#reaction when faced questions about mortality and how life can mean so much yet so little

[veintrry]

what are we?

wanderer x gn!reader, could be a modern au, angst & fluff, he's scared of trusting his 'heart'.

an: i had a dream he asked this (he asked more but I couldn't remember) and it was like a twitter back and fourth😭

ac: @/syea-say on tmblr | @/syea_say on twt & ig

"What kind of relationship do we have?"

The question came abruptly, bringing the silence to an end. You noticed beforehand that it seemed like something was on his mind, he appeared to be elsewhere in his mind, pondering deeply. Is this what that was about?

He doesn't wait for you to answer, not yet, he continues,

"Love always ends in disappointment." He turns to face you properly, a stoic look in his eyes, his lips pressed into a line. "You're a mortal too, so what's the point of pursing something like this when it'll come to an end anyways?"

He was right to say that. I mean, you are a mortal, you have an expiration date, so does everyone, but to you and the majority of others it's normal, because it's something you learn to live with an accept.

"Everything ends at some point, you know there's not much to be done about that. We can only make good of what we have now."

"That's such a boring answer." He scrutinises you, his brows furrowing. "You know that's not what I want to hear."

You stare back at him, quiet as you think of what to say. You could easily just tell him that you won't leave him, that you'll never allow that to happen. But you can't make such a huge promise, if you break it, it would feel like a lie. You don't want to lie to him, but you don't want to disappoint him.

"There is no real point." You turn your head to look elsewhere, opting to view the scenery than see his face scrunch up. You didn't want whatever reaction he had to offer you, not when you weren't sure if the reception would be good.

"Do you think I do things because they'll last?" You crouch down to the plants nearby, touching their tips with your finger. "Nothing lasts. Everything ends." Life was no different than a leaf, but what defined it was not the tree that beared it nor it's kind but rather how far it travelled, how big it's world was. "But if I just did nothing my entire life and waited for that end to come it would've been no different from the beginning."

"What the hell are you trying to say?" The wanderer crosses his arms. He doesn't want anything complicated right now, each answer that isn't what he wants to hear sounds more like the opposite; Like you don't want to be here, with him.

Turning your head up at him, he was starting to bother you with his unspoken persistence for you to just say what he wanted you to and you began speaking directly, "I'm saying that the only reason life is considered to have an end is based on if you actually do something during it." You stayed quiet for a bit before letting out a heavy breath after some contemplation. "I don't want to do nothing." It didn't matter how many years passed, how old you are or how weak you are. If you still have time then you might as well live in it.

"Kuni, you might have existed a long time but have you properly lived? You act so humane and yet you deny any internal ties to humanity. Isn't it more like you're using my mortality as an excuse to forbid yourself from acknowledging your own denials?"

That, that was most definitely the last thing he wanted to hear. You having said you can't be here with him would have been bad, but somehow this was worse because he had his reality forced infront of him. It was humiliating in a way, to be exposed when you were always bare. You can see his face growing frustrated, he seemed as though he was trying to bite his tongue but you might've struck a nerve. "An excuse?" A degrading laugh erupted from his throat, "Are you serious? Why would I need an excuse? I don't need to be human in the first place, this has nothing to do with that. You're the one making up things and avoiding giving me an answer."

You were on the brink of leading to an argument and even you couldnt keep your head cool. You stand up in defense as you shoot back. "I'm not avoiding anything. I'll stay with you for as long as my lifespan allows it, but I cannot and will not tell you that I will stay forever."

There was an aching silence that followed. As though this was concrete, like this was just shattering. You didn't know what it was breaking, you didn't know if it was your relationship or him, but you had to try and fix it before it worsens.

"Kuni, I love you, I want you to be happy, not just now but onwards as well." Your gaze falls onto his hands. You want to reach out, but you cant bring yourself to out of fear he'd deny you. You know he might want you to, as a sign of.. anything, but you can't. "I don't want you to rely on me, I want you to be capable of accepting yourself and finding comfort within who you are."

"Well then, ...Who am I?" The wanderers head stays stuck to the ground as if if he keeps his sights on it it would open up and just, do something, swallow him, let him forget this, forget everything, Bury him deep in the dirt and have the roots of all life suffocate him. "What?"

"You said within who I am, so, who am I?"

You didn’t want to do this a second time, "Kuni-"

"Please," He pauses, releasing a shaky breath from the confines of his chest. "just answer."

"You're who you say you are. I won't define you."

He latches onto your wrist, pulling you to him, underneath his hat as his head beckons upwards and you finally get to see his face rid of that anger. Instead, it is replaced with a pleading look, almost desperate. "I want you to,"

"I need you to do it. I don't know how else I am meant to do it. I don't know who I am. I wasn't meant to have an identity, I'm not like you, I'm not a human." In a way, admitting that was a painful thing. No matter how alike to humans he was, he wasn't one. "You were made, I was built. You breathe the moment you are born, I taught myself to." The more he spoke you felt like he was trying to implement this difference into your mind, that if you couldn't promise him forever you should be irked by him.

"We are different, but you are still a person to me. Do you think that I've ever seen you as anything else? Do you think I want to leave you alone? I care for you, I do so much that it kills me. And I hate how if you asked something of me I'd give it to you so easily, but not this. I won't lie to you." It would've been an odd thing for you to say, but to you, the wanderer made you feel alive, it made all the previous events of your life pale in comparison, and you truly, felt alive. You don't know why but with this emotion came care and you want to continue to value him, to love him, even when you've passed.

"Our relationship doesn't matter, you just need to know that I love you." You yank his wrist and pull him into you as your other arm slips under his and around his back, holding him tightly as you rest your head in the coup of his neck. "I love you, Kuni. I love you, I love you, I love you." And with each time you repeated it you lifted your head to his neck, planting small kisses, hoping he can feel it, what you do.

The wanderer merely stood there, paralysed. He still wants the unreal fantasy of eternity. But, he finds himself caving to the warmth of what you were offering despite how bittersweet it. It was fulfilling despite the fact it reflects the temporary time you two had, but he no longer found his mind wandering off to then, to when you'd slip away from him. He could feel you. Hands slither to your back, pulling you deeper into him, so deep till there was no space between you two but he still wanted more. He wanted to be with you, just as one, to know all of you. And he was worried he wouldn't have enough time for that. But just for now, for this moment, he wants to listen to your voice, to feel your body temperature, and rest.

He simply leans in, and kisses your forehead, before tilting his head onto yours. This is fine, this is okay. He can live with this, for as long as he can have it.

[multimilfs]

Mother Miranda x Fem!Reader: The Line Between Mercy and Affection

Summary: You're growing bolder in your role as Miranda's assistant. When invited to attend a meeting of the Lords, this could prove enlightening... or painful.

AO3

A/N: This is part 2 to 'A Taste of Mercy' so if you haven't read that, you should probably hop back and do so! I'll do my best to reformat the masterlist to properly outline the series, but if it's difficult to understand, I've also included the ao3 link.

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): Blood, Light torture

Part 1 of what keeps us close, yet so far

“Mother Miranda?” 

The Goddess doesn’t look up from her experiment when you address her. Her eye is glancing down the stalk of a microscope, carefully following whatever lies on the slide below. Her wings flutter and move behind her every now and again. 

“Hm?” 

“What is my… role at this meeting?” You ask timidly. 

As she looks up, you look down, pretending to write something important on the parchment you hold. You’re scribbling words and phrases in romanian. Her gaze is intense on your face. Try as you might to will away the flush rising in your cheeks, your body wins out. 

You can never replicate the same cold distance Mother Miranda maintains. You have no doubt it’s taken ages to perfect; though you have no idea how old the Goddess is—you value your life too much to ask—a mature wisdom rests behind her blue eyes. 

“Your role.” She repeats. Though she doesn’t phrase it as a question, you know it is one. 

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” You start softly, before meeting her eyes. The corners of her mouth are turned down. You square your shoulders, doing your best to summon confidence, “You’ve never allowed me to join a meeting of the Lords before. I don’t understand what use you see in it now.” 

Her wings stop moving. 

You try to keep your gaze from falling. Mother Miranda despises cowardice, but she loathes disrespect. Walking the line of her expectations often feels thinner than that of a tightrope. You have yet to fall. Still, it doesn’t keep your heart from nearly jumping from your chest each time you toe the line too closely. 

Microscope forgotten, she rises and appears before you in an instant. You drop your eyes out of instinct. Mother Miranda makes no effort to change your position. 

Her voice cuts through your chest like a blade, “Do you know what happened the last time someone questioned my judgment, little human?” 

Too afraid that your voice will fail you, you shake your head. 

“I removed his tongue and fed it to him.” 

She says it casually, as if it were a comment on the weather or notes on your experiments, instead of something to make you question your mortality. You have no doubt that she’ll take your tongue in the same way if provoked. She’s fond of making examples, you’ve noticed. It makes you shudder. 

Were it someone else in your position… you wouldn’t bat an eye at her choice of punishment. You would even revel in the curious way she enacted her punishments, though you hated to admit it. She had a monstrous grace about her. 

A finger beneath your chin makes you jump. The metal of her talons scrapes against your skin, though not unpleasantly. You allow her to lead your gaze upwards. She’s swift with punishments usually and you have no desire to prolong your own. 

You open your mouth to her. 

Her eyes widen for just a moment. It’s only a split second; quick enough to make you question if it truly happened. Then to your surprise, the corner of her mouth tilts up. You try to stomp out the pleasure it ignites in your chest. 

You’ve never seen Mother Miranda smile, this is the closest she’s come to it. It’s a sick kind of joy that you derive from her pleasure. You’re so willing to curate this reaction, just to see it, even if it means spelling out your own demise. 

Mother Miranda’s fingers grasp your tongue, the talon on her thumb digging into it. Even as blood fills your mouth, as tears flood your eyes, you watch her face with rapt attention. You watch her smile. You don’t want it to drop away from her lips. 

You swallow down the mouthful of blood and saliva, the metallic tang irritating your throat. Your whole mouth aches. It would be merciful for this to end, but you don’t dare expect anything from your Goddess. She acts as she sees fit and you’re content to let her continue that way. 

She releases your tongue a few moments later. 

“You’re useless to me mute.” 

Waving a hand, she motions for you to leave the room. You waste no time in following her command. She has you trained well.. 

—

Glancing between the Lords, it is a wonder to you how your behavior could be considered disrespectful. The meeting has been derailed by pointless squabbling nearly a dozen times in under an hour. All the while, you remain silent, watching in a muted sort of horror. 

You can’t begin to piece together how they accomplish anything. 

It had begun the second Mother Miranda entered, you following at her back. The Lords had been stunned into a moment of silence before Lady Dimitrescu spoke first. You tried to ignore the effect her words had on you as she practically purred them. Even now, they still play over again in your mind, creating a coiling feeling in your stomach. 

“How kind of you to bring such a morsel with you, Mother Miranda.” 

Where your eyes had been focused on the floor, carefully measuring your steps behind the Goddess, you glanced up at the Lady’s words. You couldn’t breathe when you met the eyes of the Countess. There was a sly smirk across her lips, a twisted warmth in her eyes. You couldn’t help but feel enamored with the woman. She was easily one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, a perfect, warm opposite to your Goddess. 

But her smirk had vanished the second Miranda’s eyes cut to her. Her wings had tensed, a sneer crossing her mouth. You could feel the temperature drop when the Goddess ordered Lady Dimitrescu to keep her impulses to herself. 

An odd feeling lodged in your chest when the smirk fell from the lips of the Countess. Something brief crossed behind her eyes, beautiful as they were, before they settled on you. She was quickly distracted as Lord Heisenburg proceeded to badger her. 

You can almost perfectly recount the way the Lady’s face twisted in an intriguing display of anger, when something closes sharply around your ankle, “Ouch!” 

Though you’re sure your Goddess is speaking, you have no idea what is saying as she stops. Her eyes turn to you. Everyone’s eyes turn to you. 

A bout of maniacal laughter comes from near your feet. Sitting there, wooden mouth clasped around your ankle, is Angie—Donna’s doll. You try to shake your leg, kick out to remove her. It only makes you hiss as the joint of her mouth catches your skin. 

Mother Miranda is before you when you look up. She levels a look into your eyes before she reaches down, digging her claws into the back of Angie’s neck. The doll releases your leg to complain and fight against her hold. Miranda’s eyes don’t leave you as she tosses Angie away, the doll landing on her feet and scampering back to her maker. 

Then her attention is gone, “Control your pet, Donna.”

Mother Miranda resumes her speech, but all you can focus on is the throbbing of your ankle. You glance down to see a pool of red blood dripping from the wound where Angie’s joint caught you. The heat of a gaze makes you look up. 

You’re not surprised Lady Dimitrescu focused on you. 

Her eyes slide down to your wound, pin-point pupils focusing on the slow drip, drip, drip of your blood. She looks back up at your face before turning her attention back to Mother Miranda. The attention—and subsequent lack thereof—leaves you feeling impossibly warm. 

The meeting continues, though you struggle to listen to any of it. Lady Dimitrescu and Mother Miranda seem to take turns making you the center of their attention. You’re left hot and cold by the trading of their stares. 

Mother Miranda levels you with a knowing look, accusation in her eyes—You’re not listening. You greatly fear what would happen should you continue the way you are. So you will yourself to listen, ignoring the way Lady Dimitrescu’s stare makes you want to melt. Ignoring how you’d much rather lose yourself in the eyes of these two women. 

It’s an impossible task, but luckily you’re capable of making it possible. 

You latch onto what little you know; The Cadou and its capabilities to create life–or rather, pervert it. The distinction is neither here nor there. Mother Miranda explains the proper conditions for the Cadou to take root for what she requires; and it goes without saying that your research together is the reason the conditions are understood. Every Lord in the room can read between the lines and it takes a lot to stop you from preening. 

