X reader reblogs

This is a side blog where I can re-read my favourite X Readers, as you can tell, i have a type...

[wegotfoodathome]

I saw this and idk

Cw: breaking and entering, implied murder, implied posion

It must’ve taken weeks for the intruders to plan and execute a heist of such grandeur, but, in their preparation, they forgot that crows are most aggressive when protecting their nest.

Corbeau slept lightly as he always did; it was an old habit that seemed to be harder to kick than smoking. You were curled into his side, sleeping as peacefully as he wished he could.

The floor creaked. His blood ran cold as a long, intentional silence, suffocated the air.

Corbeau is nothing if not rational in moments of chaos, thriving in the adrenaline rush that comes with it, but his options here were very few. All his Pokemon were snug safely in their balls, as were yours; you’d kept them there to have an uninterrupted night with each other. His town house was old, and somewhat rickety, but he knew the sounds of boards shifting by heart, and this was not it.

The floorboard creaked again, this time on the other side of the bedroom door. Corbeau held his breath, and, in the silence, he heard the doorknob twist and click.

This wasn’t one of his Pokemon, but Corbeau already knew that.

Slowly, the door swung open, creaking on its hinges.

It was stupid really, how loud the intruders were being, as if they weren’t really trying to hide themselves.

One slow footstep, followed by another, boot rolling from heel to toe across the floor.

You slept perfectly, Corbeau’s bed being the safest place you knew.

Another footstep.

Too close-!

Corbeau lurched forward. Using his body as a shield, he hovered over you, digging his palms into the mattress. Adrenaline coursed through every vein in his body as he faced the intruder, who was nothing more than a breathing shadow in the middle of the room.

The room stilled, every breath threatening to burst the bubble of tension.

While never taking his eyes off the intruder, he relished in the feeling of you sleeping soundly underneath him.

Beside him, the bedside table rattled and shook. Corbeau expected Scolipede, but instead found Arbok’s shadow curling around the bed, a low hiss rumbling across the floor.

Corbeau didn’t have to command the Pokemon. He watched intently, trapping you in the protective grasp of his own body as Arbok coiled around the intruder. Where Arbok suffocated and dug poison fangs into flesh, Corbeau gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

A body hit the floor, splaying limp across it.

You didn’t wake.

You didn’t need to.

-

Sunlight lit the house in a gentle, hopeful ray of warm yellow. It peaked through the windowsills, and got lost under the kitchen lights.

“Morning, sunshine.” Corbeau greeted with a smile, breakfast already laid across the bar. “You were really out of it.”

You grumbled a response, pulling yourself into the barstool. Arbok was out, slithering across the floor from the kitchen to the living room. “Whatever tea you gave me last night really helped me to sleep.”

Corbeau raised a brow, looking at you over the table in his hand. “Did it?” A slow smile crept over his lips. “Well that’s good to hear.”

[choptropica]

strong

sanemi x reader

content warning: mentions of violence

word count: 4.5k

You were no slayer.

It was the reason your husband, Sanemi, watched over you like a hawk each time you went out. Whether it be to the market, your friend’s home, or even just a stroll for some fresh air — if you walked out the doors of his estate, he was right beside you — no exceptions. He had always fussed over you like that, insisting that there was no such thing as too careful. It was almost comical, seeing how it was such a stark contrast to his exterior demeanor of cold-hearted ruthlessness. His worrisome disposition had taken countless hours of sleep from him, and you weren’t sure he’d ever be able to leave your side to attend his missions if not for his younger brother, Genya.

Not long after you had married Sanemi, Genya had quickly become quite fond of you. Anytime Sanemi was out on a mission, the young boy found himself regularly checking in on you. It was the only time Sanemi reluctantly acknowledged his younger brother’s status as a slayer — he’d never admit it (mostly out of frustration at his own limits), but he was secretly grateful that the young boy was there for you when he couldn’t be. It had become an unspoken agreement between the two of them, a silent neutrality: If Sanemi was away on mission, Genya would visit to see if you needed anything at all, even if just company to escort you around. The brothers adored you far more than you knew, and it seemed that devotion was strong enough for them to put aside their differences, but only when it came to you.

It hurt you that they weren’t on speaking terms, but you were incredibly grateful that Genya still came to see you from time to time, even if it was only when his brother was away — it gave you some way of checking up on him. The young boy viewed you almost like a mother, bashfully coming by to tell you of his accomplishments and help you around the home. Despite Sanemi’s insistence that he wanted nothing to do with him, you knew he was glad for it too from the way he’d leave just a bit too much ohagi for one person prepared at the table when he left for a mission. It was endearing, they way the two of them practically hid behind you to show their care for each other.

This strange little routine had become your norm, and today was no exception. Sanemi had been away on a mission for the last two weeks, making Genya your faithful companion. The two of you were now heading back from the market, warmly chatting away as the young boy carried each of your groceries in tow.

“Genya, really, let me help carry them!” You insisted.

“Not a chance! I’m super strong, so it’s not trouble. Besides, we needed a lot more than usual today, since I’ll be leaving too…” The boy’s voice faltered, a look of worry taking over his expression.

It wasn’t often, but every now and then, typically when your husband had been assigned a longer mission, there would be a brief window where the both of them were out. When this would happen, the both of them insisted on stockpiling the home with everything you could possibly need in hopes of minimizing your trips outside the estate. It made you sad the way you could see the boys sick with worry each time they had to leave you alone, so you always made sure to adhere to Sanemi’s only request he had ever made of you:

Never leave the estate when you’re alone.

While it may have seemed overnparanoid, the spike in recent demon activity had left him in a constant state of stress when leaving you. The man, while somewhat callous to others, had never been anything but kind, gentle, and adoring to you. You had him practically wrapped around your finger, and it was no secret. He spoiled you rotten at each chance he got, so the least you could do to ease his mind was comply with the one thing he asked of you. After all, it was only because he couldn’t bear the thought of you being harmed. His mind could only run rampant with the imagined horrors of what could happen to you if nobody was there to protect you.

Looking back at the boy next to you, it seems the same dark thoughts plagued his own mind. How could they not, after the things they had been through — the things they had lost.

You placed a hand gently on Genya’s arm, giving him a bright smile.

“Don’t worry. I have everything I need thanks to you, and I’ll be right in the house. I’m just lucky I have such a sweet little brother who makes sure I’m safe and sound — and is strong enough to carry all my groceries!”

The boy flushed, a happy smile relaxing his face at hearing such kind words. With the constant rejection he faced from his brother, you never denied him the chance to receive even an ounce of affection from you, showering him with your praise. Then, the boy’s eyes lit up with an idea.

“I know! Why don’t I buy you that fabric you liked from the store down the road? That way you can have something fun to do while we’re away!”

The boy surged ahead of you, excited by the opportunity to do something for you.

“You’ve got to get going soon, and don’t be spending your money on me! Get yourself a treat instead.”

“But Y/N-san, you’ve been needing a new kimono! And now that I defeated an upper rank, I got promoted so I’m making lots of money!” He declared with a cheeky grin. “Come on, we’ll be quick!”

After a defeated argument with the young slayer, you had arrived at home right at dusk with a harvest of groceries, fabrics, and anything else you could have possibly needed. He had quickly helped you put away your things and was now standing at the gates as you were seeing him off.

“It gets cold at night up the mountains, so keep this tight.” Your voice was firm but full of love as you fussed over the the boy’s clothes. He had a loving smile on his face, seemingly touched by your mother-henning.

“I’ll be alright, Y/N-san. You take care too okay?”

“I will. For all we know Sanemi could be back any day now, so I’m sure I won’t be alone for too long.”

“I know…but if anything happens, just send us a crow. I’ll come right away, and Aniki will too!”

“I know you would, but don’t worry about me. You should worry about coming home without a scratch. I’ll make your favorite dinner when you return.”

After a few more affectionate words of encouragement, you saw Genya’s figure trail off into the distance as you said your goodbyes. You were incredibly proud of how far he had come, but couldn’t help but worry a bit yourself each time he was off. You scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes.

Those boys — they sit there worried sick about me while they’re off fighting man-eating monsters.

Despite their ridiculous double standard, you adored them with your whole heart, praying for a safe return each time they headed out into the unknown.

Now settled into the evening, you made quick work of preparing dinner, cleaning the home, and taking care of any other miscellaneous chores that you had been wanting to get done. Because of Sanemi’s nocturnal working hours, he oftentimes slept throughout most of the day which had inevitably caused you to turn to a nocturnal schedule yourself, despite his many protests. He wanted you to have a healthy sleep schedule and enjoy the light of day, but you insisted you were much happier staying up with him to enjoy his company. You had always been a night-owl anyway, at least you also got to spend the evenings with your beloved when he was home that way, too.

Satisfied with your work, you excitedly pattered over to the bag of fabrics that Genya had purchased for you. Your heart swelled at the boy’s kindness, touched he had always been so eager to do such nice things for you.

I’ll need to use some of this to make him a winter coat. He can’t just keep wearing that slayer uniform alone. Sanemi, too.

Satisfied with the idea, you took your supplies and sat by the fire, basking in its warmth and contentedly humming as you began your project, the flickering light pouring over your cozy makeshift workspace.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there threading away, lost in the intent focus of your crafting. You had always enjoyed making clothes, especially for the boys. It was a way you could give something back to them, as they were constantly out there risking their lives for ordinary people like you. Even further, you knew those two desperately needed someone to take care of them every once in awhile. You stretched, letting out a satisfied groan as you glanced at the now smoldering embers of the once blazing fire.

Goodness, it must be an ungodly hour.

You rose, striding over to the door to peek outside at the moon’s location in attempt to see the time. It was a nifty trick that Sanemi had taught you one night as the two of you sat huddled together, your body nestled against him and curled in between his legs on the roof as you looked at the stars. You supposed it was an incredibly useful skill to have a slayer, where you were constantly counting down the hours to dawn. The memory brought a smile to your face, suddenly feeling that familiar longing for your husband to come home so you could be right back in his warm and comforting embrace.

It was just after three in the morning. You really had been working for awhile. You heard a crow squeak behind you from in the house, causing you to jump in your own skin.

You turned with a laugh, walking over to the bird on his post and scratched under his chin.

“I’m sorry. I’ve kept you up too, haven’t I?”

You weren’t sure where Sanemi had gotten his hands on one of the crows meant for slayers, let alone trained it to follow your every move, but you supposed it was just another of the many things your husband worked for tirelessly in order to keep you safe.

The bird boomed a loud squawk again, almost as if he was alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” You cocked your head in confusion, as the behavior was incredibly unusual for your typically relaxed companion. You turned to the door that was still slid wide open to the outside, carrying a cold draft that swayed the forest outside right into your home.

“Oh, right. The door.”

You turned, heading over to slide it closed. The bird began a furious barrage of cries once more.

“I know, I know, It’s cold! I’m going, don’t worry!”

You had just begun to slide the door shut when you heard it — the faintest snap of a branch. Your hearing had always been good. You used to sit by that very entrance and crane for the sound of Sanemi’s footsteps trudging home. However, this sound was much different. It was a sound that was trying to stay hidden.

Every part of you stilled.

Now, the only things you could hear were the wind rustling through the trees, and your own heartbeat thundering in your ears.

The wave of dread that coursed through your body on instinct confirmed to you exactly what situation you were in.

Sure enough, you saw them. Those eyes.

Glowing a horrid red, they stared right at you as their figure crept closer. You met their gaze, unmoving in shock. Then, the monster let out a horrifying laugh that nearly made you black out.

I need to stay calm. A single second could be the difference between me surviving and —

The idea of even finishing the thought made your heart stop. This was real, which meant you needed to think fast.

When looking back on this moment, you would remember it all in slow motion. It felt like time itself had frozen, giving you the milliseconds you needed to act. In an instant, your hand reached for the sachet hanging just by the doorway while you simultaneously cried out to the bird behind you.

“Go!” You shrieked, thrashing the sachet down below you. The second it hit the floor, an explosion of lilac smoke burst into the room. Despite the dense smog that had erupted all around you, the crow flew out the window immediately on your command, faster than a bolt of lightning.

Please, God. Let him make it to them.

The terror coursing through your body felt toxic; Your breaths were erratic and your whole body was trembling as you spun on your heels to make a bolt for your room. You couldn’t see a thing, but you were hoping your that meant your predator couldn’t either. You had the advantage of knowing the layout of the house like the back of your hand — you could only hope the smoke screen would work long enough to get you the head start. Just when you had made it past the kitchen, you ripped the tablecloth off, scattering it and its contents to the floor in an attempt to distract the demon. Just when you made it to the hallway, the monster flung in through the doorway, crashing straight towards the kitchen and smashing into the cabinets, falling for the decoy. You heard the demon cry out in a rage as the shattered furniture and dishes flew everywhere, but you didn’t falter.

You flew into your bedroom, practically leaping over the bed to Sanemi’s cabinet. It was a slim chance, but every now and then, Sanemi would have a spare sword in there that was needing to be polished or repaired. It was far from ideal, but it seemed like your only option.

Please.

Flinging the door open, you practically sobbed in relief to see one resting there. Reaching for it without a moments notice, you unsheathed it, the pure adrenaline taking over.

You can do this. You’ve watched him, all this time.

You had watched him, all those years, training day in and day out. It had always amazed you, seeing his God-given strength and ability. You couldn’t count the amount of times you sat on the engawa, enraptured by his every move in wonder.

That’s right. You’ve seen it a hundred times. All you need is one good hit.

His movements flashed in your mind - without even realizing it, your love for him had committed each of them to memory. Now, you just had to give it all you were worth and hope that you had even a fraction of his strength. You took a deep breath, tears welling in your eyes.

Be with me, love. Please, lend me your strength, even if it’s only for a moment.

You could hear the demon’s blind rampage getting closer. It was crying out, as if it was in pain.

The wisteria smoke — it’s working. This it it. The only window I’ll get.

Gripping the hilt of Sanemi’s katana, you charged out into the hallway, finding the demon writhing on the floor. With every ounce of strength you had, you ran forward, raising the sword high.

Right in the very moment you were going to swing down, the demon met your eyes in alarm.

No!

The blow came so fast, you weren’t even sure you felt the initial impact. Its leg came flying up and hitting you square in the chest, sending you flying into the wall. The force was so abrupt you flew right threw it, crashing back into the demolished area that was once your kitchen. Gasping for air, the sword fell from your hand as blood spurted out of your mouth.

Get up. You have to get up.

Turning over quickly, you crawled to your feet, desperately trying to run away. Not a second later, you felt the kick again, launching you into the air. Then, a claw gripped your shoulder, slamming you back down into the ground.

You shrieked at the searing pain of your chest being practically ripped open, your blood spraying everywhere. The floorboards beneath you split open from the pressure of your landing.

“You damn bitch! I’m going to rip you apart!” The demon roared furiously.

You could barely breathe. Blood was everywhere, pooling around your body like a lake.

I can’t do this.

You heaved, rendered completely immobile. With a cry of pain, you realized that it was over. You were going to die. For a split second, you contemplated giving up — letting the demon end it quickly. Then, they flashed into your mind.

The two boys you loved most in the world, returning to their home torn apart and your remains splattered along the walls.

No. I have to do this. I have to live.

You weren’t sure what overtook you in that moment. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the years of watching Sanemi’s breathing techniques, maybe it was sheer desperation. Wherever that miraculous source of strength came from, it had you on your feet, reaching for the demon’s neck. With a cry of pure rage, you ripped the demon down to the floor, pinning it down beneath you. Your hands flew to its arms that thrashed beneath you. The scream in your face was so loud you were sure it had ruptured your ear drums. And yet, you didn’t let go.

I can’t leave them.

A racked sob left your body as you fought to keep the monster beneath you, your muscles screaming at the unbearable pain, tears fueling your desperation.

I won’t leave them.

You were running out of strength. You were sure the only reason you were even remotely capable of holding it down was due to the smoke that was now slowly fading away. You could feel the demon’s force getting stronger beneath you, your own stamina quickly fading. The panic overtook you once more. Pressing down, you let out a horrid scream as you used the last of your energy to slam it back down beneath you.

At the sound of your scream, you heard a thundered rattle in the distance. The force was so intense that you could feel the ground shake beneath you. Your head lurched up in shock, trying to see what could have possibly made such a sound.

Please, God, don’t tell me there’s another!

Before you could even finish looking up, a white flash streaked across your vision — a pair of arms barreled into you so fast you thought you had hallucinated.

In an instant, you were flying across the room, locked in Sanemi’s grasp. He had moved so quickly that the two of you went flying through one of the only remaining walls to the house. He turned his body towards it to brace the impact, completely shielding you from the wreckage as the two of you crashed to the dirt outside.

In all your life, you hadn’t seen anything move that fast. You weren’t even sure it really happened until you felt the pressure of his arms locking you into his shuddering chest in the night air. At the register of his presence, you let out a choked gasp.

“Sanemi?”

You were gulping for air at this point, barely able to make out his name between your desperate and now gurgled heaves. Ripping his body back to meet your gaze, he was practically screaming at you..

“Where are you hurt?!” There were tears streaming down his face, and his whole body was violently shaking as he his hands roughly ran along your body, desperately searching for the source of the blood. You weren’t even able to respond before he had spotted it himself, ripping off his haori to try and cover the wound. You weren’t sure if the awful sound escaping his lips was hyperventilating or sobbing, but seeing him so shaken up stunned you. Not once in your life had you seen him so manic. You desperately wanted to console him, but your mind was still fixated on the threat in the house.

“The demon—” You rasped, but not before the sound of gunfire rattled from the house. Your eyes strained over Sanemi’s shoulder to see Genya blowing the demon’s head off in a blind rage. In that moment, your emotions overwhelmed you, and you began to sob.

They came.

Sanemi was fighting his own cries as he desperately tried to calm you.

“I’m right here, don’t cry! I’m so sorry but try to breathe, I need you to calm down, okay? You need to relax your body so I can stop the bleeding! I’m gonna fix this!” He was holding you so tightly, pressing down on your shoulder to staunch the bleeding.

“Y/N!” Genya came barreling towards the two of you, but froze at seeing the shape you were in. He gasped in horror, tears pooling in his eyes. He only broke his terrorized trance at the sound of Sanemi’s shout.

“Genya! Get Shinobu now!” Before Sanemi had even finished the words, the boy had turned and taken off towards the mansion.

You knew it must have been bad, otherwise Sanemi would have carried you there himself. He looked borderline rabid, scanning your body over and over for something else he could do. He leaned down, pressing dozens of fevered kisses to your face between desperate murmurs of assurance.

“I’m gonna fix this okay? Genya’s getting Shinobu and you’re gonna be just fine. Just stay with me okay? I need you to stay with me.” His former screaming had become soft whimpers, and now his voice was hoarse and broken.

You took a shuddered breath, willing yourself to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry— I tried my best, but the house, everything is gone —”

He wouldn’t even let you finish the sentence, interrupting you with a furious cry.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me! I don’t give a damn about the house! I—” He stopped, too choked up to finish the sentence. Pulling you even closer, his voice trembled as he continued. In a strange way, you almost found his hot-headed temper a comfort after seeing him so afraid.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” He sounded furious with himself, and you you gently shook your head.

“You came just in time. I was getting quite tired.” You tried to make light of the situation, which only caused your husband to let out a strange sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

His hands were wiping the tears from your cheeks, although you weren’t even sure if they were yours or his.

In the distance, you heard shouting. The muffled voices became more clear, and before you knew it, you had been surrounded by frantic kakushi as Shinobu flew to your side. The hashira looked appalled as she took in your condition, the bewilderment evident on her face. She gave Sanemi a worried look, and the man froze in fear.

“She’ll live. She has to. She put up too much of a fight to die now! Please!” You knew you really must have been about to die, because not once in your life had you ever heard your husband say the word ‘please’ to one of his fellow slayers.

Crouching down, the woman listened to your breathing. Snapping up, she began barking orders.

“Her lungs are pierced! We need to move quickly, she won’t even be conscious much longer. Get me…”

You couldn’t make out much else, your vision going blurred and the world suddenly becoming rather quiet. The last thing you remembered was your husbands trembling lips on your forehead murmuring sobbed prayers.

***

It was the feeling of the sun on your face that finally woke you. Letting your eyes adjust to the light, you blearily blinked, bringing you hands up to rub them. However, one if your hands was locked in place. Looking down, you saw your husband passed out in a chair beside your bed, clinging to you.

I must be at the mansion.

You sighed softly, taking a moment to bask in the utter peace you felt.

I’m alive.

You heard a soft snore from the other side of the room, causing you to look over in surprise. Genya was sprawled awkwardly between two chairs the had seemingly made into a makeshift bed, his body contorted in an attempt to curl into them.

Beside him on the floor was a bouquet of your favorite flowers — ones that the boys knew only grew in a particular valley by your home.

You froze, taking in the scene before you. Before you knew it, tears trickled down your face, completely overwhelmed once again by the swell in your chest.

I made it back to them.

Footsteps rounded the corner past your room, and Shinobu entered swiftly, carrying a tray of what looked to be different medicines. As she looked over at you, her face went slack. The tray she was holding collapsed to the floor, her own eyes filling with tears. The sound jolted Sanemi and Genya awake, their head snapping up in unison.

You weren’t sure who spoke first, the three of them immediately up and fussing over you in snorted sobs of relief. Shinobu checked your vitals as Sanemi’s head hit the mattress with a relieved sob. Genya was at your side in an instant.

“Are you all right?” He sniffed, and all you wanted was to take the sweet boy into your arms for a hug.

“Yes—” Your voice wobbled, the tears unable to stop. Seeing them made the boy’s eyes flash with worry.

“Why are you crying? Are you in pain?”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes.

“No, I’m just so happy I woke up.” You wept. Sanemi took your hand, kissing it over and over.

You turned to shinobu who was feverishly checking over you.

“Thank you so much,” You whispered. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all of you.”

The woman shook her head firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“No. You’re here because you’re strong. We only made it to you because you kept fighting. Never forget that.”

You were stunned by her words. The people you were luckily enough to call your family were your heroes — they fought tirelessly to protect the world from such evil, and never in your life did you ever imagine that one day, someone would see you the way you saw them — strong.

