#since in my mind the smoke - no matter the original color when breathed out - will quickly fade into pinks/purples

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Ok since you said that Fantasy! Barnaby's tobacco smoke will change color depending on his mood, so like what colors mean witch emotion? Im very curious

oh, very general emotions, it's not very Specific i'd think. cool colors correlate with cool emotions - like a frosty blue would mean he's feeling frigid, yk yk

[delimeful]

how easy you are to need (redux) (1)

the first chapter of my HEYATN rewrite! find the original here!

warnings: panic attacks, fear, hypervigilance, paranoia, mentions of freezing/starving

-

The first sign of the humans had been the smoke.

The scent had caught Virgil’s attention from the moment he woke, the light grey plumes curling over the tips of the trees in the distance. There’d been no recent storm to strike a flame, which meant that human hands had crafted it.

It wasn’t the first time. His forest was wide and sprawling, and it was near enough to a few well-worn traveling paths that humans thought it a fair place to set up camp for a night or two. The otherworldly aura of the forest itself tended to dissuade any longer stays.

(Eerie howling in the night also tended to do the trick.)

Virgil still had to check it out, of course, both as his home’s protector and to soothe his own agitation at the sight. It didn’t matter that they were almost always peaceful travelers, the presence of humans put him on edge every time.

And if the sensation of being watched drove the intruders away quicker? All the better.

He headed down the hillside, winding his way through the edges of his normal patrol route as he went. Nothing was amiss there, the wildlife scampering away at the sight of him, the natural magic of the area still abundant and thriving.

The source of the smoke was closer than he’d anticipated, though. It was rare that any were bold enough to camp any further than the edges of his territory, and yet here he was in the middle of the forest, the smell rapidly growing stronger.

He slowed, close enough now that the smoketrail was hidden by the long branches overhead. This was a familiar spot, there was a clearing up ahead, and—

Virgil stopped dead at the edge of the trees, staring at the abandoned cabin that had sat quietly in this clearing since he’d first stumbled into his forest.

There was smoke rising from the chimney.

He could smell the humans now, tracks and scent trails to and from the apparently formerly abandoned cabin. They must have trekked through a good quarter of his territory to get here, and he’d slept through the intrusion like an idiot. He paced back and forth agitatedly, circling around the clearing and remaining carefully out of sight as he did.

He’d been in that cabin before. How could he not have? Alone in these woods, there wasn’t much to do for fun except explore. Once he’d gotten past his initial skittishness, he’d been determined to investigate every inch of the dusty old place.

And then he’d realized it was a former den for hunters. He’d spent weeks on the other side of the woods, slowly working his way through the panic that had risen up in him at the simple thought: what if they return?

Even so, as time passed, he’d only grown more sure that the place was well and truly harmless. Nobody had been in there for years prior to Virgil’s arrival in the woods. Whatever use its hunters might have had for it, it had clearly been long abandoned and left to rot.

Of course, now there was smoke in the chimney, and the windows had been carefully pushed open, and there was a horse, grazing mildly.

Virgil took a deep breath, pausing his pacing to try and calm his racing heart. He couldn’t jump to conclusions.

Just because it was an old hunters’ den didn’t mean the new occupants were hunters. It might have been a simple act of opportunity, like a vole taking up an abandoned burrow.

The back door swung open, and Virgil went still, watching as a human donned in red strode over to the horse, patting its snout and murmuring softly to it. He offered it a handful of some sort of grain, which it seemed to enjoy, and then made his way to the center of the clearing and drew a sword from the sheathe at his hip.

Even from here, Virgil felt his skin prickle at the way the blade sang, radiating protective magics as the human moved through blocks and attacks against an invisible enemy. It had to be pure silver, and likely warded as thoroughly as possible against creatures like him. One didn’t simply obtain a weapon like that without knowing what it was, what it was meant for.

He backed away slowly, fading into the underbrush, until he was absolutely certain that he was free from the human— the hunter’s range of sight.

Then, mind full of white noise, he turned and bolted.

—-

He lost a day and a half to the blinding panic, cycling between fear-anger-exhaustion-terror until he’d finally burnt all the emotions out and collapsed.

It was an awful decision. He’d kept as far as possible from the cabin, even in his haze, and now he had no idea what the humans had done in his absence. If they knew he was there— if they’d set up traps— it would only take one slip and everything would be over.

No, if he was going to get rid of them, he needed to be as prepared as they no doubt were.

He spent sleepless nights scouring the forest, searching for any traces of them-- searching for their patrol routes, their traps, the damage to the forest they left in their wake.

But there was none. Not even a faded scent trail to suggest they’d ever been through at all. It seemed they were sticking close to the cabin.

For the first time, Virgil wondered if they’d really come for him. He hadn’t been seen by humans in years, often sticking to the shadows to scare off travelers that had overextended their stays. It was possible that they didn’t even know a shifter lived in the forest, let alone a werewolf. He couldn’t bet on it, but it was possible.

Whether he wanted to find out what they were doing here or just know what human tricks he’d be facing, he had to return to the cabin. He spent less time sleeping so that he could continue patrolling through his woods and also keep a wary eye on the humans when they roused.

The hunter was the easiest to spy on. He spent most of his time outdoors, running through a series of daily tasks that ranged from caring for the horse to gathering firewood to hauling water from the well. He practiced drills with that sword less frequently than Virgil would have expected, but when he did, he moved with the well-balanced motions and sure strikes of someone who knew their way around a weapon.

The other two were more difficult to get a read on. They didn’t seem like hunters in physique or manner, and they spent significantly more time indoors.

One had hands that carried the sharp, chemical smell of ink, and only made regular excursions from the house to mess with a plot of upturned land he’d had the hunter help him fence in. It was a garden, Virgil was fairly sure, though it looked nothing like the ones he’d planted, all careful rows and even spacing.

The other spent most of his time indoors, though he was anything but stagnant. Where the hunter focused on heavy labor and maintaining the exterior of the home, this one seemed to focus his attention on the interior care. Virgil often caught glimpses of him opening windows to air out dusty old linen or set sweet-smelling baked items along the sill.

Most interesting of all were the ways the three of them intersected.

The baker would bring simple food and drink to the scholar when he spent longer than usual wrist-deep in the dirt, and sneak the horse treats while the hunter wasn’t looking, completely unrepentant whenever he was caught.

The scholar would sit and watch the hunter run through drills, occasionally calling out an imaginary attack for him to counter, or share quiet conversation with the baker as dusk fell and the lantern bugs began to emerge.

Even the hunter was gentle, presenting freshly-plucked berries to the baker with a dramatic bow and excited smile, or crouching in the garden to listen as the scholar excitedly explained how well the new sprouts were doing.

It wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen from humans before.

He eventually decided they couldn’t know he was there; any hunter worth their salt would know that encroaching on a pack’s territory was tantamount to declaring war. The other two didn’t even seem to be combatants. If Virgil was anything other than an undersized, scrappy outlier, he could have killed all three of them at any point.

He probably still could, now that he knew when they slept and was well familiar with the ins and outs of that cabin. Unless they’d set up new defenses, or sealed off the secret passages, or randomly deviated from their normal sleeping schedule. Unless, unless, unless.

The forest had been as uneasy as him at first, but surprisingly enough, these new residents worked hard to avoid wreaking the casual destruction humans were known for. They didn’t clear swaths of land of all life or hunt the new season’s young.

As the days passed, they continued to just… exist there, long enough that deer passed through the clearing with barely the flick of an ear at the voices from inside the house.

Over time, the forest’s reluctance turned to ambivalence, and then to amusement at Virgil’s expense. He was the only one who seemed to be taking the threat seriously anymore, much to his annoyance. Sure, they hadn’t done anything yet, but the key word there was ‘yet’.

It was well into the moon’s cycle that his patience in watching the human’s was rewarded with witnessing a change in their routine. As dusk fell, the three of them left the clearing entirely, trekking into the woods with careful steps. Virgil followed at a safe distance, feeling suspicious about their uncharacteristic silence.

The hunter led the way with a glowing lantern, wary but with no sword at his hip. The baker walked behind him, carrying a wrapped, slightly bulky package in his arms, and the scholar brought up the rear with a lantern of his own. Every so often, the scholar would pause and then murmur directions.

It took Virgil an embarrassingly long time to realize they were following a leyline, and sure enough, once they reached an intersection point, they stopped and set up a brightly colored cloth, a few wooden dishes, and bound, dried herbs from the garden.

An offering, the forest seemed to croon around him, pleased with the cuts of meat and burnt herbs. Virgil couldn’t hear what the scholar said, the words quiet and slow, but with the forest present in the back of his mind, he got the general idea.

Reciprocity. Giving for what they had taken, a declaration of their intent.

The forest accepted the claim as it had accepted his offer years ago, the sound of it in the buzzing of the insects and the breeze rustling the leaves. The humans returned home, as much residents of these woods as Virgil was, now.

---

Between the forest’s new fondness and their own persistent harmlessness, Virgil couldn’t justify getting rid of the humans.

So instead, he stayed well away from them, only venturing out of his corner of the forest to supervise the offering trips they made into the heart of the woods on every half-moon, both waxing and waning. If the humans noticed either the forest's fond touch in the brush of its greenery against them or the weight of his narrow-eyed gaze upon them, they didn't show it.

The season shifted slowly, and then all at once. The forest grew quiet again, its greenery fading away as it and many of its inhabitants dropped into snowsleep. Virgil wished his own winter could pass so simply.

The humans’ arrival had dragged his attention away from his usual preparations, and he had enough difficulties hunting alone without adding new complications to the mix. As it stood, he had barely any body fat to speak of, and even his winter coat felt pitiful against the cutting winds and heavy snow.

Whenever he wasn’t hunting, he was curled up in his cave, wishing for the warmth of a pack to surround him. He usually ran warm, enough that even the night’s chill didn’t bother him, but it was a different story in this weather. Shifting wasn’t an option either— His human form could barely withstand minutes in the cold, let alone hours.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure whether he’d drifted towards the cabin on purpose or simply subconsciously followed the smell of smoke. The result had been the same either way.

The house had looked unbearably warm against the bleak landscape, and Virgil had spent ages arguing with himself before slinking towards the abode, unable to bear another sleepless night having any scrap of heat leached away. Honestly, he’d been half-surprised to wake up this morning.

He slunk around the edges of the building, his heart pounding at the muffled voices inside. They had no reason to believe a werewolf resided here. He was small enough to resemble a normal wolf if they caught him. He might simply be earning himself a quicker death, put down like a simple wild animal, but he felt too numb to care.

The cabin’s foundation was solid, but Virgil had spent a fair amount of time exploring the human den as a pup, telling himself he was conquering his fear. It was certainly a hunter’s hideout; he’d found a staggering number of secret passages and hidey-holes built into it for easy escape. With a little prying, they could also be used for easy entrance.

The boarded up entrance to the crawl space was just where he remembered it, faded defensive runes carved into the wood. The enchantments were long defunct, the boards old and rotted, and he’d wriggled through the crawl space enough as a kid to know that there were no lingering traps in wait.

He braced himself, and then shifted with low cracks of bone and flesh. This close to the full moon, it ached like sore muscles, but not as bad as the cold stung at his now-human body. Gritting his teeth, he quickly dug his nails into the wood, able to pry the planks free even with half-frozen fingers. Task done, he shifted back as quick as he could and waited for an agonizing moment, listening for any signs that he’d been heard.

Nothing. The distant voices carried on without a pause.

He hesitated again, but in mere seconds, meager warmth began trickling out from the opening, baiting him more effectively than any supernatural lure. He ducked his head and crawled into the passage, which was more cramped than he’d recalled but still manageable. Step by silent step, he crept through the crawl space, letting the growing heat sink into him until the biting cold was barely more than a memory.

He hadn’t realized just how far under the cabin he’d ventured until a voice rang out directly above him, the actual words lost in the rush of panic he felt, crouched and vulnerable with a human was only meters away.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent like that, tremors vibrating through him as old memories came rushing back. It was small things that brought him back; the smell of ink, the crackling of a hearth, shared laughter. He’d had none of those, back then, but they were here now. He was here now.

The humans continued to chatter casually, none of them aware that there was a beast lying in wait just under the floorboards. They didn’t know he was there. He was safely hidden away.

Slowly, inch by inch, Virgil relaxed, head tucked against his paws, adjusting bit by bit until even the creaks of the humans moving about over his head didn’t register as a threat.

Finally warm, he dropped into sleep between one exhale and the next.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥𝓔𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓮

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑠! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 × 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑒! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠/ 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~"𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." - 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝐾𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑧𝑎𝑛.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

"Eros, my darling son.......come here for a minute."

The golden haired goddess gently stroke the dove that was nestled in her embrace, her eyes fixated on the ray of light that shone through the crystal windows of her palace.

She heard the footsteps of her beloved child stop right in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down in obeisance to her, his arm rested across his chest.

"Yes mother?" The snowy white haired deity awaited her instructions.

"I've been rather uneasy lately my love. Very uneasy." She waved her hand and he slowly rose up, eyes meeting hers.

"Why is that?"

The Olympian got up from her seat, sending the little dove flying away to perch itself on one of the trees that decorated the room. Gracefully, she paced around the room, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, fingers tapping against each other as she mused about the current situation.

"There's been....some unsettling rumors being spread in the mortal world and it has reached Olympus..."

Eros waited for her to continue. It must have been something very grievous for her to be so out of sorts, and this was the same goddess who didn't fear the consequences when her long life affair with his father, Ares, was discovered.

She peered down the window, sneering at the city below that was barely visible with all the clouds covering a vast majority of it.

"Apparently one of the daughter's of the King of Athens is said to be remarkably beautiful....."

She paused as she took a deep breath, jaw clenching as she sputtered out the next words.

"So enchanting that they dare compare her to me....Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty itself....

They've even begun to bring gifts and worship her on the day they're supposed to pay respect and praise to me!"

Eros flinched slightly when she hastily turned around and marched past him, tipping over a table that held a tray with a golden tea set. But he didn't stop her, so used to his mother's infantile tantrums, although he was pretty shocked to hear the severity of the issue. To worship a mere mortal, one who was so far below one of the gods, and not just any god, but one of the 12 Olympians themselves, was inconceivable.

Aphrodite clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to control her fury threatening to seek vengeance.

"I need you to go down there and find out who she is. And when you find her.....shoot her." She commanded him.

Eros nodded, understanding what she was asking of him.

"Who would you like me to have her fall for?"

Aphrodite groaned in annoyance.

"Oh! I don't know! Anyone or anything! An old haggard beggar, a toad, have her go mad over a tree stump for all I care! Just make her go insane!" She threw a cluster of grapes across the room, scaring the flock of doves who flew away to different parts of the room.

"As you wish my goddess."

Eros bowed to his mother one last time before retreating out of the hall, and going to his own chambers to prepare his necessary equipment for the journey. He too was curious to find out just how captivating this woman really was.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The young girl sighed softly as she looked at all the smoke coming out from the temple, the light scent of incense could be made out from her bedroom window. She was well aware and against what was going on in there. It was utterly disrespectful of her father to allow them and even encourage his citizens to offer sacrifices to her in Aphrodite's sacred temple, and on her very own yearly celebration. Had they no fear of a wrath from the gods?

She simply looked away and went to her own little corner where she made a small shrine dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love and fertility. She admired the small marble figurine of the goddess herself, and straightened out the roses and pearls surrounding it. She lit fire to a few myrtles and let them burn in a small ash tray as she murmured one of the many hymns in devotion to the deity. If she wasn't so soft hearted, she would have finished it off with sacrificing one of the best doves that were kept in the stables, but she could never bring herself to do that. She hoped the goddess would understand and forgive her, or at least, try to appease her for all the foolishness her father was causing.

She straightened her nightgown and crawled under the blankets of her grand bed. She was exhausted from the day's festivities and from the guilt and fear eating her alive. She shut her eyes, secretly hoping it was nothing but a bad dream and when she awoke, everything would be fine and back to the ways it was meant to be. She soon was fast asleep, only movements coming out of her body were the rising of her chest, signaling her breathing.

A soft thud landed on her balcony. The being looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen him. Not that it mattered, even if they did, they would tremble away in fear. Pushing the window open, he let himself inside the girl's bedroom, the one they reverenced as Psyche. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed which he cautiously approached. His hand reached out to pull away at the drapes covering the sleeping figure.

"Let's see who is it that is said to rival Aphrodite."

Eros pulled the drape away, letting the moonlight behind him shine on the face of the occupant on the bed. His arm fell to his side, slapping slightly against his thigh as he took in the beautiful countenance of the woman sleeping peacefully in front of him. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was indeed real. She was absolutely breathtaking, almost ethereal, never had his sight been blessed by such radiant and magnificent beauty, and he'd spent some time around Poseidon's Nereids.

Without realizing it, his hand reached out to caress her face or simply push back a lock of her hair, he himself didn't know what he was doing. But a small shifting of position on her part made him retract his hand, elbow grazing on the leather of the pouch on his back.

That's right. He still had a mission to carry out.

His arm reached back and grabbed an arrow from the pouch. He then proceeded to hover his hand above the tip, humming the soft incantation that would allow him to pierce the girl's heart and render her insane for the first object she saw. As he chanted, she began to stir in her sleep, putting Eros on guard, hoping she wouldn't wake up. He took in how her once peaceful expression, showed now sorrow and pain. It somehow pained him to see such a beautiful girl seem so troubled. He was so lost in her gaze that he didn't realise it until it was too late...

Until he felt the sharp tip of the arrow prick into his palm, even piercing the skin. Eros widened his eyes as he quickly yanked the arrow out, flinging it across the room. He looked at his hand, no blood coming out because he was an immortal, but he still clutched it as he felt an overwhelming pain and flutter course through his entire body. His heart started to pump at a faster pace, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to look away, but his mind forced him to look back at the unsuspecting girl on the bed.

"Oh no......what have I done?" He whispered softly.

Feeling dizzy, he scurried out the window, not caring anymore about being seeing in the dark of night, he just knew he wanted to back in Olympus as soon as possible. He flew back into the heavens, discarding only a few white feathers on his desperate flight back.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Psyche stood in front of the mirror, trying not to gaze at her own reflection, which she thought of as more of a curse than a blessing. She simply let her maids comb and adorn her hair as they wished and wrap a golden belt around her lilac colored tunic.

"My lady would you like breakfast brought to you or would you prefer to go down to the dining room?" One of them inquired.

She shook her head.

"I won't be taking breakfast today thank you."

The maids exchanged a puzzled look between each other but decided not to pry any longer. They simple allowed their mistress to wander off to the castle's pavilion located in the center of the gardens.

She preferred being alone these days, avoiding as many people as possible, but especially her father. Lately he had been rambling and complaining non stop at the lack of suitors coming to propose marriage to her. It'd been almost a year since he put out the announcement that she was of age and ready to be betrothed to any suitable prince or monarch, he had even raised the dowry triple what it was originally worth, but still, no one had come to claim her or propose.

"Perhaps it's just as well." She thought to herself. It wouldn't surprise her if this was how Aphrodite was showing her anger, by making her face the humiliation of being unwedded and childless.

Perhaps the biggest thing bothering her was the fact men just came to admire her beauty, but seemed to never really fall in love with her, and she herself couldn't fall in love either. Was she just a pretty face for people to gawk and fawn over? Was she destined to feel lonely and empty for the rest of her life?

"Little Psyche out here all alone?"

She stiffened when she heard the voice of her eldest sister, Amara, from behind her. Small steps let her know she was entering the pavilion and soon enough, she felt her presence stand right next to her.

"I wanted to be alone. That's all." She explained, although she really didn't feel the need to.

Her sister hummed softly.

"Would one really think that to be such a good idea? Father would be concerned if anything happened to his precious and beautiful Psyche, especially after that incident of the arrow in your room."

She was getting irritated at this point, her hand gripping harshly at the side of her tunic, creasing it slightly.

"That was many months ago Amara.....and I've said before that I don't like the title given to me by my father and the people....."

She took a deep breath before stating firmly:

"My name is Y/N and I shall be referred as such."

Her sister was taken aback by her sharp tone, but paid no attention to it. She opted for plucking some of the little violets that surrounded one of the pillars.

"As you wish....after all, anything you say is practically law. Anything you desire, you'll get." Her voice was laced with envy.

Y/N shook her head.

"Not everything."

Although she was referring to the fact her father refused to listen to her in the matter of Aphrodite's temple, her sister wrongly thought she meant the matter of matrimony.

"Oh don't worry little sister. Father is to go visit the Oracle of Delphi to seek help from Apollo in regards to your.......shameful circumstances."

Y/N couldn't stand it anymore. It's not that she hated her sister, but lately she seemed to enjoy in taking delight of her misery and pain, hurting her with her mock pity and double sided remarks.

"If you'll excuse me Amara, I shall go back inside."

Y/N was barely 4 feet away when her sister dismissed her.

"See you later......Psyche."

Y/N refused to eat during the entire day, worrying her loyal and trustworthy maids.

"But Miss....you must eat at least a little. Whatever shall you do if your beauty fades away?"

'Then I shall be content.'

She only thought those words but didn't say them out loud. She felt bad about her maids attending to her with such tenderness that she forced herself to at least eat some of the grapes in front of her. It seemed to put her maids more at ease and Y/N was happy about it.

"Anything in particular you wish for us to do Miss?"

There was one thing she really wanted. Something everyone around her never seemed to do anymore.

"Could you......could you please call me Y/N?"

The two women looked back and forth at each other, unsure of whether to refer to the princess in such an informal way.

"Please?"

Y/N was just craving to be reminded of who she truly was, be assured about her existence and her true person. Both women smiled fondly at her before curtsying to her.

"Lady Y/N."

She felt her heart full with warmth and felt happier in that moment than she had felt in the last 8 months that had gone by. But that happiness was short lived when her door swung open, her other sister, Melia rushing in, looking out of sorts and with fear in her eyes.

"Melia? What's wrong?"

Y/N stood up, but it was her sister who clutched onto her and sobbed on her neck.

"Oh poor Psyche! Why must this have happened to you? To my dear little sister?"

Y/N didn't know what to make of this, but it must be something dreadful if her usually composed and quiet sibling was hysteric. She pulled her back to take in her countenance.

"Tell me. What is it?" Y/N pleaded.

Melia pursed her lips before recounting what she heard and witnessed.

"Father came back from meeting with Apollo's Oracle......and Psyche, it's dreadful!"

Y/N gulped slightly. Although she was expecting the answer to not be a favorable one, she was not expecting this outburst.

"Tell me Mel.......am I not to get married ever?"

Y/N braced herself for the negative response.

Melia shook her head though.

"No Psyche.....it's much much worse than that."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that. What could there possibly be that was worse than not getting married?

"The Oracle told father that your husband has already been chosen for you. He gave us instructions that we are to deliver you to the top of Mount Lycabettus, dressed in black and to leave you there...."

She sniffled and held her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Will my husband meet us there?" She questioned.

Melia shook her head no.

"Well- then how can we be married?" She was beyond puzzled at this point.

"We don't know Psyche, the Oracle only said to deliver you. One thing is sure Psyche. Your husband is not mortal."

Y/N would have rejoiced at the information would it not have been for the terror in her sister's eyes.

"Melia tell me.....who exactly is my husband?"

Melia seemed troubled to reveal more information to her, but she knew she had to say it.

"We don't know. He refused to tell father. All he mentioned was that he flies through the skies and even the gods are terrified of him.....

"Psyche....I fear you're destined to marry a monster..."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The girl watched as her parents, sisters and their husbands disappeared from sight, not even leaving behind their footprints to keep her company. Crouching down, she settled herself onto the ground, her arms wrapping around to hug her knees. She sighed in despair as she thought about what was going to happen to her now. Was her new husband really a monster? It seemed to be the only logical explanation if even gods were afraid of him. The only thing she could think of was....

A titan?

'No it can't be.'

She quickly discarded that thought. All of the titans were locked away in Tartarus. And the world would have definitely known if a titan had gotten out.

