#but been doing some carving and been taking care of my plants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spookyquill · 5 months

Text

The Thorns In My Throat Are For You

Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai

Word Count: 2263

Part 1

Next Part

TW: Character Death, blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, head over the toilet

~~~

“Odasaku!”

Everything was at a standstill. Oda’s body fell to the floor just as Dazai reached him. It took another minute for your body to react, sprinting to Oda and occupying his other side.

Dazai gasps at the blood on his hands. “I can’t believe you. You’re such an idiot.” He says, tears welling up as he speaks, but they remain brimming along his eyelids.

You’re quick to apply pressure to the wound on Oda. A gasp threatens to escape your mouth as you feel the deep wound and the blow flowing effortlessly past your efforts. Regardless, you keep your hand planted there. “Why would you go off on your own like this? Why didn’t you wait for backup?”

Oda grunts, raising one hand to rest atop yours, and another hand to Dazai’s, who rests his hand on Oda’s cheeks. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”

“Not like this!” Dazai yells out.

“Wait to tell us after we get you a medic.” You say with a softer tone, not having the heart to yell. You also know that what you said was a lie. Oda was slipping away, and there was nothing that anyone could do for him.

“Quit it both of you!” Oda looks at Dazai. “Remember how you told me that you committed yourself to violence and bloodshed in hopes of finding a reason to exist?” He then turns to you, not giving Dazai a chance to reply. You see the pain in his eyes. “And how about when you told me that you thought you found your purpose in life by serving the mafia, even though you hate their tactics?!”

“Who cares about that now?” Your lips wobble.

“Neither of you will find what you’re looking for.” You and Dazai let out soft gasps in shock. “You’re both smart enough to know that. It doesn’t matter what side you’re on. Nothing in this world will be able to fill the nothingness inside you. Try as you might, but that darkness will always be there.”

A few breaths is all that passes your lips for a moment.

“Odasaku.”

“Tell us what we should do.” Dazai’s voice gives away his grief.

Oda grabs a hold of both yours and Dazai’s in one grip. “Protect people. If both sides are the same, then become good people. Protect the vulnerable. Help some orphans along the way. I know that the concept of good and evil doesn't mean much to you, but at least it’ll make your worlds a little more beautiful.”

A sob breaks from your mouth, tears cascading down your face. You can't control them, and by the looks of it, Dazai’s about to break his composure too.

“You can’t know that.” He says, voice deep as he tries in vain to hold back his tears.

Oda scoffs. “Of course I can. Because I know my friends better than they do.” He looks at you. “I know what they hide from each other.”

You stare, wide eyed. He’s known. You don’t know how long but he knows your crush on Dazai, there’s no other explanation for that expression of his. You turn your gaze to Dazai, who continues to stare at Oda as he begins to take his final breath.

That night, when you left the mansion, you both agreed to follow Oda’s advice. You left with the memory of Oda, and his last words carving their way into your heads as a promise. You didn’t return to mafia headquarters. Avoided all territory that the mafia had laid claim to. Coats and accessories were left with Oda as a final goodbye to Mori.

Weeks went pass in a blur. The two of you stayed in an underground facility, designed to house though without a home. Truthfully you could afford a house, but you didn't want to leave any paper trail behind for Mori to pick up and hunt you down from. You picked up community chores for some change every now and then, to blend in with the community and to pave your way to fulfilling Oda’s wish.

One day, as you were coming back from completing a task, you began to cough. It was normal for people to cough, especially considering the air underground wasn’t the best, but what came out of the cough is what surprised you.

“What?” You stare at the petal in your hand. It’s small, a baby petal that didn't get to continue its growth. It came out of your mouth.

Questions flood your brain but you push them back, pocketing the petal out of sight.

When you enter your home, you see Dazai adorning a soft smile.

“Hey. You seem happy. What’s the reason?”

Dazai hums. “Oh, I had a chat with someone today. I asked him if there are any job offers out there that can have us help people. He suggested a detective agency in Yokohama. It sounds like a nice place. And to top it off, they have a skilled business permit, which means free use of our abilities!”

You let out a breath of relief. “That’s great!”

“Though there is a slight problem with that.”

You tense up again.

“We have to remain undercover for another 2 years in order to clear our records. But he said he’d put a good word in for us.”

“Oh. I mean, at least it's something to look forward to!” You try to lighten up the mood. Walking up to the kitchen table, you take out the money you earned for the day. “We can do it, it’s not like we’ve been doing it for a few months anyway. What's another couple years for a clean slate?”

Dazai smiles. Your heart flutters at the sight.

“That’s the spirit!” He walks to the door. “I’m going to take a stroll. Don’t stay up for me.” And with that, he's gone.

You take out the petal from your pocket, examining it further.

“Why now?”

~~~TimeSkip~~~

You’re sitting at your desk, typing when Dazai approaches you. “What do you say we have a celebratory dinner for our acceptance into the agency? Just you and me.”

Your heart stammers, but you mask it with a playful smirk. “Dazai, are you asking me out on a date?”

Dazai chuckles. “Of course not!” Ouch. “I just want to celebrate the start of a new chapter in our lives!”

With a nod, you stand and follow him out the door. He ends up taking you to a small restaurant. Nothing too fancy.

As you gaze at the menu, wondering what to eat, you can't help but to flick your eyes up at Dazai, taking in his mesmerising features being lit up perfectly by the dim lighting of the restaurant. Unsurprisingly, he notices.

“Is there something on my face?” He questions.

You look up at him properly, a confused expression plastered on your face for a brief moment before it's replaced by a smile. “No. I’m just taking in how much you’ve changed in the years. You look more happy, natural, like you belong here.” You put down the menu. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’re… shining.”

Dazai stares blankly in silence, processing your words. He then barks out a laugh. “What flirtatious words!”

You didn't even intend them to come out that way, now you’re fighting a blush from forming on your cheeks.

“I didn’t think I had changed that much.” He leans forward, elbows resting on the table and his face propped up by his hands. “Well I think you’ve changed as well. You’re not following any orders now, you aren’t a duckling who willingly follows its mother. You are paving your own path now, making your own choices.” His voice dips a bit lower. “You are becoming your own person, not the one people want you to be.”

Out of everything he could’ve possibly said, you weren’t expecting that.

“You really think I changed that drastically?” You ask.

Dazai nods. “Back then, you followed me like a lost puppy. If Chuuya hadn’t taken up the mantle, I would’ve started calling you my dog.” You scoff at that. “You obeyed without question, a simple pawn in everyone else's game. Honestly, I didn’t think you would survive long on your own with me. I thought you would’ve continued listening to me without question. But you didn’t. You took initiative. You picked up a sword and started fighting your own battles. You became independent in such a short amount of time I was beginning to think you had been kidnapped and replaced by a doppelganger. But being in the agency, I’ve come to realise that you’ve grown up. You stepped up to the role you needed to take without any guidance. And for that, I’m proud of you.”

Tears shined against your eyes, and you were certain that Dazai could see them, but you fought them from sliding down your cheeks. You were speechless, trying to form any word of a sentence in your mind, but nothing came to. Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

Thankfully you weren’t left in embarrassing silence for long as the waiter came by to take your order. The two of you ordered your food and drinks before going back to silence. Although it still felt a bit tense for you, it was comfortable.

Dazai soon struck up conversation, discussing the details of his exam and his opinions of the agency’s members, going on an annoying tangent on Kunikida.

When the food and drinks arrived, you dug in, enjoying the freshly prepared meal that wasn’t cheap nor was it expensive. It was a nice change from the food you endured the past couple of years. It was refreshing.

You were nearing the end of your meal before you started choking. You cough violently, covering your mouth quickly so as to not spit everywhere on the table. Dazai looked at you with concern. You wanted to assure him you were fine, but your stomach came to interrupt.

Abruptly, you stood up and bolted for the bathroom, hand firmly clasped over your mouth.

You slammed open the door, dashing into the nearest stall, barely being able to lock it before turning around and spilling the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You hover your head over the toilet for a few agonising minutes, gagging over the toilet with the occasional violent cough. Finally, you feel something in your throat give away and splutter into the bowl.

Having the time to breathe, you open your eyes, catching sight of the contents in the bowl. You’re accustomed to gross sights and things that make you question your sanity, but you weren't accustomed to the sight of the pristine petal laying gently on top of it all.

It looked to be a bloomed petal, snowy white scattered with droplets of blood. It was beautiful yet dangerous.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

A frantic knock at the door sounds from the bathroom door before you hear it open.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” A female server asks.

Without thinking twice, you flush the toilet. “I’m okay!” You stand up on shaky legs, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe your mouth. You notice a swipe of blood appearing on the fabric and you quickly scrub at it, trying desperately to make it disappear.

“Are you sure? Your friend said you rushed off without warning. Are you feeling sick? I can call an ambulance-”

You open the door. “No need to be that dramatic. I’m fine, just a wave of nausea.”

The server looks at you with worry. “Has our food been cooked incorrectly? I am terribly sorry, I’ll inform the manager and give your meal for free-”

You rest your hand on the stressed servers’ shoulder, calming her. “No need to stress. I was feeling a bit nauseous before arriving, so I don’t believe it to be your food, I think I may have tried to force myself to eat too much.” It’s so natural to lie, yet it feels wrong to do so. But you don’t want anyone to worry about you.

The server nods timidly. “Well your friend is waiting outside the bathroom for you. He seems quite concerned for your health.”

“Thank you.” You bow slightly to her before taking your exit.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay?!” Dazai bombards you almost immediately, getting close to you yet also giving you some space.

You sigh, a hand on your stomach as you fight the feeling of post-nausea. “I’m fine. I think I just tried eating too much.”

“You sure it wasn’t the restaurant's food?”

You shake your head. “I’m sure it wasn’t their fault. I’m not blaming them, their food was delicious, I think it’s just been simmering up all day. I might head off for the night, try to sleep it off.”

A few moments of silence pass. You can practically hear the gears in Dazai’s head turning, trying to decipher whether you're telling the truth. After what felt like ages, he relinquishes.

“Okay then. Let’s get you home. I’ll tell Fukuzawa tomorrow morning that you aren’t feeling well. I’ll have him give you a couple sick days to recover.” He moves to your side, offering support and guiding you out of the restaurant where he calls a cab.

You can’t focus for the rest of the night, you don't even notice when Dazai tucks you into bed and leaves you alone in your dorm. All you can think about is the white petal decorated with twinkles of fresh blood.