You were no slayer, but that day, you learned you never needed to be. You had everything you needed to be strong long before you ever gripped that sword.

part two

[choptropica]

strong

sanemi x reader

content warning: mentions of violence

word count: 4.5k

You were no slayer.

It was the reason your husband, Sanemi, watched over you like a hawk each time you went out. Whether it be to the market, your friend’s home, or even just a stroll for some fresh air — if you walked out the doors of his estate, he was right beside you — no exceptions. He had always fussed over you like that, insisting that there was no such thing as too careful. It was almost comical, seeing how it was such a stark contrast to his exterior demeanor of cold-hearted ruthlessness. His worrisome disposition had taken countless hours of sleep from him, and you weren’t sure he’d ever be able to leave your side to attend his missions if not for his younger brother, Genya.

Not long after you had married Sanemi, Genya had quickly become quite fond of you. Anytime Sanemi was out on a mission, the young boy found himself regularly checking in on you. It was the only time Sanemi reluctantly acknowledged his younger brother’s status as a slayer — he’d never admit it (mostly out of frustration at his own limits), but he was secretly grateful that the young boy was there for you when he couldn’t be. It had become an unspoken agreement between the two of them, a silent neutrality: If Sanemi was away on mission, Genya would visit to see if you needed anything at all, even if just company to escort you around. The brothers adored you far more than you knew, and it seemed that devotion was strong enough for them to put aside their differences, but only when it came to you.

It hurt you that they weren’t on speaking terms, but you were incredibly grateful that Genya still came to see you from time to time, even if it was only when his brother was away — it gave you some way of checking up on him. The young boy viewed you almost like a mother, bashfully coming by to tell you of his accomplishments and help you around the home. Despite Sanemi’s insistence that he wanted nothing to do with him, you knew he was glad for it too from the way he’d leave just a bit too much ohagi for one person prepared at the table when he left for a mission. It was endearing, they way the two of them practically hid behind you to show their care for each other.

This strange little routine had become your norm, and today was no exception. Sanemi had been away on a mission for the last two weeks, making Genya your faithful companion. The two of you were now heading back from the market, warmly chatting away as the young boy carried each of your groceries in tow.

“Genya, really, let me help carry them!” You insisted.

“Not a chance! I’m super strong, so it’s not trouble. Besides, we needed a lot more than usual today, since I’ll be leaving too…” The boy’s voice faltered, a look of worry taking over his expression.

It wasn’t often, but every now and then, typically when your husband had been assigned a longer mission, there would be a brief window where the both of them were out. When this would happen, the both of them insisted on stockpiling the home with everything you could possibly need in hopes of minimizing your trips outside the estate. It made you sad the way you could see the boys sick with worry each time they had to leave you alone, so you always made sure to adhere to Sanemi’s only request he had ever made of you:

Never leave the estate when you’re alone.

While it may have seemed overnparanoid, the spike in recent demon activity had left him in a constant state of stress when leaving you. The man, while somewhat callous to others, had never been anything but kind, gentle, and adoring to you. You had him practically wrapped around your finger, and it was no secret. He spoiled you rotten at each chance he got, so the least you could do to ease his mind was comply with the one thing he asked of you. After all, it was only because he couldn’t bear the thought of you being harmed. His mind could only run rampant with the imagined horrors of what could happen to you if nobody was there to protect you.

Looking back at the boy next to you, it seems the same dark thoughts plagued his own mind. How could they not, after the things they had been through — the things they had lost.

You placed a hand gently on Genya’s arm, giving him a bright smile.

“Don’t worry. I have everything I need thanks to you, and I’ll be right in the house. I’m just lucky I have such a sweet little brother who makes sure I’m safe and sound — and is strong enough to carry all my groceries!”

The boy flushed, a happy smile relaxing his face at hearing such kind words. With the constant rejection he faced from his brother, you never denied him the chance to receive even an ounce of affection from you, showering him with your praise. Then, the boy’s eyes lit up with an idea.

“I know! Why don’t I buy you that fabric you liked from the store down the road? That way you can have something fun to do while we’re away!”

The boy surged ahead of you, excited by the opportunity to do something for you.

“You’ve got to get going soon, and don’t be spending your money on me! Get yourself a treat instead.”

“But Y/N-san, you’ve been needing a new kimono! And now that I defeated an upper rank, I got promoted so I’m making lots of money!” He declared with a cheeky grin. “Come on, we’ll be quick!”

After a defeated argument with the young slayer, you had arrived at home right at dusk with a harvest of groceries, fabrics, and anything else you could have possibly needed. He had quickly helped you put away your things and was now standing at the gates as you were seeing him off.

“It gets cold at night up the mountains, so keep this tight.” Your voice was firm but full of love as you fussed over the the boy’s clothes. He had a loving smile on his face, seemingly touched by your mother-henning.

“I’ll be alright, Y/N-san. You take care too okay?”

“I will. For all we know Sanemi could be back any day now, so I’m sure I won’t be alone for too long.”

“I know…but if anything happens, just send us a crow. I’ll come right away, and Aniki will too!”

“I know you would, but don’t worry about me. You should worry about coming home without a scratch. I’ll make your favorite dinner when you return.”

After a few more affectionate words of encouragement, you saw Genya’s figure trail off into the distance as you said your goodbyes. You were incredibly proud of how far he had come, but couldn’t help but worry a bit yourself each time he was off. You scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes.

Those boys — they sit there worried sick about me while they’re off fighting man-eating monsters.

Despite their ridiculous double standard, you adored them with your whole heart, praying for a safe return each time they headed out into the unknown.

Now settled into the evening, you made quick work of preparing dinner, cleaning the home, and taking care of any other miscellaneous chores that you had been wanting to get done. Because of Sanemi’s nocturnal working hours, he oftentimes slept throughout most of the day which had inevitably caused you to turn to a nocturnal schedule yourself, despite his many protests. He wanted you to have a healthy sleep schedule and enjoy the light of day, but you insisted you were much happier staying up with him to enjoy his company. You had always been a night-owl anyway, at least you also got to spend the evenings with your beloved when he was home that way, too.

Satisfied with your work, you excitedly pattered over to the bag of fabrics that Genya had purchased for you. Your heart swelled at the boy’s kindness, touched he had always been so eager to do such nice things for you.

I’ll need to use some of this to make him a winter coat. He can’t just keep wearing that slayer uniform alone. Sanemi, too.

Satisfied with the idea, you took your supplies and sat by the fire, basking in its warmth and contentedly humming as you began your project, the flickering light pouring over your cozy makeshift workspace.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there threading away, lost in the intent focus of your crafting. You had always enjoyed making clothes, especially for the boys. It was a way you could give something back to them, as they were constantly out there risking their lives for ordinary people like you. Even further, you knew those two desperately needed someone to take care of them every once in awhile. You stretched, letting out a satisfied groan as you glanced at the now smoldering embers of the once blazing fire.

Goodness, it must be an ungodly hour.

You rose, striding over to the door to peek outside at the moon’s location in attempt to see the time. It was a nifty trick that Sanemi had taught you one night as the two of you sat huddled together, your body nestled against him and curled in between his legs on the roof as you looked at the stars. You supposed it was an incredibly useful skill to have a slayer, where you were constantly counting down the hours to dawn. The memory brought a smile to your face, suddenly feeling that familiar longing for your husband to come home so you could be right back in his warm and comforting embrace.

It was just after three in the morning. You really had been working for awhile. You heard a crow squeak behind you from in the house, causing you to jump in your own skin.

You turned with a laugh, walking over to the bird on his post and scratched under his chin.

“I’m sorry. I’ve kept you up too, haven’t I?”

You weren’t sure where Sanemi had gotten his hands on one of the crows meant for slayers, let alone trained it to follow your every move, but you supposed it was just another of the many things your husband worked for tirelessly in order to keep you safe.

The bird boomed a loud squawk again, almost as if he was alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” You cocked your head in confusion, as the behavior was incredibly unusual for your typically relaxed companion. You turned to the door that was still slid wide open to the outside, carrying a cold draft that swayed the forest outside right into your home.

“Oh, right. The door.”

You turned, heading over to slide it closed. The bird began a furious barrage of cries once more.

“I know, I know, It’s cold! I’m going, don’t worry!”

You had just begun to slide the door shut when you heard it — the faintest snap of a branch. Your hearing had always been good. You used to sit by that very entrance and crane for the sound of Sanemi’s footsteps trudging home. However, this sound was much different. It was a sound that was trying to stay hidden.

Every part of you stilled.

Now, the only things you could hear were the wind rustling through the trees, and your own heartbeat thundering in your ears.

The wave of dread that coursed through your body on instinct confirmed to you exactly what situation you were in.

Sure enough, you saw them. Those eyes.

Glowing a horrid red, they stared right at you as their figure crept closer. You met their gaze, unmoving in shock. Then, the monster let out a horrifying laugh that nearly made you black out.

I need to stay calm. A single second could be the difference between me surviving and —

The idea of even finishing the thought made your heart stop. This was real, which meant you needed to think fast.

When looking back on this moment, you would remember it all in slow motion. It felt like time itself had frozen, giving you the milliseconds you needed to act. In an instant, your hand reached for the sachet hanging just by the doorway while you simultaneously cried out to the bird behind you.

“Go!” You shrieked, thrashing the sachet down below you. The second it hit the floor, an explosion of lilac smoke burst into the room. Despite the dense smog that had erupted all around you, the crow flew out the window immediately on your command, faster than a bolt of lightning.

Please, God. Let him make it to them.

The terror coursing through your body felt toxic; Your breaths were erratic and your whole body was trembling as you spun on your heels to make a bolt for your room. You couldn’t see a thing, but you were hoping your that meant your predator couldn’t either. You had the advantage of knowing the layout of the house like the back of your hand — you could only hope the smoke screen would work long enough to get you the head start. Just when you had made it past the kitchen, you ripped the tablecloth off, scattering it and its contents to the floor in an attempt to distract the demon. Just when you made it to the hallway, the monster flung in through the doorway, crashing straight towards the kitchen and smashing into the cabinets, falling for the decoy. You heard the demon cry out in a rage as the shattered furniture and dishes flew everywhere, but you didn’t falter.

You flew into your bedroom, practically leaping over the bed to Sanemi’s cabinet. It was a slim chance, but every now and then, Sanemi would have a spare sword in there that was needing to be polished or repaired. It was far from ideal, but it seemed like your only option.

Please.

Flinging the door open, you practically sobbed in relief to see one resting there. Reaching for it without a moments notice, you unsheathed it, the pure adrenaline taking over.

You can do this. You’ve watched him, all this time.

You had watched him, all those years, training day in and day out. It had always amazed you, seeing his God-given strength and ability. You couldn’t count the amount of times you sat on the engawa, enraptured by his every move in wonder.

That’s right. You’ve seen it a hundred times. All you need is one good hit.

His movements flashed in your mind - without even realizing it, your love for him had committed each of them to memory. Now, you just had to give it all you were worth and hope that you had even a fraction of his strength. You took a deep breath, tears welling in your eyes.

Be with me, love. Please, lend me your strength, even if it’s only for a moment.

You could hear the demon’s blind rampage getting closer. It was crying out, as if it was in pain.

The wisteria smoke — it’s working. This it it. The only window I’ll get.

Gripping the hilt of Sanemi’s katana, you charged out into the hallway, finding the demon writhing on the floor. With every ounce of strength you had, you ran forward, raising the sword high.

Right in the very moment you were going to swing down, the demon met your eyes in alarm.

No!

The blow came so fast, you weren’t even sure you felt the initial impact. Its leg came flying up and hitting you square in the chest, sending you flying into the wall. The force was so abrupt you flew right threw it, crashing back into the demolished area that was once your kitchen. Gasping for air, the sword fell from your hand as blood spurted out of your mouth.

Get up. You have to get up.

Turning over quickly, you crawled to your feet, desperately trying to run away. Not a second later, you felt the kick again, launching you into the air. Then, a claw gripped your shoulder, slamming you back down into the ground.

You shrieked at the searing pain of your chest being practically ripped open, your blood spraying everywhere. The floorboards beneath you split open from the pressure of your landing.

“You damn bitch! I’m going to rip you apart!” The demon roared furiously.

You could barely breathe. Blood was everywhere, pooling around your body like a lake.

I can’t do this.

You heaved, rendered completely immobile. With a cry of pain, you realized that it was over. You were going to die. For a split second, you contemplated giving up — letting the demon end it quickly. Then, they flashed into your mind.

The two boys you loved most in the world, returning to their home torn apart and your remains splattered along the walls.

No. I have to do this. I have to live.

You weren’t sure what overtook you in that moment. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the years of watching Sanemi’s breathing techniques, maybe it was sheer desperation. Wherever that miraculous source of strength came from, it had you on your feet, reaching for the demon’s neck. With a cry of pure rage, you ripped the demon down to the floor, pinning it down beneath you. Your hands flew to its arms that thrashed beneath you. The scream in your face was so loud you were sure it had ruptured your ear drums. And yet, you didn’t let go.

I can’t leave them.

A racked sob left your body as you fought to keep the monster beneath you, your muscles screaming at the unbearable pain, tears fueling your desperation.

I won’t leave them.

You were running out of strength. You were sure the only reason you were even remotely capable of holding it down was due to the smoke that was now slowly fading away. You could feel the demon’s force getting stronger beneath you, your own stamina quickly fading. The panic overtook you once more. Pressing down, you let out a horrid scream as you used the last of your energy to slam it back down beneath you.

At the sound of your scream, you heard a thundered rattle in the distance. The force was so intense that you could feel the ground shake beneath you. Your head lurched up in shock, trying to see what could have possibly made such a sound.

Please, God, don’t tell me there’s another!

Before you could even finish looking up, a white flash streaked across your vision — a pair of arms barreled into you so fast you thought you had hallucinated.

In an instant, you were flying across the room, locked in Sanemi’s grasp. He had moved so quickly that the two of you went flying through one of the only remaining walls to the house. He turned his body towards it to brace the impact, completely shielding you from the wreckage as the two of you crashed to the dirt outside.

In all your life, you hadn’t seen anything move that fast. You weren’t even sure it really happened until you felt the pressure of his arms locking you into his shuddering chest in the night air. At the register of his presence, you let out a choked gasp.

“Sanemi?”

You were gulping for air at this point, barely able to make out his name between your desperate and now gurgled heaves. Ripping his body back to meet your gaze, he was practically screaming at you..

“Where are you hurt?!” There were tears streaming down his face, and his whole body was violently shaking as he his hands roughly ran along your body, desperately searching for the source of the blood. You weren’t even able to respond before he had spotted it himself, ripping off his haori to try and cover the wound. You weren’t sure if the awful sound escaping his lips was hyperventilating or sobbing, but seeing him so shaken up stunned you. Not once in your life had you seen him so manic. You desperately wanted to console him, but your mind was still fixated on the threat in the house.

“The demon—” You rasped, but not before the sound of gunfire rattled from the house. Your eyes strained over Sanemi’s shoulder to see Genya blowing the demon’s head off in a blind rage. In that moment, your emotions overwhelmed you, and you began to sob.

They came.

Sanemi was fighting his own cries as he desperately tried to calm you.

“I’m right here, don’t cry! I’m so sorry but try to breathe, I need you to calm down, okay? You need to relax your body so I can stop the bleeding! I’m gonna fix this!” He was holding you so tightly, pressing down on your shoulder to staunch the bleeding.

“Y/N!” Genya came barreling towards the two of you, but froze at seeing the shape you were in. He gasped in horror, tears pooling in his eyes. He only broke his terrorized trance at the sound of Sanemi’s shout.

“Genya! Get Shinobu now!” Before Sanemi had even finished the words, the boy had turned and taken off towards the mansion.

You knew it must have been bad, otherwise Sanemi would have carried you there himself. He looked borderline rabid, scanning your body over and over for something else he could do. He leaned down, pressing dozens of fevered kisses to your face between desperate murmurs of assurance.

“I’m gonna fix this okay? Genya’s getting Shinobu and you’re gonna be just fine. Just stay with me okay? I need you to stay with me.” His former screaming had become soft whimpers, and now his voice was hoarse and broken.

You took a shuddered breath, willing yourself to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry— I tried my best, but the house, everything is gone —”

He wouldn’t even let you finish the sentence, interrupting you with a furious cry.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me! I don’t give a damn about the house! I—” He stopped, too choked up to finish the sentence. Pulling you even closer, his voice trembled as he continued. In a strange way, you almost found his hot-headed temper a comfort after seeing him so afraid.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” He sounded furious with himself, and you you gently shook your head.

“You came just in time. I was getting quite tired.” You tried to make light of the situation, which only caused your husband to let out a strange sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

His hands were wiping the tears from your cheeks, although you weren’t even sure if they were yours or his.

In the distance, you heard shouting. The muffled voices became more clear, and before you knew it, you had been surrounded by frantic kakushi as Shinobu flew to your side. The hashira looked appalled as she took in your condition, the bewilderment evident on her face. She gave Sanemi a worried look, and the man froze in fear.

“She’ll live. She has to. She put up too much of a fight to die now! Please!” You knew you really must have been about to die, because not once in your life had you ever heard your husband say the word ‘please’ to one of his fellow slayers.

Crouching down, the woman listened to your breathing. Snapping up, she began barking orders.

“Her lungs are pierced! We need to move quickly, she won’t even be conscious much longer. Get me…”

You couldn’t make out much else, your vision going blurred and the world suddenly becoming rather quiet. The last thing you remembered was your husbands trembling lips on your forehead murmuring sobbed prayers.

***

It was the feeling of the sun on your face that finally woke you. Letting your eyes adjust to the light, you blearily blinked, bringing you hands up to rub them. However, one if your hands was locked in place. Looking down, you saw your husband passed out in a chair beside your bed, clinging to you.

I must be at the mansion.

You sighed softly, taking a moment to bask in the utter peace you felt.

I’m alive.

You heard a soft snore from the other side of the room, causing you to look over in surprise. Genya was sprawled awkwardly between two chairs the had seemingly made into a makeshift bed, his body contorted in an attempt to curl into them.

Beside him on the floor was a bouquet of your favorite flowers — ones that the boys knew only grew in a particular valley by your home.

You froze, taking in the scene before you. Before you knew it, tears trickled down your face, completely overwhelmed once again by the swell in your chest.

I made it back to them.

Footsteps rounded the corner past your room, and Shinobu entered swiftly, carrying a tray of what looked to be different medicines. As she looked over at you, her face went slack. The tray she was holding collapsed to the floor, her own eyes filling with tears. The sound jolted Sanemi and Genya awake, their head snapping up in unison.

You weren’t sure who spoke first, the three of them immediately up and fussing over you in snorted sobs of relief. Shinobu checked your vitals as Sanemi’s head hit the mattress with a relieved sob. Genya was at your side in an instant.

“Are you all right?” He sniffed, and all you wanted was to take the sweet boy into your arms for a hug.

“Yes—” Your voice wobbled, the tears unable to stop. Seeing them made the boy’s eyes flash with worry.

“Why are you crying? Are you in pain?”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes.

“No, I’m just so happy I woke up.” You wept. Sanemi took your hand, kissing it over and over.

You turned to shinobu who was feverishly checking over you.

“Thank you so much,” You whispered. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all of you.”

The woman shook her head firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“No. You’re here because you’re strong. We only made it to you because you kept fighting. Never forget that.”

You were stunned by her words. The people you were luckily enough to call your family were your heroes — they fought tirelessly to protect the world from such evil, and never in your life did you ever imagine that one day, someone would see you the way you saw them — strong.

You were no slayer, but that day, you learned you never needed to be. You had everything you needed to be strong long before you ever gripped that sword.

part two

[skippingstonez]

I'm a romance writer, don't have high expectations for the fight scene portions I tried my best... It's the idea that counts

Damsels in Distress

Previous / Chapter 5 / Next

Warriors x reader

Warnings: Violence/injuries

It was the war all over again. Trapped within the confinements of the Temple of Souls, countless monsters flooded the room, sights set on the two girls fighting against them. An explosion of magic eradicated a large portion of them, allowing Lana a few seconds to locate Artemis across the room. Running to rejoin the Queen, she shot her magic outward, shielding Artemis from a moblin that had snuck up on her blind spot.

“Thank you” she huffs out, skewering two bokoblins that tried rushing straight at her. Lana nods, unable to respond as her focus targets in on the new hoard rushing in from the room to their right.

“Cia must know we're here!” Another blow of magic, both girls dancing their way between monsters and steel weapons. “We need to find the others!”

“I’ll cover you!” Metal met metal, clashing as the monster was torn down by Atermis’ blade. “Try to find where they are!”

Lana stepped back, closing her eyes briefly as she raised her hands. Magic swirled around her, tendrils reaching out, exploring the building's essence with only vague answers returned to her.

“Upstairs!” Lana shouts, shielding Artemis and herself from a rainfall of arrows. “They're upstairs!”

“Let's go!” Artemis orders, headed straight for the second floor.

_____________________

You would never take potions for granted again.

Locating your things hadn't been too difficult thanks to Hyrule's magic. Though you would make it a point to thank the Vet for carrying so much stuff with him, including the potion Twilight was slowly feeding you. It wasn't that the Vet had been the only one to have a healing item, it had simply come down to it being the first one you could get your hands on. You'd replace it for him next time you ran into a town.

Drinking it down greedily, the pain scattered across your body subsides to numb tingling. The skin surrounding your knee stitching back together, blocking anymore blood from seeping into the already spotted red fabric wrapped around it. The joint itself however remains the same, which you had unfortunately expected. Healing items like potions and even Hyrule's healing spell could do a lot, but there were some things that simply were too damaged for magic alone to solve.

Twilight takes the now empty bottle, corking it and returning it inside the Vet's pouch before tossing it over his shoulder.

“Better? How's yer leg?”

“Not bleeding? Definitely still broken. At least I can breathe through my nose properly again.”

“Think ya can stand on your own?”

Shrugging, you reach out your hands. A silent request for someone to help you up to your feet. “Only one way to find out!”

The answer was still no. Leaning heavily on Twilight, your knee gave way under the pressure of your own weight the moment your foot pressed into the ground. Twilight grabbed hold of you, hoisting you up to keep from falling over. At least your ribs didn't hurt too anymore, otherwise the feeling of his arms squeezed around your middle would have likely made you pass out.