She anxiously waited for a sign, a movement of some kind, but nothing ever came. All she had to accompany her besides her solitude was the light breeze that blew some of her hair in front of her face. She shivered slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she rubbed them with her hands. She faintly noticed that the wind seemed to be getting a little more heavier, and it seemed as though fog started to appear around her. But Y/N couldn't really pay attention to it as she felt herself getting drowsy and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the feeling was overtaking her. Her eyes ended up closing as she fell back onto the moss underneath her, falling fast asleep without even knowing why.

While asleep, she felt a strange sensation of being lifted up and carried up into the sky, almost as if though she were flying.....but that was surely impossible? But it felt so real. She had a fantastical dream of flying above the peak of mountains, drift through the clouds in the sky and somehow even be close to the stars. She felt as if she were being carried in the arms of some strong entity. And at the end, she could faintly hear a voice assure her:

"Have no fear little one, for you are truly loved."

Awakening hours later, when it was even darker and more deep into the night than before, she sat up and looked around at her surroundings. The green moss from before was no longer accompanying her. Instead, she awoke to find herself placed on an ivory marble resting bench. Beautiful varieties of roses surrounded what she guessed to be a very beautiful and luxurious garden. Her hand reached out to caress one of them, its petals being one of the most soft things she'd ever felt.

Standing up, she followed the stone path that was right in front of her. A tiny river flowed through the garden, a slight trickling sound was the only noise that was heard. She stopped when a grand and extravagant mansion stood before her. It was 10 times more beautiful and seemed more expensive than the very castle she grew up in. Cautiously, she over to the front door, which seemed to be made out of pure gold, pearls adorning the edges of them.

Y/N was about to knock on it, but to her surprise, the doors opened by themselves. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes bulging out as her eyes took in the hall in front of her. Clean and neatly polished marble floor, crimson red silk drapes covering large and vast windows, the furniture looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her hand was gliding over the ottoman in the center of it when a voice called out:

"Welcome mistress! We have been expecting you!"

She whipped her head around, then looked at all directions, but found no one standing anywhere near her.

"Who...who are you?" Y/N fearfully looked at the ceiling then at every corner, wondering where the voice was.

"We're your servants mistress." A chorus of at least 5 women rang out, puzzling her even more.

"Where....are you?"

The invisible women giggled amongst themselves.

"We are right here next to you mistress. I'm afraid you just can't see us."

Y/N watched as a silver pitcher was lifted up in the air, pouring what seemed to be wine in a glass cup, which was then hovered right in front of her.

"Wine mistress?"

Y/N hesitantly took the cup, indeed feeling someone's weight let go of it. She took a small sip of the wine, its rich and crisp flavor enticing her to drink more of it.

"Would you care for any fruits?" A platter holding strawberries, grapes, cherries and blueberries were held up in front of her. They looked so fresh and ripe, Y/N couldn't help but reach for one of the grapes, her tastebuds becoming completely engaged at how delicious and juicy they were.

She no longer felt disturbed by the faceless voices talking to her, nor about the objects floating around, carrying articles that were being offered to her, and she did not get startled when she heard music filling the room, playing the most sweet and beautiful melody her ears were blessed to hear. She just let her invisible attendants feed her some exotic foods that she never even knew existed. She also didn't mind them guiding her to a lavatory, where there was a bathtub, the size of a large pond already waiting for her. She nearly slipped into another deep sleep when she stepped inside, the warm water relaxing her muscles while the scent of lavender calmed and eased her mind. After washing her body, her maids oiled and scented her body with vanilla and jasmine while they dried her. She saw as a periwinkle blue robe was extended towards her and Y/N slipped into it, her hands caressing the soft, velvet material, smoothing the folds on her waist and hips.

"Oh mistress! You look so beautiful!" One of them cheerfully exclaimed.

"You're the most beautiful creature we've been honored to serve." Another piped in.

"We're so happy to have you here with us. It shall be a lot more livelier now." She heard someone chuckle.

"I think our job for tonight is done. My lady, please step into the room behind the other door. The master will join you shortly."

Y/N was so filled with bliss and contentment, that she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. Recalling her sister words, she begged her maids not to leave her, but they apologized and retreated to who knows where, leaving her by herself once again. Her hand reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before she stepped into the next room.

Y/N tried to move around in the space, but it was extremely difficult because the room was pitch black. She could barely make out the outlines of the chairs, the bed draped with curtains or the dressers. On the corner, she saw a single window, but the curtains were drawn, and even if it was open, the dark night would hardly help her see any better. Y/N out stretched her arms, grabbing onto the empty void around her to maneuver herself to the bed, where she settled down into, hugging her knees like she did back when her family left her on top of the mountain.

She rocked herself back and forth as many thoughts ran over her mind:

'When will he arrive? Will he be kind or not? What will he look like....

And who was he?'

Y/N rested her hands on her arms that were hugging her knees, her eyes closing, but she wasn't tired at all. She just wished time would speed up faster and someone could explain to her what was going on. She felt a light breeze suddenly pass through the room. Looking up, she saw that the curtains by the window had been moved, pushed slightly open, letting just the dimmest sliver of light pour in, but she still couldn't see anything.

She felt something .....someone else in the room with her. On edge, she quickly sat up from the bed and tried to make way back to the other room.

"You have nothing to fear my dearest Y/N."

She halted at the sound of her name. She was expecting to be called that odious title she was often referred to, but instead, she heard her very own name.

"How....how do you know my name?"

The deep, baritone voice spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fitting for a husband to not know his own wife's name, don't you think?"

Y/N eased slightly at his words but still felt nervous.

"Where...are you?" She took small steps, eyes squinting to see something, anything.

She felt a rush of warmth fill up her body when a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"I'm right here beside you, where I shall always be."

She didn't tremble at his touch, on the contrary, she relaxed and her fear was suddenly gone. Whoever the stranger was, he slowly turned her around to face him. She could make out a bit of his outline, but still couldn't define any of his features or details.

"Why aren't there any lamps? I can't see you."

Lifting her hand, he placed it on his cheek, his skin feeling as soft as a petal.

"See me with your touch my love."

Her hand delicately traced his features, trying to imagine what he looked like. He had a very sharp jawline, a well defined nose and delicately carved lips that tempted her to reach up and kiss them. She was still confused as to why she couldn't see him though. As if on cue, he spoke:

"I know it must be difficult for you to understand this Y/N. But please don't be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Y/N retracted her hand.

"My...my sister said you're a monster."

He chuckled heartedly, his voice full of music and splendor.

"Do I feel like a monster or sound like one?"

Y/N giggled softly, realizing it did seem silly.

"If you're not a monster though......why can't I see you?"

She could feel the man in front of her think about how to answer her. Sighing softly, he took her hand again, holding it with his two hands and running a thumb on the top of it.

"I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to that question yet...."

She felt her heart sink at his words. She lowered her head in disappointment. Not wanting to upset her more, he kissed the palm of her hand and swore:

"Just please trust me Y/N, and I'll promise to love you forever......can you trust me?"

Maybe she was mad or delusional, but in spite of all the mystery surrounding him, she sincerely felt the veracity of his promise and had no doubt in her mind about trusting him. She moved closer to him, accidentally stepping too far and colliding with his firm chest.

"Umph!" Y/N groaned slightly.

He giggled softly at her cute action. He saw as she tried to reach out again to feel him, but instead pulled her hand away.

"You can touch me love."

Her hands once again traced his smooth face, traveling down his neck before resting on his broad shoulders. Although he felt somewhat slim, his body seemed very toned and vigorous. Y/N wanted to drop her hands further but she felt to shy to do it. Once again, he read her mind.

"Y/N....it's ok. We're married." He drew out that last word, more to himself than to her.

Her hands pressed down across his chest. She could tell his tunic was made out of fine linen, even if she couldn't see it. His chest felt strong and sturdy, she bit her lip slightly as she pictured what it would look like in the light, without his garment.

She gasped when she felt him pull her against him, his breath against her lips, just wanting to close the space between them and kiss her. His finger traced the curve of her luscious and plump lips. Although she was content with everything he'd said so far, there was just one more question she had:

"I....... I don't know what to call you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean....you know my name....but you never told me yours." She pulled away slightly.

He realized she was right. She felt him smile at her as he brought her face close to his again.

"Please call me Yeosang." Her heart fluttered when she heard his name.

Yeosang brushed his lips against hers.

"Trust me my dear. I love you with all my heart."

Y/N melted at his words and before she knew it, she whispered back:

"I love you too....Yeosang."

As soon as she spoke out those words, Yeosang could no longer control himself as he enclosed his lips over hers in a passionate and loving kiss. Y/N blushed at being kissed for the first time in her life, but happily returned the gesture, surprised that she easily could. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Yeosang was beautiful, ethereal and very kind...

And she was already falling in love with him.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

It had been roughly 4 months into their marriage and Y/N was extremely happy. He'd visit her in the dead of night everyday, as usual, in the pitch black so she couldn't see him, but she had grown accustomed to that. He'd usually leave before she was even awake and before the sun would even start coming out. He'd always leave a red rose by her dresser everyday, attached with a small note filled with terms of endearment and vows of love and adoration for her, always succeeding in making her blush.

Y/N was more than content. Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she wouldn't turn away nor hate the face she saw. She came to love her appearance now, because there was light and love in it. She was in love, she was loved and there was no greater feeling than that.

During the day, she would either spend time outside in the garden or inside, her maids, or rather, their presence, always keeping her company. She loved listening to their stories about the world she was now a part of, finding them extremely fascinating. They were all so gentle and caring towards her, attending to her every needs and overall staying by her side so she wouldn't get lonely.

"Won't you tell us something about where you are from for once Mistress?"

Y/N was elated, happily telling them all about her home, her family, how she grew up and various other aspects of her life.

"You seem very close to your family Misstress." One of them observed.

"I am. I love them very much, and I have such fondness for my sisters...."

She stopped at the moment. It hit her how she hadn't heard from her family since she got there, nor did they have any idea of her whereabouts or her fate. Her heart suddenly felt sad as she began missing them terribly.

"Mistress is something wrong?"

Y/N quickly plastered a smile back on her face, not wanting them to be concerned at all. Instead suggesting they all play a game together so she wouldn't think about it. But it was futile. Her mind kept thinking back to her family. She missed them more and more. She hardly ate anything else for the rest of the day, instead opting to go to her room rather early, even though it'd be hours before Yeosang got there. She wept silently, her tears staining the pillow underneath her face. She tried to keep a positive and cheerful attitude when he did finally got there, but he could sense that something was troubling his beloved wife.

"What's bothering you my love?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"I miss my family...."

Yeosang tightened his embrace around her, his lips kissing her temple. Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent that always calmed and soothed her mind.

"They must be so worried about me. They probably don't even know if I'm alive or not." She continued to pour out her distress.

Yeosang was pensive for a moment, wondering what he could do to help his sweetheart.

"Would you like to write to them? I can have someone give it to them." He offered.

Although Y/N found it kind of him to offer it, more than anything, she wanted to see them.

"I was actually wondering......if maybe they could come see me?" She reluctantly asked.

She very well noticed how Yeosang tensed up. Even in the darkness, she had learned to read his body language and knew he was hesitating about what to respond.

"I......I'm not sure that's a good idea love..."

Yeosang's heart felt when he heard a disappointed sigh escape her lips. It hurt her to see her in such a state. All he wanted was to make her happy. So although there were going to be risks, he agreed.

"They can't meet me. But if you wish, I can have Zephyr bring them here just like he brought you."

Y/N became so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Cupping Yeosang's face, she kissed him fervently, her reaction making Yeosang chuckle.

"Does it really make you that happy?" He questioned as he caressed her face.

Y/N nodded happily.

"So I take it you won't need anything else tonight?"

Well....there was actually one more thing. Y/N bit her lip as she stared up at Yeosang with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh.....I see."

Y/N could hear the smugness in his voice, but she didn't care. Not when he lips made her melt, when his hands caressed and fondled her tenderly and especially not when he slid in and out of her in such a passionate and loving way, bringing her into such a euphoric state. Another thing she discovered about Yeosang: he was an amazing lover, she almost felt drunk in his love whenever his body became one with hers.

Yeosang let out a grunt when he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around him as she also reached her own high. Without pulling out, Yeosang bent down to kiss her again, his hand reaching down to press against her stomach.

"I can't wait until you become pregnant with my child. I bet you'll look even more lovely than what you already are."

Y/N felt her face flush at his words. Suddenly feeling confident, she teased him.

"How about we try again? Just in case."

Yeosang sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at her hips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, moans slipping out of her lips as Yeosang moved inside of her once again, this time at a more fast and rough pace than before.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N offered more pastries to her sisters. Melia excitedly accepted them, loving how rich and exquisite the foods at her little sister's place were. Amara however refused, her eyes still looking around at the place. She was very put off by how strange Y/N's circumstances were. The weird wind that transported them there, the invisible servants, the fact they could not meet her husband? It was extremely confusing. But most of all, she was insanely jealous of how Y/N was living. Her mansion was 10 times better than hers, the food was of better quality than what was served at her castle and everything was just so much more expensive.

"You seem to be...very happy here." Amara pointed out, her lips pursed tightly.

Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"I'm more than happy. I love it here. And I love my husband."

"Such a shame we couldn't meet him. Do you know when we will get the opportunity?" Melia asked.

"Oh...umm.....the thing is...you can't meet him..." Y/N fumbled with the sash across her dress.

Her two older sisters looked at her incredulously, then they looked at each other with a suspicious look.

"So is it true then? That he's a monster with scaly skin, serpent tongue and sharp teeth?" Melia looked frightened.

Y/N slammed her fist on the table, outraged that they'd dare think such things of Yeosang like that.

"He's not a monster! He's beautiful, absolutely handsome and the most kind being I have ever met!"

Her outburst made them even more curious.

"Then tell me Psyche, what does he look like?" Amara raised an eyebrow.

"It's Y/N! My name is Y/N. And.....I......I don't know! But I just know he's beautiful!"

Melia seemed puzzled.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

Feeling cornered, Y/N had no choice but to tell them how her husband would only visit her at night, shrouded in darkness and whisper loving words in her ear. That only served to sprout out more questions from her siblings.

"How can you possibly be in love with him if you've never seen him?"

"I just am!" Y/N exclaimed.

"If he doesn't see you during the day, where does he go to?" Amara pressed on.

"I don't know." Y/N answered.

Not wanting to miss the chance to hurt her younger sister, Amara smirked wickedly at her.

"I bet I know where."

It took Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what her sister was implying, but when she did, it only served to further anger her.

" You're wrong. I know What you're thinking and you're wrong. Yeosang loves me!" She was fuming at this point.

Amara however rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

"All right. Let's say he really is as handsome as you say he is. Why must he be so stubborn about not letting you see him nor know where he goes off to?"

Y/ N crossed her arms.

"I don't know. He asked me to trust him and I do".

Melia now seemed concerned for her.

"Psyche... do you not realize that maybe ...... he could be seeing other women while he's away?"

Y/N now froze at what her sister said. Her brain kept telling her not to listen to them, that Yeosang was faithful to her and would never lie to her. But then she remembered how her own sister's husbands behaved and she couldn't help but think if perhaps Yeosang would do anything similar like them.

"No..... it can't be true...."

Amara suspiciously came up behind Y/N, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"If he really did love you.....why would he force you to live with such doubts?"

That was the final drop that made the glass tip over. Y/N had to find out who exactly it was that was sleeping with her every night.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited until Yeosang was fast asleep, his breathing calm and serene. Carefully, she peeled herself from his grasp and crept out of the bed and to one of the dressers. She silently took out a candle and match that she had secretly hid inside. Walking as cautiously as she could, she stood by the edge of the bed where Yeosang was. Taking a deep breath, she striked the match and lit up the candle, holding it up so she could finally see him for the very first time.

Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. He was absolutely glorious. His hair was white like the snow in winter, skin fair like marble ivory, his jawline was chiseled to perfection with a nose that seemed to have been carved to perfection. And he layed there, sleeping soundly with absolutely no clue that she had just betrayed his trust.

"Oh no.....what have I done?"

Y/N was so horrified with herself that she unconsciously tumbled backwards, hitting herself on a piece of furniture. Suddenly Yeosang awoke, his eyes painted with agony once he realized what was happening.

"I.....I can explain!"

But Yeosang simply sat up without a word, already reaching for his tunic. He sighed as he stood up and walked towards the window.

"Please forgive me Yeosang! I beg you!"

Y/N dropped to her knees, tears pouring out her eyes. Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, head full of turbulent thoughts that he couldn't place in order.

"Please just say something!" She cried out, desperate to hear his voice.

"I knew it would be a bad idea to let you see your sisters. I knew they'd turn you against me and actually betray me...."

If they were still in the dark, Y/N would have still been able to recognize the hurt and pain in his words.

"I'm sorry Yeosang! I'm sorry for not trusting you! But I kept thinking about their words, they said you were probably visiting other-"

"You could have chosen to not listen to them! No one forced you to believe them! You chose to act on your own accord!".

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, and it boomed all over the room, making her tremble in fear. Yeosang opened the window and stepped out into the balcony.

"No no! Please!"

Y/N ran after him, her hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep him there. Gently, he pried her hands off him, looking somberly at her.

"My mother told me not to trust you. That you were a mortal woman and would never understand me or us, and break my trust. I could never believe that she was right....."

Y/N saw as tears filled on the brim of his eyes.

"But I was too madly in love to listen to her..... I guess I truly did get a taste of my own medicine."

Yeosang made way to leave again, but Y/N held onto him.

"Please don't leave me! I'll die without you! I love you Yeosang!"

Not able to contain his feelings anymore, Yeosang pushed her off him and turned sternly to her.

"Don't.....ever say such lies again...and don't address me so informally you lowly mortal. I am not your equal and I am no longer Yeosang to you..."

Y/N covered her mouth in terror and astonishment when ethereal and shiny wings sprouted from his back, making him look even more heavenly than he already was.

"I am Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, the god of love ......... and you......."

He sniffled as tears streamed down his face.

"I can't stay here knowing that I want to hold you..."

Without any other word, speedily flew out of there, disappearing from her sight. Y/N shouted for him, going mad at the thought that she had just lost the love of her life. She was so erratic that she didn't think twice before she flung herself down the balcony, not wanting to live without her love. Unfortunately for her, a large gust of wind stopped her fall, placing her gently on the ground, thwarting her plan.

"Let me die!" Y/N pounded the ground.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Psyche. Aside from being tasked to bring you here, Eros appointed me to make sure no harm should ever come to you."

Although it was supposed to be calming, Zephyr's voice only angered her.

"So I can't even die?!"

Zephyr sent a small breeze, the only physical way of comfort he could bring her since he was invisible.

"Psyche, we both know you don't actually want to die."

"Yes I do! My heart is broken. My love is gone and it's because of my foolishness. I have nothing else to live for!" She declared.

Zephyr sighed.

"My lady....all hope is not lost. I may perhaps.....know a way of helping you."

Y/N perked her ears at his words.

"But first, allow me to tell you a little story, one you don't know about but in which you were the main protagonist."

Y/N watched as a swirl of clouds formed above her, Zephyr trying to make his presence manifested as he began recounting a story:

"Now...it all began when the people began to worship you instead of Aphrodite. I know, we all do you tried to stop them. We weren't blind to it. But Aphrodite is a jealous goddess. She could not stand someone being compared to her. So she sent Eros to you with the task of making you fall in love with a toad or something similar."

Y/N didn't seem too surprised by that. She knew fully well who Eros was and why he was feared even among gods, because no one was immune to his arrows that made them fall in love.

"He came to you one night while you were sleeping. He was so distracted by your beauty that he ended up pricking himself with his own arrow."

Now it made sense to her what he meant when he said he had gotten a dose of his own medicine. She was shocked that this actually happened.

"Eros had fallen in love with you. Curious isn't it, that while you were the most admired woman in the country, no one proposed. Wanna know why? Because Eros stepped in every time, making any suitor fall in love with someone else so they wouldn't take you away from him."

Y/N remembered all those months where no one approached her. Now it all made sense.

"Poor Eros was also begging his mother to let him marry you. But of course, being as stubborn as she is, Aphrodite refused. It became such a quarrel between them that Eros refused to obey her anymore if she didn't agree. Of course, she couldn't have that, so she allowed him to marry you on one condition: your love had to be put to a test....which....I think you know what it was."

Y/N nodded. He asked her to trust him even if she couldn't see him, but she betrayed him.

"Aphrodite probably isn't surprised. She expected it all along. But Eros......he was so in love with you that he put all his faith and trust in your love. And now.....he's probably back home again, moaning and crying just like when he came back that night he met you."

Now the guilt began to eat her up.

"I don't deserve him. I never did. I deserve to die."

Zephyr sighed once again.

"Now now child. As I said. Not all hope is lost. Listen very carefully to me Psyche. Here's what you're going to do."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited for the goddess to arrive. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, playing with the belt on her tunic. She suddenly felt a gush of wind pass by her. Light started to emanate from the ground. Y/N stared in wonder as a powerful entity appeared before her, looking so radiant and angelic that Y/N froze in place before remembering who was standing in front of her. She fell to the ground in honor and respect for the goddess in front of her.

"My goddess Aphrodite. I am your humble servant who has offered sacrifices at your temple and-"

"Oh stop groveling like a little bitch and get up." The goddess sneered at her.

Y/N slowly got up. Aphrodite stepped closer to her, one of her slender fingers tilting her chin up as she closely scanned her rival's face. Bewilderment took over her features, a scoff coming out of her mouth.

"Impressive. Very extraordinary. ..."

She let go of her and backed away.

"Pity though that your eyes are still red and puffy from weeping like a child. It really does not suit you....nevertheless, even I acknowledge you're beautiful and pleasing...."

She crossed her arms.

"No wonder my son is so smitten with you."

Y/N glanced up at the mention of Yeosang.

"Tell me, how is Yeosang? How is my husband."

Aphrodite lifted a hand.

"First of all, you have no right to call him by his birth name. You shall only address him by his godly name you mortals know. And second, he isn't your husband anymore, not after you broke your end of the marriage."

Being reminded of her acts, Y/N once again felt remorseful and ashamed. But she was not about to give up.

"If there's anything I can do to mend things, I'm prepared to do it."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes I know very well you are willing to. Zephyr didn't bring you here just for giggles or a cup of tea. And either way, sooner or later Zeus and Hera would have been on my ass about intervening, not to mention that his father wouldn't leave me alone if he saw the state his son was in."

Y/N beamed with joy at the thought of being able to mend things with her love.

"Thank you oh most merciful goddess!" Y/N resisted the urge to throw her hands around the goddess and hug her.

Aphrodite, however, dismissed her thanks.

"Don't get so happy yet foolish girl. I haven't even told you what the tasks are yet."

Beckoning her to follow, Aphrodite lead her through a meadow and deep into a forest. There, she approached a tall laurel tree and pointed at something on the floor.

"Before your eyes, you see a pile of different types of grains. Your job is simple: separate them all and arrange them into piles."

Y/N's jaw dropped at the task.

"That's impossible! It's not simple!"

Aphrodite merely shrugged. "If you truly love Eros, you'll find a way."

She turned away and began walking back to where she came from, but not before telling her:

"Oh and Psyche? You have until sundown to finish."

Y/N knew the goddess was probably laughing by now, already gloating in her failure and inability to finish such a task. She slumped down on the ground and began picking at the grains. They all looked too similar, there was no way to tell them apart. Y/N flung the grains back in the pile.

"It's hopeless..."

She wasn't offered a second chance, she was merely being humiliated for the own amusement of Aphrodite. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she deserved this....

Suddenly she felt something crawl up on her hand. Looking down, she saw a tiny ant perched on one of her fingers.

"Hello most beautiful mortal. Please don't cry. Let me assure you that this grain will be sorted before Aphrodite comes back."

If Y/N hadn't already seen so miracles and fantasy sightings since she arrived, she would have seriously thought she was insane for thinking an ant was actually talking to her. She watched as thousands of other ants crawled up and began carrying the grains out of the pile, effectively assorting them into neat and tidy piles.

"How are you..?"

The tiny ant let out a squeaky laugh. "This is our specialty my lady. We do this every year."

"But...why are you helping me?" She couldn't understand why they would help her.

"Don't fret about that right now. Leave this all to us and just worry about being reunited with your loved one."

