#stream shadow and bone dammit

[starryschemer]

Shattered Odds - (Chapter Twelve)

Pairings: Salesman x reader

Summary: Gi-hun finds himself in a high-stakes game with not only his life but the life of someone he cares deeply about. You. Can Gi-hun outsmart the salesman? Or will the odds catch up with him?

Warnings: Dubious consent (Dubcon), emotional manipulation/abuse, strong language, power dynamics, references to past trauma, verbal threats, possessive behavior, graphic violence, blood and gore, dark themes, angst

Taglist: @aesthetic-winchesters @therandomofpink @cowuies @alzeralz

A/N: Please note that the future chapters will be delayed slightly, I am going on a holiday with my family for 2 weeks. Will still be able to post during that time, they just won't be as often.

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Chapter Twelve - The trigger and the aftermath

Word Count - 3,593

The sound of the gunshot was still ringing in your ears, you were frantically trying to stem the warm flow of blood that pumped between your fingers. Pain throbbed, you were hot too, but it was nothing next to that betrayal. The way he looked at you just before he pulled the trigger kept returning in your mind. Calm, collected, disappointed. But you also saw a tad of hurt in them. 

Did he care about you? 

No, he couldn’t. He was probably just trying to manipulate you more than they have already. However, you weren’t sure what hurt more, the laceration in your flesh or the one in your chest.

You slowly stood up, wobbling slightly, as you stepped towards the hallway, your vision was already swimming. Your knees began to buckle, not once, but twice, causing you to crash your shoulder into the wall, supporting you upright.

You couldn’t fall. Not yet.

Pushing off from the wall you stumbled on. Each step felt like you were carrying concrete blocks around your feet. The room was spinning violently, the lights above you were dancing, bleeding into the shadows.

Blood dripped out behind you now, a steady stream raining all over the carpet. 

You didn’t dare look back. You knew how bad it was, just by the warmth seeping through your clothes, by the way your hands were beginning to go numb, by the way your body was swaying with each intake of breath.

And still, you managed to move.

In front of the bathroom door, one hand slick with blood as you stumbled for the knob. You were almost out of strength. The agony was deafening, screaming through you whenever you took a breath. 

The last strength went into twisting the knob, shoving the door open, and dragging yourself inside. You immediately shut the door behind you, stumbling in motion, as you locked it with trembling hands. 

You collapse, your back scraping slowly down the door with a thud. You smack into the tiles hard, your side crashing against the freezing ceramic. It startled your body but did not help wake you.

Everything around you was starting to fade.

Your heart was pounding, masking all the other sounds. You could partly hear your own gasping breaths.

“Get up,” muttering under your breath, tears pricking your eyelids. “We can’t fucking die, dammit.”

Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself forward, inch by inch. Blood was starting to streak across the tiles. Your whole body was in pain, but you refused to stop until you made it to the cabinet under the sink.

You fumbled with the door. On the second attempt, it swung open.

There you found some alcohol, some gauze, and some medical tape. You wrapped your shaky hands around all of them before a black pulse clouded your vision.

The pain was intolerable, but the cold of the room was far worse. It was the type of cold that begins at your fingertips, slowly working its way up to the rest of your body. The sort of cold that made your bones ache. 

You attempted to straighten against the sink, catching your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t even know who you were anymore.

Your skin was pale, sickly even. The clothes were now stained in a deep crimson with blood, which was still spreading more and more. Your eyes widened, they looked haunted, shocked. You looked like a dying animal.

And maybe you were. Maybe you were dying. 

You leaned forward and tried washing your hands before pressing the gauze into the wound. It burned. It hurt. Your whole body shook, tears streaming down your face, but you couldn’t stop now. You knew how it went. You weren’t going to die, not now at least.

Grunting, you reached for the bottle of alcohol and uncapped it with your teeth. 

“You can do it,” you told yourself.

And you did.

Pouring some of it on your wound. The pain was the worst thing you have ever felt. It was unholy. You screamed, hearing it bounce off the tile walls. You started convulsing, eyes briefly rolling back in your head.

You tried to fasten the gauze in place with the tape, however, your fingers were too slick with blood. The tape slipped, landing on the ground and rolling out next to you. 

Your arms gave out, then your body. Ending up falling to the tiles, your cheek on the ground. You blinked your eyes once. Twice. Three times. 

Everything slowed in the bathroom.

The lights flickered, your sight tunneled, black bleeding in from the sides like it was spilled ink.

The blood wasn’t stopping, it was spreading from under you in a pool that was only going to become deeper. It was weirdly cozy against the cold of the floor, and you felt, for a moment, almost numb. Almost at peace.

So this was it. 

You weren’t a player. Not a fighter. Just one more thing for the Salesman to shove out of the way once it stopped being convenient. Stopped being entertaining. 

You stopped crying. You didn’t even try to call out for him. You just allowed the silence to consume you, because even then, even after everything. You refused to let him win.

The Salesman’s steps echoed, measured, and sharp. He had just gone out for a few minutes. A brief moment. 

He had gone to take a call. To cool himself down, if only for a moment.

But when he entered the room again, he noticed you weren’t in front of the chair anymore. Only saw a pool of blood where you were sitting down against the wall.

His brows came together, confusion slightly pulling at the edge of his mouth. He couldn’t hear any footsteps, no sound. Just the slight noise of cars going about outside. 

“Y/N?” He yelled, his tone smug, filled with amusement. “Where’d you go, huh? You’re not actually sulking after I shot you, are you?”

No answer came.

He scanned the room before his eyes turned toward the bathroom door.

Closed. The only door that was closed.

His steps slowed down. He noticed the blood on the handle before trying to twist the door open. 

Locked.

That made him chuckle, a crooked grin forming. 

“Seriously?”

The Salesman started tapping the door with his knuckles in a rhythm like he was trying to coax a child out of a hiding place. “Come on. Don’t be so dramatic. I understand that you’re upset, but this…locking yourself in the bathroom….this is not going to change anything. This is not going to fix anything.”

Still nothing. Pure silence.

It didn’t seem like your usual silence. It wasn’t the silence he was used to, the kind drenched in sass or fury, the kind that howled without saying a word. This one felt different, wrong. Too heavy. Too still.

He banged on the door hard.

“Y/N,” he said again, more anger showing this time. The edge of the amused look had been blunted. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR NOW.”

Still, no response.

Cold and biting, something crawled up his spine then as he sniffed the air. 

There it was.

Blood.

He looked down at his feet, feeling something wet brushing them, noticing blood spilling out from under the door, glistening against the lights. 

He became rigid, stood frozen. 

“...Y/N?”

This time, his voice cracked slightly, and a single tear formed in his eyes.

A beat passed. Then he moved fast.

He rammed his shoulder against the door once, twice, three times. The sound of it echoed down the halls like a gunshot. His teeth started to clench, his breath becoming sharp and ragged.

“Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR!”

Still no answer. Nothing.

Panic made its way to his chest, violent and big, like a flower with thorns. He didn’t think about what happened to you. He couldn’t. He backed up slightly, grabbed the gun from the belt with a practiced flick, and without a moment’s pause.

BANG.

The lock exploded. He immediately kicked the door open, splitting some wood at the hinges, gun still raised, heart pounding. The lights were still flickering in the bathroom.

And then he noticed you.

Slumped over, half-curling on the floor. Blood was all over the ground below you. A roll of gauze had fallen at the side of your open hand, tape unwound and sticky with blood on the tiles. An alcohol bottle spilled, mixed with the blood in a horrific swirl.

You weren’t moving. It didn’t look like you were even breathing. 

“Shit.”

The word came out in a whisper, horrified. Fragile. 

He quickly knelt beside you, throwing the gun on the ground causing the tiles to rattle. He placed his hands on you gently. They were shaking when he turned you over to face him. You looked pale, your skin was ice-cold.

“No, no, no…”

He placed two fingers on your neck. There. A pulse. Very weak. But you were still alive.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “What the hell did I-”

His voice was breaking now, all that composed smugness was peeling off. This was not meant to happen. He always planned things. He was always, and I mean always in control.

But this-

This was chaos to him.

He slapped his hand hard over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding from worsening. 

“Don’t die, Y/N. Don’t fucking die on me now.”

The Salesman was becoming desperate in his tone, which only made the air feel much heavier for him. 

He fidgeted for his phone, your blood greasing the screen as he dialed. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Get to the Pink Motel. Now.”

A shocked, muffled voice replied. The Salesman didn’t care.

“She is bleeding out, gunshot. If she dies, you die. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

A stammered excuse. A pause.

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR DATE NIGHT WITH YOUR WIFE, YOUR ANNIVERSARY, ALRIGHT? You can apologize or make it up to her later. That is, if I let you live.”

Another distant murmur. 

“Ten minutes. You have only ten fucking minutes. If you come late, you better pray to whatever gods you believe in that she is still breathing when you step through that door, or you will be wishing, begging you were the one bleeding out on this very floor.”

The voice on the other end spoke again.

The Salesman interrupted with a snarl. “Bullet went clean through, low right. She is very cold. Not talking. Her pulse is barely there.”

He continued.

“I HAVE DONE WHAT I FUCKING CAN. SHE NEEDS YOU NOW. NOT IN TWENTY. NOT IN TWELVE. TEN. OR LESS!”

A faint protest.

“No, you listen to me. You owe me. If you don’t come, if she dies, your body will be sliced up all across the city. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

A quiet acceptance, maybe. Silence. 

He didn’t wait to hear it. 

He threw the phone away, causing it to smash against the tiles. His hands were shaking. He leaned over you once more, bringing you to his torso. You slumped against his chest, your breath coming in and out weakly, but he could feel it. 

He rested his head on the side of your neck, sobbing slightly.

“You stupid, stubborn thing,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You weren’t supposed to be hurt like this. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean to hurt you this badly.”

His bare chest was now smeared with your blood. His hands. His boxers. 

And for the first time in a very long time. 

He was terrified. 

He didn’t even remember standing up.

Didn’t see the way your arms were wrapped around the back of his neck, how you buried your face into his bare chest, how his arms linked beneath your knees and shoulders, holding your body against him like you might break, that you were made of glass.

Your head moved into the nook of his neck. It was so light. Too light.

“Fuck, stay with me, Y/N,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He knew you probably couldn’t even hear him anyway. More blood was soaking all over his form but he didn’t care.

He never should have left you alone. He never should of pulled the damn trigger. He never should have let it go this far. The regret was eating at his insides.

The Salesman carefully placed you on the bed as if you were made of porcelain, terrified even his breath would shatter you more.

And almost immediately the sheets beneath you went dark with your blood.

“Fucking hell…”

He softly held the side of his hand against your cheek. Cold. It was still too cold. He brushed away some of your hair matted with blood from your face with their fingers that trembled.

Your lips were still parted. Breathing shallow. Barely breathing at all.

“Please…don’t do this,” his voice said in a cracked tone.

You didn’t answer.

He stood up so fast, causing him to almost trip as he stepped back from the bed. His hands clawed at his mouth, trailing down their jaw as if he could somehow hold himself together. 

He turned his back to you. Beginning to pace. One step. Two. Where the hell was the doctor, though?

“I SAID TEN MINUTES,” He boomed, looking at his watch. “IT’S BEEN FIVE. FIVE.”

He moved to the window. Then the wall. Then the edge of the bed, again. His heart was now in his throat, guilt twisting around his spine like a vise, pacing like a madman. His power, his control had fallen apart completely.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, his elbow on his knee, hand still covering his mouth. However, his gaze never left yours.

“I-I didn’t mean to hit you there,” he whispered, as if that mattered. “You just-you never listen Y/N.”

The silence that followed was deafening to him. 

He buried his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes closed. And then the worst thought hit him like a truck.

What if you died thinking he meant to kill you?

His whole body collapsed on itself at the thought of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He stood again. Agitated. Restless. Filled with worry.

The Salesman began to grip the back of a nearby chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Immediately flinging the chair at the wall, causing it to snap in two. His own reflection looked into the mirror staring back at him, wide eyed, covered in blood.

What has he done?

Then-

A knock at the door. Urgent. Quick. Loud.

The Salesman nearly stumbled over himself as he bolted towards the front door. Yanking it open.

The doctor was wide eyed at first, standing there with a briefcase in hand, trembling in fear upon the Salesman’s gaze.

“If she dies, you will be next. Get to work.”

The doctor rushed inside, tripping over his own feet as he fast walked to you. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the state you were in. Your body is still on the bed, half-curled, the sheet soaked with your blood. The bleeding did slow down but it hasn’t stopped. Not even close.

“Oh my god,” the doctor said, placing down his case, quickly putting gloves on his hands as he was eyeing the sight. “She could’ve lost consciousness way before this….How long has she been bleeding?”

The Salesman didn’t answer at first. He was hovering behind the doctor, stiff, his fists were balled so tight his nails bit into his palms.

“She was in the bathroom,” the Salesman said, his voice low. “I didn’t know that she tried to clean it herself.”

The doctor hissed. “So much alcohol in an open wound? It is a miracle that she didn’t go into shock from it.”

He didn’t mean it in a cruel way, but the words hit the Salesman like a ton of bricks. 

In an agonizing silence, he watched as the doctor began to cut away your shirt, exposing the wound in your side, the bullet luckily had blown through muscle just beneath your ribs. Your skin was already darkening, blood dripping slowly.

“No fragments. That is good at least.”

The Doctor worked quickly, hands, intent. 

First pressure. Then antiseptic. Then sutures.

Your body thrashed once the needle punctured your skin, even in your unconscious state, a soft cry came out of your lips.

The Salesman stepped forward.

“Is she-?”

“Stable. For now. But she’s not out of danger yet. She lost a lot of blood.”

The doctor quickly rummaged through his bag to find an IV, attaching it to a portable pole that he also brung with him, slowly slipping a needle into the contour of your arm. His gloved hands were slick with red already. 

The Salesman loomed over you, unable to turn away.

“She is strong. Stubborn. Her body didn’t fail her sooner because she is fighting very hard to stay awake.”

The Salesman didn’t move. Didn’t want to speak. He simply gazed at your white face. 

You struggled to survive, even after he pulled the trigger on you.

You fought for your life…in spite of him.

He should have protected you.

Not this.

Why did he do this?

“When she wakes up she’s going to be in pain. A lot of it,” the doctor stated slowly, finishing a bandage on your side.

The Salesman’s voice was low. “Good.”

“Sir?”

“She should be hurt. She should hate me for this. She should be furious.”

He kept his eyes on your face. He noticed a tear going down your eye, involuntary. 

“I don’t think you meant to-”

“I PULLED THE TRIGGER. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I MEANT!”

He slowly returned to sit at the end of the bed, fingers grazing your leg, as if he needed to make sure you were still alive. 

The doctor packed up what was left of his supplies, and gave the Salesman one last look.

“Call me right away if her fever goes up, or if she doesn’t wake up in the morning.”

The Salesman didn’t respond.

He just sat there, all silent as he heard the door shut the doctor. Just watching. Breathing shallowly. 

His hand reached towards you, slow, and he carefully pushed aside a stand of hair from your damp forehead. You didn’t move.

“You weren’t meant to get hurt,” he said softly, voice trembling. “Not like this.”

The other arm hovered over the bandages, over the bullet wound he put there, before curling into a shaking fist.

“I should have never done this to you. I could’ve gone another route without harming you.”

He bent down and pressed his lips, softly brushing on your forehead. Then again, slower.

The kiss was a plea. A confession. 

And then the tears began to fall.

The Salesman tried to stop them, tried to breathe through it, tried to blink them away, but they came nevertheless. At first they were quiet, then they hit harder. His chest choked with sobs his throat couldn’t swallow.

“I pulled the trigger,” he said, nearly choking on his own words. “I pulled it. Doesn’t matter why I did it. It doesn’t matter what I thought I was doing. I hurt you.”

His fingers caught yours, cold in his clutch. He closed his fingers around it, gently rubbing your hand.

“You should hate me. I know you will hate me. And I’ll deserve it. I just-”

His voice broke.

“I just need you to wake up Y/N.”

He laid down on the bed next to you, carefully, wrapping his arms around your body in a way that was almost fearful. He couldn’t stay away.

You didn’t stir when he started stroking your hair. Shaking fingers, lips against your lips. Whispering your name like a prayer he didn’t believe in.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

He curled into you, silent sobs filling the room, placing his face in the crook of your neck. His tears were seeping onto your skin. He refused to let you go.

Not even as exhaustion pulled him under, not even when the tears stopped and all that was left was shallow breathing. He just held you together. Rocked you gently. Tried to keep you grounded by the world with the sole thing remaining to him, his guilt, his grief, the one person he truly loved. 

And that was when it hit him.

He froze as he looked at you again, your pale face, your battered body. Before he could stop himself, his arms tightened around you. 

He loved you.

God, he truly loved you.

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”

He felt it again, the panic, the fear.

He had never loved anyone until now. Not like this. Love has always been something for other people. People who the Salesman thought were weak. Trash. 

And now there he was, shaking, crying, holding you close.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he choked out. “I have no idea how to love someone without hurting them.”

But still, he didn’t let you go.

Still, he stayed.

Because if you died, if you left him, he wasn’t sure that anything would be left of him to carry himself forward.

The silence thickened. 

And in that stillness, with your body curling weakly against his, the Salesman did the only thing he could think of.

He held you even tighter, and waited for morning. Waited for you to hopefully wake up.

A/N: If you would like to be tagged in the next chapters feel free to leave a comment, you can also suggest things you would love to see in the series.

Credit for divider: omi-resources

[audreyclimbs]

foreseen in shadows- chapter one

chapter summary: cassandra returns to her apartment, and after a brief encounter with her best friend, she reflects on her night.

word count: 3.3k

TW: allusions to sexual assault! canon-typical violence, foul language

to access the entire story: foreseen in shadows masterlist + masterlist

I slipped in through my bedroom window as silently as I could, but the rain slicking every inch of my body had a different plan for my return to the apartment. In other words, I faceplanted on my hardwood floor—hard.

“Fuck,” I groaned under my breath, drawing out the vowel as I turned onto my back.  My eyes clenched shut as pain ached in every square inch of my body.  Exhaustion had settled into my bones hours ago, my body not yet adjusted to the demands of this new “night shift” of sorts on top of my day-to-day schedule.  Now, it was all I could do to scrape myself off of my now-slippery floors and shut the window before the rain blew in and soaked my bedroom.

As I turned around, I saw the hallway light flick on through the bottom crack of my closed door.  Dammit.  Could anything go according to plan tonight?

“Cassy, you okay in there?  Did you fall?” Jaimie’s voice called out from outside my door, groggy and scratchy with sleep.  She started to turn the doorknob.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Uh— I’m naked!”  I yelped, my voice pitching unnaturally high.

To her credit, she did pause.  “Girl.”  Her voice, though tired, was a perfect deadpan.  “There’s nothing there that I haven’t been subjected to multiple times before.  Why the fuck are you naked at… what the hell time even is it?” She muttered, trailing off and pausing briefly.  “At 3:30 in the morning?  Oh my God, do you have someone in there?”  My best friend gasped, the sound of shuffling giving away how she was now pressing herself closer to the closed door as if to listen for clues.  “You bitch!  What have we said about telling each other when we have—”

“I don’t— no, no one is here!  Don’t have someone!”  I blanched.  Why didn’t I just go with that, the fuck—  “I got sick, so I’m just changing into fresh clothes.”  That’s believable enough, I guess.

I watched as the shadow of her footsteps shuffled back to a normal distance from the doorframe.  “Aww, I’m sorry, Cass.”  I am such a piece of shit.  Guilt chewed away my bones at the sincerity in her voice.  “Do you want me to make you some broth?  Or.. or I can run out and get some of that juice you like?  I think the Petersons’ place down the street is still open for a little—”

My words came out in a rushed blur, “No, no it’s okay, seriously!  I appreciate it though.”  I began struggling to strip myself of the drenched clothes that clung to my body like a second skin.  The relentless aching of my muscles certainly didn’t make matters easier.  “I think I’m just gonna go back to bed and try to— uh— sleep it off.”  Hopping on one foot as I attempted to tug a boot off, I reached my dresser and leaned my back against the strong oak frame.

Jaimie hummed empathetically from the other side of the door.  I could practically see the distinct furrow of her brow, her hand coming up to run through her blond tresses.  The air came a little easier into my lungs now that I didn’t run the risk of her stumbling across the state I was in.  Drenched to the bone, beaten up in a way I’ve never been before— I couldn’t imagine the terror and worry that would take my best friend by the throat.

Her shuffles back from the door almost didn’t reach my ears.  “Well, if you need me, just come get me.  You know where I live,” she called out, yawning at the end of her sentence.  

“Will do— thank you,” I replied, drawing out the last word to serve as my farewell until the morning.

Her footsteps finally retreated from my doorframe, and the hallway light flicked back off.  Now, the only light in my room was the faint glow of streetlights streaming in from the rainy streets.  I kicked off the last boot and finished tugging off my long-sleeve shirt, tossing it in the vague direction of my hamper.  I’d pick it up in the morning and do a load so that I had something to wear when I go out again tomorrow night.  Or rather, tonight, I guess?  I resisted the urge to groan dramatically at the realization that I would have to go do all of this all over again sooner rather than later.  I couldn’t stop now, especially after whatever that encounter with the blind-but-not-blind guy was.

I so do not have the energy to begin processing that beatdown.

My back slid against the smooth, cool wood of my dresser as I sunk to the floor, head tilting back and eyes sliding shut.  Pain radiated in constant, throbbing waves from my jaw, my ribs, my legs.  

What the fuck even happened tonight?  It had started simply enough.  As simple as you can get when it’s your debut as a… vigilante?  Technically, I guess I’d fall within that category.  But I didn’t break the law, so do I actually?  Okay, I did technically assault a man, but he was about to assault a minor, so does that count?  I need a lawyer or something.  Is there a vigilante rubric I can grade myself on?  

As my eyes closed, I thought back to the start of my night.

