#why? because that came to my head instead of another word for ‘cliff’

[eemoo1o-animoo]

Somewhere, in an alternate universe, Grelle Sutcliff wears blue

[happy74827]

And… Action?

[Colt Seavers x Actress!Reader]

Synopsis: In which a minor… stunt caused the meeting of the stuntman himself who always seemed too busy, too focused, and too far away {GIF Creds: fleursial}

WC: 1121

Category: Mega Fluff, Suggestive Ending?

Why is there still so little of Colt?? I don’t understand it 😭

『••✎••』

It wasn’t unusual for you to find yourself staring at Colt Seavers from across the set. You liked him, liked the mysterious presence he displayed. Sure, half of it was because you never had the courage to approach him, despite how friendly he was with the rest of the cast and crew, but he always seemed so busy. Plus, your character never needed to interact with the stunt crew so you didn’t have a reason to walk across the lot. And even if you had, your scenes wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes anyway.

However, when the very last scene of the day was called, everything changed for the better. You were moments away from leaving the set, having already said goodbye to almost everyone else, with the feeling you weren't going to see Seaver ever again.

Until he bumped into you, quite literally.

You let out a surprised gasp, almost dropping your script as you stumbled backward, but a pair of strong hands were quick to steady you by your arms.

"I am so sorry, miss… woah," he said as he looked down at you, taking in your face for the first time, his hands still resting on your upper arms. You felt yourself go red, suddenly unable to look him in the eye and instead opting for looking anywhere but.

"No, no, it was my fault; I should have watched where I was going," you said.

He shook his head and released his hold on you. "You’re… man, you are really beautiful," he said.

"What?" you asked, surprised.

"I mean—uh, you were really beautiful… out there! On set, you know," he corrected himself, and you swore you saw a faint blush form across his cheeks.

You bit your lip and finally found the courage to meet his gaze. "I appreciate the compliment."

"Yeah, no problem. How come I’ve never seen you around here before?" he asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head in curiosity.

That right there… it took everything in you not to melt right then and there. You could see the indentations of his biceps from under his tight-fitted jacket, the arm cross just amplifying them. It didn't help that you also just barely came up to his chest, which, while intimidating, also made him all the more attractive.

You swallowed thickly and averted your eyes. "Well, I never needed a stunt double, so…" you trailed off.

"Yeah, that’s fair. Totally get it, yeah." He clicked his tongue and nodded, looking away momentarily. Before you could turn to see what he was looking at, he squinted, looking back down at you. His hand peeled away from his arm to hover in front of you.

"Colt," he said, extending his hand. "Name's Colt Seavers… I’m kind of a big deal around here. You know, doing car crashing, rope climbing, cliff-diving stuff," he explained with a smirk.

You let out a small, quiet giggle as you reached for his hand, giving it a shake as you stated your own name. His hand was big, rough, and calloused, no doubt from years of hard work and training, but it was warm. A strong grip, but ever so gentle.

"I, uh, do the acting stuff." You repeated his words, and his smirk broke into a smile, one that nearly took your breath away.

It was then, looking at his smile, that you realized the opportunity before you.

You had to say something, had to tell him, and you weren't about to let this opportunity pass.

"I think you're pretty beautiful, too," you said, and that caught his attention, his eyebrows raising.

"You do?"

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod. "Out there… on set, I mean."

He let out a short laugh, his hands moving back to his pockets. He was sort of swaying, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. It was adorable.

Alright, you needed to do something. The fear of letting another moment like this go to waste was far too much. So many guys had slipped through your fingers because of your hesitance—a real shame, too, considering how most of them weren’t even remotely attractive.

But Colt, though…

"Listen, um… maybe I'm jumping the gun here, but would you like to—"

"Yes," his answer was nothing short of immediate. “Absolutely, yes… yeah hundred percent, yeah- yes… yes."

It took him a second, took him a long second, to realize you hadn’t even finished your question. His eyes went wide as fear evidently started to creep in.

"Shit, uh- sorry. Yeah, uh… yeah, I'm listening. You can keep going." He motioned with his hand for you to continue, and you had to suppress a smile.

Well, this is definitely promising.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime? Have dinner or something?" you suggested.

"Dinner, yeah- dinner is good. Dinner is… great. I love dinner. Dinner is, uh… dinner is great," he stammered, and you couldn't help but give him a small laugh, one that was cut off when his eyes went wide yet again.

"Sorry, I'm just… yeah, sorry, I'm just- I'm gonna… hey, can I get your number?" His question was followed by him digging into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone, which was cracked beyond belief. “Not so I can bother you or anything, not that I would- I mean unless you wanted me to bother you, I guess, which- no, sorry. Just, like, text you, I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes went wide at the state of his phone. "How does that even work?"

"I'm a pro. Just a quick swipe to the left and a few presses, and it works fine, see?" He tapped the screen a few times before opening his contacts, and he handed the phone to you. "Here."

"You know what? I'll just put it in my phone if that's okay," you said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah- absolutely," he said, nodding. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable, yeah."

You quickly punched in his numbers and sent a text, a small, simple message. One that escalated to where you were now, weeks after that dinner, his hands roaming your body as he pressed you against the door of your new and current trailer.

You should’ve known you weren’t going to run lines that day.

A stuntman running lines?

Yeah, right. He runs through scenes instead, and… this was definitely a scene.

God, how ready you were for that first take to start.

[@kcisahoe + @adeesthetic] Since you guys asked so nicely, here’s another Colt fic!! There needs to be way more out there because he’s just so… 🤭🤭

For all you Tom lovers out there, don’t worry!! I didn’t forget about you. He’s in the works so I’m praying my work/study schedule aligns with me finishing it 😅

[cowgurrrl]

Sweet Jane

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst

Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST

The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.

She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."

"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.

"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep. 

Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.

"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you. 

"I think we're safe," You say.

"For now."

"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."

"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."

"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes. 

"Kids seem to handle these things better." 

"Sam was her friend."

"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies? 

"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.

"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.

"It never came up." 

"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.

"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.

"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.

"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."

"How come I didn't know all this?"

"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."

"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"

"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."

"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.

"Ten."

"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.

"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."

"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."

"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.

"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."

"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead." 

Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?

"What was Sarah like?"

"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."

"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.

"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.

"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were. 

"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.

"I like to think so."

"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."

"You think?" You ask, and he nods. 

"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."

"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch. 

You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone. 

It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you. 

Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree. 

💫

💫

[elusivemellifluence]

I saw someone recommend Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution by R.F. Kuang as an example of a fantasy story with no romance in it, and tilted my head curiously, thinking about what radically different things a story can mean to different readers. Because when I read it, I saw a significant subplot devoted to deliciously subtle, tragically unrealised queer love story between Robin and Ramy.

It lived in unanswered questions and charged silences*. It was hard to look at, hard to understand, in a world with such rigid expectations and strict social rules. It was a forbidden love on multiple levels, between two boys who were meant to devote their hearts and minds to serving the British empire above all personal concerns, between two boys who were meant to love women if anyone at all. In a story all about the magic of words, it was unspoken, unspeakable, but still not unacknowledged. They knew, or almost knew, and were getting gradually, infinitesimally closer to someday putting words to it, if only between themselves, until Ramy died and all that possibility died with him.**

It's about being closeted. It's about meeting the first other person you've ever known who's like you. It's about inching towards something you have no roadmap for. It's about the long history of tragic homoerotic vibes between British academics. It's about the love that dare not speak its name. It's about yet another thing the Translation Institute took from Robin, that's simultaneously yet another thing the Translation Institute gave him.

It's about another thing Letty's privilege blinded her to. A white woman wanting a brown man, and killing him for rejecting her***, never seeing the reason in the same way that she never saw the racism her friends were subjected to on a daily basis. A love triangle, mirroring the one between Griffin, Sterling and Evie, though Letty didn't know it was a triangle and couldn't even imagine that Ramy might care for Robin instead or that Robin might have his own desires beyond comforting her in her heartbreak. Robin asked Ramy why he didn't dance with her, and he said Don't you know why?*. Later that night Letty wept drunkenly into Robin's shoulder, asking Why doesn't he see me?, and he knew better than to tell her the truth****.

*p. 244:

"She wants you," Robin said. ... "Very badly. So why—" "Don't you know why?" Their eyes met. Robin felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The space between them felt very charged, like the moment between lightning and thunder, and Robin had no idea what was going on or what would happen next, only that it all felt very strange and terrifying, like teetering over the edge of a windy, roaring cliff.

**p. 410

One day Robin would ask himself how his shock had turned so easily to rage; why his first reaction was not disbelief at this betrayal but black, consuming hatred. And the answer would elude and disturb him, for it tiptoed around a complicated tangle of love and jealousy that ensnared them all, for which they had no name or explanation, a truth they'd only been starting to wake up to and now, after this, would never acknowledge.

***p. 503

"I think she wanted him dead," he continued hoarsely. "You could see it on her face – she wasn't scared, she knew what she was doing, she could have aimed at any one of us, and she knew it was Ramy she wanted." "Robin ..." "She loved him, you know," he said. The words came out of him like a torrent now; the floodgates were broken, and the waters could not be stopped. No matter how devastating, how tragic, he had to say it out loud, had to burden someone else with this awful, awful suspicion. "She told me, the night of the commemoration ball – she spent nearly an hour weeping into my shoulder because she wanted to dance with him, and he wouldn't even look at her. He never looked at her, he didn't ..." He had to stop, his tears threatened to choke him.

****p. 249

"I wish he would see me," she kept repeating. "Why won't he see me?" And though Robin could think of any number of reasons – because Ramy was a brown man in England and Letty the daughter of an admiral; because Ramy did not want to be shot in the street; or because Ramy simply did not love her like she loved him, and she'd badly mistaken his general kindness and ostentatious verve for special attention, because Letty was the kind of girl who was used to, and had come to always expect, special attention – he knew better than to tell her the truth. ... He had the oddest feeling of disappearing as he spoke, of fading into the background of a painting depicting a story which must have been as old as history.

(Despite how long this ended up getting, footnotes and all, I'm not trying to argue that my interpretation is right and the 'no romance' interpretation is wrong - I love the ambiguity, and think it's genuinely fascinating how this reading jumped out so clearly to me, a bisexual who spent a significant amount of my late teens pining over my best friend while coming to terms with my sexuality, while another reader with a different perspective saw something else entirely.)

[onceazzie]

so i found a spunky au generator (find it here!) that gave me a slay idea. so, here's some pearleo for yall tumblr folks <3

"For someone who's standing face to face with a gorgon, and is about ten seconds away from being turned to stone and thrown off a cliff, you seem awfully calm," Cleo says, crossing their arms.

The newcomer-- who had introduced herself as Pearl, Pearlescent Moon-- simply shrugs, the movement lifting the large, bluish-purple wings folded across her back. "Well, I'm wearing sunglasses. You can't freeze someone with glasses, can ya?"

"That...is some sort of logic, but it doesn't really work like that."

"Why not?" Pearl smiles. "You can't see my eyes. Neither can the snakes. Problem solved, hm?"

The orange snakes that made up Cleo's hair hissed, not in malice but more in confusion. "Well, even if that were true, I'd easily be able to take your glasses and then freeze you. So make your choice."

"Ouch," Pearl mutters, shifting the bag hanging off of her shoulder before sighing and reaching for her sunglasses. "Fine! Freeze me then. You're mean."

And time seems to stop for a moment, as the woman pulls the sunglasses off her face and shields her face from the sun, before staring right into Cleo's eyes. And usually this would kill her instantly, and she would turn into one of the statues currently lining the edges of the mountaintop, but it didn't, because--

"Heh. Surprise! I am unfreezable!" Pearl grins, spreading her arms and wings, the action toppling one of Cleo's statues over the edge of the cliff. "Oh. Sorry about that."

Except Cleo can't find it in herself to care, not when this-- this being, who surely wasn't human or god or anything in between, was staring at her with what looked like an entire void hiding in the places where her eyes should've been. Stars sparkled within them, glowing and glittering, a whole universe contained within one person.

"Is it the eyes? Damn it, that's why I bring the sunglasses," Pearl huffs, wings curling around her body, a pout growing on her lips, reminiscent of a small, scolded child.

"Who...who even are you?" Cleo finally manages to say, head tilting slightly as Pearl fiddles with her sunglasses. "What are you?"

"Good question. I dunno, I was kinda born like this." Pearl shrugs. "My brother, my twin brother-- he was born as a normal kid, I guess. And then whoops! Weird void baby came right afterwards. It was pretty crazy."

The pieces were starting to fall together, Cleo realises. The bag slung over Pearl's shoulder, the sunglasses.

"They've sent you away, haven't they?" Pearl's shoulders sink as the words leave the gorgon's mouth, only solidifying their assumption. "You've been exiled...like me."

"It's fitting they'd send me here, hmm? Send me to another outcast." Pearl manages a small smile. "But, yeah. That's basically it."

Obviously, the subject what somewhat upsetting for her, so Cleo did what Cleo does.

"Oh, who would've known that the people don't appreciate an eldritch being with stars instead of eyes walking around their neighbourhood?"

Sarcasm.

But, also--

"Well. I know," Cleo says, holding out a hand. "Turns out people also don't appreciate a kid with snakes for hair freezing all the other kids to stone. So, you're safe with me."

Pearl's expression turns from sad to overjoyed in what seems to be a millisecond. "Wait, really?! Can I stay here with you?"

"I mean, if you don't take up too much roo-- hey, what are you doing? Off!"

Pearl didn't seem to hear and only squeezed Cleo harder, arms around her waist, wings covering them both. "Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best gorgon I've ever met!"

"You've met others?"

"No, but I bet you would still be the best if I ever were to meet any others!"

Cleo grunts in acknowledgement, and Pearl quickly lets go of her waist, jumping back with her wings extended, a huge beam on her face.

"I like the flowers in your hair, by the way," she says after a moment, eyes curving into a crescent smile, the stars inside them brightening. "They're really pretty. What kind are they?"

"Oh. Uh, probably...sunflowers, orchids, tulips...that kind of stuff," Cleo mumbles. "I don't really choose what grows there? They kind of just come out of my skull when they feel like it?"

The eldritch being leans in for a closer look, her form looming over Cleo's. It's...slightly intimidating. "That's so cool! I'm really excited about staying with you! We're going to be best friends!"

"No, we're not."

"We are now!"

bonus:

"Hey, Cleo! So I noticed your comfy little cave only has one bed. Mind if we share?"

The thought of sharing a bed with an actual eldritch being, not to mention one with wings that spanned the entirety of Cleo's cave, was much less than appealing to them. Except Pearl was looking at them (or-- at least perceiving them) with a hopeful beam on her face, and suddenly every rational thought left their brain as they sighed loudly. "If you even try to touch me with your wings, I will find some way to turn you to stone and throw you off this mountain."

"Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll hug you to sleep!"

"Don't you dare."

hehe hiii, it's me, azzie again! thanks for sticking around <3 if you have any requests or anything feel free to pop em into ye olde ask box! i'm happy to write for you. if it's for the life series, anyway

[sugawhaaa]

"I don't understand,"

Warnings:none

Genre:mainly fluff

Word count:1,296

Songs to listen to while reading:

A/N: so idk why but I'm really nervous to post this 💀 it's my first fanfic of a fictional character (that I'm posting at least teheheheheh) but I am working on the Jungsu and Jooyeon boyfriend Povs I promise 😭

The way of your world

Life with Xiao wasn't easy, to say the least. You had begged him day after day to train with him, it was only when you "proved" yourself would he let you into his life. When you first went to Mt. Aozang things were…odd. During training Xiao was rather harsh and unforgiving, and he didn't understand how you needed rest and sleep. The food was also quite weird and unfamiliar.