Y/N was touched by their tremendous kindness, thanking them incessantly as they eagerly finished what seemed to not an impossible task for her. True to their word, before the sun set, it was already finished. 5 piles stood in front of her. The ants bid her farewell and good luck for any upcoming tests Aphrodite was going to put on her.

When the goddess came to inspect the work, her eyes nearly bulged out when she saw it was accomplished. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

"I see you finished it....very well. Tomorrow I shall take you to do the second task. But trust me, you won't get very far."

The goddess was so sure Y/N would never be able to finish them, but she didn't count on the fact someone was pulling strings behind the scenes to make sure Y/N would be successful. When Y/N was tasked to collect the gold fleece from the magical sun rams, the mystery person asked the reeds growing on the riverbank near her, to tell Y/N to wait until the rams left the pasture to fall asleep in a meadow, then she'd be able to collect fleece that would usually get caught on the brambles where they often played or fought in. On her third task, she had to collect water from a pit that was guarded by a fearsome dragon. Y/N dared not approach the beast, but once again, the hidden figure sent an enormous eagle to help her by flying her down the pit while the dragon slept so she could fill up the bottle Aphrodite gave her. Y/N asked the eagle, like she did the reeds and ants, why were they helping her, but all of them remained silent, not answering her question. They only wished her luck and encouraged her to stay determined to win back her husband.

Aphrodite took the bottle in her hands, fury in her eyes as she flung it across the room in pure outrage.

"I don't know what kind of tricks you've pulled to accomplish these tasks so easily, but I will not stand for it any longer!"

Determined to make sure Y/N would never see her son no matter the cost, she declared her last mission:

"You must go into the Underworld and bring me Queen Persephone's beauty cream, the one she makes herself. I was going to go there myself....but you can do it for me."

Aphrodite's eyes did not hide her malice or her hatred towards the poor girl.

"But....no human can descend into the Underworld and return!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Then I guess you shall have to be the first."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N touched the ground softly as Zephyr dropped her down.

"Psyche listen to me very carefully. There is a way for mortals to go into the Underworld and return alive. But pay very close attention or you'll never see the light of day."

Out of thing air, Zephyr made 2 coins and a loaf of bread apart before her.

"The coins are for Charon. He's the boatman that will take you to the Underworld and will also bring you back. The bread is for Cerberus."

Y/N gulped at the mention of the dog that guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You mean.....the one with 50 heads?"

Zephyr laughed.

"You humans sure do like to add charm to stories. No Psyche. Cerberus only has 3 heads. He won't do anything to you while going in, it's when you're getting out that'll be the problem. You see, he's not guarding souls from going in, he guards them from leaving."

Y/N nodded, drinking up all the information he was feeding to her.

"When you're leaving, give a piece to each of the heads, it'll put him to sleep long enough for you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"Got it."

Y/N began walking into the foggy mist, trembling slightly as she realized she was about to be in front of the gates of hell very soon.

"Another thing! Accept no food or drink and do not rest at all! Just go in, take the cream and get out. I'll be waiting here for you."

"Thank you Zephyr."

Y/N wandered through the dense and humid mist that blurred most of her vision. She spotted a light looming out of the water and headed towards it. She stopped when she reached the end of the dock and stood face to face with a dark cloaked figure. Its face was completely hidden by the hood, the only thing she could see were its hands that were holding a staff that was no doubt used to row out boat.

"Are you.....are you Charon?"

The cloaked figure simply nodded very slowly.

"Can you take me to see Queen Persephone?"

Charon did not respond either that time, instead he held his hand out. Y/N now could clearly see that his hand was only bone, absolutely no flesh or skin surrounding it. Although startled, she handed one of the coins to him, which he put into a small purse that he kept tied to his waist. He signalled for her to get in. Y/N had some difficulty getting into the boat, slamming down on it, her bum hardly hitting the wood floor. She was sure if Charon was able to, he'd probably be laughing at her. He waited until she was settled into the boat before he began rowing down the Styx river.

Y/N hugged her knees as her eyes scanned everything. So far only the splashing of water and the silent boatman kept her company. And then a foul and putrid stench filled her nostrils, making her want to gag. As she kept looking around, she noticed what seemed to be people standing by another dock, looking pitiful and some even crying.

"They're the souls of people whose families didn't pay the fee or didn't have a burial upon death." Charon spoke up for the first time, his voice sounded hollow and had somewhat of an echo in it.

She understood what he meant. All people usually put a coin under their deceased loved ones tongue as payment for a ride to the Underworld.

"Will they stay there forever?"

Charon let out a raspy breathe.

"They'll stay there for a hundred years before they're allowed to cross over. Our master is not that cruel as you mortals depict him."

Mention of his master sent Y/N into panic. She was about to meet the actual god of the Underworld and his wife. She shivered as she remembered all she was ever taught about him: her teachers often painted him as a cruel, evil and wrathful god that loved tormenting the souls that were sent to him. The only reason he had a wife was because he kidnapped her, only allowing her to spend time in Olympus for half of the year. Y/N feared seeing him.

"This is the end of your journey."

Y/N saw a colossal black door in front of her. She lifted her hand to knock on it, but wondered if it was even possible for them to hear her. She felt someone or something sneeze by her right side so she turned. First there was only a gigantic dog head that soon turned into three, Y/N almost fainted when it began approaching her. This had to be Cerberus. The hellhound merely scanned her, puzzled as to why an alive human would be there. But he went back to his job and used one of his heads to push open the door for her. Y/N was prepared to see a sea of tormented souls being stirred in fire or some other kind of torture, but instead, she walked in a long and regal corridor, much like the one back home in Athens. Everything was decorated in either black or a deep purple color. At the very end, she saw two thrones side by side, black and made out of hard iron and steel. 2 figures sat by them and when she reached close enough, she was face to face with the rulers of the Underworld.

As per custom, Y/N bowed to them, trembling in the process. The monarchs looked at each other in confusion.

"You are not dead nor dying, what business do you have here?" A male voice inquired.

Y/N swallowed harshly, trying to speak but fear made her paralyzed and unable for recall what she was there to do. Noticing how scared she was, the queen stood up and walked over to her. She gently lifted Y/N up, her hand cupping her chin to look at her. Y/N finally had a glimpse of the Underworld queen and she was mesmerized. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but her beauty was so haunting and eerie, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It made her very unique and therefore more interesting in her eyes. Y/N felt self conscious now. She hadn't properly cleaned up or slept ever since Aphrodite had her do all those tasks, so she probably looked like a mess in front of the beautiful queen.

Persephone merely smiled at her, a genuine and kind smile.

"You're Psyche aren't you?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name. The man behind her also became curious at him mention of it.

"How do you know who I am?" But Y/N soon wanted to slap herself for asking that. She was a goddess, of course she'd know.

The lady chuckled. "Not everyday one meets a face that rivals Aphrodite's. I've heard so much about you."

She turned back and Y/N assumed she was going to take her place on the throne, but instead, she shocked her when she opted to sit on her husbands lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. He visibly stiffened, and Y/N was surprised to see him......blush?

"So tell me. Has the mighty goddess of beauty sent you here for another task?"

Persephone looked back to see Y/N with a mouth wide open.

"We know all about your endeavors to win your husband back. News reaches here first before it reaches Olympus. Gives a little entertainment to us and our subjects you know."

She waved her hand and instantly a grey and cloudy figure appeared before her, offering her wine or food from a platter. She didn't want to seem rude, but she remembered what Zephyr said and thus refused any of it. Persephone chuckled softly.

"Very smart." Persephone observed. She above anyone knew what eating food from the Underworld would mean.

"So tell me Psyche. What has she sent you here for?"

Y/N began explaining how the goddess wanted some of her beauty cream. Persephone rolled her eyes, knowing all too well how vain Aphrodite was. Her fingers stroked through her husband's hair, puzzling Y/N more. If she was kidnapped and forced to marry him, how could she be so....in love with him? Persephone only took her attention away from her husband when another grey figure brought out a box to her. Thanking the servant, she held out the box to Y/N.

"Take this to Aphrodite and be reunited with your love."

Y/N thanked the merciful queen and walked back, now more happy at the thought of seeing Yeosang again. Persephone watched her with a motherly gaze, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

"You seem to be very interested in that human." Hades' voice broke her trance.

"She's an extraordinary girl if you ask me. And she's doing everything for love."

She smirked as she cupped her husband's face.

"Reminds me of a certain someone who also went to great lengths to win the person he loved the most."

The Underworld God cleared his throat.

"Love makes us do crazy things sometimes." He justified himself.

Persephone nodded and leaned in.

"I know. That's why am going to vouch for her when Zeus holds the meeting."

Hades looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

The queen let out a hearty laugh before kissing his lips.

"Married life has made you lose some of your sharpness my dear lord." She teased.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N successfully fed the bread to the demon hound and made it back across the Styx with Charon's help.

"Thank you Charon." She handed the other coin to him.

"First time anyone has thanked me to the work I do." Although he tried to be neutral about it, Charon's voice had a lighter and more grateful tone to it.

Y/N crossed the swamp again and came back to the meadow where Zephyr had left her. She called me to him, but he did not answer. Y/N sat on the grass and waited for him, growing tired in the process. It had been 4 very long and tiring days and she was beginning to feel the intensity of them. Her eyes began to flutter, trying to stay awake, but tiredness began to overtake her. Her gaze fell on the box she was holding. Feeling curious, she slowly opened the box to peer into its contents. A sudden burst of light shone right in front of her, the power being too much for her and instantly, she fell unconscious on the floor.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Eros sighed softly to himself, the longing for his wife becoming too unbearable.

"Would you please stop that moaning? It's getting on my nerves." His mother said from the doorway.

"I miss her...." He covered his face with the pillow.

Aphrodite scoffed.

"Seriously this lovesick fool."

Eros ignored his mother, all his thoughts were about Y/N and the last time he saw her. He recalled the harsh words he said to her, regretting them so much, each letter feeling like a stab to his heart. Although it hurt him to have her distrust him, it hurt even more to be separated from her. He wanted her back in his arms, he wanted to kiss her, he was going even more insane than the first time when he pricked himself on his arrow.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the living room, with the way a voice roared like thunder, he knew who had just came in. He got up, ready to intervene in case the two individuals in front of him started getting physical. Not noticing him, they just continued their screaming match.

"I've put up with so many of your antics, but this my dear goddess, is low even for you!"

The anger in his father's voice was unmistakable, but it was even more serious than all the other times he'd quarreled with his mother.

"Oh shut up Ares! I did what I had to do for our dear son."

Aphrodite twirled her hair on her finger, batting her eyelashes at her longtime lover, hoping to seduce him and get his mind off the subject, but this time it didn't.

"No, you did this because you're a selfish, conceited and cruel woman! Putting an innocent girl through so many hardships just for your own amusement! Don't you think Psyche and Eros have been through enough already?"

Now it was Eros' turn to make his presence known.

"What about my wife?"

Both of his parents turned to look at him, one in shock at being discovered and one in sad pity for him and his love. Ares crossed his arms.

"Well? Tell him Aphrodite. Tell him all about the tasks you made Psyche do these past days." He challenged her.

Eros looked at his mother, waiting for her to answer, but she kept her lips shut. Getting fed up, Ares spilled everything to him. Eros immediately got worried.

"Where is she now?"

Ares looked to the goddess in front of him as he did not know what the last task was. Gathering some of the rage he inherited from his father, Eros harshly grabbed his mother and shook her.

"Where is my wife?!"

Aphrodite pushed him off her.

"I sent her to the Hades and Persephone."

Eros wasted no time and grabbed his bow and arrow. The Underworld was dangerous even for a God and he knew he had to go get her before anything happened to her.

"Eros! Don't you dare go after her! She isn't your wife anymore!"

Turning back to his mother, he looked at her in defiance.

"She is my wife. She'll always be my wife. I love her.....and I'm going over to her now."

Spreading his wings, he flew as fast as he could to the swampy forest where she had been hours earlier. He asked the boatman if he had seen her, but Charon only said she had completed her voyage and was headed back home. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was alive. He flew back to his mansion, bursting the doors open, alarming the servants who were no longer invisible. He didn't spare a glance at them, he simply ran upstairs to his room. Slamming the door open, he saw as Zephyr, now in his physical form was hovering over an unconscious Psyche.

"No..."

Eros ran over to her side, taking her hand in his.

"The power inside the box her majesty gave her is too much for a mortal to bear. I've tried everything, but she still shows no sign of waking up. Her body has also been weak these past days due to exhaustion. ....and heartache." Zephyr said somberly.

Eros spilled tears when finding out all she had been through and how much suffering he had put her through.

"I'm so sorry my darling."

His arms encapsulated her in a tight embrace, almost crushing her from the intensity. Eros sobbed uncontrollably. Zephyr decided to retreat from the room, giving him the space he needed.

Brushing out some of her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Please don't leave me.." he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

He heard as she started breathing slowly, pulling away to check on her. Y/N's eyes slowly opened, thinking she was dreaming when she saw her love's handsome face in front of her.

"Yeo- Yeosang?"

His heart started beating faster when he heard her call him by his name.

"Oh Y/N thank Zeus you're all right!"

Y/N held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Yeosang I'm so sorry! I should have listened to you but I was so stupid!"

He hushed her, his hands caressing her arms.

"It's ok. I've forgiven you my darling. I don't care anymore. All I want is for us to be together again."

Y/N hesitated.

"Will we be allowed to?"

Clearing his throat, they both turned their attention to Zephyr who came back.

"Even if Aphrodite won't like it, she'll have no choice but to allow you two to be together after a power greater than her allows it."

Yeosang and Y/N looked at him in confusion. Zephyr once again began explaining:

"I'm sure Y/N..." He smiled when he called her by her real name for the first time.

"You've been curious about why so many creatures helped you while you were performing the tasks for Aphrodite."

Y/N nodded, none of them had told her why they'd help her.

"They were all sent by none other than Zeus, who had been watching all this happen and agreed it was unfair of Aphrodite to put you through such hardships."

The couple couldn't believe their ears. The king of the gods himself intervened on their behalf.

"He looks favorably upon your marriage and has even called a meeting to determine if Y/N should be allowed to become an immortal herself."

Y/N's mouth dropped unable to comprehend his words, but Eros was delighted. He could finally be together with his wife for all eternity, not fearing that one day he'd lose her in death because she was human. He felt so grateful to Zeus.

"It shall be put to a vote and needless to say, your mother won't say yes."

Of course they expected that.

"But fear not. There's already many who are willing to vouch for you. Persephone and Hades for example, Ares, Apollo, Demeter and I'm willing to bet that Dionysus will show up drunk and will agree to anything."

They all let out a chuckle at that.

"I'll let you know what the results are. Zeus agreed it'd be better if you two weren't there. He wants a peaceful meeting without Aphrodite throwing a tantrum."

Leaving them alone, the two lovers stared at each other for a while, unable to believe how lucky they were. Y/N reached up to touch Yeosang.

"It's ok Y/N. I'm real and I promise I won't ever leave you again."

His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

"I love you and I promise to love you my heart......

For all eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

[vinciwolf]

Bruised but Not Broken

Pairing: Cody x fem!medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, violence, blood, gore, death, alcohol, depression

Tags: @sunburstcody​ I wrote this for you.

           You’re on the battlefield of war again. Covering your mouth with a gloved hand, your lungs forcibly expel the thick smoke. Blaster bolts whizz past your head as you crouch behind a fallen AT-RT walker. The clone trooper slumped against the machine groans in agony, head flopping to the side, as you try to ease his pain with a numbing injection.

           With a steady, confident voice, you say, “You’ll be alright.”

           But deep down, you tremble. Please, not another one, not another one.

           You didn’t want another trooper to die. He was just a goddamn shiny! You wave down a passing clone trooper for help. Both of you take the wrists of the fallen clone and drag him behind the thick vegetation where the rest of the wounded were placed.

           You take off the trooper’s helmet to assess his wounds. The damage is severe, like most wounds you have already become desensitized to. His neck looks like an unraveled mess of shredded muscle and tissue, jagged and pointing in unnatural directions. The blaster bolt that clipped him left his neck looking life a half-spere, bleeding profusely. While tossing backwards the flap to your medical bag, the absence of supplies cruelly laughs at your surprised face and sends a cold wave of dread over your skin. The entire bag is empty.

           Trying not to make it obvious to the soldier, you advert your gaze and swallow the hard clump in the back of your throat. This clone trooper is doomed and there is nothing your can do about it. Rationally, you decide to return to the battlefield to save other potential survivors. No time to waste on the already dead. Before you can run back into the fray, the clone trooper clasps your wrist. You pause for a second, then kneel back down and grip the clone trooper’s hand tightly. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

           “I—I don’t want to die,” he gurgles. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

           His face is a carbon copy of Jango Fett, but he has an intricate rose tattoo that stretches from his brow, over the side of his head, and down behind his ear. You also note his eyes to be a very rich earthy color, like when the soil is dark and saturated with water after a hard rain. But his beauty is short lived when ground-shaking explosions and echoing shouts from the other clone troopers sucks you back into reality. The clone’s eyes turn red and begin to wiggle with heavy tears.

           Deep down, the terrible pit in your stomach wants to lurch forward and trade your life with this clone. So, at least, he could experience life without fear, or missions, or being taught that he’s disposable in the grand scheme of this war he never asked for.

           “I won’t let you be forgotten—” your thumb brushes the tears falling form his eyes.

           Despite his pain, he weakly smiles at the thought that someone – somehow in his pathetically short lifespan – actually cares for him, then he shut his eyes forever.

           A single tear, heavy with thousands of memories like this one, burns the side on your cheek until in finally drops off your chin and absorbs into the blood soaked ground.

           You didn’t even get his CT number… not even his nickname.

           Blinking once, you bury these feelings into a deep place for another time. For now, you need to focus.

~

           You remembered the look Cody gave you when your battalion returned to the shuttle. The standard white attire you wore is stained with blood and soot. He is truly a sight for sore eyes. Halfheartedly grinning, shoulders slumping in relief, you are happy he survived. The thought of another innocent becoming a casualty of war turns your stomach. Luckily, the few clone troopers who managed to survive are either put into medical capsules or hobble into the arms of their fellow brothers. You shuffle towards the commander and plop your head on his shoulder. He squeezes you in his arms then helps you into the LAAT. This planet was devastating, but it was won. You should feel good, but all you feel is painful exhaustion in your shaky legs and feeble lungs. Not to mention the invisible weight creeping onto your shoulders.

           It is like this every time, all over again… and again… and again.

           Guilt fills your aching heart like an overstuffed balloon. It is like clockwork. This stabbing pang in your chest rises intensely and fades after every mission. You rub the unseen soreness with your palm as the refresher gushes hot water over your squatted, naked body, the steam cleansing your lungs. It is not enough to cure the pain however, but you need to rid your physical self of all the grime – all the evidence – of the soldiers you could not save today. The dense mist shields your vulnerable form and the heavy pattering of the water drowns out your whimpers as you cry away the horrible events that plague your mind.

           This… this small, private space in the refresher… had to be enough.

           It is your only fortunate curtesy in these dark times.

~

           Your first mission was on Kashyyyk and you were absolutely mesmerized by how densely forested one planet could be. Given that the temperature here was nothing like what you experienced at home, by the time your squad rendezvoused at the main base, your cloths had already become drenched with sweat. Taking a swipe to your forehead with the back of your hand, you began to understand why none of the other medic graduates willingly chose this planet. The only graduate on the list was you.

           The commander glances at you.

           “So, now the Republic is sending anybody these days. Pathetic,” he scoffs, probably eyeing you up and down under his helmet.

           “I wanted clone medics, not greenhorns who’ll shit their pants the moment they land on the battlefield.”

           Taking a step forward, Shots, the head medic, points at the commander.

           “Oi! Watch it. She finished at the top her class at the academy and is one of my best trainees I’ve had on the field. She might not be a clone, but I’d entrust her with my life. Plus, the Republic needs all the help it can get.”

           The commander dismissively waves at the both of you while turning on his heel and mumbling an agitated ‘whatever’ under his breath. Letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes, you unclench your fists that you didn’t realize had formed during this rude confrontation. Shots turns towards you and pats his hand on your shoulder.

           “Don’t be intimidated by these guys—” he points over his shoulder at the clone troopers with his thumb “—war does this to us clones sometimes. Makes us hard inside—” his fist thumps twice over his heart.

~

           “Okay, when all hell breaks loose, just stay hot on my tail,” Shots whispers into your ear while your squad slowly proceeds through the thick vegetation. This was it. You first time on a real battlefront against the Separatists.

           Keeping your eyes ahead, your mind did not process the sudden explosion of brain matter that splattered on your face. You look to the side, towards its origin. Shots, the clone medic who had been your mentor since day one, the clone medic who never doubted your medical training, is flat on his back on the ground. The brain matter came from him. Shots’ face, a face you had conversed with just seconds ago, is now perfectly hollowed out by a blaster bolt. You crouch down and stare at the dead clone medic, hands shaking profoundly.

           He is not dead. This is not real. No way!

           No amount of medical training could prepare your for losing a loved one.

           Screaming grounds your focus. The blasters firing, the yelling, the smoke entering your lungs, the whole world rapidly woke up in your ears and everything is very loud again.

           “Where the kriffin’ hell are these blasts coming from?” a clone trooper hollers while shooting into the forest, his brothers scrambling to find shelter behind the trees.

           “It’s an ambush!”

           “We need a medic!”

           You run towards the clone troopers ducked behind a fallen log. Immediately, your adrenaline kicks in and you remember where you are, what you need to do. Pulling out supplies, you patch up their fallen comrade, but when everything seems to be smoothing out, a trooper bellows, “GET DOWN!”

           You look up and spot the missile flying right towards your face.

~

           You jolt awake with a startled gasp. Gulping down air, you realize that you are in your barracks. Safe…safe…for now. Looking down, you sigh at the state of your shirt. A dark stain in the fabric trails down your chest, sticking to your damp skin. You stand up and change into a clean shirt before heading over to the sink.

           After splashing your face with some cold water, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Exhaustion looks back at you. The purple bags under your eyes only seem to become worse as this war drags on. Nothing can make this night worse. As if on cue, the rapping at your door frightens you out of your thoughts.

           Stepping over to your room door, you click a button and it hisses open. You wipe your face with your hand, massaging the soreness out of your puffy eyes, and sigh a soft ‘what’ at the commander standing in front of you.

           “You’re needed in the med bay,” Cody states.

           Grunting in response, you turn around and begin to put on your uniform in silence. The commander steps into your room, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

           You face Cody while aggressively putting your hair into a quick, messy bun.

           “Did Kenobi put you up to this? Now he’s sending his commander to spy on a poor ‘lil, sleep deprived medic, huh?” you spit while adjusting your boots too tightly.

           Cody does not respond and a twinge of guilt shoots through your stomach. Looking over to the commander, he is gripping his helmet a little too firmly and his eyes are adverted… deeply hurt.

           “Oh, Cody… I didn’t mean that…” you confess, shoulders sagging.

           Standing up, you cup Cody’s cheek and lift his chin to look at you— “It’s just… I don’t know actually…” I’m actually tired of burying myself beneath all this death.

           “You haven’t been yourself.” He overlaps your hand with his large one, eyes softening.

           “None of us have—” you let go of his cheek and wrap your arms around his armored torso, nudging your head close to his heart with a long exhale “—I’m sorry that I snapped.”

           Cody’s free hand rubs slowly down your back as he pecks your forehead. Releasing each other, you gaze up at the commander and force a tiny grin.

           Cody’s eyes sag downwards. “I… don’t know what to say.” I don’t know how to make things better for us.

           “There’s nothing you can say.” I want to tell you that everything hurts.

           As you veer around his presence, you pat his armored shoulder before disappearing into the corridor of the attack cruiser. Your heart screams for Cody to stop you from walking away. It feels like magnets pulling you back into that room, tugging your body to turn around and go back to explain everything. Inside your mind, however, you are blank of thought and ignore your instincts. The only thing filling the void is the agonizing screams and last words from the clone troopers you couldn’t save.

~

           THE WAR IS OVER!

           GRIEVOUS DEAD!

           CHANCELLOR ARRESTED FOR TREASON!