“I take it that's a no.”

“Sorry... Everything else seemed to heal except the one thing that would let me walk on my own.”

“It's fine, one of us can help ya out. We don't mind.”

You know arguing would be pointless, so instead you simply turn your focus to the pile of bags, weapons and miscellaneous items piled further into the room. Four stood in the middle of it all, Violet eyes assessing items left and right as he sorted it quickly into 10 piles, one for each hero.

Wind’s hand was harshly swatted at when he reached to grab his own bag. “I was just–”

“You're gonna mess me up.” Four spat, picking up another small bag and taking a look inside. It was tossed into the pile for Twilight who sighs in relief to see his things but making no move to grab it, lest getting on Fours bad side. 

Another item is picked up, revealing something blue hidden beneath that has your breath catching in your throat. Four picks up the discarded clothing item with care, eyes glancing over to you with pity.

Tears unwillingly fill your line of sight, blurring the peripherals of your vision till all you could see was War's blue scarf being handed to you. Taking it slowly, the fabric itself is still warm as always. Hugging it to your chest, you bury your face in it, the lingering scent of peppermint filling your senses. The heavy weight of the owner’s involuntary absence hitting you at full speed.

Multiple arms wrap around, holding you tight as everyone else around you falls silent. Despite the two bodies pressed into your sides and the weight of Wars scarf in your arms, your chest feels too tight, lungs constricting till you could only gasp occasionally to keep enough oxygen in your system. Shoulders shake, lips quiver trying to hold in the sob that is built up in your heart

“I hate her.” You whimper, leaning into the person on your left. “I hate her so much.” Tears escaped, leaking into the soft scarf you clung onto. “If she touches him…”

“The Captain is gonna be just fine.” The arms around you give a light squeeze, Malon's voice whispering into your ear. “They're all gonna be just fine.”

The person to your right disappeared for a moment after hearing Four quietly call out for everyone to grab their things. Movement stirs around you, but Malon remains glued to your side, holding you tightly in her arms as you try to compose yourself from the spontaneous breakdown.

“(Y/n)?” You look up, wiping away the few stray tears lingering on your face as you see Wind standing in front of you, holding out your things with downcast eyes, and ears drooping to his shoulders. You recognize the items immediately, glad to see your stuff has ended up here as well, glad to be reacquainted with the comfort of knowing you'd no longer be a defenseless cuckoo.

“I uhh, put the Captain's stuff in there too.” Wind explains, rubbing his hands together nervously as you take the items from him. “I hope you don't mind, we can't figure out how to put the extra stuff in Wild's slate so we have to carry everyone's stuff.

A weak smile, reaching out to grab his arms and tugging him into a secure hug.“Of course not. Thanks Sailor.” Small arms wrap around you, returning your hug.

“We’ve got company!” Four shouts from the doorway, the Four Sword held tightly in one hand as the other outstretched to keep Dot behind him. Footsteps echoed down the hall, snarls and animalistic cries reverberating off the walls as they approached.

Malon scoops you up, throwing you onto her back with ease and runs, following behind Twilight who didn't hesitate to grab his shadow crystal from its returned spot around his neck, shifting into the wolf you had grown so accustomed to. He dashes forward, attacking the monsters with ease in the cramped space as he helps Wind clear the path forward. Four and Hyrule are covering your backs, taking down enemies before they can get too close. A few slip through them, reaching out towards Sun who finishes them off with the use of the Master Sword, its purple and gold sheath strapped across her back proudly. What her strikes lack in strength, she makes up for in precision, striking at points the monster is at its weakest. A fierce reminder that much like her beloved hero, the goddess incarnate is not someone to be trifled with.

“They came so suddenly!” Dot shouts, running alongside Aurora behind you. “Does this mean Cia knows we’ve escaped?”

With the sudden surge of monsters, Cia must have figured it out and was now desperately trying to stop you from reaching the rest of your companions still trapped somewhere within these walls. The only other explanation would be if the others had been the ones to escape, the monsters searching for them and instead stumbling upon your ever growing group. You didn't know which one to hope for. Logically it was best that your group had been the discovery, now armed and ready to fight back against her forces. Your heart wished it was Wars though. That he wasn't alone and that he was fighting for the freedom he deserved. And hopefully tear this place apart in the process.

A howl rang out, bringing everyone's attention to Wolfie who was taking a sharp turn, dashing off around the corner to your left.

“Hey!! Wait up you dang mutt!” You all chase after him, following the seemingly random path he leads you down at full speed, occasionally growling or howling when he gets too far ahead. Hyrule and Four are on full alert the whole time, alternating between the two of them to keep any monsters that cross your path at bay.

“Where is he going?” Sun asks, looking back to make sure everyone was still together.

Rounding the corner, Wolfie had stopped dead  in his tracks, sniffing the ground around him as a loud thud rang out. Another one, the door up ahead visibly bending outward before snapping with an echoing crash to reveal Time charging out from behind it.

“Fairy Boy!” Malon calls out. Quickly setting you down, rushing over to her husband who caught her in his arms with ease, pulling her tight and cradling her face in his hand. There's a tense moment. Time clearly having spotted the small scratch marks littering Malon's face. Instead of lashing out, he swiped his thumb over them softly, pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

“Well that's perfect timing.” Wild says, stepping over the broken remains of what had been the door. “How'd you guys get here?”

“Did…did Time actually break down the door?” Four asks, stunned as everyone around him. 

Hyrule turned to Twilight who had shifted back into his Hylian form, giving Twilight a small, backhanded smack on his bicep. “Why didn't you do that?”

“Cause I wasn't bout to risk gettin electrocuted just trynna get close to it.” Twilight retorted, handing over the sheikah slate to its rightful owner who snatched it up gleefully.

“Is everyone else alright?” Time asks, still holding Malon tightly to his side, letting her fuss over a few obvious bruises and scratches on him, much like he had been to her a second ago. Even if he's addressing everyone, his eyes are trained on you, taking in the way you lean against the wall, clearly keeping one foot hovered in the air.

“I'm fine Old Man, it's just my leg.”

“We got her a potion but the damage on her knee must've been too much.” Twilight explains. “So she can't walk on her own right now.”

The look Time gave you was stern, a silent scolding for trying to hide that tidbit of information. You shy away from him, letting the others step in to hand the two their stuff.

“So who are we still missing?” Time asks.

“Sky, the Vet, and..well Wars.”

Your heart aches at the admission. That the person who had been afraid of this place the most was still trapped and alone in it. At least you assumed he was alone. Everyone else seemed to have been paired off at least, but if the pattern continued it either meant that they were all together, or the more likely option being that someone had the misfortune of being on their own. The thought that he could be alone with that witch made you sick. Wild must have sensed your unease, sliding up beside you and giving you a gentle squeeze on your shoulder, and reassuring smile.

“We're gonna find him. All of them.” His words were sure, full of his typical confidence he always seemed to have in uncertain situations.

“How? By now it's mostly just been pure luck.” Malon says, finally taking a millimeter step away from her husband. Her arm is still locked around his though, the two of them a reassuring presence amidst the chaos.

“Pup, think you could sniff them out?”

Twilight shook his head. “I couldn't smell anythin in here. The magic is too overpowerin. I just heard yer banging against the door.”

“I might have a way we could find them,” Sun suggests. The Master sword itself was held gently in her hands, its blade glowing faintly. Likely because of the amount of dark magic surrounding you all though you hoped it didn't mean more monsters coming your way. She closed her eyes, whispering something under her breath as if she was praying. The blade's light grew brighter, the same way it shone whenever the Skyloftian Knight held it up towards the sky.

“This way!” Sun says, waving everyone towards the right, back the way they had come from. "At least one of them is this way.”

“Is it Sky?”

Sun shrugged with a stolen look on her face. “I-Im not positive. Ever since Fi went to sleep, this ability hasn't been as dependable as it once was. It's likely, but not for sure.” 

“Oh…I think we need to apologize to Sky.”

The laughter that rings out is nice, despite the confusion radiating off of Sun as she focuses her attention on the sword pointed out in front of her. None of you truly understand how this works, leading to questions every time it was mentioned. Sky had only given vague answers, comparing it to the way Wolfie can track someone down by their scent. However, how a sword could track scents was lost on all of you. Wars had seemed to be the only one that didn't question it, though he didn't particularly understand it either, and just like Sky, failed at being able to explain further.

Just like you would with Sky however, minus the copious amounts of teasing, you all stayed back, keeping quiet so she could listen, or sense or feel whatever it was that guided her. Maybe it was more like the way Hyrule could sense magic, a feeling of essence growing stronger than a trailed scent left behind. Regardless, after a few moments, Sun rounded a corner, halting when red eyes snap towards her.

Shadows.

Three of them stood guard at one of the doors, swords drawn and gazes narrowing in on Sun who held her stance. One of them stepped closer, skeletal creatures surged forward from behind it, raging towards your lot with jagged swords and arrows tipped in dark substance that leaked onto the floor with an acidic sizzle that burned into the wood.

Sun reacts instantly, blocking the first monster to reach her with the sword, pushing it back enough to strike it down. Wind and Twilight rush out to help, splitting to take each side while Sun worries about the rushing down the middle. Your hand reaches into your bag, grabbing for your bow as Wild takes out his, already knocking an arrow into place and firing three at a time, each one hitting their marks with impressive accuracy.

“Champion, cover them!” Time shouts, already moving to grab your arm. “The rest of us will hear back and regroup. Make a plan-”

“We've got more company!” 

Everyone whips around to see another swarm of monsters, made up mostly of bokoblins with a handful of lizalfos flood into the hallway behind you, blocking your only obvious escape route. Four and Hyrule meet them head on, forcing their advancement to a halt.

“You three stay in the middle and try to stay low!” 

Malon, Dot, and Aurora are ushered towards you and Wild, huddling close to each other. Time keeps close, drawing out the smaller sword he keeps strapped to his lower back.

“Can either of you use magic!?” You ask, shooting off an arrow in Wind's direction, stunning it in time for Wind to finish it and two more off. Dot’s hand raises up with a loud ‘I can use a little!’; delving back into your bag in takes a moment to find, but you pull out War’s fire rod, tossing it over to Dot who catches it, fumbling for a second before holding it properly.

“Use this if you need to, and please try not to light any of us on fire!”

She nods, letting you focus on the battle at hand. In such a confined space, it's difficult to move around, having to stagger their attacks to ensure they won't chop the others down while doing so. Your main focus is on Sun, keeping her covered and trying your best to create better openings for her for an attack. She holds up her own, but it's still clear she is the least experienced out of the three, more monsters aiming to swarm her than Wind or Twilight.

“They just keep coming! How are there so many?”

Glancing past, the shadow remains far back behind the surge of monsters flowing past him. It's red eyes scanning between all of your companions with an intense focus, that same focus Wars always gets when designing a plan. In the dim hallway, you had almost missed it, the dark mist that swirled around him. 

“Guys look!” More and more monsters continued to pour out from the mist, replacing their fallen numbers in droves. If it kept up, you would all be over powered in no time. 

“Old Man, go help Four” Hyrule declares, stepping into your line of sight. Golden eyes blazing as bright as the ruby gems decorating his silver sword with fiery determination. “I’ll take care of that one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”  He leans over, giving Aurora a peck on her cheek before dashing off, Twilight and Wind clearing a path for him till he lunges straight at the shadowy figure, thrusting out his sword. 

The shadow dodges, returning the attack with one of his own, sword aimed for Hyrule's neck only to clang into the Traveler's shield instead. It easily slips to a dance or back and forth, each one taking turns dodging and weaving around the other to try and get their opening. Watching feels unsettling, like you've seen this fight before in a glade somewhere during some down time. You half expect the two of them to eventually drop their swords, laughing and praising the other the way they would when sparring in a glade for fun. But as Hyrule ducks low, avoiding the dark blade cutting through the air, you know this is more than a simple spar between friends, with a much more deadly ending than a pleasant pat in the back.

Hyrule doesn't hold back, putting all of his strength into each strike. But in the tight space, surrounded by the same people he's trying to protect, you know his moves are limited. Unlike the shadow’s. But just like Wars, what this shadow lacks is magical based attacks.

Hyrule jumps up, clear over its head landing directly behind it, thrusting his sword straight through the things midsection. His blade glows red, flames bursting forth till it and the shadow were completely engulfed in flames. It lashes out, twisting and grabbing for Hyrule who holds firm, focusing all of his magic into his sword till it bursts into mist, particles seeping through the walls and floors till they completely disappear.

“Way to go!!” Wind cheers. Finishing off the last of the stalfos between him and Sun. Hyrule straightened up, smiling towards the Sailor with a weak smile, swaying on his feet precariously. Eyelids growing heavy, they slip shut, body beginning to tilt too far over to one side.

Aurora gasped, “Link!”

Twilight lunged forward, catching Hyrule before he hits the floor.

“I told ya not to overdo it on yer magic!” Twilight scolds. Hyrule huffs out an apology, letting the older hero scoop him up and carry him back to where Aurora is waiting with open arms and worry written across her face. She takes her sleepy hero into her arms, fretting over him and asking repeatedly if he is alright despite his assurance that he's alright and just over-used some of his magic.

“Hey! Could still use some help back here!” Four shouts out, jumping to the side to avoid getting skewered by a lizalfos. Even with the shadow gone and the skeleton monsters having been eradicated, other monsters continued to swarm in from the other end of the hallway. What caught your attention however was the large enemy looming in the distance.

Its large sword drags across the floor, bandages falling off of its lanky limbs as it towers over the biggest lizalfos. Its smell is pungent, rotten, and can only be described as the smell of death itself. Four must have seen it too, his mouth wide open to shout a warning to everyone but the words never leave his throat as the tip of a blade tears through the gibdo’s chest. For a moment, time itself seems to stop, pausing as the shock of what just transpired processing through your brain, resuming abruptly when the gibdo erupts into flames, its cries ringing out without the paralyzing fear typically accompanying it. 

You glance over to Wild, the Champion staring at the thing dumbstruck before you both look over to Dot, the fire rod pointing towards the flames with shock written on her face. Her eyes meet yours.

“Damn Four, your princess has good aim!” Wild shouts with a tensed chuckle.

“What? No! No, that wasn't me!”

If it wasn't Dot, then who-

The gibdo crumples to ash, revealing the girl with long blonde hair pulled back into a small braid. The crown perched on her head and royal emblem stitched into her armour marking her status as part of Hyrule's royal family. 

A scream rings out, the sound turning your blood cold as ice in your veins. Sun is crouched on one knee, holding her forearm that leaks crimson around the point of an arrow embedded into it. 

The commotion had attracted the attention of the two shadows remained by the door, using the opportunity while you were all distracted to summon more archers with the black tipped arrows. Time rushes to Sun, snatching her off the ground with his shield raised to fend off the onslaught of arrows raining down at him.

“Lana,” Artemis's voice is as stern as her gaze, focused on the remaining monsters scattered on both sides of the hallway.

“On it!”

Another girl pops out from behind who you can only assume to be Zelda, this one with blue hair tied up into a side ponytail with a bow rivaling Dot’s and a large book held open in front of her. Pages flip on their own, her hand hovering above them as the other is outstretched before her. A translucent cube shoots up from the floor, everyone ducking low when lightning strikes throughout the room, disintegrating every monster within the seeable vicinity.

“Are you alright?” The girl asks, jogging up to Time and Sun, lightly taking her arm and inspecting the injury. The arrow is disposed of, the skin surrounding the wound blackened as though it has burned. Sun doesn't make a fuss, simply letting the blue haired girl and Time try their best to clean it up.

“I take it you all are Captain Link’s companions he has written to us about. I apologize for our meeting under such unpleasant circumstances, Lana and I came the moment we caught word of Cia’s mischief.” Artemis steps closer, scanning over you all, looking for a familiar face she wouldn't be able to find. “Is the Captain not with you?”

“We are still missing three of our companions, your highness. The Captain being one of them.” Time explains. “We believe at least one of them to be in that room.” He gestures to the door, the two shadows looming in the distance, eyes glaring towards the two newcomers.

“Well let's not waste any more time. Some of us will stay out here and handle those two. The rest of you should focus on getting into that room.”

It's apparent who Warriors learned his strategy skills from as Artemis divulges her plan, thinking in quick succession through every possible angle. Her, Twilight, Wild, and Time would stay out in the hallway, leading the shadows away long enough for Lana and Four to get the room open, guarding the doorway as the rest of you ran inside and retrieved your friend.

Dot came over and offered her assistance, wishing Wild and the others luck as they put their plan of attack into action. Hyrule remained with Aurora, less leaning on her and rather letting her make sure he wouldn't run face first into anything as he tried to recover from the magical exhaustion. You all stayed back, sticking close to the wall quietly to not draw attention to yourselves. Just as planned, Four and Lana reach the door first, and unsurprisingly find it  locked, or rather sealed as Lana explains. Flipping through the large book of hers before mumbling a few things under her breath, the door handle glows, swinging open with a loud bang as muffled screaming and clinking of chains pours out from within the now open room.

“Oh no..” Lana gasps, stepping back to make room for Four and Sun to peek their heads inside. Four's face goes white, and the fear in Sun's eyes as she sprints through the doorway leaves a pit in your stomach.

The room itself was wrecked. Furniture that wasn't blown to bits were toppled over, their fragments scattered throughout the room that looks as though one of the boy's bombs went off inside. Blood sprayed across the floor, it's slick red path leading to where Sky stood against the far wall of the room. His arms were crossed in front of him, wrists chained to the wall as some sort of makeshift straight jacket that he struggled and thrashed against like a rabid animal. Blood dribbled down his face from the gash on his forehead, dripping down onto the white fabric of his sailcloth that was torn into pieces, discarded in a pile at his feet in front of him. One piece was stuffed into his mouth, blocking the colorful curses that even the Sailor or Vet wouldn't dare utter.

Stormy eyes went wide in shock as Sun ran towards him, shouting his name with tears running down her face. 

“Link! Oh my gosh! Are you okay!? What happened!?”

Her hands shook as she took the fabric from his mouth, cupping his face while pushing his hair back to inspect the cut on his temple. Sky all but melted into her touch. Sharp words and harsh movements mellowed to whispered disbelief, head leaning into her hands.

“What– How did you get here?” 

“Save storytime for later,” Four interrupts, studying the chains keeping Sky locked to the wall. Using one of Dots pins, he picks at the first shackle, ignoring the couples gushing coming from above till there is a small click, metal falling to the ground.

With one arm now free, Sky grabs Sun, hugging her tightly to him. Four gives them a moment before he has to insist on some space, trying to squeeze between the two lovebirds to release the other hand. They begrudgingly pull away from the other, allowing Four to get to Sky's other arm and begin trying to unlock it. 

Sun bends down, picking up the scraps of what had been the sailcloth. 

“Is this…?”

Sky nods his head solemnly, jaw tensed and pain flashing across his face as though remembering a bad memory.

“I'm sorry… she.. I tried to stop her.”

“Hey, it'll be alright. I'm sure I can fix it up”

Sun gives him a warm smile, leaning over Four to give him a short kiss that seems to put at least some of Sky's worries at ease. He finally looks past her, glancing around the room with furrowed brows. “Where are the others?”

“Wild, Twi and the Old Man are just outside taking care of some of that witch's goons!” Wind explains, keeping looking out by the door. “We haven't found the Vet or the Captain yet.”

Sky's face falls further, eyes downcast till they prick up at something curiously. He reaches for Sun, holding up her arm to see the blood still trickle down from where the arrow had gotten her. Light blue turned so grey they might as well have been black, the expression on his face unreadable.

“Who.” A demand more than a question. His voice eerily calm, but with a tone deep enough it might as well have been a growl.

You all collectively take a step back.

Sun gave a rushed explanation of what had happened in the hallway, emphasizing the fact that she was alright and it only stung a little bit by now. Sky's expression only darkened, eyes fixated on the wound marked in her skin. The moment the second shackle hit the ground Four backed up, everyone watching Sky nervously.

The knight leaned over, placing a delicate kiss on Sun's forehead before taking the Master Sword from her, calmly strolling out of the room like he was back in the brightly lit halls of the knights academy. You all followed, a bit confused on what he was hoping to accomplish, yet cautiously kept your distance.

Back out in the hallway, the four who had stayed faced off against the last remaining shadow, switching between attacks to wear it long enough to create an opening for a more powerful move. Twilight was the first to notice Sky coming up behind it, his sigh of relief mixing into concern as Sky approached. Artemis was next, not paying him as much mind given the lack of introductions along with Time and finally Wild whose smile flipped into utter shock.

The shadow never saw Sky coming.

In one movement, Sky lifts the Master Sword high above his head, slashing it downward at a perfect angle. The blade hits the shadow on the junction of its neck, slicing straight through till its head is separated from the rest of its body. It tumbles to the floor, its body crumbling after it before slowly dispersing into a thick, wispy mist that floats up to the ceiling.

No one moves. Everyone staring at Sky bewildered as he reaches out from Sun who jogs up and takes his hands cheerfully. Kissing the back of her hand, it's as though nothing out of the ordinary happened. Like none of you just witnessed the disturbing scene of what was essentially Wars being decapitated by the Goddesse’s Chosen Hero.

Sky turns to you, his typical cheerful smile plastered onto his face.

“So we still gotta find two more right?”

You all nod quietly.

“Right. Then let's get going.”

[sundeathh]

ANOTHER TROUBLED NIGHT

One-shot  |  Masterlist 

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!reader | Words: 1,5K

Fandom: BNHA | MHA  | Categories: SFW, comfort

CW: Night terror, anxiety/panic attack description, psychosis description, insinuation of self-harm. Please do not read if you think you could be triggered by any of these.

A/N: I've had this written in my notes app for a while. Thought I'd share how I'd like to receive comfort after a rough night.

You woke up with a loud gasp for air, your eyes widening as you felt something wet run down your cheeks. Your breathing was rapid; you were covered in a cold sweat and trembling like crazy. 

You sat up straight, attempting to take deep breaths as you wiped away all the tears off your face, desperately trying to calm yourself down at the realization that you were only dreaming.