“I’ve found a suitable host for my plans,” Mother Miranda says and you nod, before stopping. She didn’t tell me that, your mind whispers, “In a few weeks I’ll be pursuing them. Until then, I need every preparation to be made for my return.” 

The words ring through your chest, bouncing off the walls of your heart. You should be thrilled Mother Miranda has found a host. All of your hard work is paying off, but you can’t stop wondering where this leaves you. In a few short weeks you’re of no use. Mother Miranda will release you back into the village, back to a boring little life without so much as a thank you. 

You continue to jot down notes, but you have no idea what they say. You barely hear the words beyond remembering to write them down for your Goddess. Useless, your mind pokes and prods, you’re going to be useless. The thought hurts more than the idea of dying at the hands of your Goddess. At least then you’d have her full attention for a few more moments. 

So caught up in your mind, you fail to notice when the meeting ends. Your body remains perfectly cold. Not even the gaze Lady Dimitrescu offers as she leaves can warm you. It isn’t until Mother Miranda addresses you that you come back into your mind. 

“Your thoughts are very loud, little human.” She notes.

Mother Miranda walks to your side which gives you pause; in all your time working with the woman, she’s never walked. She appears in a flutter of wings or moves in the span of a blink. You watch her moves warily. The wings at her back are perfectly still and you can’t decide if that is good or bad. 

“I apologize, Mother Miranda.” 

Your apology goes ignored. Her eyes square in on your still-bleeding ankle, wings twitching at her back. You make no effort to stand from your chair and she stays standing above you. She begins to move before seeming to think better of it. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she intended to kneel. Instead, she holds out a hand. 

You lift your leg and offer the wound to her. She examines it as she examines everything–with a cool, critical eye. You watch her as you always do–with barely restrained admiration. 

“Spilling your blood was not the goal of this meeting.” Mother Miranda says. She rubs the flat of her palm over the open wound, collecting the blood there. You watch as it disappears from her hand. Her actions feel strangely like an apology, a fact that makes you squirm. 

“I should hope it isn’t the goal of any meeting, Mother Miranda,” You speak before you censor your mouth. Eyes widening, you rush to correct yourself, “but I wouldn’t dare to question your will.” 

“And why not?” 

“You… You’re a Goddess. Your will is divine.” 

“You believe Gods are incapable of making errors?” She asks slowly. The way her eyes focus on you makes you overly aware of every move you make. 

“I’ve never thought about it before,” You answer honestly, “I never believed it was my place to question higher powers.” 

Though it's the truth, you fear uttering it. You’ve been reprimanded for far less in your life. And with a being like Mother Miranda, it is impossible to tell if you’re pleasing or disappointing her with such honesty. Though you hope to believe it is the former. 

Her eyes trace the planes of your face like she’s never seen them. You allow the action, though confusion takes root in your chest. 

She changes the conversation like nothing was shared, “Donna lacks control over that doll. I have half a mind to remove the damned thing.” 

But I won’t, the words lay thick in the air. You want to ask why. You want to ask her a million questions, but keep your mouth shut, lest you toe that thin line again. Except… your curiosity over one detail eats at you, until you force words from your lips. 

“The doll holds a piece of Lady Beneviento, is that correct?” 

She nods. 

“Is it not right to believe that Lady Beneviento lacks control over herself, then? If Angie is an extension.” 

“My wings are a piece of me, but they exist and act outside of me. It isn’t enough for Donna to control herself. Angie may be a manifestation, but she has sentience apart from her.” 

“Almost like a child.” You add. 

A flicker behind your Goddesses eyes gives you pause. It holds something eerily similar to pain, but you can’t imagine anything touching her in such a way. You want to know more, but don’t dare ask. 

“Yes, like a child.” 

“I see.” 

And for once, you do see. 

You understand how her mind works for a split second. It is enough to leave you intrigued, eager for more. Mother Miranda is cruel, of course, but doesn’t lack fairness. She may punish the parent for the actions of the child, but she won’t punish the child for the shortcomings of the parent if she can help it. She… cares, in a small, confusing way. You’ve never known her to care for anything beyond her experiments. 

When you meet her eyes, you can see a softening around edges you once believed to be hard. She is just as much woman as she is God. Mother Miranda seems to sense this change in your thoughts. You can’t stop seeing the softness even as she distances herself. 

She lets your leg drop and turns away, throwing over her shoulder, “Come along.” 

You stand to follow, your chest warming at finding your wound healed. 

[sunflowervolvimp3]

Wait I know we always talk about how protective vampy would be when bb got sick but what would nialls reaction be to her getting sick? I feel like Harry would mention it in the groupchat so Niall would rush over and H would be like “what are you doing go home” and hes like “ok but......shes not gonna die right?” And Harry’s like “....should we call Mitch” and bb would yell from His bed “I LITERALLY JUST HAVE A COLD CALM DOWN” then h would be like “…do you think we should take her to the ER just in case?”

the way they would make each other's anxiety worse PLS

...

It's not that Harry didn't know Niall was fond of Y/N.

He'd spent months running interference between the two, trying to squash Niall's every attempt of establishing contact with the mortal girl before Harry was ready. He'd stopped multiple attempts to crash dates, suffered through his phone being stolen four times, and lost three fingernails in a battle to prevent Niall from adding Y/N to their group chat affectionately titled "The Fang Gang." Once Harry did start allowing contact between his mortal lover and immortal friends, Harry could see the playful relationships bloom immediately. He was glad for it, even— it was much easier to have a relationship with Y/N once the two sides of his life began to merge. And he knew there was a certain degree of protectiveness that went along with that. He'd appreciated his friends understanding his need to make sure she was safe, that he sometimes had to leave a hangout early to make sure Y/N had a ride home when working a closing shift. He'd been thankful for it during certain nights in certain clubs. He knew there was affection there.

He just didn't expect that affection to bring Niall to his door thirty-two seconds after texting in the group chat that he and Y/N would have to miss dinner on account of her having a cold.

The Irishman looks at Harry with an expression he hasn't seen on the carefree vampire's face in years, peering anxiously over Harry's shoulder as if expecting to see the sick girl there. "Is Y/N okay?"

Harry blinks at him. "Is she— what?"

"Is Y/N okay?" Niall repeats the question, his eyes focusing back on Harry's face. "You said she was sick, and that's— humans are fragile. Getting sick means—"

"It means she has a cold, Niall," Harry's own brow furrows in confusion as he looks his friend up and down. "Just a cold. She just needs some rest."

Niall steps into the apartment, and the unease rolling off the vampire in waves convinces Harry to let it happen. He's never seen Niall go so long without smiling, or cracking a joke in greeting.

"You know people die of colds, Harry," Anxiety is threaded through Niall's voice as he speaks. "All it takes is one big cough, and suddenly your lungs are on the outside of your body! Human's don't do well with lungs on the outside of their body! That's literally the opposite of where they're supposed to be!"

"I really don't think that's how coughing works, mate," Harry touches Niall's shoulder with a measured movement. "Calm down. She's fine. Just a bit congested, has a small cough and a headache. Mostly she just needs sleep."

"What if she can't breathe? Congestion means—"

"It means she has a stuffy nose! That's it!"

Niall pulls out his phone. "Have you checked her temperature?"

"Five minutes ago. It's only 38.1 degrees—"

"Google says that's a fever! You know what happens when humans have fevers?"

Harry sighs. "They die?"

"They die, Harry! Fevers are bad! Fevers mean infection!"

"It's a cold!"

And yet.

Harry feels his stomach twist within his abdomen as he snatches Niall's phone from his hands and reads through the Google search results about fevers.

"Mitch doesn't seem concerned," Harry says the words almost as a comfort for himself.

Niall makes a noise of mocking in the back of his throat. "Mitch barely batted an eye when Sarah wound up in a body bag. Should we use him as the gauge for how concerned we should be?"

Harry can identify two faults to that argument right away, the first being that Mitch was distraught for days when Sarah met her untimely mortal end, and the second being that if anyone shouldn't be the gauge for concern, it's Niall, who's prone to overexcitement and overreacting. But then he hears Y/N coughing upstairs, and pictures her fragile body shivering beneath the blanket's he's layered on top of her, and all his counterarguments go out the window.

"I'll go get Y/N while you bring the car around, alright? You think I can bribe the ER staff with a Gucci watch?"

"I think you better try."

[contact--light]

.

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 1633

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: anxiety, angst, brief fears of infidelity, discussions of childbearing and marriage/gender roles, psych theories, some manipulation, age difference, brief mention of domestic violence (there is none)

A/N: If you have any questions regarding the tags for this chapter and want to ask me about it before reading please do so! The chapter is not necessarily dark but I understand that some may want me to give a more detailed warning/context. I want all my readers to be as comfortable as possible 💙

🧠

It started out small. He would bring up Dr. Stratton during conversation more and more often. Three times now he had been late to office hours, causing you to have to wait outside his room, nervously checking the time. But it’s nothing, you continue to remind yourself. They’re just good friends that haven’t seen each other in years. And you trust them both.

When another Friday night passed with Laszlo skipping drinks in favor of meeting with Karen, you decided to stay in as well. It had been a month since they reacquainted with one another. In those weeks you had seen less of him outside work. Your sex life was stagnating too, much to your annoyance. He had even canceled at the absolute last minute on a dinner date. Naturally, you had begun to feel a twinge of jealousy at his lack of attention. He kept saying it was work related. Nevertheless, the sullen temperament you'd adopted went unnoticed by the doctor. You felt foolish; you weren’t so needy that you had to make a big deal about it. So you said nothing on the issue.

You sat on the old couch in your apartment. Bitsy was getting ready to go out with Lucius for date night. Picking at your fingers, you decide to ask your roommate for advice. “Hey Bits?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“Can I ask you a question about Lucius?” you start.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You pause as you think of how to word your thoughts. “Do you ever, like, get jealous? When he hangs out with other girls I mean.” Her head pops out of the door frame as she finishes fastening her earring, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s just that Laszlo has been spending a lot of time with Dr. Stratton now that she’s back in town. I trust them and everything, but I’m starting to feel a bit left behind I guess…” you trail off.

“Oh honey, that's normal.” She waves a hand through the air as she speaks. “There’s this girl at the lab that Lucius works with and for the first month I was convinced she was trying to steal him away from me. Turns out she just wanted Marcus, his brother!” Bitsy lets out a cackle.

“Right…” you pick at the skin around your fingernails. “I just feel silly about it. I’m sure I’m overreacting to the whole thing, though. Laszlo would never do anything, and I don’t think Dr. Stratton would either,” you remind yourself outloud. "There's just this thing John said to me about them having a past and I can't get it out of my head."

“It's not silly.” Bitsy had moved further into the bedroom, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “But if it bothers you that much, talk to him about it. He’s a psychologist, it’s kinda his job to understand emotions and things like this. And if he loves you like you say he does then he’ll put a bit more effort into giving you his attention.”

You marinate on what she’s told you. Bitsy is right, if it bothers you that much then you need to bring it up with him. Be an adult, use communication, and all that. “Why’re you always right and level-headed about everything?”

“Someone’s gotta be, with a hot head like you,” she snarks. Her phone buzzes letting her know her date is downstairs. With a squeeze on the shoulder she bids you goodbye, telling you to let her know if you need anything.

_

The atmosphere in Dr. Stratton’s office felt off. What was usually so open and warm had felt forced and awkward. You were still ignoring the guilt of your jealousy at the doctor. She wasn’t as talkative today, unlike usual. Instead, it was strictly business. You chalked it up to her having an off day.

The two of you discussed in more depth the fetishes and kinks from the list you had compiled. Unfortunately, due to spending less time with your boyfriend the last few weeks you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to try any of the new tricks you were learning about. Therefore, you had little to really talk about in that regard. You found that you didn’t particularly mind, as you were feeling less inclined to want to share about your love life due to your envy towards the woman in question.

Dr. Stratton quietly gathered together her notes from the session and placed them into the folder. You were about to ask if she needed anything else from you when her lips parted before closing again. She leaned forward on her desk towards you. Her fingers steepled under her chin.

She licks her lips. “There is something I wish to discuss with you unrelated to the study.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Dread pooled in your gut at the concerned look on her face. “O-okay.”

“Now I want you to understand that I only bring this up out of concern for your wellbeing and emotional health. But some of the things you have told me over the course of this study have me worried.”

What on earth could you have said that would cause this sort of reaction from her? She was the most calm and collected person you had ever known. To have her speaking out made your heart race in your chest.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before opening her mouth again. “In truth I worry about your current relationship. I fear that-”

Brows furrowing, your mind goes to the worst conclusion. You blurt out “what? No! He doesn’t hurt me or anything, I don’t know what would have given you that impression but I- ”

The doctor reaches out with her hand to settle on your forearm. “My dear take a breath, I meant no such thing.”

You take a deep inhale to compose yourself. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Speaking as your friend, and as an alienist, I fear that this boyfriend is potentially using you for your youth,” she begins the tale she concocted, unbeknownst to you. “In my experience as a psychologist, the young women such as yourself that I encounter with significantly older male companions find themselves locked into the relationship. Typically, it is from dependence on money at first. Over time, the male pressures the woman to be compliant in things like marriage and childbearing. I understand how difficult it is for a woman as driven as you to balance your aspirations with relationships and domestic matters. Do you want children?”

Her statement and question take you back. Confusion is written all over your face. Marriage? Children? Neither you nor Laszlo had ever brought up either subject. You didn’t even know if it was something he was interested in. “Wait what? I'm not sure I follow…”

“Men around his age go through an identity crisis in which they begin to become aware of their mortality. A change in priorities. The most common desire is to procreate, to start a family in which to pass on their wisdom is strongest here. Are you prepared to give him children soon? Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to be a mother, it is a very noble role. Yet you do not strike me as someone ready for such a large step.”