Who am I even kidding right now?  Vigilante or not, nothing that happened tonight could fall within any category of normal.

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

1:55 A.M.

I crouched against the exhaust pipe that protruded from the rocky terrain of the rooftop, arm wrapping loosely around it in case my feet lost their purchase due to the torrential downpours currently soaking the streets of the Upper West Side.  

“What am I even doing right now?”  I muttered to myself.  

Deciding to take to the streets as a start, I released my grip on the pipe and dropped myself onto the fire escape below, landing in a crouch before rocking to my feet with the momentum of my brief fall.  The fire escape creaked and groaned, its joints squeaking from lack of use as I began lowering myself from ladder to ladder, moving diagonally as I tossed myself quickly and used each bottom rung as a monkey bar of sorts to propel myself to the next tower of fire escapes, steadily making my way down to the street.  

Upon reaching the last fire escape before the side of the building gave way to the street, I used the last of my momentum to swing off of the bottom rung and roll onto the rough concrete below, tucking and rolling as my feet made contact.  I quickly rose to my feet and began walking slowly to the street running perpendicular to the last few yards of the alley I had chosen for my descent.  As the distance between myself and the street began to close, I could hear the bustle of nighttime traffic and the relatively sparse nightlife roaming the streets of the Upper West Side.  Finally, the alley gave way to the street, and I looked around, orienting myself to where I now stood.

I turned left out of the alley and walked to the street corner, eyes squinting through the rain to read the sign of the street running parallel to me.  85th Street.  I hadn’t realized how far I had wandered in my nighttime escapade, but I couldn’t stop now.  I didn’t know how, but I knew I was meant to help.  Someone, somewhere, somehow.  The visions still flashed across my mind every time I closed my eyes.  So much blood, so much grief, and I knew that I had some way to stop it.  If I could see this coming, however far off it may be, then I could stop it, right?

Feet pivoting to turn my body around, I began walking further away from my apartment and toward whatever trouble awaited me tonight.

2:45 A.M.

It had been almost an hour.  Nothing.  Weariness crept into my mind as I continued wandering and pacing through the streets of the Upper West Side.  There was a certain kind of liberation that came with the pitch darkness of the night.  The mask that draped across my face, hiding my identity from someone or something— though I truthfully didn’t know what— didn’t seem to faze any passersby.  Then again, it was New York City.  I had learned fairly quickly that genuinely nothing could make this city’s inhabitants bat an eye.  

A smile tugged at my lips as I remembered how Jaimie and I had outright gawked at the absurdities we witnessed on our first day in the city before starting at Columbia.  It had been four years since then, and we both had changed so much, but I doubted either of us would ever be truly acclimated to this place.  Jaimie, in all her blunt and brutally honest glory, had yet to return to our shared abode in the evening without some story about some odd person she had seen out and about.  

Then, I saw it.  As I passed by a fairly normal-looking man, maybe a few years older than I, it began.  A sudden, frigid sensation passed over my skin as the world before me blended with the vision beginning to form in my mind’s eye.  The inky, misty scene began to unfold, voices drifting in various levels of clarity and volume, colors and shapes drifting and floating in and out of focus outside of the man standing before me.  

“I said, get on your knees,” he spat out, hands coming forward to shove harshly on my— her— shoulders.  

A sob tore from my lips in a voice that was not my own.  My— no, her hands, a milky white and freckled complexion that did not match my tanned, olive skin, shook in front of me as they came up to protect my face futilely.  The sleeves of her black jacket were muddy and dirty, evidence of a likely tumble to the wet ground of the dark alley she was now trapped in.  The dumpster pressing against her back effectively shielded her from the sight of passersby.  

(Not that anyone would glance twice even if they did see the scene playing out before them.  God help me, I fucking hate New Yorkers sometimes.)  Ripping myself from my bitter thoughts, I tried to focus on the milky, foggy scene before me.  The tears welling in her eyes did nothing to aid my vision through her eyes.

“Please,” the girl croaked out, and I could feel the hot tears streaming down her cheeks as if they were my own.  “Please, my mom is waiting up for me.  I won’t tell anyone, I— I s-swear,” the last syllables of her words trailed off in a hysterical cry, fear practically oozing from every fiber of her being.  

In my own mind, rage and indignation flared as the premonition continued to play out.  

Through teary eyes, she lifted her head and I saw the face of the origin of her fear.  It was the man I just passed by.  Blindly, I willed my body to turn around in the present and walk in the direction he had been going.  I prayed that I didn’t hit anyone as I moved unseeingly through the streets.  Focusing back on the vision as best I could while also trying to devote some of my attention to the present world, I watched as he began reaching for a knife strapped to his belt.  Oh God.

Desperation bubbled up in the girl’s throat, and I willed my present body to breathe deeply— to keep the barriers between us up and not give in to her emotions.  The man’s lips curled sadistically back, but they slipped back into a growl when she began scrambling backward.  He lunged forward and went down to the ground with her, body pinning her down as his hand holding the blade positioned it to the side of her neck.  His other hand came up to grip at her hair, and I felt a harsh pain to the side of my head as he tugged on her long, wet hair.  Rain dripped off the bridge of his nose and fell onto her forehead, and his breath fanned hotly across her face, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the October night.  

“I told you to get on your knees,” he panted, a manic sheen crossing over his eyes.  In the present, my skin crawled.  “But did you listen?  No, no you didn’t.  You know what happens,” he pressed the sharp edge of the blade into her throat, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to stir a new wave of panic and fear in her.  

It was getting harder to stay in the vision and keep walking through the present, but I needed to know.  My autonomy in these visions was still weak, but I was getting better at controlling them— at making them play out instead of flashing chaotically behind my eyes like they did the first several times.  

Then, I felt it.  He pressed his hips down, and I felt the bulge press into her outer thigh— my outer thigh.  Bile crept up in her throat, and I willed myself to take deep breaths through my nose as I kept walking, vaguely seeing his form walking ahead of me.  It took everything in me not to pull out of the vision right then and throttle him with every fiber of my strength, but I kept walking.  Kept trying to see through her eyes— just a few more seconds.

The girl screamed and I felt it rip through my vocal cords, a harsh and desperate cry of terror.  She sounded so young— only a teenager.  The man shook her harshly and hissed in her ear to stay quiet.  Then, with his other hand, he reached down and fumbled for his belt—

I barely ripped myself out of the vision before I slammed into a lamp pole.  For fuck’s sake, Cassandra.  I scrambled back and found the man again.  Because of my clumsy error, he had gained a few extra feet on me.  I let him have it, trying to appear casual and we walked— together, though he didn’t know it just yet— through the night streets.  He paused, so I paused.  The man’s head whipped left and right, and I saw him focus on a distant bodega.  The street corner he had stopped at was on the opposite side of the intersection from the small shop, but he watched it steadily.  At that moment, I realized that he hadn’t been wandering at all.  He positioned himself next to a streetlight, arm coming to rest against the green, painted metal.  In the brief pause, I took a moment to observe him as best I could from the somewhat substantial distance between us.

He had a black zip-up hoodie on, the hood of which was pulled over his head.  His pants were just jeans, and I strained to see where exactly he had the knife I had seen in my vision.  One of the faults of my new abilities had to be the clarity— or rather, lack thereof.  If I focused with all of my strength, then I could usually get the scenes playing behind my eyes to clear up.  More often than not, however, that just wasn’t possible due to the present’s demands of my attention.  The jacket ended just past his hips, effectively blocking my view of his belt.  No matter, I’d figure it out soon enough.

A bell sounding from the bodega drew my attention across the intersection.  A young girl with fiery red curls stepped out, waving goodbye to whoever remained inside.  

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Lopez!”  She called out cheerily as the door snicked shut.  Then, she began walking away, pulling the hood of her black jacket up over her hair.  

Oh. 

The man ahead of me began following her, subtlety clearly gone in the wind.  Internally, I begged the girl to turn back— to go back inside and wait, to walk home with the man inside who she seemed to trust, to do anything.  She kept walking, arms crossed tightly across her chest to fight the harsh, whipping October air and rain.

His pace picked up, and the horror washing over me was far colder than the frigid rain currently soaking through my clothes.  He was gaining on her quickly.  I broke into a run, blindly crossing the street and praying that I didn’t get hit.  Then, he reached her and grabbed her through the hood of her jacket by those red curls.  Her scream was muffled by the arm that came up around her, presumably cupping over her mouth.  They backed into the alley to their left, and I sprinted as quickly as I could, rounding the corner and barrelling into the alley.  

This monster would not have her.  Not ever.

The man’s head whipped around to face the sound of my approaching footsteps, and before he could react, I yanked on the collar of his hoodie with all of my might.  Luckily, his grip on the girl broke, and she stumbled forward.  I released my hold on his collar and let momentum take him the last few feet into the wall behind him.  With blind instinct, I whipped my leg around to slam the flat of my foot into the soft part of his side below his ribs.  A groan slipped past his lips, and he doubled over but recovered quickly and stumbled in my direction. 

“Go!  Run!”  I screamed blindly in the young girl’s direction, hoping she would understand despite my gaze never leaving the monster of a man before me.  From the corner of my eye, I saw her figure dart behind me and out into the street.  I sent up a silent prayer that she would go back to the bodega.  That she would get home safe.

In my moment of distraction, the man managed to land a clumsy blow to my shoulder.  I stumbled back, grunting from the force.  Based on the uncoordinated path of his fist, I guessed that he was not experienced in combat.  Good.  My fighting left much to be desired, but I at least remembered most of what I learned during my time in Columbia’s Women’s Kickboxing Club.  I willed myself to recover quickly and assumed a somewhat awkward fighting stance.  I was rusty, sure, but not as bad as him.  

With a swift inhale, I wound my core tight, swung my leg around, and hit my mark on that same soft spot.  This time, it did the trick.  The monster gasped as he tried to regain the breath I just kicked out of his lungs.  I kept on him and wound my other leg around to strike his opposite side.  He fell to his knees.  A small, sadistic part of me was satisfied at the dark irony of this situation— at the fear he was now feeling, rather than inflicting on an innocent teenager.  Blind rage took over the forefront of my mind, and I kept landing blow after blow until he was nothing more than a crumbled mass on the wet floor of the alley.  I stared, eyes wide, and air finally came back to my lungs when I spotted the rise and fall of his chest.

A rustling sound from the dumpster behind me pulled me back to the present, and I stepped back shakily.  Has my heart always been this loud?  Trembling breaths shuttered in and out of my wet lips, and my hands shook violently as I reached up to wipe the rain from my eyes and brow.  A quick scan of my surroundings somewhat eased my worries about being seen or attacked, and with that, I took off running.

[genavere]

Fairy Tail - RE:Script

Episode One: Hargeon

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 7

Another fist swung just passed Natsu’s face as he pulled back his own and smashed it into the face of his would-be attacker. Flesh and bones gave way under the force of it and flames shot forward to engulf the slave trader. Screams and incoherent babbling filled the air as the man ran flailing about, colliding with others.

Several others began panicking as their clothes caught on fire, or the burning fingers caught their skin and left red burns. The chaos that swept through the mass of sailors added to the pile of bloody, burnt bodies around him. Still, more continued to file in from the stairs and the darkness of the hull. The ship had not looked that large on the outside.

“Dammit, where’d you all keep comin’ from?!”

Another swung a plank of wood embedded with nails at him. A wave of fire turned it to ash and consumed the slaver. Natsu silently acknowledged the man’s self-preservation as he watched him drop to the ground and rolled around while screeching.  

A quick glance around gave him the status he needed on the current situation. Most of the women who had not been thrown into the cages yet had been set to the side. Some of them just unconscious heaps on the floor while others were leaned against others. They were far enough away from the flames and fighting to stay safe. That was one problem he could worry about later.

Around him, though, were still a decently sized group of slavers. Bulky men who lived on the sea and were used to hauling around human-shaped goods. Some were eyeing the destruction around them in disquiet, while the rest resembled beasts whose territory you stumbled into. And what is a lone wizard if not something that stumbled where he shouldn’t have? “Whatcha all waitin’ for? Thought you were gonna to take me down?”

That got most of them of them going. Some still eyed the literal charred corpses that had been their shipmates, but they all had a joke to do and cargo to put away. All of them against one wizard had to favor the force with the larger numbers!

With a shout, they stepped forward together and charged.

Natsu grinned and took in a deep breath. Lungs and diaphragm expanding outward, and his hands came up to focus the core of his attack at the group coming at him. A burning hot stream of raging flames billowed out in a straight line, expanding out just past his pinkie finger.

The flames roared unhindered toward the stairs, consuming the men who had tried to sneak away while the others fought. Their screams filled the air with the smell of burning flesh and melting metal.

What the…Natsu blinked in confusion.

None of the men who had been charging at him mere seconds before remained. Not their shoes, bodies, or their ashes. He stepped forward to look for any sign of the missing men, ignoring the burning men.

Down one of the rows of cages, a large, imposing shadow slowly straightened up to tower over a pile of bodies and limbs gathered at his feet. Blood pooled on the ground beneath them, and some still twitched or groaned in pain. Without a care, the creature stomped on the pile and turned back to fix a glare at Natsu.

A shiver of fear actually crawled down his spine at the power he felt from the—beast? In better lighting, he noticed the stature, the weapon attached to his back, the height of him—at least seven feet tall, if not taller—and were those horns coming out of his head?

“Taurus!”

Natsu jumped at the shout behind him. Ninja-swinging his arms around, he relaxed when he saw Happy flying toward him carrying Lucy. He grinned, “Happy! Lucy!”

Dark, bloodshot eyes met his and filled with tears even as she smiled, “Natsu!”

Moving forward a step, his smile fell when he noticed the blood and bruises that covered her, and even noticed some poking out from under her clothes. Worse, from the scent alone he was certain that those were not the clothes she had been wearing before. His nose coiled up, and smoke seeped through clenched fangs. “Did these bastards do this to you?”

“W-what?” Lucy recoiled inward at the tone of his voice. It took a moment, then she remembered how she must have looked and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing for her sweatshirt. “Oh, y-yea. That Salamander guy…he is the one in charge of all of this.”

“You mean the fake Salamander,” he growled, fists clenched.

“Fake?”

Taurus stepped out of the dimly light section he had stampeded the men into and rolled his shoulders. They looked up at him, noticing the gore and remains left on his clothing and hooves. “Explanations later, we need to focus getting Miss Lucy to safety first. Her magic power is waning, and I am only able to supply so much of my own.”

“Right!” Natsu punched his fist against his palm, “I’m ready to kick more ass and teach that bastard a lesson!”

He led the way up the stairs, silently glad that Happy still carried Lucy over the heated metal where several fires still lingered, and listened to the loud clonks of Taurus taking up the rear behind them. The stairs led to one of the back hallways, a similar look to all the other ones he had run through earlier, and began maneuvering them to the outside area based off smell alone.

“Don’t worry, Lucy,” he called behind, finding a door that smelled strongly of the sea air outside, “we’ll get you off this boat!” Pressing against the metal door—Taurus’ loud clopping lagging behind due to his size, Natsu shoved it wide open and stumbled out of the hallway onto the deck of the ship.

Waiting for them, several more slave traders held various types of weapons from chains to clubs. Nothing designed to kill, but could inflict maximum damage.

“Dammit! How many of these bastards does this guy have?” Taking up a stance in front of Lucy and Happy, Natsu felt a flicker of satisfaction when Taurus stepped up beside him, axe at the ready.

“Not enough for my axe,” the bull snorted, steeling himself for the fight. “They will all perish for harming my mistress!”

Laughter cracked over the sound of waves, pulling everyone’s attention up to the deck in front of the wheelhouse. Standing in front of a large, blue Lacrima that hung on the wall between the wheelhouse windows was the very man who had caused all of their problems. Blood seeped from the bandages covering the mid-section of his face making the laughter sound more like a dolphin.

“I had heard that the real Salamander of Fairy Tail might come after me if I used his name,” Bora yelled down, voice a nasally pitch compared to the bass register he hit before. “Seems those rumors were correct! Come now, Salamander, let’s see your mark!”

Eyes narrowed, Natsu kept his attention on Bora and shrugged his shoulders, letting the straps of his bag slip. A heavy thunk filled the air with a somber feel and soon his coat fluttered down to cover the bag.

Using his name for slave trading, kidnapping Lucy, being complete scum…a list of crimes committed that filled pages of legal books. He refused to let him get away with more and cause more damage.

With both arms bare, only those to his right were able to see the crimson proof of the guild mark on his shoulder. An undisputable truth. One that made Lucy worried her lower lip and take Natsu in with a different light.

Not once had the salmon-haired man next to her seem like a typical ‘bad guy.’ Not like the man above them or those she had met before. Really, he had treated her well, with a sense of welcoming that not many offered those down on their luck. “You really are Salamander.”

“You didn’t know?” Bora’s voice sneered and he leaned forward over the railing. “Renown around the land after some good PR. But,” he lifted a crowbar up and grinned around the bandages, “he does have one simple weakness.”

Lacrima shards shattered and littered the deck as the metal bar slammed into it with enough force to crack the windows on either side. The once smooth sailing of the ship dipped and waves began to rock it back and forth—gently, but enough to feel a difference. Many of the men around them grew pale and green, but kept their stomachs.

Unfortunately for Natsu, no amount of peppermint covered cloth would help the sudden onslaught of motion sickness. Stomach rebelling, everything he had eaten early came up and splashed on the deck. A cold sweat broke out over his face and he fell to his knees as he hugged his stomach.

Lucy stared down at him as he withered around like a pathetic creature instead of the man she had meet earlier. Happy cried out in alarm.

“Oh no! Without that stabilizer, Natsu won’t be able to do anything!”

Below them, the growing hum of the engines began to rev up. They were preparing to move the ship again! Quickly, she took in the situation, the crumpled-up form of Natsu, the dissipating stores of her magic, and the men closing in around them. Drastic situations called for drastic measures.

“Taurus!” she called out to her spirit. “I need you to go back. Happy! I need you to get me to the water.”

“The water?”

“Yes, please!”

“Aye, sir!” Without explanation or more questions, Taurus closed his gate as Happy flew them up into the air above the heads of the men below. Some switched at Lucy’s bare feet while others rushed at Natsu and began kicking and punching him without remorse.

“Hurry, Happy!”

Purple flames slammed into Happy’s back like a whip. The poor cat cried out in pain and his paws loosened. Lucy screamed as her body fell onto several shoulders and then the hard deck of the ship. Pain erupted through her body and was reminded vividly of all of her previous injuries.

Just briefly, she watched as Happy’s continued momentum of flying and being stuck sent him falling over the other side of the railing. From the noise of the sailors, the rocking of the ship, and the roaring in her own ears, she couldn’t tell if he had hit the water or not.

“Happy!” she cried out, pushing herself up and away from the mass of people. No hands grabbed at her, and the stuttered rumbling below sounded like the ship still struggled to move. If the propellers weren’t functioning, that meant she could get into the water and grab Happy. They wouldn’t have to worry about getting pulled in by the propellers or chopped up.

No matter what, she had to get to the water!

A pair of hands grabbed her. The straps of her pack ripped loudly and it was thrown somewhere else. Those same hands frisked over her body and a familiar weight fell with a jingle to the deck.

Her keys. Her keys!

Crying out in pain, one of her arms were pulled up behind her back, forcing her up onto her toes to try to relieve the building pressure. The arm that wrapped around her chest and reached up to grip its hand around her neck didn’t help, either.

“Where do you think you were going?” Bora’s breath blew over her ear and he bent her arm up further. A chuckle mingled with her cries. “I still need to show you my gratitude—” A loud pop sounded before her scream of pain from her shoulder, “—of your little stunt earlier.”

“Lucy!” Natsu’s voice called through the blows of the men around him. With the stabilizer gone, and the crew attacking him, he could do nothing to help himself or her. And Happy had fallen limp over the side of the ship.

Heated shame and anger flushed over his skin. They had come to save her, dammit!

Hot tears-stained Lucy’s cheeks. Nothing around her registered—the rapid beating of her heart, the sound of waves in her ears, the constant rolling of the ship and her stomach…only the burning feel of Bora’s hand slipping from her neck down her chest broke through what panic had taken over. Desperate to escape, to find a way back to safety.

Since finding herself on the streets, all of her spirits had sought to ensure she could manage in the real world alone. No servants would be there to bring her food or clothes. Tutors would not teach her lessons that would prepare her for running her father’s business. Guards would not be there to keep her safe. They stepped up and took over her teachings.

The grip on her wrist released and moved to her hip.

It was time to put it all to use.

Pressing her tongue to the top of her mouth, she snapped her head back. Flesh and bone slammed against the back of her head. Reflexes took over, and even barefooted, she raised her leg up and stomped her heel down on the top of his foot.

Bora’s hands pulled back, gripping his bloody bandages with a muffled cry of pain, and released her from his grip. Scrambling over the deck, Lucy grabbed for her keys and did not stop her movement as the delicate metal pressed against the skin of her palm or when the cold railing of the ship pressed against her stomach as she tumbled over the edge.

A sense of weightlessness overcame her. Air brushed her hair upwards with her tears and stole the breath from her lungs. It made taking a deep breath difficult as the water surface of the ocean engulfed her completely.

Cold.

It was so cold!

Toes curled inward and her limbs pulled inward to keep what warmth she had in her core and biting the inside of her cheeks, Lucy struggled desperately to keep her hand over her nose and mouth. To keep them closed and not take the desperate gasp of air her lungs ached for.

Salt burned her eyes the moment she tried to take a glance around her, hoping to catch a glimpse of Happy or figure out which way was up. Desperation clutched her chest tighter, an ache blooming into an open wound that seeped bubbles instead of blood. Then a realization dawned on her, one that sent bile racing up her esophagus and irritation.

Her arm was useless.

Out of socket and blinding when moved, Lucy had willingly sentenced herself to drown by way of barely being able to handle the ocean depths. Of all the ways to die, this would be the most pathetic, the worst to live with.

Good thing if she did die, she wouldn’t have to live with it long.