But you could not slow down your heart rate, and you started to feel yourself hyperventilating – you could hardly breathe, your vision blurring due to your need for crying; It did not help that it felt like someone had stabbed an ice pick right through your chest, making it hard to swallow your spit.

You were becoming terrified by now, your mind going blank as you tried to steady yourself. Your head was pounding so hard that everything seemed out of place. 

You also felt tremendously nauseous from the stress your brain kept producing throughout your dream, and you thought you could hear people shouting behind closed doors, though you knew it was not real. Nonetheless, the sound rumbled in your eardrums, making your headache worse.

'Am I having a panic attack right now? What's going on?!' You tried to reason. However, the thoughts running rampant through your mind caused you to get lost, unable to think about anything else.

All you could focus on was the pounding of your head and how weak you felt, how you were shaking uncontrollably, and how your heart seemed to speed up exponentially every second you breathed.

You could feel the sweat pouring down your forehead and neck, although you were unsure whether or not it was because you were hot or freaking out. At this point, it was hard to tell where your dream had ended and where the reality began. 

Everything was too chaotic, too vivid, and too overwhelming. Everything around you felt so real, yet nothing made sense. You could even feel paws crawling under your skin, which drove you insane. If you could move throughout your daze, you would try to rip your skin off you now.

From far away, you heard another strangled sound, and your head immediately whipped toward where it came from; that was no good, and you felt yourself starting to drown in the panic. The only sound you could hear properly was the high-pitched ringing in your ears.

It only increased your already high heartbeat, making it almost impossible for you to think straight. And when you heard that weird sound again, you tried your hardest to snap yourself out of your panicked state; you had to ground yourself at least a little.

Then, you spotted a blurry figure next to you. However, you could not make sense of whatever was happening – everything felt fuzzy, especially with the loud noise in your ears.

And when your eyes focused on the figure, you forced yourself to try to make out the form. You thought it looked like a guy, and he looked just as terrified as you did;

It took a long moment before you finally recognized the person sitting next to you. It was the same man that lay limp next to you before, but now he was awake. And he was watching you with wide – horrified, red eyes. He was frozen, not moving a single muscle while his gaze bore into yours.

And after what felt like an eternity, you noticed that his mouth was moving slightly, but it seemed as if nothing would come out of it. At least, not until you heard him speak. His voice was faint at first, barely audible. Yet, you managed to make out a word eventually.

"...green?" He mouthed, and your confusion only multiplied after hearing that. You were so confused; it was difficult to focus on anything anymore.

"Can you tell me something yellow, then?" He tried again. His words sounded slurred, but you still managed to comprehend them.

All you could answer was a confused "huh?!" Before you blinked, causing the blurriness to disappear slowly, allowing you to see your surroundings again. It was a very familiar area, and your heart beat harder at realizing it was home. Still, you could not remember what happened before you had woken up.

"...baby?" Aizawa called again, his voice low for fear of startling you even more. Your gaze lingered for a moment on nothing specific around the room before returning to his face. And for even longer, all you could do was stare, dumbfounded. You were not even sure what the hell you should say. It was almost like you had forgotten how to speak.

Another couple of minutes passed with Shōta staring back at you, patiently waiting for an answer. He was getting worried; you could tell. But he was afraid of saying or doing anything wrong, so he stayed quiet, waiting for you to be ready.

And you finally opened your mouth, although it was shaky and unsure. You were still somewhat lost in your daze, your mind slowly processing what was happening and what Aizawa asked you to explain. So, all you could come up with in your head was a simple sentence.

"Your sleeping bag." You murmured, and Aizawa seemed to let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly at you.

That calmed you enough to give you some semblance of clarity, although you still looked quite distressed. And as Shōta watched your expression change to a normal-like one after a few seconds, however, another wave of concern washed over him.

His smile faded a bit. He had you speaking, and that was a huge win. But he had to make sure you would stay grounded.

Then, he opened his mouth to ask something else, but before he could say it, you realized that your previous statement did not quite capture what he was trying to ask you, so you repeated yourself to try and convey better.

"Your sleeping bag," you said again, "is yellow."

This time, you had Aizawa nodding, his face breaking into a relieved smile. "Good job," he spoke quietly, and you stared at him for a few seconds before turning your gaze downwards.

"Can you count your breathing, babe?" He continued, "can you listen to mine? Just follow it." He instructed. You nodded, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

You listened carefully and tried to breathe slowly, repeating the motions until you got the hang of it. And when you finished a few rounds, your heartbeat was almost normal, and you turned your head back up, looking at the man next to you.

He gave you another encouraging nod, and now it was your turn to smile.

"Is there anyone else here with us?" The ravenette asked you once you finished regulating your breathing. He needed to know if you were still delusional. And for his relief, you shook your head, as you did not have any energy for talking now. 

Aizawa relaxed visibly, glad you were at least aware enough to communicate with him. He wanted to comfort and reassure you, but he also needed to reassure himself that you were okay with that;

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need to use the bathroom?" He inquired, his tone was soft and kind but with worry lacing each syllable.

You shook your head again, though you did feel thirsty. And you needed to use the toilet. But you figured there was nothing much you could do – even if your legs worked perfectly fine, they would not be able to carry you anywhere by now.

Not that you minded too much, though. If anything, you could sit in one place for hours without needing anything in your current state.

But you could tell that Aizawa was growing anxious again. So, you reached forward and grabbed one of his hands without thinking twice about it, giving him a gentle squeeze, to which he squeezed back reassuringly.

"How about we lie down for a while?" He offered after a moment of silence. "Then, once you have rested, we can talk about it if you feel like it."

You nodded again. That was a relief; you didn't want to talk anymore today. And honestly, you barely could lift your eyelids, and you just wished this episode to be over with;

So, as soon as you lay down, you curled into a ball against Aizawa’s side, resting your head against his shoulder. He then wrapped his arm loosely around your shoulders and pulled you closer to his chest.

You felt his chin resting atop your head, and his scent instantly engulfed you. "Just take as much time as you need, love." He whispered against your ear. "We'll deal with whatever happens tomorrow." He promised, and you sighed, feeling safe and warm for the first time since... well, ever since you woke up this night.

The only thought going through your mind as you drifted off to sleep was that you needed this. After everything that has been happening to you these past few weeks, it was nice to have someone to lean on. Someone willing to carry the burden with you.

[onebadassunicorn]

Love Lies

pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his mate had a love that was once unbreakable - a bond forged in fire and devotion, something no force in the world could sever. But when whispers of doubt took root and Elain Archeron came to Velaris, the Shadowsinger was slowly torn away from the one he swore to love forever. As war brews in the shadows, the battle for Azriel’s heart and his mate’s survival begins.

______________________________________________________________

content warnings: pining, serious angst

word count: 1.7k

Taglist: @motheroffae @tele86

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

Image owned by Fantaysy Artworks.

To see more work by this artist, join Patreon and become a member of this artist's collections!

********

Chapter 1

The candlelight flickered in the dimly lit dining room, casting long shadows across the untouched plates of food. The meal had long since gone cold, the rich aroma that once filled the air now replaced by an eerie silence. In front of you sat a bouquet of flowers—once vibrant, now wilted, their petals curling inward as if mimicking the ache in your chest. Your fingers trembled as you traced the edge of your plate, your appetite lost hours ago. The clock on the wall ticked on, each passing second carving another wound into your already bleeding heart.

Azriel was late.

Again.

The door creaked open, and you lifted your head, your throat tight with the weight of disappointment. He stepped inside, shadows trailing him, exhaustion etched into his features.

But not from battle.

Not from some deadly mission.

No—he had spent the day with her.

He hadn’t even remembered.

“Where were you?” your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but he heard the accusation laced within it.

Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Elain needed me.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. Elain needed me. As if your own needs, your own pain, were nothing in comparison. As if your shared history, your bond, the life you had built together, paled in the face of her quiet sorrow.

“Our anniversary,” you whispered, the brokenness in your voice cracking through the space between you. “You missed our anniversary.”

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I—I'm sorry. I forgot—"

"You forgot." The words tasted like ash in your mouth, and tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

"You forgot the day we became mates. You forgot the promise we made to each other, Azriel. While you were out playing hero for Elain, I was sitting here waiting for you, hoping—praying—that you’d show me I still mattered."

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Not fair?” you repeated, incredulous. “How is it not fair? I am your mate, Azriel. And yet, every time I reach for you, you’re already gone. You don’t even see me anymore.”

His expression darkened. “Elain needs me,” he said, as if that justified everything. “She’s been through so much. Her life was turned upside down, and I am the only one who understands what she’s going through.”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “And what about me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “What happens when I need someone? When I need you?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, something ice-cold settling into his features. “Quit being selfish. You’re strong,” he said simply, as if that excused his absence, his neglect. “You didn’t have your entire world shattered the way she did.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

He truly believed that.

That your pain was somehow less.

That you were somehow less deserving of his care, his love, simply because you weren’t the one drowning in sorrow.

“That’s bullshit,” you spat, the sting of rejection burning like acid. “I may not have had my entire world turned upside down, but I am losing you, Azriel. I am watching you slip away from me, and you don’t even care.”

He exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re being childish.”

Childish.

Selfish.

Ridiculous.

The words cut deep, deeper than any wound you had ever sustained in battle.

You were his mate.

His equal.

And yet, in this moment, he made you feel like nothing more than an afterthought.

Tears blurred your vision, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. “Do you even love me anymore?” The question escaped before you could stop it, raw and aching.

Azriel’s entire body tensed.

But he didn’t answer.

And that was answer enough.

A sob tore from your throat, and still—still—he didn’t reach for you. He didn’t try to comfort you. He simply shook his head, rubbing his temples. “I’m too tired for this,” he muttered. “You need to be more understanding. More sensitive to what Elain is going through.”

And then he turned his back on you.

Turned his back and walked away.

You stood there, watching as he climbed the stairs, as he disappeared into your shared bedroom, as the door clicked shut behind him. Leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, with nothing but your shattered heart and the cold remains of a dinner meant for two.

You couldn’t stay.

You couldn’t be in this house, in this space that no longer felt like home.

So you grabbed your coat and walked out into the streets of Velaris, your feet carrying you aimlessly, your breath coming in shaky gasps. The city was quiet, the Sidra’s gentle flow the only sound that met your ears as you finally sank onto the riverbank.

The night stretched on, and you sat there, knees drawn to your chest, staring out at the dark waters.

Wondering when everything had changed.

Wondering why you were losing him. Wondering if you had already lost him completely.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, golden hues spilling across the sky. Exhaustion pulled at your limbs, but it was nothing compared to the weight in your heart. With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself to your feet and made your way back to the house.

Only to find it empty.

Azriel was already gone.

Your hands trembled as you noticed the small note left on the table. A single piece of parchment, his familiar scrawl hastily written across it.

Elain needed me this morning. I’ll see you tonight. We can talk then.

No mention of your absence.

For a moment, you just stared at the note, the words blurring as tears welled up in your eyes.

He hadn't even noticed you hadn't come home last night.

He hadn't even asked.

He’d just… left.

To take care of her.

Again.

No acknowledgment that he had left you alone on your anniversary.

No apology.

Just Elain needed me.

He hadn’t cared that you were gone, hadn’t cared enough to come looking for you.

He hadn’t even stayed to make things right before running off to her.

A choked sound escaped you, and the note slipped from your fingers, floating to the ground like the last fragile piece of your breaking heart.

And as you collapsed to your knees, sobs wracking your body, you realized— You were losing him.

And he didn’t even care.

Azriel, your mate, had become a stranger.

*****

Later that night, shadows stretched across the walls as you folded the last of your clothes into your worn travel bag. Your hands trembled, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you, but still, you continued. Every piece of clothing, every small possession you tucked away felt like another piece of your heart being ripped from your chest.

This had once been home—these walls, this space, him.

But now, it was nothing more than a house filled with memories that had been tainted by neglect, by loneliness, by her.

The front door creaked open, and your breath hitched.

You didn’t turn around, didn’t look up as heavy footsteps echoed behind you.

You could feel his presence—his shadows curling around him, brushing against you in what had once been a comforting embrace.

Now, they felt foreign.

Cold.

A whisper of what used to be.

Azriel’s voice broke through the silence, laced with confusion. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer right away, didn’t trust your voice to hold steady. You simply reached for another garment, placing it into your bag as another tear slipped down your cheek.

“Where are you going?” His voice was sharper now, laced more with irritation rather than concern.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing the words out even though they shattered you further. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

Silence.

A thick, suffocating silence.

Azriel scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You flinched but kept packing.

“You’re still mad about the anniversary? Is that what this is about?” He exhaled sharply, his frustration dripping from every word. “You need to get over it. There will be other anniversaries, other things to celebrate. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Not that big of a deal.

Your breath came out shaky, more tears falling freely now.

You clenched the fabric in your hands, holding onto it as if it could somehow hold you together.

But it couldn’t.

Nothing could anymore.

“This is about more than just the anniversary,” you whispered, voice breaking. “This is about us. About how you don’t see me anymore. About how I am always second to her.”

Azriel let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “This again?” he muttered. “Would you PLEASE stop being selfish! You know what Elain has been through. You should be more understanding.”

Your heart clenched at his words, at the way he dismissed your pain so easily.

As if you were the problem.

As if you were the one hurting him, when in reality, you were the one left bleeding.

But you didn’t argue.

You didn’t scream or beg.

You didn’t try to make him see you—because he had already made his choice.

And it wasn’t you.

You simply cried as you packed, silent sobs wracking your body, your shoulders trembling under the weight of it all.

And Azriel… Azriel just stood there, watching as you broke apart right in front of him.

And he did nothing.

When you finished, you grabbed your bag and turned toward the door, wiping at your tear-streaked face. You looked at him one last time, hoping—praying—that something in his expression would change.

That he would finally realize what he was losing.

That he would stop you.

But he only sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is so childish,” he muttered. “You’ll regret this in the morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart crumbling in your chest.

He didn’t get it.

He never would.

Without another word, you turned and walked out the front door.

And he didn’t stop you.

He didn’t follow.

He didn’t even care.

The moment the door shut behind you, a sob tore from your throat, one that had been clawing at your chest for weeks—months.

You had lost him.

You had already lost him, long before you made the choice to walk away.

And he hadn’t even tried to hold on.

Chapter 2

[ihaveatypeanditisdilf]

When I tell you I've been searching for days for this fic! I'm so mad I didn't reblog it the first time I read it 😫

[woofwoofwolf]

Overgrown Flowers

Tighnari x Reader

-Chapter 1-

Branches That Snap

Art Credit: @alcruid

Summary:

Tighnari was perfect. Perfectly infuriating.

If you weren't at such a low point in your life, you would've appreciated studying under him a lot more. Now you had to prove to him that you were worthy of being his equal. That is, until you get down with a mysterious illness that even he doesn't know the cure for.

Tags: Graphic depictions of illness, (internalised) ableism, PTSD slowburn

[masterlist] [Ch.2] (coming soon)

You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Soft and chalky white, twisting its way out of the cave wall— it was the most beautiful flower you had ever seen. The bud was closed, but from a distance you could still make out blue-grey looking petals. What was really remarkable about it was the way it glowed; pulsing softly, as if beckoning you closer. The cave you had found it in was well hidden, but once inside, this flower was impossible to miss. There were bioluminescent plants all over Teyvat, but your knowledge and instincts told you this was different from something like Small Lamp Grass.

“Be careful, please!” Collei nervously clasped her hands against her chest, eyeing the ivy covered ditch you were half hanging over. “Oh, you’re going to fall!” 

Her panic brought you out of your trance and back to the present. Recently Collei had invited you to join her once a week on her shorter patrols. It had sort of come out of nowhere for you, since you were new to Gandharva Ville and a temporary resident at that. You were only there because you needed a... break from the Akademiya. You thought your glum state and general pessimistic personality would keep everyone at arm's length. It didn’t help that you weren’t a Sumeru native, so sometimes it was hard to relate to the people around you. This didn’t stop Collei though. She and Tighnari were the only ones you really spoke to since arriving a few weeks ago.

“I almost got it, just stand back and don’t worry–” you gasped out, one foot off the ground, left arm fully outstretched, while your right held on to a root hanging from the cave’s ceiling, right across from the flower you were trying to pick. 

You were starting to think that fussing over things was part of Collei’s character, making it easier for you to dismiss her (frankly justified) worries. “After this we can go back to Gandharva Ville, I promise!”

Naturally, you didn’t want to destroy the plant if it was as rare as you deduced, but picking just one out of the dozen that were around should be fine. The idea of returning with this mystery plant gave you a giddy feeling that you hadn’t felt for months at that point. You reached out a little further, until finally–

Crackle! SNAP!

You barely had the time to register what was happening before you were tumbling down the ditch. The root you were holding on to was too brittle to carry your weight and it  had come loose from the rock. Head first, you slid right through the ivy covering the ditch, landing with a dull thud at the bottom.

Collei screamed. “Oh my goodness, are you alright?” She fell to her knees and peered into the hole. 

You’d done it now. Of course this wasn’t going to be as easy as you hoped. You were sure you had shocked Collei to her core, poor young thing. Thankfully, there was a bed of moss breaking your fall, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 

“O-oh no- What do I do!”

A cough signalled that you were still alive. “A rope would be nice,” you groaned.

“Right! A rope!” Collei sprang into action, quickly rummaging around for a rope in her satchel. “Can you climb out on your own? Oh.. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine… Somehow– I only scraped my knee a little bit. ” You tried to stand up on the slippery moss. Ugh, your leg was going to be sore for a while. But when you looked down at your gloved hands, your irritation turned back into joy. Clasped tightly in your left hand was the flower you were so desperate to bring home with you. Not only that, but the entire wall of the ditch was covered in said mystery flower. The bud of the flower in your hand had opened and so had a few of the ones on the cave wall. Did they open when agitated? 

Everything now had a thin layer of blue pollen on it, including yourself. You must’ve breathed in quite a lot of it as well, your throat was feeling rather irritated.

Without thinking you brought the flower in your hand up to your nose and had a whiff of its smell. It was faint but... earthy? It smelled like mushrooms and spices. What an odd smell for a flower. A strange emotion stirred in your chest, one you couldn’t quite place. You quickly realised how stupid it was to bring an unknown plant up so close to your face and got to work getting your supplies from your bag.

“There’s so many of them!”

“R-right, I’ll bandage you up as soon as I get you out!” Collei said as she secured the rope to a rock.

“No, not that! The flowers!” Your voice came out raspy. You coughed to clear your throat. “They sure produce a lot of pollen too… You think holes in the ground like these are its  preferred habitat?”

Collei sighed. “Well… At least you’re well enough to still be talking. You could’ve hit your head, you know? Master Tighnari isn’t going to be happy.”

She was right. In the short time you had come to know him, you had already received your fair share of lectures from Tighnari. It hadn’t contributed well to your initial impression of him. You had previously thought that he was an insufferable know-it-all who thought of himself as better than people like you. The type of person you had experienced more than enough of while at the Akademiya. 

You had gotten ‘permission’ from Master Naphis to study under Tighnari for a while, so your initial attitude towards him hadn’t really worked in favour of your academic progression. But you quickly felt like you were wrong about him. How you DID feel about him was still hard to say, however. Or how he felt about you. Would he be impressed that you had managed to find such a mysterious plant? Actually, he’d probably be mad that you convinced Collei to stray from the regular patrol route… Hopefully your new discovery would distract him enough from the inevitable lecture.

A rope fell down and you quickly made your way back up, eternally thankful your injuries were minimal enough to allow you to do so by yourself. Once reunited with Collei, you triumphantly held up not only the flower you plucked earlier, but also two other samples, WITH roots attached.

“They’re BEAUTIFUL! I bet not even Tighnari has seen these before!” Holding one up to the well lit cave entrance, you could now see the bright aqua veins that ran down the stem and leaves of the plant, and that the inside of the petals were a dark blue teal colour.  Before you hadn’t been able to get a good look at the flower because of its bright glow, but it had completely dimmed after you plucked it. 

Interesting, you were going to have to examine why that was.

You looked back at Collei. To your surprise, her brown skin now had a thin layer of blue on it. She was nearly as covered in the pollen as you were.

“How did you–”

Collei sheepishly smiled and dusted off her clothes. “There was a huge cloud of pollen when you landed. I wonder if this would make for blue honey?”

You laughed. “It probably would!” 

Your laugh turned into a little cough and Collei watched you worriedly. 

“It must be the pollen. Oh no, What if it’s toxic after all?”

You shook your head pensively. “I’m sure it’s just an irritation of the throat. Pollen can have defensive compounds, but it rarely causes lasting effects. I think in this case the flower dispenses a lot of pollen once agitated because it’s in such a secluded place and thus has to take advantage of any visitors it comes across to carry its pollen.”

Doubt crept up your chest. If Collei got sick because of you, you wouldn’t be able to face Tighnari ever again, nor would you be able to forgive yourself. You were going to have to hurry back to Gandharva Ville and ask the expert to be sure…

Said expert was indeed not amused. He stood tapping his foot at the village entrance; probably tipped off about your arrival by the sound of your footsteps and rattling patrol gear. Now those perceptive ears of his were downturned against his head, something that told you from a distance that he was more than displeased.

“Care to explain to me why you took two and a half hours longer than expected to complete today’s patrol?” His frown deepened, stepping towards you to swipe some of the blue pollen off of your clothes with his glove. “What’s this?”

“Ehh…” Collei avoided looking him in the eye, her hands nervously brushing through her hair.

“I’m sorry Tighnari, it’s my fault. I spotted a hidden cave while on patrol and I convinced Collei to check it out with me. Inside there were these flowers, see?” You extended one of the flasks to him. “I think it might be an undiscovered species!”

Tighnari placed his free hand on his chin as he took the flower from you, carefully examining it from different angles. “Is that why you’re both covered in blue dust?”

“Y-yeah… The pollen of this flower is rather unique. It even glowed in the dark cave.”

Tighnari hummed in thought. Then his gaze fell on your bandaged knee. “Collei, you go wash up. Report back at the infirmary once you’re done. (Y/N), come with me.”

Your posture slumped in disappointment. He had nothing to say? You trudged after him in silence. Once in the infirmary he made you sit down so he could removed Collei’s bandages to take a look.