Nonetheless, things improved. Xiao got softer and more understanding, the food started tasting better and every once in a while you'd get a treat from your hometown (Xiao would usually surprise you with treats) life in the mountains started getting better. One time when training you were trying to prepare your mind, or your aura? Something like that. As you were taking deep breaths with your eyes closed the ground beneath you started shaking a little. You opened your eyes and saw you were slipping off the rock and off the cliff. Just as you started panicking Xiao grabbed your left arm and wrapped his other arm around you. He then teleported back to safe land without saying a word and you went back to training. But it was quite hard to clear your mind after that.

Another time you were sleeping in your little hut thingy (that u had to build yourself because he refused to help you build one when you first arrived) even though the hut was so horrible Xiao often sat in it with you when you sleep. It sounds creepy but he did it in a comforting way. Well until you asked him why…

"Because you might get attacked while your asleep," he said sitting down in the corner of your hut.

"Awe you do care about me!" You said in a girly voice.

"No. I just don't want the monsters go get stronger." He said as if it were nothing.

Okay so who cares, either way you have a little protector watching over you through the night. Most of the time.

"Bad dreams?"

There was one night though, his tough shell around you seemed to crack. It was late, at least 12am, and you were sleeping soundly in your bed after a long day of training. When you had a nightmare. It was gorey and horrifying. You woke because of it, you slowly sat up and scanned the room.

"Go back to sleep." Xiao said sternly. You were going to do as he said, setting your head back down on your pillow but the images of the dream kept you up.

"I can't," you whined, Xiao sighed and shook his head.

"Why?" He actually sounded a little concerned for once.

"I-I had a nightmare…" you were waiting for him to make fun of you for behaving like a child but instead he sighed and came over to you.

"I…" he paused and took a deep breath. "I understand. I understand what it feels like, I mean," he said as you snuggled up to him.

"I thought you didn't sleep?" You asked tilting a head up to him.

"Not often. But I do get these visions," he said putting his hand on the diamond on his forehead. "You could call them, memories even. Bad thoughts. With pictures," he said putting his hand over his eyes now. He then fell backward onto your second pillow. He looked so beautiful, the way his hair fell across the pillow and his arm over his head. His siren eyes barely peaked open and his face softened.

"I see," you said laying next to him.

"Sorry. I-I'm bad with words…" Xiao said looking up at the top of you makeshift hut.

"It's okay, I understand what you mean," you butterflies in your stomach at this kdrama moment you were sharing with him. You wanted to touch his hair so bad, it just looked so soft.

"Well take your time," he randomly said.

"Pardon?"

"Sleeping,"

"Come again?"

"Stay up as late as you need, just wait for those bad thoughts and images to go away," he almost cracked a smile but remained stern.

"That sounds like a goodbye,"

"Well you heard wrong. I'll be here. But training starts as usual and I'm not going easy on you just because you didn't sleep well,"

"Wow that's gonna help me sleep," you chuckled.

"It better, because it's late," and with that he got up and stood in the corner of your hut. Well Xiao is a truthful young man, he did stay there. Instead of thinking about your bad dream, you relived the romantic moment with Xiao before dozing off.

Just about a year after you had been training with Xiao there was one evening. After you ate dinner you went back into your hut that was much more liveable (thanks to Xiaos help) as you were changing your clothes Xiao opened the little curtain to get inside your hut. You turned around, shirtless, and stared at him before it hit you.

"Get out!" You yelled covering yourself. He stuttered out a sorry and left, standing outside the door waiting for you to say it was okay to come in now. You got a new shirt on and took a deep breath. "So, what do you need," you said, opening the curtain again.

"I…I just wanted to visit for a while,"

Did Xiao say just that…he actually wants to visit you?!

"Sure," you smiled and let him into your hut.

"Hm…a lot of things are different. Since I was last here I mean," he said sitting down on a little cluster of pillows which made a makeshift bean bag chair.

"Well that was a while ago now, at least a month," you chuckled.

"I like, I like the lights," he said gazing up at the fairy lights displayed on your ceiling.

"Thank you! I bought them from a little market on the outskirts of Liyue city,"

"They're pretty," he said, still looking up at them. Was that blush on his cheeks? No way. Adeptus Xiao…blushing in front of you!??!

It was already 8 o'clock and you two had been talking for basically 3 hours. There was a moment of silence.

"So…I have a question," Xiao said, looking you in the eyes. "What does love feel like?"

You laughed at his question. "What? Why are you laughing at me!" He said angrily

"Sorry, I'm sorry you're just so cute," you said, still giggling a bit. You sighed after your laughter and began explaining "I don't know how to describe love really. Being in love is different than feeling loved…so what do you want to know?"

"Both." Xiao said sternly.

"Okay when you feel loved, it's like your body's warm and toasty,"

"Like your insides are burning?"

"Xiao what? No, like when you cuddle into a warm blanket,"

"I see," he said thinking a bit about your statement

"Or just this bubbling feeling of warmth,"

"Sounds like burning in lava to me…"

You laughed at Xiao's remark and he gently smiled, the tiniest bit.

"Okay okay moving on to being in love. Being in love is like there's this magnet pulling you towards this person and once you get to them you're so happy but you don't know what to say. You didn't want to talk to them, really, you just wanted to see them, feel them, be near them," you said looking up at him in his beautiful crystal eyes that were shining right back at you.

"I understand…"

Part 2?????

[dynmghts]

@quirkthieves / cont.

A WARNING FOR: body horror (!!!!!!!!), blood (a lot of it), death, a hint of internalised homophobia if you squint. Leaning psychological mind-fuckery.

Katsuki should expect nothing less than what he gets from Monoma Neito.

A part of him considers being grateful that the bastard just sees him for who he is... Or worse, somehow, that he's quick to turn on his heel and feed into the resounding thought that'd remained in Katsuki's mind after his shadowy self disappeared. The past is dead, or it will be. Were it anyone else, he's sure they would've at least been a little more confrontational about what they just witnessed. Maybe they would wonder if it was some sick and twisted jab at his past or the sinking reality of his misdeeds.

Katsuki doesn't have to know. It's enough that the other blond brushes off the event and refocuses him on the mission ahead. "Whatever," he snaps. He shoves past Neito to go back toward the hallway. "Once I see that motherfucker, I'm gonna blow him to pieces with my own two-"

Footfalls stop abruptly and Katsuki stills, stunned.

The way they came had completely changed, now; it was Aldera Middle School's hallway instead of his childhood home hallway, though the walls fray and crack and crumble the longer he stands and stares. He sees something dark seep through the spider-webbed cracks, and for a moment, he isn't sure if it's just typical darkness or a substance being excreted.

Stepping out into the hallway, Katsuki watches empty, transparent husks of random faces walking up and down like it were another day in their school, chasing after the bell and seeking out friends among the chaos. All of their speech are mere whispers. When Katsuki tries to listen into what they were saying, all of their words are jumbled and jagged, voices like the crashing of surf against cliff rocks - but if Monoma were to listen in, each word spoken was about Katsuki himself. Everything was about a part of the blond, and by the furrow of his brows, he genuinely doesn't know what they're saying.

"Did you hear? Bakugou was diagnosed with something in primary school," one of them say. They phase through the blond as they do. "Yeah. Something called Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Makes sense, doesn't it? He was always kind of... Aggressive."

"Right? I don't understand why any of the girls like him!" a boy responds, exasperated. "Gee, he's ruining my chances to ask out Akiya-san! What do the girls even see in him?"

"Are you serious, Eto? He's handsome!" Another boy punches the fellow spectre beside him. "Never mind that he's rejected every single girl come Valentine's Day. Some of the girls still try their luck with him. I mean... His mom is Bakugou Mitsuki, right? The model."

"Oh! You're right!"

"Yeah, exactly!" The spectre sighs. "Ah, it's a shame. If he wasn't, you know, the way he is, and on top of his diagnosis... Well, I would totally use my handsome looks to my advantage, wouldn't you?"

The conversation fades. Another pair of spectres come past, though these ones stop by the doorway they're passing.

One of them holds their head in their hands - a young girl, groaning quietly. "Kiyomoto-chan tried to ask Bakugou-kun out today! I've been trying so hard to console her."

The other reaches to pat her shoulder. "Yeesh. What did that brute say to her?"

"I don't know, but whatever it was, she's been upset all day about it." The girl lifts her head up, then. "You know, though, I hear that he rejects all the girls because he's... Gay."

"What?!"

"Shh, keep it down!" The girl grabs the other's hands, uses it as a means to drag the other spectre over. "I mean... It makes sense, doesn't it? With- you know, with the way he treats Midoriya-san, you'd think that maybe it's like..." The girl mulls it over. "... That saying from the west? If a guy is bullying a girl - but it's another guy instead. Because he only bullies Midoriya-san, right?"

A pause. The other lowers her voice even more; "I thought it was because Midoriya-san is Quirkless."

"Why can't it be both?"

Katsuki hates that he doesn't know what any of them are saying.

As the blond walks further down the hall, he slows when he notices that he can hear clearer chatter - real, tangible words, instead of the jumbled and scattered lexicon he'd been subjected to through the hallway. He glances to Neito for all of two seconds. With the absence of knowledge on whatever the hell the spectres were saying about him, Katsuki jumps on the opportunity to hear something clear all too quickly. He swings the door open.

The office is remarkably untouched, compared to the fraying and decaying area outside of it. The desk is pristine and recently polished. There is a stack of paperwork there, but Katsuki catches a glimpse of a report card opened in the middle instead, with his name perfectly plastered at the top and his grades detailed below. The chairs in the office are all occupied.

He thinks he recognises them. Teachers, all of which he's had in the past before, sitting calmly in each seat with their own copies of his school grades resting comfortably in their hands. The chatter between them is clear cut and chipper... But not varied. Monotonous, despite being at a higher pitch.

"Bakugou Katsuki is a stellar student in the classroom," the woman says; that was his kindergarten teacher, Masaki-sensei. She was the first to see his Quirk in action. "He never slacks behind on his homework. He works well on his own, and he's far exceeded expectations for his age. He's growing up to be perfect Pro Hero material, don't you think?"

"I do agree," the older man comes next. Ikuta-sensei. This was his drumming tutor. "His talent goes unmatched."

The third and final teacher places the report back down - and that was Saneto-sensei, his first year middle school teacher. "With his straight A grades, I think it's safe to say he'll be cruising into the UA Hero Course via the entrance exam. Our first student from Aldera, going to UA High... That's quite the achievement."

Katsuki narrows his gaze. "Something ain't right," he says to Monoma. "Their faces..."

Slowly, he paces to the office desk, ignoring the praising chatter among them as he carefully eyes each one. Upon close inspection, he can see the seam of something around their features, the way their eyes look painted, the way their mouths are more static than he'd perceived from a distance. Masaki-sensei's makeup looks painted on. The scales from Ikuta-sensei's Quirk lost their dimension, and when Katsuki dares to wave a hand in front of their faces, they don't even flinch. They keep speaking like he isn't there.

He dares to touch the scales. Painted.

"They're masks."

Katsuki narrows his gaze as his fingers drag downward to the seam, feeling along it, trying to find a window. He hums. When he thinks he's found something, he tucks his fingers under and watches the porcelain face for any shifting features - or, shifting paint, at least, in the absence of true human qualities. No reaction.

The mask proves itself difficult to lift off, Katsuki digging his fingers in deeper to pry it more and pull away. There is something like cracking and squelching the more he pulls at it. Tension settles abruptly into his shoulders but he persists, keeps pulling, determined to figure out what was behind the porcelain façade that Ikuta-sensei was being made to wear, determined to know and know and know and understand-

He's met with exposed musculature and empty eye sockets. The blond tosses the mask aside out of reflex, jumping back a few steps, ignoring the smashing sound of porcelain against wall. He watches the grotesque figure turn its head slowly to the remnants of its face.

If a face with no lips could snarl, Katsuki is sure it would be like the way the face looks at him now. Fury, and disgust, and- and hate.

"Impatient," the voice comes, distorted and warped and gargled. Blood pours through his exposed teeth. The muscles move with the way he speaks, body raising from his seat at the desk - and his limbs grow outward from there, then, cracking and snapping bone accommodating the new shape. "Reckless." Fingers elongate with the same sounds, gripping the desk as he climbs over. His head tilts to an impossible angle with another crunch. "Ruthless."

"Stubborn," comes the woman's voice; she's willingly pulled off her mask. She has eyes and sharpened teeth, of which she bares with a look of a starving, bloodthirsty lion. "Pig-headed."

"Insolent," is the final voice - and the man hasn't ripped off his porcelain mask, but he's clawed at it with newly sharp nails, blood seeping through the marks he'd left behind. His torso twists in a 360 one way, his head the other way. Arms dislocate and stretch downward to hang past his knees, even as he flops them forward to push his chair aside. "Childish."

He doesn't know when he falls to the floor. He does remember shuffling back and away, though, as the three close in around him with spit dripping from exposed mouths, moves jagged and inhuman.

"Brutish!"

"Ill-mannered!"

"Arrogant!"

Katsuki's hands warm. He tries to push himself up, but one of the three - Ikuta-sensei, he thinks - barges into his space. The other two follow suit. He doesn't know where Neito is.

He almost doesn't want him to be here, not when the three voices finally call to the Bakugou with disjointed and ragged tone;

"Are you good enough?" They call in unison. "Will you ever amount to more than you are, Bakugou Katsuki? Will you ever be good enough?" He realises he's cornered. He doesn't see where the other blond is. Explosions pop rapidly from his palms, but a part of him forces him to stay in place, panicked.

"Is anything you do good enough, 'o young hero mine?"

The blast from his hands is unnecessarily large.

As soon as he spots Monoma - wherever he decided to be, however near or far he was - the blond seizes him by the wrist and quickly pulls him back out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. There are bangs and clawing at the door. He holds himself against it with his feet planted and eyes wired shut, hands pressing on the door with excess pops coming from them, smoking up the wood. They keep trying.

If he listens too hard, he can hear them still, trying to convince the blond to reopen the door with honeyed and sweetened words. Things to appeal to his pride. Things to coax out his ego.

It makes him feel sick.

When the noises finally dissipate and silence fills the middle school hallway again, Katsuki takes in the first breath he thinks he's taken for the past minute, sagging a fraction against the door. He thought that seeing his memories was bad enough. He thought watching himself taunt a younger Izuku was the worst thing this villain had to offer him. And yet...

"Jesus fucking Christ." Katsuki slowly pushes himself away from the door, glancing over to Neito for a moment. A pause. Eventually, he looks down the hall instead, watching some of the whispering spectres travel past. "Where the fuck's the exit on this shit?"

The closest he'll admit to being spooked.

With that, Katsuki takes the time to travel down the hall again, quietly observing its state. He squints at some of the cracks on the walls, tries again to listen to whispers. He frowns.

The cracks are spreading out further along the walls, greying and chipping away, flaking out onto the floor in debris and pieces of dried paint. Some of the cracks that carry darkness in them have a liquid seeping out of them now, soaking into the paint and dripping toward the floor. The ground is starting to feel mushy along the edges. Katsuki walks through the middle instead, though he leaves himself to keep walking through spectres at that cost.

A spectre runs past them. "Come on! I hear Bakugou-san's about to start a fight near the soccer oval!"

Another spectre follows behind, but slows at the comment. "Wait! Where did you hear that?!"

"Ujihara-san!"