“What’s happening to me?”

~~~

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated <3

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #hanahaki disease #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai

160 notes · View notes

thetwotorches · 3 months

Text

Basic Ancestor Veneration

I have essentially been away for a few months to take care of the recently dead and also my own ancestors, so I thought I would share what I do for myself because it is very simple and very accessible for anyone who has been wanting to take care of their family line and doesn't know where to start or doesn't have a great deal of time.

I lived in Asia for several years, so this basic structure is similar to how I saw and learned it while living there. The way it was conveyed to me is that you don't necessarily need to have ties to Asia to do things this way- it is so basic at its core anyone can benefit.

I will now detail a simple ancestor veneration setup in a temporary style and share some more permanent alternatives if you decide you would like it to be more permanent.

HOW TO SET UP:

First please pick out a nice sheet of paper. You can fold it into a neat square or thick strip for either horizontal or vertical writing. Please do not use scissors to trim anything on the paper, please crease and tear cleanly if you must resize without folding. If you choose to do this and accidentally make a large rip or chunk, please start over.

On this paper now write "The Temporary* Place For The Ancestors of X X" (the X's being your own first and last name) very neatly. If you make a mistake, start over completely with fresh paper- marking or scribbling out is unacceptable. (*If you decide later on to make this a permanent thing, I recommend using a thin piece of wood in the same shape, and writing or carving the words onto it, or using a nice piece of board. At which point you may omit the word 'temporary' from the signage.). This paper will act as the anchor for your ancestors to come to.

Please create a stand of some sort for this paper to go on; the idea being that the paper should be able to stand as straight up as possible without leaning or falling over, but without the paper standing like a greeting card with the folded paper open to do so. Do not poke holes or pin the paper to anything. You could fashion something out of cardboard, or if you are especially handy the preferable, more permanent choice is out of wood with fitted pieces if you are looking to make something more permanent (no nails used please).

Once the paper goes onto the stand, please refrain from touching it with bare hands as much as possible. Move it by its stand if it must be moved, or take a piece of cloth in your hand to pick it up.

Once your paper is sitting straight up in its stand in a dedicated place, please choose a nice bowl, preferably a plain white, that fits neatly between your hands. Fill it about half way with clean, fresh water. Place this bowl, with its water, before the upright paper.

WHAT TO DO:

With the offering of water made before the paper, you have essentially finished the foundation of this veneration and may speak to/call/interact with your ancestors as feels best to you. The most basic thing I personally do is bow, but if there is a bigger occasion I will do other things.

HOW TO MAINTAIN:

Replace the water in the bowl every day with fresh water. I pour out the previous day's water onto my plants so that it does not go to waste and can also feed something alive. After replacing the water each day, I will do my desired interactions.

HOW TO DISPOSE/CLEAN UP:

If you have written on your paper that this is a 'temporary' place for your ancestors- perhaps the time you have allotted has now come to an end or you have decided on a more permanent setup that is more sturdy than paper and cardboard, etc- then there will come a time to clean up the space. Here is how I do things.

Take the last bowl of water and carry it outside. Toss the water forward to empty the bowl and point it away from your house. Go back inside and retrieve the paper- this time you may carry it with your bare hands, but please show respect. You may say some parting words, or just keep to a reverent silence. Once you are ready, light the paper on fire to dissolve the anchor and send them on their way. Please make sure the paper has wholly burned to ash- this may require re-lighting some pieces. You can also collect any remaining ash in your hands and rub them between your fingers to break up the larger pieces and send them along on the wind.

The stand you made you can either keep for next time or toss, it no longer serves any function or has any relevance.

I hope this has been useful. I think our ancestors are some of our strongest supporters- remember that they don't just go back to people you know or knew, but far beyond that. I hope we can take the time to recognize them throughout the year.

#witchblr #ancestor veneration

64 notes · View notes

snakegorl212006 · 10 months

Text

The “little things” they do (Pomefiore)

--------------Epel--------------------------------------------- “Uug i can’t stand him” epel groans as he aggressively carves another apple “always nagging like he’s my mom or something.” he huffs as he finishes the final details “why do you stay with a man like that” epel mumbles. He and vil got into a heated argument again. Only god knows what they’re on about this time but it was way too early for any of that. “Well..maybe he’s just looking after us” i stated “sure sure, ‘taking care of us’. Do you truly believe that” he asked “well he has made sure i’ve eaten and have a healthy-ish sleep schedule” i replied “i wouldn't blame you for you thinking such things though” i mumbled as i leaned back on the apple tree. “Why do you always defend him… have you forgotten what has happened here” epel asked. His expression saddened “I’m not defending him entirely-. How about this? How about i ask him to lay off” i suggested “by yourself” epel asked “no it’s fine. You shouldn't” epel said as he picks up another apple “why. Don’t you want him to get off your back” I asked “yes but i don’t want you to go by yourself with him” epel replied “why not. Vil hasen’t-” “i don’t want you to die again ok gosh” he huffs angrily “epel.. Did you have a nightmare or something” i asked with a slight sigh “you don’t….I guess you can say it’s a nightmare” epel mumbled “do you want to tell me about it” i asked “.....you were hurt really bad.blood was everywhere and-” epel paused “I don’t want to talk about it anymore” he said. “Just don’t trust vil with anything. Don’t even dare.not even rook alright. Trust me. It’s for the best” epel said as he looked at me dead in my eyes “ok.. I won’t…. How about we made some dessert over with trey. I think he can make some apple pie.” i offered, which made him smile “gosh you’r the best. Always know how to make lil ole me happy” epel said as he grabs my hand “lets go then” epel adds as he drags me up and away to heartslabyul. Must be one nasty nightmare for him to act like that.

----------Rook--------------------------------------------------- “Bonsoir, mon cher” a voice spoke behind me, shocking me out of my skin “oop. Sorry i never meant to scare you” rook said “it’s fine just don’t do that again. Anyways what brings you here” i asked “I enjoy visiting the gardens in,the now, Savanaclaw wing. It brings me much nostalgic memories” he smiles “say may I be of aid. I also do enjoy a little garden work” Rook asked “well leona isn't going to do it so might as well. “Parfait! Je vous remercie, mon cher” he replied, kissing my hand before warding off somewhere else. I can never get used to his eccentricness. While planting some new plants that came in i came across something hard.I digged deeper to see something white…my stomach turns praying to anyone that this isen’t what i think it is “i suppose i made that one too shallow” Rook spoke which made me jump, tripping on the water hose making me fall. Rook grabbed that white thing and to my horror. It was a human femur “you know this place was the original garden Vil and i use to bury our victims to sustain the plants. We kinda stolen this from Roi de Fort and his crime schemes” rook said as he examines the bone “Don’t worry. You weren’t buried here. But if you desire it mon cher-” Rook stated as he look down at me “nonononononono. I'm fine. Just put that back i i need to go-” i replied then he laughs “you have that same reaction too~ ma parole, is this what you call daja vu. Not to worry. I’ll finish this from here” Rook reasured as he picks up the shovel and buries back the bone. I left for him to continue hiding that….”how many bodies are even on this property”

------------Vil------------------------------------------ “Vil, are you here” I asked as I entered the wing. Apparently he hasn't been himself lately even got epel concerned. Rook asked me to go have a chat with him. Make him feel better I suppose. “vil.Are you alright” I asked, waiting for some signs. When there was no answer I pulled out the necklace from my shirt and followed the vibrations. This leads me to his room. I knocked “vil. Is something wrong” i asked. The door opened to see vil looking less than himself. His hair all shriveled, eyeliner running down from his eyes overall he looks pitiful. “Is there anything i could do” i asked and he sighed “just….sit down” he said sounding more irritated. Did epel and him get into another argument? I entered his room to see a mess. But I ignored it and sat on the bed. Vil walks to the vanity and starts his nightly routine in silence. “You know. You look like someone i knew” Vil said as he brushed out his hair “you know i feel like this’ll be a common occurrence” i replied which made him smile a little “what were they like” i asked “Schön…” he smiled as he finished up. “What happened to them” I asked “oh, it was an accident…” he replied rather quickly “that’s all you need to know.” he said as he turns off the lights “if you wouldn't mind. Can you stay here tonight? I’ve been having trouble sleeping as of late. Perhaps you can keep me company.afterall you did come here to make me feel better” he asked. I thought about it and nod “nothing funny ok” I replied. He grabs my hand and lays down next to me. I took off my shoes and slept next to him. I was awakened by a shift on the bed. I couldn't open my eyes or even move but all i heard was soft sobs as tears on my chest “i'm sorry... I’m so sorry…” I heard vil say “this won’t happen. Not again” he adds as he holds me tight “I promise.I will obtain that happily ever after you so desire. Things will return to normal….I promise” Vil mumbles more as I feel his grip tighten “I’m not letting you relive that nightmare...Not again…”

#twisted wonderland haunted au #twisted wonderland ghost au #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere vil x reader #yandere vil schoenheit x reader #yandere rook hunt x reader #yandere rook x reader #yandere epel felmier x reader #yandere epel x reader

173 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 4 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt17

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Y'all know I had to do this scene. I didn't do the mirror one (just didn't fit this story imho) so I have to make up for it somehow

Shoutout to @shenanigans-and-imagines for inspiring the engraving

Warnings: mentions of Astarion's transformation, references to Tav's past abuse/trauma

Word Count: 1,584

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

When Astarion calmed down and gathered himself together, he approached you later that night, saying he had something he wanted to show you. You’d have followed him blindly anywhere as he held your hand and led you through the darkened streets of the city. You should have been terrified, searching every alley and shadow for signs of your master or her minions - but you weren’t. You felt safe with Astarion, despite it all.

You didn’t expect him to bring you to a graveyard. It’s dead silent, empty. It’s not unused - there are recently placed flowers in front of some tombstones, and others appear freshly engraved with names and dates - but it is an odd place to go in this city that thrums with an exciting nightlife. He stops you before one of the stones, staring at it hard.

Then it clicks.

Your heart aches at the sight of his tombstone. Most of the others have been tended to as age takes its toll - vines trimmed away, names and dates re-carved before they get too worn down. But not his. Healthy vines curl around the stone, obscuring the writing. You squeeze his hand, offering your support.

With a readying breath, he steps forward, dropping your hand as he kneels down in the dirt. To think, a mere 6 feet below lies an empty coffin. It chills you.

He brushes away the stubborn plants. They strain and snap apart, falling limply to the ground.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there,” he says quietly. He frowns, eyes never leaving his own name. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood…” His stomach churns just remembering it. Even now, with the bastard dead, something within him is fractured. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever be fixed. “Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today.”

You try to imagine it. Waking up in the dark, cramped quarters of a wooden box. Terrified. Clawing and screaming until you finally break through, only to be crushed under the weight of all that dirt on top of you. Nothing you could picture would ever compare to the real experience. You wish you could shove Cazador into a box, bury him, and watch him claw his way out just so you could kill him again.

But the thought feels sour. To enact that cruelty back on him, no matter how deserved, makes your stomach twist; reminds you of the spawn you’ve hurt. All you can do is take solace in the fact he’s dead.

You kneel down beside him and carefully take his hand again. He holds on tight. “Are you alright?”

He hums, contemplating the question. “There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. Some part of me wishes I knew what I was like back then, but he’s never coming back.” He straightens up slightly, trying to shake off the weight of the past. “But now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?”

He smiles as he turns his head to look at you. “You,” he admits, voice quiet but certain. Your heart leaps into your throat. “I want you. You were by my side through all this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You understood. You cared.” He huffs a laugh. “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel… safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you assure him quickly. He grins at your eagerness, while you flush with light embarrassment. “Whatever comes next, we’ve got each other.”

“Thank you.”

He turns back to his grave. You trace the carved-out shapes with your eyes, before you reach forward and feel along them with your fingers, calluses catching on the limestone within the grooves of the Old Common letters and numbers.

Astarion Ancunin

229 - 268 NR

Beneath it, however, are a series of unfamiliar, elegant letterforms you can’t translate. You follow along the shapes with interest, recognizing a few that repeat. “What does this say?”

When you glance over to him, his face is pinched with emotion. A sadness swims in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “It’s in Elvish. Espruar.” He reaches out with his free hand, brushing his fingers against yours as he traces over the faced letters. They’re so thin; they were clearly carved out with care. “Our little star,” he translates, voice too quiet.

You run your thumb along his knuckles to offer your support. “Your… parents?” you venture hesitantly.

He chokes out a strained laugh. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Their faces, their voices - all lost to me now, I’m afraid.” He traces over the shapes once more, before clearing his throat. “No matter. Whoever it was hasn’t been here in a while.”

You stare at the message. It’s all too easy to picture two elegant figures with white hair like Astarion’s, hunched over the fresh mound of dirt, mourning their child. He was still so very young before the Gur, before Cazador. You wondered if your parents had been the same when you were stolen away. You couldn’t remember them well, either; vague shadows at the edges of your mind that disappear when you try to focus on anything more specific. You wonder if they searched for you, and for how long before they gave in to the horrible thought that you were dead. You wondered if you had a tombstone out there, somewhere, in an old corner of Berdusk.

“Well,” he cuts through the silence, dropping your hand to reach behind him and grab his dagger, “I should probably fix this.”

You sit back and watch as he supports himself against the limestone to carve into it. He scratches a series of Old Common numbers just above the Elvish inscription, below his birth year.

Astarion Ancunin

229 - 268 NR

460 NR -

He leans back, satisfied with his work, and tucks his dagger away once more. “I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to try living again.” He turns on his knees to fully face you with a self-assured smile tugging at his lips. You turn to face him as well, and he picks up both your hands in his. “With everything that life has to offer.”

You chuckle a little. “Meaning…?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. He’d never prepositioned you for sex, and while he does wish to experience it again in better circumstances, for his own pleasure and present in his own body, he’s all too wary of your own experiences. His mind still jumps to the memories you showed him: fully nude before Kir Parthene, even before the spawn and loyal servants, unable to cover up even slightly without being punished for it. Your reaction to the order from the incubus, how quickly you had jumped to obey. Washing you with your clothes on to avoid being exposed. No, it would have to wait.

“For now, a kiss or two, and perhaps a cuddle,” he teases lightly, dancing around the truth of his desires. He lifts your hands to his cheeks, guiding you to cup his face. Your fingertips brush against his curls, your palms pressed into the angular planes of his cheeks. He leans into your warmth, kissing your hand with a contented sigh, eyelids fluttering shut. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

He looks so at peace under the moon like this. The stars no longer laugh or cajole at your anxieties, for there are none to be found here with him. His hair is pure starlight as you loose a hand from his hold and run your fingers through his curls, blunt nails scraping against his scalp. He sighs and leans further into the affection, eyes half-lidded as he meets your gaze. He grins sweetly, at ease. You remember the hungry wreck that awoke you that night so long ago, twitching as he asked for blood; the way he helped you bandage your hand and the kiss he left behind with darkened eyes. He’d come so far. Your heart burst with emotion.

You gently tug him forward. He follows without hesitation, watching you attentively as you meet him halfway to press your forehead to his. You sigh, relieved, as you brush your nose against his and curl your fingers to hold the little hairs at the nape of his neck. He groans quietly in encouragement.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. Your hot breath hits his lips and he can’t keep himself at bay any longer.

He closes that last little gap and catches your mouth, tilting his head to better kiss you. It’s warm and sweet, the taste of freedom and adoration. He cups your own cheeks in a futile attempt to pull you closer.

You pull away with a breathless giggle, but you don’t stray far. “Just two kisses?”

He chuckles. “Perhaps a few more.” He pulls you in for another, and another, until you’ve lost count. He leans further into you, until you topple backward onto the dirt in a fit of giggles and idiotic smiles. The sound of your laughter floods the graveyard as you celebrate his new life.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #i come with knives

75 notes · View notes

otakusheep15 · 4 months

Text

Winter Holiday with Twisted Wonderland

Hi everyone! It's been forever since I made an actual post. I've been trying to write for the past month, but the world just does not want me to lol. But I made it through 2023 and now it's the new year, so I thought it was time I post something again.

This is basically little blurbs of how I think the boys would spend their winter holidays. I'm trying to keep everything ambiguous since I don't know what they celebrate, and I also want everyone who reads this to feel somewhat included at least, so this is me trying my best. If it feels a little rough, that's largely because I'm still trying to fight the writer's block lol. Still, I hope y'all enjoy!

First Years

Ace Trappola: He mostly spends his time relaxing. It's not much different for him than any other season. He enjoys the vibes of winter, but he's not the biggest fan of the cold, so he does his best to stay inside. A big secret of his is that he'll secretly binge all of the cheesy romance movies airing around this time. He'd never admit it though.

Deuce Spade: A lot of his time is spent with his mom, as per usual. Lots of shopping days and going to winter farmers' markets. They also spend time at home drinking hot cocoa and watching holiday movies. He does also enjoy a good afternoon jog through the snow if it's not too much.

Jack Howl: He loves the winter very much. It's his favorite season. He spends most of his days outside playing in the snow with his siblings and enjoying the cold air. The one thing he dislikes his how he grows a double coat to keep him warm, meaning he sheds a lot more than usual. Other than that, he's having fun. Anytime it snows, his tail is going wild with excitement.

Epel Felmier: From dawn until dusk, he's either in the fields tending to crops or out in the crowds selling products. When he's done with work, he likes to curl up in front of a warm fire and work on his carvings. His hands always have to be moving, even when he's meant to be relaxing.

Ortho Shroud: He's spending time with his brother. Idia is not the best at socializing, so he does his best to make sure Idia has someone during these months considering how bad seasonal depression can get. He's also trying to help Idia get more out there, and enjoy the festivities of the season, even if he knows it won't work.

Sebek Zigvolt: He spends winter the same way he spends the rest of his time, with Malleus. Or, that's what he wants to be doing. Instead, he's given a vacation, much to his displeasure. So now he's spending time with his family. It's a little awkward being gone from his station for so long, but he will admit (to himself, begrudgingly) that it is somewhat nice to have a break.