You can barely form a coherent thought at her onslaught. The whole conversation was so out of the blue that you felt incredibly lost. Did you want children? Did he want children? Now? You wrap your arms around your torso to stave off the uncertainty and anxiety you feel creeping in. No words come to your defense at her interrogation. You are speechless, jaw dropped.

She stands and crosses the room, placing her cool hands on your cheeks. “My dear you are still a child yourself. This is something you need to consider. To… consider the possibility that you can’t give him what he needs. That he may need someone closer to his age with the same priorities, someone more willing to give in to his needs now. I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve seen the cost that these girls face. And the societal pressures and judgement you would face being with someone so much older? I think it could throw you into a state similar to after your friend passed. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position again. I want you to have your freedom."

Dr. Stratton looks up at the clock suddenly; “oh! My, I’m going to be late for a meeting, you’ll have to go. I don’t believe we need any more sessions for the study, but I will let you know if anything changes.”

You are too in shock trying to process everything she said to you as she ushers you out of the door with a “think about what I said, dear.” The door shuts behind you.

Karen sat with a huff. She felt a tad guilty for what she had said to you. She had no idea if Laszlo wanted marriage or children, he hadn’t when they were first together. But times change. She hoped that by using the angle of kids and identity crises that she could subtly plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Strike quickly and overwhelmingly, plant the doubt that you weren’t right for him, then push you out before you have the chance to seek answers or reassurance from her. It seemed you bought her false concern as actual worry. You were a great girl. But you were just that - a girl. You couldn’t give Laszlo what he needed, not like she could.

Now she simply had to wait and let your mind eat away at itself, leaving him for the taking.

Tag list

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[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from @watermelon1568, @lokisgirl5, @cocoamoonmalfoy and anon. This is so fluffy and maybe a little silly, but in a good way! Enjoy everyone and have a good Christmas Eve! ♥

Words: 2635 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of blood, implied smut

Additional NSFW warning: This Imagine contains implied period sex, just in case this is something you are uncomfortable with.

Loki might be a tiny tad OOC in this one because the requests were just so fluffy but I did my best! Enjoy!

-

Loki sighed. There you were again, running around with a list in hand looking much like the one Santa Clause had been carrying in that Christmas film Thor had forced him to watch. For the past few days, weeks almost, actually, you had been collecting everyone’s Christmas wishes like a squirrel collecting nuts for the winter. Even he knew everyone’s Christmas wishes by now. You had truly asked everybody, even the cleaning women who came to tidy up the entire Avengers facility once a week.

Loki could not quite put his finger on what it was that fascinated him so much about you—all he did know was that he too wanted to get you a Christmas present, if only just to see the surprised look on your face. He almost snorted. It was disappointment he felt, disappointment and envy because he longed to be the one to put a smile on your face on Christmas Day—and he didn’t even celebrate Christmas, not really.

Furthermore, he had not failed to notice how you avoided his presence like you were playing cat and mouse. You had, much to his surprise, asked him for his Christmas wish too the other day, all timid and unable to look him in the eye and Loki had been so taken aback he had not known an answer. The God of Mischief was many things but he was not blind and not stupid—he was perceptive. Villain or not, you were into him—and he was going to get your confession.

Smirking to himself, and determined to put an end to playing tag, he followed you into the empty hallway on your way back to your room, pushed past you and then unceremoniously blocked your way.

“O-Oh… hey, Loki.” You chirped.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“I, uh, actually, um… n-no?”

“Well, you did ask me what I wanted for Christmas, did you not?”

“Oh!” Your face lit up. “Oh, yes! Yes, what would you like?”

Loki thought about it for a moment. He needed an answer fast to not look like a moron now.

His lips parted. “I do miss writing with a quill and ink. Could you acquire a set for me? Surely, they are still being used on Midgard.”

Geez! How had you not thought about that? Loki truly was a scholar with all those books in his room, and that was a marvellous idea. “Y-yes, of course!” You responded, nodding eagerly in the process. But when you moved forward, Loki, instead of letting you pass now, put his hand against the wall so you were trapped.

“Hmm… Is there a particular reason you always get so nervous in my presence?” He asked. Your eyes widened. Fuck.

“Y-you… you tried to… you almost took over t-the p-planet, you k-know.” You lied quickly.

“Ah, yes. Of course… that must be it.” He responded with a knowing smirk. Oh, fuck. Did he have to be so god damn gorgeous?

“You never said what it was you want for Christmas, my dear.” He said then, blue eyes locking with yours. Your heart skipped a beat—no, actually, you were wondering whether it was still beating at all. You did have a Christmas wish, of course and you wanted to do backflips all across the hallway that Loki of all people took an interest in what you’d like—or maybe he just wanted to make conversation. Keep calm.

“Oh… it’s silly. Not really possible.” You replied sheepishly, gasping when he hooked a finger under your chin to gently force you to look up at him. He was definitely going to be the death of you.

“Tell me.” He urged you on.

“The only thing I… I’ve always wanted to have a dog. A loyal non-human companion, someone to cuddle with when it’s cold and who will never judge me but love me just the way I am… and they are just so cute! But that’s not possible,” You repeated quickly. “Imagine an innocent little puppy when everything’s on fire and another alien race attacks the planet!”

Loki hummed. Dogs were not common on Asgard. He himself had had a pet snake growing but released it into the wild after Thor and his friends had repeatedly stolen it to play silly and dangerous games. He could see why you kept that wish to yourself. Living among the Avengers, a dog might get in the way during missions—he did not doubt it would be helpful and capable of tearing off their enemies’ faces but your worry for it would distract you from a fight.

Still… perhaps there was a way. A smirk grew on his lips and your flustered reaction to it pleased him, making it grow wider.

-

It was early Christmas morning when Loki returned. It had taken him all of his wit and cunningness to leave the Avengers facilities unattended and without anyone asking suspicious questions but he had succeeded. The wooden box he was carrying—with many holes in them so the little creature could breathe—Loki sneaked across the hallway and past your room to hide his present for you in his own, already imagining your priceless reaction… was he hoping for a hug? Oh, he was. When was the last time anyone had hugged him? Perhaps you would, upon receiving the fluffy little creature in the box.

The dog winced. “Shh! Quiet, you silly little creature, you are going to wake up your mother!”

It was then he heard an ear-piercing scream coming from your room. He nearly dropped the box, turning on his heel to storm into your room like a tornado annihilating everything in its path. Your bed was empty, the sheets ruffled. There was a small beam of light coming from your bathroom—the closer he came, the more he could make out the rustling of fabric.

“I bloody hate being a woman…” You murmured to yourself, making the God of Mischief frown. Alarmed, he stepped closer and entered the bathroom without knocking—he barely remembered to set the box aside to draw his daggers if need be.

You were sat on the toilet, your white Christmas pyjamas with candy canes and gingerbread men on them soiled with blood. Loki’s eyes widened. There was blood on the floor too… and on your fingers.

His fingers were itching to materialise his weapons, yet he could see no enemy who could have attacked you. You gasped when he barged into the room, concealing your nakedness from the waist down with some toilet paper.

“What in the nine happened to you?” The amount of blood was almost concerning for a mortal. Had someone surprised you in your sleep? Who had managed to break into the Avengers facilities in the first place?

“How did you get in here? No wait, you’re awake already? Umm… Merry Christmas?” You swallowed. Talk about embarrassing yourself in front of the God of Mischief.

“We need to get you to a healer… a doctor, that is what you call them here?” You stared at him for a moment.

The last thing he expected was for you to burst out laughing. The whole situation was so hilarious you even forgot to be nervous around him for once.

“Oh, Loki… I’m okay, I’m not dying, I promise. I got surprised by my period, is all.”

“Your… period? Your period… as in your menstruation cycle?”

“Yes. Do women on Asgard not have that?”

“They do but… not like this.” Heavens, he felt stupid. He had thought you were dying, openly shown his concern… and you had laughed.

“Loki…” It was like you had heard his thoughts. “Thank you for checking on me. I was just being frustrated but I promise I’m okay.” You had probably disturbed his sleep but the fact that Loki cared enough to come to your help, admitting that just perhaps… he actually liked you. “W-would you mind?” Loki raised his brows, his lips parting.

“Yes, of course.”

He turned around for you to get dressed again (never before had you been more grateful for the pile of more or less dirty laundry on the floor next to your toilet) and nodded, only realising now that he had indeed just proved that one way or another, he had taken a liking into you. It was then the dog winced again just outside the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. In fact, I shall leave you… how did you get out of that box?” Eager and curious, the puppy must have somehow knocked its wooden box over. When Loki looked behind him, he found the lid on the floor, the young dog hurtling towards you.

“Oh my god! Hey there, little guy! Where did you come from?” You giggled when the dog attempted to jump up on you. You picked it up, grinning when it licked your face. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Loki pursed his lips. Oh, great. Now he was getting the hug. He furrowed his brows. Heavens, this was an innocent little puppy. Against all reason, he already loved the little guy with all his heart himself, how could he possibly feel jealous?

“You were not supposed to see it yet. I was going to put the box under the Christmas tree.”

“R-really? You mean… he’s for me? Oh, Loki… but h-how? I mean… I love him. But how can I keep him safe here? Is that really a good idea?”

“Well… he is, in fact, not a normal dog.” Loki remarked.

Your eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“Dogs are rare on Asgard but there are indeed a few traders who raise them. This unprepossessing creature has a life expectancy five times as high as Midgardian dogs—not to mention it is stronger, more intelligent and much like Thor and me, more resistant to pain and injury.”

“You’re a superdog then, aren’t you? Yes, you are, such a good boy. I need a name for him.” You announced. Loki raised his arms. That would be your decision. His pet snake had never had a name. “I’ll think of something.” Smiling, you stepped forward and kissed Loki on the cheek whose lips parted in surprise.

“Thank you so much. I didn’t think you would… why did you?” He said nothing in response. He couldn’t possibly tell you that he wanted a hug and that the only person he wanted it from was you. Your lips on his face had already felt like liquid fire, warming him from the inside out. Heavens, what was wrong with him? You were a mortal. He couldn’t possibly like you this much.

“You should go back to bed.” He said after a while, clearing his throat. “It is still early.” You nodded. He was right. Besides, you and your little puppy needed to get to know each other.

Needless to say, however, you couldn’t fall asleep again after you had gotten changed into new pyjamas and then cuddled with your new pet. Loki had gotten you a dog. Why? He owed you nothing, and quite on the contrary, you highly doubted Loki would even bother to get the rest of the Avengers a Christmas gift.

-

In the meantime, Loki himself returned to his room, shaking his head in the process. He was being ridiculous. The other day in the hallway, he had still managed to remain composed but the more time he spent around you, the softer he became for you.

He had been worried for you upon seeing all that blood and it had scared him. Love and affection weren’t exactly emotions he got to experience a lot and then for a human of all species…

He realised with a start just what it was that was happening to him. He was courting you, wasn’t he? He had not done anything alike in years, the last time for a beautiful Asgardian woman who had turned out to take more interest in Thor than him.

Loki was no expert on dating. He had never had the need for it… not until you. A growl escaped his lips. How dangerous for his already shattered heart would it be to give in to his desire and make you smile again? To feel your lips against his skin once more?

Another growl. He was addicted to you already. Jumping up from the bed, he left the facilities again, this time to head a few miles west. Frigga had always said that love goes through the stomach. He might as well try that strategy out.

-

About two hours later, there was a soft knock on your door. You stirred, eyes fluttering open. Your puppy—you had still not thought of a name for it—had curled up in your arms, still sleeping soundly.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal Loki. With a smirk, he produced something from behind his back—a box with the logo of your favourite pancake shop on it. Your jaw dropped.

“Merry Christmas.” He announced.

“Oh my goodness… Loki, you are so sweet.”

The God of Mischief raised an eyebrow. “Sweet is not exactly what I was hoping for.” He replied, albeit smiling.  You sat up carefully to not wake the puppy, accepting the pancakes all the while licking your lips hungrily. Now that was one way to start Christmas Day.

“How about considerate?” You tried again, smiling up at him sweetly. Loki smirked, hands clasped behind his back. He almost appeared a little… awkward.

You longed to ask him why he was doing all this but then again… you could think of only one answer. It couldn’t possibly be, no?

“Care to share? They are really good.”

“It appears so. The entire restaurant smelled like a sugar realm.”

“Is that a thing?”

“No.”

“Oh… pity.” He chuckled.

Twenty minutes in which you silently ate with relish went by, the puppy still sleeping peacefully in your bed, with you unable to stop petting it all the time. Once you had finished the very last bite, you simply dropped the empty takeaway-packaging on the floor.

“Thank you so much, Loki. I couldn’t have imagined better Christmas presents.”

He nodded, watching your every move as you moved in to give him another kiss on the cheek.

This time though, in just this moment, Loki turned his head to face you again, your lips landing on his instead. You gasped, even more so when he deepened the kiss, moving his mouth gently against yours, tongue slipping between your lips to taste you. Oh my god. Loki was kissing you. Loki was kissing you!

It felt like a demon from Muspelheim had set his body on fire, from the inside out. Loki was ablaze. Unable to stop himself, his arms came up to pull you closer into his body until you were straddling him, your fingers digging into his clothes. You both knew where this was going.

There was no doubt you were going to wake up the little dog when you pushed him back on the mattress, overcome with a sudden confidence and hunger that made you feel invincible. Loki did not object. The only reason you hesitated was the fact you remembered just then that you were on your period. Reluctantly, you pulled away.

“Loki… maybe we should do this… another time. My… period, remember?”

“A little bit of blood will not stop me from ravishing you, my dear.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“A-are you sure?”