The first runs off again, leaving the second to stand there, dumbfounded. The spectre in question runs back the way they came from - in the same direction Katsuki and Neito travel - until they skid to a halt in front of another spectre. "What's happening with Bakugou-san?"

The new spectre - presumably Ujihara - turns to them. "Oh my god, you don't know? Someone spread a rumour about him... You know."

"What? No I don't!"

"Yeah you do! Him having a crush on you-know-who."

They're both silent for a moment. Then, quietly; "Oh my god. Do you think Bakugou-san will be suspended? I don't- he could kill that guy, you know. With his Quirk and all..."

"Nah, he's secretly a teacher's pet. Best he'll get is a letter home and a warning. Besides, he doesn't use his Quirk on anyone but Midoriya-san."

Katsuki growls the more he hears the spectres. The whispering mess of syllables and words that make no sense together grate on his nerves, consume whatever remaining sanity he's managing to maintain. (What are they saying? What are they revealing? Did everyone speak of him behind his back this way? Why the hell did they even dare it, if they knew what would happen if he ever found out about their stupid rumours?)

They knew. They knew and they still talked. They ignored his theatrics to his face, maybe soaked him in some faux praise to keep themselves on his good side, and talked behind his back instead.

None of them were friends.

... The whispers fall silent.

Katsuki freezes. His eyes drift from the never-ending hallway ahead to look at the spectres surrounding them, faceless and only vaguely human-shaped, yet all pointed in the same direction as Bakugou Katsuki himself. His brows furrow. Instinctively, he positions himself a step closer to Neito in the process, with a hand raising and explosions popping off - as if it would deter the threat of a ghost.

Monoma can't hear the part that comes next, but Katsuki can't decide if he wants to hate him for it or be glad he didn't - because the silence rapidly becomes shrill sounds of screeching, yelling, words now clear and resounding in the Bakugou's mind. He stops his explosions and covers his ears. It doesn't help.

"Son of a- fuck!" Katsuki grabs Neito again, eyes quickly glancing around. Was the hall becoming smaller? "Hurry the fuck up, Copycat, we're taking the next door!"

The hall was definitely becoming smaller.

Katsuki scrambles through the hall and slips on the black ichor on the ground a few times, wincing each time his ankle twists the wrong way. He glances around for a door. The shrieking grows louder. The spectres themselves become less human-looking the further they run; almost demonic, instead, horned and teethed and miserable beasts with too many eyes and too many teeth. They throw language he's heard before at him. It's a mix of backhanded insults and demeaning comments all wrapped into one, as if expecting him to slow down because of that.

The only reason he slows down at all is because he nearly passes a door into the next room. And even then, he kicks it down with one leg and half-throws the other blond into it, chasing after and slamming the door shut. The shrieking stops.

A few breaths. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Once Katsuki has calmed his racing heart, his hands immediately reach out and blast the nearest thing to him to take out his anger. "Fuck this fucking shitty ass villain and his stupid fucking Quirk, and he better count his goddamn days! Y'hear that, asshole?! 'Cause the moment I fucking find you, I'm gonna-!"

"Kill him?" A voice calls in the room.

Katsuki growls, kicking whatever he can on the floor - a figure, he thinks. A model tank. "Fuck off! Give me five fucking minutes before you pull some other mind-breaking bullshit!"

"That's not very heroic of you," the voice speaks again.

"Why the fuck should I care, huh?! You're not even fucking real, you stupid illegal illusionary piece of fucking-" Katsuki paces back and forth, hand finally pushing back the fringe of his hair. He glares at Neito, then. "What is it, smart-mouth?! You wanna say something so fucking bad right now, don't you, watching my ass get fucking haunted every goddamn turn I make?!"

The voice cuts through again, distorted and angry; "Don't you dare be speaking to your friends like that in our home, Katsuki! What is wrong with you?!"

He probably should've realised who that voice was.

Red eyes tear away from the other blond to seek out the matching pair, mirrored, like staring into still water. Something about Mitsuki here feels... Off. He can't quite put a finger on it. Like she's missing something. Her signature look of motherly sternness, maybe.

She just looks monotonous and angry all at once, staring down her son with her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't go putting on the big act here."

"The fuck? I'm not." Katsuki knows she isn't real, but he still feels offended at her implication. Was it because it sounds nothing like her or sounds so much like her it was scary? "What the h-"

"Look around you, Katsuki. You've made a mess of the house again, and for what?" She gestures to the wall. "Perfectly good paint, burnt." Then to the floor. "You've left all your toys on the floor for me to clean up." His lips press into a thin line when he looks at what she means, seeing a mix of broken figures and destroyed hero toys, ichor seeping from their breaks. "And not to mention all the school notes you left," she continues, pointing to the pages strewn across the floor.

He doesn't say anything when he realises it isn't his handwriting.

In that moment, her voice shifts; its original brief clarity switching to the disjointed and jagged tone with distortion, pitched downward, another voice over the top. Its aggression sounds familiar. Its confidence is unmistakable. He would quietly hope that this would be the worst of it, except he can't ignore the way her face begins to split along an invisible seam, slowly exposing her teeth and jaw. Pointed teeth start to grow along it. And her fingers, tapping against her arm, seem to look elongated and pointed, sharpened. "If you weren't so weak, this wouldn't be an issue."

"If you weren't so aggressive," chimes in the next voice. A man's. His father's, sharing the same distortion as his mother's, the same overlay of his own. His shirt is destroyed in one spot. In the area, a large chunk of flesh is missing - ribs exposed, organs threatening to spill out, muscles contorting with every move he makes. It's like something is trying to grow and cage around the open flesh, thin dark spines prying and stretching skin. "The house would be fine."

"Maybe you should play a little nicer," are a set of three voices, and it's the teachers from before, in their ugly and grotesque forms. It's a silent hope that he doesn't have to witness his parents get to that stage as well. "You'd have some more kids to be friends with."

"If you were more authentic," is next, and Katsuki tenses at the sight of Class A. (Not real. They're not real.) "We'd understand you."

"Shut up," he finally says. "Shut the fuck up. None of you are real. None of you are actually here, and this is some shitty mind game meant to fuck me up and get me doing something stupid." (But they feel real. Maybe they are. Maybe you're deluding yourself into thinking they're not. There's nothing to tell you they're not. What will Copycat do for you to stop this, anyway? He's probably laughing at your expense the longer this goes on.) "I'm not fucking buying it. You won't fucking make me."

And he wants to say his will is unmovable, there. He wants to foolishly think that maybe they haven't gotten through to him.

He should've known better.

"Stop it, Kacchan."

Katsuki twists on his heel and stares at the boy on the ground near him, green curls covering his face, slouched and curling into himself, hiding away. Smoke emits from his right shoulder. Katsuki can't tell if his left hand feels any warmer.

A pause. He can sense the other trying to tell him something, so he snarls, shoots him a glare. "Don't you start, Copycat."

When his gaze turns back to the boy on the ground, there is an opportunity. Maybe this is what the villain wants. Forcing him to have... Closure? (That sounds right. That sounds wrong.) Maybe this is the sick game that the villain wanted to play all along, and Katsuki's just been forcibly rejecting it at every turn - trying to ignore the things people say about him. Trying to ignore who he was, who he's been, who he is.

Maybe all he has to do is get past the suspicion and reach out. "Oi. Get up off the floor, nerd."

A long silence, like the boy in front of him was contemplating.

Again: he should've known better.

Both of Izuku's hands seize his wrist unbearably tight, and he glances up with a grin completely unbefitting the boy he knows, the boy he grew up with. It carries nothing but malice and glee. It persists even as his grip tightens, pulling Katsuki down, forcing him to look at the state of the other.

Red running down face. Blood colouring the sclera of his eyes and negating the shine of usually vibrant green. There's too many teeth in that grin, the canines are unspeakably sharp, and nails in his arm are dangerously close to puncturing skin-

He tries to kick the boy away, but other hands seize him, ethereal and smoky but no less real to the touch. They capture his wrists and arms and a pair grab him from the back of his neck. All of them are unbearably warm to the touch and calloused and cruel, digging into skin more. From what he sees, he thinks that they're mostly his own hands - from different ages, from different lives, all trying to hold him down. All trying to make him succumb to their grip.

He thrashes against the hold. He's not sure if he tries to call for Neito to help him (because in the end, he can't see who grabbed him, and he feels like he's flailing with no luck), but he quietly hopes. His explosions pop and sputter rapidly. Among the racing heart and rising adrenaline and panicked flailing, he thinks he gets angry, shouts expletives in rapid-fire.

The grip around his neck tightens in response. He growls back, tries to reach up so he might pry the hands off.

It takes a few more explosions and struggle - and he thinks some help from the other blond... But he wrangles free of all the grips. The room is empty besides himself and Neito. He coughs and sputters onto the ground with the fresh intakes of air again, a hand rubbing away at the neck, eyes wide. And he has to wonder:

Just how real can this fucking asshole make it?

He doesn't know. Katsuki spits out excess saliva with a snarl, huffing quietly, until he finally spares a glance up to Neito. A part of him wants to tell him thank you.

The more Monoma-hating part of him growls at him instead, slowly picking himself up from the floor and brushing off whatever dirt's found its way onto him. "I'm fine," he lies. "We're not done here yet. I'm gonna find that little bastard, and I'm gonna make him regret ever messing with me."

There's a door to a room he can see from where they are, and Katsuki marches straight to it with unyielding confidence - anger, more like, frustration. He barely gives Monoma a second thought as he shoves open the offending door.

His middle school self sits in the middle of the League's hideout.

Arrogantly, confidently, and not without decoration.

The intense and pungent smell of dried and aged blood flood the senses, which cause the Bakugou to gag and cover his mouth. The entire floor is red. The walls are splattered with red. Black ichor seeps through whatever cracks remain in brick. The bar is stacked with different shades of red liquor, and Katsuki is quick to hazard a guess as to what they might be - even without seeing the labels of people's names on them.

Between him and the table his other self is at, there's a small path left clear. To either side, there are familiar faces. His family. His friends. His mentors and his classmates, even his rivals, even the remedial course students and whatever support course students he's met. All of them are almost like marble.

They aren't marble, nor are they breathing. The only indication that they were ever alive is the dried red of blood clinging to their hair and their skin, to their clothes, soaked by what they lay in - and the only evidence that something happened to them was by the marring of their skin. Ash. Soot, and handprints, and redness where any red should not persist on a body long cold.

His younger self seizes a glass of red. He sips on it, a trail of the liquid going down from the corner of his lips. "Don't you think they were right?"

Katsuki narrows his gaze. "About what?"

"That you're a villain."

He spares a glance to Monoma. Slowly, he treks in further; this has to be his conversation. "No. I'm not a fucking killer."

His younger self hums. "You told someone to kill themselves."

"That's not the same thing."

"Isn't it?" His younger self stands from his spot now, taking the glass with him. He stands on the table first, walks across, just to sit cross-legged on the other side - closer to Katsuki.

He scoffs. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"To win."

"At what?"

"A game."

Katsuki stares, narrowing his gaze. "How am I meant to win a game I dunno I'm playing, huh?"

"That's not for me to decide."

"Then what is?"

And this question, that seems to pique the other's attention. He tilts his head back, almost to look as if he's looking down at his older counterpart. "What you see. Your truest self, come to light. You never wanted to be perceived as another person on the sidewalk, after all. You always wanted the spotlight. Destined for it, remember?"

Katsuki remembers. He doesn't say it. It's not hard to think back on every person that's praised him for all of his hard work, his amazing Quirk, his undeniable ethic that would see him reach the highest places should he want to achieve them.

Apparently, his other self was expecting him to reminisce, because he continues with a gesture to the room - "it would've been easy as hell to achieve that as a villain, y'know."

"Tch." Villainy. Katsuki lets off a choice few explosions in his hand immediately at the notion. "That ain't what I want and you should fucking know that if you were any real rendition of me. What, not smart enough to realise I've always wanted to be a hero? Go and shove your villainy promotional campaign to someone who might fucking buy into it."

"Is that so?"

His counterpart shifts, then; he looks older now, adorned in his hero costume, but he most certainly does not look normal. Blood drips from his hands. His sclera is black but his irises remain a strong, vibrant red. His teeth grow impossibly sharp in his mouth and look carnivorous, wolf-like and hungry. His hero costume contorts to become melded to him like a second skin, and when he breathes out, smoke bellows from his mouth with his chest alight like a furnace.

Even when Katsuki maintains a brave face in its front, he feels his heart in his throat. Saliva drips from fanged teeth as the smirk grows ever wider, like it will peel away at the skin and muscle and bone the more he does. The voice becomes nails on chalkboard;

"You should stop acting like a villain then, Bakugou Katsuki."

The figure in front of Katsuki vanishes. He stands alone in the room, now, with nothing but the statuesque people piled around him and the overwhelming stench of spoiled blood.

Fatigue is setting in with everything that's happened, no sign of an exit - Katsuki half-wants to slump on the ground and rest a while. The other half wishes he could find the asshole who managed to pull all this shit off and show him the wrath of a hero that's been wronged.

He does neither.

He stands, silent, and contemplating.

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Ren Jinguji X afab!Reader

Synopsis: Meeting with another blonde who played his saxophone effortlessly, MC found herself being serenaded by the idol.

Word Count: 1,004

[Y/n] reached a clearing once she was out of the small forest. Wild grass was swaying along with the leaves when the evening breeze passed by, gently prickling the girl's skin as she walked. A large tree was located on the far end of the clearing where a steep cliff was, over-viewing the sparkling waters when the moon reflected its light on it.

Standing alone in the clearing was another blonde playing the saxophone beautifully. [Y/n] was entranced by the tune the male was making, and unconsciously, her feet lead her towards the said male. She saw how much he glowed under the moonlight while playing his instrument perfectly.

"Ren-nii..." she called.

Slowly, Ren's eyelids opened and revealed sky blue hues. He finished his short performance before facing the [h/c]ette completely, a smile tugging at his lips.

"That was wonderful, Ren-nii," she praised while clapping.

"What was wonderful?" Ren made his way towards her and gently placed his hand on her waist, pulling her close to his body. He placed his thumb on her bottom lips, cupping her chin. "My performance or me?"

[Y/n] stood there dumbfounded, blushing madly as her widened, [e/c] orbs stared deeply into Ren's ones. He leaned closer to her face with his eyelids half open.

"You're a naughty little, kitten. You're always set my heart on fire," he whispered in her ear which sent shivers down her spine. "I'm more than delighted to see you tonight, kitty."

[Y/n] blinked a few times to snap out of her trance, sending Ren a nervous yet bright smile. "I miss you that's why I came to visit as soon as possible."

"Hm~? Does my little kitten missed me so much?" he teased.

Her blush deepened whilst glancing away. "Y-yes, Ren-nii..."

"I've got to admit, little kitten... Missing you is my hobby, caring for you is my job, making you happy is my duty and loving you is my life..." Ren chuckled, his voice reverberating in a deep, gentle tune. As he said that, he slowly placed a loving kiss on her forehead. "The cherry blossoms and moon are beautiful, but you're most beautiful of all, my young lady."

[Y/n] could feel her heart thumping loudly against her chest at an inhumane speed. "R-Ren-nii..."

Ren chuckled after seeing her flushed face. He knew that [Y/n] doesn't usually get flustered this easily before and that only made him came to a conclusion that she was experiencing this kind of treatment from the time she came here. He wouldn't mind though, as long as he were to spend some time with her like this right now. She was the only one that he was attracted to, and he would wait for her to grow up so he could finally court her.

"Just looking at you rends my heart in two..." he admitted, golden brows slightly knitted together, serious eyes staring at her intently. Though after a second, he snapped back to reality and smiled at her, pulling away. "I'm still waiting for you to grow up."

