#slowly but surely i'm chipping away at my rust

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Try Me

part 3

part 1, part 2

minors dni pls!! 🔞 (I will find you)

I wrote this because I'm having writers block and I don't feel like working on my Abby fic rn lol. I also have been bed ridden with a weird cold so there's that. There's barely any plot here it's literally just porn.

content warnings: Dealer! Ellie (sort of), teasing, dom! Ellie, Sub! reader, Fem! reader, Fingering (r! receiving), dirty talk, mentions of drugs, and as always no use of y/n

word count: 1.6k

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So you’re back. Staring at the number “400”. The three brass digits you know all too well nailed on the chipped, rust colored door. It’s been about a week since your last interaction. The interaction that you can’t think about without your cheeks turning bright red. The interaction that had you hands down your lace panties every night since then, biting your lips, barely able to contain your moans. God, you needed her so bad. 

This time you weren’t sure why you were here. She just kind of asked you to come over text. The words “come over.” lighting up on your phone screen under her name. It’s embarrassing how quickly you agreed with no questions asked. I mean after what she did for you last time, she could ask you to eat dirt and you’d do it willingly. 

You finally knock twice and patiently wait for the door to open. You hear footsteps approaching and the door swings open to reveal Ellie. She was in her usual skinny jeans and tank top, but no flannel. Her toned muscles and tattoo are perfectly on display. Your mouth becomes dry and you have to swallow before speaking.

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” She’s smiling, looking you up and down. You're wearing your usual pajama shorts and sweatshirt, but this time you took extra care to put on a matching bra and pantie set, just in case. It was desperate and weird, but the payoff could be worth it. 

Ellie was looking at you with this intimidating hunger that almost made you want to put on a second sweatshirt. You smile back at her and she turns to her side to let you in. You start to make your way towards the couch again when Ellie grabs your wrist and tugs you towards her. You stumble right into her chest and look up at her green eyes. Her hair was messily framing her face and you could make out the freckles dotting her nose. She was breathing a bit heavy, you could feel her chest heaving against yours. 

“God I missed you.” She doesn’t give you time for a response before she lightly grabs your jaw and kisses you. Hard. Her lips are so soft and warm and inviting you melt into her, unable to control your body’s reaction. She pulls away still breathing heavily and looks deep into your eyes with that same hunger. 

“Bedroom.” You just nod in response, that kiss rendering you momentarily speechless. She makes her way to what you had assumed was the bedroom holding your hand to guide you. 

“We can smoke later, but this needs to happen now before I lose my mind and end up accidentally ripping your pretty clothes.” You feel the wetness between your legs grow at her comment. 

“Well I’m glad you aren’t planning on destroying my clothes. They’re the only ones I brought.” You smile a little. 

Ellie sits down on the bed and grabs your hips so you're standing between her spread legs. She runs her hands down from your hips to your thighs and says “That just makes me want to destroy them more.” She looks up at you and smirks. 

She runs her fingers along the hem of your shorts and slowly moves them down. Her warm hands tickle your skin as she tugs your pajamas downwards. She lets the shorts pool at your feet and takes a moment to stare at your lace underwear. She places a few kisses along the waistband gently and then looks back up at you. Her warm hands are lightly gripping your hips, keeping you steady.  She runs her hands along the hem of the sweatshirt and says “Take this off for me princess.” 

You obey and tug the sweatshirt up over your head and discard it on the floor. Ellie looks you up and down with surprise and an increased desire to rip your clothing. 

“You dressed up all pretty for me?” She smirks and even as she’s sitting below you she intimidates you. 

“Maybe.” You breathe out now a bit embarrassed. 

“Admit it.You were craving this again from the moment you left.” She says with an evil smile. “You’ve stuffed your cute little hands down your panties countless times thinking about me huh?” You can’t even respond to that, she was too right. 

She laughs and looks back down at her hands grazing your underwear, “Don’t worry I haven’t been able to get your pretty moans out of my head.” 

“Really?” You’re genuinely shocked considering you really didn’t do much for her during your last encounter. She had you too blissed out to even offer.  

She moves from her position on the edge of the bed to sitting propped up against the pillows at the head of the bed. “Yea, really. Now come here princess.” She gestures between her legs. You move so you're leaning up against her chest, her warm body radiating against you. She starts kissing her way down your neck while her hands move to your stomach. Her soft hands grope your breasts massaging the soft skin, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. 

“So perfect for me.” She whispers roughly into your neck. Her voice causes you to whimper hips bucking up from the ache building between your legs. She moves her hands down your stomach and grazes them on top of your panties. Teasing her fingers across the lacey material. You begin to squirm a bit involuntarily but she stills you by casting her other arm across your lower belly. 

“Stay still for me, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you this time.” 

 “Ok,” You breathily reply. You have to grip the bed sheets at the sound of her demanding voice.  

She cups your cunt roughly and you let out a soft moan in response to the pressure. You lean your head back on her shoulder trying not to buck your hips up into her hands. 

“God you just do exactly what I ask, don’t you, my good girl?” She mutters before kissing your neck, sucking lightly. “You can move against me princess, make yourself feel good.” You sigh in relief and begin lightly rocking against Ellie’s hand desperate for any kind of relief. You start to grind a little faster against her letting out a soft moan at every little movement. Ellie moves her hand up and down your slit still on top of your soaking panties. She moves her finger in slow circles on your clit and you’re not sure how much more you can take. Your hands grip the sheets harder, you’re convinced you’re going to rip them with how frustrated you are. 

“Please.” You whimper out, unable to contain your need for her to touch you where you needed her. 

“Gonna need you to beg a bit harder than that princess.” You can hear the snarkiness in her voice, but it didn’t change your desperation. 

“Please Ellie, Please, I’ll do whatever you want just please.” With that Ellie pulls your panties to the side and swipes a finger up your slit. She moves her finger up and down collecting the wetness that had pooled between your legs. Without warning she starts moving your clit in circles with her finger. You moan out in relief, finally the ache between your legs was being tended to. She moved her finger slowly massaging your clit gently. When your breathing started to pick up she started moving her finger a bit faster. Ellie moved her finger down to circle your tight entrance. Once you opened up for her she slowly inserted her finger into your cunt. You moan as she curls her finger upwards repeatedly, hitting you right where you needed her. She inserted a second finger and you let out a whine as your muscles stretch and contract around her fingers. She starts moving her fingers in and out of you faster, hitting that spongy spot so perfectly you can’t even manage to make any noise. Just when you’re convinced you can’t take anymore she takes her thumb and starts moving your clit in slow circles. This almost sends you over the edge. Your back started to arch and a loud moan was forced out of you at every thrust of her fingers. 

“Ellie I’m gonna..” You whine out.

“Not until I say pretty girl.” She spreads your legs out further, hooking hers around yours. She thrusts her fingers inside you even harder, hitting you right at that spongy spot so hard you see stars. 

“Ellie I can’t..” You beg, not sure how much longer you can last.

“Alright, come for me princess.” Almost immediately your muscles violently contract around Ellie’s fingers, your hips bucking up against her hand. You squint your eyes shut at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Ellie fucks you through the whole thing, never slowing down. Your body goes through waves of pleasure that cause you to moan embarrassingly loud. “That’s it, so, so perfect.”

 You start to come down and Ellie still doesn’t let up, you have to grab her tattooed arm to get her to slow down. She eventually pulls her fingers out of you. She brings them up to her mouth and sucks them clean, humming with satisfaction. She gently grabs your jaw and turns you so she can kiss you. She’s gentle and warm and soft and you are sure you must have melted into a puddle of your former self.  Your limbs feel like jelly and all you can feel is Ellie. All you can hear is your breathing synchronized with hers and you could fall asleep right here. 

“Could use a nap.” You murmur. 

“You can sleep here, we just have to get ya cleaned up a bit.” You nod weakly.

“It’s your turn next time, okay?” You manage to slur out sleepily. You feel like you owe her at this point. Although, she doesn’t even give you a chance before she has you incapacitated. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, princess.” 

good night lovie dovies! lmk what you think! As always any Ellie or Abby requests are welcome 💕🪷

[thiriumhund]

Gavin x Android!Reader: Bad Advice

AN: I swear I can write about other characters besides Gavin, but Detroit Evolution got me chugging that I love Gavin Reed juice, so here we are! Have some angst in these trying times.

