposed to happen after this night. Were you supposed to go back to normal...as friends?

Suddenly, a pang of panic spread through you - the idea of going back to normal, as just friends, was painful to you. Here you were, with Astarion finally as a lover, someone you've come to care for deeply.

How deep it was going to hurt if you couldn't continue on with him. How deep it would hurt if you gave yourself to him like that, only to have him take you and discard you.

You snapped back to reality, realizing that many moments of silence from you had gone by. You hadn't even felt anything Astarion was doing, and he noticed, quizzically looking at you while continuing to work on your clit. You felt anxiety rise to the surface violently, and you suddenly sat up in the bed.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, stop. Stop!" You said, immediately criss-crossing your legs. Astarion, shocked, sat back on his knees, his glistening chest heaving.

"I'm sorry! Did I do something wrong?" His lips were full and swollen, his eyes wide. You recognized the look of fear on his face, causing your heart to drop.

"I can't do this," You spoke frantically, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry I just...can't."

"Oh...kay," Astarion spoke slowly, seemingly afraid to startle you, "What's wrong?"

Your thoughts were still jumbled, the anxiety still at the surface, "I just...I just can't have you dismiss me after tonight!" Your voice was shrill, you knew it, but you couldn't stop.

Confused, Astarion slid closer. He was quiet for a moment, handing over your blanket. You took it, covering yourself, silently thanking him for the gesture.

"'Dismiss' you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, "What do you mean, 'dismiss' you?"

"You know..." You said, almost panting from the panic, "Dismiss me! Like your...your other lovers!" You waved your hand in the air to accentuate the point, "Here I am, with true, deep feelings of love for you, and all I am to you will be another notch in your bedpost!" You sighed, finally catching your breath, "And I know I said yes to this, but truth be told I am not...experienced...with someone who is as experienced as you, and I know I said yes because I couldn't help myself due to my feelings for you. But I cannot go back to just friends after this, to party members after this. Like nothing had happened. I cannot be discarded..." Finally deciding to look at him, you felt tears spring to your eyes, "I think that will break my heart."

"Darling," Astarion whispered, taking your hand in his. "What makes you think I planned to discard you after this?"

"Isn't that what you want?" You asked, allowing the small tears to fall freely, "To just...fuck?"

"Gods, no!" Astarion cried, moving closer and smiling, "That's what I thought you wanted!"

"What?!" You asked, matching his smile, "What do you mean?"

"I thought you only wanted to bed me," He said, squeezing your hand, "That's why I came here tonight - because I thought it was what you wanted. My whole life, for as long as I can remember, my body has been used for others. I've never had someone bed me and want to stay...You know my history with Cazador...you know what I've been subjected to. I've never had anyone...care...for me before," He looked down, his voice softening, "...are you saying that you care for me?"

You nodded slowly. Bravely, you reached your hand to touch his cheek, causing him to look up to you again, "I care for you...deeply. I've fantasized about this moment since I've met you but..." You tried to find the proper words, "I'm not quite sure I'm ready for it. I have little experience and, I know that sounds young, but-"

"My darling, I would never ever push you to do something you don't want," Astarion interrupted, shaking his head, "If anyone knows about being forced to do things you don't want, it's me. Truth be told...it's quite a relief to hear you say that...I'm not...quite sure my body is ready to be touched in that way...right now," He smiled sadly, "Not by someone I care for deeply. Not in a relationship I want to grow more then just...sleeping with one another. I find that it is hard to think of myself sexually due to...my past. And I'd rather move past that before I..." His words trailed off, as if he didn't want to continue.

"Astarion," You whispered. "I won't hurt you like that. Just like you didn't want to hurt me."

He smiled finally, taking your hand closer to his mouth. Gently, he kissed your knuckles, a smile playing on his lips, "The last thing I will ever do is hurt you."

"So..." You gently nudged, "You're saying that you care deeply for me as well?"

Astarion looked at you seriously, continuing to hold your hand. He nodded, "I do. I'm terrified, but I do. I don't know what this is, and I don't know what it will become, but I've come to realize that whatever it is...I want to do it with you," He chuckled to himself, "A terrifying thought, my heart in your hands."

"And mine in yours." You spoke. Your heart was thundering with an overflow of joy - after all this time, this new revelation felt like a sunrise after a dark and stormy night. After a moment of silence, you tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, "Tonight, I think we just lay together. We don't need anything else. But I would like to spend time with you."

Astarion's eyes glittered as he nodded again, noticing your sleep clothes on the ground and picking them up. As he slipped his shirt back on, he laid beside you in bed, hesitantly putting his arms around you.

"I've never just...lay with someone before."

"There's a first for everything." You said mildly, turning to him in his arms. He smiled, gently kissing your forehead.

"I'm scared." He offered. You nodded, knowingly.

"I know. So am I."

"But before the happiness, there is always fear." He said. He looked at you, sincerity and kindness in his eyes. Gently, you met his lips with yours, trying to muster as much courage and support as you could through a kiss. When you pulled back, you smiled at him.

"And there will be a lot of happiness."

-----

What did you all think? I'm so sorry for the long break! I'm back! As always, reblogs, likes, and comments mean the WORLD for writers and are much appreciated!

My inbox is OPEN for requests!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 14

Part 1 Part 13

Even with rationing, it doesn’t seem to take long for the water to start running dry. Days, maybe, but it’s hard to say without a clock. The red of the sky never fluctuates. It’s red. Red, red, read. Steve’s starting to hate the color.

They’ve slept three times, but Steve suspects the boredom of rotting in the Munson’s trailer might be getting to them. There’s only so many games of truth or dare you can play until you start to drift.

So, water’s been getting low. The crease between Eddie’s brows has grown deeper each time he takes a furtive swig. 

“We should go get water,” he says.

Steve doesn’t want to go out there. His shoulder still aches, sharp agony turned dull. It’s black around the edges, flesh turning necrotic. He hasn’t let Eddie see it since that first day; doesn’t want to needlessly frighten him.

“Steve?” 

Steve heaves a sigh before heading to the door where he left his sneakers. “Maybe grab a few shirts to filter that shit again?”

Eddie follows him, plopping down to tug his boots on while Steve shimmies his own shoes on leaning against the door, one foot at a time. 

“I was thinking we’d just take it back here and filter it in the bathroom,” Eddie says, yanking his laces tight. “Seems safer to do it with a locked door between us and anything trying to eat us.”

Steve thinks of his own house and the monster that got inside. Remembers the way the lock clicked on the door to the back porch. Had they locked the front? Did it matter, when that thing had knocked down his front door like it was made of tissue paper? He keeps his mouth shut.

“Good thinking.”

They go. It’s not a long trip, except how all trips feel long when there’s ash falling from the sky, and a shotgun clutched tightly enough to make your fingers numb, and Eddie Munson biting his lip to keep quiet at your side.

Steve feels woozy, like he used to during his brief stint in middle school wrestling. Coach would tell him to drop a certain weight and he would, counting calories at lunch with Carol, both ignoring Tommy’s snide comments. He’d only lasted a year. Didn’t like the uniforms, or the weight limits, or the violence. 

He feels just the same now, only worse. He knows you’re supposed to eat sugar after you donate at the blood drive. Steve donated a lot of his own blood to that thing’s claws and hasn’t eaten anything at all.

The quarry looks just as the same as last time – bloody. They form an efficient assembly line – Steve plucking lids of bottles and passing them to Eddie where he’s standing with his toes in the water. Eddie fills them as Steve prepares the next bottle, taking the filled one back and replacing the lid before doing it all over again. It moves quicker without the need to sift.

It still feels like too long by the time they’ve packed all the bottles away.

It’s quiet on the way up the incline. Quiet through town. It’s quiet all the way up until they hear the sound of pounding feet. 

Steve hears it first. He reaches out, snagging Eddie’s elbow, as the sound of steps move closer. 

“Wha–” Eddie starts.

“Shut up,” Steve hisses.

They’re on the path heading toward the trailer park, just before the pavement turns to gravel and the trailers come into view. The forest looms on their right. That’s where the sound is coming from.

It sounds like a person. It can’t be that thing – it had moved silently except the vocalizations from its mouth. But, what if it’s a trick? What if it’s a trap? What if he and Eddie have both cracked and there’s nothing there at all?

He shoves Eddie a step behind him, the other boy stays alarmingly quiet as Steve raises his shotgun and puts his finger on the trigger, scope trained on the noise coming toward them through the woods, ignores the way his hands are shaking.

What bursts through the trees isn’t what they could have ever expected. It’s a kid with a tragic bowl cut. He’s got a dirty flannel with a garish red and yellow vest thrown over it. The knees of his ratty jeans are covered in dirt, his palms scraped, like his foot had caught on a few roots in his mad dash away from something Steve doesn’t even want to think about.

His pupils are pinpricks, the whites of his eyes almost glowing as he looks from Eddie to Steve, who still has his finger on the trigger. Pointing at a kid. He drops his grip on the trigger, slowly lowering the shotgun even though all he wants to do is drop it, kick it as far away as possible, and hold up his empty hands as a show of how dangerous he’s not.

It's a fucking kid. He can’t be older than thirteen.

“It was behind me,” the kid says.

Eddie sucks in a harsh breath behind Steve, and he knows they’re both thinking of the same thing. Bloody claws, and petaled mouths that open to display rows of teeth in gleaming, concentric circles.

“Shit,” Steve says, “Go go go!” He turns to jog down the path, picking up his pace when he hears two sets of footsteps following in his wake.

He reaches the door first, and yanks it open just as he hears it – an inhuman shriek. It’s indescribable. And unmistakable.

When he turns back, Eddie and the kid have just come into view. He gestures them wildly to speed up, to get through the door, to fucking run.

It unfolds in front of him like a dream: the way Eddie’s dragging the kid by his arm, feet moving fast enough to blur even as it feels like they’re not making any headway at all. The way the shriek grows louder.

When they finally make it to the Munson trailer, they fall through the threshold, tripping over the rug at the entryway. Steve closing the tissue paper door behind them. He stands, braced for impact, gun raised and pointing at the closed front door.

The shriek grows louder, and louder, and louder, until it peters off. Fades away. Like the thing had found new prey to terrorize. It takes long minutes of tense silence for Steve to lower the shotgun, turn to the other two huddled behind him.

Eddie has his arms up, as if he can shield the kid from that thing should it huff and puff its way through the matchstick front door. Hell, maybe he can. But, at Steve’s lowered gun, he drops heavily to the couch, slamming his forehead to his hands, fingers gripped into his hair hard enough that it has to hurt.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asks, looking at the kid. It comes out harsher than he means it to. The kid flinches, takes a startled step back toward Eddie.

“What Harrington means,” Eddie says, raising his head just enough to glare at Steve, “is are you okay?”

The kid sniffles, turning toward Eddie. His fists are balled at his sides even as he nods. “I’m fine,” the kid says, voice shaking enough to give his lie away.

“And what’s your name?” Eddie asks.

“Will,” he says, fingers loosening, shoulders falling. “Will Byers.”

Eddie gasps theatrically. “Not any relation to the great Jonathan Byers?”

For the first time, the kid smiles. It makes him look even younger. Steve’s stomach churns. “He’s my brother,” Will says, smiling shyly down at Eddie.

Steve has a hazy memory of a boy with an equally tragic bowl cut, disappearing into the hallways of the high school, sinking into the bleachers of sporting events, face hidden behind a camera. He wonders if that’s Will’s brother. If he’s missing him.

“And how did you get here, Will?” Steve asks, carefully modulating his voice. Keeping it even. Keeping it low. Will flinches, but he doesn’t step back again. Eddie still glares at Steve from behind the kid’s head.

“The Demogorgon,” Will says, “It got me.”

Part 15

[lakes-liver]

Legend has been acting very distinctly off, lately.

He’s not injured, Sky knows that much. There wasn’t a time where he’s been separated from the group. Something triggered him, perhaps? The veteran has more than enough baggage to sift through.

Sky really isn’t sure.

Legend hasn’t been the same since… about a week ago? Something of the sort? He’s been quieter, laughter not so loud, snarks not so present. If it were anyone else, Sky wouldn’t be concerned.

But this is Legend he’s talking about. Legend, who shows a prickly front but is soft on the inside. His facade isn’t prickly right now, though, more like a dull point.

Triggers don’t last that long, right? If they didn’t, he would be better by now, at least outwardly. Then again, Sky doesn’t know much (if anything at all) of the “shell-shock” the veteran, the captain, and even Time seem to describe. What he knows is limited, tales from an era long before Skyloft, when the world wasn’t so peaceful. So, maybe there’s a chance it can last this long?

This train of thought does not change the fact that there is still something wrong, and Sky is very much concerned.

Another day passes, and the Chosen Hero watches his friend. A multitude of notes show up.

One: no one else seems to have noticed the problem at hand.

Two: Legend is acting as he usually does (jabs, rolled eyes, etc.) around everyone in their group.

Third: the veteran is only acting oddly around Sky.

Now, this has raised a very important question in Sky’s mind. Did he do something wrong? While he’s never been one to hold silent grudges (except against the goddesses, of course), maybe Sky had done something to be an exception.

He mulls this over throughout the evening, as they set up camp. Physically, he’s busied by setting out his bedroll, as well as some of the others’. Mentally, though, he thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

If the veteran hadn’t been borderline ignoring him, Sky’s sure he’d make a quip about how he shouldn’t think so much.

“It must get difficult thinkin’ so hard, birdbrains,” he’d mock, and Sky would laugh, and all would be well.

But all is not well. And Sky is growing more nervous by the second.

He thinks over every interaction with Legend in the past week. Nothing stands out to him. It started normally, with pokes and jokes and smiles and giggles. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the pink-haired man had become strangely subdued.

Could it have something to do with that? The whole… pink-rabbit, thing? But that was months ago, and this was so much more recent.

“Sky? Ya ‘ere?” Fingers are being snapped in front of his face.

He jumps, looking into the marked face of Twilight. Sky hides it with a flush and a chuckle. “Yes! Sorry, got lost in my thoughts, there” — and here is where the birdbrain comments should go, yet none do — “what did you ask?”

Twi, ever the worrywart, frowns slightly. “I ‘as j’st askin’ ‘bout watch. Doubleshif’s, you an’ Ledge. But, if yer not up for it—”

“No!” Sky is fast to interrupt. “No worries! I’m alright, truly. That sounds wonderful.” He gives the most reassuring smile he can muster, and it’s honest and true, for once.

Twilight’s frown lifts, a bit, and the slightly older man nods and steps away towards Wild and Wind, who are still cooking dinner.

Watch with Legend, huh? Could this be his chance?

A small bit of him warns that things could go very, very, wrong.

Luckily, the bigger part of him tells him that if he doesn’t say anything now he will run out of time to say anything at all.

So, that is that. Watch is set—blech, the middle shift—and Sky walks over to the rest of his friends before he can think any more of the situation.

“Sky!” Wind waves. “Come sit by us!”

‘Us’, in this case, happens to be himself, Wild, and Twilight, none of whom he’s opposed to being near. Thus, he picks his way to a spot on a ground, settling next to Wind. The smaller melts into his side (a common occurrence), and Sky happily accepts a bowl of pumpkin soup.

It’s not the same as from his home, of course, but it’s still soup and there’s still pumpkins. He’s still satisfied by the taste.

“Thank you, Wild,” he says, setting the now-empty bowl beside him.

Wild grins crookedly. “‘Course, Sky, I’m glad you liked. Seconds?”

Sky shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

The sailor, on the other hand, shoots up, mouth completely stuffed. “‘ll take ‘is s’rv’in’!”

“Calm yerself, sailer, others gotta eat,” Twilight chides.

“Meanie.” Wind crosses his arms with a pout. Sky ruffles the top of his head, a fond look surely on his face, and the smaller does not shy away.

He spares a glance to Legend and Hyrule, across the fire. The former is staring, brows furrowed, but looks away as soon as he notices Sky’s gaze. The latter continues chattering away as if nothing happened (and, in their eyes, nothing did happen).

Overall, the fire is warm and his belly is full. His friends sit around him and talk and snort and sigh, contentment filling the air. Sure, they have double watches set up, the tension is high, and they are exhausted, but they are together and they are (physically) healthy. Sky could not ask for much more.

So, Sky turns in for the beginning of his rest. Wind is sprawled next to him, looking like the starfish they all claim to exist.

Three hours later, Time is shaking him awake.

“You’re up, Sky. Four’s already woken Legend,” he whispers.

Sky nods. This is a song they’ve danced to many times.

Seeing him up and aware, the oldest moves to his bedroll with a soft ‘goodnight’. The Skyloftian echoes it in turn, before advancing towards the dying embers and confusing veteran.

At first, the watch is normal. Sky watches one side whilst Legend watches the other. There isn’t much talking—there never is, on the second watch, what with tired eyes and restless heroes—but the bit that is remains light and regular. For a moment, he can almost forget the anxiety that’d been eating him away earlier.