           Coruscant is in the midst of wild and loud celebration. At 79’s, the clone troopers drink and sing until they fall over, but Cody merely sits and stares at his untouched shot of alcohol in a private corner. Somewhere in the background commotion, Rex dances on a tabletop with two twi’lek, which makes the crowd of clones howl even louder. The floor screeches when the commander abruptly pushes his chair back to leave the bar. Nobody seems to notice his absence in all the partying.

           Outside, confetti falls from the sky while rockets pop and squeal into the air, lighting up the night. Cody walks alone and passes the multitude of citizens embracing each other. None are the wiser about the commander walking by them – a soldier who helped end the war – as he navigates through the streets of Coruscant. He doesn’t mind though because there is only one person on Cody’s mind that he wants to see.

~

           Standing in front of your apartment door, Cody hesitates for a moment before finally unlocking it and treading inside. He places his helmet on the kitchen counter and looks around. So many memories reside in this small place. Your couch still remains were it was the last time he visited your home. That couch where he kissed you for the first time and decided that this is the only person he wants for the rest of his life. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he continues his investigation.

           Sliding open the door to your bedroom, the commander expects the worst when his eyes glance towards an empty bottle of wine abandoned on the floor. He scans the room and finds shattered pieces of glass littering the carpet, a red dot staining the nearby wall. The commander assumes that you must have obliterated the wine glass in your fit of drunken rage. Holding his breath, Cody’s eyes widen at the dried-up specks of blood accompanying the mess. He finally takes a step past the bedroom threshold and notices the outline of your body beneath the mattress covers.

           Your body becomes larger as Cody slowly advances closer to the bed, boots dodging the sharp pieces of glass. He notices your arm, hand wrapped in gauze, poking out of the mountain of blankets. His fingers gently brush your wrist. Sighing with relief, the commander relaxes from the light thump of your pulse against his fingers. You groan in sleepy annoyance from his cold touch and retreat your arm into the safety under your huddled-up covers. Cody grins slightly in amusement. Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he tenderly shakes your shoulder to waken you.

           Slowly but surely, you peel your heavy eyelids open with a throaty groan then glance up at the commander sitting close beside your bed. You say nothing and just await the reason why he is in your room on this particular night. Cody closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before finally breaking the stillness.

           “The war’s over. I thought I’d find you with the rest of the boys celebrating, but you never showed.”

           Looking at your damaged hand, you remark, “I was… busy.”

           “If there’s anything on your chest, you can tell me about it.”

           “It’s all over now. The war’s over. There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

           “No!” Cody snaps. “Somethin’s eating you alive inside. I’ve noticed! And—and—” his voice softens “— I want to help… Please… I love you.”

           That I love you stung.

           You give up hiding it. He already knows and there is no point keeping secrets from the man you adore… the man you trust.

           “This day isn’t fair! We won, so what? I’ve never felt less accomplished in my entire life—” your fingers dig into the bedsheets “—I couldn’t save them—” you blink away the squirming tears obscuring your vision “—they all died and never got to see the end.”

           Cody understands immediately who you are talking about. The clones. His brothers.

           “We were bred for this—”

           “Y’all are more than just stupid numbers, Cody! He had a name! They all did!”

           You scream in agony into your mattress as your walls come tumbling down. After a moment of letting go of the pain, small hiccups pipe from your aching chest as you slowly calm yourself down.

           “It’s hard being the one who survives. That’s a burden I – all my brothers – will have to carry. But not you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

           Not knowing how else to help you, he lifts his hand and slips his fingers beneath yours, helping you ease your grip on the poor mattress. His thumb rubs gentle circles into your skin while the atmosphere goes still again. Unspoken understanding passes between the two of you. No words had to be exchanged as you share this silent moment with the commander.

           Then, in the dead quiet, tears filter down your cheeks. You did not know where they came from, but you didn’t feel sick anymore.

           Cody is there. He takes off his boots and armor and slips into the bed, wrapping you with the most protective hug. This warm space inside his arms calm you, but the tears still fall. Peering up into the commander’s face, you giggle uncontrollably when he kisses your red, puffy eyes. He keeps kissing you until all the tears are dry and you stop crying, then he slows down and takes his time. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embrace the commander and the hands running up your sides.

~

           Cody's body rocks together with yours in slow, sensual movements. Your arms firmly grip around the commander’s torso as he takes care of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while warmly caging you beneath his weight.

           His strong arms bend backwards to hold your thighs with his calloused hands. The affection in his thrusts is unrushed. His hips roll in big, smooth circles to memorize your walls, to memorize the way you softly whimper and pant from the endearing pleasure he gives you.

           You are his world. He wants nothing more than to keep you here in this moment forever to show how much he loves you. Luckily, he'll have so much more time to do so now since the war is over.

           Your head lulls back into the soft pillow, mouth agape, as you allow yourself this moment to unwind. As Cody's cock delves rhythmically into your folds, you moan with each stroke. The tip of your ears heat up from the way this man above you tickles your neck with feather light kisses. He strokes your thighs with his thumbs, making sure not to buck too harshly into your hips. Tears begin to burn your eyes again.

           This man is making love to you.

           Cody – after everything he has been through in this war – still somehow retained his gentleness. But now he is sharing some of it with you in order for you to heal.

           The commander continues to whisper into your ear as you silence your whimpers in his chest, hands coming to rest on his pecs to feel more sheltered and secure under him.

           "Everything will be okay," is all that he repeats. "Everything will be okay."

           Smiling, you believe him while he gently wipes away your tears with his thumb.

[sweetalnazar]

After an eternity, I updated!

CHAPTER 2: A HOUSE, A SHOP AND A HOME

Summary: After the defeat of the Devil, Aisha and Salim catch up on all they’ve missed, including the fate of the home once shared with Asra

4.3k words. Family Fluff/Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Tw for discussions of trauma and abandonment

Lowkey Mine/Asra/Muriel.

Other Notes:

- Mine uses she/they, but only ‘they’ in this setting. Asra alternates between ‘he’ and ‘they’

- 'Foreign' words are generally not italicized, to reflect the multilingual nature of the characters

––––

Chapter 1 || Read on AO3 || Tip Jar 🌟

Their home was no more.

In Aisha’s memory, on her street by the heart of Center City, was the little two-storey house squished between a bathhouse and an apothecary, the place she called home. 

The kebab stall down the street, the scent of smoked lamb drifting through the air as she passed it by on the way to the palace. The neighbour opposite her, who grew a rich garden on her balcony with her wife, and gave Aisha a flower each time they met. The sound of the neighbourhood children kicking balls in the streets and chasing each other in the evenings.

The creak of the door hinges that never agreed with Salim’s oils, no matter what formula he used. The colorful tapestries from their families, a parting gift, that decorated the walls, as well as the numerous paintings, from Salim’s hand, from Aisha’s, and of course, Asra’s. The music echoing through their house in the evenings, the strumming of her qanun and Asra’s little hand beating on the riq, Salim’s beautiful voice accompanying.

All of it, every single bit of the house that held all these memories, had been reduced to rubble and broken brick, just like the rest of their neighbourhood.

There was a year of powerful lightning storms in Vesuvia that had led to fire, and the crowded buildings smooshed together, unprepared for such a hazard, was like kindling in a fireplace. Flames engulfed everything in their path, and when they couldn’t, the burning buildings and structures collapsed on their neighbours, leading to almost their entire neighbourhood being destroyed. 

According to Asra, he and Muriel––one of his partners––had run away to the east docks during the blaze, closer to water where it was safer. When they returned, there was barely anything left of the neighbourhood, much less the house.

Salim gulped his tea down, to the point he started coughing. Aisha thumped him, once, before switching to alternating between patting and rubbing his back.

“T-that’s something, Asra,” he said, the shock still clear on his face.

“Haha, yeah…” Asra stared awkwardly at his own teacup.

“Revani anyone?” Mine interrupted, holding a plate of brown squares, topped with crushed walnuts and pistachios. “I got a really good recipe from Selasi, so me, Asra and Muriel tried making some.” 

Grateful for the interruption, all three at the table took a piece each.

It had been a month or so since the defeat of the Devil, the triumphant return of Asra and Mine, and at long last, Aisha and Salim were catching up on what they had missed since their disappearance almost two decades ago. 

The two of them had asked Asra to see their old home, the very first house they had moved in as young newly-weds ready to start their new life.

Instead, he had brought them to the magic shop.

He had gestured for them to sit in a corner of the shop, where a couch and armchairs surrounded a rickety table opposite the counter. While Salim and Aisha took the couch, he had taken an armchair, the one closer to his mother’s side.

With Mine perching on the armrest by his side, and Muriel––quiet as always––sitting by the counter, Asra began regaling the tale of the house’s fate; from the landlord kicking him out, to new tenants, to its demise.

While the palace had remained constant, almost assuring in how little it had changed, much of the city had transformed. 

The Coliseum cast shadows across Goldgrave, obstructing the view of the arts district and its colorful antics. Red Street, once the pride of the Heart District and the Count, had been abandoned. Meanwhile, the bustling Shopping District had turned sullen and gloomy, the overflowing waterways mirroring its new name of the Flooded District. 

Then there was the little island far off-shore that loomed on the edge of the city, a reminder of darker times. Even the land itself had not stayed the same, the ebony, almost black sands of Ash Beach now bleached gray by the remains of the deceased.

Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but change. 

Old stores and restaurants Aisha and Salim had frequented were long gone, the shops now on their fourth or fifth newest venture.There was almost no trace of the Vesuvia Aisha had come to love, the city she had stepped into for her first big project away from home; when she and Salim had been young, newly married and determined to prove their skill away from their families. 

Or at least away from Aisha’s family, the renowned Alnazar name. 

“Basbousa,” Salim spoke, breaking her train of thought. 

She stared down at the cake in hand. Below the brown crust was a familiar buttery yellow. 

“I thought I recognized the smell!” Salim went on, holding his piece up enthusiastically. 

“It’s a little burnt, sorry,” Mine apologized. “We weren’t sure how hot the oven needed to be, since well, none of us usually bake.”

As Salim and Mine continued making small talk, Aisha took a bite, and her eyes widened. 

“Orange blossom syrup,” she said, surprised.

“Just like you made it,” Asra said. He gestured to the cup of orange blossom syrup to the side. “Pour half the syrup while it’s hot––”

“And leave the rest for serving,” she finished. Her chest tightened, a little, and she smiled down at the small square cake.

“I––I didn’t actually remember the name,” Asra confessed. “People in Vesuvia call it ‘revani’, but I always called it the orange blossom cake. Or the cake with semolina butter.”

Aisha laughed. “I remember! You were always trying to eat the entire butter slab while we were baking.”

“What do you mean ‘trying’? They were halfway through their second slab when we caught them that one time,” Salim pointed out.

“Asra!” Mine exclaimed, staring at them with wide eyes. “You didn’t .”

“It tasted nice when I was little,” Asra shrugged. “I liked how the texture felt when I gnashed the butter between my teeth.”

From the counter, there was a snort, and Aisha could have sworn Muriel mumbled, “...typical” under his breath.

Meanwhile, Mine rose to their feet, taking a couple of cakes on their plate, and went over to the counter, squeezing Asra’s hand before they left.

Salim took a few more pieces, munching happily, and Aisha did the same, placing another square on her plate.

“Back to our original topic,” Aisha said, “what happened to the house after that?”

“Oh.” Asra stopped, putting down his plate and taking a quick gulp of tea. “Well, it was kind of abandoned for a long time. Until Melaka––that’s Mine’s aunt––came along.”

“Then…”

Asra nodded. “That’s right. She built the shop right over where the house was.” He leaned back in his chair, and pulled the shimmery curtains behind him away to reveal the view from the large open window.

At the back of the shop, hidden by the tall storefront and the surrounding walls, was a courtyard. Garments flapped gently in the breeze from the clotheslines in the center, the clothing all different sizes. To one side, there was a collection of beakers and jars, as well as larger rectangular containers. They were all filled with dirt, plants of various sizes and types sprouting from them.

“Is that––” Salim squinted, “––another building back there?”

“That’s the kitchen,” Mine said. 

“Our main kitchen,” Asra clarified. “It’s where we put the ice box and the big stove and everything. There’s a sitting room too, to eat together.”

Aisha blinked, playing over Asra’s last sentence in her mind.

Had that been an invitation?

“Oh, that’s where Lucia and Hayrünnisa used to live,” Salim said. “Nisa would always give you seeds when she saw you, Asra.” 

“Seeds?” Aisha said. “Didn’t she usually give them those little flower crowns and rings?”

Asra’s eyes darted down, looking sheepish.

“Oops, sorry, Asra. It was supposed to be a secret.”

“What was?” Mine said, leaning over the counter, their elbows almost at the edge. Muriel pulled them back, but they stayed standing, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

“I think we’ve heard enough about my childhood,” Asra said, red dusting his cheeks.

“No, we haven’t!” Mine said. “Right, Muriel?”

Muriel nodded. If Aisha hadn’t known any better, she would have said his smile was almost teasing.

“It’s not as embarrassing as you think it was, Asra,” Salim said. “It was very sweet in fact.”

Asra pursed his lips, looking conflicted.

Aisha reached out, slowly taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. Asra snapped his head to look at her, startled.

“Habibi, we don’t have to talk about it if you truly don’t want to,” she told him gently. “But I must admit...I would very much love to hear this little secret of yours.” 

Asra chuckled, squeezing her hand back before she released him. “OK, mom. I guess...it has been long enough.” 

“Tell us!” Mine said, bouncing faster now, the pink-tipped dark curls resting on their shoulders bouncing higher.

“..calm down,” Muriel muttered, almost fondly, as he placed a hand on their rotund hip and attempted to get them to sit.

“Now for the story,” Asra clapped his hands, his face still a little red as he began. “I saw er, Nisa––”

“Aunty Nisa,” Salim corrected.

“Yeah, Aunty Nisa was always giving you flowers, mom, and I, I wanted to do that too. A whole bouquet of flowers that I grew on my own.”

“You wanted to make a big balcony garden just like hers.” Salim shook his head. “It took a while to talk you down too.”

“It’s true,” Asra laughed. “Dad convinced me to start small. He would let me borrow the beakers and jars from your lab. We’d get some dirt and I’d put them on the ledge under my window where you couldn’t see.”

“So that’s where all our equipment went!” Aisha said, smiling at her husband. She placed an arm around his shoulder, pressing herself closer. “And here I was, half-convinced you were melting them down for some explosive new experiment.”

“Aisha, I would never.”

She gave him a knowing look.

“...without telling you first, that is.”

“That is true. I do dislike not being privy to the workings of your beautiful mind, ya qalbi.”

“Of course, ya a’youni. How could I ever do anything without my eyes to guide me so?”

For a while, there was silence, as Aisha and Salim gazed lovingly at each other, lost in the other’s eyes.

Up until Muriel cleared his throat, mumbling, “...Getting mushy must run in the family.”

“Shh, Muriel,” Mine whispered loudly, elbowing him. “It’s romantic . Let them be!”

“Anyway,” Asra said, “So that’s my little secret, mom. I hope you, er, liked it?”

“I loved it, habibi. Thank you, it was very sweet.”

“We should try that again.” Mine bounded up to the chair, settling on the armrest again. “Growing a flower garden. We could get a few more beakers––oh, a proper plant bed maybe? Portia has a great garden, we could ask her for tips and stuff!”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Um, I mean, if you’d like, mom and dad.”

Aisha blinked, confused for a moment, until the meaning clicked. “You want us to garden...together?”

“Only if you want to,” Asra quickly clarified. “It’s fine if you don’t, it really is.”

“Not at all, Asra,” Salim said. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

Aisha nodded firmly.

Asra smiled, then faltered, looking down. Before either Salim or Aisha could ask him what was the matter, he had pulled Mine close, whispering into their ear.

They bobbed their head, before their attention turned to Aisha and Salim. “We were also wondering if the two of you wouldn’t mind joining us for dinner sometime. Yknow, once in a while, we could sit down around the table and um, just enjoy a family meal.”

“A little get-together sort of thing,” Asra added. “Nothing special.”

“Oh, but habibi, that is something special,” Aisha said. “We, we haven’t really had anything like that in a long time.”

“Y-you don’t have to––”

“We want to,” Aisha and Salim said simultaneously.

“Asra,” Aisha began, “We have missed so much, too much, of your life. Every moment we can share with you, even in the littlest ways, they are precious.”

“We can’t make up all that lost time,” Salim said. “But we are going to try and make the most of our present. We can only spend so long lamenting our losses. We want to move forward...with you, Asra, if possible.”

Asra’s eyes glistened in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtain, and Mine put an arm around him, a reassurance.

“There’s no rush, of course,” Aisha said. “We can go at your pace, as you like.”

“N-no, it’s not, it’s not that.”

He cleared his throat, wiping at the corner of his eye with his thumb. Mine undid one of the clothknots from their fingers and offered it, which Asra accepted and dabbed at his eyes.

“Muri, come over here,” Asra waved. “I want you to be closer for this.”

“...fine.” 

Muriel shuffled over, chair in hand, before placing it down next to Asra and taking a seat. There was another empty armchair, across from Asra, but it seemed both his partners wanted to stay close to him right now.

Asra took a deep breath, his thumb running over Mine’s knuckles, before he started speaking.

“Mom, dad, I, I spent a long time alone. It was...it wasn’t easy. I had Muri, but we barely got by, especially when we were younger.”

Aisha swallowed, one hand gripping the edges of her hijab as she braced her heart. Neither she nor Salim were not technically at fault, but nonetheless, how could she not feel pain or guilt or grief over what her child, her precious little one, had been forced to go through in the absence of his parents? 

How could she not feel responsible for the pain Asra had gone through?

“We had good times, Muri and I, but––but there were a lot of days that hurt. There were a lot of days that were painful and scary.” Another inhale, Mine squeezing his hand. “...But what hurt most of all was wondering if, if you had left me alone on purpose.”

“Asra,” Salim breathed, the shock in his tone mirroring Aisha’s own. “We would never.”

“I know. I know that now. But when I was little and afraid, I had no idea. You just suddenly never came home, and sometimes––sometimes I wondered if it was me. That I had done something wrong, or if there was something wrong with me that made you want to leave.”

Salim opened his mouth to speak, but Aisha raised a hand, wordlessly gesturing for him to wait. Asra still had more to say.

“For the longest time, I believed no one would stay for me.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, dropping into his lap like little pearls, and his lips quivered as he said, “Because you two didn’t stay.”

Asra closed his eyes, exhaling, while more tears dripped down. Muriel passed a handkerchief to Mine, who promptly wiped at Asra’s cheeks.

“T-thanks, Mine, Muri,” he mumbled.

After wiping away most of his tears, Asra raised his head, meeting Aisha and Salim’s gazes. 

“Mom, dad, it’s not your fault, but it took me a long time to let people in again. To actually let people love all of me, instead of keeping a part of myself out of their reach so I wouldn’t get hurt. I––I’m actually still afraid, of letting people in. What if they get tired of me? What if they don’t want me anymore? What then?”

Asra had every right to be angry, to be upset, but to Aisha’s astonishment, a smile spread across his face, his expression growing brighter with each word.

“But I don’t want to be held back by my fears anymore. Even if I am afraid, I––I still want to try. Mom, dad, I want to try at us being a family again. I know it won’t be easy, and I know there will be a lot of times where things don’t go the way we planned. Despite that...would you still want to try with me?”

“Of course,” Aisha and Salim answered immediately.

“Asra...you’ve been through so much,” Salim said. “I am so, so sorry for what we put you through. I know the situation was out of our control, but not a day goes by that we don’t regret leaving you alone. You were so young, we should have been there to protect you, to help you.”

“But we weren’t,” Aisha said, unballing her fist and letting her hijab fall back into place. “Habibi, your scars run deep, and neither our apologies or efforts are enough to heal each and every past hurt. You can be angry or bitter towards us, we both understand. Regardless, we will always love you.”

Salim nodded. “No matter what. We might disagree with each other, or argue until our voices go hoarse, or even hate each other for a time, but no matter what happens, our love will never change.”

“To put it simply,” Aisha said, “nothing would make us happier than to try together with you, Asra, to be a family again.”

Asra’s hands flew to his face and he doubled over in the chair, white curls touching his knees. 

“Asra?!” Mine and Muriel exclaimed, Muriel jumping to his feet to come closer.

Then, Asra lifted his head, and Aisha understood his reaction.

His cheeks were completely damp, tears flowing freely, along with snot running from his nose. His body quivered with soft sobs he was barely holding in, both his partners hugging him on either side. 

He had been such a messy crier as a child, and some things didn’t change. 

“I––I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m f––feeling a lot of things right now,” he managed to choke out, attempting a wobbly smile.  

“There, there,” Mine said, rubbing his back, while Muriel poured water into his teacup. 

Once he had calmed down, though his eyes were still watery, he continued.

“Thanks, mom, dad. Thank you….for everything. I, I never thought I would hear you say that and I just…”

Mine patted his shoulder. “There, there, sayang. We get it. Go at your own pace.”

He rested his head on their chest. “Thank you, dearheart. And you, Muri, love.”

Muriel grunted. He had gone back to sit down, but his chair had been moved closer, in case Asra needed quick comforting once more.

Aisha smiled. “Seems to me like you’ve certainly found many who love you dearly.”

“And I’m lucky for each and every one.”

“As we’re lucky to have you, Asra,” Salim said. “Thank you, habibi, for being the sweetest, kindest and loveliest child there ever was.”

He laughed weakly. “Dad, stop.”

“It is true though,” Aisha said. “Take my word for it, I’m never wrong.”

Asra chuckled and shook his head, affection clear in the gesture. “Mom, dad...I love you. So much.”

Aisha blinked, her vision becoming watery now. She leaned over, grasping Asra’s hand. 

Together, she and Salim said, “We love you too.”

The hours seemed to fly by as the conversation carried on, the edges of the blue sky starting to bleed orange soon enough. When Aisha pointed it out, Asra stammered out an invitation to stay for dinner tonight, and Mine jumped to their feet in excitement, suggesting all of them could even cook together.

Naturally, Aisha and Salim happily accepted.

When Asra asked what they would like to eat, Aisha took one look at her husband, and in unison, they answered, “Lamb fatteh!” 

In Zadithi tradition, fatteh was a celebratory dish of rice and toasted pita bread, piles of mutton crowning the top and accompanied by savory sauces. Around many parts of the country, it was the Mahrajan dish, for the Mahrajan Qurban, or the Mahrajan Saum. 

Aisha had many a happy memory of breaking her fast to a plate piled high with falafel and fatteh and roasted eggplant, family and friends and loved ones all around her, and she could not help but wish her child could also have such wonderful memories too, even if it was a little late.

By sunset, the shop’s kitchen was a mess of splatters and ingredients strewn about, rice sticking to Aisha's hijab while the dark curls of Salim's fringe had stains of tomato paste. Yet at the same time, there was laughter and chatter resounding throughout the whole building, never quiet for a single moment.

And despite the mess, the fatteh turned out beautifully, looking gorgeous as Salim and Muriel brought it out on its large dish, almost dominating the entire coffee table.

Asra closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Quietly, he said, “I haven’t smelled this in years. It’s just as wonderful as I remember.” He opened his eyes, turning to his parents. “I could never find the recipe to make it just like yours.”

“It’s the eggplant,” Salim said, brushing the last of the rice off her hijab. “Your mother loves them.”

Aisha laughed. “It’s the best part. My abi would make it like that.”

“My...grandfather?"

She nodded, her gaze becoming wistful. “It’s been such a while since we’ve seen my family. Your family, Asra. We are planning to reconnect soon...if you would want to.”

Asra bit his lip.

“You don’t have to, habibi,” Salim quickly said. “They are your family regardless, but you don’t have to force yourself into anything.”

“I’ll think about it….but maybe, I would like to meet them. Someday.”

Beside Asra, Mine bumped his shoulder, done with tying Muriel's hair back into a ponytail. “Baby steps, love. Take your time,” they said.

On Asra's other side, Muriel nodded in agreement. With his bangs out of his face, Aisha could see the softness beneath his gruff exterior, the love reflected in the green of his irises as he gazed at his partners. Truly, her child was surrounded by such wonderful people.

“Mine’s right,” Aisha spoke. “You can take your time, Asra. Whether it’s finding your roots in Zadithi, or connecting with us here in Vesuvia, your family isn’t going anywhere.”