It’s been roughly six months since a treaty was reached with the city of Detroit and Markus, tensions are still high in certain areas but all in all? It could be way worse. At least, that’s what you tell yourself anyhow. Many people would still sneer at you for even implying you having an opinion; being a part of the first wave of androids being trained by the DPD is arguably one of the greatest honours you could have ever received, and yet...you don’t feel that special. You actually feel more cursed than anything else, and considering the qualms you still have by using the term ‘feel’ speaks volumes. And the cause of this curse? Gavin Reed. It feels like just yesterday you were chosen to work alongside the ray of sunshine known as Detective Reed, and the reason why you specifically were chosen is almost laughable. “You’re the most expressive,” Captain Fowler’s voice rang inside your head. “If anyone can make that stubborn piece of shit turn around, it’s you.” You, not the Android that has been working with the police since before the revolution, but you. Often you wonder if this memory is a virus, propelling you forward into a useless cycle of aggression, clarity, reflection and right back to aggression. Despite working alongside Reed for months anytime you feel yourself getting closer to a compromise, you’re cracked down on even harder. “...scrap…up…!” …? You stop, the soft rumble of static catching your attention as the bustle of the station carries on around you. Officers and criminals alike are moving in tandem in their respective areas, and at first you’re surprised no one is acknowledging the suspicious sound. While you were willing to write it off as a glitch in your audio processors, a glitch like this never lasts for this long. Maybe you should-- “There you are, you piece of shit.” Venom and charged hate, you would recognize that tone anywhere. Gavin Reed marches straight towards you, paper crushed in his left hand while the other trembles. “What the fuck kind of shit were you trying to pull?! Isn’t it supposed to be your job to catch criminals? That’s what we’re being told anyway.” “Yes Detective, it is--” “Good! Glad we both agree! Now, would you care to enlighten me as to how letting a criminal get away is the same as catching them? What does your rusted nut and bolt ridden brain have to say about this, huh?!” Your stare flickers from his face to his hand, LED flashing to yellow as you realise what it is he has crumpled; the report from your last assignment. “Detective Reed, the fugitive had you at gunpoint. While I am fast there was no probable scenario where I could have caught him without you either receiving fatal injury or a life altering one. I did my best to-- “Yeah?! Well it wasn’t good enough! The bastard got away and it’s all on you!” “...didn’t want…” Your vision began to tunnel; tiles fell down into a vast void as everything around you and the detective spiraled out of existence, leaving just the two of you. A sensation began to swell within you, causing you to take a step back and look down at the growing void around you. Was this...fear? As you look up you brace yourself, ready to hear more from your partner about how poorly you did, but there was nothing. Rapidly blinking you swivel around, panic rising as the pieces slowly begin to fall in place in your mind. This is not real. You are shutting down. “I’m sorry…!” That sound, that voice… Looking up reveals a static image of the man who was yelling at you not even moments ago...but an expression of horror and concern was ever present in lieu of his usual angry one. It takes more processing power than it should, but after a moment you’re able to latch onto the sight before you; now that you’re very aware of the impending danger you’re in time seems to be passing at an alarming rate, one wrong step taken and you could be stuck in this void for good. You’ve found your tether in Gavin. The focus on the image expands further and further until it takes up your vision entirely. A rooftop, rain, blue splashed up Gavin’s shirt and neck, the buzz of conversations around you...and you you remember. You wouldn’t let the criminal get away this time. When he sees your pupils move Gavin slumped in on himself, face falling into what could only be described as pure relief. “(Y/N)...? Scraps holy fuck, hey! They’re awake!” You try to stand, but the grip securing you in the Detective’s embrace tightened. You and he both knew it wouldn’t take much effort to break from this entrapment, so when you abandoned the motion to look in his eyes much of Gavin’s resolve faltered. “...never ever pull that shit again, you hear me Scraps?” “But last time I let him get away you said--” “You honestly think listening to me is a good idea? You really are a stupid pile of plastic…”

[glazelilyy]

redamancy

pairing - zhongli x gender neutral reader (historical au!)

word count - 8053

genre - fluff to angst

format - fic

warnings - MCD (MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH), blood, unspecified illnesses, non-canonverse

summary - you're a simple farmer who is greeted by a handsome man seeking shelter one winter's night

a/n - i've pretty much always been a big fan of vocaloid and while going through the playlist i made ages ago, i found this song! and after watching the video i just HAD to write something related for zhongli. it fits his vibe really well and i do wanna write more for my favorite archon :) (had to repost this since it wasn't showing up in the tags :<)

disclaimer - i'm basing this fic off of the PV for rin and len's song "feathers across the seasons" (make sure to turn on english captions!). the video and song itself are based off of the japanese folklore story called "tsuru nyōbō" (the crane wife). you can read more about it here under the subheading "the crane wife". i do not own the PV for "feathers across the seasons" nor am i the original writer or holder of "the crane wife", i'm merely creating something inspired by these two works. all rights are reserved to their original creators.

content under the cut!

𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

(𝘯.) 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶

all your life, you’ve settled for simple.

a simple life, in a simple home, with the simple job of tending to your crops. simplicity was like your covering, without it you were bare; nothing.

but the man who came knocking gently thrice at your door didn’t seem simple—far from it actually. dressed in an elegant, brown, silk kimono lined with what looked like sparkling gold, his beauty rivalled that of the finest men and women you’d ever seen in your life: silky, copper hair tied back with an intricate hairpiece, a single earring that dangled from his left ear, a jawline that mimicked the sharpest of your scythes, not to mention those honeyed eyes that seemed to stare past your soul straight into you.

despite his heavenly and regal appearance, the plum colored skin that hung from underneath his eyes told a different story. his shallow breaths and flushed face painted the stage for trickles of sweat to slowly dribble down the side of his head. his limber body slumped itself pitifully against your chipped wooden door frame—no exquisite garments nor stunning hairpieces could shield one against the harsh frost of winter.

“please...excuse my appearance,” with a voice of rust and disuse, he found your eyes and silently prayed you could hear the pitifully weak hum of his heart, “i humbly seek your aid, for if i bear the cold any longer i may not live to see the morning.”

the word “no” wanted to slip past your lips—he was a stranger for god’s sake. and yet the image of his frail body amidst pure snow and misty frost tugged at the strings that surrounded your heart. call it pity, or goodwill, you knew you couldn’t turn him away. some part of you felt like you’d gazed into those same ichor-swirly eyes before. where this sudden familiarity had come from, you weren’t entirely sure. perhaps the fuzzy, soft snow that fell from the sky or the frosty chills that swept by from time to time were playing games with your mind. your simple life was but a glass pane and he’d come tumbling, crashing through the surface.

on that wintery night, you chose to cede your simple life when you took him by the arm and laid him to rest on your tattered futon.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

zhongli was his name. he told you over a bowl of steaming hot rice and vegetable stew.

you hadn’t slept a wink all night since you let him step forth into your humble abode, holding the shiny blade of a small sickle close to your hammering chest in case you had let in a monster by mistake. unless monsters prepared breakfast for their prey, you had the idea to put the sickle away once you smelled the delicious aroma from the kitchen.

“mister zhongli-”

“just zhongli is fine, please save your formalities when it is i who imposes on you.” over your dilapidated wooden table, he slid a chipped ceramic bowl of rice towards you, billowing smoke still rising from the fresh food.

“alright then...zhongli, do you have somewhere to return to? i may not have much to offer in terms of goods but at the very least i’d like to escort you back to your home lest you fall ill on the way back.” you pried between bites of fluffy rice and tasty vegetables.

he shook his head no, setting his chopsticks down on the drab, fern colored rim of his empty bowl. “i’ve no place to return to, nor anywhere to call home. i am a simple wanderer.”

suspicious, you cocked up an eyebrow and sized up his garb again. “for someone dressed so finely, you certainly don’t look like a wanderer.”

layered in honey and doused with sugar, the mellifluous laugh that slipped past his lips briskly strolled through the channels of your ears and drank in the sound like sweet nectar. “it appears so, but do take my word for it. i am not trying to deceive you.” he sprinkled an amused smile on top of his reassurance.

“i-” you both opened your mouths to speak at the same time, and clamped your lips shut once the notes of your voices overlapped each other.

zhongli smiled to himself. he shuffled to the side of the table, placed his large palms on either side of his silk covered thighs, and dipped his head down towards you. “thank you, for taking me into your lovely house. i am forever in your debt,” you tried to silence his gratitude but he simply carried onwards playing deaf to your denying words, “i humbly request to be kept within your company as i have nowhere else to go. if you would be so kind as to employ me, i promise i shall make myself useful.”

you were...hesitant, on accepting such a proposal. being nothing but a mere peasant farmer, it baffled you entirely why someone who looked as refined and elegant as zhongli did would want to take up residence in your simple home where the rainwater sometimes got in and spiders found solace in the cracks and crevices you left unchecked. though suspicious, you felt a slight tinge of pain lacerate your heart upon further inspection of the man before you. a gentle smile painted itself on his features but within the deep pools of his golden eyes swirled bouts of loneliness and incomprehensible emotions that were not yours to decipher. it was almost as if he saw something within you that was blind to your eyes alone.

“i have not much to offer but a roof over your head, food on the table, sometimes, a futon to sleep in at night and...my simple company,” with a wry smile, you gently slid your fingers under his chin and lifted his head from his bowing position, “but if you so desire, it is yours if you wish to have it.”

a sugar laced smile found its way onto his face and he simply nodded in response. “that is all i ask for.”

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

spring had come shortly after his arrival, and with spring came time for the new planting season. you’d made an informal contract with zhongli: in exchange for residence in your house, zhongli would assist you in your agricultural endeavors.

zhongli clearly was no farmer. you’d known it since the day you first ran your fingers over the soft, fleshy skin of his pale palms that have not known a hard day’s work in their life, while yours were calloused and carved of hours of diligence and perseverance.