Then, Sky makes a comment that shatters the glass around them.

“Oh c’mon, vet,” he rolls his eyes. “We both know you use those trinkets of yours quite often.”

The chuckle Legend gives sounds forced, and Sky is hit with a pang of guilt. It was meant as a simple jab—nothing more nor less—but it maybe it was too biting?

Sky takes the second to study Legend’s newfound stance. He’s hunched in on himself, hands hugging knees, and despite not being able to see his face, Sky can assume his expression is that of a resigned sort of scowl.

It’s the same reaction he’s seem many times on multiple others. Twilight when scolded by Time; Wild when scolded by Twi; Wind when scolded by Warriors; Hyrule when scolded by Legend. It is not a reaction he expected to receive from their veteran, let alone one to be stemmed from him.

It spikes a whole new pang of worry.

He turns back before Legend can catch his face. “Sorry, Ledge. I like your items a lot. It’s not a problem to use ‘em, you know.”

From the corner of his eye, he catches the tension release, just a little bit. Enough, though, to know he said the right thing. Good.

Legend doesn’t give a response besides a light bump of the shoulders. The watch continues in a not-quite-awkward but not-quite-comfortable silence.

Creeeeak.

Sky’s head is up in an instant, scanning and pausing and reviewing the treeline in front of him. His ears twitch and try to catch every little thing, from the scamper of a mouse to the rustle of the wind. He’s certain Legend is doing the same, on his end.

A beat passes. Two. Three.

Legend’s breath hitches. “Bokoblin. One o’ Wild’s, reckon.”

“The others?” Sky whispers, voice barely making a sound.

“No. It’s just one. On three?”

Sky nods.

One beat. Two.

“Three!” Legend hisses.

Sky springs up, Master Sword poised to strike and shield up to block. Legend follows in a similar manner, clutching the Tempered Sword and some sort of shield. The ‘blin barely reacts before Sky is moving, moving, moving, slashing at the beast with a ferocity he didn’t realize he possessed this late at night.

The monster bleeds black.

Legend notices too, and lets out a soft string of curses before he’s in on the action. They trade blows, one then the other then both at the same time.

The bokoblin does not back down. It swings its own sword at their ankles, then their waists, then their heads. Wide arcs that make it near impossible to get in, despite the fact that the odds are two to one.

Legend pushes and knocks it off balance, and Sky seizes his chance. He steps into the circle, sword going faster than a blink, and stabs through the head. The Master Sword glints on the other side. The beast dissolves into nothing save a gem and some guts.

Sky lets out a cheer and turns to Legend.

Who’s eyes, suspiciously, are blown wide with fear. Did he get hurt? Had Sky missed something during the heat of the battle?

He stumbles forward—wait, stumbles? Sky shouldn’t be stumbling, he didn’t get hurt, just look down—oh. That’s blood. On his tunic. On his stomach.

Shit.

Pain erupts from the area, stabbing and scorching and hot in a way it really should not be, not on a fresh wound, not unless it’s infected—

“Sky? Sky! Stay with me, hero, stay with me.” Legend is frantic and holding his shoulders, lowering him carefully to the ground. Why is he so panicked? It’s not that bad, right?

Another shot of pain rocks his body, and he bites back a scream with practiced expertise.

Nevermind, it is definitely that bad.

Still, though, Legend is upset, and he can’t have that. Legend shouldn’t be upset, not because of him.

“I’m okay,” he gasps. “‘m fine, Ledge, just needa—” a coughing fit fights its way out and he cant stop it.

“You ain’t fine, you needa potion or sum. Hold on fer me, ‘kay? Hold on, ‘ll get Roolie or, or,” Legend stops, stares, and then darts up and away. Sky frowns, because Legend is still stressed and he can tell because his accent is loose and free and that is not something he often does.

He holds on for as long as he can, though. He can hear shouts and people getting up and running and since when did they get so far? What’s even happening? Is someone hurt?

Ow. Right. Sky is hurt.

His stomach doesn’t feel so good. It feels sticky and hot and gross and bad and he doesn’t like it. Maybe a nap will help? Naps usually help when he’s tired, they always have. Maybe he should nap.

Just as his eyes start to fall shut, someone shakes him, yelling and shaking and yelling and shaking. Bright, violet, eyes meet dull sky blue, panicked and calm and panicked and calm and ow ow ow everything hurts so bad.

The violet eyes have a mouth attached, and it keeps opening and closing but he can’t hear anything. Should he be hearing something?

Something cold presses against his stomach and he hisses. It keeps going, pushing and pushing, but the cold becomes warm and soft and comfortable. Sky could nap, like this.

Despite his eyes fluttering shut, someone grabbed and shook him, yet again. He really wishes they’d stop, he’s trying to nap here!

“—descendant!” They say.

…What?

Now significantly more interested, Sky strains his ears to listen closer. Oh, cool, the warm-yet-cold hands gave some of his hearing back. That’s nice.

“I’m—or—dant!”

They’re… huh?

“I’m royal!”

The Chosen Hero blinks. Once, twice, three times. His vision is so blurry he can’t make anything out besides those glaring eyes and disheveled hair.

The pain is subsiding, a little bit, so that’s neat.

What did they mean… royal?

Oh. Oh! Wait! Him and Sun start the royal bloodline of Hyrule, don’t they? This person could be referring to that! Is it a Zelda? Did one of the other Zeldas come? They’re so sweet, all those young women, and it triggers something in him that’s quite enjoyable. Maybe, once this pain quiets down, he can talk to them? That’d be just wonderful.

He closes his eyes again, humming in contentment when the unknown Zelda doesn’t shake him back. The sharp and burning and horrible ache is nothing more than annoying, now, and he’s slept much worse than this. He falls unconscious, unaware to the trembling hero next to him.

What could be minutes or hours or even days later, Sky opens his eyes again. It’s dark out, and stars shine brightly up above. Trees dot the outline of his vision.

He tries to sit up. His lower abdomen protests vehemently, and he has to abandon such efforts. Something between a groan and whine escaped him, despite his feeble attempts to swallow it whole.

“Sky?” Someone asks. “Sky! You’re awake!”

He looks towards the voice, and is pleasantly surprised to see Legend. He made it out of the fight! There’s no visible bandages, or splints, or anything but concerned eyes and a soft face.

Sky musters up the best smile he can. “I’m okay, Ledge.” He pushes up again, and this time makes it as far as propping his weight onto his elbows. His stomach screams, but he’s alright, truly.

“You damn better be,” the vet mutters, but he helps push the chosen hero up the rest of the way. Sky nods his thanks, before scanning their camp.

It’s still the same place they were last time. A small grove in the middle of uncharted woods, somewhere so random that no one knows who’s Hyrule it is or even if it is anyones. There are six sleeping forms and the outline of Wolfie.

There is no Zelda. He distinctly remembers a Zelda being there, after he was injured. Did she leave? He wanted to talk to her.

“Where did she go?” Sky asks, frowning. That’s unfortunate.

Legend raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Zelda,” he says, like it’s obvious. “She was here whenever… I got hurt, I guess.”

“Sky,” Legend looks very confused. “There wasn’t ever anyone’s Zelda here. Why would you think so?”

His words are thought out, slower, deeper than the mess he’d been when Sky was injured. That’s good, it means the vet has had time to breathe and calm down since then.

“There wasn’t? But someone mentioned being of royal descent, did they not?” Had he made that entire conversation up? Something of delusion built from blood loss and poison?

Legend’s expression freezes; a blush creeps across his ears. “You, uh, you heard that?”

“Yes?” How could he not? They were shaking and shouting, for Hylia’s sake!

“Oh.”

Sky is growing quickly more confused, and concerned, and he remembers why he was so nervous around Ledge in the first place. Something was wrong—no, something is wrong—and he wants to figure it out.

“Legend? Did something happen? Are you alright?”

The veteran shakes his head. “You got stabbed, Chosen. Scared the hell outta us.”

But that doesn’t answer about the past week or the mysterious person who he’s very very certain said they were related to him.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. Before the other can object, Sky continues. “What about the Zelda, though? Or whoever it was? Someone said they were my descendant, I thought.”

Legend looks anywhere but at Sky’s face. It’s very suspicious. “That, uh, that doesn’t matter. You need rest.”

Sky uses his own arms to keep him up, despite the insistence of the pink-haired hero to get him to lay back down. The more lucid he is, the less the pain matters. It’s nothing, now. He’s done more on less.

“No, wait, Ledge—”

“It was me,” he whispers, and it’s as quick as the pegasus boots he loves so much.

“Hm?”

Legend flushes, continuing to look away. “It was, uh. It was me. I’m your…” he trails off into something incoherent.

Sky raises an inquisitive brow.

“Don’t make me say it,” Legend scowls.

“Say what?”

“You know what!” And Sky really does. He wants to hear Legend admit it for himself, though.

“Stab wound,” he deadpans instead.

Legend huffs and pouts and crosses his arms, scowl deepening, then softening, then deepening again.

A beat passes. No one stirs except for the two exhausted heroes.

“Fable—my Zelda—she’s my sister. I’m the Prince of Hyrule, technically.” Legend brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them, eyes downcast, stance tense and so similar to how it was by the fire, that night.

Everything clicks into place very neatly.

Legend is not upset with Sky. He is worried about Sky, worried he’s been a disappointment, worried that he’s somehow made a mistake. So he cut back on snarks and rolled eyes, on cocked hips and wide gestures, replaced it with something subdued and a (quite frankly horrid) attempt at being something different.

“Can I hug you?” Sky asks, because it’s the only thing he can think of saying.

The veteran—the teenager, really—all but jumps. But, exactly as he hoped he would, the boy uncurls himself just enough to nod and accept the arms barrelling into him.

Sky represses a gasp (ow ow ow, next time, do not fall into someone’s arms with a scabbed stab wound, good Hylia), and squeezes tight, pouring every ounce of care he can in. This is his descendant, his kid, and it’s such a rush of emotions he’s surely going to have to process later but for right now Legend slots perfectly into his arms and all is well.

“You’re not… you’re not mad?” The boy rasps.

Sky uses one hand to comb through unruly hair. Jeez, did this kid brush it at all while he was unconscious? He’s going to have to use the recently acquired dad-card to fix that.

“Why’d I be mad, Ledge?”

From where he’s pressed the other against his chest (how did he never realize Legend was so small? Has he seriously never hugged him before?), Sky can’t see the expression he’s making. He can well assume, though, that’s something along the lines of furrowed brows and pressed lips, confusion evident with a hint of something else.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Legend finally decides on, and Sky almost laughs at how absurd the question is.

He pulls back to look the boy in the eyes. “Legend, you are a wonderful person who has done wonderous things. You have faced atrocities that no person should, and come out stronger, better, and you have done it again and again, because you care for people less fortunate than you.” His descendant’s eyes are blown wide, wide, wide, and the deep black spots are all the more obvious; no wonder he’s so open, right now, there is not a single ounce of sleep in that body. “I know I haven’t known you long, but I am so proud of you regardless, Legend, and I have no words for how happy I am that I am somehow related to you.”

Violet eyes stare into sky blue, expression lax in a way Sky has not seen before, details in the starlight that are old to one but new to the other.

Sky is hit with the fact that he has never looked at the veteran before this. Not hard enough to point out the little things, like the freckles or light scars or baby hairs.

“Oh,” Legend murmurs, casting his gaze downwards and caving in on his own body a bit more. “Okay.”

“Legend,” eyes flick up once more, “I’m being genuine.”

“I know.” A long pause. “I know, it’s just not that simple, I guess. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Ledge.”

Legend’s eyes go wide, wide, wide, once more. “The others can’t know I’m Fable’s brother.”

That is definitely something Sky is going to address at a later date.

For now, he hopes that the glint his eyes get is mischievous and his smirk comes across correctly. “Exactly.”

Legend does not look convinced.

“We’ll be like Twi and the champion were, for a while. Imagine how pissed Wars an’ Wind’ll be trying to figure it out,” Sky says, because while he’s seen hell he’s still just barely twenty and the epitome of a little shit.

(Holy Hylia, he’s going to have to address that later. How do Twilight and Wild do this all day? They’re barely a few years apart!)

Legend stares at him, and then lets out a cackle of a laugh. Real and honest, all because of Sky, and hope blooms in his chest. The other is undoubtedly the hardest nut to crack and Sky is finally getting through, after months of work.

Soon, he starts laughing too. He can’t help it! The vet’s laugh is so contagious, and he’s rocking back on his knees, and Sky is wheezing, and they’re both definitely delirious.

They’re also a bit too loud, because even as their giggles subside, the other Links begin stirring. Hyrule first, the lightest sleeper by far, but Wind and Wild and Wars follow not long after. The chain wake to two grinning brothers, and while they don’t understand it, they’re joining in as well.

Sky’s stomach hurts like a bitch, which is not a word he uses lightly, but he feels happy in an odd sense. A lot has happened—too much—but he can ignore it in favor of a good laugh with his brothers.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Three- Eris

I love this song and it is so Eris coded to me. This is apart of my mini-series inspired by this album

Listen to the song here: Three (i could not get the mini player to work, so if you know how to pretty please let me know)

Warnings: Angst, minor injury to reader (burn), self-deprecating thoughts (eris to himself)

WC:

Finally catching up. For the first time I see an image of my brokenness utterly worthy of love. Maybe I’ve done enough. And I finally see myself, through the eyes of no one else. It’s so exhausting on this silver screen, where I play the role of anyone but me... I only want what’s real. I set aside the highlight reel and leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk worthy of love anyway.

Eris had been acting strange to say the least. It was rare for you to go a day without seeing the red haired male but it had been a whole week now. Your mind kept playing back to something you might have said or did the last time you saw him. 

You’d gone on a walk with the few smoke hound pups Eris was beginning to train. They were all still tripping over large paws and each other and the sight made peals of laughter fall from your mouth. More than once you looked over and saw your best friend staring at you, although he denied it every time you questioned him about it. Shrugging it off you had kept walking until the sun was starting to set. You turned to face him, to say goodbye, and a pup had run straight into you. Your back would have hit the wet forest floor if it wasn’t for Eris’ strong arm wrapped around your waist. His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, full of softness you couldn’t place but made something in your chest flutter all the same. He had just barely made sure you were standing upright before he called the pups back in and practically ran away from you without saying goodbye. 

You couldn’t think of anything in that interaction that would explain Eris’ absence. Finally deciding you’ve had enough of this, you marched to his study. You didn’t knock as you entered, remembering to lightly open the door. Having learned the hard way that he would violently jump with any door being opened or closed harshly. He didn’t look up from his desk as you stood in the doorway. It took you clearing your throat three times before his eyes even glanced up. 

“Hello.” Was all he said before he turned his eyes back down, his brow slightly furrowed. 

“Eris-”You started, a slight whine in your voice. you heard the sigh that left him. 

“Please. I’m busy. We can go on a walk later.” He was hardly looking at you when he said it.

“Okay.” You conceded. Already knowing he wasn’t going to find you later. 

Days went by and you still haven't gotten the chance to talk to Eris. It was starting to annoy you, making your skin itch in an uncomfortable way. You had gone to a deeper part of the forest to clear your head, a part on the trail that only you and Eris ever traveled. It was starting to get colder as the sun drifted lower in the sky and your lack of jacket made you decide to head back to your room. There was no point in going down to the dining room, to sit with the other members of the court and listen to their dull gossip without Eris beside you. 

You were far away as you walked back, mind absorbed with thoughts of how you could get Eris to talk to you. It was only that fact that stopped you from noticing the body you had walked into. You didn’t have to look up to notice that familiar smell of cinnamon and pine, to know it was the very same male you had been daydreaming about standing in front of you. 

“Eris.” You couldn’t stop the smile that graced your face. 

“Hi little doe.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat. And you blushed. “I didn’t think I would run into you out here.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.” You half-teased. His face fell slightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” You took a step away from him, “Don’t pretend I’m stupid.” 

“I would never.”

“Then don’t lie to me and say you haven’t been actively avoiding me. It's been weeks and I’ve hardly seen you. I miss you.” You said the last part softly, trying to tamp down the anger at the male in front of you. He sighed. 

“I've been busy.”

“You’ve never been too busy for me before.”

“I wasn’t High Lord back then.”

“You spare a few moments from your duties to see me?”

“Please. It’s not like that.” His voice held an edge to it, he wasn’t telling you something. 

“Eris, what’s wrong? Did I do something, did I say something? What happened, I’m sure we can talk it out.” Your words are spilling out of you a mile per minute. 

“Stop. Just stop.” He growled, a pained edge to his voice. It broke your heart to hear.