Second Years

Riddle Rosehearts: Winter is always a bit strange for him. He's so used to spending it at home under strict conditions that it takes him some time to get used to the freedom he now has. He likes to spend his time sitting by a fireplace with a book and some tea. Now that he's independent, he likes having this time to relax instead of worrying about family.

Ruggie Bucchi: He spends time back in his childhood home. He visits his grandma and helps take care of the neighborhood kids. They're full of energy and like playing around when it snows, so of course he joins them. He'll also spend time cooking warm meals with whatever ingredients he can scrounge up.

Azul Ashengrotto: Winters are a busy time for him. It's the season of giving according to some, so he's taking full advantage in any way he can. He's striking deals with anyone he comes across and just generally doing the same shady things he usually does. However, he is also consciously taking breaks and making sure to spend time with his family, or at least calling them if he's above the surface.

Jade Leech: He's tending to his terrariums. Winter is not the best for a lot of his plants, so he has to give them extra attention lest they wilt. It's a lot of hard work, but he's very dedicated to them and he's willing to put in the effort. He also begins working on winter-specific plant life and fungi as well so that he can grow his collection.

Floyd Leech: He gets the winter zoomies. The cold makes him extra hyper and excitable, so he's running around a lot more than usual. Ever since discovering snow, he's loved it, so he's spending most of his time rolling around and playing in it. He also loses whatever loose sleep schedule he had and just passes out whenever his body physically can't anymore.

Kalim al-Asim: He prefers summer, but winter is fun too! While he is busy helping his dad and getting trained to succeed him, he still makes sure to take time to have fun. He and his siblings will go out and play around in the snow and just have fun however they can. He can't always handle the cold like his siblings can, but he does his best to keep up with them.

Jamil Viper: He's given a vacation on the request (read: demands) of Kalim, so he's relaxing. For once he has no responsibilities, and he's living his best life. He's making warm curry for himself and catching up on books he's never had the chance to read. He does have the urge to go back to work early, but he forces those urges away.

Silver Vanrouge: He's spending time with his father. Winter makes him extra tired, so he spends a lot of it inside sleeping. Lilia stays with him for a lot of it, and they bond. He'll cook warm meals and they'll watch movies together. They also make sure to visit Malleus often so that he isn't lonely.

Third Years

Trey Clover: The bakery is busy this time of year, so he's mostly occupied with that. He's baking, running the store, making deliveries, and keeping up with orders. There's very little free time, but the time he does have is spent with his siblings. They play in the snow together, watch movies, and drink warm cocoa by the fire. His parents will also join in if they have the time, which is even less common than him.

Cater Diamond: He's keeping up with all of the winter trends of course. He's taking selfies in the snow, reviewing all of the winter exclusive products available, and blasting classic winter music. He loves this time of year because of how festive and fun it is, but it also drains him very quickly on the inside, so the seasonal depression hits quick as well. He won't let it show though, at least until he's alone.

Leona Kingscholar: He does not care. The only difference is that winter is cold which makes him more tired than usual, but that's it. He might stay inside more to avoid the snow, but when you live in a castle, there's plenty to do inside as well, so he's fine. Cheka might force him outside, but he's not enjoying it at all. The snow bothers him and so do the festivities.

Vil Schoenheit: Most likely, he's working on a winter-themed project. A movie, play, photoshoot, something along those lines. It's tiring work, as per usual, but it's what he's required to do, so he does it. What he would like to be doing is relaxing, however. He actually quite enjoys the wintertime, so it'd be nice to spend it alone and without stress. If he could, he would relax at home, maybe even with his dad if he were free. They could finally spend time together and just be normal.

Rook Hunt: He's spending time with his family. It's so rare for all of them to get together, so it's nice to be able to see everyone at once like this. They are also a very competitive family, so many days are spent playing games and having fun competitions amongst one another. Board games, games in the snow, or just random games made up on the spot. It's fun for everyone.

Idia Shroud: He is, as expected, by himself playing games. He may go back to S.T.Y.X. if his parents request it, but he's not leaving his room. In his own way, he is being festive. He's playing winter-themed games, watching anime that takes place in the winter, etc. etc., but that's as far as he'll go. He's not the most fond of the winter festivities because that's normie behavior, but he might be convinced by Ortho to come outside and be festive at least once, as a treat.

Malleus Draconia: Usually, he's alone. Winter can be a lonely time for those without family. However, this year, he does have a family. He has Lilia and Silver, and Sebek too. They all make sure to visit him whenever possible, even if they can't be with him all the time during winter. After all, they do get their time off, so they're allowed time to themselves. However, they still visit him, and that makes him happy. He also spends time with his grandmother when she is available. Still, for a good majority, he finds himself alone, wandering the halls as usual. Sad.

Lilia Vanrouge: He's spending time with Silver at home, mostly. He makes an effort to visit Malleus when possible, but he's mostly relaxing on his own. He and Silver have fun bonding together, something they don't get to do often. He also makes sure to see Sebek and his family too. He tries to cook some hot meals for Silver, but Silver will not let him in the kitchen, so he's upset, but he's still having fun with his time off.

73 notes · View notes

aonungyoufuck · 1 year

Text

Runaway {Part 9}

Runaway Masterlist

DNI/BYF

Ao'nung x Fem sully reader.

Synopsis: its been a long time. Far to long but Ao'nung makes you diner. Still in the courting phaze. Honestly its just little bit of fluff.

Ao’nung felt it. The water wasn't exactly like home. It was almost a little suffocating. But he figured since you adapted to his home he could adapt to this one.

He had been thankful that the first day here he had began marking it on his spear before translating it to a board. It had been exactly one year and six months. And he's done his best to keep track of dates. And if memory serves him right. It was almost his birthday too.

He would say courting has gone well.

Alongside all that he’s managed to adapt kind of well to the forest. Sure he sucks are climbing, he still can't hunt unless you help. And there are no Ikran here to tame. But hes made Progress with what you two had to work with.

His skin feels dryer than normal and he’s spending more time in the water. Which helped in making tools and collecting more food that way.

But you took notice of it too. Luckily for you on one day where he was deep into the lake. You manage to sneak into his hut. Finding the wood that he had been carving. And lucky for you. You also remembered what day his birthday fell on.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Ao’nung! God i swear one day im going to drop dead from fright” You poke.

The little pod was nothing like back home. And you could tell it could use some work.

“Just came to see if i can help fix up your little area a little. All i have to worry bout is my hammock so i thought you may want me to fix it up a little?”

He rose a brow before sighing. “Sure. I mean i know this place is falling apart too”

“Plus i have a slug coating that can help with the wood rot.” You commented back.

He smiled. Extending his hand out. In it a small but shiny crystal. One that he had made sure to polish and refine to perfection.

“For you”

“Ao’nung..Where did you find this?”

“There’s surprisingly a lot of stuff at the bottom of this lake”

Now When he had first began to court you He had no one to talk to. But he did remember Lo’ak asking him how to go about courting his sister. So he had a minor clue on your courting rituals not being the same.

And he was a little bit reluctant to ask you. But you had told him however he wants to, You are more than willing to accept his courting rituals.

You took notice of the hole that he most likely drilled into the stone. Smiling, taking the hand you wove it into your hair.

“Ao’nung your hand..”

Ao’nung quickly took his hand away from yours. “Its nothing”

“Does it hurt?”

His hands were dry and blistering. Slightly red at his knuckles and finger tips. “No. Kind of”

“You should have told me”

“I didnt want you to worry any more than you have”

“Ao’nung”

You grabbed his hand. Careful with the blisters as you gently peppered them with kisses. “Prepare me a fire, please?”

“What for?”

“Well, i still have year of Tsahik training under my knowledge. Not to mention we are in the forest”

Ao’nung rolled his eyes, smirking a little as he could only help but sigh. “Alright alright fine. Just be safe alright?”

“Dont worry love. Ill be back soon” You bid him a quick goodbye before heading off again.

Ao’nung was glad you hadn’t looked more into the place. He had been working hard on making you the greatest meal he could make. Cooking or preparing food wasn’t his strong suit. But watching his mother and Tsireya for so many years he picked up a thing or two.

He figured you were also tired of the Teylu and the fish he could gather. Lucky for him he had found fruits a while ago and had planted only two. It had borne good fruit and he was Glad. He wanted to try some more.

He was glad too that Kiri had showed him your Omatikaya spiciest dish.

You were taking your time. But he was glad too for the food was ready by the time he had finally seen you come by.

“Ao’nung… Oh! What’s this all about?”

“ I thought you may like if i prepared food for you this time”

You smiled Sitting next to him as you looked at the fire and the food. “I love it thank you”

Ao’nung handed you his hands. But not before giving you a new Clay Bowl.

It had been like this since you two ran off. You would provide the highest amount of food, And he would provide the materials. Given that he had better access to it. But he wanted to bring up a point tonight.

So while you began to mash the paste and wrap his hands he decided to speak.

“Do you think. Maybe you could teach me to hunt some more?”

“I can. But are you sure? I mean you have been spending a lot more time in the water”

“I want to provide more for you. How will you accept me if i do not?”

“I have accepted you a long time ago dear Ao’nung”

Ao’nung didn’t know if it was because of the lack of people. But you had been so bold. And it made him more reserved. Shy which he never was. It made his heart beat for you more.

“If you want to know, I can teach you. But Know that im okay with the system we have”

“I like to provide. But i will admit it was fun to cook” Ao’nung admitted.

You smiled. Kissing his hands as you noticed that his skin on his legs was also cracking.

He looked so dry compared to the amount of time he was spending in the water. It concerned you and you made yourself a mental note to make more paste just in case it ever bled.

You also took this as a good way to make sure he was eating. Giving he looked a little more sunken in than usual

“Alright alright you big baby ill teach you” You could only smile.

Laying down next to each other wasn’t uncommon but it was often that you didn't do this. Staring out into the sky. It was nice to see it. To feel the wind pass you by. To let the wonders of pandora engulf you.

“What is that?” Ao’nung commented, making you look at what had gingerly landed on his hand.

“Atokirina” You let out a gasp as you took a look at the wood sprite that had landed on Ao’nung.

Little by little and one by one they surrounded you two. Engulfing you in a light show you could only dream of.

Feeling like the young adults you were two years ago when Ao’nung had told you those sweet nothings.

“There must be a tree of souls nearby,” you commented. Laughing a little as you watched them leave.

“We should go find it one day” Ao’nung suggested.

“No. It is sacred to another clan. It would be rude if we did so”

Ao’nung could only laugh at your words.

—----------------------------------------------

“One year Tonowari” Ronal spoke through her tired voice. All this time she had wept for her son. She often stayed in her pod helping when needed and leaving when left alone.

Her voice lost its fierce strength and now it was tired. Strained and harsh because she had grown so tired of it. Tired of wanting to understand why Ao’nung had left.

But she knew. She knew too well and she oftentimes found herself upset for not making an effort to understand her son’s devotion to you.

“I know Ma Ronal”

“What is this Tonowari” she spoke. She was so worried. And whilst she blamed you in the beginning. She was worried for you too. It was like having another Daughter. For Eywa’s sakes

She had accepted Lo’ak to Court Tsireya as to not lose her too. Oftentimes she found herself by the spirit tree. Wondering, asking for their safe return. Asking her that if you two return, she will happily take you two back. No matter the costs.

Ateyo had grown so quickly and she was missing out on her oldest son.

She would clean his spear, his nets and anything just so that if he were to come back. He would be coming back to what was normal.

Oftentimes Tonowari found her. Reliving the memories of Ao’nung. Like a baby he was. Like the young boy he was. The Kid Ronal Adored so much now that he was gone. He too prayed to Eywa for your return soon. For it broke his heart to much to see her in such pain.

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

Taglist: @simp-erformarvelwomen / @luvlykrispy / @yeosxxx / @fanboyluvr / @littlethingsinlife / @eirianna / @elegantkidfansoul / @tsukibaby1 / @adaiasafira / @1-800-not-simping / @reggiesslut / @cmfouatslota77 / @slutforsmut4ever / @zatarias-pandora / @valovesyou / @tachiara / @ghost-lantern / @victorianhorrors / @irlydontknoanymore / @hellok1ttycake / @sweetheartlizzie07 / @audigay

#avatar the way of water #atwow imagines #atwow #atwow ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #ao'nung #aonung x reader #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung x you

322 notes · View notes

smallraindrops-blog · 1 year

Note

May I please request a Zagreus x Persephone's Priestess Flower Nymph! reader who Zag meets when he successfully completes a run while Persephone's in the underworld, find her tasked for caring for the house and garden while she's away? Please and Thank you.

Take me to the garden

(And bury me where I am loved.)

Fandom: Hades

Zagreus X Female Reader

Word count: 3K

Warning: Kissing, no beta.

Notes: Hi, sorry for the long wait! Been dealing with a combo of flu and work. I hope this was close to what you wanted and that you enjoy it! There is an index of plants/flowers I choose and their symbolism at the end.

Enjoy!

The tall stalks of wheat swayed in the gentle breeze, golden in the fading sunlight. In the coming days, it will be harvested for food. Bread, porridge to fill the belly.

It was a time for the daughters to gather, to work together and provide. The warm sun on their back. And proud smiles on all of their faces. Your mother had worked in the garden just as her mother did and her mother before her. The history was carved in your bones.

Only now it will be just you and your sisters, their eyes on you for leadership.

You heard Persephone’s soft footstep, the grass growing taller with each of her movements. Little daisies will follow, bright white against the grass. You loved the sight of it, little flowers growing.

Even your grief, the low boil of anger in your stomach, you couldn’t ignore Persephone. She had a mother to you in ways your own mother never was. You would not deny her.

So you stood, your empty basket at your feet and turned to face her.

Persephone’s face crumbled when she saw your expression and she held her arms open. “Oh, little one. Do not despair.”

Like a child, you went to her. Her hand rested on top of your head, careful to not disturb the carefully made crown, colorful with ribbons, wheat and small wildflowers weaved in. The sweetness of lavender and her warmth smoothed the ache in your chest just so and you closed your eyes.

There was a moment of silence, the faint brush of a cool breeze then you spoke. “I know why you must go but I won’t lie, my heart won’t let me. I am going to miss you greatly.”

Persephone squeezed you, “I know. I will miss you as well. It's just… I think Zagreus needs me. And I wish to know my son.”

“Of course, my lady.” You told her. “We all know he brings you great joy.”

You closed your eyes, and silently cursed your own weakness.

Persephone left on a beautiful morning, the cheerful skies seemingly uncaring of your grief. Your sisters murmured and some wept, but there was the harvest and the garden that needed tending to. As well the house.

So that what you did, you cared for the land, to the solid wood of the home. The sun drifted on, and the wheat fell under the scythe and new seeds were planted. It didn’t help the pain in your heart but at least you could do this for Persephone.

One by one, each of your sisters left after the harvest. They will return next year, some rounded with children, some with tales of far away places and for some, it will be their daughters in their places.

Then it was just you.

It was when you saw the burnt grass that you knew you weren’t alone. Your mouth thinned in disapproval, you have seen it before.

It meant that Persephone’s son, Zagreus was in the garden.

You never saw him despite him visiting Persephone. The visits were never long, just a few hours and typically by the time you knew there was a stranger in the garden, all that was left were Persephone’s tears and blood.

And the lingering smell of burnt grass.

Carefully you followed the footsteps, thankful that he had stuck to the beaten dirt path. Maybe it was unkind, but you were planning on a firm word with him. Just because Persephone was fine with him going and coming whenever he pleased, didn’t mean you were.

It didn’t take long to find him, kneeling on his knee and his fingers carefully touching the pale petals of the lilies.

He didn’t look anything like you expected. It was rare to see a man, only women and children were allowed to be in Persephone’s sanctuary. It would be easy to mistake him for a mortal at first glance. However, there was a strength to his form, broad shoulders and a fluid grace to his movements that spoke of his godhood.

“Their petals are fragile. I suggest not touching them.” Your voice came out sharp and Zagreus jerked his hand away like a guilty child. He stood quickly, turning to you.

The god looked battle-worn, deep marks on his chest, barely healed cuts on his arms and face. There was a lingering exhaustion in his eyes. He looked surprised, his eyes unwavering from you, then he smiled, slow and warm.

Warmth flooded inside your very core at the sight but you held your head high, your scowl unfading.

“I know you.” Zagreus said, his voice a rumble, a contrast against the gentle birdsong and quiet ruffle of grain. “You’re my mother’s high priestess.”

“And you’re Zagreus. Her son.” You replied.

There was a pause then you asked. “What are you doing here?”

Zagreus looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah. Mother asked me to check on the garden. And on you. She suggested that you might need help.”

“I do not.” You said brusquely. Zagreus gave you a startled glance and you sighed. Guilt was an unwelcome guest but you felt its weight in your chest.

You sighed, “Forgive me, I am not used to strangers. It is very kind of you to fulfill Lady Persephone’s wishes.”

Zagrues chuckled, a grin on his face. It made him appear boyishly sweet. “Truthfully, it's probably better if you didn’t need my help. I never gardened before. I would have killed anything I touched.”

You clicked your tongue, “Never?” You couldn’t imagine such a thing, you had been born among the trees and flowers. You had grown up side by side with the plants, learning the cycles of the seasons and your role in it.

“Never. The underworld is nothing like this. To me, not even the beauty of Elysium comes close to this place.” Zagreus said. His hand waved toward the lilies, to the trees. His face was thoughtful. “The work my mother -and you- put into this place is amazing.”

Your fingers curled over your stomach as pity grew. You still resented him for the pain he caused but…

“Would you like to see the rest?” You offered. “I have finished most of today’s chores and the apple trees are fruiting.”

Zagreus’ mismatched eyes locked on yours and you held your breath, awaiting for a judgment you just now only aware of. You wondered if Zagreus resented you the same you did to him.

Then the same warm smile returned.

“I would like that very much.” Zagreus said quietly.

Not sparing a moment to think about the warm flush on your cheeks, you turned on your heels. Without missing a beat, Zagrues fell in step with you. This close, you felt the warmth of his body. There was a faint smell of copper and smoke.

You kept your eyes forward, not letting him see how off balanced he made you.

You pointed to each and every plant as they walked past. Persephone understood plants in a way no else could as far as you were concerned. Every spot was carefully chosen to maximize the plants’ growth and health.

You told this to Zagreus, pausing in front of the yarrow, the flowers reaching high up to the sun.

“These are yarrows.” You paused, glancing toward Zagreus who offered you a raised eyebrow. “They are also known as the warrior plant. Perhaps I can make you some medicine, it will help you heal.”

At your words, Zagreus’ lip quirked up, a false smile. “I appreciate it. I do but these won’t help me. Nothing will.”

You frowned, mouth parting in question when without a single word, Zagrues walked past you, nodding toward the tall sunflowers. “Now tell me, what are these lovely things?”

Normally you would scoff at such words, what man would think himself above such needs? But the memories of Persephone weeping, her hands, bloody and trembling, hovering over nothing flashed in your mind.