You couldn’t help but break the awkward silence. “I collected samples of the pollen in these flasks, I even have a few complete specimens with the roots intact.” 

You had to know his thoughts. Had he seen the flower before? Did he agree with your theories on why it dispensed so much pollen? More than anything you just wanted to discuss theories with him. For him to acknowledge your find.

“They’re quite unique. I don’t recall seeing anything similar in Pardis Dhyia, nor in textbooks. If you bring me a map, I can point out where we found these. I’m sure we could find more of them if we figure out what made them grow there. I-” A series of coughs interrupted your story. Your eagerness to share caused your irritated throat to choke on the air.

Tighnari watched you worriedly, taking out a stethoscope. “Could you take off your coat? I’d like to listen for any alterations in your breathing.”

You awkwardly shuffled out of your coat and breathed in and out as he instructed. “I’ll be fine, really! I just took in a bit of dust and pollen, it’s only natural my throat is a little irritated. I… I don't think the plant was toxic. Collei breathed in a small amount as well and she wasn’t coughing at all.”

“Maybe.” Tighnari answered curtly, a blank expression on his face. “I’m going to have to examine the pollen to be sure. Let me take a look at your throat.”

There was only silence while he pointed the flashlight down your mouth. You shyly peeked at him as he noted down some things on a clipboard. The lack of the usual annoyed sassy lecture was spooking you a little bit.

You thought of things to say as he prepped the pollen for examination under the microscope. He let out a low hum as he looked through the eyepiece.

“Tighnari, I… I’m sorry…”

He moved away from the microscope with a sigh, finally looking you in the eye. “At least you have the decency to know you did something you shouldn’t have.”

Your head dropped in resignation. “It was wrong for me to put Collei in that position. I… I didn’t know there would be so much pollen. I had her stand a distance away, but I can see now that wasn’t good enough. Next time– Next time I’ll note the location on a map and ask for you or other forest watchers to come with me.”

“Good.” Tighnari said with a curt nod. “I know you didn’t deliberately put the both of you in danger and that’s the only reason I can begin to look past this.” He took another look through the microscope. “From a cursory examination, this pollen has a fairly basic structure. It looks like it’s part of the same genus as the Sumeru rose. If anything, I’d be worried this points to an issue with the ley lines, but I haven’t heard of any other incidents that would point to this… They sure produce a lot of pollen though,” By the end he was muttering to himself, more so than explaining any of it to you.

“However–!” He pointed his pen right in your face, interrupting his own rant, making you jump. “Although I’m very happy to see some enthusiasm from your part, endangering yourself like that is still absolutely unacceptable.”

Ah, there came the lecture. One you absolutely deserved, mind you.

“Had you fallen unconscious, Collei would have had to go back to the village on her own to get help. Worst case scenario, you could have broken your neck and died in an instant. It is the duty of forest rangers to preserve both the rainforest's ecosystem and the safety of its visitors, but our most important skill is to ensure the safety of ourselves . This is the basic rule of any survival situation. Do you understand?”

You wanted to object that you weren’t a forest watcher, but you assumed that wouldn’t go over well. “Yes, Tighnari.”

“That almost sounds as if I’m not useful to have around at all.” You turned to a pouting Collei, who had suddenly appeared in the infirmary's doorway.

“Your time as a full fledged watcher will come Collei,” Tighnari calmly explained, recovering from his surprise in an instant. “You’re young and still learning, there’s no need to rush. You should know that you have my full trust.”

You self-consciously looked away from the two, wondering what you could do to earn Tighnari’s trust like that. Maybe the flower you discovered really was a new species? Would that get him to talk to you about it?

“Oh I know,” Collei answered, timidly plucking at her nails. “I’m just saying.”

Something stirred in your chest and you rubbed at your sternum. The day left you rather tired and you were ready for it to be over. Tighnari turned back to you. 

“I would offer for us to examine the plant together, but… You’re better off taking a bath to wash off all that pollen. I’ll schedule it in for our regular review on Tuesday, but I can’t postpone the initial examination for you. I have to make sure this plant is safe.”

That was rather disappointing. You had no issue sharing your discovery with Tighnari of course, but this felt like handing it over instead of working together. You understood him not wanting to postpone it, but why couldn't he allow you there during the initial examination? Did he think you were going to get in his way? That you were only good as a student and not a research partner?

Despite your negative spiral, the thought of fighting his decision made your stomach churn, so you accepted it, trying not to seem bitter when you nodded.

“Oh, and please meet me at my hut Friday morning so we can retouch your forest safety training. We have lots of rules to… rediscover.”

You cleared your throat, “Alright. Thank you, Tighnari.” 

You were hoping he was going to forget about punishment. Then again, this probably didn’t count as such in his mind.

Tighnari briefly hesitated before speaking up again. “And… (Y/N)? You don’t need to prove yourself, okay?”

You felt a hotness bloom across your chest and face. On face value it was a sweet sentiment, but you didn’t interpret it that way. It was a subtle way of saying: ‘don’t get in my way’. 

“…Okay.”

You ran away quickly in order to not show that it bothered you. Once you were far enough away from the infirmary you breathed in deeply. No matter, it was still your discovery. You would fight tooth and nail to defend that honour. Tighnari was going to let you research with him, whether he wanted you to or not. That fighting spirit pushed down the fear enough for you to feel a little less suffocated.

The irritation in your throat hadn't cleared yet, but you hoped that it would be gone by morning. These things usually resolve itself after a morning beverage.

More importantly, you were ready to think about what this find could mean for your future! With this, maybe, just maybe, you could finally turn things around for the better.

------

This work is finished, I just need to edit it. Looking for beta readers!

Posting every 2 weeks (as long as I have chapters edited)

--TAGLIST OPEN--

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when you fall ill, alhaitham takes care of you for the first time and you enjoy the gentle way he shows his love when he thinks you aren’t watching

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. fluff. sick reader (nothing serious). established relationship. i get a bit yappy about him, sorry! 1k wc. masterlist | byf/dni

this piece is a submission for a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You lay on your side, feeling the warmth of Sumeru’s balmy sun kissing your skin as it cascaded through the windows. The faint ticking of a clock on the wall filled the quiet room while soft footsteps moved around you. 

Alhaitham. 

You could have sworn he told you he was going to leave once he readied your breakfast so you were surprised he was still here. He was careful as his feet shuffled on the floor, avoiding waking you, but his attempts at silence only made him more pronounced. 

The clink of a glass on your nightstand, the rustles of fabric that eventually dissolved to murmurs— these were the sounds you had become hyper-aware of in your pretend slumber. 

Truth is, you’d been awake for the last half hour but your eyes remained closed out of curiosity about what he would be up to when he thought you weren’t looking.

Your body felt heavy, and not just from the illness that plagued you, but from the weight of blankets he had tucked you in earlier. His attention was soothing, yet as he hovered around you, you sensed a bit of uncertainty in his movements that you found quite endearing.

Alhaitham was not one for overt displays of affection but this unspoken care was so entirely him. 

The bed dipped as he sat down and you heard a sigh escape him. It was foreign in its gentleness and spilled out of him like there was much on his mind. 

Was he… watching you? 

You were tempted to open your eyes and catch him in the act, but something told you to wait. For a moment, nothing happened until the sheets beneath you shifted.

Then, you felt it— a barely-there touch to your forehead. His fingers felt familiar and comforting while he checked your temperature, the pad of his thumb tracing light circles that made your heart ache in the sweetest way. How did it feel, you wondered, to be so utterly indifferent to the world and then to finally let his guard down around you?

It wasn’t long before you found your answer.

“You should take better care of yourself,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of frustration in his tone but underneath it was also something softer, more protective. “It’s unsettling seeing you this way.”

You pictured what his expression would be— furrowed brows and narrowing eyes while he tries to make sense of the emotions he’s not used to always showing. But if he knew you were awake, you’d tell him that he didn’t need to hide.

The gentle touch on your forehead moved to your cheeks, then traced the outline of your jaw, deliberately highlighting all the little features he had grown to love over the many months. 

“It’s quieter without you,” he said, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Alhaitham knew it was a bit absurd to be talking to himself but without your voice there was nothing to fill the silence. There was a faint chuckle in his words— he was beginning to understand what you meant when you told him ‘everyone is foolish when they are in love’.

You heard him shift again, and then you felt something against your lips— a light, fleeting kiss so delicate you almost thought you imagined it. But the ghost of his touch lingerered and it took almost everything in you to not break the illusion of sleep. 

He held you as if you were something precious and fragile to him but, to your dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he had leaned in, and his immediate absence left you internally pouting.

The bed suddenly felt lighter and soon the realisation of him retreating toward the door started creeping in. But just before he stepped out, he paused.

Unbeknownst to you, he cast a sideways glance in your direction, wondering how much longer he would have to wait before you stirred. Or how much longer he had to keep talking to himself despite your telltale flinches while he caressed you.

You weren’t as sneaky as you thought so, yes, he noticed.

“It would be a shame if you remained asleep so might I tempt to wake you up and spend time with me in another way?” He called from where he was standing.

Even in your poorly state, you broke into a smile and finally let your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation and with a little triumph in his stride, Alhaitham returned to your bed, resting his hand on the blanket cocoon he had left you in. 

Before he met you, Alhaitham believed that his simple life was full and complete. Then you came along and made him realise what he had been missing all that time. You have done a lot for him but more than that, you’ve undone a lot for him, like allowing him to let go of his rigid control and embrace vulnerability.

The man who once had given you no more than a small and polite ‘Hello’ when you were acquaintances was now tending to you with such warmth that you didn’t need to hear words to feel the depths of his care— it radiated from every quiet gesture. 

Sometimes you forget that people don’t see Alhaitham the same way you do. He is stubborn, unpredictable and speaks abstrusely but to you, he is source of unwavering support and quiet strength. Always in the background with a stoic but reliable presence— like a testament for the patience you’ve nurtured him with.

However, at the end of the day, you cannot describe what is indescribable and you cannot explain what there is to love about him unless you love him yourself.

“You know,” you began as your fingers slipped into his hair, “You shouldn’t have kissed me. You’ll only end up getting sick.”

“I’ll survive,” he replied with a slight shrug, dipping his head towards your lips again, “It’s a small price I’ll pay.”

And in that moment you understood that this was his way of saying he loved and missed you. Not in grand declarations but in the way he stayed, the way he cared, and the way he was always there, silently holding your world together.

a/n: i kept getting distracted while writing this because i love him so much he makes me sick.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum & @nereidsrealm

divider by @/attxnt

[corvidae-x]

Stay awake

Kit fisto x reader fluff

(They/them pronouns used)

Content warning: Injury

Note: This is shitty because I wrote it at 3 am

___________________________________________

"Apply pressure to the wound", some one said next to me.

My eyes flutter open as some one pressed their hands into a particular deep cut that was across my stomach.

I groaned in pain.

"It's okay we got you, General", another voice said.

"Where is- where is Kit?", I asked full of panic.

"I'm here, I'm here", Kit said as he sat down next to me.

"We have to stitch their wound up", a clone explained to Kit.

My vision was blurry and my body began to tremble as the clone began to stitch my wound up.

Kit held my hand and told me:"I know this hurts but you have to stay awake".

I yelped in pain as my consciousness started to fade.

"Don't close your eyes, please don't close your eyes", Kit said, his voice trembled,

"No, no, please, no please. Stay awake

Y/N please."

The last thing I saw was Kits horrified expression as he watched me losing consciousness.

The ship landed on Coruscant while I was unconscious.

Pain. All I felt was pain.

I was lying on a soft ground, probably a bed. It was cold, so awefully cold.

Panic started to raise in me, what happend? Where am I?

I tried to open my eyes but I closed them quickly as light fell onto them.

Suddenly I heared a voice:"It's okay, I'm here. You are save, I got you"

"What-Who- Huh?", I asked my mind still fogged with pain.

"It's me, my little star, Kit"

My hands searched for his as I heard his name but I couldn't find them. So he wrapped his hands gently around mine.

My eyes finally got used to the light so I could open them.

Kit smiled at me lovingly.

"Cold", I whispered as I snuggled into him.

He tucked me into the blanket and hugged me.

As I wanted to hug him thigther he said:"You have two broken ribs, take it easy"

I nodded and laid my head down on his chest.

"Can we get food once I'm warm again?"

"Of course, my little star. But for now, rest till you aren't freezing anymore."

His big hands stroked my back as he told me about what happend after I lost consciousness.

[yinyangswings]

Please could you do some hc for L&L where mc gets seriously injured. Like how would each character react, be..

Ooohh Anon, I love me some hurt and comfort! So here you go! It gets a little lengthy

August Falke 

He doesn’t see the attack happen. All he hears is MC’s scream. It’s a scream that will haunt his nightmares for years to come.

When he turns, he sees her on the ground, her sword just out of reach for her. And she’s so still. Still as death.

And all he sees is comrades, his fellow knights after they were cut down by Alain. 

He’s at her side in moments, dispatching the WQ’s soldier that had wounded her and had been standing over her, intending on finishing her off.

She’s already gone into shock as he cradles her, staring up at him with glassy eyes, struggling to breathe through the pain. Blood is staining her clothes, dripping off corners of her armor

Staining his hands as he tries to slow the bleeding.

August gets her to a healers, and they have to pry her out of his grip. He just stares at her before he’s shoved out of the healer’s ward and to where his friends are, all of them worried for MC.

He brushes them off and walks away.

He’s pretty emotionless about everything as he waits for news about her prognosis, until he’s unsaddling Wyndsor and his hand brushes over a small braid that MC had put in Wyndsor Royale’s mane.

He just breaks down, clutching Wyndsor Royale tightly as he cries because what if he loses her? What would he do then?

Wyndsor Royaleis quiet, nuzzling August as he tries to comfort the man.

Later he finds himself sitting in the gardens, unable to go into the castle for fear he would hear something tragic, unable to go to his room without her by his side.

Iseul finds him a little while later, but makes no jokes or comments about his eyes being bloodshot from tears. Instead he just sits with him. The others find them soon enough, though August finds out Reiner is assisting in healing MC’s wounds. They sit in solidarity with him, chatting a little, but other than that remaining silent.

He prays to the Gods, or whoever is watching over them to spare her. He will go through any trial given to him, but just spare her.

What feels like hours later, Reiner makes it to the gardens. He looks exhausted, but still he is smiling. He says the simple words: ‘she’s alive and awake’

And August is off running to where he knows she is. He runs the entire way to the Healer’s ward, slamming the door open barely able to believe what Lord Reiner had said.

And there she is. Pale from the bloodloss, exhausted from nearly dying, but looking over and smiling tiredly at him, eyes very much alive. She says his name softly under her breath and he’s by her side in an instant.

He refuses to leave her as she finishes recovering. The wound itself is healed, but she needs to rest and recover from the bloodloss. August pretty much is never far from her as she heals.

She can’t help but smile, even if it does get a little annoying sometimes

She still has a scar from her near death. Healing, even magic healing, can only do so much. 

Sometimes at night, he’ll run a hand over the raised skin, ever so often kissing it, grateful that she’ll shift sleepily, curling up closer to him. Grateful he can feel her breath against his skin, and can hear her heartbeat, can feel it under his fingertips

He’ll never forget that day that he almost lost her, but he will make sure to cherish every day that she’s in his arms

Saerys 

They are in a battle nearby the castle, separated. A larger opponent overwhelms MC and throws her.

She collides into the wall with a sickening crack and falls to the ground like a discarded doll. The connection between him and her goes silent in an instant.

Saerys is sure his heart stops and he dashes to her, defeating the soldiers that stand in his way.

When he lifts her she’s limp, and she doesn’t even stir. Blood is streaming down her face. 

He thinks she’s dead until she takes a weak breath and hope latches onto his heart. He tries to wake her, but she doesn’t react, but he can feel her very faintly. She’s alive...for how much longer, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how he gets her back to the castle as fast as he did, but he does. He takes her to the healers, praying for a miracle. Praying that he’ll see her again.

He can’t concentrate on anything as he waits for news about her prognosis.

He’s tempted to return to the battle, but Solaire stops him, knowing that his mind won’t be on the battle.

So he just wanders. But nowhere in the castle offers him relief because every place makes him think of her. And how empty his life would be without her now. Could he even stay in this castle if she died? Every place now has a memory of her there. 

The others arrive, but nothing they do or say seems to shake him out of his stupor and they wisely decide to leave him alone, though they aren’t far away.

He barely manages to get to his room before grief hits him like a truck and he just crumples, sliding down to the floor to grieve.

So involved in his grief he almost misses the soft caress through their bond, slowly growing in strength. Yearning. Yearning for him.

When he does realize it, he’s out of his room like a shot, scaring their friends to death as he runs past them to the Healer’s ward, sliding into the room, the bond growing stronger with each step.

He finds her resting in bed, a bandage wrapped around her head, asleep. She looks small like this, still recovering, even with magic healing. He hears the healers commenting she might not be there.

But she is. He can sense it.

He doesn’t leave her side as she recovers, and he’s the first person she sees when she wakes up. When she smiles he nearly breaks down at that moment, pulling her close. She curls up to him, just content to being there with him.

He is incredibly reluctant to let her go back into battle after this, because he can’t bear to have that feeling again of her just going quiet. It does result in a small fight, but MC manages to convince him to let her be by his side.

He always tries to stay near her in a fight though. He almost lost her so many times. He can’t bear it again.

Altea Bellerose 

It’s in slow motion as Altea hears MC yell, and she’s shoved forward. Then a dull roar and the ground shakes and when she turns around, there is nothing but a cloud of dust, a mound of debris. And no MC.

It takes her a second to realize she’s screaming, discarding her staff and beginning to pull stones away from the pile.

When she finds a hand extended out, her heart plummets to her feet.

It takes what feels like hours, but could only be a few minutes to extract MC, but all Altea is concerned about is seeing her move. But she’s still and limp, eyes closed.

She’s certain she doesn’t take a breath until MC’s chest rises and falls itself. Tears slide down her face in relief at that point. She’s not gone. Not dead. Not yet anyways.

They carry away to safety, and Altea is forced to wait outside. She is not skilled in healing. So she has to wait.

She hates the wait. She’s always hated waiting, but this wait...this is torture.

Iseul is by her side in moments, as are the others and she just starts crying. She’s angry and upset, not to mention scared.

Why would she do that, why would she push her out of the way. She shouldn’t have done that!

She might not make it.

The others pretty much surround her, comforting her the best they can. They know she’s not going to go anywhere, not until they receive word.

When they finally receive word, Altea barges through the door when the Healer gives them the okay. MC is groggy, bruised and bandaged up. 

Altea at first is angry at her for putting herself under that much risk, and makes it known by yelling at her. Midway through her rant, she breaks down and begins crying again. A gentle tug by MC has her lying down next to the other woman, curling up as MC apologizes and comforts her.

Altea spends the night at the Healer’s Ward as MC recovers and is under watch of the healers curled up to MC.

She’s comforted by MC’s steady heartbeat, her non-broken hand tracing a pattern on Altea’s back

When MC finally recovers well enough, Altea dives back into the books to learn more defensive spells. 

She nearly lost MC. She won’t let it happen again. 

Reiner Wolfson 

Honestly he shouldn’t have been surprised. She had thrown his crossbow to him. She had dropped a chandelier on Magnus to save him. She had chosen a shield as her weapon of choice. She would always be there to try and protect him.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised when she dove between him and an assassin sent by the WQ.

Still it’s like time slows to a crawl as her blood splatters on him and on the ground. He barely manages to catch her as she crumples. A nearby guard rushes over to protect Reiner, but the Lord Wolfson barely even notices as he cradles MC to him

Stone doesn’t absorb blood like dirt, so it just begins to pool under her as he frantically tries to heal her.

She’s trying to stay conscious, trying to comfort him.

Which he would have found laughable if she wasn’t bleeding out in his arms.

Faintly she presses her hand against his, offering a weak smile. It feels like a goodbye.

He lost his mother. He lost his father. He lost Aldric.

And now he’s losing her.

Other healers arrive and have to pry MC from his grip. He just stares at her form before it vanishes around a corner.

His retainers arrive to his side, worried. He forces himself to stand, to ignore the blood drying on his hands to get orders out to find out how the assassin got in

He wonders how many people Aldric told about the secret passages. How many lives he had endangered for his lust for the WQ.

Solaire is the one who forces him to stop. He needs to at the very least clean off MC’s blood from him. Reluctantly he does so. In the quiet of the washroom, staring at the blood in the water that he breaks.

He begs the gods to not take her away from. He’s nearly lost her so many times, do not let death finally take her.

He can’t handle more death.

His piano lays untouched. He tries once but his mind wanders to the noticeably absent audience member.

Ryland comes in when it is late at night, he is exhausted but he says the Healers are done. And MC has awoken.

Reiner doesn’t run to the Healer’s Ward, but it’s pretty close.

He opens the door and she looks over at him, staring at him. She gives him a small smile and waves. 

He’s by her side in seconds, cupping her face gently. She’s paler than normal, and looks exhausted. But she leans into his touch, closing her eyes as though in relief. She says she loves him and he nearly cries at that, returning that he loves her too. He kisses her brow, taking in her scent, feeling her breath against his skin.

Alive. She’s alive.

He is very reluctant to leave her side for a little while after this. 

He can’t help but stare at the scar on her as she changes, and he is always gentle when he touches it. And every night he watches as she sleeps for a little while, watching her chest rise and fall. Her hand sleepily reaching over for his hand and he kisses her knuckle. 

She’s alive. And he’ll do everything in his power to make sure she stays alive.

Iseul Idreis 

It’s not the initial wound that nearly kills MC. Because of course it wouldn’t be.

No it’s not the arrow that embedded itself into MC’s arm, but the poison that the arrowhead had been soaked in that nearly made her lose her life.

Her speech slurs as she says she doesn’t feel well before she collapses into his arms. It startles him and he barely catches her.

When he turns her over to where she’s lying on her back, he finds that her veins are nearly black, and blood is beginning to drip out from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her breathing is labored, chest struggling to rise and fall, her heartbeat weak and thready.

His heart stops and it feels like hours before his body catches up with his mind and then he’s picking her up and running to the Healers, to where his mother is.