A blurred shimmer caught her attention. Something near the bottom, just a small way from her. Whatever it was, she needed to make sure it wasn’t Happy. They had risked their lives to save her, and she wouldn’t fail them when it was her turn.

Pushing past the pain and the claws ripping apart her chest cavity, she pushed herself forward with a few good kicks of her legs and used her good arm to steer towards it. There, the poor cat bobbed near the bottom of the ocean, tangled up in old fishing line. Metal hooks and weights cut dances of light through the water.

Another set of icy fingers gripped her lungs. Happy looked so still! How long had he been wrapped up in the netting? How would she get him out?

There was one of her spirits she knew could cut the lines easily, but her magic reserves only allowed for one more summons.

Pursing her lips together, she kicked harder to get down to him and began to pull at the litter. One arm slipped out, but his left arm remained tangled. Bubbles rose up from her lips. Gathering him in her injured arm, she pulled the coral and vegetation from the sea floor up with the tangled mess.

Lungs burning, she gathered all the netting together and used the sea floor to push herself toward the surface. More bubbles rose up from her blue-tinted lips that begged for a touch of fresh air. The added weight of Happy and the fishing line around him dragged her downward. Each limb desperately wished for a break to rest; her body exhausted.

Air greeted her fingertips. Her head broke the surface and she gasped desperately for each lungful. Waves splashed against her face, and her legs struggled to keep her above the waves.

Stretching out her good arm, she let out a deep breath, focusing her magic. Wisps of power poured from her hand and swirled around the key in her grasp. A light similar to that of the sun enveloped her and she shouted, “Aquarius!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Is this chapter severely late? Yes, yes it is. Has it been finished since I started posting this fic? Also yes, BUT it was not edited, and I have been having a hell of a time focusing on editing for awhile.

Should only have one last chapter to go, and then Episode One will be complete! I just need to edit it (and I would post it without editing, but many things changed during the edits, and continuity errors are my biggest pet peeves, lol). I have started Episode Two, but I have been going different ways with it. Not sure which way I will end up going, though. And if we want things done quickly...editing might be out of the cards for now, lol.

I am also hoping to get a Fraxus story out before the end of this month. Just need to finish editing it a bit more, and then write up the smut!

Links: AO3 (Is locked to registered AO3 users) | FF.net

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[undertheopensky]

Wildlife 2

Whumptober Day 5: “It’s broken,” though elements of Pinned Down also snuck in

Characters: Blue Link, Red Link

Trigger warnings: Violence to a child, broken bones, mentions of slavery, but nothing happens

Read on Ao3!

Missed the first instalment? Read here!

-----

“Blue~! If you sleep much longer, Vio’s gonna try cooking again!”

Blue grunts and flails. “I’m up, I’m up, keep him away from the stove -”

His hand hits grass instead of fabric and suddenly he’s awake, jolting upright and blinking in the cold grey light.

Red’s singsong fades with the last wisps of the dream. He’s still alone. Still trapped in a sectioned-off forest with no supplies or equipment or any idea how to get home.

His stomach growls.

…and he’s still hungry.

Blue rolls into a sit and wraps his arms around himself. The constant ache in his back and shoulders and hips is annoying, but he’s almost getting used to it. It’s just one more thing making shit hard. Like the way his head hurts, and he’s sometimes racked with shivers despite the warm temperatures.

Sooo, are you gonna get up, or are you just gonna sit there and complain that you’re hungry?

Blue sighs theatrically. “Yeah, yeah.”

He knows it’s not real - that Green’s voice is just his memory playing familiar sounds. That he’s playing pretend like a child. He just -

He’s never been alone this long. Not since their last adventure, when they’d split not just in body but in mind, and never (wanted to) rejoin. Not since wind screaming, snow in his boots, hands numb with cold where they wrap around his sword hilt, shadow at his back and he - can’t - move -

His fingers tighten. At least it’s not cold here.

C’mon Blue! What do you want for breakfast?

“Bread,” Blue mutters, reluctantly dragging himself to his feet. “Apples. Goddess I miss apples.”

There’s no bread to be had here, though, and he doesn’t have the mental stamina to go through the laborious process of gathering enough wood and kindling and lighting a goddamn fire to cook a fish, so it’ll be tubers and greens. At least he’s found something that looks and tastes like a dandelion, though it never flowers - means he doesn’t have to eat spruce needles like a starving deer.

(Blue hates them, and may never drink lemonade again.)

Foraging for breakfast at least means doing something. That’s almost the worst part - the boredom. That’s when the voices in Blue’s head get a little too loud and a little too real, and he’s left scratching at his own skin with all the wrongness of being alone. Sometimes when it gets too much he’ll practice drills from their squire days, waving his favourite stick like it’s a badly-balanced sword with his brothers giggling in his ears, or run the perimeter like there’s a chance something will have changed. But more and more often, Blue finds himself just - stopping, in the middle of doing something, and thinking, I’m so tired.

Your stomach doesn’t care that you’re tired. Vio’s brisk as ever.

“I know, I know.” Blue hauls up the tuber plant he’d been digging and stands, ignoring the damp that’s soaked into the knees of his worn pyjama pants. It’s a big one - if he can find enough dandelions then all he’ll have to do is park his ass by the stream to wash everything, and then he won’t have to move for a while.

What, sure you don’t wanna practice later? Bet I can do more drills than you!

“Too tired, Green.” Truth is, Blue is probably losing strength, but he’s doing his best, dammit. Everything just feels weighed down, lead-heavy and slow. It’s almost all he can do just to sit here on the bank, rinsing dandelion leaves and trying to put more into the ‘later’ stack than into his mouth.

Building and maintaining muscle requires a better diet than you’ve been getting lately. It’s no wonder you’re tired.

“That’s nice, Vio.” The roof of his mouth itches. Blue scrubs his tongue over the ridges there, frowning. He better not be developing an allergy to the not-dandelions. He does not want to go back to eating spruce tips for greens.

The tingling fades. Blue cleans another leaf, a little more thoroughly, and chews it slowly, paying attention to the feel in his mouth. This time, there’s nothing, so he shrugs it off as a weird-body thing and turns to getting all the flour-fine dirt out of his tubers.

The comforting chatter of the water is soothing, almost drowning out the emptiness of the surrounding forest. There’s no birds, no small mammals, just plants and fish and Blue, and it’s always too quiet and too still.

From the corner of his eye, maroon flickers between two trees.

Blue blinks, for a second disbelieving, then looks up, because he can swear he hears footsteps -

Instinct makes him grab for his stick.

“Hey - hey, you! Do you know where we are? I was travelling through the forest near Lake Hylia and now I can’t find the road!”

Blue stares, uncomprehending. He hasn’t seen another Hylian in over a week. He hasn’t seen another living creature besides fish in nearly as long. It’s - something in his brain is hitting on person right in front of me and stumbling, reaching for normal interaction and finding only empty shelves.

Where did they even come from?

“Are you listening?! I’m lost!” The stranger staggers out of the underbrush, shaking off a last clinging branch, and Blue finally gets a good look at the person shouting at him.

Hard-wearing travel gear, good leather boots, the kind of warm vest he usually sees on merchants who travel long distances - brown hair, dark eyes, not familiar. If he was following the Lake Hylia road he’s likely a travelling merchant from Labrynna, as that’s the main pathway between the two kingdoms.

Thanks Vio, that’s very helpful, Blue thinks.

Always welcome, brother dearest.

The probable-merchant look up from pulling a stick out of his boot and focuses on Blue. “Hey, you’re just a kid!” The light in his eyes shifts then, to something almost greedy that makes Blue’s hackles rise in response. Abruptly feeling vulnerable, he stands and takes two steps sideways from the stream. Securing his footing.

“What’re you doing out here all alone, huh?” The man takes a couple steps forward, arms held away from his sides in a way that should read as unthreatening. Blue wants to bare his teeth instead.

“What, got nothing to say? Where’s your family, kiddo?”

The stranger rushes him.

Well if he wants to fight that bad, Blue’s got a week’s worth of disquiet and frustration to work out.

He sidesteps the rush, uses both hands on his stick to shove, and knocks the man cleanly away. (He catches himself before he lands in the stream, to Blue’s private disappointment.)

Back off, he thinks.

“Are you all alone?”

He ignores the words, ducks the grasping hands and shoves his shoulder into the guy’s gut, getting a pained grunt. The hands try to secure a grip in his hair; Blue twists away.

What does this idiot even want? They’re stuck here. It’s not like he could be dragged off to be sold into Labrynna’s slave trade -

- unless he hasn’t realised that yet.

Fuck.

Blue steps back, and back, mind racing in circles of no way out no way to get him out no way out. The merchant - the slaver - thinks he’s running scared. He’s following, smirking, just waiting for Blue to back himself into a corner, bump into a tree - trunks are thick around them and there are plenty of trip hazards in the form of shallow roots.

The man suddenly lunges. Without thinking Blue jams his stick down and across to block him, maybe trip him.

Instead the thin pine gives way with an audible crack.

Blue catches a blow on his cheekbone that has him seeing stars but it doesn’t hurt as much as his fist does when it makes contact, fuck. Must have got him in the face. The brief moment of disorientation hampers Blue more, because there’s hard hands at his shoulders and a foot between his own, and then they’re falling, Blue crushed beneath the heavy weight of a full grown male.

Real terror surges through him. He doesn’t know this person but they feel wrong and they’re much bigger and stronger and he doesn’t have a weapon -

He thrashes, kicks, scratches, and bites, all to little effect through the man’s sturdy clothes. Then, desperation overriding caution, he slams his head forward.

There’s a shriek of pain, a spatter of wet heat. Blue kicks free of the stranger’s weight and scrambles back. Pain radiates from the point his head made contact, white-hot and dizzying. His shoulder hits a tree; he grabs for it, misses, finds purchase and uses it to drag himself upright and damn the black spots that bloom in his vision, he is not lying down for this -

Things have gone eerily quiet.

And when Blue blinks the stars out of his eyes for good, he’s alone.

He spins all the way round. There’s no sign of the stranger in the trees, no flickers of colours or moving foliage. Blue remembers the horrible light in his eyes and knows there’s no way he’d just - given up -

He - he can’t have hallucinated an entire fight, right?! No, the grass is torn up. And there’s blood from the guy’s nose, splattered on the ground and on his skin, and Blue isn’t bleeding at all. The guy’s just… gone. Without a trace.

(Like the fish appearing in the stream, but in reverse. Like they’d always been there; like he’d never been there in the first place.)

Distantly Blue’s aware that he’s shaking. His head throbs, and his vision’s still a bit wobbly. Trying to squint through the trees makes him nauseous, so he lets his eyes drop to the torn-up grass, where the broken pieces of his trusty stick still lie.

And it’s so fucking stupid, but that’s what makes his eyes overflow.

It’s just a stick, and he can get another just like it, but he’s had this one since first being dropped here. It was his main tool, long enough to drag down overhead branches when he wanted or to poke through bushes, stout enough to help with digging when the dirt is stubborn. And now it’s broken, because some fuckwit saw a lone kid and decided to be an asshole about it.

C’mon, Blue. It’ll be okay.

Red’s voice is so real Blue nearly calls out to him. Stifles it at the last minute, heart panging. He misses them, suddenly, more fiercely than ever. Green wouldn’t have made the mistake that ended with Blue nearly pinned and helpless. Vio would have talked his way out of the fight completely. And Red - Blue huffs, and sniffles. Red would have been perfectly earnest and polite, right up until the first lunge - at which point everything would have gone to hellfire and screaming.

He misses them. He wants to go home.

Blue’s face hurts, a steady throb of heat up the side. It’s more evidence of the fact that there was someone here, however briefly. He wasn’t alone.

(He hates that he can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing.)

-----

That night Blue jerks awake multiple times, heart racing.

Sometimes he moves, making his face spike with pain. Sometimes he thinks he’s hearing noises - rustles of leaves, the puff of air from someone breathing way too close. Other times, shadows in his dreams steal close and crush the life out of him, hissing warnings about the road to Labrynna, and waking to the complete darkness of the forest doesn’t help to dispel them. His eyes are open and the weight is gone but he can’t see and he can’t breathe and he can’t hold his eyelids up forever -

It’s a bad night.

-----

Blue pauses in another fishing expedition when the air shifts.

The air in this place is unnaturally still; there’s no breezes, no winds, nothing to brush the leaves or stir hair. It means that when something does move, it feels super fucking obvious. And something in the air just shifted.

Snatching up his new stick, Blue wades out of the stream and heads for drier ground. He is not getting caught off guard again. There’s a thicket of nasty spiky shrubs not far off just waiting to make a nuisance of themselves.

He freezes in his tracks when someone wails.

It’s thin and breathy and agonised, the kind of noise an animal makes when it’s horribly wounded, a sound that forces its way out of you because the pain can’t be held in.

Worst of all - he thinks it’s familiar.

The scream dies before he can get close. His heart goes cold and so does his skin, almost tingling-numb with terror so he can’t feel the thin leaves of the shrubs whipping past. No no no goddesses please don’t let him be too late -

Then the sobbing gets past the ringing in his ears and his heart thunders back to life just as bright colour comes visible through the woods.

He’d known it was Red from the first echo of sound but it doesn’t feel real. His brother is here, bawling on the grass in an awkward sprawl, the soft pink of his pyjamas filthy with grass stains and dirt and blood -

The word tears itself from his throat. “Red!”

Red flinches back then shrieks when the movement pulls at his leg.

“Red, no - don’t - don’t move -” Blue stumbles to kneel beside him, hands hovering like he’s - fuck like he’s scared to make contact because he is, where is he hurt?

Red flails a hand, smacks Blue on the neck with it. “Blue - you’re - you’re real, aren’t you?”

“I’m real, I’m here, I’ve got you -”

Red’s arm hooks around him in a clumsy hug. “I missed you so much,” he wails, trying to get his other arm up and around but whimpering when trying to roll hurts him. “I missed you!”

And Blue had missed him too, so fucking much, that he can’t stop himself from leaning in and hugging him back, tight and guilty. His brother is trapped here too, trapped and injured, and all he can feel is relief.

“Lemme see,” he says, pulling back. His left leg is obvious cause for concern, twisted and swollen under thin linen. Red whimpers as Blue pulls the fabric away. He can only be glad Red favours a loose fit.

He does not like what he sees underneath. Not as much blood as he was expecting, heavy bruising from dark angry red through blue-black and edged with green, and not even the swelling can hide the way his shin bends in the middle.

“Red, this is definitely broken.”

“No shit!” Red says tearfully. Then he bursts into fresh tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I know you’re trying to help -”

“You’re in pain, you’re allowed to be grumpy,” Blue says, pulling up his other pant leg for inspection. Some cuts and grazes, but so far he hasn’t found anything worth the smears of blood that had caught his eye first. “Red, where are you bleeding from? Do you have a cut somewhere?”

“I - no, it’s - I can’t - I can’t walk,” Red admits, like not being able to walk on a broken leg is somehow shameful, the little idiot, “an’ I grazed my knees crawling to water. They hurt, Blue.”

“Washing them out’s gonna hurt worse.” Blue finds the wounds, and yow. Red hasn’t just grazed them, he’s stripped the skin right off a palm-sized section of both legs, still oozing clear fluid. Not for the first time, he wishes for potions, but wishing won’t get them anywhere. Work with what you’ve got.

The broken halves of his first tool-stick will be just about perfect, he thinks. “Red, wait here, I’m gonna grab a splint -”

“NO!” Red screams and hurls himself at Blue, “don’t leave me!”

Blue freezes. Partly it’s the contact, which is again sparking a weird and not entirely comfortable tingling. Partly it’s Red and the potential damage he could do to himself moving suddenly. And partly it’s because his heart just fell into the fucking dark world.

“Red, you scared the shit out of me,” he grunts, wrapping a supporting arm around Red’s shoulders.

“‘M sorry,” Red sniffles, “don’t go. I’ll lose you - you’ll disappear - how do I know you’re real - can’t I just go with you?”

“Red, your leg is broken, you really shouldn’t move it.”

Red sniffs and gives Blue as dry a look he can manage while drowning in his own tears. “I’ve been dragging it around for the last five days, I don’t think dragging it the last however far to your camp’s gonna do it any more harm.”

He would - Blue knows he’s been here longer than that. He hasn’t taken to cutting tally marks into a tree yet, only because he doesn’t have a damn knife, but it’s been at least ten days since he woke up in this strange, enclosed forest. But right now, he doesn’t care enough to do the math, and in the face of his brother’s injuries it’s low priority anyway.

“I don’t have anything to camp with,” Blue says dryly, “but there’s a stream further in. Think you can make it that far if I help?”

Red nods, determined.

“Then deep breath, and don’t bite your tongue - up we go.”

Red swoons a little at the gravity shift.

Blue holds him up, wishing Red wasn’t hurt, and feeling guiltier than ever at how comforting Red feels pressed up close like this. He smells like dirt and sour-pain and the sticky-pine of the forest, but under it there’s smoke and iron and home.

A few shuddery breaths later, Red lifts his head from where he’d let it fall to Blue’s shoulder. “‘M okay.”

“Then let’s go.” Strategically Blue arranges them so most of Red’s weight is on him, arms over shoulders for support. “The stream’s not too far away - it even has fish in it.”

“Fish?” Red’s eyes light up almost comically. He’s probably been restricted to whatever he could reach from his prone state on the ground, and Blue’s stomach lurches again with combined guilt-horror-relief.

“Yeah,” he says, through the tightness in his throat, “I’m getting pretty good at catching them. I’m still shit at lighting fires, though. Think you can give me a hand?”

Red grins at him, shyly hopeful, and Blue hugs him a little tighter.

-----

Read Part 3 here!

[countlessrealities]

Send “Oops” for your muse to catch mine in just a towel || Accepting !

@mcltiples sent: “Oops” { To Mercenary Rick from Vampire Rick // skipping a little forward to when they first start living together bc i think it'll be funny xD }

Rick let out a slow, heavy breath as he turned off the water, taking a moment to run a hand in his wet locks before stepping out of the shower. The bathroom was filled with steam and the mirror was completely fogged, so much that his reflection was reduced to blurry brush of colours.

Usually he was quick and efficient when it came to washing himself up, never lingering longer than it was strictly necessary. It was a habit he had formed during his years spent in space, living on bases and ships and shitty alien motels. At times he had too little water or it was extremely expensive to procure. Others it was contaminated, so the less you used, the better.

That day, however, his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how hard he had tried to shut them up. He had tinkered with one of his projects, but his focus had kept wavering. He had spent an hour exercising, but the moment he had stopped to catch his breath, the shadows in his mind had inevitably surged up once again. Hell, he had even gone to take a walk in the woods, but that had just made it worse.

In the end, he had given up on finding a distraction and had focused on relaxing as much as possible. Standing under a stream of too hot water, concentrating only on the burning trails it left on his skin in its passing, had seemed like a good place to start.

It had turned out to be the right choice. The intrusive thoughts had faded into an incomprehensible murmuring in the back of his head, even if they had left behind a cacophony of emotions and exhaustion. It was more bearable than the flashbacks and the voices, but it was still unpleasantly draining.

He could feel it in his bones, an ache that had nothing to do with the recurring pains his surgeries had left behind.

Biting back another sigh, Rick wiped some of the condensation off the mirror with his forearm. He met his own gaze for a moment, taking in the dark bags under his eyes, before moving on the metal plate that decorated his left temple. On this sort of days, looking at it made him feel like one of his devices, a bunch of parts that didn't belong with each other but that had been unnaturally forced together by cleverness and advanced technology.

Yet, all the genius in the universe couldn't have turned them into something whole and purposeful. All it could be, all he could be was functional.

With a scoff, the mercenary turned away from the mirror and briefly rubbed his hair with a towel, before wrapping it around his waist. Having a pity party wouldn't have helped anyone, especially not his mood. He had better hurry up to head back to his room, so he could have drunk himself unconscious.

Rubbing his eyes absent-mindedly, he padded out of the bathroom, distractedly registering the coolness of the floor against the plants of his bare feet. The cabin was dead silent, but that wasn't unusual. Even during the day it tended to be quiet, unless Rick himself was the one producing noises. The other two dwellers of the place were as quiet as the shadows they tended to lurk in.

And speaking of...

Rick visibly jumped as his gaze landed by chance on one of the recesses that opened in the corridor. Not only the darkness there looked suspiciously thicker, but what abruptly brought him back to reality where the bright violent eyes shining through it, as if they had had a light of their own.

"G-God fuckin' dammit...!" The mercenary cursed, one hand shooting down to grab the towel that had loosened around his waist, threatening to fall off completely.

The surprise, however, was quick to fade and it was soon replaced by a mixture of anger and exasperation. Damn his housemate and his creepy habits. Vampires might not need to sleep and they rarely did, especially at night, but the blood-sucking asshole seemed to pull that sort of shit on him on purpose. It had happened way too many times for it to be just a coincidence.

"A-Are you for fuckin' real?! C-Can't a guy grab a shower in peace?" He threw his free hand in the air. "...Listen, I'm not in the mood, alright? I-It's...I'm going to my room to get drunk. Alone."

And he was planning to do it fast, also because he was getting more and more aware of the fact that he was standing there, almost completely naked, while his alternate was fully clothed. He had never really cared about decency, but for some obscure reason the idea of being fully undressed in front of the vampire made him uneasy.

It also made his face hit up a little, but Rick was hellbent on not acknowledging it.

Sucking in a breath through his nose, he greeted his teeth and forced himself to walk past his housemate, barely resisting the temptation to glance back over his shoulder, towards those bright eyes. He could feel them burning into his flesh, following the curve of his spine, caressing his too many scars.

If his steps got a little too fast and if he darted inside his room, almost slamming the door behind him, the mercenary pretended not to have noticed it. He hadn't run away. Hell no. He was just in a hurry to get wasted, that was all.

And yet, even as he finally brought a bottle to his lips, swallowing a generous mouthful of liquor, all he could think of as the alcohol burnt down his throat were ageless features and glowing orbs ominously piercing the darkness.