You should have asked more questions but Persephone, for as much as you had cared for her, kept many things close to the chest, Zagreus the closest of all. The said god was looking at you, his black hair ruffled by the soft breeze.

Like this, he wasn’t the villain you thought he was, tearing through the garden and breaking your Lady’s heart. There was a gentleness to him, most would have stomped through the garden, picking apart the flowers but Zagreus had been careful with every single touch.

“Sunflowers.” You told him, moving to stand by his side. “They are always searching for the sun. They follow its path though the skies. Always looking but never able to touch.”

Zagreus frowned, “What a sad story for a cheerful looking plant.”

You inclined your head in quiet agreement, “Come along, I shall show you the apples. Some food will lighten the mood.”

He nodded, however his eyes lingered on the sunflower. The flowers only swayed the breeze, unaware of the god staring at their dark faces.

The apples would help that you were sure of, the sweetness unlike anything. The sight of the trees, colorful and lush, would be a treat of itself.

Only Zagreus never made it.

Among the pale yarrow and yearning sunflowers and quiet birdsong, he collapsed. Your body moved before you realized it, your arms around his chest as you were dragged down with him.

His firm chest was under your ear and there was a moment of embarrassment, your cheeks flushed. Then you heard it, the slowing of a heartbeat. That he wasn’t quite as warm as he was before and when he let out a breath, it rattled.

You shifted quickly, placing a spread hand over where his heart was as you sat up. One your ribbons brushed against his shoulder when you moved to study his face. “Zagreus? Are you alright?”

His eyes met yours and he offered up a weak smile. “Forgive me. You can leave me here. This isn’t the worst place to die alone.”

Your brow furrowed, and Zagreus sighed, the rattle stronger. “My mother didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Don’t speak. Save your strength.” You ordered, your mind scrambling for solutions. Yarrows were only good for when there was a wound, but there was no wound that you could see.

Zagreus huffed out a laugh, his hand reached up to cover yours and your breath hitched at the casual intimacy. His hand was warm and dry, his calloused fingertips brushing your skin.

“Thank you for showing me. The flowers are almost as lovely as you are.” Zagreus said, his words slurring together. You stared down at him, the beating of his heart fading.

“I-“ you tried to say, but there was a thick knot in your throat. It was one thing to know plants and animals die, it was the natural course of life.

Born, live, die.

It was another thing to feel the fading of life itself.

“Can I come back?” Zagreus asked softly. If you said no, you knew he would never step into the garden again.

And you found that you couldn’t bear the cruelness of it, of him never knowing his own Mother’s garden. To not know how the cool, damp earth felt against sun warm skin, of teeth sinking into the sweet flesh of apples or the cool water down a parched throat.

Persephone had chosen you to serve her until your last breath. In that moment, you knew your duty belonged to Zagreus as well, in whatever way you could help him.

How odd things change so quickly.

With your uncovered hand, you brushed his dark hair, silky smooth between your fingers.

“I will come get you myself if you don't return to me.” You said, your voice painfully gentle. Zagreus smiled.

In the next breath, he was gone.

Fat, lazy clouds rolled past, casting long shadows across the land. The sunlight shone through the trees and the sunflowers chased after it. The birds were singing their songs, coaxing mates to them and feeding their babies.

Dirt on your bare feet and the wind in your hair, you worked with a low hum. It was an old song, one that you heard Persephone sung before. You didn’t know the words but you knew the rhythm of it.

Plucking the ripe tomatoes, you placed them in the basket next to the cucumbers, you checked over the rest. Like all of Persephone’s plants, the tomatoes grew strong and healthy.

A memory of mismatched eyes going dull came to you, a weight of pity grew in your chest and you sighed at your foolishnesses. There was a cycle to everything, even for gods.

Yet the memory lingered.

It was when you were cleaning the front porch, your boom sweeping the dust off when you felt eyes on you. Your hands tightened around the wood, more than ready to chase away any unwelcome guest. Whirling around, your mouth parted with a warning ready but you stopped short.

Zagreus flashed you an easy grin, already just a few steps away from you. There was a moment as you and him studied each other, and you wondered if he was struggling with what to say just as you were.

“So how about those apples huh?” Zagreus said, an amused glint in those mismatched eyes. Red and green, they were bright with life. It was beautiful and you found you couldn’t look away.

You huffed in annoyance but your lips twitched, giving away your smile. And Zagreus just laughed, warm and full of life.

A new cycle began.

Just as the sun rose in the east and sunk into the west, so did Zagreus. So did you.

You taught him how to plant seeds, taking his hands and pressing them against the cool earth. His amazed face when he saw the spouts, tiny and bright green and helpless, made you laugh.

You had forgotten the joy of a new discovery.

You shared everything with him, the taste of apples, the golden barley in the sunset and the quietness of early mornings and the songs of crickets during twilight. Often, you caught his eyes lingering on you but you only turned away, not quite ready to… you weren’t even sure what.

There was an unfamiliar ache in you, one that you thought you would never feel and you thought how sunflowers chased after the sun, forever pinning and you felt a kinship with them.

In turn, he told you of the underworld, of the shades and gods that made their home there. You tried to imagine it but it all seemed so far away even if you knew you would be among the shades yourself someday.

For now, however, there was the garden. There was you and Zagreus.

"My mother had been asking about you." Zagreus told you one day, his hands were dirty from working the earth but he seemed pleased. His shoulders relaxed and there was a smile that never left his face.

“Oh? What did you tell her?” You asked as you moved away from the roses, freshly pruned and the red petals were bright in the daylight. With a sigh, you joined him under the shade of trees. You folded your hands in your lap as you settled down.

“The usual. I think she misses you, she talks about you often.” Zagrues said, tugging at the grass. There was a hesitation in his tone and you glanced at him with a frown.

“But?” You prompted. It was one of the first things you learned about Zagreus, he was an open book unless he had no choice.

“She worries about how you are going to handle the upcoming season.” Zagreus said. A breeze came by, and with it, dozens of leaves followed. There was a chill to the air that wasn’t there before.

With the power of Persephone, the garden only knew everlasting bloom. The life here was lush and full and there had been flowers planted by generations of mothers and daughters that had never been touched by rot or death.

There was a cycle, and not even the garden of life would be spared.

Rough fingertips brushed against your knuckles, and you were struck by how much bigger he was. You didn’t pull away. Carefully, he shifted and took one of your hands, his thumb brushing across your skin. There was dirt but you found that you didn't care, especially since your own hands were marked by the earth.

“I told her I wish I could stay up here with you.” Zagreus said, his voice held an intensity that you weren’t used to. Slowly, you met his eyes and your breath hitched at the closeness.

“Can you?” You asked quietly. Your heart raced at the thought of having Zagreus with you for longer, that you and him would survive together with the winter to come. That maybe you might allow for more if he could.

At this, Zagreus squeezed your hand. “I want to. But…”

Just like your hope was dashed but you didn’t resent him for it. Zagreus was a bit like a sunflower, blooming only once to chase after the golden rays of light before returning to the earth.

“Tell her I will be fine.” You said, returning the squeeze. “Tell her I have planned for it. That I am looking forward to resting. I don’t think I've ever seen snow before.”

“And you will stay warm?” Zagreus asked sharply, leaning in closer. You felt like you saw every hues of green and red in those beautiful eyes. He reached brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Yes. I will.” You said quietly.

“Good.” Zagreus said, just as quiet.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle but warm sparks went off in your core as you carefully returned it. You leaned more into him, just wanting to feel him. Your other hand pressed against his chest, his heart strong under your palm. You felt weightless, like nothing but Zagreus could keep you grounded.

Even when the kiss broke, the feeling remained. He smiled at you, his cheeks flushed.

And you kissed him under the canopy of trees, the smell of roses drifting through the air and you felt like the winter itself would never touch you.

Flower/plant index

Wheat: Staff of life, Resurrection

Lavender: Devotion, Grace

Lily: Devotion, Purity, Associated with Hera and Zeus

Apples: Love, Good health, Associated with Aphrodite

Yarrow:Courage, Love against all odds, Associated with Achilles

Sunflowers: Unwavering faith, Loyalty, Associated with Apollo and Clytie

Roses: Romantic Love, Passion, Sacrifice, Associated with Aphrodite.

#Hades #zagreus #Zagreus x reader #Zagreus x female!reader #Zagreus x y/n #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #hades fic

680 notes · View notes

thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

Note

Reader: “What's that look for?”

Xavier: “...You’re in my seat.”

Reader: “Well I’m not moving, so either stop being a little bitch about it, and get another seat, or sit in my lap.”

Xavier: “What?!”

Reader: “You heard me. I don’t care what you chose, but hurry it up, we don’t have all day.”

I’m only me when I’m with you (Xavier Thorpe x Ghost!Reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Ghost!reader

Word count: 837 words

Summary: School was enough punishment for you so the best thing you could do to not suffer was to take another guy's seat and being a little ass about it.

Warning: Nothing to be honest, but I was thinking a bit of enemies to lovers kind of thing?

A/N: I have finished Wednesday, I am sad that there's not a lot of fics for this baby, if you have any request for him! My inbox is open!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

Some say that the road to life Is paved with good intentions. In your case, it’s been hand-carved with a bad script and horrible soundtrack music that no-one in their right mind would ever hear, even if they were drunk or high.

There was a time when the world was blindsided from your kin. They were violent, mean, untamed, uncivilized, murderers. You were victims from them, lost souls that couldn’t passed to the other side, so you stayed hidden, most of you were loners, living with the others, dying on your own.

For some, they decided to stick into groups, forming “families” that kept them sane enough to continue surviving in this world and when Nevermore Academy was funded in 1791, the “youngest” were sent there to learn what was out there. Well, let’s be honest, no sane ghost was in their right mind to sit hours and hours learning things they would never use on their eternal life, but here you were, a newbie, a fresh/dead fish on this huge tank as a punishment for your reckless behavior.

The introduction went as expected, you couldn’t even use the uniform the principal Weems had given you, you couldn’t sleep or eat, so the room she provided you was useless and your roommate was more than happy to occupy your space without second thought.

And even if you didn’t care, you were force to attend classes like the others, even if you couldn’t grab a pencil to take notes, have a backpack to carry your books or even socialize with the others without making a death joke. (Ghost, remember? They have a deathly sense of humor)

So that lead us to the present, you arrived earlier to the greenhouse, not really ready or happy to be sitting here (or floating on a chair) and listen to miss Thornhill lecture about some kind of plant, to be honest you would prefer to just wander around, to cross some walls, scare some students, anything other than being a good student.

Your hands moved over your desk, watching how the few chains that were attached of your wrists began dragging across of it. You smiled at the wicked joke you thought about, but didn’t say anything. Not even a hello to miss Thornhill when she happily welcomed you to her class, offering to give you a copy of the material so you could catch up.

You would had said yes and a thank you, but let’s be real, your hands would only break through it so what was the point.

The sound of the other students approaching didn’t made break your trance from your chains. Hell, you didn’t even care about the murmurs of the others because of your clothes, have they never seen a bloody teenager with several chains that wrapped on her limbs on their lives? Weirdos.

Someone cleared their throat next to you, but your eyes never left your hands, then they did it again, making you frown, then again, that’s when you decided to look what the hell their problem was.

And there he was, the owner of the clearly weird throat, he was tall, his hair up to his shoulders, a dirty brown and green eyes. You frowned in confusion, apparently everyone was now paying attention to both of you.

“What’s that look for?” You asked him. “Never seen a bloody ghost in your life?”

He shook his head, pausing for a moment. “You are in my seat.”

“Really?” You began smiling, he wasn’t serious, was he? “I’m on your seat.”

“Yes, and I would appreciate if you moved.” He motioned to the chair next to you. You stared at him, he taking the challenge and not looking away.

“So hypothetically speaking, if I look under this chair, I will see your name them.” You gently began going down, passing through the chair before quickly appearing once again. “Didn’t see any name.”

The guy close his eyes in annoyance, he was getting frustrated. “Just move, please.”

You pursed your lips, your head moving to each side, contemplating your options, your arms crossed on your chest, the chains moving with them, his green eyes looking at them before meeting your eyes once again. “Well, I’m not moving, so either stop being a little bitch about it, and sit next to me or sit on my lap…and don’t worry, I won’t feel a thing, maybe you will but that’s the fun of not knowing, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“What?” He exclaimed, finally noticing how everyone was watching them, even miss Thornhill. “You can’t be serious.” He hissed.

“Oh baby, you heard me.” You stood up, your feet not touching the ground. “I don’t care what you chose to be honest but hurry up.” Your arms opened and you did a little spin. “We don’t have all day, sweet-cheeks.” And you “sat” down once again, smiling victoriously as he contemplated his options.

He sighed in defeat and sat next to you. Oh, you will enjoy this class so much.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday adams fic #wednesday adams imagine #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier torphe fluff

529 notes · View notes

sexy-sea-basss · 2 months

Text

Ghouls & Space, pt.2

Ghouls & Space

@sovaghoul slid into my DMs asking if I had any more ghoul nebula thoughts, specifically the other three quints, Ifrit, and Zephyr.

Originally, no. BUT, then I was like, y'know what? Yeah. I do. And so, here's this. Little blurbs, some well thought out, others not so much. It got sillier towards the end bc exhaustion and sleep deprivation.

Aether Soul Nebula (Westerhout 5, LBN 667)

Heart (bottom) and Soul (top) nebula together.

The Soul Nebula is next to the Heart Nebula, this cluster often referred to as the “Heart and Soul." Dew’s fire particles came from the Heart Nebula. It was written in the stars that they were destined to be together. They’re meant for each other.

W5 carves out cavities by pushing gas together which then ignites into successive generations of new stars. Aether left a cavity in the band that needed to be filled, opening a spot for Phantom/Aeon to come in and shine. While Aether isn't in the band, he is still part of the pack and is there to support and guide the new and future generations of Quintessence ghouls.

Delta Trifid Nebula (Messier 20, NGC 6514)

Named Trifid because it is overlain by three bands obscuring interstellar dust, giving it a trisected appearance as seen in small telescopes.

A group of recently formed stars are visible towards the center. They're massive and bright, and they're relaxing a flood of ultraviolet radiation that's dramatically influencing the structure and evolution of the nebula.

This pairing was more-so name related. The sign for delta (in the sciences) is usually a triangle, tri meaning three, Trifid meaning divided into three. Delta also means a change in. Just like this nebula is being changed by its stars at the center, Delta also underwent a change from water to quintessence, damaging his body in the change (or so it's headcanoned by some).

Zephyr Witch Head Nebula (IC 2118)

The wind blown appearance and cometary shape of the nebula means that it may have been formed from the stellar winds of a nearby highly luminous star. While the wind that shaped IC 2118 is not from the west, it's still a suitable nebula as Zephyr also means a gentle breeze.

The northwest side of the nebula is thinning out and sparse like Zephyr. He is tired, he’s been stretched to thin. He hurts. He just needs to rest and smoke weed and get all the cuddles and love. Tend to his plants, pet his cat, take naps. Walk the gardens. Just the silly little things in life. He's just vibing.

Ifrit Bubble Nebula (NGC 7635)

The bubble of the Bubble Nebula was formed by solar winds from a massive and very hot near by star. Ifrit is fire. He is the embodiment of fire. His core burns hot and it's forming this bubble around him. This bubble is made of the different ghouls that have entered his life and are drawn to him. His 'family' keeps growing.

Also, Ifrit is just... hot. and, like...bubbles... titties?

Omega Cat's Eye Nebula (NGC 6543)

The Cat's Eye Nebula is shows to have a bull's eye pattern of eleven or more concentric rings. Each ring is actually, a spherical bubble projected onto the sky. These rings give it a layered effect. The nebula is said to pulse at 1,500-year intervals, just like Omega's heart beats 1500 times per minute when he's around Terzo.

Cats are assholes most of the time, but they all have their loveydovey moments. Omega always keeps a harsh exterior, but when he’s with his loved ones, he’s a big softie. He loves caring for them. But if someone messes with anyone he loves, he’ll go on a murder spree.

#omega ghoul #ifrit ghoul #zephyr ghoul #aether ghoul #delta ghoul #nameless ghouls #headcanons #ghost headcanons #the band ghost #luci writes #the redbull did not hit fyi #you can definitely tell when i started to feel the exhaustion #dewdrop ghoul

36 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 1 year

Text

in the air (xiao x reader)

7.3k words. mentions of rock climbing and chinese traditional medicine. pining. fluff. first time writing in genshin impact for xiao so idk how in character this is. probs errors bc this is unedited like my lyfe lol. also xiao takes 1k words to show up hehe

“Delivery for Bubu Pharmacy,” you dump all your packages on the counter, finally able to see in front of you once again. The walk from Qingce Village to Liyue Harbor was long, made longer by the various dried herbs and distilled oils you had to carry.

“Ah, our lovely botanist,” Herbalist Gui grabs a letter opener, already sorting through the parcels. Silk flowers, glaze lilies, fresh lotus root, ginseng root, and the rest of the raw ingredients a pharmacy needed. “No violetgrass? Or qingxin flowers?”

You slip behind the counter, taking a seat on the stool Qiqi used to reach. You’d need the stool too in order to get the very top shelf ingredients. Maybe you weren’t a pharmacists, you think as you read the labels for ingredients as rare as sakura blooms imported from abroad to condensed ginger, but you could probably fix a cold.

Botany wasn’t your dream growing up, but your family’s business. The house you’d grown up in was tiny compared to the greenhouse full of silk flowers, to the pear trees and lotus growing in flooded terraces. You liked the job. You liked getting to see all of Liyue. You loved the smell of drying cinnamon and seeing a plant perk up once you gave it some compost.

“Not yet,” you admit, “with the rains last week I couldn’t exactly get to Huaguang Stone Forest.” Your favorite part of this job was getting to climb up the towering peaks. You loved rock climbing. You loved the cool wind on your skin after ascending, looking down and knowing you’d done this. You loved the solitude, the quiet and peace. You fell in love with the alien perspective of being up so high.

“Be careful out there,” Herbalist Gui says, a crease forming between his brows, “isn’t full of hilichurls and demons?”

“I am careful,” you massage your calves, “pretty sure a lawachurl could break me in half.” It ate at your time, having to go around treasure hoarders and hilichurls, unsure if they’d let you pass freely or not. There was no way you’d risk a run-in with fatui skirmishers that far from the Millelith’s sight.

So you hid behind bushes and trees, going around and losing hours.

“And the demons? You ever actually seen one?”

You laugh. “No, thank the Archons.” You didn’t want to test how effective exorcist charms were against demons. Chongyun had carved one out of wood for you to keep you from being possessed, while Hu Tao’s last present had been a jade sigil to tells ghosts you were a friend. You were concerned about its effects but Hu Tao always had good intentions despite her questionable methods.

You trusted her.

And there was no way you were going to disparage one of your childhood friends to her face. Some people had no tack.

You couldn’t imagine calling someone a weirdo even if it was true. Especially in a mean spirited way.

“That’s good.”

“Tell Baizhu I’ll be back in two days ,” you tell the pharmacist.

“That fast?”