Her breath against his neck, labored as it is, is the only lifeline he has right then and there.

Letting her go physically hurts as he lays her on a bed and he’s pulled away from his lover by Altea and the others.

He doesn’t want to leave her side. He wants to be there for her, if these are her last moments

The moment he steps out of the tent though, he just collapses, breaking down in seconds. 

He can feel Altea pulling him into a hug, comforting him. There’s no joke, nor sarcastic quip...nothing.

Ishara comes out a little while later, a look of relief on her face. The worst has passed and they managed to get most of the poison out. She’s recovering from the traces at that moment, and they’re working on an antidote.

Iseul is by her side in seconds. Weakly she says she’s going to be puking for however long she’s recovering, and understands if he doesn’t want to stay. He says he’s not going anywhere.

And he doesn’t leave her side for a moment, holding her hair back when she pukes as the traces continue to affect her. He kisses the crown of her head, just grateful that she is alive. When the antidote is given, he watches as color returns to her cheeks. He kisses her brow, thankful that she is still alive.

He teases her lightly, but the relief is evident in his voice, in his expression. His touch.

Curled up to her at night he enjoys listening to her heartbeat, steady and strong, feeling her fingers running through his hair.  Alive. She is alive. 

Helena Klein 

Helena doesn’t know what happened. All she knows as she turns the corner is MC is slumped on the wall, pressing a hand against a wound, blood seeping out between her fingers.

Time stops. 

Helena rushes to her, magic coming to MC’s side in an instant. 

She may not be strong with healing magic, but she can at least stabilize it long enough to get help.

Now she needs to stop the shaking in her hands.

MC gently presses a hand over hers, offering a smile. A promise to be alright. 

Now if only Helena believed it. 

The wound refuses to close, the wound refusing to close. It takes Helena far longer than she would like to realize it’s been caused by magic.

That heightens the panic building in her. 

When MC goes limp, Helena is sure that her heart stops. 

She cradles MC to her, begging her to stay awake as she pours her magic at the wound and at the curse that’s refusing to let her heal the wound. She keeps it at bay, but only just.

MC just talks softly to her, trying to keep her calm. 

Finally the others arrive and begin to aid Helena in healing. MC looks up at her tiredly, patting her cheeks softly.

I’ll be alright, Love. I promise. So no more crying.

Helena wipes at her face, surprised to realize she’s crying. 

When MC is stable enough, they decide to get her to a camp for a more thorough look.

Helena refuses to leave her side, clutching her hand tightly.

Helena pretty much coddles MC for quite awhile. Like to the point MC starts getting annoyed, but puts up with it because she remembers the fear in Helena’s eyes as she tried to heal her.

Helena still has nightmares of seeing MC bleeding out. She dreams she can’t save her and she dies. She awakes in a cold sweat and turns quickly to see MC asleep next to her. When that happens she curls up to the other woman, feeling the soft heartbeat of MC against her.

She’s alive...and she will do anything to keep it that way. Mark her words, MC will remain safe. Or there would be hell to pay.

Alain Richter 

Alain, in theory, shouldn’t have been shocked. MC uses her ice powers, and that’s it. No weapon...no shield.

She has no way of protection other than her magic and armor.

Yet time seems to freeze as an arrow flies past his head, and hits MC in the chest. A lucky shot. A deadly lucky shot.

She seems to blink in shock for a second as blood begins to seep through the wound on her chest. Her legs buckle and she falls forward.

He runs to her side, calling her name, but it feels like in slow-motion. 

Then everything moves by quickly and he finds himself in the healer’s tent, MC’s head pillowed in his lap as healers work on her. Her breathing is shallow, her eyes glassy with pain. 

It hurts him. She’s in pain and he can’t do anything.

He remembers all the time when they were children, whenever she was hurting, he could do something to take the pain away. He would have taken the pain away.

But now he can’t and it’s killing him.

Her hand weakly reaches towards him, blindly and pleading. He takes it, kissing her knuckles, silently telling her that he’s here, she’s not alone.

She loses consciousness to his smile.

He nearly breaks down in that moment, but forces himself to not lose it.

He clutches her hand begging whatever gods there are to spare her. 

He had lost her once, long ago. He prays that he doesn’t lose her again.

He would go through hell and back, and face any trial if she returned to him.

Finally the Healers sigh in relief and look at him. She’ll be alright, she just needs to rest. Relief is instantaneous. 

Alive. She’ll survive.

He always looks at the scar on her chest and it takes several months for the stab of fear and the lurch of panic to subside. He kisses the scar, a promise from him to her that she will never have to go through this again.

He swore to protect her in the past. He’ll protect her for long as he can. That he swears.

[odoraful]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

wanderer would prefer not to be stopped on his way home, especially when he's had a hard few days

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; 'kuni' nickname; pure fluff; just wanderer lowkey being a pathetic lover boy for you; 1.9k words

a/n: nothing else to say here besides i had a lot of fun writing this !! pls enjoy clingy wanderer !!

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“Hat Guy! Do yo-”

“Nope.”

Wanderer deadpanned, not even sparing a look at the scholar who addressed him as he walked past. It was at this point where most people would give up. Students of the Akademiya found that you had to catch the snarky scholar on a good day to strike up a casual conversation with him outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, this person was tenacious enough to not even let such an outright rejection faze him. Wanderer walked faster, only for his peer to match his stride.

“Hold on!” They cried out, slightly breathless from having to speed up. “You’re really not going to let me finish what I’m saying first?”

Wanderer scoffed. “What gave you that impression? My visible irritation? Or the fact that I’m actively trying to outpace you?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so rude…” They frowned, voice trailing off in disappointment.

Finally giving the person a side-eyed glance, he recognised them to be a fellow Vahumana scholar named Mir. Whilst Wanderer could acknowledge Mir’s intelligence, he was far too soft-hearted for how stubborn he was. At that deflated comment, Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks. Mir wobbled, skidding on his feet to stop as well.

He considered using his flying abilities to leave Mir in the dust. However, this plan was only a fleeting thought as he recalled a stern meeting he had with staff at the Akademiya. They scolded that he wasn’t allowed to use his powers to avoid interaction with his peers. Something about misconduct and lacking etiquette that Wanderer half-remembered, choosing to nod along rather than actually listen to the prattle from the professors.

“Mir.”

He perked up. Wanderer could see his self-esteem reassemble at the mere fact that his name was remembered.

“What do you want?” Wanderer seethed, each word punctuated through gritted teeth.

If Mir felt intimidated at all by Wanderer’s ire, it showed little on his face. He only brightened further, seizing his chance to speak.

“I wanted to see whether you wanted to go to a social event later tonight at Lambad’s! There’ll be free drinks and food, and it’s really just a friendly get together to boost morale. It’s meant to be for us Vahumana scholars to catch each other up on the work we’re doing, and on what’s been going on in our lives,” he rambled.

What could simply be said in a few words Mir incredibly managed to do in multiple sentences. Wanderer let out a loud sigh.

“Mir,” he began, folding his arms. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’ve just returned from a long and arduous trip from the desert where you’ve used all your energy up to explore ruins. Would you want to spend what little time off you have for the day going to a crowded tavern with people you only barely know?”

Mir stuttered. It was the most Wanderer had spoken to him in one go.

“W-well, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what kind of-”

“Just answer it.”

Wanderer interrupted, dismissing Mir’s frivolous technicalities with a wave of his hand.

“Alright! Probably not! I’d just want to go home and relax.”

“And there it is,” Wanderer opened his arms wide, like a magician revealing their latest trick, “my response to your invitation.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and walked off. Mir opened his mouth to protest, but none came out. He stood there slack-jawed at his own words being used against him. Fortunately, he didn’t follow any longer.

Wanderer would probably short circuit if he bumped into anyone else right now. What he had told Mir was the truth. He was on his way home from the Akademiya just after returning from a 2 day trip in the desert. He would have enjoyed the expedition far more if his professor hadn’t dragged him out on such short notice. Most likely, she had seen that his schedule wasn’t as busy for the next few days and roped him into a project of ‘great academic importance’. Time that would have been spent doing whatever he wanted to at home had been replaced by sweltering weathers and endless scribing of ancient tomes.

Fate was a truly cruel force. Especially so when it separated him from you without warning. At the thought of his partner, he recalled how he announced his departure. He had to leave that same day, and you had already left for work, so he scrawled a note and left it on the table for you to look at when you returned.

My professor has taken me on an research expedition last minute. I’ll be back in 2 days time. I’ll make it up to you.

Kuni.

Perhaps he would come back to see the same annoyance he had when dealing with Mir on your face at such a lukewarm message.

There was an inexplicable weight in his body when he walked. A dragging emotion that humans would probably label as tiredness. He needed to get home and fast. If he did arrive to a grumpy partner, he wouldn’t mind it. You were the only person who was actually worth dealing with in his eyes.

He looked around. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, and there were only a few people mingling around the street he was on. Perfect. It was empty enough for him to not cause a spectacle. Wind kicked up around him as he swiftly launched upwards, flying high above roofs. This would certainly cut his commute time in half. Quietly, he navigated the familiar streets towards home.

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Dots of yellow emerged below from hanging lamps across the city. The residents of Sumeru were preparing for the night, whether in revelry or idleness. The latter suited you more, as you began to unwind from a day of work and waited for Wanderer to arrive. The news that he needed to leave had surprised and saddened you a little. You were looking forward to spending more time with him over these few days when he wasn’t so busy with classes. If he kept to the words he wrote on that note, however, he would somehow make it up to you.

You held onto that hope as you folded clothes to be put away in the bedroom. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice movement outside as Wanderer approached the window on the second storey. Putting his face closer to the stained glass, your figure was rendered in an orange hue as he peered in. He tapped against the window with a finger.

You jumped with a yelp, turning towards the source of the disruption.

Honestly, you would have welcomed his arrival more warmly if the sight before you wasn’t so unexpected. Now, you couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. Your boyfriend was hovering outside your bedroom window, staring at you like a rain-soaked cat waiting to be let inside.

You hurried towards the window, but didn’t reach out to open it just yet. Instead, you placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head to the side.

“We have a front door for a reason, you know.”

Even though your voice was muffled, he heard how you spoke in a sing-song manner.

“Well, I’m not at the front door now, am I?” He replied, matter-of-factly. “Mind opening up?”

Gesturing for him to step away a little, you unlatched the window and swung the glass outwards. Cool air immediately washed over your face, tickling your skin. He could hear the mild offense in your voice crystal clear now,

“I cannot believe this is how I’m being greeted after such a sudden departure-“

Your sentence cut off short as the wind got knocked out you.

Your boyfriend crashing into you mid-flight was a quick way to shut you up.

The force caused you to stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the bed. Only then did the surprise settle in at what he was doing.

Wanderer had you in a tight hug.

Somewhat awkwardly, he was half-sitting in your lap, half-sitting on the bed. Shaking out of your stupor, you encircled your arms around his shoulders. Wanderer let his body fall limp, his feet now on solid ground. He buried his face in your neck.

“A-are you-”

“Don’t say a single word.” He said, voice low in warning. Though, the threat had little weight behind it with how he nuzzled into the hug.

Wanderer didn’t need to breathe to survive, but he had learned to inhale and exhale largely so that others wouldn’t gawk at him for his lack of breathing (he had honestly stopped doing it because of how bothersome it was to keep such a façade. However, after some convincing from Nahida about the necessity to get along with his peers, he begrudgingly adopted the habit once again). For you, it served another purpose. Clearly something or someone had riled him up earlier because his breathing had initially been huffed and short. Now, as he settled against your body, you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, breaths slow and intentional.

“It’s only been 2 days, Kuni,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle.

His violet hair tickled your skin as he shifted his head, propping his chin up on your shoulder. Perhaps it was intentional that he kept his face out of your line of sight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you haven’t seen me in months?”

Wanderer scoffed loudly. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see his face, for the way he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in embarrassment at his own clinginess would’ve given you weeks of material to poke fun at him for.

“I think you do because I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re acting like this.”

There was no way he was falling for the fake, sugary innocence in your tone. You were an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. He chose to remain silent as you continued,

“Oh well, I guess I should go and finish folding these clothes if it’s nothing important.”

Abruptly, you removed your arms from him and went to stand. However, the grasp Wanderer had around your waist meant you could barely even move. Even bending over proved to be fruitless for you.

“Those chores can wait,” he muttered, interlocking his fingers together to hold you in place.

Despite knowing that you were messing with him, a small part of him was irritated that you even considered putting such a menial task above him.

You giggled at how touchy he was being. Your boyfriend could hardly come up with a word of affection without looking like he was going to combust, but would stop at nothing at the chance to hold you. You raised a hand to pat his head, smoothing his hair down. Every grievance he had over the past 2 days melted away with each pass of your hand. Archons, he even started to feel like he went a bit too harsh on Mir.

“Don’t worry,” Wanderer could hear the smile on your face as you began gently combing his hair between your fingertips. “I missed you too.”

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[yasminawayne]

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

[glorified-red]

Autopilot (Damian Wayne x Reader)

summary: After witnessing an event that hit just a little too close to home, you were left at the mercy of your own memories. All the usual tactics Damian knew weren't helping. It's a good thing he had a little helper.

word count: 4,070~

warnings: flashback during a panic attack, disassociation and driving through it, reference to past physical abuse (not specified from who or if it's domestic, it's very vague. But is heavily implied to be from a male), depictions of physical abuse in terms of verbs (punch, kick, hands on body, etc. Nothing more. Aka no bodily harm, just the feeling), and reference to passing out from a panic attack in the past.

Nothing quite like real world events to jerk me out of a writer's block, aye? This is based on a personal experience from just a few days ago so if there is a complaint with this story being too specific, I will ignore it. This fic means a lot to me so please be kind to it. Dont hesitate to let me know what you think of it! For those wondering, yes, I did finish writing that essay. Have not submitted it because I would love to read it and edit it at not 1 am, so that's a task for tomorrow while I dye my hair.

Autopilot — acting or functioning without conscious thought, as a result of routine or habit.

That was one way to describe what was happening. 

From the second you put your helmet back on to the moment your hand closed the front door, you couldn’t pinpoint a single frame in between. The entire world around you was a blur, even as you zipped through Gotham traffic on a busy afternoon. 

Distantly, you knew you should be aware of the wind hitting your skin, especially as it assaulted your jacket with its wispy breath. Each red light and your boots hit asphalt. You should’ve been able to register that feeling shoot up each of your legs, maybe feel the way your body shifted into an upright position.

 But instead, your eyes were blank behind the tinted lens of a bike helmet. 

You didn’t even try to fix it, not yet anyway. Not when there were cars blocking you in from every angle; not when one wrong move—one stuttered breath—could mean your bike jerking into a freefall. 

So you didn’t even try to fight for awareness. If you did, maybe your hands would be gripping the handlebars a little tighter, maybe even twisting the kevlar of your gloves into the grooves until you felt something. You would’ve rubbed your hands down your thighs, dragging the fabric along your skin just enough to force your body into consciousness. 

But you didn’t. 

You just let yourself run on autopilot. 

It was safer that way anyway. Safer than having the worst panic attack of your life while driving at least. You didn’t even want to think about how Damian was going to react when he found out you were driving this far down into your subconscious—on your motorcycle no less. 

He really was going to murder you one of these days. But then again, you had countless retorts ingrained into your repertoire, countless callbacks to days where it wasn’t you in the driver's seat doing this, but the hypocrite himself. 

So you didn’t worry enough about it. You gave it maybe two seconds of thought before you put your helmet on and rolled out of the parking lot. Should you call Damian? Wouldn’t it just be easier for him to pick you up and worry about the bike later? 

Your brain sighed, maybe your body did on instinct, if it did, you wouldn't have known. He was at home—which was barely fifteen minutes away, you could survive that long—waiting for you, it’d worry him too much to get a phone call two hours after you were supposed to be home. 

Somewhere between hues of gray, your legs guided you through the maze of a familiar home. There was a buzz in your ears, like the poor organs were trying desperately to comprehend the noise around you but fell short every time. They were filled with water then dried with cotton only for it to dissipate with water once more: a ferocious cycle that left you a stranger to the greeting happening right before you. 

You shouldered passed . . . something? It didn’t matter. If it did, surely your brain would let you know later . . . right? Then came the mechanical routine of finding a place to bring yourself back. But when every wall looked the same and your boots trudged against the carpet—Damian was so gonna gripe about shoes in the house later—it felt like a losing game. 

So you stuttered to a stop, somewhere. Arguably the worst place because the only tether you had to the outside world was the ground under your boots, which you couldn’t even feel because there was at least an inch of rubber tread between your reality and everyone else's. 

The same buzz hit your ears. Maybe if you tried hard enough, you could blame the disconnect on the inner padding of the helmet stuffed against your head. It’s worked before, it’s not like it’s easy to hear with this thing on, let alone when your brain didn’t even want you to. 

You could start to feel the autopilot wearing thin, the remnants of it dissolving with each passing second you remained idle. You tried to tap each of your fingers against your thumb one at a time to cling to what little autopilot was left. All you got from your body was a single twitch in your thumb. 

A tap, a click, and a slide. All sounds you saw rather than felt or heard yourself. The tinted panel in front of your eyes lifted slowly until your grays turned into greens. You could get lost in that green for eternity and your soul would find contentment. You could find that green from memory, even when your eyes were filled with grays or your body turned blind to it. That green was one you would never lose. 

It came naturally, locking your eyes into his. You could almost laugh at the fact that the last wisp of autopilot was used connecting yourself to him, as if your body had formed a habit you didn’t even know about until now. 

You knew those eyes better than he did himself, even if he’d spent years staring at them before you. It was an easy victory when you traced them in your memories. So you knew each crease of worry that outlined the narrowness they had at the moment, the subtle squint as he tried to reach you. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, he succeeded. 

Your next breath came right before your lungs were punched by reality. The sheer weight of it was enough for you to struggle for air. It was like you were trapped as Atlas once was. But instead of holding the weight on your shoulders, you were crushed underneath all the rubble, having failed to keep everything upright. 

You choked out a sob, hating the way your own breath ricocheted off the helmet back into your skin. You were suffocating. Your hands shot to the offending metal and clawed at each of the safety latches built in. Shaky fingers didn’t have enough dexterity to succeed which only made you gasp harder. 

In an instant, there were skilled hands overtaking your own, practiced enough to succeed where you had failed. 

“—eathe, I’ve got y—”

Newfound peripherals blindsighted you, they were both a blessing and a curse. While the new vision made it easier to protect yourself, the responsibility of having to do so was far too heavy a burden. You wanted to keep living in your tunnel vision and pretending it was safe there. 

You were still suffocating. Air was scarce to come by and when it did travel through you, it scorched your lungs until you considered if air was truly worth the fight if it hurt so much. The same shaky hands grasped for the collar of your jacket, suddenly far too tight against your neck. It was as if the fabric itself was choking you and not Reality. Thready hands were better to imagine than calloused ones. 

You didn’t notice your feet tripping backwards until your back collided with a wall, you didn’t even care, you just wanted this stupid jacket off. Agile hands swifty unlatched everything, unclasping safety mechanics and helped shrug the leather bind off of your skin. 

“—ok, it’s off. Brea—”

The wall was solid; the wall was good; the wall was safe. You let yourself slide all the way down until you hit the floor, your green easily followed. You coughed on an exhale, your inhale having hurt far too badly to finish. 

Your hands settled together behind your neck, fighting to grab at something, might as well protect your pulse points. 

“—off?”

Your gaze struggled to lift up to him without staggering. When it settled back into his calming hue, you choked out a response: “What?” 

Realistically, you exhaled far too much on the word when you received another kick to the chest but you figured he would get the gist. He’s smart. 

“Do you want your boots off?” His hands floated in the space between you both, where your bent legs ended and his crouch began. 

With a tilted comprehension, it took a few breaths—albeit pretty quick ones—for the words to sink in. When they did, you jerked out a nod. Without hesitation, he made quick work of velcro, buckles, and zippers, forcing you to trudge through heightened awareness alone. 

Awareness was always worse than letting your mind shift into sand to pass through fingers with ease, free from the pain those fingers always left. Especially when Reality was combing through sand with a sharp comb, breaking each particle down to the atom. Water couldn’t wash away atoms the same way it could sand. 

Your lungs convulsed again just as your socked feet felt the bite of cold tile, boots long since forgotten. 

“Breathe,” he said simply, telegraphing his movements slowly. “Can I take off your gloves?” 

You liked the safety of where your hands were, but feeling a leather mesh on your neck wasn’t exactly the most comforting feeling.

You jerked your hands out slowly, seeing for yourself just how much you were shaking compared to his steady hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, testing the waters to see how you reacted to his touch on your skin. The second both hands felt air instead of fabric, they retreated back to safety.

“You need to breathe.” 

You shook your head, feeling the muscles under your hands twist along with the motion. “I—” you choked, “I can’t” 

“Yes you can.” Damian shifted from his crouch to sit before you. “You’ve been through this before and you always come out of it, don’t you?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would help somewhat. Another kick to the chest and you were back to scrambling. 

“ ‘t hurts,” you whined. 

“I know it does, but you have to breathe. Breathe with me.” You opened your eyes to look at him through the blur of watery tears. 

That was a mistake. 

Reality was finicky at best. It shifted like the waves in its fluidity, morphing into new forms and combining within itself. Your fingers twitched against your neck. 

Focus on the green. 

But then his hands slowly laid atop your knees, a familiar trick he did every time. Innocent touch, a tethered connection between you two to bring you back to him. The further the attack would go, the more weight he’d put into his palms until your legs unbent without your knowledge. It was an easy way to open your chest cavity to make breathing a little bit easier while making it seem like nothing is changing, especially when your brain is occupied with other things. 

But this time, his hands felt bigger, they felt more calloused, and held more weight in them. You jerked in an inhale. “Sto—stop touching me.” 

Immediately his hands lifted off of you. “Okay, I won’t touch you.” His palms raised in the air so you could see them, an emphasis to his word. “But we’re going to breathe together.” 

Damian waited a single moment for you to register his words, for your eyes to shift from his hands to his eyes, then finally, to his chest. 