[Y/n] stood there still frozen in her spot, she slowly lifted her right hand to touch her parted lips, the one that Ren touched earlier. "What do you mean by that, Ren-nii...?"

"It's nothing, my young lady," the blonde chuckled. "How about I sing you something instead?"

"Uh-huh!" she instantly nodded her head, [h/c] locks bobbing up and down.

Ren chuckled once again. "This song is dedicated to you, my kitty. Shiro ga Niau...because you truly are beautiful in white."

The blonde put two of his fingers on his lips and gave her a flying kiss with a wink. [Y/n]'s dying blush came back again. After a moment of silence, Ren began to sing.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest in a consistent, rhythmic pattern. The way that Ren sang the song made her whole being filled with overflowing passion and emotion. It made her heart melt. She smiled, eyes softening once it landed on the blonde idol.

[thevoidisvoid]

Concept Idea Porco Rosso (Underfell and Swapfell????"

Okay, so I was watching Porco Rosso and it occured to me that it is literally the perfect movie for Underfell Red? Like smexy Skelton Pilot in a bad-ass red plane? And the dork in me exploded.

I tried to make concept art, because when I picture it, I think of a Insert-Self x Red opportunity. But in two different ways. So I got sidetracked. Didn't put a lot of effort in. I also suck at drawing Skelly-Boys so that didn't help but I decided writing it out may work better???

I hope you enjoy, and possibly get inspired. The art will be at the end.

(Version 1.)

"But the answers no, I have kind of a bet going on here."

You look down at the book in your hands that you were clutching. Smiling fondly at it. 

"I bet myself if a certain man came to visit me in my Garden, we'd fall in love…" 

You can't stop the sigh that escapes your lips.

"But the fool only comes to my restaurant at night. He…he never shows in the daylight."

Black inhaled as he prepared to speak, you froze as a familiar noise came from the distance. Standing up you shoved your book into Black's hands and rushed out of the pavilion to your balcony.

He- he's here.

That red plane you'd both come to love and despise was flying through the air. Coming straight towards you it seemed.

"THAT GUY'S BACK?!"

But as always he never landed, instead performing an aerial loop, and spinning away into the clouds… where he belonged.

Of course…it was too much to hope today was the day he'd actually…

"Stupid…"

Black shot you a quizzical look as you shook your head.

"He left without landing."

You smile.

"I lost the bet again."

"ARE YOU KIDDING? YOUR BET IS ABOUT THAT JERK?"

Your smile was more and more genuine as you spoke with a soft laugh.

"Life is more complicated here, than in your country."

"If you're only looking for a fling that's easy…"

"Go to Hollywood yourself little boy."

With another laugh you left him.

(Version 2.)

"What the HELL are you talking about? You guys don't understand a word I said!"

Red could only watch with interest as they yelled at the group of Sea Pirates. This was definitely not how he expected things to turn out.

"I asked whether you feel ashamed or not. Aren't you ashamed of being helped by Black, an American? If your mother's heard about that, they would cry."

"Also what the hell are you saying, you don't even bathe?!"

He couldn't help but chuckle at the stunned expression of those stupid bastards. 

"Red came back to fight against Black, for the pride and honor of the Pilots of Ebott Sea! 

Wait…what?!

"You guys have no guts or honor. You are the lowest of the low. Fight with dignity!"

You crossed your arms, scowling at Undyne. Red could tell she'd been rather stunned by your push back.

"Well that's why I was opposed to hiring Black in the first place."

Yeah right…

"Coward. Trying to worm your way out of this."

"B-Boss what should we do? They have a convincing argument."

"We'll need to preserve both sides honor…we'll have to ask Black."

"You mean ask him to fight the SKELETON- Again?"

Oh the irony. These idiots seemed to miss the fact Black was also a Skeleton. 

"The contract is already over…I'm so ashamed."

Undyne seemed really distraught. Which was well deserved. And now to wrap things up here-

"MWEHEHEHEH."

Oh great.

"It's Black!"

High above, in a gap carved into the cliffs Black stood (?) His arms and legs pressing against the walls of the cliff. Keeping him held in place.

"I HEARD YOU TALKING. I'M NOT GOING TO RUN AWAY!"

"you morons, you came down through there?"

Black gave a yell before leaping from his position in the cliffs and plummeted before landing firmly on his feet. He almost stumbled, but firmly continued walking as if he was a damn god.

"hey, hold this-"

Red shoved his bag of various items into the arms of one of the pirates and began moving towards Black.

"YOU WANT A REMATCH DON'T YOU. BUT I ALREADY WON ONCE."

He was going to wipe that pathetic smirk off his face.

"I'M NO LONGER A BODY GUARD FOR THESE GUYS."

All the more reason to beat-

"You mean you won't fight for free? What's your proposition?"

Oh no-

You had made your way to the front of the small mob of pirates and were glowering at Black. Who took one look at you before-

"T-THEY'RE BEAUTIFUL."

He clasped your hands, and you gave a small noise of disgusted surprise.

"WILL YOU MARRY ME IF I WIN? I'M SERIOUS."

Ha! As if they'd give in to-

"Okay- but if Red wins you pay these bills!'

You somehow managed to slap Black in the face with that notebook of yours. A small distraction that kept him from completely losing it.

"wait-"

"Back off you!"

Aaron shoved Red backwards and he was immediately surrounded by a mixture of weapons and magic attacks. Something he could've easily escaped. But he didn't.

"You still have time to think about this."

Undyne sounded rather gentle for once, and Red eyed her suspiciously.

"Ask him, not me."

"THESE BILLS ARE A LITTLE EXPENSIVE."

"They're extremely reasonable"

"Are you going to fight or not Black?"

Undyne almost seemed to be trying to prevent this, which was an abrupt change from before.

"I'LL GLADLY FIGHT FOR THE ONE I LOVE."

"Okay everybody listen up!"

Undyne's yell echoed through the island, almost as loud as that insufferable Black's.

"I'm very impressed with the humans determination! My group will back this fight up!"

A chorus of agreements.

"The air pirate alliance will too!"

"Bye Human!!! See you soon!"

"they're full of crap."

"HEY SKELETON, DON'T RUN AWAY."

"shut up, and get off my island!"

"Later!"

As quickly as they'd exploded onto the small island they vanished, Black following on top of the crowd.

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

It’s big missing the Silver Sun hours so I reread my fic that featured it heavily. You can find it on ao3 or read the first chapter below.

There's an Empty Space in My Hand Where Your Hand Should Be

A Dorym fic written for the 2022 Dorym Nation Big Bang

Featuring: arranged marriage, idiots in love, piracy, and an exasperated peanut gallery

It had been Will’s idea.

They’d always been the Big Moon and Little Moon, trundling along side by side, but they’d always meant to add to their little family. Always meant to have another hand to hold in the winter chill. Always meant to find another celestial body as bright as the summer sun.

So when the request came from the Silken Squall emissaries… Will had accepted with enthusiasm and Orym had followed with amusement. Like he always had, like he’d always hoped he would.

“It was a little like this,” Will said later over steaming tea in their little cottage, once the first draft of the treaty was drawn up and sent off for review. “They want marriageable collateral and the two of us are the only ones currently of Zephrah that fit their rather… specific requests. Unfortunately for them we’re already married to each other.”

“Not like that stopped you from offering us up as a package deal,” Orym had said wryly over his own cup of tea. “Not that I mind, I’m just wondering why they actually took you up on it.”

Will of the past had shrugged, the mischievous spark in his eyes glinting over the rim of his cup. “ Guess we’ll find out when we head to meet our betrothed next month.”

“Maybe he’s a wild troublemaker and they think two of Zephrah’s finest will keep him reigned in,” Orym had said, fighting to keep a straight face.

The spark in Will’s eyes grew into a familiar merry twinkle and his beloved quiet laugh. “Shows what little they know. We’re the biggest troublemakers Zephrah’s ever seen! The Voice of the Tempest said so herself.”

“Let’s hope she didn’t say so in the treaty,” Orym raised his tea in quiet toast. “ To us, and a bright future.”

“To our family, growing as it is.” Will replied, raising his tea in kind.

A week later he was gone.

—--

The end of a brief memorial found Orym sitting on the low stone wall of the Raven Tree courtyard. He stared out blankly into the night sky, fingers twisting his wedding and betrothal bands around and around. Catha and Ruidus still hung out of sight beyond the horizon and the empty sky felt darkly fitting for a day without his own Moon. The light breeze that always whispered over the cliffs tugged at his clothes and brought with it the faint sound of footsteps and rustling feathers.

“I cannot ask you to go through with the treaty,” Lady Keyleth had said quietly, leaning against the wall beside him. The raven on her shoulder made a small noise, as if in agreement.

“It’s my duty to see to your safety and what is best for our people, my Lady.” Orym had said, eyes not leaving the curve of the horizon. “I need time, but then I would like to honor our agreement. If I had fallen and not… I wouldn’t have wanted him to go through life alone.”

The area around Lady Keyleth’s eyes tightened and Orym wished he could snatch back his words. She must have seen the stricken look on his face because her gaze softened. “If the Squall cannot understand needing time to grieve, then they do not deserve the arrangement. You have my blessing to take as long as you need.”

“With your leave I intend to hunt down his… the assassins.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “ It could take a very long time. I could… never be ready.”

“I will delay the Squall as long as I am able. Go, find peace.” Lady Keyleth didn’t look at him, but her ever-present raven gazed towards him with eyes shrewder than any bird ought to have.

“Whether here or at the Squall, there will be a place for you when you return.”

—-

Six years later Orym sits in much the same position, though his feet drum against a wooden railing instead of stone and his hands wrap around rings strung on a chain under his shirt rather than twisting them on his fingers. The last ember glow of sunset fades behind him as he watches inky darkness claim the distant horizon.

Somewhere in that far distance lay the Squall and old agreements. Would they still accept the treaty after all these years? The few times Orym had spoken with Lady Keyleth they had talked of his family and his search, never the duties he felt he was neglecting.

Duties he might be able to fill soon if the quest spread out before him ever gets resolved.

Perhaps he should have asked Dorian, once his connection to the Squall was revealed. Perhaps he knew of the state of the treaty, or at least who his intended had been. A noble of little importance (according to the treaty) but perhaps the son of the Squall’s most respected family might have heard a rumor or two.

No matter. He would find out anyway in a day or two. They’d gotten the exact location of the Squall on their way out of Bassuras and Orym had decided he ought to check in. At least let them know he was still interested in fulfilling the treaty. He was nervous and it felt strange to visit without Dorian but… maybe the genasi would be there to greet them. Would stand beside him and vouch for his character. Would forgive him for choosing some noble stranger instead of a trusted friend.

“Copper for your thoughts?”

Orym doesn’t startle. He’d heard the soft whirr of Fresh Cut Grass’s wheel as the automaton crossed the deck. “I’m just thinking about the past, Grass. I have old obligations waiting for me at the end of our journey.”

A considering hum sounds as FCG tilts their head to look at him, but they kindly do not pry.

“Well. Ashton says they can sense your brooding from all the way below deck. Might be time to come inside and take your mind off things.” They pause and their glowing eyes sweep out to the horizon where clouds are beginning to gather in a previously clear sky. “Captain Xandas says we’re likely to get a storm tonight anyway, so might be best to clear the deck.”

Orym chuckles softly - he’s no stranger to storms - but leaps light-footed and sure to the worn wooden planks.

“Lead the way, then.”

—--

“Storms tonight.”

Cyrus leans on the railing next to Dorian, head tilted back as he inhales deeply. He’s always had a particular talent for smelling the ozone of rain on the wind, and it’s come in handy in the wide open skies. After a long moment he cracks one eye open and looks at his brother.

“You always clutch that stone like a lifeline and never actually say anything,” he says, nodding toward the polished sending stone Dorian has in his hand. He’s been staring into it for the past hour or so, working up the nerve to say something, anything, to Orym.

He never does.

“I’m not really sure what to say,” he says, not looking away from the stone. “Maybe ‘Hi this is Dorian, we’ve resorted to piracy. Also we’re headed to the Squall to kidnap my dumbass brother’s much smarter fiance. Meet me there.’?”

Cyrus squawks, but doesn’t refute the statement. “Yes, like that.” He pauses, counting in his head, and then nods. “Exactly like that, actually. Even got an extra word to spare.”

Dorian tucks the sending stone back in his pocket and levels his brother with a flat stare. “How are you so smart, and also so, so dumb?”

His brother shrugs with a broad grin. “It’s part of my Wyvernwind charm.”

“A wonder Jo ever agreed to marry you.”

“It’s a mark of their very good taste.” Cyrus leans into Dorian’s space and gently headbutts his shoulder. “Speaking of fiances though… given any thought to what you might tell mom and dad? That betrothal is still waiting for you, if you want it.”

“If I want it?” Dorian scoffs, looking out across the ruddy evening clouds. “Unlike you, I didn’t get much say in the matter. I wish I did… I’d have more to say now. Maybe even a solution that would fill the treaty and actually make me happy… but our parents told me, in no uncertain terms, that the treaty was set in stone. The other party delaying for personal reasons only postponed the inevitable.”

Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, but surprisingly didn’t voice whatever idea had crossed his mind. Instead, he clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Enough moping. If we’re careful we can hit another shipping lane before we start heading directly toward the Squall. The coming storm might even give us some cover.”

With a quiet laugh Dorian turns away from the rail. “Sure. One last prize before we have to become respectable sons of the Squall once more.”

He strides toward the bartop, now a passable navigational chart, then freezes as he feels the sending stone warm in his breast pocket. Orym’s voice - low and rich and right in his ear - surrounds him.

“ It’s been a little while. Just checking in. Left Bassuras a few days ago, headed to deal with an old obligation. Wish you were here. ”

Swallowing hard he presses a hand to his pocket and carefully crafts a reply. “Wish I was there too. We’re safe. Opal and Dariax split off to deal with… stuff. Again. Have a new friend in tow. Miss you.”

He won’t hear a response for another day (or more realistically at least a week), but the warmth of hearing his friend’s voice will carry him through the rest of the evening.

One last mark, then he turns towards home.

—

Chapter 2 can be found on AO3

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Wyvern’s Flight

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Twenty-One

A JSE Fanfic

Happy New Year, here’s a fic :D It’s been a busy week for me, so it’s short, but it’s action-packed. Back at Wyvernlair, Henrik, Jackie, and all the other Phantoms are preparing to flee. But it turns out, the King’s forces arrive sooner than expected, led by Thalia. Against their hopes, a fight breaks out. Enjoy! :)

More AU in Chronological Order

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

The past couple days had been absolute chaos in Wyvernlair. It wasn’t easy to pack up a camp that had been sitting in one spot for years. But they had to try. They couldn’t risk discovery. Personally, Henrik was convinced that their guess was right, and that dog that had walked up to camp three days ago was a wizard’s familiar, one whose owner worked for the King. It just made sense.

“These chests are all ready to go, Henrik.” Nemet had stacked about five chests on top of each other, largest on the bottom and smallest on top, creating a stack as tall as her. She was the only other doctor helping to put away the medical supplies today. The others were all busy packing up their personal belongings. Which was fine. The infirmary was almost entirely cleaned out.

“Alright.” Henrik finished what he was working on—sliding the glass bottle into a bag—and walked over to help Nemet. Together, the two of them used a thick rope to tie the chests firmly together so the pile wouldn’t collapse. “Do you want to say the words this time or should I do it?”