You smile, “yeah. I’ll come back here then head home.” It’d mean only having one day to lazy about at home before hitting the road again, but like Hu Tao you valued the reputation of your business too much to delay the order of violetgrass and qingxi flowers to next week.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let Baizhu know.”

“You’re the best.”

“Do you want some tea before you go,” Herbalist Bui asks, “it’s got jueyun chilis, good for all that running around you do.”

“Of course you don’t have regular jasmine tea?” This was a pharmacy. You accept it all the same, grateful for the warmth of the tea quenching your thirst. Maybe you wouldn’t be dead on your feet when you ascend tomorrow.

___

You camp at the south of Caijue Slope.

Travelling at night wasn’t a bright idea if you didn’t have a vision. Something you most definitely didn’t.

You’d always dreamed of a geo vision, though without Rex Lapis who knows if there would be any new geo visions. When you’d started bouldering around Mingyun Village, learning to identify fungi and flowers with your father, you could only ever imagine a geo vision.

It would be mad useful.

You wouldn’t need to carry ropes and anchors if you could just form your own anchors and climbing forms out of the very rock you ascended.

Passing through Jueyun Karst let you know waiting had been the right choice.

The mud clumps to the soles of your boots. When you step on the road, your feet sink. There’s little to no treasure hoarders or fatui to be seen. It must’ve been awful the day after the rains and near impassable with the rain. The towering mountains made the roads down below prone to flash flooding.

You have to stop and scrape the mud off your boots on rocks every few steps until finally you start the road up to Qingyun Peak. You barely even need to check your worn map.

Your family has been in the botany business for generations. You know where the clusters of Violetgrass and Qingxin spring up. Between here and Mingyun Village, you gather enough of both to fulfil Verr Goldet and Baizhu’s orders.

It takes the entire morning to ascend up the northernmost pillar of Huaguang Stone Forest, sitting on the edge as you Mint Salad and mora meat. It’s not as good when the food’s cold, but there’s nothing better than the food you eat after a long climb. Sweat runs down your spine as you look over Liyue. You can make out the Jade Chamber in the sky over Liyue Harbor. This must be what the adepti, what Rex Lapis, saw every day.

After Bubu Pharmacy you’d deliver to Wangshu Inn, then home. Then you’d collapse in bed before starting all over again.

You run your fingers over the petals of the qingxin flower. This one could stay. It was too small, the majority of the buds still closed.

The zenith of the sun has passed when you finally start to descend.

You hook your safety rope into the anchors you’d placed on the way up.

One of these days you’d buy yourself a Monstadt glider.

As you go, you remove the anchors, releasing the expansion clamps and slipping it into your bag, before descending the next metre.

You hook your safety rope into the next anchor. Then descend another metre. Carefully. Taking your time.

Pebbles fall past you.

It feels like the entire world rumbles.

You look out into the landscape, into the fog you can barely make out the other stone pillars, but even the fog cannot obscure the flashes of green anemo bursts in the skies.

Shit.

You glance up. It was a good twenty metres to the peak. You look down. It wasn’t any better.

It was worse.

A good thousand metres up. 800 from where you’d started climbing from the top of the road.

The flashes of anemo grew closer.

More pebbles fell, clinking against your shoulder. Dirt dislodged and fell in your hair.

You were stuck.

Your hands grew sweaty.

If it had been raining you could make it up free handed. Waited it out. Rain usually built up. This stone forest had no ledges to seek shelter on.

Fuck.

Flashes of green interspersed with flashes of red and blue.

Dread.

You look around, trying to find anything to perch on.

Okay, okay. Let yourself fall onto the ledge 30 metres below. No-

Not survivable.

Your hands grow slick with sweat as figures emerge out of the fog.

Dark figures. Demons. Monsters.

Your grip slips.

You flail, trying to catch yourself.

Fuck.

You slam into the side of the cliff, dangling by your safety rope over a thousand metres in the air. Pain explodes across your thigh.

Your fingers are bleeding where you’d tried to grab a rock.

The figures are closer now. Across from you fighting in the air, floating. Abyss mages and a fighter. You couldn’t tell.

And you couldn’t waste time watching.

You clip into the next anchor, attaching your safety rope. There was no time to climb up for the other rope and anchor.

You cut your loses.

Okay, move.

You scramble down, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

There’s an extra safety rope in your bag, you climb another metre down. And another one.

The sound of fighting is still too close, approaching, you hear the laughter of the abyss mages, the clash of steel against abyssal magic. You don’t look, chest heaving as you try to climb down in minutes what would normally take hours.

You inhale sharply, the dirt from the rocks mixing with the blood on your fingers. You slice your fingers on the ledges but keep going.

It doesn’t matter.

You have to keep going.

And then nothing matters.

Ice explodes against your back.

A chill spreads from the spot, your muscles tense and freeze and you can’t move. You can’t move your fingers. You can’t-

You look up.

The abyss mage is looking at you, laughing behind it’s terrible mask, a mockery of Opera makeup, as you fall.

It’s why the spear that jut out of it’s chest catches it off guard.

But what does that matter?

You’re falling, falling…

The figures disappear from your vision.

—-

You scream.

You’re so cold.

You can’t even flail as you plunge to your death.

You’ve never been so cold.

The fog dissipates as you approach the ground.

Your vision explodes in emerald and black. “Hgh,” a hand grips your wrist.

Thunk.

You smash onto the ground.

Only you’re still alive.

“Hold still,” a gruff voice says near your ear.

What!

You kick, blinking the tears, blinking away the terror from your eyes, “let me go!” You were alive. YOU WERE ALIVE!

And tangled on the ground with a strange masked man.

Vexation is clear in his tone as he repeats, “hold still.”

You roll off him, wincing. Everything hurt. You side ached. Nothing was broken. You could tell you’d be bruised black and blue for the next week. “Thank you,” you huff, connecting the dots even as your vision grew white with pain. Your fingers were still cramped from the cold. You could use jueyun chilis right now.

Thank the Archons you still had your bag. Crushed flowers were better than no flowers.

“Mortals should not be in Jueyun Karst.” The man still wears a mask carved of blackened wood. It matches the black of his gloves. A vision is strapped to his wrist.

Not a man at all.

You breathe, forcing down the pain.

You couldn’t do anything about it until you were safe. Not out here. Not out in the open.

You look around.

You weren’t in Jueyun Karst anymore. This was the road east to Guili Plains.

“I have permission,” you tell the adepti, “I can show you the sigil of permission.”

He says nothing, crouching in front of you like an overgrown bird. The mask is still on.

Despite that you’re not scared.

The sigil feels strange. It feels akin to resting your back against the statues of Morax.

“See,” you tell him. You weren’t lying. It was the same sigil your family had used for generations. Your grandmother said Moon Carver had gifted it when the Qixing closed passage into Jueyun Karst. “Master Adepti? Sir?…” You weren’t sure of the proper way of addressing an Adepti.

His eyes travel from your sigil to you. There’s mirth in his cor lapis eyes.

The mask.

The fighting.

He wasn’t just any adepti.

You lean forward, “you’re the vigilant yaksha,” you raise your hand, forgetting yourself for a moment as you move to touch his mask only that might get you struck down for disrespecting an adepti’s pride. All the adepti had strange rules about what was permissible. “I don’t know about you adepti, but it’s kinda rude for you to keep your mask on for so long.” It felt like he had something to hide.

“You presume to order an adepti?”

You crack a grin, “I couldn’t make you do anything.” You shift, trying to get up. You need to get to Wangshu Inn before night.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Right. You were all banged up.

The yaksha moves swiftly, steadying her. “You’re hurt.”

“I am,” you wince. “Just bruises.”

“Why were you in Jueyun Karst.” His tone drips with disapproval.

“For qingxi flowers. Violetgrass. Pharmacists need it.” You laugh. “Ironic right?”

He’s still holding you up, his hands on your arms, gentle despite the destruction he just caused in the stone forest. You want to see his face. You want to thank him without any barriers.

He must be handsome, you think to yourself. You know he is.

“Can you not grow them in Liyue Harbor?”

You shake your head, “they only grow at high altitudes. They prefer rocks to soil. I think there’s something in the rocks, some mineral. We’ve tried to grow them in Qingce Village but they didn’t take.”

His eyes study you once more, “your hands are bleeding.”

“It’ll be fine,” you tell him, “some balm. Baizhu deals with worse all the time.” At least the cold wore off.

“Where should I leave you?”

The words are unexpected. He’d saved you, but he wasn’t exactly friendly and warm. The Yaksha was quiet and reserved.

He’d stayed to make sure you were okay.

“Liyue Harbor,” you say tentatively, “though if that’s too far…”

“Heh,” the Yaksha rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“If it’s out of your way,” you amend, smiling, “I’m sure that it’s an easy distance for the Vigilant Yaksha to cover.”

He tilts his head.

You wonder what he thinks of you.

“I’m only joking,” you add when the silence streches out in case he missed your teasing. “But Liyue Harbor would be great if it’s not a bother.”

The Yaksha nods. “I offered.”

“You did.” He didn’t have to.

You try not to read into it too much. The adepti were all about protecting Liyue. You weren’t special.

Quite the opposite.

You’d been in Huaguang Stone Forest at the wrong time.

He finally lets go of your arms, only to pick you up bridal style.

“Ah!” You’re caught off guard, barely processing what is happening before the world disappears in black smoke.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as wind streaks through your hair, chilling your skin all over again.

In seconds, he’s already placing you back down, overlooking the Harbor.

“Wow, that was amazing!” What took you two days to travel, the Yaksha had done in seconds. You look over the Harbor, it’s lights slowly turning on as the sun sets over the water. It was a short walk to the Pharmacy. You’d be imposing on Hu Tao tonight.

She’d probably love the impromptu sleepover.

“Thanks again-,” you turn back to thank the Yaksha once more.

But you’re alone.

—-

“Jueyn chilis, qingxi flowers, and a boatload of mint and ginger,” you list off to Verr Goldet. “Hey, do you sell incense sticks?”

Verr’s eyes widened, “what happened to you my dear?”

Your hands were still all bandaged up, but as you suspected, it was pretty much all bruising. Still, you’d be sticking to Mingyun Village and Wuwang Hill until you were given the all clear by Baizhu. It was good to let the usual spots grow wild in the meantime.

You didn’t want to overpick any one spot.

“Nasty fall,” you also didn’t want to worry the Innkeeper unnecessarily. “I’m mostly bummed out. I have to go back for most of my anchors.” Stupid abyss mage.

“Well,” Verr Goldet hands you an incense stick, “this one’s on the house. Since you’re always on time. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you sure,” you ask, already reaching for your mora bag.

“Listen to your elders and take the incense stick.”

“Thank you.” You bow respectfully to the woman, “this is so kind of you.”

“I know you would show me the same kindness.” She bows back. “Make sure you rest and rest before heading off.”

“Of course,” you grin, “you’re the only place that sells mushroom pizza in Liyue.” You could get honey roast and radish veggie soup at a street vendor in the Harbor but not pizza.

—

With your own mora you purchase healing balm. The Yaksha would appreciate this. You think. It made sense. He probably fought demons and monsters all the time.

He could use this when he got hurt.

You think.

You don’t know much about adepti.

“I think that’s a marvellous idea!” Hu Tao practically dances in delight when you tell her your plan.

“As a thanks,” you further explain. “It doesn’t feel right to just pray at a shrine.” You don’t even know his name.

“Ah,” she twirls in the street, running into a merchant

“Hey! Watch where you’re going weirdo!”

Hu Tao pays him no mind. “Obviously my charm worked.”

“What? No it didn’t,” you frown. The spirits had not been the problem. The abyss mages had nearly killed you.

But your friend is too busy with ideas to pay you any mind, “perhaps you need a noctilucous jade sigil to repel evil spirits?”

“That was an option,” you raise a brow. That seemed more useful.

“Most spirits aren’t bad silly,” she tells you, “very few become demons.”

“Can it at least be Cor Lapis,” you think about the Yaksha’s eyes again. You’d thought about the Yaksha a lot.

“No. That wouldn’t work for the carving. Hey, let’s get a drink before you go!”

—

You sit at the shrine in Mingyun Village. And it really was a village. Just two stores and a few houses. Most of the people here were fishermen, but you knew some lived off the shells and pearls that could be gathered on Yaoguang Shore.

The largest was inscribed to Rex Lapis. There were steles for Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper and the other adepti of legends. And a small one for the Yakshas, but there were no names for them.

You frown.

You set the jar of balm in front of you. Then you light the incense stick, unsure of what the proper prayers for a Yaksha were.

“Oh mighty vigilant Yaksha,” you cringe, closing your eyes, “scratch that. Um,” could adepti even hear your prayers? Could Rex Lapis answer prayers from the heavens? “Thanks again for saving me. Sorry if I got in the way or anything. I’m glad you keep those monsters aways from the Harbor and villages. And thank you for dropping me off in Liyue Harbor. That was incredibly kind of you. This balm is for you.”

There. That didn’t sound half bad.

Maybe you could still be a ritualist.

Change careers last minute.

You hear a snort.

You open your eyes.

In your peripheral, the Yaksha stands facing the shrines. His mask rests on his belt.

You were right, he is handsome.

Teal streaks through his dark hair. There’s a violet mark on his forehead and he’s handsome. His expression is inscrutable though his eyes remain kind despite what his demeanour would suggest.

He sits down next to you, watching the incense stick burn. The smoke wisps off in spirals.

“Thank you.”

“I heard.” His voice is not unkind.

You nod, “all the same.”

You breathe the rich aroma of the incense.

“You should always burn 3 sticks, or 5.”

“Sorry?” He doesn’t seem angry or upset. But you still feel the need to apologise. He was an adepti after all. The Yaksha did so much for Liyue already.

His eyes fall close. The last vestiges of wariness dissipate. “I do not need the balm.”

“Oh.” Your face falls. Stupid. You’d done nothing right. It would have been better to just leave things be.

You watch the smoke, biting your lip. He’d come all this way and you’d done everything wrong. You were embarrassed.

He probably had better things to do.

The Yaksha opens his eyes, turning towards you. He frowns.

He had such lovely eyes: black tea steeped perfectly. There was a warmth in them that had you dismissing all your negative thoughts. He wasn’t irritated with you at all. He’d chosen to come all this way for you even when you had things all wrong.

The Yaksha was strange, but kind.

Even as he held your gaze for an inhumane amount of time, unblinking, you felt comfortable the way you might with Chongyun.

You were right. He was handsome. The stories never mentioned that.

He parts his lips, brows furrowed, before looking away. He fixes his gaze on the steles again.

“Well, is there anything that you might like as thanks,” you finally settle on uttering, looking very pointedly at the bas relief of Morax. Heat rises to your cheeks. It was so silly. This was such a normal thing to do, thank someone and yet you grew flustered.

“Ah?” The Yaksha’s cheeks grow pink. “There is no need-I do not act in exchange for material gain.”

“I just want to thank you. If not for saving me then for taking me to the Harbor.” You bite your lip. “You can think of it as friends exchanging gifts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The Yaksha stands suddenly, a swirl of anemo blowing your hair about. “I have duties to attend to.” And he’s gone.

Clearly, you and Hu Tao both failed at making friends.

—

A month passes, and you’ve made every effort to take your mind off the Yaksha. He was an adeptus. Two times you’d met him. That was more than most people ever interacted with adepti.

You weren’t part of the Qixing.

You were a simple botanist running around liyue.

You run your fingers over the new jade amulet from Hu Tao. You’d be okay.

Last time was a freak accident.

In two decades of life, last time had been the sole time you’d seen an abyss mage. Nothing would happen this time. You’d collect the herbs in Jueyun Karst as usual and be on your merry way.

Ascending is made easy by the anchors you left behind. You’re the one who takes baby steps, pausing with every push up to look around in case there’s some hilicurls aiming for you. You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the rock. It was fine. You were fine.

Your hands had scarred over.

You refused to be afraid of going out in Liyue for the rest of your life.

You push onwards.

You check your safety line. You check each anchor.

You look around.

So far so good.

It’s only when you break past the fog that you realise how uneventful the entire ascension has been. You’re worried sick about nothing.

You pull yourself onto the cliff top and collapse on your back, panting.

You laugh, at yourself, at the situation. At being so high up. You close your eyes and soak in the warmth of the sun, the heat of your body against the cool stone. Had Rex Lapis created this stone forest too? You’d have to ask Baizhu. He knew all the stories since he told them to Qiqi endlessly, not that the little girl ever remembered.

She’s been a child for as long as you could remember.

Lunch is cold jade parcels and leftover fried radish balls which are never as good cold. Nothing fried was ever as good cold.

You pluck the qingxi flowers first, bunching them up in your bag. The violetgrass was easier since you collected those on your way up.

You take another drink of water from your flask, looking over the landscape. Jueyun Karst was so beautiful. You forgot how dangerous the area was.

The plan was to head north and swim across the waters to Qingce Village, swim home. You’d have to camp out on the isles, but it was safer than staying in the stone forest overnight or trying to swim in the frigid night.

You take a nap, waiting for midday to pass before you start your descent.

You pull the last anchor free when a voice startles you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” you weld the anchor like a knife in the air before you recognize the Yaksha’s distinctive purple pants and green tattoo. “Fuck,” you place a hnd on your chest, “you scared me.”

“I did not mean-,” he frowns, “why are you here?”

You point up, “have a job to do. Qingxi, violetgrass. I’m just happy everything else can be cultivated.”

The Yaksha’s frown deepens.

“I have a job to do. It has its risks but medicine must be supplied.”

He nods, but remains sullen.

“Anyways I’m all done here.” You wipe your hands on your robes, “and relax. I waited until I was done healing, see,” you hold up your palms. With coconut oil the scarring would fade.

The Yaksha steps close to you, taking your hands in his and looking them over. He runs a finger over your darkest scar. There were specks of gold in his eyes. The mark on his forehead glowed.

He looked up through long teal lashes at you when he was done accessing your hands.

Your mouth is dry. It’s hard to meet his heavy gaze. It feels like falling all over again.

There’s no way he misses the flush on your cheeks that has nothing to do with climbing and everything to do with the way his touch renders you breathless.

“I will escort you through Jueyun Karst.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to,” you brush your hair behind your ears. No matter what you did climbing made your hair a rat’s nest. “I’m sure your very busy with your adeptus duties.”

“Tt.” He releases your hands. “It is not up for discussion.”

“Vigilant Yaksha,” you have to insist, “I have an amulet to keep the monsters away. And I’ll just be back next week…I don’t want to be a bother. Really. I’ll be okay.”

He tilts his head, “what amulet?”

You lift the necklace up, “it’s from my friend. She knows more about ghosts but I-”

The Yaksha closes the distance between you. He scrutinises the sigil, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “There is a limit to the accumulation of evil spirits and demons an amulet can repel.”

“But it does work?”

He nods.

You can’t stand being this close to him while he is seemingly unaffected. Your heart is lodged in your throat but his expression remains as guarded as ever.

It was silly to even think about an adeptus like this.

A smaller, crazier voice that sounded a lot like Hu Tao points out that half adepti like Ganyu exist for a reason.

You avert your gaze, stepping back. “So you see, you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off. “It is not up for discussion.”

You nod, accepting he would do why he thought was right even if it did make you feel like you were bothering him. (He wasn’t even angry or bothered.)

The Yaksha was kind in his stilted way.

“I’m headed north to Qingce Village.” You pocket the last anchor and drink more water before embarking on the road home.

“Xiao.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Xiao.”

—

You fall into a pattern. Buy 3 incense sticks from Verr Goldet, burn them for the Yakshas. Deliver to Wangshu Inn and Bubu Pharmacy once a week. Collect Herbs from Mingyun Village and Jueyen Karst once a week. See Xiao in Jueyun Karst.

A rough pattern because Xiao came and went without notice. Sometimes he’d be waiting for you at Cuijue Slope until he began to climb up a mountain. At times he wouldn’t appear until you’d finished descending.