...Well, shit.

[mk-scrawlings]

Bear Aftermath

The bear didn’t stop.

Bethany hit the ground like a rag doll and didn’t get back up. Buck saw the blood, saw her stillness—and something in him snapped.

"NO!"

With a snarl, Buck yanked the pistol from his belt. His bow was gone, somewhere in the grass, and he didn’t have time to think. The bear was turning back toward him, teeth red, fur bristling with arrows like the bastard thing didn’t even feel pain.

He pulled the trigger once. Twice. The shots rang out through the trees—deafening in the silence that followed. The bear reared, growled—then took a staggering step.

Buck fired again. The shot hit square between the eyes. The grizzly dropped like a felled tree, collapsing beside Bethany with a bone-rattling thud.

Buck was already moving. He dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking as he touched her neck, praying to feel something—anything. Relief hit him hard when he found a weak but steady pulse beneath his fingers.

"Beth…" he murmured, brushing a bloody curl from her face. "C’mon now. Stay with me."

The gashes across her back were deep, still oozing. Her clothes were torn, her breathing shallow and pained. He didn’t have proper medical supplies, but he knew enough to get her stabilized.

From his satchel he tore open the small tin of coffee grounds—rough and bitter—and began packing them gently into the wounds. It wasn’t ideal, but the grounds would help stop the bleeding and keep infection at bay. She groaned faintly as he wrapped a clean strip of cloth around her torso, binding it tight. The warmth of her blood soaked into his hands.

"I got you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I got you."

It took him twenty minutes to track down his horse—more from luck than skill. The animal had bolted down into the tree line, snorting and pacing, still spooked from the bear's charge. Buck calmed it with slow steps and quiet murmurs, then led it back to Bethany’s side.

He hoisted her up, careful of her injuries, tying her gently but firmly to his saddle so she wouldn't fall. Then he climbed up behind her, took one last look at the bear's corpse, and kicked the horse into motion toward Strawberry.

The stars were high overhead when the second threat came. A chorus of howls echoed through the night. "Aw come on… "

Three wolves burst from the underbrush, eyes gleaming, teeth bared.

The horse reared in terror, whinnying violently—and Buck lost his grip. He fell hard, landing with a grunt as Bethany and the horse disappeared into the dark, hooves thundering into the trees.

"No no no—dammit!"

But the wolves were already on him. One lunged, catching Buck’s sleeve with its teeth. He twisted free and fired his pistol at point-blank range—once, twice—killing the first. The second jumped him from behind, teeth snapping at his shoulder. He rammed an elbow into its snout, spun, and fired again.

The third came low and fast.

Buck ducked, slammed his boot into its ribs, and shot it in the throat before it could lunge again. Then—silence. Buck stood, panting, bruised and bleeding from a gash along his forearm. The smell of blood and powder filled the air. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Bethany was still out there.

He followed the trail—hoof prints, broken branches, a faint smear of blood where her head had lolled. Every second stretched thin. Every shadow felt like it would jump.

Eventually, he found them. The horse had slowed to a shaky stop by a stream. Bethany was still bound to the saddle, pale as frost, but breathing.

Buck didn’t waste time. He remounted, pulled her close, and drove the horse hard down the winding trail toward Strawberry. When he reached town, the lights were few, and the answers worse.

"All the doctors are in Blackwater," the clerk said, apologetic and half-asleep behind the counter of the general store.

Buck didn’t hesitate. He turned and rode off again, into the dark, toward Blackwater. Toward salvation.

[teenwolftalk]

Inej: *lecturing Kaz about the fact that he can’t go around blowing up Ketterdam up for no reason*

Kaz: Pekka Rollins killed my brother.

Inej: Then we destroy him.

[zenith-impact]

Childe - Xiao: Don’t Go

That’s not absurd at all! Though I did end up skipping Diluc because I wrote some hardcore angst for him about a week ago and I couldn’t quite find it in my heart to hurt him a second time so soon. That and Xiao’s part ended up at almost 1400 words (Whoops xD). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! (Also, this is what I like to call Angst with a hopeful ending because dammit I couldn’t leave things alone).

Content below the cut!

Childe didn’t realize anything was wrong until it was too late. 

His last trip to Snezhnaya had been a long one, but it was what he expected. He’d prepared you for the idea that he might be gone for some time so, while he thought about you every day, he knew you’d be waiting for him when he returned. But then two weeks turned to three months which turned to six, and all Childe had were letters he’d written to you, one of which that had been returned. But it was fine. You were still there. Still waiting, he told himself. So when he had a chance to return to Liyue, he jumped on it, sailing back after the extended time apart. 

He came home to find you crying and ended up with a pillow in his face. “What is it, babe?” He said as he tossed the pillow away and rushed to your side. But then you pushed him, got up, and stormed out of the room, leaving him to stare at the couch, confused. He thought you would be happier to see him. He didn’t expect this. And he got up quickly, knocking on the door to the bedroom you had once shared. “Sweetheart?”

“Go away,” You snapped. 

“But I…”

You ripped the door open, tears streaming down your face. “You think you could just leave me for half a year without a single message?”

Childe stared at you. “I sent letters every week.”

“I didn’t get any of them.”

Childe’s jaw went slack. Impossible. How had every letter been lost? Had something gone wrong with the Fatui in Liyue that they hadn’t bothered to deliver a single one? “I swear I…”

“And you said you‘d only be gone a few weeks.” 

“I’m sorry… really I…”

“Go away,” You said again, slamming the door in his face. Childe stared at it for a long time, before sighing and knocking again. You didn’t answer, but he could hear you crying on the other side. Frustrated, he leaned against the door, pressing his forehead to the wood as he waited in silence. Eventually, you went quiet aside from the occasional sob or quiet hiccup. But Childe continued to wait, hoping that you would come out for him. You had to know he was there. His shadow was under the door. But when you didn’t move - at least, he couldn’t hear you moving, he tried again.”

“Babe I’m sorry,” He said. “I really did send letters every week… I assumed you’d seen them all.” No answer, but Childe let himself keep talking. “I missed you every day I was gone.”

After a long time, the door opened. You stared up at him, eyes puffy, hair a mess, and face red from crying. “This isn’t going to work,” You said, wrapping your arms tighter around your chest. “Your job… this relationship… the two don’t work together.”

Childe’s heart broke. “They can. I just…”

“You just what?” You said quietly. “Ignore the Tsaritsa to stay with me? Forget your duties so you don’t have to leave Liyue? Please… we both know you can’t do that.”

“I don’t need to.”

“I can’t spend my life waiting,” You snapped. “I can’t spend months wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

“I’ll make sure the letters make it next time,” Childe said. “I don’t know what happened, but it won’t happen again.”

“Childe…”

“Please,” He said. “I… I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He clapped his hands together in front of his head. “I promise, somehow.”

He felt your eyes on him for what felt like an eternity. Finally, you sighed. “Go finish your job, Childe. Then we can talk.”

“We can talk now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another sigh. “I can’t do this again.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers. “You won’t have to.”

Xiao wasn’t good at relationships. Despite living for thousands of years, he simply didn’t understand humans the way that others did. It was a flaw he didn’t acknowledge because he chose to avoid them. Humans did their own thing and, as an Adepti, he believed he should stay far, far away. 

But then he met you, and his own conflicted feelings almost crippled him. 

Xiao didn’t quite know what to do with you. You were human through and through. Nothing special about you. Yet the way you talked to him with that entrancing smile or the way you walked with such confidence was… intriguing. And you always brought him snacks when you wanted to talk, especially Almond Tofu. He didn’t know how you learned about that particular vice of his, but you used it far too often. But Xiao couldn’t resist his favorite treat, and he eventually - and begrudgingly - began to talk to you. 

But that hesitance quickly turned to muted interest, and he soon found himself waiting for your visits. And visit you did, coming by the Inn at least once a week, Tofu in hand and heart on your sleeve. But what he didn’t understand is why you kept coming back. You were the one that did most of the talking, and when Xiao did say anything, it was usually single word answers. Yes sometimes. Usually no. He didn’t get why you were so fascinated with him. 

At least… he thought that what you were. He really couldn’t tell for certain. You did smile a lot. And you certainly talked a lot. You asked him questions that he never answered. Told him stories that he only half-listened to. Rambled on and on about everything under the sun. But he found he wasn’t annoyed by your antics, just baffled. What were you trying to do? Did you want the power of an adeptis for something but just weren’t willing to tell him? Were you even aware of what he was? If you were, you probably wouldn’t try to get so close. 

Then, one day, you brought him a set of glaze lilies alongside the almond tofu and approached him with a strange sense of hesitancy. “Xiao?” You said, your voice quieter than usual as you held the gifts out. “Would you like to come to Liyue with me?”

“Why would I go to Liyue with you?” Xiao said, baffled. But he was even more surprised when you wilted, your posture slacking as you took a step back. 

 “I’m sorry,” You said. “I just thought…” You bit your lip before setting the presents on a nearby table. Xiao saw tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He said. 

“Nothing,” You replied. “I just… it’s okay.” You turned to leave, wiping at your cheeks as you dashed down the stairs. Xiao just stared after you, confused as you disappeared from sight. 

Then next week came, and you didn’t reappear. 

A week after that you were missing too. 

By the three week mark, Xiao wondered if he was going insane. Why would you spend so much time with him, only to disappear after he said no to a single request? Why did he even care? You were a human. Nothing more. Nothing less. It was better this way. Better that he stayed far, far away from you.  

… Right?

Then he saw you, nearly a month later, talking to another man. And the surprise at seeing you around the inn at all sent Xiao spiraling into something he might call jealousy. Except that didn’t make any sense either. Why was he jealous of you? Of the other man? He didn’t care about you. He didn’t…

He heard your laughter and immediately his heart clenched in his chest. It seemed quieter than usual. More subdued. But the man you were with still took your hand into his, whispering sweet nothings while you blushed. And a part of Xiao wanted to do something. He wanted to go to you. Question you. Why have you returned with this human? But he didn’t. He just watched from the shadows, questioning everything. Eventually, your eyes wandered up and met his. How you found him all the way up here was another question entirely. But he didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up for a split second before you tore them away and looked back at the man Xiao presumed was your boyfriend. 

Humans, Xiao thought, even though he didn’t have anything else to say. He left his perch, disappearing into his room where he didn’t have to think about you anymore. But his heart ached as if someone had stabbed him. He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window. 

What’s wrong with you? 

Why had he said that? No wonder you refused to look at him. You must have thought he was angry. Maybe even disappointed. Is that why you had moved on? Because of a single sentence? Or was it because he had turned you down? Either one wasn’t entirely fair. Surely you had to know his plight. He had avoided you for some time, so of course, he would avoid everyone else. 

… But he hadn’t told you that directly. 

Frustrated, Xiao went back out to the balcony as the sun started to go down. But instead, he was surprised to find you already there, a piece of almond tofu in your hand. “What are you doing here?” He said but flinched when you did. Too rough, he told himself as you turned around. 

“I wanted to see you.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy,” You said quietly. “And I knew that was going to happen. That’s why I wanted you to come to see my home… maybe come visit yourself.”

“That was why?” He said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because you said no,” You said. “What did you want me to do, beg?”

“That’s not…”

“Because I’ve spent months trying to be your friend,” You continued, your tone angry. “And I thought we were finally there.”

“I never said I was your friend.”

The hurt that crossed your face was so visceral that Xiao felt it in his bones. “Wait…” He said. 

“Don’t,” you said taking a long step back. “I get it now.”

“I…”

“I just wish you would have said something sooner,” You said, tears in your eyes.  Xiao’s heart twisted as you took another step away. Soon, you’d be down the stairs and likely gone forever. If he didn’t do something… if he didn’t stop you…

“He asked me to marry him,” You said flatly.

“The guy you were with?” You nodded. “And what did you say?”

“I said no,” You said. “I see now that was a mistake.”

But as you turned away, Xiao grabbed your arm. You instinctually pulled away, but his grip was so strong that you both stumbled. He caught you before you tumbled down the stairs, and you grabbed him to stabilize yourself. Then you both froze, staring at each other. Xiao felt a twinge of heat in his cheeks, but you had gone as red as a tomato. “I can’t do this,” you whispered, but you didn’t pull away. 

“Let me try again,” Xiao said. “I…”

You shook your head. “You’ve said enough.”

Then you were gone, leaving Xiao to stare at the empty space you left behind. But before his mind had time to catch up, he found himself running after you, chasing you to the elevator before you had a chance to go down. “Let me try again,” he said, his voice firmer the second time. For a long moment, you stared at him. But, as the elevator left you behind, you nodded, and Xiao’s heart lodged into his throat. 

“Thank you.”

[monsterfloofs]

The Ghost in the Parlor (Sfw and anonymous protagonist!)

It was one in the morning when you rose from bed, sliding on a pair of slippers and feeling your way through the dark to exit your room. The sound was faint, barely audible, but you knew. . .

He was playing tonight.

As you weave your way towards the stairs, you could hear the chords beneath you, the stirring voice of a piano pulling you through dark corridors. As you stop and peer over the banister. You can see from up above, candles alight with a ghastly blue fire. Their light casting eerie wisps of shadows to dance upon the floor. In the middle of this spectral scene was a luminous form sitting at the old grand piano. His spindly fingers like spiders upon the keys, procuring the tune that wafted up the stairs. The sound is sweet and melancholic, mourning things that have been lost, and the ever present march of time. Always moving, never relenting.

You knew all this because you had asked him, it was his favorite tune to play. He played it often and there were times where you could almost feel his deep rooted bittersweet sadness. Tears would spring to your eyes and you would have to mop your face with your sleeve. Tonight the song felt especially lonely and with careful footing you crept down the stairs, your shadow timidly trailing after.

"Have I disturbed you?" His melodic voice intones as you sit down beside him. "No, I came to hear you play, if you would have me as company mister Sterling." "Sleep is for the living" he sighs wistfully, "You should be asleep, dreaming sweet dreams of tomorrow." 

He talks to you but his hands, ah his quick and nimble hands keep playing. You watch them sweeping across the keys, mesmerized until he stops. You blink and look up at him. His face is turned towards yours, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively. "A little distracted, were we?" You smile sheepishly, "Ah, yes, I'm sorry, but your hands do work magic. What had you been saying?"

He gives an embarrassed huff, "It's late is it not?" They pale eyes staring at you unblinkingly from beneath round vintage glasses. "Well yes," you reluctantly agree, "But I have missed your nightly performances. And I was hoping you could give me another lesson tonight." You say softly as he flexes his long spindly fingers. "Ooh. . . perhaps. You have always been kind to me. Letting me keep you up at odd hours of night with my prattling."

"You know I would stay even if you didn't give me a lesson. Your music is beautiful." He turns his head away from you, but you can see a hazy pink color introduce itself onto his countenance. When he turns back the color has all but bled out, except for some swirling traces. "I have had nothing but time to perfect it. Though as despairing as it may be, to watch seasons pass without being able to participate in the world, I still have my music. I wonder, is it what holds me here? Is my comfort my cage? Alas-- Dear, aren't you going to put your hands to the piano? You did ask for a lesson you know."

You look up at him before doing as he asks. Aligning your fingers to the keys, "I thought you were still deciding. . ."  "Oh," they respond absentmindedly, "Don't mind me, I'm particularly lost in my thoughts tonight, death, life, it's all just one big mess. . ." Sterling rambles on talking about music as you sit together playing chords and sections of songs. As you are still learning the basics he keeps things simple, most of the time you are echoing his voice on the piano or remembering notes and chords. But he has seems to have become happier with having someone he can talk to, rather than to stew lost in his own thoughts.

"You are doing quite well," A pleased smile tugging on his lips, his crinkled eyes twinkling. "Have you been practicing?"  "A little. . . Not as much as I would like though." You slid your hands onto your lap and smile. "Thank you for the lesson, I appreciate you taking the time to sit with me and do that. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you."

"Of course not," he sniffs, "I. . . am very fond of your company." There was something with the way he said it, that stirred your heart. You can feel your own face grow a little warm, "I'm glad. . . haha." He glances at you, his hands poised to begin playing again. You swallow hard and press on, "Though I h-have to admit, I am more than a little fond of you."

--BADOOM His hands slip hitting the keys too hard and causes a loud blunder of noise. Practically falling off his chair, Sterling’s hands shielding his face in embarrassment. "I-I. . .WHAT?" He stammers, your eyes widen that he reacted so dramatically. "I just meant that, I c-care about you a lot--" The candles snuff out around and you are suddenly plunged in darkness. The ghost has left the building. 

Your head flops into the piano, a few keys playing as your face presses into them. You give a groan of defeat Dammit! Way to go, you probably just killed him. . . AGAIN. Despite his usual stuffy demeanor he can get easily flustered. He tries to hide it under a punctual and proper air, but was a much shier person than he let on. You liked that about him though, there were little things that he did that just enchanted you. He was a deep thinker, and he always took the time to explain things and be patient with you. So of course, you had to go and fall in love with a ghost. You had been trying to gather the courage to tell him your feelings for about a week now. Slowly working your way towards the right words you say. But like music, timing was just as important as the notes. To be honest you had gotten so nervous you are sure you had fumbled in both regards. You sigh heavily, best head to bed, perhaps you can try and talk to him tomorrow.

You slink away in defeat, retiring to your chamber until sunlight streams through your window. Leaving a dappled trail of light and warmth inside your room. You grumpily turn over in bed, refusing to move until you have properly sulked for just a little while longer. Trying to wrack your brain how you were going to approach the ghostly pianist now. With Sterling being so shy, you weren’t sure if his reaction was bad or good. Only time will tell, but in the meantime you're up and making breakfast. Then busying yourself with doing chores around the house and trying not to let your mind settle too much into last night. You go about whiling away the hours until sunset. That's when Sterling becomes active inside the house. You don’t exactly know where he goes during the daytime. You have attempted in the past to nonchalantly snoop around in the basement but to no avail. 

Before you know it, the sun is setting in the sky. Golden light filtering across the floor, flooding the rooms with dying light. You peer into the parlor, and step inside. Running your hands over the black and white keys. You can feel a faint prick on the back of your neck, you turn around and You startle, coming face to face with the musically inclined ghoul. You put a hand on your heart. "Oh my goodness!-- Sterling!" you sigh weakly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “Hello,” He murmurs faintly, you look up at him, feeling suddenly shy. All this time you had been waiting to talk to him, and now only an awkward silence fills the room. Both of you starting to speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

“N-no that’s alright, please, continue”

“Aaah-- why don’t you go first, I was the person who upset you last night”

A hand flutters anxiously to the glasses upon his crooked nose. "You didn’t upset me. You, w-well surprised me. I  was flattered, but I don’t think you truely want anything to do with this old goat." "H-huh? What do yo--" He cuts you off with a flourish of his hand. "I'm an old man dear, not just old, decrepit. I died in 1839, my bones are buried outside, wouldn't that bother you?" His face flushes an eerie pink and he splutters in embarrassment. "I mean, it should bother you. . . " A light bulb blinks on in your head and you stare at him with new found insight. "Y-you, like me too, don't you. . ." "I beg your pa--" "It was you, wasn’t it?" With a rush of feeling, you practically jump a foot off the ground from excitement. "I was always wondering about those poems left on the door step-" your mouth goes agape. "And those flowers!" His eyes dart back and forth in a panic, his mouth wobbling. "W-what??? Me? I don't know anything about that!" You can tell he's wanting to bolt and you make a grab at one of his translucent hands. Surprisingly your fingers successfully curl around it and his shoulders jerk up. Trying to calm yourself down before trying to talk to him. You were spooking him, a novel thought, but not what you had been intending to do. So you take a different approach, "Why. . . didn't you ever tell me?" The specter is sweating bullets now, he mops his brow with a wispy handkerchief. "I-I” he groans in defeat, “A ghost cannot do romance! A ghost cannot do much of-- of anything! No matter how I felt, I couldn't keep you here, you deserve to be free, to experience life to the fullest. Not to be shackled to me and this house." You flush, truly surprised by his answer. "But, I don't want anyone else, I like you. . ." Tentatively you take his hands and hold them gently in your own. His expression quivers, looking down before he gently pulls away. His fingers wisping through your skin before reconstructing themselves back together. He puts a hand into his breast pocket before he pulls out an envelope with a flowery wax seal. He looks away from you but hands you the letter, his expression flushing as that same red color is introduced into his normal pale blue complexation. You look up at him searchingly before you gently take the letter. The smooth paper has a fragrance like all the rest of the notes you recieved, like roses and vanilla. You carefully peel back the floral seal, opening the envelope.

You watch Sterling lights the candles at the table in the parlor. It has been a week since the two of you had become a couple, and you cannot remember a happier time, then the hours you have spent together. “Didn't you say, a ghost cannot do romance?” You tease him with a smile, your eyes crinkling as you watch him with a loving gaze. He huffs softly, "That I did, and I wish more than anything I could take you to a fine dinner out of this house. . . " He pinches the wick of one last candle, and when he removes his hand, an enchanting blue fire flickers to life. “I think a candlelit dinner at home is just as lovely.” He looks at you for a moment, before he gives a little smile, “If you say so darling.” “I do.” He bends down to give you a chilly peck on the forehead before he sits down at his piano, flexing his fingers before he begins to play. The blue lights of the candles flickering to the sound of his haunting melody. But the tone has changed, no longer lachrymose. You can hear something happy stirring in the song that projects itself out of the house, and into the starlit sky.

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 7

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader - its almost here you guys, getting so close

Summary: after a confrontation with the Darkling a discussion needs to happen

Note: so I went ahead and put in the first of four songs that inspired this fic.  ‘Summertime’ by My Chemical Romance, give it a listen if you haven’t it is a masterpiece

Tags: @mcntsee​

              Kaz had never seen the Darkling before and he was surprised now that the man who had created the fold, lived for hundreds of years, barely looked a day over 25.  He glanced over at Jesper and Y/N, watching her get down from the horse and start walking towards the Darkling.  He panicked for a moment, getting off his own horse and handing the reins to Jesper. He pulled out his cane, not sure what he could do with it against a man who was considered the most powerful Grisha in existence, but he would go down fighting to protect Y/N.