Loki nodded slowly and intimately, his blue gaze never leaving yours.

Next thing you knew, the both of you lost all of your layers of clothing one by one. Scratch making a list for Christmas presents for your friends to make them happy… you couldn’t quite believe that Loki actually reciprocated your affection for him. This certainly was the most amazing Christmas yet.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[kkaeyva]

'forever' is for dreamers

𐐪𐑂 summary: xiao learns how to dream.

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

𐐪𐑂 includes: xiao

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

𐐪𐑂 word count: 1.5k

xiao does not believe in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“will we be friends forever, xiao?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it tastes like how he thinks a dream would feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your forever?

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

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

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

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

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

he’s met with silence.

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

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

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

[chibiwritesstuff]

Hey! I'm the one that asked for the Lilia and Malleus ask. I love what you wrote so much man! (My poor heart died 😂) I am a big sucker for happy endings tho. So when you get the time can I ask for a happy ending ?

Ha, my laptop thought they won against me but I came out victorious (even though I took literal months to publish this.) In my defense, all the versions I’ve written for this didn't suit my tastes (not that this is any good either.) Hope this makes justice for such a long wait. Here’s the sequel/good ending for the angst fic.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

Walking past the now dying garden that used to flourish in Ramshackle dorm, he sighed as he reminisces about the times you two stroll and spends time together. It's been years since you’ve left NRC, He and Lilia are about to graduate tomorrow, Silver will be a fourth-year student and the new vice-dorm leader while Sebek will be in his third year and the dorm leader much to the said fae’s surprise. He chuckled at the memory of how honored and tearful the young fae is upon being selected as its prefect.

“I have so much to tell you, (y/n).” He whispered at the wind.

“Hey, Tsunotarou!” The familiar voice of the tanuki cat being called that long-forgotten name.

“Hey, Tsunotarou! Are we going on a walk again tonight?” You smiled at him, your hand extended as an invitation.

“Grimm, wasn’t it?” He crouched down to pet the said creature.

“Hey! I’m not a pet!” The flames on his ears flared, responding to his emotions. “What are you doing here, anyway? The roses are all dead.”

A wave of sadness flashed in his eyes as another memory resurfaced. Returning his gaze towards the dead flowerbed, he let the memory linger.

“Thanks for the seeds, Tsunotarou!” You excitedly began digging and planting said seeds. “To commemorate our friendship, these roses will be our friendship roses!”

“Yes, they are…” His hand ceased from moving before sitting down the ground. “It’s all gone…”

“By the way, I never managed to get the courage to ask you but why did (y/n) went back home crying that time?”

“I was but a foolish man…” The young heir steered his gaze towards the night sky before closing his eyes. “Had I just enjoyed the present than worry about the future, perhaps they would still be here and smile brightly like they always had.”

“I’m sure if you say sorry, they’ll forgive you.” Grimm responded nonchalantly. “They said saying sorry is the first step to forgiveness… or something like that.”

He chuckled and stood up heading towards his dorm. “If things were only that easy…”

That night, he slept and dreamt about you two walking in the bed of roses you’ve grown at Ramshackle. Loving every single moment that you two get to spend subconsciously knowing that once he wakes up, he’ll return to the harsh reality of you not being by his side.

“Tsunotaro, I think I have fallen for you.” You quietly said warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Will you let me stay by your side till the last breath I take?”

This is all but a dream… so I can keep dreaming, right?

“Yes, only if you’ll let me do the same.”

“Really?!” Joy showed throughout your being which made him smile back. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow! Happy graduation!”

He woke up gasping for air. That dream sounded too good to be true and yet… he can’t help but be hopeful. Putting on a happy face, he got dressed on what Lilia laid out for him and this time, everybody remembered to tell him the time of the celebration. He can’t help but laugh just thinking what your reaction would have been about the changes of the students' behavior towards him after he tried to socialize better. Heading towards the stage getting his diploma as odd as it is, he acted formally as he mingled with the rest of the dorm leaders until a voice echoed throughout the area.

“Tsunotarou!” Receiving a hug from the back as the voice caught him off guard, he turned still not believing what he’s seeing. “Congrats on graduating!”

“(y/n)?” His voice faltered, overwhelmed with so many emotions. “How? Why? I –”

“Uh-oh… Lilia! Your king here is having an information overload!” You called which made the said fae laugh out loud.

“How are you here?” He finally managed to ask. “The mirror –”

“Ah, that would be my doing…” Idia whispered but managed to catch everyone’s attention. “It was an accident! I was messing around to make a teleporter so I can just teleport to the store than having to leave the dorm but it ended up making people travel through dreams then I managed to talk to (y/n). Then we both decided we might as well try to make travel here and back to their world possible.”

“Looks like you did meet me once upon a dream, yeah?” You grinned at the joke about his ancestor’s song.

He merely hugged you, savoring each second of being around your arms. “I don’t have anything ready but if you’ll give me a second chance…”

He lets go and kneeled on one knee before looking up to you once more. “Will you be my spouse till the day you draw your last breath?”

Time is but a blink of an eye for fae and before he knew it, the Star Sending is happening once again. He was happy when Silver and Sebek were chosen to be Star Gazers albeit the mentioned students aren’t. He strummed his electric guitar with no particular music in mind as he lets his mind wander until his gaze dropped on a familiar mug.

“Happy Birthday, Lilia!” You grinned as you handed him a mug that said “No. 1 Gamer Dad” on it. “Hope you like it!”

His lips curled into a faint smile as he remembered that day. It's been a year since you left and yet it felt like it was just yesterday. Letting go of the instrument, he walked towards the mug and lifted it intending to fill it with tomato juice.

“How have you been, little one?” He spoke towards the image of you in his head. “I hope life is treating you better in your world.”

Without me in it… he sighed as sadness filled his chest. If I could change the past, or at least be given another chance… will you give your love to me once more?

“Old m –” Silver cleared his throat before entering. “I mean, Lilia. I’m here to take your wish.”

He took a deep breath before putting a huge smile to face his son. “Ah, yes of course! You know my wish. I wish for both –”

“Stop.”

This surprised the old fae as his son never raised his voice on him. “We both know that that’s not your true wish.”

“Silver, do humor me and just let me finish my wish.” He pouted, swirling the tomato juice in the mug before drinking it.

“Father, we all know how much you love them.” The young knight sighed before taking a seat on a nearby chair. “You always gush about them whenever we eat or do anything.”

“Oh Silver, I appreciate the concern but sometimes you got to let go.” A forlorn smile graced his lips.

“And sometimes you have to be selfish!” Both of them looked surprised at his outburst yet Silver regained his composure and continued. “You love them, right?! Then why not be with them? You took me in out of love, right?”

“There’s a big difference here, Silver.” Lilia rubbed his temple as stress starts to build up.

“What’s the difference? We’re both humans with a short lifespan so you can't use that as an excuse!” His silver eyes narrowing as he gazed upon his father before widening. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

He let out a defeated chuckle before nodding. “You’ve grown so much, Silver. I’m so proud of you, you know?”

“Why? You could have been happily living with them.”

“Because I’m afraid to witness her death if we ever do start a family together.” At last, the older fae began letting his tears fall in front of his son. “I don’t think I’ll be able to survive seeing her pass while I still live on. I want it to last for all eternity but to remove her mortality is too inhumane.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Silver lowered his head, having a little understanding of what he meant. “I didn’t mean to –”

“So, for my wish this Star Sending…” After a pathetic attempt to control his tears, he gulped and continued. “I want to be given another chance to be with them… and this time, I’ll bear the pain of losing them when the time comes.”

A shine of light filled the wishing star confirmed his wish inside the item. Silver walked towards him and let the man cry his heart out in his arms. He both felt sad and honored that Lilia is willing to cry in front of him. He truly hopes that his father’s wish is granted. Bringing out the wishing star, he proclaimed his wish.

“I wish (y/n) can return in twisted wonderland once more.”

“Silver, you didn’t have to waste your wish for this…”

“I don’t mind having a parent like them.” He smiled before heading towards the door with both wishing stars at hand. “They’re a much better cook than you anyway.”

“Hey!”

The day of Star Sending has arrived and everybody is once again by the huge tree behind NRC. It went well without a hitch and Lilia’s phone filled with recordings of Sebek and Silver dancing in perfect sync towards the taiko being played by Jack of Savanaclaw. As all students began returning to their dorms, the bat fae decided to stay a little longer and was given privacy by the rest of the Diasomnia students.

“Catch me, Lilia!” A voice screamed from above.

Turning his attention to the voice’s origin. His eyes widened before extending his arms ready to catch the person. A huge smile on his face as you landed safely into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you steadied yourself in his hold.

“Do not question why I was up in the air.” You huffed, glaring at the sky. “Safe landing my ass! I was dropped off 50ft up in the air!”

“My oh my, did you fall in love with me all over again?” He teased as he covertly wiped his tears.

“I saw that and maybe but I would still prefer a much safer landing.” You huffed before smiling at him. “What happened to the ‘I wish for world peace between all creatures’ wish, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“My coworker and I were trying to make a portal to get me back here because I forgot some stuff here to grab and funnily enough those wishing stars became our fuel source to open that portal.” You pulled out your phone and confirmed your arrival with a whole long spiel on how the landing would have killed you if you weren’t caught by Lilia. “But by your wish I assume there’s no need for me to get packing away from here?”

“Yes, if you’ll give me another chance.” He held out his hand, a makeshift flower ring on his palm. “Will you give me the honor of being your significant other?”

[aminiatureworld]

Musings of Thanatos

Characters: Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,640

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, in depth conversation surrounding death

Premise: In which the reader doesn’t want to grow old.

Author’s Note: I’m going to reiterate that this is a fic talking about death and a character that, regardless of capacity, actively wishes to die young. I hope that for some people this fic can bring catharsis but if you aren’t sure that you can handle this then please don’t read it. I know that it can be like “lol I can read it” when the back half of your brain is screaming at you not to. This time you should listen to that part of your brain. I am not going to pretend that this doesn’t have the potential to be incredibly triggering. Not only if you experience suicidal ideation but if you’re afraid of death. I think it might cause a very visceral reaction.

And if you feel similarly to the reader then let me tell you, I understand. I can understand the future being completely terrifying, I can understand not wanting to stick around. But though I understand I still urge you to give the future a chance. Happiness might only come in glimpses now, but I promise it will come again in the future. There are moments in life that are euphoric, and everything except death can be changed.

That being said, I hope whoever’s reading this can find something out of this fic. Please enjoy

Zhongli

“Zhongli, do you ever wish you were mortal?”

The day was a lazy one in Liyue, the calm after the storm. Glaze lilies waved gently in the breeze. Soon they would show their petals, gently gracing the evening with their presence before once again closing their buds to the sun. Then again, these were only the glaze lilies that had managed to survive. The others has disappeared slowly, becoming more and more rare. You had only seen one real glaze lily once. It was gone after a day.

“I suppose I’ve never thought of it my love. I cannot really imagine a mortal life. I suppose it would have some advantages. Yet I think everything has their place in the world. I would make a poor mortal as I am now.”

“If you say so.”

“Why do you ask?”

He was beautiful, your lover. Even now, having seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, not a strand of hair on his head was shot through with grey. Of course time had wrought change on him; even from standing far away there was an aura about him that was somewhat untouchable. If fate had deemed to keep him statuesque, then surely it had also put the distant darkness into his eyes, had molded his features into a mask through which one could see a deity tired of seeing so much life. Nevertheless you had to envy him. For surely he wielded a stronger hand than you had been dealt.

“I don’t know. I just, it’s been on my mind.”

“What has been on your mind?”

“What it means to grow up. I mean, you’ve never experienced it. Not really, not the way we do. Growing up, it’s terrifying. You look at all the people walking down the street, the old people I mean. They’re all… wrinkly!”

You had to laugh, a bitter, sharp sort of sound. Indeed how they did look strange. Bones and muscles twisted like branches of a tree, knobs visible in the guise of liver spots and still joints. Their faces, how terrifying their faces were. You always found it odd when someone called an old person beautiful. You weren’t sure you had ever seen one who fit the definition. Rather, it was like looking upon an utterly different sort of people, a transformation that you knew one day you would have to undergo. When you emerged, it would be like a butterfly shifting back into a caterpillar. There would be no going back.

“Perhaps they are, but it is a sign of old age. Of wisdom. Humans who grow old, they are survivors.”

There was a hint of displeasure in Zhongli’s voice. Not that you could blame him. It was quite heretical to insult the old, surely even more so to one who would never experience such a thing. Then again, perhaps that was why he could act that way. He would never know.

“Maybe; but all the wisdom in the world couldn’t prepare me for growing old. I mean, who wants to be around an old person? Who wants to be an old person? You can’t do anything for yourself anymore, you’re basically a baby again. Except this time there’s nothing to look forward to.”

“My love, surely there are many things to look forward to in old age. The knowledge that one has gained, the ability to look back on the past. Those who you have grown to love will gather around you. Above all, when one has grown old one finally has been granted the privilege to rest, to think, to do what one wishes.”

“Is that why you gave up your gnosis?”

The wind rustled your hair slightly as you gazed at your partner. There was no reply to your question, but then again you weren’t expecting one. There were just some things too painful to speak of, some things that you couldn’t understand. Just as there were things your partner couldn’t understand, the things you were trying to explain to him now.

“Anyways, I’m not sure if any of those things are worth growing old for. Worth becoming immobile and forgetful and ill for. Honestly, I’m not sure if I ever would like to grow old.”

“Well you will one day, my love. Such is the nature of time.”

“Well I wish time would stop, or better yet that something would come and put me out of commission before then.”