“You did the last one, I have it now,” Nemet assured him. She rested a hand on the rope binding the pile together. A rope that, if looked at closely, had words in a foreign alphabet written along its length in black paint. “Lighter, says me,” she whispered.

There was no sudden glow or popping sound. But when Henrik reached up and grabbed the handle on the top chest, he found it easy to tilt the entire pile to the side and drag it over to the entrance. This lightening charm was certainly making it easier to clean up the whole camp. This witch spell wasn’t native to Glasúil, but instead came from Leylodka, one of the lands to the north. Sailors used it to help transport cargo. The Phantoms only knew about it because of Vsevna and his crew.

Henrik paused, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t fair how someone could casually cross his thoughts like that and cause his heart to beat faster. This wasn’t the time. And it probably wouldn’t ever be the time, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“I can finish the rest on my own,” Nemet suggested, already starting on another stack of chests. “Start taking this stuff down to the rest of camp.”

“Alright.” Henrik adjusted his scarf. His neck felt suddenly warm. “If you insist.”

Already, a good chunk of the Phantoms up at Wyvernlair had left, leaving the camp with swathes of bare ground where there used to be tents. Jackie and Henrik had agreed it would be easier if everyone left in small groups, heading in different directions. Some were choosing to join other camps, some were going to meet up with Jackie and Henrik at the Cliffs of Feall in the south. Everyone was carrying stacks of supplies with them, using the lightening charm to lift it themselves until they could get carts and horses. Storage had already been emptied out. Most of what was left were personal belongings, medical supplies, and weaponry.

Henrik took a few trips to move the stacks of supplies from the infirmary to the center of camp, where they joined several other items to be carried: bags and boxes and rolled-up tents. He stared at the piles of stuff they’d gathered, then checked the bag he was carrying on his shoulder to make sure everything inside was as it should be. It was. He checked his belt for his medicine flask and the new dagger he’d started carrying since the camp had been discovered. Those were also where they were supposed to be. Everything was in order. The move was going smoothly.

So why did he feel so jumpy?

He walked around the dragon bones that formed the perimeter of Wyvernlair. The massive ivory structures had been their home for so long. They stood there, a protective shield rooted in the ground. As he scanned the white structures, he saw someone. “Jackie!” he shouted.

Jackie was talking with Holly, at the base of the dragon’s ribs where storage used to be. “—not worth getting the canvas down,” he was saying. “We can always find more, and it’s so high up. Even with sorcery, it would take too much effort.” Then he heard Henrik’s shout, and turned to look at him. “Hey, Schneep. Is everything okay in the infirmary?”

Henrik nodded. “We are almost done. Nemet said she would finish. Is everything alright out here?”

“Yea. We were just talking about that.” Jackie pointed to the top of the dragon’s ribcage, where they’d long ago used canvas to form a makeshift roof using the bones as support. “It’s not worth it, right? Even though we’ll probably have enough time?”

“I...no, it is not,” Henrik said. “Someone could get injured, and like I said, we are finishing packing all the supplies up now.”

“Right.” Jackie looked back at Holly.

“Didn’t think of the injury thing,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at the canvas. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone. Do you know if Lukas is back from scouting yet?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Jackie replied. “Henrik?”

Henrik shook his head.

“Well, I’ll go look, then.” Holly pulled her bear mask down over her face. “See you two later.” And she walked off.

Jackie sighed. He turned around and stared into the dragon’s empty ribcage. All the boxes of spare clothes, paper, and cooking utensils had been carted away to different locations. “It looks so much bigger now,” he said softly.

“You are going to miss it, yes?” Henrik asked.

“We lived here for two years, of course I am,” Jackie replied, a bit defensively.

“No, I understand. I feel the same.” He paused. “Do you remember when we found this place? We were going further west, wanting a safe place to hide, a central camp to run all operations from.”

“Of course I remember.” Jackie chuckled a little. “Marvin insisted we kept going. I thought he was going to lead us over the mountains into the Wyldwood. Then the trees cleared, and...I’d never seen anything like it.”

“I doubt anyone had, not in a century.” Henrik reached out and touched the nearest bone. Smooth and cold, like stone. “Marvin said its magic was calling him. And the other magic-wielders there agreed they could feel it. Was Tripp with us yet?”

“He was part of the Phantoms, but I don’t know if he was with the first group of Wyvernlair. I think he joined up a season or two later.” Jackie swallowed. “Maybe after Marvin left.”

“Hmm.” Henrik said nothing. The two of them stared up at the bones arching overhead. They’d both counted twenty-six ribs, though the thirteen on the dragon’s left side were partially buried in the dirt. But all of them were visible now that the storage had been cleared out. “Well, Marvin took a piece of the bones with him,” Henrik finally said after a long while. “To be his focus. So when we meet up with him, we’ll still have a part of Wyvernlair with us.”

“And we will meet up with him again, along with Chase and Jameson.” Jackie said it as a statement, but Henrik thought he meant it as a question.

“Of course we will,” he assured him. “It may be some time, but—”

Someone shouted.

The two of them turned to the sound in unison, recognizing the voice as Holly’s. Jackie was running immediately, with Henrik reacting a bit slower.

Almost all of the remaining Phantoms had gathered nearby, a group of about fifty people, only around a third of the camp’s original number. Jackie and Henrik pushed past them all, and saw Holly. She wasn’t alone. Lukas leaned on her shoulder, out of breath. “What’s going on?!” Jackie asked.

“They’re righ’ behind me!” Lukas gasped out. “T’ere’s no time!”

“They? Who is ‘they’?” Henrik asked.

“King’s warriors!” Lukas shouted. “I t’ink—I think four or five squads, some on horses! And a wizard, too, with that dog!”

The Phantoms erupted into chaos. Even if so many of them hadn’t already left, they would’ve been outnumbered two to one. As it was now... “H-how did they get here so fast?” Jackie’s face was drained of color. “There wasn’t anyone within three days’ travel!”

Lukas shook his head. “I don’t know. But they’re here! We need to leave now!”

Henrik glanced around at the remaining Phantoms. They were all drawn and worried, many grabbing the handles of various weapons. “Everyone grab something from the center!” He shouted. “Focus on the medicine! Lukas, where were they coming from?” Lukas pointed behind him, towards the dragon’s wings. “We head in the opposite direction, past the tail. Now move!”

Everyone moved as one, pulling on their masks before they turned and ran towards the center, with Jackie at the front. Henrik lingered back, making sure everyone was here. Nemet wasn’t in sight. She was probably still in the infirmary. He had to go warn her! His heart froze, then started beating again. He broke into a run, following the rest of the group, intending to pass through the center and curve around towards the mountain’s stone wall.

The sky above had grown darker. It seemed like a few minutes ago, there were only a few clouds. Now, there was a lid of heavy gray blocking out the sun.

No. That wasn’t the only thing blocking out the sun. Henrik looked up, and saw a wave of dark, thin objects flying through the air. “Cover!” he screamed.

Others looked up, and saw the arrows—arching over the dragon’s bones and descending upon the central area. They shouted warnings, and tried to use the pile of supplies ready for transport as protection. Luckily, the arrows had been aiming to cover as much ground as possible, and so were spread out. Not many hit the clustered Phantoms in the center. But Henrik heard a couple cries of pain.

“They’re coming!” Jackie shouted. “Grab something and run!”

“Do we fight?!” Holly asked.

“Only to hold them off!”

Everyone grabbed a bundle of supplies from the pile, bound together with rope, allowing for it to be pulled along. A few people tried to pick up multiple things, but even with the lightening charm, the bundles were still awkwardly shaped and banged against each other. Many had to abandon items. Henrik himself grabbed a second bag of medical supplies. He saw Jackie pause. His left arm was still a bit damaged from three days ago, when he stopped the fight between the dog and Draco. Jackie considered the pile of supplies, then decided to draw both his swords instead. A wise choice. Even as light as the charmed bundles were, Henrik doubted Jackie could’ve carried one with an injured arm.

The Phantoms ran across the ground, Jackie and some others with weapons taking up the rear defensively. They’d almost cleared the dragon bones when the rain started. A sudden torrential downpour, soaking the dirt into mud within seconds.

And then the King’s warriors appeared.

The ones on foot appeared first, charging in between the gaps in the dragon’s bones, wielding swords and pikes and bows. They were fast, and quickly caught up with the defensive rear guard. Henrik glanced over his shoulder and saw Jackie, his red cape standing out in the darkness under the storm clouds, blocking the sword strike of a warrior, whose black tunic helped them blend in.

Then there was thunder. Not literal thunder, but the sound of hooves beating against the ground. The warriors on horses were circling around the dragon’s bones, going towards the gap where the tail met the dragon’s curved neck, where there was a gap big enough for their horses to ride through. It was also the gap where the Phantoms were heading. Many of them stopped when they saw the horses blocking the way. “To the sides!” Henrik shouted. “Through the bones!”

One horse charged forward. By its side was a smaller four-legged figure, and on its back was a rider with a green-and-yellow tunic and a braid of blonde hair. The rider raised their hand, and bright orange fire gathered in their palm. The Phantoms scattered just in time to avoid the bolt of flame that crashed to the ground.

Henrik skidded to a halt at the edge of the flames, burning where they landed. This wasn’t a sorcerer’s fire. That would cower under the rain, as fire naturally did. If anything, these flames were burning higher and brighter, as if the water from the sky was simply feeding it more. This was a wizard’s fire.

Which meant this rider was—

“Tinechroí!” He yelled, spinning backwards to warn the Phantoms behind him. “The wizard!”

He thought he heard Jackie shout a swear, but he couldn’t be sure through the sounds of rain falling, shouts, and footsteps. And the ring of metal as weapons clashing together. Despite their best efforts to flee, the King’s warriors were pushing the Phantoms into a battle just to defend themselves.

Henrik drew the dagger from his belt. There were no King’s warriors on foot nearby, but as he looked around for approaching threats, horses charged forward. He lunged to the side, barely avoiding being crushed under one’s hooves as it galloped. Two more balls of wizard’s fire arced overhead. One landed on the ground and began burning steadily, the other hit a nearby dragon tailbone sticking from the ground... and immediately disappeared. As if it was a candle flame being snuffed out.

His eyes lit up. Of course! Dragons were already beings of fire. Even their bones would not be harmed by flames. “Through the bones!” He shouted. “Use them as cover! The fire will not hurt you!”

The Phantoms who heard him began repeating his instructions. Slowly, they all tried to move towards the bones surrounding the former camp—and current battlefield. But it was difficult. The warriors on horses started to circle around, keeping the Phantoms corralled in one place so the warriors on foot could continue to swing their weapons at them.

Someone came charging towards Henrik, arm raised overhead with a sword in their grip. Henrik gasped and ducked to the side, barely avoiding the blade. He slashed with his own dagger. The warrior had left themself open with that overzealous swing, and he felt his dagger sink into flesh. It was, as it had always been, a sensation that made him sick, but there was no time to feel guilty. He pulled the dagger sharply away and ran, getting lost in the confusion of figures and rain.

They had to get the horses to stop circling. Perhaps if he could startle the horses—but these were warhorses bred for battle, what would startle them? An idea crossed Henrik’s mind. It was risky, and might not work, but he had to try.

He dug into his bag, feeling around blindly, trusting himself to remember where each one was. After a moment of fumbling, he pulled out a smooth, almost entirely spherical glass bottle. He held it up to the sky to try and get a better look at it. The inside was divided into two sections, one holding a purple liquid, and one holding a red. Perfect.

Thalia Tinechroí was circling on her horse, her dog—because it must be her dog, her familiar—at her side. Henrik saw her raise her hand for a fourth fireball. He pulled his own hand back and threw the glass bottle in it, aiming for the area in front of her horse.

His aim wasn’t perfect. It was a bit too far ahead. But nonetheless, the glass bottle shattered when it hit the ground, and the two liquids inside mixed into a bright pink that, within a second, fizzed and bubbled and disappeared in a bright flash of white light.

An impossibly loud BANG! pierced the air, with all the intensity of thunder but the sharpness of something snapping. Everyone who heard it staggered backwards. Including the horses. Though they had been trained to expect shouting and injury, this strange burst of sound was new. It rang of danger and smelled of witchcraft, and the horses had never faced it before. Some bolted. Others reared back and dumped their riders on the ground before bolting. Thalia’s horse was of this latter group, and Henrik saw her fall hard from its back.

No time to see if she recovered. With the horses no longer keeping them in one location, Phantoms were already fleeing. Henrik ran as well, towards the dragon bones. If he could get one between him and Thalia, her flames would be less of a threat. 

Through the sound of the rain, he heard a dog barking.

Panic instantly struck his heart and he began running faster. The dog—Enid was her name. She was following him, howling and barking. Why him?! Why of all people?!

He’d nearly reached the fence of bone circling the area when a fireball arced overhead. It hit the bone and vanished, but the mere appearance of fire startled him, and he stumbled as he ran. That pause was just long enough for Enid to catch up to him. She circled around, growling, blocking his way to the bones. Fine, he would go a different way. He glanced to either side, and then behind him.

Thalia was there. She had no weapons, but the amulet around her neck was shining with white light, some of which she’d gathered in her hands. With a slight gesture, she sent some of that light to either side, a dart. A warning, to what would happen if he tried to go left or right. And behind him, Enid was still growling. “I remember you,” Thalia said. “That mask. An owl. You were there that day.” Her eyes flashed, reflecting firelight that wasn’t there. “Where is my brother?”

That day? Oh. The rescue. Marvin.

Henrik didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “So you’re concerned about him now?” he said, trying to bury the accent in his voice. “You weren’t very concerned when you sat in the stands to watch his execution.”

“You don’t know anything,” Thalia snapped. “This isn’t a matter of family. It’s a matter of the whole kingdom. You know he’s dangerous.”

“Of course I do.” Henrik slowly slipped his hand into his bag, continuing to talk so Thalia wouldn’t notice. “He’s such an important member, for that reason.”

Thalia barked a single laugh. Behind him, Enid barked as well. “I thought he’d left you all behind. Which is why it’s surprising that you came for him at all.”

“He left us behind?” Henrik repeated. How did Thalia know that? Marvin had continued to wear his cat-shaped Phantom mask while on his own the past year... No matter. He had to find what he was looking for in his bag, feeling around the various glass bottles nestled securely in cloth.

“You must have known that. I’m told he was very clear about it.”

“When was he clear about it?”

Even through the rain, Henrik could see the gleam of a smile on Thalia’s face. “When the King got all the information he wanted from him. Didn’t you realize? You must have some way to communicate with other lairs of yours. Have you heard of the raids we’ve done on them?”

For a split second, Henrik just stood there, staring at Thalia blankly as he tried to understand what she’d just said. All those close encounters the other camps were having with King’s warriors... were they because the King got information from Marvin? When? How?

Then he shoved this new revelation to the side, to look at later. Once he was safe. “I have,” he said slowly. “But I have a question for you, Tinechroí. Have you heard of unmixed potions?”

Thalia blinked, confused. And Henrik pulled out a glass bottle, smaller than the last, and threw it to the ground. The glass shattered, and the black and violet liquids mixed, giving off a thick gray smoke that quickly filled the area. He heard Thalia shout, and Enid bark, but could no longer see her or the dog through the fog. Quickly, he ran to the left, slightly curving, trying to find the dragon’s bones. If he could just slip through, he could be gone.

But the smoke was as much of a hindrance to him as it was to Thalia and Enid. He ran blindly... until he staggered out of the patch of fog. He was still near the dragon’s bones, but it took him a moment to orient himself. The rain was making it so hard to see. And so were the sounds of shouts and horses neighing, coming from his left.