              “What were you thinking Y/N?  Running off with these two?” Aleksander asked, motioning a dismissive hand to the Dregs.  Kaz glared. He looked to Y/N and saw her looking at him.  When their eyes met she shook her head and he knew what she meant.  Now that she had spilled her secrets to him he could see more in her eyes.  She wasn’t hiding herself from him anymore and right now she was clearly telling him to not start a fight, that she didn’t want to have to take on the Darkling now.

              “Aleksander, I couldn’t stay anymore in your shadow. Not when we both know that with the parem I would be more powerful than you.  I want your throne,” she said, lying through her teeth.  Kaz could see the obvious falsehood there, but apparently the Darkling didn’t know her as much as he thought.

              “Is that why you stole it?  The only useable vial of parem we had?” he asked.  Kaz froze.  So she hadn’t told him everything.  He looked over at her and watched her as she stared at Aleksander.

              “I couldn’t let you have it, not why I needed it,” she said.  “Leave now or I will use it.  I’ve already taken it.”  She was lying, Kaz had seen first hand when parem did to Grisha, there was no one she had taken it before they left.  He just hoped the Darkling believed her lie.  Aleksander scowled.

              “So this is it, another betrayal by a trusted friend? Well, you may have taken the parem but your friends haven’t,” he said, gearing up to perform the cut against Kaz.  

              “No!” Y/N screamed, reaching out with both hands and closing her fists.  Aleksander stopped, falling to his knees and groaning in pain.

              “What…is this…how…” he stammered out as she constricted his airwaves and his heart.  Kaz looked at her, seeing the desperation in her eyes, but he also saw the vengeance beneath it.  She wanted to kill the Darkling, make him suffer for everything he’d taken from her and for a minute Kaz was going to let her do it.  Then he remembered the look on her face when she talked about how many died at her hand, how much the pain wrecked her.  Aleksander had once been her friend, could she really handle killing another friend and not break entirely.  Kaz didn’t want to find out.

              “ Y/N!” he yelled, running over to her.  “Stop, send him away, as far as your winds can take him, but don’t kill him.  You’ll lose yourself more if you do.”  What was he saying?  Kaz Brekker didn’t care who got hurt.  Saints or whoever, damn this woman for what she was doing to him.  

              Once the Darkling was unconscious Y/N finally stopped. Kaz was right, she couldn’t kill more people she once cared about, it would take another piece of her soul and she didn’t know how much was left at this point.  She mustered up all the Squallor ability she could and sent Aleksander away, making sure that the wind would set him down softly.  When he was gone she turned to the other two.  Kaz looked relieved and Jesper was shocked.

              “How can you do you more than one thing?” he asked. “Did the parem really do that to you?”

              “I lied about the parem, I didn’t drink it.  I took the vial, and I smashed it right after we left the prison.  No one is taking the parem as long as we keep Kuwei away from the Second Army.  I’ve always been able to do multiple Grisha skills, but my Inferni skills were the strongest so I chose to train in that and hide the rest,” she explained.  Jesper nodded and smiled.  

              “Well, looks like we have a valuable weapon in our midst,” he said.   Y/N rolled her eyes, hating that she was once again being relegated to a tool for these guys.

              “No,” Kaz said softly.  “She’s not a weapon, she’s our friend and we need to get her to the resistance and help them.”   Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at him.  She was sure once he knew that she had kept one last secret from him he would be furious, instead he was planning to help them.  She knew it could have been a lie, something to get them moving again, get her out of their hair quicker, but it didn’t seem like it.  

              “Kaz can I talk to you alone for a minute?” she asked, needing to sort out some things with him before she kept going.  He looked aggravated at the delay but nodded. Jesper took his cue and walked the horses to a nearby stream to drink.  “Look we have to at least address some part of this, whatever this is.”  She motioned between them and he scowled.  She knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to make him.  They at least needed to establish some form of trust between them, something solid that they could stand and fight together one.  In Ketterdam Kaz and his group fought together as Dregs, but Y/N wasn’t one of them, she needed to establish something else with Kaz to make this work.

              “What do you want me to say?  I said you were our friend,” he snapped, not looking her in the eye.   Y/N sighed, looking at the ground.

              “Alright we are friends.  But you know there’s more to it, I know you feel it,” she said.

                Kaz hated all of this right now.  This whole conversation was making him want to leave her here and just travel on without her.  He would get his crew and get the hell out of Ravka, let her face the Darkling on her own.  Dammit he knew he couldn’t do that.  This woman made him soft for her and he wanted to rage against it, but what use was it?

              “Why in the hell would you want anything more with a crippled bastard anyway?” he asked, feeling his self-loathing seeping from his pores.  He could keep up his façade in front of anyone, pretend to be more than he was, criminal mastermind, leader of the Dregs, the Bastard of the Barrel, but for some reason she broke down that defense and here he was that sad boy that lost his brother and was still searching for a way to be whole again. He saw her reach a hand out before stopping and clenching her fist.

              “Kaz Brekker, you are single handedly the most amazing man I have ever met.  Capable of the most intense torture yet still willing to dance with me, you don’t let anything stop you from getting what you want.  You sir, are a criminal king in a blood soaked crown and personally I have never wanted to be anything more than a queen standing next to you,” she said. Kaz looked at her seeing that her face was flushed red, embarrassed to have gotten so honest with him.  He quirked his mouth into a smirk and she groaned. “Dammit, why can I never just keep my mouth shut around you.”  

              “O please don’t, I love to hear you heaping praise on me.  I like that bit about the crown,” he said, smirking more.  She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest.  “I’m not sure I’m ready for a queen, not in the way you would want me to be…”

              “Kaz I want you exactly the way you are.  Whoever you want to be I will want you,” she said. He could hear that she meant it. He didn’t have to fix himself or be more than he was with her.  “You could never touch me again and I will be fine, you never have to smile if you don’t want.  I’ve felt your hand and seen your smile and I will keep that memory fresh in my mind forever.”  

              “I had my gloves on when I touched you,” he said softly.  She smiled at him.

              “I’m alright with that.  I’m alright with you.”

              “I don’t know if I’m ready for a queen still, but as soon as I am you’re the first person I’m going to find,” he said.  He meant it, his heart was making a room for her to live there and once it was ready he would get a bloody crown to match his and give it to her.  He lifted up his gloved hand and put it against her lips.  “I promise.”  He felt her lips kiss his gloved finger and pulled away.  He took a deep breath, surprised that nothing had happened, no images of death or feelings of disgust.  She kissed his finger and he had just walked away to get Jesper and the horses.  

                As evening fell they decided to make camp near a stream. The group filled their canteens and built a small fire, eating some rations and donning their coats as the weather was starting to get colder as they moved further north.   Y/N built a small item out of her vest pocket and focused. Soon her guitar was in her lap and she was strumming it.

              “How did you do that?” Jesper asked as he took a seat next to her.  Kaz sat down on the other side of her, giving Jesper a look that said not to get too close. Y/N almost laughed.  He had been jealous the whole ride here, clearly wanting to hit Jesper with his cane again.  She knew it must irk him that others could get so close to her and he couldn’t.  She hoped the smile she gave him, one he almost returned, made him feel better.  

              “I just focus on the material and will to be smaller or bigger, I’m not sure how it works honestly,” she said, strumming a little.

              “You going to play us something?” Jesper asked. Y/N thought for a minute, trying to pull a song out of her head that they might know, but she couldn’t think of one. Then she got an idea.

              “I wrote a song a little while back, something I used to sing with Alina when I would visit her followers to give them messages,” she said.  I think it applies now, to all of us.”  She started the cords, stumbling at first as she tried to remember the exact notes she played before.  Once it came back she found a good rhythm.

“When the lights go out, will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down in crowded rooms And highways I call home?”

           She could see Kaz listening intently, leaning forward to see her fingers move and hear her voice more.  She wasn’t a master singer she knew but no one had ever complained about her voice and seeing the look on his face she knew he liked it. Jesper bopped his head to the music she made and she smiled at him before looking back at Kaz as she sang.

“If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes How long until we find our way In the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me Anytime you want”

           She finished the song and found that Jesper had laid down during the singing and was fast asleep.  She chuckled and shrunk her guitar, putting it back in her pocket. She moved to put out the fire when Kaz waved his hand at her.

           “Not yet,” he said softly, looking at her. She nodded and moved to cover up Jesper before laying down herself, watching Kaz in the firelight.  His features were more pronounced like this, his edges sharp, eyes deep with depths she had just barely began to swim in.  She knew she shouldn’t take his words to heart, that she didn’t fully know that he could be believed.  He was an excellent liar, had duped almost everyone he had ever met, but she wanted to believe him so she did.  She would live this lie with him for as long as he let her.  Let him destroy her, she would die with a smile on her face.  

           “I love you Kaz Brekker” she whispered softly, not caring if he heard her.  He didn’t move so she assumed he hadn’t and she rolled over to fall asleep.

           Kaz watched the fire and heard ever word she whispered to him.  He felt the last piece of resistance waver and flee from his heart.  He heard her breathing steady beside him and knew she was asleep.  He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, testing again to see if the revulsion arose. When it didn’t, he actually smiled.

           “I love you too Y/N.”

[nyxicnymph]

The Curse On Hyrule

A Zelink Angst fic based off of some angsty theories for BoTW2.

Enjoy. Or not.

Link gasped for breath, bending over. Dammit, he was so close!

Stupid curses. Stupid magic. Stupid Calamity.

Link reached for the Master Sword with his right hand, before flinching and switching hands. He stared down at both his arms, the right black and blacker, with hints of green, and blue, and that stupid magenta. The left, shaking with the weight of the Master Sword, used to bearing shields or supporting longer weapons, but not wielding a weapon by itself. Link snorted at the irony.

He stood up, ignoring how more than half of his body almost wouldn't obey him. He had to get to Zelda.

Zelda, who knows everything. Zelda, who was close by. Zelda, who had fallen into that abyss at the time. Zelda, who had already been traumatized by one bearer of the cu-

Link cut that train of thought off. He raised his sword, using the shaky light to illuminate his path. He knew she was close. He could feel her. He would shout, but he couldn't.

The closer he got, the quicker he moved. He could feel the curse growing, gaining control of his right side. And moving faster, as if it could feel that the possible end to it's goal was close.

Link almost passed the opening, and had to use the Master Sword to keep himself from moving forward. He entered the cavern cautiously, scanning for traps and monsters. Surprisingly, and suspiciously, there were neither.

Link rushed to the huddled mass in the dark corner, reaching out to her, to let her know he was there, that he needed her help. Then he stopped.

The last time he touched a dark mass in a dark cavern, well. He'd ended up cursed, losing the l- Princess of Hyrule, and accidentally reshaping the entirety of the continent.

He opted for another way. He sheathed the sword, then tapped the sheathed sword against the princess.

She jumped up, battle ready, her golden locks framing her determined face, and backlit by her unlocked power glowing from her right hand. The power faded as she lowered her hand, and her face melted in relief.

"Link!" She leapt forward as if to hug him, but Link sidestepped her. When the princess turned to face him, hurt evident on her face, he lifted his right hand to eye level, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Zelda's own eyes widen as she took in the sight. "W-what happened to you, Link? Is this my fault? Is that why you-?" She choked up.

Link hurriedly shook his head. He pulled out his sheikah slate and pulled up an image of the corpse that started it all.

Zelda's face turned from concern to horror as it sunk in, and she fell to her knees. "No," she whispered softly. "No, it can't be. It doesn't... Does it?" She buried her face in her hands. "We have to fix this. There has to be a way."

Link wanted to help her up. His heart ached to see her that way, broken, on the floor, lost. But he can't touch her. He hadn't touched anyone since the curse, not even his enemies. He sure wasn't going to touch her.

He'd hate himself.

Zelda stood up, and brushed off her pants. "We'll figure this out. Have you gone to see Impa yet?"

Link shook his head. Zelda had and always would be his first priority, and she seemed to gather that.

"Well, then let's start with that. Impa has a good head on her shoulders, she should know what to do. And if she doesn't, she might have an idea." Zelda started walking, and Link, loyal as ever, followed behind.

<Kakariko Village>

"Have you tried using your power, Princess?" Impa suggested, grabbing Zelda's attention away from whatever she'd been glaring at.

"What? My power?"

"If my theory is correct, this curse...."

Link lost track of the conversation, trying to figure out what Zelda had been glaring at so intensely a moment ago. He glanced up the staircase to see Paya disappearing.

Oh.

The knight returned to the side of the princess, but didn't meet her eyes. He didn't want his mind to go down that road, for the sake of the worst-case scenario.

"Link, are you listening?" Impa's harsh voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Link nodded, and Impa scoffed. "You and the princess are going to the field overlooking the Zora domain, and she is going to try to remove your curse. Follow her instructions." Impa turned to Zelda. "Remember. Do not touch him, unless you are absolutely sure it has been removed."

Zelda nodded resolutely. "Understood."

At the field, Zelda and Link stood facing each other, all alone in a sea of green. Even the deer were gone. Link was surprised that the field remained, instead of being hoisted into the sky like many other parts of Hyrule had been.

Zelda cleared her throat. "Link, I have to see how far the curse has progressed." Link looked at her blankly, and Zelda averted her eyes. "You need to remove your shirt."

Link nodded, and did as the princess commanded, but slowly. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He hadn't wanted her to see how much of him had been taken over.

He hadn't wanted her to see him turning into a monster before her eyes.

"Link, I-" she stammered as she looked at his torso, two thirds blackened, and the remaining third crossed over with angular patterns. "I don't know what to say. How did it get this bad?"

Link signed that he thought it was hastened by activity against it, but he wasn't sure.

Zelda sighed, tears evident. "I pray this works. Lanayru help us." She raised her right hand, and it glowed.

Link closed his eyes, and opened his arms, as if to embrace the power that washed over him in the next second. He felt cold, then warmth, then a feeling like his nerves were tiny lightning bolts. Then it all faded.

"No!"

Link's eyes snapped open to see Zelda kneeling on the ground, her hands covering her mouth, and tears streaming down her face. He looked down and saw his torso had been completely blackened, and the hints of green, blue, and magenta were stronger than before.

"This was supposed to work!" The princess cried. "It was supposed to cure you! To cleanse you! What good-" She choked on a sob. "What good is this power if it can't even save my l- loyal knight?!"

Link knelt beside her, trying to comfort her with his presence, since he couldn't hold her. He signed:

I'm still here, princess. We will figure this out.

Zelda cried a while more, before wiping her tears away. "Let's go to the temple at the plateau. Maybe we will get a hearing from the goddess, and she will help us."

Link nodded. This was as close to a back-up plan as they had.

<The Temple, Great Plateau>

The sun shone on the two small forms kneeling in front of the large goddess statue. The figure on the right begging frantically, her tears soaking the stone beneath, and the figure on the left, silently crying as well, but more focused on his fingers than anything else.

How long until the left hand matched the right? Link knew it wasn't that long. He could feel the curse slipping through the veins and muscles of his left bicep, curling around his elbow.

He had to get Zelda away from him before he was completely taken over.

He sat up, which drew Zelda's attention. They turned to face each other, and Zelda looked at him questioningly. Link hesitatingly lifted his hands up, and signed:

I need you to run. Away from me. I'm afraid it's too late.

His hands movements were jerky, some of them uncoordinated. He almost couldn't control his own limbs, and Zelda noticed.

"No, Link! Even if you're consumed, I won't leave you! It's my fault we were down there! And so it's my fault you were cursed!" Her tears dropped, splattering the floor between them.

Link's own tears fell as he signed, And I can't have you being hurt because of me!

"But it's my fault!"

You're the only one who can stop me, Princess! You're the next most worthy of the Master Sword! Link signed in frustration, trying to get her to see his point.

"The... The Master Sword? Why?"

Because the Master Sword will be the only thing capable of killing me.

Zelda stood up and shook her head. "No! I refuse! I- There has to be another way! I will not kill you!"

You have to. Or Hyrule is doomed.

Zelda spun away. "I refuse to listen anymore! You will be fine! You-" She cut herself off when she heard a thud.

She gasped when she saw Link on the floor. "Link!" She halted her dash forward when a dark shadow came over the temple. She looked up and saw the clouds were purple.

She made to run to Link anyway, until he stopped her with a single sign.

No.

She saw the curse creeping up his neck, and she ran up to him regardless. "I refuse to let it end like this!" She told him as she grabbed him under the arms and tried to pull him away.

Zelda, please, for my sake, run!

"No!"

Zelda, please!

"I won't leave you!" She screamed, tears and sweat mingling on her face as she pulled him out of the temple.

You must! Link signed as the curse covered his chin.

"I'm not leaving you, so stop trying to make me!"

Zelda, you have to leave!

"Why are you so insistent I leave?!" Zelda cried as his body slid from her fingertips and hit the ground once more.

With incredibly, increasingly uncooperative fingers Link signed:

Because I love you.

The eyes of the knight met the eyes of the princess, and something passed between them. Link saw the fire in her gaze and knew he had said the wrong thing, but had no idea what. Zelda found confirmation of what she had been suspecting for months.

As the curse consumed Link, and the Master Sword fell to the ground, Zelda stepped forward. She picked up the sword, and felt it hum deep in her bones. She knew what she had to do.

Or rather, what was good for all of Hyrule.

"I've sacrificed myself for Hyrule once already!" She screamed at the sky. "Why should I do it again?!"

She threw aside the sword, and grabbed Link. "If you won't stay with me, than I'm going with you! I never want to be separated from you again! I owe you my life a hundred times over! I refuse to let it end like this!"

She pressed her lips to his, and refused to separate, even as she felt the curse flowing into her own body, moving faster than it had before.

As Princess Zelda died, she prayed one last time for a hero to save Hyrule. One worthy to wield the Master Sword, and stronger than she.

And if Hyrule wasn't saved?

Well, that's what the new calamities were hoping for, after all.

And thus fell the Hope, Princess, and Kingdom of Hyrule.

[vinylhazza]

Can you write a lil thing about confiding in your best friend (either twin) about your abusive relationship and then he helps you leave and shows you real love. I'm in a abusive relationship atm and I wish I had it :(

LEAVE HIM FOR ME (G.D)

warning: mention of physical abuse, trauma, mention of sexual abuse, angst, fluff

*italics are flashbacks/past conversations*

grayson would have been trying for so long to figure out where the bruises were coming from. he stopped at nothing to try and pry the information out of you until he finally started to back up after you got angry at him one evening for not letting it go.

“just let it the fuck go grayson, i fell. i told you that.” or “yeah straightener is a bitch you know? you’re not a girl you wouldn’t understand gray, i’m okay.”

you knew he was trying to help, but feared that giving them the knowledge would only make it worse. your jackass of a boyfriend was dangerous, you knew it even if he didn’t. he could hurt him, and that was the last thing on earth you would ever want - for grayson to be hurt. you would get teary eyes and a flustered blush when he noticed your frown at the mention of the bastards name. it was like a shock to your system. with grayson...everything was different. you weren’t weak. you weren’t some piece of meat that could be abused and used whenever he pleased. you weren’t a derogatory name that seemed to define you.

he kept you safe. he kept you warm when you shivered. he made sure you ate when he notices you haven’t touched a single piece of food all day, takes e time to cook your favorite meal of all. he would care for you, wait on your every hand and foot when you felt ill, make that special soup his ma taught him when he was younger, he knows how much it helps. he braids your hair to help you calm down, and he’s actually very good at it. something about the tenderness and care he gives you when he’s messing with your hair immediately eases your stress, and you don’t know it, but he has a small smile the entire time.

God that man would love the fuck out of you, just waiting in the shadows for you to see that he was right there, waiting to give you all the love that he could give. Grayson’s love language was physical touching, he loved to have his hair played with, back scratches, hugs that last too long, having your legs propped up over his lap as you watch a netflix special. he often watches you close in those moments, running his own fingers through your hair, deep slow massages, and sometimes....he even leaned in for a kiss on your cheek, your forehead, and when he was especially clingy, your neck. you didn’t think anything of, even tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach - the butterflies swirling around like a tornadoe. and you especially ignore the clenching in your lower region, trying to convince yourself it’s not him in particular but the lack of affectionate touches you never receive from your boyfriend.

deep down, you know your heart tells you different. but you aren’t a cheater and how could you leave? you know he would come after you, after your family, after grayson, even after ethan if he’s as crazy as you thought he was.

the first time he hit you, was the first night he ever yelled at you as well. it had been sudden, out of nowhere, shocking. he was...not right that day. he was irritable, not really speaking to you all that much...just quite frankly being a dick. your love language is physical touch just like graysons, but...not that kind. you had just wanted to hug him, maybe give him a reassuring squeeze to let him know you were there to help him and be there for him through whatever it was he was struggling with. you know how hard it is to be in your own head and have no one to share your pain with.

but his hand slapping into like a tidal wave prevented that from ever happening.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! can’t you see i want to be left the fuck alone?! are you fucking dumb?! get out!”

you spent the whole night crying, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you tight, a bag of frozen peas pressed up against your right cheek. in the morning when you woke up with a groan, you stumbled into the bathroom to find a black and blue bruise right along your cheek bone - a hateful looking mark. this...this wasn’t love.