Silence again. You had made an error, or perhaps you were simply seeing the natural reaction to your declaration. You loved Zhongli’s eyes, the way they glowed and shifted and reflected the light. They were almost dragon-like, not that you had ever seen a dragon before. Now, however, they seemed muddied, bogged down. It was as if you’d thrown muddy water on them, and now you were seeing the natural consequence.

“Do not speak that way.”

“Why not? It’s what I think.”

“Then I hope that you soon change your mind. Even if you cannot see the merit in growing older now, to react so… violently. It is alarming.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ll ever experience this, this fear. You’ll never wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing. You’ll never have to hear your mind scream in fear of ageing. You’ll never have to think about the years stretching in front of you, each a painful sentence of pain. You’ll never have to think about losing your mind to age.”

A pause. There was a frown slashed across your lover’s face. It looked entirely out of place.

“What would you want then, my love, if you could have it?”

“I would like to be young forever, like you.”

“Would you really? Would you want to see person after person die, while you can only watch? Would you like to exist isolated from those you love? My darling, even love is dangerous when you are destined to eternity. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of, of when the inevitable will happen. When I will once more wait for the end of eternity.”

“If I were like you, then you wouldn’t have to think of that.”

“If you were like me then you simply wouldn’t be as you are. Why is it that mortals are so much more prone to action, so much more emotional and bright and determined? It is their very mortality. Death is what creates authors and artists and the great heroes upon which we rely. A life without them, it would be a very drab world indeed.”

“So you want others to suffer for your own good?”

“Do you think that the way out is to ask for death my love? Truly? The death of a human is the death of a universe. Would you throw that universe away to be remember as young, whatever that may mean? Would you give up the ability to see, to feel, to think, to exist? My darling, if you truly think it is worth it then let me convince you otherwise.”

It was warm, the world. The world was burning up and you were stuck, staring into the eyes of the person you most loved.

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t say these things, even in jest. I, I cannot understand it. It frightens me a great deal.”

“Why? I’m just, I don’t know. It shouldn’t bug you that much, I mean, I’m not about to go jumping into the sea or anything.”

“Today perhaps, and tomorrow too? If you truly were only saying these things in jest, would you be so firm in your questions and in your arguments?”

Too many questions, he was asking too many questions. They made your head swirl and throb as you tried to wrap your brain around them.

“I don’t know. I just, it, it scares me.”

“More than death? More than the annihilation of your senses and your thoughts? I realize that you are experiencing a fear that I myself will never carry. My burden and yours are opposites, they will never intersect, except perhaps to think about what the other will do when time eventually shows itself. Yet, my love, I cannot help but feel that, when that comes to pass, it will be better to have experienced age, to have experienced every phase of life, every moment that you possible can, than to be stuck in someone’s memory. We glorify the young dead, we do not remember them.”

It felt odd to crumple to his arguments, perhaps it was only momentary. He hadn’t explained anything particularly well, hadn’t been able to cross the divide between the two of you. Perhaps it was how awfully old he looked in that moment, how he seemed to age a thousand years, so much you could almost imagine him hunched over and grey and wrinkled. Maybe he did know more about age then you thought he did.

Besides, you couldn’t leave him, or Liyue. Not truly. And if that was only your survival instinct kicking in then it was doing a damn good job of it.

Slowly the roaring of the cicadas was replaced with a chorus of crickets. The glaze lilies turned their pale faces towards the light of the moon. Laying your head down in Zhongli’s lap you studied your lover’s face, trying to piece together the strange conversation that had soaked up all other conversation. As if reading your thoughts Zhongli’s eyes met you. Though a smile still refused to breach his expression, he leaned in to bring his hand to your cheek. You relished the warm of shared connection.

Maybe none of this would last the night, maybe tomorrow you would think the same thing you had before. But right now you very much wanted to stay. And right now was all that mattered.

[liannelara-dracula]

Since you said that I can I ask you as much as I want, I would like just one request (reaction). I would ask this on another blogs, but you are the only great one and one who I am sure that will answer me as soon as possible. I already asked you for reaction of diaboys to film "365 days." I'm not a fan of that movie, but I wanted to know what would they think about it. Now I would like to know how would they react to "those" scenes in that film? (If you know what I mean) 🥰💓💓💓💓💓

   Awesome, sorry about being late with this but here it is! I'm going to include the reader as their gf just because I think it would funny. Also picture that the reading is sitting on the couch and they come and sit down with her.

Sakamaki

Shu: Watches it, but is really looking forward to seeing your reaction so he could tease you.

Y/N: "I'm changing this, it’s gross."

Shu: "Don't lie, you'd watch it. I can't believe you're into that kinda stuff. Admit it, you want me to do those things to you, you dirty girl."

Y/N: "I do not! And I wouldn't watch that, but of course you would."

Reiji: He is disgusted by how humans turn each other on.

Reiji: "What a deplorable way to be aroused. It has no passion whatsoever."

Y/N: "Maybe you should change the channel, Reiji, it doesn't seem-" 

Reiji: "Is this really what mortal women like you want?"

He really doesn't like it and hopes you don't . . . although secretly, he's thought about trying some of those moves.

Y/N: "Um, everyone is different, Reiji. But no."

Secretly, he’s DYING to try it.

Laito: OMG prepare yourself--like get a gun or something if you don't want him to try anything with you during the movie, including afterwards.

Laito: “That looks fun, bitch-chan. We should try it~”

Y/N: ”Oh my gosh, no! That’s disgusting! How could you even suggest that?!”

Laito: “What? It turns you off? Come now, bitch-chan, you can’t be serious--mortal women are aroused by the smallest things by male humans--can you imagine what arousal a vampire can give them.”

You began hitting him with a pillow, feeling fed up with his pervertedness.

Laito: “Ow, hey! No need to be hasty now, I was only kidding.”

You soon walked off, leaving him to watch the movie by himself.

Laito: “No wait, bitch-chan! Don’t leave me!”

Ayato: He digs those scenes in the movie, until Reiji decides to turn it off and confiscate it. But he’ll claim he could do better than the guy in the movie before Reiji ruins it for him. Tho, we all know he’s all talk and no action.

Ayato: “I could do so much better, babe.”

Y/N: “Oh, please, save your breath.”

A smirk appeared on his face.

Ayato: “Ooh, if anything I think you should save yours, babe. For defying me, the punishment I’m going to give you later will have you begging for me to stop.”

Y/N: “Oh, really? Or are you going to chicken out like you did last time?”

*Cue his brothers’ laughter right here.*

Y/N: Ayato: “What the hell you guys!”

Kanato: He don’t dig the movie at all. And he actually loves sex more than sucking blood, but this movie set him off.

Kanato: “That is not the way you pleasure a girl. He’s not classy about it.”

Y/n: “Oh boy, and I suppose you know how to be classy during sex?”

Kanato: “Of course I do, Y/N. Now, turn off this god awful movie so I can show you classy sex.”

Rip couch, honestly ya’ll

Subaru: He can’t believe he’s watching this with you. He wants to throw the tv or break it because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable. He will probably throw the tv at Laito tho since he’s making perverted remarks towards you.

Laito: “Fufu . . . I’m sure my little brother will have fun trying out those moves on you, little bitch.”

Subaru: “Tch! Leave her the hell alone, would you?! Otherwise, I’ll throw you out the fuckin’ window!”

Laito: “Come now, Subaru. I’m only trying to lighten the tension between you two.”

Subaru: “Shut the hell up!”

Y/N: “Subaru, really, it’s fine.”

In the end, you ended up missing the movie because you had to break them up making sure he wouldn’t kill Laito.

Kino: He will not watch it with you, he’ll sit next to you but he’s on his phone. Kino finds the movie dumb and he’ll tease you about watching it.

Kino: “Human girls are so easily turned on.”

Y/N: “We are not, besides I’m only watching this because everyone’s talking about it.”

Kino: “Sure, sure. But you realize vampire sex is better.”

Y/N: “Kino!!!”

Mukami

Ruki: He’s a little intrigued by the fact that his girlfriend would actually watch such an erotic movie considering you were somewhat shy.

Ruki: “I gotta say, I’m a little surprised you’d be into an erotic movie.”

Y/n: “I’m not into erotic movies, Ruki--I didn’t know this was one actually. In fact, I’m going to change it.”

Ruki: “You’re not into them, yet I can sense your arousal. . .oh wait, that’s because of me.”

Y/n: “It is not! And I am not aroused by that. You’re using that as an excuse just to embarrass me!”

Ruki: “No, I just think you should admit that you want me right now.”

And the endless bickering between you too only continues.

Yuma: The sex scenes just throw him off and he calls out the dude a lot for his moves.

Yuma: “He’s not doing it right.”

Y/n: “You say that about any intimate scene in a movie, Yuma.” (It’s true he does.)

Yuma: “Are you admitting you like those moves, little pig?” He questioned.

Y/n: “No! Of course not! It’s weird and unattractive! God, how could you even think that?! It’s gross.”

Yuma: “What? You don’t seem to have a problem when we do those kinds of things.” He chuckled.

Y/n: “Yuma!” You jumped placing your hands over his mouth to keep him quiet. As you didn’t want anyone to know what your sex life with him was like.

Kou: He’s slightly surprised to see you watching a movie, although he’s pretty casual about it. Tho he will tease you just a little.

Kou: “Look’s like I caught a naughty kitten.”

Y/n: “Ah, I’m only watching it cause my friends were talking about it, but it isn’t something I’m into.”

Kou: “Ohhh, you don’t need to be shy. Besides, I know you’re saying that just because I walked in here.”

Y/n: “What?! I’m not that kind of person.”

Kou: “Ohhh, but I think you are.” He say pinning you down on the couch. 

(It’s going to be a long night for y/n yall.)

Azusa: Kinda like Kou, but he wouldn’t tease you but would prefer you wouldn’t watch it.

Azusa: “Y/n. . . What are you watching. . .?”

Y/n: “Oh, um, it’s 365 Days. Everyone keeps talking about it, but it’s alright.”

Azusa: “Ah. . .could I watch it. . .with you Y/n?”

Y/n: “Sure.”

A few minutes later and one of those scenes showed up.

Azusa: “Oh . . . Y/n cover your eyes. . .please.” Because you didn’t, his hand ended up covering your eyes.

Y/n: “Azusa, it’s ok. I’m not a little kid.” You giggled.

Azusa: “No, Y/n. . .let’s watch a nice movie. . .this is too crazy for you.” (he’s so sweet. Someone protect him.)

Tsukinami

Carla: He doesn’t get it and he doesn’t like it, and hopes you don’t want him to do that to you. But he doesn’t mind showing you what he’s capable of.

Carla: “How could humans be turned on by that?”

Y/n: “It’s just a movie, Carla, they over-do everything.”

Carla: “You’re telling me, his sloppiness makes me question humans even more.”

Y/n: “Well that’s human boys, human girls aren’t the erotic ones here. Besides, I’m sure it’s the same for vampires.”

Carla: “How much are you willing to test that out, dear?”

Shin: Tease, tease, and endless tease. He won’t stop till you get annoyed.

Shin: “Just admit it, you made me watch the movie with you just hoping I’d be in the mood today.”

Y/n: “Noo! Shin, I didn’t know the movie had those scenes, I swear.”

Shin:  “You didn’t read the description? How much more are you going to lie?”

Y/n: “I didn’t really read it, I’m serious.”

Shin: “Prove it too me then--because it’s not, then say you want to have sex with me.”

Y/n: “What?!”

Shin: “Y/n, if its not true its not hard to lie about it. Now come on say it.”

Y/n: “I will not, you’re just going to use that against me.”

Shin: “Oh c’mon, say it.” He said with a playful grin on his face.

Y/n: “No.”

Shin: “Say it.” He tackled you on the coach now tickling you about it.

Y/n: “No! Stop--Ahh that tickles!”

🌸 ˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ 🌸

🌸 ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~present day 🌸

[loving-all-for-loki]

Voiceless Love Chapter 3:

Goodbye’s & Hello’s

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2042

Warnings: Bucky fluff, Loki fluff, Loki not understanding feelings

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @lokiyoulittle @magicalpieex @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp

A/N: I finally put Y/N’s writing in italics so you can tell when she write. Also we’re delving a little into Loki now, but I will let you all know for anyone hooked on Bucky, I will be making this into a choose your own! I’m not sure which chapter yet, but at some point I will split off and make a Bucky route and Loki route. The Loki route might be a bit longer and more extensive, but that’s only because I am biased and that was the original idea. Thank you all for the love so far on this series. I’m glad you all like it!

A few days have passed since the incident with Loki. Every time you enter the library, Loki gets up and leaves the room, clearly, but not subtly, trying to avoid you. Knowing it’s his private place, you started to take your book from the library and go to Bucky’s room to read instead. 

Bucky likes having you around in his room. While he’s showering, reading, or even working out, you follow him around like a lost puppy and he often keeps his arm around you as much as possible. The other avengers are shocked as you too become closer, not expecting two of the quietest people in the compound to become so close so quickly. Bucky even goes to Steve to talk about you from time to time.

You lay on Bucky’s bed as he showers from sparing with Steve. You enjoy spending time with him, even if he’s doing chores and you’re just sitting in the room. Bucky comes out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist, making your eyes go wide. He chuckles at your shocked reaction.

“Calm down, I forgot pants.”

You chuckle inside as he grabs the first pair of pants he sees then rushes back into the bathroom. You can’t help but watch the way the water drips down his skin, highlighting every muscle on his body. He really is a fine specimen, you think to yourself, but you try to not let your thoughts get too carried away. The last thing you need is to be aroused around your friend who doesn’t think about you in the same way.

Bucky comes back out fully dressed in sweatpants and a white t-shirt. There's a light blush on his face from the embarrassment earlier as he lays down next to you. You lift your head instinctively as he puts his arm under your neck, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“What are you reading?”