The other Phantoms... were they still fighting? Should he go back for them? But all he had were a dagger and some potions.

Then he heard Enid bark again behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see a four-legged figure emerging from the fog. He turned and ran the last little distance towards the dragon bones—

Then a deep, sudden pain laced through his leg.

Henrik cried out, falling to the ground. Enid had caught up. She’d sunk her teeth into his calf and was holding tight. Thalia was walking slowly closer, unhurried. He glanced up at her, then down at Enid. Distantly, he knew he should try to shake his leg free, or pry the hound’s jaws open. But he couldn’t move. His muscles were frozen. In his head, he heard the distant sound of dogs—so many dogs—barking and howling and running, getting closer... closer...

THWACK!

Enid yelped and fell to the side. A hand axe was buried in the dog’s side. Thalia screamed as if she herself had been hit and ran forward, kneeling by Enid. Henrik quickly pulled his leg away and scrambled backwards.

Footsteps ran close, and then a hand rested on his shoulder. “Need some help, Owl?”

Henrik looked up. It was Nemet, her ibis mask pulled over her face, the white contrasting against the black curls of her hair surrounding it. “Y-yes,” he breathed, and grabbed the hand she offered.

“Do you think you’ll need anything for the bite?” Nemet asked, casually swinging another small axe in her free hand.

“I-I have supplies in my bags.”

“Can you run? If you can, you should now.”

“But you—”

“I will be fine.”

Henrik stared at her, locking eyes through the holes in their masks. He nodded, then hurriedly dug into his bag and pulled out another small glass bottle. “Break this or pour this out and it will become smoke,” he breathed.

Nemet nodded and took it. “Yes. I will see you at the cliffs. Now go!”

“You bitch!” Thalia shrieked, leaping to her feet, lunging forward to try and grab Nemet.

“Go!” Nemet repeated, shoving Henrik away and dodging Thalia’s wild jump. Henrik stumbled backwards, wincing every time he put weight on his right leg, then turned and ran the last bit of distance to the bones. As he slipped in between them, he glanced backwards to see Thalia with handfuls of bright white fire, Enid trying to get to her paws behind her, and Nemet holding her axe defensively as she started to run the opposite direction Henrik was.

And then they disappeared behind the protection of the dragon’s skeleton, and he was running into the surrounding forest.

Panic and rush kept him moving for a long time, energy pumping through his blood and urging him onwards. But, eventually, that surge of energy had to fade. The forest in a rainstorm was darker than the forest at night, and he started to stagger and stumble over undergrowth and mud patches. Then, the pain in his leg returned, even worse. Henrik whimpered and stopped, leaning against a tree.

He had to at least get the wound bandaged. It was lucky the bite was on his lower leg, not his upper one, where it could have bled rapidly. But there was still the risk of blood loss. And infection, but that would have to wait until he was sure he was far from Thalia and the King’s warriors.

It was awkward to try and bandage a wound in the dark. He had to feel through his bag for the bandages, and then poke at his own leg as he clumsily wrapped it up to be sure the wound was covered. But after more than a few winces and muttered curses, he was fairly certain it was as wrapped as it could be. So he stood and walked on. Or...limped on.

He didn’t notice the rustling when it happened. Or hear the footsteps. Despite how keenly he was listening, it was hard to distinguish the important sounds from the general noises of foliage being buffeted by wind and rain. So when a voice called out, “Henrik!” he paused, unsure if that was just a voice of his mind or a real shout.

“Henrik!” the voice called again, and now he could hear the footsteps. His eyes cast about until he saw a patch of darkness that was a bit darker, and also rapidly approaching. His hand went to his recently re-sheathed dagger, but then he recognized the voice and the vague shape of the cape and mask. “It’s you! Thank the Elders you’re alright. Wh-where—have you seen anyone else make it out?”

“Jackie,” Henrik said weakly. “I...no. I have not.”

Jackie’s shoulders slumped.

“Are you...alright?” Henrik asked. “I lost track of you back there. You were fighting.”

“That is what I do.” Jackie sighed. “I am...okay. I tried to stay near you, but so many of them were trying to get to me, a-a few even shot arrows close-quarters. They must’ve realized I was a leader. I...I tried to keep them away from the others, but...fights broke out...”

“I know,” Henrik whispered. “I...Jackie, I-I am injured.”

“What?!”

“Thalia was there—”

“I noticed.”

“—and so was the dog, Enid. I-it was her familiar. It... bit me. My...my leg...” A lump forms in his throat, and he can’t say anything more.

“Oh, Henrik.” Jackie puts a hand on his arm.

Henrik breathes in shakily. “I...am okay,” he says again. “I bandaged it, I will treat it for infection later.”

“Right.” Jackie nodded. “Stay here, I’ll go looking for any others—”

“What?” Henrik took a step back in surprise, flinching in pain as he did so. “Jackie, it is raining, there are trees, we cannot see shit. If I stay here, you will get lost and we won’t see each other again.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Alright, you come with me, we’ll go slow.”

“Do you really think we can find the others in conditions like this?” Henrik said quietly, his voice almost lost in the noise of the rainstorm.

Jackie hesitated. “...no. But...”

“We will have to meet them at the cliffs in the south,” Henrik says. “Those who were heading there anyway. That was the plan. We have to stick to it, because they probably will, too.”

Silence, except for the pounding of the rain on leaves and wind in the branches. “I suppose there’s nothing much we can do,” Jackie said, his tone bleak.

“We will see them again,” Henrik promised, taking Jackie’s hand and squeezing it gently as a reassurance. “And Chase, Marvin, and Jameson.”

“Right. Right.” Jackie inhaled slowly. “You...you said it was your leg, right? Which one? I-I’ll help support you.”

“The right one. And thank you. I think I need that.”

Slowly, the two of them walked on, heading through the mountain forest in the direction they hoped was south.

They would have to see who would find them again.

[ecosystem-administrator]

Unwind (Free Day)

Timeline: 4.5-5.0-ish, no spoilers Pairing: Maxima/Riol Content warning: Alcohol

Riol gets a care package with some decent liquor from his old friends, and decides to share it with his newest friend.

The thing was that Maxima was so polite. Too polite. Unreasonably, maddeningly, unfailingly polite. To the point that one could easily come to believe that it was all he was, as if he hadn’t wound up here because he believed strongly enough in coexistence and reconciliation that he’d been willing to stake his life - more than once! - on reaching out to people who considered him a dangerous enemy.

It made him quite a mystery, and every tiny crack Riol found in that facade made him curious to know more about what lay underneath it. That was probably why, when his old friends in the Company of Heroes sent him a care package including a pretty little bottle of something expensive, sharing it with the exiled Garlean was the first thing that came to mind.

They were sitting atop one of the many red stone cliffs, now, watching the sun set over the Lochs and the stars come out. The alcohol was mellowing Riol enough that he leaned into his companion’s side a little. Again, as always, he felt Maxima tense and then relax, and tonight his tongue was loosened enough to say something about it. “If you don’t like bein’ touched, you can say so, y’know. I’m not gonna get offended or anything.” He shook his head a little. “Yer a right puzzle to figure out, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“It's all right,” Maxima volunteered, sounding a little distant with his gaze on the horizon. He pulled his attention back to look down at Riol. “I don’t mean to be…difficult.”

“Yer not! And that’s the thing about it!” He was getting too emphatic - dial it back. “It’s ‘I don’t mind’ this and ‘I can handle’ that, and if I wasn’t good at my job, I wouldn’t know a single damn thing about what you actually like or don’t like.” He nudged his friend with an elbow for emphasis. “It shouldn’t oughta take a rogue to figure out you can’t handle eatin’ spices.”

There was a pause, but Maxima’s answer was amused. “You told me I should start getting my food from the Coerthan mess tent because the door was taller.”

Riol grinned up at him. “And I was right, wasn’t I? I still see you duck through it, but you don’t have to bend in half at least.” He took another sip from the flask before adding, “And yeah, I saw you barely pickin’ at portions fit for a Lalafell and fillin’ up on bread at the Ala Mhigan tent, so I figured the folks come from the snow might cook a little more to your taste. My point is, you could’ve asked. No one here wants to see you starve.”

“No one?” Maxima asked, quietly but emphatically, and Riol instantly regretted his choice of words. But he deliberately returned to a lighter tone the next moment, “I suppose there is something to be said for a little more openness. …I’ve grown very used to…ensuring that I don’t seem overly inconvenient to anyone. It’s a habit I developed well before I defected.”

That made a lot of sense, actually. He wasn’t just playing polite for the people here; he’d been carefully hiding his opinions and personality back in Garlemald too. “Well, there’s no time like the present to start unlearning old habits. Here,” he handed Maxima the flask again. “First thing, stop worryin’ about sharin’ this equally. Ye’re at least a fulm taller than I am, I’m not gonna be mad that yer puttin’ more away than I could handle.”

Maxima took the flask, looked from it to Riol and back again consideringly, and threw his head back to take a sizable swallow from the contents. Riol tried not to watch the way his throat bobbed as he drank, instead paying attention to how easy and fluid the movement had been. He’s done that before. What I wouldn’t give to see him with his hair down proper, someday. The literal image flashed through his mind of Maxima with his long hair down around his shoulders, and Riol had to glance away before he started blushing like a teenager. Oh, I’m in for it, aren’t I?

[asiandra-dash]

Characters: Childe, Kamisato Ayato

Words: 946

Time Taken: 91 minutes / 1 hour 31 minutes

Proofread: No

Notes: This is an alternate version to another thing I wrote before Christmas similar to this. I was gonna post it, but I decided to completely rewrite it for some reason! I gave up about halfway in since my mom interrupted me and made me forget my original idea, that's where the Fatui came in lmao.

Btw I hate writing apologies so if it sounds badly written, cliché, or anything of the sort you know why. Also because I did not bother to edit this after writing.

"Don't you get it? I never loved you, I used you!"

His laughs filled the air, nearly drowning out the rain as the words finally sank in. Everything they had done together wasn't real. It was an act. It was fake. It was a lie. It was all a lie.

Ayato dropped his sword and fell to his knees as tears formed in his eyes. This whole time, Childe had been planning to stab him in the back. He had been blinded by love, placing his full trust in him. He knew he was the villain, he always had been. So why had he trusted him? Why had he loved him?

A long silence lasted between the two. One waiting for a reaction, the other unable to react The only sound was the pouring rain, the strikes of lightning, and the wind howling around them.

Finally, Ayato slowly closed his hand around the hilt of his sword and stood up, taking a few shaking steps forward. Unable to handle the pain anymore, he fell back down, his sword rolling off the cliff. The feeling of heartbreak and betrayal was more than he had ever experienced. It was overwhelming. He threw his head back as all the emotions he had suppressed for years came out in a sick, twisted laugh. It was the most hysteric sound that had ever come out of his mouth. He couldn't do anything but laugh maniacally as he broke. Childe took a step back, unsure of what to do. Ayato slowly raised his hand and closed it as if he was holding something. Childe felt something wrap around his neck and began to squeeze. He reached up in an attempt to remove it, but his hand phased right through it. Reaching again, he realized what it was.

Water. Ayato was using his hydrokinesis against him. This wasn't fair. He absolutely hated it when he used it against him, rendering him almost powerless, as his was weaker.

He couldn't do anything as he felt himself slowly being lifted into the air. Ayato looked at him as he struggled, his breath shallow, heavy, and unstable.

"You... You BITCH." he spat out, trying to stand back up. Childe looked down, knowing that struggling wouldn't do anything except kill him faster. Though he has just left the ground, he was drained from fighting Ayato earlier, and it was getting increasingly hard to breathe, with the rain making it even more difficult.

He suddenly drop back to the ground, coughing as he tried to catch his breath, he looked up to see that one of the Geochanter Bracers had knocked Ayato down, a Pyroslinger Bracer aiming their gun at his head. Once Childe could breathe again, he stood up and walked over.

"Let him go."

"But he just tried to kill you-"

"Let him go. Leave."

The two Fatui nodded and left. Childe looked down at Ayato, who refused to look up at him.

"Hey."

The rain continued to hammer down, getting harder each second.

"Ayato..."

Lightning struck near them. Childe looked away, unsure of what to say. He sat down next to him and pulled him close, knowing that he could lash out at him at any moment. But instead of trying to get away from him, Ayato leaned towards him. Even after everything that just happened, he couldn't help himself. His touch was just so... Comforting.

Childe moved him into a position that allowed him to hug Ayato, to hold onto him as he cried into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I used you. I'm so sorry. No words can describe how sorry I really am." He felt his own tears begin to form. "I love you, Ayato. I really do. I love you more than I can ever express. I wish there was a way for me to take back everything I had said. I wish there was a way for me to fix this. I wish I could-"

His voice broke as his tears began to fall.

"I wish I could've just told you everything from the beginning."

He hugged Ayato tightly and felt him slowly begin to lift his arms to return it. He buried his face into the crook of his neck as his sobs combined with hiccups.

"I'm so, so sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for using you. I'm sorry for everything I've done. I won't ask for forgiveness. After all that, I don't think you can forgive me."

The two stayed there for what seemed like forever until Ayato finally pulled away, looking at Childe as he spoke.

"I would say it's okay, but it's not. It's not okay. But... If your apology is truly sincere, there might be a way to show me if you really mean it."

"...How?"

"Promise me you won't lie to me anymore. Promise me you'll tell me everything. Promise me you'll stay with me from now on."

Childe stared at him. Was it that simple?

After a moment, he nodded. If it meant they could stay together, he would do anything.

They continued to stare at each other until Ayato smiled. He chuckled a little, earning a small smile back. Childe stood up, helping Ayato to his feet. He was still shaking from earlier, so he had to use Childe as a support. Ayato turned to him, giving him a small peck on his cheek, causing a small blush to form on his face. The rain slowed down.

"We should head back to the city, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah. But what about the wounds I gave you?"

"We got ambushed."

That's a stupid excuse."

"I know."

They laughed.

"Let's go."

Also what is with the floor they are all so attached to the floor holy shit I love making characters that seem very stable lose their shit.

[primofate]

im feeling kinda akward since its my first time requesting,i really really really like your writings and im wondering if you could do some angst for albedo, anything you feel like tbh, but if may i be a little selfish i was thinking on something like he hurt you, so you break up with him or maybe he break up with you and regret later, im in love with the genius and your writings so why not lol, hope you are doing well, xoxoxooxox

Thanks for the request anon. <3 Sorry it took so long, but I’m feeling angst today so here goes. Let me know what you think <3

QUEUED POST

Scenario: Breaking up

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst?

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 2) (Part 3 - Final)

Albedo

Alone.

These days you found yourself alone in your shared home. It had been nearly a year since the two of you decided to live together. Maybe that was a bad idea.

You were smitten. He was such an intelligent man, and truth be told you loved how his mind worked. He was silent and mostly kept to himself at first, but with you, there were subtle touches, fleeting kisses. Oh and his eyes, the way his eyes brightened or the way his lips turned up at the sight of you. The way he held you close at nights, up until the morning.

Gone were those days. 

He was hardly home. The intelligent man you had fallen in love with, was also a workaholic. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming. There were so many signs.

Maybe he changed. Maybe you changed. But the little things weren’t enough anymore. He came home just to sleep and wake up, and he was off again. 

“Bedo, have you got some time off on the weekend? We haven’t been up to Starsnatch Cliff in a while,” you had prodded him a few days ago, wondering if the problem would be solved if you made the first move. 

“Sorry, Y/N, we’re just about to discover more about the properties of electro crystals... It’ll be useful if we want to sustain higher energy concentrations on...” and just like that he had gone off a tangent explaining the whole thing. You smiled a little, it was still endearing how excited he got discussing those things. 