“Eris please, just talk to me. I want to hel-” A yelp broke from your lips as he grabbed your arms, an involuntary action to the step you took towards him. Both of you were too caught up in the argument to realize the tendrils of flames that had risen from his fingers, the tendrils that had bitten into your skin. He quickly released you, the force throwing you to the ground. His face held nothing but pure horror. When you looked down at your arms you saw the angry red handprints that, despite that they were already healing, would scar. He took a step towards me before he stood completely still. I pulled myself up, tears running down my face. 

“I’m so sor-”

“Figure your shit out, Eris. I’m just trying to help you.” It had been so long since Eris lost control of his powers. Not once had you been the source of that anger. You didn’t look back as you walked towards the forest house. 

You weren’t surprised when you heard a faint knock at your door a few hours after you returned from the healer. A heavy scented balm applied to your forearms, wrapped in pristine white banageds. The burns weren’t bad, you had seen Beron leave worse on his sons. You untangled yourself from the heavy blankets you were curled up in and went to find Eris at your door. You tried to fight the urge to tuck your arms behind your back when you saw his eyes drift towards the gauze wrapped around them. 

“I just wanted to come to check on you.” He muttered, taking a step closer to you. You took a step back, flinching slightly as your arm brushed up against the door frame. Eris wore an expression like you had slapped him. He didn’t look like he was breathing anymore. “I’m sorry. So incredibly sorry.” Was all he said as he turned around, leaving you very confused in the doorway. You didn’t bother calling after him, ignoring the way your body called for you to. You wanted nothing more than him to wrap his arms around you. The two of you had only gotten into minor squabbles. Nothing like this, nothing that stopped you from talking to each other for long periods of time. 

Weeks scraped by and you saw very little of Eris. The manor might have been big but not big enough to explain the rare glimpses you caught of Eris. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him about your upcoming trip to the spring court. One of the healers had their yearly harvest of Hyssop, an important ingredient for making cough medicine that refused to grow in the colder climate of the Autumn court. It was far more potent when used fresh so every year you would make the trip to Spring to collect a few bushels. In return you would stick around for a few days to help with patients. There were always so many in the spring court that any extra hands were appreciated more than any amount of gold. You gathered a few of your lighter dresses to take with you, packing a few more than necessary. And walked to the border, winnowing near your friend's cottage. 

Spring was your favorite court to visit. The flowers and fruit that grew filled the air with a sweet fragrance. The pollen always took some time to adjust to, as did the warmer weather. It was nice to visit but after a few days you would always find yourself missing the rich colors of Autumn. 

Your friend was bursting with joy as she opened the door for you. Your eyes wide as your spied the small babe she was carrying on her hip. 

“Gods, we have a lot to catch up on it seems.” You smile at her before reaching out to pinch the small boys cheeks. “Hello little one.” You cooed, a bell like laugh was your response and you went to hug your friend. 

Cecilia had been busy in the last year since you had seen her. She filled you in on the goings on of the small apothecary she ran. You two had just finished hanging some mint up to dry when you heard the front door open. 

A tall fae male walked into the kitchen. You had met him once or twice during your visits, Greyson, you think his name was. Cecilia gave him a love sick smile that he returned. He said a polite greeting to you before he walked over to your friend's side and gave her a short but sweet kiss on the cheek. They seemed to slip into their only little world, only seeing one another until the baby babbling snapped them out of it. You shoved down the small wave of nasty jealousy at the way they looked at each other. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Greyson said when that little coo turned into a piercing wail. Cecilia’s eyes tracked him until he disappeared from the room. She deflated slightly when he ducked around the corner. 

“So…” You started. A not so subtle way of asking for an explanation. She blushed. 

“We’ve been friends for years, you remember, I was always hoping for a bond to snap and then one day he ran into me while I was picking herbs and it was history from there. We never expected to have a baby so quickly, they’re so rare, but we were overjoyed.” She went on and you realized you were gripping the knife you were chopping herbs with a little tighter than needed. You hummed along to her story. Unknowing what to add to it. 

“And how’s your love life?” She elbowed you teasingly. She was fully aware of your feelings for a certain redhead. You scoffed and went back to stripping off leaves from their stems. 

You left two days later, arms full of all the herbs Ceceila had given you. She gave you a tight hug as you winnowed back to your home. You hummed a light song to yourself as you walked back to your room, feeling lighter than you had in the past days as you arrived at your door. 

Your humming died out as you saw your bedroom door wide open when you knew for a fact you had locked it behind you. Hesitantly, you peaked around the edge of the door. 

“Eris?” At the sound of your voice, he turned to face you. Relief etched into his perfect face. He was across the room in seconds. He wrapped his arms around you, picking you up off your feet. 

“You were gone. I went to check on you and half of your stuff had been packed,” He said as he put you back onto your feet. His chest was heaving rapidly. “I thought you left.” 

“You were too busy ignoring me for me to tell you.” You continued on your path putting away your clothes. Not looking at Eris. You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your wrist which you gently but firmly removed. 

“Doe, please. Look at me.” He pleaded but you only scoffed. 

“Now I’m worthy of your attention. I have been away for three days and now you want to pay attention to me. It’s been over a month since you so much as talked to me, Eris.” You turned to face him, hands on your hips. Almost begging him to try to deny it. 

“It’s not like that-” He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the long locks. 

“Then what’s it like?” You challenged. “You won’t talk to me even though I know something is wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

“See!” You threw your arms up, a bit dramatic but you didn’t care right now. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.” 

“Eris, what is so bad that you can’t talk to me about it.” Your tone softened a little at the clear struggle on his face. He didn’t say anything and you wanted to scream at him. You didn’t instead you just told him, “If you won’t…Just get out.”

“Doe. Please”

“Don’t, I’m exhausted Eris. If you truly won’t tell me, I can’t help-”

“I love you.” He blurted out. Both of you froze. When you met his eyes you knew he was telling the truth. He took a deep breath, he opened his mouth and then closed it again. He finally spoke again. “I’ve been in love with you for years. And then when-” He caught himself. Stumbling to shut his mouth. You took a step towards him. Hand reaching for his. 

“When what Eris?” You felt your  heartbeat pick up. 

“When I felt the bond snap,” He looked at your  face, you only nodded for him to keep talking. “You’re sweet, kind, and good. Gods are you kind. Kinder and gentler than anyone I could ever deserve. So I thought if I hid the bond that there would be a chance it never snapped for you. That you would be free to find someone who is…better than me.” 

“Eris-”

“I’ve done awful things to people. I’ve hurt people and backstabbed and betrayed so many of the closest people to me. I mean look at Lucien. He can’t even live in his own court.  Look at Mor. Even you have scars that tell me you deserve anyone else but me.” His voice cracked on the last word. Shaking with unshed tears. You slowly trailed your hand up his arm, leaving it to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes tight but didn’t pull away from your touch. 

“I love you so much and couldn’t believe the mother would let me have a mate as good as you. So I hid like a coward because the thought of it was too much.” He whispered into your palm. You brushed your thumb near his eyes, a silent plea for him to look at you. 

“You aren’t that person Eris. I’ve never seen anything but the good you’ve done. The horrible things that this court has made you do, is not who you really are. Lucien is alive because you got him to spring. Mor is alive because you made your brothers stop, you’re the one who called for Rhys and Azriel that day. But look at all the good you’ve done, just to the court since you became High Lord.” He was crying now, trembling under your words. “Females can walk around unafraid, something they have never been able to do in this court. Children laugh in the street, full and happy. All because of you. Eris you are good, and kind, and oh so deserving of love.” He only shook his head, like he could stop the words from finding his ears. “And I will tell you every second of every day for the rest of our lives until you believe it. I love you Eris. I have loved you for as long as I’ve known what love is.” You spoke clearly, words hanging in the air as Eris finally opened his eyes. 

“You love me?” 

“Long before I ever felt the bond,” His eyes widened. “It was silly, just a look across the room during a ball. And I could never think of the right way to tell you. But I knew before then that there was no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. It’s always been you Eris.” He turned his head to give your hand a small kiss. Then he slid to his knees, clutching that hand like it was solid gold. 

“I might never deserve you, but I promise to love you the best that I can.” You smiled softly at him before you sunk down, eye level with him. You threw your arms around his neck pulling him into a crushing hug. 

“You’ve always deserved me.” You whispered before you pulled him in a kiss that made the world freeze around you.

Tagging the Eris girlies/moots as usual: @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing

[caramelcleopatraa]

English: Jealousy: Love Me Like You Say You Do

x: A fictional piece of writing starring Hazel and Roman and an uninvited guest that Hazel’s not a fan of

Parts: Celos: Observación ! Celos: Negación Dolorosa ! Celos: Sucia

English: Jealousy : Observation ! Jealousy: Painful Denial ! Jealousy: Dirty

Saturday

The gray clouds blanketed the sky, crying down an ever ending cycle of rain. or, at least, that’s what she remembered. She hadn’t bothered to look at the sky or the grass that sprouted the beautiful list of flowers, or the anonymous people conversing walking the streets. A rather grim start to her day, no doubt. The natural curious soul didn't seek questions today. Those direct chocolate eyes, spent most of its time admiring the smooth floors in the house, or the dark carpet in the cadillac escalade, or the shiny marble floor that reflected the chandeliers so richly.

Blur. It was all a blur. The people moved past her and just looked like motion blur. Not able to identify their faces. Maybe it was the world around her that was the problem. Or maybe it was her. She was in scrambles. Ignoring the gnawing pain in her head, her chest, her stomach. She finally pushed past her bellowing rage from last night when Tiffany called out Roman publicly. Which confused her, because she never wanted to control him, or argue with him. She never wanted to make him feel like she didn't trust him. And she wasn't even mad at him. Maybe Tiffany. Naturally, Tiffany. But more… at herself.

‘There must be something wrong with me. Is that why he stayed over there longer than usual? Why she decided to touch his arm? Did he lie about what they were talking about? Is there something that I don't know about? I thought he was being honest. I trusted him. Is it something that I'm not doing?’

She dreaded this more than anything. She dreaded that she couldn’t fully devote her attention to her clients. But she tried her best, helping the influx of high end customers, while trying her best to find the answer to the questions that clouded her judgment. What a day this was going to be.

The Cadillac rested in front of the building. 8 o clock. Like clockwork. Never late. Never too early. Just on time. There was no light in her eyes by the time that closing had come around. She was sure that her driver noticed. The fire that would be reflecting in her eyes after work was dull, and dim. And the spark that lit that fire had been nonexistent all day. Finally, she would go home. To her bed. Not to see Roman and talk about all of the customers and their annoying demands, just some sleep. She didn't even want to talk to him. Didn’t want to burden him with her fluctuating feelings. And that's exactly what she did. Stripping off everything as soon as she walked through the front door. She only bid him a small hello, before disappearing into the shower, letting the hot water and steam fill her senses. Hazel knew that Roman would try to ask questions about why she was acting this way, but she wanted to be selfish this one time. Let herself figure out what is going on, and then address him. ‘Yeah. That's what i’ll do’

Sunday

The black silk sheets wrapped around her body till morning. He was up at ungodly hours training, attending meetings, and running errands for the house that Hazel had not gotten to yet. She didn’t want to leave the mold she had made in her bed. She knew that the questions and thoughts regarding Tiffany would hit like a surge storm as soon as she got up. But she has work to do, and the bag doesn’t chase itself. ‘Just, happy thoughts. Breathe. Breathe~ Happy thoughts.’

Friday

A drive home. No special drivers, no assistants. Just her. With guilt eating away at her. She had promised him that she was going to be there. But she just… couldn’t stand being in the same place as the two of them. Whether that was beneficial to her didn’t matter right now. Truth be told, she might try something even more bold since she won't be there, or maybe she took out all of the fun because Tiffany can’t see Hazel’s face in real time when Tiffany torments Hazel. Well it’s too late now. She recognized the brick driveway she had driven over countless times. Slugging herself out of the car, through the front door, and plopping onto the bed. Not even bothering to hang her keys up or take her blouse off. Sleep. That sounded so good right now. Order some pizza, hide behind the covers and go to sleep.

She didn’t remember when everything had meshed together. She didn't even remember hopping in the shower. She barely remembered herself walking through the front door. All she was focused on was distraction. ‘Distract yourself.’ She wondered what he was doing right now. Probably backstage readying up to present himself to the masses. ‘Distract yourself.’ Would he be disappointed in her that she didn’t show up like she said? What if this was the worst day she could’ve missed? ‘Distract yourself Hazel..’ “I miss him.” ‘Hazel...’ She misses her man. her man. She should be in his arms while he waits for his cue. Wishing him good luck and showering his face in kisses. ‘Stop..’ What if Tiffany’s there? ‘Hazel this isn't good..’ Trying to take her place and give him words of affirmation with her kiss-ass tone? And she's not there to stop her. She’s able to do as she pleases. “And then she.. she,” Hazel says, snapping to her senses when she realizes that she’s talking to herself, letting her mind break piece by piece. Because of her. And because she loves him so damn much.

Monday

She tugged on the short crop top, making sure her cleavage was showcased through the top. Well, whatever the scraggly piece of clothing was. She sighs. She was going to figure it out. More provocative maybe? Tiffany’s gear always showcased her tits. No matter, she could do that too. A thin mustard crop top that tied in the front, stopping right at the bra line. With that, skinny ripped jeans that cling onto her body like water, with strappy heels. “Hello ma’am how are you doing this morning?” One of the cleaners that always greeted her on the way in. She replies before heading into her office saying, “Not great. But.. another day, another dollar.”

Friday  12:00pm

5 excruciating days of work. She was so busy that she had forgotten who Tiffany was. Or about Smackdown tonight. Client after client. Hour after hour. Customs after customs. Numb. Yeah, that was the best way to explain it. Just numb. After day two, she was on autopilot. Wake up, shower, put on another promiscuous outfit, bid her goodbyes to Roman, and spend the rest of her time at work. It really was exhausting the amount of work that she forced onto herself. With those demoralizing thoughts that seemed to get worse everyday. ‘One more customer.’ ‘Might have to skip lunch today, too many people in the shop.’ ‘Might have to do extra work at home.’

It was noon on her fifth work day. ‘God. I'm tired.’ She had been sipping on an empty coffee cup, pushing out every ounce of energy she had. And she had forgotten to bring her tupperware filled to the brim with her favorite leftovers. Wonderful. Just wonderful. 

“Excuse me Ms. Hazel, Roman is here to see you.”

‘Why? Is he here?’

“Let him in,” Hazel says, sighing while tapping her forehead. A tall figure with a black hoodie and black sweatpants entered the shop carrying a gray disposable bag with a tupperware full of food in it. Roman. He never came to visit her at her job, and she honestly preferred it that way. She gets distracted way too much when he's there. He gently lays the bag on top of the glass display case, observing her lazy face upon his entry.

“You forgot your lunch this morning.” She gave him a quick smile and replied, “Thank you. I didn’t want to order anything today. You saved my ass.” Her hands reach out to him, and he leans forward. Allowing her small hands to grab his face and give him two sweet pecks on his lips.

And they thought the same thing at the same time.

‘His lips are so soft.’

‘Her lips are so soft.’

“When are you coming home?” Roman purrs, still remembering the quick but savored feeling of her lips on his. Meanwhile, she shuffles around her office, picking up stacks of paper and sitting them on her desk.

“Um, probably 11, why?”

“Is this job stressing you out?” She gave him a confused look. When has she ever complained to that extent? She loved her job. “No, of course not. It can get hectic, like many jobs, but I love mine.” He places his hands in his sweatpants pocket, watching her rampage through the first stack of papers. “You know you can have someone else help you out with all of this right? That’s what secretaries and interns are for.” Why was he so concerned for her work load? She always worked a lot. This wasn't the first time she came home late from work. 

“You don’t think I can handle this?” He sighs and counters, “I know you can, but I want my woman back.”

“Sweetie, i'm right her-”

“I want you home baby. Vibrant like you used to be. You just look so tired and annoyed now. You’re so silent when you come home. You barely want to touch me when you come home. I’m not saying you can’t handle it. My baby is the best of the best. But this.” He was now behind the looming jewelry glass display case, standing in the doorway to her office and motioning to the bothersome conundrum. More like abomination of a room littered with papers in every spare corner. “This can’t be healthy for you, dear. I can’t tell you how to run your business, but I really think you should find a secretary or someone that can lighten the load for you. Please come home. You don’t need to do all of this bull shit right now. Call me selfish, I don't care. Let me take care of you. Let me ease your stress. Let me do what I do best, for you Hazel.”

She didn’t know what it was that made her cry. Maybe it was his tone of voice. Maybe his looming concern for her health. His beautifully constructed sentences. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe him just being there made hot tears string down her face. He rushed to her side, standing her up and cradling her in his arms while she cried in his shirt. She muttered “I’m sorry,” into his shirt over and over and over. She felt so guilty. She didn’t know that she was hurting him. That was the last thing she wanted. She never wanted him to feel like he did anything wrong. She knew that this was a “her” problem. That was why she even began working so much in the first place. Busy herself and her mind and maybe, just maybe, she’d figure herself out that way. 