Bucky lifts the cover to show himself. 

“Wuthering Heights. Quite the dark and sad book for you,” he chuckles.

Scrunching your eyebrows, you grab his hand and pull out your pen.

What do you mean ‘for me’?

“I mean it’s depressing and you’re full of joy. I don’t want a book to get you down.”

I’m a big girl

You stick out your tongue at Bucky which makes him laugh. He reaches his arm around the other side of you and starts tickling your sides. You lose control of your body as you laugh horribly, spazzing your body to get away from Bucky hands. There’s no emotion but rage as you hear Bucky laughing at your torture. He grabs your book and sets it to the side before he stops tickling you. 

As you regain your senses, you look up to see Bucky hovering over you, laying on his side and arm resting by your head. If you didn’t know any better, he was inches away from kissing you, even leaning in, but he isn’t. He stares at you with the softest look in his eyes, a smile on his face.

“Hi.”

You smile wide, still breathing heavy from the tickle attack.

“So I kind of wanted to talk to you about something. We’re all leaving for a mission tomorrow afternoon and I know you’re a bit bummed about not being able to go, but you also know you’re not the most capable of defending yourself.” You shrug which makes Bucky laugh and hang his head, leaning it on your forehead. “Darling, you’re adorable. So, you’re going to be alone with Loki. Is that going to be an issue?”

You shake your head no, but Bucky looks unsure of you. The inside of his eyebrows raise in question and he stares at you deep in your eyes.

“I’m not thrilled with you being alone, but I know you can handle yourself. We’re only going to be gone for three days, so I’ll be home quicker than you know, I promise.”

You smile to reassure his anxiety. Bucky tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, leaning down to kiss your forehead tenderly. He lays back down next to you and pulls you into him, laying you on top of his body. You can hear his heartbeat from his chest and the warmth from his neck as you bury your head further into him. Bucky adjusts his arms and holds you tight as you both fall asleep.

-

The next morning, you wake up in Bucky’s arms with a bittersweet feeling. The sun is glaring through the window shades on his face, highlighting his beautiful blue eyes. You stare at him for a good five minutes, stroking his stubble with your fingers very gently.

“It’s rude to stare, doll.” 

You’re started by Bucky speaking when you thought he was asleep. You jump a little, making Bucky chuckle and hold you closer to him. He smiles up at you as you look down at him, studying the groves and marks on your face, “I want to memorize you for when I leave,” he teases, “I’d hate to forget this pretty face.

You blush at his kind words and attempt to hide your embarrassment by tucking your face into his neck. Bucky chuckles, vibrating your body against his, and squeezes you tightly. You didn’t know it was possible to get physically closer to him, but he manages to do it.

“I hate to leave you… but I have to, darling.” Nodding your head, you fan your hand over his chest, sniffling in his neck. “Oh, baby, don’t cry,” he smirks, “I’ll be back soon enough.”

Bucky gets up and leaves his bed, searching for his uniform. You stay in bed and admire his form as he walks around, his shirt tightly gripping to his body. He comes up to you and wraps you in his blankets, making you a little shawl of warmth. Finally grabbing his bags, you and him make your way out to the main room where the rest of the Avengers are gathered with their bags. 

“Are you ready to go?” Steve asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m sorry to leave you alone like this, Y/N. We figured you’d be safer if you trained and controlled your powers a little more.”

“She knows,” Bucky cut in, “We talked about it a little and she understands.”

You give them a smile to assure them that what Bucky said is true. Steve tries to approach you and give you a hug but you back away, making him give you a melancholy smile. Lucky comes up to you and gives you a hug even though you don’t return it. He walks away with the Avengers off to the Quinjet outside. You watch as they leave, Bucky giving you a little wave before the door closes.

Finding yourself in a quiet environment, you make your way back to Bucky’s room where you left the book you had been reading. Time passes on quicker than you expect and you find yourself getting hungry. Checking the clock, you notice it’s seven at night and decide to head to the kitchen.

Loki sits by the bar with his book when you enter the room, much to your surprise. He doesn’t come out of his room often and when he does it’s usually in the library. Ignoring him, you dig through the fridge to find food to make a sandwich. He stays in the room which is also a change of pace. You haven’t spent any time with him since the altercation in the library a week ago. He usually completely avoids you.

You finish making the sandwich and Loki has yet to leave the kitchen. He doesn’t look up from his book once or even mutter to himself. Tapping him on the shoulder, he looks up to see you pointing to your sandwich and then him.

“If you are asking if I want one, I do not. Mortal food does not appetize me.”

Your face drops in annoyance and Loki notices. Rolling his eyes, he closes his book and pays full attention to you.

“Fine, make me one and I’ll see how I like it.”

You give him a wide smile much to his own amusement. You attempt to make a sandwich you think he’d enjoy and slide the plate over to him. Eating your own sandwich, you watch him intently to see his reaction. He takes in a slow bite and chews it, giving you no reaction at all. The silence is deafening and you wish it would be over, but he continues to be quiet until he’s completely done eating the sandwich.

“I could stomach that,” he says, looking up at you with a smirk.

You smile at his slight enjoyment of the sandwich, making this down as a win in your book. Loki doesn’t miss the little smile on your face and smirks when you turn your back to load the dishwasher. 

“There’s a book I’d think you like.” You turn around, perked up even more by his joyous remark, “the only problem is that it’s in runes, so unless you’re not willing for me to read it to you, I’d volunteer my services.”

You nod, accepting his offer. Loki stands up and heads for the elevator, you follow quickly behind. As you two walk out, you realize how proud Loki stands, his head held high and shoulders back, like a true king. You always thought he was stoic, but watching him carry himself across the tower shows a new kind of pride.

You enter the library and Loki immediately goes to the book, sitting down beside you at the table. He opens the book, but silently watches you through his peripherals as you get comfortable next to him, leaning your elbows on his chair arm. 

“Despite that they lived worlds apart from one another, the norns had decided that Mengoth and Svipdagr were each other's great love.” Loki looks over to see you watching him with big doe eyes. He smirks at your innocent face and keeps reading, “Mengloth, meaning “the one shimmering of jewels” grew up in a golden hall, ruling a flourishing realm of prosperous farmsteads. She dedicated her life to healing the sick and wounded. Together with her handmaidens, she spent her days receiving the injured and suffering on a tall towering mountain.”

Loki continues to read the story to you in his sulky, smooth voice. There is one thing in the stories about Loki that you believe, he has a silvertongue. A way with words. A way with speaking. You find yourself falling asleep quickly listening to his mellow voice.

Loki doesn’t notice when you fall asleep, just that you did. He thinks to himself why a small thing like you would fall asleep next to him, this dangerous monster. You have everything to live for, yet you decide to trust this fallen creature enough. Setting the book down on the table, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to your room.

Laying you across the bed, he takes off the jewelry you have on and covers you with your blankets. He goes to set your necklaces and earrings down on your dresser and gets distracted by the photos. There’s one of you with your parents and brother, smiling in a line in front of your christmas tree. There’s another of you with a boy, smiling while dressed formally and looking at one another. 

There’s something with you that intrigues him. You go after the good boys, the heroes like Bucky and the safe choice of boys in school, but why fall asleep next to him? He’s not this superhero with great morals and virtue. He’s selfish, prideful, arrogant. No woman, especially a midgard would want him, not that he’d be interested in a midgardian, but Y/N is different.

He shakes off the thoughts that burden his heart and leaves the room. Closing the door behind him, Loki wanders to his own room where he lays in bed staring at the ceiling. His thoughts can’t help but wander back in. After two hours, Loki is finally able to rest, but even his dreams are flooded with nothing but you.

[jeonggukieandcream]

Hi ! I love your writings so much 🥺

If it's okay may I please have Dracula x reader ? Maybe the reader has a bad anxiety attack and they get to the point where the shut down and hold their breath and that ends up making them lose consciousness ? Thank you - 🤍✨

Hi, my love!💙 You absolutely can! I adore writing for this immortal idiot🥺💖 I’ve experienced anxiety attacks many a time but I’ve never had one so bad that I passed out so I apologise in advance for any inaccuracies!💜 I hope that you enjoy this, and thank you so much for your kind words, angel, they mean a lot to me, as does your support!💗

Also, a massive thank you to @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural for helping me to work out Dracula’s reaction and how he would handle the situation! This piece wouldn’t be what it is without your guidance; thank you.🥺💙

Word count: 1, 410.

Something was wrong.

Something was really... wrong.

You knew not what it was, but there was a tension which had been gently simmering within you for the last few days and you had a sinking feeling, low in your stomach and one which you could not shake, that the roiling waters deep within would come to a boil soon. No longer was it a question of if but now was it a question of when and you could only hope, perhaps in vain, that you would be wholly alone when the lid finally came off the pot. Rarely were you able to fully bask in your solitude. Between your daily responsibilities, chores and the endless list of things you had to do, within which every item you ticked off seemed to be replaced with five more, any socialising you managed to do even around that, and your relationship with Dracula, you had very little real time to yourself. You wondered if that wasn’t half the problem in the first place. 

Over the last few days had your body felt heavy, your skin simply too tight. You couldn’t breathe and even the most basic of things were difficult to set about doing or completing. Your hands were unsteady, your grip looser than normal, and it seemed as though you had to concentrate even harder on doing things as you usually would because it seemed that your body was set on betraying you. It was difficult to speak, too, like your tongue was weighed down by your existence, and your jaw ached with how hard you were clenching it to keep yourself from crying out. You could barely speak, but, oh how you wanted to scream.

Yes, something was wrong, and you weren’t the only being in the vicinity who had picked up on the storm which was brewing deep within you.

So deeply intelligent and so intuitive was he that Dracula, too, had picked up on something off about you recently. Or, to be more specific, about your blood. Truth resided in the blood if one knew how to read it, and yours was practically screaming at him as it travelled through your veins, working to supply your body with what it needed to stay alive. You had always been a nervous little thing, anxiety, you called it if his memory served him well, but Dracula had never seen you like this before. Despite having been around for centuries was Dracula unsure of emotions and of the way they manifested within people. He only knew that something was wrong with you, his bride, and the same sinking feeling within you seemed to hold Dracula captive, too.

Neither of you would have to wait very long, in the end, for almost as if knowing that something was coming did your nerves only increase and it was all you could do to keep, for the very least, your body functioning as best as it could while your mind began to scream... though no thoughts were coherent. Your thoughts were a hurricane, words ran and bumped into one another in their haste to cross your mind, and those same thoughts repeated themselves as you lost the ability to think clearly. Your skin was itchy, too tight, your mind was too loud and yet too quiet, and you couldn’t - 

You inhaled suddenly, sharply, and the dam broke.

“Ooh, listen to that. Your heart’s a lively one tonight.” There was a question within Dracula’s beautiful and hypnotic eyes but you couldn’t speak. It felt like someone had stitched your mouth shut and there was no way for you to tell a very obviously confused Dracula, whose thick, dark brows were knitted together as his dark gaze seemed almost to will to look within you, what was happening. With the realisation that you couldn’t communicate, you choked on your next breath... and you began to spiral as with every inhalation did you try to ease the ache which started to build up in your lungs. It was when your blood ran cold that Dracula rapidly approached you, concerned was he with the state of your blood as it rushed through your veins and only further quickened the pace of your heart. When you didn’t respond, he said, “I need you to talk to me, Y/N. What is it?” He was very careful to keep his voice low, soothing; it was the way he spoke to you after you had had a nightmare and you needed him to help you get back to sleep. The truth was in your blood but for once in his very long existence was Dracula unable to read it. This wasn’t fear, or happiness or sadness... this was something altogether deeper and he had no name for it. He knew not what was happening and you did but you had no way of communicating your knowledge to the vampire who was desperately trying to piece the puzzle together. Dracula’s dress shoes made no noise on the carpet but you saw him coming, you saw him, and you reached out blindly for him even through the haze of tears. Your cheeks were itchy with the drying of tears and you couldn’t bring yourself back under control. You gasped for breath and even the callings of your name as Dracula bent to your height, his eyes holding your own, and tried so desperately to bring you home to him did nothing to help you. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe.

You were too far gone.

Blackness overtook your vision as did the burning of your lungs become too much to take, and Dracula’s mildly shocked expression was the last thing you saw as you lost consciousness in his arms. He caught you before you dropped and with one arm around you to hold you up did he start to tap at your face; gently, gently, and it seemed as though your name was the only word Dracula himself knew how to speak. His hands were cold, dead was he, and after some minutes marked only by the clock on the wall which ticked your life away, you began to rouse in his arms. Dracula swept you up into his embrace and carried you through your home into the bedroom, where he laid you down upon the bed and ran his mind through the things you may have needed in that moment... water was good, it was cold. Bring something for your stomach to focus on. Food, perhaps? But what did you like? Should he put the moving picture box on? All of these questions and more raced through Dracula’s mind but in the end, you made his decision for him as your fingers curled into his waistcoat. 

Your eyes fluttered open and Dracula’s face was the first thing you saw, bent over you was he. You had come full circle and you managed to give him a small  smile. “Drac.”

Dracula smiled as relief swept through him and he chuckled softly. “Oh, Y/N, there you are. I thought we lost you.” A hand curved to your cheek and a clawed thumb stroked along your skin in soothing, slow motions. He was reassuring the both of you in this moment, not that he would ever tell you that. You knew him well enough to know that for yourself, anyway.

You shook your head and slowly sat up, maintaining your grip on his arm. “Just an anxiety attack. I’ll be all right.” 

Dracula sensed a discussion and he sank down beside you on the bed, his cool hand still on your face. It grounded you, as did his voice, and you knew that the worst was over. “That wasn’t ‘just’ anything, dear. You’re a silly little thing, why didn’t you tell me, hm?” 