“Breathe in.” He exaggerated his chest visually for you to replace touch. Usually there would be some comfort in the way your hand was guided to his sternum, fingers spread out to feel the fabric of his shirt and the way his chest rose with each inhalation, only to fall when he exhaled. Yet this time, his chest would’ve felt different and that thought alone was enough for your breath to stutter. 

“And out.” You envied the way he released his breath so slowly and with so much control where yours was rushed and clunky. 

He praised you all the same. “Good. Again. In,” he breathed in, you followed shortly after, “and out.” 

You fell out of the inhale before he did, your lungs quivering under an invisible hand. Your head hit the wall with a whine. “I can’t.” 

“You can,” he stressed. “I know you can. Try again.” 

You wheezed where he inhaled, you coughed where he exhaled. Your hands sunk from your neck to your chest, gripping on tight to the kevlar.

“That’s it,” he said, just before another set of breaths. You hated this part the most. You could live with the shakiness afterwards, the pain and the burn of your lungs once they finally settled down. You could ignore the feeling of being on edge for hours after, the feeling of fragility, like someone could blow and you’d wither away with the feeble wind. 

But the feeling of true hopelessness that came from this part was always the worst. You couldn’t fathom succeeding at this simple human task, a task that comes mechanically—completely on autopilot. Yet for some reason, it was a monumental task for you. 

Before Damian—and a little bit during—you let yourself get consumed by the darkness. You let the hands squeeze your lungs until your brain fizzled out, the consequences to be dealt with once you woke up. It was far easier than fighting for consciousness, especially when said consciousness was so painful. 

He didn’t like that very much. 

So here you were, clamoring your way through a breathing exercise as if it wasn’t the most painful thing in the world. As if your lungs weren’t burning with rage and your muscles weren’t aching with tension. 

As if you couldn’t feel hands all over your body with each step back into awareness.

As if you couldn’t hear and see things just passed Damian’s silhouette. 

“This isn’t working,” you bite out. Your head had sunk down to face the floor at some point. The carpet was a darker shade of beige than it was a moment ago. Maybe it was your shadow affecting it, but considering everything, you didn’t think so. “I need—” you choked. 

You saw the way Damian’s hands twitched against his pants, fighting to do something to help you. “Tell me what you need.” He tried searching your eyes like before, that tether was one that could bring up to him from just about anywhere. But you were studying the carpet as if it had wronged you on a visceral level. 

You closed your eyes, trying to think past the echoes of an old voice and the remnants of old touch. You were stuck in limbo, caught between two realities that somehow merged in a single moment. Another kick to the chest and your body caved inwards—the same way it had before. 

You could feel your grip on Damian’s reality fading. It was the one you’d prefer any day and it was the one you should be in. Not this one. Yet here you were, taking the hits of hands long in the past. 

But . . .

Damian. 

“When did we meet?” you demanded more so than asked, the words coming in and out with your breaths. 

Despite his shock—and extreme confusion—he didn’t hesitate to answer with a number of years that have passed you by. Questioning you, especially your needs, at this moment wasn’t going to help.

You shook your head, your legs twitching together and back apart, the muscles contracting at random. “What year?” you said, trying to keep your oxygen inside for just a second longer. 

He responded simply, your ears catching the sound with ease. The outside chatter cut down to a buzz. You breathed out a little slower. 

“How?” you breathed in, your inflection cut off just slightly. 

Damian didn’t waver. “We met in high school. I transferred in late and you were assigned as my peer guide to the Academy. You gave me a tour around campus to help figure out my schedule,” he paused, gauging your reaction before adding on just a bit more. “We ended up having a few classes together that year.” 

“How old—” you breathed in, “How old were we?” 

Damian blinked, his eyes shifting to the side as he recalled, probably doing some kind of mental math in his brain. “I started school when I was fourteen. You were probably fourteen or fifteen at the time.” 

You blinked your eyes open, your lungs expanding happily at the information. Realities were disconnecting slowly, each question cutting a strand of fate that had sewed them together. Since neither could coexist, this new information was proof that the voices were just that, the past. Damian didn’t exist in the same era of these voices—these hands—him being here was a testament in it of itself. 

The carpet was tinted just so, but it was enough to make it lighter. 

“What about now?” you asked. 

“What about now?” Damian echoed you, his confusion still prevalent in his voice. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed down the fire. “What year is it?” 

For someone so intelligent, he really was not catching on to what was happening. Knowing him, he was probably scanning your head for a concussion right about now. But he didn’t show it outwardly. As much as he was confused and incredibly concerned, this was helping. So even if he didn’t sign up for trivia night, he’d play along—and he was sure as hell gonna win. 

He responded factually. The math not only aligned, but since it was late into the year, it wasn’t exactly hard to remember. The buzz got even softer than before. You were able to breath out shakily, the intake was sharp in return but the progress was showing. 

“And the date?” 

Your eyes had closed softly, a sense of calm starting to breach through the anxiety. 

Damian’s response immediately shrouded that progress. Suddenly the voice was right next to your ear and a foot was on your chest, constructing any airflow from ever hoping to come to your lips. The same date. A stupid number that just so happened to align, an anniversary, was enough to derail everything. 

Damian’s voice turned to nothing but a buzz, a low rumble with a worried inflection. 

He had asked a question. That much you knew. But your eyes had opened to a shade of dark beige and dreary grays, completely at the mercy of a dissociative state. 

Even your hands lay limp from where they were resting between your knees, your wrists balanced atop the bony joints. You let it happen. You let your breath get squished underneath calloused hands along the back of your neck and a knee to the spine. You let your fingers go numb and your skin go cold as the room around you soured. 

Suddenly it was a different time and a different place entirely. 

Just dark beige and dreary grays. 

The thuds of footsteps were easily drowned out until it was a simple buzz, just a low static rumbling beneath your skin. 

But then your hands lifted at the feeling of fur underneath them. It was soft to the touch, the small fibers splitting away underneath your fingers. The fur shifted, it nosed in-between your pointer and middle finger before sliding down your palm, leaving a slight trail of warmth along your skin. 

Your fingers twitched, the ice around them thawing slowly with each press of warmth until you could interact with it yourself. The fur morphed from a body to a small head that could fit just along your palm. Whiskers pressed into your hand as it was used as a scratching post. A head bump and your palm raised with it, only to slide down the back automatically as if your hand had done it a thousand times before. 

Just along the back and up to the tip of the tail, just for the head to return for more scratches. You felt the tail wrap loosely around your ankle, shifting and swishing, but always remaining against you. 

You scratched at the chin, your chest feeling lighter when the gentle creature tilted their head back to accept more. Reality itself couldn’t deny the creature’s existence, even if they truly wanted your reality to morph into the past. 

Yet here it was, defying Reality, with nothing to say aside from a purr. Your hands touched black and your fingers graced white until you could make out the cat yourself, perched contently between your legs. 

“Alfie,” you sighed out, half out of astonishment and half out of relief. 

“I always seem to find you two together after a hard time,” came Damian’s voice, cutting straight through the static with his deep timbre. “He can help you where I can’t.” 

There was still a shake in your breath, your chest still rising and falling with great difficulty, more than Damian liked. He looked up at you briefly before looking back down at the precious cat, one that only seemed to like a few people on this earth. Even if he liked Damian, it was a hell of a taming. But with you, you two clicked instantly. 

Damian would never forget the day he found you holding Alfred, hugging him close and the content kitten doing nothing but hugging back with its smaller limbs. Alfred’s little head perched on your shoulder, eyes closed in pure bliss. You were swaying slowly, humming in harmony with the soft purrs omitting from the shorthair. 

You were waiting on him, that much he remembered. It was years after you two had met, just shortly after high school graduation and just before Damian started college. That was the blissful moment of limbo where it was just you two hanging out for the summer and getting his apartment together. 

That was the day Damian Wayne fell in love with you. 

So here you were, years later, yet all the same. 

“Alfred gave him to me my senior year,” Damian started. He knew you already knew Alfred’s origin, you were there. But for some reason, exact details of dates were helping you, so he was happy to recall a core memory. “He called it a graduation gift even though the meeting was pure happenstance. He didn’t want to admit the cat reminded him of me, but I knew.” 

You glanced up at Damian and he glanced back. 

He stated the year easily, the fricative consonants adding to his timbre. “That was the year I fell in love with you. I was nineteen. It started with prom night, I should have known what that feeling was by then. But it wasn’t until late summer that I finally realized I could see no other future than one that was beside you.” 

He pointed down at the fuzz ball that was now laying across your crossed legs. “It’s all because of him.” 

Your hands pressed into the fur and massaged the skin underneath gently until the final strand of fate was snapped. You looked into the green, seeing each shade of bright emerald and late spring, eucalyptus and summer leaves. 

You found your voice and it was among his, miles ahead of the distant voices of the past. You said the same year, finding that your consonants blended with his after being around him for so long. Your voices intertwined in some ways and diverged in others. 

“That was the year I fell in love with you.” You responded. “We got bored and decided to paint your bedroom a different color.” You found yourself smiling at the memory, not even thinking twice about how your voice became steady against the mechanics of breath. “We were trying to figure out how to use the paint rollers and you learned the hard way that too much paint was in fact, not, more efficient. You had paint all in your hair after just one swipe.” 

You laughed and Damian found himself smiling at the sound. “I managed to get some on your cheeks,” he recalled.

You nodded. “You did,” a slight chuckle shaking your shoulders. “I got you back though.” 

“Please,” Damian rolled his eyes, “you were covered in far more paint than I was at the end of the night.” 

“Was not!”

Damian hummed in absolute confidence. “As I recall, Alfred gave you a far more disproving look than he gave me.” 

“Because he found me first!” 

Sometime in the near future, you would retell the events that led you to this moment. From witnessing an event that hit just a little too close to home to the police report that followed, you’d tell him everything. 

But for now, you were happy just enjoying the moment with him. 

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[kisstrela-deactivated20240714]

Can we get 'where's my wife' with diluc , wriothesley and childe?

Your writing is so beautiful and soft i am obsessed <3

yesss omgg 🤭 and thank you nonnie (..◜ᴗ◝..)

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 .ᐣ pt 2.

a husband's duty.

ᯓ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 .ᐟ diluc, wriothesley, childe x fem!reader (separate).

ᯓ 𝐜𝐰 .ᐟ yeah this one's pretty violent — strangling/impaling/stabbing in wriothesley's one (we love a protective king 😻) basically he's MAD mad and goes on a killing spree to get you back <33, fluff in diluc's one because I LOVE THAT MAN!!!!!!!!!! 2.4k words, and childe is his own warning 🥰 y'all have been warned!! please proceed with caution.

ᯓ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .ᐟ part one here!! and i woke up to 500 followers🧍‍♀️ thank you all so much 😭 i never expected to receive such immense love and support <3 i will continue to work harder so my fics are enjoyable for all of you!! (♡ ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ )

ᯓ DILUC .ᐟ

“𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 is my wife?” Diluc Ragnvindr shrugged off his soaked coat and placed it into the head maid’s outstretched hands. Having just come in from the rain and from vigilante-ing about Mondstadt at night, the owner of the Dawn Winery was dead tired, and just wanted to fall into the warm embrace of his wife.

“She went up to bed hours ago, Master Diluc,” Adelinde replied, pursing her lips at the man. “And I’ll draw you up a bath first. You’ll catch a cold at this rate, in all that wet gear of yours. You’re beginning to worry your wife, you know.”

He sighed, unclipping his cufflinks and loosening his collar, taking off his muddy boots and placing them near the front door for a servant to see to in the morning. He turned to head up the stairs. “I know.”

Once up on the top floor, he turned to head down the hall to the master bedroom, softly clicking open the door. The soft, dying light of the fire cast warm, orange shadows across the room, and you were sitting in the armchair by the mantel, asleep.

Immediately, Diluc felt awful. She must’ve sat up in wait for me. He quietly closed the door and grabbed his bathrobe, hurrying to the bathroom to get out of his sopping clothes. Adelinde would be up in a few minutes to tell him his bath was ready, and he didn’t want you awakened.

After gathering his hair up, drying off and tying his bathrobe shut, he exited the bathroom and approached you, staring at you for a moment. Your breathing was slow, soft and deep, and you hadn’t moved an inch during the ten minutes he was in the ensuite. Placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, Diluc gently slung an arm under your knees and around your shoulders, gathering you up into his hold and turning for the bed. He eased you under the covers, pulling them up to your chin, and your eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, brushing some hair out of your eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Do you know how late it is?” Your voice was clogged with sleep. You shuffled and sat up, yawning. “Diluc, I’m going to have to start assigning curfew to you or something. Why must you keep frolicking around the city dealing with crime that’s not really your problem?” Before he could answer, you had pulled him in by his robe sleeve and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And I like having my husband in bed with me. It’s cold without you.”

Diluc pulled you to your feet and circled his arms around in return, nuzzling into your neck. “Forgive me, my love. I’ll try to wrap things up earlier for you.”

“You’re all dirty.” You scrunched your nose, playful. “Go have a bath. Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“You just want an excuse to braid it,” he chuckled, rubbing tender circles with his big hand into your back. The delightful sensation made you shiver a bit. “Why not join me?”

“I don’t feel like getting wet at the moment,” you gently said. “And, yes, I do want to play with your hair. Do you know how jealous I am of your lovely long locks? A crime against women, I tell you.”

“I can cut it all off, if you want,” Diluc teased, placing butterfly kisses across your nape, breathing in your scent of milk and honey. “Will that make you feel better?”

“Absolutely not! Cut off your hair and that’s it.” You hid your smile in his shoulder. “The day your hair’s gone is the day I pass away.”

He hummed contentedly, pulling away from your neck and placing his forehead on yours. “I’ll grow it to the ground if you like. I slightly dread what our future daughter will do.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Future daughter? You want one? Well, then, be prepared to be treated like a giant doll. It’s every little girl’s dream to have a dad with long hair to braid all day.”

“As if you don’t already.” 

You brushed some of his damp bangs out of his eyes, silent for a moment. “So…can I braid your hair while you relax in the bath? I’ll even give you a massage.”

His fiery-red eyes lit up. “A massage? Ooh.”

“Mhm. So can I?”

“We can work something out.”

“Give me a kiss first.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

ᯓ WRIOTHESLEY .ᐟ

“𝐈 𝐀𝐌 going to ask you one last damn time.” The Duke of Meropide had the man pinned up to the wall, one of his huge hands wrapped around his victim’s neck with a tight, choking, merciless hold. Then he brought the man forward and slammed him harshly back into the wall. “Where is my wife?”

“Urkgh—arrgh!” The poor guy clawed helplessly at Wriothesley’s hand, kicking and squirming. “She’s—ugh, urgh! U-Up! Up ahead! N-Not far, just pl—arkgh!”

The Duke snatched his hand away from the man’s neck and let him tumble in a pitiful heap to the ground, coughing and sputtering. “She’d better be, because if I find you’re lying…”

“I-I swear!” The man pointed a violently shaking hand toward the long metal path in an underground, secluded and unused area of the Fortress. Water dripped from above, and the odd pipe steamed. “You-You won’t miss her. She—She’s guarded, though, you might have to—”

With a vicious, but efficient, kick, the Duke knocked the man out cold and whirled around to storm in the direction he’d pointed to. His boots clomped sharply against the rusted metal path, fists clenched into vein-popping balls at his sides. Wriothesley hadn’t felt this livid since he discovered his “parents’” true natures.

That anger drove him to kill. At present, he wanted nothing more than to draw blood and have it splatter all across the walls for these imbeciles even daring to lay a finger on his beloved wife’s head.

Three days, you’d been missing. Wriothesley had never known such panic, despair and distress in all his life. Unable to even sleep a wink, he wouldn’t rest easy until you were back in his arms, safe once more.

They must’ve heard him coming, for three men rushed around the corner to intercept him. Wriothesley’s boxing gloves steamed and clunked into gear, and his eyes were ice cold with murder. “Where is she?”

“Ha! Like we’d tell you, you piece of—” The masked hooligan didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, for a thick, razor-sharp icicle shot right through his neck, killing him instantly. The Duke of Meropide stood still, huge and towering and enraged, as the man gurgled weakly and flopped to the ground with a resounding thunk. The Duke glared savagely at the two men left. Both of them no longer looked so cocky. 

“Now,” Wriothesley gritted out. “Shall we make this quick?”

The two ruffians exchanged glances before shakily sizing the Duke up. “You’ll have to get through us fir—arrgh!”

With a flick of his wrists, the Warden had sent two spiked walls of ice into the men, impaling them on impact. Without even a glance back, he strode past them and around the corner.

There was a cell door to the left, with only a small opening in the top half of it, closed off with four bars. The area was deserted. The men he’d just taken out must’ve been the only guards around.

Good. Wriothesley rushed forward and peeked inside, knocking softly on the door. “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, are you in here?”

There was a stuttered gasp, the rustling of clothes and you appeared before him, eyes wide and frightened. “Wriothesley—oh my god.” And immediately, you broke down.

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, I’m here now,” he tenderly whispered. “But I just need you to step away from the door for me, alright?”

Sniffling, you nodded and pulled away, already understanding what he was going to do. Taking a few steps back himself, Wriothesley readied his gloves and threw a ferocious, Cryo-infused punch at the door, flinging it off its hinges. You’d pressed yourself up against the grimy metal wall, out of the way.

He rushed in, and gathered you into his arms. He knelt down to the ground and kissed you deeply. “Gods…” Wriothesley whispered against your mouth, pressing frantic kisses to your lips with urgency. You had instantly reciprocated, clinging to him, one of your hands rested on his jaw. He was breathing heavily, arms almost too tight around you. “I was so damn scared. Never felt fear like that in all my life—bloody hell. Would’ve massacred the entire damn fortress just to find you, I swear…”

“Wriothesley…” With a sigh, you slumped completely into him, exhausted. “I’m glad you came…”

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” he assured, finally leaving your mouth alone and burying his face into your nape. “’Course I did. Did they touch you? Hurt you? Please, tell me, baby, and I’ll cut off each of their limbs—”

“I’m alright now,” you nuzzled him, breathing in that musky scent of his, and relief and comfort overwhelmed you. Safety. With this man’s huge, strong arms around you, you were secure. “I’m alright. Let’s go back, please. Please, I want to get out of here.”

“Yes, sweet girl.” Wriothesley placed another earnest kiss to your lips, almost crying in relief. “Let’s get out of this horrible place. Back to my office. Have Sigewinne check up on you, yeah?”

You hummed into his mouth. “Yeah. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He squeezed you to his chest like you’d slip from his fingers. “So much. Love you so much.”

ᯓ CHILDE .ᐟ

“Sooo…” the Harbinger singsonged, mouth spread wide into a harrowing, murderous smile. “Ya wanna tell me where my wife is now, buddy?”

The man was practically dead, but he forced out a wail of, “Hoarders! Treasure Hoarders have got her! Down near Lingju Pass!”

Childe clicked his tongue irritably. “Really? That far away? And I was considering letting you live.” With a mock pout, he swiftly, breezily slit the man’s throat and put him out of his misery. “Such a shame.”

He wasted no time in teleporting to Lingju Pass and storming his way through. All Fatui Skirmishers stationed around immediately stood to attention upon their superior’s arrival, and he ordered them to go and prepare a tent to hold him and his wife for the time being while Childe killed the hoarders off. “I can handle this one. A couple of Treasure Hoarders will barely even make an exciting battle.”

There were only two Treasure Hoarder camps in the area, and he made quick work of the first one he came across, not giving any of them a chance to run away and notify the other faction. 

Nothing. You weren’t here. Childe’s blood was beginning to boil. His fingers twitched, ready to strangle, stab and slash. If she’s hurt… Even the mere thought made him see red.

Childe broke into a run in the direction of the next camp, bow drawn and arrows nocked. He couldn’t stand the thought and image of you being held hostage—his wife, his precious wife he vied for for years. The Harbinger’s last slivers of sanity would be sure to wither away completely if you were killed.

I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all. Childe approached the camp and the oblivious Treasure Hoarders that sat around or were dozing, and it angered him to no end. I’ll slaughter them for even touching her.

“Oi! Who’re you?” A fat Treasure Hoarder caught sight of him stalking darkly up the path for the camp. Every other hoarder jumped to attention. “Who d’you think you are, waltzing up here like thi—urrgh!”

There was the thump of a body crashing to the ground. A Hydro-infused arrow stuck out from the dead man’s chest, having pierced his heart. Childe lowered his bow slowly, coldly. “Would any one of you loathsome bastards mind telling me where you’re keeping my wife?”

“Wife?” One of the men squeaked, and they all looked at each other fearfully. “Wife? Who’s wife?”

“Would you like to die next?” In a flash, he had another arrow nocked and pointing right at the speaker, aiming for between his eyes. “Start saying things I want to hear. Where is my wife?”

“Oh, you’re looking for the woman.” A hoarder who seemed to be feeling particularly confident that day pointed to a nearby cage, where a slumped figure sat against the bars, unmoving. Childe’s heart stopped. “Didn’t know she was your wife, though. Haw-haw! How sweet, comin’ all this way for noth—”

There was the snap of the bowstring being released, a soft whistle as the arrow flew through the air and into the idiot’s brain. Another one sagged pathetically to the ground. 

Not a single trace of his usual playful, ready-for-a-fight demeanour crossed Childe’s sharp features. “Now, unless you all want to start dropping like flies, you’ll unlock that cage and bring my wife to me.”

A chorus of shings! sounded, and each hoarder had drawn his weapon. “You got a good fight on your hands, boy. You’re outnumbered. You think you’ll win?” “Wanna find out?” Childe was tempted to activate his Foul Legacy. “I’m keen.”

The criminals chuckled cockily amongst themselves, and then there was a dagger flying straight for Childe’s midriff.

As expected, the fight didn’t last ten minutes. The hoarders shortly found just how sorely they underestimated their opponent, and soon only one remained, blood-splattered and panting.

Childe harshly kicked a headless body away from him and stormed over to the cage. Using sheer brute force, he wrenched the door to it off its hinges and away, kneeling down before you.

“Baby…” he whispered, hands shaking and heart pumping, scared out of his mind. “Baby, are you awake?” Are you alive?

With a bloodied hand, Childe swiped some hair out of your face and checked your pulse. He barely allowed himself to sigh in relief upon feeling it softly pumping away in your neck, and he gathered you up into his arms. 