But you couldn’t help but be lonely at how he seemed to love his research more than you. 

‘Maybe I just need to be more proactive. That’s it! I’ll go and visit him at the lab today!’ Surprising him was one of the things that you had always wanted to do. But not a lot of things got past Albedo. He was observant like that. You made a quick run to the bakery, getting him some croissants and welcomed yourself into the Favonius Headquarters. 

You looked up at the sign on his laboratory door. That sign was always there though, Klee had told you about it, and Sucrose had also talked about it once or twice before, telling you that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go in if the sign was up. But when was it ever down? So, you shrugged, and pushed the door open with a wide smile.

“What are you doing here?!” There’s a wild look in Albedo’s eyes the moment you step in. He didn’t appreciate being disturbed. You tilted your head a little at his reaction, you weren’t expecting that.

“Oh, since you’ve been so busy these days I just thought I’d drop by and give you something to--”

“Y/N, did you not see the sign on the door? No disturbances, even from you,”

“I’ll just be quick, I’m just dropping this off,” you lift the paper bag from the bakery and lay it down on the nearest table. Albedo closes his eyes with a sigh. 

“...We’re working on something dangerous right now, I don’t have time to eat. Please take it back,”

Surprisingly, you obey quite quickly, and take the paper bag back into your hands. Annoyance start to pulse in your veins. “Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

Sucrose had been standing there the whole time, and you can see the slight wince on her face at your cold statement... But Albedo had returned it ten fold, snapping an answer back. “Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

You didn’t expect how much it would sting. Your shoulders slump downwards at the realization that this... had gone too far. You couldn’t take it anymore. Sucrose opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what to say looking back and forth between you and Albedo. 

The Kreideprinz had continued with his task as if nothing had happened at all, but he knew what he said. He didn’t want any interferences nor accidents happening in the lab and that was the only thing he cared about at the moment. 

Your foot moves to step back, but your eyes are glued to Albedo. You can only see his back. His hair tied up neatly, the shoulders that you loved to wrap your arms around and his hands that were always gentle. You took a good look, drinking the whole scene in like you hadn’t had a drop of water in days. 

This was the last time you would lay eyes on him and it broke you into so many pieces. You turned away without another word, Sucrose staring at the door, before she decided that she needed to follow you. “I-I’ll be back, Master Albedo,” she rarely ever abandoned an experiment, but she knew that you needed a friend right now. 

Ironic, because it should have been Albedo running after you, but instead the green-haired girl caught up to you just as you reached the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt. “Y/N!” she jogs, and stops when you do as you hear your name.

Tears prickled your cheeks, but they were more of frustration than sadness. You stand there for a moment, drying your tears and turning around towards Sucrose, gaze on the pavement. “Y/N...” Sucrose approaches carefully, hand resting on your shoulder.

“...I don’t know anything other than Albedo, Sucrose,” you start, a curtain of memories flashing through your mind. “...Without him, there isn’t much reason for me to stay in Mondstadt,” Sucrose shakes her head rather hastily. “H-He’s just... a little occupied right now, Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t mean what he said,” You close your eyes, the scene repeating in your head.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

A hard lump forms on your throat at how hard you try not to sob. How hard you try to keep yourself together and Sucrose sees it from the way your lips tremble. “Sucrose, please watch over him,” and that is also the last that Sucrose sees of you. 

That night, Albedo arrives home exhausted, just as he always does. But now that he was home, he could at least expect a warm meal and a warm hug. A soft smile tugs on his lips at the thought.

When he turned the lights on, he was met with a strange stillness instead. His hand stays on the switch as his eyes scan the living room. It was...quiet. There were no plates on the table, and there were no sounds from the kitchen.

Deep in the pits of his stomach there’s an anxiety that starts bubbling up. He brushes it off, opting instead to check the kitchen. “Y/N?”

Empty. 

His footsteps hasten as he opens the bedroom door, expecting you to be curled up there, asleep. 

Empty.

Albedo takes in a shaky breath. You were probably just out in town, doing some late night shopping. Yeah, that’s it, perhaps you just didn’t have enough ingredients for dinner today and--his eyes land on the bedside table.

The photo frame is gone. The photo of the two of you standing side by side together with comfortable smiles on your faces, his hand on your waist, and the house on the background. 

He throws open the closet doors. Your clothes are gone. Your shoes are gone. Even your scent seemed to have disappeared. The anxiety that was once a small bubble in his stomach had started to claw it’s way out, wrenching his heart in places that he didn’t know could hurt. The tears pooling in his eyes were so foreign that he didn’t even know what was happening until he hears himself gasp back a sob.

You’re gone. 

Suddenly it was so hard to breathe, but he pulls himself up and out the door. There’s no way. Where would you go? Perhaps you were just around Mondstadt, trying to get a breath of fresh air to calm your nerves. He searches everywhere. The church, the tavern, the Good Hunter and even atop the rooftop of the Favonius Headquarters. There was a decent view of the city there, and his eyes roam the streets, just to get a glimpse of you.

“...Please...” There’s another lump in his throat, his eyes dart around looking for any small sign of you. 

“Albedo? Tired?” you ask as he returns home one day. He merely lets out a small “Mm,” and pulls a chair out from the dining table to sit on. You walk into the kitchen to fetch him a cup of tea, and he snatches your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, love,” 

“...Please!” his grip on the stone walls of the rooftop tighten. His vision blurs.

“Al! Don’t do that!” you try to swat his hand away from the pot, a short laugh coming off of your lips at how mischievous he could be sometimes, trying to dip his finger into the sauce. He has a grin on his face as he successfully tastes the sauce off his finger, making a sound of approval as he draws you in for a light kiss on your forehead, “It’s good, as always,” 

His legs buckle, and he finds himself on his knees, hands fisted upon the cold stone wall. “At least tell me where you've gone! I can’t--” he doesn’t know when the last time he cried was, but whenever it was, he doesn’t remember it to be this bad. The pain was unlike any injury he had, it grasped so tightly at his heart.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

He furiously shakes his head because he knows that it was his fault. “I didn’t mean it, please give them back,” as if there was someone else who took you away. As if there was a God listening to him right now. 

He realizes that the worst of it was not that you had left, but that you had left no traces of you behind. No photo. Not a piece of clothing. Not a trace of your existence.

Nothing for him to hold on to.

That night, he dragged himself back home. Face flushed and hot from the tears he had shed and the ones he was attempting to hold back.

That night, he painfully got into bed.

Alone.

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[the-madrigals-bitch]

I'm really shocked that you guys liked this as much as you did! It makes me really happy so here's part 2! I'll go back to writing requests for a while after this!

Betrayal pt. 2

Pt. 1

Words: 3.5k

Pepa Madrigal x fem readee

Prompt: Pepa finds you with another woman when you're supposed to be on a date with her (the aftermath)

--

"Pepa's heart sank as she put the pieces together, Alvarado was your last name."

Pepa's head spun as the final pieces fell into place, she was your family, not your mistress. Looking at her closely, she could see the similarities in your features, the same cute nose, big doe eyes, plump and pouty lips. How could she be so stupid? Surely you'd never forgive her now, you tried to tell her, you begged her to just let you explain and she reciprocated by screaming that she hated you in front of everyone. She should've just listened to you, but of course she had to overreact like the always did. A storm brewed overhead as Pepa spiraled into panic and dispair, she wanted the Earth below her to open and swallow her whole.

"I see the wheels are finally turning in that brain of yours, did you figure it out yet? I'll spell it out for you anyway, the perra that ruined your relationship is actually her cousin, you'd know that if you'd just listened. My arrival was impromptu and I just got here that morning she missed your date, Y/N was just being a good prima and helping me settle in."

The Madrigal woman was rendered speechless, horror etching itself onto her face with each word Veronica spoke.

"I just came over to clear things up because for some reason she's all torn up over you. If it we're up to me, I'd tell her not to waste her time, you sure didn't. Félix was it?" the laugh she let out was cold before she continued. "I guess she was right to be worried when she saw you two last night."

"It wasn't what it looked like, we jus-"

"Neither was what you saw last week," she glared, raising a hand to cut the woman off. "Save it, why should I listen to you when you won't give anyone else the time of day? I don't care about your explanations. I'm not the one you should be explaining anything to anyway."

"So you aren't going to tell her?" Pepa called out as Veronica walked away.

"Oh, I'm not gonna tell her anything, you are gonna look her in her eyes and tell her everything. I want you to hurt when you realize that you broke her heart, you and you alone. I only came here to pull your head out of your ass so you better not tell her I was here either, she told me not to get involved," the Alvarado woman looked over her shoulder at the redhead. "And you better fix this because magical powers or not, I will get you if you hurt her again."

Pepa wanted to throw herself off a cliff, how could she fix this? She had to talk to you, she had to listen. She got ready and sprinted to your house in record time, but there was no answer when she knocked. So she tried again, nothing. She was just about to leave when the door opened and her heart broke when she saw you. Your eyes were swollen so badly that it looked painful and your hair was unkempt and greasy, she'd never seen you so low before and it was all because of her.

"Pepa?" you whispered, unsure if she was even real. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you...are you alright?" the redhead asked, rather stupidly.

"Perfect, can't you tell?" you responded bitterly, attempting to close the door only for her to push it open and step inside. "Why are you here anyway? I thought you hated me and never wanted to see me again. If you're here to return the stuff I gave you, burn it or give it away or something. I don't want it."

"I'm not here for that, I'm here to apologize. I should've heard you out instead of jumping to my own conclusions."

You scoffed, "Like how I begged you to for days? Now you want to talk to me? Why? Félix couldn't satisfy you?"

"No! Y/N it wasn't what it looked like, Félix just wanted to make me feel better! He-"

"Oh I bet he did."

"Y/N please just listen to me-"

"Why should I?!" you yelled, calm demeanor cracking for the first time in two years. "Give me one good reason why I should hear you out when you've done nothing but blank me for days!" Angry tears stung the corners of your eyes as you spoke. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'll tell you what you're not, you aren't my girlfriend and I'm not running on your scheduel anymore. I don't want to do this right now Pepa, I don't have the energy to do this with you right now. I'm so tired of thinking and crying over you so please...just leave."

Pepa's lips pressed into a thin line as she approached you slowly, she'd never seen you so angry, you were usually so level headed and patient. When you didn't back away from her, she knew you were bluffing, you wanted to be close to her more than anything. So she wrapped her arms around you, lowering you gently as your knees buckled.

"I'm so sorry I said I hated you, I can never take it back and I hate myself for it. It isn't true mi sol, I promise I never meant it. It was unfair of me to assume the worst of you and not hear you out, but I realize how stupid that was now," her voice began to shake as she continued. "I miss you so much and if I messed things up so badly that you don't want me anymore, I can accept that. But I just want you to know that I love you so much and I've been miserable without you. I want to fix things between us, if that's okay with you."

Part of you wanted to slap her, the rest of you wanted to stay as you were for hours. Did she really think that she could accuse you of something so horrible, not hear you out, then try to come back and fix things? Because if she thought that, she was absolutely right.

"You're an asshole," you mumbled against her chest.

"I know mi amor," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your head. "I'm so sorry I did this to you."

You ripped yourself from her body, realizing that you hadn't showered in days and embarrassed that she was seeing you this way.

"I need a shower, I'll meet you up later and we can talk."

--

Pepa's heart swelled when she saw you crossing the bridge, already looking much better than you had that morning. Your hair was neat and pulled back in a half ponytail and your natural glow had already begun to return. The butterflies quickly turned to bees as it dawned on her that she'd have to tell you about Felix. You'd either be absolutely furious with her and leave or you'd understand and stay, she knew which option she'd go with. The knot in her stomach only grew as you sat beside her, not close enough for your shoulders to touch, you we're still being cautious.

"Hi," Y/N spoke quietly.

"Hola mi sol," she smiled. "Te ves hermosa."

Your face went bright red, hands coming up to shield you from her gaze as you mumbled a quiet thanks. Silence fell over you, the tension thick in the air and heavy on your lungs as you asked what you'd been dreading,

"Pepa...did anything happen be-"

The door squeeked open behind you, killing the question on your lips, Bruno stood in the door frame sending you a small wave and smile.

"It's nice to see you around here again Y/N, staying for lunch?"

"Hey Bruno, unfortunatley not, I told Vero I'd take her to Señor Herrera's for lunch today, but I'll be back by after," you stood, shaking the question from your mind and wiping the dirt off your skirt. "I should probably go anyway, I'll come back after lunch, will you be here?"

The redhead nodded, rising to her feet and letting her hands rest on your hips,

"I'll be here, waiting for you my love."

You nodded, a small smile tugged at your lips as she peppered kisses all over your face. You couldn't shake the thought of her and Félix out of your head, the kisses she gave you felt like acid on your skin.

"I have to go Pepa," you whispered, wrapping your hands around her wrists and removing them from your waist. "I'll see you later." the single, chaste kiss you pressed to her cheek was hesitant and she frowned as she watched you walk away.

--

"So then he said that he thought I was cute and we're going on a date this Saturday!" your cousin exclaimed, face quickly dropping as you stared blankly at the coffee in front of you. She tore a piece from her pastry and launched it at you, you looked up at her after it hit your forehead and landed right in your cup. "Y/N, are you alright?"

"Perfect prima," you forced a smile on your lips. "I'm not surprised Carlos asked you out already, all the boys back home used to fawn over you too."

She eyed you closely, wary of the way you'd been spacing out since you got to the bakery, but understanding that you were going through it right now so she shouldn't push you.

"Can you blame them?" she bragged, tossing her hair back dramatically. "I'm just contagious like a-"

"Like a disease," you chuckled.

She glared at you although happy that you were finally smiling and laughing again, but it faded as she spoke. Your eyes went blank again and you sat unblinking for 30 seconds before she started waving her hands in your face.

"Okay Y/N, no more games. Tell me what's wrong."

"Pepa came to see me this morning."

Her ears perked up, she'd been waiting to hear the chisme on you and Pepa since you'd met up,

"Okay and?"

"She apologized for everything."

"Sooo?"

"I don't know," you sighed. "I thought it would feel better than this but something just feels...wrong, I guess. Maybe I'm just being stupid for not accepting that we're okay again. I want to accept that we're okay again, but I just can't shake the feeling that somethings off."

Veronica's face softened and she rested her hand over yours,

"There's something I have to tell you."

--

Pepa was waiting for you on the front steps of Casita when you approached, just like she said she would be. Her eyes lit up when you came into view, but when she got a good look at you, her face fell.

"Can we talk? Somewhere private?" you spoke seriously.

"Of course mi amor, we can go to my room."

You didn't say another word until you'd made it up to her bedroom and Pepa closed the door behind her.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," you confronted her once the door had shut.

Pepa's heart fell and shattered at her feet, breath catching in her throat as she asked what you meant.

"Don't act like you don't know Pepa, I was wondering why things felt so weird this morning," you huffed. "Do you know who I had to find out from? Veronica! Who I saw after I'd already met you. Why would you hide something like that from me?"

Anger and dread filled her stomach as you spoke, that bitch, she said she wasn't going to say anything, Pepa kept her end of the deal. A storm grew outside, the dark grey cloud above her head was rumbling already. The pressure built as you stared at the woman and then it exploded,

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Félix, but I promise it was a mistake! I don't even know how it happened, I was drunk and then we were kissing and-"

"You kissed Félix?" you asked, eyes wide in confusion and pain as she confirmed your biggest fear. "What are you talking about?"

Fuck.