Asra’s smile was soft and small, but radiant. “Thanks, mom.”

“Speaking of, can we start digging in yet?” Mine piped up. “I’m starving, and this fatteh smells wayyy too good for just staring at it.”

The rest of the table guffawed, even Muriel chuckling under his breath.

“Dig in, everyone!” Salim said

After reciting a tasmiya, they all began their meal, scooping up piles of rice and bread and lamb and eggplant, drizzling their dishes with ladles of tomato sauce and garlic sauce. 

As Aisha was halfway through her plate, Muriel told Asra, “You never did finish the story about the house.”

Asra put down his fork, surprise clear on his face. “Huh? What did I leave out?”

“Why it took so long for this place to be built.”

Asra’s cheeks flushed at this, in a way Aisha was starting to recognize.

“Asra Alnazar,” she said, “what did you do this time?”

“ Nothing ,” he said, though his expression was sheepish. “Things just...took a while. No one wanted this palace until Melaka came along. Once she did, she bought this lot and the one behind, and well, she rebuilt.”

“Despite Asra’s best efforts,” Mine whispered to Muriel, grinning.

“What do you mean?” Aisha asked, ears sharp as ever, before turning to Asra. “Habibi, what do they mean?

The blush grew deeper, his cheeks aflame, and he looked away. 

“Go on, Asra,” Muriel said, a little quiet, but a small, teasing smile tugging on his usually downturned mouth. “Tell them all about the hauntings.”

“The what ?” Salim exclaimed.

Asra covered the lower half of his face with his hands, his cheeks aflame now. 

Mine cackled. “Go on, Asra. I’m sure your parents will love this.”

With a sigh, he relented. “So, dad, mom, after the landlord kicked me out, I may have been, well, scaring all the new tenants away.”

“With an actual ghost?” Salim said.

“N–no, that was just me, doing some magic. Playing some pranks.”

“Scaring every single resident half to death,” Mine said.

“And sending them scurrying out in the middle of the night,” Muriel added.

“Yes, that.” Asra cleared his throat, continuing in a quieter voice, “And I may have also...committed property damage after Melaka first moved in.”

“ What?! ” Aisha said, her voice going shrill, trying to keep the grin from spreading across her face. “Asra!”

“Don’t forget breaking and entering,” Muriel chimed in.

“Trespassing too~” Mine sang. “I’m surprised auntie didn’t curse you into a toad or something.”

Asra glanced from one partner to the other. “Tonight is just about dredging up my entire embarrassing history, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mine and Muriel replied.

“And we’re enjoying every bit of it,” Mine said, Muriel bobbing his head as well.

“So what happened next?” Aisha interjected. “Were you caught by Miss Melaka?”

“Yep,” Muriel said.

“I was,” Asra admitted. “And then…”

The night passed with stories of past memories, both the ones Aisha and Salim knew, and those they didn’t. And while a part of Aisha’s heart still panged at how much she had missed, she couldn’t help the joy and delight blossoming in her chest.

Perhaps they could not take back the past.

But to be allowed to be a part of Asra’s present, to be able to learn about the sort of person her child used to be and the person he was now, it was a gift beyond measure. 

And to know that they were still a family, that he still had a place in his life for them after all these years?

It was beyond her wildest dreams.

––––

 Notes Disclaimer: I'm not Middle Eastern or Arab, and much of this is pulled from the internet as well as some of my own basic knowledge as a Malaysian Muslim. Please feel free to correct anything.

Qanun: A type of stringed instrument found across the Middle East, Asia, Africa and southeastern Europe. Riq: A type of tambourine and a traditional instrument in Arab music. It's the national musical instrument of Pakistan Revani/Basbousa: A type of sweet cake popular in the Middle East, and has many names Fatteh: A type of dish that is served differently depending on region. In Egypt, it is a type of feast meal

Abi (ابي): Arabic, from abu (أب)/father, meaning 'my father' Habibi (حبيبي): Arabic, from huub (حب)/love, meaning 'my love' Ya Qalbi (قلبي): Arabic, from qalb (قلب)/heart, meaning 'my heart' Ya A'youni (عيونى): Arabic, from a'in (عين)/eye, meaning 'my eyes', an affectionate petname. *Ya is a word often placed before names/nouns, ie 'Ya Aisha' or 'Ya Habibi'. The closest translation I understand is akin to saying "O Aisha", but not quite accurate

Mahrajan (مهرجان) : Arabic, meaning festival. Eid, the biggest celebrations of the Muslim world, can also translate to festival and in this story, Mahrajan is essentially fantasy!Eid. Mahrajan Qurban refers to Eid ul Adha, while Mahrajan Saum refers to Eid ul Fitri Tasmiya (تَسْمِيَّة): Arabic, a fantasy equivalent to the Basmala. In Muslim tradition, it is common to utter a Basmala before carrying out a task such as before eating

Clothknots: Mine has ADHD and to help with their forgetfulness, they often tie clothknots around their fingers to serve as reminders Sayang: Malay, meaning 'love'. Here, it's used as a petname

[neomanateefromexiletribe]

princess

Diavolo x Lucifer, DiaLuci

Fluff, Making Out

Diavolo accidentally turns into a woman and Lucifer is the one who has to deal with it. Inspired by this fanart.

There’s a knock on Lucifer’s door, loud enough to make him look up with a frown. The oldest brother hesitates, anxious that it might just be one of his siblings or MC determined to prevent him from doing his paperwork, but he gives in and tells whoever it is who’s now banging on his door to come in.

Surprise paints itself all over his face when a young woman barges in, a bright smile lighting up her face. She’s gorgeous, her skin glowing despite the lack of sun in the room, and her yellow eyes are sparkling with a hint of maliciousness. She’s wearing a red dress that highlights her generous curves, and it takes Lucifer a second to remember where he’s seen that dress before: it’s the dress Asmo designed for a sticker of Diavolo.

Suddenly, the gears in Lucifer’s brain activate: that skin color, the yellow eyes, the red hair… it can’t be?

“Um… Diavolo?” Lucifer asks, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Hello there Lucifer!” the young woman answers, waving a hand as she gets closer to him. “Don’t I look amazing?”

Lucifer takes another look at her, and coughs in his fist.

“What exactly happened?” he asks, not understanding how in the world Diavolo went from a huge demon to a beautiful demon lady.

“Simeon sent me some drinks from the Celestial Realm, but it appears that Solomon accidentally messed up their content, so now I look like this!” Diavolo explains, seemingly unbothered by his new appearance. “I had no idea I would look this good as a woman. I should’ve tried changing my appearance way earlier, don’t you agree?”

“I guess it is a good thing you don’t mind this sudden… change, but perhaps you should contact Simeon and Solomon in order to know how they can fix this?” Lucifer suggests, trying not to come too close to Diavolo.

“Don’t worry, Barbatos already told them of what happened and they’re looking into the matter,” Diavolo answers, “so now all I have to do is wait until I can somehow go back to normal. That said, I’m not particularly looking forward to going back to my former appearance too soon, I do like this one.”

Lucifer can’t help but sigh, and he sits down again. If Barbatos has already contacted the troublemakers, it’s one thing he doesn’t have to do, at least. Remains Diavolo, who seems way too delighted with his new appearance, and Lucifer just knows he’s going to have to entertain him while he’s in this form.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you,” Diavolo says, still smiling brightly, “I’ll sit down somewhere and busy myself.”

That’s… unexpected. Usually, Diavolo never wastes a second trying to get his attention, and that even if Lucifer is drowning under paperwork. Lucifer nods at Diavolo, and resumes doing his paperwork. He quickly realizes that even if Diavolo isn’t doing anything, his mere presence is enough to distract him – but he can’t blame it on Diavolo, who’s quiet in a corner for now.

It eventually reaches a point where Lucifer is this close to giving up, and that’s when Diavolo skips to his desk, a grin plastered on her beautiful face.

“What if you took a break?” she suggests, leaning in enough that her chest is showing thanks to her cleavage.

Lucifer has half a mind to scream because it seems that no matter the appearance, Diavolo seems to enjoy showing skin, but he keeps his composure and merely nods. Diavolo beams at him and takes his arm before leading him to his room. Lucifer sits on his bed, fully aware that he’s not in a position of power here, and he tenses as he feels Diavolo climbing in the bed and getting behind him.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer asks, and Diavolo giggles.

In this form, his voice sounds much more feminine, but it’s still as loud as his original male counterpart.

“I’m going to help you relax,” Diavolo answers mysteriously.

It would be a lie if Lucifer were to say that he was unaware of the sexual tension sitting between him and Diavolo since centuries or perhaps more. But for Diavolo to wait until he was turned into a woman to act on their reciprocally buried feelings somehow disturbed Lucifer. Just because he was a woman now didn’t mean it’d be easier for Diavolo to win over Lucifer’s heart, and Lucifer hoped the Demon Prince knew it. As much as it pained his pride, it was with the original Demon Prince he had hopelessly fallen in love with, not anyone else.

Lucifer tenses once again as Diavolo back hugs him, bringing the back of his head against her chest. Lucifer can’t say that he didn’t see that coming, it was obvious Diavolo was delighted to experience being a woman with such ample curves. Lucifer breathes in and out, forcing himself to relax, and Diavolo starts gently massaging his shoulders.

“You really are too tense,” Diavolo comments.

Lucifer doesn’t answer. There’s no point in doing so, he already knows it.

“You know, I actually thought of something,” Diavolo adds, relaxing her embrace.

“What is it?” Lucifer asks.

“You know how in tales and such, all it takes is a kiss from the prince for the princess’ troubles to go away? I thought that maybe a kiss could fix my situation too.”

There’s a heavy silence for a few seconds, and Lucifer’s body moves before he can fully realize what he’s doing. Diavolo is soon sprawled on his bed under him, cheeks red and panting, and Lucifer wonders if he’s doing a mistake or something that will serve them both.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Lucifer asks, and he has no idea why his voice sounds so seductive now but it simply does.

“Please?” Diavolo merely answers, batting her eyelashes.

Lucifer presses their mouths together, and it’s like they’re both breathing again after being underwater for too long. It’s a kiss that’s long overdue, centuries of dancing around each other without daring to make the first move, but now it’s the first step to setting everything right.

Diavolo moans weakly as Lucifer licks the inside of her mouth, and Lucifer merely presses their lips tighter together. Diavolo is melting under him, but has enough grip on reality to take one of his hands and bring it to her chest, a silent demand for him to touch her more. Lucifer wastes no time in doing as asked, and Diavolo cries in their kiss as he gently gropes her chest.

“More,” Diavolo whimpers, “give me more.”

Lucifer is tempted to get rid of the dress altogether, but before he can do so, there’s a sudden cloud of smoke and the original Diavolo is back. It’s strange seeing him lie on his bed in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and eyes watering with lust, but It certainly isn’t disagreeable.

“Do you still want more?” Lucifer asks, a smirk stretching his lips.

“I very much do,” Diavolo answers, chuckling, and Lucifer kisses him again.

That dress is in the way and Lucifer won’t let it ruin his plans of claiming Diavolo as his own.

[undercoveravenger]

The Scales of Justice

Creature Week 2020: Day Five

Pairing: Cato x Dragon Shapeshifter!Male!Reader

Request: “Hi so I just saw your ‘creature week announcement’ and was wondering if I could ask for a hunger games one again lol. A Cato x male reader, but the reader is a shape shifter(turns into a dragon). Could it be a fantasy AU? One where Cato is hired to hunt down the male reader but Cato ends up falling for reader because he sees that the reader isn’t a bad person/creature? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense.”

A/N: God, I love dragons.

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

There were few honors that meant as much as being personally selected for a mission by the Gamemakers, the ruling class of the Capitol. It meant you were talented, skilled, trusted with knowledge about the goings-on of the court, even if only the pertinent details were shared with you. It meant that you could expect honor and wealth upon your return.

Cato supposed that that was why he hadn’t been surprised when the messenger came to find him. He’d been one of the kingdom’s most valued knights since he’d been old enough to join the academy. He had known that it was only a matter of time until he was given a high-stakes mission of his own, but this? To be the one chosen to slay a dragon? Cato couldn’t be prouder of himself.

He was still glowing with pride as he scaled the mountain that the beast had made its home on, though there was a slight tremor in his hands as he approached the wide entrance to the cave the dragon was dwelling in, wide and dark like a gaping mouth ready to swallow him whole. He took a deep breath as he came to a stop on the narrow ledge outside the dragon’s den, steeling his resolve before drawing his sword from its scabbard and  making his way into the cave.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the relative darkness of the cave, but he was stunned by the sheer size of the cavern around him. He turned in a slow circle as he took in the towering ceiling and curved walls, easily the size of the grand ballroom at the castle, with every surface carved so smooth that he could almost see his reflection in the gleaming onyx stone. He gaped as he realized that the smoothness of the rock must have been caused by the dragon’s scales and wings dragging over them as it made its way further back into the cavern each day.

His brows furrowed as he realized something even more peculiar about the dragon’s den: there was no dragon to be found.

Cato slowly wandered deeper into the cave, remaining on alert even as he reached the back of the huge room and found that it did not end there. Instead, a sharp turn behind an outcropping of rock revealed a much smaller antechamber that had been dug meticulously out of the inside of the mountain. The smaller room was filled with piles and piles of gold and jewels that towered over him, though unlike the larger chamber, the walls and ceiling of this room were rough, as though the dragon was not in here often enough for its scales and spines to wear away at the rock. The blond was amazed at the sight of the beast’s hoard, though he was still confused; everything he had ever heard about dragons had taught him that they were notoriously protective of their hoards, so the very fact that it had put its hoard in a room it couldn’t even fit in was odd.

Cato whirled around as gold coins came cascading down a pile on his left, brandishing his sword high in anticipation of the great beast itself. He hesitated at the sight of a (h/c)-haired male that looked about his age picking his way slowly down the heap of treasure, clad only in a worn pair of breeches. Cato found his eyes tracing the stranger’s features longingly, fingers itching to reach out and cup his face in his hands and lips aching to tell him that he’d make sure that nothing could do him harm again, for surely he must have been some stolen prince for as handsome as he was.

The (h/c) froze at the sight of him, visibly tensing like he was going to try to run away. Cato could see his eyes darting from the knight toward the entrance into the larger cavern.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cato called up to him, a soft smile twisting his lips upward as the (h/c) looked back toward him. “I didn’t come to hurt you.” He sheathed his sword and held up his hands to show he meant no harm, unsure as to whether the presumed captive could understand him at all. “My name is Cato, and I can protect you from the monster.”

The (h/c)’s eyes narrowed suddenly, flashing dangerously in the low light as he turned away, carefully making his way down the pile of gold until his bare feet met the cold stone of the cave floor. “I doubt that very much,” he huffed, shoulders tense as he strode further into the antechamber.

“Excuse you?” Cato asked, a little offended. “I’m a knight of the Capitol! I’m sure I could handle myself against an overgrown lizard!” he protested as he followed after the stranger.

The stranger snorted in amusement, though he didn’t turn to look at Cato as he ducked into yet another small chamber, this one with a small fire smoldering in a pit dug into the floor. Sunlight streamed in through a small hole that had been carved into one of the top edges of the room to let smoke out. “I’m sure you could.”

The knight was beginning to think that his imprisonment had driven the stranger mad. “Then why did you say-” 

Cato was cut off by the (h/c) turning sharply to look at him. “I did not say that you could not hold your own against a dragon. I meant that I doubted you were not here to hurt me.”

The blond’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared in confusion at him, “Why would I hurt you? You were put at risk from the dragon the same way my kingdom has been, if not worse. You can come with me back to the Capitol, and then, when you’re feeling up to it, we can return you to your own kingdom.”

The (h/c) rolled his eyes, turning away again and heading for the fire. He dropped down to sit before it and dragged a piece of roasting meat from a skewer that Cato had not initially noticed. “I have never been at risk from the dragon that lives here and neither has your city. The only humans he injures or kills are those that would take his life if he did not defend himself.”

“How do you know that? Dragons are vicious! They’d sooner turn a city into an inferno than live in peace!” Cato snapped, now fully convinced that there was no saving whoever this guy was, no matter how attractive he may be.

The (h/c) raised an eyebrow challengingly, “Then why haven’t I done it yet?”

Cato’s mind went blank as he stared down at him. “Why haven’t- what?”

The (h/c) set aside his food and pushed back to his feet, turning his back to Cato and revealing an intricately detailed pair of batlike wings tattooed down the length of his back. As Cato watched, the ink seemed to dance and shift against his skin, the lines and shapes lifting and spreading as it became three dimensional. As the formerly tattooed wings came to life color faded into them, turning black and white shading into gleaming scales the colors of rubies. Each wing extended above the (h/c)’s shoulders by nearly half his height and flared wide on either side of him.

The (h/c) turned to look at Cato, formerly (e/c) eyes glowing golden with the power emanating from him. “I’m the dragon that lives in this cave. If I were going to destroy your town or the people that live there, I would have done it.”

Cato’s azure eyes were wide as he eyed the dragon, “You- You’re the- But why…?”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I just want to live?” The shape-shifter’s wings pulled tight against his back, storming back into the treasure chamber. He snatched up a small pouch from one of the heaps and scooped a few handfuls of gold coins into it. “Here,” he held it out to Cato, “Take this and disappear. It should be more than enough to buy you transport and a new start somewhere far away. It’s the same deal I made every other knight that your Capitol sent to kill me.”

The blond’s brows furrowed, a little disappointed in his fellow knights. “That worked on all of them?”

“Not all of them.” Cato was confused for a moment until he understood the remorseful look on the (h/c)’s face. “But I did what I had to.”

Cato hesitated, torn between what his duty demanded of him and what his heart told him. Eventually he found the strength, “You didn’t have a choice.”

“No,” the shape-shifter said softly, eyes fading back to their original color. “But you do.” He held out the bag of gold, “You can take this and leave, or you can draw your weapon and try to do what those before you could not.”

The knight’s eyes flickered between the offering and the hilt of his sword as he considered his choice. He slowly pulled his sword from his scabbard, examining his reflection in the gleaming blade for a long moment before throwing it aside. “What if I want another option?”

“And what would that be?” The (h/c) replied, raising an eyebrow.

Cato bit his lip, lowering his eyes nervously. “I want to understand you better.”

The dragon-shifter’s face remained blank for a long moment, but relief washed over Cato when a pleased grin found its way to the (h/c)’s lips. “That can be arranged.”

[vs-redemption]

Ok so this one might be harder if you don’t game very often. But Dabi x reader who’s quirk is like a Witcher.

~🐱❤️

From Cindy: Hello 🐱Anon!! This turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, but I think it kind of fits with what I found while researching the Witcher. 

⚠️Angst(?) and mentions of violence. Nothing descriptive but I’d rather be safe than sorry.⚠️

The Witcher (Dabi x Witcher!Reader)

It was a night just like any other for Dabi. Another night of skulking through the dark streets of the city, avoiding heroes and seeking out other criminals. His sapphire eyes scanned his surroundings slowly as he strained his ears for any hint that someone might be around.

Recruitment. That’s why he was out here every single night by himself. The league of villains needed allies, well, more like henchmen. Either way, Shigaraki couldn’t achieve his goals until they increased their numbers. And what better way for Dabi to make himself valuable to the team than to go out and rally together people to support the cause?

Liar. A wave of self-hatred crashed through him and he clenched his fists at his sides, disgusted by his own weakness. For years he’d been working toward one unshakable goal. Nothing else was supposed to matter. And everything would be fine if he were just out here searching for fellow bad guys that were worthy of bolstering Shigaraki’s power, but he wasn’t. He was out here searching for you.

He could try to use the false pretense that you’d make an extremely worthy addition to the team, but that was just another lie. As great as it would be to have someone with your skill set and abilities on his side, he knew deep down that you’d never accept. He’d never actually spoken to you, but something about the reports he’d seen about you told him that you weren’t the type to play nicely with others. He could tell because he was the same way. The only reason he’d joined the League was because it was beneficial for him. If you hadn’t reached out to team up with the ragtag group yet, chances are you were never going to.

“No! No! Please!”

The screams came from an alley a few streets over, but they only last a moment before going silent. Thankful for the distraction from his thoughts, Dabi made his way to find the source of the violence. Perhaps he’d get lucky and find someone to take back to Shigarai after all. He sucks in a breath when the person who comes walking casually out from the darkness is you, wiping blood off the long sword in your hands until the light from the streetlamps glistens off the razor sharp edge.

You seem to notice his presence immediately and look up to meet his gaze. Seeing the golden color of your eyes along with the catlike slits for pupils was more shocking in person, and your long white hair caught the moonlight and made you look even more ethereal. Dabi was normally one to keep his cool in almost any situation, but running into you had him standing transfixed. He’d played this very scene over and over in his head more times than he’d ever admit to, yet now when you were finally standing right in front of him, he was speechless.

“Dabi, from the League of Villains,” you address him neutrally while sheathing your sword.

He’d never heard your voice before now, but the sound of his name passing through your lips had his heart galloping inside his chest. Not only was your voice just as enchanting as the rest of you, but you knew who he was. It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, but the pathetic little crush he had on you clouded the more logical side of his brain and filled his head with delusions that you’d been just as desperate to cross paths with each other as he had.

“Kind of bold of you to put your weapon away in front of me,” Dabi says with his eyes sliding down your form to where your sword hung on your hip. The way you scoff at him in amusement should’ve offended him. He’d lost his temper and incinerated others for more trivial reasons before. But something about your attitude excited him. He liked getting this emotional response from you, even if it wasn’t exactly positive.

“There’s no reason for us to fight. Unlike the League, my only conflict is with the heroes, especially those deemed unworthy by Stain like the one I just took care of back there,” You state in a matter of fact tone while gesturing to the alleyway and then raising an eyebrow. “If you do attack me though, I am more than capable of defending myself without my blade.”

If there was any doubt about Dabi’s attraction to you before, it was gone now. The confidence in your own strength was one thing, but knowing that you were also a believer in the Hero Killer’s ideology made you so much more appealing. Unrealistic ideas began to form in his head of cutting ties with the League and joining forces with you.

“Move!” You suddenly grab his arm and yank him to the side. You make a strange gesture with your free hand that sent a strange wave of energy outward to blast back the hero Dabi had been too distracted to notice coming up behind him.

Your quirk wasn’t enough to give you much time to recover, so you unsheathe your sword and prepare to take down the second hero that rushed in from the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Dabi was making sure the first hero couldn’t retaliate by engulfing them in a wave of hot blue flames. Within seconds both heroes were laying on the ground, motionless.

“We make a pretty good team,” Dabi comments while trying to hide the way the burned skin on his hands smoked from using his flames. It had been a long time since he’d felt self-conscious about his burns, but you hardly gave him a second glance.

“I would’ve been long gone before they showed up if I hadn’t stopped to talk to you in the first place,” You point out critically and then shrug. “Oh well, I can’t complain if means fewer people running around making a mockery of what it means to be a real hero.” You pause for a moment to clean your sword off for the second time. “Well, see you around Dabi.” Without any hesitation, you turn and dash of, vanishing out of sight after turning into another random alley.

Dabi stands on the street for much longer than he should have afterwards, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He’d finally talked to you. On top of that, he’d had the chance to show off and help you fight off two heroes. Nothing about the brief encounter had seemed to impress you at all though, which left Dabi feeling kind of empty and even more disgusted with himself and his infatuation. He knew he couldn’t remain out in the open while he wallowed in self-pity though. The heat and light from his flames had undoubtedly drawn even more attention to the area where he was, so he takes one more calming breath before forcing his thoughts back to his original objective and walking away.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter One

*not my gif*

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: dark themes, canon typical violence, reference to human trafficking, description of blood (brief), mentions of drugs and alcohol, swearing Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: I told ya’ll I have no self control, so here’s ya go, have some enemies to lovers AU with some kinda mixed up timeline (there's some characters that don’t exist in the Mandalorian timeline).

Chapter One

Blood for coin.

One of the oldest transactions known to mankind.

And crypto-kind.

It paid your bills. And your family’s bills. So, you tried to not let it get to you, to not let some of the things you did get under your skin. There’s too much riding on what you do to back out; no matter how much you would rather be curled up under a blanket, couch scattered with snacks, bingeing some new mindless tv show, than here.