You made the lion’s share of conversation, complaining that Chongyun was in Mondstat to deal with some apparition and therefore was getting to eat all the tea pancakes in the world. You told Xiao about flu season and how much ginger Baizhu went through. You complained about having to dilute soap in water to keep pests away from your family’s crops.

“-I’ll need new boots when the caravan from Sumeru stops by,” you take a break on a rock to catch your breath. You’d never seen Xiao tire.

The soles of your boots were worn down. You could feel the rocks poke at your heels through the leather.

You let the silence reign in the picturesque valley.

Xiao doesn’t sit, but he closes his eyes as the sun chases away the clouds. You soaked up the warmth. The sun’s rays made the chilly breeze bearable.

He leans his head back, basking in the sun like a lizard.

You wonder what his animal form looks like. You’d only seen Rex Lapis on the Rite of Descension. But everyone knew Mountain Carver was a magnificent stag.

With his eyes closed, you find yourself staring at his visage shamelessly. He was striking, the graphic cut of his hair only accentuating his bone structure.

You wanted him to hold you again. You wanted him to run his hands over yours, to-

You quash the thoughts down.

Xiao opens his eyes, polearm already in hand as he spots something in the distance. “Wait here.”

You nod, used to this by now.

It was never a long wait, but Xiao would step away for minutes to deal with threats to Liyue.

You are glad to rest for a while longer.

—

“Why don’t you just tell him,” Chongyun splits a milk tea shaved ice with you, “how you feel,” he scoops up a brown sugar boba with his spoonful of shaved ice.

“Are you crazy? What if I make things awkward? Then he’ll never speak to me again! That would be so much worse.” You didn’t want to lose Xiao’s friendship.

You eat another spoonful of shaved ice, making sure to get some of the mochi, managing to look incredibly dejected while eating dessert.

Chongyun sighs. “You can’t complain and not do anything about it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I’m not taking advice from someone who can’t even order.”

“So? I’m proactive about it,” his voice cracks. “I ask you, or someone I’m with to order.”

You pat his hand, knowing it wasn’t fair to take your crush out on him. It wasn’t his fault Xiao made you want to kiss him everytime he tilted his head to indicate he was listening to you, or confused. It wasn’t Chongyun’s fault Xiao went still, buff arms flexing right before he took off to fight.

Archons, you were down bad for the Yaksha.

You couldn’t even enjoy your shaved ice.

—

“What’s your adeptal animal form,” you asks Xiao, breaking the serene silence atop Qingyun Peak. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s rude.”

He wouldn’t answer if he didn’t want to either way.

You no longer found it rude when he stayed silent. Xiao meant what he said, and therefore took more time to speak, and didn’t answer at all when he didn’t think his words added to the conversation. The more time you spent with him, the easier you were able to read him.

It wasn’t so much that he was an unfeeling adeptus, but rather he was usually occupied with hunting demons. He falters when he knows you’re joking but cannot understand the joke. His eyes widen when you hand him dried chrysanthemums for protection. It was a peasant superstition, but the idea of Xiao fighting alone weighed you down if you contemplated it for too long.

He sits down next to you, feet dangling over the edge. “A Peng.”

“Huh.” You vaguely recalled a giant bird story, but Adepti were usually giant animals that saved Liyue at some point.

“Similar to this,” Xiao points at his tattoo. The bright colour shines against his pale skin. He never sunburns unlike you.

You study the depiction closely. You brush your fingers against his skin, tracing the lines of the tattoo.

Xiao shivers under your touch, his eyes flutter closed.

“Are there more?”

“Yes.” His voice is distant, in the world of the adepti you couldn never understand. “They do not immerse themselves in mortal affairs.” Xiao turns his gaze towards you, the naked emotion in his eyes draws you in. You cup his cheek with your hand before you think better of it.

He leans into your touch. “Seldomly do they take a mortal appearance.”

“Would you ever show me?” You knew he’d be beautiful. It was Xiao, you’d love him in every shape and form.

He pulls away, jerking away from you.

You let him, drawing back, giving him space.

Xiao clenches his gaze, cor lapis eyes on you. His mouth parts, but he thinks better of it, wavering between thoughts. He finally looks away.

“Xiao? You don’t have to.” You remind him. You think he might disappear like smoke in the air. “Xiao?”

“It is not safe for you.”

“Huh?” You don’t follow. “There’s no hilichurls up here.”

“My karmic debt…I could not forgive myself if I tainted you as well.”

You don’t understand. “I’m always safe with you.”

His shoulders tense, the Yaksha grows taunt as a bow string.

You reach out. “Xiao,” you utter softly, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand, “you would never hurt me.” Your belief in that is absolute. You had more than enough belief for the both of you.

He meets your searching gaze, eyes wide in surprise. There’s a glassy quality to their soft brown shade.

Tears.

You know he’ll leave seconds before Xiao disappears in flashes of green and black.

–

You burn three incense sticks at your makeshift camp. The delivery at Wangshu in had taken longer than you should’ve. Verr Goldet was dealing with a broken door or something to do with a guest, you weren’t sure of the details. There were travellers from Monstadt so your food order had taken an hour. Nothing that was anyone’s fault, but now you had to camp out in Guili Plains. It was too late to try and make it to the Millelith Outpost in Liyue Pass. It was by far your favourite place to purchase artisan presents for Lantern Rite and birthdays, before they got marked up in Liyue Harbor.

So now you’re stuck here until daybreak.

You go back and forth between lighting a fire. It’s warm this far inland, without the ocean breeze or mountain winds, but a fire might attract hilicurls or treasure hoarders.

But if you were lighting incense sticks, you might as well have a hot dinner.

You kneel, praying to Rex Lapis and all the adepti. You pray that Xiao is safe, wherever he is, whatever he’s fighting.

You pray that Xiao is safe from monsters and the weight of his karmic debt.

—

You manage to deliver to Liyue Harbor and gather herbs in Qingxu Pool before heading back through Liyue Pass. Qingxu pool had more violetgrass than qingxu flowers but it was allergy season. Violetgrass was needed.

It wasn’t your favourite place to gather in, but these two herbs were the trickiest to find, loving spots out of the way, clumping in fours at best. You didn’t want to overpick and then lose a harvesting spot.

It’s sunset when you reach the Statue of Morax.

Your new boots were a mistake. You know there’s blisters on your ankles and soles. Breaking in leather sucked.

Your old boots left you with stinging pain whenever you stepped on any rock so there really wasn’t any winning.

Bowing your head at the statue, you say a little prayer to the geo archon. Morax. Rex Lapis. You’d made another successful trek. The god of contracts had built his nation in the most beautiful part of Teyvat. You could only hope to add to Liyue’s prosperity.

It’s hard to get back up, your muscles sore. Exhaustion always hit you in the last moments when rest is at hand. You were so close.

The people of Liyue pass were kind. They were always willing to host you for a night, forming a contract in exchange for something simple and silly like telling children a bedtime story or sweetflowers which were always abundant throughout Liyue. Uncle Liu generally wanted thunder god vine which was something you always carried.

You were happy to know you’d be fed and well rested tonight.

You hear the music, firecrackers going off in the dusk. The entire village was decorated in lanterns and colourful banners. A wedding!

Uncle Liu had many granddaughters of an age with you. Could one of them be getting married?

There would be roasted duck and lots of desserts like tofu pudding with red beans and almonds. Your mouth watered at the idea of fried fish and shrimp balls.

The folk music was carried by the wind.

It made the night take a magical quality to it. With the decorations and sky full of stars, it was a perfect backdrop to a celebration.

You smile, thinking of the silk flowers you could give the happy couple.

You look around. There’s pots of bamboo on the rock wall leading into the village proper.

The people are in reds and yellows, dancing and singing.

You grin, taking in the sight. You loved Liyue, you loved being from here and getting so many moments like this one. It wasn’t just Lantern Rite when the country was at its most beautiful.

You wonder if Xiao would go into Liyue Harbor with you for Lantern Rite. Hu Tao would talk his ear off but your heart fluttered at the idea of spending the festivities with him.

You’re so caught in your thoughts, they featured Xiao so often, that you nearly dismissed the Yaksha standing in the moonlight as a figment of your imagination.

You blink.

Xiao is still there, perched on a rock. It’s dark enough that no one would see him from the village, but his gaze is on the celebration.

You wonder why he doesn’t join in.

The Liu family was incredibly welcoming.

You make your way towards him instead, “Xiao?”

He jolts, standing up at once. “What is the matter?” There’s dried blood on his white shirt and dirt on his pants.

“Nothing,” you laugh lightly, “I’m always glad to see you.”

“Mm.” His gaze returns to the celebration.

You sit down next to him, sighing at the relief of being off your feet.

It’s nice: to listen to music with Xiao. While it’s not as energetic as Xinyan’s songs, there’s a beauty in the traditional wind and wood instruments. They were songs you’d known all your life.

“Are you alright?” You venture to ask. You’d never seen anything draw blood from Xiao.

“Mhm.” He nods. “The fight was long, but I persevered as I must to fulfil my sworn duty.”

You rest a hand on his shoulder, “so I don’t have to go get Baizhu then?” It was half a joke, half sincere worry.

“No.” Xiao shakes his head, “the statue of the Seven is all the healing I require.”

You nod, deciding to lay back against the rock. You were greedy for every minute you could spend with Xiao. Food, a warm bed, you could put those off for a while longer.

There was a tranquillity to just being besides Xiao.

Maybe Chongyun had been right. But the surge of panic that Xiao might vanish from your life kept you from saying anything about your feelings towards him.

Instead you reclined on the rock.

You release the hold on his shoulder, moving your hands to fiddle with the amulets around your neck. They were small fragile things, nothing compared to the adepti amulets Xiao wore.

He looks down at you, his expression tender in the starlight. You never tired of gazing at him, at the cut of his jaw and the light in his honeyed eyes. Unabashedly, you drink him in.

If he could look at you in such a way that had your heart palpitating despite not even touching you, then you could look at Xiao. You loved him.

He’d never so much as made a move to kiss you yet your heart was his. Every beat of your mortal heart belonged to the Vigilant Yaksha.

The music changes as a drumbeat joins the fray.

You close your eyes, stretching out like a cat. It felt nice. It was nice.

There was no pressure to make conversation.

Xiao brushes your hair out of your face. His hand lingers against your jawbone for a moment, too long to be a mistake.

You blink.

His mouth is parted in surprise at his own actions, he hunches in on himself, glancing back down at the party. He hugs his knees to his chest.

“You like music,” you ask.

“I do.”

Softly you offer, “we should go down there. Uncle Liu has always been kind to me and I always love an excuse to dance.”

Your words hang in the air.

You sit up, wrapping an arm around Xiao’s back lightly, unsure if he’d be okay with the action. You’re prepared for him to pull away immediately.

Instead, he replies, “I cannot endanger them for my own enjoyment.”

Your heart aches for him.

“I can listen from here.”

You squeeze his shoulders, “this is a great view,” you reply earnestly. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“I agree.” Xiao meets your gaze, brows drawn in thought.

He was so close you could see each individual eyelash of his. They were teal. Almost dark enough to be black at first glance.

You smile tenderly.

“I-,” he frowns at himself.

“What is it?”

Xiao cups your cheek with his hand. It’s the closest you’ve been since he saved your life and carried you to safety.

You swallow thickly, realising the love you felt for the man was mirrored in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you,” he asks in a hush whisper.

You don’t trust your voice. You nod, still not believing this was real, this was truly happening. Though you’d daydreamed that Xiao reciprocated your feelings, it had been more fantasy than a reality. You never believed it was possible.

But it was real.

The press of his lips against yours, Xiao’s breath warm on your skin, his thumb rubs your cheek. It was real. He kissed you with a softness you’d come to expect from the Yaksha.

He was a warrior; he moved through the world like a gentle breeze. His love for Liyue went further than a simple contract made long ago.

Xiao loved you.

Xiao kisses you softly and the moment is far too short.

He pulls back, tilting his head. Red dusts his cheeks, “I cannot say when I grew fond of you, but I have.” He lets out a sigh. “I wish to kiss you again?”

“I would very much like that,” you reply giddily, “I look forward to seeing you each week, and feel guilty when I don’t pass through Jueyun Karst.” You had to be mindful of how much you collected from any one spot.

“I would prefer that you did not go to Jueyun Karst,” Xiao admits, “but I selfishly enjoy your foolish ventures into Jueyun Karst.”

You laugh, full of love. You laugh knowing you are loved by the one you love.

You lean into him, kissing his cheek, “thank you for spending time with me.” You treasured every moment with him.

He nods, incredibly flustered.

So you kiss him again, granting his wish yourself.

His lips were slightly chapped. You hardly cared. He kisses you back clumsily. His hold on your cheek tightens, checking that you were solid, that you were kissing him.

You forget all about food and how tired you are. Your thoughts are full of Xiao.

Xiao caresses your cheek as you catch your breath.

You feel his heartbeat race from your hand on his back.

“Would you like to dance,” his voice was small.

You nod, beaming from delight. He liked you. He’d kissed you. Now he was asking to dance with you. Xiao, your Xiao.

“Yes.” Anywhere with Xiao was perfect.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao x you #adeptus xiao #in the air #when will this show up in the tags ?#3rd times the charm

177 notes · View notes

berristreasuredlibrary · 2 years

Text

Special Medicine

TanjiroxFem!Reader

A/N: ummmm hi! :) I have been gone for a fat minute, I apologize *bows profusely* but here is just a word blob (?) to feed you all as I use my last brain cell to try and finish my other works, but I shall return! Remember to take care of yourselves, get plenty of rest, drink water, and eat yummy food. :)

TW: SmUt, creampie (breeding kink for Tanji), reader is a nurse (if that counts as one?), mentions of scars (from Tanji being strong boi 🥹), nicknames (honey, darling, good girl, etc.), believe that’s it, lmk if I missed something!

Enjoy! Hehe 😉

Soft footsteps walking to the room.

The quiet pat pat pat of you shoes gets Tanjiro's heart racing, adrenaline filling his veins as he closes his eyes. Try to gauge how much longer it'll take you to finish your rounds before you'll walk into his room. Before your small soft hands will be on him.

Before you're his.

His heart pounds in his chest as the door slowly opens and you step inside. He takes a second to admire you, how the soft moonlight shines against your features.

Your bright eyes, the ones he loves to stare into, especially when his cock is buried inside your tight hole and you gush around him, your pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your soft plush lips, the ones he loves to see wrapped around his cock, jaw stretching and slacking to accommodate his size. Pretty red lip stains all around his cock and its base, even smudging against his pelvis when you bravely take all his length.

Your soft hands, the ones he loves to feel running down his toned body, your delicate hands carving and mapping out his rough, battle-scarred body. Gripping his waist tightly as he drills into you, tugging at his hair when he’s in between your legs, lapping up your sweet juices like it’s his last meal.

Your pretty legs, gods, the way he just easily towers over you. Folds you in half, like paper, and rails you senselessly, focused on hitting that spot inside you that you swear makes you see stars. Thumb rubbing your clit furiously, wanting you to make a mess on him.

“Go on honey, make a mess for me.”

“Darling, you’re doing so good. Just a few more, you can give me a few more, right?”

“Oh, I knew you could. Such a good girl, my sweet girl. Always so, so good for me.”

“G-gods, I’m almost there honey. You too, I can feel it. My love, I want you to cum with me, ok? You can do it, I know you can.”

“Just o-one more for you, and I’ll give you what you want, ok? Oh, I know you can do it, m-my precious girl. Go on, let go.”

And that’s exactly what you do, every time . Hands gripping onto him, pulling him impossibly closer, thighs trembling in his grip, pressed firmly to your chest. Pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head, a thin coat of sweat on both your bodies as you come undone.

Body trembling in his arms as you cum for the nth time that night, curses falling from your mouth as you tumble over the edge again and again. Then you feel it.

The familiar twitch of Tanjiro’s cock, the grip on your thighs tightens, and he throws his head back as he too comes undone inside you. His hot seed painting your insides white, claiming you as his again. Now he’s the one trembling, curses falling from his lips as his orgasm washes over him in powerful waves.

And those rough calloused hands hold your face tenderly, as if you’re made of glass, and he slowly removes himself from you. Once he’s sure his legacy is planted firmly inside you, of course.

Gentle kisses are placed all over your face, you’re gently wiped clean, gently held in his arms. Whispered praises, more kisses and Tanjiro’s strong arms wrapped around your waist is all you need to fall asleep peacefully.

And training is better than before, Tanjiro’s stamina has increased so much! Maybe he found another set of breathing techniques to help? Maybe he ate some good food? Maybe he has more motivation? A pretty girl cheering him on?

But as you both steal glances at each other, a blush spreading across his cheeks, a gentle smile from you. Of course, you both know none of those are the case.

It was just some new special medicine, nothing more.

#tanjiro x reader #tanjiro smut #tanjiro x reader smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x you #tanjiro x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #kimetsu no yaiba smut

490 notes · View notes

bohobooks · 8 months

Note

Can I request a hurt/comfort with ominis gaunt?

The reader had a familiar upbringing as ominis did but they held it how they really felt about it and one day it all got to much and ominis finds them sobbing in a quiet corner of the library and he let's them cry it out on his shoulder?

Request: Can I request a hurt/comfort with Ominis Gaunt?[...]

Description: Raised in a pureblood family Y/n Malfoy has seen and been forced to participate in some truly evil things. She usually hides the effects of it fairly well, but after the events in the Scriptorium where she was forced to cast cruicio on Sebastian things begin to resurface.

Warnings: slight s*icidal ideation. Mentions of Abuse.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/n's POV

If the gods struck me down right now, I wouldn't find it in myself to care. Infact, part of me would rejoice. Death- an ugly, painful death- was no less than I deserved.

"Strike the muggle down, Y/n." Father's demanding voice found its ways to my young ears, "You are a Malfoy. You are a God compared to the filth infront of you."

My wand held infront of me trembled. The muggle woman was covered in filth, except for the clean carved paths where tears had found their way down her pale cheeks. Her eyes met mine, holding such pain. Such raw, unadulterated fear.

My voice surprised even me. The fact that my vocal chords seemed to work at all at the moment was unexpected, but sure enough a croak left my mouth, "No."

Father laughed a laugh so full of vitriol that my skin crawled at the mere sound, "No? NO? Crucio!"

My wand didn't even fall to the ground, as the second my nerves were alit, my fists clenched. Like a child grasping a metal pole struck by lightning. Yet, somehow I was sure that being struck by lightning would hurt less than this. Every nerve was on fire, my blood boiling. The horrid agony was tunneling into my bones; through them, straight into my sould shredding it into irreparable slivers.

I wanted death. I prayed for it to end, anything. Anything but this unrelenting torture.

When the onslaught of pain stopped, I still lay on the cold stone floor, body convulsing with the ghost of agony still writhing within. My father's heinous words still managed to find my conscious, "Kill. The. Muggle."

My knees wavered as I found purchase on my feet. One arm clutched around my stomach, as if that would end the pain, and the other held my wand out. Through my tears, I looked the poor woman in the face, managing to mouth the words 'I'm sorry.'

Through the pleas that the muggle woman sobbed out- pleas to a God that wasn't listening- I heard my fathers voice again, "Do it, girl."

I took a deep, shaky breath and spoke.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I had never been the same after that day, after my soul being shredded to tatters and given over to evil.

That wasn't the last muggle I had killed, and it was far from the last time I had been tortured at the hands of my own family. Even now, sitting in the darkest corner of the library, my mouth still filled with the taste of blood and sulfur.

Throughout my time in Hogwarts, I had kept my past a relative secret. Sure, they all knew that I came from a pureblood family, that was hardly a secret. But if my friends knew what I had done? That I was a killer? They'd hate me. Worse, they'd turn me in.