He told her to stay put, while he exited the office, going to the greeter that stood at the glass doors and asked her a couple questions as she nodded understandingly. Commotion broke out, and workers started grabbing their things. The greeter rushed them out of the door and turned the dainty sign that hung on the door from the “open” side, to the “closed” side. He appeared in her office quickly, only to grab her purse, keys, and other essentials for her.

“Roman what’s going on?” 

“We’re leaving.” She pointed to the multiple stacks of paper on her desk. “I-I still have wo-.”

He grabs her hand softly with all of her belongings in the other hand, leading her out of her office and pulls the door shut. “What work?” he says, smiling at her before planting a kiss on her forehead. “You’re well overdue for a Roman special.” Hazel chuckles to herself, her hand re-engulfed in his. “And what the hell is a Roman special?”

He turns around and smiles at her. “Some good food, a hot bath, a massage, some good head, and great dick.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000 @shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80 @msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11 @saintmagx @starryskies97

[scorpioriesling]

I Look In People's Windows

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: angst

Summary: It's been years... years since the breakup. He is no longer yours. He never really was, always keeping you at a distance. But, there were some good times. Maybe that's why you keep hoping to see him again, anywhere. Just one more time.

SR’s Note: Cannot get this song out of my head, and yes I am doing an Eris story! I love writing him. This one ends happy, just trust.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The day he left was the day you'd changed.

He'd tried to reason with you, to make you see why you couldn't be together anymore; it was the day his father killed his younger brother's lover.

Perhaps, he changed on that day too.

"You have to go," he'd said. "You have to get out of here. Now." You remembered it like it was yesterday; there was no option for questioning or changing his mind this time. You'd already started crying, before the argument began.

"I don't care, Eris! I love you, I can't just leave..." You could still feel the way your heart broke, split right in two. Eris had been frenzied, frantically gathering your things and packing them in a backpack.

"And I love you! Don't you see that? I mean, really -- don't you get it?" He threw the backpack on the bed, and you'd watched from the doorway, water dripping from your chin and onto the expensive oak flooring.

"I know you're afraid, but-" He charged over to you, taking your wrists in his hands.

"I am not afraid. Of nothing. Of no one." He said, so close you could feel his breath on your nose. You narrowed your watery eyes at him.

"You are." Is all you said. He dropped your hands, returning to the bed and snatching up the backpack. His back had still been turned to you when he said:

"I won't have you end up dead like Jesminda." Another silent sob racked your body, and you tried hard to keep from shaking.

"You know I'd love you to the ends of Prythian, Y/N." He said, voice quieter now as he approached you and slipped your arms into the staps of the pack. "I would do anything for you." A tear slipped past his eyeline. "Hell, I would jump into the cauldron for you-"

"I don't need anyone jumping into anything," you say, brushing your thumb over his tear-stained cheek. "I just need you. Me. I don't want to not know you anymore." The last part came out shakily. "Does it feel alright to not know me?"

His hands pulled your waist close, and he wrapped his arms around you one more time. You remembered feeling his shoulders shaking, your tears staining his mahogony jacket as you buried your face in his chest. You inhaled deep, smelling his campfire and cinnamon scent one more time...

And now here you were, still addicted to the "if only"s. If only he'd let you stay. If only he'd run with you. If only he was still yours...

You hadn't realized you'd wandered out of your neighborhood, and into the town square. The sky was gray and dull; reflecting how you'd felt inside. When was the last time you'd truly seen the sunshine?

On the last day you'd spent with your love.

Meandering through the Autumn court streets was usually peaceful, not many people being out this time of year as the air had turned a bit chilly. You would constantly check inside shops, the big windows highlighting the guests inside. You don't know what you'd do if you saw him now; its been years since he told you to leave. You'd listened, and stayed away; but that didn't help your mind playing tricks on you. Thinking you'd seen him boarding a train; seeing him at the tables of Christmas parties you couldn't bring yourself to attend.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard the conversations around you, growing more and more as you'd ventured further into the square.

"I heard his kid did it."

"I can't believe the High Lord is actually dead."

"I was told that the oldest son slayed him, out of pure hatred."

What were they talking about? Certainly if they were discussing Lord Beron, you would have heard the news by now. If what they were saying was true and he was really dead, that would mean...

"Ahh, thank you Mariella. You always know exactly why I've come!"

Your body freezes, the whisper of sound drifting from an open doorway to a bakery on your left. You'd recognize that honey-dripped voice anywhere.

You break into a sprint, right for the bakery.

You knew you weren't decieving yourself this time.

Peering in through the storefront, you catch sight of his radiant curls, piled on his head. His genuine smile exposes his perfect canines; a smile you hadn't seen in so long. One you'd never thought you'd see again. He looked almost the exact same, just how you remembered him from all those years ago.

Your breath fogged up the glass, and you wiped it with your sleeve. The small squeak that came from the action caused Eris and the cashier to both peer out at you, and you felt an electricity bolt shoot through you when your eyes met his one more time.

He murnured something quickly to the woman, and raced out of the store. When he cleared the entry way, he stared at you in silence for a few beats, utter shock on his face like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. He took one small step towards you, and you couldn't wait any longer. You ran to him and threw your arms around his neck, his wrapping around your waist and twirling you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled back and met those whiskey orbs, solely focused on you. You didn't care who was staring. You didn't care what people said. You only cared about the male in front of you.

"Eris, what... what happened?" You asked, voice breaking as you tried to contain the happy tears running down your face. He only smiled back at you longingly, taking one hand in yours and placing the other in your hair, finally feeling your wispy tendrils he missed so much.

"I feel as though I've waited forever for this," he admits, pulling you in closer. When his lips meet yours, the sweet apple taste is back. One you'd missed for so long. He continues kissing you for a few moments, relishing in the fact that you were finally back in his arms.

"And," he says, pulling away and resting his forehead on yours. "I'm not afraid anymore."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[littlemissthunderstorms]

gorgeous

alex turner x fem reader

i don’t really know how to summarize it, so just read and find out!! it’ll be a fun little surprise! (also i quoted a line from better than the movies in here, i just finished that book and i LOVED it so dearly)

i couldn’t choose just one song 😣

late afternoon was dull. rain poured outside and the sky was grey, adding to the melancholy of the day. as you sit on the couch next to your best friend alex, you couldn’t help but stare at the rain pattering against the window, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. you had just recently broken up with your boyfriend, you realized he wasn’t the one and it made you sad. it was easy to let your thoughts spiral, you wondered if you’d ever find your person, if anyone would ever love you that much. could you be loved? you didn’t want to be lonely forever and then become an old lady living alone with her fifty cats in an old apartment. would you die alone? oh my god and then who would even take care of the cats? would anyone even know you died? what if- “ahem.” you jumped slightly, raising your eyebrows at alex who was looking at you with a funny expression, accompanied by a head tilt.

“soo movie or no?” alex chuckled. “you ruined my train of thought.” you smiled as you kicked him playfully. alex had always been your best friend, you had always been there for eachother and this was no different. he’d been hanging out at your house practically the second your boyfriend had moved out and you didn’t mind at all. alex laughed softly, brown eyes not leaving yours. as you gazed at the boy, your smile faded into a frown, your earlier thoughts returning to haunt you. alex noticed this, furrowing his brows. “you alright?” you hadn’t really allowed yourself to overthink too much since your boyfriend left, and now that you had really thought about being alone, it destroyed you. anxiety plagued you, filling you only with distress and thoughts of loneliness.

“i dunno.” you shifted your gaze to your lap, fiddling with your rings. “you wanna talk about it?” alex shuffled closer to you on the couch. you shrugged, eyes still fixated on your lap, averting his gaze. “is it about him?” you noticed how close alex was, causing your heart to race a little faster. “um- no.” you paused. “well, yes, related. i mean, it’s not exactly about him, like the fact that i miss him or anything. which i dont. not really. that seems kinda mean, but it’s true.”

you looked up at alex nervously to find him looking back at you, silently urging you to continue talking. “its just- i’m nervous i’ll never find anyone. sounds fucking stupid now that i’m saying it aloud but um..” you gulped nervously. alex eyes were soft and caring and the effect he had on you right now was concerning. nevertheless, you continued.“i’m scared to be alone forever, i just want to love someone and be loved. and i’m so scared thats not going to happen and i’m scared nobody will ever find me pretty enough to love me. i dont know.” you weren’t even thinking now, the storm of anxiety that occupied your mind now letting loose. “i’m just nervous i guess. i dunno, its silly.” you sighed “maybe i’m just overthinking.”

you kept your gaze on your lap as you finished your rant, too flustered to look at alex. he was close. really close. why was your stomach all swirly? the thunder outside filled the silence for a few moments. alex grabbed your hand, causing you to meet his eyes. “hey. don’t think like that. you’re gorgeous.” the way alex was talking to you, the way he was looking at you, soft brown eyes shimmering in the candlelight, all smiley and sweet. it was getting hard to breathe. you were so distracted by him that you forgot to respond. “thank you.” you muttered pathetically, making him chuckle softly, hand not leaving yours. the house was quiet besides the muffled sound of thunder and rain from the nasty storm outside that was getting more intense by the minute. candles and lamps emitted a soft glow throughout the room, casting faint shadows on the walls.

the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter. your eyes darted down to his lips for a split second before quickly looking back up at his eyes. shit. don’t look at his lips don’t look at his lips. the tension was so thick you were sure lightning was bound to strike between you two any second. the house was too quiet. was he getting closer? you nervously broke eye contact for a split second, your stomach fluttering as you looked back at him. he didn’t move, eyes still locked on yours. your face heated. “um- so what movie did you wanna wat-“you didn’t even finish your sentence before his lips were all over yours, nose pressed into your cheek and hand cupping your face. he kissed you like it was his job and he wanted a raise. you eagerly kissed him back, squeezing his hand tightly as you brought your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. he leaned over you, gently pressing you against the arm of the couch as he kissed the shit out of you. you brought your free hand to grab ahold of his hair, deepening the kiss which elicited a sigh out of him.

the intensity of the kiss increased as a strike of lightning illuminated the sky for a few moments, a loud boom of thunder following, rumbling the ground. you pushed your hand up his shirt, his skin warm. his tongue slid across yours. his hands were in your hair. your leg was wrapped around his waist as the kiss deepened, teeth colliding and soft sighs filling the air. another rumble of thunder shook the ground and just like that, the lights were out. you broke the kiss, the two of you gasping for air. the room was dark, almost pitch black.

and if it weren’t for the soft light of the streetlamps, the glow of the candle in the other room, or the incandescent moonlight, you might’ve not been able to see alex smiling down at you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hope this made you giggle and kick your feet, goodnight!

ps. this is like my third time writing anything ever so if it’s bad don’t come for me

[lilas]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love💗(even if it's unfinished!!! i'd still love to see some of your fave work :> )

<3 ty beloved!! If anything this just makes me think I really need to finish some things lol

Troll Watching (avi’li and erenville being strangers and making awkward jokes)

Avi’li nods along to Erenville’s words. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a mushroom ooze before. Then again, he’s never paid much attention to mushrooms when they’re not on his plate or in his bowl. Do the giant mushroom men in Gridania count? But Erenville has him curious, so he asks, “And why do they do this?”

“It’s a way of relieving water pressure that builds up.”

“Like crying?”

Erenville considers, “I suppose that’s a fair comparison, though a little sad to think about a fungus crying bloody tears.”

“Certainly not the only one amongst us.” Ah.

It was meant as a joke but Avi’li’s words didn’t have that pep or punch to them, weighed down by a smidge too much truth. Erenville shifts, unsure how to interpret the “joke” so Avi’li laughs. Too soft to fully shake off the awkwardness, but it serves as a nice deflection.

“First you’re a frog expert, now you’re a mushroom expert?”

“Knowing a few facts doesn’t make an expert.”

Untiled/Dog Days (wip; surprise! avi’li adopted ninja dogs and he’s making it yugiri’s problem too)

Yugiri knew leaving her home would lead her to strange, incredible places. Thus far that remains true, though few things in life prepare you for a former flame (a handsome, still burning flame despite herself) returning to the Enclave with three small dogs in tow. Three dogs also inexplicably trained in the ninjutsu arts.

She watches the dogs, all at attention and watching her expectantly. They are well trained. She looks up at Avi’li for an explanation.

“They followed me from Mount Rokkon,” Avi’li answers, but stops himself. Yugiri’s eyes narrow, waiting.

Avi’li isn’t one to shy away from hard truths, but now he casts his eyes to the side, silvery strands of hair obscuring his gaze. Hesitating, Yugiri thinks, because his words might hurt her.

He shifts his weight between his feet, finally saying, “Their master is dead.”

By my hand, Yugiri finishes in her head.

“Hancock says her name was Yozakura.” Yugiri’s breath hitches. “I thought, both of you being shinobi, you may have known her.”

“Oh,” Yugiri breathes, “Yozakura…”

Light (wip; avi’li’s experience swallowing pure light aether)

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Not even the air tastes the same. What scant remnants of aether remain in this world burn to nothing in his lungs. He hesitates on every exhale. Light singes the tip of his tongue, aches behind his teeth, looking for a release.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The distant shouts of children reach Avi’li’s ears from where he sits crumpled on the floor, back pressed firm against the wall in a tucked away corner of Sweetsieve. From here, he can at least enjoy the rain.

It takes more effort than he cares to admit to raise his head to the sky, green eyes narrowed against the soft pattering of rain. The Crystarium feels more alive when it rains. People are drawn out, marvel at the clouds, the cold in the air, the water from the sky, all novelties where once there was only oppressive Light. Avi’li fears, beyond his own wellbeing, the consequences of the Light escaping, that this rain might be the last that the First ever sees.

Breathe in…

For now, the rain is a small salve, a relief from the relentless prickling of Light inside of him, like a million dull knives across his skin, his heart, his ribs. It’s maddening, this sensation. His eyes slide shut.

Breathe out…

Azem (wip; avi’li asks themis about azem)

“Looking back I should have realized they would spare no effort in preventing the natural outcome. If it is in their power to relieve or prevent suffering, they will do so. That island had been evacuated of course, though the land and the homes of those people would have been entirely lost.” Themis shares a smile with Avi’li that feels like a secret. Avi’li leans in closer. “When I asked, they told me it was to protect the island’s delicious grapes, unique in their taste, and nothing more besides. Yet I suspect the true cause was to protect those homes loved by the people there.”

Avi’li smiles at that. He knows, by way of visions from Azem’s crystal, the truth in Apollo’s own words as remembered by Emet-Selch. That all that effort truly was for grapes, grapes that held enough meaning with the people, the land, to be worthy of preservation and protection all on their own.

“Why do you think they would lie about that?” Avi’li asks.

That gives Themis pause, and he taps on his chin. “Azem has a quiet sense of humor. It could be they were being coy as a tease.”

“Are they often like that? Coy.”

“Not at all. They are, in my opinion, refreshingly straightforward.”

Then why, Avi’li keeps this to himself, can you not accept this answer?

New Feelings (unpublished; avi’li crushing on aymeric and haurchefant having fun at his expense)

“Pray allow me privy to your thoughts?”

Avi’li answers with a shrug, “Thinking about Aymeric.”

“The Lord Commander?” Haurchefant raises an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Ay’anno, just thinkin’ about him.”

“Did he request another meeting?”

“Wouldn’t you be the one to know that?”

Haurchefant purses his lips, “Then what?”

“Just…he’s an interesting man.” Avi’s eyes turn back towards the ceiling. “Just all…admirable and tall and collected…that stuff.”

“Uh huh.”

Avi’li frowns at the tone he hears and rolls onto his side to properly face Haurchefant, who’s trying and horrifically failing at hiding a crooked grin. “What?”

“What about?”

“Why’re you smiling like a spriggan?”

“Like a spriggan? Are you implying my teeth are anything similar to a creature who gnaws on rocks for a living?”

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.20

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

The air around us is quickly filling with a surplus of magic. I can sense her strong magical potential. She may be a fairy who is just learning her powers, but the strength within her is enormous. Honestly, I would feel insulted if it were otherwise, since she is one of them.

My eyes involuntarily drift to the red-haired girl, who is usually always with the blond girl in front of me. A complex conflict is evident in her eyes, as if she has no idea what is happening. She, too, has incredible magical potential, but it feels dull.

"Hey, eyes here; I'm your opponent, you pervert!" I hear a squeaky voice scream. Immediately, I feel as if my brain is being flooded with static sounds.

I put my hands on my temples and try to massage away the incoming headache, which only makes the girl angrier. Her screams become petty and insulting, but I tune them out. Instead of paying her any more attention, I turn to the teachers of the Alfea Academy. My eyes immediately fall on the only elf among them.