"What...are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that Veronica came here this morning and told you everything and you didn't tell me...You seriously kissed him? What hap-you know what, don't even tell me I knew it the second I saw you two at the bar together. God, I'm so fucking stupid," you moved towards the door, only to have Pepa block you in with her frame.

"Please Y/N, we only kissed! I was drunk and upset an-"

"That's your excuse?! Seriously? I was heartbroken too! I drank too, but I didn't go around shoving my-" you stopped, something caught your eye and you reached forward, pulling the neckline of her dress down just low enough to reveal the hickey he'd marked her with the night before. Rage burned in her belly and tears were streaming down your face before you even realized. "Only kissed? This doesn't look like you only kissed to me and I know I didn't put that there! Get out of my way," you tried for the door again, she grabbed your wrists.

"I thought you were cheating on me!"

"Because you wouldn't fucking listen Pepa! Don't touch me!" you were shaken back and forth as you tried to free yourself from her grip.

When it was clear that she wasn't going to let you leave, you ripped yourself from her grasp and stood glaring,

"You have five minutes. I will listen to whatever bullshit lie you're gonna tell me for five minutes, then I'm leaving."

She took a deep breath, if all she had was five minutes, then she had to calm down and do this properly.

"I should've heard you out when I saw you with Veronica, if I'd just let you explain we wouldn't be here right now. I shouldn't have invited Félix inside when we got home and I should've told you about it the second we made up, but I promise you that it was just a mistake and I was going to tell you. I know being drunk and heartbroken isn't an excuse and I know that I felt that way because I wouldn't listen, but Félix was there and he made me smile for the first time since we broke up. I just wanted someone to be there, I wanted you to be there, but because of my own stupidities, you couldn't be. We stopped because he said it wasn't right, because it wasn't what I wanted and he was right. Félix is a great man Y/N, but no one could ever have my heart, my soul, my entire being like you do. I know I fucked up big time, and I know I've been asking for your forgivness a lot recently, but if you can forgive me now, I promise I'll never mess anything up again for as long as live. I love you Y/N and I only want to be with you. I am so sorry for all the pain I've caused you this week and-"

"Five minutes is up." That was all you said before pushing past her and exiting the house, leaving her to crumble alone in her bedroom.

--

Veronica played with your hair as you sobbed into her chest for the fourth day in a row.

"Y/N...maybe you should just go see her?" your cousin suggested.

You shook your head against her chest,

"I don't want to."

"So you'd rather lay in bed forever?"

You nodded.

"Y/N, I'm sick of seeing you like this, I know she fucked up and you're angry, but why put yourself through this when you could just go kiss and makeup? You obviously still care about her and judging by the shitty weather, she still cares about you too."

You scoffed, "Why are you on her side all of the sudden? You don't even like her or have you forgotten that she cheated on me?"

"I don't like her, but I dislike seeing you miserable more and techincally she didn't cheat on you. You weren't together when she kissed Félix. Look at the state you're in right now, you haven't gone outside since you stormed out on her, your hairs a mess, your room is dirty, and I say this because I love you, but you really need to shower."

Your mouth dropped open, she never called you out like that and a glaring staring contest started between you two. Veronica won and you huffed, storming off to bathe yourself and when you finished she smiled at you,

"I'm glad you're finally looking human again Y/N, now go outside. I don't care where you go, just go touch some grass and get some fresh air, you'll feel better afterwards."

"Sí mama," you responded sarcastically, before walking off to a nearby stream.

You often came here when you needed to relax and the best part was that it was basically right in your backyard. It was far enough from town to be peaceful, but close enough to not be ominous, the sound of the rushing water calmed you. You took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs to capacity before you released it. You'd never let her know it, but Veronica was right, you felt much better out here. You wished the sky wasn't so cloudy and grey, but you weren't the one in control of the weather, Pepa was. Your mind wandered to her often, but for the first time in days, you thought about all the good times you had togehter. All the days you danced under hail and rain, everytime she kissed your tears away, and each time you woke up beside her. Maybe you should go talk to her, was a weeks worth of fighting worth throwing away your entire two year relationship? A twig snapped from behind you and as if you'd summoned her, Pepa stood behind you, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here, I'll just come back later."

She looked awful, worse than you had before freshening up and when she turned to leave, you called out to her. Both fear and hope shone in her eyes as she turned to meet your gaze.

"You can stay if you want...I was actually gonna go looking for you. We should talk."

She was silent as she moved to settle down beside you,

"You look like shit," you chuckled, prompting her to give you the side eye.

"You don't look too hot yourself."

An awkward giggle settled in the air before tension and nerves took over,

"I'm sorry," you spoke in unison, another uncomfortable laugh.

"You can go first."

You sucked in another lungful of fresh air before speaking,

"We fucked up, both of us. I'm sorry I missed our date, I should've been paying closer attention to the time. I guess I understand why you'd be upset, if I caught you with another woman while I waited for you like a jackass, I'd probably jump to the same conclusion. But I would never do that to you, you are the most precious thing in my life and those two years with you were amongst the best of my life. It hurt that you thought I was capable of doing something like that to you, but I forgive you and if you can forgive me, then I'd love to try to make things work again. I miss you so much."

She was crying as you spoke, but steadied herself to give you a proper response,

"You have nothing to apologize for Y/N, all of this was my fault. I'm hotheaded and quick to anger, if I just stopped overreacing all the time, we wouldn't even be here right now," she placed her hand on top of your own cautiously, relasing the breath caught in her throat when you didn't jerk away. "I'm sorry I thought you could do that, I know you never would, but I'm so scared of losing you one day. I'm so scared that you'll get sick of me and my temper, there's always gonna be somebody better out there, someone who will actually listen to you instead of yelling. I've never cared about anyone or anything the way I care about you Y/N and I'm so sorry for everything. I'll thank God everyday for-"

"Pepa," you sniffled "Please stop talking and kiss me now."

She didn't think twice before rushing forward and catching your lips in a passionate kiss. She laid you down, the dewy grass was cold against your back, but warmth soon washed over your body as the clouds disapated and the sun came out. Your kiss was wet and salty from the tears and a small cough seperated you from your lover. Veronica stood behind you, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked at you pair.

"Feeling better Y/N?"

You simply flipped your cousin off, cupping Pepa's chin and pulling her in for a long, passionate kiss.

"I love you," you mumbled against her mouth.

"I love you, mi sol."

A gag from Veronica separated you two again,

"I'm gonna go before I catch your gross," she rolled her eyes, but smiled, just content to see her favorite cousin happy again.

--

Oof, that was a long one, but so fun to write! I adore that weather wielding woman so much though, I could write pages and pages. I hope I didn't disappoint! I was hoping to get this out earlier, but you know, life happens haha.

Thank you so much for reading! Have a good day/night ♡

[hops-hunny]

Stories That Are Told

Pairing: Tarrant “Hatter” Hightopp x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n)’s so used to being the background character in everyone’s story that she forget she can be the main character in her own.

Warnings: Slight angst but majority fluff!

A/N: I love this man with my whole being omg pls

Stumbling into Wonderland with Alice had been a wonderful thing for not only Alice, but (Y/n) as well. For Alice it was an escape from all the things she didn’t wanna do and would never wanna do. She wasn’t forced to marry some sod of a guy who’d make her miserable for the rest of her life or to be the proper lady she was expected to be, but instead she got a taste of freedom. And although it was an escape for (Y/n) as well, it was an escape of a different kind.

In the other world, with it’s dreary skies and monotonous patterns and cycles, (Y/n) lived a very humdrum life. Her family had never been as fortunate as Alice in any ways of the sorts, it was a miracle that they were friends to begin with. Alice’s father had been friends with (Y/n)’s since boyhood and because of that, he always made sure they knew they were welcome to anything of his that they wished. And while (Y/n)’s father had never taken advantage of that from the way Alice’s mother treated (Y/n) and her family, it wouldn’t be hard to think otherwise.

When Charles was still around, she hadn’t done anything out of line. The older woman always kept to herself, occasionally having an afternoon cup of tea with her own mom. However, her true colors and feelings came to light after the passing of her husband. During the next few months after her husband’s absence, the (L/n)s were there for Kingsleighs. Although they didn’t have the funds to help them monetarily (for they also didn’t need it), they offered their labor and services to the two as much as they needed. Farm work, house cleaning, garden maintenance. Anything you could think they had done. But as soon as Helen was well (as well as you could be after losing someone so dear) , she had forbid them from coming to their property. She didn’t believe her and Alice should associate with people of “such low stature” because it didn’t “align with their image”. But that had never stopped Alice.

Anywhere Alice went, (Y/n) was always there by her side right along with her. They practically went everywhere together and that hadn’t changed since they arrived in Wonderland. (Y/n) was grateful that she had chased after her friend. It was like she knew something would happen. Afterall, crazy things always happen when you put two curious girls together for more than a moment. The friends they had made since they arrived were nothing short of lovely. She knew her sister would describe them as odd characters and disturbing individuals. Telling her to stay far away from them and to not associate herself with those types. But what was wrong with being odd or even disturbing? The only things worth doing in life were a bit odd and disturbing and if that made her peculiar than so be it. 

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she belonged. Sure, it wasn’t her story nor her destiny to be here as it was Alice but that did not mean she did not appreciate Wonderland for what it was. The story had never been her story, not here, and certainly not where they were from. Alice was the main chat and she was the topic that would get trickled in after. 

“Everyone has a part to play, (Y/n). Even if it is not large or as set in stone, each person’s role is necessary for the story to progress, even yours. You’ll see.” the words of that tricky caterpillar replayed in her head over and over again whenever she had a moment to think. What had he meant by that? Was her story not more than to be here in support of her dearest friend and the latest edition to their friends? Was she not just a tool in the scheme of things? (Y/n) had never known people of lesser importance as herself to contribute much of anything big to a legacy as large as Alice’s! 

From her end of the table, she watched as Hatter threw his hat high into the air before it landed on his head causing everyone to erupt in a jostled mess of laughter and cheering. She smiled fondly from a far. Tarrant was a kind man. No matter what was going on or where they were, he always had a way of making her feel included. That’s just who he was. He had known what it was like to feel excluded from things and the last thing he’d wanna do is be the cause of that for someone else. But it was nothing more than his nature, that’s it.

“You know, you should just tell him how you feel.” a velvety voice sounded from beside her ear causing her to jump. The (h/c) haired girl glared at the purple cat, reaching a hand to swat him away but he disappeared once more before appearing on her other side. “He watches you often, even when there is not many around to see. But I always do of course.” The Cheshire cat said in a sure tell tone. The girl scoffed at him, shoving another small pastry into her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes today, cat. So if you’ve come to mock my feelings during my 2nd to last day in Wonderland, I wish you well and send you off.” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest, turning her gaze away from him back to Tarrant who was already looking at her. The Hatter gave her a secret wink and a smile before turning back to the March Hare who seemed rather frazzled about something. Or perhaps excited. But once again, the grinning cat appeared in front of her face once more.

“Silly girl, you ignore the plain truth in front of you? I can see why you and Alice get along so well, both of you can be quite foolish. Oh well, the story isn’t over yet after all.” and with that he was gone. What did he mean by that? The story was clearly over. Alice had done what she set out to do. The Jabberwocky had been slain, the White Queen ruled once again, and all had been made well. And what was with everyone with stories? Not everything you can do will always be a story and not every story comes to an end. She decided not to dwell much on it. This was her last night she’d ever spend in Wonderland and she’d rather like to keep it in good memory.

So when the White Queen offered her a hand to dance she took it, their dresses swaying in the wind in oppositional unison. They all danced with one another, twirling, laughing, and having a grand time. The entire time the smile never once left (Y/n)’s face which a certain hatted man enjoyed with all his being.

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

“I can’t believe you’re leaving today. It seems as if it was only yesterday when you arrived.” the girl swiveled around to see the red head there, a bittersweet smile on his face. His smile grew once she turned to face him. Removing his hat, he bowed as he grabbed one of her hands placing a delicate kiss to the top of it. “I am delighted to have known a woman as graceful as you.” hot tears sprung into her eyes which she quickly got rid of before he stood up. Giggling some she hopped onto the large sit swing, motioning for him to join her.

“Don’t get sad yet, Hatter. I’ve still got a few hours left. You can’t rid of me that easily.” he joined her on the swing, a wide grin still on his face. Although it was partly real, she could tell there was some sadness lingering behind it. (Y/n) turned her gaze to the sight in front of them. From the large benched swing, you could see just about all of wonderland over the edge of the cliff. “Besides, there’s not much to miss. I’m just me.”

“And ‘just you’ is a lot! I’ll miss everything about you. The way you mimic the bird calls you hear, the way you get excited when the rock you skipped across the water goes further than you imagined,” she looked at him in shock as he continued to speak, “E-even the smaller things like how you leave the crust of your sandwich for last and give your crumbs to the ants. But I think more importantly I’ll...I’ll just miss your presence.” he said the last part softly, staring off the edge of the cliff to avoid her gaze. A million thoughts raced through her heads as he spoke. Could it really be? Could he really share the same feelings as she did? (Y/n) reached a shaky (s/c) hand to lay on top of Hatter’s pale one, intertwining their fingers.

“Hatter, I've got something to tell you. During my time here in Wonderland, I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve had with everyone. But more importantly, I’ve enjoyed my time so much with you and I believe it’s only fair to share with you that my feelings I have for you go beyond those of normal friendship. I guess you can say I’ve grown...quite mad for you.” his head whipped to face her as he stared into her eyes, tears welling within his own. He flashed her another smile except this one was genuine, filled with the love and warmth he had shown her the entirety of her time in Wonderland.

“(Y/n)! Alice sent me to fetch you. I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to head back.”

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

After a lot of shedded tears, heartfelt speeches, and goodbyes that were nothing short of wholesome, it was time for the two to head home. Alice patted (Y/n)’s shoulder before holding her arm out for her to grab. As they neared the portal, (Y/n) turned around once more to stare at her friends but when she got to Tarrant, her heart began to break. The gaze they held with one another was long until she simply couldn’t take it. Without thinking she ran up to him once more, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“Hatter, Tarrant, I need to know how you feel. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and never knew.” he shook his head, looking away from her as he tried to stop the waterworks that were withheld behind the dam. Hot tears streamed down the delicate skin of the girl’s face. “Hatter...please.” her voice was broken as she begged.

“I believe I wasn’t honest myself either. I am completely enamored by you, my dear. I wish I had said something sooner but even though I couldn’t, I’ll always hold a special place for you in here.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“What if it isn’t too late? What if I stayed?” she started, watching as he shook his head, “Hatter listen! You may think I’d regret if I stay but I think I would regret even more not following my heart the first time it’s ever tried to tell me something. Nothing would make me happier than staying here with you...that is if you’d allow it.” a silence fell over as everyone awaited his answer. Without another thought Hatter leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. Filled with a silent promise, a silent vow to care for her as deeply as his heart will allow. 

“I do not know what I did to get so lucky, but I would do it again if needed.” she felt herself grow flustered at his words. A quick peck was placed on his lips before walking over to Alice once again. The blonde had tears of her own in her eyes. She was glad her friend had found something to fight for, something to call her own. But also for the first time in many years, they would not see each other everyday as they once did. They both stared at each other before throwing themselves into each other's arms, laughing in unison as bittersweet tears fell.

“Good luck. Make sure you put your foot down. You’re Alice! You listen to no one and march to no one’s drum but your own.” Alice gave her a curt nod.

“Take care. We’ll meet again, do not doubt it.” 

Although Alice’s story had seemingly come to an end, it seemed as though (Y/n)’s story was just beginning. For once she wasn’t the side character in someone’s tale, but the main character in her own.

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