“i prefer more...scholarly means of work.” he explained with a handful of weeds clutched in one fist, the other holding the leafy protrusions of bright orange carrots.

you found that he was a quick learner, grasping the basics even after a single demonstration. despite the soft, pillowy texture of his palms, zhongli was able to wield any tool given to him with accurate precision and delicacy.

unfortunately for him, his attire was far from practical, despite being one of the most beautiful pieces of cloth you’d ever laid eyes upon. “it’d be a shame if something so lovely were to be ruined by dirt,” you mused while running the tips of your fingers against the brown, watery silk of his kimono, “you’re welcome to use my spare clothes.”

zhongli simply shook his head and rose from the wooden porch overlooking your quaint garden, “i shall return within the hour with a solution.” was all he said with a kind smile before languidly walking off down the dirt path. true to his word, he returned an hour later with a neatly folded kimono in one hand, and a simple, snow white lily in the other. the kimono he displayed to you was much more simpler than the one he currently donned despite boasting a similar brown color palette, but would be much more practical for kneeling in dirt than his current clothes were.

“where did you get this?” a cunning thing he was, he merely smiled and dodged the question by tucking the lily behind your ear.

“do not let that concern you,” was his reply before stepping inside, though you noticed his leather sandals were missing from his now bare and scratched feet, one of which boasted a nasty, healed over wound in the shape of a jagged star.

your hands came up to touch the soft petals of the lily and you smiled to yourself in response. the lily found a home for itself sitting in a small vase by your windowsill, only for it to wither away a week later.

despite his aptitude for basic farm work, zhongli still found himself stumbling about, not unlike a small child taking their first steps. you found it quite adorable: the way he’d often come hurrying to you with a boat full of questions swaying adrift at sea waiting for you to anchor him with grounded answers.

“you’re quite a fast learner.” you smiled over your worn down table, basking in the last rays of sunlight before the moon was to make its appearance.

“i believe i am, but you have been very patient with me and for that i must thank you.” he dabbed the edges of his lips with a tattered cloth and reached over to your side of the table for your empty dishes, but your nimble hands latched onto his before he could retract them. a frown fell upon your face as your fingers traced the fresh cuts and bruises that littered his fleshy palms and the tips of his rosied fingers from a hard day’s work in your field.

“you’re hurt.” you mumbled, looking up at him with eyes full of worry.

“it’s quite alright, they are a mark of my work here.”

“it’s not fine at all, come here.” you tutted and took the dishes away from his marred hands. with feathery touches and gentle tugs, you brought his hands onto your cloth covered lap and softly pressed a damp rag into the cracks and crevices of his skin. he hissed as the sudden sharp sting of cool water against his searing wounds, but bit the end of his tongue to silence his grimaces.

“you truly are kind.” you rose your head in the middle of wrapping the middle of his palm to be greeted by the warmest expression zhongli had ever given you, a look that flipped your insides one hundred and eighty degrees.

“it’s nothing, really.” you hurriedly said in one breath, averting your eyes from his searing gaze and finding a place staring at the contusions that danced on his fair skin.

the fabric pads of his bandaged fingers came under your chin and tilted your head upwards to meet his eyes. “you mustn’t bow your head, how would one be able to see your lovely eyes?”

it was almost as if his words were a thick reservoir of honey and all you had to do was stick your tongue out and you’d be able to taste sweet sugar on your tongue. he kept his fingers on your chin which gave you the opportunity to stare into his pools of gold. that same nagging feeling of familiarity tugged at your sides and slithered their way up to your mind. what lay within those precious eyes was something you’d seen before, though in the end you chalked it up to the tiredness of your mind and resumed cleaning and bandaging his wounds, only this time you were ever so slightly more gentle and your touch lingered on his hands for just a moment longer than necessary.

near the end of spring when the flowers of your fruit had begun to wilt and give way for the buds of sweet peaches and apples, you invited him to sit on your porch and drink tea with you—an invitation he instantaneously accepted. you’d come to know of his love for tea and sweet smelling herbs, though you insisted that this time, you’d be the one to serve him and left him sitting alone on the porch, gazing into the honeyed sun that slowly dipped below the inky horizon.

when you returned, balancing a tray holding two steaming cups of green tea, you were greeted with the low hum of the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard in your entire life. with a nectarous smile embedded on his handsome face, zhongli hummed a gentle, saccharine tune to the chubby, brown bird that sat firmly on his index finger. completely enamoured, you couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face as you listened to him sing a few lyrics of his ballad. several other small birds of varying colors, shapes, and sizes had gathered at his feet and looked up with bright, round eyes as he continued his sweet, mellifluous song.

“what a beautiful voice,” you murmured, stooping down next to him with sparkling eyes. his auric pupils augmented but dissolved into a kind smile.

“i am glad you like it.”

you found it easier to be around him in a friendlier setting after a while. he’d taken kindly to you from the very beginning, but of course you had your apprehensions in letting a stranger into your home. regardless, he’d proven himself worthy of your companionship and trust through his not only never ending dedication to your practice but the euphony of his baritone voice as you listened to him speak of flowers and honeybees. a kind friend, someone who brought surprising comfort in the wake of your loneliness in the fitting arrival of spring—of new beginnings.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

when exactly you tripped over your heels and stumbled into love, you weren’t exactly sure, perhaps it was when the branches of your fruit trees began to sag with the lumbering weight of its budding fruits. but you knew for certain what exactly it was that let your eyes linger a tad longer than what would be considered platonic, or what let the tips of your fingers brush against his more and more while taking his bowl after dinner. like the coming summer, your love had blossomed from a delicate flower into a bulbous, sweet fruit that held within it a universe of possibilities. a single look from him had you flustered and babbling incomprehensibly much like a child.

recently, he’d been teaching you to write starting off with your name. sitting against his back, his large palms would gently wrap around your fingers and help you guide the brush over the parchment paper. “your name in ink rivals that of the most beautiful of paintings,” he murmured into your ear, far too close for the comfort of just friends. perhaps it was then that your heart began to stutter and the butterflies in your stomach rose in an uproar.

with the voice you’d fallen in love with, zhongli would read passage after passage of tales of star crossed lovers or adventures in desolate lands. he’d return with novels of all kinds, brushes, ink, and parchment from the nearby town. when you asked where he procured the money to buy such goods, he simply smiled, placed a fuchsia azalea behind your ear, and told you not to look in his closet. you had gotten curious and checked, only to find that the beautiful kimono and lovely hairpiece he’d first shown up in were now gone, replaced by stacks of paper, quills, bottles of ink, and novels.

“wait-!” you exclaimed, sitting in front of him as he showed you the various types of books he’d procured on his trip to the town today.

“yes?” patient as ever, he watched you eagerly skim the painted covers of the novels on your dilapidated table.

your nimble fingers picked up a muted gold book depicting an ochre dragon, “could we read this one tonight?”

the low rumble of his laugh sent ripples of yearning through your heart. “of course, my lily.” he had first started calling you that when you brought him a freshly picked bouquet of lilies from a nearby orchard some ways away and tucked one behind his ear much like he once did to you. and you couldn’t deny that such an affectionate name made your heart thump ferociously against your chest.

you eagerly extended the novel to him with pleading, wide, round eyes, begging for him to let the tale unfold using his beautiful voice. “come,” he patted the floor in front of him, where you excitedly scooted with your back to his chest as his hands came around your body and held the book in front of you, “you’ve chosen well, this is one of my favorites.” he hummed beside your ear, his breath tickling the edge of your face.

“oh?” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper as you craned your head to look up at his eyes. zhongli breathily laughed and smoothed your head down.

“you seem to be quite fond of dragons.” he mused, flipping the book open to the first page.

“i am...they’re quite,” you paused to run your fingers over the charcoal drawing of the detailed dragon nestled within the first page of the novel,

“beautiful.”

if he hadn’t been listening intently, zhongli would have missed the wistful tint of your voice.

you loved how regal he looked among your humble fruit plants and quaint garden, almost as if he were a prince that jumped straight out of one of the many romance novels he’d read to you. the love within your heart began to burst and eventually found its way onto one of the many parchment papers he’d given to you. you’d try to write confession after confession of love in your jagged handwriting only to be short with yourself and burn the parchment that held your misspelled “love”s and “you”s, until one day: you finally managed to get it right.

illuminated by only the full moon and a haze of fireflies, zhongli’s heart nearly leapt into his throat when he returned from the village one day, a stack of books in his hand like usual, he found your hunched figure illuminated by a small lantern, sitting on your porch. in your hands, you desperately clutched one of the parchment papers he’d taught you to write on.

“have you written something for me?” he asked while placing an azalea behind your ear like he usually did whenever he returned—you weren’t sure when he had gone from placing lilies to azaleas in your hair, but regardless of the flower, whether it be a rose or a weed, the gesture never failed to fluster you to no end.

you nodded feebly, trying to hide your embarrassed reaction behind the drooping sleeve of your dusty, pale red kimono.

“may i see what you’ve written?” he bent down, peering into your flustered face with a curious smile.

with shaking hands, you trepidatiously handed him the rolled up parchment paper and watched him unfurl the ragged script while your heart threatened to escape its fleshy cavern and leap out of your chest.

zhongli’s fingers traced the wobbly scrawl you’d so carefully taken the time to write. a simple sentence, three words, eight letters, and yet he felt as though the world as a novel had been gifted to him. it was obvious that you weren’t well versed in the art of calligraphy of any kind: the y was backwards and “love” was missing an e. but zhongli didn’t care, such pleasantries weren’t ones he cared for when the sheer volume of emotion and meaning held in your writing and your dedication to write this for him far exceeded any kind of grammatical issues he could have with your message. the warmth within his chest bloomed itself into existence as a warm smile that stretched across his face.