“such a slutty, dumb little bitch. thinking you can wear that out and strut around like a whore? then i’ll treat you like a whore.”

he never apologized and the violence never stopped. the punches became more frequent, and it was getting so hard for you to hide them that you began making excuses: falling, fluke accidents that sometimes made no sense, dropping something, bumping into things. but everytime you made up a lie, it took a piece of you away. a piece of you that you felt would always in some way be connected to him. to his viscous words, actions, and those little moments that kept convincing you to stay.

you stayed for the rare moments he would smile, the times that would remind you of the man you fell for - the one that didn’t exist anymore. you knew you were foolish and anyone with a brain could see right through your stupid lies and excuses, but you simply avoided talking about him. he made you think it’s what you deserved. and after a while you believed it.

you stopped being sexually attracted to him in the very beginning, when the hitting first began...but he...he was a man of selfish desire. take what he wants and be on his way, keep treating you like dirt, keep kicking you while he knew you had no fighting chance. he took advantage of your body, used you like a toy and threw you away. made you think it was a yes even when you screamed no. a hand over your mouth, his tongue down your throat, you didn’t have a choice.

grayson knew it all along. he knew the bastard hit you. he knew the disgusting filth of a man you would go ‘home’ to. he knew it wasn’t your true home. your home was him. your home was grayson. but you had to keep him safe, hence the reason you never admitted to the consistent mental, physical, and sexual abuse. but grayson refused to do nothing, stand by and watch the women he loved suffer all alone, determined to be your knight in shining armor, save you from the villain trying to ruin your beautiful life so full of purpose.

“what am i supposed to do e? he’s hurting her, like really hurting her. the bruise on her neck isn’t a fucking burn it looks like a goddamn hand was choking her to death. what am i supposed to do? tell me what to do.”

Distraught was an understatement when it came to a teary eyed grayson sitting at the foot of his brothers bed. you had left after a movie night, having to lie to your boyfriend and tell him you were at a girlfriends house, you’ve already been beat up for even mentioning graysons name. you would never make that mistake again.

ethan sat straight up against his headboard, pulling at the stubble on his chin, brow furrowed with a concerned, and angry, scowl.

“the asshole thinks he can just get away with hurting her because she sits there and takes it...it’s killing me. God how did she get herself into this mess...i just feel...useless. i’m supposed to protect her e, that’s what you do for the people you love and i fucking fail her over and over again everyone i let her walk out the front door of this house,” grayson grumbled, leaning over the bed with his head in his hands. his shoulders were tensing, something that usually happens when he’s especially stressed or upset about something.

“i’m sure ‘taking it’ isn’t exactly what she’s doing. she’s scared. he’s a big guy gray, a dangerous guy, he can really do damage to her if she tries to fight him back,” ethan mutters, not wanting to make his brother more upset. it didn’t seem to be working, “you know this isn’t her fault and so do i gray. a man like that will stop at nothing to control her every move. it’s an act of dominance, control, he wants to rule every action, every thought, every move she might make. if we do anything, we need to do it fast, and do it in a clever way that won’t get her fucking killed by that psychopath.

“it’s just impossible to sit here and have her flinch when i try to touch her...i would never fucking hurt her. i never have. and i know it’s so hard for her to trust anyone with all of the shit she has to deal with...but God dammit i would move heaven and hell for that girl and i need to save her,” grayson sits up, a noticeable tear streaming down his face. his love was evident in his every word, “i’ll take my time. make her see she deserves better. whatever the fuck she needs to convince her to leave that dumbfuck, i’ll do it. i just need help e, that’s all i’m asking.”

“of course gray, you know i got your back. and i have y/n’s too. we are gonna get her away from that creep and show her what real love is. not that fake disgusting shit he claims it is. doesn’t even know what the fuck it means and he has no business using that word frankly.” ethan’s tone is clipped, sharp, and deep - he would do whatever he could to get away just like grayson would. granted he’s not in love with you, but he doesn’t have love for you, and he would still do anything to protect you, “but be patient with her. a guy like that stops at nothing to tear down a woman until she thinks she deserves what’s coming to her. she accepts the pain because she is trained to live in silence. we need to break that silence and make sure that she knows it’s okay to tell us and we would never put her in danger.”

there is silence for a moment, full of tension, worry, for their friend. graysons worries if he speaks, he might cry. instead he ops for bouncing his knee in a steady rhythm, something you taught him to do when he felt restless. and it helps. but with a deep breath he’s turning back to ethan.

“okay so, how do we do it?” grayson stands, ready to take on whatever it is to get her in his arms safe and sound. even if that means hurting her jackass of a boyfriend. hopefully soon to be ex, he thought.

“well, i think maybe tricking her into a little intervention is the only way to go about it. or maybe one of us can convince her to spill the beans. it might be too much on her if we both start hounding her with questions she’s scared to answer. i’m sure some of them are very personal. we can’t freak her out, she’s already so fragile.” grayson knew he was right. he needs to proceed with caution. maybe if he could convince her he’s who she belongs with...confesses to his desires and wishes maybe she would have the strength to leave. if that’s even what she wanted. if not it would ruin their friendship and she would still be in a bad situation.

“true...if we go to their apartment fists up and ready to fight, it will probably make it worse and fall back on her. she’s doesn’t need any more problems than she already has. i mean hell, she’s even scared to sleep anymore,” grayson ponders. he remembers the nights she would stay over when her boyfriend was away gallivanting with whatever floosy he could find. cheating abusive bastard that he was. then it dawned on him.

“what if, and hear me out, what if we just move her out and have her live with us? i mean the guy doesn’t know where we live and fuck it i’ll get security if i have to. we’ve been needing it for a while anyway. she would be safe, protected, and with her closest friends who wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to her,” grayson tried to explain himself, gauging ethans reaction to see if he had a disapproving face.

to his surprise, he didn’t. in fact, it was like a lightbulb clicked inside of his head. with a clap of his hands he’s standing.

“that’s actually a great idea. i don’t know when he leaves or whatever the dumbfuck does but when he does we can go over there and get all of her stuff out and move her in here. we just have to make sure we know when he leaves, when he comes back, and most importantly if she will even say yes.”

it was three days after when you finally stopped by. the bruises on the left side of your neck and cheekbone fading away. graysons heart broke every time he saw the purplish hue on your face. he would kill him if he could. he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. he just had to do it like a civilized human being. he knew that at least if you’re on his property and your stupid bitch if a boyfriend came by...well let’s just say he wouldn’t be so forgiving.

he pulled you into the backyard with the sun just sinking under the horizon. he wondered how you managed to sneak away without a scratch, but hopefully it would be the last time you had to.

“i need to talk to you about something,” grayson started, pulling at your hand to bring you further into the backyard, standing in the grass just beside the pool. he was nervous, palms sweating already. this was a big moment, and it could change everything for them.

“is it about the last piece of banana bread? cause i ate that like a week ago and if you just now noticed maybe you don’t really love it like you claim you-“ you started, teasing him with a smile. always the jokester. he wondered how you found the strength the smile. but he cut you off before you could finish. his frown had your smile wilting.

“i know he’s hitting you. don’t try and hide it either like you always do. you always try and cover up his abuse and his fucking disgusting behavior. and i understand you’re scared, y/n. but this ends now. i don’t care what i have to do to make you see you deserve better but this...this isn’t it. you have so much to give and deserve someone that would burn the whole fucking world down to keep you safe. so stop pretending and tell me the truth.” there it was. that face he was dreading. the face of absolute terror.

he knew. he fucking knew.

you thought you had been good at hiding it from him, from everyone really. even your mother loved your boyfriend. she often said he was “good for you” that she was happy you found him when you did because “he’s the only one that’s really ever gotten you under control”. you haven’t talked to her in months, to say the least.

grayson recieves a chest rattling silence. something he wasn’t expecting from a girl that was known for word vomit and stuttering all over herself trying to get a thought out fast enough before it slipped away. but you stared at him with wide, misty eyes. you were scared - frozen in his backyard. you couldn’t believe he had come right out and called you on your bullshit. but you knew it was coming, you tried your hardest to hide it, but grayson wasn’t stupid.

with a slow shake of your head, you swallow the tears threatening to escape your eyes. you won’t be weak in front of grayson. you spent so much time being weak because of him, but no, not in front of grayson. he deserved better than someone that couldn’t even escape a white boy she fell for after a run in at the movie theater. he deserves someone that can fight for herself.

“so you know. you and ethan i’m assuming?”

a nod with more silence. he is watching you, not exactly staring, but certainly focused on watching you try and hold yourself together. you know ethan is somewhere close by, watching this go down from his own little hide out. you’re half tempted to yell out to the house and tell him to get the hell out there and face you, but then you know you’d have to confess the truth in front of not one, but two of the most important people in your life.

“...what then? you want me to sit here and cry? you want me to break down and talk to you about all the times i’ve come over here and lied? pretending everything was okay and putting a smile on my face? because believe it or not this is my safe place and i’d rather not think of him. you make me forget. i just wanted to forget and i know that hurts you that i didn’t say anything but i don’t know what i’m supposed to do right now gray...” your voice is thick with emotion, hands coming up to twist at the flowy tank top resting on your torso. it suddently became very chilly in the backyard that felt previously warm in the suns dying moments until morning.

“i’m not letting this go. not like all those times before. i had my suspicions, had those little clues that would pop out when i reached to tuck your hair out of your face, or help you with the laundry you still do even when you don’t have to. you would jump, y/n...from me. and i would never,” he swallows, you can feel all the strength it’s taking him not to show you just how much he wants to cry, “i would never, hurt you. there isn’t a bone in my body that would ever touch you in any way other than love and adoration. i know it’s because of him. he’s - he’s fucking sick, y/n. he’s twisted and made it almost impossible for you to live a normal life. you snuck over here didn’t you? it’s nearly 8.” you know he won’t let it go until you answer, so you give him another small nod, biting at your bottom lip and flinching at the tear that drops down onto your cheek. it would wash away that pathetic layer of concealer you put on, exposing more of the purplish bruise he left there.

“where is he? let me guess - he said he was going to “tanners” right?” his voice remains calm, with just a hint of a grit there to show how truly disgusted he was by the man that abused you time and time again.

another nod and small sniffle.

you felt like a child getting caught by your parents for sneaking out.

you and grayson both knew there was no tanner. there was and never would be. it was just another girl he decided to fuck around with before coming back to control you, make you feel like the disloyal one. make you feel like the monster.

“and what happens when he comes back and you’re not there huh? what happens if he comes back early and wants you to text him a picture of where you are? actually fuck that have you even thought that maybe the psychopath put a tracker on your phone? ...why are you back away? hey hey come here it’s okay i’m not mad at you,” grayson is trailing off into an apology when he notices the distance beginning to grow between your two bodies. he was near yelling at the end of his little speech and you’ve learned enough to know what yelling means. of course he said he wouldn’t hurt you, but that’s exactly what he said in the beginning too. and look where you are now.

before you can back away from his touch any further, he’s tugging you into a hug, cradling the back of your head against his chest. his heart beat was steady, the calm thumping easing your own nerves. he never held you like this. grayson wasn’t him. it was unfair to be afraid of everyone because someone tried to stifle your fire. with your body tucked into his arms, grayson rocks side to side on the bottom of his shoes, eyes closed and chin resting on the top of your head. you liked to be held when you’re upset and overwhelmed and he knew it. it helped ground you.

he’s pulling away too soon, swiping a hand through his hair in frustration. you know it’s hard for grayson to express his emotions sometimes. giving him the same patience he gives you is the least you could do. you stand quietly in front of the tall block of muscle, arms crossed once again - a comfort mechanism you’ve taken up over the past few months - and wait for him to sort his thoughts out and try again.

“i didn’t mean to yell but dammit, y/n. i mean it when i say you can trust me. i know he’s ruined so many things but this - us - isn’t going to be one of them. he doesn’t get the satisfaction of pushing us apart. you -“ a huff “you’re too...special to let go. and it’s his own fault he can’t see it.” from the dead serious look in his hazel eyes, you know he means every word.

you wouldn’t say grayson is entirely closed off, especially when he’s always touching you in secret, tender ways when no one else is looking. he tells you secrets he’s scared to tell anyone else. he’s not a secret. he’s just in some way...scared just like you.

“gray i don’t know what to tell you...it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. and yeah he has ways of tracking me i’m sure, but i can’t just go without you you idiot. that would kill me. it would fucking break me and i hate that you’re making me admit it.” he frowns at the break in your voice.

“leave him,” graysons voice is soft, but more serious than you’ve ever heard it. so deep rooted with...something you can’t quite catch...that it makes you shiver.

“gray...”

it’s not that simple. you can’t leave a man that has his grip on you too tight. you can’t just leave a man that has made it his goal to make sure it never happens. you can’t just leave because you wish to be with the love of your life...you can’t just...want love when you’re trapped with no hope of escape. especially when that very same person whose love you yearn for is promising it to you, unknowing of the sure consequence.

he doesn’t give you a chance to turn him down, say anything more that will certainly be a way to weasel yourself out of this. he knows you’re in denial, denial of what there is blossoming between you, the bod consuming desire to always be touching whenever you are together - whether it be a pinky hooked around another, an arm over your shoulder, an arm around his waist, fingers massaging at your scalp. whatever it was, it was real.

“might i make a suggestion gray?” ethan frowns, biting at the skin of his bottom lip, now raw with his anxious assault.

“whatever it is make it good because i’m not changing my mind,” grayson grunted, slicing his bananas at a quicker pace. he’d have to build up strength for this conversation, lord knows it’s going to tire him out. you’re a tough one to crack. another reason that he fucking loved you so much.

“tell her how you feel before it’s too late. i’m sure you’ll be pleased with the outcome.”

how could he be so sure?

fire twists in your tummy as grayson inches towards you, eyes narrowed right at your own misty orbs. with irises blown out and black, he tucks that cussed piece of hair behind your ear. with his fingers feathering across the skin of your cheekbone, another tear drops to your cheek. it streaks a hot river across the skin, chipping away that milky concealer, a mask to hide the evil. the way he gazed at you like you were and always would be the most beautiful treasure, only made you confirm to yourself that it was torture to love someone you were scared to have.

“i know you feel this...don’t fight it...just let me show you how good this can feel...how it’s supposed to feel” his voice had switched from one of raw emotion to one of earnest and...need.

within an instant he is grabbing your face and pulling you close by the back of your neck, a hand digging deeply into your mane of hair. he made a fist to secure you to him, afraid if he let go you might disappear. another hand was pressed against your cheek - being careful to not apply direct pressure to your bruise, instead rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. his touch not only eased the pain, but the memories that matched themselves to it. soft plump lips landed on yours perfectly with a hum resonating in his chest. it was a pathetic, needy sound - one that made you aware that he really meant it. he’s been waiting for this. to have your lips smashed up against his. it was like an itch he’s been waiting to scratch, now relieved. he takes his time to let himself feel his way through the kiss - initially feeling your shocked lips at a stand still.

he almost backs away in defeat, but then... you’re sighing, a satisfied, eager sigh tossed between the two of you. biting at his bottom lip felt like a burst of unashamed power coursing through your veins. your tiny nimble fingers are tugging at his white cotton t-shirt and pulling him even closer if possible, goose flesh tracking from your shoulders down to your fingertips. youve kissed let that be known, a guy here or there, but none of those kisses had ever felt like this. before registering how much trouble you would get in if he ever found out what you were doing and how good it felt doing it, you are tilting your head to the side and moving your lips against his greedily. humming into his mouth and pushing your front against his flat. fuck his kiss felt so good. his lips were patient and languid, lapping like smooth waves of the ocean. persistent.

his hands made sure to move your face just the right way, get just the right angle, sure he could feel you turning weak at the knees already. not anything like any other kiss you’ve been given. it’s patient, tender, purposeful - that purpose being to convey just how much you mean to him and always will mean. the way he’s kissing you is a desperate move to tell you how he feels without having to say it just yet. this is everything you’ve ever wanted but never knew you could have, or feel, or want.

his tongue is slipping into your mouth when you gasp in shock at the electric fire burning through your senses and into every nerve in your body. your hands feel tiny on his massive biceps, but he loves the feeling of your thumbs rubbing at his skin while he kisses you so deep. your tongues danced together, the kiss stealing your breath away. it was fierce and passionate, everything you thought kissing him would be like. you had daydreamed about this moment forever, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. especially not like this. not when you’re a damsel in distress, waving your pathetic hand at the top of the tower in hopes your knight in shining armor would come and save you. the day had finally come.

he’s pulling away slowly, begrudgingly, panting from working his mouth so hard against yours. wanting to take it farther than a kiss, but understanding enough to know it would take a lot more time to be at that poin - no matter how bad you both wanted it. your trauma lurked beneath the surface, a fight for another day. he poured everything into that kiss. the rosy red color of his skin being a testament to that. he hoped you knew just how much it meant to him. from the way you stared at his mouth in a trance, he knew it meant just as much to you. the look of wanting in your eyes made him shiver.

“you want me?”

the best you give him is a puffed out “yes” between your lips, staring at his own longingly. it was a pathetic sound, a cringe fighting to shrink in your shoulders and hide yourself from him, but you accepted it as it came. you wanted more. you thought for a split second that you couldn’t imagine never feeling that again. electric. strong. like fireworks igniting in your body over and over. your eyes travel slowly from his mouth to his soft wishful eyes, feeling the sudden urge to cry again.

“leave him for me,” his whisper is pained, vulnerable and aching for you to want him back. need him back. love him back.

“but i can’t have you, you know i can’t. he won’t allow me to leave him.” God it killed you to even say it. You wanted to throw caution to the wind, and in a way you had, but to throw it all out would mean putting him in the line of fire - and you didn’t know if you could bare seeing him burnt.

“yes you can, you can have me. every hour of everyday. you can fucking have me. you have always had me, y/n. i think you know that. i can’t lie anymore. not when it means this much to me. he won’t keep you a prisoner. i refuse for it to happen. i know you want this as much as i do. i feel it. i’ve always felt it. if you don’t leave for you, then leave for me. just...you have to let me protect you.”

the way he says it, just holding you in place, forehead resting against yours in an attempt to stop the tears bubbling behind his eyes. it killed him to see you caged like an animal when you wanted so badly to be free. he would do whatever the fuck he needed to do and he swore his life on it. whether you believed it or not.

“but how? he’s a psycho grayson the man beat me for getting gas without telling him. i was gone for 5 minutes.“

“i know sh, i know it sounds crazy and reckless,”

“really reckless,” you tutted, popping your lips out in a dissatisfied pout. it was cute but he needed to focus.

“- just hear me out. me and ethan have a plan that involves no contact, and if he does show up i don’t think you are underestimating the lengths we will go to, to make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on this beautiful body of yours. he doesn’t get to have you anymore, he abused that privilege, literally. he didn’t appreciate and cherish what he had so now it’s over. you won’t ever have to see him again. but it’s gonna take a little cooperation and for you to be that sneaky little detective i know that you are.” he waits for your reaction, confused that your eyes are still closed, your thumbs still rubbing at his forearms. it was peaceful. for the first time, you felt protected. and really understood. important. valued. loved. whole fuck you felt loved.

“i don’t know how much help i can be,” you choked, voice a lot weaker than you wanted it to sound. truth is, it was taking every bone in your body not to kiss him again, get that fire ignited again. but you had to focus. one battle at a time. beat the dragon, then you get the prince.

“how about this, you and i, we go back in the house, i’ll sit you down on the counter - yeah that’s right the counter - because i don’t give a fuck if ethan thinks it’s unsanitary. i’m gonna cook you you’re favorite meal, kiss those beautiful lips for as long as i want,” he pauses to dip his head down, pecking your lips slowly as an example, a butterfly flew through your core, wings licking at the buzzing nerves, “and explain every tiny detail until you understand just how serious we are about getting you away from that sick creep. i may be persistent but my brother is a determined mother fucker too and he cares about you, y/n. as much as he loves to tease you and throw his little tantrums when you eat the last piece of pizza - he cares so much. and he wants you to be safe. to be with us. be with me...if that’s what you want.”

“as in like...live with you? are you sure that’s a good idea? i mean i kind of have a crazy guy on my back you sure you guys want that baggage?” you’re tone is lighthearted and witty, but he knows that’s just you trying to hide how nervous you were.

“you know, when you love someone, their baggage becomes your baggage. you have that weight together and find the strength to carry it along the way. at least that’s what i’ve found out.”

when you love someone

when you love someone

when he loves someone

when grayson loves...

he loves you

“you love me?” the gleam in your eye is too obvious to miss, the excitement of a child, the joy of a rich man, the satisfaction of a sinner, the bliss of a saint.

“maybe a little,” he grins, lips dropping onto random areas of your face, making their way slowly down, down, down to your blush pink lips. the feeling of them puckering had him pulling you closer again.

“is it too much to ask that you say it again? just for good measure.” your request has him chuckling in your ear, hair tickling you when he bobs his head in a nod.

“i love you,” he sighs, finger hooked under your jaw to tilt your head to the side, sealing his lips down onto yours again. breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume. it drowned his every sense.

it felt so fucking good to say that.

it sounded like your favorite melody. and somehow, as cheesy as it sounded, it gave you strength. gave you that extra power you needed to know that this life did have a purpose beyond pain and misery. it had people like grayson. people like ethan. people that cared about you. people that protected you. people that were ready to do anything they had to do just to make sure you knew how loved you really were.

“i love you too.” it slipped out without you knowing. your hand itched to slap over your mouth, cover up the ultimate betrayal against the monster somewhere off in LA cheating on you again, planning his next attack against you. but no, you wouldn’t feel guilty about loving him. not when it’s the strongest emotion you’ve ever felt. not when it was the truth. and not when he’s cradling you in his arms promising a future beyond the pain and sadness you’ve been stuck in for so long. so for good measure, and just because it felt like a breath of fresh air, you say it again, “i love you.”

“oh fuck,” he breathes through a disbelieving grin, picking you up by the back of your thighs and spinning you around in circles. your legs hooked around his waist tightly, squealing laughter echoing throughout the backyard. this is the freest you’ve felt in so so long. he slows down to a sway once again, turning your head to kiss you slowly, pushing his tongue between your lips to dance with yours again.

“slow down, slow down, we still have something to do yeknow,” you breathe, a lazy smile aimed at his own delighted eyes. he looked so free and it shocked out for some reason that you were the cause of that look.