Azkaban was a better fate than I deserved. Yet I could never bring myself to complete the punishment truly befitting of my crimes. So here I am, sitting alone in the corner of the library sobbing in the shadows while my friends were all likely merrily eating dinner.

"Y/n? Is that you?" A voice comes from within the stacks ahead of me.

Shit.

Ominis.

I quickly wipe my tears, taking a deep breath, and attempt to mask the hoarseness in my voice from crying, "Hello Ominis, yes it's me."

His figure emerged from the shelves, "Y/n darling, what praytell, are you doing back here?"

I dust my skirts, not bothering to rise from the floor I'm firmly planted on, "Oh, you know. Just studying."

Saying nothing, Ominis just raises an eyebrow and moves to sit next to me. A moment of silence passes before he speaks, "I heard you crying. Please know you can talk to me."

I sniffle, mind running it over. I know that Ominis's family had done similar things to him. I could tell him, right? He'd understand? Even if he didn't, he'd tell someone and I'd be sent to Askaban- I could just let myself go there. It could end.

I took a deep breath, inhaling all of the courage in the world, "I am a killer, Ominis."

I waited for him to stand, flee, yell... anything. I waited for anything to happen, for me to be taken away, for him to scream for help. But he just-

...he just put his arm around me?

"Your family made you do awful things aswell, didn't they?" He pulled me into his side, "I heard it in your voice the night of the Scriptorium."

All I could do was nod as the lump in my throat burst like a dam and I sobbed. I sobbed for every life I've taken, for every person I had tortured... for myself.

The whole time that I spent falling to pieces in his arms he just held me close, kissing the top of my head and murmuring into my hair, "We are not evil. You are not evil. You are good, you are loved. I've got you."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy oneshot #hogwarts legacy imagine #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x reader #harry potter #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ask #answered #imagine requests

32 notes · View notes

corn-fanfiction · 6 months

Text

ARMS TONITE (PT 3)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: graphic violence, language, torture, thoughts and talk of s*icide, implied r*pe, sadism, Mark is a bad man who does bad things. If I missed any cws, let me know.

DO NOT read this if any of the above warnings trigger you in any way. I'm serious. Take care of yourself <3

This is the third time Mark's drained the tub and yet the water still comes off you pink.

He'd dressed your wounds at the warehouse but then insisted on taking you back to the apartment afterward. A power play, probably, you thought distantly in your mind. Only he can help you in his space.

Your knees are to your chest as Mark gently scrubs along your back yet again. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he's been working on you for at least an hour, taking it slow.

"Sit up. Can you sit up for me?"

You mutely obey. He lathers up a loofa to get your neck where most of the blood had sprayed.

You wonder if he even notices the bruises anymore.

That night he doesn't try to fuck you. He gives some physical comfort because you don't have it in you to refuse it right now. His body cradles yours. Not chest to back, he's trying to give you space. But his arm rests under your head and eventually a hand comes to rest across your stomach. You decide it's better to relax into it.

The nightmare is what gets you.

Blood everywhere. More blood than you think should exist in one space and you're drowning in it. You scream and scream and scream as it fills your mouth and threatens your lungs. Somebody, anybody. Please. But no one hears you. No one comes.

You wake with a scream that turns into a sob. Mark is up in an instant and holds you by your shoulders.

"Hey, baby look at me. Hey, it was just a nightmare, alright? Let me get you some water-"

But your fists ball into his shirt as you sob into him and he doesn't leave. You can't take it. You can't take the constant loneliness. Where are the people you were so sure would look for you? You're right under their noses. You could stand stark naked outside in broad daylight and still. They wouldn't see.

You're alone. It's unbearable and carves a hole in your heart. Mark strokes your hair and shushes you, and you feel something creeping into that hole. Like wet cement it pours. The heaviness of it settling sends you back into sleep.

------

"Pancakes, with fresh strawberries. Just how you like."

It's true, and you smile a little. Despite it being a Monday, Mark has called in a little late. He's made you breakfast: your favorite pancakes, coffee, juice.

And yet, a small part of you finds it suspicious that he hasn't asked anything of you in what feels like forever.

"Will you be alright? Here, I mean. I gotta go into work."

You sip your coffee. "Like, work work, or..."

He chuckles. "Precinct. Building traps doesn't keep the lights on."

You hum in slight amusement. "Don't quit your day job."

He slips on his suit jacket. "You didn't answer my question. I can still call in."

"I'll be fine." You lie. The mere thought of being alone, even without him, makes you cold.

"Alright." He plants a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll see you when I get home. We'll do something nice, huh?"

"What, are you gonna take me to dinner?"

It's a joke, or half of one at least. Mark smiles, maybe chuckles a little, but leaves without a word, setting the alarm on the door to a password you don't know and locking it with a key you don't have.

So, no dinner.

The smile leaves your face.

You finish breakfast, because why waste perfectly good food? But afterwards you grow antsy. It's not everyday that Mark leaves you alone in his apartment and you aren't sure what to do with yourself. You could flip through books but you won't be able to focus. No magazines or papers; Mark doesn't want you to know what day it is or what's going on outside.

You meander down the hallway. A spacious bathroom, nice master, office space-

The office.

You've never been inside. One jiggle of the knob tells you that it's locked, but you can't imagine Mark keeps the key on him. It's just an office.

You stand on your tippy toes and feel blindly at the top of the door frame, gasping when you actually grab a key. You can't believe your luck.

You open the door. Inside it's a totally normal office, not that you had expected anything dramatic or, worse, bloodied. But everything looks more of the same. Standard issue bookshelves and desk. A plain lamp sits in the corner. There's a filing cabinet you peek into but all you find are personal records and bank statements.

You turn your attention to the desk. Your bandaged hand bites a phantom pain at you at the mere sight of the thing. Now...what might Mark Hoffman be hiding in his desk behind locked doors?

Remarkably, it's nothing. A lockbox, probably containing his social security card. You shift it around and hear what you assume is a gun also inside. Nothing interesting, nothing useful (unless you suddenly learn how to crack a lockbox).

So, unsatisfied, you lock the door back and return the key. You wander to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and wince at the person looking back. She's not you. Her skin is still stained just barely pink from the blood. Her hair is limp. She's frail, skinny, lifeless.

She's everything you can't imagine yourself being.

But then, a realization creeps up on you.

How could Amanda's torture have helped you at all?

It, along with everything else, has turned you into this thing.

Because now Mark sees you as fragile. Something to take care of. In his eyes, you killed for them. Almost lost your hand for them. All this time, and not a word. But so much blood.

You aren't a threat. You're on their side.

Whether this was Amanda's intended outcome is irrelevant. You doubt she ever even intended to make good on her promise. It doesn't matter.

You are weak, small and helpless. You are everything you need to no longer be a threat.

You'd be offended if it didn't make you so goddamned hopeful.

You're not even thinking straight. You slip on real clothes and a pair of sneakers. All you have to do is get through the door. How stupid could he be to just leave you here! Did you really put on that good of a show???

You consider alternatives for the door. Breaking it down is probably a no go. You could try to crack the alarm system but know almost for certain it'll alert Mark as soon as it's tampered with. And the deadbolt is another issue entirely.

That puts the door at the very bottom of the list.

Okay, now windows. You're up on a second floor which isn't ideal, but it's doable. There's no fire escape so you'd have to jump it. Again, not ideal, especially if you fracture an ankle and need to run.

But, it doesn't look like you have much of a choice.

You check all the windows. The only one with even a remotely safe landing point looks to be one out the back of the bedroom, and only because there's a line of shrubs that border an expansive construction site. It has caused you many a sleepless night.

Of course, when you go to open the window, it doesn't budge. Whether it's jammed, sealed, or stuck from years of neglect, you can't get it open.

You bite your tongue and look around. Something hard and heavy, something throwable.

Aha, a weird decorative ball...thing.

Bless Mark and his bizarre taste in decor.

It's literally just a heavy glass ball, the kind that has bubbles in it so it gives you something to look at and think "wow, how'd they do that?"

You worry a little for the glass against glass and whether that'll even work or not. But the thing is fucking heavy. And for safe measure, not that you're sure it'll do anything, you drop it inside one of Mark's satin pillowcases. You'll say this for Mark: he knows how to take care of his hair.

You plant your feet on the floor and give the pillowcase a few testing swings to get a feel for it.

Yeah, you definitely only get one shot with this.

You inwardly count down. One, two, three!

You swing the ball and smash it into the window with a precision you can't quite believe. And while the ball shatters upon impact, it does leave a sizeable hole in the window. You grab a towel from the bathroom and use it to punch out any remaining glass.

You can't fucking believe it. You actually pulled that off. You're giddy with excitement. You're so close.

You look down and gauge the distance to the shrubs. They look thick, enough to break your fall at least a little. It's about a fifteen foot drop, and subtract your standard height from that, assuming you dangle yourself from the window.

Yeah, it should work. Should, being the operative word.

You ball up the towel and use it to project your hands as you climb your way out of the window. Your damaged hand screams in protest and bleeds through your bandages but that's a concern for another day. A day when you're free.

You let your feet dangle. The fall from here doesn't look so bad.

That's when you see the car tearing down the road.

You don't even hesitate to drop yourself. You land in the shrub, but only partially and you roll onto the curb of the blocked street. You groan and for a moment even forget the fact that you just saw his car.

You remember as soon as hands grip your shoulders.

You remember as you're thrown into the back seat.

Your stomach sinks. Sinks and drips through you into a frozen hell below. That has to be better than whatever awaits you.

You feel it in every fiber of your being. You can feel his rage in every particle of the air around you.

Oh my god just kill me, you think. Please, don't make me endure any more.

"Did you seriously think I didn't have the house bugged?" His hands tighten around the steering wheel. You draw into yourself. "Did you really think I was gonna let you get away? Huh?!" He slams his hand and you flinch. "God, you are going to regret this. You're gonna regret this so much you'll wish you're dead."

And with that, some of the fear subsides.

"I already do."

"Shut the fuck up."

"What can you possibly do to me that you haven't already done?"

His eyes find you in the rearview mirror and all the panic wells up in you again.

"Oh sweetheart...so much."

------

He drags you into the warehouse by your hair, passing Amanda as she works at a bench. She turns to face you all and where you expect a smile, you see none. She almost looks... disappointed.

You expect him to take you to your room but he turns down a hall and leads you somewhere you've never been. You fight against him to obviously no avail.

He throws you into a room. It's fairly empty, save a table with some tools and a solitary chair. Whatever this room is for, it hasn't seen use in a while.

You do your best to scramble away from Mark but a fist collides with your cheek and sends you spinning onto the ground. You spit out blood and a tooth.

He straddles your chest and hits you again- two more times. Then he has hands on your throat.

"What do I have to do-" he squeezes. "To get it through your fucking head? You're not getting out, and you're not dying until I say so."

The worst words you can hear.

You start screaming because what else are you supposed to do?

"Here, lemme help."

Mark produces a knife and stabs you in the shoulder like it's nothing. Your screams grow louder. He stands.

"Keep trying! I don't think they can hear you!"

You're sobbing and your good hand comes around to yank the knife out, but before you can reach it, Mark has brought his boot down into your injured hand. Hard.

White hot pain takes a hold of your vision and you swear your body seizes up for a moment.

He brings the boot down again. And again. You can't breathe.

"Mark- Mark! Please!"

"Please what? Please don't hurt me? I'll be good? Fuck that. No more begging. No more lying-" one final stomp and he really digs into it. You wouldn't be surprised if your hand is mostly gone. You certainly can't feel anything that was suggest otherwise. "No more mercy. I am gonna use you for the one thing I took you for. And when I am done, then I will kill you. But I am going to make it as slow and painful as possible. Starting with this."

He picks you up and throws you against the table, then forces you to bend over it with a cruel hand knotted into your hair.

"Wait, wait Mark Mark Mark-"

He picks up your head and slams it back down hard enough to blur your vision. You feel blood.

You hear his belt coming undone. You feel your pants drop. And he was right. There is no mercy.

Afterwards, he leaves you. Doesn't bother taking any of the tools because he genuinely doesn't think you have it in you to kill yourself. At least not right now. You're laying on the floor. You try to focus on the cool concrete under your skin. You try to ignore the many parts of you that are bleeding.

You almost got away. You were so close. You'd cry if you could.

After a while you hear the door creak open again and you don't move because you can't.

"Jesus..."

It's Amanda. You've never heard her shocked before.

"I didn't think-" but she doesn't finish. She kneels beside you. You don't look at her.

"In my defense, I really did think you'd make it out."

"Just leave the door open," you mutter. "That's all you have to do. Just leave it open."

Your words barely sound like words due to the missing teeth and swelling face. Amanda brushes some hair that is sticky with blood.

"I really do hate him," she muses. "And you... you're not half bad, you know?"

"Please..." you mumble. "If you won't help me, kill me. Please."

"You don't even wanna see what your hand looks like right now," she says with a chuckle, abruptly changing the subject before standing. "Anyway, you've got plenty of tools here. Finish the job yourself."

She leaves. Minutes later you roll over, try to sit up. You can't, but you do notice something.

The door to the room is wide open.

You know you won't get a chance like this again.

You crawl your way to the door and use the handle to help yourself stand. Then, remembering yourself, you limp back to the table and grab one of the knives with your working hand. You don't even bother to look at the other.

You limp back towards the door. You look both ways into the hall but don't give much thought to the possibility of Mark being there. If he's still in the building, he would be in the room with you.

You go. You try to be quick but you know there's no real reason to rush yet. Amanda's not going to stop you. You only don't know how long it'll be before Mark comes back.

You limp down the stairs and spot Amanda. You freeze for a moment, and she watches you, then looks back down whatever she's tinkering with. You could cry. You can see the door. You have no way of getting home but that's the farthest thing from your mind.

You limp into the hallway, but you are suddenly blocked by-

"Mr. Kramer!"

You jump back. He's in his wheelchair, sitting in an adjoining doorway, almost like he's waiting for you. He says nothing, only gazes up at you with those small, all-seeing eyes. You can't even imagine the state of yourself.

"Mr. Kramer... please..."

Your voice wavers. Your whole body shakes. At your words, John chuckles.

"Such with the formalities." He pushes himself up from the chair and suddenly Amanda is at his side. "For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry for what my apprentice has done to you. He is misguided. He's not long for this word. His foolishness will catch up with him soon enough."

Your eyes dart to your right, to the doors. You know they both notice this, but neither move.

"...You're not gonna stop me?"

"I don't see any reason to. I'm an old man. A dying one. My work here is almost complete. I see no reason to deprive you of the rest of your life, which you so clearly cherish."

You gasp and sob. You want to hug the man.

"Thank you," you breathe. Turning, you go towards your escape. But the creaking of the doors stops you and you spin on your heels back towards John and Amanda, the only two people that you can rely on right now. You don't know how much John will fight Mark about you, and Amanda is a total wild card. Still, you lean on the wall near them as Mark swings the doors open and strides in, and when he sees you, he clearly wasn't expecting you to get out of that room alone.

His eyes shift between you, Amanda, and John, and he laughs.

"I didn't think you had it in you."

"You honestly think I'd sooner let you hurt me again, or even kill myself before I tried to run?"

Mark sighs and shakes his head.

"You never learn."

He makes a move towards you and you squeal and turn to the wall like it's going to save you somehow. But the blow never lands. He's quiet for a moment, then,

"Move."

You get the idea he's not saying it to you. You turn your head. Amanda has placed herself between the two of you.

Amanda doesn't budge.

"Mark," John says softly. "Let her go. It's time."

"She'll tell everyone," Mark hisses to his mentor.

"That's a risk you took when you brought her here," Amanda says, pointing to Mark's chest.

"Let her tell. It won't matter soon, anyway."

Mark's burning eyes move to you again. Oh, how only a few hours ago- or was it a day? You can't remember. However long ago, his eyes had almost, almost spelled comfort. He'd bathed you, fed you, held you as you cried.

But he'd also hurt you in the most unspeakable ways.

You know which motivates you more.

"All I want to do is get out of this god-forsaken city and scrub my body of you," you spit at Mark, your voice going raw at the emotion. "Maybe I will tell. But you'll never see me again. That much I can guarantee you."

"Mark, let her go," John repeats. And for the first time, you see Mark in true distress. He can't decide who to hate, or who to curse at. His breathing is growing labored in his quiet fury and he finally turns to you and grips your jaw with a tight, gloved hand.

"Hoffman-" Amanda warns.

"Shut the fuck up," Mark hisses back at her. He looks you in the eyes. "Run. Tell anybody. Do whatever you want. But the next time I see you-"

"Never-"

"The next time I see you, it's over."

And for a moment, however brief, you see in his eyes, past the cold sadism and mania, that he doesn't want to let you go. Perhaps not because of the violence or the punishment of it all. But maybe, just maybe, you were something he needed.

But he releases his hold on you with a toss and you stumble towards the exit. You don't turn around to look at Amanda or John. Don't cry or hesitate. You blow through the doors, stutter down the steps, and you run. You run so very far and for so very long. You don't know where you're going next, and right now you don't care. The sun is warm and hopeful on your skin. The salty air from the waterfront stings your lacerations but you don't care. You are free. You are free.

You are free.

#mark hoffman #saw fanfic #mark hoffman x reader #angst #fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

oncewhenalongtimeago · 10 days

Text

The Jealous One pt 10

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,344

You really don’t know how to make bread. Hiccup doesn't know how, either.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

Oh hel.

You stared down at the crumpled and half-covered plants by your feet sitting just at the base of a sheer rock wall, grimacing deeply at the wilted stems and leaves. Not a single sprout looked at all viable.

You bemoaned the thought that it might have been your fault that they ended up in such a manner- mud fights weren’t exactly conducive to healthy plants, nor were mudslides, which happened on Berk with a higher frequency than you thought they should, and the way it looked, the plants had been picked much too thin to make any kind of recovery- under normal circumstances, they should have been able to avoid any measurable damage- one or two mudballs, especially, but they looked sort of miserable, actually.

You wondered who had been picking them dry.

You sighed, feeling the full force of the sun on your back. You were sure you’d have to take responsibility, though you’d love if not another soul knew about your involvement. You could try and fix it up on your own, but-

You processed the vague sound of crunching mud- and after being so suddenly pulled from your musings, you nearly startled.

There went that idea.

You looked to your side with wide, uncomfortable eyes to greet another pair of slumped shoulders and startled eyes.

There stood Hiccup in his casual clothes, old green tunic pulled from what was most likely a deep crevasse in the piles of his room’s junk hidden under his work desk and his bed.