The bar is too packed for a Wednesday night. Had you been blessed with a more carefree personality you might have enjoyed the atmosphere, with a bottle or two clouding your system. Completely sober to the world the activities masked behind pounding music and strobe lights did not hold any appeal. Copper and iron tinted the air, pheromones were running rampant and other mind-numbing treats were being less than subtly exchanged.

“What’s your poison tonight, sweet-gills?”

You scoff, regarding the bartender through half-lidded eyes as you draw your dagger from a boot and slide it across the counter. “Zachriel.”

The man raises a bushy eyebrow in response.

“He’ll know who I am when you give him that.”

He shrugs and takes the pearl-handled dagger. You were not the only one who came looking for his boss.

Before he left the bartender flashed you a smile of pointed teeth and poured you a glass of something strong. Halfheartedly you swirl the glass in one hand as you watch the mass of bodies blur together on the dance floor. Neutral ground clubs were truly a different world, one where the shadows of the world melted back into their old ways-the ways labeled sinful or unnatural by humans. Not that some of the old ways weren’t wrong. Many of the too grotesque and unsightly ways took place out of sight of other patrons- Zachriel made sure of that. As long as the living left alive and the dead remained dead then it was fair game. The shadows took advantage of that and chose to live their pleasures out here.

One such woman approached as your gaze wanders aimlessly, hips swaying and eyes glazed over she makes it no secret what she wants. You do not speak a word of acknowledgment as the woman closes the gap between your bodies. A hand slides over your hip, tugging less than subtly at the waistband of your jeans. She smells of juniper berries and cigarette smoke.

“Ma’am.”

The shark-toothed bartender returns, glaring slightly at the woman still hovering at your side.

“You’re welcome to head up now.”

“Thanks.” You leave the untouched drink and disappointed looking woman behind to fight through the crowd towards the stairs tucked away at the back of the establishment. You tap the “employees only” sign above the stairwell as you pass.

You are familiar with the maze upstairs. After all this time you could locate Zachriel’s suite blindfolded. Not bothering to knock, you’re not surprised to find it has been redecorated, again, since he had last called you here. Empty glasses litter the end tables by his settee, their owners presumably the young man and woman snuggled up to Zachriel’s sides. The smell of human permeates the space, seeming to originate with the glassy eyed man, much to your displeasure.

“Ah (Y/N), welcome darling,” Zachriel’s baritone voice cuts through the smoky air. “Have a seat and we can get right down to it.”

Wordlessly you slide into the armchair across from the bar’s owner. Neither or his guests pay you any attention, simply continuing to clutch onto their host, lavishing his exposed neck and shoulders with sloppy kisses. Both were presumably beyond drunk and only awake because of the stimulate Zachriel had burning in the loft.

“You’re looking lovely as ever, darling, but judging by that twinkle in your eye you aren’t just here for my company.”

The way Zachriel could read you no longer comes as a surprise, but that does not mean you have to like it. “Seven months apart and it seems you can still read me like an open book.”

“Oh, don’t sound so sour about that, darling. It makes our business easier, doesn’t it?”

Business it was, and Zachriel’s fares had been on the rise. You were either going to have to find a new informant or start getting the friends and family discount here.

“Then let’s get to it, I don’t have all night,” you kick your combat boots up onto his polished coffee table, both of Zachriel’s playthings jump, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Ha, not quite as dainty as your scaled sisters, you must hate stereotypes, darling,” Zachriel chuckles as he pours himself another drink. “What would you like to know tonight? It must be something big if you’re coming to me all the way out here on.”

“I need a location and names for Samson’s trafficking ring.”

The decanter comes down with such force you’re surprised it does not shatter. The playthings jump again, both putting a miniscule amount of space between them and the demon in human skin.

“(Y/N), have you been partaking in the festivities downstairs, because normally you’d know better than to ask me such a stupid question as that.”

“You know for a fact that I don’t. I am asking you in all seriousness where Samson is running these days,” you cross your arms, staring down your nose at Zachriel as he screws up his face.

“Get out!” He shoves his guests away and they quickly obey. The door slams shut behind them as Zachriel’s eyes begin to shift between his green façade and their natural coal-colored irises.

Feet planted on the floor, you lean forward, elbows on your knees, “no need to get so worked up. It is an easy question. You know the answer, or you don’t.”

Zachriel sneers, “I don’t.”

“Try again.”

“I’m still suffering losses from your last bust! I shouldn’t even let you step foot in here anymore!”

“You mean the bust that saved 25 teenage girls? I think that’s worth more than your profit margins.”

“Says you!” He snarls back, jaw clenched and face going red.

“Oh calm down and just think of the cut I’ll give you from Samson’s bounty once we take him down.”

A glass sails by your head in warning. If he wanted to hit you he would have.

“Get out!”

As the words leave the demons lip the door slams in, the doorframe splintering. You’re on your feet and reaching for your blade before you can even lay eyes on who’s kicked the door in. Fingers grasping the hilt of your sword dispels the enchantment, revealing the weapon strapped to your back. As you evaluate the man in the doorway, you’re not sure how useful it will be- he’s armed with a pistol, holding it in a stance the screams soldier.

Sword drawn, you stare down the man and he does the same, his dark eyes flickering up and down your form. He’s got a few years on you, you’d guess, but he’s well built, and sporting a bullet proof tac-vest under his black long sleeve judging by the shape it gives his torso. He is otherwise well prepared for whatever he came to Zachriel for; there’s an extra gun and ammo strapped to one leg, a blade and a stake strapped to the other. You briefly wonder how he got this far into the bar so armed without getting caught.

Indignant, Zachriel glares down the dark-haired intruder, “who the fuck do you think-”

You kick his settee over as the intruder fires. Zachriel tumbles to the floor as you jump to put yourself between the two men. As much as you and Zachriel had your differences, you were not about to let your informant get murdered in front of you.

“Go.” You don’t turn to look at him but hope the demon decides to cooperate for once.

Best guess, the man was after Zachriel, the way his gaze lingers on the demon as he scrambles to his feet behind you. Did not mean he wouldn’t shoot you to get to Zachriel though.

“I’d ask you not to shoot but I take it you’re not the type to listen to reason.”

The man scoffs, the thin mustache on his lip quirking with the sound. “It’s not like you monsters have reason to begin with.”

A hunter.

You spit a curse under your breath. Everyone in the building was in danger with him around.

“Stand down and I’ll make it quick and painless for you.” His voice is rough and dark even without the threat.

“Oh hell no.”

Your lunge manages to catch him by surprise, striking at his right shoulder. He recovers quick, managing to dodge before your blade can sink too deep. Grunting he aims a shot for your torso but you’re quick too, rolling out if the way and ducking behind the overturned settee. Reaching for your boot you launch your dagger over your cover. The thunk of metal on wood is enough to know you missed your blind shot.

“Fuck!”

With an almost comical puff of smoke Zachriel disappears, leaving only a dusting of soot on the floor where he had stood. Lucky demons and their dark magics, always had a quick escape. Now you just needed a way out.

A bullet flies over the lip of the couch as the hunter’s heavy footfalls approach. Rolling onto your back, you shove your boots against the overturned seat, pushing it right into the path of the hunter. He swears again, clattering to the floor. Jumping up you throw the end tables towards him, glass shattering around you both as the tumblers fly across the room. You dart for the door and thank whoever’s out there for industrial design and exposed pipes. Shoving your sword into the pipe above the doorframe with all your strength manages your desired effect. Water starts to pour from the hole into the already trashed room. Stepping out the busted door you mutter a few old words under your breath and with a flick of your wrist the liquid covers the doorway and freezes solid. A door of ice to keep in the hunter, just in time. He rushes towards you, fist slamming against the ice.

A sigh of relief escapes you as the magic holds. He glares at you through the ice, dark eyes burning with a hate you have not seen in a long while. There’s blood smeared across his face and neck, creating a terrifying image as he snarls at you. His shoulder is bleeding pretty heavily where you nicked him, but it doesn’t look too deep; he would live, and his shoulder would heal fine. Good.

His shirt is torn down to his forearm revealing a myriad of tattoos painted across skin, one in the shape of a horned skull just below his shoulder. Solid and black. So painfully obvious.

Fuck.

“I have no desire to kill you. So just stay here for a bit while I get the hell out of dodge and then we’ll be good to go.”

You wave at him as you dash away, ignoring his shouts trailing behind you. Sliding your sword back into its scabbard, the blade disappears again by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs. The bartender spots you long before you reach the counter. You must look a mess now.

“Hunter. Zachriel’s suite. Gotta go.”

Lips set into a thin line the man nods, swift to wave over the security lingering around the edges of the room.

Then you’re gone, weaving through the crowd to disappear out a fire exit and into the city streets.

At least Zachriel owes you now.

.

“Boba Fett was the last Mandalorian we had in these parts; are sure this hunter was one of them?”

Rolling your eyes, you grimace at the aging man, “well I didn’t think to ask him while he was trying to kill us, Boss. But he had the tattoo, plain as day. Black mythosaur skull, right shoulder.”

“Boba Fett used to hunt around here?” Kanan’s dark-haired apprentice is filled with awe, missing the important point at hand.

“Ezra-” Kanan goes to chide him for interrupting but Boss cuts him off.

“Fett was the only Mandalorian we’d ever dealt with in these parts before he died five years ago,” Boss explains. “We’ve only seen some lone wanderers since. None of which have been much cause for concern.”

He thinks you’re overreacting.

“This one seemed pretty serious.”

“(Y/N) had a point.” At least Kanan agreed with you.

Boss sits for a moment, wrinkled hand stroking his wiry white beard. Murmurs ripple through the small crowd that they’d gathered in the office. Mandalorians were not to be taken lightly. They were better equipped and considerably more organized than any usual human hunter. Many slayers had fallen to their kind as well. Even one Mandalorian hunter running around the city could spell the death of hundreds of cryptos. The issue was they rarely operated alone. They were the communal type. One Mandalorian could mean a whole covert more of them nearby.

“We’ll release a bulletin with a description of the Mandalorian. Any other sightings or run-ins will need to be reported and compared to the initial description to confirm there is only one in the area.”  

Well at least he was doing something. Now everyone in the area would be walking around with bated breath until they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

“Dismissed.”

The group disperses, considerably more solemn than when they’d been gathered.

“What was the Mandalorian like?” Ezra looks to you with the same wide-eyed enthusiasm you imagine you once held for the job.

Kanan rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop the teenager. He understands the curiosity in the apprentice slayer.

“Angry?” You offer.

Not quite the answer the boy wanted. “Was he as tough as the rumors say?”

“Ah- it wasn’t much of a fight, Ezra. I was just trying to get out without any issues.”

The boy’s face falls. He was still so new to all this, high off the pride of being strong enough to protect others no matter how strong your foe. You could imagine he wanted to see the Mandalorians as this tough advisory that one day he would be strong enough to beat without breaking a sweat.

“Ezra, you have to remember. Mandalorians are humans so we cannot put ourselves in their paths. And we absolutely cannot harm or kill them without good reason.”

Meaning the only choice was their life or yours.

He sighs at Kanan, “I remember.”

It was the, often fatal, disadvantage you faced. You were sworn to protect humans from your own kind, to the point that you were not allowed to harm the humans out to kill you.

.

Karga looked rather smug when Din returned to see him the following morning. Not a look Din enjoyed being on receiving end of.

“Well looks like you had quite the night.”

Din rolls his eyes and slides into the seat across from the barkeep as he works through his books. Most of Din’s injuries had been minor, cuts from the broken glass around the room, sore back (though that wasn’t news these days), and a bruise blossoming across his jaw from the table the woman had thrown at his face. His shoulder had been the worst of it, and he had managed to get away without proper stiches, just butterflied it up on his own. It still ached a bit under the bandages, but Din had dealt with far worse.

“I can take your sour mood as you didn’t catch what you wanted?”

“Managed to get away,” Din grunts.

“Well, the information did say that the owner is rather crafty. I thought you would have been prepared for that.”

The frown on Din’s face deepens. “It wasn’t the owner. There was a woman with him, managed to keep me busy so he could escape.”

Karga looks surprised, “a woman? Security maybe?”

“No,” Din shakes his head, “it sounded like she was there to do business with him, but she didn’t hesitate to put herself between him and me.”

“Strange. I hadn’t heard of any women he was doing business with. I can poke around, see if I can’t find out who she is.”

“That could be helpful, thanks.”

Karga chuckles, “don’t thank me yet. Questions around here tend to lead to more questions than answers.”

[the-lady-writes-what]

20. Tenya Iida 

Theme: Vampire, Southern Gothic

Kinks: Outdoor sex, biting (duh), slight blood kink, mild spanking,  mild punishment play, brat calling

All underaged characters are aged up. Tenya is 18+. Don’t come for me unless I send for you.

(The original Master List will change slightly from story to story. I keep adding stuff that I did not put on the original list)

Masterlist

You closed the ornate French doors behind you and stepped out into the night. The evening was sticky with the high humidity, but it was better than the sweltering heat inside. You fanned yourself with a silk fan and wandered into the garden. Cicadas hummed wildly in the trees while crickets chirped in the grass. In the air hung gardenia, wisteria, and homegrown lemongrass. So much better than the cloying, choking smell of cheap perfume, and even cheaper cigar smoke. You were dragged here almost against your will. The only things you liked about the party were the cocktails and the lovely new cocktail dress you got to show off. It was a silk and chiffon dress that wrapped around your body like a second skin. Best of all, it was in your favorite color. 

Here in the deep south of Louisiana, the silk and chiffon were welcomed in the heat. The evening had cooled a great deal since the afternoon when you arrived at this southern palace. If it had been hosted at an actual plantation home, you would have chosen to wear your new favorite dress to a different venue. 

Thankfully, the house was less than fifty years old and was owned by your boss, who liked a certain amount of Americana, odd for someone who was Japanese. But who were you to judge Mr. Toshinori? 

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to walk into the night all by yourself. If quirks weren't bad enough, add vampires into the mix, and you have a world turned upside down. Before you ask, vampires were never real until someone had the misfortune of having a literal vampire-quirk. It spread by accent when that civilian had gone too long without sating themselves on living blood, they infected another. As it came to be known throughout the world in news and social media, the vampire quirk was passed through bites and the exchange of blood. The victim still kept their original quirks, but now they had to have blood to live, they can't step out into the sun unless the victims wanted serious burns, and they grew pale or gray like death, depending on skin tone.

But the party was too stifling.

Half the guests were strangers to you, friends of Mr. Toshinori. The other half of the guest list included people who just made you feel terrible. They weren't bad people, but they reminded you of a time when you had someone special. Tenya has been missing for two years since the vampire quirk first infected Japan. Though a lot of work had been done to quell the problem, many were still missing. One day he was there, fighting crime and protecting you and the city. The next, he was gone. Vanished. His family and agency didn't know where he'd gone, much to your horror. Two years later, there were more questions than answers.

The fresh air was necessary for you not to lose your mind or get plastered in front of Mr. Toshinori's friends. Tonight felt similar to summer evenings in Japan, so it wasn't out of place. You stepped further away from the house and squinted into the yard. A full moon pierced in between the branches and shed some light. You found a path that led out into an unfenced part of the yard. You weren't sure if Americans were fond of wide open backyards, or if the fancy house was built so far from the nearest neighbors, a fence seemed silly. You glanced over your shoulder, then continued. You didn't mind the grass tickling your legs, but it was the bugs treating you like an all-you-can-eat buffet. You found a pebbled path and took it to avoid all the bugs. Your heels weren't very high at all, so walking down the trail wasn't a significant feat. You circled the property, always making sure that you could still make out parts of the house.

The night grew longer. Sooner rather than later, someone was going to miss you at the party. Your quirk wasn't strong against most people, let alone someone infected with a vampire quirk. You think about going back but only think. The night air is so clear and breathable. You didn't even mind the bug bites and humidity. You made another circle around the house's property before your legs started to hurt. Behind a gardenia bush stood a stone bench perfect for you to rest. You sank down with a sigh. The smell of gardenias was almost too much before a new smell wafted towards you. It was a smooth, masculine cologne. You smelled it before and knew it well.

You sprang to your feet to follow the scent. It led you back around the house where no one in the windows could see you scurry through the bushes. The lights of the house slowly began to disappear the further you traveled. A finely manicured garden gave way to the wilderness. Moonlight and starlight guided you deeper still with frogs croaking around a small moss-covered pond. Moonbeams split between the branches of a weeping willow to outline the shadowed figure sitting at the base of the tree. You stopped in your tracks. Your heart started pounding.

The figure rose to their feet and turned towards you. A summer breeze brushed the leaves out of the way to reveal their full form.

"Y/N?"

Tenya's voice froze the blood in your veins. Tears welled in your eyes at the first intonement of his voice, and you took a cautious step towards him. Your legs shook to the point that you weren't able to stand any longer. Your heel snagged on an upraised root and sent you tumbled over. Tenya's superior speed let him catch you before you landed on the loamy ground.

"Are you alright?" Iida asked.

You balked. Your jaw dropped to the ground.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?" You had a thousand more questions. Instead, you chose to grab hold of his shirt and bury your face inside his chest.

His arms hesitantly wrapped around you. You breathed in his scent deeply. You missed this smell. Almost as much as you missed the man himself.

"I've missed you so much," you sighed.

"I…I missed you too," said Tenya.

You didn't bother to dry your eyes as you lifted your head to look up at him. Tenya's eyes glowed red in the dark. Gasping, you pulled away slightly. Tenya ground his teeth and turned his eyes away from you. You felt his arms slip away from you even though you still clutched his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I couldn't stop him. I wasn't trying to apprehend a criminal, but he bit me. I couldn't face my family or you after knowing what I became."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I made arrangements with Toshinori. I only wanted to see you one more time. I wanted to see how you were if you were eating right. If you moved on." Your heart sank. You reached up with both hands and held his face and turned it slowly over to yours.

"Move on? You hoped I moved on?" Your voice cracked at the insult. "All I wanted was to know what happened to you, Tenya. I love you, I don't care what you've turned into! You gave yourself up in the pursuit of justice. You're my hero, Tenya. How could I move on from you?"

You didn't give him a chance to make a rebuttal. You kissed him hard on the lips, licking and biting where you could. You both stumbled to the ground, Tenya being too distracted to stop the fall. You straddled his hips and held his head between your hands. Your tears watered his cheeks as you kissed his lips and each cheek, his eyes, chin, forehead, and both of his ears. You kissed him all over until his face was cherry red.

"Y-Y/N! Calm down, I understand! You, you love me. But there's something you need to know."

You stopped for a moment. More so to catch your breath than because he told you to. You wanted to kiss him all night. His eyes glowed red in the dark. Tenya leaned forward and braced his hands against the moist earth. As he sat up, you felt his hardened member poke between your cheeks. Tenya parted his lips. Two slivery fangs protruded from pinkish gums.

"I've been infected by the vampire quirk, which makes things like this…awkward. You have no idea how many nights I thought about you. Wondering if you would still want me after finding out I was infected. I wanted to go to you and," Tenya swallowed hard. "Do unspeakable things to you."

His face grew redder. The tips of his ears turned bright pink. You stifled yourself to keep from laughing. No matter how adorable you thought his face looked, that didn't make the situation any less severe. You needed to focus on what he was about to say.

"I found myself going to your apartment and thought about how your neck would feel against my new fangs as I thrust inside you. I wondered what you would sound like as I…fucked you and sucked your blood. I was afraid that you would think of me as nothing but a monster."

You reached behind your back, where Tenya's cock stood at attention. You wrapped your hand around him and pumped him through his clothes. This made the man beneath you buck his hips.

"Does this look like I think you're a monster?" You asked slyly.

Tenya grunted as you pumped him harder. You shifted forward a little, so you could unzip his pants pull it out. You couldn't tell whether it was the vampire quirk that made him so big and hard all of a sudden, or your administrative kisses were enough to make him rock hard.

In a flash, you were pinned to the willow tree, shielded from all view except for Tenya's. The wind was knocked out of you that you didn't get the chance to recover. The sounds of tearing fabric reached your ears before you realized that it was Tenya, your sweet Tenya, who was doing the clothes-ripping. Your silk panties were reduced to shreds by the time he was done with them. The seams of your dress were also ripped in his furor to get you to spread open for him. Tenya gave no warning before plunging right in. You moaned at how full you felt, how the veins of his cock rubbed you the right way. You tossed your head back as Tenya slammed his hips into yours. His teeth left indents in your shoulders and the tops of your dress, where it slipped from your shoulders. Tenya's speed and rough treatment made the willow tree shiver along with you.

"You're devious, you know," Tenya growled. "Fucking a vampire in the middle of the woods. You should be punished for having such a lewd mind."

Tenya held your legs wide open and pulled them taut behind his back. Your ankles instinctively crossed each other at the small of his back, and your heels dug into his flesh. Not that Tenya seemed to mind or notice. Tenya held you tight against him until there was no more space between you. In your lust-filled haze, you could no longer tell where you ended and where Tenya began. He pounded your cunt with the ferocity of a starving man at a buffet. You giggled how earlier you thought yourself an all-you-can-eat buffet for mosquitoes, and here you were being served up to someone who likely hadn't had sex for two years.

One of Tenya's broad hands came down against your thigh, turning it bright red with his handprint.

"Laughing…at a time like this, YN?" Tenya grunted with a deep thrust that kissed your cervix. "You should pay attention when you're getting punished."

If this was punishment, then you were going to be a very bad girl for your boyfriend.

"Mhmm, Tenya. Do it again. Fuck me harder, spank me more!"

Tenya slowed only to give you a stern look. His hips never stopped moving, and his cock was still heavily buried in you. He glowered at your sheepish smile.

"Is that how you want to play, little brat?"

You challenged him to a fight you could not win. Still buried deep within your inner walls, Tenya laid you out on the grass, hair and torn chiffon rumbled on the ground. He held your legs up to your chest and demanded that you hold them there. Your shoulders pressed into the dirt, but you didn't mind. Tenya resumed his seat in your warm walls and started stretching you out anew. This new angle was superb for reaching deep inside your cunt and hitting your cervix over and over again. Tenya clawed your body like it was his own toy to play with. Having never before seen this side of Tenya before, you moaned at the rough treatment. Your juices spread all over your lower belly, thighs, and the Tenya's pelvis. Stars danced in front of your eyes as you felt your whole body tighten. Your back arched taught like a bow. Your hands clutched the ground for support as you felt yourself falling. Tenya snapped his hips with enough strength to break your bones. Heavy ropes of cum warmed your walls and lower belly as it spread. You were utterly boneless despite Tenya slowly pumping more into you.

His head leaned down and pressed his lips against your throat. You felt the pinpricks of his fangs jut against your flesh, teasing and threatening at the same time. Slowly, you nodded your head.

Tenya waited for no more. He sank his teeth into as he started his pumping again. His thrusts were slower but harder. Each bone-shattering snap of his hips dragged you back up to that wonderful precipice you'd just fallen over. You moved your hips against him and wrapped your arms behind his neck. Tenya was careful not to take too much or too quickly. He suckled your blood with a strange gentleness that contrasted the harsh thrusting inside your womb. That only changed when he climaxed again, fangs and cock still fully sheathed inside you. You milked him while his mouth laved up the crimson rivulets.

You reached up to cling to his shoulders as Tenya carefully pulled away to avoid hurting you further. The ache in your legs was proof that you had never experienced the like before. However, it was a delicious pain. You vaguely remember Tenya rearranging your clothes and his before picking you up off the ground. You fell asleep in his arms, listening to the hum of cicadas.

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?” You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Night Terrors, pt. 1

WARNING: This story deals with torture flashbacks, several of which are specifically dealing with waterboarding. If these scenes would cause any problems for you, please do not read. I am only basing my portrayal of PTSD on internet research and very little first hand knowledge.

Here it is folks. The two shot that started the current MIC iteration. This was one of my first stories for Modern Inheritance (written in 2016 iirc). As such, it’s not totally in line with the image I have for the series and characters now (Early 2021), but it is a solid baseline and actually pretty damn close. At some point I may rewrite it, but for now, I’m happy with this reminder of changes.)