“my lily,” voice as downy as the soft feathers of a crane, he extended his hand in front of you, “please, let me see your lovely face.”

you could hardly look him in the eye as you hesitantly placed your clammy palm in his own, rising to your feet. regret brewed in the pits of your stomach—how foolish you were to think someone so lovely could ever see you in such a romantic manner. as if reading your thoughts, zhongli placed the paper on your porch and moved his hands up towards your supple cheeks. you melted into his touch, which held your face as if you were crafted of fine porcelain or thin, watery glass.

“do you truly mean it?” lighter than air, his wispy voice danced around the closing distance between your faces. you nodded, finally meeting his eyes which held emotions you’d only ever seen when he thought you weren’t looking: bright gilded circles of molten honey, so glossed that you could see your own reflection in them.

“such beautiful handwriting, and the writer has equally beautiful hands.” zhongli raised your calloused fingers to his lips, speaking into the hands that had so lovingly taken him in, tended to his wounds, and wrote him a sentence that would satiate him for decades to come.

“s-stop teasing me…” you mumbled into his clothed shoulder, the hand you’d placed on his chest for stability desperately gripped onto the front of his attire as if he’d disappear if you were to let your grip slack for even a moment. you felt the deep bass of his laugh from within your backflipping stomach with your ear pressed so tightly against his chest.

“what is your reply…?” you ask into the cotton of his kimono, too afraid to look him in the eye.

zhongli gave you an answer with his warm hand on your cheek, nimble arm around your waist, and his soft, fluttering lips upon yours.

“should there ever come a day where you can no longer lift a quill to write words of your love, i will still love you.”

and he kissed you again while the rose pink peaches that hung from your trees sagged to the ground and tapped the earth.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧

zhongli was a kind man, and an even kinder lover. to him, no greater honor could be that of being yours in his eyes. he made you feel like the smooth tips of a rose at its prime, just before it would bloom. he made sure to spare no words in reciting poetic lines that lauded your beauty and wits; no man had ever made your heart soar like he did.

against a backdrop of cardinal leaves, and amber sunsets, zhongli spent each day treasuring you who had so kindly allowed him residence within both your home and your heart. what he loved most was to hold you close in his lap against his pounding heart and listen to your silky voice speak of the upcoming harvest or the pretty birds you’d seen on your way to the market that day, while perched cross legged on your wooden porch overlooking the vast sky and verdant forests.

“such a beautiful voice you have.” he whispered against your temple. shyly, you turned inwards into the large of his sleeve to hide your flustered expression.

“if one day, my voice is no longer beautiful, and i can no longer speak, would you still love me?” your voice was quiet; it belied the vigorous hammer of your heart beneath its thin cage of skin.

“of course,” his reply came swiftly, allaying any sort of doubt you may have, “my love for you is as eternal as the sun.”

and he truly meant it.

“my love,” came his voice one night while you began the preparations to harvest your goods, “i wish to take you someplace tomorrow morning, if that’s alright.”

you agreed, and the next morning you found yourself surrounded by the most marvelous sight you’d ever seen. in a small clearing, maple trees that bore leaves the color of dawn loomed high above and blessed your body with the gentle shake of autumn wind. the tawny sun peeped out from just below the horizon, and illuminated the maple leaves that descended from high above and found purchase on the top of your head.

“what do you think? i happened across this clearing on my way home the other day.” zhongli’s fingers grasped the twiny end of the crimson maple leaf that sat on top of your head and spun it between his forefinger and thumb.

“it’s magnificent…” you trailed off, the hand that held onto his squeezed to silently thank him. “can we come back next year too?” beaming up at him, he could never say no to your lovely voice.

he would be sure to bring you back the following year.

when the nights began to elongate, seeking darkness in favor of dampened sunlight, he’d pull you flush against his heated chest in a single futon to stay warm over the cooling nights. darkness spread as far as the eye could see and yet your face was clear as day to him.

“your heart has not ceased its thunderous beatings since i first kissed you on that summer’s day.” zhongli murmured against your lips ironically, placing fluttering kisses on your droopy eyelids.

“how could it ever be still again?” you smiled into his palm that lay on your searing cheek. his eyes seemed to glow within the decrepit darkness of your less than modest, wooden home. you moved your hands up from his chest to his tender face, and stroked the ends of his eyes with your hardened thumbs..

zhongli’s seemingly never ending pool of golden irises drew you in closer and closer to that hidden suspicion locked away behind the walls of your foggy memory. so familiar, and yet you were sure you would have remembered a man like zhongli if you had met him before.

so you brushed the feeling off and let the nipping autumn air carry it off into oblivion.

you both fell asleep to the steady beat of each other’s throbbing hearts that leaked with love that night

one thundering night, a storm swept through and rattled the old wooden shelves in your battered home. the lightning struck fear through your veins and you found yourself seeking out his warmth like a holy beacon.

“come, my lily,” he cooed, gently ushering your trembling figure closer to his body on the frayed futon, “do not be frightened, the storm cannot hurt you if i am here.”

“could you sing for me?” you gently pleaded over the thundering crack of lightning that had you buried into the chest of his nightwear.

zhongli replied with a gentle laugh, “of course, my love.”

you laid your head down on his lap, while he sat upright and stroked the top of your head with his large, fiery baked palm, humming the same soothing tune you once heard when the budding flowers had yet to bloom and he was but a mere stranger who sang to birds and placed lilies behind your ear instead of azaleas. zhongli’s gentle hums warbled over the hammering rain and coarse winds that raged on outside the comfort of the aura he’d so sweetly wrapped you in.

“should the day ever come,” his lovely voice halted, as did the comforting motions of his hand, “that my voice ceases to sing your songs, would you still love me?” the question that left his lips was one that brewed deep within his chest and had never aired its grievances.

“such a silly thing to ask,” you peered up at him through the bristles of your lashes and raised your hand to hold his cheek, “of course i would.”

so zhongli hummed. he hummed while he dressed, bathed, cooked, cleaned, and held you close like you contained the world in your hands. he hummed while he picked the peaches you couldn’t reach on your own feet, and tilled the lands that put too many strains on your back.

and he was humming on the chilly autumn day your wicker basket of fruits fell from your hands onto the frost covered ground of the impending winter.

the harvest had been scarce, but you remained optimistic even as you took longer to get out of bed, more sluggish to tug your dilapidated kimono over your shoulders, and found it harder to stomach the lovely breakfast zhongli had given you in accompaniment of his hums.

you thought you were fine, you were fine. then why was your wicker basket full of pale pink peaches, ripe and juicy for consumption, now covered in your crimson blood? one moment you had been carefully plucking away at the peaches that hung overhead, the next you were crumpled on the floor as blood spewed from deep within your body and out through your mouth.

“(y/n)!” he cried, with no thought left for pet names. the thick blood seeping past your hand that covered your mouth did not have the patience for him to address you as his lily, or his love. his feet carried him quicker than the hanging drop of red on your hand could plummet to the frosted grass below.

“i-i’m alrigh-” you tried to dismiss his worries only to be interrupted by another fit of sickly coughs, each heave tethered to fat droplets of pudgy blood.

his legs moved faster than ever before, with your sickly body hastily wrapped in the outer layer of his kimono. your blood coated the front of his clothes but all he could see was the red that stained your hands and face, all he could feel were your quivering and strangled gasps for air, all he could see was the world in his arms on the verge of death.

the village doctor took a single, fleeting glance and concluded that you could be saved, with medicine from abroad that would cost a small fortune. you had little to your name but a loving partner and your small business as a farmer.

“w-we can’t afford the medicine…” you weakly mumbled as zhongli carried you back to the house, his grip never slackening, not one bit.

the sharp edge of his jaw clenched when the true implications of your words sharply impaled his painfully throbbing heart. much to your surprise, he gently smiled down at you like always. he stooped down to pluck a withering, pale pink azalea from the ground and placed it behind your ear like he always did.

he would not let your life fall like the crimson leaves that surrounded your spilled blood.

even if it cost him everything.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

the twinkles of shimmering snow from beyond the wooden door could never outshine your beauty, zhongli thought.

your frail, sickly body had taken to bed with no strength left to even raise your hand or kiss him good morning. and yet in sickness you were so beautiful to him, so ethereal that it ached his heart to even leave your side for just a few minutes. to his dismay, he was to cede his place by your bedside in order to acquire the medicine that could save your life.

the loom was now his mistress, and he lay reluctantly beside her working from the moment the sun peeped out from under a blanket of darkness, til the wee hours of the night when the moon towered above high in the sky. from dawn till dusk and dusk till dawn his once fleshy palms and rosied fingers now burned and ached from their ministrations against the thick, polished wood of the loom.

though from his injuries, he produced the finest robes you’d ever laid eyes upon. each were the same shimmering, golden color. the necklines and cuffs were lined with what looked like iridescent crystals in the shape of scales the size of your thumb. when you asked him with your sore voice where he procured the fabric and materials to make such beautiful clothes, he merely kissed your forehead and returned to the loom.

you never failed to notice how haggard he looked every time he returned with another completed golden robe decorated in shimmering ochre crystals.

the days where he’d leave your bedside to sell his goods were the days his heart ached the most.

“zhongli,” you croaked one morning, stretching your sickly hand out from under the futon to your beloved.

he looked up from the wicker basket of clothes and melted under your beckoning glance.

“yes, my lily?” he smiled and grasped your outstretched hand within his own. your palm felt so, so cold against his. colder than the snow that dripped down from outside, colder than the frozen ice from the nearby pond. it was far too cold.