“no no you’re right i’m sorry, i’m just happy. feels good when you know the girl you love is safe for once. but i guess we do have to go talk to ethan about the insufferable douchebag you chose to date for whatever ungodly reason. must have had a magical dick or something cause the man is lacking in all other categories,” grayson mocks, setting you back into the flats on your feet and imtertwining your fingers together, leading you back toward the house where you presume ethan is waiting somewhere close by.

“actually no, he never really uh...finished the job in that department. was kind of selfish. but i managed,” you tut, rubbing your thumb over the skin on his hand, loving the feeling of him against you in any way you could get. you knew you were so touch starved, but didn’t care if it felt this good.

he stopped at the sliding glass door, face dully lit by the yellow of the light from the kitchen, pointing a defined eyebrow at you in a displeased scowl, the fucker didn’t even make you cum? with a shake of his head he’s sliding the glass door open, ready to talk to his brother and start the plan for your escape. hes ready to see you thrive again. he knows neither he, nor ethan will rest until you have shaken every form of contact with the spineless monster you’re controlled by daily. this plan will be his religion until it is completed. he turns his head to look at you, a smirk on his delicious soft lips, licking at them quickly.

“we will be changing that, make no mistake.”

[mistyeyedbi-archive]

for the kiss prompt thing: 1 with zuri and falk since u mentioned slxmdşxm

Here it is! It's long, pretty angsty and I'm hoping the kiss was shy enough lol.

Random kiss prompts: 1. A shy kiss

--

It was too quiet. Too still. White walls towered over her, the shadows cast across them taunted her, jabbing at the lump in her throat with a stick, poking at the evidence of her loneliness. A gentle breeze billowed past the curtains and rustled the leaves of her many houseplants, a sound that may have soothed the ache in her chest if her heart would allow it, would stop drumming in her ears and slow the rush of blood to her face. The sun was setting behind her windows, bathing the sparsely furnished room in a fiery orange and it was beautiful. It was. But it had no substance, a pretty room that stirred nothing, not the way a set of eyes caught in the sun’s glow and a hearty laugh would. Zuri was alone.

And she didn’t do well alone.

She sat cross legged on a fuzzy carpet, staring into the mirror that leaned against the wall and stretched to the ceiling. The eyes that stared back at her were rimmed with red, cheeks puffy from the silent tears rolling down her face, salty and sweet in her mouth. Her hair was tied into a puff, baby hairs frayed and shriveled back to their natural state, bonnet discarded when sleep evaded her. She couldn’t go back to Unit Bravo. Surely they’d had enough of her, of the tension in their muscles whenever they were out and about, of constantly being alert should someone decide to cash in their bounty. She wouldn’t put them, or anyone else in danger. So she stayed in the apartment.

But she can’t stand this quiet, this anxiousness crawling up her spine whenever she was alone. She needed someone, anyone.

Her lips trembled when they parted. Words bubbled beneath the aching lump, a choked plea squeezing its way past it in fragments. A tiny voice lodged in the back of her mind screamed. Screamed at her for being so pathetic, for refusing to use the knowledge she had to get better. To be better. But a doctor could not treat themselves objectively, despite being aware of the symptoms. So she sat in a pool of self awareness and inaction. 

She shouldn’t need people like this, but she did. This has almost killed her, crushed her soul into specs of dust and left her a hollow shell of herself. She couldn’t let that happen again, screamed the voice. But her emotions overwhelmed her rationale, reducing it to a whisper. 

The reflection rippled before a stream of cool air fanned her face. A taloned hand reached through the mirror and landed on the carpet, followed by another, and head full of white hair, and eventually, Falk was sitting in front of her. 

He squinted slightly in the light, white brows knitting together as concern flickered in his golden eyes like flames. Her hands clutched each other tighter, resisting the urge to reach out and follow the streaks of light highlighting his cheekbones. To pull him into a hug because he was here. He was actually here (but it wasn’t of his own volition, and embarrassment boiled in the pit of her stomach). His hand raised from the carpet and reached for her face, pausing in mid-air before wiping away the steadily falling tears from her cheeks. Zuri shivered and bowed her head, lips trembling as she spoke. 

“I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice hoarse and tight with the effort it took to swallow silent sobs. “I just...I don’t do well alone.”

A crooked finger underneath her chin urged her to look up. His next words were soft rumble, burrowing into her chest and soothing the drumming of her heart into a familiar flutter as she gazed into his eyes. His lips curl into a soft smile. “Fortunately, you no longer are.”

***

Falk started to visit more often, slinking through the mirror at the same time of their previous meeting with a smile on his face. They were frequent, almost everyday, and the subtle accommodations they had made for each other sat on her shoulder like a parrot, constantly pointing out her growing attachment to him. He began to leave his shoes at the door next to hers, occasionally opting to arrive barefoot. She drew the curtains closed to ease the effect of the sun on his eyes and offered him a wink when his eyes landed on the tea she made for him.

He was sitting on the couch, hands clasped around a steaming mug. The sight of him in her apartment was still strange to her. It was almost as if he wasn’t real, a figment of her imagination to chase her anxieties away. His extravagant robes and accessories contrasted the splashes of pinks and greens accenting the mostly white rooms. This was the most time she had spent within these walls, a place that she has never called home. And yet images of him filled each room with a warmth that was never there before, and a need to flee reared its ugly head. Nothing good came from staying, but she could bring herself to keep her distance. She didn’t want to.

“I’m surprised I haven’t ran into one of your companions yet,” said Falk. He blew at the tea (her eyes lingered on his lips and the butterflies in her stomach battled with the buzzing of impending doom), the steam shifting to reveal the curious gaze.

She blinked from her place next to him, clearing her throat before answering. “I’m sorry?”

His lips curled into a teasing smile having noticed where her attention was. This was a dance they had rehearsed many times, the brushing of hands and thighs and flirty exchanges becoming part of their routine. 

“I was under the impression that you spent quite a lot of time with them.”

She laughed, a manufactured giggle escaping her lips as a sharp pang needled its way into her chest (he knew it was fake, the brief wince on his face was a surefire sign that he saw right through her; a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ frown that she caught only because her eyes refused to look elsewhere). She did. She wanted to. But not with that bounty. Not when she had so easily become a burden. She shifted, her knee brushing against his as she turned to face him . "Oh, no. There has to be some space between us. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say"

“A saying that inspires pain, I’m sure,” he murmured, a faraway look washing over his features. Before Zuri could question it, Falk had set the tea down and placed a hand on her knee, a jolt shooting up her leg as he continued. “It seems you have grown quite close to them.”

“They’re just supposed to be co-workers,” she said. A stern tone seeped into her voice, as if reprimanding herself for allowing them to become anything more. For allowing them to wiggle their way into her personal life and see what was below the tip of the iceberg protruding from the surface. 

“Yet they are not. I have seen the way each of them look at you. They are already fond of you. As am I,” he said, a softness taking over his features. Her heart skipped in her chest at the admission, their bodies drifting closer as they gazed into each other's eyes, surroundings fading away as gold met brown.

"Your presence is valued, detective-"

"Zuri."

"Right," he chuckled, a low rumbling sound like rocks tumbling down a mountain. "Zuri."

A shiver ran down her spine. She had been trying to get him to say his name, but she wasn't as prepared to hear it as she thought she was. It fell from his lips as a low hum, dipped in adoration that she had never heard before and she wanted to hear it again. Have him whisper it into her skin until it settled into her bones and that was all she knew.

"It is?" She whispered, voice dying in her throat.

"More than you could know." The tip of his nose brushed against hers as he continued, "I hope we can grow close as well."

Zuri smiled, butterflies fluttering frantically in her stomach, heart beating against her ribcage, both drowning out the voice telling her that this wouldn't last. She wanted to kiss him dammit, the thought alone made her hands tremble. All caution was thrown to the wind.

"We're pretty close right now," she said with a breathless laugh.

"Then perhaps we should get even closer."

There was her opening. She should just lean in and kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him dammit!

But she was frozen in place. Shit! She has never been this nervous.

"The feeling is mutual," he chuckled, a warm tint growing on his cheeks. She must have said it out loud, shit!

She forces her body to move, jerking forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips with her eyes shut tight. He smiled and cupped her cheek before coaxing her forward and meeting her in the middle. His lips slid against her, soft and cool and slow. She sighed into the kiss and clasped the back oh his neck, her fingers delving into the base of his hair as an arm slinked around her waist.

She didn't do well alone, but she was starting to like being alone with him.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

lights will guide you home (Tokoyami Fumikage X Reader) PART 4 (FINALE)

HA!! IT’S DONE NOW!!! I DID IT!! I FINALLY DID THIS ONE DONE!!! ENJOY YOU GUYS!!

PART 4 to : https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/612457838380515328/lights-will-guide-you-home-tokoyami-fumikage-x

Taglist: @shimy-deko​​, @teerama​​

Summary: You and Tokoyami finally have a talk about everything that’s happened.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you

He wanted to move, he should have moved but something kept him rooted to the spot even as your own (E/C) eyes went wide and a surprised squeak left you once your eyes met and neither one of you could move. Oh Gods no, this was the last thing Tokoyami wanted to be in the same room alone with you after everything he did to you, after all of the horrors he put you through. No, he needed to get out of here now…

“Tokoyami.” And he nearly froze as soon as you called his name because something in your mind just forced you to call out for him so you could finally have some closure with your friend, but he couldn’t do it.

He turned away so he wouldn’t have to see your face and already began to walk in the opposite direction and go back to his room. “Tokoyami…!” You whisper-yelled since it was night-time. After all you couldn’t just yell out for him because your classmates were more than likely asleep and you didn’t want to wake them, or let Iida know you were still awake.

Tokoyami didn’t listen to you though, he certainly heard you, but he didn’t listen, he just wanted to get away from you. “Hey…! Tokoyami!” Your whisper turned into more of a hiss because him ignoring you was starting to get on your nerves as you got up from the couch to go and follow him. “I’m calling you…!”

He clenched his fists as he tried to swallow down the guilt creeping up in his throat, not just from everything but the fact that he was ignoring you too but it was your own good. He was a horrible friend, he hurt you and it put you through such nightmarish trauma that he couldn’t forgive himself for it at all.

“Tokoyami…! Dammit! You’re not even gonna talk to me?!” You went from annoyed to slightly pissed off as it turned into a chase when the raven began to speed-walk away from you and still held his tongue.

‘(Y/N) wants to talk…! Talk to her!’

Dark Shadow then began to shout at him from the inside, even though Tokoyami still wasn’t talking to him so he ignored him too.

“This is getting old! Stop avoiding me like some kind of monster!” You called just a little bit louder as you caught up and reached out to grab his shoulder.

“I’m the monster you should be avoiding!” Finally, Tokoyami actually spoke to you, although it was more of a hushed yell as he finally stopped in his tracks, fists still clenched as he kept his gaze away from you and didn’t even see you widen your eyes. Although it made sense, you knew that’s why he was avoiding you…

“Just… stop it (L/N)… just leave me alone…” The raven’s cold mutter sounded more like a beg as your eyebrows furrowed a little bit.

“But… why…?”

“Because! You… you and I… it just doesn’t work. You are light, and I am the darkness… it could never work… haven’t you learned that by now? We are the antithesis to one another… so we can’t just act like we can be friendly with one another after everything that’s happened. It’s just proof that it doesn’t work… we should just… leave each other alone… it’s better that way. Light and dark are opposites for a reason… it’s why we need to be away from each other. We can’t be friends anymore...” He almost shakily insisted and explained himself, even though he had missed you terribly ever since the incident and he didn’t mean any of that. Tokoyami just had to try and get you to get away from him so he won’t hurt you again…

It WAS better this way.

Except you didn’t think so. No fucking way, in fact just hearing him say all of that made you mad as hell as you glared at him and didn’t dare tear up. 

“That is a crock of shit and you know it. Antithesis to each other? So fucking what…? Nuh uh, you’re not getting away from me anymore bird boy, you’re coming with me.” Not wanting to beat around the bush you grabbed his arm to drag him to your room and made him gasp in shock.

“S-Stop… please… don’t…” Tokoyami shook his head, even though he was letting himself be partially dragged because you weren’t putting up with it anymore. “I’m sorry all right? But just come with me… all right?” You sighed as you started to feel bad for being so forceful but you really just wanted to talk to him about all of this. You couldn’t stand seeing him so sad…

Tokoyami still wanted to avoid you, but he knew there was no escaping this as he reluctantly complied and found himself in your room but he still couldn’t bring himself to actually face you.

You decided that you should be patient, after all, he was just really upset about it despite what his stoic demeanor implied.

“I know what’s wrong Tokoyami… and I get it… but come on, you can’t just ignore me forever, I thought we were friends… why would you say all of that? Why would you suggest that we not be friends anymore? Unless… you meant what you said? You really don’t want to be friends anymore? If so then... fine... I’ll just go back to missing you like I did in the hospital...” You teared up a little bit, hating that you had to ask that, but you needed to get him to stop hiding from you and to stop letting this consume him.

Your question hit him hard as his eyes widened. Any tears that he’d been holding in for the past week were making their presence known but he forced them back even though his vision started to blur. Cursing his emotions, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking what his aching heart told him to say.

“Of course, I still want to be friends…” Trembling ever so slightly, he kept his fists clenched because he wasn’t going to get emotional. He wasn’t going to let himself be reduced to some kind of blubbering child. He already had no control over his own quirk, he wasn’t going to let himself lose control over his emotions.

“We missed you (L/N)! We missed you so much! I missed you so much!”

Despite his host not speaking to him, Dark Shadow couldn’t just let him torment himself like this and possibly risk your friendship, so he spoke up as you gasped a bit once you saw the shadow again for the first time. Only he was the way he normally was, smaller, harmless and sweet but he looked… just as sad as Tokoyami…

“You are not allowed to speak! Get out of here!”

As soon as his shadow made an appearance, Tokoyami quickly scolded him and demanded him to leave as you swore you heard the poor thing whimper. “Tokoyami… don’t be mean to him.” You couldn’t stand for that, while you understood why he was upset with his shadow, it’s not like the creature could help it.

“B-But… (L/N)…”

Oh who was he kidding? Tokoyami knew his shadow wasn’t to blame, it was his own fault, he lost control and it enabled Dark Shadow to go on a rampage in the first place. He just wanted to blame him because he couldn’t live with himself knowing that you got hurt because of his weakness.

“Because of me… Dark Shadow… hurt you… because I couldn’t control him, and it nearly killed you… and then you…” His voice was almost as low as a whisper, a tremor in his voice as he clutched at his feathery head in frustration with himself, “Had to go through such a hellish ordeal… all because of me… it’s all my fault, all of it…” Shutting his eyes to will back the tears he came down to his knees which prompted you to go down with him so you could comfort him somehow.

“You can’t do that to yourself Tokoyami… you can’t blame yourself for something that turned into an entire shitshow, I mean how were we even supposed to predict what could happen? Everything just got so crazy so you can’t just blame yourself for what happened to me.” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you tried to reassure him but he shook his head, hating himself even more for the tears streaming down his tightly shut eyes. Great, now he couldn’t even control himself, he really is the worst…

“I hurt you! I lost control and I hurt you (Y/N)! Everything you went through is… because of me!” He raised his voice because he had no control, and it just made him wish he was dead because he was disgusted with himself. Your (E/C) eyes welled with tears when he used your name for the first time, and when you heard the agony in his tone. You quietly gasped and tried not to cry, but you couldn’t help it, your tears slowly dripped down your cheeks for him.

“Fumikage…” You used his name for once as you shook your head sadly and pulled him into a hug, which just made him sob as he tried to pull away but you wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t get out. You weren’t going to let him feel this way anymore…

“You didn’t mean to hurt me…” Softly you whispered as you listened to him cry and pulled him closer to you, “But I still hurt you!” He argued with you through his tears which just made you burst into your own tears.

“I don’t care! I mean what I’m saying Fumi, It’s okay!” You exclaimed tearfully, even though he just cried a little bit harder, “No it’s not!”

“Please… listen to me, it was NOT your fault!”

“Yes it was!”

Tokoyami shook his head as he sobbed and you only held onto him tighter as you softly sobbed, “Oh Fumi…” You raised a hand to run it through his soft feathers so you could console him, caressing through the fluffiness as you gently hushed him. “Shhhhh…”

He didn’t pull away even though he felt like he didn’t deserve any of your comfort or affection as he quietly cried and let you hug him. You felt so warm he couldn’t help but lean into your hug as he felt himself shiver when you ran a hand through his feathers. The affection felt so nice that he craved more of it, even if he was still disappointed in himself because he just couldn’t get over how he hurt you.

“I’m... I’m so sorry...” He felt so pitiful, crying like a child and clinging to you like one, his apology sounding so meek but he’d been wanting to say those words since you first got hurt. 

And you could hear his cries slowly quieting down, save for the occasional little sniffle as you rocked him gently and sighed, “It’s all okay... it’s okay... I’m here Fumikage. I’m right here… yes… I got hurt.” There was no denying that, but you didn’t want him to feel bad about it, “But I’m still here aren’t I? I am… I’m right here hugging you, and I’m here telling you that it’s not your fault, and it’s not Dark Shadow’s fault either. What happened was nothing any of us could control…”  You said to him calmly and sincerely as the raven heard you out and no longer argued with you because he was… so comfortable in your arms.

“It was an accident… all of it… and I forgive you Fumikage. I forgive you. And I forgive Dark Shadow… it was bleak that night, so dark and dim that I didn’t think I’d find my way back to you guys… but I did. I remembered, I remembered you guys, and I let that new light bring me back home so I can see you again…” With a soft smile you thought fondly of all your friends and of Tokoyami. Yes you were frightened and distraught, but what made you force yourself to run back here was the memory of the people you loved. The memory of Tokoyami, you just wanted to see him again so badly, and now here you were, finally home with him.

Tokoyami let out an almost silent gasp as soon as you said that you forgave him, how and why he’ll never know, but it gave him hope for a moment as he slowly, slowly picked himself up to look over at you finally. And he perked up slightly when he felt your hand graze over his feathery cheeks to wipe away his tears, “And don’t be mad at your quirk… that’s just his nature. It’s not something you can completely control yet, and that’s not your fault or his fault. I mean we’re not experts… I don’t blame you for that, and you shouldn’t blame Dark Shadow for that either… he’s a part of you. You can’t hate a part of yourself.”

You spoke softly as he slowly blinked, but heeded your words as he sadly glanced at Dark Shadow peeking out from his chest. He did feel terrible for being so cold to his quirk, but he was so upset that he took it out on him. It was wrong though, he knew it was…

“Dark Shadow… I’m sorry… I… never should have treated you the way I did… you didn’t do anything wrong, everything that happened… I took it out on you but… I really shouldn’t have so… I am truly sorry…” After a while of uncomfortable silence, he finally apologized to his shadow with a shaking voice, even brought his hand out to give him a little apologetic pat on the head as he could practically hear him purring.

“I forgive you Fumikage… it’s not your fault… and, (Y/N) I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for what I did…”

Even though Tokoyami forgave him, he still didn’t really forgive himself for hurting you and you could see the shadow’s tears as he cried, no doubt because he was just as sad and torn up inside as his master was.

“Oh Dark Shadow…” You warmly smiled at the shadow and lovingly patted him on the head and you could practically see him blushing, “It’s okay… it’s all okay now I promise…you didn’t do anything wrong, neither of you did.” A tear streamed down your cheek as you didn’t stop smiling at the sweet creature and Dark Shadow couldn’t help but curl up around your shoulder for more head pats akin to a needy puppy as you giggled happily.

“Okay Dark Shadow that’s enough…” But this made Tokoyami feel a little bit embarrassed and just slightly, very slightly jealous that his shadow was getting all of this attention.

“Sweet shadow… you really are a soft, adorable creature…” You didn’t seem to pick up on this though, and continued to be affectionate to the shadow and you even gave him a kiss on the top of his head and you could hear him giggling and Tokoyami cringed a bit.

“Give (Y/N) her space now Dark Shadow…” Oh that was it, he called back his giggly and blushing shadow because now he was just pushing it.

“Awwww meanie…” Dark Shadow pouted and whined a little bit but didn’t disobey Tokoyami as he retreated back into him while you were just giggling.

As adorable as that was and as much as you wanted to ask Tokoyami if you could keep petting Dark Shadow, you knew that would probably just annoy him so you didn’t, “Um…” As soon as you spoke though Tokoyami paid his full attention to you which just made you nervous.

“R-Right I… I also wanted to say this Fumikage… i-it’s about what you said… about us being opposites and whatnot…” Mumbling shyly you didn’t see Tokoyami look mildly ashamed of what he had said. He didn’t even truly mean that, he just thought that saying those words would turn you away from him so he couldn’t hurt you again.

In hindsight that was a really stupid move to do, not to mention, pardon his French, a real dick move to do too.  

“Look… it’s true… we are light and dark, but the truth is… I really don’t care that your powers are related to the dark and that makes us total opposites… I still like you Fumi, I still really like you... it’s… why I wanted to come back to you so badly…”

Your damp cheeks started to burn once you realized how blunt that might have sounded, but you might as well confess. After almost dying, it made you realize that you only live once and that you should do things you wanted to do before something happens and you can no longer do those things.

And Tokoyami gasped more audibly this time, did he hear you right? Did you really say that you liked him? But then he just went silent once it all started to sink in. Someone liked him? More importantly, the person he liked, liked him back?

However, he almost didn’t realize how incredibly awkward the atmosphere became once he stopped speaking and didn’t make any noise whatsoever as you blushed even darker, “Um… I’m sorry I just… thought you ought to know I… really do like you though Fumikage… I wanted to tell you for a while but… for some reason I wasn’t able to…” Averting your eyes a little bit, your voice turned much more bashful and you couldn’t see Tokoyami’s feathers starting to fluff up as his face burned so hot he thought he was going to overheat.

“Fumikage likes you too (Y/N)!”

He wasn’t speaking so Dark Shadow chimed in just to make you feel less awkward as you perked up when you saw the shadow again, “D-Dark Shadow! D-Don’t say that!” Tokoyami blushed even harder as he scolded his shadow once again, but this was much less out of anger and more out of embarrassment.