“Sir.” A voice sounded behind him. An informant had arrived. “The tent is prepared. Shall I summon a doctor?”

“Yes.” The Harbinger had you held tightly in his arms, kissing your forehead lingeringly. “And quick. She’s…not well.”

“Understood.” The informant likely saluted him, before melting away.

He was left with his unconscious wife in his arms, the dark scent of blood in the air, and the fear of losing you deep in his bones. Childe didn’t like this feeling. He’d come face-to-face with death many times, but this instance…it was worse than he’d ever have imagined.

“It’ll be alright, baby.” He kissed your forehead again. “You’re safe now.”

At least you were breathing. At least you were alive. That was enough. That was enough for him.

all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.

[wisheslost]

The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult. 

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him. 

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply. 

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for? 

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires. 

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him. 

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place. 

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words. 

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up. 

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes. 

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with. 

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you. 

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her. 

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question. 

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.”  Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy? 

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right? 

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all. 

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?” 

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed. 

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?” 

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles. 

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault. 

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation. 

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder. 

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you. 

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different. 

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ? 

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me.  -your personal calligrapher” 

 Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you. 

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep. 

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.  

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island. 

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.” 

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him. 

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again. 

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?” 

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..” 

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?” 

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.” 

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality. 

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed. 

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him. 

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you. 

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation. 

“Waiting for me to confess.”

 Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?” 

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth. 

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved. 

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

[glazelilyy]

over and over again

pairing - kaeya alberich x gender neutral reader

word count - 4307

genre - fluff

format - fic

warnings - kissing/skinship, sharing a bed with no sexual implications, kaeya spins reader around in his arms, food mention, semi-nudity (kaeya sleeps shirtless), marriage

summary - there's a first for everything but the butterflies in his stomach will never fade whether you kiss him for the first, second, tenth, or hundredth time

a/n - happy new years everyone! WOOO FIRST POST OF 2022!! this piece is my contribution to @favoniuscodex 's "favorites with friends" event! i'll jump at any chance to write for my beloved kaeya, and though i'm sad i didn't get to write him the birthday fic spectacular i wanted to, i think this makes up for it in my little writer heart :P i hope you enjoy!

" I'M A MAN WHO'D KNOW NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT YOUR SMILE, OR LOVE WITHOUT YOUR KISSES "

the first time kaeya alberich kissed you, it was a melancholic, rainy day full of raging tides and crackling thunder.

he had only meant to test the waters; see just beneath your skin and observe the way your heart pounded in your chest whenever he strutted by with a wink and a blown kiss in your direction. but, instead, the tides had risen and engulfed him with sweet fervor and though his lungs craved the comfort of oxygen; of a no-strings-attached little game, he ceded to the sugary depths of your ocean's bellow and allowed himself to drown within your everything.

one date turned to two, then ten, and suddenly he wasn't keeping track any more because time seemed to fizzle off into specks of sparkling gold by your side, and in that moment of sweet prolonged brevity did he realize the hold you had on his shipwrecked heart.

it was a thundering day when he finally put his lips on yours for the first time. the recipe for disaster entailed: one rainstorm, one picnic-gone-wrong, two rain-soaked, giggling adults who ran hand-in-hand back to the gates of mondstat, and a stone archway where you brushed his damp locks from his face with a smile and he tried his best not to let his eyes wander down your sheer clothing. what should've been innocent touches and fleeting glances slowly began to bud into lingering touches and he had leaned in almost instinctually like a rehearsed habit before he even realized it. and never before had he tasted a flavor more sweeter than the smothered smile that he felt curve up against his lips, or your honey giggles muffled by the gentle dance of your intertwined lips. it's a sweet song that drowned out the hammer of the rain and crackle of lightning that zipped across the sky.

"say," he muttered just as his lips were about to meet yours, "this is quite cliché is it not? two young lovers caught in the rain for a kiss? you'll indulge me, won't you, sweetheart? or are you perhaps too shy of how good i might make you feel?" he purred with a droopy smile and thumbed the apples of your cheeks.

"oh shut it," the exasperated smile on your face grew as you tugged him impossibly closer and brushed your nose against his, "less talking, more kissing, pretty boy."

kissing was nothing new: nothing grand or revolutionary or anything that would shatter through the glass panes of his reality. at least, that was what he thought before his lips had pressed themselves so firm yet gently against your own and your hands, which wrung themselves around his neck, raked through his damp locks and ignited a dance of swans in his heart.

even after he pulled away from your lips and caressed every inch of your face with his calloused palm, he never truly ever pulled away ever again: for you were his sweet siren who sang tales of starcrossed lovers and destined fate, and he was a mere sailor who loved and loved and loved and jumped ship without hesitation.

continued utc!

" YOU'VE SHOWN ME WHAT LOVE IS—WHAT LOVE COULD BE IN ALL ITS INTRICACIES AND MIRACLES, AND I'LL MAKE IT MY LIFE'S MISSION TO REMIND YOU EACH AND EVERY DAY OF HOW MUCH I CHERISH THE GIFT OF LOVE YOU'VE GIVEN ME "

love is a tricky sea of uncertainty that requires a compass crafted of patience and a telescope forged out of understanding. but love, as he knew it, was not patient, kind, or understanding.

but you were.

patient was your heart which thundered so gently for him; every bit of him from the scalding portraits of firey flames on his body to the thick, coarse, wiry branches that engulfed his shielded heart. patient were the tips of your fingers, which brushed against his and never asked for more than he could ever give (because what he had was finally enough). patient were your lips that melded so sweetly against his and uttered words of unaltered affection bathed in a thick, rosy red glaze.

you understood that you could never truly understand a man like kaeya alberich and yet despite this your arms wrapped around his waist with no hesitation in sight, and you'd look at him as if his scarred and bruised hands were the glorious hands which hung the crescent moon and her glittering stars.

and the kindness that spread and branched out from your back like clouded, fluffy angel wings and engulfed him in their warmth; oh how kind your embrace was; how lovely it was to be peppered with kisses and bathe in your words of sweet love and adoration, or let you kiss the tip of his nose whenever you'd drop off a neatly packed box of a homemade lunch to his office.

he had lost his compass and had his telescope ripped from his trembling, young hands: but you forged new ones bonded of the strongest metals and utmost care and placed them in front of him: you allowed him to grab onto his navigation tools at his own pace, and with eyes unclouded by grief and fury and tools crafted of warmth, sunny days, and the smell of sunflowers did he finally set course for the treasure chest of your heart aboard his sturdy ship.

his compass guided his heart in the direction of yours, and with his telescope he spotted a shore line of a sandy beach where you sat with an armful of blossoming calla lilies and a gentle smile, waiting for his ship to finally dock.

and with these tools did he finally utter the single greatest three words known to all.

shoes and socks discarded and ankles deep in the sloshing, crystal waters of cider lake at the cusp of sunset was where kaeya alberich took both of your hands within his and first murmured a dream against your fingertips.

"say it again." you asked.

and he did. he said it louder, and louder, and louder, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs and spinning you around in the water until both of your clothes were damp and his voice was hoarse and throat sore and the air was filled with your mingled giggles and love-bathed gazes.

"well, are you satiated, sweetheart? or do i need to run my voice into the ground a little more?" that familiar boyish smile of his creeped onto his face as he cupped your face within his hands and thumbed your cheeks just as he did on the day he first got a taste of your lips, "though, if it's for you i wouldn't mind all that much." he murmured against the inside of your wrist as he picked up your hand within his own and peppered kisses all the way up to just beneath your earlobe, where you shivered in his arms and relished in his touch no gentler than the drop of a feather.

perhaps you were living the same dream when you whispered an "i love you too," against his lips, and let him lead you in a water-bathed waltz to the tune of rolling tides and cooing evening doves.

" I CAN'T PROMISE YOU MUCH, BECAUSE EVEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS; BUT I KNOW THAT SHOULD I LOSE MY WAY, MY HOME WILL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR ARMS "

home was within your arms, and you were never quite far.

according to his subordinates, their captain had gone "soft", but how could one not want to melt into the side of their love and feel them merge into their embrace? perhaps he was "soft", but softness was a sweet aria that sounded like you and he was an avid listener.

his duties bound him to work, but once finished you often expected him to be on your doorstep with an armful of your favorite flowers and a promise of a stroll around a rolling hill or two. bit by bit his clothes began to pile up in your closet, and yours his. he'd forgotten his scarf—slung over one of your dining room chairs—after a night spent humming gentle melodies and swaying in each other's arms while skewers of fruity chicken grilled on the stove and a tray of cupcakes baked in the oven (not to mention all the frosting he must have kissed off of your lips). you returned it the next day and draped it over his shoulder like a veil: he loved that it smelled like home because it smelled like the sweetness of the cupcakes you both had baked last night.

"kaeya! i thought i told you no spoon licking!"

despite being caught, he eyed you the second time his tongue scraped over the wooden spoon and collected the sweetness of the chocolate frosting into his mouth, complete with a satisfied hum. "my condolences, dove, but you must know by now that i'm simply insatiable when it comes to sweets." he chuckled and lurched his hand containing the spoon upwards just as you lunged forwards to grab it out of his hand.

"gimme the spoon, you big oaf!"

but that was the last thing he wanted to do; looking at the little furrow of your eyebrows and seeing you try to come off as angry but give in to the bursting bubble of giggles that wiggled up from your stomach made his heart flutter and glow a beautiful, pearlescent pink.

his free arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled your flush against his chest, effectively silencing your attempts to regain the spoon and your giggly protests.

"won't you let me satiate my sweet tooth with just a little taste of you, dove?" he hummed against the shell of your ear.

of course he didn't mean the spoon—in fact he tossed it into the sink to hold the back of your head as soon as you closed the gap between your faces and let his sweet tooth indulge in all the sugary sweetness of your kisses.

his house was bathed in your glow: from little trinkets of yours that you had brought and put on his shelves because they suited him—according to you at least—(like the little trail of wooden duckies that shrunk in size the more they went down his shelf), to the now worn-in softness of his couch, once firm and hard from disuse.

there were imprints of your existences within both of your homes but he felt that there was never a need to ask you of anything more: what he had now was comfortable and safe. you existed in every crevice of his home, and how he dreamt so many nights of waking up in the morning to the smell of savory pancakes and coffee, and wrapping his arms around your waist and planting his chin firm on your shoulder while you flipped more of the delicacies.

he loved to surprise you—loved seeing the glimmer of your eyes when they lit up in excitement when his hands unraveled to reveal the prize beneath his skin: whether it was an invitation on a kaeya-esque date that involved mock pirate treasure hunts or a simple picnic in a field of flowers, or even just a little kiss, you loved it all and he loved you.

so with a heart bursting of desires for your hands to gently comb through his morning bedhead and for your clothes to hang neatly beside his in his closet, he looped a necklace with a perfect, bronze copy of his apartment key around your neck and kissed the back of your nape to utter silent words straight down your spine.

"you're always around, so i figured i'd gift you a little something to make my place easier for you to get into. you're the only burglar that i'd welcome with open arms, sweetheart." he chose to ignore the gentle, chiding slap on his forearm as he hugged you from behind and toyed with the metal key that now hung from your neck.

imagine his surprise when you, in turn, knocked him off his feet to the ground in a hug and produced a key similar to the one to your house from your pocket, made in a similar fashion to the necklace he had looped around your neck.

" I LOOK FORWARD TO ALL THE MORNINGS THAT I GET TO WAKE UP BY YOUR SIDE, AND I LOOK FORWARD TO WATCHING YOU BURN BREAKFAST TOO "

there was beauty to be found in even the most mundane of activities when it concerned you.

the minute his eyes fluttered open, he was gifted with the beautiful sight of your slightly parted lips and a thin trail of drool from the corner of your mouth as you snored contently with your head nestled into the crook of his neck. morning light streamed through his (or should he say yours—but really it was both of yours) bedroom windows and bathed your intertwined bodies in a honeyed morning glow.

it was the first time he'd ever woken up next to you when light was still young and birds cooed their sunrise sonnets. his fingers couldn't help but trace paths across your face and skin. he'd pull you closer if possible but distance was nonexistent when he held you so tightly in his arms. he couldn't wait for you to rouse from your sleep; just what was that pretty little mind of yours up to in there? perhaps one day you'd tell him if he asked, and he'd be sure to respond in kind with a foxy smile and tales of grandeur of his own.

but for now he was more than content to sync the rise and fall of his chest with your own and whisper ballads of affection with a sweet rosy scent through half lidded eyes and a gentle smile.

and when you did finally pull yourself away from unconsciousness and fell through the thick clouds of your dreams to wake in his arms, his heart felt whole and full and good.

"you're staring, captain."

your finger poked his bare chest with playful intentions under your fingernail before it dissolved into a tender touch where your palm splayed over his shoulder blade and creeped upward over his skin to cup his cheek, warm from the morning light.

"i quite fancy the drool on your face, wish i had a kamera to capture this moment."

he laughed as you groaned and pressed your face into his chest to avoid his teasing coos while you hurriedly used your sleeve to wipe the trail of drool from your mouth.

"you're insufferable, i'm gonna kick you out of my bed." you grumbled even as he hummed a chuckle against your scalp and kissed the top of your head.

"our bed, sweetheart." he corrected with an impish grin.

"...'m gonna push you off." despite your words, your arms tightened around his torso and you drove your face further into his chest—presumably in search of the gentle pitter patter of his heartbeat. he couldn't bite back the smile that spread to his face as his hand traced indistinguishable patterns along the length of your spine.

"g'mornin', dove." were the words he'd waited so long to say with a voice laced in sleep, and when you replied in an equally raspy and love-drunk tune and so easily slotted your lips against his, there was no other place he'd rather be than snuggled up beside you in your shared bed where you'd forever wake up with morning doves as your alarm and feel the gentle touch of each other's fingertips wander across starstruck skin.

" EACH DAY I WAKE UP AND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND I WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE "

if there were an image that kaeya wished to burn into the back of his eyelids so that he could always remember every intricate detail and glimmering sparkle of the memory, the image of you in your wedding attire and bathed in a honeymooned glow would be his first choice.

his hands were trembling—not the kind that you'd see in a strong captain who'd braved the harsh flare of fiery flames, the cold sting of frost, or the quizzical enrapture of the stars.

his hands were trembling like they were trembling when diluc first placed a frog into his hands at the tender age of four, and kaeya—never having seen such a wonderous creature—was terrified it'd open its mouth and swallow him whole like the creatures back home could.

his hands were trembling like they were when he first picked up a sword and felt the grip of it rub against his once tender palms—now, however, they were quite callous from years of use and wear and yet your hands still caressed his as if they were made of heavenly clouds.

his hands were trembling like they were when he carried out his first campaign as cavalry captain with a shattered heart and a mask that would slip if he were not careful. his voice commanded his troops and he rode his black stallion with grace and glory and all the reverie that a captain should hold, but deep inside he feared braving the storms that awaited him—feared the ferocious endeavors that would snatch the lives of his troop, or even his.

but you knew—you knew so well just why his hands trembled. you'd seen it the minute you starting walking down the isle on the carpeted floors of the church. the white suit he adorned made him look so handsome, so sweet, the epitome of the man you'd soon swear your life to in legal binding. kaeya couldn't take his eye off of you, not from the minute you entered through the heavy, oak doors to the moment you met him at the altar and placed your hands within his own. the soothing rub of your thumbs over his knuckles had him relaxing into your touch, and the little "hi" you whispered to him made him want to do nothing but sweep you off your feet and book it out of the church and go dancing at the shorelines of lakes or read each other fairy tales on gingham picnic blankets on summer breezy days.

and though his hands continued to shake while he recited his vows, his gaze remained fixed onto you and the universe of possibilities that swam in your telescope eyes.

with a shaky breath, kaeya began:

"i'm a man who'd know no happiness without your smile, or love without your kisses."

for once there were no glittery words or phrases bathed in gold. he was terrified of being bare but to bear himself in your arms gave him the confidence he needed to declare his truth once and for in all the holiest of places in front of all those he treasured.

he was glad he lost track of how many dates you'd been on; glad that the thunderstorm that interrupted your picnic had backed the two of your into a corner so that he could finally get a taste of your lips. the day you gifted him true happiness and felt the first surge of love from your lips to his own was the day he felt reborn again; almost as if he had touched the stars and gotten a taste of cosmic dust.

"you've shown me what love is—what love could be in all its intricacies and miracles, and i'll make it my life's mission to remind you each and every day of how much i cherish the gift of love you've given me."

he wanted so badly to wipe away the tears that had begun to pool and trickle down your cheeks, sometimes running over the warbled smile on your lips.

"crying already, darling? but i've only read half of my vows." he leaned down and whispered for your only your ears. he did his best to ignore the slight crack in his voice towards the end and swiped his thumb just below your eye and kept his trembling hand pressed snug against your cheek.

"i can't promise you much, because even i don't know what the future holds; but i know that should i lose my way, my home will always be in your arms."

now it was his turn to tear up, despite how much he promised himself that he wouldn't cry. he tried to dissuade the urge to cry during his vows beforehand (because no matter how hard he tried, whenever he read those promised, sacred words, he just couldn't prevent himself from crying). but, for once, these tears weren't from a place of sorrow and grief, but rather a warm garden filled with roses and carnations and a sparkling fountain with both of your names inscribed on the shining marble. he let out a breathy, shaky laugh when you mimicked his touch and cupped his cheek within your palm to swipe away at the tears that cascaded down his face. kaeya didn't quite know if it was improper to so openly touch you beloved before you were wedded in the church, but nothing mattered more than the gentleness of your touch at the moment.

"i look forward to all the mornings that i get to wake up by your side," he started, squeezing your hand before continuing, "and i look forward to watching you burn breakfast too."

laughter rippled throughout the crowd as you choked back a joyful sob and gently knocked him in the shin with your shoe. "i'll make sure yours is burnt to a crisp, alberich." you muttered.

"what, me or you? we'll both be alberich in a minute, sweetheart." he retorted, despite the glimmer of fresh tears in his eye.

choosing to ignore the side eye of urgency that the pastor gave him, kaeya let go of your hand for a brief moment to pluck a single, blue rose from your bouquet and place it behind your ear before continuing.

"each day i wake up and fall in love with you over and over again, and i will fall in love with you over and over again every day for the rest of my life."

his hands still trembled: more than when diluc placed a frog into his hands, more than when he first knew the weight of a sword, more than when he led his first campaign. but they trembled within your own, and he knew that no matter what he'd be safe enveloped within your touch.

somewhere in the process, the pastor officiated him as your husband and those in the pews cheered, but he was far too enamored with studying every inch of your face and dipping into the pools of your eyes that never flickered away from him no matter what. when you finally cupped his cheeks and kissed him with such adoration and twinkles of starlight in your eyes, he knew that you'd always be there to hold onto his shaking hands.

kaeya knows how to dance with frost: be quick on your feet, subtle with your moves and never, ever, let the enemy get a hint of your next move.

but dancing with you for the first time as your husband was nothing like the dance of a battle of frost. it felt warm, soothing, and sweet: like the first bite of a gooey, chocolate cookie straight out of the oven. as he wrapped his arms around your waist and let you loop yours around his neck, he felt no need to adhere to the ebb and flow of noblemen footwork and fancy dance tactics. your noses brushed against one another, and he was pretty sure he was swaying with you much slower than the tempo of the song, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

the shimmering golden band that adorned his left ring finger was a reminder of his vows, both spoken and silent, and the life that he'd forge by your side as one who loves you. and as he raised your hand to press his lips to the similar ring that encased your finger, he felt a surge of determination wash over him like a gentle tide.

"hey," you murmured, and raised a hand to cup his cheek.

he hummed an acknowledgment and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist without breaking the starry gaze that connected your eyes to his.

"i'm sure that our dance was supposed to end a little while ago." you giggled and weaved a lock of his fluffy, indigo hair through one of your fingers.

"was it now? my apologies, love, i got lost staring into your eyes."

he tastefully chose to ignore your playful eyeroll and instead zeroed in on your lips, which were moving and probably chiding him for making such a cheesy remark. as if in a trance, his hands cupped your face and tilted your head to the side for a tender kiss that felt like the first breath of spring in his veins; more dainty and gentle than the fragile petals of a soft, velvety rose. his fingers ran over the soft tips of the blue rose he had tucked behind your ear at the altar once he pulled away, all awestricken and breathless in the lungs.

there weren't any words that he needed to preach; no lord to impress, no one to woo or have them do his bidding in a game of wits. just you: you who loved him wholly and as he was for the man he knew himself to be.

the food, guests, and party can wait: because in your arms he is home and home is where he wished to forever remain.

date published: january 9th, 2022

[soltuneia]

mornings with him <3333 don't you agree, @floraldresvi?

(this one was such a breeze compared to the last one. thank you to this piece for not making me struggle jshjshj, and for turning out to be a very sweet scene.)

@xianyoon

baizhu starts his day early. not always at the crack of dawn, no, but a doctor must rise early, right? so you let him out of bed without fuss, without clinging, without complaining. after all, he has responsibilities to deal with, patients to see, medicines to mix. all in a busy day’s work.

how you wish he could stay longer each time, though. sleeping in your bed isn’t the same without the sight of viridescent hair sprawled across pillowcases of silk, and the feel of a hand linked with your own, twin rings glimmering in the light of dawn on both of your fingers.

but every so often, his sense of work gives way to an hour or two of indulgence. very important doctor though he may be, he is still a man at the end of it all. how can he resist a little while longer spent in the warmth of his beloved’s embrace?

“you’re still here?” you ask, blearily rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “what about bubu pharmacy?”

he smiles at you, honeyed eyes in clear view due to the absence of his spectacles. “herbalist gui can manage without me for a little while.”

he sees you squint at the sunlight streaming through the gaps of the curtains on the window. he exhales amusedly and shifts in place, turning on his side to shade your face. “better?”

“mhm. thank you.” you turn to face him too, wrapping your arms firmly around his waist, the top of your head touching his chin.

“it is not yet time for our day to begin. rest a little longer,” he whispers, his hand softly caressing your cheekbone.

your eyelids fall and you nod, agreeing. it is not yet time. 

he is still yours to hold for a little longer.