“I, ah-” Hiccup started, his voice slightly more nasal than usual, “Had nothing to do with that.”

You grimaced harder, turning fully to face him.

“I think I’ve been- I’ve been picking them dry.” Hiccup said, shuffling to match you, his palm grazing his elbow before coming up to brush the hair on his forehead, running it down the back of his head until it nearly reached his neck, “My leg- It gets worse when I’m, ah- …”

You glowered at him as he dropped his arm. You hoped your eyes were conveying your displeasure- culprit.

“It’s not exactly… Comfortable.”

He started shuffling and winced.

You could see the point at which he considered shifting again but decided better of it.

“You need to add more padding.” You said, brows furrowed evenly.

You knew he already had some padding in his pant leg, sewn to fit his stub, but you’d always thought he might need more in the socket of his prosthetic. You’d never said anything aloud, though- he, like you, could be quite stubborn and blind, especially when he was proud, which he was very often when it came to the things he’d built.

His original prosthetic was made by Gobber, though it was inspired heavily by Hiccup, which was something to be proud of, and Hiccup had had a hand in its care, of course, and had plans to add a few tweaks of his own.

“You think?” Hiccup asked sarcastically, looking at you with a grimace of his own. “I don’t think I’ll be able to carve in enough of a bed to keep any real padding- It’s going to shatter on me the next time I take a knife to it.”

“Yes.” You said, hoping he got blisters.

A brown-haired woman stormed past the porch on which you stood, wooden steps before you, rant wildly, though you could tell she was more impassioned by the wild mood than truly mad, "-I’d rather eat out home than be up at the hall, not with the bread- Have you noticed the difference? Audacious-brazen- the nerve-!”

You looked down at the bowl in your hands, covered by a rough, clean cloth, glowering at the poor excuse for a lump of dough you knew was cradled within it as you stood by the side between two buildings in Berk’s village center, waiting for Thora to return, listening albeit unwillingly to the rabble of the folks surrounding you.

You had been making a lot of bowls of dough recently.

It was unusually cheery out and even more bustling than usual- nearly everyone was out with a smile, though you found you weren’t so interested.

“-Aye, I ‘ave got a nice cutting of wood, if you find any interest– it’s good fer ‘em leg-making- and arm fixin,’ of ‘ourse, if yer fixing to make another, and I’m sure ye’d be needin’ some of ‘at soon.” You watched Johannes proposition Gobber out of the corner of your eye, who was clearly not paying him any attention, waving him off as he sipped out of his ‘cup’ arm- a mug with a handle stuck in it carved in the shape of a peg, easy to fit into his prosthetic’s screw hole.

Across the way, Johannes had a shallow cart of what looked to be just-recently-sanded strips of wood, thin and polite looking.

You furrowed your brows, wishing you were anywhere but there as he droned on- It was a rare day whenever anyone was unable to sell on Berk -a miracle, really- for Gobber was an easy buyer.

A tall red-headed woman burst past you, storming down the dock, hauling a large cart of barrels behind her like a field animal, “-Streams of cloth-!”

He thought himself wise and clever, but the old blacksmith was perhaps the most susceptible on the island to the advertisement of any decent material. He had a chest full of useless materials, though he often ended up doing at least something with most trinkets.

You shuffled, boot soles scuffing against the wood below, hoping that your dough was enough to land you a job in the Great Hall- they were so picky up there, really, the old maids- though you had to admit your culinary skills were quite poor.

You resisted the urge to rub the back of your head, recounting, ruminating and stewing your most recent run-in with Hoark’s wife.

She was the resentful type, one of the ones who had been pestering you and Snotlout with chores, not that he hadn’t deserved any of the pestering, but- Oh, you’d surely told her that if they wanted you to do any more you’d have to be paid. She’d respond by tossing a bowl towards your head, scolding you with something about public service and the Chief and dragons.

You shot something sour back about never having been a Rider- and, well, you’d gotten a bowl to the head for your efforts.

Exhaustion- you were up to your ankles in it.

Your arms worked hard into the pristine wooden counter, pushing and rolling dough over ground grains in the open hall of one of Berk’s newest buildings- you weren’t sure anyone had settled in yet, and that was just as well.

As you’d recently learned, with the lack of a proper kitchen in the Great Hall- it was poor, really, they’d set up shop here for the time being. You wondered when it would finally be declared a community building like the library had been, something which you’d taken a lot of joy in.

It was about time, really, and it was awful nice not to have to ask around for books or notes anymore, though some of them had the tendency to go missing, and without any real book-watcher to keep an eye out, many missing slips went unaccounted for.

You rolled the dough below your hands- dark and grainy- extra hard into the wood, a dark brown, smoother than any other table you’d known, sanded and sealed in a way that made it harder for any dough-bits to get stuck in the cracks and rot-.

You prayed to any God that would listen that Thora would be impressed with it this time- cooking was one of the least indulged-in activities on Berk and was not one you were particularly well-practiced in. It was one of your least favorite activities, in fact, but you needed the job if you were going to buy back the plants before anyone had noticed them missing and kicked up a fuss.

As you’d learned through careful reading, some of them you could only get from Johann and you knew for sure that that old liar played favorites.

It was a shame you couldn’t get coin any other way, but most things had been accounted for and you’d been stoutly refused pay for most of your chores.

You listened to the voices dancing and mingling from the open window, the wide open space and propped open doorway making you feel quite naked even separated by wooden walls from the outside.

You nearly scowled as you heard the voice of a woman, a portly blonde -very pretty but also frazzled- and you heard the vague idea of some other voice as hers mingled with something deeper.

You wished you were making stew instead. You could handle an alright stew. Snotlout would like your stew… If you didn’t tell him you were the one who made it.

You cursed the dough for the highest time that day.

Really, You had asked around and now you were starting to suspect that the dough-making test had been a torture that Thora had cooked up just for you.

You wanted to scowl again as you heard the noise of a crowd approaching the doorway once again, though you released it slightly as they bustled past.

You were slightly displeased as a straggler separated from the bunch. You caught him out of the corner of your eye as he stumbled over wood, a pleasant expression over his face as he looked back, the cheering of Gobber now loud and obvious past the door frame, growing quieter as he walked away.

You’d been running into him a lot as of late.

“What’s going on out there?” You asked, before he could speak. “It sounds like everyone’s out throwing a party. It’s not Snoggletog, is it?”

You turned your attention away from the bread

“...Something like that,” Hiccup said dryly. “Pre-festival.”

“Really?” You braced your hands against the edge of the table, the wood below creaking as you leaned over it.

You stuck your tongue out slightly, furrowing your brows at its sealed surface.

Despite its newness, it was a very poor counter; craftsmen had been, clearly, ignorant in the art of table-leg making, its sides slightly unbalanced and nailed into the floor. Compared to anything else you’d be able to find anywhere, it was probably one of the worst tables ever.

The other islands told you so- or, their trades, really. Berk’s carpenters could be considered novice in comparison- the exploration of anything other than fighting was... A privilege the inhabitants of Berk had only been recently afforded.

You wondered how the youngest children on Berk felt, having been able to grow up in a world without dragon fighting.

You’d always wondered as a kid, on war-torn Berk, how the other settlements had even been able to make something so smooth or beautiful.

The quality of the simple chairs and tables Johann had brought over on the very rare occasion had seemed otherworldly and had been sold fast- to be fair, though, it would probably be much easier for anyone to achieve that same level of quality in craft in any place with fewer conflicts.

You cringed as another loud shout echoed in from the outside, where the sun from the window felt nearly burning against your eyes.

“Here, let me-” Hiccup pressed the house’s shutters closed before going back to close the door, kicking away the stopper with his foot.

You felt every muscle in your body release as the noise from outside became more muted, looking down at your dough with new eyes.

It looked dark and slightly green, deflated like a sad, dry booger.

…It might have been overworked. You were no expert, though.

“I’m going to have to make a new batch.” You grumbled.

Hiccup shrugged, coming around the side of the counter, “...It looks fine to me?”

You didn’t even mind as he edged closer, too busy mulling over your failed batch.

“Are the others nearby?” You asked.

They hadn’t been around recently, so of course you’d assumed they’d been off doing Rider-ly things with their leader. The suckers had ditched you pretty quickly after the mud fight and you hadn't had the chance to mingle with or chase after and wrestle down the others recently, either, as they’d probably wanted you to do- though you knew they’d wander back eventually.

“...They’re up at the hall, probably, if you want to meet up with them. They’re managing the decorations, I think.” Hiccup said.

You hadn’t been around, looking around for work, nagging the Vikings that strayed from the late meal. Berk’s hardest workers always skipped it, staying out way past the setting of the sun- they were usually the ones who needed assistance but were too stubborn to ask for it. They also tended to be fond of their alone time, too disconnected from Berk’s larger circle to absorb any of the most recent news- when you were younger, you’d imagined you might end up like one of them.

“Decorations?” You asked dryly. You wouldn’t put the Twins in front of a yak, much less in charge of any decorating.

You were sure that hall would look unholy by the time you were able to see it again.

“Yeah,” HIccup said. His hair was slightly mussed and once again darkened, so he must have spent some more time in the forge, then. “You…?”

“Thora,” You grumbled, “She’s got me kneading bread all day, though I have no idea why.“

You turned his words over in your head again, then you perked up with confusion and slight skepticism, “You said something about a pre-festival?”

“Ah, yeah.” Hiccup said before he asked cautiously, “She’s… trying to hire you, isn’t she?”

“That’s what she told me.” You grumbled, before sighing with defeat, letting your hands drop from the counter and giving way as your shoulders slumped, “She’s been lying to me, though, hasn’t she?”

You stepped back from the corner and looked up finally, just in time to catch as Hiccup’s eyes darted from your feet back to your face.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you begrudgingly took him in, back in his leathers, which looked almost polished, his underclothes darned and hair groomed if not clean, which looked almost unusual compared to his now-usual windswept look.

Though you had been making efforts to keep your mind off of it, then you were startlingly aware of his close proximity, taking careful, quick, unwilling measures of it in your mind, pulling details and etching them into permanent stone tablets and storing them away on dark-toned, foreign shelves.

You hadn’t had much time to get used to him again after your last real encounter.

The hug you shared- well, it had been, admittedly, private. It was a simple hug, though you loathed to share the experience with anyone else.

Hiccup pursed his lips, which was all you needed to know you’d been right. “She’s been… more focused on other things, so… Yeah.”

You grimaced, glancing away and nearly running a sticky hand over your head, before thinking better of it.

…Great. You’d been roped into more unpaid labor.

Hiccup looked at you oddly again.

You recalled something you’d heard earlier, and if he was right, then she was giving out your misshapen bread at the hall- maybe that was why. It was a mystery solved on his end.

You were probably not going to settle for a job at the hall, then, or risk the wrath of any others. You had to say that most of the bread that you tasted in the hall was poor. Unfortunately, though, you knew yours was worse.

“I don’t know how to make bread.” You confessed, glaring at the sacks of grains littering the corner of the hut and the sparse few bags slumped against the side of the counter table, melding to where table-leg-wall met wood flooring. “I don’t like making bread.”

You had half a mind to kick the sack, but you knew from experience that your toe would surely be stubbed, so you glared at the sizable boot-shaped indent in its side instead.

“...Does anyone like making bread?”

You turned your glare towards Hiccup, before reminding him, “Festival.”

You were sure at this point you’d age early, with how often you’d been straining your brows.

“There’s going to be one,” You stated more than asked.

“I-Ah, yeah.” Hiccup brought up his hand to rub at his chin, furrowing his brows, “I didn’t really- plan it, but, well, I think my Dad-Well, he sent a letter, and Gobber got ahold of it, and someone looked it over- there was something about expecting a warm welcome back, and harvest is soon, so-”

“Really?” You hummed, thinking.

Unlike your other Viking kin, holidays were few and far between- you had only two, Thorsday Thursday and Snoggletog, though you were sure you’d heard talk of more in the most recent years- wishful thinking, for the most part, but if it was true, and the people had been decided arbitrarily and not that it was time to celebrate, then you were sure there would be tons more to come.

“Right,” Hiccup said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “...Do you need any help?”

You gave him a look that you knew would encompass all of your skepticism at once, something you knew would say, ‘are you serious?’

It was… Maybe a bit too obvious that you did, however, you did have your reservations. Hiccup wasn’t a great cook at all- he could manage a very, very simple meal but you knew he always relied on the Hall’s meals to get by, and he was far from a baker.

At his responding second shrug you sighed and rolled your head back. Fine.

“C’mere,” You said, shuffling slightly to the side.

Awkwardly, Hiccup moved right up next to you- he didn’t take the side you’d expected, which startled you some, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.

A glance back at Hiccup’s face told you he regretted it too, his expression stiff and his shoulders too, awkward as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What? So I…” Hiccup reached past you, his arm brushing against yours as he touched the dough.

It would have been so easy for him to turn the rest of the way and press himself against your back- You sighed nearly shakily, pulling the dough in two, your arms jerking as the tough dough snapped in half. “I wouldn’t know.”

You handed the smaller half to him, then grimaced at it mournfully. “It’s too hard.”

“Is there… What do I do next?” Hiccup asked.

You grimaced. You’d run out of milk and other grains- most of the bags you had left were just oat and wheat. “More water and dough- that is all I’ve got.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup grimaced back. “Where’s the…”

You nudged the sack leaning closest to you with your foot, grains shifting stiffly as your boot made contact with the rough sack. You were careful not to jostle it too hard- though it was mostly limp, leaning against the floor and flat wooden table-wall, you’d cut it open by the top, and you knew one hard knock would be enough to cause whatever was left inside to spill across the floor.

“The water’s-...” You looked off to the side, craning your neck where, to your left, an array of spoons and bowls lay neatly mounted on one wall, a small, polite bucket of boiled water, nearly empty, sitting below it all, with what you knew was a wooden bowl floating inside, right where you’d left it. “I’ll get the water.”

You let out a short puff of air before walking around Hiccup and going for a bucket.

You paid no mind to him as you’d bent down and peered into it, where your shallow bowl had flipped upside down somehow and the wood had gone from a dry dark to an even darker, water-soaked, nearly jet-black.

Behind you, Hiccup grunted.

You heard a small thump and heard what sounded like fabric shifting- he was kneading the dough, then, you assumed- possibly. He was most probably unclean, yet your dough was trash dough anyways, so perhaps it was for the best.

You grabbed ahold of your bowl with a sigh, flipping it over with your fingers and scooping up a decent measure of water, holding it carefully yet casually in one hand as you stood up and turned back towards Hiccup who had, while you were not paying attention, grabbed ahold of your sack of flour.

Somehow he’d turned it upside down, the flap holding the sack closed slowly unfolding itself, the beginnings of a muffle rushing building, not unlike the sound sand made as it poured out from between your fingers.

“Wait, I-” You startled, stepping forwards and dropping the bowl, which fell to the ground with a clatter and a splash.

Before you could reach out in full, Hiccup’s shaking yet tight grip on the sack meant that with all the force of a Nightmare, a pile of flour exploded over both the floor and your dough piece, resting miserably and floppily over the counter.

Your eyes fluttered open with astonishment, the shifting of the skin over your face feeling thicker as you opened your mouth, a heavy cover of flour laying across it.

You blinked down hurriedly, tugging at your tunic and staring at the heavy layer of nearly edible silt along your front. As it thickened under water- well, it would be the worst trouble to clean.

Besides you, Hiccup coughed, eyes clenched shut, the flour’s sack mostly empty and lying abandoned against new wooden floors- you hope they’d already been sealed. They should have been, but there were a few lazy folk and you knew you’d be feeling standoffish if, well, they hadn’t been.

You let your arms fall limp as you glared at the large pile over the countertop, a building ticking feeling growing in your throat.

Once he settled, you glanced at Hiccup, a sour look on your face, then you glanced away, stubbornly flicking some flour over towards him with two fingers.

“This is your fault,” You said stubbornly, denying your own clumsy lack of foresight and tossing Hiccup into the spotlight.

“What- hey,” Hiccup began before you yourself began to cough.

You puffed, and right after a cloud of white and beige grain bloomed into the air and sank with the slowest abandon onto the already thickly covered countertop.

Maybe it was the poor timing, or the comical, nearly hysterical silence which followed, or maybe it was perhaps a sudden reaction and refusal to accept what had happened and to perhaps smother any awkward tension with laughter, but you’d had to clenched your lips shut then, stifling a sudden onslaught of laugher, something choking and joyful-ugly in your throat- sharp as if you’d just seen one of the Twins tipped by a Yak instead of vice versa or you’d heard a Terror spill a bucket of fish over someone else’s yet, and yet this felt much lighter.

In the silence you’d left behind, it was Hiccup who laughed, an awkward, unsure thing, flour splattered across his face like dry dirt.

You had to snort then, shoulders jerking, a hand coming up to your nose to wipe away the grainy powder there and staying there as the joy wracking your frame grew to be too much, causing you to nearly keel over.

You stumbled forward, almost tripping over onto Hiccup, your bent head knocking into his shoulder, his hands coming to grip your sides as he struggled to stay standing.

“Sor-sorry,” You said, your hands coming to grasp at his upper arms, your fingers curling around them as you lifted your head and smiled at him.

“I-I,” Hiccup started.

You weren’t sure you’d even had a moment with anyone that was so simple and sweet. Not even with Hiccup, when you were younger, snider and sillier.

He didn’t stop like you assumed he would, leaning closer and closer- your eyes were wide, so much so they felt almost watery as he leaned in, noses nearly knocking, blessing you with a stiff press, thin lips meeting yours with simple heat and hard intention.

Oh Hel.

You made a small noise in the back of your throat as he pulled back, your face blank but still reeling from the last press of lips, your hands flat against his arms instead of curled around them.

You were there and not, feeling strongly the heat of Hiccup’s palm nearing your back yet practically soaking in the wooden-ness of your limbs.

“I-I,” You tried, glancing to the side, then back at Hiccup, scrambling for even a thought, something to say- instead you just leaned closer, his breath curling at your lips, shaking.

“Do you…?” Hiccup tried, his head tilting slightly more to the side as he too leaned again, his eyes falling slightly lidded, mouth hanging slightly open and his lungs beat with heavy breath and heart.

He pulled you close again, nearly flush.

You pressed back into it with nearly a confused whine, though you were no less invested, tugging him closer to you, the both of you turning smoothly for the single instant you’d both been pressed together before you pulled apart again.

“What…?” Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sleeves as your head fell to his shoulder, resting in the place where the edge of one leather pauldron dug into your forehead.

You matched his shifting, as his chin rested just barely over your shoulder-ensconced head, the both of you moving in some tight, quiet, easing dance, all stiff limbs and smooth, small movements.

It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to leave you panting, your face hot enough and your eyes nearly burning as you struggled to come back to yourself.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #toothless

11 notes · View notes