“when you return, could you read that book to me again? the one about the dragon?” you quietly requested into the blazing skin of his palm.

“consider it done,” lighter than air, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the shiny sheen of sweat that covered your sickly forehead. “i shall read to you anything you desire.”

he returned that day with an empty wicker basket and a heavy heart. the money procured was hardly enough to acquire the medicine, and he could feel time’s creeping gaze menacingly inching up on him with every step he took towards the house.

zhongli searched among the frosted ground for any sign of a pink azalea, but to no avail—you wouldn’t receive your gift like normal.

despite this, you were content. beaming as bright as you could even with the ice that clogged your lungs and the blood red mucus that coated your insides, you smiled.

“i met a dragon once,” you mumbled into the soft fabric of his sleeve while he read your favorite passage to you, “it was so beautiful, it had lovely golden hair, and pretty brown scales.” delicate as a snowflake, your smile creased the sickly color of your face.

“you must take me to see it one day.” he hummed into your temple.

zhongli read the book you loved about dragons to your tired ears that night, and you dreamt of ichor eyes and burgundy scales that felt like jagged rocks under your soft palms.

zhongli however, did not dream. nor did he sleep. for his mistress, the loom, beckoned him closer.

because time was running out.

so with his bloodied hands, he sewed and sewed and sewed. through the night he strung beads of crystal scales onto hems and spun silk into golden robes. in the early hours of the morning, he scurried off to the lavish houses of lords and ladies and begged them, just for a moment to give his wares even a sparing glance.

“i beg of you, my beloved’s life is in danger.” on his hands and knees, he bowed with all the dignity he had left, but to no avail.

his clothes were sold, but the money wasn’t enough.

and he was running out of time.

your smile never faded even as your skin paled and the tips of your once healthy, lush fingers turned ice blue and shrivelled up.

“what’s this?” mangled by coagulated blood, your voice came out hoarse and ragged. through your bleary eyes, you tried to inspect the cup of amber liquid that zhongli held in front of you, but your eyes could only make out the fuzzy lines of his ichor eyes.

“it’s herbal tea darling, it’ll ease your throat.” in his honeyed voice, zhongli used his broad arms to prop you upwards and held the cup to your dry, chapped lips. you swallowed gratefully and instinctively placed your hand over his own, only to be met with damp bandages instead of his smooth hand.

“such beautiful hands,” you mused once the cup had been drawn from your lips. within both your hands you held his bloodied fingers, a result of days upon days upon days of work at the loom. zhongli’s heart battered against his ribcage, his insides felt like they were being split open by a hacksaw as you gently traced over his wounds with your ice cold fingers.

“if one day, my beautiful hands are no more, would you still love me?” his words were chokingly strung together by the gentle trickle of bitter tears that rolled down his cheeks.

a horrid cough caught the words you wanted to reply with, but you persisted, “without question, i would love you eternally.” you breathed shakily and held one of his wounded hands within both of yours over your faintly beating heart.

“don’t cry,” the cold of your palm reached up to swipe away the rivers that cascaded down his face, “i’ll be alright.”

and he held out hope. day after day after day the loom called, beckoned, screamed at him. never stop, can’t stop, won’t stop, it’s impossible for him to stop weaving and sewing and making more robes to sell for more money when you’re over in the next room coughing up sickly black blood and pleading with him to hold you close during frigid, wintery nights because your body was so, so cold.

zhongli could only take watching the life slowly seep out of your body for so long.

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

by now, the hinges of his finger joints were strung together only by dried, crusted blood, and the glistening sweat of dedication and hard work.

haggard and dilapidated like the house you loved, zhongli hurried about day after day, working at the loom, holding you up and cleaning the dried blood from around the perch of your frayed lips.

he could feel it now—he was beginning to fade away as he gave more and more and more of himself to a world that tried so desperately to take you away from his peony lined embrace. as the days grew longer, your breaths grew shorter. the garments he gave parts of himself to make could never afford the medicine to save your life.

“my darling,” came your scratchy voice as he left your side like he did every morning to return to the loom, “please don’t go, stop hurting yourself. just stay by my side until it’s time.”

he wanted to say no. he wanted to say he could do this. but he could never say no to you, so he sat by your side, fingers no longer fleshy and soft with rosied tips, but now calloused, bloodied, and bruised from days upon days upon days of toiling away at the loom.

through the hissing pain of his injuries, zhongli felt the almost silent hum of your heart when he scooted under the covers and placed his ear against your clothed chest. quieter than the gentle shake of azaleas in spring, softer than the gentle pitter of rain from above, your heart padded along. the sun had risen high up in the sky and plummeted downwards before either of you spoke a word.

“you will be alright.” though he spoke with conviction, the water that pooled at his eyes could never lie. spring blooms smelled sweet in the air but all he could inhale was the thick, iron scent of your blood and the taste of death upon his tongue.

and time began to slither up the small of his back and wrap itself around his neck. his arms squeezed around your waist, holding you tighter against his chest as if to shelter you from the rain that pittered on outside.

“may i tell you a story, my love?” you suddenly asked. zhongli raised a questioning eyebrow, which then melted into a honeyed smile.

“of course, darling.” he murmured against your forehead.

“a year ago when snow was still in abundance, i had gone up the mountain to find a special herb.” your hands came down to his spine and rubbed up and down in steady motions. “on my way back down, i came across a most marvelous sight.”

the winds had been less than kind to your frigid body. if you weren’t careful, one trip over a measly pebble could send you flying down the steep hill of the mountain. just as you were about to go seek shelter, a shrill wail stopped you dead in your tracks. it sounded of a cornered animal, one who was desperately trying to crawl past the doorframe of death’s door. it wailed again, this time louder and more hoarse. had it been a mere bird, or the sound of a cow, you would have passed it off as nothing.

but this wail seemed to come from the bellowing stomach of a mighty beast. loud and thunderous, it wailed ironically like a timid, gentle bird, and had you running towards the sound with the swirls of curiosity swimming around your head.

the wails grew louder as you approached a musty, damp cave dripping with melted snow and rounded icicles.

“hello?” you called out, carefully stepping inwards past sullied, pure, white snow and discarded piles of...books?

you stooped down to the neat stack of books and moved to pick one up when deep within the darkness of the cave, another howling wail echoed around the rocky walls. something large skittered around the back corner of the cave, sinking further into the dead end as you came closer with feather light steps.

“it’s okay,” you cooed with a voice of silk, “i won’t hurt you.”

whatever had been moving around the misty ground had frozen in place. you reached into the small bag you carried and pulled out a lantern and match. when the lantern had been lit, you could hardly believe your eyes.

in front of you was a majestic creature: a dragon the color of rich chocolate with crevices that glowed a muted gold and pulsed every second as if to match its heartbeat. in complete awe, you held the lantern up to get a better look at its face. the first thing you noticed were its sharp, wide, ichor eyes that seemed to glow with fever. if you examined further, drops and speckles of silver and black were embedded within its irises, but you were given no such chance as the creature shied away from your curious gaze.

“don’t be afraid.” you murmured, stretching your hand out towards it. to your surprise, it gently bumped the palm of your hand with its head, allowing you to run your fingers through the bumpy ridges and mountains of its chocolatey, sparkling scales that seemed to be bathed in stars, and its silky mane that seemed to be composed of strings of pure gold.

“so beautiful…” you mumbled as you ran your hand along its rigid scales. the lantern in your hand cast its glow onto one of the dragon’s feet, and there you saw it: a gruesome wooden spear that had most likely belonged to a hunter’s trap for game now protruded upwards through the soft, yellowy skin of the lumbering creature. your heart twisted in sympathy for the gentle beast; it was nothing more than a frightened, injured animal.

“was this why you were screaming?” your hand gently hovered above the wooden pike.

the dragon gave no reply, but from the fear that brewed behind its golden irises, you needed no response.

“this will take just a moment.” you hushed the muffled wails hidden behind its sharp teeth as your hands wrapped around the pike.

in one swift movement, the wooden pike broke free from its fleshy foot and sent you tumbling backwards with its weight. the dragon let out a horrible shriek marred in anguish and blinding hot pain; it collapsed to the floor in haggard breaths. scrambling to your feet, you produced a roll of bandages and alcohol from your bag and as gently as you could, patched the dragon’s wound.

the dragon’s cries had ceased, only left with the numbing after-pain of its injury.

“there you are, all better now.” you ran your fingers over your handiwork and sat back, pleased to see that the dragon had stopped trembling and now looked at you with wide, watery eyes. it seemed to like when you ran your palms over its head and through its luscious, golden locks.

“do you get lonely up here by yourself?” you weren’t expecting an answer, nor did you really receive one. but its eyes seemed to entertain your question in great detail. you held its large protruding snout up with both of your hands to peer directly into its golden pools of honey. “if you get lonely, you’re welcome to come with me,” your giggles had you pause midway through your offer, “though there wouldn’t be lots of room.”

“all i can offer you is my simple company.” you hummed.

you bid farewell to the dragon, whose claw had been neatly bandaged and bloody pike cast aside. it remained quiet, and watched with cautious eyes as you turned around one more time and waved.

“then, a week later,” you paused to look up at zhongli and cup his face between your hands, “you showed up at my door.” zhongli’s heart battered mercilessly against its bony confines. he dug his face into the crook of your neck and sighed.