PART 1 // Part 2

~~~

Arya never really slept well.

True, her sleep got a bit better once they had arrived at Ellesméra, something she was incredibly thankful for, but being able to sleep through every other night without nightmares or a heart pounding night terror ripping her from her waking dreams was still not good enough to be considered ‘sleeping well.’ If it weren’t for those blessed nights of uninterrupted slumber the elf was sure she would be a walking wreck.

So far she had managed to avoid waking anyone else. Islanzadí, surprisingly enough, would occasionally check on her daughter in the middle of the night, and on nights where she found her sitting at the balcony staring at the stars, the queen would join her in silent companionship. It was a sign their relationship was mending, and if Arya was still stuck, mute and fearful, in her dreams, the slender arm that wrapped around her shoulders and soft humming would pull the younger elf from the darker recesses of her mind.

Something about tonight was different, though. As Arya slipped under the comforter on her bed– having finally gotten used to sleeping in it after two weeks of sleeping on a progressively thicker pile of sleeping bags on the floor– she felt a tingle of distant static dart across the pads of her fingers. When she glanced out the doors to the balcony, a far off thunderhead appeared as a purple smear against the orange and pink sunset. Lightning flickered through the cloud, seeming to rent it from corner to corner before it again returned to the color of bruised skin.

'Good. We haven’t had rain in some time.’ The elf thought as she turned on her side and closed her eyes. She tugged the corner of the comforter under her chin and drifted off into her waking dreams, hoping the sway of the tree would lull her into a peaceful sleep.

~

Arya’s waking dreams stuttered. Something had changed in her surroundings, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on until she realized she couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt heavy and damp, especially around her face and definitely over her mouth and nose. It was pitch black and something was clamped over her eyes, shoving her head back against a hard, flat surface. She couldn’t move, no matter how much she internally screamed at her muscles to do so, and with a terrifying jolt she realized she couldn’t breathe either. Warm water gushed into her mouth and flooded her sinuses, panic filling her chest as quickly as the liquid did.

“We can end this here and now, elf.” A cold voice whispered in her ear, and the fall of water against her face halted. The hand over Arya’s eyes lifted and bright light flared across her lids as a sodden cloth was removed. The demon beside the woman let her cough and choke, trying to expel the water in her lungs but unable to while he still pushed her head back with a hand on her clammy forehead. “What say you, hm? A few words are all I want. Speak them to me, and you will be released from this.” He knew she wouldn’t be able to respond, not verbally at least, but that was part of his game. He knew she would never speak.

Using the little leeway he gave her, Arya managed to scowl, spitting water from between her teeth, and shake her head a few millimeters from side to side. Durza sighed mockingly and slapped the wet cloth back down over her face.

“Oh well. Ready to die again, little elf?“

Lightning flashed across Arya’s eyes as she fell from the bed and hit the floor hard, a strangled cry escaping her throat. She scrambled to kick the tangled blanket off of her legs and dove for her pack to rip her sword from where it was tied to the frame.

A clap of thunder rang out as she pulled the blade free just in time to feel her back flare white hot with agony, lines of fire tracing wounds she knew had been healed. It had been weeks since they closed, hadn’t it? Hadn’t it?!

A fist slammed into her side, cracking a rib and sending her to the floor again, sword still clamped in a white knuckled grip.

'Get dressed. Get out of here. Fight.’ The thought was barely registered as Arya scrambled for the combat pants she wore while with the Varden, another line of pain lancing its way up her right arm. For a brief moment, as she struggled to yank the pants on without giving up her sword, she swore she saw blood dripping from her fingers, trailing from a deep gash that revealed the bones and tendons flexing in her forearm.

She dropped her blade for a split second to yank on a standard issue cotton shirt and then snatched the weapon up again. She tore her pistol belt and combat jacket out of her pack, quickly patting the pockets to make sure the pressure bandage and small medkit were still there, and slung both over her arm. Thunder crashed again, followed by a clap of lightning nearby.

Another blow clipped the elf’s shoulder as she dashed for the balcony, nearly shoving her out the open doors before she caught herself on the jamb.

It was raining. Wet spray splashed up into Arya’s face and she recoiled, feeling her throat tighten and her already rapid heartbeat increase. She couldn’t breathe. He chuckled coldly and pushed her off the table with his boot, watching her vomit up water and what little food remained in her stomach as she convulsed on the floor. All that water and yet it still felt as if her lungs were on fire.

Arya could feel another strike coming, another slash from a whip arcing through the damp air. It was either continue facing her invisible attackers or brave the water.

With a savage growl the elf bounded through the doorway and out into the elements, leaping from the balcony to the tier below, the tier below that one, and finally to the ground. She straightened from the crouch she had landed in, then staggered as the raindrops slammed into her back and sent fresh shocks of pain across her skin. The raw wounds– 'How are they open again!'– and exposed nerves registered each and every drop of water as a lightning bolt that seared its way to her brain.

”Giving up so soon? I expected more of you.“ Arya looked up and saw the Shade before her with a mockingly disappointed expression. She bolted to her feet and struck out at his face, only to be thrown against the wall as if she were no more than a child. Stars and lights exploded across her eyes even as she charged him again, refusing to be led like a lamb to slaughter. She fought tooth and nail until he succeeded in pinning her and the whip slammed into her already mutilated back, and the cycle of torture started anew.

And then she was running, sprinting across the elvish capitol, heart pounding in her ears and a knot of terror in her stomach. Everything was wrong, everything was burning. Smoke filled her lungs as she dashed blindly in a direction that, for some inexplicable reason, promised safety.

A bullet suddenly hissed by her ear, cutting through the raindrops with a high-pitched song, then another shot clean through the muscle of her side with a spray of blood. She gasped and stumbled, then spat out the raindrops she had inhaled, coughing as the taste of copper joined the musky flavor of pine smoke. She yanked on her combat jacket, dulling the pain of the raindrops pounding into her skin, and hoped that the woven spider silk plates in the fabric would protect her from any more stray projectiles. 'Where are they coming from? They can’t have gotten here, not in Ellesméra!’

The fire was simply…gone when she slammed into his door, breath coming in quick, painful gasps. The rain still poured down unabated, an explosion renting the night as a cannonbomb detonated behind her and sprayed her wounds with mud. Arya pressed her forehead to the familiar surface and pounded on the door with the pommel of her sword as the ground shook. "Glen!”

There was no answer.

A flash of light to the left made her whip around, looking for the gun from which the muzzle flash had originated, only to feel a blade sink into her stomach.

White hot knives sliced twin, cauterized slits below each one of her ribs. The muscles of her abdomen flexed as she instinctively tried to pull her arms and legs from where they were cuffed to the wall in an attempt to protect her sides and stomach. Durza smiled at her movements, tracing the outline of the toned muscle beneath her tan skin with a finger as he caught her eyes with his. Disgust welled up in her chest, and if she had been able to spit at him she would have. Being without water for two days straight had left her barely able to swallow.

He saw her expression, though, and his smile widened. He leaned forward and pressed his ice-cold forehead to her fevered one, his sharpened teeth glinting in the light cast by the glowing daggers. A bit of horror touched Arya’s heart as she feared the worst. She couldn’t fend off the advances of a Shade, not in the state she was in.

Then she threw back her head and screamed in pain and Durza laughed in glee as the daggers buried themselves halfway to their hilts between her ribs.

The shock sent Arya staggering back to hit the door again. “Glenwing, let me in!” She shouted, kicking the door with her bare heel. “Glen!”

She smelled hot cinnamon mints and burning batteries all interlaced with the pungent scent of motor oil.

And then she realized she could taste them too, and with a jolt she felt a mouth over hers and a weight on her hips and her eyes flared open and she saw him above her. He pulled back and smirked as he wrenched her head to the side by her hair and she immediately coughed up water and blood and bile. “Welcome back to the land of the living, little elf. You need not worry about dying on my watch. Even in the void, you will never escape me.” And he laughed.

Arya let out a choked sob and slid to the ground, her body alight with pain from wounds that should have been nerveless scars and terror that she had never wanted to feel again. “Glen, please…” She leaned against the door, hugging her knees, and beat her head against the wood, trying to chase out the demons in her skull. “Please, I can't–”

There was so much blood. She didn’t even know where he had hit her this time. He had screwed with her perception of pain again, amplifying it until the barest ghost of air on her cheek felt like a hot iron smashing into her face, and set about whipping her with a short bullwhip studded with bits of barbed wire. She had given up on holding in her screams after the first hour and a half. After the fourth she had given up on screaming entirely, her body too weak and her throat too torn to produce sound. And still he cut her and whipped her and kicked her and strangled her, not even asking questions, only seeking to sate the spirits raged within his body.

Then it was black and she tasted the hot cinnamon again, the flavor reminding her of the mints Jörmundur had tried using to curb his smoking after his son was born, and the overwhelming smell of motor oil pervaded her senses. He wasn’t on top of her this time, and she immediately rolled over and dry heaved, spitting and gasping and trying to rid her mouth of the tastes that she now associated with death.

She felt something hot sheeting down the side of her face, hotter than the rain that pounded down inches away. “I can’t…” She whimpered, weakly raising her sword again and knocked the hilt against the door. Pain blossomed on the side of her head, adding the new sensation to the avalanche of agony that was crashing through her battered and bloody body. “I can’t keep…”

A hand grabbed her bruised side– spat blood into his eyes– guard screamed in agony as she slammed her combat boot between his naked legs with a spray of blood– couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t taste or smell, it was all silence and nothing– acid sizzled in the trenches of her torn flesh, smelling like cooking meat– knife diving into her stomach over and over, the wounds healing shut after seconds as he methodically stabbed her, grinning like a child at play– pain like that shouldn’t exist– claw shaped iron dipped down– blood, all that blood– his lips on hers as he breathed life into her body again and again to introduce her to new, unimaginable levels of pain–

Arya threw her head back and screamed into the roaring thunder, “Dear spirits, just let me DIE!”

[bloodys44]

Silence and Cigarette Smoke

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

I just posted chapter 9 on FF.net so please feel free to read ahead if you enjoy :)

Chapter 6: The Letters To A Ghost

788

(25th day of summer)

Mom,

I helped Natsu dig a grave for Lissana today. He was extremely adamant about it even though we were never able to retrieve her body. Not to mention that we already held a service for her weeks ago. He dug it by hand at her favorite lookout, told me he wanted her soul to rest where she would never miss the sun rise or set. The headstone he made her read "An angel who falls may now pass to the home of their gods. A forever sunrise to lighten the lives of the dark." It was beautiful Mama, Natsu worked really hard on it.

He didn't sleep in my dorm last night for the first time since we came home. I went by his room to check on him but I heard him crying. In all the years I've known Natsu, I've only seen that once, when we lost her initially. He sounded so sad, It broke my heart. I was too scared to go in so I left him for the night. I really miss her too.

Remembering your warm hugs,

Lucy.

(86th day of summer)

Dear Mom,

Today was really hard, I miss you.

It's been two months since I last wrote to you. Natsu went out on his first job since Lissana today. He wouldn't take me with him no matter how much I begged. He's never left me behind before, I know it was only one job, but it still stung. He barely speaks anymore, just follows me around silently. I feel like I'm losing my partner. Gray and Levy say I need to give him time and space, that he likes to grieve alone. I get that Mama, I really do, but he isn't the only one grieving. I feel like he died with her in the mine. I miss him too.

He still gave me some of the reward money even though he did the request alone. I wish he wouldn't, it feels like pitty. I don't want his pity, I just want to talk to him like I used too.

Mira is still having nightmares. I've been sleeping on the terrace by my room. Her crying breaks my heart and I fear it will never heal if I keep listening.

This was a bad letter, sorry Mom,

Lucy.

(43rd day of fall)

Mom,

I almost destroyed grandmother Anna's book today. The sight of it turns my stomach, and I haven't been able to open it yet. Natsu wouldn't let me ruin it though, he told me if it was gone the whole trip would be worth nothing. He's right, I know. I just want the hurt to stop.

Fall is here now, I love how the grounds look with all the autumn colors. Though I miss the pink cherry blossoms, they remind me of Natsu's hair, but I think his shade is fading too. He stresses too much. I think you would still like it.

Love always,

Lucy.

(58th day of winter)

Mama,

Today was good. It was Juvia's birthday. The guild held a small party for her, it was perfect considering the mourning mood that's dulled the air. There were smiles and cake, and everybody was laughing again, just like old times, I loved it. Gray asked her to be his girlfriend, finally. I think that's the part she loved the most. They're leaving on a mission that's supposed to take around four months. Knowing her, Juvia will treat every second like an extended honeymoon. She really was ecstatic mama, I wish you could have seen the joy on her face. I think everyone could feel it, I even saw Mira dancing slowly in the corner with her husband Laxus. She hasn't left her room since we told her what happened. I hope she's starting to feel like herself again. It's almost the new year, so maybe things will start to get better for everyone.

Natsu didn't show, of course. He hasn't been around much lately. He's always working alone or hiding around the castle where I can't find him, not even at our special clearing in the forest, the one he found me in. That's where he always used to hide. I haven't spoken much more than a sentence to him in weeks. I really miss him. Even with the happiness of today, I feel really alone again. He doesn't stay the night with me anymore.

Lucy.

(64th day of winter)

Dear Mom,

Gray and Juvia left on their job this morning. We all went down to the gate to wave them off. Even Natsu showed up, rare but welcomed. Gray is his best friend, and even though they haven't talked much either, I think he's going to miss him.

I asked Natsu if he wanted to take a job with me. It's been a while and I'm running out of money and I refuse to accept any more of his. I keep having to pick up extra shifts with the infirmary to keep up with my guild fees. He said no. I got mad and stormed off like a child.

He came to my room later in the night for the first time in months. I thought he was coming to tell me he changed his mind, that he wanted to take a request with me, though it ended up being the exact opposite. He came in yelling, spouting off that he couldn't take me on a job because I couldn't protect myself and he wasn't capable of doing it either. He rambled on for almost an hour, he's never yelled at me before, and mama he was screaming. But I decided I really didn't mind, its the most I've heard him speak in months. It wasn't near as bad as father used to make it. I was just happy to hear his voice again.

Merry Christmas,

Lucy.

          -789-

(74th day of winter)

Mama,

He's gone.

He really did it. He left me alone for real. And god Mama, winter is so cold without him.

He visited me last night, I woke to him sitting at the end of my bed. It startled me since he hadn't been back to my room since he came in yelling. He looked so sad, his lips were pressed together like he was scared to speak the words trapped in his head. He crawled up beside me, just sitting there staring as if he could see right through me. He was so close, I could feel the heat of his breath over my nose. His eyes so dark they blended with the night. Eventually, I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he didn't answer, instead, he leaned in closer. He tried to kiss me, but I moved away. I really couldn't believe it, that he would have the audacity to try something like that after months without so much as a word. This visit was my turn to yell. I said things I would have never imagined saying to him, to my favorite person alive.

I went to his room later, I felt so bad for how I had spoken to him, I wanted to apologize. When I got there his room was empty, mattress stripped clean and drawers pulled open and bare. I think he was trying to kiss me goodbye. I'm so scared he won't come back Mama. I think he really did die that day in the mine.

Lucy.

(76th day of spring)

Hey Mom,

Gray and Juvia came back today, half a month early. They ran into some trouble, a man with metal clawed gloves dipped in some sort of poison. Gray's okay, but Juvia is really sick. He says she hasn't woken for three days. He's really worried about her, I can tell from the way his hands shake. He hasn't left her bedside all day. It's sweet, but it reminded me of Natsu. I miss when he used to spend the night.

I haven't heard from him, not even a letter. I hope he's okay.

Love from your dearest,

Lucy.

(86th day of spring)

Dear Mom,

Spring always reminds me of you, I remember how much it was your favorite, even though I always preferred summer. I miss when we strolled the garden together and the only thing to worry about was not fraying my gown or scuffing my shoes.

Juvia still hasn't woken up yet, and I think Gray is starting to panic. He's going on lots of jobs, says he can't stay on the grounds too long or he starts to worry about her. I offered to be his new 'in-term' partner while he waits for her to get better. I really need to make some more money, and I don't think Natsu is coming back anytime soon.

We leave tomorrow morning and I'm kind of excited, I've never been on a job without Natsu before. I think it'll be a good chance to prove myself. I just hope this doesn't make me miss him any more than I already do.

Love,

Lucy.

(32nd day of summer)

Mama,

Working with Gray has been really nice. He's actually a lot more kind and sweet then his cold persona would suggest. I think I can see why Juvia likes him so much. Gray listens, he's a good holder of information, a place to vent. He's held me while I cried and talked me through my nonsense brain. Sometime's he even shares his cigarettes with me. He's a really good guy, and I can see how much he loves Juvia. I really hope she wakes up soon, Porlyusica started warning of impairments the longer she's unconscious.

I'm glad Gray has been so good to me, it's nice having a friend to talk too again. I know Levy's here too, but she's always busy with guild work. The rest of the members are all amazing and accepting but it's just not the same. I hope he doesn't forget about me, or how close we've gotten when Juvia wakes up.

I'm really worried about Natsu. Mira says he's never been gone this long without at least a letter. I've been reading as many of Fiore's damage and crime reports as I can get my hands on. I pray that all the flame-related incidents are him. It gives me hope that he's alive.

Lucy.

(84th day of summer)

Hi Mom,

It's been a really long time, Summer's almost over now.

Please Mama, don't judge me. I think I made a mistake. Gray and I went too far, we slept together. I gave him all my firsts, and I think he gave me some of his. I regret it all, and I can tell he does too. We had an awful day, our mission was a complete failure. We spent the night at some shabby inn, the bed smelled like rot but we honestly didn't care. We both cried after and pretended we couldn't hear one another. Juvia's been in a coma for almost half a year. I think he's trying to process the thought of actually losing her. I swear I could taste sadness on his lips. I think we're both grieving the loss of someone significant.

I thought about Natsu the entire time, I could picture all his scars over Gray's skin. I pretended his icy breath smelt of cinnamon and ash. It's been so long, but I still think about him every minute. I wish he had been the first to touch me. I love Gray, I really do, but not like that. My body feels dirty even after scrubbing my skin raw.

I can't pick out any damage or crime reports that I could even remotely relate to Natsu, and his mattress doesn't smell like him anymore either. I sleep there every night. If he's with you Mama, please take care of him.

I love you, so much,

Lucy.

(49th day of fall)

Dear Mom,

I asked Gray if he thought I should dig a metaphorical grave for Natsu. He told me I was crazy, said he would know if that 'cocky fire pit went out'. I hope he's right. We don't talk about what happened. Ever. We just pretend it never did.

I've been studying telepathy, and I'm getting pretty good. And yes, I learned it from great grandmother's book. I finally opened it. I feel dirty knowing the thoughts of my teammates sometime's so I don't use it often, however, my new favorite trick is dream diving. I do it to Gray when we're out on missions and he's gone to bed for the night. I hope he doesn't feel violated, his dreams aren't very interesting anyway. The only constant is the cold. Don't ask me how somebody dream's in temperatures, he just does.

Other time's though, I try to reach Natsu. I'm not really sure how far my range is and I have no reason to believe it could ever reach him. I still try though.

Lucy.

(73rd day of fall)

Mama,

Juvia woke up. I'm not sure if this is good or bad news. She's unresponsive, constantly staring at the ceiling. Porlyusica says there's a good chance of more function after a few days. But the sight of her, so sunken and lifeless is nothing less than disturbing. It's shattering Gray's heart, and watching it shatters mine. He won't eat, it's been four days. I don't want to lose another friend. This year has been the worst.

Job requests are coming in fewer and fewer, all of Fiore is under such a heated eye. Royal guards on every corner, in every continent. It's nerve-racking to hire mages while under constant watch, and nearly impossible for said mages to complete missions unsaved. The streets are war zone's, the anti-magic forces haven't been this strong since the initial banning or the day you died. One day, I want to fix it, this awful divide of man and man. I tell myself your death wasn't for nothing. I hope nobody dies for nothing. Too much of valuable human life is wasted. Humanity is cruel I suppose.

Your's truly,

Lucy.

        (50th day of Winter)

       Mom,

A very merry Christmas to you, and to Natsu. I hope he's with you and not lost in the stars. Things have been getting better. Juvia is up and talking, she can even walk around a bit with a sturdy shoulder from Gray. My heart hasn't felt relief like this in far too long, I feel like it could burst. I couldn't help but cry when I saw Gray smile again. All it took was Juvia's mangled stutter of his name. It was such a pure smile, like he had decided to donate his soul to her. I don't blame him, Juvia is an amazing woman. I feel like I stabbed her in the back and I don't think the guilt for my excursion with Gray will ever go away. I wonder if he plans to tell her. I thought about doing it myself, but it feels unfair to confess how another tried to mend their grieving heart.

It's almost been an entire year since he left. I don't think I really believe that he's dead but sometime's it's easier to lie about it. Natsu showed me a whole new world, took my hand and cherished me with such open arms. I can deny it all I want, but I know I fell in love with him, his every feature is burned against the inside of my skull. If he really is gone, I won't forget him, but I think I'll be okay eventually.

Sending you love filled with holiday warmth,

Lucy.

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Tag You’re It

Squares: Game Night(Truth or dare) & Quote

Marvel and Supernatral Bingo, Spnquotebingo

Paring: Stephen Strange x Mutant Reader(at the end)

Warnings?: Intense tag,touching?, and cursing

Tagged: @spnquotebingo & @thisismysecrethappyplace

“Someone slapped my ass!?!” “LaNgUaGe!” “Give it a rest.” Was shouted throughout the tower.

~One Hour Before~~~

It was game night at the Avengers compound and that meant chaos and the lucky one to pick the game of the night was the famous (S/n). Friday closed all the window and left all doors open,but the front. It was pitch black except for the black light that replaced the florescent on the ceiling everything was neon.

Each group of people had two colored hands that left a mark on a opponents suit. Team red/white paint has Steve,Bucky and Sam,team purple/green paint has Natasha,Wanda,and Clint,team yellow/orange paint has Tony,Stephen, and Peter. Bruce and Vision sat out since one can go through walls and the other can get stressed easily. Y/n wasn’t on a team though it was a special request her hands dawned pink and blue. Every one went to randomized floors of the tower as the two judges stayed in the common room looking at the scoreboard on the tv so when the game ends it will round up. Tag as many people as many times as possible each time someone is tagged they must go to a small check point before trying to tag again. Without further a due. “May the games begin. In 3….2….1….Play!” And that they did.

Y/n moved swiftly through the halls stopping when she sees movement in the corner of her eye almost giggling aloud. Peter was on the ceiling,but he seemed to have forgotten about the paint on his hands leaving a trail. Waiting in a low arch way for him to be more in her reach. Getting close she placed her hands on him in a non-threatening way causing his spidey sense to stay calm. “AHHH!!!” Peter screamed turning to see the older women. “Heya,Pete.” Squishing his cheeks covering them in paint she used her own powers to escape before he tagged her too. On to the next.

Using the neon lighting she traveled throughout the tower the glow leaving her as she re-materialized. Natasha and Wanda stood with the backs facing her. A wicked smile twisted on her face as she cleared her mind to not give herself away to the witch. Her hands grabbed the youngest female on the hips causing her to jolt.“Gotcha!” She smiled as she neon traveled away from the hand coming for her. “Almost had me,but Romanoff your playing my game.” That’s when the short spearing match began. Can’t let a open hand touch while also trying to get close enough to place their own mark.