"Can you seal my normal magic core for a few hours?" At first, he didn't react. Since he's the only one who never looked at me with disgust, I assume he didn't think I would talk to him. But when another teacher, a short man, kicks him against the leg, he suddenly turns to me. "Could you seal my normal magic core for a few hours? I don't want anyone to think I'm using anything other than my fairy magic."

He looks like a Pulknick, but soon a gentle smile plays around his thin lips. In a soft voice that I wasn't expecting, he says, "It would be an honor!" He even bows his head.

Soon he steps close to me, puts his hand on my chest, and speaks words I have never heard before or could ever try to repeat, likely Old Elvish. Suddenly, a stabbing pain that even makes me inhale sharply runs through my entire body. I can feel the magic that once flowed through me suddenly freezing in my veins. It just stops moving. Under normal circumstances, this would've surely freaked me out.

As soon as he removes his hand from my chest, I fall back in pain. I try to breathe regularly. But as a magical being, life without magic is not possible. Standing at a crossroads, however, I first need to calm myself down, so I take a deep breath and hold it. I'm just calm enough not to panic. I focus on my inherited fairy magic. It is only a faint pulsation, but I can locate it easily. I mentally tug on it, rise, and hold my hands before my body. Moving my arms in semi-circular motions, I can feel my fairy magic gradually beginning to flow. With a little help from external magic, as a guardian fairy in training, I can just about use this to make my magic flow faster. All the while, I move my arms inward and outward in a full circular motion, creating a magical barrier in the middle of my body to press on my center regularly.

I know that in a shameful turn of events, I have been standing there for at least five minutes, until my fairy mana starts coursing through my entire body, all the while barely breathing. Dizziness almost overwhelms me as soon as I stop my movements, open my eyes, and see the people around me looking at me with confusion and disdain.

"What?" I ask rather rudely. "I want to see one of you use fairy and normal mana. It's not as easy as you might think." I spat at her, my toxic mood now clear to everyone. I may be a prince, but even etiquette and manners have hard limits.

I open my hand and summon a stone, shaping it into numerous forms without a magic formula. Feels more than exciting. But when I glance at the two women, Miss Faragonda and the one who caused all this chaos for me, they both look pale. It gives me a certain amount of joy, but the mock battle is already underway; now it can't be stopped.

Stella stares at me with disdain. Much like most of the other fairies. However, the specialists? Since defeating Corey and healing his wounds, they appear more remorseful than anything else.

Right before my eyes, Stella transformed. Her elegant long dress shapes into a sparkling short outfit, and small magical wings appear on her back. I feel a tinge of jealousy when I see that she can already transform.

"I hope you don't mind fighting me like this." I hold out my hands, presenting myself. "Since I can't transform yet, I haven't earned my wings yet."

She sneers and grins at me as she flies into the air. I see a challenge shimmering in her eyes and accept it with a grin of my own. "Stone step." I summon a stone slab in front of me and step on it. Leisurely, I move my hand, and the slab carries me into the sky, right in front of Stella. At first, she looks stunned but quickly recovers; instead, she looks at me annoyed.

“Do you attack first, Princess, or should I?” I ask her teasingly.

Her anger escalates into pure rage. I don't understand why. Everything I say makes her angrier. Could it still be because she thinks I'm a pervert? Even after demonstrating my fairy magic? To the untrained eye, it might appear as ordinary magic. However, there are clear differences. Firstly, fairy magic is permanent. For example, the flames of a fire fairy - even a beginner one - cannot be extinguished by low-level spells. Fairy magic is considered high magic. According to legends, it originates from god-like creatures. Despite this, there are several levels of fairies.

“Morning star!” she screams. Suddenly, a single object appears above her, shining like a star and flying quickly towards me on a direct course.

"Breaking Rock!" I shout back; a gray rock forms before me and flies towards Stella. She grins as if she thinks it's a weak little rock. But it crashes right into her attack and scatters it, still flying straight towards her. Her eyes widen in shock, but she reacts quickly and lets loose a second-morning star, effortlessly shattering my spell into small pieces. I smile at her unconcernedly, ready to summon more.

"Beam of light!" Stella suddenly screams. Her hands form a circle she holds above her head, and a small ball forms inside it. Even though it looks small and inconspicuous, I have a bad feeling about it. Just as she manifests the ball, I see a beam coming out of the small glowing sphere, and even though it is not too fast, I know I have to do something about it.

I summon several of my "Breaking Rocks" to interrupt the beam, but it doesn't work. On my second try, I throw one at her hands. But even after she takes them away, the sphere stays in place. In a final attempt, one flies straight at the ball, but the rock disintegrates upon impact. I'm genuinely surprised by the freshman's powerful attack, which I didn't expect.

Now I know I shouldn't have underestimated her. Yet, I can't stop smiling, as I have finally found a match. My happiness visibly annoys Stella even further, and that's just the icing on the cake. Finally, fully aware of my heavy disadvantage, I prepare to go on the defensive by summoning a stone wall. It could halt the beam momentarily, but then it eats through it effortlessly. Now I'm starting to panic slightly. I have to take this seriously.

"Walls of Barnaruk!" I yell. Blackstone walls shoot up from the ground, taller than Stella and I are. One of these wall sections is at least as thick as a building. They are connected walls, like a labyrinth, as the situation demands. She can't attack me directly but must either pass through one of these walls or find me by flying around them.

Although I had my doubts about its effectiveness, I never expected it to work this well! As soon as the beam hits the stone, a small hole appears, but that's all. Stella even tries to increase the magic of her spell, but she can't get through. As I laugh in my fortress of walls, I'm already considering my next move when, out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly see Stella flying above me in her glittery fairy costume.

How could I have forgotten? Perhaps I was too far into normal combat mode, as the soldiers I fought against couldn't fly. Ready to cast another spell, I have my arm at my side, magic already gathering in my hand, when suddenly I feel a throbbing pain in the side of my head. It pulsates so hard that I see black stars in my field of vision for a second.

However, when my vision returns to normal, the scene before me has changed; I'm no longer in the forest surrounding the four great schools of the magical dimension, but on the battlefield where I lost him. Why do I have to remember that day now? I feel my heart contracting and my breath catching. How can I live with what I did? Although I have asked myself this question many times, I can never answer it. After all, it was my fault and mine alone that he was no longer by my side.

Suddenly, a sharp sensation jolts me out of this nightmare of a day. As I return to my senses, I find myself lying on my stone platform. My eyes immediately jump to my left upper arm, where the pain is coming from. Looking at it, I see a large gap, the ends of which are burned. It reminds me that I should still be fighting, so I raise my head to the sky. When I see Stella, I can't believe this little fairy could hurt me. I get back up, glaring at her, but she just looks at me more smugly. I'm at the end of my fucking rope! Summoning several more platforms, I reach her in no time.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl with golden hair," I begin. Almost instantly, I see her roll her eyes and summon several morning stars, which she shoots in my direction, but I easily dodge them. "She climbed a tree. It grew rare and delicious fruits, shaped like stars, that tasted like pure sunshine. But that day, unlike usual, the branch she was standing on broke under her weight. The girl fell on a boy but still broke her arm. She cried so loudly that even the animals ran away."

“Shut up!” Stella suddenly screams, her head red and her fists clenched.

Even though she flies higher and higher, I don't let it stop me from continuing to tell my little story; instead, I just start speaking louder. "She apologized endlessly, even though she was hurt. The boy she fell on found it adorable. To his surprise, she healed her arm right in front of him. But suddenly she started babbling like a waterfall while eating the fruit she picked from the tree."

"I said shut up!" She screamed even louder, surrounded by numerous little stars. "Starfall!"

Several small, glowing objects race towards me at a speed that would be impossible to escape. Using several stone slabs similar to the one I'm standing on, I was able to block some of them, but there were just too many. Since I have nothing else to protect me, I use magic to fly away on my slab and use the walls around me to escape the rest. Using my weight, I move the slab from side to side. I nearly hit my head on one of the walls when one of the stars exploded against it too close to me, shaking my center of gravity. Before I could fall, however, I put my hand on the wall and used part of it to push myself back into place.

At some point, I look over my shoulder and relax a little, as I can no longer see any more attacks following me. So I climb higher again and immediately see Stella's grin. I couldn't hold back my anger any longer. "Volcanic storm!"

Stella's grin disappears as black stones fall from the sky instead of her shining stars. However, they are just stones because, as a fairy, I cannot use fire magic to fulfill the entire spell, yet they still crash down at breaking speeds.

As I stand on my tablet, magic surges around me like a storm, while a similar phenomenon is also taking place within my body. The magic is flowing through me at an extraordinary speed, threatening to tear me apart completely. Since it is a spell that I know but theoretically cannot or should not use, as one of the few guardian fairies who have witnessed their predecessor use the same power, I have a few small advantages. Usually, a guardian fairy is not born until the previous one dies or is about to die. My family does not have this problem, as the next generation can be born but only receives magic in small portions until the old guardian fairy succumbs to old age, even though fairies are usually immortal. We, on the other hand, are the only guardian fairies who must die once the next generation has matured.

This means I'm at a disadvantage in battle. I only have a small portion of the powers Stella has, and I can't even use half of them because I've never used them before. I've always relied on my normal magic. In my opinion, ordinary magic is more effective in war, but to feel the power of a guardian fairy, I must say, is groundbreaking.

I try to control the pain coursing through me as the magic becomes too much for me. Meanwhile, I watch Stella try to block my final attack. The rocks from the volcanic explosion, some massive and some small, were too strong to block or even destroy them. Although she tried everything, it didn't work. I watch with a grin, knowing that my fairy magic can't harm me, just as magic can't hurt the one who uses it.

My vision becomes a little blurry, but I don't mind because I have used a lot of magical energy. This spell wasn't something a fairy should do alone. It was supposed to be a fusion spell that I should do with a fire fairy or a battalion of fire mages. The fact that I managed to do it alone was already a miracle.

Deep in thought, I feel one of the large stones passing through me as if I weren't there. But knowing that there are other people beneath me, I let it dissolve beneath my slate, turning it into microscopic powder instead, shimmering like crystals in the sun. As soon as it touches the ground or anything else, it disappears. After all, I don't want to hurt anyone.

When I look up again, I am confronted with Stella's fury. Her eyes glow like two little suns, and her body glows in a similar light. It actually scares me.

“Solar Tide!“ Stella screams.

My eyes widen because I can't believe the enormous magical energy flowing around here. This has to be a very high-level spell that a fairy just starting to learn shouldn't be able to use, especially not in a low-level fairy body like hers. But as I think about it a little more, I realize it's the same situation as my volcanic explosion spell. But how did she do it?

Before I can delve deeper into this question, I see something terrible: From far away, a fast-flowing flood of pure light is crashing down. I know I have to do something before I lose to her. Although it seems impossible, I know I only have one choice, one that terrifies me.

I close one eye and feel it change. "Para-" Before I can even begin the spell, I feel cold sweat gathering in my neck before running down my back, forcing me to stop casting. As I look around, I feel dizziness overcome me again, but this time I can no longer control it. Before I know it, my upper body drops onto the slab I'm standing on, and as I lie there, my gaze falls to the ground. My eyes fall on a spot deep in the forest. There, I see a normal oak tree that is barely visible through a small hole in the treetops, against which leans a person: him.

He looks up at me with his stormy blue-gray eyes. I have lost myself in them so many times. His dark hair, which envelops his head in waves, looks as good as it did when he was alive. Suddenly, he raises his index finger to his mouth and orders me to remain silent and still. When I see this, my heart starts racing. My breath catches in my throat, and my vision goes black as I feel my magic disappear into nothingness. Out of nowhere, little stars appear in the blackness of my vision.

In the darkness, I hear laughter. When I open my eyes, I see Ferdinand, my loyal commander, for a second. He smiles kindly down at me and tells me to finally go to sleep, just like he always did when I overexerted myself.

Usually, I would argue with him about it, but right now, all I want is to sleep. So I give in to this feeling of exhaustion. Although I feel cold air rushing around my body, I don't let it wake me up. For a moment, I think I feel pain, and I almost want to scream, but it disappears as soon as it appears. However, it is enough to draw me into the sleep I have apparently been longing for.

[Masterlist]

[0averysillygoose0]

I can still make the whole place shimmer (with the skin of a killer, Bella)- Chapter two

Prologue and previouis chapters are in my master list♡

Summary:

Angelica Cullen was supposed to have died over 300 years ago, but now she gets to watch as her adoptive brother stalks some girl from Arizona.

Born in the 1600s to one Carlisle Cullen and his first wife- a woman whose name has since faded into obscurity, Angelica was never supposed to amount to much more than marriage and children. Now a perpetual sixteen-year-old who wants nothing more than to be able to paint her nails in peace to the Mama Mia soundtrack, she finds herself with little to occupy her time.

Her relationship with her family is growing more strained by the day. The cycle of high school has long since become dull and draining, and despite her desperation for something else, she's forced to stay stagnant for 'the good of the family'.

A family who's wearing her patience thin.

Then Bella Swan moves to Forks and Angelica's pressure is suddenly raised as the Cullen family is thrown into a potentially life-ending challenge every five business days. The Quillute are watching closely, as are the Volturi for any slip-ups, and in the world of the supernatural, Angelica has the grace of a baby deer.

♡ ♡ ♡

Chapter two: Buffallo Billing a deer and chalymida afflicted mountain lions

Angelica sat primly atop a bed in her dark room. She was dressed in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a lacy maroon top that sat snugly on her chest, having long ago discarded her school clothes. The walls glowed in the flickering light of a candle, tucked precariously away at her desk, the flame occasionally flickering a bit too closely to the pile of notes balanced beside it. The vanilla of the candle clashed with the sharp smell of nail polish, stinging her nostrils as the bottle twisted open with a click. The color, milky and opaque, swished around in the glass container as Angelica dipped the small brush in. A small cosmetic bag sat beside her, wrinkling the silky bed sheets. 

The bag was stacked close to full with varying shades of red, pink and white. A small package of nail stickers, mainly flowers, was tucked in at the side. It had been a gift from Rosalie last christmas. 

“ Let them eat cake, she says just like Marie Antoinette .”

Music blasted loudly through the cushioned headphones that sat atop the girl’s head. The sounds of ABBA and the occasional Queen song filtered through the dull buzz of electricity that clung to the house.

She’d long ago trained herself to focus in on what she desired to hear, tuning out anything she had deemed to be irrelevant. Tonight, she was filtering out the conversations of her siblings, debating where they would be getting their meal for the night. Her  ipod rested delicately on her silky duvet. 

She held out her hand, admiring the first coat of smooth polish that sat atop her nails. 

Edward had said it was cruel of her to mask “weapons” with innocent colors and delicate designs whenever she gave herself a manicure. Angelica thought he was reaching. To refer to her fingernails as ‘weapons’ was inherently stupid, and to insinuate that nail polish was anything other than a decoration was the definition of overthinking.

The moonlight, diluted by the everpresent clouds, poured in through the floor to ceiling window that was tucked in beside her bed. She’d been in her room ever since she’d gotten back to school, only darting down when Esme had called her name and had handed her a drink. The gray sky of the day had been overtaken by the navy darkness of night three hours ago. 

A half finished friendship bracelet lay beside her knees, waiting for the polish to dry so it could be completed. Five others were stacked beside it, products of her boredom. She couldn’t bring herself to do her schoolwork. It seemed so useless. How many times had she answered those same equations? 

“ Caviar and cigarettes, well versed in etiquette …” She hummed mindlessly. “ She’s a killer-” 

Something grazed her shoulder.

“Jesus Fuck!” She jolted at the touch. 

The bottle of top coat she’d been holding nearly landed face down on her bed. A pale hand grabbed it just in time, darting forward so quickly the lines of where the fingers met the palm seemed to blur. Angelica tugged her headphones off hurriedly, looking up at her ‘attacker’ with a frown. 

Carlisle bore both the nail polish container in his hand and an unimpressed look on his face.

Shit. 

“Language please, Angelica.” He chided, glancing at the nail brush she was still clinging to. “You didn’t spill any on your sheets?”

She shook her head. “You snuck up on me.”  Angelica said accusatorially.

“I knocked on the door about five times and called your name.” Carlisle set the bottle down on the bedside table. There was a small clink as the glass met the dark oak wood. “You shouldn’t zone out so much.” “Still scared me.” She mumbled.  

“My deepest apologies.” He teased, only to be met with a vaguely bored expression. His face fell and Angelica did her best to suppress the accompanying guilt that came with it. 

“How was school?”  There was a knowing hesitancy in his voice. 

A twinge of irritation flitted through her bones. She could hear the thinly veiled motivation behind his words. Angelica wondered how long it would take for him to tell her why Edward had done what he’d done. He's undoubtedly spoken to the boy first, as he usually did when conflicts between the two arose.

“Edward made me go home early.” She said stiffly. Her eyes drifted to her laundry basket which was tucked neatly in the corner by the end of her bed. Her school sweater was draped over on the side. 