“that dragon, it was you wasn’t it zhongli?”

he didn’t reply, but you found your answers in the mist that glossed over his ichor eyes, those same ichor eyes that had cried out for help so long ago.

“should-” choked, he felt the strangled pull of death wrap around his throat and his words coagulate in his esophagus, “should the day ever come...where i am no longer human,” as if a timid daisy yearning to be plucked, zhongli’s hesitant eyes met your glossy irises,

“would you still be able to love me?”

for such an absurd question, zhongli could only lie in shock as your palms came up and wiped away the tears that cascaded down his face.

“but of course!” came your reply bathed in sunlight and that sugary laugh he loved so much. “i could never forget the day i met such a beautiful dragon, and even now,” your trembling hands came to tuck tufts of his locks behind his red ears, “i still love him with all my heart.”

the scales he’d lost to line the hems of the robes crafted of his golden locks ached beneath the cover of his human, fleshy skin. his heart stewed in so much grief and fear that he hadn’t registered the feeling of his shaking shoulders or heard the vibrations of his muffled sobs until your frail arms squeezed him closer to your failing body with what little strength you had left. his vice grip felt as though he were clinging onto the last remnants of your life, begging and pleading for you to stay.

“i have always loved you,” dislodged from his throat were the aching cries and thorny flowers he’d so deeply hidden from you, “i would shear myself of all my scales, and all my hair if it meant you’d live.”

like the silent winds that rustled the tiny buds of the wildflowers outside, your voice came quiet and creeping, “we both know that can never be, but even so,” you gently connected your dry, chapped lips with his trembling ones, “beast, or man, i love you all the same.” you whispered against his desperate sobs.

“beast or man, you’d love him all the same”, and with those thoughts he crumpled in your arms and let loose the wiry strands of sadness that clogged his lungs.

“i want to return to that clearing with you and chase maple leaves again.”

“i want to sing more to you.”

“i want to marry you.”

like a prayer, he repeated the words “i love you” into your ear with shaking breaths and held you flush against his heaving body. he sought the blessing of any god or deity that may have been watching, pleaded with the silent air and begged for you not to be taken from his grasp, pleaded with the sky to allow him your company and your love and for him to shower you in honey lined hugs and sugar filled kisses that left him trembling hours later.

the last petals of the azalea you loved so much, fell to the rain-soaked ground that night as your lungs heaved a final breath against his lips. the last rays of his pulsating heart died with your light.

date published: july 8th, 2021

[xhannahbananax03]

The Boyfriend Diaries- Chapter 3

Words: 1.6k

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of depression, alluding to suicide, mentions of death and homelessness 

MASTERLIST

Once Riley was in the safety of a bus barn, she pulled the wig from her head and released her hair of all the bobby-pins. Shaking her red locks free, she ran a hand through her hair as she bit down on the pencil in her mouth.

She paced while staring at the same paper that held the news of Madison's suicide. There wasn't any mention of a note or a reason why she had done it. Just a eulogy, written by her mother, and few comments from friends and family.

But one comment caught her eye in particular. It was from a friend going to her high school.

"Madison was my best friend. Sure, she struggled in school with the other kids. But I never thought she'd do this. If only I had known..."

The rest of the comment was a bit mushy. But the first part of it seemed unapologetic and uncaring. But it was really the picture that caught her eye.

It was a picture of Madison and the girl who had made the statement, Stacey. It was a seemingly perfect summer day. But Madison was dressed in all black. Black jeans, black sweatshirt, even black boots. Not to sound cliche, but it definitely looked like a classic depressed teen.

Meanwhile, Stacey was distanced from the girl, only temporarily tearing her eyes away from her phone to give the camera a snarky smile. They didn't look like friends at all.

Riley circled over the statement and photo with her pencil before shoving the paper and other things into her bag. She decided that since the bus barn was still in use, she'd stay in one of the broken down busses behind the barn.

Sneaking around back, being careful to not get spotted by anyone in the neighboring houses, she found a perfect bus. It was smaller, damaged beyond repair so that meant nobody was going to come to fix it.

Forcing open the door, she stepped inside, stomping her foot down to make any critters run off. When the bus stayed silent, besides the whining of the old metal, she walked further back into it. Dusting off a seat, she pulled her blanket out and laid it across the seat before setting up her small travel pillow. It wasn't much, but it would do.

She then opened all the windows, she'd close them before she fell asleep, but it was Louisiana and it was hot, so she should get the stuffiness out before bed.

She sat down on her seat and pulled out her journal and a small snack, she'd have to go shopping tomorrow after school.

Dear diary,     Today was short, talked to Madison's mother but she didn't have much to say. I did find a note in her room, but unfortunately I wasn't able to get a picture of it before Mrs. Sticher caught me and kicked me out. Madison did blame that kid named Andrew for her death. Apparently, listening to those teenage gossip sites can be helpful sometimes.  She wrote, referring to the gossip site she had gotten this story off of the days before she came here.

Tomorrow will be my first day at the school here, it's only a little bit scary. But if I just keep my head down and do my job, it'll go by fast. Right?

She finished before closing up her journal. She finished up her granola bar and pulled out her water bottle. It was half empty and warm, but she was thirsty. She drank to fast before seeing that there was now only a sip left inside. Rolling her eyes at herself, she stood and looked out the windows in search of a hose or pump.

She spotted one a bit back, probably in case there was a fire. She left the bus and started for the blue water pump. When she finally got there, she had several grass cuts covering her ankles. Riley pulled the handle of the pump and waited a second before cold, clear water started running out of it.

She smiled and put her water bottle under it. Once it was filled, she took a giant drink and that's when the urge to pee hit her. Looking around, she spotted a bush and decided that would be the place to take care of business. Good thing she always carried a few tissues with her.

After she was done, Riley slowly made her way back towards the bus. Enjoying the sun and cool breeze, blowing her hair over her shoulders. The smile left her face when she saw a head in the bus. She ducked down and decided she had to run. That's when she remembered she had left her journal in there and she couldn't remember if she left it unlocked or not.

Pulling her pocket knife out, she snuck up to the back of the bus and watched to see if she could tell who it was, granted, she didn't know anyone in this town. But it wouldn't hurt to size the person up.

She saw it was a boy, about her age, light brown hair,  tall but lean. Maybe she could play this off as simply being a reckless high schooler, bored of being home.

Shoving her pocket knife back into her pocket, she stood straight, but still walked quietly over to the door, once she was there, she slapped her hand against the inside of the window, effectively making the kid jump.

He turned around to face her with wide eyes, "I swear I wasn't doing anything!" He squeaked in surrender, throwing his hands up beside his head. Riley couldn't help but chuckle, this kid was obviously harmless.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you." She said cooly, walking over to her seat and quickly doing a once over, seeing everything was still intact. "What're you doing in here?" She asked, plopping down in her seat and facing him.

"I'm just here with my dad. He works on the buses so I thought I'd take a look around." He said nervously, fumbling with his fingers and not making eye contact.

She tensed at the mention of his dad. If he knew she was here, he'd probably kick her out. "Uh listen," she said quietly, sitting up and finally he looked down at her. "You can't tell anyone I'm here ok? I just, I don't want to get in trouble."

He smiled a crooked smile and nodded his head, "I promise I won't tell." He looked around before sitting on the seat across from her, "My name is (enter name), what's yours?"

"Riley." She introduced herself with a bright smile, half fake, half real. "It's nice to meet you, (enter name)." It has been awhile since she was able to talk to a boy her age without planning on murdering him later. It was nice in a strange "normal" kind of way.

He paused for a moment, staring her down but it didn't make her feel threatened or uncomfortable, if anything she felt a little flattered, "So what're you doing here anyways?" He asked leaning his side against the back of his seat and quirking a messy eyebrow at her.

She smiled beginning to feel slightly uneasy as his dark eyes stared right into her soul, "Just bored of being home ya know?" She looked down, fiddling with her nails. The black polish was chipped and faded and she made a mental note to repaint them.

"Yeah I get that feeling..." he mumbled, turning to face the back of the seat in front of him before his head tilted back and he stared at the rusted ceiling of the old bus, "You're new here right? I've never seen you around her before."

She just nodded her head and murmured out a "Uh-huh..." before her eyes moved up to study his side profile. She was cute, even she had to admit but something about him seemed off, not right. Like he was being forever tortured by something and had no one to express that pain to. She could relate to that feeling all to well.

He opened his mouth like he was gonna say something but before he could, another man shouted out after him, "(Enter name)!"

They both jumped and he stood up quickly, "Uh I need to be going now." He said before quickly making his way back to the front of the bus.

"Wait! Um, (enter name), you promise you won't tell anyone that I was here, right?" She stood and watched him intently with a silent plea in her eyes.

He just chuckled and shook his head slightly, "Yeah, I won't tell anyone about the girl living in the bus. Scouts honour." He helped up three fingers on one hand and placed his other hand over his heart.

Riley's face paled slightly and she immediately went to defend herself, "I'm not.." the words died in her throat as he just laughed and slowly moved down the stairs towards the open doors.

"I'm no idiot Riley. I know a bed setup when I see one." That made her shut her mouth and blush slightly.

How could she be so stupid as to just leave her things out and think he wouldn't notice.