Blocking was almost impossible for Y/n trying to avoid the right hand that almost smacked her. “A bitch slap is a cheap shot.” Lifting her hand she caught the redheads wrist before they can touch her shoulders. “How is she so good at this?” Nat asked herself as she started to walk off to a nearby check point. Time to hunt get the rest of the boys. It’s looks like its bird hunting season.

Clint sneaked off after his two teammates were tagged he hid in the vents,but a down and upside was it was pitch black which meant Y/n couldn’t use her powers and Clint couldn’t see were he was going. Shouting was heard below him on a floor he wasn’t sure about. “God dammit Sam you were suppose to be watching our backs!” Bucky yelled they both went to a check point. “I was looking!? She just popped up! Why do you think I have a fucking hand print on my face!!” Sam said at the same volume. Barton snickered speaking to himself lower then a whisper. “Ha,those idiots couldn’t cover themselves. Only amateurs never look behind them.” He said he glanced behind himself seeing dim black light from the vent cover. “Only morons never look in front of them.” A scream echoed through out the tower being carried by the vents and no one in the tower batted a eye at it.

The last remaining were Steve,Tony,and Stephen. Y/n hasn’t be tagged once while the two of the six original Avengers have been tagged once or twice dawning red and green paint. Steve wandered around trying to find his team or anyone to tag and just a floor above him the two goatee narcissistic men split up. The stare spangled man was face to face with the genius playboy. “So..it’s happening all over again.” The blonde said circling the brunette. “I guess it is,but you don’t have your Bucky bear to help you now.” Tony snarked seeing he had no team at the moment. “And you don’t have your suit what a shame I wanted a challenge.”

A small chuckle came from the corner of the room that went unheard as the charged towards one another. Y/n sat in the corner of the room quietly eating popcorn as she watch the fight. Everything was in Steve’s favor,but with Tony being smaller he can avoid and reach his appointed faster. With sigh she stood up it was fun while it lasted,but she needed to get them out. She slipped up behind Steve with neither of them noticing and her right hand came down fast as she darted away. “Someone just slapped my ass!” He yelped turning his head to look at the pink hand print. “LaNgUaGe.” Tony said mocking him. “That was five years ago can you give it a rest!?!” Before the brunette could deny his plea a hand smoked his cheek leaving blue. “Dammit sis!!! Why the face??!”

One last person Stephan was paint free and wanted it to stay that way. The doctor levitated off the ground and swiftly moved around the tower. The shirt he wore was given to him since he didn’t want paint on his actual clothes. Neon triangles over his chest made him able to be spotted,but also blend in with the rest of the halls. Stephan was about to turn the corner when he wrist were pinned to the wall. “Hello,Strange.” The figures that was completely black with neon outlining features. “L/n. Seems you’ve caught me by surprise.” He huffed getting ready to leave,but a squeeze to his still restrained wrist stopped him.

“You’re not leaving quite yet I won’t count that touch,but I finally got you alone.” A Chester sized grin pulled on her lips. “Levi a little help please?” She asked and the cloak left Stephen’s shoulders and proceeded to constrict his movements. “Really on her side?!” He hissed at the relic cursing under his breath. “Stop your whining!” The insults stopped as his gaze shifted back to her luminescent form. “Tony told me to go for it,but you were always nose deep in a book or too busy protecting the sanctum. Figured this is my chance.” Y/n sighed trying to rid herself of any nerves. “Y/n what are you talking abou—?!?”

His words died as she leaned forward and kissed him. Stephen was in shock his eyes wide before they drifted shut enjoying the moment. He was a man of logic,but no matter how many scenarios pop up or the infinite possibilities in the universe he could see never would the doctor have guessed that the girl that was there for him through it all would ever feel the same. “My brother told me…If you desire something,just take it. I’m kind of glad I took his advice!” Y/n said resting her forehead on his. A small giggle left her throat at the dazed look on his face.

“Oh and Stephen…tag you’re it.” With that she traveled away. Levi let him go as he looked at his chest. Two hand prints rested in the center of his disposable shirt glowed bright as he smiled. Tag was his new favorite game.

==============================================================

A/n: One more to go…I wanted this square to be a bit different then others I’ve seen and who doesn’t like a mix of paint ball and tag?!

Quote: “If you desire something, just take it.” - Lucifer

[gordvendomewhore]

BULLY OC MEME [HOLLIS FRENCH]

yo yo yo i meant to post this literal months ago but. yeah i didn’t AKNZKAKS

so i have two bully ocs, chris kato and hollis french! they’re girlfriends!!! they’re actually from my original story but i transferred them on over to bully for fun lmao

have fun reading!! and feel free to ask any questions about hollis if there are any lmao

[INFO]

Name: Hollis French

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Clique: Preps

Personality: Persuasive, stubborn, two-faced, analytical.

Weapon/fighting style of choice:

- Hollis will avoid fighting if possible, since she isn’t strong enough to win against anyone outside of the Nerds and Non-Cliques.

- She’ll usually just sic Chris on anyone who bothers her.

- Her fighting dialogue mainly revolves around taunts, warnings to back off, and hints that she’s actually, well, scared.

- In a fight, Hollis prefers to use a wooden paddle.

[DIALOGUE]

Greetings:

- James, it’s lovely seeing you.

- Hello!

- Hopkins! Care to spare a minute of your day to talk?

Saying Goodbye:

- I’d love to talk longer, but my girlfriend is waiting for me. Toodles!

- I must bid you adieu, Hopkins.

- My presence is needed at the Harrington House, but hopefully we can talk at a later time?

Chasing:

- Don’t try to escape me, Hopkins!

- I don’t have time for games of cat and mouse!

- I thought you would be brave enough to face me!

Out of Breath:

- I’ll...have you whimpering...like a suckling puppy...once I catch you!

- ..Oh, heavens, this is what sweat is?

- I’ll just...ask Christine to hunt him down later...

Walking around talking to themselves:

- I wonder when Daddy will import me more paint.

- Men are disgusting, but Christine’s boyish charm is incredibly endearing....

- One day, Bullworth will have an entire museum dedicated to my work.

- [Under her breath] She’s lucky I can pay for all her pyromaniac madness.

- Perhaps staying in an airtight room with pernicious oil paints for several hours isn’t such a good idea...

- Another day of being absolutely gorgeous.

- Van Gogh wishes he could have my talent.

Conversing:

- Daddy says that I’m set to take over the company, and I’m not even the eldest child!

- Derby doesn’t seem at all interested in Pinky, don’t you think?

- I feel bad for Hopkins; Getting himself involved with that Garfield kid was a dreadful mistake on his behalf.

- Anyone willing to model for my next piece? [Response if someone agrees] No, no...not you.

- That Hopkins seems to be stirring up quite the ruckus.

- Does your girlfriend win you meretricious, polyester carnival prizes? [Silence] Hmph, I thought so.

- Do my glasses make me look like a nerd? God knows I don’t want be be associated with those scum.

Conversation Response:

- Disgusting.

- Okay? And what do you expect me to do about it?

- Mm, yes, that does sound delightful.

- God, no, never.

- Of course!

- How dreadful.

Complaining:

- I wish Christine would stop smoking. My pretty pink lungs could do without the second hand smoke.

- Derby‘s just fussy because I’m a natural blond and he has to rely on the bottle!

- What was Aquaberry thinking with a collection dedicated to polka dots of all things?!

- The paints Daddy got me were worth $300 by the tube instead of $400!

- Where’s Christine? I need attention!

- This wretched place is draining me of my talent.

Unknown/Cut Dialogue:

- It’s bad for my complexion to be around people so...poor. [Shudders]

- My life is going to be reduced to nothing but day drinking and a cubicle desk! I’ll be nothing but a younger, cuter Galloway! [Sobbing]

- Retribution has never been so sweet.

- My little firebug!

Starting fight with Cliques:

[Bullies]

- Step away, you lowlife!

- If you allowed me to break your nose, it’d open up the wonderful opportunity for a little work to be done!

- Don’t you have better things to do?

- Is this some perverted fantasy of yours?

- Pervert!

[Greasers]

- Aw, you’re just upset that my socks cost more than your shack.

- I hope you have health insurance!

- You bitch, did you just get your grease on my Aquaberry?!

- Touch me and that’s a lawsuit!

- Did that grease in your hair finally leak into your brain?

[Nerds]

- It’s adorable how absolutely unfair this fight is!

- I’ll make sure to donate some money for your hospital bills.

- Are you even trying?

- I’ll pay you to break your own leg.

- Aren’t there books on how to fight properly?

[Jocks]

- D-Don’t you think it’s a bit immoral to hit a girl?

- Lay a single finger on me, and my girlfriend will break all ten!

- ..Please avoid the face.

- If you break my limbs, could you at least avoid my left arm?

- [Nervous laughter] Oh, no...

[Townies]

- Keep your hands off me, trailer trash!

- Go back to the dumpster you belong to!

- You filthy bitch!

- Just take my Aquaberry; You’ve already contaminated it.

- Aw, do you need directions to the animal shelter? I hate to see malnourished strays moping around the streets.

Requesting an errand:

- You’ll do me a favor, won’t you, Hopkins?

- James! Mind running a quick errand? And don’t even try humoring me by pretending to decline my offer.

- Ah, Hopkins, what a pleasant day to help your favorite girl in need.

Friendly Comments:

- I see you’ve finally learned how to dress yourself, James.

- Ah, Hopkins, you look worthy of my respect today!

- You look amazing! Derby would be jealous.

- Ooh, you seem richer today, James! Did you rob a bank?

Unfriendly Comments:

- Your daddy forget to wear a condom?

- Your mommy forget her birth control?

- I’ll be happy to provide you a map of directions to the local orphanage.

- Just looking at you is lowering my IQ.

[EXTRA]

Demanding flowers:

- A pretty girl deserves pretty things, doesn’t she?

- My love isn’t a charity, James.

- There comes a time where you realize that my love, like all things in life, is not free.

- I’ll tell you a little secret: You can buy love!

After receiving flowers:

- Aw, my girlfriend doesn’t usually take interest in cutesy things, but she’ll love these!

- Oh...Hopkins, you shouldn’t have. No, really, you shouldn’t have.

- You need more practice with your floral arrangements.

- Thank you, James, the Harrington House was in desperate need for a pop of color.

Before kissing:

(No matter what, Jimmy can’t actually kiss Hollis)

- My heart belongs to another, James.

- O-Oh, Jimmy, you’re so...handsome! Yeah, no, I can’t even fake it.

- What do you take me for, some measly escort?

- Don’t you think I’m a bit, well, out of your price range?

@video-space the second half of my lesbians.....4 you.

[reinepadova]

To Be Seen

[←Previous]  | Chapter 4 |  [ Next → ]

There are many paths up the mountain. But the view from the top is always the same.

Qingce Village. A plot of land once dwelt by an enormous, dreaded beast. A great threat, and source of terror for its inhabitants. Dark were the skies, and molten was the earth. Stones quaked and shifted from battles sown, and water turned fog from the heat of conflict.

Many a life perished or fled – those that are able, found refuge in the marshes or by the sea. Those that could not, stayed and endured.

But long has passed those years of misery, Morax reflected, eyes turned soft at the drifting dust under sunlight. Only Mt. Qingce remains, steadfast and true. A preserver of the old and the young, and of the croplands turned abundant. The landscape painted with colors of tranquility, with shades of the quiet.

To this, he could say, was one reason he fought. Why he dared raise great spears against those that oppose him, that question his strength. Why his ambitions for a seat with the Seven was so great.

Why he let his life's blood spill and his flesh torn asunder, all to be used for trade.

All he had sacrificed... so that all may prosper. So those deemed weak but with a passion for life, and a mind that craves understanding may learn, may improve. May become greater than what they thought to be. What they can be.

And flourish they did, Morax thought fondly, gazing out the window to watch three children play. A boar in the distance, charging away. Admirably so, like the trees and blooms that persisted amidst the cracked earth, or emerged from the muddy waters that once flowed red.

His eyes narrowed, then shut, musings turned grey.

He has danced and sung to the tune of combat, played his part well into the final act. His will, ironclad – unyielding and absolute, against the odds. Against all the other gods. All to reach the peace the entire land longed for after the audacious declaration from Celestia:

「Survive, and be crowned The Seven.」

「Gain the power of the divine.」

「Be one above all, in your chosen land.」

And to this, he succeeded, with glory placed upon his head, and the remnants of slaughter at his feet.

The Prime of the Adepti, said they. A riotous cheer. A whisper, filled with dread. Ha. Even among the Seven – the original, and the newly seated – he is the eldest, hence, the most respected. And therein lies his burden. To be charged as the standard, to be exemplary in the eyes of his people...

Still. This position is not without its advantages – he would not have fought for it if there were none.   Truly, he could not ask for more, even if he tried. The enormity of his titles, to be granted the highest of honors among those that dwell in the newly named Teyvat – bearing in mind the heavens that granted his godhood of course.

His people are proud of him. His land reveres him.

And yet.

And yet.

Why must this... dissatisfaction linger? The feelings of restlessness. Aimlessness. Like a shell drifting in endless sea.

What must be missing, when the fruits of his labor, the smiles of his people, and the generations therafter, are present and abundant? When the inhabitants accepted his protection, his standards, with delight, and worship. When they honor him by fulfilling contracts in accordance to how he fulfill his. When they sing songs and tell stories of his conquests, of his deeds as lessons to keep in mind, as morals to strive for and progress to.

Why then does this void exist? What is it he still lacks as a being?

Is... he still enough? Is he –

“... is Mei still doing good?”

A murmur, gentle and small, broke through his musings, eerily echoing his thoughts out loud. Morax turned inquisitive, amber eyes at the closed door, wonder outshining the memories, and bringing him back to the present.

The Miss Lala had been explicit about the necessity of his confinement, citing the resurgence of chaos upon his appearance. Seeing the tired yet resolute set to her shoulders, he could only acquiesced. He did not wish to tire the lady more with an argument. But truly, it was an odd request, at best. His people are familiar with this form, and would not run in fright, as she so fears. Why, they would likely crowd around him, vying for his blessing and attention and –

He rested one claw under his maw, pondering. Ah. That brand of chaos. I see. It seems she has better foresight than the average mortal. And most considerate as well. How kind.

His ears perked, hearing a faint, crackling call of farewell at the main entrance. He swiftly nudged open the door of the lady's chambers and floated out, seeing immediately the quiant scene at the kitchen.

“You're doing very good. You can stop when you smell it turning to powder. It's like... milk, but very very faint.”

“Oh! Can Mei put it on the lilies after? Please? Pretty please?”

Even from behind, the tilt of her head, the softness of her stance, indicates a fondness for the child. There is no doubt she is smiling down at her as well. She patted Young Mei in between her pigtail buns and replied, “Of course you can! You can sprinkle as much as you want. After we make the soil mix.” The little girl squealed, turning back to her task with renewed vigor.

He drifted closer, brows furrowing when the lady discreetly rub at her eyes while the little one is distracted.

It seems I may need to intervene.

-{-}-

Stella raised a brow, feeling long whiskers brush over her shoulder, before the slight weight of the guardian's muzzle rested on it. She smiled when gold orbs focused curiously on the crunching and banging Mei's been doing, relieved that he showed himself after the chief went out for her rounds.

“It's for the flowers,” she explained, reaching to caress a glowing petal nearby. “A bird's eggshell is rich in minerals. Its as effective as any other fertilizer... but with lot less smell.” Mei giggled in agreement, adding that her Gran-gran was ecstatic when she was taught other tricks in the garden from Lala – especially doing away with 'pork poopy' all together. “Also, also, Lala taught Mei how to water plants!”

Stella chuckled at the inquiring eyes of their floating guest, who managed to tilt its head at her from an odd angle – the perks of having a long neck, I guess? “She keeps drowning the Jueyun Chili plants back in the Harbor. At most, they just need a sip within a week. Ha! I know that look,” she crowed, seeing familiar incredulity on the guardian's face. “I don't know why no one thought to cultivate herbs in their own garden. Or to water them for that matter. They can't always depend on the rain. No one can control the weather.

Besides, if you can cultivate rare flowers, like the ones in Yujing Terrace, why not something as common as herbal plants?”

-{-}-

It is because of their plenitude that such notion is not considered. The oceanids have a knowing of the needs of the land – as such is my deal with them. They have been good to Liyue ever since. Why, when the croplands of Qingce are at their most vulnerable, Rhodeia answered their plea in an instant!

– Is what Morax would have said. But he only let out a small rumble and slow nod, turning back to the little girl covered in flecks of white powder, gaze softening at the sight of her bright smile.

As insightful as the siren has been since the start of their journey, it is not unwise to tread carefully. Knowledge is power. I have yet to know what she will do with it, once bestowed. If only the Fatui have not been such a conniving force as of late. I would have welcomed any foreigner within my stone walls.

Nevertheless, her care for a child not her own or of her people is admirable and exceptional, a far cry from how that organization operates. Her good sense too, would make for an engaging conversation.

Throughout the endless centuries he lived through – and will continue to, perhaps – he beared witness to a myriad of changes, great and small. No detail is insignificant enough for him to overlook. Or at all. He could not afford to. For one changed clause, nay, even one unclear word, could spell disaster for his land's defenses.

That said, he could assert he has very good memory. All printed and verbal contents of a contract is written like a tablet in his head, etched deep and fixed. The prosperity Liyue is blessed with is proof of his steadfast attention to detail; to consider all particulars, both the advantage and disadvantage, before he would, as they say, 'seal the deal'.

It is rare indeed for him to think 'what more does he not know?'

And yet, here he his, observing and listening. The lady elucidating their intention to gather an interesting mixture made out of smoked rice husk, charred wood, clay and soft sand. Another source of nutrients, she says, for the Lilies to be comfortable in during transport.

Eventually, he could focus no longer at her words, seeing her fighting to keep awake, feeling her sway dangerously on her feet. Her charge looked up in concern as she leaned on the counter, eyes closed shut in pain.

-{-}-

Stella gritted her teeth, about to reach for her temple when her world shifted again.

Although she never indulge in the various wines this world had to offer, she can imagine this was how the drunks at the dock feel: head, heavy as ores; body, light as a feather.

Or was it, float like a feather? It certainly feels like she's in the air. Literally. A sensation she never thought she'd experience again after –

An inkling of worry crept up her neck, minutely thinking of Mei, before she faceplanted on something soft. She reached out a hand, feeling cotton and smooth silk. Her...bed?

“Urgh... where – what?”

A low snort nearby answered her. She felt too tired to think of anything of it. The pillow under her seems exceptionally comfortable right now. Maybe she won't suffocate if she stayed this way?

So. Tired...

A chuff sounded next, lighter in tone, before something wrapped around her shoulders. She breathed deep as sunlight burned her eyes, a tugging at her feet made her crane her head down. She now lied flat on her back, with a large, blurry... something, weighing her down.

“... Mei? What are you doing?”

Her charge was quiet, wholly concentrated on making sure her boots were placed near the bed before coming up to her. The little girl tugged and dragged a blanket up and over her legs, intending to swaddle her with it. Stella feebly raised an arm, wanting to help, but a gleam of teeth made her pause. A muzzle cradled a handful of the cloth near Mei's arm, and lifted it easily up to Stella's chin.

“Lala? You rest, okay?” the little girl whispered, smoothing down the blanket while staring at her with wide, understanding eyes. “You work hard again for Mei. The Lilies? Mei tried to follow you last night, but Chief-dàmā told Mei to stay and wait. Mei tried, but Mei too tired. Mei wants you to sleep now.”

“But Mei. The Lilies – ”

“Gran-gran always scold bàba 'a person who does not know good rest, does not know how to do good work'. Leave the Lilies to Mei! Mei will ask for help. Promise! Lala should rest.”

“Are you sure – ”

“Lala. Rest.” the girl asserted, a stubborn tilt to her chin, but eyes still pleaded for her to agree.

Before Stella could make up her mind, the weight on her chest suddenly spread, encompassing her down to her legs, trapping her effectively. A huff of hot breath made her squint and look up. Larger, glowing orbs stared her down, making her stare back, mouth agape.

Mei giggled, seemingly satisfied she'll behave while Mr. Guardian was around, and quietly left. The skipping tone of her steps was still loud enough for Stella to hear behind the closed door.

She sighed, gaze turning wry. “Alright. You made your point. Get off.” Having a predator over her like this would normally be a terrifying experience. But when she remembered how kind it had been with her during their sprint back to the village, and how gently it gazed down at Mei, she knew she could trust it – to a certain degree. She's sure it has the strength to crush her with a quick squeeze, but she's oddly confident it won't.

Stella quickly reconsidered her good opinion though when the creature had the gall to chuff, as if amused, and placed its large head next to her, adjusting its body to lie comfortably on the bed – but with her still under it!

A sudden thought went through her like a lightning bolt.

“If you can grow this large, why didn't you do so last night and we could, you know, fly back here?”

Amused eyes turn blank, blinking back at her with a look that spelled of realization.

Stella groaned, grumbling about 'common sense is not common at all' under her breath.

-{-}-

“I apologize, good sir. But Zhongli-xiānsheng has not yet returned,” Ferrylady intoned quietly, bowing her head.

The gentleman in Fatui robes raised a blonde brow, growing pensive. “Still? How peculiar. We thought this special consultant is only busy during an adepti's Rite of Parting. It's been awhile since the last one, isn't it? We heard he's fond of strolling around the harbor. He's not one easily missed.”

“That is not inaccurate. But – ”

“But as we value his expertise in all matter of things, we believe he deserves some 'R and R' once in a while, don't you think~? I gave him leave to do so however long he likes~” said a laughing voice at the doorway.

“Hu Tao-zhǔrèn!”

“Oh. The Director?”

Hu Tao smiled wide, closed lipped, strolling into the office with a dancing step. Despite her upbeat demeanor, the gentleman still sweat dropped at the strange gleam in her eyes. “A consultant's work is just as demanding as any other job in Liyue, you see. Its why those of this realm, and of the next, leave very satisfied from our parlor~ No complaints at all!” she giggled sweetly, eyeing him more as she took a dainty step closer. “Buuut. Considering you have been on such a long wait, we will give you a great discount! Twenty percent, including the incense. You'll even get double the savings if you have a buddy with you~” she sang, fanning out two dark coupons from her sleeve and waving them invitingly.

The gentleman froze in place, quaking internally in terror. His time in the Fatui made him all too familiar with subtle threats, and this is a masterfully done one. Luckily, the Ferrylady spoke softly again, distracting him from his oncoming panic.

“Sir, may I take a message? Or would you rather we send for you when he arrives?”

“Ah, ahh...no need! The Director is... very clear, ehem – we don't mind the wait at all! An appointment with him is not that urgent anyway. Just mention the Fatui is interested to get acquainted with him, and his knowledge of the obscure. We’re confident your business will greatly benefit from a connection with us.”

“Hmm... I doubt it,” the Director hummed breezily, turning to a window to gaze out at the full moon.

The gentleman blinked, thinking he misheard. “Excuse me?”

Hu Tao giggled cutely, glancing back at him with smiling eyes. “We'll keep your words in mind, good sir! Buh-bye now~ I'm sure you're a busy man yourself. Our dear undertaker will tend to you when you need our services. At any time.”

The gentleman gulped, eyes widening. “Uhh, right. Yes! With gratitude!

Uhm, farewell, Director Hu. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, and your time. You too, Ferrylady,” he hurriedly added, not wanting to often the boss of the funeral parlor by being rude to the undertaker –

The... undertaker...

One who buries the bodies...!

When the gentleman hastily scurried away into the night, the Ferrylady turned to her young boss, face turning worried.

“Hu Tao-Zhǔrèn? I apologize if this might be spoken out of turn but – ”

“Why am I so direct with a potential customer?” Hu Tao smiled more lightly, doodling something on a parchment with careless brushstrokes.

“...”

Hu Tao chuckled, used to the Ferrylady's silence. The quiet suits the atmosphere perfectly.

“Hmm. Let’s just say for those that have incurred death's wrath, dark butterflies shall sure to follow. Poor things. To think they would have to do such a thing. Such a waste of delicate beauty.”

The Ferrylady gasped, hovering her hands over her mouth, eyeing the rough symbol of the Fatui next to large ink splatters. “Oh my! You mean – ”

“When Zhongli-xiānsheng is back, warn him of the visit. Business might pick up soon. Who knows~?” Hu Tao shrugged, humming thoughtlessly into the moonlit night.

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A/N: Sorry for the long introspection. I’ve been like this whenever I try to think link a 6,000+ y.o. Archon. Then again, no matter how much knowledge you have, there’s so many things you can still learn about. 

Like common sense.

Quick translation of the honorifics I chose to use:

Chief-dàmā = Mei affectionately calling Granny Ruoxin ‘Chief Granny/Auntie’.

bàba = daddy/papa

xiānsheng = mister. In Japanese, its like ‘sensei’ (hence the Jap Dub xD)

zhǔrèn = director/manager

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