“C’mon! Stop hiding it already! Just tell her you like her! I like her too! She deserves to know!”

The shadow put up a surprisingly good argument as you couldn’t help but giggle even though your face was going totally aflame the more Dark Shadow said that your crush liked you back.

“A-All right! Just… please stop…” Tokoyami was so embarrassed, he DID want to tell you but his shadow went and ruined it…

“Is that true…?” You asked with a shy tone and Tokoyami felt just as shy, if not shyer and incredibly nervous as he found himself unable to look at you again. “…yes…” After a moment of silence, he finally admitted it.

“I like you too (Y/N)… I’m… I’m in love with you…” Using your first name for the first time, he put his heart out so you could hear it. Dark Shadow was right, you did deserve to know and especially after everything you had been through. No more hiding from you.

“I’ve been content in the darkness for the longest time, even as a child I was accustomed to the dark, I flourished in it and thought that it was simply what I was meant to be. A man, a hero of darkness, that’s all I believed. Meeting you was like seeing the sun for the first time, blinding at first but then I could see the beauty in it. I could see the beauty in other things I didn’t see before. You were kind, you were comforting, even when I was still just a shadowy figure in your bright life, you looked at me, not once did you turn away or wince in fear. Every moment we spent together, I would look into your eyes and each time I could see a glimpse of paradise. You are the light that brightens up my gloomy life of darkness, the light that gave me hope that even a creature like me could deserve that kind of light…”

Tokoyami bore his soul out to you, everything he felt about you as he looked at you tenderly with sincere eyes and your own (E/C) eyes were wide and glistening as your heartbeat raced so fast you could hear it each time he spoke a word. He sounded like such a poet, like one of those romantics you read about and you felt even more in love with him as your smile grew more tearful.

Yet the first thing that left your throat was an excited giggle, which… immediately made Tokoyami flinch and blush horribly in embarrassment, “Wow… did you rehearse all of that Shakespeare?” You couldn’t help but tease him JUST a little bit and you snickered even more when Tokoyami was at a complete loss for words and all he could do was stammer…

“I-I… I…”

Oh Fates murder him now, that was corny even for HIS standards…

However, his eyes went wide and he flinched once again as soon as he felt you suddenly just hug him so tightly as he let out a squeak that you swore sounded like a chirp. “I’m sorry… you have no idea how touched I am… that’s the sweetest, most beautiful thing anyone has EVER said to me…” You sounded much more serious, much more touched as you hugged him even tighter.

“And I return your feelings Fumi… despite everything… I still think there’s beauty in the darkness… and you are that beauty. You are what makes the dark so elegant and beautiful to me.” You confessed your own feelings for him with a soft, warm tone as Tokoyami’s eyes widened and he couldn’t even feel the fresh tears slowly roll down his slightly matted, feathered cheeks.

Heartfelt, he hugged you back just as tightly and resisted the urge to sob out of joy as he could feel the happiness overwhelm and fill his once hollow soul. And you tightened your arms around him as he silently cried, and you felt his tears dripping slightly into your shirt, his beak resting upon your shoulder, his arms around you and pulling you close while you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

Never have you felt safer and warmer in your life before, and never had Tokoyami felt so secure and loved in his life before. You truly were the light in his life.

Unfortunately, not all good things can last…

“I love you too (Y/N)!!”

Dark Shadow gladly joined in the hug, putting his large claws around you and Tokoyami and nuzzling your cheek as you perked up and laughed, “Awww how can I forget about you Dark Shadow…? I love you too…” You grinned and didn’t hesitate to give him yet another kiss on his beak.

Much to Tokoyami’s immense annoyance as he tried not to grumble or look as irritated as he felt. He knew it was fair though, Dark Shadow was capable of feeling love too and he very much loved you too so it wasn’t really a ruined moment. He deserved to be a part of this just as much.

However, you started to blush quite heavily when you realized that you said the ‘L’ word, love… and you were so glad Tokoyami didn’t really notice, but you were also so glad that he now knew how you felt about him and how much you adored him. Although you did notice that he started to look a little bit awkward once the two of you slowly and reluctantly pulled away without much to say…

“Are you… gonna stay the night?” You found yourself asking and outright saying the lyrics from that song ‘Stay The Night’ by Zedd, and Tokoyami nearly flinched at the thought, him? Stay the night…?

‘Ooooooh~! Stay the night?! Sure! I wanna stay the night it’s late anyway!’

Dark Shadow practically answered for him even though he quickly hushed him as his entire face burned so hot he could feel all the feathers on his face standing when he heard you giggling…

“Hee-hee… oh really? Perfect… because you know… I never got to watch The Cabin in The Woods with you…” You were already in your room, it was late, you had your TV in here and there wasn’t much to do since you couldn’t really sleep although Tokoyami did look quite flustered at the thought of spending time with you in this forbidden garden of yours…

Oh he just realized that he was not supposed to be in here, and yet you weren’t kicking him out, hell you were suggesting that he stay? He wondered as he glanced at you shyly, nervously as you shyly giggled. “I remember saying that we should discuss which of your classmates would be certain archetypes in horror movies but… I don’t know if that’s in poor taste anymore given what happened but… let’s watch it yeah? Dark Shadow has a point… it’s late and… well I… kinda don’t wanna be alone to be honest…” God you felt like an idiot as you blushed even harder especially when Tokoyami was just looking at you, just as awkward and shy as you were but he didn’t dare turn that down.

“Y-Yes actually… I would like that very much. I was… looking forward to that the first time, so… I would be more than happy to stay the night…” His face was still burning but he gladly accepted your offer because part of him (not just Dark Shadow) wanted to stay the night with you. Besides, after a week of avoiding you he’d say you more than deserved this.

You couldn’t help but grin and beam when he said ‘yes’ and already you perked up and got up to find the DVD somehow with a chipper ‘All right~!’ as you looked over the DVD’s you had because you still liked to use DVD’s when online streaming failed you. Besides DVD’s were STILL cool no matter what anyone said.

“Make yourself comfy~.” You sang-songed too as you sat on your bed and offered an extremely flustered Tokoyami to sit down next to you, and he felt as stiff as a corpse as he nervously made his way over to sit next to you. It felt so nerve-wracking and yet exciting to be sitting next to you even as he watched this movie that never got old.

That kind of took away some of the nerves a little bit as you smiled and giggled at one of the jokes made by Marty. Although, you decided to surprise Tokoyami a little bit once he had his eyes on the screen. Puckering up your lips you gave him a little kiss on the side of his beak which made him nearly jump as his entire face felt like it caught fire…

You threw your hand to your mouth to stop yourself from snickering and laughing out loud when he froze up with wide eyes akin to a deer in headlights. “Uh oh… earth to Fumikage…? Ooh look it’s my favorite part with Mordecai and the speaker phone…” Trying to get his attention you tapped him on the shoulder a bit to snap him out of his kiss-induced stupor.

He shook a little bit once he regained his composure although he wasn’t amused by how you were grinning at him, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t really like that. No… he loved it.

“Forgive me.” And Tokoyami apologized for freezing up like that which just made you shake your head, “Nothing to forgive.” You said sweetly as you reassured him by placing your hand gently above his as he perked up ever so slightly at the softness of your fingers on his knuckles.

His flustered look softening as the two of you shared a tender gaze before turning your eyes back to the movie, hands never leaving each other as the TV screen kept the dark room lit just for you and him.

Yes, you were light, he was dark, but that’s why they say to ‘light up the darkness’ and there will be clarity to appreciate the beauty of the dark.

You felt less afraid of the dark now because of Tokoyami, and Tokoyami didn’t have much to fear about himself anymore either because you were his light.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you...

[joyfulsongbird]

Bruises And All- Chapter 4

Persephone didn’t expect a girl to be in the house with her brother and his godson, but she’ll be damned if she lets her get away without opening up a tiny bit.

***

PERSEPHONE allows herself a couple of hours before getting worried about the storm. she’d said to herself, over and over, it’ll pass over soon enough. the ocean can only be upset for so long. but as the hours creep by and she realizes that her mark for checking up on her brother and nephew is growing steadily closer, her worry grows and grows and grows until it is taking over her body. forcing her feet into her flower patterned rain boots, putting on layers on layers to make sure her bottom layer doesn’t get soaked and she doesn’t get sick. as she does all of this, her nagging husband tries to convince her to stay back.

“Hermes is a smart man, he’ll take care of himself and that boy of his. it’s dangerous out there.” he follows on her heels as she searches around their house for a hat to use.

“you forget, Hades,” she remarks while searching a closet. “that I care about people more than I care about myself. I’m going to check up on my family. you can come if you wish.”

she knows he’s going to tag along. he loves her too much to let her trudge through a hurricane by herself.

hearing his large sigh as, he too, gets his rain things together and stuffs his boots with another pair of socks Persephone is quite sure she’s going to hear about this tomorrow when they are both bedridden and sick from the wet and the cold. she’s ready to head out long before he’s ready. his moves sluggish as Persephone leans against the door.

“Hades, this is serious. they live close to the water, we don’t know how flooded it is!”

“I know, I know.”

when finally, finally they both have their things together and can get out the door, she rushes out the door with a fervor of someone on a mission. she has a goal and she’s going to get there, storm be damned, ocean be damned, she’s going to check on her nephew and her brother even if mother nature decides to turn its forces against her. she’s going to get there even if it takes hours to maneuver through the storm.

Hades’ holds her hand tightly as they fight against the scarily strong winds, flips her hair around, gets into every crevice of her skin, into every piece of fabric on her body. she’s shivering already and they’ve only been outside for barely two minutes.

“Seph!” Hades calls from behind her. “turn back! wait until it passes!”

“not today!” she calls back, tugging on his hand harder and pulling him forward through the wind and rain. the water, combined with the speed of the wind, feels like little knives digging against her cheek but just like almost all of her decisions, she is motivated by love and passion. she is going to get there, even if it takes her days to do it, she’s going to get there dammit. she’ll push through mud, trudge through the forest for hours, swim across an ocean, to get to her family.

“there! right there!” Hades yells. “I can see a light!”

they veer a tight left turn and there it is, the bar with golden light streaming from its windows, making slots of light where she can see the torrential rain pouring buckets over the ground. she can barely feel it anymore, can barely feel her fingers despite her gloves, can feel the tip of her nose going numb.

Hades places a hand on her back, steering her closer to the door. she pushes away from him, whipping her soaking hair around her shoulder so that it nearly hits him. nearly. and raises her fist to knock on the door, before she can, however, the door whips open and there’s the boy’s silhouette casting a shadow through golden hazy bar light.

“Lady Persephone!” his voice, the normal quality of it slightly changed for some reason but wholly the same pitch and the same tone, welcoming them both inside the open arms. “come inside, please, you’re soaked to the skin.”

Persephone, wiping water from her eyes, steps inside the warmth of the bar. followed closely by Hades. she begins peeling off her layers of soaked coats, shaking her hair of the little droplets of water that have yet to fall off or soak in.

“how did you come all this way? why did you come all this way?” Orpheus asks as he takes her first layer from her arms.

“I was worried about the two of-”

she stops. it seems she’s mistaken for saying that there are two of them in this house. because there, leaning against a table not too far away from where Orpheus signature guitar leans, is a girl. a girl with bruises that Persephone can already make out from this distance. over the years, she’s learned to pick out people with hurt. working at a children’s mental hospital, she’s grown horrifyingly acute at picking these children apart from one look. she tries to stop herself but one look at this girl with bruises and bumps and bones sticking out every which way and ribs most definitely showing under the baggy shirt that does not belong to her, Persephone knows that there is so much hurt buried in her.

she tries to tell herself that she won’t pull her aside to talk about it, but as Orpheus guides Persephone and her husband farther inside, closer to the girl, she knows she will. she will not be able to let this go, knowing that someone has hurt her this deeply. that if Persephone doesn’t say something soon, she’ll never get the chance because oh, this girl is a runner. when this storm blows over? she’ll be gone like a shot. she sees herself in her, sees the fear, sees the want to get out and go. and knowing herself, this girl will not be around for much longer.

Hermes comes a-stomping down the stairs, interrupting the conversation that had begun to slow. conveniently attracting Persephone’s away from the girl and onto her brother.

“Hermes! thank the gods!” she throws an arm around him after meeting him halfway from the stairs. “we came to check up on you guys-”

“she was very worried.” Hades drawls.

“shush.” Persephone scolds. “and the power went out at our place anyways.”

“well, Orpheus just fixed up the furnace downstairs so our place should be pretty toasty for at least a couple of hours. can I fix up anything for you all? we have some cider that I can warm up.” Hermes says, keeping the conversation fluid and warm feeling.

“that sounds wonderful, thank you.” Persephone replies. “Hades?”

“I’m good but thank you.” just like Hades, has he ever accepted a drink in a house besides his own? that’s a conversation for later, but she files it back to where she can access it later and ask him.

“Orpheus?”

“I’d love some, thanks.”

“and what about you, dear?”

the only person left in the room doesn’t lift her head, doesn’t acknowledge her being referenced. Persephone’s heart aches, it aches so badly that she wants to reach out and grab this girls flushed face with her two hands. wants to brush her hair and kiss her cheeks. she’s felt maternal instincts before, working with children can do that to you, but never before has she wanted so desperately to comfort someone who doesn’t even seem to be in terrible distress.

she reminds Persephone too much of a younger version of herself.

she wants to do to her what Persephone wishes someone would’ve done for her at that age.

and before Persephone can reach out, say something like “I think he’s talking to you hon” Orpheus is there. bumping his fist against her arm very gently. it’s a small but meaningful touch, and Persephone notices one very important fact right away: she does not pull away, nor does flinch at his touch when she realizes that it is him who has touched her. details, details. so much to unpack.

“yes?” she looks up, short, not terse, but practically on edge.

“cider?” Hermes holds up an empty mug.

“oh, no thank you, I’m alright.” she shakes her head, black frizzy waves falling in front of her face for a moment.

Hermes hesitates before starting to fill up a couple of cups of cider behind the bar. “sit down, I’ll be there momentarily.”

they drag chairs to fill all of them around one small round table, leaving one open for Hermes to sit in. the silence falls over them in waves, the occasional deep breath in or out breaks the spell, but one person has to spark something to talk about. unfortunately, Hades is the one to do that.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he says, addressing the girl. “what’s someone like you doing in these parts?”

she doesn’t have trouble identifying that she’s being spoken to this time. she made that mistake once, she will be careful with her words now. “oh, I was just traveling and got caught in the storm. Mister Hermes is a kind man. agreed to let me stay here until it blows over.”

she’s a good liar. that’s for certain.

“traveling where? not much farther before you hit the ocean, just past the town actually.” Hades interrogation mode is on, he leans forward in his seat, leaning his elbows against the table.

“nowhere certain. I wasn’t planning on going to school so I thought, why not? before I settle down, get a job and such, might as well get out and about. this is a pretty landscape, I can’t wait to see it more when the storm is gone.” her voice is almost robotic, but not so obviously so that if someone wasn’t good at detecting it, they wouldn’t notice. she’s had experience lying, probably told this same lie dozens of times.

“so you’re planning on staying then?” Hades asks, quirking one eyebrow.

“Oh, I-I- um...” her lie comes to a strict halt at the idea of making future plans, so does her fake confidence.

“you don’t have to answer that, it’s okay.” Orpheus speaks up for the first time in this conversation. he’s not usually this defensive, doesn’t usually stand up to Hades like this. Persephone is proud of him. “the storm could end tonight or in a week or longer, we- we really don’t know.”

Orpheus gives the girl a shy smile (which she doesn’t return) and Persephone can tell there’s something there, something blooming and it hurts her to watch. the girl is going to run before Orpheus can even get a word out about his feelings. she’ll run from something like that even if there’s still a storm brewing outside, the storm brewing inside is worse.

Hermes arrives with cups of cider in his hands, he passes them around the table. one for Persephone, one for Orpheus, one for himself that he leaves at his open seat, and one that he slides across the table to the girl.

she glances from it to him. “I don’t need-”

“warm yourself, dear.” that’s all he says before looking away and not giving her another look or word on that matter.

But Persephone just sits in wait, waiting for the girl to get up and leave and give her an opening to talk to her.

she doesn’t have to wait long. she practically knows this girls mind, their tickers work so similar.

“I’m going to,” she stands up, wiping her hands on the fabric on the pants she’s wearng. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Persephone waits exactly five seconds before getting up and following without an explanation for the rest of them.

she expects her to be sitting in an enclosed room or behind a bookshelf but no, she sits just out of the way of the stairs, just out of view of those downstairs. probably close enough to hear them. her hands rub across her face, as if she’s trying to wake herself up.

Persephone holds a hand. “c’mere, I wanna talk to you.”

the girl lifts her head to meet Persephone’s eyeline, face shrouded in darkness, eyes covered in a faint layer of apprehension.

“what?”

“we’ll put a cold compress on those bruises of yours, and for the love of the gods, stop rubbing at yours eyes and get some sleep.” the girl blinks at her stark words, Persephone pulls no punches and doesn’t plan on stopping for this girl. if anything, she’s being more forward with her than she would be with someone else completely normal.

to Persephone’s surprise, the girl reaches up and takes her hand, pulling herself up very quickly and letting go of her hand just as fast.

Persephone can hear her footsteps following her, she doesn’t doubt for a second that when she turns around when they get to the bathroom that she’ll be there. and she’s right, the girl awkwardly leans against the doorway as Persephone’s turns on the faucet and throws a hand towel in with the flow of water.

“close the door please.” Persephone requests, without thinking.

“can we leave the door open?” she asks, hands twitching at her sides. “please?”

“oh, oh of course.” Persephone remembers how a long time ago, she didn’t like enclosed spaces either. and despised them when she was in a small space with another person. in this small bathroom, she would’ve looked for whatever weapons were available, would’ve looked for any way out. it’s another reminder at how similar these two women are, or rather, a woman and a girl. two sides of the same coin, essentially, sewed from the same cloth. different, but the same. Persephone desperately wants to know her story but holds back her questions and concerns. she’ll never admit anything if she’s being pestered.

“here, press this to your neck.” she hands her the wrung out hand towel. “it’ll help the bruises to go away quicker and help with whatever pain your feeling.”

“thank you.” the girl says softly, movements slow and unsure as if at any moment Persephone might turn around and snap the cloth at her instead of hand it over.

“anything else bothering you?”

“no, I’m fine.” she insists, carefully pressing the compress over one side of her neck. “how- how do you know all this?”

“if I’m a good guesser, which I am,” Persephone leans back against the sink, her fingers curling around the smooth tile. “I’d say I was like you, dear.”

the girl’s lips part slightly with surprise, just barely letting out the small audible breath of what seems like relief. an understanding passes between them. you’re like me, I’m like you, we understand one another.

and Persephone throws out her first question, hoping it’s a soft ball that she can actually get an answer out of. “how old are these bruises?”

she brushes hair out of her face, pushing her bangs back a little. all to avoid her eyeline again. “about a day.”

Persephone nods. “did you go right after or did you wait until night?”

“why are you-”

“please, just answer the question.”

she licks her lips. “I-I waited. until it was dark.”

“good.” she nods slowly. she isn’t sure if she should risk a more difficult question, a question that might actually reveal something about her.

“can you tell me who did this to you? your brother, father, sister, mother, friend, boyfriend? anybody.”

she can practically feel the girl shrink back into herself, what little of herself that she had put on display is now closed into a little tiny box and the key is thrown away. the words are written clearly on her face: no, that’s too close.

“it doesn’t matter who.” she switches the cold compress to the other side of her neck.

“it definitely matters, no matter what you tell yourself or what other people tell-”

“stop talking like that.” she interrupts. “just- stop. I don’t want to be picked apart, okay?”

“okay, I’m sorry.” Persephone says softly, turning away. “my husband is a jackass, don’t listen to a word that he says.”

“he- he’s really... eccentric, isn’t he?” she gives a half smile. a smile to convince that everything is real, and she’s okay. “why do you stay with him if he’s a jackass?”

“because I love him. and he isn’t a bad person; he just doesn’t know what words come out of his mouth sometimes.” Persephone holds out her hand, palm up. “can I see that towel?”

she tentatively hands it over, Persephone wets it again, this time with warm water. “you have dirt all over your face... may I?”

“no.” she grabs the cloth from her and goes to the mirror, starting to wipe at the dirt the almost stains her cheeks and face. as if its been there so long that it can’t come off, that she has to keep tearing through layers and layers of skin to try to clean herself. “are you a mom? is that why you keep trying to mother me?”

“I can’t have children.”

her hand stills mid-wipe, “oh.”

“I’m just trying to help, hon.” Persephone says quietly, observing the girl’s quivering head, holding so still that her whole little body seems to be trembling under the effort.

there’s a long pause, far too long than for either women’s liking but finally, the girl speaks up, her voice softer than before. far less intruding and loud than before.

“My mother always said she wished she couldn’t have children,” she says. “she’d say ‘Eurydice, as soon as you were born, I knew I hated children’. she had four more after, for some reason.”

“my mother was pretty similar, if I have any say.” Persephone says.

the girl- eurydice- chuckles under breath, “mothers.”

“they don’t define us, we don’t have to be like them.” Persephone comes to stand closer to the sink, not touching her but wanting to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and tell her that she isn’t who she has always been attached to, who she has always been compared to. she understands the feeling, of wanting to be different, of wanting to be somebody unexpected, somebody memorable.

for a moment, seriousness seeps out from where it lies in her eyes and settles on her face. the mask falls away for the tiniest, briefest second and they meet eyes.

“thank you.” and it feels genuine. these few moments stuck in a bathroom, away from the chaos of downstairs and the memories in their head are full of genuine feeling for almost the first time.

***

thank you for making it to the end!! i Love You!! send me an ask with your favorite part!

[teenwolftalk]

Frame this photo and put it in a museum (source: shadow and bone’s twitter)