"See ya, Riley." He waved slightly before the man shouted for him again and he quickly moved out of the bus, being sure to not be spotted before he waved once more and ran to the front of the barn so his dad wouldn't know where he came from.

She sighed heavily and dropped back onto her seat before slipping her shoes off and laying on her back, one arm covering her eyes while the other fell off the side of the seat and he hand slid into her bag.

Her heart dropped when she realized her diary was no longer in there.

[writeouttaluck]

I started writing this with the intention of entering a contest but i accidentally made it too long. So I'm gonna post it here instead.

(the prompt was to write about an abandoned corner store. this is based off true events but i have changed the names for privacy sake)

As me and Connor walked down the sidewalk in our small town, the heat was practically dripping off our skin from the hot summer day. In the horizon, past the top of the street we were on and over a house in the distance, the sun started to go down.

I could thank god for every sunset and every cool night it brought with it. The summers always seemed so intense nowadays. I rubbed the back of my neck to feel the light sunburn i had been working up. My black Poison t shirt seemed to collect the heat like a big frying pan. The surface of it would probably stay at least semi warm for another hour to come. God damn, it was uncomfortable sometimes.

“Hey, Lanz” Connor addressed me, “Thats the house I was talking about earlier. The one we’re gonna get into today.”

He pointed at a house across the street that looked quite run down. At least, it looked like a house. There was a large porch with fancy cut wooden beams out front, old fashioned decorative beams, I'm sure. Above the porch was a big sign that stretched horizontally to cover the front of the building. The painted on logo was so faded that I could hardly recognize what it was trying to say.. All I could make out was the end of it, which said: “& SONS” in big black and yellow letters. The windows were boarded up and it looked like there was just a big slab of wood being used for a door. If I squinted, i could see the shiny padlock thrown on to keep people out. Paint was chipping off on all sides of the building but I could still tell it was yellow at some point.

Me and Connor both went through our standard procedure for these things. We looked around for people on sidewalks and listened for cars going by. I made a special note of looking into all windows on the block facing the old house, making sure there wasn't any old people or concerned onlookers waiting to call the police on two sketchy kids standing outside.

“I think we’re good at for the moment” I said to him.

“Alright,” He started with all seriousness in his voice, “I'm gonna run across the street, kick the door in, then when I give you the signal, I want you to run across the street and get inside. Got it?”

I nodded my head in response. While Connor was kind of a dumbass at times, He was surprisingly good at doing this stuff without getting caught. He had a plan that he always kept simple, and knew how to keep people calm and in line when the pressure rose. I can't help but think of the few times we ran from cops or house owners.

I stood stock still and pulled out my Ipod, just messing with the touch screen while I waited for Connor to do his thing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him glance to the houses again, Double checking that we weren't being watched.

With newfound confidence, He got down into a runners position. Aimed at the house across the street, He let out a deep breath. With that, he took off.

He sprinted across the street quickly. I watched him run right up to the front door and, using all of his momentum, drove his foot into the center of the door, blowing it right open. With a loud bang, it swung open so fast that the top part broke away from the hinge. Connor clumsily caught the door just short of hitting the floor and propped it up real quick.

I put my Ipod in the back pocket of my jeans and watched Connor stand in the door frame. He peaked out and looked both ways across the street. After checking the coast was clear once more, he waved me over.

I took a quick glance around and was about to zip across the street myself when I heard a car coming up over the hill to my right.

I froze for a second and looked at connor across the street. I motioned frantically for him to shut the door while also trying to point out the car again. He took a glance and saw it before quickly shutting the door. I whipped out my ipod again, trying to make myself look busy out there on the sidewalk by myself.

The car went by and turned at the next intersection. I could hear the door scrape across the wood floor as Connor opened it again. He waved me over.

I ran across the street as fast as I could. Which, really, wasn't all too fast. I could only really run when I was being chased.

I zipped across the road, over the lawn, over the porch, and right inside the building.

As soon as I got in, Connor slammed the door shut once again, propping it so it would stay in place. I took a moment to stop and catch my breath. It was darker in the building for obvious reasons. I stood upon a creaky wood floor that was covered in dirt and dust. Looking up, I saw an old countertop without any trim or glass. It was the only thing in there that even came close to resembling furniture. The floor was littered with a bunch of old square looking cans and a few beer bottles. I took one more deep breath before walking over to one of the cans.

The cans were all rusted and looked pretty rough. I picked up one and flipped it over to see what it was.

KEROSENE

What the hell?

“Woah” Connor spoke beside me, walking over to one of the beams holding up the next level of the building, “Check this out”

The beam he was looking at was charred black. I followed it to see that most of the beams were at least a little charred and floor in the center looked burnt.

“Jesus. It looks like someone tried to burn down the place.” I stated.

“What do you mean?” Connor asked.

I flipped the can around to show him what it said.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed.

I dropped the can to the floor to investigate the burns. It looked like the fire started mainly in one corner below and spread to particular areas. Considering how open the bottom floor was, I'm surprised the whole place didn't light up. I had never messed with Kerosene so I wasn't sure how effective of a fuel it was to burn a place down, but it seemed like it had a hard time staying lit after the fuel itself was burned away.

From the looks of things now though, all the wood was so dry that this whole place would probably go up in flames if someone happened to drop a lit match. Out of all the abandoned places I've broken into, this one was the most interesting. It felt like something real serious happened here. It really made me wonder what was upstairs…

I looked to the staircase to see that, while it looked flimsily made like it was thrown together in a single afternoon, it also looked untouched by the fire.

Connor made his way to the staircase to try it out.

“I'm gonna check this out first and if it seems safe then we can try to get you up here” Connor said to me.

I nodded and kept looking at the cans. There must have been about 20 of them all spread out. Around the floor. Either this type of fuel was really bad for burning places down or the person who tried just really sucked at being an arsonist.

“Hey...They're safer than they look..” Connor spoke from the stairs.

I walked over and tried to put my weight on one. I weighed at least a hundred pounds more than Connor so I knew this was risky. The stair creaked and warped with my weight on top. Feeling a bit braver than I should, I set my other foot on the one above and pushed myself up a step. It held me so I made my way up the rest of the stairs slowly.

When I got to the top, we reached what was probably once a storage room. I say this because the four walls were outlined with older looking boxes. I’d have to say they were either late 90s or early 2000s but it was kinda hard to tell. Most of the packages were sky blue. Whether they were faded from the sun or not, I couldn't tell. They each had a General Electric logo in the corner.

They were random hardware appliances. There were a lot of globes for overhead lights, boxes of light bulbs, house fan kits, power outlets and covers, and other random items of that sort.

Out of curiosity, I had to know if these boxes were just empty or if there were actual appliances still inside. Walking over to one of the boxes carefully, I crouched down in front of it and gently pulled the top of the box open as not to rip it. Sure enough, sitting right in the box was a glass globe wrapped in bubble wrap with a plastic bag around it.

Why were all these left behind? Was burning down the building an attempt to collect insurance money for the place?

Either way, after Connor had checked a few more, we decided that they were all brand new products still in boxes after all this time. It was strange that these were left here and even stranger that there had been a new padlock on the front door. Something about all of this was shrouded in secrecy and I was oh so curious to figure out why.

Suddenly, I heard a police siren at the end of the street. Me and Connor both looked at each other and froze.

We listened to the police car. The siren got louder and louder indicating it was getting closer. Me and Connor both ducked our backs to the walls away from the window. The blue lights flashed frantically through the glass and illuminated the room. It was a terrifying sight if ive ever seen one. The siren hit its peak volume, almost deafening in my ears and competing with the sound of my heart getting ready to burst from my chest.

The lights passed by the house and the sirens followed down the street away from our location.

Me and Connor both looked at each other and I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. That was fucking close…

…

So after running out of the house, much in the fashion we ran in, Me and Connor walked back to my place and were currently sitting in my room, sipping a soda.

“Ok, so I think someone tried to burn the place down to collect the insurance for it” I started to explain.

“Really? Why do you think that?” Connor asked.

“Well, It's simple, really. I think the owner was probably in too deep over their heads or something. They weren't selling their stock like they hoped and they knew the only way to make it out without getting into debt was to burn it down and collect the insurance money. Because as long as it looks like an accident or that someone else did it, the insurance is there to pay everything off.”

“Well they didn't do a very good job.”

We both laughed at that.

“I wish we had a car or something so we could take that stuff in there. That stuff is still new! It'd be good to have around in case something breaks or needs to be fixed, ya know?” Connor said.

“I hear ya” I replied, “we could also just smash some of it if we get bored.”

We both laughed again and enjoyed the cool night air blowing in through my window.

[c-e-c-e-r-o]

On Love's Tail, Part 15

The usually quiet wood is filled with the sound of shifting dirt, clacking rocks, and frenzied grunts of exertion. Sær digs furiously, using the remaining broken half of his sword. After so long underground, it's become rusted and brittle, snapping in half soon after Sær started digging. A large mound of earth lies next to him, rising as the sun lowers. Sweat pours off his face in rivulets, dropping down into the loose earth as he works.

He is close to unearthing the buried man, so, tossing his sword away, he begins to shift the soft dirt with his hands. The going is slow, and by the time the few beams of light that can be seen are shining straight down, he is only just unearthing the man's helm. With renewed strength, Sær picks up his broken sword, using it to scrape away the earth, revealing a tangle of pulsing roots. They shift and writhe upon being uncovered, and one with draws itself from the man's chest, lunging forth. Sær's eyes glint, and he lets it peirce his shoulder, wrapping his arm around it and heaving, ripping it out of the ground as it emits an eerie screech. The root falls to the floor in a spray of blood, writhing and wriggling before going still.