“So I heard.” “I don’t want to drive with him anymore.”

I want my own music. She thought bitterly. I want my license back. 

“I spoke with him when I got home, he won’t be doing that again.”

“I still don’t like driving with him.”

Carlisle’s lips pressed together thinly. “Alice told me that might happen. I can drive you in the meantime, I only have night shifts this week.”

“I thought I had the flu.” Angelica said. There was a tight edge to her voice. 

“Angelica.” He sighed. She could hear the lecture he was doing his best to shove down brewing in the back of his throat. It flitted briefly across his eyes before the doctor thought better of it. 

“Well if I’m too sick to hang out at Lilly's then I probably can’t go to school tomorrow.” 

“We’ll see how you feel later.” Carlisle’s eyes darted around the room. “Esme said she gave you something to drink to keep you going, did you finish it?”

“Almost.” She glanced over at the  silver flask between her pillows. Dried blood was curled around the stopper. With a flick of her wrist it appeared in her hand. She popped it open and raised it to her lips. The smell of week old deer blood wafted up into her nostrils.

“Angelica. ” He admonished, his hand clamping around the body of the flask. “You're going to make yourself sick.” 

“It’s only been out of the fridge for a few hours-” “We’ve talked about this before, it spoils quickly. Hand it over.” 

Angelica groaned as she begrudgingly surrendered the drink. It was hastily tucked into one of the pockets that lined the inside of his coat.  She could hear it brushing against the walls of the container in thick sloshes. 

“You wouldn’t need to risk this if you just hunted regularly.” Carlisle frowned. “Edward told me that you were planning on avoiding dinner?”

There it was. He’d phrased it like a question but she knew there was no answer for her to give.

Angelica shrugged. 

“Is something wrong?” Carlisle asked quietly. The bed sheets creased as he lowered himself beside her. 

“I  just wanted to watch Mama Mia.” Angelica blew on her still glossy pinkie. “It’s nothing deep.” “This isn’t about anything else?” He ventured. “My motivations lie solely in Meryl Streep.” She said solemnly. 

“Well, then why wouldn’t you just watch it here?”

“Because Lilly and Anna aren’t here.”

Carlisle shook his head but bit his tongue. Angelica could practically hear the words he was holding back. She’d heard the lecture before, how it was unfair of her to prioritize people who’d only be with her for another year or so over spending time with her family. Her father failed to consider that family stopped being enjoyable when eighty percent of its members were too busy staring dreamily into each other’s eyes to make sustainable conversation. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked finally. Angelica shrugged. “I guess. Who am I going with?” 

“Jasper and Emmett.”

“Funsies.” She twirled her finger and the nail bag darted across the room, landing on her desk. The bottles inside rattled from the shaky landing and it echoed through the room. 

“Remember to put your hair up.” Carlisle hummed, rising up from where he’d been sitting. “I don’t want you spending another two hours in the shower washing blood out of it.”

Angelica nodded.

Her hair was her most prized feature. It was thick and long, cutting off in waves just below her waist.  Angelica remembered being jealous of her father’s blonde as a young child, wishing fervently her own hair would miraculously lighten, but over the years, she’d grown thankful for her ash brown because it reminded her of her mother. In her dimming memories of human life, most aspects of the woman had been lost to time and Angelica clung to whatever she could. 

“Can you be downstairs in fifteen minutes?” Carlisle asked, lingering in the doorframe. 

Angelica nodded, glancing over at her desk. A pile of hair elastics sat, awaiting their fate. She wondered how many would snap in the process of braiding back her tresses. 

Seventeen minutes later she flew down the stairs in a blur of brown hair and sweatpants. She nearly tripped over herself in an attempt to shove her feet into her white sneakers. They were all gathered outside the house, dressed in dark clothes. 

She threw open the door of the house, scurrying down the concrete steps. The night air was still and cool, the breeze carrying the distant crashes of waves and scurries of mice on the forest floor.  She saw her oldest brothers waiting for her to the side and bolted over, landing squarely beside Emmett, stumbling slightly at the landing. She’d stolen her sweatshirt from Carlisle a few years back and it hung loosely on her frame. It was the only one she owned that was dark enough to resist being blood stained. 

“Are you ready to fight some deers, pookie?”  Angelica asked, swatting at the boy’s  arm with a series of soft punches. 

Angelica saw Edward roll his eyes in her periphery and Rosalie smirked quietly. 

“It’s won’t be much of a fight.” Emmett chuckled, straightening his back so his full height was on display. He towered over her, as he did with the majority of the family. Jasper stood stiffly beside them, hands buried deep into his pockets.

Angelica shook her head. “Nah, Bambi is going to rock your shit. Alli, back me up.” Alice smiled mysteriously from her perch on the gate that lined the yard. 

“Emmett might be in for a surprise.” She said lightly. 

The large boy groaned. “The last time you said that, I ate a mountain lion with Chlamydia.” He shook his head, lip curling up in disgust at the memory. Angelica let out a short lived giggle that died in her throat as her father met her gaze and shook his head.

 “We should head out.” Carlisle announced. 

“I didn’t get Chlamydia from the mountain lion if that’s what you think.” Emmett said quickly.  

The man grimaced. “No, Emmett, I don’t think–” “Because I thought that too at first, but Ange and Rose told me that you couldn’t get it orally- not in the oral sex way but like in like an eating way.”

“No, I know.” Carlisle sighed. Esme rubbed his arm sympathetically. 

“I don’t have Chlamydia, to be clear.” Emmett added. Rosalie’s face was buried in her hands. If blood was still able to flush her face, her cheeks would be the color of a fire truck . 

Esme clapped her hands together, stepping forward. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” She said with a tight smile. “Meet back here in an hour, everyone.” 

“And maybe abstain from mentioning STDs.” Carlisle added, fixing Emmett with a pointed look that drifted towards Angelica. She grinned up at her older brother mischievously. 

“I’ll keep them in check, sir.” Jasper smirked, earning a cuff on the arm from Angelica. “Make sure it stays PG.”

*** 

“Holy shit!” Angelica wiped the splatter of blood off her face in disgust. It came off in flecks. “What did you do to that thing?” “It’s been a rough week.” Jasper murmured defensively. He was hunkered over the mangled remains of a deer, his shirt and face stained crimson. The animal’s body was splayed out unnaturally, it’s head lolled over to the side and its eyes bloodshot. The legs had buckled out from below, the bones pushing out jaggedly from torn flesh. Its heart still jolted in Jasper’s hand, sending out spurts of scarlet across his marble pale skin. “All the girls in my class synched up.” 

“And that was hard for you?” She demanded incredulously. Her hand ripped against the bark of a nearby tree in an attempt to stay upright. 

Emmett frowned. “It isn’t for you?” 

“No, period blood is stale and it has like… this smell, I don’t know- It’s not appetizing- what is wrong with you two? It’s dried vagina blood!” Angelica exclaimed. 

“It’s actually from the uterus,” Jasper began. “And also not always dry…?” He fixed her with a curious look.

“Whatever, either way it’s not the fucking deer’s fault.” She turned away, gagging. “Christ on a cracker, I’m gonna be sick.” 

“You’re being dramatic.” His smooth southern accent slurred his words together. 

“No, dude, she’s got a point. You like Buffalo Billed that deer.” Emmett leaned in closer. His brows knit together in confusion. “How did you get it’s neck to bend like that?”

Jasper glanced up at him.“What do you mean?” “I don’t know, it’s like at a really weird angle- Ange come look at this deer’s neck!” “I would rather shove my head up a werewolf’s asshole then look at whatever happened to that deer!” Her voice was muffled by the sweater sleeve she’d buried her face in.

Jasper sighed. “Do you want me to just pull a leg off for you?” Angelica had barely opened her mouth to answer when a sickening squelch rippled through the air as fat and muscle tore apart. She heard the release of air from inside the blood vessels, alongside the sudden dripping as the scarlet liquid cascaded onto the ground. Angelica didn’t need a glance to picture the scene before her. She wretched dryly. 

“You’ve been doing this for three centuries.” Jasper scoffed. “This can’t be the worst thing you’ve seen.”

“No one ever ripped it apart like that!” Angelica protested defensively.

“Just eat it.” He muttered.  “Carlisle won’t be happy if you come back hungry.”

“I’ll eat it, I just don’t want to look at it.” 

Angelica held her hand out, her eyes trained out on the forest. She felt fur press against her palm. The smell of blood wafted up into her nose, fresh and inviting. Her mouth went slack as she raised it up. 

She felt the rich red taste flooded her mouth as she swallowed it back eagerly. 

“Not too gross for you now.” Jasper scoffed.

“Thank you, Jaz.” She said begrudgingly, throwing back another long sip. It trickled down her throat warmly. Angelica felt a small surge of energy rush through her empty veins as the animal’s life force gave way to her. Silently, she thanked the deer for its services and what it had given up for her.

She could hear the sound of her brothers’ indulgence. It bled on for two minutes before Emmett hoisted up the drained remains of the animal, dumping it unceremoniously into a hole Jasper had dug for it.

It landed on the moist ground with a satisfying thump . Angelica turned back once more as they began to cover the body with dirt and leaves, piling the forest floor atop the carcass.

Emmett grinned over her. “Are you done swooning now?”

Angelica ignored the comment, squinting her eyes at the boy. “You got a little something in your teeth- no more to the left-my left. Yeah a little lower- no that’s too low, just a scooch higher-yeah there.” Emmet plucked a sinewy string of muscle from his teeth. “Whoops.” He grinned, flicking it astray in her direction. 

“Ew!” She jumped back sharply. It landed an inch away from her sneakers. The boys laughed. “Emmett you almost hit my shoe!” “You know, back in my day, we didn’t mind getting a ‘lil dirty.” Jasper scoffed, dumping a final pile of leaves atop the mound of dirt. He dusted his hands off. “I was around in your day, dumbass.” “But did you get dirty?” Emmett tittered.

“No, but that’s beside the point.” She glanced down at the sneakers to ensure they hadn’t garnered any damage. By some miracle they’d managed to avoid any blood stains. They still had a clean white glow to them, save for the soles, which had acquired a thin layer of dirt and moss droppings. 

Emmett rubbed his large palms together.  “How much time do we have left?”

Angelica shrugged. “About a half hour, why?”

“I’m still hungry.” He admitted.

“What’re you thinking?” Jasper grinned, rising up from the fresh deer grave. 

“Mountain lion.” Emmett cracked his knuckles and the sound echoed through their small patch of trees, bouncing off the trunks.  “Chlamydia free this time.” He added.

“We can’t hunt them around here this year. There’s been too much of a drop.” Jasper reminded him. “But near Seattle…” His voice trailed off suggestively.

“It would only take about fifteen minutes if we go fast.” Emmett mused. 

Angelica shook her head. It was still fairly early, only ten thirty. If she returned now, she could still have time to call her friends and catch up on what she’d missed at school. Her desire tugged at her stomach. She took a step forward, delicately jumping over the grave. 

“I’m full. If you guys want to go off without me, I can just go back home.” Jasper shook his head quickly. “You know the rules. ‘Angelica is never to hunt alone’.”  His voice had a faux haughty lilt to it as he quoted Carlisle. 

“Jaz, I’m not even hunting alone, I’m just going back home alone.” She groaned. “It’s like a five minute jog, two if I run.” Jasper shrugged. “Look, if it were up to me, you could do as you pleased. But it’s not, so you can’t.”

Her whole body seemed to draw up and her lips pressed together in a tight, frustrated line. Angelica’s gaze dropped to the ground as she took a deep breath. Her right hand curled around the dangling sweater sleeve, twisting it in between her fingers.  

Emmett nudged her shoulder and she turned back to face him.

“I can give you a piggyback if you don’t feel like running.” He offered. 

Angelica’s shoulders dropped.  She could see that he was trying, that both of them were. As Jasper had said, neither of them had done this to her. Just like she had with Esme in the car, she swallowed her misplaced irritation. 

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

They’d been running for twenty minutes when they reached their destination, slowed slightly by Emmett’s insistence of carrying Angelica. Her weight wasn’t a factor to the large boy, but being smacked in the face by branches at high speeds was a factor to the girl. Although they didn’t hurt, they tangled in her hair and she hadn’t felt her eyes sting from debris in over three centuries, it was still alarming to be pelted by pine needles and twigs. 

Once they’d reached the outskirts of the city and the familiar rush of cars on highways became audible from even deep within the woods they had come to a slowed halt. Angelica had hopped down from Emmett’s back once they’d neared their hunting grounds, assuring him that she didn’t mind helping them hunt. Truthfully she was more concerned about hindering the boy for the second time that night. 

Jasper and Emmett were engaged in a whispered discussion on how long it would take their other siblings to return. It was no secret that the youngest Cullen brother had a tendency to be particularly strict on what he put in his mouth. He claimed to have extra sensitive taste buds, but the other’s suspected it was simply him being overly dramatic.

“Rose didn’t want to go with him because it always takes forever.” Emmett told Jasper under his breath as they walked silently through the woods, heads turning at any slight sound.

“Alice said they’d be out for an extra hour tonight.” 

“No shit.” He scoffed.

“I’m telling the truth, man.” “She’s not gonna let that go for a week.”

The forest smelled different outside of Forks, tinged less by ocean air and more touched by the smells of gasoline and discarded cigarettes that hikers had ground into the dirt. 

Angelica opted to keep quiet, as her frustration was still stirring in her stomach. She  knew that if she joined her brothers’ conversation, she would inevitably say something negative and ruin both of their moods. She trailed behind them, her arms tucked into her sweater’s pocket. Occasionally they would glance back at her, assuring themselves that she hadn’t suddenly taken off. 

I’m the oldest kid. Angelica thought to herself irritably. I should be able to go back to my own fucking house on my own.  

She was glad Edward wasn’t here to hear her silent grumblings. Angelica could picture him raising a finger, signaling the start of yet another long lecture about being grateful to Carlisle and how rules existed for everyone’s own good. She sometimes wondered how despite constantly having an insight to the inner workings of every person around him, her brother seemed to lack basic empathy.

Angelica froze suddenly, her grudge against Edward faltering as the scent of stale blood and urine joined the air. Her nose wrinkled in disdain as it curled into her nostrils in a nauseating wave. 

“Guys.” She hissed. 

Jasper and Emmett turned, craning their necks to see the disgusted expression that decorated the girl’s face. 

Angelica looked around, attempting she could spot the source. “Do you smell that?”

Jasper paused, his chin raised. A dawn of realization rose in his eyes. 

“It’s that way.” He said quickly, tilting his head to their right. There was a small gathering of bushes, lined with thorns that followed his direction. 

“Human?” Emmett wondered aloud, glancing between the two. His nostrils flared. 

Jasper nodded gravely. 

“Are you okay?” Angelica asked cautiously. Jasper was still getting used to their so-called vegetarian lifestyle and although Emmett possessed his fair share of self control, his slate wasn’t completely clean. “I can check it out  if you guys need to hang back.”

Emmett shook his head. “I can come with you.” His gaze wandered over to their blonde companion. “Jaz, how’re you feeling?” 

“Fine.” He said stiltedly. “Besides, it smells like it’s already dead.” Angelica didn’t bother to correct him that ‘it’ didn’t really suit the hypothetical deceased person. 

They started forward towards the bushes, and for once, Angelica led the group. Unlike Carlisle, she didn’t possess any superhuman kindness that streamed into a sense of control for human blood, but she had years of practice on her side. Plenty of years more compared to her brothers at the very least. If whoever they found was still alive, she would probably have to be the one to take them for help, or at least hold Jasper back from finishing them off himself. 

Thin thorns poked through her leggings as she pushed through the undergrowth, breaking as they met her pale marbled skin. The moon shone more clearly through the branches, although it made little difference to them. Vision was never a problem at night. 

Angelica froze as her toes ground against another shoelace. There was a small crunch below her as the plastic aglet was crushed underneath her weight.

The discarded body of a woman was attached to the laces. Her eyes were glazed and clouded, staring back at Angelica blankly. She took a sudden step backwards, her shoulder brushing up against Emmett’s torso. 

He stood rigidly, his typical grin erased by the scene before them.  Jasper crouched down beside the figure hesitantly, his hands grazing the raised and jagged skin on her neck. He frowned as he caught sight of teeth marks, buried deep against the bone. 

“It smells like our kind.” Jasper announced grimly. “She’s fresh, maybe a day old.” 

The woman couldn’t have been more than twenty. Angelica saw baby fat still lingering in her cheeks. It had yet to deflate against the shape of her bone, not yet far enough into decomposition. 

She was wearing a red university sweatshirt, torn through down the middle by what looked like claw marks. A beer can was lying a few meters away, tucked into a nearby bush. A pair of square glasses, cracked in the right lens, were lying askew, caught up in the matted mess of what had once been well groomed curls. 