“When it... when it’s bad, like that, I can’t talk.” You shrugged and leaned into Dracula as you sought him out for comfort now that you had weathered the storm. “It feels like dying.” With his face hidden from your view, for you had not yet learned never to trust a hug for the very reason that it presented an opportunity to hide one’s face, Dracula allowed his eyes to harden when you spoke the word “dying”. He swore to himself there and then that you, his finest and final bride, would never meet such a fate. Death came as a shock to mortals, but immortality would come as a shock to you.

[thefallendivine]

Everly: Lost and Found

As I have already written the scenes where the MC and the Guardian companion met, I saw it fit to finally post the introductory shorts for the Guardians. This is for the first one.

WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead. If you want to keep your surprise about the Guardians for when the game releases in the distant future, then scroll past this post. 

--

Rain and an abandoned road: a depressing combination for a teamster.  Made worse by the slow pace of the pair of arcane oxen that pulls on the train of carts— ychen bannog, the Giants call them. They are a large, hairy, and long-horned bovine with a boulder-like hump between its shoulders that is magically bred to be a food source for the Giantkind of Rhal Vahald. As their meat is too tough for the tastes of other races, they instead use the ychen bannog as draft animals for their formidable strength and ability to traverse both dry and wet terrain.

Hitting bumps along the trail that cuts through a field of reed, the chains that secure the interlinked carts rattle as the cages teeter on top of the wheeled wood rafts. Along with the downpour and the occasional whimpers from the children gagged and hog-tied inside the canvased cages, they are the only tether the carter, Riegel, has to reality. Driving through the Secret Road is otherwise monotonous when the visibility is too poor that it truly shrouds its “secrets”.

People who use the road and the vast field embraced by its rain and mist know to look but never to tell, as legends proven true in the past hold a tight grip in the minds of those who hear them. Clandestine dealings, forbidden meetings, escapees in hiding, disposal of high profile bodies or unwanted children, all of these are common in the Secret Road. For slave traders, it is the perfect road to move their goods; it keeps their business afloat and away from attention during transport. It is a blessing. And it is a gold mine.

And today, Riegel has struck a vein.

From his elevated seat, Riegel can see a child in a black and white dress walking ahead, going in the same direction as his wagon train. He perks up, surprised at the quality of the girl’s attire. Whether lost or abandoned, there is no reason not to add such a find in the pile.

Tugging at the reins, Riegel halts the huge beasts of burden ways away from the child. A couple of snorts and a few clip-clops of hooves later, he is signaling to his co-workers in the carts to keep the children quiet before proceeding to approach the little girl, who has now turned around in apparent notice of the conspicuous large beasts, sleepy brown eyes watching as Riegel plants a practiced smile on his lips. Supplying a smooth wave of the hand, he calls out loudly to be heard in the rain yet friendly to match the expression he adopted.

“Hey, little girl, where did you come from?” Riegel proceeds to look around, a show of confusion despite having none. “What are you doing in the middle of the road? In the rain?”

The girl does not reply.

Riegel takes of his cloak before squatting down, encircling his arms to put the damp fabric around the girl. “Here,” he says, pulling the hood over her light blonde head. “I can take you home if you want.”

Still no reply.

Such a thing is not unusual when it comes to children who have been thrust into such misfortune. Uncontrollable sobs and fear usually keep them from even uttering something remotely discernible. The girl is overcome by neither, yet she does not speak.

Stranger still for Riegel is that the girl has not a trace of any kind of reaction on her face. Much like a doll, both physically and emotionally.

All alone up until now, in the dark, in the cold, and the young child is unafraid. Faced with a stranger brought by large beasts and she does not even bat an eye.

A sudden shudder creeps up his back but Riegel brushes it off as nothing more than a bodily reaction to exposure.

“Do you see my wagons?” Riegel asks, jerking his head back, at which the girl’s eyes finally moves to look. “It’s much warmer over there. Come on.”

His hand presented in invitation, Riegel gives the girl the chance to come amicably. For any bruise on such a fair skin will diminish the value that Riegel sees in her.

After what feels like a long wait under the heavy rain, the girl’s gaze trains back on Riegel’s. Her hand lifts slowly, the man's smile growing wider as it inches closer to his.

But her small hand moves higher, past Riegel’s laid out hand and stopping right in front of his face. The last thing he sees is the two overlapping squares on her palm before the scenery before him changes.

Riegel sees a house on a backdrop of a sweeping pasture. He stares up at the windmill that stands tall beside the Pasturian-style cabin. The door opens, and out comes a girl of eight twin moons.

It’s her birthday today.

There is an excited smile that lights up her face as she runs up to Riegel and screams out, “Dad!”

Stooping down, Riegel catches the child and spins her around as he does, legs swinging in the air as her giggles warms his chest. Riegel ends his welcome with an embrace, clutching the girl close to him. “Wow! I was gone for a day and you’ve grown this much? My little girl’s not so little anymore.”

Stretching her arms up, she replies proudly, “Yup! I’m a grown up!”

Riegel laughs, eyes shifting ahead to his approaching wife. A serious look on her face as she looks past him; to someone behind him.

Riegel turns to find three men, familiar ones. People he has worked with in the past.

“It’s time, Riegel,” the one ahead of the trio says. “Hand the girl over.”

“What?” Riegel asks, searching the faces in front of him. “What do you mean hand her over?”

The men do not reply, but their expressions tell everything Riegel needs to know about their intentions. He looks to his wife. “Take her inside,” he tells her as he hands over his daughter.

However, instead of doing what he asked her to, Riegel’s wife walks towards the men and gives their daughter willingly.

“What are you doing?!” Riegel lunges forward, but the other two men grab hold of his arms before pinning him to the ground. “Let me— Get your filthy hands off her! Give her back!”

Riegel’s frantic sputtering is matched by his daughter’s crying, confused and afraid of what is happening. The man who holds her looks down on Riegel with pity. “She doesn’t belong to you, Riegel.”

“She’s my daughter! She—“

Riegel freezes.

She’s my daughter. But… what’s her name?

Riegel’s eyes turn manic, disgusted at himself for forgetting his daughter’s name. He forces himself to remember, the times he calls to her to do some light chores, when he first started teaching her how to say her name, or the day she was born. But there is nothing there.

Riegel looks up, only to find the people who surrounded him to be all faceless. The men, his wife, and even his daughter.

But before Riegel can question what he is seeing, the gaps in his memory start to rebuild themselves, like pieces affixing into a broken puzzle to create a big picture, one that depicts his entire life.

From his time as a boy, when he met his wife, and when they had their daughter.

Just then, Riegel finally remembers her name.

He speaks it hurriedly.

It is certain that Riegel said the name.

However, Everly does not linger long to find out what the imaginary mortal girl is called. Despite her life of eternity, she does not have the time to waste on falsities. Even if in the fantasies she crafted, the karmic punishment of the trapped individual's hallucinatory future is quite satisfying to watch.

Everly looks back at Riegel, the slaver’s head is enclosed in her cube of illusions, one that contains a whole world and a whole life she concocted for him. There were a few complications, but in the end, Everly managed to use her Rune well.

She looks up ahead, to the other insects who feed on blooming flowers. It does not hurt to get a few practices in, the road will keep her secret. After all, Everly has a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, plenty of lost time to make up for, as the Goddess of Vision and Creation.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

queen of hearts // chapter nine

summary : y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

series masterlist + taglist

content warnings : murder, gunshots, death, sexual harassment, angst (lots of it)

a/n : reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homicidal urges, seek professional help immediately.

-

You did it.

Wow.

You got you and your baby out of that shithole and you're on the run. The news and the FBI plastered your face everywhere so of course you changed your appearance as best as you could. Can't really hide a 7 month baby bump though, can you? You make your way to an empty road and stick your thumb out to hitchhike. A woman with strawberry blonde hair stops, letting you into her worn out green truck.

-

"Thank you so much!" you exclaim, getting into the truck. Thump. Your heart could jump right out of your chest. All it takes is one headline, one picture and she'll turn you in.

"Make yourself comfy, sweetie," she gives you a warm smile. "I'm Maggie. Where you headed?"

"I'm Lucy," you lie. "Anywhere but here. As far as you can take me, please."

"What's got you running? If you don't mind me asking."

"Let's just say I got away from a very bad place." you whisper. It's not a lie.

Maggie nods sympathetically and goes to turn on the radio.

"No!" you clearly startle her, filling you with guilt. "I- I'm sorry, I'd just prefer silence right now."

"Don't worry about it, Lucy. I know what it's like to be in a bad situation, I know all too well." She says sadly. "I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable, you just sit tight."

Maggie's words give you a sense of comfort, her kindness sets you slightly at ease. It'd fucking suck to have to kill her, you think. After what seems like few hours, you wake up to see her pumping gas into the truck. She enters the store, telling you she's been craving some licorice and she'll be right back. You're not heartless, you don't want to hurt this sweet woman. So, as anyone would do, you knock out the only other person around with one swift swing of a bat you found in Maggie's truck. Getting into the car, you hotwire it while the man you hit groans on the ground, bleeding. Red stains his shirt and your heart races. It's been a long time since you've done anything like this. Shit, shit, shit. You see Maggie at the cash register, paying. Lucky for you, the talkative woman gives you time by conversing with the cashier. Spark. Got it. Taking one last glance, you see Maggie drop her bag and gasp, whipping her head to look at you. There's a fucking TV in the gas station and guess who's face is on it? You back up the van and wince at the sound of the man's bones cracking paired with his agonized scream. Now or never. Hitting the pedal, you floor it.

-

You stop to breathe for a moment, parking outside of a shitty looking motel. The neon sign is broken so it reads Mot l. You open the trunk of the car you stole to look for anything useful. How lucky, you think. A small, silver handgun is tucked away underneath a plaid knit blanket. Where are the bullets? Must be in the front. Getting into the car and searching the glove compartment, you locate the ammo.

"Goddamn, if that isn't one hell of an ass." A gruff voice behind you whistles. Ignoring him, what he says next makes your heart burst into fear. Thump. "Be careful lovely lady. Heard there's a killer running around. I'll keep you safe though." You feel a hand make its way onto your back slowly and you turn yourself on your back.

"Fuck off." you growl. Click. Gun loaded. Pointing it at the man's now petrified face, you smirk.

"I-I'm sorry!" he spits out.

"No, you aren't honey." Bang. His body hits the ground with a thud and the familiar metallic taste of blood splatters your face. A steady hand wipes away the remains from your eyes and you exit the car, as calmly as you can manage.

"I'd like a room please." The motel owner stares at you, astonished. At the blood or because he recognizes you? Either one isn't good. This wasn't a good decision-- at all. Thump. A shriek from the parking lot distracts you momentarily and the owner takes a laptop and hits you over the head.

"What the fuck?" you grumble. The dumbass didn't even draw blood. With a quick flash, you shoot him too. This whole thing is getting tiring. Fuck, fuck. How the fuck? you wonder, pissed off as you hear sirens. Did the source of the shriek really call the cops that fast? Or were you in such a haze that you can't even think straight, let alone keep track of time. Oh, fuck me. Three black SUVs are with the swarm of police cars. SUVs that you recognize without a doubt as the FBI. Thump. No negotiations this time, no bullshit.

You exit the motel with the gun in your hand. Red and blue lights make you squint and illuminate your figure in the dead of night. Getting a good look at the imagie in front of you, you laugh. Lo and behold, the BAU.

"I'm sorry." you say, just loud enough for everyone to hear before pointing the gun at Spencer Reid.

Bang. Thump. The sharp pain shoots through your chest and you hear a scream. Your head hits the ground and your entire body gives out.

"Y/N!"

You laugh, spitting up raspy strings of red as you do. Suddenly, your head is being cradled and you're being frantically whispered to and yelled about.

-

"Medic! We need a medic!"

-

"N-Nice turnout, isn't it?" You cough violently.

"Shh, don't talk Y/N. Please." He strokes your hair as the EMTs load you into the ambulance.

"S-Spence," you call out, barely able to stay conscious.

"What is it sweetheart?"

"Take care of my b-baby for me," another horrible cough escapes you. "Give her the best life you can, t-tell her..."

"Miss Y/L/N, hurry it up, we need to get you into surgery."

"Tell her that her mother loves her, even if I'm not around."

Spencer's eyes flood with tears, they spill out onto his cheeks as he watches the ambulance drive away. Then it hits him. Her. He's having a baby girl.

-

SPENCER'S POV - E.R.

-

Hours pass with still no update on Y/N's condition. Most of team has gone home, waiting on call. I don't blame them. I'm the only one still here for Y/N. I feel helpless, like my head is underwater and I'm about to drown. Guilty, so guilty that I still love her. Angry. She's the one who was shot yet the anguish I feel is so fucking deep that it's as if knives are stabbing at my lungs.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" I stand up so quickly I think I might fall over.

"Yes I'm her b--" he stops himself. "I'm Doctor Reid with the FBI, h-how is she?"

"No loved ones here for her? I heard she killed some people but damn."

"Is she stable or not?" I snap, regretting it immediately upon seeing her reaction.

And then she speaks.

"The bullets severed 3 major arteries."

No. They saved her. They have to have saved her.

"Y/N didn't make it."

Everything stops. It feels like my limbs and head weigh a ton. Everything's heavy. My breathing becomes less and less effective, disbelieving, tiring. All color in the room fades, leaving me in darkness. I feel weak and detached, chest clenching until I collapse into the chair behind me.

"Doctor Reid?" the surgeon questions softly.

I don't look at her. I stare at the wall across from me, unable to speak, unable to cry even. My mouth is dry and I feel broken.

"Doctor Reid, I need to know who the child of her father is. We were able to save her."

Thump. Thump. Exhale. I meet her eyes.