Sær sets to work, mercilessly grabbing and chopping the parasitic plants. In a cascade of earth, the knight tumbles from the dirt, gasping his first breath in an impossibly long time.

"HO HO!" The man belts out, causing Sær to jump back, startled. The knight stands on shaky legs, then clasps his shoulders. "My friend! I cannot express my gratitude sufficiently! For so long I was trapped in this ghastly wood..." He shudders. "I, Solaire of Astora, pledge my leal service to you!"

"That's alright," Sær says, put off by the man's boisterousness. Optimism is the last thing he wants; it feels like a crime for happiness to exist while Priscilla still sleeps. He disentangles himself from Solaire. "Truth be told, my reasons are selfish. I need aid."

Solaire chortles. "Whatever you ask of me, you shall have it. I am at your whims!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sun sets on the third day of Sær's awakening as the group gathers for supper. The company had grown exponentially quite quickly; dig up one person, and they dig up another, and the manpower is doubled. Within the few days since they first began, they had unearthed hundreds of trapped travelers, each with their own skills and an unrelenting eagerness to aid the man responsible for freeing them; Sær.

The group gathers around a small clearing, each eating while they chatter about their respective duties. Andre the blacksmith forges shovels and axes to aid in the rescue effort, Cale maps the forest as it's cleared, Rosabeth would light fires and burn paths with her pyromancy, and Vengarl educated the group on battle tactics and stories of old. Vengarl and Sær had become fast friends; Sær brazenly told him not to get 'a head' of himself, and that gave him the hardest laugh of his life. The entirety of the company would avoid mentioning the fact that he was naught but a head and helm, and he respected Sær for being so straightforward.

Vengarl takes a deep breath, free from the smell of earth, a scent he had to suffer for decades. The only company to be had in that miserable dirt was the occasional mole or burrowing snake; many an argument had ended with a hiss and a bite. He's happy just to talk to someone with thumbs.

"Not long now," Sær ponders beside him.

"'til we unearth your wife?"

"Not married just yet," he replies.

"If she is as fair as you claim, then you would do well to keep a close eye on her. To hear you speak, one would think that she is a veritable goddess."

"Well, she is half goddess."

"Truly?" Vengarl raises an eyebrow. "Big lass, is she?"

"You could say that. Tall, long fair hair, pristine white fur..." Sær sighs.

"White fur? Such opulence is only afforded to royalty."

"Her father's a Duke."

"A Duke?!" Vengarl's eyebrows raise even higher. "What dark sacrifice did you have to make to marry a goddess and a noble's daughter!? I call bull-shite. No man- Especially a lowly undead vagrant- could be so lucky."

"You would eat your words upon meeting her, if you had a stomach." Sær sighs, saddened by the thought of Priscilla in her earthen prison.

"Cease your incessant suspiring, Sigh-ær." Vengarl growls.

"So long as you cease your incessant barking, Ven-growl."

The two are silent, then burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the wood as the rescued company work to aid their savior.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the night of the first moon since Sær's awakening, the group gathers in a large clearing by Priscilla's tree. The company is five hundred strong now, with another hundred sent into the depths of the forest to rescue more unlucky souls.

The forest teems with light now, lanterns lining the bridges that run through the trees. Houses, kitchens, and even staircases have been carved into the massive trees, making massive, interconnected towers that are lit up like a starry sky. The dozen or so children that had been rescued run fearlessly along the bridges, swinging on vines and carving slides into the stairs.

Below, the pavillion is abuzz with chatter as axes and shovels are dispensed among the crowd. Solaire, sporting his typical flair for theatrics, climbs the carved steps overlooking the crowd.

"My friends! Before we begin, I bid thee all to rise your arms and praise the-" Several apples, two gauntlets and a book are promptly thrown, the apples hitting their mark and splattering against Solaire's tunic.

"Get on wif' it!"

"Stick your praise where your sun don't shine!"

"If you were my sun, you'd get a right wallopin'!"

Solaire sweeps the chunks of apple off of his shirt, used to their disdain of his obsession. "Yes, well... The time has come to free the lady Priscilla from her earthen prison! Take it a day or a year, we shall not rest until Master Sær's betrothed is free!"

A roar erupts from the crowd as they all hurry to grab their tools, eager to repay their savior. Solaire walks over to Sær, who had stood against the wall listening quietly. He claps his hand upon Sær's shoulder, only for it to emit a growl. "SUN ABOVE!" He jumps back in fright.

"Watch yourself, sun," Vengarl says, for indeed it is him. His helm (and head, for they are one) is fastened to Sær's left shoulder like a pauldron, glaring at Solaire through the mouth of his helm.

Solaire composes himself and turns to Sær. "You must be quite thrilled, eh? To see your lovely lady once again, after such a tragic parting! How romantic!" His arms swing in exaggerated motions. Sær cringes. "I cannot wait to meet her!"

"I, as well," Vengarl adds. "I have seen many things, but never a perfect woman, which she is, if you are to be believed."

Sær chuckles. "I think you two will be suprised, regardless..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A day into the rescue effort, and significant progress has been made. It is made slow going by the precautions taken so that Priscilla may not be harmed, however. holes must be carefully chisled to make sure it is safe to swing an axe, while the tunnels beneath have to be perfectly supported so as not to collapse the great tree. Sær had attempted to aid in the rescue, but could not bring himself to sink an axe into the tree, convinced it would hit Priscilla. Instead he would pace about the treetop villa, nearly wearing a hole in the floorboards.

On the eve of the second day, Sær is snapped out of his reverie by numerous shouts. Flying down the slide the children had carved, he jumps off and hits the ground running. As he approaches the tree, he sees it. A tuft of white fur.

With a yell and a teary smile, he snatches up a chisel and starts furiously chipping the wood away, wood flying. The rest of the villagers join him, careful to leave support for the tree. Soon, the forest floor is littered with wood shavings, and Priscilla tumbles out of the great tree. Sær quickly hacks at the writhing roots as the rest of the company stare in stunned silence. They all gather around the giant beauty, bewitched.

Priscilla's tail twitches and her eyes slowly open. Her slit pupils dilate, exposed to light for the first time in decades. Sær gently stokes the thin fur on her cheek. "Priscilla? Darling? Can you hear me?"

"Mmmmh... Tired..." She wraps her arms around him, nuzzling his chest. Vengarl lets out a suprised shout and Priscilla flings Sær away, scuttling back against the tree, now wide awake. "Wh-what is that monstrous growth upon your shoulder?!"

"I'm monstrous?!" Vengarl says incredulously. He drops his voice to an angry whisper, muttering to Sær. "You failed to mention that your fiancé is thrice your size," he hisses. "A little warning might have been useful!"

"Two and a half times my size," Sær corrects him. "Isn't she great?!" He beams.

Vengarl would shake his head in disbelief, if he could. And they say I have lost my head.

Once the village recovers from their initial shock, They quickly take to Priscilla like wrinkles on a hollow. They watch on in awe an no small amount of embarrassment as the two lovers cuddle, feeding each other. It takes some getting used to; it's difficult for the men to fathom having such a large partner. It becomes a strange fascination to the village, and Sær and Priscilla quickly gain celebrity status due to their pairing and Sær's rescue of most everyone there.

Priscilla isn't coping to well. This is the first time in her life she has had to interact, or even be around a group. Sær has to shoo away the crowds at least twice a day while Priscilla cowers adorably behind her tail.

"Darling." Priscilla speaks softly to him on the last day of their first week together again. She lays on a large pillow, sewn by a team of seamstresses and filled with down feathers by a team of hunters. They lay warm and comfortable inside the great tree, it's now-hollowed trunk serving as a luxurious tower for the two. The walls are covered in ornate carvings, courtesy of admiring sculptors in the village. The pair had become de facto royalty, if only in name. Grateful villagers would come bearing gifts at all times of day, and they scarcely had room to store them.

"Hm?" Sær hums.

"When shall we continue our quest?" I understand the need to rest after this ordeal, but my aunt- I mean, uncle Gwyndolin will be even weaker now. After so much time trapped, we can't afford to be as lazy as you are." She pokes his forehead admonishingly. "I begin to grow worried about my future husband's idleness. I won't be shouldered with all the housework will you sleep," she says, vigorously poking his head.

Sær winces, burrowing into her chest to evade her assault. "As soon as the scouts return," he yawns. "Your mother said we can't have help, but a little information doesn't count, right?"

"I won't tell if you won't."

Said information was not long off. The next morning, the two are visited by a courier hauling a comically large scroll, so made so Priscilla can read it. She scans it as Sær stretches, still groggy. "Darling, about the artifact we need to obtain..."

"The sword?"

"Yes. The wolf gaurding it-"

"Are you really that worried about one wolf? Art thou turning craven, milady? One kick and he'll be sent across the-"

Priscilla reaches out a hand and clamps his jaw shut. "The wolf's name is Sif, the very same wolf from the legends. One he may be, but that poses a problem when he is as big as me." Sær's eyes widen.

"Oh," she says, releasing his jaw. "And he doesn't guard the sword. He uses it." She smirks. "But since I am a craven, I shall leave him to you."