She looks like an English Major.  Angelica thought. She was grateful to see that the woman's jeans were still intact, albeit stained. The student had met a kinder fate then her own at the very least.

She flicked her index finger and the corpse’s eyelids drooped down. Jasper jolted slightly and Angelica shrugged apologetically when he glanced back at her. 

“You good?” He asked, eyeing her cautiously. “I’m fine.” She nodded, toeing at the ground. A pebble rose up from the dirt.  “That deer doesn’t seem too bad now.”

Jasper grimaced, rising up from his crouched position. “Yeah.” 

“Maybe whoever did this moved out of the area already?” She suggested hopefully. Angelica flicked her wrist and the woman’s once splayed out arms limply rose upwards before crossing over her chest. 

“Maybe.” Jasper echoed. Angelica heard the doubtful edge to his voice. "Emmett, I think we'll have to raincheck that mountain lion. We should get back, let Esme and Carlisle know."

He sighed. "Yeah, I figured."

Carlisle was smiling as they came into the clearing, mistaking their blank expressions for relief. 

“How’d it go?” Esme asked chipperly. There was a small red stain on her zip up hoodie. She and Angelica had bought it on a shopping trip only a week ago in Seattle. LuluLemon. 

Angelica shook her head, crossing the small distance that separated her from her parents. She tucked herself in at Carlisle’s side, burying her face in his shoulder. He looked up searchingly at the pair that followed her. 

“We found a body,” Jasper said quietly, “A few hundred miles out, closer to Seattle.”

“It was so gross.” Angelica mumbled, voice muffled by the thick fabric of her father’s fleece. His arm snaked around her back and she wondered how long it would take for him to announce they were leaving, if she would have enough time for proper goodbyes . “Natural causes?” Carlisle asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice. His old accent slipped in at the end and for a fleeting moment Angelica wished it would just stay like that. She closed her eyes. 

Emmett shook his head. “Someone was vamping it up.” 

Esme frowned. “Oh, that’s not-” She began. “Well, how else should I say it?” He sighed. “One of our kind got to her.” Jasper supplied, nodding to Carlisle. “Last night, by the looks of it.” 

“Like that.” Esme nodded. “It’s more respectful, Emmett.” “Sorry.” He muttered.

Carlisle frowned. “Let’s get inside. We can wait for the others to discuss this.” His gaze fell down to the girl pressed against him. “In the meantime,” He continued, “You should all change.” 

“They won’t be back for another hour.” Jasper said as he passed the blonde man on his way up the concrete steps that led windingly up to the thick oak door.

“Edward.” Esme sighed. 

[valekita]

First look

MuKi

Yuki was sitting on the engawa of the butterfly villa, she was watching the butterflies flying nearby with a blank look, some of them were resting on her legs as she was completely still.

Her hair was tied in three braids with a light blue butterfly pin tying one of the three braids (the one in the back).

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gentle, gentle lassi, Shinobu.

"Yuki, can you do me a favor?"

the little girl looked at her and tilted her head to the side.

"I have an unconscious patient in the other room, he's your age, unfortunately his brother died due to a demon and he also suffered injuries, his name is Muichiro, check on him I don't think he'll wake up while I'm away but it's always better to check on him"

Yuki nodded and got up and then followed Shinobu who took her to the boy's room.

After Shinobu left Yuki sat down on a chair near the boy's bed, I looked at him for a few moments, hair as black as the sky at night and tips as blue as the sky during the day, she didn't pay much attention and turned her gaze to the window.

"mmhhh"

I heard her, after a while she turned and saw the boy open his eyes of the most intense and poetic blue she had ever seen, although they were dull and devoid of souls like hers, but which in that instant shone with true light.

It wasn't a "getting to know each other" it was a "recognizing each other" um "meeting again" of eyes that had already seen each other in past lives and that also in this life met again to intertwine in a gaze of hours in a second.

in that moment, his soul finally felt pleased and full of an emotion foreign to her, which she had never felt, it was a sort of affection... a different affection than the one she had for her sister, a... strange... irrecognizable affection that even with the eyes of the most handsome prince in front of her, she would never feel, if not for his.

In reality, after a while they both looked away, for different reasons, the boy looked around, and the girl was simply incapable of managing that fluid of emotions that she hadn't felt for a long time.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"call me Yuki..." he replied trying to be as neutral as possible.

"...you know who I am?"

"Shinobu told me your name is Muichiro...but you should know your name" it was rare for the girl to speak in sentences instead of monosyllables.

"I don't remember anything"

"ow..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Well, maybe it's just temporary...?"

"...what's your name again?"

"Yuki"

"I'll try not to forget it"

Shinobu entered.

"oh I see you woke up!, ok Yuki, you can go now"

"ok"

he got up and walked away and then closed the door behind him while Shinobu would probably have filled the boy with questions.

The girl didn't see him for a while, on the other hand, she was training to become a demon slayer (hidden by Shinobu) so she didn't often wander around the butterfly villa, every now and then she heard the kakushi complaining about Muichiro, saying that he doesn't never remembers anything etc, etc.

Yuki was a little discouraged, convinced that he would never remember her.

one day she was sitting under a tree, while she was looking at the wall of the villa she noticed a familiar shape in one of the windows, but yes it was certainly Muichiro!

Yuki was driven by the desire to see his eyes again and feel that feeling in her stomach again, she climbed the tree trying to camouflage herself since she had green eyes and brown hair she thought she could do it, but Muichiro noticed her and opened the window.

Yuki feels that sensation in her chest and stomach, a pleasant pain, a soulful emotion, an intertwining of different souls, who recognize each other and feel the most unknown familiarity possible.

"what are you doing?"

"Well..."

"For a moment I didn't even notice you, but the color of your eyes is more different from that of the leaves"

"I should have already imagined it..." I whisper to myself

"the green of your eyes is unique, I would recognize the color of your green in millions of leaves, Yuki"

had he...remembered her name and her eyes? or did he imagine it?

"you remembered my name?"

"yes, do you remember mine?"

"Mui...and something?"

"Muichiro"

"well, from now and on you for me are "Mui""

she looked at his eyes, and remembered his words about her eyes... she was touched...

"I would recognize the blue of your eyes in millions of skies, Mui"

she tought.

____

for those who are confused, no, Yuki and Muichiro have never met before, but I like the theory of previous lives and reincarnations :)

[rune-writes]

Hero

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Word Count: 1230

Rating: G

Pairing: Zack/Aerith

Summary: Set after losing Angeal in Modeoheim. Zack goes to Aerith's church where he crumbles under the weight of his grief.

Note: written for @zerith-week. Day 3 Prompt: Devotion / alt prompt: Hero

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

When Zack came into the church that day, Aerith thought they could spend the day outside. He’d been away for the entire week. The kids at Sector 5 said they missed “the big brother with the big sword”. Maybe Zack would indulge them in a game or two. And the sky looked clear; even with the plates, Aerith could tell when rain clouds had gathered. That particular day, the clouds that had hung ominously the entire week had frayed without even one drop of rain. A brief respite, perhaps? All the more reason to enjoy the sun as best they could. But when Zack entered the church with his face cast down and a sluggish gait to his steps, all plans for a date disappeared from Aerith’s mind.

Aerith rose half-way to her feet, his name at the tip of her tongue just waiting to be said, but before she could, Zack looked up and his face split into a smile—if one could call a stiff crook of his lips a smile. It didn’t even reach his eyes, as his smiles often did. “Aerith!” he called in a forced cheerfulness that, coupled with the way his brows drew back and his voice trembled ever so slightly, broke her heart. But Zack reached her nonetheless, feigning vigor and carefreeness, and asked her, “Were you waiting for me?”

Aerith knew grief when she saw it. She’d felt it herself before when her mother passed away; witnessed it not long after when Elmyra received word of her husband’s demise. She was no stranger to it, as was she not a stranger to how she had handled it. It had been precisely like how Zack was trying to hold up now, acting like everything was fine despite the tears she spied welling in his eyes. He blinked them away, saying dust was caught in his eye. And maybe it did. She decided to play along. Zack rewarded her with a laugh, quiet and languid, his eyes cast down once more, before he perked up—or attempted to—and crouched down by the flowerbed. 

Aerith gingerly sat across from him, carefully listening to him talk and muse about SOLDIER and Shinra and training and missions. About someone named Kunsel and Cissnei and Luxiere. How they were out of his favorite sandwich that morning in the cafeteria and he had to settle for some disgusting gray gruel. “Said it was good for stamina,” he went on. “Well, not good if it twists your stomach and locks you in a bathroom for a good hour afterwards. Kunsel said I just have a bad constitution, but I say his stomach is made of steel. Not that it’d mattered to him. He'd gotten the sandwich and not the gruel.”

Aerith figured she should laugh, but Zack’s face was oddly unanimated telling such a funny story that she felt a laugh would be out of place. It was disconcerting seeing him so listless. He’d always been full of energy, his presence like a shining beacon of light as though his soul was composed of nothing but sunlight. Aerith often stole glances at him as they worked at the flowerbed. He didn’t notice; or maybe he didn’t care. She’d offer responses, enough to make him continue talking. Because talking was good. Talking would distract him. She remembered how Elmyra would get her to talk—about flowers or food or her new home or the ribbon she wore. Got her to come to the kitchen and help with the cooking. Anything to distract her, really, because once she got quiet and the memories rushed in, she would plunge into a never ending spiral of self-loathing with only one sentence hammered into her brain: it was her fault her mother had died. 

Zack had gotten quiet. Aerith stole another look. His usually bright blue eyes were dull, like a faraway sky, locked in some distant recollection. Aerith searched for something to say. Then her eyes found the abandoned flower wagon they’d started building halfway before, and she began to ask, “Zack—”

She had barely said anything when Zack took a sudden sharp intake of breath. His eyes flew wild, gasping as though he’d just broken through water. And then he met her gaze, and Aerith saw the raw, unbridled fear, regret, and guilt swimming across those navy orbs, chipping away at the crooked cheerful mask he’d attempted to don and failed to regain. 

“I—” His voice broke. Tears welled and it seemed to take his all to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say. He stood up. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.” He backed away and probably meant to rush out, but halfway down the aisle, his legs crumbled under him. Then the sobs came, every rock of his body sent a shattering tremble to Aerith’s heart. Had it felt like this when Elmyra saw her broken self? Wanting to do something but unable to do anything. Knowing full well that whatever she said would not bring back whoever Zack had lost. Her own eyes brimmed with tears. 

Outside, the sun was still out. Aerith could imagine the sky spreading far and wide beyond the plates. Boundless. Endless. 

“Hey, Zack,” she began, fighting against the lump in her throat. “The sky is closer in the city above, right?” She rose to her feet. “Kinda scary, but the flowers might like it… maybe.”

The flowers at her feet swayed in a non-existent wind as though in confirmation, but when Aerith looked back, her attempt at distraction hadn’t ceased Zack’s sobs at all. 

Perhaps it hadn’t been distractions that Zack needed after all. He’d had plenty of it, judging from his ramble. He was seeking a quiet haven, free from prying eyes. Gods knew how many times Aerith had sought it—why she had sought the church all those years ago. And that was what it had become to Zack; what she had become to him, just like how Elmyra had coaxed her out of her little hiding spot in her room and pulled her into her arms. Aerith had never felt safer in all her life. 

Zack’s back shook. Somewhere along the way, it had shrunk, and before her was not the savvy SOLDIER who had crash-landed into her life, but a distraught seventeen-year-old boy who was trying his best to hold his ground while his world fell apart. Aerith moved and wrapped Zack inside her arms, small as they were.

“It’s not your fault, Zack,” she whispered to his ear.

Zack’s breath hitched, his body going taut. For a split second, Aerith thought she’d stepped over a line, but Zack instead grabbed her hands and cried into them. 

Later, she let him sleep on her lap. His eyes were puffy, but his breathing was even. He didn’t stir even when Aerith brushed his bangs back and patted his head. Aerith didn’t know what he had gone through, but she hoped he would tell her someday. With their fingers interlocked over his chest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, she would like to think that he trusted her that much at least. She would be his rock and haven when all else failed him. 

With that silent vow taking root firmly in her heart, Aerith bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Zack seemed to smile in his sleep.

~ END ~

[fourandmoreeyes]

[Heartless] The Fateful Encounter

Good job, me. I completely forgot I had a tumblr. In any case, I've found some inspiration lately in the form of @abd-illustrates-art. A friend sent me his YouTube channel, and I ended up navigating to his Concept Corner playlist wherein I saw his characters for a still-in-progress idea called Heartless. I highly recommend.

A disclaimer: these are my interpretations of things. While watching the CC playlist, I thought of a scene with the main character having a mission go wrong and also coming in contact with (one or two of) the BBEG(s). Nothing's set in stone here. Just having a bit of fun.

In any case, preamble aside, let's get into it.

It was hard to see past the smoke billowing from the crater. Every time Heartless tried to call out to his friends, he choked on his voice. “Alche—!” Another cough. “F… Flint—!” He grabbed his throat and backed away from the smoke.

“We’re all right!” shouted a voice past the cloud.

“Get the crystal and go!” shouted someone else.

Heartless spun around, looking frantically for the dull coloured crystal. “I can’t! I won’t leave you!” But he needed to find that crystal. It helped take the burden off his magical core; it empowered him. It… spoke to him? It was hard for him to understand, but if he could grab it, he knew that he’d get some answers.

“Can you really afford to say such a thing with that bleeding heart of yours?”

Heartless froze, and then the smoke suddenly exploded outward, spreading in all directions. Heartless raised his arms to protect his face and eyes as much as he could as he watched the well-dressed form descending from the crest of the crater. This figure was pale, sickly looking almost, and those dull eyes were trained directly on Heartless.

Heartless dropped his arms and began walking backwards. He kept his gaze trained on the figure slowly advancing on him, strolling with unnerving grace, gaze never wavering.

“Who is that?” Heartless heard followed by a more panicked,

“Flint, get down!”

The ground shook with a sudden attack. Alchemy and Flint cried out, and the sounds of combat burst into the air. Heartless whipped his head in the same direction as the voices, compelled to run to them in spite of the danger looming nearby. 

“You—”

“—should pay attention,” the pale man said. He stopped on the gentle slope and canted his head down. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinising Heartless from afar. “Ah.” Before long, he sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Is this the true potential of magic…?”

Heartless frowned, looking at the man now. “What…?”

“Something like yourself… was created with the ‘miracle’ of magic.” The man raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it further away from his face. “Is this defiance of nature something worth celebrating?”

Heartless stopped and stared at the man now. Though he wanted to go to his friends, he just couldn’t let this kind of insult stand. “I don’t know why I’m here… or why I’m like this― But you don’t have any right to judge!” He pointed at the man. “Who are you!”

The man listened, silently, his expression slightly more bothered than before. He removed his hand from his hair with a fan of his fingers. His hand moved in an arch, but even from this distance, Heartless felt a shift in the air. He had a feeling that things were going to go from bad to worse…

“I am Alastor Creed, member of the Jury.” He held his hand out at his side, palm up towards the sky. “I am, by all means, more than qualified to judge.”

“I—”

“You are dead.” Alastor charged forward. “I tire of speaking.”

He’s fast!

But Heartless was confident that he was faster. He moved backwards and kept the distance between him and the stranger. He felt the shadows at his feet, and they gave him more speed. This area was filled with still magic, and Heartless called upon anything that would bolster his own body. Strength and speed—those would be the most ideal. He could knock this guy over, get to Flint and Alchemy, and hopefully, get back into town before anything happened.

Something headed his call, and he leapt off his shadow. It twisted into a tight ball of dual-toned energy. Heartless volleyed the burning orb between his feet, allowing it to gather more and more magic until it flashed bright when it was complete. He rolled the ball onto the curve of his foot, kicked it up to his knee, and then knocked it up to slam his forehead against it. 

The magic broke and flooded over his body. It sank into his body, took roots deep within him, and Heartless’ eyes glowed with the new power. He surged to the still advancing stranger, determined to take him out so that he could get to his friends.

But then, it felt like a sledgehammer cracked between his shoulder blades. His body felt suddenly empty, hollow; the magic core fueling his body stuttered out for a few seconds, and so Heartless went crashing to the ground, his body rolling across the dirt. Alastor easily dodged the rolling body. He slowed himself down and walked a few steps forward before turning to stare at the limp young man on the floor.

The magic core sparked to life, and Heartless’ body jerked when it did. The core burned and spiraled, building in intensity until Heartless gasped from the pain. He clawed his fingers into the ground and slowly pushed himself up. Like this, with his magic running at high intensity, he could feel the crystal’s location. It wasn’t far from him, somewhere close to the crater. He struggled up to his hands and knees.

Alastor sighed. “How sad, how grotesque.” WIth a quick series of moments, he removed a curled, crystalline dagger. He spun it sharply so that the blade was facing away from him. “But it is my duty to take care of you, and so I shall.”