"Take me to my daughter please." I say low and as steady as I can without breaking down. The surgeon gives me an odd look, processing the information I've given before turning. I stop her.

"Wait..." I gulp heavily. "Can I see Y/N first?"

She nods, hesitantly.

"Right this way."

Y/N's body lays, peacefully. It should be comforting to know she wasn't scared when she died but I want her here with me. I take her cold, lifeless hand in mine and the tears finally leave me. I let out a loud cry and bring my face down to her stomach, resting and shaking on her skin.

"I'm so sorry," I cry to her body, unable to hear me. "I love-- loved you. I swear."

Sniffling painfully, I notice something in her bra. Leave it to Y/N to torture me even from the dead.

-

"Dearest Spencer,

I think the way things played out were fitting. If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Fucking creep, took a letter out of my dead body's bra. Kidding, kidding. Seriously though, give my baby a pretty name, will ya? I hope she gets your kindness, your strength. Everything that makes you you. Raise her to be everything we've ever dreamed of. You make sure she knows I love her, so much. Now quit being a pussy and wipe those tears, darling. We both know I deserved this. I love you, Spence and I forgive you. You got this babe.

Yours truly, Y/N."

-

My heart is ripped out farther and farther with each word read. It gives me a sense of closure but the pain and turmoil doesn't go away. A life where Y/N isn't here with me isn't a life at all.

"Excuse me," I say blankly as if every emotion I'm feeling simply doesn't exist within me. "I'm done."

The woman guides and then leaves me alone with my child. I hold her in my arms and gasp lightly. She's small but perfect and she smiles at me, lighting my heart. She has Y/N's smile. The fire inside me lessens, being slightly soothed by the newborn in my arms. We'd spoken a few times about having children but I'd always thought she'd be here when the day came. I think about it for a second. I won't name her Y/N, that's much too cliche for Y/N's liking. She isn't the type to name a child without meaning.

"Ellie." I whisper.

Ellie. Meaning 'shining light'.

The light I already love.

The light that holds every piece of Y/N's story in her eyes.

The light that'll get me through this utter darkness.

My light.

Goodbye Y/N. I'll never forget you, the light and the love of my mortal life.

-

[tigerseye46]

D..... if were working with 'Pigsy was Baije' then does Wukong know? Were Wukong and Baije a thing too or is that exclusively an 'in the now' thing?

I mean either way that will be FUN to find out

TW: Death, Blood and Injury

Also Season 2 spoilers

Okay so I’ve thought about this a lot-

Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble, anon. This is going to be long

So, I would like to believe Wukong finds out eventually, either through Sandy (who I’d like to think is Sha Wujing), his golden eyes or a build up of hints. Since they’re stuck together on a ship, I think he has more time to figure it out because maybe he’s never really paid attention to MK’s friends until they had to be forced together. Or he did know before that and is just hiding it extremely well.

So for the ‘were Bajie and Wukong a thing’ I believe that even if they weren’t a thing, they at least had feelings each other that they never acted on because I am also a massive Zhuhou shipper.

Either way, it’s Wukong mourning for his lost love. We get a tragedy from two sides if Bajie died (from “To Catch a Leaf, it’s very implied something happened to him), although there are as just as much angles if we got with an alternate universe where Pigsy is just Bajie in disguise which I will elaborate on further.

If Bajie and Wukong were a thing, either married or still in the dating phase, and Bajie died, Wukong knows he has just lost the person he loved the most. Bajie’s death takes place possibly years after Wukong has already sealed DBK and has given up fighting. At this point, demons are still causing havoc and Bajie, who’s maybe matured a little bit, has decided to step up and be the hero for both of them.

Bajie, as shown in the first chapter he appears in, can fight Wukong on equal grounds but usually he does get lost in his cowardice and desire (since desire is what he’s supposed to represent) although when they do need him, he’s there.

Wukong isn’t worried about him fighting because he is strong. One day, there is word about an extremely powerful demon that people are having trouble with so they need Wujing, Bajie and some other warriors to help. Wukong feels something in his gut telling him to not let his husband go but he ignores it, the pig can handle himself. He gives his husband as much kisses as he possibly can with “Do your best, idiot. I love you.” Then he pats Wujing on the shoulder and watches them leave.

He chills on his mountain, suppressing the dread that lies in his stomach and eventually, he sees the top of Wujing’s hair and thinks “Oh, they’re back. I wonder how it went. I can’t wait to shower Bajie with kisses.” He sees Wujing’s face which is a mix of sadness, guilt, grief and anger all wrapped into one. The fish demon gets closer, holding Bajie’s body in his arms, bruises and blood present, the pig isn’t moving, isn’t breathing and Wukong feels sick to his stomach.

He rushes towards them, demanding to know what happened and Wujing explains that during the attack, Bajie blocked a blow meant for Wujing, the fish demon was on the ground when the demon was about to strike him, he was on his knees, breathing heavily and his reactions too slow to fight back. The pig gets knocked to the ground where the enemy demon hits him again and is about to give another blow when some soldiers attack him. It left Wujing enough time to go over to Bajie and try to help with his injuries but the bleeding was too much for him to stop, the pig leaves some parting words and passes away.

When he finishes, Wukong says the demon better be dead or he’ll go kill him himself, Wujing says he killed the demon and Wukong growls out a “good” and goes quiet.

He takes Bajie’s body in his arms, either remaining quiet with silent sobbing mixed in or screaming his lungs out and weeping more than he has ever before. He decides to bury his husband, aware that Bajie will be reincarnated one day, he has no idea when that will be. He leaves a small “Goodbye, my love…” as the pig is buried. And it hits him that he couldn’t protect one of the people that mattered the most to him and he decides to hole himself up on his mountain with the rest of his family occasionally checking up on him, he’s too lost in his grief to care rather they’re there or not while Wujing is in lost in his anger.

Eventually they stop visiting and Wukong believes they passed on just as Bajie did so he sets up a shrine for them.

Wukong holds on to whatever he has of them left, like the courtship bracelets. He makes sure to clean those regularly, holding back sobs as he does so, he gets defensive when anyone asks what they are, no one needs to know what those are except him.

Centuries pass and he finds Xiaotian, the perfect candidate to be successor, he watches the kid carefully, mostly focusing on him, barely taking note of the people around the kid.

So he trains him, hardly leaving his mountain, he doesn’t need to after all. Being around the kid brings him more joy than he’s felt in years but he still misses his family like crazy so he has the kid destroy the mural. It’s a painful reminder of what he has lost.

New Years comes around and we know how that whole thing goes, at the end, when Wukong is near MK’s friends, getting a closer look than he ever has before, maybe he realizes those are his family. He questions, did Tripitaka and Wujing reincarnate as well? An overwhelming feeling pops up in his chest at seeing them after so many years. When he gets a glimpse of Pigsy, he thinks “Oh my gods. That’s him. That’s my husband. He’s here, he’s alive… but he isn’t my husband, not anymore” and Wukong has got to get out of there before it becomes too much so he leaves.

And he suppresses all of it because he has bigger things to worry about.

Then at the last moment, when he finally has what he needs to defeat WBS, he flies just in time to see the kid lose to WBS and he pulls him out of there. Then he gets scolded by the man he once loved, still loves and he knows his husband the pig demon is right.

He tries to convince the others that they shouldn’t go, they’re mortal after all but they refuse and he has to bring them along. Now he and his family’s reincarnations are stuck in close quarters and he wants to get close to them again, he does but he doesn’t deserve it. He let the person he loved die and Pigsy doesn’t think that highly of him anyway so it’s better he just stay away as much as he can. Yet he’s still so hopelessly in love and he tries everyday to not wrap Pigsy in a hug and apologize, the same goes for the rest of his family.

Wujing, I mean Sandy, notices the king’s mood and asks what’s wrong where the king pushes him away, explaining how it’s none of his business. When Sandy tries to push further, Wukong shouts at him how the demon has probably never lost family and Sandy stays silent then explains how he lost a brother. And it hits Wukong, this is Wujing, actually Wujing, not some reincarnation and they hug and sob, maybe the others catch them and they don’t explain.

They’re all each other has and they cling to each other with the others questioning their new found closeness and Pigsy feels a twinge of jealousy but he has no idea why. Wukong tries to connect with Bajie while maintaining his distance because it still hurts way too much.

Now to explain, what happens if they weren’t an item. So, basically the same thing happens with Bajie’s death except they think something happened to Wukong since they couldn’t find him after he sealed DBK. Again demons are still popping up like crazy, taking advantage of the fact that the king is no longer around.

So Bajie steps up, gaining a more responsible attitude and despite, rumors spreading that the king dies, he ignores them as he believes Wukong will return one day. He gets extremely irritated when people say Wukong died or abandoned them. The same thing happens where he bleeds and dies, leaving Wujing, Bái Longma/Ao Lie and possibly Tripitaka, if he hasn’t reincarnated, to mourn (using this angle for a fic I’m working on).

Obviously Wukong thinks they’re dead and again, possibly at New Years, the king finds his family’s reincarnations and questions what happened, feeling a good amount of guilt for leaving them.

Then while they’re all stuck on the ship together or some other thing, Wujing reveals that he is still the same person and admits what happened to Bajie which just grows Wukong’s guilt and he has to stay away from everyone for a few days.

I would imagine he tries to respectfully maintain his distance from Pigsy while also trying to get closer, possibly sticking to him like a puppy. Again, does he really have the right to be near him? Because he left them and it could have been preventable if he just stayed.

The pig has no idea why the king sticks to him sometimes, he finds he doesn’t really mind it for some reason?? Also it’s easy for him to keep an eye on the king and makes sure he takes care of himself. And the king is kinda cute, he’ll admit. Wukong calls Pigsy little nicknames in his head a lot.

Wukong falls deeper in love with Pigsy, noting that no matter what life he takes on, he still loves him. Very much so and he doesn’t know how to tell him about who he once was.

In either sides, should he tell Pigsy this? Does he have a right to see Pigsy? Does he have the right to see any of them? It hurts to watch his family go on without him, but they’re happy, right? He shouldn’t interfere with their lives more than he already has. They don’t deserve that. On both, there is tragedy, longing and mourning and Wukong feeling guilty for so many reasons.

And we have the third take, the universe where Pigsy is Bajie in disguise.

Pigsy mourns Wukong like the king mourns him. Wukong is one of the few people that Pigsy has ever truly loved and vice versa. They miss each other like crazy, believing the other is dead and wishing they could talk to each other once again.

They wish they could have said something to each other, confess their feelings and maybe it would have changed something. Maybe the other would have stayed alive and well. While Pigsy’s working, sometimes it hits him that it’s better that he never said anything, after all, he isn’t Wukong, he’s not a hero, he doesn’t consider himself one. He was a slacker, a coward who did everything to cause problems and does Wukong really need someone like that in his life? Maybe that’s why he left. Pigsy ignores his good qualities from when he went by Zhu Bajie because he doesn’t think he has any good qualities.

The monkey would have rejected him, no doubt about that so it’s better he never admitted his feelings.

Time passes and he takes in Xiaotian, the kid can be good at his job, but annoyingly distracted. The kid is a big fan of the Journey to the west and a part of him feels joy as hearing someone so close to him enjoy the adventures but it’s also another reminder about all his stupid actions. Especially when Tang likes to point out his past mistakes to tease him for always getting them in trouble.

And one day, he sends MK on another delivery because he should really be working instead of listening to those stories. And what’s this, a bad review? Okay, Xiaotian needs to explain this! Where is he?

He’s about to scold him when Xiaotian reveals the staff and no, no, no, no, that can’t be Wukong’s. It just can’t be. Laugh, Pigsy, the kid must have just found a cheap imitation.

Then the kid accidentally breaks the table with it and oh my gods, it’s Wukong’s.

And Pigsy takes them to Sandy. MK believes that Wukong will be there and could the king be there? Yes, it is his home but they haven’t heard a word from him, the pig still believes Wukong is dead. There’s a small ray of hope that the king is alive.

Somehow, Tang and Sandy manage to convince Pigsy to go with the two. He grumbles about it and inside it hurts to go to the home of the man you once loved, still love, knowing that he won’t be there.

Then the fight with Princess Iron Fan happens and Pigsy believes he lost his kid as well.

And it turns out that Xiaotian is fine, thankfully. When Mei asks if MK managed to find Wukong and MK says yes, that cements it, he’s alive. And he never visited them. He tries to not clench his fists in anger and watches as the kid fights DBK.

His kid, the one he thought was dead, is now Wukong’s successor. The king let him believe that Xiaotian was dead, stupid monkey.

That night, he goes on and on to Sandy and Tang about how he hates Wukong, that’s a lie, and how the king should have told him he was okay. He manages to convince them that they shouldn’t see Wukong. If he wanted to visit them, he would have done so.

Life goes on with the pig hearing little things about what the king is doing from Xiaotian, his chest aches. He wants to punch the king in his handsome face and he is so tempted to charge up onto that mountain and do so but he holds off.

And he kinda wonders why the king left. And a thought crosses his mind, maybe it was because of him. Maybe the king didn’t want to be around him any longer and decided to leave. He knows how bad he was in the past so the king probably had enough and decided to go.

Maybe Xiaotian decides to finally introduce Wukong to his favorite people, he’s heard some thing and the kid convinces him to do so. And he meets them and they remind him of his family because they are his family including the person he loved, loves most in the world. Either Wukong knows they’re the originals or believes they’re reincarnations and how they’re so close yet so far.

Wukong yearns for that closeness once again especially with Bajie, the pig who has captured his heart even with their differences and he tries to impress Pigsy a little. Pigsy tries to keep the monkey at arms length, he is not having his heart broken again, that monkey is not getting close to his family.

And yes, I made this insanely long. Thanks to whoever reads this.