He began walking towards Heartless again with that slow, eerie grace again. Heartless was still struggling to push himself up, but his core was burning through the life around him. The grass wilted and dried; the dirt turned dry and cracked. Alastor scowled the closer he drew. Heartless brought up his head and watched as Alastor drew the dagger above his head—

But then a new body flew in their direction, hitting the ground and bouncing unceremoniously. The woman groaned; she looked like a porcelain doll. Though, it was a good thing that she wasn’t as fragile; otherwise that landing would have been a lot darker. Heartless, taking the momentary distraction, forced himself to stand on his own two feet.

Alastor turned his head in the woman’s direction, but he didn’t look away from Heartless. “Alright, Lorelai?”

“Bit of a rough landing,” “Lorelai” replied, “but I’ll live.”

Alastor’s eyes widened, but before he could react, an extended magician’s cane slammed against his side and arm. Alastor’s expression scrunched in pain as he was knocked to the side. Not as far as Flint would have sent him, but far enough that Heartless felt confident enough to whip around and scramble for the crystal.

At the top of the crater, Heartless looked to see that Flint was fighting the real Lorelai. She ducked and dodged his wider strokes, but when she paused to use her magic, he would concentrate an attack on her mouth, forcing her to move out of the way. Heartless’ attention suddenly shot downward to the turned over earth, and he surged towards a spot where he began digging mindlessly.

The magic was here— the crystal was here!

“There you are.” Alastor jumped above Heartless, dagger poised for an attack. 

Alchemy, now transformed back into their normal self, dove across the space to knock Heartless out of the way.

“Can you use it?” they gasped, sitting up and staring down at him.

The crystal was calling to him. How could he not?

“Hart!”

“Yes!” he shouted back. 

His magic was being replenished at light speed; his skin tingled at the well of energy hiding within. He hadn’t had a chance to properly examine the crystal before its container exploded, but now that it was in his hands, it was more than he had expected. It was medium sized and extremely warm. The magic manifested as an undulating spectrum of cool tones underneath the crystal’s surface. Alchemy left him to fend off Alastor; Flint was fighting Lorelai. He wasn’t sure whether he should help or—

Get away, something whispered. It felt like a second sense, his conscience or maybe his intuition telling him to Go. Run away.

“Why?” he whispered as he tapped into that living well of power. 

In seconds, his mind was flooded with faces of Witches from ages past, their powers, their intentions, their strengths. He choked around the flood, feeling more alive than he had ever felt before. The Hungry Ghouls spun around his body, gnashing at the tendrils of power that began to flow around him. He couldn’t remember a time he felt so powerful.

Go… The crystal was insistent, but its voice weaker now.

Heartless pressed his lips together but decided not to ignore the better sense. He didn’t know who these people were, and just from the way that his powers shut down earlier, he didn’t want to take a chance. 

He felt like he was falling, or maybe flying. The well of power was so much deeper than he had expected. It was an ocean—a whirlwind— a typhoon. It surrounded him with its energy, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, he felt harmonized with it. At one with it and the people who once used it before. Hands fell upon his arms and back, guiding him through the storm, going wtih him as he flew forward, higher, faster.

“Eira… River…” Heartless’ voice doubled as he channeled the power. It felt like the Witches of the past were speaking with him. “Take us to our friends!”

A portal opened before his eyes, and he could see the exterior of a building through a sunset coloured veil. The hands pushed him forward, and for a moment, he was afraid that he was alone, that the magic misunderstood. But it called to him, it was protecting him. He decided to trust it, and he reached out with both hands to the reds and orange shielding MOJO on the other side.

He opened his eyes as his spirit fell into his body. He was still on his back, but now he was on the ground in front of MOJO’s entryway. Alchemy was panting nearby, and Flint’s fist was an inch away from punching a hole into the exterior wall.

“Wha… we… what happened?” Alchemy asked, looking around frantically before staring down at Heartless. “Hart! Oh, thank goodness. You’re okay.”

Heartless blinked as he stared up at the sky. This was… certainly the village. He took mental stock of himself and realised that he felt exhausted now. But he could forgive that. They were safe now. He lifted his head enough to look down at himself as he opened up his hands. Fragments of the crystal fell onto his stomach. Now that the magic was gone, the ancient thing finally could no longer sustain itself.

That… resonated with Heartless, but he was too tired to think too deeply on it now.

The front door opened to MOJO opened. “Now, what is all this?” Moira asked as she stepped outside. Murphy readjusted on her shoulder before hooking its head on her shoulder and purring contentedly.

Heartless gave a tired laugh and said, “Sorry, Moira…” He opened up his hands to show off the fragments and crystal dust. “But the crystal broke.”

“Oh dear, well… Come in, so we can talk about it.”

Heartless looked between Alchemy and Flint before asking, “Any help?”

“I’ve got you,” Flnt said kindly. He walked closer and reached down for Heartless, who took the overly warm hand gratefully. Admittedly, he felt a bit guilty to see the crystal pieces drop to the ground, but he was too weak to stop them now.

Alchemy groaned and followed Moira into the building. “You will not believe the type of day we had. I thought this was supposed to be an easy job.”

“I said ‘doable’, not ‘easy,’” Moira corrected. “Poor things. I’ll put the kettle on for you. Doppel and Glass should be back in a little bit. Let’s wait for them to get in before you say anything.”

Flint carefully began walking forward, and Heartless looked behind him to the glittering crystal on the floor. “Thank you,” he said softly. But it seemed that was the last of his strength. “I’m going… to lay down.”

“...Hart? Hey!” Flint caught his friend rather easily, but even still, he felt concerned. Moira and Alchemy turned back to look at them. Flint sighed before gathering Heartless into his arms and carrying him that way. “I’ll take him to his room.”

“Go ahead, dear.” Moira reached back to take Alchemy by the wrist. “Come with me, love. Let River get you fixed up.”

“Yeah… Sure.” Alchemy hesitated a second, but then she was pulled along with Moira’s tug. “I’m right behind you.”

[heronchildlove]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a Jamie and Matthew one where Math shows up at his room completely wasted and James just holds him as he cries? It would be based after Chain of Gold

James knew, before the door had even opened, that he was coming.

He could feel it, in the pull behind his ribs, in the knot in his throat, in the achines in his soul. The whirlwind of feelings that were too messy and too tangled for him to decipher but that knocked the air out of him like a punch to the stomach. Such were the whims of alcohol and such were the whims of Matthew's moods: most of the times his emotions were muted and dull, no cracks in his armour, but eventually one glass too many or the wrong mindset would send him directly to the other end of the scale, feeling everything at once, intensely and heartbreakingly.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The door opened and closed without a sound, and the corner of James' bed dipped. He turned and shifted, body taking on a shape ingrained by familiarity. They had shared many nights sleeping on the same bed growing up, exhausted after training, chatting in the dark until the moon was high on the sky and they just slept as they were, the separate rooms and beds their parents used to make for their sleepovers always untouched.

Matthew never used to cry back then. He used to say he had everything he wanted now, so he had no need to cry like he had done that day at the Academy.

Now, he only climbed on James' bed when he was crying.

His arms went around Matthew, holding him close, rubbing his back with his hands. He tried to wait out the storm, to calm Matthew down by being calm himself, it usually worked, but not tonight. No matter what he did, the rolling of thunder and storm inside Matthew only seemed to get worse, tears turning into sobs until the front of James' night shirt was soaked, and he had to blink fast to keep from crying himself, if from a mirror of Matthew's feeling or just out of sheer despair at seeing the other like this he couldn't tell.

"Math... Mathew bach, what happened? What's wrong? Please talk to me, let me help."

Matthew jerked and his fingers clung tight to James' back for a moment. "The monster wants to come out, but I don't want it. I won't let it. It's over, this is the last time. It's over. Over."

For a moment, he felt like he could make out the shape of Matthew's feelings, lined on a canvas, but the veil was deep and the picture was unclear. Was that loneliness? Shame? A splash of abandonment? Envy? It shouldn't be so hard to tell, it shouldn't. He knew that if only he could see, he would be able to help. But James' soul was covered in silver, and Matthew's soul clung to sanity by a thread. He couldn't find the words he needed, and the moment passed; the whirlwind took over again, Matthew's feelings scattered in the breeze, drowning again.

He kept crying, and crying, and although James held him, he couldn't think of anything to say.

[unseededtoast]

Antedate | Bucky Barnes

Part 1/13 | Part Two

Summary: Sometimes making the right decision feels like the wrong one. That decision can stick with you for years and leave you wondering what would happen if you had chosen something else. But the alternatives likely lead to a much darker path; you'll never know for sure though. One thing is for certain, the decisions I have made will have lasting consequences.

Prequel to Rectify

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, physical and mental abuse, mention and description of death

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"I trust you all will make her into Hydra's most effective scientist."

Snow falls in fluffy flakes and sticks to the ground in a thick white blanket. My toes have gone numb from the cold, but I can't bring myself to care. People walk back inside as I stare at the rectangle of freshly disturbed soil. Warm teardrops trail down my face and fall from the tip of my red nose.

Someone stands beside me, tucking their hands into their pockets. I bite my lip to keep from saying anything out of line and swallow the lump in my throat. The man beside me sighs, 

"Happens to us all at some point." The man pats my shoulder a few times as he leaves. The snow crunches under his footsteps as he retreats back into the building. I stand alone in the freezing temperatures. I don't want to go back in there. 

I kneel on the ground and place my fingertips on the cold dirt. A few more tears fall as I try to find the words I want to say. I sniffle and look to the sky, the grey clouds are causing a gloomy overcast. I clear my throat,

"Thank you for everything you've done, you were too good for this place. I'll always love you, mom. Rest easy." I whisper and stand up. I wipe my eyes of tears and take a few deep breaths. I know better than to walk in there crying. 

I gain my composure and walk back into the building. One of the guards opens the door for me and I give him a curt nod. The inside lights are fluorescent, the concrete dull and cold. Home sweet home. I set my jaw tightly and keep my head held high as I walk back to my room. 

As usual, the hallway is guarded by agents. I wish they weren't here, I'd like to have just one place where I can get away from everything. But after mom dying, I bet the security measures will only increase. I focus on the end of the hall, not making any sort of contact with the guards as I walk quickly to my door and open it. 

As it shuts behind me I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I relax and take my coat off, hanging it on the hook next to the door. I rub my hands together quickly to try and create some heat, my fingertips had turned blue from being out in the cold for so long. I turn to sit on my bed so I can undo my boots, but jump as I see my father sitting on the edge. What is he doing here?

I fix my posture and squints his eyes at me. I feel tension in the air and prepare myself to be reprimanded for something. I wonder what he'll choose to belittle me over today. My father's eyes scrutinize me, looking up and down. Suddenly, he stands from the bed and walks right in front of me. I tilt my head back to make eye contact with him. 

"You were quite an embarrassment out there, Adalyn. I expected you to hold yourself together. Remember what I said about being dignified. You're thirteen years old now, act like it. You're no longer a child. Remember, your training begins tomorrow and I expect you will not disappoint." He says and walks out of the room without another word. I stand still until I hear the door shut.

I unlace my boots and place them in their proper spot by the door. I look around my room and feel like something is missing, something is gone. I stare at the rundown, empty armchair by a small bookcase that mom used to read to me in. Something is gone alright.

I walk over and sit in the chair. The old fabric is torn in some places and the cushion sinks down in the middle, but it's the most comforting chair I've ever been in. I lean my head against the back cushion and run my hand over the material. It reminds me of her. 

My mind drifts off and I remember all the times she would read to me in this chair. When I was really little, she would hold me in her lap as she read me old stories. My favorite was always about the boy who was kidnapped by a wicked witch, but was saved by the brave and kind girl. She always finished that story by telling me that evil people will never prevail, and that we have a choice and duty to choose kindness and mercy. I never could understand how she ended up with my father. I don't know if I ever will. 

I choose to sleep in the chair for the night, and spend my last conscious thoughts reminiscing the sweet memories I have of her. Now that she's gone, there is no light in this place. There is no humanity. I know that since she's no longer here, there will be a power struggle. After all, someone has to take her spot and assume her duties. She was the second most powerful person in Hydra, and that position won't go unfilled for long. 

The morning comes too soon. The overhead alarm wakes me up from my uncomfortable sleep and I rub the soreness in my neck. I take a few moments to wake up and prepare my mind for the day. My father is making me start my specialty training today, he says I'm ready for it but I have my doubts. I only just took the placement test a few weeks ago and I've never seen them place the other children this quickly. 

I put on the clothes my father had picked out for me to wear. He said this first impression is vital, and that I must look properly put together. The last thing I want to do today is bring dishonor to my father. I take the time to make sure my hair is placed perfectly and out of my face. I put my shoes on and look over myself one more time to make sure everything is how it's supposed to be. 

I take a deep breath and fix my posture before I open the door. I keep my head held high as I walk down the cold hallway and to the science lab. My shoes echo through the hall and I stop in the doorway of the lab once I get there. It would be out of place for me to just walk in. 

I see my father already talking to one of the scientists and his eyes light up as he sees me. He smiles and alerts everyone, 

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Adalyn. I assure you that she is brilliant and you will have no trouble out of her. I trust you all will make her into Hydra's most effective scientist." He says, threatening the people with an overly cheerful tone. What he actually told them was to make sure I surpass their abilities or they'll lose their job, perhaps even their life. I watch as the scientists all nod their heads with wide smiles. They're all terrified. 

"Of course, Mr. Averina." The lead scientist steps forward and gives my father a courteous head bow. My father pats my shoulder and heads out of the room, leaving me with everyone. I've seen them all before, but I don't actually know any of them. I know they all know me, it's hard to find a person who doesn't know me in this place. 

"Miss Averina, let us start by showing you around." The man says and motions for me to follow him. Sticking to my father's orders, I nod my head and follow the man wordlessly and without emotion. I am to remain as professional and formal as possible at all times. 

The man shows me around the vast laboratory, pointing out different machines and what they do. It's all very fascinating to me. I watch as some scientists continue their work, putting fluids into clear glass beakers and looking at specimens under the microscope. I wonder what they're working on?

The man stops in front of a door that has the words "No Entry" plastered in bright red font across it. He points at the door and makes eye contact with me,

"Do not enter this room under any circumstances." His tone is not the cheerful one he had kept throughout the tour. I nod my head, curious about what's in there. The man clears his throat and shows me to an empty table. 

"This is where you will be conducting your work. You'll be training with us for a while before we let you go on your own." He says. 

"What exactly am I training for?" I ask. Nobody has told me what I'm going to be specializing in, just that I had been placed within the science division. The lead scientist scratches the back of his head and I notice some others pause their work to listen in. 

"You will be focusing on our neuroscience studies." I nod my head. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but, I guess I can't complain. I could've been placed in the soldier division.

Day after day I report for my duties, learning a little more each day. The days blur together, it feels like I'm trapped in a time loop. The scientist I'm training under, Leopold, is friendly enough, but there's something unsettling about him. Something sinister. 

Today he's teaching me more about the structures of the brain. He says that in order for me to be effective in this field, I have to understand this stuff like the back of my hand. And so I will. I pay close attention and take detailed notes as he points at different images on the page. I find it quite easy to remember this information, perhaps because it's fascinating to me. 

Every day after we're done in the laboratory I go back to my room and study. My father made it quite clear to me that I am to excel in this field. He mentioned something about a special project that he wants me to take control of once I'm ready. Maybe that's why Leopold is strange, he knows my father plans on replacing him with me in a few years.

"And the hippocampus, this one right here, stores the memories." Leopold says and points to a small image on the page. I nod and quickly scribble down what he says. I look up to him once I'm done writing and he shuts the book. He takes a seat on the edge of the table and cracks his knuckles. I scrunch my eyebrows together, what is he doing?

"Tomorrow you will be tested on this. If you pass you move on to the next lesson. If you fail we have to start over. You are free to go study, we're done for the day." I nod and close the book I take notes in. As I leave the laboratory I take quick glances to see what the others are doing. 

I notice on one of the tables that there is a brain floating in a glass. It startles me, seeing a brain just casually on display. I don't even want to begin pondering where they got it. I leave the lab and head to my father's office to tell him Leopold let me go early today. The last thing I need is my father reprimanding me for not telling him. 

I knock on my father's office door and he opens it. He looks down at me and steps away so I can enter. He takes his seat behind the desk and I stand in front of it.

"Leopold released me early today, he says I should study for the test tomorrow. I will pass it." I tell my father and he nods. 

"I expect nothing less from you. The quicker you master the information the quicker we can be rid of Leopold. He's done nothing for us. He's only here because his father was a genius. But I think it's time the Zola bloodline ends." I nod shortly. It makes my skin crawl to think that I will be responsible for Leopold's demise. My father dismisses me and I go back to my room, where I study for the rest of the night.